#*hostile isn’t really the word I wanted more mean spirited but I hope I’m making sense

[jungkxook]

—demon-etized. (m)

⟶ pairing: namjoon x reader

⟶ analytics: youtuber!namjoon / ghost-hunters au / smut

⟶ words: 6,260

⟶ rating: 18+

⟶ warnings: idiot ghost hunter bts, ghosts making namjoon horny ig?, slight exhibitionism, fondling, fingering, standing sex, unprotected sex, creampie

⟶ description: in this episode of unsolved, namjoon and the boys risk their lives by spending overnight in an abandoned and supposedly haunted asylum in the hopes of finding some ghouls — but the boys are pretty certain the real reason for the spooky moaning isn’t allowed to go on youtube. ***warning: very scary!!!***

⟶ pinned comment: this is part of the not clickbait series!

“Well, this has been fun. Let’s go home now.”

You were starting to think this was a very stupid idea ━ but stupid would be an understatement. The looming asylum standing before you with nothing but the darkened midnight sky in the foreground acts as a foreboding omen that you’ve seen one too many times in pretty much any horror movie. The creepy abandoned estate offering itself up as a seemingly perfect and totally innocent means of adventure for a group of friends only to end in murder or a demon possession should have been enough to scare you all away. Fortunately, you’re not the only somewhat sane person (and you say that very loosely because you did, after all, agree to come with the boys), because you’re both startled yet thoroughly relieved to hear the worried statement coming from a very tense-looking Jimin.

It really was a stupid idea. Spending overnight (which, really, just translates to a few hours and a clickbait-y title for the video) in a supposedly haunted and derelict asylum from the early 1900s offered all sorts of problems that weren’t just supernatural. Squatters, creepy cult members, and risking getting whatever sorts of diseases are riddling the walls of the ancient dwelling were starting to get to you. But it was Namjoon’s idea to come here for his next video upload especially when considering the fact that for the entire month of October he and his group of YouTuber friends host a fan favourite ghost-hunting series titled Unsolved ━ and, whatever Namjoon usually suggests, the boys usually tag along with, no matter how daring or how stupid it may be.

“We literally just got here,” Hoseok retorts as he hops out of one of the two cars you and your friends had shared on the way here. It was a three hour drive from the city with the estate being much larger than you expected it to be, four main buildings sprawling out amongst empty fields. At least the stories of its creepy atmosphere are all the same. Was it the cool autumn breeze sending chills down your spine or something else entirely? The moment you stepped foot out of the car and gazed upon the asylum, it was almost as if you could feel something watching you. But that was definitely just you imagining things. “Don’t be a pussy, Jimin. What’s the worst a ghost is gonna do to you? Rattle some chains? Ooooh, spooky.”

“Okay, first of all,” Jimin rounds on the older boy almost immediately, “vaginas are the strongest muscles in female anatomy, so I’m not being a pussy. Let’s get it right, okay? I’m being a little bitch, and I embrace it. Second of all, if a ghost does rattle some chains near me, I will definitely be booking it back to the car and leaving all of you stranded here.”

From beside you, Yoongi snorts amusedly. He’s the resident non-believer amongst your group of friends so you always wonder why he even bothers to come to these things. He says it’s to help filming, but you think he’s banking on maybe one day seeing a ghost even despite all that charade of hostility. Even now, he’s already filming for the vlog, getting shots of the building but also mostly just Jimin and Hoseok’s banter in the background. “If a ghost does anything tonight, I’ll be genuinely surprised.”

“Something is going to happen tonight. I can feel it,” Jungkook says confidently. He’d been huddled over the opened side door of one of the cars with Namjoon and Jin, sifting through their high-tech equipment that you’re certain they just bought off of Amazon or something. “This place is one of the most haunted places near us. Have you even heard the stories? Apparently there are two most popular ghost sightings. One is some girl━”

“Is she hot?” Taehyung asks.

“She’s dead,” Jungkook deadpans. “Also, pretty sure she was eleven when she died from tuberculosis. Anyway, she’s more of a benevolent ghost. They say you can hear her laughing sometimes. There’s a lot of activity in one of the kids’ rooms. And the other sighting is less friendly. They just call it a shadow man because it’s hard to see its face, but you can always see an outline of a person walking by in one of their treatment buildings. There’s even been physical attacks, with one person saying they got scratched by an invisible force.”

Jimin visibly winces. “Sounds very much like a demon than a ghost to me.”

“Sick!” Hoseok exclaims. You’re worried to find that the group’s morale (aside from yours and Jimin’s) isn’t any less vivacious than when Jungkook started his story. “This is gonna be awesome.”

But you can’t help but to roll your eyes, your feigned boredom really just a weak attempt at hiding your own fright. “Oh, shut up. That’s such bullshit.”

“Is it?” Jungkook quirks a brow, challenging you.  

“Well, whatever happens, we’re gonna catch it.” This confident statement comes from Namjoon. After he hands out the pieces of tech to the rest of his friends, he glances upward at the asylum with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Come on. Let’s find us some ghosties.”

As the group begins to follow Namjoon towards the nearest building, Taehyung can be heard wolfishly quipping aloud, “Time to rock and roll, ghoul boys! And, er, girl.”

“Don’t call us that,” Yoongi grumbles.

It’s comforting to hear the rest of the group erupt into fits of entertained laughter, but any banter is quick to subside as you walk up to the building. You’re relieved when Jimin decides to hang back with you and doesn’t seem to protest when you start to cling to his arm as you’re all ushered through the main entrance of the building and into utter darkness only broken apart by the dim glow of your flashlights. If you weren’t already so frightened, maybe some of it would be comical, like the way the front doors creak open so very slowly in suspense.

Under Jimin’s breath, you can hear him mumbling in chagrin, “We should have gotten holy water.”

As your eyes adjust to the darkness within, you’re able to make out that the inside is just as horrifying as it was on the outside. Dust and debris hang heavy in the air and on the ground, and almost every inch of any surface within the building is covered in graffiti works of art. 

“Oh, fuck that,” Jin scoffs. “We only just stepped foot into here and this place is already giving me goosebumps.”

“Aw, sweet, bro! Check this out!” Hoseok says abruptly, startling almost all of you. He’s standing a bit further off down one hall, beckoning the rest of the group to follow. As you approach him, you can make out what sort of graffiti marking on the ground has suddenly grabbed his attention. “Who wants to lay on the pentagram with me?”

“No one,” You retort.

“I will!” Jungkook says at once, much to your dismay.

Yoongi lets out an audible strained sigh. “If any of you fucks get possessed and kill me, I’m never gonna forgive any of you. Just letting you know ahead of time.”

“Yeah, what are you gonna do?” Hoseok asks. “Come back and haunt us?”

“No, I’ll be dead. Ghosts aren’t real,” Yoongi says. “But I will still be very angry.”

“Noted.”

Before Jungkook or Hoseok can haggle Yoongi into filming them laying on the pentagram drawing and potentially offering their souls up to whatever demon lays waiting beneath it for their souls, the group is moving on. You explore the first bottom half of the building together in a tense silence before making your way up the dilapidated stairs to one of the treatment rooms that Jungkook makes certain to point out is where the infamous shadow figure is often seen. Taehyung decides to suggest, “Should we try the spirit box?”

You almost groan aloud. You fucking hate that thing, for obvious reasons. 

Whether or not you believe in it, the loud gurgling noise is always unsettling and you’re already on edge. Still, you sit back with Jimin as the rest of the boys nod in agreement and fiddle with the piece of tech until it’s been turned on. You’re immediately met with a cacophony of crackling radio static so deafening that your instinctual reaction is to cover your ears. You refrain miraculously, but you still cower in one corner with Jimin as the boys listen intently to the noise.

“Is anyone here?” Namjoon calls out to no one in particular. “If you are, can you give us a sign? Move a chair or say something or push Yoongi━”

“What the━?” Yoongi gawks. “Why me?”

“‘Cause you said you don’t believe in them.”

Yoongi clamps his mouth shut, and nods in a way that admits Namjoon has a point. At that moment, there’s a pique in the static, a jumble of inaudible words that almost sounds humanlike.

“What was that?” Hoseok asks. “Sounded like… It almost sounded like it said ‘leave.’”

“Leave?” Jimin squeaks. “Think we should take that as a sign, guys.”

“Nah, I definitely heard Steve, not leave,” Yoongi says.

Jungkook frowns. “Who the hell is Steve?”

“Maybe that’s his name,” Yoongi suggests nonchalantly. “Be nice.”

After a handful of minutes of even more strained silence, the boys are only able to discern certain words that you’re positive don’t have anything to do with the asylum or ghosts. At long last, they shut the machine off and the room is once more plunged into a formidable silence so dense that you almost miss the spirit box. But almost as soon as the piece of tech has been silenced, does Jimin cry out in pure anguish. “What the fuck was that?”

The boys instantly round on their startled friend who is now cowering behind you. The colour has all but drained from his face, eyes wide in a frenzied panic.

“What’s wrong?” Namjoon asks.

Jimin looks hysterical as he shoves a pointed finger in the direction of the wall opposite the room in the corridor. “I swear on my life I just saw something move out of the corner of my eye over there. Like a-a person o-or something. Looked like a shadow. I don’t know! I thought it was one of you guys━”

“Stop it, Jimin.” Your voice treads on apprehension as you look over at the alarmed boy. “You’re scaring me.”

“Yeah, ease up, Jimin,” Namjoon says, though he seems more entertained than anything. “I’d prefer if you didn’t throw my girlfriend headfirst towards a demon or ghost or whatever it is you saw.”

“Joon.” His name rolls off your tongue in a scolding moan as you rub wearily at your eyes. His words do little to help console you, and you’re certain it fairs even worse for poor Jimin.

“I’m sorry. I just━” Jimin pulls you tighter in front of him. “I swear I saw something. Holy shit.”

Jungkook’s the first one outside the room, his own camera in his hands as he goes to investigate. As the rest of the boys file outside in the corridor, you drag Jimin along with you, favouring not to be alone in any part of the building. You can hardly see anything, let alone a shadow. 

Jungkook turns back around at long last, a devious grin on his face as he finds Jimin’s wandering crazed stare. “Maybe it was the shadow man. Told you he exists.”

“I don’t care what it was. My heart almost fell out of my ass,” Jimin gasps. He clutches at his chest over his heart, for added emphasis. “Let’s get out of here.”

You aren’t quite sure if the boys believe him, but you do notice how quick they are to move on from the room and corridor. A palpable tension hangs heavy in the air that makes you realize perhaps the boys are starting to lose their cool under pressure. 

As you reconvene below on the main floor of the building, Namjoon pipes up. “Let’s split up. See if we can find anything on our own.”

“Okay, Scooby Doo,” Jin snorts. “You do know that this is how every horror movie begins, right? There’s power in numbers.”

“Yeah. Which is what we’ll all be saying when this video reaches trending on YouTube with a million views,” Namjoon says, matter-of-fact. “Which we can only do if we get some interesting content. So, let’s split up into pairs of two. We’ll meet back here in an hour.”

“We could just fake it,” Jimin suggests desperately. “Like every big YouTuber does. The magic of editing, guys.” But no one seems to be listening anymore as the group begins to splinter off. Yoongi and Jungkook decide to venture back upstairs in pursuit of the elusive and supposed shadow man, while Hoseok and Taehyung wander outside. Lost and dumbfounded, Jimin gawks around at his retreating friends, calling out in one last effort, “Anyone? …No? Okay, cool.”

He nearly lets out a yelp when Jin clasps a hand on the boy’s shoulder in a reassuring manner. “You’ll be okay, Jimin. C’mon, let’s go.”

Finally alone with Namjoon, he offers up his outstretched hand to you. You take it at once, gripping his palm a little tighter than necessary as he pulls you towards him. 

“You doing okay?” he asks. 

“Yeah,” You lie, even though you know he can see right through it. 

You’re content to find that he at least keeps your hand in his even as he tugs you along with him to explore the rest of the asylum. You decide to leave the building you’re both in and wander to another one where you stumble upon Hoseok and Taehyung on the main floor briefly. Then, making your way upstairs, you find nothing out of the ordinary but empty rooms that you suspect were once upon a time sleeping quarters for the patients. It’s less frightening than the other buildings, though still a little unnerving the longer you stay to explore. You climb the stairs until you’re on the third landing and inspect almost every room to find nothing. 

At some point, you let out a wavering sigh. Namjoon is busy waving around an EMF reader in a room. It’s empty aside from a dusty cot and a broken wardrobe, amongst a few other oddities covered in a thick layer of cobwebs and dirt. You could have sworn you’ve heard footsteps in almost every room you’ve entered that wasn’t either yours or Namjoons, and the strange sensation that you’re being followed hasn’t been able to shake from you. “Joon? Can we go back now? I’m starting to get a little spooked.”

Namjoon comes to a halt at once, turning around to face you. He gives your palm a comforting squeeze. “Hey, you’re okay. There’s nothing to be scared of. I don’t mean to sound like Yoongi but I highly doubt we have to worry about any ghosts.”

“Well, what do you think Jimin saw?”

“Who knows?” Namjoon shrugs. “It was probably just his imagination. Your mind plays tricks on you in the dark, doesn’t it? Here, let’s talk about something else to distract you.”

“Like?”

A moment of silence passes between the two of you as Namjoon considers another thought. You don’t even realize the smug smirk unfurling on his face until it’s too late. “Well… I had an idea earlier. Just a passing thought, really, but I bet it’d be fun anyway.”

“What was it?”

“We could probably have a quickie in one of these rooms and the boys would never know any different.”

You nearly choke at this, sputtering for air as you reach out to flick Namjoon’s shoulder. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Am I wrong?”

“No,” You admit sheepishly. He places his hands on your hips then, pulling you delicately towards him in a manner that makes it hard to focus now. “But I don’t know how I feel about ghosts watching us. Also, the couple that has sex in any horror movie usually ends up dying first.”

Namjoon shakes his head at you, albeit a little amused at your worrisome thoughts. “Nothing’s gonna hurt you. At least not while I’m here.”

“Coming from the man who tripped going up the stairs at your dorm the other day,” You point out tauntingly. The distant reminder and the sound of his abrupt laughter is enough to momentarily soothe your hammering heart. 

Namjoon gasps, feigning a look of mock hurt. “What’s that supposed to mean!”

“Means I love you very much but I don’t know how well you’d fair against ghosts or demons.”

“Ahh, I see how it is.” 

He sounds mildly offended and pokes his fingers at your sides but, in the ensuing scuffle to flee from his grasp, the both of you trip and fumble until you’re pressed up against the nearest wall, the sound of your snickers like music to his ears. He comes colliding against your front, hands digging into your hips. He leans forward to kiss your lips slowly, feeling you smile against him. A delightful chuckle bubbles at your mouth and he parts from you in the next moment wiggling his brows suggestively while a teasing smirk stretches at his face so wide, his dimples start to poke through.

“Wanna?” he asks. 

It’s a simple question, weighing heavy with dirty implications ━ and honestly? You’re kind of into it. Or maybe that’s just because he returns to kissing at your lips, only this time at the corners of your mouth, then the underside of your jaw. Tantalizing motions that seem to make your head spin violently. Your head lolls back against the wall behind you as he droops his head to your neck, lips meeting with the soft flesh of your throat to suck a delicate blossoming hickey there.

“Okay,” You rasp, “so maybe we can spare some time for this.”

“Ah, so now you’re interested.” His voice is huskier now, muffled by the way he busies himself by nipping at the same spot on your throat. He hears your breath hitch, feels the way you part your legs just slightly enough to have him sink further against you. He marvels at your decision in the morning to throw on a skirt and a pair of thick wool tights. At the time, you had said it was because the weather wasn’t too brisk outside just yet; now, he was thanking you silently for unknowingly picking just the right outfit for the occasion. 

“Namjoon…” Your voice is strained now, a mix between a plea and a whine and he grunts against your neck.

It takes Namjoon a moment to rack his brain, realizing that he finds it hard to even form a proper sentence anymore. “Don’t even need to feel my dick in you. Just wanna get you off, baby. Can I?”

You’re already practically drooling. “Think the boys will notice if we’re gone a little longer?” 

“Who cares?” Namjoon quips. “Jimin’ll probably think we got possessed and lost in the demon world or something.”

You giggle, though your voice splinters off into a soft moan as he continues to nip and suck at your neck. His hand falls to your thighs then, fingers brushing upward faintly until he meets the short hem of your skirt before disappearing beneath it. His hand comes to grasp at the delicate curve of your ass, his palm hot and firm against your soft flesh. 

He groans into your neck. “Been dying all night to touch you.”

“Then don’t stop.”

If the way his hardening cock now forms against your inner thigh any inclination, you don’t think he has plans on doing so. Instead, you watch as he lifts his free hand to your mouth, fingers tapping at your lips in a wordless motion. “Open up.”

You do as you’re told, lips parting just enough to wrap around his two fingers. He gazes at you with hooded eyes as you suck at his digits, tongue laving against the sturdy form in your mouth until his fingers are coated thick with your saliva. His other hand, still attached to the rump of your ass, moves like water over your skin to your thigh once more, nudging you aside just enough, pinching delicately at the skin there; he pulls his fingers from your mouth then, then lets the same hand venture under your skirt in a similar fashion. He wastes no time in pushing aside the material of your panties, pressing his digits at your core, watchful eyes staying fixated on yours if only to watch your every expression. His dampened fingers slide over your folds, spreading them open, running across them, admiring the way your stickiness already forms between your legs. 

“Joon…” You cling to him tighter, both to steady yourself against the sudden ministrations and to shield yourself more from view, though you’re certain there’s a slim chance the boys will come across you and Namjoon like this. You hope.

Namjoon’s fingers slip past your folds then, slow and steady as he feels the tight constricting walls of your cunt. You throb around him, thinking only of his cock, imagining the girth of it fitting snug deep within you. The similar stretch of your walls, the fluid motion of his length burrowing in and out of you, wrecking you into shambles. Now, Namjoon wriggles his fingers upward, scratching at a spot within you that has you writhing against him, the slick wetness of your arousal sufficiently coating his fingers. His thumb finds your clit then, running small circles against the small bundle of nerves.

“So wet,” Namjoon moans, resting his forehead against yours. He notes the way your teeth sink into your lower lip, and pulls his free hand out from under your skirt to tap his fingers against your chin. “Gonna moan for me, baby? Let the boys hear you? Maybe wake the dead?”

“You’re such a brat,” You simper through a shuddering breath, and if you weren’t so consumed by him then maybe you would have laughed at the joke he manages to squeeze in at the last moment. But he’s not wrong. What’s the point in keeping silent in an abandoned building that you’re positive only you and your friends are currently occupying? How much longer do you expect to keep quiet, when the way he’s making you feel begins to slowly burn at your insides? 

He curls his fingers deep in you, and your jaw unhinges in a silent gap. You wonder how long you can last, face burning with every passing second as he fingers you closer and closer to your high. Your hips jut outward to meet his hand with every motion, grinding against his knuckles in a desperate need to get off. You’re shameless about it too, fingers gripping his shirt tightly, brows scrunched together in hardened dedication. 

“Such a pretty little mess,” Namjoon hums. “Want you to cum on my hand, baby girl.”

“Fuck, Namjoon━” You whimper now, head lulling back as he twists his fingers further in you. 

But, as soon as you do so, the echoing sound of footsteps has your eyes darting to the darkened corridor. You make out the sound of oblivious chatter, and the familiar voices of Taehyung and Hoseok echoing from somewhere down below. They must be two floors down, though you can hear them screaming at nothing in particular, except for a string of profanities that meet your ears.

“Jesus, fuck!” That definitely sounds like Taehyung, voice shrill with worry. 

“Chill!” There’s Hoseok, but you think he was also screaming moments ago with Taehyung. “It’s just a spider.”

“I don’t care! Get it off of me!”

“Bunch of dumbasses,” Namjoon shakes his head rigidly, a fleeting grin forming on his face that is quick to fade as he curls his fingers upwards further into you. And, while your attention is somewhat fixated on the boys, you find yourself treading a fine line of not giving a fuck as Namjoon’s fingers stay buried deep within your cunt. Still, Namjoon can sense the slight urgency in your demeanor when your hands wind around his neck to tug at his hair, as if to gesture to the strangers that he already knows are nearby. 

“It’s okay,” he murmurs reassuringly, voice low enough for only you to hear. “You’re doing so good, love.”

He slows his fingers almost to a halt as you burrow your face in the crook of his neck. Your walls continue to clench around his fingers, and he adds a third finger to stretch you out just enough in a teasing leisure manner. He does it on purpose too, this much you know for certain, as he pinches playfully at your waist. It’s lewd, the idea of him fingering you out in public like this but the emboldened adrenaline coursing through your veins doesn’t want him to stop. By now, your high overwhelms everything else, causing you to writhe against Namjoon as he cradles you to him. You cum moments later, your orgasm overcoming you before you can sense it, trembling beneath his hands as he continues to finger you through it. Warm, wet arousal leaks from your core, coats his fingers all over as a punctuating whimper of his name tumbles from your lips.

“That’s it, baby,” he says gently. “Let everyone hear how dirty you are. Let it all out.”

Your thighs shake, squeezing shut around his hand, and all he can do is rub soothing circles into your hips with his free hand. He waits for your breath to steady, as the coil in your belly loosens, instead taking the time to admire you to your fullest, drunken hooded eyes glazed over in that perfect expression he loves.

“Want your cock in me now, Joon,” You whine breathlessly. The whining persistence in your voice excites Namjoon, only amplified tenfold by the way you begin nipping and sucking at his neck. 

“Now?” he asks.

“Now.”

Almost instantly, there’s a noticeable shift in his expression, a shit-eating smirk tugging at his mouth. You smother the rest of it before it can become too smug, folding your lips over his. Still, he hums through your eager kissing, “Yeah? Gonna let me fuck you like this, love? Take you raw against this wall, right here, right now?”

“Yes, please,” You mewl. Growing restless, you beg silently, “Namjoon.”

“Better make it quick then, hm?” 

You can only nod, still in a daze from the orgasm that still courses through your veins. Namjoon’s quick to oblige, pulling his hands from your heat and wiping your slick wetness off on his thigh. Clumsy hands between the both of you fumble to undo the button of his jeans, hastily undoing them just enough to free his straining cock from within. He wedges himself between your legs, hiking your skirt farther up your thighs, and he hurries to free his length from its confinements, wild locks spilling out onto his forehead and into your own line of sight. You push his hair up and away from his face, though your fingers grip suddenly at the roots of his locks when he grips your thigh and hoists it up to his hip, and then pushes himself into you at once, the tip of his warm cock easily coaxed by your already wet walls. He moans into your neck but muffles it halfheartedly by kissing along your throat.

“Easy there, boy,” You snicker, though your own words are a weak drunken slur, drowning out into a muffled whimper as he thrusts himself into you all the way. His hips meet yours roughly, grinding against you as your walls stretch around his throbbing cock.

“I’m needy,” he whines. “Just wanna feel you around me.”

He wastes no time in moving again, pulling his hips back only to thrust into you, adopting a steady fluid pace in such a way that has your head lolling back against the wall, and your mouth popping open in a silent moan as you shift beneath him. The wall of the building behind you is rough and jagged but you don’t feel it, not with the way he continues to thrust into you. His fingers dig into the flesh of your thigh, stretching you apart in such a way that has him pummeling his length into your core just right. 

“Fuck,” he grunts into your neck. Impatient hands move to yank your shirt up to your chest, pulling your bra down just enough for your breasts to pop out. He moves to leave a wet trail of kisses to your breasts, catching one of your nipples between his teeth and sucking harshly at it. The new sensation has your own walls clenching around him, and he almost comes undone then. Against your chest, you can hear him murmur breathlessly, “You feel so fucking good, baby.”

“Mmm,” You tug harshly at the roots of his hair. An unabashedly loud moan nearly tumbles from your lips before you can bite it back. Elsewhere, you can hear the sound of faint footsteps once more in the far distance, Taehyung and Hoseok much closer this time (quite possibly on the same floor as you, but the opposite end), but you don’t seem to care much anymore about the potentiality of being caught. “Fuck, Namjoon━”

“You like being fucked like this?” he rasps. “Out in public, for anyone to see?”

You feebly muster a nod, lips parting in a silent moan safe for the sound of your hot panting in his ear. Hurried yet deep shuddering strokes, he fucks into you again and again until your head is spinning. Every thrust sends a jolt up your spine and, still riddled by your first high, your body is quick to turn into shambles beneath him. Your hands flail outward to grasp onto every inch of his body, hands slithering beneath the material of his shirt, fingernails to dig crescent shapes into his torso, then snaking downward to grasp at his bum, pulling him in closer each time he rolls his hips into yours.

“Joon…” Your voice is an exhausted moan when it meets his ear. He almost doesn’t hear it, instead too caught up in the way your panting breaths mingle with the crude wetness of his cock delving past your folds each time. Somewhere, once more, in the distance even closer this time is the sound of footsteps once more. The thought of someone walking in one you like this━Namjoon wedged between your thighs, drilling his leaking cock into your wet cunt and tearing you to utter shambles━does something chaotically good to you. “Not gonna last.”

“Me neither,” he gasps. “Don’t care. Just wanna cum. Just wanna feel you cum around me.”

His thrusts begin to tread into sloppy territory, fervently itching to get both of you off. You reach your second high first, tumbling towards it with open arms. You can’t contain yourself, the tempting moan dancing upon the tip of your tongue, burning in your throat as your orgasm twists at your belly. “Fuck, baby, I’m gonna━” 

But your voice splinters off into a delicious sounding whimper. Wary of being caught by your wandering friends when you’re both so close to being undone (because, really, the idea of someone else hearing you whimper because of how good his cock is exhilarates him), Namjoon’s hand clamps over your lips and you welcome it graciously, favouring the idea of his fingers poking into your mouth so that you have something to distract your moaning. It still comes, broken and inaudible, smothered by Namjoon’s hand, as your tongue lavs around his digits. 

Now, you’re truly a sight to behold, making Namjoon’s length twitch amongst your walls. Exhausted, fucked out eyes gawk at him, too weak to carry on, instead jutting your hips forward to meet his with each thrust. 

“Shit,” he whines. “Fuckin’ hell, Y/N━”

He comes moments later, frantic slaps of his own hips having him spilling his seed sloppily into your already wet cunt. The abrupt sensation as your own walls clenching so impossibly tight around him, he feels as if he can’t move, though it’s not as if he immediately plans to. Instead, after a few more rocky thrusts into you to ride out both of your highs, he collapses against your chest and you smooth your fingers delicately through his hair. 

It’s a miracle when you both manage to finally pry themselves off of one another. As Namjoon hurries to tuck himself back into his jeans, you fidget with your bra and shirt, and then the hem of your skirt, tugging it as low as it can go. His cum is still warm and sticky between your legs, slowly beginning to run down your inner thighs. 

You catch him looking at some point and ask curiously, “What?”

“Nothing,” he says innocently. “Just wondering how you still manage to look so beautiful even after having my cum fucked in you.”

You roll your eyes as you reach out to ruffle his messy hair in an attempt to tame the damage you’ve caused. He smiles wide at the effort anyway. 

“Decent?” he asks.

“Good enough,” You say. “Now, let’s find the boys before anyone notices we were gone for too long.”

And this, he doesn’t disagree with.

Later, when you and Namjoon have regrouped with the rest of the boys back by the cars parked outside the asylum, everyone looks a little more on edge than when you left them. Except for maybe you and Namjoon. You wonder if the boys notice, judging by the way you and Namjoon keep giggling amongst yourselves.

“So,” Jungkook says, “did you guys find anything?”

“Nothing,” Jin admits. “Just freaked out Jimin a little bit more.”

The boy in question can be seen scowling to himself, arms folded over his chest. “All I gotta say is screw this place.”

Hoseok looks indifferent as he reviews a recording on the camera in his hands. When he speaks, his voice is a casual drawl. “Dunno. Thought we heard some suspiciously loud moaning from one part of that building that I’m almost positive Namjoon and Y/N were exploring.”

At this, Taehyung bursts out into wolfish laughter, only prompted further by your sudden horrified expression that you try to play off nonchalantly and fail miserably at doing. So they had heard you two after all? “Ha! They sure were exploring something.”

While the rest of the boys look either intrigued or rightfully confused, Namjoon shakes his head defiantly. “Nah, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Resisting the urge to hide behind your hands, you bite your tongue and try to sift through your brain for something else to discuss. Over the childish giggling sounding from Taehyung and Hoseok, you ask, “Well, did you guys find anything? Thought we heard you exploring the third floor.”

“Third floor?” Hoseok echoes, dumbfounded. “We didn’t get that far.”

“But I could have sworn I heard you guys.”

Hoseok’s brows knit together. He exchanges a look with Taehyung, then returns his stare to you. “You probably heard Tae screaming like a lunatic because a spider was on him. We were only in there long enough to try the spirit box out again, but that was on the second floor. Then the spider thing happened. Then, we left.”

Now, this is alarming. You gap at the boys as your mind tries to piece together the puzzles of this dilemma. Had you heard the boys, or perhaps something else entirely? Or maybe it was just your imagination. Namjoon did say your mind plays tricks on you ━ but the sound of footsteps had been so vivid. 

Even Namjoon looks stupefied, gawking at Hoseok. “Wait, you’re not joking, are you?”

“No,” Taehyung shakes his head. “We were filming the whole time. We can show you. Are you guys joking?”

“No,” You promise. “We were━ Erm━ We got distracted. We weren’t really paying much attention but━”

You’re fortunate when Yoongi decides to speak up, interrupting your embarrassed stammering. “So then what did you guys hear…?

A beat of silence passes amongst your group of friends. One-by-one, you each turn to look up at the haunting asylum still standing behind you, the night blurring its shape into one incomprehensible monstrosity. Okay, so maybe the ghost stories about this place are true. A shiver runs down your spine. 

Then━

“So does that mean the ghost is a Peeping Tom or━?” Jungkook asks. You wonder if you should be concerned by his serious tone.

The boys howl with laughter at the thought, though you’re still admittedly a little shaken up by the idea of a ghost watching you and Namjoon bone. Maybe you asked for it, what with deciding to have a quickie in a haunted asylum. 

“I don’t know, but can we please get out of here?” You press thinly. “Jimin was right. Screw this place.”

If the boys are as deeply unsettled by yours and Namjoon’s sudden revelation, you don’t know. You all manage to pack up your belongings and clamber in the cars in record timing, speeding away from the asylum unscathed. And if you really did just witness a ghost encounter, then you suppose it isn’t all that bad. 

At the very least, Namjoon’s video does make it to the trending page.

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⟶ Feedback is always appreciated!

[euphoricsunflowers]

drowning in your scent — chae hyungwon

a/n: ajshdhs this this officially the longest fic on my blog by a whole lot (i think the only thing that comes somewhat close is queen’s whore at like 3.1k sheesh) so in the spirit of that! please give this fic a lot of love!!

word count: 4.7k

content: goddess au, sub!hyungwon, dom!fem!reader, the sex scene involves kissing, lip biting, neck kisses, and riding, fun stuff like that, and minhyuk is here!! he’s mentioned a lot lmao hyunghyuk besties

warning: this fanfic does take place in a village setting where there’s a bad harvest of food and so there’s a lot of mentions of food and starving. as someone with problems with food myself this could be potentially somewhat triggering so please don’t read if need be and i want to emphasize that if you need help to please reach out for it. i know what it’s like, please even feel free to reach out to me if need be, but do remember i’m not a professional.

summary: a boy from the village struggling through a bad harvest and the goddess of nature, of animals and forests, and of flowers so lovely the scent will make you dizzy, make a deal.

“hyungwon,” the voice calls out to him, and his heart aches when he sees it’s minhyuk that’s speaking to him. the usual cheer and brightness to minhyuk’s voice has all but vanished, “come on, we need to get to work,” he trudged slowly behind his friend, with minhyuk’s hand holding his own. there’s nothing but comradery between them, and yet hyungwon feels like he would trust minhyuk with his life.

“i hate this,” hyungwon murmurs under his breath, but he can faintly hear minhyuk chuckle at his whining, “i’m serious!! there’s barely any food and i’m starving and i’m supposed to pick fruit that i won’t even be allowed to eat?!”

minhyuk’s face is stone cold suddenly as he turns to, for lack of a better phrase, tell hyungwon to shut the hell up, “lower your voice,” he orders, and hyungwon deflates, but he obeys, and the quiet returns as they continue to walk to their spot in the field to pick the fruit, “i’m sorry, but i worry that being so outspoken will be your downfall, won.”

as they pick the apples, in silence from their short and blunt conversation, hyungwon spots one that stands out from the rest. he tries to resist getting a closer look at it, but he just can’t. he takes a few steps over towards it, subsequently a few steps away from minhyuk, and the apple does the rest. it’s almost hypnotic in the way hyungwon can’t take his eyes off of it. it’s red and glowing and hyungwon doesn’t know how he’s the only one captivated by the apple.

it’s like the fruit is speaking to him, calling him away, and he starts walking, even when minhyuk calls after him, he knows minhyuk spoke even though he couldn’t hear him. he walks for a few minutes, through the trees and the dense forest that he’s never traversed before. he doesn’t have to constantly gaze at the apple now, but he grips it in his hand like his life depends on it.

he comes upon a small statue hidden in the depths of the forest. it’s a stone carving of a bird, wings spread as if flying through the sky. it’s beautiful.

“isn’t it?” he hears from behind him, actually registering someone spoke to him this time, and he turns to see who it is. instead of the face of cheerful minhyuk he’s so used to seeing, a beautiful figure graces his eyes.

hyungwon can’t even focus on the physique, though, he’s too entranced by the piercing eyes that stare into his soul practically and the voice he can hear ringing in his head. “isn’t it, dear?” your voice repeats again, and he feels compelled to answer, though he’s not exactly sure how you read his thoughts. maybe he had actually said them out loud.

“yes,” he murmurs softly, turning back to look at the statue, “it’s gorgeous,” he takes a step closer to the statue to get a closer look.

“your voice,” you speak again, “i- nevermind,” you stop yourself, instead choosing to take a step closer to him, your hand touches his shoulder, “can i help you with something, dear?”

“i- what?” he’s taken aback by your question, because he didn’t search you or this place out, he was practically lured here by the fruit, “no, i-i’m okay, thank you though.”

“are you sure?” your touch on his shoulder finally registers in his head, like all his reactions are slowed and delayed, “if you’re not here for something, then… why are you here?”

“i dont… i don’t know,” he was never loud, but he’s even quieter now, “the apple… it led me here.”

you suddenly fell silent. he wonders if you used to apple to lure him, if this is a trap, but your touch is still so distracting and he can’t bring himself to care much. you look so harmless, with such pretty features that he wants to stare at forever.

it does make him wonder, however, just why your tone was so brazen when he said he wasn’t here to ask anything of you. you looked baffled when he said no, like that was the only reason you expected him to be here, “do people always just come searching for you… asking for things?”

“yes, they do,” you respond bluntly, but your words aren’t hostile. he faintly feels a sense of pity in his heart for you.

“that sounds like… such a sad existence,” the words leave his lips without him really putting much thought into them.

“it is,” you say as silence falls between the two of you before he speaks up.

“you uhm… are you… human?” you’re a beautiful yet lonely person in the forest, and it makes him wonder if you even are a person.

“no, dear,” you say as you lift your hand, the grass beneath both of you growing as you do so, “i am a being that represents nature. i think you humans would call me a god or goddess?”

“oh that’s… incredible. please explain to me more,” his eyes find you once again, watching you with already such a soft, adoring gaze.

“you just want to hear me talk, little human,” your tone is playful as his cheeks become rosy.

“maybe,” he smiles cheekily, “will you still explain it to me?”

“of course, sit with me and the flowers, will you?” you ask him, and he plops on the ground, sitting with his legs crossed as you begin, “i can control how nature exists in this world. i can make your flowers grow or trees in your forest more dense. you humans also love to hunt the sweet animals i create, ”

you pause, as if to give him a chance to speak up, and he does, “i’m sorry about that.”

“it’s alright, dear, your apologies are not necessary. besides, once they do die, they become gifts for other gods, and those gods treat their gifts from me very well,” you smile somberly, “tell me, how are you humans doing?”

he wants to lie, for some reason. he has an urge to just say ‘everything is fine, let’s just talk about happy things. i want to be happy’ but he doesn’t, “we’re… you want my honesty, right?”

“yes, yes absolutely,”

“we’re suffering. there’s too little food for everyone,” his stomach rumbles as he’s in the middle speaking, and he makes a sort of ‘see what i mean?’ gesture, “and we barely have enough to keep everyone alive through the month..”

you subtly gasp at his confession he just gives so easily, “and yet you were expected to pick fruit? that seems unfair, dear.”

“it was work that had to be done for the good fo the village,” he lowers his head at the thoughts racing through his head, envisioning the soft eyes of his friend, “but min- uh, my friend, he’s all i have. i know i… said i didn’t have anything to ask of you… and this may seem too much of me to ask, but now that i know what you are and can do, could you please help them? the people of my village, i mean,” he pleads, his eyes shining in the light.

“you want me to… provide them food?”

“please, i’d do anything,”

your face is suddenly much more serious, and you grip his shoulder as you lean in close to him, “for future reference, dear, don’t ever tell a being like me you’d do anything. ever. got it?” you were kind. you knew you were kind, but there were some that would rip his poor, innocent heart to shreds, steal his soul because he didn’t read the fine print. you’re relieved someone so soft and sweet and almost angelic stumbled upon you of all beings.

“yes,” he practically squeaks.

“good,” you sigh as you stand up, “i will help you, little thing. in return, please stay with me for one day. tomorrow afternoon, at this exact hour, you can return to the village,” you extend your hand for him to shake, “are those terms agreeable to you, my little human?”

his heart pounds in his chest. you want him to stay with you? for a whole day? he decides it’s a price that’s easy to pay if he remembers the prospect of being able to save him friend and his people from starvation “yes,” he murmurs, reaching out to shake your hand.

—

it doesn’t take much effort from you, just a wave of your hand and apparently, the harvest in the village would magically improve. he supposes one day is not a lot of his little time to give up if it meant the village could be revitalized with a bountiful amount of food. he just hopes minhyuk isn’t worrying too much.

you have a cottage of your own, he learns. it confuses him slightly because you’re a goddess, why would you need a very human-esque living space? he supposes he’ll never learn the answer to that question. the thing itself is impossible to see from the outside, he could have sworn nothing was there until your hand was in his (his heart stopped for a good minute) and you led him up the stairway leading into the cottage.

“make yourself at home,” you tell him, and he nods in a daze. your place was beautiful, full of flowers and vases with more flowers and little flower trinkets on the table and mugs with flower designs. judging from anything you considered to be your domain, you seem to like flowers. the softness of the atmosphere is calming to him, the scent of all the flowers is overwhelming, his knees are weak.

“what- what are you going to do with me for this day that you have me? you must have some plan for me,” you tilt your head with a faint smile on your lips as he sits beside you on the couch, “do you want me to work? am i a servant? please, all cards on the table, tell me what you want from me.”

“all cards on the table?” you echo, and he nods, for a second wondering if you just straight up didn’t know what he meant, but you lean in to him, close enough to just barely need to lean just a little more and you’d be kissing him, “i just think you’re cute. forgive me if i just wanted a day to gaze at you.”

he’s startled as you pull yourself away, leaving him flustered and blushing and stuttering as you excuse yourself outside to grow more flowers. he sees the beautiful sunflowers and roses and tulips and then his eyes find you once more. your beauty just radiates, it’s so overwhelming and intoxicating that he feels the safest really taking it all in when you’re focused on your flowers, not leaving him a blushing mess whilst so close to kissing him he just might faint.

the sun hits your skin in such a beautiful way that he can’t can’t stop staring. it’s ironic how you wanted him to stay for a night because you thought he was cute but he cannot take his eyes off of your beautiful smile and hair and demeanor and just… aura. your presence is so soft and comforting yet so overwhelming to him. it’s all something he can’t understand.

you return a few hours later, having given your guest time to really settle in. as you open the door, he’s in the kitchen area with one of your mugs, drinking a cup of tea peacefully and quietly, “welcome back,” he mumbles with a smile.

“hi there, little human,” you smile back at him, taking a seat beside him, “i’m… sorry. i know you were probably lonely, here all by yourself-“

“no, i actually enjoy the quiet. it beats picking fruit,” he shrugs.

“speaking of food, i was able to grant your request, but i completely forgot about you. would you like something specific to be prepared for your evening meal?” hyungwon forgot what it was like when there wasn’t barely enough food to survive on. he tells you his wishes for meat and vegetables and starches his stomach aches for, “alright, dear. sit at the counter with me as i cook.”

he’s stunned for a second, “i didn’t know you can cook.”

“you don’t know my name, my sweet. we have a lot to learn about each other.”

“what is your name?” he asks, and you giggle to yourself, having known he’d ask it the moment you brought up the fact that he hadn’t yet.

“y/n,” you answer, finding the spices you wanted, “and yours, my beautiful flower?”

his heart skips a beat at the endearing term you use. at this point, he wonders if you’re getting enjoyment out of flustering him so helplessly like this, “hyungwon,” he sees the way you smile when you hear his name. it makes him smile too.

“hyungwon… what a beautiful name you have, my dear. it’s fitting, for someone as beautiful as you,” at this point he’s absolutely sure you’re getting a kick out of making him a flustered mess, because now his cheeks are red and he can’t meet your gaze, “sorry, i don’t mean to fluster you—,” liar, he thinks, “— i just can’t help adoring you.”

“you’re too much for my weak heart,” he mumbles exasperatedly as you cook, looking over at him with that cheeky smile on your face like you know just how much you wreck his heart and his composure.

you seat him at the small-but-not-too-small dinner table, bringing plates of food and finally sitting at the seat across from him, “eat as much or as little as you want, dear.”

he goes to ask before he puts too much thought into the question, “are you not gonna eat-? oh, wait, nevermind, do you not need to?” you nod, smiling.

“i’m grateful that you think of me, angel, but you’re correct: this is all for you,” and while he’d theoretically be hesitant to eat while you just sit there, he finally remembered just how hungry he was, and so it would have taken much more restraint than he currently had to restrain himself.

after dinner, you lead him him to the bedroom in your cottage. emphasis on the singularity in that term, “oh- uh, a-am i going to sleep with you-?” he stutters.

“you can, you don’t have to if you don’t wish to, flower. i don’t really have to sleep so if you want the bed all to yourself, then it’s yours. i just… i thought maybe- you know what,” you tone changes suddenly, and he’d be damned if he didn’t catch it, “nevermind. take the room. call for me if you need me, i’ll be outside with the flowers again-“

“wait!” he calls out as you turn to leave him alone. you look over at him, eyes shining so beautifully in the moonlight.

“yes, my flower?”

he’s flustered once again, but he can’t help wanting you to stay with him. he reaches his hand out to you, similarly to how you reached yours out to him, “stay with me?”

you accept the proposal, sitting on the bed with him, weaving a few flowers into a flower crown while he lays on his side, watching you work on the crown like it was the most entertaining thing in the world.

“i think sunflowers will look pretty against your skin, hyungwon,” you mumble, keeping your voice soft as to not disrupt the peaceful atmosphere you’ve both created, and he smiles bashfully at your words, “truly, i think anything would look beautiful on you, but the yellows would really bring out the strong, almost sensual browns in your eyes. can- can i?”

he nods in consent, sitting up and sitting still for you, and your fingers gracefully position the crown on top of his head, “ah, do i look good with it on?”

“oh absolutely, sweetheart, but,” you scoot closer to him, and once again, his heart beats rapidly and his thoughts evaporate into thin air, replaced by the bashful shyness and the way he’s suffocated by your scent, breathing it in like it’s a drug, “in my opinion, you’re the most beautiful.”

he can’t breathe.

“i-i, um, oh my god,” he stammers, so shy as you smile at how he struggles.

“can i kiss you, pretty boy?” you whisper, your hand raising to hold his cheek as you gaze at his lips. it’s subtle, probably because he was malfunctioning inside, but he nods, closing his eyes and passively waiting for your lips on his.

he didn’t know what to expect, with you being a god and all, but it was so much more than he could have prepared himself for, both mentally and physically. it was a rush if he’d ever felt one, both his body on fire and goosebumps lining his skin.

your style of kissing makes him ache in so many ways. his lips will definitely be bruised from the way you bite them, drawing blood like a vampire but in the kindest way possible, your hand cupping his cheek and you other rubbing his thigh soothingly is enough to keep him from crying out because of the pain.

“stop me, hyungwon,” you mumble under your breath, “if you don’t want this, you need to stop me. tell me to stop and i will,” but how did you ever expect him to do that when he’s already so wrecked and all you’ve done is kissed?

“don’t,” he whispers, “don’t stop, please,” and you oblige, keeping your lips busy on his neck as he groans, reaching out to hold your waist, “please,” he echos his own words weakly.

“tell me what you want, i’ll do it, just tell me,” you see how choked up he is, and it’s cute how easily he’s wrapped around your finger, “tell me, tell me, my flower.”

“touch me more,” he breathes, and you help him throw off his shirt. your hands are all over him in an instant, you press kisses down his neck, paying attention to his chest as your hands wander lower and lower.

he bites his lip in anticipation, but it feels just like how it felt when you bit his lip before and he audibly moans at the recent memory. it’s almost embarrassing when he realizes just how openly and easily he’s been moaning since you started.

and it’s not like he exactly expected a warning, but he wasn’t ready for when one of your hands started rubbing his crotch and making him moan and whine helplessly, “please don’t tease me.”

“hm, alright, sweet thing. how about i ride you? would you like that?” he nods desperately, weak at the thought of you using him for your own pleasure and leaving him to drown in the overwhelming pleasure you give him, “take off your pants and underwear, then.”

he scrambles to do as you say, watching with his jaw dropped as you make the garments you wear all but disappear with just a wave of your hand, and he’s intimately reminded that you’re not human, that he shouldn’t have trusted you so implicitly as to let you put him in this position, and that he’s playing a game where he doesn’t know the rules.

but then he sees the genuineness in your smile, the way you treat him so kindly yet assertively, soft yet harsh, and he just can’t fathom being in any real danger when he’s being swallowed by so much pleasure when he’s under you like this.

he’d been zoned out for a few moments until you’re actually riding him already, holding his hand in a softness that makes him weak. he suddenly notices the flowers in your hair, the way your nose crinkles up when you smile down at him, the way looking at your lips reminds him of the ache on his. it’s incredible just how infatuated he is, the way he adores so much being not just under you in a physical sense but also being under your spell.

he moans in such a heavenly bliss, eyes fluttered shut as he can only hear his own voice make sounds that would normally make him embarrassed. he can’t bother to care right now because when he opens his eyes, you seem to like the sounds he makes. and he wants to please.

“hyungwon, d-dear,” you murmur, your hands resting on his chest to keep yourself stable on his chest, “i can’t keep my eyes off of you, baby. you’re absolutely ethereal. so please, can you show me how pretty you are when you cum? can you cum for me, my flower?”

god that name was the most precious thing to him, he wanted to be your beautiful flower forever.

he does cum. he orgasms viscerally, his body trembling as he throws his head back, his jaw slacked as he moans loudly, cumming so hard he can see white.

he stays in that headspace of pleasure, higher than the clouds, for a few moments as the high subsides and he’s left with a euphoric feeling that keeps him shivering with aftershocks, until he starts to hear your voice. you whisper little nothings to him as he starts to come down completely, “i’ve got you, little thing, don’t worry, you’re safe with me.”

he briefly ponders why you keep calling him ‘little thing’ when he’s as tall as he is, but your kisses to him temple take that thought away, “y/n?”

“yes, dear?”

“can you sleep with me?” he asks, not realizing that you already told him that you don’t need to sleep.

still, you can’t resist him when he’s just so adorable with that pout he probably doesn’t even realize he’s making, “of course, let’s clean up just a little bit, and i’ll lay with you while you sleep, angel.”

—

morning comes far too soon. you still have him for another 7ish hours, but once they’re up, he’ll return to his village, to that friend he mentioned, and disappear from your existence forever. it’s almost pitiful how quickly you became attached to the pretty thing.

you look over at him, sleeping so, so peacefully, his cheek squished against the pillow while he pouts and you can’t help but coo at how precious he looks.

it’s impossible to imagine a life anymore where you can’t keep looking at his face, at his pretty lips (that are covered in bruises in a way that makes this moment a bit less melancholic and innocent), at the softness in his eyes when he gazed at you. what a miserable fate that would be to live through.

“what’s on your mind?” you hear him groan tiredly, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. you go to object, say ‘of course it’s nothing just go back to sleep dear’, but he catches it and, even in the early morning, he won’t take a lie.

“i just… you have a life to return to, and i don’t want to deprive you of that. i’ve just grown to like you, is all,” you murmur as you run your fingers through his hair, hearing his soft gums of contentment, “an existence of being by yourself might make one somewhat… easily attached.”

hyungwon doesn’t know how to respond, but he sits up, despite the tiredness that still rests in his body, he moves to get himself out of bed, using his hand to brush his hair out of his face, “we still have time together, so let’s do something you want to do.”

“like what?” you smile sadly, “what should we do?”

“hmm…” he makes a really cute face when he thinks, you realize, and it just makes you fall a little bit more, “well you really like flowers right?”

“of course,”

hyungwon’s face lights up, like he’s had a sudden realization, “oh! then what if we painted? i have minhyuk’s paints in my bag!! minhyuk told me to hold onto them for the day and i kept them on me!”

“wha- what if your friend doesn’t want you to use them?” you stutter, but you can feel that you’re already on board.

“then that’s his problem!”

now to be honest, painting was not hyungwon’s strong suit, but he had such a fun time with mixing colors and making flowers that don’t really look like flowers come to life on the many wooden walls of your cottage. neither of you had brushes either, so it was really just fingerpainting, and by the end, your hands were covered in myriads of greens and yellows and pinks reds and blues tinted by the white, they were almost works of art themselves.

and after hours of painting, making more flower crowns, even teaching him to make flower crowns, and more activities, your time with him was dwindling. of course, he doesn’t have to leave, but the time that he had to stay was slowly slipping away from you.

“hyungwon,” you mumble, getting his attention as he sits on the couch while you were supposedly making tea. you raise your hand, displaying a bright red apple, “this is the one from yesterday, right?”

“y-yeah, i think so, why?”

“i- come here, please.”

he wobbles over to the kitchen, sitting beside you as you show off the fruit, “what’s going on?”

“remember when you told me the apple lead to you the statue?” he nods, “this apple is blessed with my energy. it’s… magical, in a human sense. i just want to apologize for decieving and likely confusing you yesterday,” you look down at the fruit, shiny and glowing red with liveliness, “but i have a… proposal of sorts.”

“i- alright, what is it?”

“take a bite,” you say, your tone heavy with implications of what will happen, “take a bite, and stay with me, will you?”

“what- what about my family? my friend? what about the life that i have?” he asks, but it’s all rhetorical, he doesn’t expect a serious answer, “i was willing to give you a day, i can’t give you my life.”

why can’t you, you feel the urge to murmur to him, why can’t you give that all up? you know i’m all you want now, you’ll only spiral down even further into me, “you don’t have to eat it all, just a bite, just one.”

“what- why are you so adamant that i eat that apple?”

“because!” your voice cracks ever so slightly, and once again his heart aches and he rushes to attempt to soothe you, to hold your heart in his hands and never once let it be hurt, “because you are all i want, hyungwon,” you mumble as he hugs you, resting your head against him, “because i want you to return to your friend and your village, but i’m selfish, i’m so, so selfish. this is the best middle ground i could think of.”

“...what does taking a bite entail?” he asks tentatively, and his heart jumps when he sees your eyes shine with hope. whether or not you know it, you’ve got him good.

“half the time, you’ll be mine. your soul has to reside in my domain, your heart will constantly ache for me,” you murmur, your hands suddenly wandering and he chokes out a moan, “but the rest of the time, you can return to the village. you can return to your life, and i will not make any attempts to steal you away during that time.”

he’s left speechless, not exactly sure what you’d want him to say now, but you place the apple in his hands, pressing a few faint kisses to the edge of his lips just to fluster him, but then you disappear outside. he watches you through the window as you tend to your flowers, picking a sunflower to place into your hair. he’s so entranced by the way you move that he can barely focus on what he needs to focus on: the apple.

he wonders what minhyuk is feeling right now. he’s probably worried to death, horrified out of his mind that his friend just disappeared into the forest. he wants so badly to go back and reassure him that nothing bad happened and go back to the way things were except things would be better.

but he does also feel a sense of… devotion? infatuation? love, maybe? whatever it is, he feels something towards you. his heart aches to please you, to do in this situation what would make you happy. the way you looked when you were so emotionally vulnerable with him, you didn’t seem like a god that he had to worship in that moment, you seemed like a soul that he wanted to love. it’s this feeling deep in his soul that just leaves him, both his heart and his body, utterly defenseless to the prospect of you.

so this is the end of him as he’s been for his whole life. or at least, in a sense, half of him. he’s grateful that you went outside to let his head clear just a bit, it’s always so clouded with you and your scent and your aura that he feels delusional. he tosses the apple around anxiously as he tries to decide what to do, but in the end, there’s not a chance in the world that he could ever go against what would make you happy.

he tries to delude himself into thinking it’s a conscious choice he makes, but he knows he’s lying; he just doesn’t want to accept it. he’s been a wreck since the moment you lured him away with the very apple he holds, there’s not a single reality in which he gives you up. his heart aches to protect yours, and his body wishes to be ruined by yours.

he takes a bite. he’s yours.

—

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[togglesbloggle]

How We Decided

The day after tomorrow- that is, February 18, 2021- the Perseverance rover will attempt to land on the surface of Mars.  It will enter the planetary atmosphere at an acute angle, giving it as much time as possible to experience drag and slow down from orbital velocities.  Because Mars’ air is so thin, and the rover is so heavy, this will fail- in the best case, Perseverance would still be going almost a thousand miles an hour when it impacts the surface.  To help save itself, the craft will deploy a parachute of advanced design, seventy feet across and able to withstand supersonic velocities.  This, too, will fail.  Even with a parachute, there is simply not enough air between Perseverance and the Martian surface to slow it down all the way.  So this is where the rockets kick in.  Once air resistance slows the rover to a bit less than two hundred miles per hour, the heavy heat shield will be jettisoned, and a system of secondary rockets will fire against the direction of motion until it slows to near-hovering.  In a final flourish, the rover will descend from the rocket-boosted frame on coiled springs, until it touches down in the western part of Jezero crater in the northern hemisphere of Mars.

As it happens, Perseverance’s destination was one of the very last things we decided about it- not until the craft itself was fairly thoroughly engineered and designed.  Formally, the decision was made by the mission directorate.  In practice, they follow the consensus of the scientific community, which in turn hashes things out at a series of open-invitation workshops.  Things began with a call for white papers- an open suggestion box, basically.  In 2015, the first workshop narrowed things down from thirty serious proposals to eight candidates.  In 2017, the second workshop further winnowed the list down to three.  And in October of 2018, after three days of presentation, debate, and discussion, the final workshop selected Jezero Crater from these final three candidates using a simple vote of all attendees, and passed on the recommendation to the mission leads.

I haven’t been in the business for very long, so the final workshop was the only one of these where I actually participated.  It wasn’t a close vote as such, and I didn’t break any ties, and technically we were just making a strongly worded suggestion.  Nonetheless, my vote is one of the reasons why the Rover will be going to Jezero Crater instead of Syrtis Major or Gusev, and I think I’m entitled to feel ownership of this mission choice, just a little bit.

(This is, of course, terrifying.)

Having gone through the experience, there were a few surprises worth noting.  The first was how small some of the numbers are here.  The conference was not very large: only thirty proposals, debated by just a few hundred attendees.  I’ve seen book review contests with more entries, and that are read by a wider audience.  Which is to say, this is a situation that was, and is, extremely responsive to individual effort.  In that small a room, populated by people that are philosophically committed to changing their minds when they see good evidence or a good argument, one person can stand up and change the future in a very real way.

The second surprise was the attendance requirements.  Or rather, the lack thereof.  The project is public, paid for by American taxpayers, to whom I am profoundly grateful.  And one way the process reflected that public-spiritedness is that this is not a walled garden.  A small attendance fee (iirc, $40?), and you’re in.  You get a vote, if you want to use it.  A few non-scientists even took us up on this; there’s one retiree (a former schoolteacher, I think) that’s attended every major conference I’ve been to in the last few years, and sets up a small table in the back with his home mineral collection just for fun.  In practice this open-door policy is limited by the obscurity of the event itself; if you don’t move in research circles, you have to be something of a space exploration superfan to hear about it.  Still, as symbols go, you could do worse.

And now that we’re coming up on the day itself, the same kind of public-facing mindset is making me think about why I was persuaded to vote for Jezero Crater, what it means to explore there, and how I’d justify that choice to those of you that made the ongoing discovery of Mars possible in the first place.

If you want to know what Perseverance is like, and what you can reasonably do with it, start with Curiosity- the two are built, more or less, on the same chassis.  That means you have a mobile science lab about the size of a Volkswagon Beetle.  Add some mechanical improvements (no more wheel punctures!) and a few bells and whistles (microphone!  helicopter for some reason!).  Trade out some of the scientific instruments- raman spectroscopy instead of a mass spectrometer, for example.  And it’s got these:

That, dear reader, is a sample return canister.  Not to be returned immediately, alas, but to be returned nonetheless.  One of Persevereance’s primary directives is to find interesting rocks, collect them, and leave them in place for a sample return mission in the early 30s.  There’s a ton of work we can do in situ, but there’s even more we can do in a clean lab back home; things like isotopic analysis really need a much more controlled environment than you’ll get in the field.  And so a major, major consideration is to optimize Perseverance’s landing site for cool rocks that we’d like to take back home.

The other thing that Perseverance is really good at is astrobiology.  There’s no such thing as a life sign detector as such, but this rover represents an attempt to approach that ideal: instruments like SHERLOC and SuperCam are adept at finding organic compounds and fine-scale mineralogy and chemistry that might be influenced by microbial metabolism.  This is a natural extension of what we’ve been learning so far: Spirit and Opportunity showed us that Mars formed under the influence of liquid water.  Curiosity showed us that this was not just wet, but actively habitable: lakes and rivers at a neutral pH under a rich and temperate atmosphere.  The next question along this line is the hardest, and the scariest: we know it was habitable, but was it inhabited?

If you’re like me, that question makes you feel weird.  Collecting rocks is one thing, but a fossil?  The mind rebels.  We’ve spent the last two generations of space exploration tempering our expectations, reminding ourselves that the other worlds in our solar system are largely barren and dead, learning again and again how precious life is in the cosmos.  It’s hard to get in the mindset of people back in the 40s and 50s who could, somewhat reasonably, imagine that Mars might not just host life but multicellular life, vegetation and robust macroscopic ecosystems.  We look back at the science fiction of the era, swarthy soldiers hopping from planet to planet in silver rockets, and laugh at the naivete.  A smile at the exuberance of youth, if we’re feeling generous.  When we were first beginning, we may have imagined ancient canals on Mars and crystal cities on Venus, but that was when space was a blank canvas for us to paint our fantasies.  We’ve learned so much since then, and if it was less fun, at least it was true.  We did the hard thing and accepted reality over fantasy.  We accept that extraterrestrial environments are hostile to life- cratered, silent, and still.  We’re grownups now.

Unless…

Unless.

Imagine that we were born just a bit earlier.  Say, three and a half billion years or so.  We raise our telescopes to the sky, and we see a sister-planet.  Not red, but white and blue, with an atmosphere full of clouds and multiple large bodies of water scattered across its surface, prominent ice caps and snow-capped highlands, rivers tracing their way down to the lowlands in the north.  (Maybe the water is all under the ice, not open to the air at the surface; maybe the liquid pools are small and limited to craters, not feeding a large ocean.)  Sober scientists might have suggested we shouldn’t get our hopes up too much- after all, the gravity is much lower, there’s no tectonic recycling, and there’s no protective magnetosphere.  But is sterility really the default assumption we should be making here?  Is ‘we are alone in the cosmos’ really the most sane conclusion to draw from this situation?  Is it not worth, perhaps, sending a rover to go see?

We’ve adapted our sensibilities to a dead solar system because in the moment we’re looking, it kind of is.  We’re hopeful for the icy moons- and the evidence keeps mounting there as well- but the terrestrial planets are a grim reminder of the fragility and contingency of our own world.  The thing is, the more we learn, the more we discover that we’re a bit late to a very, very interesting party.  Venus is a hellscape, but it probably didn’t start that way.  Mars is a desert, but once it was an oasis.  What makes Earth special among the terrestrial worlds isn’t that it developed a temperate climate, but that it kept a temperate climate for more than four billion years.  Stability, not habitability, is the party trick that makes us unique in the solar system.  And if we’re really committed to being grownups, to accepting what’s real instead of what’s easy, we have to learn that lesson too.

And life does not need four billion years to begin.  Not even close.

That brings us to Jezero Crater.  The most interesting feature here is a large river delta- based on some clever geology, we’re pretty sure that a large river emptied into the crater during Mars’ wet period.  When the rapidly-flowing water hit the still water of Lake Jezero, the loose sediments being carried along the current all fell out of suspension at this place, forming a large pile of detritus at the mouth of the river that accumulated over the lifetime of the system.  Even more interesting, check out this geologic map:

See those tiny teal deposits to the right side of the image?  Those are also river delta deposits.  Which means the thing labeled ‘delta’ on this map isn’t the original extent- it used to be much, much larger, at least twice as wide.  Which also means that the outer edge of the ‘delta’ that we see here in this image is actually an erosional surface, and we get a natural cross-section of the thing with the oldest deposits at the bottom and the youngest at the top, just before Mars lost its hydrosphere.  By climbing the outer edge, we can move through time across a large fraction of the habitable period.

Here’s another image I’d like you to see:

The crater I’ve been showing you is the small circle in the lower right- color is elevation, covering a span of about 5 km.  The black line is the watershed of that river, the region of Mars that channeled water to the delta.  In other words, the river delta collects sediments- and potentially, biosignatures- from a region hundreds of kilometers in diameter, and gathers them all in one place, neatly sorted by time.

For this reason, ancient deltas on Earth are a favorite of paleontologists.  In addition to being comfortably wet and active itself- plenty of access to biologically important nutrients, fresh supplies of liquid water, and a nice dynamic environment- deltas do the legwork for us.  Rather than exploring a huge fraction of the planet with a tiny rover, hoping that we stumble upon an ancient life sign, we can position ourselves at the mouth of the proverbial fire hose and let life come to us.

This does come with some tradeoffs.  Most importantly, whatever we find, we won’t know the original geologic setting.  If we find an unambiguous fossil of some kind- a microbial mat, perhaps- then we’ll know less than if we’d found it in its original home.  And if we don’t find life, then the samples we take will be similarly uncertain.  They’ll be defined in time, at least relative to one another, but not in space.  In the case of life signs, this is an important caveat, but the bare fact of proving that extraterrestrial life exists is sufficiently monumental that it’s still a secondary concern.  But if we’re just talking about geology, that’s a hard thing to lose; that terrifying multi-stage descent isn’t the only risk we’re taking.  We’re leaning into the astrobiology mission hard with this one.

And the search for life is, in itself, fraught.  That’s putting it mildly.  There’s every chance that any evidence that’s even slightly marginal is going to touch off decades of debate, rather than being some kind of slam-dunk.  As it should!  Life is such a fuzzy concept, and such an important concept, that it should absolutely be held to the highest degree of scrutiny we can muster.  This is why it matters that Perseverance includes sample return- in the highly likely case that the findings are disputed, we’ll hopefully have the chance to subject those samples to the highest degrees of scrutiny.  So it feels like the right time to go hunting.

On top of that, there’s the ‘evidence of absence’ problem.  Strong biosignatures update our priors very hard in the direction of life on Mars.  But what is the correct amount of evidence necessary to convince us that Mars never was alive?  I’m not sure, but failure to find microbial mats in Jezero probably isn’t enough.  So the search for life can succeed, but if it ‘fails’ that doesn’t necessarily teach us much; the best experiments teach you something no matter what, and ideally a commitment this large would meet that standard.  This is, more or less, baked into the search for extraterrestrial life, and there aren’t too many ways out from under that problem.

That said, Jezero in particular has some compensation.  As I mentioned, we’re collecting a lot of good data regardless; and even without the gologic context, there’s a ton of opportunity to sample different minerals and how they formed, and get a nice broad sample of the Martian surface over time.  And, even better, here’s the location of another interesting potential field site, in northeast Syrtis:

Note the proximity to Jezero crater!  And Syrtis is also a fantastic candidate for a sample return mission.  It has exposed mesas with layered outcrops going all the way back to the earliest days of Mars, and extending (potentially) through many of the most interesting periods.  Now, these are not ideal for the search for life, although they’d give us a ton of technical data about surface chemistry and the behavior of the atmosphere during the early, wet periods; it would go a long way towards resolving arguments about the temperature of the early Martian climate, for example, or tracing the early destabilization and loss of the magnetosphere while teaching us loads about the planet’s core.

Those mesas are still pretty far away.  Too far, probably, for a sensible rover lifespan to make it all the way there.  But there’s a plan- called the ‘Midway’ route, as a nod to the compromise nature of it.  See, halfway between Jezero and these mesas, there are a lot of banded rocks that look suspiciously like they’re sourced from the table mesas in Syrtis.  And those, we can get to, maybe.  If we call a specific deadline on looking for life in Jezero, then we can pivot to Midway and hopefully take a really deep look.  So, in the end, we’re going hard for astrobiology research, but we’re not going all-in.

The importance of the search for life is… well, there are a lot of people out there, and we enter the world in a lot of different ways.  Most of us agree that the existence of extraterrestrial life would be a Big Deal, and we tend to have a lot of different reasons for that.  It’s not a bad subject for a future post or three, in fact.  But there’s one thing lurking in the back of my head that’s a non-obvious reason to go looking.  This wasn’t discussed at the workshop particularly, but it fed into my vote somewhat.  Check the logic of this for me, see if it makes sense:

Worrying about existential risks, we sometimes talk about the ‘great filter’.  That is, the mysterious phenomenon which explains the lack of extraterrestrial civilizations reaching out to us.  Now, maybe we’re in a zoo or a preserve or something, and intelligences are out there watching after all; maybe the Earth really is the center of the cosmos, because of the simulation hypothesis or the various religious explanations.  There’s no real way to know for sure at this point.  But consider the space of very real possibilities where the universe actually is material, and actually is mostly barren.  Why?

Stepping through the sequence, it might be that abiogenesis is really hard- going from a temperate world to a living one is almost (but not quite) impossible.  Maybe there’s some hurdle to clear between genesis and encephalization.  Maybe, given encephalization, civilization and tool-use are almost impossible.  Or maybe there are many civilizations like ours, and the great filter is ahead of us- it is almost impossible for technological civilizations not to self-destruct or turn in to lotus-eaters before they reach interstellar civilization.  There are a lot of possibilities for the filter, and for present purposes we’ll divide them into two categories: those which we would have already passed, and those which are in our future.

And here’s the thing: for each possibility we can exclude from the great filter, all the other possibilities increase commensurately, becoming more likely in our estimation.  (Assuming the exclusion is ‘clean’ and doesn’t favor some other possibility, that is.)  Given that the silence continues, if we could somehow prove that technological self-destruction isn’t a big risk, that would commensurately increase our guesses about how hard abiogenesis is.

Life on Mars, especially if we could be very sure that it evolved independently of Earth life, would be a strong argument against the difficulty of abiogenesis.  One biosphere in the solar system, and nowhere else, might be down to luck.  The one biosphere has to be somewhere, right?  Two in the solar system, and nowhere else, is a good bit less reasonable.  If we find a second genesis on Mars, then we’ve learned that life is not rare.  That the hundreds of billions of stars in the Milky Way are likely host to many billions of different living (or at least once-living) worlds.

And as wonderful as that news is, as much as it makes me so happy that I literally had to take a second to cry on my bed for a bit, it also makes the great silence much, much scarier.  Today, we can reassure ourselves by saying that life may be rare in the universe.  But what if it isn’t?  If the cosmos is full of life, but not full of thought, then…

If this is the case, we need to know.  We need to know as soon as possible, and we need to know it while we’re engaged in the great project of technological development and moral progress.  It’s easy to imagine that this particular mission is one that can be framed in purely positive terms- the joy of discovery, the vastness of truth, the love of how things might be.  But I do also have this sense of civilizational fragility, you know?  And understanding the risks that we face and the chances we’re taking- that’s not idle curiosity.  That’s genuinely urgent.

[kookieswan]

Shadow Play – Cracks

Pairing: None for now

(Platonic Haunted!2Seok x Medium!Reader (f))

Word Count: 1.6k (Still unhinged)

Tags: Ghost/Demon!AU!, Mentions of bodily harm/injuries, General spookiness/horror themes, Reader can see some spooky shit.

Notes: I’m REALLY enjoying this series a lot. Most of it was written last night but I wrapped things up so I could post it today since I can’t continue Celebration Weekend like I wanted to. I hope everyone likes it!

------------------------------------------------------

“So, based on what I’ve seen and what I’ve… felt. I do believe something rather malevolent is haunting the two of you... or perhaps, your apartment.” Scratching Hoseok out of nowhere and then attacking Jin minutes later was rather brash for something that didn’t hold any sort of hard feelings. The entity clearly doesn’t like you being around, willing to try and manifest itself in a more physical plane to get rid of you. It’s unfortunate it caught onto your nature so quickly, but you suppose that you didn’t come in disguised.

“Malevolent? Like, something evil?” You nod silently. Whatever it is, likely a demon, is bad news for all parties. You can’t see that you’ve ever seen something quite this bad before, but either way, you’re dedicated to dealing with it. They called you specifically, they were trusting you to take care of it…. So, you were going to. Even if you’re unsure as to how at this point. After the events of tonight, you know you’ll have to do some extensive research.

“It didn’t do things like this till you arrived; it was never mean to us before, just a little cheeky.” A small laugh leaves you at that, Hoseok’s bubbly demeanor lightening the situation up. He seems rather high spirited considering he and Seokjin were just attacked moments ago, but that’ll be good in the long run.

“Not cheeky enough to laugh at my jokes.” What an odd pair. For some reason you can easily see Seokjin trying to tell jokes at 3am to thin air, and another laugh leaves you. At least they’re trying to make the nest out of the situation. Choosing to pass Seokjin’s comment, you address what Hoseok said instead.

“That’s the thing, it clearly sees me as a threat. Which in itself tells me that there’s something more sinister at play. Spirits and… demons don’t like me because they know I can essentially get rid of them. It’s always been like that.” Normal spirits, those who have passed on and are just trying to get to the other side… they never bother you. They wander aimlessly some of the time sure, but never take on a hostile nature that a demon would. Fuck, you hope so badly that it isn’t a demon… Hoseok bristles in his spot, a perturbed look on his face before he directs another question your way.

“So, you can get rid of Petunia then?” You give Hoseok a very pointed look, and he cringes before bringing his hand over his mouth to zip his lips and toss they key away. “Petunia” would be dealt with, you’d make sure of it, but you still have a very small understanding of how the entity came to be. Cracking a few of your fingers, you look around and address them both again.

“Yes Hoseok, but I need to first figure out why the entity is here, what it tied itself to. Do you mind if I take a look around your apartment? I’ll need to look at every room if that’s alright.” The men stand up from their couch, gesturing for you to do what you must. Standing from your spot, you grab your sketchbook again and decide to go to the kitchen.

Nothing in particular seems to be lingering in the living room, so perhaps the source of issue lays somewhere else. Their apartment is super spacious, and you can’t help but to be curious what they do for work as you notice how nice the kitchen is. Both men trail behind you, and you let them, knowing it can’t hurt to stick together right now. Seokjin wanders closer to you as you slide a hand over the marble countertop, content to feel nothing out of the ordinary. It’s connected to the living room, and you can’t sense anything really, but it’s better to be safe than sorry. Hoseok did mention knives disappearing and reappearing after all.

“So, you can see things���? I mean, don’t feel like you have to answer…” Seokjin’s voice gets quiet, but you shake your head to tell him its fine. Most people have questions and you’ve never minded answering them. It’s important they know what they’re getting themselves into anyway and having to deal with your sight is one thing that could actually end up scaring them. Wandering out of the kitchen and toward the bathroom Seokjin was attacked in, you answer quietly.

“Yes, I can ‘see things’, if by that you mean entities. Usually, they have to reveal themselves to the human eye, but not for me. They exist everywhere… But most of them are harmless.”  Like right now, you can see a lingering blackness in the bathroom. Specifically, wrapped around the shower curtain that was nearly used to strangle Seokjin earlier on. Again, you decide not to mention it to them, not wanting to scare the poor men any further for now. Taking down a few notes, you shield it as the men try and lean over your shoulder to see. Even if the entity lingers here, nothing feels particularly off in the air.

“Can you do anything else?” Hoseok’s eyes are practically glittering as he asks, his curiosity clear to both you and Seokjin. Letting out a little hum, you wander past them both and out the door to the hallway, making your way over to the next door. There’s a little sticker of a colorful flower on it, and if you’ve learned anything in the past few hours, it likely belongs to Hoseok.

“I can sense auras if that makes sense, not just of entities but also people. That… takes a little extra work though. I have to really focus and draw from the person.” Opening the door up, you peek inside and can’t help to smile. The room is bright even at night, pretty colors scattered about the clean looking room. Not a thing is out of place it seems, and you note that Hoseok likes to keep things tidy. There are traces of him all over the place, very faint wisps of yellow scattered all over. As you go to slide a hand across his comforter, a loud bang comes from the ceiling. You all pause, glancing up slowly on hopes it was just a coincidence. The things is though, they live on the top floor.

It comes again, but in quick succession. One, two three… One, two, three. Bad things always come in threes. You try and ignore it, but the final bang is so loud and harsh, a crack appears in the ceiling as dust falls onto your heads. Hoseok flings himself into Seokjin’s arms as the other man remains frozen, holding his friend close to him.

“HOLY FUCK!” A loud cry rings throughout the house, something that could never be made from a human. It sounds incorrect, like something that should never be heard by anyone. Seokjin grabs for your hand, and you let him, unsure if you’re the one comforting him or vice versa. It stops then, just as quickly as it stated, and things go dead silent. You all glance at each other, slowly untangling from one another, you clear your throat and decide to just move on, not letting the thing know that you’re uncomfortable with how things are turning out.

“Moving on then… I’d like to see the next room please.” There’s nothing you can do yet, not till you have a better understanding of why its here. Seokjin nods and leads you out of Hoseok’s room and further down the hallway. Hoseok follows very closely, his body practically attached to you as you wander out of his room, but you can’t help but pause as goosebumps suddenly wash across your skin. Something isn’t right.

“What’s that room down there?” You can see it clearly now, the blackness seeping from under the cracks of the door. It’s there, it has to be there. You couldn’t sense it before, but now it obviously wants to make itself known to you now.

“Hm? Oh, that’s our shared office. It’s the biggest room in the place, so we decided to share it since there’s more than enough room for both of our desks.” They can’t see it, small smiles on their faces. That’s good though, it’s likely then that the entity isn’t strong enough to show itself off yet, not in big ways at least. Walking to the door slowly, you make sure to be in front of them as you place a hand on the knob. It’s freezing to the touch, making you flinch a little at the feeling. Seokjin rests a hand on your shoulder from behind, voice gently wafting through the air.

“Are you alright…?” You force a wry smile to your face as you turn your head to him, trying your best to reassure the men that everything was fine. It wasn’t though, not really. The energy behind the door was starting to get stronger, so doing what you think is best, you twist the knob and try to open it.  Maybe you would be able to handle the situation, or at least get the entity to rear its head so you could force it to back down for now.

A mistake.

It’s taking over you abruptly, the blackness. You can’t see, not really as the intense coldness washes over your whole body, leaving you paralyzed in the darkness. There’s nothing to feel, all of your senses being slowly cut off, the screams of Hoseok and Seokjin getting quieter and quieter as you sink into oblivion.

“What do we do?!? _____?!?”

[nnightskiess]

‧₊° 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐡 𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐤𝐞 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

‧₊° 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐘/𝐍 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩. 𝐎𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐡 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐡 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐘/𝐍 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧?

To say Y/N had been working hard, would be a real understatement. Even with only a few bites of food in her system, the girl had pushed herself all week to upkeep their little camp and help provide for the rest of the girls. No matter how much the other girls had protested for her to take a break, she had kept going and going and going. Sitting around and doing nothing would only make her feel guilty.

After Leah had lashed out and persisted for her to wear a baseball cap to take the heat out of her face, and thus lessen the severe sunburn she was already sporting, no one else had been able to make the girl listen to them. Thus Leah made sure to stay close, offering the girl water, pushing her to work in the shade or making her splash some seawater in her neck to try and keep her a bit cool. It was all she could do and all that Y/N accepted. 

“Leave it!” 

Y/N’s yell echoed over the sound of the waves, making everyone’s head turn to her and Dot, who was standing next to her— both girls holding onto the axe. 

“You need to take a fucking break or we’ll have to bury you next.” Dot yelled back but there was less hostility in her tone— she mostly worried.

“We’ll have to dig nine graves if I don’t do anything!”

“So you think we’re not doing enough? Low blow, Y/N.” Rachel chimed in.

“Stop putting words in my mouth!” Her exhaustion and the pain everywhere in her body didn’t help to keep calm towards the others.

Fatin stood between the two, quickly trying to divert the attention, “Look, as much as I love me a hard-working, independent woman, I think it’s best if you just come with me and relax a little. Let’s get some shade, come on.” Fatin grabbed the girl by the shoulders but Y/N didn’t really budge to walk away with her.

Rachel rolled her eyes, “You’re her polar opposite. Not doing anything doesn’t help either, Fatin.” 

“Uh- this isn’t about me, but fine, there’s some truth to that.” she shrugged nonchalantly. 

“I’m sure Y/N didn’t mean it like that.” Nora mindlessly trudged towards the girls, the others following her actions.

“Oh, didn’t she? We’re working our asses of in this heat while my body is screaming for food, water and rest and she has the fucking audacity to-”

“Man, leave her the fuck alone.” Toni suddenly appeared next to Y/N and grasped the axe out of Dot’s hands before giving it back to the girl next to her. “She’s working so fucking hard to keep us alive, keep things going, and all you guys fucking do is attack her for it.”

Rachel’s lip curled into a sneer. She was doing her best to swallow back the bitter reply she had prepared and walked off. 

“You good?” Toni grabbed the girl’s forearm to get her attention after the lack of response. 

Y/N mustered up some energy to smile in return, “Yeah, I...I’m going to get us some leaves for the roof.” She gestured to the forest behind her, getting a nod of acknowledgement from Toni.

“You know I meant well, right?” Dot furrowed her eyebrows, still feeling worried. “At least let me go with you then?”

“I know. But I can’t stop, you know that too, right? We need a solid shelter. And no, it’s best if you stay here so you can hold down the fort.”

“But-” Leah finally joined the conversation, having observed from the sidelines until now.

“It’s alright, Leah. I feel alright, I’m fine. I can keep going.” Y/N awkwardly adjusted the cap, trying not to touch her painful sunburned head. Leah decided against trying to change Y/N’s mind, noticing the persistent look in the girl’s eyes. But the way Y/N winced when she brought her hands up to get her hair out of her face, didn’t go unnoticed by her.

Y/N tried to hide how tired she really was and continued, “When the shelter is done, I might take you up on that relaxation offer.” She turned to Fatin, “But right now it doesn’t feel good to rest, knowing that we could be having another sandstorm or rainstorm tonight. I appreciate your effort, though.”

Fatin smiled sympathetically at the girl before watching her walk off towards the forest.

“I don’t... I don’t feel comfortable having her go alone.” Leah bit her lip and faced Dot and Fatin.

“Me neither, man, but you know she gets prickly when she feels like we watch over her like a child.”

“Well, we kind of do watch over her like a child...” Martha added, a guilty expression on her face.

“Yeah, but only because we mean well...” Shelby bit her lip, watching Y/N disappear into the forest.

“Try telling a growling lion that you mean well and just want to pet it... see how that goes.” Fatin snorted but immediately kept quiet when she saw no one laughing along, only Nora gave her a hesitant smile.

Leah had zoned out and suddenly turned to where Y/N had walked off to, realising she needed to leave now if she wanted to catch up to the girl. 

“Where are you going?” 

“Gonna help her.”

Was all she said before abandoning the group.

Y/N tried to ignore the most prominent aching— the one in her head — and tried to zone out all the pain she was feeling with every step. Her throat started to feel like a knife every time she swallowed and her limbs were on fire. But still, she pushed on to take one step after the other. She knew Toni and Dot had cut the bushes closest to camp already, and therefore she trekked further into the heart of the rainforest, scouting for whatever may come in handy. But it got harder with each step. Her vision seemed to blur and the trees started to sway from left to right and as she looked down at her feet, she saw not only two, but four of them. She let out a shaky breath, realising this wasn’t good and what would probably happen next. Dot had been right, she had needed a break after all. Y/N tried to look around as much as she could with her current vision, the headache not helping, but she could no longer make out any depth, let alone find a nice tree to rest her back against. Before she knew it, she had fallen face forward and slid off the path, landing a few meters down into a thick pile of mud. She heard the few items she had managed to find fall after her before they landed harshly on her back. One last look around and her vision went black.

Leah’s worries were already high the moment she stepped into the forest. The slow blinking of Y/N’s eyes and slow, painful movements overall, the split seconds she’d grab her head or stomach and the way she had taken deep breaths had made her worry for the girl. But after forty minutes of walking around trying to find Y/N, to no avail, that worry started to grow. She couldn’t go back now, she needed to find Y/N first.

It might have been the lack of sense of time, but back at camp, the girls were starting to worry where the two girls were at. 

Dot had been drawing with a stick in the sand before pointing with it at the sky, “Sun’s going down in two hours, should we go look for them?”

“No.” The corner of Fatin’s mouth curled up into a smirk. She stifled a laugh, earning confused looks from the rest of the girls who had put their work on hold for the day. “You guys!” She rolled her eyes and sighed, “Let them have their fun.”

Toni snorted, knowing what she was going on about.

“Um-” Shelby rubbed her neck, feeling slightly awkward, “Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”

“Have I seriously been the only one who noticed?”

Rachel shrugged, “Probably. We’re too busy working to even notice stuff like that.”

Fatin made a mocking but playful face and sat up. 

“They both like to retreat and sit alone now and then, right? I’m sure everything’s okay.” Martha tried to lift everyone’s spirits but it was clear that most of them were now starting to worry, not taking Fatin’s remark seriously.

Dot stood up. 

“I say we should start looking for them.”

“Y/N?!” Leah’s voice cracked. If only Y/N could hear her, she could yell back or follow her voice, even if she wasn’t near. “Y/N!” 

Leah frantically looked around and slipped, thick mud now coating her clothes.

“Leah, are you okay!?” The rest of the girls had found her and helped the girl back up. Leah’s breath was laboured and she held her head in panic, not even realising her hands were muddy. She frantically looked around.

“Leah, Leah, hey-” Fatin walked from the back and grabbed the girl’s arms, “Breathe, tell us what happened.”

“I don’t know- I-I don’t know what happened, I don’t-” She looked around again, yelling for the girl. “We have to find her. S-She’s fine… I mean, she has to be, right?“

Toni opened her mouth, “You never caught up with her?”

Leah’s eyes landed on Toni for only a split second before she shook her head and looked around again, hoping to catch a glimpse of the dirty white top Y/N had been wearing that day.

“Hey, I’m sure we’ll find her. Okay?” Fatin tried to reassure her friend.

“Yeah, knowing her she's probably busy cutting down the whole rainforest.” Shelby tried to lighten the mood as well, but it went over Leah’s head.

“Not to piss on anyone’s parade, but it took us a good while to even find Leah, the sun’s going down soon and as much as I would hate leaving without Y/N, I don’t think it’s such a great idea to walk around at night.” Dot twirled the stick in her hand, hating having to break the news. “We should call it. You know, start out fresh in the morning...”

Leah’s voice was harsh from yelling, “We have to keep looking.” It was clear to everyone that she was on the verge of breaking down, “We can’t stop looking.”

“Leah-” 

“We have to find her...” Her voice now merely above a whisper, the birds of the rainforest filling the silence. “Please...” She stated more than asked. The girls looked at her. They were worried too, but Leah seemed to be panicking even more. She scanned everyone’s faces, but when no one said a word, her heart sank into her stomach.

“S-She went in here for all of you-” She pointed a finger, “She-”

“She’s right.” Toni nodded, “Leaving her alone is a really shitty way of saying thank you for all that she’s done.”

Leah didn’t need to hear more and yelled out the girl’s name again, the others now following her lead. They hiked a good half hour before Martha stopped to pick something off the ground. It was completely covered in mud, but the shape was still inevitably that of an axe.

“Guys...” She held it in the air.

“She had that with her.” Toni nodded, remembering she’d given it to Y/N. 

“Why would she leave it here?” Marty added, “Do you think something happened?”

“Y/N!” They all started yelling, realising the girl couldn’t be far now.

“Wait, wait, wait-” Rachel, who could’ve punched the girl just a few hours before, was just as worried as the rest when she pointed at the evident slip marks in the mud. “Do you think she could have slipped?” 

“Most definitely.” Dot winced and was already making up a plan when she tried to determine how deep it was. 

“That’s her!”

Leah’s panicked yell got their attention. She pointed at something down below. It was hard to see, but if you tried, you could see the messy mop of hair and the clothes dirtied with mud lying sideways. 

“Okay, we need to make a plan-”

Leah shut down every rational thought the moment she saw Y/N’s unconscious body and slowly but clumsily let herself slide down onto her belly. Toni followed her lead immediately, yelling angrily when she got down, “Don’t stand there, fucking do something!” 

“Wait, let’s think this through first before we’re all stuck down there.” Dot stopped them. While the girls above them were trying to figure out what to do, Toni and Leah were tending to Y/N.

Toni scrunched up her face when Leah turned Y/N to lay on her lap. Y/N’s right temple was heavily coated with blood and mud. 

“That doesn’t look too good.”  

The sudden move of her body made Y/N open her eyes, which didn’t go unnoticed by the two girls holding her. 

“Easy, I’ve got you.” Leah grabbed her cheeks to try and get a better look at her eyes, to see how responsive she really was.

Y/N suddenly realised what had happened and wanted to sit up straight until two sets of hands gently pushed her back down. She let out a cry of pain immediately.

“Sssh, just lay down, it looks like you hit your head.” But when Leah squeezed her arm to try and comfort the girl, Y/N let out another yelp.

“I’m not an expert but her elbow looks fucked up.” Leah shot Toni a look, telling her to keep her mouth shut in front of Y/N.

“I don’t feel so good.” Y/N managed to get out.

“I know- Shit, um- J-Just hold my hand.” Leah mumbled curse words under her breath, feeling terribly out of control. She didn’t know what to do or how to help the girl.

“Everything okay down there? We’re sending Rachel to help. Can Y/N stand on her own?”

“No, her arms fucked and something hit her head.” Toni replied, sending an apologetic look Leah’s way when she shot her another look. 

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t pass out on me!” Leah saw Y/N’s hazy eyes slowly open and close.

“Does anyone have water with them?!” Leah panicked. 

A bag of pecan nuts hit Toni in the head, who let out a grunt. 

“Sorry...” Martha gasped.

“It’s fine. Can you give me a heads-up on the bottle of water, though?”

“Watch out!” 

Toni waddled on her knees through the thick mud back to Y/N who was now sitting in between Leah’s legs, leaning back against the girl’s torso.

“When’s the last time you ate? Or drank?” Leah asked softly, trying not to worsen Y/N’s headache. Y/N only shrugged in return.

“Open up,” Leah held back the girl’s head and helped her drink a bit, then splattered the remaining water in her face and neck. Y/N was tired, but tried her best to keep her eyes open, if only to soothe Leah’s worries.

“Here, this’ll help.” Toni watched with a worried smile as Y/N slowly ate a few pieces. 

“Hey, let’s get you out of here, alright?” Rachel appeared with a rope made out of clothes in her hands. “We’re going to tie this around you, push you up from here so the others can pull you up. 

Y/N was too tired to reply or acknowledge the girl.

“Careful with her arm!” Leah panicked when Rachel made a move to grab her. Rachel glared at her, she wasn’t stupid.  

Toni grabbed the other side while Leah slowly pushed the girl up by her back. They tied the made up rope around the girl’s torso.

“Thank you...” Y/N mumbled out. 

“You’re gonna be alright, okay?”

The sun had gone down the minute they returned to camp. They had to tell a worried Nora everything that had happened after she saw a tired and bloody Y/N being supported by the girls. Dot had immediately given the girl some medicine and as she had dozed off, Leah made sure to gently rid the girl’s face and temple from the dried up blood and mud so that Dot could clean the wound and bandage it up.

She dapped the damp cloth onto Y/N’s temple, who furrowed her eyebrows in her sleep in return. Leah smiled softly to herself, the nerves and worries finally washing away now that she knew Y/N would be fine. 

Y/N went to turn around in her sleep but Leah quickly stopped her from putting weight onto her arm. After Dot had examined it, it seemed less severe as they had all initially thought. The wound in her elbow was deep, yes, but it was better than a broken bone. And the gash on her temple would probably leave a nasty scar, but that was all.

Y/N opened her eyes slowly after feeling the resistance. 

“I’m sorry.” Leah whispered out, a sympathetic smile on her face. “You were going to hurt your elbow. Feeling better?”

Y/N mumbled a bit, “Mm, I think...” She rubbed the bridge of her nose, “Don’t know if this is just the after effects of the meds or if it’s still from the exhaustion and dehydration.”

“Or your sunburn.” Nora appeared behind the two, “If you get a bad sunburn, some symptoms might be headache, fever, nausea and fatigue...” She smiled hesitantly when the two stared at her. “Here, this might help.” 

Leah grabbed the bottle of after sun and inspected it suspiciously before eyeing Nora again, “Where did you get this?”

“Oh... it washed up on shore.. when you were all gone.”

“Thanks, Nora.” 

Nora trudged back to the rest sitting around the campfire.

Y/N quickly dodged her head to the side when Leah made a move to smear the after sun on her face.

“What are you doing?!”

Leah sighed, “Let me help you.”

“You know, we could all use a bit of after sun. I don’t really need it.” 

“Y/N.”

“I’m good, my sunburn isn’t that bad, it doesn’t hurt.”

“Stop being so incredibly stubborn and let me take care of you for once, okay?”

Y/N widened her eyes and after a few seconds of silence she let Leah smear the cool ointment onto her cheeks. A content hum left her lips, she immediately felt her skin calm down.

“Feels better, huh?” Leah playfully smeared some onto the girl’s nose, who only hissed in return.

“I’m good, it doesn’t hurt.” Leah mocked.

“Fuck you.” 

The two chuckled. Y/N quickly found herself staring into Leah’s eyes, who in return, was concentrated on tending to the girl’s face. However, Leah noticed after a while. She stopped her movements when she realised why she had been extra worried today— she cared for Y/N way more than just a friend should. 

She inched closer to Y/N’s face before coming to an abrupt stop, the hesitance taking over for just a split second— what if Y/N didn’t feel the same? But the look in the wounded girl’s eyes spoke differently. 

Leah planted a quick and shy kiss on Y/N’s lips. Leah sat back up immediately and cleared her throat, looking around as if nothing had happened. What the fuck had she done? A sudden tug on the hem of her shirt brought her back just mere inches away from the girl’s face. Y/N pulled her into another kiss, one that lasted longer than a second but was still just as gentle as before. Y/N let out a lighthearted chuckle when Leah pulled back.

“W-What?”

“You’ve got a little...” Y/N smeared out the after sun on Leah’s cheek before looking down, feeling embarrassed.

“Thank you for coming after me. Fatin told me you didn’t want me to go alone. I should really listen to you more often.”

Leah laughed at Y/N’s cheeky smile, “Yeah! You should!” 

Another moment was spent in silence before Leah opened her arms and sat back against the log, “Come here.”

Y/N let out a content sigh as she relaxed in the brunette’s tight hold while the two of them watched the flickering of the fire. 

Life on the island was rough, but having Leah made it so much easier.

[rainydaymiddleearthimagines]

Destiny Calling: Chapter Eight

You sat on a rock, watching over the hobbits. You had been guiding them now, walking through what Gimli accurately described as "A labyrinth of stone.". There was one slight problem with your skills though. You were so unfocused it often led you to have to stop. The hobbits didn't mind it, they were just happy to have a guide leading them in the right direction. "Gandalf!" Frodo gasped, leaning up. You looked over, Sam also leaning up. "Frodo, are you alright?" You asked, your voice gentle as you did. "Yes... It was... It was just a dream." Frodo muttered. He laid back down, falling asleep soon after. You looked at Sam who was still sitting up.

"Sam? Can you not sleep?" You asked. He shook his head, getting up and sitting next to you. "What do the stones say?" He asked. "We're taking the right path... I'm only worried of the dangers ahead." You muttered. "Do you not know a safe way?" He asked. "There is no safe way to Mordor." you admitted. He gulped and you sighed. "I did not intend to add to your anxieties, I apologize Sam." you said. "Aragorn being so far away has affected you hasn't it?" Sam asked. You nodded sadly. "Is it foolish to say I miss him?" you asked, handing Sam Lambas bread. He took it. "I miss someone at home too." He said. "Who, pray tell, captures the mesmerizing gaze of Samwise Gamgee?" you asked with a smile. He chuckled.

"Her name is Rosie... Rosie Cotton." Sam admitted. "You seem fond of Rosie." you said. "I've not voiced my feelings... But when I get back, I will." He said. "The journey has changed you, hmm?" you asked. "Yes. Very much so." Sam admitted. "I wonder what it will be like when I return home." you pondered. "Aragorn will probably marry you." Sam said. You chuckled. "He's asked me before." you admitted. "You said no?" Sam asked. "I actually said yes, my father was the one who said no." you admitted. "Does Lord Elrond not like Aragorn?" Sam asked. "No, he does. But my father's relationship with him is very strained." you explained. Sam nodded, looking at the mountains around you. You looked at Frodo who was sound asleep. "Do you think Frodo will be alright after all of this?" Sam asked. You knew the truth was probably no. You didn't want to scare Sam so you simply replied with "I don't know Sam. I don't know."

Sam eventually went back to sleep, you waking them up as the sun rose. The walking annoyed you to no end, you internally questioning yourself of how much of this you could take. Sam tied a rope to a rock, all of you climbing down into the mist. "Can you see the bottom?" Sam asked you. "No! Don’t look down, Sam! Just keep going." You answered. A box fell from Sam's bag. "Catch it. Grab it Mister Frodo!" He said. Frodo grabbed it, just as your feet touched the ground, Frodo falling. He landed in your arms. "Careful!" you gasped. "Mister Frodo!?" Sam called. "Good news Sam, we found the bottom." you said making Frodo laugh. Sam climbed down to you and Frodo. "Bogs and rope and goodness knows what. It’s not natural. None of it." Sam muttered, looking at his surroundings. "What’s in this?" Frodo asked, holding up the box. "Nothing. Just a bit of seasoning. I thought maybe if we was having a roast chicken one night or something." Sam replied. "Roast chicken?!" You and Frodo asked in unison. "You never know." Sam shrugged making you chuckle. "Sam, my dear Sam." Frodo laughed. "It’s very special, that. It’s the best salt in all the Shire." Sam said in a "matter of fact" tone. "It is special. It’s a little bit of home." Frodo said with a smile.

You looked at Sam's rope. "We can’t leave this here for someone to follow us down." You said. "Who’s gonna follow us down here? It’s a shame really. Lady Galadriel gave me that. Real Elvish rope. Well there’s nothing for it. It’s one of my knots. Won’t come free in a hurry." Sam sighed. He yanked on the rope, it loosening and hitting the ground. "Real Elvish rope." Frodo snorted. You tried your best not to laugh but you couldn't resist. After all of you recovered from the rope incident you walked ahead, Frodo and Sam on each of your sides.

"So, what is the Shire like?" You asked. Sam perked up. "Oh it's much larger than most people think!" Sam said. "You've never been?" Frodo asked curiously. "No, me and Aragorn never saw reason to go." You admitted. "Well, Sam is not wrong, it is really big compared to what most people believe it to be." Frodo agreed. "But it's beautiful! Flowers everywhere!" Sam said. "You say that because you're the gardener." Frodo chuckled. "And a darn good one too!" Sam said proudly. "Is it true you live out of holes?" You asked. "More like we live in the sides of hills." Frodo corrected. "Can I ask you somethin' Miss Y/n?" Sam asked. "Of course Sam." You answered. "What is the other elven city like?" Sam asked. You sucked in a breath.

"Sorry-" "No Sam, it is quite alright." You assured. "it is quite large and the other elves are very pleasant... Unless you're not elven, in which case they tend to be quite hostile." You stated. "My uncle said it was beautiful..." Frodo said. "Oh it is. It is almost like it is autumn all year round though and unless you're gifted with the ability to speak with nature it is far to easy to get lost in the nearby woods." You explained. "Yes, Bilbo mentioned that." Sam nodded. "He's been?" you asked. "Oh yes. Though according to him, he was imprisoned there." Frodo said. "...And escaped? How pray, tell did he manage to do that?" you asked surprised. "Barrels." Sam and Frodo said in unison. "Barrels?" You asked. "He smuggled himself and the dwarves in barrels." Frodo said. "Dwarves- what in the world did your uncle do- Why was he out there to begin with?" You asked. "Uhhh... That's complicated." Frodo said. "eh?" You made a confused noise.

You all walked until nightfall, you looking at the stars. You wondered if Aragorn was safe, wherever he was. Your heart was practically aching, you missed him so much. You sighed, bringing your knees to your face as you sighed, poking the dirt with your fingers while the hobbits slept. The next morning finally came, you all walking through the sharp and dangerous rocks of Emyn Muil. You looked forward. "Mordor..." You muttered, seeing the dark lands. "The one place in Middle-Earth we don’t want to see any closer is the one place we’re trying to get to." Sam said with a sigh. "Do you think Gandalf meant for us to take this way?" Sam asked. "He didn’t mean for a lot of things to happen, Sam. But they did." Frodo muttered. "We cannot lose hope now you two. We must press on." You said to them. Frodo seemed to lock onto something in Mordor, collapsing to the ground. "Frodo?" You asked, kneeling to him. "Mister Frodo? It’s the ring, isn’t it?" Sam asked. "It’s getting heavier." He nodded. He clutched the ring, his breaths slowly relaxing. "What food have we got left?" Frodo asked. "Well, let me see." Sam said, going through his bag. "Oh, yes. Lovely. Lembas bread. And look! More lembas bread." He said, pulling out the bread wrapped in large leaves. He broke off a piece of it and threw it to him and threw another piece to you.

You bit into bread. "Say what you will about my grandmother but she has the best bread." you said, earning laughs from the two hobbits. "I don’t usually hold with foreign food, but this Elvish stuff, it’s not bad." Sam said. "Nothing ever dampens your spirits, does it, Sam?" Frodo asked, smiling. "Those rain clouds might." Sam said with a sigh.

You all walked, following a very odd, yet specific path before you stopped. "What in the world is that smell?" Sam asked. You felt like you were being watched and you remembered one other time you felt like this. "Let's... Keep walking." you muttered. It wasn't long that night came, Sam and Frodo both sleeping soundly. You sat on a rock, sharpening your blade.

Gollum.

You looked up, pretending to be oblivious to the creature climbing down the rocks as he spoke to himself. "They’re thieves. They’re thieves. The filthy little thieves. Where is it? Where is it? They stole it from us. My Precious. Curse them, we hates them! It’s ours it is, and we wants it." Gollum said, climbing down the rocks. Then he reached for Frodo and was met with a blade. "Lay a single finger on him and I will cut it off." you hissed. Frodo shot up, Sam and him scooching back.

As cruel as it may have seemed, you put the elven rope to use, tying it around the creature's neck due to Frodo's insistence that you leave Gollum alive. You walked, Gollum yelling and crying. "It burns! It burns us! It freezes!" You sighed at this yelling. "Oh by the Valor do you ever SHUT UP!?" You snapped. Gollum stopped walking, Sam yanking on the rope and making Gollum fall. "Nasty Elves twisted it!" Gollum spat, looking at you. He turned to Frodo and Sam. "Take it off us!" Gollum begged. "Quiet you!" Sam hushed. Gollum let out another yell. "It’s hopeless! Every orc in Mordor’s gonna hear this racket. Let’s just tie him up and leave him." Sam suggested. "I think Sam is correct, this is extremely annoying and my sanity is deteriorating very quickly." You said. "No! That would kill us! Kill us!" Gollum wailed. "It’s no more than you deserve!" Sam snapped.

Gollum rolled around, squirming to get the rope off. "Maybe he does deserve to die. But now that I see him, I do pity him." Frodo admitted. Gollum hushed at the sound of this, looking at Frodo on his knees. "We be nice to them, if they be nice to us. Take it off us! We swears to do what you wants. We swears!" Gollum pleaded. "There is no promise you can make that I can trust." Frodo said. "We swears to serve the master of the Precious. We will swear on…on the Precious!" Gollum said before hacking out a noise similar to his name. "The ring is treacherous. It will hold you to your word." Frodo said. "Yes on the Precious. On the Precious." Gollum said, inching closer to Frodo. "I don’t believe you!" Sam yelled, forcing Gollum back. Gollum attempted to run away, Sam yanking back on the rope and pulling Gollum back. "Get down! I said, down!" Sam shouted at Gollum. You sighed. "Sam!" Frodo yelled. "He’s trying to trick us! If we let him go, he’ll throttle us in our sleep!" Sam said. Gollum coughed, grabbing at his throat.

You stumbled, Sam looking over his shoulder as you dropped.

Visions bombarded you, war being the subject of the vision. It was Legolas, Gimli and Aragorn, fighting a battle. A banner soon filled your mind, one of a horse... Then you suddenly returned to your normal state, Frodo standing next to you. "War." you whispered. "What?" Frodo asked. "War is brewing in Rohan..." you muttered. Sam turned. "Do you wish to turn back-" "No... I-I promised you I'd help see this through." you muttered. Frodo looked over at Gollum. "Maybe he can lead us through the Marshes. You made a comment saying it was dangerous." Frodo recalled. "Frodo... I do not trust him." you admitted. Still, Frodo was right, even if you were being guided by nature itself you didn't have confidence in the marshes. "You know the way to Mordor?" Frodo asked. "Yes." Gollum responded. " You’ve been there before?" Frodo asked. "Yes." Gollum repeated, this time more anxious. Frodo removed the rope and you sighed, closing your eyes. Sam shook his head with a frown. "You will lead us through the Marshes, and anywhere else we may need guidance." Frodo said. Gollum nodded.

He was weirdly quick, rushing across the rocks as you all tried to keep up. He rushed off, taking a moment to talk to himself. "To the gate, to the gate! To the gate, the master says. Yes!" He muttered. Another version of himself seemed to take over. "No! We won’t go back Not there. Not to him. They can’t make us." He said, hacking out his name again. "But we swore to serve the master of the precious." He said, feeling guilty. "No! Ashes and dust and thirst there is and pits, pits, pits. And Orcses, thousands of Orcses. And always the Great Eye watching. Watching." He said. He turned to the group that was distant before screaming and running off. You all followed, running after him. "Hey! Come back now! Come back! There! What did I tell you? He’s run off, the old villain. So much for his promises." Sam sighed. Gollum popped up behind a stone making you gasp in surprise. "This way. Follow me!" Gollum said. You and Sam exchanged a look, sighing before following the creature.

You ended up taking a break. "Why we stop?" Gollum asked, looking at you who was sitting upright against a rock with your eyes closed. "Y/n watches over us at night, she needs rest." Sam sighed. Your face was so peaceful when you rested. If only Aragorn was here, you'd probably be sleeping better. Your heart missed him terribly, every time you closed your eyes you could see him. "I think she misses him." Sam muttered looking at your sitting figure. "Elfie misses someone?" Gollum asked. "A friend..." Sam sighed. "She misses friend?" Gollum asked. "Yes." Frodo muttered. Frodo too, thought of Aragorn. He always felt some sort of levity when looking at you and Aragorn together. You two were the sliver of light in a very dark time. Truth be told, you didn't need rest. You wanted to see if there was another vision. Another hopeful message or outcome. Instead you were met with darkness and silence.

It took about thirty minutes before you sat up. Sam looked over. "Let's go." you muttered, clearly deep in thought. You followed Gollum through the mountains before finally seeing the Marshlands. "See! See! We’ve led you out. Hurry, Hobbitses, hurry! Very lucky we find you." Gollum said. Sam passed him. "Nice hobbit." Gollum said to Sam. Sam walked alongside you, accidently slipping his foot into the water. "Ooh! It’s a bog. He’s led us into a swamp!" Sam gasped. "Swamp. Yes, yes. Come master, we will take you on safe paths through the mist. Come hobbits come. Real quickly. I found it, I did. The way through the marshes. Orcs don’t use it, orcs don’t know it. They go round for miles and miles, come quickly, swift and quick as shadows we must be." Gollum said.

You walked for a while in silence, trying to listen to nature to be met with silence. This unsettled you to no end. Nature was always talkative. Never this silent. "I hate this place, it’s too quiet. There‘s been no sight nor sound of a bird for two days." Sam muttered. "No, no birdses to eat, no crunchable birdses. We are famished, yes! Famished we are, precious!" Gollum said before picking a worm up out out of the ground. He ate it making you gag. "Here." Frodo said, tossing him a piece of Lambas bread. He took it confused. "What does it eats? Is it tasty?" He asked. He at it before choking and spitting it out, making you all jump. "It tries to chokes us! We can’t eats Hobbit food! We must starve!" Gollum wailed. "Well, starve, then. And good riddance!" Sam huffed. You had put it together earlier why Frodo was so lenient to Gollum. He was terrified the ring was going to turn him into Gollum.

"Oh, cruel hobbit! It does not care if we be hungry. Does not care if we should die!" He cried as you went through your bag. You pulled out a jerky like food. You knew Aragorn had a tendency of leaving somethings in your bag and this was definitely his. "Not like Master. Master cares. Master knows. Yes, precious. Once it takes hold of us, it never lets go." Gollum said. He reached for the ring but you stopped him, handing him the food. "It's meat. Not something any of us eat, maybe you'll like it." You said. He looked at it, taking a small piece and eating it. He seemed to actually like it and you handed him the rest. "Elfies gives us good food. We thinks the elfies is good." He said. You sighed and stood up, pulling your backpack back onto you.

You all made your way through the swamp, Sam looking into the waters around you. "There are dead things, dead faces in the water." Sam said. You looked in the waters too, seeing the armor. "Elves... There are... Elves out here." you breathed. "All dead. All rotten. Elves and men and orcses. A great battle long ago. The dead marshes. Yes, yes that is their name. This way. Don’t follow the lights." Gollum warned. Sam slipped, nearly falling into a hole before you gripped his cloak, pulling him up. "Thank you." He breathed. "Careful now, or hobbits go down to join the dead ones and light little candles of their own." Gollum said, unsettling you. Frodo wandered off, looking into the waters. He saw an elven corpse. He leaned forward, falling into the water. You gasped, sprinting over and yanking him out of the water. Gollum stood next to you. "Gollum?" Frodo asked. "Don’t follow the lights." Gollum repeated, this time more sternly. "Gollum." Frodo called. "Mister Frodo, are you all right?" Sam asked. He nodded slowly.

Night soon came, you sitting against a rock with your eyes closed. You didn't actually fall asleep, despite feeling strangely tired you were very alert with Gollum near. "So bright. So beautiful. Our Precious." Gollum said, making you open one eye. Frodo leaned up. "What did you say?" Frodo asked. "Master should be resting. Master needs to keep up his strength." Gollum muttered. "Who are you?" Frodo asked him. "Mustn’t ask us, not it’s business." Gollum said before hacking again. "Gandalf told me you were one of the river folk." Frodo said. "Cold be heart and hand and bone, cold be travelers far from home." Gollum sang in what you assumed to be an attempt to block Frodo out. "He said your life was a sad story." Frodo said. "They do not see what lies ahead, when sun has failed and moon is dead." Gollum sang. "You were not so very different from a hobbit once. Were you? Sméagol." Frodo asked, earning silence from Gollum. "What did you call me?" Gollum asked. "That was your name once, wasn’t it? A long time ago." Frodo asked. "My name? My name? Ss… Ss… Sméagol." He asked, genuinely not recalling his own name.

The smell of blood filled your nose and you felt the dread. You leaned up, opening your eyes. "What's wrong?" Sam asked, groggily before the loud scream from a Nazgûl. "Black Riders." You muttered. "Hide! Hide!" Gollum yelled. Frodo let out a yelp, grasping where he was struck with the Nazgûl blade.

You hid under a bush with Sam and Gollum. You motioned for Frodo to run. "Come on Frodo, come on!" Sam called. "Hurry, they will see us, they will see us." Gollum said panicked. "I thought they were dead." Sam said to you as Frodo laid next to you. "You cannot kill a ringwraith." You whispered. You watched the wraith fly overhead, your heart pounding. "Ah! Wraiths, wraiths on wings!" Gollum yelped. You noticed Frodo reach for the ring. "They are calling for it, they are calling for the Precious." Gollum said. You stopped Frodo from putting the ring on. "We're still here Frodo... it's alright." You whispered. the Nazgul flew away. "Hurry hobbits, the Black Gate is very close." Gollum said after you all climbed out from under the bush.

You all walked, following Gollum before you fell again, this time being sent into a shock. You were practically blinded, a white light filling your eyes. You heard a voice, barely audible at first. Distant. Very distant. "Y/n" It called. You knew the person's voice you just couldn't remember. "Y/n." The voice repeated. "Rohan is in danger. This is the start of many wars, people need you. Turn back now." it said. "I can't." You whispered. "You can. Reach the river on your own. A boat is waiting. If you run without stopping you can make it before the orcs do." The voice said. Then you realized who it was.

"Gandalf, how are you speaking to me?" you asked. "I am not yet dead my girl." He said, his face coming to light. You breathed. "You want me to go to Rohan, why?" You asked. "Because the further into Mordor you go, the more corruption kills." He said. "The corruption is killing you. Why do you think you feel exhaustion?" Gandalf asked. A good question. "Aragorn needs you. Rohan needs you. We need you." Gandalf said before your vision returned to normal, Sam hanging over you.

"Are you alright? You just fell back! I was worried." Sam said. "Gandalf is still alive." You said. Frodo turned around. "What!?" He asked. "He's alive... War is coming to Rohan and... Something bad is happening, I can feel it." You breathed. You wondered if you should turn back. "Go." Frodo said. You looked up. "What?" You asked. "If there is war in Rohan and Gandalf is alive, it's most likely that Aragorn will be in the center of all of this. You deserve to be with him through all of this. Go." Frodo said. "But-" "Y/n, he's right. You should go, you've looked more exhausted here than anywhere else... This is destroying you. You don't think we can tell but we can." Sam admitted. You sighed. "Any messages you want me to send to them?" You asked. "Yes. Good luck." Frodo said. You nodded. "Elfie remembers the way?" Gollum asked. "I do. Thank you." you nodded to Gollum before tossing him the rest of the meat. He took it before you hugged both Sam and Frodo. "If you two weren't so damn stubborn, I would've marched into Mordor with you." you said. "We know." Sam said before hugging you again. "Don't let us down Frodo. Fight strong. Keep your hope." you said softly. He nodded before you turned around, looking at the area you just came from.

"Alright." You told yourself. "Here we go again."

[pendragyn]

The Key

it's 1981 and Crowley has decided to purchase a flat, but the snobby agent won't approve their application without a character reference. Who else can they call on but Aziraphale? (Inspired by a writing prompt on @fenrir-kin 's twitch stream. 3666 words, full fic on AO3)

1981...

Mr Rust looked up from the almost unreadable scribble on the forms and narrowed his eyes as he looked over the person slouched in the right-hand chair that had been arranged just so in front of his desk. The interloper was wearing dark clothes of a popular mode that Mr Rust found abhorrent; a frilly shirt offset by a jacket with padded shoulders and wide-leg trousers that were nothing like the suits a proper man would wear. And the clothes weren’t even the worst part. And more offensive still were the large sunglasses impudently perched on the interloper’s nose and the pointed glance they gave the flashy digital watch on their wrist when the silence dragged on too long.

Mr Rust cleared their throat. “Mr Anthony J Crowley?”

“Yep, that’s me,” Crowley grinned, tossing their long curly hair over their shoulder.

Mr Rust sniffed disapprovingly and glared down at the document again. “We have been having some difficulty with your paperwork. I’m not sure that Sanctuary Realty Group can help you.”

Crowley’s eyes narrowed at that. A well applied miracle or two usually solved all those pesky little problems that came with being an unemployed immortal long before this stage of the game. “And why isss that?” Crowley asked with cool politeness.

Mr Rust sniffed again. “Well, for one, it says here that you’re not currently employed-”

“And it says there that I have a private trust which will pay for upkeep and whatnot,” Crowley pointed out, glaring from behind their sunglasses. “Can’t work, got a problem with my eyes. Bright light gives me migraines, trouble reading and the like.” Crowley leaned forward, lips curled up in a challenging smirk. “But it’s not really my lack of employment that’s the issue, is it?”

“I’m sure that I don’t know what you mean,” Mr Rust protested, his disdain clear in his expression. “We simply have certain... expectations of our clients-”

“I should imagine the number of zeros on that report are more than enough for that,” Crowley said smugly.

“Well, no.” Mr Rust smiled with grim satisfaction. “We need to know more than what you’ve disclosed about your finances, Mr Crowley. We need to know what kind of man you are.”

Crowley blinked, taken aback by the hostility in the man’s tone. “You wot?”

“You will need references Mr Crowley. Someone of good standing to vouch for your moral stature.” Mr Rust’s smile grew when Crowley frowned. “You left that spot blank you see. If you can’t find anyone, we will regretfully have to decline-”

Crowley wanted to just magic the man into compliance, but that only worked in the short term. It was playing with fire to depend on mind magics to get cooperation for longer than a few hours at most. Never had this sort of problem in the old days, Crowley thought bitterly. Then again, this wasn’t just a matter of renting, they were trying to buy a flat, and they’d never bothered with that before, well, aside from the shop for Aziraphale, but that didn’t really count, being so long ago. But the thought gave them an idea.

“Did I? Just a bit of oversight on my part. My eyes, you know.” Crowley reached into their fashionably oversized and shoulder-padded jacket and miracled up a card. It was a gamble, relying on the angel for this, but there wasn’t any other option. This flat felt right, and Crowley knew when to trust their instincts. “This should do. Call them, him,” Crowley hastily corrected, setting the card on the desk. “Mr Fell can vouch for me. Good upstanding citizen, business owner. Known me forever.”

Mr Rust barely glanced at the card and set it on his blotter. “Well, I’m sure you have important things to see to, Mr Crowley. I’ll see to this-”

“Now,” Crowley said, unwilling to be put off yet again. “No need to drag this out on my account Mr Rust. I mean, this is the only issue keeping you from approving my purchase application, isn’t it?” Crowley’s smile was all teeth. “I’m willing to wait however long it takes to get this done today. And this chair is so comfortable,” Crowley said, dragging the chair closer to the desk with a terrible screech.

Mr Rust scowled and quickly pulled his desk phone closer and slowly dialled the number on the card, frowning at Crowley in a most disapproving manner for leaning their elbow on the desk.

Crowley ignored the glare, holding their breath when they heard Aziraphale’s perky greeting once the call went through. “A Z Fell and Co, A Z Fell, proprietor, speaking.”

Mr Rust’s spirits lifted. Who in their right mind would give a so-called ‘business’ in Soho run by a man with a clearly fake name as a reference? “Ah, hello Mr Fell, I am calling about an acquaintance of yours, a Mr Anthony J Crowley?”

“Oh, Crowley... Yes, I know the fiend.”

Crowley closed their eyes at hearing that, and sat back into their chair, pressing their fingers to their eyes in dismay. Too late, Crowley recalled that Aziraphale had been a little annoyed with them the last time they’d parted. They’d prodded a little too hard during their most recent round of trying to convince the angel to make the bookshop into an actual shop with books that could be bought.But that had been weeks ago and Crowley had assumed, hoped, they’d be over that by now. Shit.But what option did they have? It’s not like they could have the man call Sergeant Shadwell or any of Crowley’s other, equally criminal, associates.

read the rest on AO3...

[serpentstole]

Luciferian Challenge: Day 9

How do you feel about God?

This might be an unexpected take from a Lutheran-raised Luciferian, but I don’t really have strong opinions about God. I have strong opinions about harmful actions taken in God’s name, the misrepresentation of history, and an abuse of social and political power enacted by any religious group, but not really on God Himself. 

I’m a big fan of some of His people, both living and dead. I have many Christian friends who are just the nicest people, and magically speaking, I work with one Christian saint so far in the form of St Expedite, and I’ve sometimes considered trying to add St Cyprian to the mix. I am comfortable approaching Saints and other Christian entities in the way that’s appropriate to them, and this hasn’t negatively impacted me in any way so far, though I don’t know if that’ll change after I undergo a more spiritually impactful apostasy. 

This feels brief and anticlimactic, so I’m grabbing another prompt from the bonus list! Another thematically appropriate one, this time in the form of…

How do you feel about the religious texts of the Abrahamic faiths? Do you use it as part of your path?

This answer is going to be longer and thus under the cut, but if people read anything I write during this entire challenge, I genuinely hope it’s this one. I will say now for any Christian, Jewish, or Muslim readers or followers I have, it will not be an answer that is hostile towards you, as I don’t want anyone to worry that they might have to either skip this answer completely or else brace themselves against an incredibly shitty take.

To get the “do you use it” part of the question out of the way, I own the Charmer’s Psalter and have used Biblical verse in magic before, but I don’t know how long that’ll continue as my magic develops and changes. I might end up just using the parts that reference the spirits and deities I work with when writing rituals, the ever popular Lord’s Prayer In Reverse, etc.

Now, onto the important stuff.

By Abrahamic faiths I assume they mean Christinity, Judaism, and Islam, since those are the three people tend to lump together during these sorts of discussions. To get two of those out of the way, I don’t think I should really feel any particular way about the religious texts used in Judaism and Islam, as I’m not Jewish nor Muslim. 

I know it’s a sadly common thing for Luciferians or Satanists (or many neo-pagans and wiccans, for that matter)  to be “anti-Abrahamic” and claim that while they don’t have an issue with the people that belong to those religious, they don’t like the religions themselves or the dogmatic rules those religions might encourage. But that’s sort of… missing the point, isn’t it? 

The idea that anyone is a victim of their own religious belief is only half formed if you don’t look at the people or groups that will use the twisting of religious texts, ideas, or communities to victimize others. Lawmakers will often use Christian ideas to try and control women’s bodies, for example, which is something groups like TST vocally push back against. But the expectations they are willing to make on those laws reveal the hypocrisy of their stance, and that belief is being used as a smokescreen to obscure the true intentions of control over women’s bodies for the sake of it. Someone cherry picking or outright misrepresenting the words and ideals of their holy texts or religion to suit their selfish or political needs is not the fact of that holy text or religion.

We claim to reject dogma, but the assumption and blanket statement that these three religions are inherently harmful and oppressive is (in my opinion) dogmatic, and often we Luciferians or Satanists or even Pagans sometimes fall into the trap of regurgitating right wing talking points when it comes to how Judaism or Islam in particular are perceived. The issue is the people who would encourage dogmatic thinking or worse, lawmaking, while using faith as an excuse and to add legitimacy to their bigotry. To demonize the religion is to abandon great swaths of its victims, such as the women and LGBT people of that faith who are being abused by bad actors in the name of a religion they share. 

If the idea of why someone would remain a member of their religion when there are so many bad actors, religious texts, or even just passages they might disagree with is a hard thing to wrap one’s head around, I ask this: would you expect rejection of their faith by a Norse pagan for the historic sexism and homophobia of old Norse societies? For the modern associations it has with neo-nazis and bigotry towards women and queer people? 

If you say yes, if you would stubbornly and genuinely say yes… then what does it say about you, when we share a label with Anton LaVey’s books that were so influenced by Social Darwinism and Might Makes Right? With groups like the Order of Nine Angels, the Joy of Satan, and others who would claim to be Luciferians or Satanists while advocating for hate speech, bigotry, or literal actual murder? If a few bad actors or communities or specific books can ruin religions as old and as complex and as culturally varied as Christianity, Judaism, and Islam, how the hell are there any Satanists and Luciferians left that aren’t transparently proud bigots?

If we can accept for ourselves that not all Satanists and Luciferians will use the religious label with good intentions, and that not all Pagans hold ideals that are befitting the gods they claim to serve or the communities they want to be a part of, why can so few of us extend that basic courtesy to other religions?

And all this is to say nothing of how separated from its original historic and linguistic context the bible has become, and how our view of sin is very different to how those that penned Leviticus likely saw it. 

While I can understand and empathize with those who have a negative view of a religion that’s done them personal harm and caused lasting trauma, that’s the shape that their abuse took. It was the fault of the people that enacted that abuse and any churches or organizations that stood by it, not the religion they used as an excuse.* I will genuinely never blame any who shy away from a religious upbringing or culture that tried to condemn their sexuality, or gender identity, or one which tried to control their bodies. That kind of negative association lingers, and there’s no doubt that people have done terrible things in the name of their faith, like I’ve said. But to treat those religions like the root of all societal ills when there are so many who would or are be cruel regardless of their beliefs, or to be hostile towards those that follow such religions without trying to impose any restrictions or beliefs on others, is missing the broader issue and (in my opinion) far more likely to do harm than good.

Also like. Dual faith practices exist and are also fair and valid and doubtless rewarding for those people.

*Please note that I am not including small, cult-like sects in my statements about these religions as a whole. There are plenty of Christian communities who are outright hate groups or otherwise dangerous to their members. Hopefully no one tries to point to some pack of weirdos as their justification to me on why all Christians are either bad or misled, or worse, tries to apply that to other religions as well because they have some historic point of connection.

[maddogofshimano]

Chronicle of Rikiya’s Solitary Fight: Rikiya Sugoroku Event

This one was huge! And very very Okinawa specific! It was really hard to translate! Sugoroku events are board games, so this one had a little chibi Rikiya, which was pretty great. 

I tried to put comments on anything that might be unclear, but feel free to message me if something isn’t making sense. Rikiya is bringing a lot of gay energy to this one, honestly.

Summary: Someone has spread a rumor that Kiryu is here to take over the Ryukyu Market, and it had gotten wildly out of hand. Rikiya tries very hard to keep Kiryu from finding out that everyone kind of hates him, and also tries to get to the bottom of who’s spreading this rumor. It....... doesn’t go great.

Haruka: Whaaaat! Uncle Kaz, you mean you still haven't found one yet? Kiryu: Sorry, I went to the supermarket but didn't see anything, so I was out fishing till now Rikiya: Nice to see you guys! Kiryu: Hey Rikiya. Rikiya: What were you two talking about? Haruka: Rikiya-san, have you ever eaten a gurukun? (Tl note: black tipped fusilier fish) Rikiya: Obviously I have! The gurukun is a fish that represents Okinawa itself! It's name on the mainland is takasago, right? Kiryu: That's right, but it's not very popular there. Neither Haruka nor I have eaten it before. Rikiya: Get out of here! How have you lived in Okinawa and never eaten one?! Well! All three of us are gonna go over to the public market right now! You can get all sorts of fresh fish there! Kiryu: We're going there right now? Rikiya: Yes sir! And I shall be your guide! Kiryu: Sorry, but Haruka and I actually have something to do after this... Rikiya: Is that so... Well then, it's up to me to hike out there and buy a gurukun myself! Kiryu: Is that okay? Sorry for the trouble. Rikiya: Next time though, when you have time, let's go together. In truth, I want you to help me look into the people invading the market even more than I want to show you the fish. Kiryu: People are invading the market? Rikiya: Yeah. Haven't the shop keepers seemed scared to you? Kiryu: Outside of the shops specifically for tourists, the place has a bit of a hostile air towards strangers. Especially around an outsider like me. Rikiya: Those guys are master craftsman, but terrible at talking to people. They're like that to locals too, but still, I don't think this has anything to do with foreigners or locals or mainlanders at all. Kiryu: Is that so? Well then, I look forward to the day I can visit the market with you as my guide. Rikiya: Well, I'm off! I'll be back in two shakes with that fish! <Rikiya in the market> Clerk: Hi, welcome! Rikiya: Blast! Clerk: Ah, Rikiya, what's wrong? Rikiya: You don't happen to have any gurukun, do ya? I want the freshest guy you got. Clerk: Ah, I have just the thing! Though, it's rare for you to be cooking, Rikiya. Rikiya: I ain't doing it. This is for Asagao to eat. Clerk: Asagao...? Rikiya: It's that orphanage down on the beach. My aniki Kiryu-san runs the place. Clerk: Kiryu............... Rikiya: This gurukun looks good. How much do I owe ya? Clerk: Ah, uhhhhhhhhhhh, I just remembered, a different customer actually put a hold on this fish! I'm sorry, you'll have to look elsewhere! Rikiya: What the... seriously? Eh, oh well. I'll just have to hit up a different store! <leaves> Rikiya: Hey! You doin' good? Different clerk: Ah, Riki-chan. Rikiya: I'm after a gurukun. Do ya have any here? Clerk: Ah, I've got a whole fish here. Rikiya: Yes! Kiryu no aniki is gonna love eating this! Clerk: Kiryu no aniki......!? Rikiya: Oh, you know him? Kiryu Kazuma. He's my aniki! Clerk: Get out! Rikiya: Eh? Clerk: The store is closed today! Go home now! Rikiya: Wh-What the hell? Ow! Everything's fine till I mention Kiryu, then everyone starts acting really weird..........?? Tourist: Um, were you just talking about Kiryu...? Rikiya: Yeah. Do you know somethin' about him? Tourist: Well, I overheard this at the market...... If that Kiryu Kazuma person is going to take over the market........... Rikiya: My aniki taking over the market??? What the hell does that mean?? Tourist: I don't know if it's true, but that's the rumor everyone's been talking about. Listen. Clerk 1: Isn't this market under the protection of the Ryudo Family? Wouldn't they protect us even if Kiryu did attack? Clerk 2: What a dumb thing to say, the Ryudo Family can't take Kiryu. You know that Tsukiji Fish Market in Tokyo? Well, Kiryu took that over in a single night. (Tl note: Tsukiji is the biggest fish market in the world) Clerk 1: Seriously!? But we're way smaller than that... Clerk 2: Mhm, plus it only took him an hour to take over. By himself. Clerk 1: Why I oughta stab that Kiryu guy! When he shows up, he'll have to answer to my butcher knife! Clerk 2: Your funeral. The rumor is that the last guy that resisted Kiryu got sold as mincemeat. Clerk 1: What a horrible bastard...! I should have expected as much from a mainlander! Tourist: I've been hearing rumors like that all week around here. Rikiya: Aniki taking over the market?? These rumor has grown like a dang weed, but who's the guy who planted it?! Tourist: Still... They say there's no smoke without a fire. Rikiya: Eh? What do you mean? Tourist: Oh, there's no deeper meaning to it. Well, I'm off... Rikiya: The hell? That woman.........? Rikiya: Ah, aniki! What's the meaning of all this? Kiryu: Haruka's errands ended up being faster than expected, so I figured I'd come over to the market. Rikiya: Ah, no, bad! You coming here is really bad! Kiryu: Why? Rikiya: Uhhhhhh, well..... They are completely sold out of gurukun! Kiryu: I see. Well, I'd still like to take a look around this place. I want you to be my guide and tell me about that invasion you were talking about. Rikiya: Really sorry! I'm already done with the market and on my way back to Asagao right now! So let's come back to the market some other day! Kiryu: I see. I was hoping to poke around and have some fun... Be safe on your way home. Rikiya: Shit! Stop! .......Dang. Aniki gettin stabbed by the market people wouldn't have been any fun at all....... Well, I was the one who got his hopes up in the first place.... I can't just say "Oh, the market's full of nasty rumors about you right now" now can I? What can I even do here...? Rikiya: Maybe I could persuade every one a single person at a time? But that would take so much time.... But where did these weird rumors come from anyways? I know my aniki's a mainlander, but stil... Rikiya: For the time being I better head back to Asagao. Aniki will get suspicious if I'm back late.... <END>

Rikiya, at Asagao: (Man, it's been a whole week and I haven't been able to do anything to combat the rumors about my aniki........ Well, people say rumors only last 75 days, so instead of freaking out about it maybe I should just wait it out..... Nnn. How many months is 75 days? That's so long....) Haruka: Rikiya-san, it's a shame that all the gurukun was sold out the other day, huh. Rikiya: Yeah... it's a really delicious fish! Haruka: I'm looking forward to eating it one day! I've been really interested in getting to know Okinawan cuisine better lately. Do you know souki? (Tl note: Okinawan stewed pork ribs) Rikiya: Of course! Stewed meat and bone done in the traditional Okinawan style. It's suuuuper tasty! Haruka: Uncle Kaz had some a year ago and said it tasted really good. I was going to go with him to buy some, so why don't you come too? Rikiya: Oh, nice. Which store? I'm glad it got my aniki's stamp of approval. Kiryu, appearing: The market. Rikiya: Hey, aniki. I got it. The market huh.... Wait, the market?! Kiryu: It'd be perfect to explore the market with you as our guide. And I'd like to meet those people you were talking about who were being invaded... Rikiya: Th-That's not gonna work! I mean, we really don't need two people to go to the market! Kiryu: What? Why? Rikiya: Because... it's....! Rikiya: Ain't it just blistering today? Hell, if a mainlander like you goes out in it, you'll get heat stroke in seconds! So just let me handle buying the souki, and just have you two stay put! Rikiya: Here, Haruka-chan, I'm gonna borrow shopping bag! Haruka: Hold on...! <Rikiya runs off> Kiryu: He's a pretty intense guy... <Rikiya back at the market> Rikiya: This sucks. I can't keep aniki and Haruka-chan from coming here for much longer without causing some big problems... Rikiya: For the time being I should listen in on how people are talking here at the market. Maybe the rumor just died..... Clerk 1: The story about this Kiryu person taking over the market all by himself. It's really unbelievable, right? Clerk 2: Yeah... It's impossible to think rationally about a story like that. There's no way just one guy could do that. Clerk 1: That's exactly it. So apparently Kiryu uses some kind of associate to work with him in his take overs. Clerk 2: An associate...!? Who is it? Clerk 1: The ryudo family captain.... Rikiya. Clerk 2: Ah! That evil asshole, he is always running around with Kiryu isn't he! Clerk 1: Right? Poor Rikiya has been completely brain washed by Kiryu. Clerk 2: Well, if Kiryu and Rikiya are working together, aren't they going to attack soon!? Clerk 1: Yeah. You're not wrong. Rikiya, bursting in: Hey! Don't be afraid! Clerk 1: R-Rikiya! How long have you been here?! Rikiya: What kinda dumbasses are you? My aniki has brainwashed me? We're gonna take over the market? Where the hell did ya get that idea! It's totally bull! Clerk 1: Well what are we supposed to think when even now, you, who loves Okinawa more than anyone, is wagging your tail over a damn mainlander! You're following him around and calling him aniki, brain washed isn't a strong enough word! Rikiya: You're wrong! I fell for my aniki's manly spirit! Kiryu no aniki is a man among men..... a real man!! (Tl note: THAT IS......... A ROMANTIC FELL FOR............ LIKE, USED FOR MINE ABOUT DAIGO..........) <Rikiya storms off> Clerk 1: Did you see that look in his eyes! It's the same as my cousins when he joined a cult! Clerk 2: He reall has been brainwashed....! Then he's going to attack alongside Kiryu soon! Clerk 1: Kiryu is going to grind our bones and destroy our business! Rikiya, returned: You guys are real nitwits on this. Yeah, Kiryu no aniki has a real intense look about him... Clerk 2: Hey! Look at that! Clerk 1: K-K-Kiryu......!! <Haruka and Kiryu are holding hands and walking through the market> Haruka: It sure is nice and lively in this market, isn't it Unlce Kaz? Kiryu: Yeah... Haruka: But, what's good to eat here? Kiryu: Ah, don't worry. You can make a lot of things from bones.... Rikiya, running over: Hold up aniki! Why'd'ya come here! Kiryu: Hey, you're the one who was so insistent on being by yourself. Clerk 1: Quick, everyone run! We're all going to die! Haruka: What's going on? Why are all the store owners running? Where are they going? Kiryu: What's happening? Rikiya: This is, uhhh.... a disaster preparedness drill! Kiryu: A disaster preparedness drill? Rikiya: Yes sir. We don't want anyone to die in a real emergency, so we're doing a drill... And because of that, you can't shop here today! Kiryu: Oh, well that's a shame. I wanted to eat that bone and cartiledge souki I had here before. Rikiya: Bone and cartelige.... Kiryu: It was cooked so long that you could even eat the bones. Rikiya: Well when the disaster drill is finished, I'll buy you some and bring it back for you guys, you please go ahead and go home aniki. Kiryu: Ah. I don't want to get in the way of the drill. Let's go home, Haruka. Haruka: Yeah. See you later, Rikiya-san. Rikiya: Whew.... that was close. Clerk 2: .....Huh? That bastard Kiryu, just went home? Was this just a reconnesince mission, and the real attack will be at a later date.....? Rikiya: Are you still on about that nonsense? Clerk 2: It's not nonsense, I heard him! Kiryu said in the market that "he's going to break our bones"! (Tl note: `break` is a homophone with `make` in this case) Rikiya: You're wrong. He was talking about souki... Clerk 2: Don't lie to my face like that! Chinpira: Hey, you all, where's Kiryu? Rikiya: What the? You assholes... Chinpira: We're bouncers. We were sent to protect the market from Kiryu. Rikiya: Sent? By who? Chinpira: I don't think this has anything to do with you, dumbass. Now did Kiryu come here already? Where'd he go? Clerk 2: He already left the market, we went that way. Chinpira: Yes! The hunt is on! Rikiya: Hold up. My aniki isn't trying to take over the market! Chinpira: I know who you are, you're Kiryu's little brainwashed Rikiya! How can you believe a shithead like that guy! Get away from him! Rikiya: If you really want to take on my aniki, you gotta get through me first. Chinpira: Heh... This brat's a lively one! He really is Kiryu's partner in crime! Let's get him! <fight, Rikiya wipes the floor with them> Chinpira: Ughh... s-strong! Rikiya: Tell me before you pass out. Who sent you assholes to protect the market, huh? Chinpira: It was... the market green horn club. Rikiya: Green horn club? Clerk 1: It's a group of all the young people working in the market. They get their hands dirty a lot, but they're extremely passionate about the market. Clerk 2: Yeah for sure. The green horn club were the first to detect Kiryu's invasion too. Rikiya: Hold up, then the source of the rumors is the green horn club? Clerk 2: Yeah, though they clearly aren't just rumors, but the green horn club spread the word around..... Rikiya: (So the green horn club is spreading these lies, but why? Should I try to get to the bottom of this right now? No. I still need to bring aniki that bone and cartelige souki I said I'd buy him. If I dillydally, he'll end up coming back to the market...) <END>

<Haruka and Kiryu in the kitchen at morning glory> Haruka: Ah! The meat is all sticky! Kiryu: That's because of how long it's been cooked, it lets you even eat the bones. Haruka: Rikiya-san, thank you for buying this cartelige souki! Rikiya: Oh, nah, it was nothing, that stuff's pretty cheap. Hehe.... Haruka: What other delicious foods are there? Kiryu: Well next time, we'll have to take a look around the market. Rikiya: (I'm doomed... They both want to go to the market even more... I gotta hurry up and get this rumor dealt with. Guess I'll have to check in with that greenhorn club.) Kiryu: Something wrong, Rikiya? I was going to check in with Nakahara later this evening. Rikiya: At his house? Kiryu: Yep. Apparently he wants to drink awamori with me. Will you be there too? (Tl note: awamori is a traditional okinawan alcohol that has a snake in it) Rikiya: Oh I really wanna but, I kinda got plans tonight already... Kiryu: Really? Why have you been so busy lately? There isn't any trouble, is there? Rikiya: What are ya talking about! There's no trouble at all! Please, just go have fun meeting with my boss for me! Ah, just remember that my boss has a habit of going wild if he drinks too much, and then getting sick. Kiryu: A drunk huh? I'll be careful with him. Rikiya: Well, give my regards to the boss for me! <Rikiya heads downtown> Rikiya: Man, this whole thing has me wondering if I'm even good enough to have Kiryu as my aniki... I really gotta solve this without bothering him. Alright, time to erase these rumors! Rikiya: Buuuuuut... I haven't found hide nor hair of this greenhorn club... Oh, there we go! Greenhorn member: Who's there? What is it this time... Rikiya: You, you're a greenhorn member of the market, yeah? Member: Yeah. I'm the head of... Wait, you! You're that Rikiya guy from the ryudo family! What's Kiryu's brainwashed crony doing here? Are you gonna raid the greenhorn club?! Rikiya: You dumbass. I ain't brainwashed at all. You on the other hand? You spread those fake rumors around the whole market, didn't ya? Member: Kiryu's takeover of the market... Sure, we made sure everyone learned about it. But it ain't a lie... Look at this! Rikiya: Huh? What's all these letters?? Member: These letters were put in the opinion box set up in the market. Rikiya: Opinion box? Member: Customers at the market write any problems and put it in the box. In the middle of all those was this letter. Read it yourself... Rikiya: "Please help me. Kiryu Kazuma is going to take over the market soon! The Ryudo family protecting the market can't compete with Kiryu. That's because... Kiryu is brainwashing their captain, Rikiya. In addition, Kiryu intends to kill the ryudo patriarch Nakahara." Rikiya: ...The hell is this letter! Who put this in the opinion box?! Member: Who knows. It was an anonymous tip. Rikiya: What, you guys just trust this anonymous tip completely?! Member: Hey, we didn't act on it at first. You own the deed to Morning Glory, if Kiryu did anything you could evict him. And obviously Kiryu couldn't brainwash a guy like you. But then, one day it all changed... Member: Out of nowhere you start calling your supposed enemy Kiryu, aniki, and you start pining* after him! (Tl note: to yearn for, long for, pine for, miss, love dearly, adore..... hot damn) Member: There's no way that would have happened besides you getting brainwashed! So that meant the letter was true!! Rikiya: No, that ain't right at all! It's just....! Member: Thought so. We got a new anonymous tip in the box today. Go on. Read it. Rikiya: "Kiryu Kazuma is going to poison the patriarch of the ryudo family... " Huh? Poison? Why the hell would he do something like that! Member: Huh? Hey, look over there! That man walking around... <Kiryu and Haruka walk by> Rikiya: A-Aniki....!? Haruka: Hey, uncle Kaz? Kiryu: What is it, Haruka? Haruka: Are you really going to give this to Nakahara-san for him to drink? Kiryu: Heh... if Nakahara tries to refuse it I'll just *make* him drink it. (Tl note: this sentence is really confusing, intentionally, but basically Kiryu is going to make sure Nakahara drinks something, which could be the poison) Haruka: Well, I guess you're already pretty strong. Though, is it really that potent? Kiryu: Don't worry. This method has been used for a long time. Kiryu: Well, we should hurry. I'm going to be late for meeting up with Nakahara. Member: See! You heard that just now, right?! Rikiya: Now hold on a minute! There's been kind of a misunderstanding! Member: Everyone get out here! Goons: What is it boss? Member: Kiryu is on his way to kill Nakahara right now! Goons: What! Then that anonymous tip we got today was right! Member: C'mon, let's all go and kill Kiryu! Goons: Yeah! We'll catch him before he makes it to Nakahara! Rikiya: Wait! Calm down! Member: Can it, Rikiya! We'll kill you too if we gotta! Rikiya: Go on and try me then! You're not making it an inch further! <Rikiya obliterates them> Member: Ugh... We gotta protect Nakahara.....! Rikiya: Seriously, my aniki isn't gonna kill my boss.... Rikiya: But what exactly were he and Haruka-chan talking about...? Nah, couldn't be. I do want to head after them and see what's up though..... Haruka: I know you said it's been used for a long time, but is that really true? Kiryu: Yeah, I heard the grown ups in ryudo talking about it. Kiryu: If you drink milk before drinking alcohol it coats your stomach, so it's harder to get sick from it... At least that's what they said. Haruka: Hmm! Well, I hope Nakahara-san will drink this milk. Kiryu: Ah, we're just a corner away from the office now. Rikiya, who has been tailing them: Ah... So that's what it was..... <returns to the greenhorns> Member: Huh? It's milk? That's an awful shitty lie, Rikiya! Rikiya: I think my aniki is just... a little scary with his speaking. And his looks. Even when he's talking about normal things it ends up sounding scary. Are you sure the comment box person didn't just misunderstand something Kiryu said? Member: No. There's multiple reports, and they come at different times of day and have different handwriting. You really think *all* those people listened to him and misunderstood in the same way? Don't be ridiculous. Rikiya: That's... well... Member: The real problem is you, Rikiya! Defending Kiryu with such a horribly flimsy excuse! I think you got brainwashed even harder than we expected. Did he embed something in your head? Rikiya: Huh? member: I saw it on TV! They put a chip in your body to control you remotely! Is that what Kiryu did to you!? Rikiya: Uh, no, that's... Member: D-Don't come any closer! You and Kiryu, that's more than we can handle! You guys... You're no longer human!! You're monsters!! Rikiya: Sheesh... This rumor just keeps getting bigger and bigger... <END>

<Kiryu, back at Morning Glory> Kiryu: Shit... I've already beaten (Tl note: punished, tormented) this guy for 2 hours and they're still hanging on. What a horribly stubborn bastard. Kiryu: I guess next I could submerge them in some boiling water? No, I have a hand at stake here... Haruka: What was that uncle Kaz? Did you drop something? Kiryu: Nah, I didn't drop anything. This frying pan has oil stains. (Tl note: KIRYU I THOUGHT IT WAS A LEECH AT LEAST. WHY DO YOU TALK LIKE THIS) Rikiya: (.....He was talking about oil stains...... For a minute there I thought he was torturing someone..... No wonder the anonymous comment box had messages like that, they must have misunderstood what aniki was talking about...) Rikiya: Hey, aniki. Have you ever thought about, uh, speaking in a little more friendly way? Kiryu: Huh? A more friendly way? Rikiya: Well, you've got kind of an intimidating way of talking, you know? It might make people think you're a lot scarier than you are... Kiryu: Has someone been misunderstaning me? Rikiya: No, nothing like that... Though I'd be pretty bad is nasty rumors started spreading about you at the market, right? It's not like you could go to each person in the market individually and clear up that kind of misunderstanding...... Kiryu: I'm not worried about that. Rikiya: Eh? Kiryu: Where do you go to untie a tangled up string? It's the "root" of it that's tangled, not the tip, right? It might look like a massive knot, but the base cause might be a little twist at the base. If you solve that, the rest will follow. Rumors and misunderstandings are the same. Rikiya: I getcha..... So basically, if you solve the first misunderstanding, it'll solve everything else?! Kiryu: Mhm. Everything stems from the root. Both for tangling and untangling. Rikiya: (All I gotta do is find the original person who submitted that rumor anonymously! Time to find them and solve this misunderstanding! Now that I know that, I better go keep an eye on the opinion box!) Rikiya: Thanks! Aniki! Kiryu: ...Hm? What happened to having nasty rumors spread about me? Rikiya: Wh-What are ya talking about! There's nothing like that happening! All the locals know you're a big softie! Kiryu: Speaking of the locals, what ever happened to that invasion of the market? Rikiya: Sorry! I... Gotta go right now! See ya! <Rikiya hurries to the market> Clerk 1: Hey, did you hear? Kiryu's putting chips in people's heads if they oppose him... Clerk 2: So for the rest of my life I'd end up being a brainwashed slave for Kiryu... Rikiya: (This rumor is seriously out of hand... I better hurry up and catch whoever's putting these things in the box. Though... I've been watching the box for a while now and no one's put in any letters... Well, guess I'll just have to camp out here every day until I catch the person behind it... Hm? Those men...?) <goons enter> Rikiya: (They look kinda familiar... That's right! Those are the assholes from the greenhorn club. Are they here to fight? That would make a huge mess here... Wait, the guy on the right has a letter in his hand...?) <goon puts it in the box> Rikiya: (He put it in! Why would the bouncers...? Are they the ones making up these rumors about Kiryu this whole time!? Was all this so they'd get hired as bouncers?! That's gotta be it!!) <Rikiya barges in> Rikiya: Hey, hold up! Goon: R-Rikiya?! What are you doing here?! Rikiya: I just saw you putting a letter in the opinion box, and I'm gonna check it out. Goon: Wh-What!! You can't do that, that's an anonymous message!! Rikiya: I'm pretty impatient about this. Did you put in another bad letter thinking I wouldn't see it? Goon: This doesn't concern you! You're not laying a single finger on that opinion box! Rikiya: Oh? Are you saying I can't see that letter without laying you out? That's fine! Come at me! I'll keep beating you down as many times as it takes! <Rikiya makes good on his word> Goon: Ow....... Don't touch that letter...... Rikiya: I'm gonna ignore your advice. Now let's see, here's the letter you put in... What do we have here~ "A complaint about the greenhorn club. The greenhorn club has not properly compensated the bouncers hired to prepare for Kiryu's invasion of the market. The greenhorn club should pay the bouncers as agreed." ...The hell? Goon: You happy? This is all your fault... The greenhorns said "we're not gonna pay that much to a bouncer who loses to Rikiya"! They went and cut our pay without even negotiating with us... so this is a letter of protest! Rikiya: So, you weren't the one behind the rumors about my aniki... Well, shit. Goon: I have no idea what you're talking about! Rikiya: Whatever, it's fine. You just head on home. If I see you here again though, I'm not gonna be so lenient. Goon: Damnit! <goon leaves, running directly into the tourist woman from the start of this> Tourist: Kya! Goon: Look where you're going, you moron! Rikiya: Are you okay, lady? Tourist: Ah, yeah, sorry. Rikiya: You... We met before, right? We were talking about the rumors about my aniki Kiryu? Tourist: Yeah, it's been a while! Rikiya: I guess you come to the market to shop pretty often. Huh? That in your hand... is that a letter? Tourist: Ah, this is, uh, well... Rikiya: Do ya mind if I take a peek? Tourist: N-No way! Rikiya: It's not decent to read a woman's letter without her permission, but the circumstances are dire... I'll give it back! <Rikiya swipes the letter> Rikiya: What do we got... "A follow up to Kiryu Kazuma's take over plan. Once he takes over the market, he'll start demanding expensive protection rackets from each store. Anyone who can't pay up, he'll kill, and make it look like an accident." ...So you're the one behind this!! Tourist: Uh, this is...!! Rikiya: This "follow-up" is all made up, isn't it!? Lady, who the hell are you!? What's the meaning of all this?! <END>

<directly following the previous one, Rikiya is questioning this tourist lady> Rikiya: Why the hell are you doing thing...!? These rumors about my aniki...?! Tourist: They aren't rumors! Kiryu Kazuma comes to my shop every week. Rikiya: Shop? Tourist: I'm a waitress at a coffee shop on the outskirts of ryukyu. Rikiya: My aniki goes there? But these rumors, it's just not adding up! First of all, why would a normal kid like you even know who Kiryu is? Waitress: Because he keeps calling himself that name on the phone... Rikiya: Phone? Waitress: He's always talking to someone. Every time he answers he says "It's me. Kiryu Kazuma." Rikiya: Okay, yeah, that's how aniki answers the phone, but who's he talking to? Waitress: I don't know. But every time he's always making plans to take over the market... First let's brainwash the captain of the ryudo family... Then let's poison the patriarch... Rikiya: You heard him say the stuff in your letters? Waitress: Yes. I didn't think there would be anyone who could protect the market... but if I could warn them, then at least Kiryu wouldn't be able to kill anyone... Rikiya: So you put a message in the opinion box then. Waitress: Yes. I'd heard that the greenhorn club were pretty strong. So if I could let them know, maybe they'd be able to stop Kiryu.... Rikiya: Miss, the guy you've been seeing at the coffee shop is not Kiryu Kazuma. It's a fake. (Tl note: Rikiya this is a wild assumption. I love it) Waitress: I can't believe that... But, how about you come to the coffee shop right now and see for yourself. Rikiya: What, right now? Waitress: Yes. Middle aged man: Could you wait a moment? Right now, did you say that Kiryu's in a coffee shop? That's strange. I just saw him and the convenience store. Rikiya: Eh? Middle aged man: I'm the manager and was just at the store a little while ago, and I saw Kiryu arrive. Rikiya: Was Kiryu possibly talking on a cellphone? Manager: Yeah. He was talking to someone, I don't know who. It was about a plan to take over the market... So, I eavesdropped, and I wrote this letter on what I heard to put into the opinion box. Man: I wrote the same thing in my letter from when he visited my store. Rikiya: You too...?? Man: He was in my barber shop. I heard him talking to someone on the phone about a plan to take over the market. Rikiya: Hey, hey! Is there a fake Kiryu Kazuma running around town!? We gotta get to that coffee shop! Lead the way, lady! Waitress: Yes! <they go> goon 1: Do you think it worked at the convenience store? goon 2: It went great. The manager was pretending not to listen, but he clearly was! goon 3: The barber too. He wrote down the whole conversation! goon 1: Hehehe... Perfect. It worked even with no one on the other end of the phone. goon 3: Well, think it's time to head back and see what the greenhorn club has to say about these letters? goon 1: Yeah. Seems they hired some chinpira to be their bouncer, but a goon like that can't handle Rikiya. That's something I plan on taking care of myself. goon 3: So, next time they'll hire a stronger guy, right? They're counting on someone to save the market they love so much. goon 1: Well, if they can find anyone that has the balls to take on Kiryu. With Kiryu seen as a threat ryudo family will lose their backing. They're gonna be shaking in their boots. Then the market will be easy pickings for us... the Tamashiro Family. goon 3: Hehehe... Man, inciting the citizens to wipe out Kiryu for us is a great plan. goon 1: Ain't it! We don't even get our hands dirty, they'll do all the hard work for us. We're gonna fly up the ranks of the Tamashiro Family for this one! goon 3: Yeah. But we gotta keep it a secret from the higher ups till it succeeds, I don't want them stealing all the credit. goon 1: Yeah... Alright! Let's head back to the office. Heeey! Check please! Rikiya: Yes sir. Three iced coffees comes out to 15 dollars. goon 1: Sure. Give me a receipt. Rikiya: Right now we're offering a free bonus to all Tamashiro Family members of being beaten half to death. goon 1: Oh, got it. Beaten half to... goon 1: Hey! You! Rikiya of the ryudo family! Rikiya: What made you think this was a good idea. Are you all idiots? Didn't you just join up last year? Your only saving grace is that I didn't tell the higher ups about this plan. If I told them, wouldn't all of you get kicked out of the family entirely? goon 1: What are you saying! This plan is going great! Once Kiryu bites it, the market is ours! Rikiya: Moron. You're the one who's going to bite it. goons: Let's teach this brat a lesson! We'll kill you first! <Rikiya kicks their asses> goons: Sh-Shit...! Don't think this is over! We'll have that market!! <they run> Rikiya: Heh, what a bunch of losers. Waitress: Should you chase them down? They might start spreading fake rumors in the city again... Rikiya: Don't worry about it. After today, no one's gonna believe rumors about my aniki Kiryu. Waitress: Are you going to tell the truth to everyone in the market? Rikiya: Yeah. But I can't be the one to say it. Everyone thinks I'm brainwashed, remember? So, can I count on you to explain things? Waitress: You want me to? Rikiya: You're the one who put in the original anonymous message, so it makes sense. If you tell them the truth, it'll unravel this whole tangled web. Waitress: I understand. I'm going to go tell them the truth. Rikiya: Please do. <she leaves> Rikiya: <answering the phone> Hello? Man's voice: Rikiya, you bastard! You've really done it now! Rikiya: That voice... The greenhorn club's leader? Boss: A surprise attack's a real dirty trick! Rikiya: Surprise attack? What are you talking about? Boss: Right now, you've sent Tamashiro members to take over the market! Rikiya: What?! Boss: I should have known Kiryu would brainwash the Tamashiro family too! goon 1, through the phone: I'm smashing everything! This is Kiryu aniki's orders! Boss: S-Stop it!! Rikiya: ...Shit! Those Tamashiro bastards got desperate! I gotta get that lady back from the market!! <she's back at the cofee store> Waitress: What were you talking about when you called me just now? Rikiya: The Tamashiro family is attacking the market! I gotta go stop them! <at the market> goon 1: Ain't this great! Today this market is gonna belong to Kiryu aniki! goon 2: Protection money starts at 1,000,000 yen! Pay up if you don't wanna get squashed! Clerk: Kiryu brainwashed the Tamashiro family too! If I pay that much, I'll go bankrupt! goon 1: I think you'll be lucky number one to pay up. Unless you want Kiryu to show up tomorrow and kill everyone? I'm sure all of you are adults, you can get the money from somewhere! Otherwise Kiryu aniki will... <Kiryu steps in> Kiryu: Otherwise I'll what? (Tl note: YESSSSSSSSSSSSS) goon 1: Ah, this is Kiryu aniki. One second, I have to talk to... goona 1: ....Eh? Kiryu?! Why are you here?! Kiryu: Am I not allowed to shop? I thought the market was open to everyone. goon 1: Y-Yeah...! This market is for everyone...! Especially for aniki! Hahaha! goon 1: Please enjoy the market as much as you like!! We're just gonna get out of your way..!!! Kiryu: Wait. Kiryu: How about you step aside? Something doesn't feel right here. goon 1: Y-Yes sir. (This is my first time seeing him in person, he's so strong! I'm scared!) <Kiryu looks at the letter submitted> Kiryu: I've brainwashed the Tamashiro Family? I'm going to take over the market? Kiryu: Well, looking back on how Rikiya has been acting and talking lately, I've got a pretty good idea on what the situation has been. Clerk 2: K-Kiryu really did come here!! Please, spare my life...!! Kiryu: I'm not going to take over the market or kill any of you. All of that has been a lie from the Tamashiro Family. Clerk 2: You can't fool me! You're a villanous mainlander! Aren't you going to kill me if I can't pay protection money?! Clerk 2: Well, I'm not just gonna roll over and die! I'll cut you to shreds... with this butcher knife! Kiryu: I'm not going to kill you, are you even hearing what I'm saying? Clerk 2: Yeah. I'll believe you if you just let me stab you quietly! Not like that's gonna happen! Do you have weapons hidden around here? A gun? A dagger? What are you going to kill me with? Kiryu: Nope, I came to this market unarmed. Kiryu: Stab me. The heart's on your right. Clerk 2: I-I'm gonna do it! I'm really gonna stab you! Kiryu: Yep. I'm ready. Clerk 2: Hnn....! Hnnnnnn.....!! Dieee!!!!!! goon 1: (Woah! he did it! That's the end of Kiryu!) Kiryu: ...What is it? Why did you stop? clerk 2: What is this? What the hell is all of this!? Kiryu: I want you to believe me. So, this is what I'm doing. clerk 2: You'd throw away your life for a reason like that...? Kiryu: Believing in someone isn't a superficial thing. Especially when you're a stranger to me, trust is hard to build. But, I have to believe in people. I do it for all the orphans living at morning glory. Kiryu: If I, the caretaker, go behind their backs like this, those children won't be able to keep living here. clerk 2: So this... for those children? Kiryu: Yes. I would gladly risk my life to care for them. clerk 2: You, who only thinks of those children even at risk to your body... Can't be the same person who plans to take over this market... clerk 1: I feel the same... You just aren't the kind of guy I've heard about in the rumors! clerk 2: I've decided! I believe Kiryu! clerk 1: Yes, me too! goon 1: (Shit! This is all falling apart!) Kiryu: Hold on a minute, Mister Tamashiro Family Member. goon 1: Wh-What for..?! Kiryu: I'm not the one that needs anything from you, it's them. Clerk 1: Is this all your doing? You spread these terrible rumors and scared us all? Clerk 2: We'll make you feel just as intimidated as we were! You dirty rat! (Tl note: the actual phrase here is an okinawan one meaning he can't be place upwind cause he'd make everything downwind stink) <fade to black> Rikiya: Ha.. Ha...! Where are they? Where's teh Tamashiro family? Goons, beaten to shit: H-help me...! Rikiya: You're, Tamashiro family? goons: We're never gonna come back to this scary ass market again! Rikiya: They hell is going on??? Clerk 2: Rikiya. Rikiya: Meat clerk? Clerk 2: You really weren't brainwashed... We were all wrong... Please, forgive me! Rikiya: Oookay, why are you saying this all the sudden? Clerk 2: We were all brought to our senses. By that guy's manly energy. <Kiryu walks over> Rikiya: A-Aniki!! What are you doing here!? Kiryu: Shake off that shock, you've got a market to show me around, right? Rikiya: What do they mean by, you brought them to their senses with your manly energy? Kiryu: Don't worry about that. There is one thing I don't understand though. You've known about these bad rumors the whole time. Why did you hide it from me? If you'd told me about it earlier it never would have gotten this messy. Rikiya: That was... I had told you before that the people at the market were all kind hearted, and my pride as your otouto (Tl note: opposite of aniki) wouldn't let me make myself a liar like that... I wanted to solve it myself! I didn't want to bother you aniki! Kiryu: We haven't actually exchanged oaths. You just call me aniki. Rikiya: ................ Kiryu: However, if we were really kyoudai, you should bother your aniki a lot. That's the otouto's job. Rikiya: Eh? Kiryu: You said that's your pride as an otouto? I have the same pride as an aniki. I can't allow myself to be taken care of by my otouto. So next time, when there's any trouble, come to me right away for advice. Kiryu: ......Then I'll be happy for you to call me aniki. Rikiya: Uuu... Aniki! Thank you so much! Clerk 2: Hehe. You got yourself a real fine aniki Rikiya! Kiryu-san, we can't apologize to you enough. I fell for those rumors and thought you were a terrifying person. I'm so sorry. Kiryu: It's all fine. By the way, you run a meat store, right? Clerk 2: Yes. We've got every delicious thing you could want, I'll give it to you on the house! Kiryu: Oh, no. I couldn't impose on your like that... That butcher knife however... Clerk 2: The knife... Wh-What do you want to use it on...? Kiryu: For offing. (Tl note: the specific term is シメる which is yakuza slang for killing someone, based on strangling them) Clerk 2: Offing? Kiryu: Why do people never understand me. I'm going to use it to kill. Clerk 2: But I thought... that you weren't a scary person! H-H-Help me!! <he flees> Rikiya: Hold up, what did you mean by that?! You were gonna kill with it?! Kiryu: Hm? Oh, I just bought this at the fish market... Rikiya: That's... a gurukun!? Kiryu: I came to buy it, since it had been forever and you still hand't brought me one. If you ask the fishmonger for a very fresh one, he'll sell you ones that are still alive. But since it's hard to carry with it thrashing around in the bag, I wanted to just off it here. Rikiya: So that's what you meant.......... Aniki, you remember what I was saying to you a while ago? About trying to speak in a more friendly way? Kiryu: Yeah. I've been working on that little by little. Rikiya: Then what was that! Half of this whole thing is your fault cause you sound like a really bad dude! No one would have believed the rumors if you actually sounded like as nice of a guy as you are! Kiryu: Heh, finally the old, hotblooded Rikiya has returned... Great, now I can finally enjoy Rikiya's guided tour of the market. Please show me around thoroughly. It's time to begin our tour. Rikiya: Wait, aniki! Stop just running off on your own...! Jeez~ I guess it can't be helpeddd~ <END>

Bonus facts: okay this isn’t really a fact but my husband walked by while I was reading this and said it was a Rikiya dating sim

By the way, here’s the word I was kind of losing my mind about. It’s uh. It’s a lot tbh.

He also has thoughts on most of the Y3 cast as he goes around the board, here’s his one for Kiryu.

Kiryu no aniki I had no idea a person even greater than my boss existed... No, greater than anyone in the whole wide world!

[calumcest]

call off the search for your soul (or put it on hold again)

what is life without a cheeky bit of angsty lashton from time to time i feel like i would be doing you all a disservice if i didn’t keep you on your TOES thinking when is helen next going to release some absolute bullshit like this

i call this one ‘proof that i am actually capable of writing things under 8k in length’ i genuinely think this is the shortest thing i’ve ever written i think most of my “““drabbles””” are longer than this

-

It’s a strange thing, to feel nothing. 

At first, Ashton doesn’t realise that’s what it is. How can you feel nothing, right? If you’re feeling it, you’re feeling something. At least, that’s what he’d tell himself, staring at his dull hazel eyes in a cracked hotel mirror, one hand either side of the sink, trying his best to see something in their flatness. They’re supposed to be the windows to his soul, after all, aren’t they? 

So why is there nothing there?

Being occupied stops him from really noticing it at first, keeps his spirit so tightly clenched in his fist with late nights and early mornings and drink and drugs that it doesn’t have a chance to stretch out and feel its bruises. He laughs when he should laugh and he smiles when he should smile and he cries when he should cry and he screams when he should scream, and he doesn’t stop to think maybe I shouldn’t be doing it just because it feels like I should. 

It’s not until one night, Luke’s head on his still-heaving chest, the two of them tangled in the sheets and each other, that he feels it. 

Nothing. 

It feels like being full and empty at the same time. Full of emptiness, maybe, Ashton doesn’t know. It feels like he thinks the colour grey might feel, if he could feel colours. It’s not a bright, brilliant white, and it’s definitely not blue or red or yellow, but it’s not quite black either. It’s not happiness, and it’s not sadness or anger or contentedness, but it’s not despondency either. It’s just- it’s just nothing.

After that, it’s like the floodgates open, if only bit by bit. 

He starts to notice it more often. There are brief flickers of it when he tips his head back in laughter at a party, alcohol buzzing through his veins, and he thinks that the alcohol feels like it’s permanently thrumming on the surface, like no matter how many shots he pours down his throat, it can never penetrate any further than his outer layers. He catches it in tiny glances of himself that he catches as he passes by a shop window, making him do a double-take as he thinks who the fuck is that? Worst, though, are the moments where he sees himself, where he stares into those cracked hotel mirrors, gripping those sinks so hard he thinks dimly that they might break, and searches his own eyes in vain for any sign of life. 

It only gets worse from there. He stops caring, which is the first thing Luke notices. He stops making sure he’s exercising, stops forcing three meals a day down himself, stops going to bed when he should and getting up when he’s told. Calum and Michael don’t see, don’t spot that his behaviour gets more and more reckless as he realises that adrenaline rushes are the only way to get a flash of something to cut through the nothing, but Luke does. Luke always sees. 

He doesn’t say anything, at first. Ashton thinks that maybe he doesn’t know how, because he sees the way Luke’s mouth twists in a tiny grimace when Ashton accepts another line, or the way his brow furrows when Ashton stumbles down the street at five in the morning, laughing at something his new best friend whose name doesn’t think he’s asked for yet has just said, or the way his fists clench at his sides when Ashton gets yet another drunken tattoo. He doesn’t say anything then, just holds Ashton through the comedown the next morning, or picks Ashton up when he trips over, or holds his hand when the needle goes in. He doesn’t say anything, until one evening, when he speaks into the cosy comfort of their LA home. 

“You’re hurting yourself,” he says quietly, out of the blue, staring down at the empty whiskey tumbler he’s been nursing for at least half an hour. 

“What?” Ashton says, surprised, turning away from the TV. 

“You’re hurting yourself,” Luke repeats, still gazing unblinkingly at the glass in his hand. 

Ashton knows what he means, but doesn’t know how to say there’s nothing of me to hurt without saying just that. 

“I’m not,” he settles for instead, and Luke finally raises his head. 

“You are,” he says, and he sounds like he’s steeled himself, like he’s been rehearsing this conversation in his head for days. He probably has, knowing Luke. 

“I’m fine, Luke,” Ashton says, with a sigh, and reaches out, trying to pull Luke in for a hug so he won’t have to look at his face. Luke jerks away, though, shaking his head. 

“Why don’t you care?” 

“What?” Ashton says, like he doesn’t know what Luke’s talking about. 

“What’s wrong?” Luke presses, because he can read Ashton like a fucking book - better than a fucking book, because he can read him left to right, right to left, up and down, back to front. 

“Nothing’s wrong,” Ashton says. “I’m fine.” 

“You’re not.” And yeah, maybe he isn’t, but he’s not not fine, either, because he’s nothing, so it still counts. 

Ashton sighs, pulls back, rearranges himself so his legs are tucked under himself. 

“What d’you want me to say, Luke?” he says wearily. 

“I want you to tell me what’s wrong.” 

“Nothing’s wrong.” It’s not a lie, really. Nothing is wrong. He’s got a successful career in an industry he loves, gets to spend every day with his best friends, has a comfortable bank balance and lives in a gorgeous house in LA with his equally gorgeous boyfriend. By all accounts, Ashton wants for nothing. 

Except he’s wanting for something. 

“Don’t lie to me.” Luke’s words sound bolder than his tone does, but there’s an edge to it, an edge of worried bitterness that slices at one of the pieces of Ashton that’s still left over. 

“I’m not fucking lying to you,” Ashton says, and it comes out sharper than he’d intended. 

“Why are you getting angry at me?” Luke says, defensive and hostile. “I’m just worried about you.”

“Because there’s nothing to be worried about,” Ashton says, and the words pick up some of the poison he thinks what remains of his soul must be saturated in. “I’m fine.”

“Didn’t know ‘fine’ looked like getting a tattoo at five in the morning while high as a kite. Twice.”

“Maybe you’ve just never been fine,” Ashton retorts, trying for light-hearted and falling flat. Luke fixes him with a hard stare, one that he’s definitely had to build the courage to get from his heart to his eyes. 

“I love you,” he says, and Ashton doesn’t think the words should feel like they’re reaching into him and trying to tear those last few bits of him apart for good. 

“I know.” 

“So tell me how to help you,” Luke says, and it’s softer this time. 

Ashton swallows. He’s not being fair. Luke’s just trying to help. It’s not his fault that he doesn’t know there’s nothing of Ashton to help. 

“I don’t know,” he says, and he doesn’t mean for it to come out a whisper, but it does. “I- I don’t know.” Luke blinks, and then shifts closer, puts a hand on Ashton’s thigh. 

“Talk to me,” he says, and it’s gentle and sweet and concerned and Ashton thinks, a little despairingly, I would, if I had any words to say. 

“I can’t,” he says. “I don’t- I don’t know what- I- it’s not- I don’t know.” He half-expects Luke to sit back, to throw him a disappointed or maybe exasperated glance, to say something like can you take this seriously, please, Ashton, but he doesn’t. He stays put, stays right where he is, and strokes his thumb across Ashton’s thigh.

“That’s okay,” he says simply. “I’m here. And I’ll be here when you do know.” 

He brings his hand up from Ashton’s thigh to cup his face, to pull him in closer and press a chaste kiss to his lips, one that says it’s okay and I love you and I’m here and maybe even you’re okay, you’re going to be okay, but Ashton barely notices that as he tilts his head and kisses back, finding a home in Luke that he hasn’t found in the drink or the drugs or any of the other hollow adrenaline rushes. 

And, he realises with a jolt, his thigh feels warm where Luke’s fingers had been resting. That’s something, isn’t it? 

(He hopes his lips on Luke’s say you’re everything.) 

[cherubchoirs]

Cake’s Bad End Au Part III: The Holy Grail

Here it is, the posts that will finally outline the events of my Bad End AU! I’m not a writer in any sense, but with so many people enjoying the content I create for this AU and several people asking about it, I wanted to write up a synopsis of the events that take place and, more simply, what this AU even is. This is my idea of what happens when Akira takes Yaldabaoth’s deal on Christmas Eve and all of its implications, so I hope everyone enjoys it and that it puts the pieces for my AU in context. There will be three parts: Akira, The Thieves, and The Holy Grail. This is Part III: The Holy Grail, which details how Akira is saved and how the Thieves ultimately conquer Yaldabaoth. (7,325 words)

(TRIGGER WARNINGS: Mentions of abuse and some descriptions of illness/pain)

When the Thieves meet again, there’s a strained sadness, close to hopelessness as they look at each other in turn and wonder if anyone has any ideas...the longer the silence hangs over them, the closer they come to saying out loud only things Goro has had the courage to say until now but, surprisingly, Ryuji speaks up. He prefaces what he’s about to say with acknowledging how stupid it’s probably going to sound and that he never really understood too much how the Metaverse worked but...with the scar on Akira’s chest, with the way it bled to summon that god, is it possible Akira’s heart was stolen and...if they get it back...maybe…? He trails off with the idea as no one speaks up, thinking it must have been SO stupid the other Thieves don’t even want to recognize it, but Ann says hesitantly that she thought of something similar. Ryuji nods excitedly to her and looks over to Makoto, their stand-in leader, and he’s hopeful by the look of concentration on her face as she considers what Ryuji says. They wait on her silence before she asks Goro about Akira’s heartbeat, how he didn’t feel a pulse, and Goro completes her thought by saying, as a being of the Metaverse, Akira’s heart being stolen has translated into something literal in a sense. His heart is actually gone...but it’s not in the way the Thieves’ had stolen them before, correct? After all, Akira is a pure being that Yaldabaoth is attempting to “perfect”, Makoto positing that perhaps his shadow was destroyed similar to a mental shutdown but Goro suspects it could be that he is severed from his shadow...and if that is the case, his shadow exists in some capacity somewhere as it seems not all of his memories are entirely lost. A rescue mission in a sense seems more feasible after seeing the god that controls him and if they were to find his shadow – or his persona – lost in the sea of souls, there must be a way of reconnecting the two in order for Akira to regain his heart.

All of this is conjecture, they understand that, but Futaba immediately begins to think on how she and her Persona might be able to find Akira’s heart...surely it must remain somewhere in Mementos and if she begins attempting to track for Arsène’s signature, maybe...maybe they could find him. And while he may have forgotten himself being stolen from Akira, perhaps, if Goro really does have similar capabilities, he could negotiate with him in the same way Akira used to in order for Arsène to remember himself. It’s a longshot and they all know it, but what in their work as Thieves hasn’t been? It will require them to face down a hostile Metaverse, perhaps even moreso now, time and time again before they may even get a hint of Arsène, but they all agree to the plan...including Goro, who mostly holds out hope that in finding Arsène, they’ll learn exactly what happened to Akira.

So with a plan in place, they push forward into Mementos once more and day after day they will spend hours roaming its halls, Futaba helping to cloak them along with smokescreens they’ve created using Akira’s old notes, but still they seem endlessly hunted with the Reaper in particular tailing them far more often than it used to. It’s grueling work, however, the team’s morale whittling little by little every day after an excursion that leaves them bone-tired but no closer to finding their answer...and what if they’re wrong? What if the god has totally destroyed Akira’s shadow and has modified him after causing a mental shutdown in him? It must be possible for an entity like that to accomplish as much...but even still, they persist because, after all, this is their best option – they can’t leave Akira as he is, and it’s either fight to the death or bet on Arsène still existing somewhere in the vast reaches of Mementos. It’s exhausting, it’s thankless, and the public continue to shift more and more due to the amounts of hearts Akira reaps, but it also reminds them every day that this cannot stand, that Akira would never have wanted this...even if he was the one that created it.

It makes all their pain well worth it when Futaba’s search finally pings late into the night in another trip to Mementos – a signature like Akira’s, like Arsène’s, wandering deep in the Depths where they know they can’t stay for long without fear of being devoured. It’s a mad dash toward that signal before they lose it, Futaba keeping a good track of it even as it moves erratically through the floor, and finally, finally, all of their patience and hard work can pay off. Arsène obviously isn’t whole, his mask cracked with broken horns and torn wings, making it clear how forcefully he was ripped from Akira in order to sever his will of rebellion and brainwash him for that god. He initially behaves similarly to the other shadows that wander the Metaverse, although his attacks are far more frenzied and disjointed, but, knowing all his weaknesses, the Thieves can easily surround him to attempt a negotiation...and it’s one that proves interesting, even difficult, given Akira’s propensity to wear masks. They must answer in a way Akira would like, the true Akira and not the one molding himself to whatever the other person might want to hear, so it takes the effort of each and every one of them coming together to answer the questions Arsène poses to them. Goro takes the helm on speaking with him, however, distinctly aware of how similar he and Akira could be if the disguise was peeled away from them both, and with that knowledge coupled with consultation between all of the Thieves, they come to reason with Arsène and in doing so, he remembers himself, he remembers Akira.

He takes up residence in Goro’s heart after thanking the Thieves for finding him, admitting that he too initially sought them out but, given his weakened state and his separation from Akira, he forgot himself. They learn from him all that happened to lead Akira here, how the false god had led him through this past year, how they had forged a powerful bond just as Akira had with all of the others here, how that trust was betrayed...how all of them disappeared and Akira was left to decide the fate of the world while held hostage under threat of death, under the coercion of his teammates being revived, under the impression of a cold and callous public that cared not for him nor any of Thieves that had been lost. In that state, he made the wrong choice – he gave in to his own desires and the god ripped Arsène from him, tore out any connection they had to each other in a bid to destroy Akira’s rebellious spirit and make room for him to take up residence where Akira’s heart had once been. Arsène was not gotten rid of himself as Akira was still human at the time and doing so would have killed him, with the false god a bumbling fool himself that has no knowledge of how the human soul works and so could never safely perform the operation himself. So Arsène was cast off into the depths instead, where Yaldabaoth knew he would ultimately forget himself and, in time, possibly expire due to his lack of a human host at that point. In other words, Yaldabaoth is arrogant, narrow-sighted, and stupid, hardly a god but instead just a being given immense power that had twisted Akira’s cognition...for all those months, in fact. Akira, locked in the Depths of Mementos under the guise of the Velvet Room, the two fused in such a way that Akira was, without knowledge, exposed to Yaldabaoth’s distortion each time he stepped foot into that cell – with no image of rebellion to protect him, he was slowly poisoned with Yaldabaoth’s influence, insidiously, to the point that it may have helped tip the scale in Akira’s decision. Now knowing the truth and knowing what their leader had suffered to bring him to this state, all that’s left was to see if the Thieves could return Arsène to him...or if it really would come down to their deaths.

Now would come the full exploration of Akira’s cathedral – the Thieves wait until there is another lull in hearts being stolen, knowing it means Akira must have returned home in order to rest. It could be their final mission, all of them knowing one of three things will happen today: They die, Akira dies, or Akira comes back to them, and while they have no idea which one it will be, they have steeled themselves for any and all possibilities. Back into Mementos, back into the cathedral, now fighting through zealous shadows that attack them for daring to step foot on holy ground again, but when they find Akira isn’t resting on his throne, they know this has become a full on infiltration. They treat it like always, sneaking over the rafters, hiding in shadowy corners, working deeper and deeper into the labyrinthine structure to find where he must rest in order to avoid the shadows that crowd his nave. Out of the public areas, they find the cathedral full of angels that serve Akira and are single-minded in his protection, particularly against the Thieves that have angered their god so. But their resolve is hardened, no longer fearful as they fight through blood and tears to carve a path to Akira’s private quarters where his personal servants launch one last stand against them. They are hellbent on destroying these invaders but it comes nowhere near the absolute rage felt by every single Thief, tearing them apart to finally find Akira once more, already awake and waiting for them. He’s exhausted now, the smile gone from his face that looks sicker than it ever has, wasting and no longer in the mood to humor them. He draws his scythe without words this time and they know it’s now or never, they would have to fight, wear down whatever resolve he still has left, and return Arsène to him just as Yaldabaoth’s control breaks but before he comes to his child’s aid.

The timing needs to be perfect, Goro having to gauge that opening as he stays in close with the others keeping him protected against any of Akira’s blows. The fight is a desperate one, Akira clearly burning himself out by fighting so soon after his punishment for defying Yaldabaoth in saving the Thieves the last they met, but it’s exactly as they had hoped even if it pains them to think what he must have gone through for it. It allows them to reach his breaking point sooner, to rip off that yoke of control where they can hear him, hear their Akira in his voice, and in that second, without a beat between them, Goro breaks through the ranks of the Thieves to summon Arsène. He rushes into Akira, the other boy dropping his weapon as Goro’s hand slams into his chest and all the Thieves huddle in around them, no clue how they could help but lending all their strength and all their pleas to Akira to accept Arsène, to remember himself if only for one second to open his heart again...and Goro feels Arsène leave him, the heaviness of his presence lighting off of his heart. The mark on Akira chest tears again, bleeds once more, but only a moment later it fades...not gone, but now a scar instead of an open wound as Arsène manifests before him once more, asking him to take back his future. The pain it causes Akira is immense, Yaldabaoth roaring in his head and attempting to drown Arsène out, drive him out of his heart once more where only one of them can stay. Akira screams and shudders, collapsing under the weight of a splitting headache...but it feels familiar, like he has been called to this before. He feels like he teeters on the edge of death but Arsène’s voice is familiar...all of their voices are familiar in that instant...he can’t put the memories together, they’re too fractured, but Arsène’s voice drives over Yaldabaoth’s reminding him that he did all of this for them, will he abandon them now and let them die?

Never. Akira will always save them, no matter the cost.

Led only by his emotions, he takes Arsène’s contract to expel Yaldabaoth from his heart in an effort that sees him fold in on himself entirely where Goro catches him, the cathedral beginning to crack and collapse around them like the Palace of a fallen ruler. They move quickly, rushing from the quickly disintegrating building and the palpable anger of a god that’s had his most devout servant stolen from him by Thieves. This is the point at which the Bad End AU splits into its good or bad ending (NO I haven’t decided on what is the “true” ending skdfd) – Akira either dies shortly after these events or he continues to live on in order to assist them in felling Yaldabaoth. If Akira dies, he does so just as they reach the end of Mementos – he tells them he doesn’t have the strength to go on in reality and even now, his body is only sustained by feeding off of Mementos, off of what Yaldabaoth continues to give him. As a last bid to help them, through pained and breathless apologies as a fever grips him and his vision begins to fade out, he uses what’s left of his strength to reopen the Velvet Room and return Morgana to the Thieves, as well as have Lavenza and Igor’s aid as Goro must work in his stead now. He apologizes for this, especially to Goro, thinking...they must have made a promise like this before, right? Goro is stained with his blood by now, coated in the smell of fresh roses as the Velvet Room door opens once more and Morgana rushes out, desperate to help, to guide, to give them hope...but he knows he’s too late seeing Akira’s limp and fading form held fast in Goro’s arms. Lavenza comes behind him, passing by Goro’s shuddering frame as he squeezes Akira, holding him tighter and tighter like that will keep him there with them, and she sits beside him. Akira apologizes to her too, in a voice so quiet only she and Goro can hear, and she forgives him, telling him she always knew he would make the right choice in the end while Morgana comes to join her. He gets in close to Akira, telling him how proud he is and how he doesn’t need to worry anymore – Morgana will lead them all to victory and he can just get some sleep...he’s tired, right? Akira nods, smiling again as Morgana presses in against him and the last things he can feel are Morgana’s comforting warmth and the safety of Goro’s arms before he leaves Yaldabaoth in capable hands.

Should Akira live, however, they reach the edge of Mementos just the same and Akira unlocks the Velvet Room as well, but he instead informs them he can’t possibly exist in reality. He asks them to just leave him to his fate for rebelling against Yaldabaoth, but Morgana and Lavenza arrive to offer him shelter in the Velvet Room which, now free of the god’s control thanks to Akira, he should be safe in as Yaldabaoth will find it impossible to reach. The Thieves know it’s their only choice, very aware that they’ll die if they stick around to think about it too much longer, and so they leave Akira in the hands of the Velvet Room before exiting the Metaverse at Lavenza’s insistence that they go home for a rest – Morgana will contact them the following day to coordinate their efforts. Akira escapes to the Velvet Room, finding himself exhausted and confused to the point that he immediately collapses and spends the next full day asleep. Morgana sticks close to him, only leaving when Akira wakes once more and he needs to go into reality to fetch the other Thieves for a full meeting after all this time.

When they arrive, all of them are ready to rush to Akira, to welcome him back and have a mini celebration for his return...but he’s not healed the way they all expect. He looks no different and he informs all of them he has no memory of them, not even a sliver beyond splintered pieces that flash without his consent that he cannot piece together, and he is not at all human. But Arsène, all of his memories were whole...Akira just shakes his head, suspecting Arsène sacrificed quite a bit in order to fight with Yaldabaoth for his rightful place, so while Akira can feel again, while his rebellious will has returned and he feels an unspeakable amount of betrayal toward his father, the specific memories of his human life are gone. He informs the Thieves that he trusts them implicitly and he will fight for them and their ideals, so they can figure out the rest once Yaldabaoth is...gone, but his voice is full of obvious reluctance and immediately Goro states he’s too much of a liability to go into battle with against his “father”. The Thieves object instantly, saying it’s Akira’s right to stand up against him just like all of them have done in the past and that they believe in his trust of them, that he initially did all of this for them. Akira nods, however, noting that Goro’s point is one based on logic and could be correct – While Akira has regained some of his heart, it is broken in a sense and he doesn’t wish to hold the group back from what they must do. The risk of him bowing to Yaldabaoth’s control isn’t minimal either, so he would ask to act as support and perhaps provide an expert source of navigation for their return to Mementos, given that he understands it as it is really just a part of himself. No one had expected Akira to jump back in as leader, exactly...but to hear him say he would act in a support capacity without fighting to go up against the one who wronged him so terribly is unnerving to the Thieves. It’s just...not how Akira would act. They try prompting him further but his response stays the same – Goro is being logical, he shouldn’t be on the frontlines. Morgana takes over for him at that point, saying it most likely is for the best to let Akira act as he thinks he should with a threat like this looming over all of them. Still, despite the Thieves being put off by an Akira that seems more like a shell than the friend they knew...they have Morgana back and Akira is there to help them at the very least, and they need to take victories where they can. Goro isn’t so easily sated, but he knows he needs to swallow his emotions for the time being too.

Truthfully, Akira knows it may not even be the best logical answer to allow him to go along with them at all as he feels Mementos churning and twisting, having already taken a small private trip before the Thieves had been gathered to see the agitation in the shadows there (just to the first floor, just out of the curiosity that has always plagued him), yet they still don’t move to attack him. He’s slightly puzzled by the development, but he knows it’s something to do with the public’s cognition along with...his father’s, but he has been cut off from Yaldabaoth’s thoughts, and so he doesn’t pursue the question any further for it is not his place to guess at the divine. Akira still believes in the divinity of Yaldabaoth, that he is indeed a god that was born of people’s will, and it’s difficult to accept the fact that he’ll soon be standing by the Thieves’ side in opposition even if he now does believe his father is wrong. Even still thinking of him as a parent, as the one that provided for and protected him...knowing that going to him now with his convictions set to aid the Thieves meaning that either they or his father will have to die. But he can’t let humanity suffer under his cruel and callous rule, he can’t let him drain humans of their independence and their right to grow and change, because Akira knows it’s not out of care for them but instead hatred for their failings. Even in his faltering resolve, he knows what is right and what is wrong...and Yaldabaoth, his father or not, is wrong.

And, though he senses love and devotion from the Thieves, he senses their discomfort with him as well, their fear of him and the way they emotionally recoil when he speaks (he doesn’t have human speech patterns down, so his intonation is still odd and flat). Goro is particularly repulsed by him, lashing out at him and criticizing him while the other Thieves quickly rush to his defense despite the obvious misgivings of their own...but he feels a depth and breadth of emotion in Goro focused solely on him that is nearly alarming to a being like Akira. And for his part, he feels love and devotion to all the Thieves, but it simply lacks context, the memories that would provide him understanding and the human capability to experience emotion to provide him clarity...and similarly, his feelings for Goro are profound and complex, ones he can barely understand and parse let alone come to label in neat categories. All of this mixed emotion dictates to Akira that he must remain strictly as a functional unit of the group, providing them aid and navigation when needed without adding anything unnecessary that may cause strife and therefor miscalculation. The Thieves themselves feel deeply guilty for their own anxiety around Akira, but...he truly isn’t their leader, he isn’t their friend, yet they understand how much of an effort he’s making now to support them. There will be time to heal after all of this and that thought keeps them going as Morgana helps bridge the gap between them, helps ease all the tension they feel in order to work with Akira the way they need to. Only Goro seems resistant to it, but they do know why he, out of all of them, would struggle the most with what’s become of Akira.

They don’t really have the luxury of waiting and getting used to each other, however, Yaldabaoth moving forward with what he had decided on Christmas Eve now that he’s lost Akira. Akira knows his plan, that he will force the real world to fuse with the Metaverse now that the bridge between himself and reality is gone – humanity was judged to be sinful and only granted a reprieve because Akira worked so tirelessly to instill Yaldabaoth’s ideals into the public. So with only some rest, the group can wait no longer as reality bends around them to resemble the Depths of Mementos and, with the Thieves receiving some guidance from the Velvet Room, they move forward to save humanity one last time. Akira does well to mind himself, assisting in tactical orders or, if he finds his mind buckling, keeping himself silent to focus on blocking out Yaldabaoth’s ideals, his insistence, his voice ringing in his ears still. He can manage with the help of Arsène and Futaba by his side but the further they go, the closer they get to his temple, the more silent he becomes and the seed of doubt planted in the Thieves grows little by little...but still, they push forward, they know Akira can overcome this. However, they know all too well that the real test starts when they reach the shrine of the Holy Grail, when they once again face the god that had held him captive and stolen his human life, the very will from his heart. Goro strongly suggests Akira leave them before they do so, but in his first show of true emotion, true conviction, he rejects the idea immediately, saying he will never be free if he doesn’t enter that temple with them...if he doesn’t find closure with his father. He can’t falter now, he can’t afford weakness, or he will surely wither when this world disappears with Yaldabaoth – and he will not betray them. The Thieves all agree after some contemplation and Morgana’s blessing, Goro the last to accept Akira’s presence but there’s something different in his eyes when he watches the other boy now before they enter the shrine.

Their final confrontation arrives, the Grail shining brilliantly in the center of the shrine surrounded by his devout followers and Akira is immediately inundated with thoughts that are not his own, Yaldabaoth’s voice booming against his skull in reprimands, in disgust, in hatred for him. He speaks to the Thieves too but Akira knows his words to them are different and they begin their fight, attacking him from every angle in blows Akira can faintly feel ghosting over his own body. He grits his teeth against the lashes, all of them paling in comparison to the fight to continue controlling his own body under the oppressive weight of Yaldabaoth’s presence encroaching on his heart. There will be a place for you, my child, there is always a place for you by my side to join in my reality...Repent. Repent and return to me if you wish to protect not just these humans but the ones scattered in every corner of the world, the ones who will suffer without you. Repent, or they die along with you. His father is growing angrier, wrathful toward the rebellious Thieves before him and the son that has abandoned him, soon no longer wishing to humor them as he takes his true form, the one they had seen come to Akira’s aid that day in the cathedral. Akira has fallen to the floor, clutching at a chest with a wound that’s reopening, little by little the flesh tears and begins to bleed around his fingers as his resolve wanes in all the pain he feels, in the guilt he feels at his betrayal and the grief he can feel in Yaldabaoth. What a terrible child, what an ungrateful child...what a cruel child to strike at the god that had protected and nurtured him so.

The Thieves stand up against him even now though, the blows they level against him growing more and more painful to Akira, his thoughts breaking apart as he forgets,  Arsène’s voice growing weak and distant and Yaldabaoth’s growing ever more powerful...and he finds the pain fading as he takes up his scythe, as the name “Akira” flickers out of his mind. Akira opens his eyes to look up, to see the Thieves bloodied and battered and still fighting as Yaldabaoth rains an onslaught of devastation onto them only for them to support one another, protect the weakened to heal them while the others attack with a ferocity that one exhausted and drained human being should never be capable of. Futaba is focused on the battle in front of her but immediately turns to see Akira as he rises, weapon in hand once more and looking too oddly calm. She calls out to him in fear, the other Thieves picking up on the shaking in her voice and those on the backlines grip their weapons in sweating hands, healing each other once more as the god mocks their sentimentality, their insistence to save those who never asked for them. Akira’s movements are unsteady, each one is fought against as that shred of his heart restored to him screams in protest and while the Thieves are forced to raise their weapons against him again, they know he’s struggling with every swing of his scythe, he’s fighting himself more than he is them. Memories flash, he remembers the fear, the dread of losing his humanity, losing the will to care for the people in front of him now that call to him, who are fighting for their lives but do no harm to him even as he attacks them just as Yaldabaoth commands. But his body is pulled unwillingly, his heart is with him again even if he’s too stupid to remember the people that love him, even if he’s too selfish to keep them safe like he once promised he would. It’s Yaldabaoth’s bid to control him but he is no longer a part of Akira...he can’t be, his heart belongs to him and him alone, and he can’t afford to cause suffering to those that would risk their very lives to return it to him...even if they go against the people and even if they are sinners. That’s what Yaldabaoth would say, but he lied, time and time again he told malignant untruths to Akira, who now does his best to keep standing even as that excruciating pain returns to him in punishing waves. It’s the least he can do, stand with them as they do all the heavy-lifting for him, lower the scythe he can raise at them but not Yaldabaoth still...he wonders if he was this pathetic in his human life, but then isn’t that just like a human? Having to lean on others?

But he is quickly punished for his endless defiance and his wicked treachery, for the very thought that he should admire human weakness. His vision shutters, the sounds around him ripped away, even the feel of the wind battering against him is stolen with such speed and such force it’s almost painful, every sense suspended. Numb even to pain he wishes would come back. Complete deprivation. Akira has felt it, it’s not the first time Yaldabaoth has taken every sense without warning as a way of breaking his hysterias...so they are not totally severed, are they? He closes him off to everything, allowing only the experiences he deems appropriate, usually just his voice, his words after Akira has experienced a loneliness so penetrating he’s on the edge of losing even the false identity of The Son. But here, the silence, the lack of existence, only lasts long enough to remind Akira of all he has suffered, of all he has had, before Yaldabaoth’s voice speaks to him, no longer roaring, no longer shaking him with the very sound of it, but instead how he would speak to him in the days they spent in the Depths alone, only together surrounded by shadows. It’s stern, but it doesn’t have that hostility, it is only for him even if he knows his father must still be striking at the Thieves, working every second to kill them while he comes quietly to his child. He will have no place with them, he is no longer human and he will only repulse those he fights for now, the ones he now swears allegiance to will abandon the unnatural child...it is in human nature to do so. He asks that he repent, that he assist Yaldabaoth is killing Thieves that will only betray him, and the child can return to his only home in the Depths of Mementos, the human who’s heart has stopped and who’s blood is now made of the Holy Grail’s ichor. They are of each other and the two cannot be split, not after Akira’s resurrection through his elixir, and no measure of rebellious will, no measure of human stubbornness, the refusal to admit loss and all the deficiencies and fallacies of mankind, can bring Akira the humanity that has died. So he faces the choice of rejoining his father now, swearing his loyalty and returning his control to the god he is bound to, or Yaldabaoth will offer him the mercy to kill him with the others, to put him out of his misery if he chooses to drive himself mad by aligning himself with humans when he can only be rejected by them. But Akira can feel Yaldabaoth’s grip loosening, not because he wills it but because Akira’s own heart is interfering, gnawing at his power over him and allowing his senses to filter in little by little. Yaldabaoth’s offer, rejoin or perish here, show that his yoke has been thrown off of Akira’s shoulders – he cannot simply kill the Thieves and take Akira for himself again, he must return willingly...and so he appealed to his emotions, threatening him with loneliness, the exact punishment he had used on him to great effectiveness time and again.

But it’s enough. Maybe Akira will always be alone like this, maybe the humans he fights for now will leave him, but he tells his father it’s okay as his sight flickers in and out, muffled, distant sounds reverberating in his ears...because as much as he is no longer human, he is not like Yaldabaoth either, is he? Yaldabaoth is disgusted by him in a way too, he hates the human parts of him that react with emotion, that are irrational and distracted by hobbies, undeserving of the halo around his head in Yaldabaoth’s eyes. Yet his father asks that he stay with him, continues to reach out to him even as he actively opposes him and it is not a functional request - Akira knows Yaldabaoth does not believe he needs him by his side to destroy the Thieves, nor does he fear his child could be his downfall if he does not rejoin him...instead, Yaldabaoth feels richer with him, a fulfillment when they speak together, and he had learned to attach himself to something so imperfect, something that angered him, repelled him, something he should hate and yet felt what, in his own heart, could be thought of as the opposite. So why not the humans too? They will reach out to him, they will feel richer for knowing him, but they will not punish him so for the things they hate about him...and Yaldabaoth has grown malignant in his hatred for humanity, those he is meant to save from suffering. Even as The Son, a being meant to believe only in the word of his father, Akira knew of this hostility, always aware in some part of himself that it was wrong no matter how many times he may have forgotten that. So...weren’t all their arguments just leading up to this? His senses continue to return, flooding into him as he admits to his father this fight is what he wants, he wants to stand in opposition to Yaldabaoth, to the father that retracts his hand now in anger, in insult, in pain of rejection. He can hear Futaba shouting frantically for him when focus returns to his features, his slack frame immediately tightening up at the pain that rushes through him again but he remains upright, spine stricken straight as pearl-like eyes stay fixed to the blinding angles of Yaldabaoth who redoubles his efforts to destroy the Thieves that have stolen the one thing he may have ever cared for.

But there’s a moment as he stands by and watches, eyes moving to follow the movements of the Thieves, that it seems they...his friends...have a chance, it seems they really may be able to stand against his father and triumph...but it’s short-lived. He strikes them all down, each one of their bodies striking the earth beneath them and they can’t move, they can’t stand even though he can feel their struggles, their desperation to just get up one last time, their despair when their bodies refuse to obey. Now only Akira stands behind them, a coward who can feel Yaldabaoth’s gaze on him, burning into whatever soul he may have left, who mocks him for rejoining these pitiful thieves, who mourns the fact that he must kill him now with the others for his foolishness...to lose his child so pointlessly, even a god must grieve for him. Akira chokes on his words, wanting to encourage them to stand again but he can’t, how can he ask so much of them when he’s contributed nothing? And yet...it rises up in him, but he realizes it’s the cognition of the people, of the public as Morgana joins him to stand again and refuses to fall before Yaldabaoth, no matter how many times he may strike him down. Human hope. Human hope, which Akira so deeply admired, now stands up to his father small...but growing. It flickers but Akira can feel it too, he can feel what Yaldabaoth stole from the people, from his friends, from himself, and he begins to straighten his stance again even against the pain blooming from his chest. It’s hope, but hope fueled by anger, by a righteous fury unlike anything he felt working for his father, and Arsène’s voice overtakes Yaldabaoth’s as he can’t bear to hear anymore of his sanctimonious lecturing when he stole Akira’s very heart. Human hope and human anger, human rage at cruelty and unfairness, it overtakes him, a sin! A sin, Yaldabaoth screams at him, a sin to feel such wrath, feel it no more! If the Thieves cause the child to commit such grave atrocities, they will die to cleanse him and force his repentance at the time of his own death.

No more. No more victims, not him, nor the Thieves that saved him, nor the humans he abandoned.

His body burns and it’s licked with blue flames, Arsène appearing at his side as shocks of black return to his brilliant white hair, light, barely there irises showing in eyes no longer blind. The public rises up behind the Thieves, Morgana standing first and the pain is fading from Akira’s body, the others rising in obvious agony as his scar stitches itself up once more and he can no longer hear Yaldabaoth in his head, his voice only on the outside now, only what the other Thieves can hear. He walks forward to join them, raising his scythe as he finally speaks, tells Yaldabaoth this must end, he is no longer in the favor of the people, and if he doesn’t heed what humanity wishes, Akira must be the one to strike him down. An ungrateful child...perhaps so, but he will never be controlled by another, he will never allow himself to abandon his ideals that he fought for and he will not allow himself to ever again forget the humanity he so foolishly lost, so let him be the ungrateful child. And it’s laughable to the Thieves, to Yusuke, to Haru, to Goro who had to do just the same as Akira does now...Goro who stands just by Akira’s side now with barely any space between them, and Akira can feel the spike in anger in his father at the display. They’re not meant for this, are they? Yaldabaoth attempts to strike down the Thieves beside him again but they refuse to fall now, still demanding Akira repent now for joining the sinful masses and Akira rejects his offer, no more salvation. If he wishes to keep humanity in the dark, if he wishes to continue to control them under a vindictive rule, then the son must punish the cruel father.

Akira awakens to his true self then, the one that still sleeps within Arsène – Satanael, the one Akira knows innately as the child of Yaldabaoth in Gnostic lore, the child that works tirelessly for his father until he learns how wrong he is, how false he is, how unfair and resentful he is toward humanity, and he rises up against him to release them before he is cast into hell for his betrayal. The chains of the shackles around his wrists are broken when Satanael is born, taking his stand before Yaldabaoth in defiance for a life lost, for putting his Thieves through so much grief, for nearly sacrificing all of humanity. He cannot take back the mistakes he made, but he can take his stand to save them all now and there’s a quiet moment in that stillness, Satanael leveling his gun at Yaldabaoth’s head, a moment of grief passing between father and son, before Akira allows his persona to pull its trigger and shatter Yaldabaoth, destroy the face that Akira once held a hand in reverence to. And the god folds in on himself, a piece torn from Akira as his life fades out over them and he says his goodbyes to his child, to the one who still somehow came to fulfill his role as the trickster against him. He loses his form, returning to his inert state as the Holy Grail that naturally finds its way back to Akira, floating quietly before him in silent moment of reflection until he reaches out his hand and it dissolves. Ripped open, taken from, and now healed just a bit again...what remains of Yaldabaoth is now a part of him, his humanity forever gone. But in this state, with the will of the Thieves that gather around him now, he can rewrite the world as it should be based on their wishes...and so it is done. The Metaverse fades, reality returns to its untouched state, and Morgana, along with Akira himself, are preserved by their wishes and their wishes alone.

Shibuya has returned to normal, the public milling around them seemingly unaware of what they all just accomplished, but Akira can feel now that they are free, at the very least. He thanks all of the Thieves and they return the sentiment instantly, the wall between them and him seemingly vanished, crumbled at least, as they all express happiness at the peeks of black hair and his clothes now changed in reality, meaning he has some solid form again. He’ll keep getting better and so will they, so they insist they’ll see him tomorrow and absolutely, no questions about it, spend some time at Leblanc to catch up (he’ll love the coffee, they know it). He smiles again, this one more full and more earnest despite his grief, accepting their offer but wishing to return to the Velvet Room for now, too exhausted to carry on and the Thieves all agree...but as the group splits off and he watches his new but familiar friends leave in contentment, in relief, in a renewed sense of trust in him, he sees that Goro doesn’t follow suit with them. He’s quiet, but only because Akira senses a weight on him, one he can’t sort through himself and while Akira can’t fathom the correct human response, he instead just asks if he’ll be there tomorrow too...at Leblanc, a name he thinks he knows, that feels safe...he adds that he hopes he will be when Goro maintains his silence at the question. There’s a moment of hesitation but there’s a shift too, a small bit of surprise, before Goro looks toward him to nod with a faint but sharp smile, adding that he hopes Akira won’t forget before he takes his leave as well. And while Akira still feels so many volatile emotions in him, something did change between them before Yaldabaoth...and he needs to understand who he was, who they were, and without knowing why or how right now, he knows Goro will be integral in regaining what he gave away. He leaves the bustling square only when Goro’s been swallowed by the crowd, exhausted but with Morgana padding along at his heels in high spirits (but sooo ready for a cat nap, he says). And while it will be slow, while Akira distinctly feels he will never be human again, he knows now each step back will be one into his old life, into his friends’ lives, into what he and Goro share, and he can take his time.

[rpmemesbyarat]

RP Meme from "Chapter Two: The Grove" in the Children of Gaia Tribebook from "Werewolf: The Apocalypse" Part Two of Two

The Hole of the Goddess? Which hole is that?

What will you do for the pack?

The species still lives.

We lamented that their honor was gone

Their honor is gone.

Their honor is gone. But know that their valor and strength are not.

So what do they do? Besides talk.

They move us to remember. And to remember is to act.

The fact that they lived and died should move us to do something!

Good takedown there!

This is the tackiest thing I’ve ever seen.

I think it’s cool. That people feel free enough to do this, you know.

You a fan of this stuff? Or just like the show?

It's pretty neat to watch, yeah.

Y’know, the rave’s starting up soon at the second stage

It didn’t work, really. I don’t know if you noticed.

What didn’t work? What rite were you trying to perform?

I, uh, hope it works out better next time.

You feel okay? Happy? Didn’t hurt you, did I?

I mean, don’t you think it’s wrong or something?

Going to blame it on the cheap beer?

Yeah, I know I’m gay.

But, I mean, you’re a wolf!

When I’m a wolf I don’t want you, or anybody, except when the time and the company are right.

It’s — no, don’t ask. It’s too complicated, take my word for it.

I’m human, or at least mostly human.

Aren’t we supposed to. . . not do this?”

Well, the Bible stuff is for humans, one or two religions’ worth.

Oh, things change.

Sorry. But that’s what it means.

Careful. Really careful. Our bodies don’t work like a human’s, so pills and condoms don’t always work either.

But isn’t that rule kind of, well, outdated?

If I was dating a human, I couldn’t have his head in my lap, not most places.

This is one of the lesser commandments these days.

It’s not something you can wish away.

There’s a reason for that rule.

I think it’s good to be polite.

We can make alliances more easily if we respect others’ beliefs, not just their territory.

Do you think that your preaching nonviolence means we don’t have to fight?

Even humans created diplomacy and statecraft.

When we must have a leader, when we need to order, there are better ways than fighting.

We didn’t invent democracy, but it does work better than one—man rule.

Do we need one? I don’t think we do.

You started it!

I am not some kind of patriarchal authority figure.

I think it’s an outmoded idea.

You don’t even try to understand them.

Look, no offense, [NAME], but you’re crazy.

You got us together, got us here.

You’re not dominating us. You can’t make us do things.

But we need you. Someone. Someone to intersee, not oversee. Someone to subvise, not supervise.

Look, I don’t want to tell people what to do. It would take too long.

Others are the most popular.

That’s practical, because it means you can get others to listen to you.

Is it your pleasure to attend?

That was weird.

Who was that?

Yeah, there are a lot of old forms of courtesy you’ll see sometimes.

Food isn’t always plentiful.

The strong need to be strong.

Social Darwinism, dammit.

So what good is that to me?

It's about sharing, period.

It’s your damn passion for social justice, okay?

It is the truth, not grass to be twisted and woven.

It’s words. If they mean something different to me, you’ve no right to call me wrong.

Just about every human society I ever heard of has rules against eating human flesh, most human flesh, most of the time.

Do we respect them?

We show them respect — sometimes just by keeping our distance.

This is the worst one for us.

We’re all of us closer to the humans than safety would wish

I think that it meant not to waste resources.

The old way was to leave the sick and weak to die.

You say you’re not a leader, but what would you do if we ever ran into bad trouble?

Nothing sexual.

You’re the hero. You should know.

No anarchists in foxholes.

This is a powerful place, no lie.

I think that the humans are safer with us here than not.

What if there’s trouble?

So always ask if you bring someone, anyone.

We need to avoid fighting.

Ants fight, but they don’t waste continents doing it.

I really need to know this stuff, so can we drop the politics?

We are really one tribe.

They’re all women? Are they lesbos?

We were passing a bottle of shine round and telling dirty stories--why are you looking at me that way?

I mean, they have fleas. Some of them.

I don’t own them as my people.

Are they all crazy?

Nazi types?

They hate us for seeking peace, hate all humans--

We want peace; I don’t know what they want.

They hate everything human, hate the human half of themselves.

I have known a few, and they were angry with me, even, because I live with humans.

They’re really more like kings of the spoiled potato salad.

They love darkness, dark magic; it all stinks.

Because we need all the help we can get.

Can we talk about somebody else?

I thought you hated patriarchal authority figures?

They know a lot of secrets.

We are alike in a lot of ways.

They want war, want death, really.

Thanks, your help will no longer be required.

It was like--it was like being told flat-out that we’d failed, that we were no good.

It hurt. It hurt bad.

And you’re left there like you’d just gone through an awful breakup, wondering ‘was it me?’

It’s always tense going.

How weird is that?

If you ever meet one, be polite and respectful, and don’t approach anything looking like their territory unless invited.

Go find that tale-teller, and hear what he has to say.

They have no use for us at all.

They sound pretty evil.

People say they’re evil, too, but they’re not.

It’s not that we slaughtered them, because we didn’t.

There is simply nothing to discuss.

You tread on cracking ice.

Can’t you see just how much we could gain if we actually managed to make peace with them?

Fine. Go ahead. Dream your dreams.

Okay, we get it, vampires.

They’re a wild bunch.

Avoid them if you can.

Not all of them hostile — sometimes they just don’t understand.

We can't always counter them.

These are ghosts, like on Halloween.

I will ask for your help. Thank you.

You handle the rainbow crap, kiddo.

Just know this; defend the fatherless, plead for the widow.

It’s beautiful, peaceful.

Too much work here.

I mean, Paradise, it’s cool, but there are no problems, nothing to do, really.

Sounds nice. I'm too busy as it is.

It is supposed to be a place where there is no hatred, suffering or evil.

It does sound nice, doesn’t it. Like Heaven, I guess.

What was different here?

Yo, dude, give me a leg up, willya?

Will I get dropped? Will I get stepped on?

It’s cool, no one’s gonna let you fall.

No one’s gonna hurt you.

I'm not in control.

No one's in control.

What message hid there, that no one person knew?

Have a good time?

It was really positive, really charged me up.

You gonna stay for more?

Yeah, thanks, asshole.

Were there spirits in that crowd?

I felt it, too.

Wow, freaky.

Why would they do that?

You ever crowdsurf?

It makes you happy, man. It makes you fuckin’ glow.

So what did you learn?

Say, where are we all going after this?

You got the list?

We’re gonna get the great unwashed together and shut these fuckers down.

So who have you heard from?

It isn’t much but we call it home.

I know, I know, it’s been a while.

You know, I always wanted to see Europe, back when I was a dumb kid.

You knew all this already, right?

Well, this may be no surprise to you, but I guess I should have thought things through a little more.

The war’s bad over here.

It’s hard, baby.

It doesn’t make us look good, and we have to work twice as hard to get half the respect.

I’m alive, I’m well, I’m eating regularly.

I think I can make a little progress here whether these hardheads want me to or not.

Humans invent causes. And humans make their own history.

America’s not exactly paradise, but it’s the best anyone could do, really.

We organize marches, sometimes just standing because we can’t get government permission to march.

I don’t blame them but it makes our lives very hard.

This hellish, war-torn home of mine has enough problems that we have managed to unmake one more.

We worked so long and so hard that the absence of the laws is almost worse than their presence; evil as it is, it was all we knew.

Now comes the harder work; restoring a civil society, dignity, true peace.

I have lived all my life and will die here, working for justice.

The baby is kicking. Keeps me awake some nights.

The monsoon season was incredible — towers of clouds and endless rain.

It amazes me that a man as strong as he is can be so tender sometimes.

We’re not here to proselytize, just to show them another way.

We have a long, long way yet to go.

I still don’t know if this is something we should support.

It’s as bad now as it has ever been.

This war has gone on for years and I worry that we aren’t accomplishing anything.

[lostinmagic]

Zuko’s Growth

For having a TINY bit of empathy, for daring to say that his father’s plan was too harsh, young Zuko is forced to battle his father but refuses to fight his own kin, pleading that he didn’t mean to show disrespect (tears streaming down his face). Not fighting was an act of strength, but his father viewed it as shameful and weak. And for this Zuko is burned and permanently scarred, by his own father, a man who’s supposed to love him. And then he’s exiled unless he can find and capture the Avatar— which is a lost mission, a hopeless cause. Until Aang wakes up.

So what does Zuko do?

He stamps his empathy down.

He tries to bury all the good parts of him given to him by his mother. He buries that spark under anger, bitterness, resentment, and hostility. From the beginning of season one he is fighting a war with himself— but we barely see it because the internal conflict comes out as rage and hatred. It’s hard to live a life fueled only by hate and it takes its toll on Zuko, making him short-tempered and belligerent (which we know isn’t the real Zuko— The only thing that’s twisting him into “evil” is his chase of the avatar. If you take that away he’s just a teen who’s been abused and raised to believe the wrong things. His anger and frustration and short temper come from what he’s been through and constantly being at war with himself, but when he unlearns that and changes, they turn into more docile versions of themselves. He still has a sharp tongue but it’s more bark than bite. And he shows a willingness to learn and listen from the gaang rather than lose his patience at the drop of a hat).

Iroh sees this struggle in Zuko and he does his utmost to keep that spark in him alive and bring it back out. He never loses hope for Zuko, but Zuko is too far gone at the time to really realize what his uncle is trying to do for him. Zuko is bent on regaining his honor, forcing his way back into his old life, when in reality he doesn’t fit there anymore (and he eventually sees this after all his travels; that he’s changed too much). His only destiny, future, is that set by his father and he can see no further.

But change begins when he experiences kindness by strangers. When he sees the destruction the Fire Nation has brought to innocent people. When he saves Aang as the blue spirit and wonders about Aang asking if they would have been friends. When he lives in the Earth kingdom happily with his uncle in the tea shop, learning what a quiet and normal life feels like. When he meets Katara and reaches out first, when she almost heals him. When he frees Appa, and the battle for good over evil resurfaces (it’s the first time his internal struggle spills over into his waking life, especially that we as viewers get to see; I mean- he physically falls ill, showing us how this battle has taken a toll on him all these years)

But his thoughts of home have forever tormented him. He needs to see with his own eyes what the reality of being back home would be like. So he pushes away Iroh, fighting against his Uncle and everyone else, joining his sister, whom he doesn’t really trust. He needs to come to terms with the fact that at the end of season two, he made the utmost wrong choice. He has to face all that- feel the anger at himself for his choices (the beach scene), for his past, for the course his life has taken. Zuko back in the fire nation is Zuko wrestling with his destiny. Wrestling with realizing that he can make a new life, a new path, a new destiny for himself. And it doesn’t have to involve the Fire Nation.

And then he does it, he finds that moment in facing his father where he shakes off the chains of his abuse and childhood trauma and forges his own destiny. He realizes that his honor is not dependent upon his father’s approval. He rebukes his father for the abuse he put him through and claims Iroh as his true father. Fast forwarding a little—when he and Iroh meet again, and Zuko breaks downs, that’s the ultimate moment of healing for him. Because he expects, as a result of his betrayal, to be hated, to be punished, to be outcast because that’s what his father did to him. Old Zuko would have likely left and not even entered the tent, because it wouldn’t be worth getting hurt again. But this time, he goes in. He needs to say sorry. Because besides his mother, (whom he thinks is dead) he has never had anyone else care for him. And that’s what Iroh offers him, forgiveness and unconditional acceptance. And it heals a huge hole in Zuko’s heart.

Part of Zuko’s continual healing is with Aang and everyone. When he comes to them, truly ready to fight alongside them, no one believes him (naturally) because of his past. He shows growth when Katara drenches him with water and shoves him backwards because he doesn’t react. That’s huge for Zuko. Before, he likely would have immediately became angry and fed up at trying to convince the group he was good and would have said something like “fine! I thought I would help, but I’m out!” or he would have fought back, doing something irrationally. But he doesn’t. He stays, on his knees. He’s learned that anger and stubbornness won’t get him anywhere, and he won’t go away or stop trying to get them to trust him.

Additionally, when Zuko accompanies Aang, Sokka, and Katara on individual quests, he learns not only how to work with them, but also to respect all three of them. He lets Sokka take the lead and plan the missions, he doesn’t judge Katara for wanting revenge, and he stands side by side with Aang to learn about the true source of fire power. His growth isn’t shown merely by words, but is backed up by action. This is crucial.

More symbolism comes when his fire power is all of the sudden too weak. Because he’s only been taught to use hate and anger as fuel. And his rage and hate burned and burned before because of his past and all he had been through. But now, that’s gone and he doesn’t want to build upon that again! So he journeys with Aang and learns that at its heart, fire is energy, and is life giving. So he shifts and welcomes that in, and his power is larger and stronger than ever before (evidenced by when he duels his sister in the finale).

And lastly, the end. When he sees Mai alive and well, and on his side, he never looks more at peace. For the first time in his life he has true family and true friends. He belongs. He has made peace with his past and his mistakes and looks to build a future as Fire Lord to correct the past and bring life to the four nations. He has finally found his purpose —one that he defined and created and the peace and joy radiating off his face in the end says it all.

[physical-manifestation-of-spite]

The Picture Pinned on the Wall - Mp100 Fanfiction

Also read on Ao3

Beware the read-more. It’s long.

“It started with a picture, and then it got worse from there.

Reigen wasn’t supposed to get so attached.”

Reigen meets the boy when he’s ten years old, and he’s pretty sure he feels nothing. Actually, the first feeling associated towards this kid is hostility, as this juvenile swaggers to his door and bemoans the destruction of his own powers. The prank is not elaborate, nor funny, but it wastes Reigen’s time, which is always the goal for these kids. He almost slams the door in the kid’s face — he never thought of himself as  good  with children, having neither the patience nor tolerance for these sorts of stunts — but then the child continues. His eyes are wide and bloodshot and full of terror, and it makes Reigen pause. Kids aren’t normally such good actors. The boy holds a white knuckled-grip on the straps of his backpack, his small body swallowed up by the expanse of the doorframe, and it takes another minute for Reigen to decide that he’s not lying. Then, there’s this twist in his gut that he knows won’t go away until he hears this bowl-haired kid out. He bites at the flesh inside his cheek and invites the boy inside. 

It wasn’t supposed to go further than a cup of tea and a bid farewell. The kid shares his troubles with such vivid imagination that leaves Reigen impressed. A child conjuring the idea of spirits gnawing at the safety barriers in a neighbor’s home, with the boy able to exorcise all of them with a wave of his hand and, in a horrifying realization, harm the neighbors as well — perhaps there’s some psychological trauma Reigen has no business handling. But when Reigen presses for clues, the boy speaks of his parents fondly, without a hint of distress, and his life seems otherwise normal. It’s not much to go off on, but then Reigen remembers that this kid isn’t his problem, and he’s taking up time that could otherwise be used to be speaking with clients, so he chews on a quick speech to help soothe the child’s nerves enough to send him home, a reformed man. 

“Be a good person.” That was fine enough. He couldn’t go wrong with that. Nothing to twist the child’s worldview into some killer. Whatever his complex — and confidence for this child to kill another human being was something new — if he was taught that his powers were not inherently evil, but rather a tool for him to use, then he would be alright. Especially after he broke out of his fantasy. 

And then the child  stares  at him. It unnerves him, the open expression of awe on the child’s face, like a flower turning towards the sun. He looks as though Reigen’s led him to fresh waters and he’s been dying in the desert, and Reigen takes to flexing his fingers on his tea mug. The child asks if he can come again. This, Reigen did not sign up for. He runs his fingers around the back of his neck, concocting some excuse that the kid couldn’t possibly take as an insult. Then, Reigen burns his tongue on his tea.

The cup falls out of his hand. His stomach shoots up to his throat as he grabs vainly at the cup, but it’s already begun its descent towards the kid. He shouts for the kid to get out of the way, and then the cup, the bubbles of tea — they’re all floating. They bob in the air like they’re suspended in water, five feet over the ground, and Reigen’s mind goes completely, white-hot blank as the tea politely bubbles back into the cup and drops neatly into the kid’s outstretched hand. Reigen stares.

And stares. 

He asks when the kid is available each week to meet.

—

Shigeo Kageyama is his name. Reigen calls him Mob. The boy is simple. It’s evident in his appearance; bowl cut hair that hides the top of his eyes, unexpressive in regards to anything, and he always wears his grade school uniform. Mob fits, and the boy doesn’t seem to mind the nickname. 

Maybe it’s dangerous, Reigen giving him a nickname. He shouldn’t get attached. But on the other hand, the boy  needs to feel attached to Reigen, otherwise this won’t work and he won’t visit clients with him. But it isn’t hard, with Mob returning to Reigen’s office each day, staring expectantly at the self-proclaimed psychic as though he’s going to perform a miracle. Reigen obliges when he can, and the boy is quite easy to trick. With a wag of his finger and a few choice words, he enrages the spirits before looking expectantly to Mob to “clean them up” for him. After their screams dissipate into a puff of smoke, he concocts a speech about self-restraint, and they leave, Mob satisfied with his brilliant master, and Reigen is satisfied with a thicker wallet. They return to the office and share the news with the client, an elderly woman whose judgment relies more on superstition than wisdom. She is his favorite kind. She signs the necessary paperwork, which Reigen slides neatly into a pile and wishes her well. Before the woman goes, she glances briefly at Mob, who is seated at a makeshift desk Reigen had clawed out of his closet to create, made out of two stacks of cardboard and a long wooden slab that’s covered by a tablecloth. Reigen doesn’t even remember where he got a tablecloth. 

Her smile is fond. “Does your son come here often after school?” 

Reigen chokes, which is unfortunate because he wasn’t even eating anything. Reigen disguises it as a cough and pounds a fist into his chest. Mob looks at him in alarm. Reigen is waving his hand in the air to belay any concern.

“No,” he chokes again, and there’s a disgusting amount of phlegm in his throat. “No, he’s not my son. He’s more of a, uh…” He almost says “employee.” He’s definitely not. 

Realization dawns on the woman’s face. “Ah, he’s your apprentice. Excuse me for assuming. He’s just so young.” 

Reigen is about to wave off her apology, but he notes the change of tone at the last sentence, and he closes his mouth. The woman is staring at him intently.

“Is he compensated well?”

Maybe her judgment is not so slanted toward superstition after all. Reigen likes her a lot less. 

“He’s compensated just fine.” His tone is not necessarily snappish, but there’s a warning hidden there, at the back of his throat. The woman smiles, but it’s all thin lips and tight cheeks. 

“That’s always good. A boy should learn early how to make a living for his family.”

Reigen matches her tight smile. “He’s a hard worker. He’ll be ahead of his peers in no time.”

“I’m sure he already is.” The woman shoulders her purse, smooths her blouse, and pats the base of her curls. She turns and winks at Mob. 

“Perhaps I’ll see you boys in the future.”

“Oh,” says Mob, who enlaces his fingers together nervously. “I hope not. That means you’ll have more spirits. That’s... bad.” 

The woman’s smile doesn’t waver, but it softens under Mob’s genuine concern. “Yes,” she says, “that’s bad.” She steers her gaze back to Reigen. “But who knows? After all, 98% reduction rate… well, it’s not 100%.”

Reigen bites his tongue. His smile is plastered on his face. “Well,” he says, voice smooth as silk, “you know who to call if it ever comes to that. Have a good day, ma’am.”

Her smile is more of a sneer, but she bows to them both and ushers herself out the door. The moment it closes, Mob looks to Reigen.

“What does ‘compensated’ mean?”

Reigen really doesn’t like that woman.

———

Weeks later, they arrive back at the office late. It’s nearly dark. Reigen had hoped to get back to the office earlier and close up in time to catch dinner before rush hour, but his call volume has gone up. Word was getting out that self-proclaimed psychic Reigen Arataka could exorcise spirits  legitimately. It’s certainly not a back-to-back call operation, but it is more than he has ever gotten in the past. He has calls to return.

The office is stale and hot when Reigen swings open the door; he had shut off the air conditioner before they had left. It leaves the place feeling sticky, but Reigen merely adjusts his tie and flicks the lights on. The office is bathed in a tired yellow glow.

Mob ambles to his cardboard-wood desk and pulls his backpack from under it. The balanced cardboard sways precariously. “Shishou,” Mob begins, and it makes Reigen’s hand still over his laptop. Mob started calling him that the day after their client thumbed Kageyama as his apprentice. Sure, Reigen considered the term loosely the day Mob left his office for the first time with the assurance that he would be under Reigen’s tutelage, but the use of “shishou” left Reigen’s head spinning. It meant he couldn’t get out of this easily, if he ever wanted to. Pursue his next career goal of becoming a private investigator, for example. That was stuffed further in the wastebin the more Mob used that word. 

Reigen still isn’t willing to throw the wastebin out just yet, though. He blinks and forces himself to take the name in stride. He begins typing idly against the keys of his laptop.

“Hm?”

“Um,” Mob says, playing with the zipper of his backpack. “Um, I’m going home now.”

“Hm.”

“Um,” he says again. The kid is clearly waiting for Reigen to acknowledge him further, so Reigen peels his eyes away from his laptop screen to stare at Mob. 

“Right. Get home safe.”

It isn’t really his responsibility to walk the kid home anyway. If Shigeo’s parents are letting their ten-year-old son walk to and from school, with pockets of no communication between then and now, Reigen isn’t going to butt in. In a way, Reigen is grateful that Mob has such laid-back parents. The wary, clingy types always complicated things.

Mob nods. Reigen waits expectantly for a moment longer, eyebrows raised as the sun dips faster below the cityscape and his laptop begins to cast a blue hue over his face. Mob flushes the more he’s under Reigen’s steady gaze, and finally he stares back at his zippers, nodding again. 

“Okay. See you tomorrow, Shishou.”

Reigen starts typing at his keys again, but the black text keeps fizzing in and out of his vision as he listens to the rattle of Mob’s zippers as he slips into his backpack straps, the loose pencils in his bag rattling their muffled tune. Reigen is gnawing at the inside of his cheek, a pitted twist forming at the base of his gut, and it grows with each clack of Mob’s shoes against the hardwood flooring. He sighs just before the office door squeals open.

“Oi. Mob.”

Mob turns, his hands still wrapped around the handle of the door. Reigen is getting up from his desk. He fishes out his wallet and begins to count. The twist in his gut loosens a little bit. 

“Here,” Reigen says, holding a fist towards Mob. He waits for the boy to open his palm, and then he lets the coins fall with a faint metal ring, into the center of his palm. 

Mob stares at the coins. “What’s this?”

“That’s compensation.” 

Mob counts. “This is three hundred yen.”

Reigen raises an eyebrow. He almost takes it back. “And you’re ten years old.”

Mob counts the coins again. He rolls them around in his palm, then pinches each one between his fingers, staring at their thickness. “It’s three hundred yen,” Mob remarks again, but it’s not accusatory. He stares at the coins in wide-eyed wonder, as if he’s never seen three hundred yen in his life. 

Reigen is starting to feel uncomfortable. He clears his throat. “ Well  , as I said, you’re being compensated for working under me as my apprentice. Normally, I don’t fork out this sort of money, since you’re my  apprentice, not my employee, but—” Reigen waves his hand upward, gesturing vaguely above him, as if the situation that he threw himself in with this kid is somehow resting in the middle space above him, watching with impish glee, “—I ought to compensate you for your, ah, training during my job.”

Mob looks at him, enraptured. His fingers close around the coins, and they don’t make a sound when Mob bows. 

“Thank you, Master Reigen.” Reigen can only see the top of the boy’s head as he bows.

Reigen’s palm feels sticky when he rests it against his neck. He really needs to turn on the air conditioning. “Right. See you tomorrow.”

When Mob straightens, he’s smiling. It’s faint, and it could be a trick of the light, the way that the shadows curve over the boy’s face. Reigen doesn’t have time to check, because the boy twists the handle of the door and leaves Spirits and Such Consultation office without another sound.  

The conman stares at the empty space, palm still pressed against the back of his neck. The air conditioner is ghostly quiet, dead against the window. When he removes his hand, it takes a moment to unstick from his skin. He sits there, the glow of his laptop beginning to dull his senses.

He’s just covering his ass. He gave him a threadbare amount — pocket change — to keep the elderly clients’ mouths shut. Hell, he doesn’t even have to  pay the kid. He’s ten years old. They signed no documents. He’s doing Mob a favor, letting him come with him to his jobs. Now he’s paying Mob a modest wage that no other ten-year-old is making. Reigen’s neck is starting to feel moist. 

He doesn’t turn on his air conditioning that night. 

—

He’s trying not to care. But it’s hard — it’s so damn hard — when Mob looks at him with such open and baring trust, as though he’s placed his heart in Reigen’s hands and knows that he’ll squeeze it to keep it beating. He does it every day, nestling his backpack between the two cardboard stands of his makeshift desk, and watches Reigen with rapt attention, analyzing every move he makes.

“How do you do it, Shishou?” 

Reigen glances up from his desk, seconds after he had bit into his burger, the paper crinkling noisily in his hand. “Do what?” he says eloquently around his wad of burger.

“How do you keep it inside instead of it going out?”

Reigen’s mouth feels like paste, and he swallows the burger with difficulty. He stares at the corner of his office, searching for something to say. (A small voice tells him that he’s way over his head — another argues that he’s just a kid, really; how bad can it be?) The bun of the burger had formed a thin layer of mush behind his teeth, and he buys time by cleaning it out with his tongue. 

“Well,” Reigen says, and clears his throat when his voice cracks at the end syllable. “I’m doing it just like you are now. I stay calm. Remember the knife.” He forms his hand into a fist, wiggling around an invisible knife. “I’m in control. So are you. It’s not something to fear.” He offers a small smile. “I learn to trust myself, Mob. In time, you will, too.”

And there it is again, that look of raw hope. Reigen doesn’t have the heart to discourage it, so he smiles wider, encouragingly, before retreating to his laptop, burger forgotten beside him. 

An hour later, with no show of new clients, he tells Mob to go home. But even after the door closes, Reigen can’t escape that wide-eyed stare, that desperate gaze, where the ten-year-old boy places his trust in a stranger, fastening a rope between them both and never letting go.

That old pit is forming again at the base of his gut. He disregards it at hunger, and he eats the rest of his burger.

———

It’s been three months since that day they met at the consultation office. Roughly. Reigen hasn’t kept count, with the volume of clients growing and his schedule growing in tandem each week. He’s noticed that the seasons have changed, though, because Reigen doesn’t have to turn his air conditioner on nearly as often, and that cuts back on costs, which Reigen  always remembers. Mob comes in later in the afternoon, bundled in a scarf but otherwise as plain as the day Reigen met him. He says hello. Reigen replies with a wave of his hand, preoccupied with the emails left in his inbox. Regardless of the internet traffic, he’s made no new clients today, and he’s sporting a migraine. He barely notices Mob staring at him expectantly at his desk. 

“Nothing today, Mob,” Reigen grunts. “Feel free to… do your homework or something. Or leave.”  Without pay , Reigen adds. This migraine is making him particularly moody. 

Minutes pass, he thinks, as Reigen is staring blearily at his computer screen, an ache settling at the back of his eyes, scrolling up and down his read and replied files. He might have spaced out, or completely forgotten where he was, because he jumps slightly at the sound of paper sliding across his desk. He looks past his computer screen to see Mob’s eyes peek over the desk, through his mop of black hair, as a tiny hand pushes a sheet filled with scribbles toward him. Reigen picks it up and squints at it.

It’s a drawing. There’s lots of swirls — greens and blues and pinks — and shapes and a form that, after a bit of deliberation, looks like a man in a black-grey shirt with a thin wispy line of pink on his chest, with bright orange hair that’s fringed at every turn and a crooked smile in thick black crayon. Reigen looks to Mob for answers.

Mob looks embarrassed. “For you. We drew it in class.”  

And then there’s a light above his head. It’s an old, dusty light stolen from a hardware store, but it flickers to life over his head as Reigen stares at the page. The squiggly man is him, smiling in front of a crooked building with too many windows but with the sign — his sign — drawn squarely at the center of the building:  Spirts n Such Consoltashun. 

Something gets warm in his chest — something that replaces the black stewing pit — that makes him stare at the page for a moment longer. The warmth is not explosive — just a little ember, sitting at the center of his ribcage — but it’s enough for Reigen to know.

His do-not-care policy is quickly coming to an end.

--

He thanks Mob, of course, and tells him it looks great, even though, objectively, it doesn’t. Most ten-year-olds grow to draw more recognizable images, so if there was an art contest, Mob would most definitively be in last place. But he keeps it. He doesn’t know why, but when Mob leaves, Reigen searches for an empty manilla folder, digging through old cardboard boxes packed in the massage room, discarding less important paperwork — taxes, mostly — to find a somewhat fresh folder. Shaking off layers of dust from himself and his papers, he presses the drawing gently into the folder, repositioning the edges so it fits perfectly inside. It’s bright and colorful and so unlike the papers he’s read for years on end.

He stares at it for a long time.

—

It is not a one-time occurrence.

It happens infrequently, but Reigen knows when he’s about to get them. Mob walks into the office in a rush, both too slow and fast at the same time, shoulders hunched but eyes wide and clear, nibbling the bottom of his lip with nervous energy. He slips his backpack down, almost toppling his desk over, and then he opens it, the sound of paper crinkling as Mob ruins his homework but oh-so-carefully withdraws a new piece of art, this time with different colors, this time with different scenery. But the characters are always the same — him and Mob, sometimes lounging in the office, sometimes exorcising a spirit in a warehouse (he shouldn’t be concerned, but he hopes Mob’s teachers don’t talk amongst themselves about Mob’s new master and his continued encouragement of these macabre fantasies of spirits and demons). 

Each day Reigen thanks him for them and places them in his manilla folder, each pressed carefully over the other. He’s not sure what to do with them, so he keeps them there where they can’t be damaged by stray crumbs or toppled coffee. They stay in a cabinet next to his desk when they’re not lying on display on his desk, nestled between his lease paperwork and old client contacts. Sometimes, Reigen forgets about them completely.

Until, of course, the next drawing comes.

——

It’s sometime in winter when Reigen finally invites Mob to get ramen after work for the first time ever. It’s cold and dark and, even though there is no forecast for snow, the air smells just like the beginning of snowfall in Seasoning City, where the acrid smoke of the city clears into this sort of musky, oak-like smell. Reigen is tired and hungry and, when he looks at the clock on his phone, deliberates how exhausting it would be for him to stick a cup of noodles in the microwave and let it bake until his eyes start watering. He sighs and stares up at the night sky.

“Let’s get ramen.” 

Mob makes a noise beside him, something like cough or sneeze, and his eyebrows stretch skyward underneath his hair. “Really?” he asks. His tone reminds him of the first time Reigen gave him his pay. Reigen bites the inside of his cheek and finds it difficult to stare at Mob for longer than a second. 

“Yeah. I don’t want to cook anything in this weather. S’gonna be a long night, so might as well take a break while I can. Come on.”

He leads the kid to a ramen stall, where they greet the cook and settle in their seats. He orders for them both, with a decidedly smaller bowl for Mob. Mob continues thanking Reigen even when he tells him to stop, and by the fourth time, Reigen is getting annoyed.

“Oi, don’t expect me to make a habit of this. This is a one-time thing.  And this is coming out of your salary.”

Mob sobers after this and eats his ramen silently, but he still radiates this warmth that stays in Reigen’s chest for a long while, so faint and threadbare that he doesn’t even notice it until he opens the door to his apartment and is greeted by grey walls and papers strewn haphazardly over his couches, his year-old lights flickering their last sputters of light, and he realizes how good he felt in that ramen store, and how tired he feels in here.

Getting ramen does not stay a one-time thing.

——

It’s an off-day again. Reigen tells Mob to go home and then closes his office early, tucking old files below his armpit to take home with him. The weather is dark and gloomy that afternoon, which always raises people’s superstitions, which always lead to more clients, but apparently everyone is of clear mind today and hasn’t felt the need to call any psychics. Reigen can weather out the lax in calls, but he may be turning off his water for a while.

When he walks into his apartment, he scrubs the crust out of his eyes with the back of his palm, leaving his vision spotty, and he bumps into his kitchen counter. He stumbles and the files spill out from under his arm like a waterfall, and Reigen’s sigh echoes against the white tile. He bends down to pick up an unusually colorful paper.

He blinks. It’s a kid’s drawing, full of scribbles and squares, with a familiar man with orange hair and a pink tie grinning at him in thick black crayon. He looks to the rest of the spilled paperwork and sees those same familiar swirls of color. He must have accidentally added the manilla folder with his bills. 

He gently extracts each one from the ground, regards his kitchen counter with a frown, and scrubs a corner of it clean to rest the papers on. His bills he’s less gentle with, crinkling in his grip, and these he throws onto his couch to pool over after his shower. 

He doesn’t come up with his idea until after he’s out of the shower, towel over his shoulders, scrubbing at his still-wet hair and a toothbrush dangling in his mouth, and he walks back to the kitchen to stare at the blank surface of his refrigerator. The grey and orange and green is still bright at the corner of his eye. He huffs a breath of air out of his nose, a sort of “huh” noise that’s gargled by toothpaste, and realizes that he probably could have thought of this long ago. 

He tosses his towel to the side and starts rummaging through his kitchen drawers in search of magnets. 

The other papers lying on the couch are long forgotten.

--

“Shishou?”

Mob’s hand is still on the door handle when he stops in his tracks and stares at his master, who looks a little strange. He’s balancing at the top of his rolling chair, legs shakingly supporting the older man’s weight, as he’s pulling things from the wall and letting them fall onto the ground below. His suit jacket is discarded on his desk, and his tie is thrown over his shoulder. He looks especially sweaty up there. He also looks like he’s going to fall. 

Reigen glances over his shoulder, and the chair wobbles below him. “Oh! Mob. Good.” Reigen’s voice is strained, like he’s out of breath, and the mere act of swiveling his head around is using up too much energy. There are beads of sweat on his face. He motions Mob inside with a jerk of his head. “Help me out over here. Grab those posters on the floor and put them in the trash. Then grab my chair for me so I can get down.” 

Mob obediently enters, setting his backpack down next to his new desk — wooden and portable, something Reigen had bought at an online auction for less than a thousand yen, and so much better than the amalgamation of cardboard and wood and scratchy tablecloth — and goes to pick up the scraps of paper lying on the floor. They all look like posters of a younger Reigen, with his smile of too-many-teeth and flashy colors behind him. One looks out of place, of a man with black hair and a vacant gaze, with a name starting with “Mo” behind him. That one is torn. 

“Shishou, don’t you need these--?”

“Bah.” Reigen waves a hand. The chair gets even shakier. “Outdated. Don’t need them. Now hurry up, Mob. I’m gonna fall.” 

Mob rushes to throw the posters in the waste bin, which is too small and the paper scraps pool out around it. Then he rushes over to Reigen, who is huffing and puffing as though he ran several kilos, even though all he did was stand on a chair. Mob holds it steady as Reigen slowly crawls down. He radiates sweat, and when he tries to wipe his face, more sweat from his hand replaces it. 

“Good job,” Reigen pants. Mob stares at the torn posters.

“Why didn’t you just use your powers to take them down, Shishou?”

Reigen coughs and then barks out a laugh. “Oh, Mob,” he tuts. “There’s no need to use my powers for such trivial things. I can’t be reliant solely on the one thing I’m good at. Sometimes it’s good to be dependent on your own physical strength. Plus,” he coughs, “I just took down a major spirit this morning. I have to, ah, save up my remaining energy for later.”

Mob stares at his wise master and nods sagely. “Okay.” They both elect to stare at the wall which, in this case, is still not empty. “What’s that?” 

An empty cork board sits on the wall before them. It must have held the rest of Reigen’s old posters and advertisements, and now it’s completely bare. It makes the room feel a lot bigger. 

Reigen clasps a sweaty hand on Mob’s shoulder. “A client-satisfaction board, my apprentice. Here, we’ll fill it with photos taken with clients after our jobs. It gives future clients a piece of mind. A bit of security, knowing we do our job well.”

“Oh,” says Mob. He looks to his shoes and thinks. “But we don’t have any client-satisfaction pictures.”

“Not yet, Mob.” Reigen rummages under his jacket, which still lies on the desk, and pulls out what even Mob can recognize as a cheap plastic camera. “But we soon will. Here.” He spins the camera around to point at them and leans over to Mob, who stares unblinkingly at the camera lens. The device clicks, and Reigen spins it around to see the finished picture. All they see is a brown blur. 

“Ah,” Reigen grunts. “One more time.” They take another photo. They spin it around. This time, Mob can see both him and Reigen staring at the camera, Reigen with his hair stuck to his forehead and grin crooked, and Mob in midway blink. 

“Perfect,” Reigen says. He sets the camera down. “And one more thing.” 

He produces a folder from under his desk. It’s plain and tan and it looks like all the rest in Reigen’s office, but when he opens it, Mob can see some familiar scribbles. He cranes his head over the desk to see what Reigen’s doing with them, as the man pulls one, two, three from the pile and then rummages in a small box of thumbtacks. Reigen crosses the office and sticks the drawings crookedly on the corkboard, in a pattern that suggests he expects to put more photos around them, with wide space between each. They gleam in the afternoon sun, his drawings from school, that feature him and Reigen eating burgers in the office and exorcising spirits in the park. 

“There,” Reigen says, arms folded over his chest, satisfied. He glances over to Mob. “Look good?” 

The sun strikes the pictures just right, forcing Mob to squint at them as they make the office feel brighter. The little esper looks to his master, then to the corkboard, then to the folder that sits silently at the desk. After a long moment (and Reigen is starting to sweat again), he nods. He doesn’t even realize he’s smiling.

“Yeah,” Mob says, soft and quiet in the tiny Spirits and Such Consultation Office. “Looks good.”

--

In Reigen’s apartment, there are still papers strewn across the couch,  the walls are grey, and the air is stale and smells like old ramen. There are dirty dishes in the sink and the counter could use a good wipe, and Reigen forgot to turn off the air conditioner when he left for work. 

And in the kitchen, hanging on the refrigerator by half-faded blue and pink magnets, rustling in the still-running air conditioner, are five of Mob’s drawings, shining proudly in the dying sunlight.

[ringcicatrix]

Circles and Circles

Words: 1747

cws: haunted/cursed dolls

Part 2

Ryou hadn’t remembered returning to the museum at night, but that didn’t mean he didn’t know why he was there. No- if anything, his lack of memory explained more than enough, and he could only let out a sigh.

Well, he managed to think with a hint of sarcasm, at least the spirit knew to dress properly.

The closing ceremony was nice- or at least, it should’ve been. Everything looked as if it was going to be a quiet and peaceful send-off to a pleasant evening... until the doors slammed shut, and a new voice declared they were all stuck here.

Now, for most people, being trapped inside a museum with a bunch of killer artworks would’ve sounded like a bad thing. However, Ryou Bakura was not most people. He’d always been quite fascinated by the scary and occult, and a good number of cards in his deck were based on haunted paintings and living dolls. Not to mention he was haunted by a malicious spirit… one who seemed to be quite enjoying this turn of events.

“Ha! I thought this was a little boring, I’m glad they’ve decided to finally make things interesting!”

‘Why does ‘interesting’ have to equate with ‘violent’ for you?’

“Oh please, host, you know that’s not true. I have other hobbies.”

‘Such as…?’

“Well, I do enjoy a good game.”

‘The games you play aren’t good. You cheat.’

“It only counts as cheating if I get caught.”

Ryou snorted, rolling his eyes and ignoring the glances a few others shot his way. He wasn’t the only one that had kept calm, but he figured his response must’ve come across as a bit condescending, considering the fact that nobody else could hear the spirit.

“Well? Don’t tell me you intend to be a sitting duck for this killer art.”

‘Of course not.’ Sighing, Ryou reached for a knife he knew the spirit kept hidden on him, and paused. ‘The art here was indestructible before. I… doubt this will do much.’

“Hmm… for once you make a good point, host.” The spirit laughed, and Ryou could almost feel his overconfident smirk work its way onto his face. Weird. “What about tools? This place is full of them. If this is a game, then there has to be rules to it.”

‘What makes you so certain it isn’t just hide and seek? Or killer tag?’

“Because that wouldn’t be a very fun game, now would it? You always have to leave a hope of survival.”

‘…and you’d know better than most.’

Ryou ignored the shiver down his spine as his mind dwelled on the games of Monster World, of friends in comas, of his own temporary death. The spirit claimed he’d changed, but Ryou hadn’t forgiven him for any of that- he wasn’t even certain if the spirit actually regretted it. It seemed more in-character for him to merely regret that he’d lost.

But either way, the spirit was actually communicating with him now, and he’d still take that over inexplicable blackouts and friends in comas. They’d all miraculously recovered, so everything was fine now. At least in a surface-level meaning of the word, anyways.

He wasn’t entirely certain which one of them had been in control of the body, a sensation that was truly unnerving, but they’d somehow ended up near the doll parlor. They hadn’t gone inside, regardless of how much Ryou dearly wanted to- he couldn’t help it. Sure, the dolls would’ve all been murderous, but they were haunted dolls. It was like a horror movie come true, so it was incredibly exciting to the young man.

“And you think I’m strange.” The thief’s laugh echoed in Ryou’s mind, once more prompting an eye-roll. It wasn’t until the mirth sharpened that Ryou was drawn out of his mild irritation, eyes scanning the area around him. “Host. In the darkness there.”

He didn’t question how the thief could see anything in the deep shadows of the hallway- after all, it fit the darkness to know what lay in the shadows. His own eyes strained to see, and after a half a second it felt obvious what he was looking at. Piercing yellow eyes cut through the darkness, staring at him with a dangerously cool expression. In her arms was a marionette of a child, head broken apart, letting out a bone-chilling laugh.

“Oh, hello there.”

“Host, are you an idiot? She might be just a doll right now, but she’s one of the strongest monsters in our deck—”

‘First of all, it’s my deck, spirit. And secondly, she doesn’t seem hostile.’

“So you think. You should know that her greatest strength comes about after being sent to the graveyard, host.”

“Of course I do.” Ryou sighed, responding out loud, before smiling at the doll of his beloved monster. He didn’t feel like he had quite a signature card, like Yugi could claim about Dark Magician or Kaiba with his Blue-Eyes White Dragons, but Dark Necrofear felt about the same for him. She was one of the backbones of his occult deck, and beyond even that, he just… cared about the card. Much like Change of Heart, it was a favourite of his. “Hello there. If you’re intent on attacking me, I don’t plan on sitting still, but it would be nice if you didn’t.”

The doll didn’t move, though the marionette in her arms continued to laugh. It was delightfully creepy, and he couldn’t help but wonder how Jounouchi would’ve responded. He really didn’t enjoy horror- his response might’ve been funny to watch. Though… it was probably mean to think so.

“Hah. I think I’m rubbing off on you, host.”

“I certainly hope not…” Ryou sighed, before the smile returned to his face as he looked at the doll. “Well… may I take your lack of attacking as a sign of peace?”

He certainly hoped as much. His hopes appeared to be dashed as the doll suddenly jerked forwards, the boy bracing himself for an impact- one that never came. Instead, there was a sound behind him of ripping fabric, and he turned in time to see some sort of stuffed animal lying on the ground, ripped apart at the seams.

“Did you… save me?”

Dark Necrofear didn’t move, but the marionette in her arms seemed to be laughing in affirmation this time.

“Huh. Well, I’ll be damned.”

‘You already were.’

“Nobody likes a smartass, host.”

“Well, thank you.” Ryou decided to ignore the spirit for now, not wanting to point out the fact that the spirit was constantly being an ass. After all, he still had control of his body, and he’d like to keep it that way for now. “Would you mind if I picked you up? You were moving quickly there, but it might be easier for the both of us if I let you sit on my shoulder, or something along those lines.”

The marionette nodded agreeably, and Ryou smiled once more. Gently, he placed the doll onto his shoulder- she stood tall, only turning her head for a moment to acknowledge the boy who’d put such care and effort into creating her small form.

“Now,” he spoke aloud to both Dark Necrofear and the spirit, “it seems like undoing the stitching on that stuffed doll was enough to deal with it. So I would imagine that theory about using tools might hold some weight to it.”

“So perhaps you should take a bit more consideration into my ideas then, host.”

“I’ll think about it. Anyways, The knife we have- which I don’t appreciate you hiding on me- should be enough to deal with any stuffed dolls, alongside Dark Necrofear. But I highly doubt it’ll do anything against most of the other stuff here. We’ll need to find more tools.”

As if on cue, he felt the ring stir from where it was resting under his shirt. Carefully he pulled it out, watching as the little spines on the end shook and jittered, before finally the central one pointed down the hall in the opposite direction from where they’d been headed.

“Just this once, we can collaborate. A hammer should be more than enough to deal with the statues, and the ring’s already found one, so follow it. No fucking clue what’ll deal with those painted freaks, though.”

“Odd to see you so agreeable.”

“We’ve no guarantee that your little creations will see me as amicably as they do you.”

“Fair enough.”

“What. Not going to ask her to be kind to me as well?”

“Hmm… I’ll think about it.”

“Host, if we get into a fight and you die, that will be on you then. Got it?”

“You really are just the worst sometimes.” Ryou sighed, grateful that Dark Necrofear didn’t seem to mind the way he was talking to himself. He was keeping to the shadows as best he could, following the ring as it guided them towards whatever hammer the spirit of the ring had deemed useful. “Fine. Dark Necrofear- if I happen to change and start acting differently, please don’t attack? Though, if he tries to harm another person, you can stop him.”

“What, don’t you trust me?”

‘You really do not want me to answer that question.’

The spirit’s cackling laughter rung in Ryou’s ears, and he did his best not to wince at the sound. He could be so annoyingly loud sometimes, it really just wasn’t fair. However, much to his surprise, he didn’t immediately black out after asking Dark Necrofear to be nice. He imagined it had to be due to the fact that the spirit never really cared for busywork- the things that bored him and amused him could be a mystery to Ryou, even though they shared a body.

“I wonder… do you think paint thinner could work? It may erase the ‘paintings’ well enough, considering I doubt we’d be able to simply slash the canvas apart.”

“Hmm… that could do it. But first things first, the hammer. We’re getting close to it.”

“Right.”

Silent footsteps made their way down the halls of the museum, the ghost-like boy sticking to the shadows as best he could. He didn’t want to draw the attention of patrons or paintings, just wanting to sneak along and stay safe. It was shocking how easily his snow-white hair could melt into the shadows once he forced himself to calm down, pulling his earlier loose ponytail into a tight bun.

For now, just get to the hammer. They’d figure out what to do next after that.