#how many times do really have to watch them play cults of the shadow

[clouds-of-wings]

God. Over a MONTH until I see my special little guys live. Will I be able to keep myself from going on YT and spoilering myself about the setlist? WE'LL SEE!

[oonajaeadira]

I'll Leave a Light On For You

Fandom: Bloodsucking Bastards / Max Phillips

Pairing: Max Phillips x f!reader

Reader: Adult female. No other physical descriptors; no use of y/n. (There is a little description, but it’s still you. Believe me, it will make sense. We’re dealing with the supernatural here.)

Rating: T. 

Warnings: Angst. Character death. Allusions to the atrocities of war and its lasting effects. Max is a vampire. Traumatic soul memory. Me assuming I know anything about French culture of the 1930s.

Summary: Max has reservations when it comes to love, and for very good reasons.

A/N: This is my entry for the @pedrostories Secret Santa event. While I played one selfish card in my hand and wrote something of a companion to Light Only Shows You Where the Shadows Are, this can still be read as a standalone.

To my giftee, the amazing and wonderful @artemiseamoon : First of all, I admire you so much and I was really nervous to write for you. But I looked among your generous prompt choices (omgs thank you for so many good choices) and was surprised to find Max as an option. I wasn’t going to choose him at first but then my eye caught “past lives” and something in me zinged. Soul mates, angsty romance, second chance at love… and I’ve been itching to write an angsty Max. I know you are a fan of soft and whump, so all those elements had a party in my heart and here we are. I really hope you’re having a nice holiday and a good time off. Happy Secret Santa, Arte. <3

What we’ve been told is that when you die, your life flashes before your eyes.

That’s almost correct.

The truth is…it’s not just your current life.

It’s all of them.

Max hardly remembers the fear, the pain, the cold of his draining. Even though he knew what was coming, bought into the cult, the human instinct of fight or flight is hard to dismiss no matter how well they’ve been prepped and it was to be expected. But it was a flash in the pan and once he came around to the undead side of things, those pesky human responses were all quickly forgotten.

For a time. Until he saw your light and–

Anyway. Human instincts. Pffft. Adorable. Trading the constant possibility of fear for that of glee, of rapture, of delight? Human instincts are trash. Not to mention their senses, poor suckers. The things they can’t see can’t hear can’t smell can’t taste? Tragic.

If only the feelings weren’t heightened too. It makes some things–some people–hard to ignore–

Feelings were something he could also have done without in his human life–the latest one anyway–and did whatever he could do to avoid.

It wasn’t until he died that he understood why.

As the life drained out of him and the delirium set in, there was a rushing sound, a pull through his soul like the drag of blood from his body, and he was laying, feeble, wailing, bloody and naked among the limbs of his mother.

But not the mother he so recently remembered, the one that showed her approval only when he provided her with some accomplishment worthy of crowing about to her society friends. No, this one was gentle, kind, held him and sang to him, lived her life for him until she died of fever when he was only five years old.

Max saw it all, from within himself and without, remembered the pull of his heart and watched the tears fall down his little face as they nailed his mother’s body in a pine box and put it in a hole at the top of a hill under a tree.

He always imagined he heard her singing to him in the grasses after that.

The world welcomed a new century, and not long afterward, he was a young man, looking to take over his father’s wine fields. But the chance was stolen when an archduke was shot. Max–Pierre, as he was called then–and all of the close friends and cousins he had were thrust into a great war. 

He was the only one to walk out of the fray. And when he came home, he found his father’s fields had been burned and that nothing remained.

That was a dark time. Ten years of looking back rather than looking forward. Ten years–it went by so fast–while he watched the world around him try to repair itself and find its footing again, not realizing that the roots of evil still grew beneath the soil.

He kept his head down and his hands working wherever he could.

But then he met a woman.

And she was Pierre’s life. Max’s life. Before he was Max.

It happened in the winter, just before Noël. And her name was Yaëlle.

Max remembered that before she even told him as he watched the story of this strange old life.

Yaëlle. It means “beautiful one.”

“It also means ‘goat,’” she’d said. “That seems more fitting.” She never thought of herself pretty, and perhaps she wasn’t fashionable and maybe she was stronger than she was dainty, with a weak chin and curly dark hair she couldn’t control. But the light in her eyes when she laughed–and what a laugh, like a little bird–the sway of her hips and the confidence in her carriage, her air of easy care and comfort caught his heart like a surly bear in the prettiest trap.

She’d simply been passing through the marché de Noēl, looking but not stopping, taking the kerchief off her head so the snow could land in her curls, when a child approached her selling buns in the shape of a cross and she gave the child a franc before sitting down at the statue of some cardinal or other in the center of the square.

She could have sat on any of the other benches, but she chose to plonk down next to Max. Next to Pierre.

“You want this?” she asked, offering the bun. “Not really my thing.”

How could she have known he was hungry? That he was lonely? That he was facing the market rather than the river because he was trying not to succumb to his inclinations, a pull to walk out onto the thin ice and let himself be taken by the stream?

He was instantly entranced by her. He felt himself smiling. Something shifted within. A destiny.

“You sure?” he asked.

She peered at him, scrutinized his whole self like she could see a glow around him and was looking for its source.

She found it in his eyes.

“Absolutely. I already ate three hand pies today. The last thing I need is more bread.”

He laughed for the first time in a long while. They talked. He ate.

On Christmas Eve when everyone was at the evening’s mass, she was there again, sitting alone, and this time it was he who had hot food and came to join her on the bench while the night was silent and cold and the stars were twinkling.

It was then that he learned why she was not in church–her folk did not observe Noēl. And she learned why he was not in church–he had lost his faith, that everyone he had ever loved was taken and there were not enough candles in the sanctuary to light for all of them.

“What if I lit one?” she’d asked.

“Who would you light it for?”

“For you. So you don’t have to sit in the dark.” When he was only silent, she said, “You fought in the Great War, didn’t you.” And when he looked away–when he shut her out–she continued. “My husband fought in that war. And he never could find his heart again. He said he loved me, but I don’t think he ever really did, not all the way. But I loved him all the way and when he put an end to his own life I thought I would have to do it too. Instead, I sat in the dark for a long time. It’s something I can see in a person. I can see you’re sitting in the dark.”

They stayed quiet for a time on the bench under the statue of the cardinal and when the church bells started to toll–signaling the magic of the empty square would soon be disrupted by the mass emptying into its streets–she stood and pulled her coat around her.

“My home is down that street, a little one with a red roof. It’s warm and I’ve plenty of hand pies--I made too many. I’ll leave a candle in the window until I’m asleep. You’re always welcome there, Max.”

And then she smiled and turned down the avenue where she’d pointed.

He blinked. Just before she reached the edge of the square he called out, “My name isn’t Max. It’s Pierre.”

She turned and gave a sly wink. “Good to know. I think once you get a belly full of my pies, you’ll let me call you whatever I want.”

He only sat long enough to watch the churchgoers file out of the holy service, many of them with people they loved, humming, happy, cheeks glowing in that way when one steps into a fresh cold world after being an hour or two soaking in the warmth. And once the square was empty again, he stood, gave only a fleeting look to the river, and then walked resolutely down Yaëlle’s street.

A little house with a red roof and a candle in the window.

He stayed for supper and came back many nights after.

And then one night he never left.

Max recalled the rest of that life with a lurking despair. While he couldn’t quite remember how it went, something in him carried it through to the life he’d just left…and he couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was yet.

A few years of joy, of the greatest love he’d felt since his childhood. Like the mother he’d lost, another woman who was gentle, kind, held him and sang to him, lived her life for him until she couldn’t anymore.

They never celebrated Noël as the others did, but in their own way. For a handful of years they would go sit on the bench in the square and hand out pies to their neighbors and anyone who came to join them where they sat. They would listen to the singing in the church and watch the stars scintillate overhead. They would leave their shoes by the fireplace and wake up to find gifts they’d bought for each other with the little francs that they had. And they would never talk about what they would do in the future, because they knew it would be this and that’s all they aspired to and it would be a happy life.

And Max watched Pierre forget about the rot that still ran its roots through the soil.

And one day soldiers came to town when he was out in the fields and they took Yaëlle and some of the other dark-haired, joyful, bird-laughing folk about town and murdered them. By the time he returned for the evening, the soldiers had gone and left him nothing but a ravaged house and a body to bury.

There’s nothing he could have done, the mourning neighbors told him, the tide was rising. If he had fought them, they would have shot him too.

Pierre said that it would have been better that way.

Pierre stopped working in the fields when he started to hear his mother’s voice singing among the grasses again…now joined by Yaëlle’s sweet alto.

He had one more Noël in that life. He drank as much as he could take without falling over and stumbled out to sit on the bench in the square, weeping once the churchgoers had gone. He didn’t say a word, but Max remembered what Pierre was thinking then.

Love hurts too much. It is always taken. It’s not worth the trouble.

And then Pierre fell asleep on that bench and never woke up again.

There wasn’t much time between that first life and this one, maybe a few decades in the dark. Just long enough for a voice to reach him in the void–a voice he knew well and loved with his whole heart for only a short time–to say,

“That was a good first try, Max. Let’s give it another go, okay? Another place, another time, when it’s not so hard. I’ll leave a light on for you.”

____

Max’s life had been shorter this time. But he’d learned a thing or two and kept love at arm’s length. Sex was good and companionship was fine, but he wouldn’t invest in anything that could drain him in an instant and leave him destitute. 

Now power, that could fill the void. 

So when fortune smiled and he was given the choice, he swallowed hard and put his neck to the teeth, traded in his humanity for power that nobody could take away from him…and a heart that had no need for warmth.

He was wrong about that last point though.

And he didn’t even know it until he saw something that humans couldn’t see.

Heard something they couldn’t hear, a long ago and far away voice singing.

Smelled you on the wind.

Followed it to you–a woman, just another human woman–walking out of a bar along some street in the city.

And he saw a light glowing from within you.

You wore another face, another body, but all he saw was you.

Yaëlle.

Beautiful one.

He followed you that night, and several nights after. He was the reason that car swerved before it hit you, the reason you weren’t approached by that seedy guy at the club. He was the reason you kept looking behind you now and then and when you finally saw him–having dinner at the same restaurant, totally by coincidence, you on a friendly outing, him trying to charm a client into a contract–it broke his heart that you did not know him instantly.

He found he was surprised that he still had a heart to break. He’d been so fucking careful.

Max almost gave into the anger, the disappointment. Replayed the pathetic way Pierre let himself be brought down and tried to remind himself not to let himself be broken again.

But then he heard your voice in a way only those who walk in death can.

Let’s give it another go. I’ll leave a light on for you.

____

Heightened feeling is the one drawback of all this power. It’s one thing to latch onto a target, to fixate on some middle manager or accountant or IT specialist until there’s a good time to finally strike. That is an itch that can be satisfied with a well-timed, fear-seasoned, adrenaline-soaked kill.

But love sinks its fangs in and doesn’t let go. It sucks at something that can’t be drained, has no end, can never get enough. It can drive an immortal--a never-ending being of heightened existence--to madness.

There will come a day in the future when you’ll trust him for no good reason, when you’ll understand the monster he is and whisper under your breath against your better judgment, when you’ll invite him in. For dinner.

And he’ll come around again and again.

And then one day, he’ll stay.

And you’ll yawn ask him on the edge of sleep, “Why me? Of all these humans that you could easily enthrall and have without question, why choose this?”

Max will look at you in the darkness and see nothing but your light.

You won’t understand when he puts on a show of an irritated sigh and tells you, “You gave me another chance, sweetmeats,” but you’ll doze in his cold arms, absolutely confident as he is that nothing will ever hurt you again. Including himself.

And that night he’ll stay until you wake.

He won’t have you sit in the darkness alone.

_____

MASTERLIST

CHARACTER MASTERLIST

[chiquitafresa]

~Vox headcanon~

Artist here! These are my personal headcanons and headcanons that I stole from others! So enjoy :)

-Vox often like to go on days working in his office and can forget to take breaks -When this happens Val or a Velvette will come in and drag him out, They only do this when Vox try to talk his way out -Wait wait! I need to finish this! -Vox you have been in there for a week. You’re coming with me and it final. -Vox absolutely have a aquarium filled with all type of sharks, and he knows the name of each one by memory -Vox why you have 100 different sharks? They all look the same- -THEY DO NOT, see! Ava and Levi look totally different! -Vox there’s no difference at all, how the fuck you know which one is which? -Vox will fight you if you touch his food, doesn’t matter who you are he will fight -Valentino is a example of this(hint:look at his antennas) -Vox doesn’t need to eat like other demons but it helps keep his battery at 100% -Sleep also helps with this, and so is eating battery’s Don’t ask how he find out -Vox mistaken a battery pack as chocolate bar -Vox have a cable tail (am not explaining) -said tail can be use to plug into a outlet and let him charge -main reason why he can stay up for countless nights -But the tail can be hidden, so Vox only let it out when he’s low on energy or is comfortable. Bonus: it’s every sensitive when touched -Someone please do a fanfic on this- -Vox eyes are connected to every camera of his, so he constantly watch and see everything in hell But do to this he can get easily overloaded or overwhelmed, so he doesn’t do it often -Vox likes to play with Val fluff -Val really likes it when he does -Vox helped Velvette and Valentino to become overlords when he first find them -So both of them view him with respect and high admiration -but their assholes when showing it -they never go too far tho -Vox have a whole mansion for a closet like Barbie in the dream house -but it all the same suit with different colors -Vox have many jobs before, shown in “stay gone” -Vox lies when it comes to these jobs but they believe him because how good of a business man he is -he most definitely started a cult -The cult only got bigger in hell without him knowing -Vox actually have a huge fan base, they constantly fighting against Alastor fans and their winning since Alastor hasn’t been there in over 7 years -most of them actually come from Vox old cult and continue it In his name but in hell -I mean who else is going to buy a 9000$ cereal -Valentino got really close to making a p0rn movie of Vox, for himself of course (Vox didn’t know this) -but Vox back out in the last minute because of work, so there’s Val Dream -Val was mostly mad about this, often trying to get Vox to reconsider -Bro cry over that for a whole week in his room,and is still sad about it till this day -Alastor and Vox have a equal obsession with each other -I don’t care if you think it one sided, Al is obsessed in seeing this man break and how much attention his getting

-Alastor will watch Vox in the shadows if he been inactivate for a while -Vox some how got his brand in heaven, but he can’t go there though the technology. But he still gets the money from there so it doesn’t matter for him -The other Vee’s doesn’t know this, it was part of the deal he made with Lucifer -Vox does feel sorry for accidentally for damaging Val antennas, Val on the other hand doesn’t really care about it that much -Am…sorry Val -For the least time Vox, it fine! It might take a while to heal but it’s fine -Vox watch Val all the time though the cameras in hell, do to his bad vision and damage antenna -Val doesn’t mind being watched and even likes it at times -Vox and Velvette will have days where they replace their parts together, Vox helps removing her limbs while Velvette helps repair/replacing wires -When Vox first replaced his head with a whole new TV he needed to heal for a whole month before he can walk around -Velvette and Val make sure Vox was never alone and help him with everything -Vox is such a sugerdaddy for Val And Velvette, he buy them anything they want -Vox, Velvette, and Valtino have matching rings, they sometime wear it and sometimes not -Vox likes all type of radio, but he can’t show his love for them because of Alastor -Vox 100% record all of Alastors radio shows as soon as he got here, over 200 recordings -Vox was a fan of Alastor when he was alive, and he still like listening to him (before he left for 7 years) -During those 7 years, Vox slowly got more paranoid by the next day, making his reaction with Alastor coming back… weird -Vox take anxiety pills to help with this, he also have ADHD medication that he takes everyday ———————————- Sorry if this was short! I just wanted to put down all my ideas somewhere for others (and me) to see! (can someone explain what happened to the bold words? It appears like that and I can’t undo it)

[tricksteroftheheart]

boo. You should send me songs you like 👍

Oh man oh man. I look at my almost 8000 songs liked on Spotify. Oh man where to start. No links and maybe flat tone because I don't have the battery power, sorry /gen

(Pssst, my Spotify is linked here and in my carrd; I've got a bunch of public playlists and I take requests. If you wanna see more/enjoy my music taste ;3 )

Red text if the song is explicit, all song titles are bolded and colored blue (unless theyre explicit) for ease of reading. Also I don't keep up with artists like 99 percent of the time so if I link an artist that is actually a bad person please forgive me. Also I don't usually watch music videos so I can't add content warnings for those. I don't usually listen to full albums so if I send a bunch of songs from an album it's a coincidence lol. Just because a song isn't labelled explicit doesn't mean it's completely innocent, take care listening to songs/translating lyrics please!

Vocal synth (a lot of teto sorry):

All of Flavor Foley's music. Butcher Vanity is their most well-known song and one of my favs, but I also recommend Water The Roses, Rawdog, and 炜ward Romance. That's almost all of their songs. Yeah I don't wanna leave out Weathergirl that's a good one too Also anything by Jamie P. Special mention for her music videos. My favs are Rot For Clout, I Wish That I Could Fall, Machine Love, You're Telling Me A Shrimp Fried This Rice, and Cadmium Colors. Special mention for To My Biggest Fan by beat_shobon. Cute music video I really like Maretu. Nyan is really good but I also really like Darling. Since he's more mainstream so you probably already know his more popular songs, I recommend Tool, White Happy, Girl Eraser, Born Before, and Suji. Honestly by THØRNS Teo by Omoi Mesmerizer and Obsolete Meat by 32ki

Indie:

Also anything by Yonkagor. I like Memory Merge, Fallacy, Circus Hop, and Top 10 Things To Do Before You Die. Great music videos here Castaway, Moka!, and Queen Of The Night by The Vanished People. They have a great sound The Soccer Journals, Mawce, How Do You Talk To A Star?, Numemaker's Parable, and Gut Punch/Don't Meet Your Idols by Everybody's Worried About Owen Yoshi's Island, Cold Weather, Bedroom Community, Glass Beach, Orchids, and Classic J Dies And Goes To Hell Part 1 by Glass Beach Heartbeat, Tragedy, Casket Kids, Circuit Bent, and Playing Pretend by Stomach Book. Fukouna Girl is like literally me but you already know that one /silly Pacific by Chase Petra. Also Prologue, Monet Issues, and In An Emergency Such As The End Of The World Switchblade by Vorsa Every single fucking song by Tom Cardy I'm not joking

Not Indie/ I don't actually know if they're indie or not:

Ukelele Anthem, The Killing Type, Astronaut, and Lost by Amanda Palmer Kings Of Medicine, Too Many Friends, Try Better Next Time, and Surrounded By Spies by Placebo Nothing Breaks Like A Heart by Miley Cyrus ...And If I Did, You Deserved It ("In Case I Make It," Outtake) by Will Wood They/Them/Theirs by Worriers Like Real People Do by Hoizer Maze Of Life by Yumi Kawamura and Shihoko Hirata Welcome To My Parents House by Ninja Sex Party Nintendo Online's Greatest Announcement by Starbomb. Great music video Sick Of The Silence by Mother Mother

Other/Whole Albums:

Epic the musical. All of it. Listen to a playlist of it all in order, you won't regret it. Cult Of The Lamb: Hymns Of The Unholy. The final song on the album is explicit. Cult is my favorite. You don't need to know CotL to appreciate the music but it helps! Faker (Sonic X Shadow Generations Song) by Thai McGath. This one has an official Teto and Miku version! This one is really really silly but it has some banger lines please don't judge me /silly Anything and everything by NateWantsToBattle/Nathan Sharp. He's done some Sonic cover albums but his original music is also some of my favorites. He's been my fav since I was a kid Also any song by MCR or Fall Out Boy. My tastes are revealing themselves huh Also I'm Neo BF Friday Night Funkin Neo. So I feel the need to plug the Neo Mod tracks... And the Soft Mod tracks... and the B3 Mod tracks... Also I'm like fifteen Pico's so like... Any track with Pico in it really... I'm specifically from Friday Night Funkin: Corruption Takeover if you're curious... The Junkyard 2 by Penelope Scott Tourist History by Two Door Cinema Club

[unnursvanablog]

What We Do in the Shadows / tv show review.

This is a not so spoiler free review of the fifth and sixth season of What We Do in the Shadows.

The endlessly quotable TV series that What We Do in the Shadows is has now reach its final destination somewhat unscathed, but it's usually difficult to come to a satisfactory conclusion to a story like this one that has fans and a cult-like following on the internet like this show seems to have.

There is a certain cartoonish-ness to the comedy and humor of What We Do in the Shadows, which is also rather sarcastic, crude and dark. The series really plays with its own absurdity and yet the series manages or allows itself to treat many of the relationships and character moments between the vampires and humans in the series with some seriousness when needed. There is certainly a lot of heart going on there, which makes the series a rather cozy, yet amusing watching experience.

When it comes to sitcoms like this, it's quite common for the characters, although they learn something in each series, but don't change too much since we need their standardized character flaws to bring out the comedy and for all the different dynamics to work. The one who really goes through the most changes and development is Guillermo, who is also the heart of the show and the emotional core for the undead, as the only human in the group.

Having the human or a human element in a science or fantasy show be the guide of the audience and the heart of the show is very common, as they are the connection not only for viewer but of the other characters to the real world, and I think What We Do in the Shadows manages to use that anchor extremely well.

This final season does a good enough job of exploring all of these different dynamics and allowing each character to have one last time with each other, even though the plot of What We Do in the Shadows has always been rather fast-paced and silly side-quests.

I was concerned that the depth of Guillermo's relationship with the vampire would not be explored enough. And throughout the final series I felt that there was a certain hesitation to take the relationship that Nandor and Guillermo have been developing throughout the show all the way and really explore the depth of it. Also, Guillermo's relationship with not only the house but also the group of characters, and my worry about the final series rushing through that storyline for sake of the comedy, leaving us a little bit in the dark or the way things have always been sort of come true.

In the first half of the final series, Nandor and Guillermo's relationship was more tense than before, as well as more complex than ever, but as we got towards the end, I expected them to do more of with that and really hone in on the emotions that were present in the last two seasons. Guillermo is trying to step away from his previous duties, yet he always keeps one foot indoors, so to speak, almost like an audience who has to say goodbye but is reluctant to do so.

The final season has been entertaining with all sorts of side-quests and funny moments from these delightfully weird characters, but at the same time significantly aimless and without a theme or a point. Something that, for example, the last season managed to have, as well as many other seasons that came before, like Guillermo coming to terms with him not wanting to be a vampire.

The series tries its best to be very on the nose about it at the very end, pointing out how nothing changes for these immortal beings even though six years have passed and how the characters grow little or change. It's on par with this comedy formula of the show, where the humor is a bit about these characters not changing too much, but usually there are a little more reflection, or conclusions going on even when sitcoms like these ends.

And while the fact that the vampires will only continue as they have always done is demonstrated in the final half hour, things will just keep happening on their terms, which is really what has made What We Do in the Shadows such an enjoyable piece of television for all these years. But one would have hoped that the series had happened bold enough to give Guillermo, the human part of the story and the character that can change, better closure of this final chapter in the story of the vampires. Because he is the heart of the show.

[bubbleonice]

lol this is so cute and funny at the same time that once san and jungkook are requested once on someones blog the blog gets so many more asks about the same two mainly popular members. I wonder if in their respective groups the conflict can often be about whos getting more opportunies than other members. I guess each members have their own reactions and feelings, also may you do reading on mingi? mainly just an energy check up or something of the sorts, thanks v much!

lastly do you think kpop is as bad / evil as west ent industry? I tend to find myself reading a lot maybe too much into things and then I look at how young these idols start off then they go off to america :c do you think some of the things said abt illuminati, cult or even escorting is accurate info? or is it just smoke and mirrors to get people talking about it regardless, others have said no when I ask this question before but like theres still so many similiarities between kpop and other music industries so no doubt theyre still in a heavily controlled / watched environment.

Mainly concerned because I dont want another sotuation like sulli or jonghyun or another moonbin and even then people still speculate and make theories abt so the internert seems a bit insensitive bc we dont know the half of what really go on. But yh when groups go to america i do worry a bit for them, mainly just bc theyre so young and a bit naive / gullible when they first start out with their groups. I have other suspicions but idk I think they put things relating it to music groups so that people will bith become unhealthily obsessed with idol members but also even those who dont actively follow or support these group still end up discussing them some way or other. im somewhere in between neither deluded nor fussed what idols do in their downtime but yh some videos I seen make me question things whilst others seem to disaprove such theories. So basically will further truths about kpop groups ever come about? and I mean real truth not just some theatre act like hybe x ador.

If you’re asking for my personal opinion, I think in every industry that involves so much money and status and fame, there will always be a dark side. Meaning there is a level of escort/ prositution involved. Abuse. Drugs. Alcohol. Sex addictions. Blackmailing. Money laundry. Criminal acts. A side we normies will never be able to understand.

I see a huge difference between American actors versus British actors for example, where British actors most of the time remain dedicated actors and live for the art, whilst american actors become celebrities, who live for being in the spotlight, paprazzies, so clearly America/ Hollywood do have a culture where I believe you need to be in a certain way to succeed. European actors/ musicians are more scorned from exposure when living in their resepctive countries.

And that goes for the music industry as well. There are a lot of manipulators, a lot of people working in the shadows making money of these artists. These artists who seemingly have it all, money, looks, fame, they are just puppets. The music industry, the record companies own you. Your music, your lyrics, your voice. You don’t own anything. Meaning you need to do certain things, act certian ways, etc… to keep your career intact. That is if you meet the wrong people, or if you’re scooped up by the wrong team. You become their money machine, and you are just a tool for them.

Kpop stars can have their challenges as well not just being in America, but also in their respective countries. Where culture can play a part. Strict rules dues to practices, rules to whom you can date. Lots of the asian music and film industry are ruled by the Mafias. I dare to say, fame might seem fun and great, but you also sacrifice a lot. You are most likely not free to do what you want no matter you’re in Korea or the States. But of course there are different levels of what you become involved into. You need to be extremely smart to not be dragged into unfortunate circumstances. I guess those who are able to keep their feet on the ground and not get too aroused by fame and be blinded by materialistic things are most probably to stay in touch with themselves. While those who are tempted by money, exposure and always be the spotlight will more likely have struggles one way or the other sooner or later.

But this is only an opinion.

[darkfeanix]

I sat here squinting at all the BG3 titles and I think it's gotta be Absolution. Reveal all!!

Absolution is going to be an undertaking. It started out as the unhinged Durgetash fic I've mentioned previously, and then I realised that I was doing too much backstory building (like, going back to the events of Baldur's Gate 1 and 2 level of backstory), and losing focus on what I wanted for that story, which was to indulge my kinks with two men in an unhealthy relationship. 😂

So I decided to change THAT story's name to Disciplined (also mentioned in the WIP meme; if you want to know more, feel free to ask about that one😜), and use all the backstory stuff to develop a new Durge named Schuyler. I then decided to combine it with another idea I've been turning around in my head for a while but never done anything with, which is a straight BG3 adaptation with a Gale romance. I decided to combine them because I conceived Schuyler as a Shadow Magic sorcerer, and I feel like the scene where Gale teaches the player character to touch the Weave would be really sweet for a character whose magic is drawn from the Shadowfell (possibly even from Shar's Shadow Weave, haven't decided yet).

I want this story to be more than just Durge/Gale, though; I want it to expand on character elements that are only briefly touched on in the story.

I've started chapter one of his BG3-era story (which I share an excerpt from below, under the cut), and I haven't decided yet if I want to roll back and start with his Durgetash era, or focus on the BG3 story and then go back to pre-game in a prequel. If I'm especially committed to it, I'd like to do a sequel with Schuyler and Gale in Waterdeep (synching it up with elements from the campaign book Waterdeep: Dragon Heist).

So yeah, that's the basic rundown on Absolution. Except the title, which I chose because obviously it's like a play on Absolute, but with the idea of working to make amends for past crimes (starting the cult, etc).

Please find an excerpt from chapter 1 below. Content warning for canon-typical violence and also The Dark Urge in general.

The man felt a dull, throbbing ache behind his right eye, not as bad as before, yet somehow more insistent. From somewhere in the depths of the man's mind came a word: imp. This was an imp. Something tried to link that realisation to another thought, but it couldn't quite connect. And in that moment, he couldn't focus on it, because unless he was very much mistaken, the imp had just murdered someone.

As he watched in mounting fear, the imp glided over to another of the coffin-like containers, and once more struck its inhabitant. That was when it occurred to the man that if it kept on as it was, then the imp would reach him very soon. As his heart raced in his chest, and his headache began to worsen again, the man resumed his desperate struggles against whatever invisible bonds held him. It made little difference, of course; he might as well have not been trying for all the progress he made.

The imp was onto the fourth container now. How many were left before it reached him? Two, or was it three? In his mind, the man tried to visualise the room, but it was impossible to concentrate through the pounding of blood in his head.

All too soon, the imp sprang onto the window of the man's prison, its small, clawed fingers tightening on the edge as it met his gaze. A nasty grin spread on its lips as it raised its tail, the stinger raised to deliver a fatal poison–

And in that moment the ache behind the man's eye vanished, along with the invisible bonds. He leaned his head aside at the last second, and the curved barb struck the back of the container with a light thump. Without any time to think, the man turned his head around and bit into the imp's tail with all the strength he could muster. His teeth sank deep, puncturing hard flesh and tough muscle. Hot, foul-tasting blood spilled onto his tongue and down his throat. With another sharp turn of his head, he dragged the imp partway into the container with him.

As the shock passed, the imp immediately began clawing at his face and neck, but the man hardly noticed these small scratches. For the first time since waking up, he could feel his thoughts beginning clear, and he knew what to do.

There was just enough room between his body and the inner wall of the container, allowing the man to force his hands up through the gap. With one hand he seized one of the imp's wings, and with the other he took it by the throat. It began to panic, shrieking in a language that the man wasn't familiar with, but he didn't pay it any mind as he squeezed. Only then did he spit out its tail to whisper a single word:

"Calhuan."

An icy chill gripped the man's heart, then surged up to his shoulders and down his arms. The imp's shrieks became howls of pain as lightning crackled between the man's hands, carving through infernal flesh and leaving burns that no fire could have inflicted. In only a matter of seconds, the imp fell still, apart from a faint twitch from lightning still arcing through it. Feeling invigorated, the man let go of the imp, letting it fall backwards out of the window of the container.

[suntiger745]

More Tavs! More Tavs! No whelps to handle, no DKP minus.

For most people a bhaalspawn on the brink of death is something to kill on sight. For a rare few however, it is an opportunity. And the unseelie knows how to twist both evil and good to their own advantage.

Magirron's memory is full of holes, and yet she still have a sense of purpose. There is something she must do, even though she doesn't know what the goal is. Her dreams have always been full of murder, pain and the screams of suffering. But now there is also dreams of other places. A shadowed grove of fir trees, a mountain fortress made of glass, a cave with a shackled old woman, a shoreline with a lake still as glass, thousands of stars reflected in it. And always present in these dreams, crows, watching.

Mihan va Ilmera was a prodigy in the Cult of the Dragon, groomed to be a weapon to unleash against the enemies of Tiamat. She was proud to serve her queen and the cult - until the first raid on a settlement in the south of the High Forest. It had a few defenders, but they were quickly cut down. Then the order came to kill the rest of the people in the settlement. It was the first time Mihan had been told to kill not only people who was not trying to kill them, but who were unable to hold a weapon or put up any kind of defence. She obeyed, but with a sickness rising in her throat the whole time.

Two nights later, she packed a few personal belongings and ran away. The guard on duty saw her of course, but he didn't dare question one of the foremost warriors of the cult from going out to grab some fresh air in the night.

She made her way to Baldur's Gate and applied to join the Flaming Fists. She made no secret of being a cultist and stated outright that she wanted to atone for her actions. She was admitted under close supervision, and served for four years before leaving the Fists in good standing to go freelance. She spent two years as an independent sell-sword, studying a bit of magic, and had just returned to Baldur's Gate when the nautiloid snatched her up.

(The work the devs did on the dragonborn's skin, both the patterns and textures and how light plays over it, is really impressive.)

The Hassel noble family has always held that wealth and power comes with responsibilities and the duty to be good stewards of people and creatures under their care. Sofia is no different and fully intended to be the shield that defends those who could not defend themselves when she swore her paladin Oath in the temple of Bahamut in Baldur's Gate.

Fate, it seemed, had other plans though, and she was one of those snatched up and implanted with a tadpole. In some ways, this changed her life completely from what she had thought it would be, but in another, it has changed nothing. If anything, her Oath and being a shield for the people who can't defend themselves has become more important than ever.

(She's intended to be something akin to a classic knight in shining armor. But one that just happens to be 3 feet tall. :) )

She remembers killing, inflicting pain. On many people, in many places. And then a sudden sharp, painful moment when the one being killed was her. Who did that she doesn't know. Her memory is full of holes, and most what she does remember is the killings. Which at least feels comforting and exhilarating. But she does know that someone did this to her, and that someone is going to pay for it.

There is a name. Dhalia. She doesn't know if it is her name, but she has decided to use it for now. Waking up on an ilithid ship was not something she expected, but at least it gives her a direction to go in. As in, away from ilithids and Avernus.

However, to do so will require allies. The first such is an intellect devourer, one subdued to obey her with a sharp nail applied to its brain/body with surgical precision.

An attempt to get a human released and put under her command did not go so well however.

She has met a githyanki, but that one is not someone she could subdue and command. At least not easily or quickly, and they don't have much time.

Eventually, escape they did. A bit of exploring and scavenging soon had Dhalia in some clothes and armor, and with a few more allies.

[paniqueetpeur]

So I binge-watched What We Do In the Shadows in four days and I have many thoughts.

Nandor. He. Him. The boy. I adore this man. Season three was real rough on him, ever since episode four when he really started to consider what his existence entails. After Colin Robinson explained to him the concept of the Big Bang, Nandor suddenly had to realize how small and insignificant his life is. 700 years and he had this all dumped on him in one night. He then spends the rest of the season trying to find something to make him happy, to give him purpose. He joins a cult thinking becoming human might bring him joy. It kinda does, but Guillermo pulls him out of that (partially because it’s a friggin cult, mostly because he is hella gay). He tries to take a 100 year nap thinking that maybe he can escape his feelings. Guillermo interrupts that plan about four times. Nandor tries to go on a solo trip around the world thinking that may be it. Guillermo interrupts once more, physically fighting him until Nandor the Relentless relents for the third time in three episodes and decides to take a midnight train with him to start their journey. Guillermo has been consistently looking after Nandor, checking up in him, keeping him from doing terribly stupid shit, and even when he was lonely- Guillermo stopped him from ever actually being alone. Then the end of season three happened where Laszlo locked Guillermo in a coffin heading to England. While I am terribly excited for Nadja and Guillermo’s future interactions, this also means that he was never able to make it to Nandor. Nandor was left at the train station, with Guillermo’s luggage to board the train alone. Alone. The one person who had been there with him, stopping him from being alone, has now left him. This has to be a devastating betrayal to Nandor and honestly I was not ready for this last episode.

Nadja. The lady. The queen. Absolute icon that she is. She has achieved a position of high power where she can be respected and looked up to as opposed to the very poor life she grew up in. Unfortunately this place is located in England which her beloved Laszlo loathes. She will only take this position if he goes with her. He convinces her that he will, but instead shoves Guillermo in his place for her to find when they are in England. This will be the first time in hundreds of years where they will be apart from each other. She will be going through a very similar situation to what Nandor will be going through. The one person who has been there for them for years (in this case hundreds) has seemingly left and betrayed them. However, she has Guillermo and I am thrilled to see how this will play out. Guillermo and Nadja have lived with each other for 12 years, but they have never been close. Nadja mostly pushes people away who aren’t Laszlo or the doll of her younger self- actually scratch that she pushed her away one episode too. Guillermo is someone who can get shit done like no one else, but she had never been kind or respectful to him. Now they have a mutual bond over being bamboozled by Laszlo which will hopefully introduce an actual bond between the two. The mutual grief from being away from their loved ones will forge a truly fascinating and fun friendship.

Guillermo. Holy shit this entire show is just about his transformation to him becoming a BAMF. I think it’s incredibly hard not to adore this man. He clearly cares about these vampire clowns he is surrounded with, simultaneously he batshit insane. Like he has murdered 40-something vampires, countless more humans, casually partakes in criminal activity, all while being disrespected and under appreciated by the people he PAYS to live with. So I know plenty of people have talked about that fight scene is s3ep10 but like…. I cannot resist. After Nandor tries to leave him twice, Guillermo physically fights him to prevent those two times from becoming a third. Oddly enough it works! He is all set to join Nandor on the train that will officially be the start of months just traveling together. Nandor has even brought his luggage to the train station (containing the dolls of himself and Nandor he has become highly attached to) while Guillermo says what he thinks is his final goodbye to Laszlo and Nadja. Then he is shoved into a coffin and shipped off to England. Finally he is together with Nandor like he wanted, and it is taken from him. The only version of them that are together, are the dolls that Nandor leaves behind. I dunno man just hit me with the lonely vibes y’know.

Laszlo. I have such a soft spot for him because he really just tries his hardest to make the people around him happy. He is an immensely supportive husband, encouraging Nadja to sing despite her questionable singing capability, carving a beautiful topiary of her (no not the vulva one but that too), the only reason why he doesn’t like Gregor is because every time he is reincarnated is because he makes Nadja sad. He finds out that Colin Robinson is going to die on his 100th birthday and spends the last weeks of his life trying to make the best possible experience for him. Then he tries to throw the best possible birthday party for him too. When he dons the persona of Jackie Daytona, he becomes incredibly invested in the girl’s volleyball team making sure they go to finals no matter what, and generally being kind to everyone else in the town before he has to flee. Hell, when he has to take money from Sean, he is so guilt-ridden that he decides that he has to pay him back completely, actually giving him much more money than he owed him to get Sean out of debt. This plan was entirely concocted by Guillermo because he is the only one who possesses braincells, however the intent is what I’m focusing on. He is such a beautiful man. Then when Colin is reborn into a horrifying baby, he decides that he must care for it because who else will be able to defend him. Truly he is helpless. This man has the biggest heart and I hope to see more of it throughout his adventures in being a highly dysfunctional father in season four. That being said, he still left his wife which he cares for deeply and I assume he is weighed with guilt for that as well. Season four seems like it will be a conflict of the heart for him, his love for Nadja and his love for Colin fighting throughout. I mean the season will still be wild but, emotions y’know. I’m very excited to see where it will go from here.

Collin Robinson. Literally what the fuck. Oatmeal man is some sort of horrifying Phoenix. Terrifying.

[royallyjoon]

nephilim (trois)

you know where the cred goes 💙

cult au, supernatural au

yandere! ot7 x f! reader

warnings: yandere themes, violent behavior

life away from the kims resumed as normal and you warily readjusted to the boys’ presence in your life. although you gained their company, you also gained a new enemy. you should take extra care not to forget your place, as internal and external forces are constantly at work. the question is: do they work in or against your favor? the hours wind on, and strange occurrences only get stranger. after all, ichabod is most awake in the dark.

-----------------------------------------—————

In your dream, you saw Jimin, but he was not the same person that you had met earlier that day. 

He stood atop Ichabod Chapel, combing through his black hair with his hand and looking down at you with brown eyes. But rather than the warm, twinkling eyes you recognized, his glistened in the moonlight, cold and hardened like topaz. 

Despite the distance, you somehow managed to see him clearly. You could see his smile, warm and affectionate, completely unlike the gaze in his eyes. He looked as though he couldn’t care less about what was happening around him--his sole focus was on you.

He was dressed in pitch black clothes from head to toe, which were soaked in some foreign substance.

 The clothes clung to him in a way that should have been uncomfortable, but he looked as though he couldn’t be bothered to change. In fact, he looked as though he relished in the substance.

Strangest of all were the magnificent black wings that rested on his back, curving their way through the shadows to reach up toward the night sky.

You eyes shot open as you woke with a start. It was still early, early enough that you could have gotten an extra hour or so of sleep, but you decided to just stay awake. Your dream had been much too unsettling...

You played around on your phone, internally debating your response to Jimin before typing something and sending it.

That’s so kind of you. I’m glad we met as well :)

You heard your mother’s knock on the door some time later. With a sigh, you lifted yourself from the warmth and safety of your sheets, getting prepared to brave the day.

--------------------------------------———————

The moment you entered the upperclassmen building, you were yanked to the side and pulled into an empty classroom. You looked up in alarm but relaxed when you saw who it was.

Mana gripped you with something akin to fear, glancing around suspiciously to make sure the coast was clear. Once they were satisfied, they closed the door and hugged you tightly. “(Y/N), you whore! You have no idea how worried I was. How dare you not text me last night? How long did you spend over there? What happened?”

You smiled at your best friend’s antics, their overprotectiveness chipping away at your lingering unease from this morning. 

You recounted your experience at the Kim household, telling them about the beautiful, secluded home in the woods, the brothers’ actions, their graceful talent of a mother, and the demanding presence of their father.

“Honestly, I was a little scared.” you recounted, sliding your bag off your shoulder. “There were so many things to be wary of, but I just spent the whole evening being as polite as possible.” 

They nodded along, engrossed in your story.

“Mayor Kim is seriously intimidating, and Mrs. Kim read my fortune—said something about power and being careful of the people around me--and the library, Mana, you would have loved it-”

“Hold on, girl! Back up.” Mana interrupted. “The mayor’s wife said what?”

“Oh,” you slowed down. “Mrs. Kim touched my palm and said I held a lot of wisdom and power, I guess within me, and that I should be wary of those around me because they may try to take it.”

They gave you a pointed look. “I knew it. The second I saw Jimin look at the empty seat next to you from the front of the classroom, I got a bad feeling. To think the warning would come from his own mother...”

“What does that mean?” You asked, furrowing your brows.

“I think you should just continue to be wary of the Kims...” Mana murmured, crossing their arms. “I know we always play it safe, but the closer to them you get, the more peril you’ll be in.”

You sat down in an empty chair. The possibilities for being hurt in this town were certainly far from rare, after all. But for them to claim the brothers would try to hurt you, even though you did nothing to provoke them...?

“Mana, do you think they might try to do something to me?”

They shrugged. “I’ve said what I felt I needed to say.”

“But steal my ‘power’?” You held up two fingers and scrunched them for air quotations. “What could the most influential people in town possibly want with me or my supposed power? What would they even do with it?”

What power do I have?

Mana looked at you concernedly while you pondered your own question.

Power? To you, it was overrated. Power was nothing but an elite show of force, all over the world but especially in this town. It was used and lorded over others, and ripped families apart. You did not consider yourself very powerful. 

You remembered your obedience toward Mr. Kim in spite of your fear and suspicion, and the way you had to rub your mother’s back as she heaved up everything she ate on the side of the road after leaving their house.

Yeah...power was currently far from your grasp.

You shrugged. You were going to follow Mrs. Kim’s warning either way; after all, nothing good came of being too expressive or open in this town.

Mana turned away from you as you both heard the bell ring for the fifteen minute warning. You picked up your bag as they led the way out the door and up the stairs toward your classroom.

When you stepped into the door, you glimpsed Jimin sitting at his desk with a disturbed frown on his face. The moment he met eyes with you, however, he was all smiles.

“(Y/N)!”

You walked down the other side of the aisle and sat in your seat, turning toward him with a smile. “Morning, Jimin.”

“Good morning! Thanks for replying to my text! How was your rest? I hope you got much more sleep than yesterday night.” His eyes wouldn’t move away from yours, all big and awestruck like a puppy’s.

You nodded. “Of course! Thanks for worrying, though. You didn’t have to.”

“Of course I did. I’ll always be concerned for your safety and well-being, (Y/N). If you feel like you ever need somewhere to go or someone to confide in, feel free to reach out to me, okay?” 

His tone turned strangely serious in comparison to how he greeted you moments before, you thought. Still, you gave him a small smile. 

“Sure, Jimin. I really appreciate your concern and the offer...”

He beamed and nodded, turning to give his greetings to Mana, who seemed surprise that they were being spoken to at all. As they conversed, you reached into your bag and pulled out your materials for the morning lesson.

“Did you end up choosing a mythological creature for your project yet?” Jimin asked.

Their mouth twitched upward. “My partner and I decided to research nymphs...I don’t know too much about them, he pretty much chose our project topic.”

They reached over and ruffled your hair. “You lucked out with (Y/N) here, she really knows her stuff.”

You scoffed and swatted their hand away from your head. “You mean I lucked out by not being partnered with your lazy self? You’re absolutely right.”

Jimin watched the two of you bicker back and forth, fighting the urge to smile.

The teacher entered the room, placing her materials on her desk. You and your peers silenced as you prepared yourself for the long day of classes.

Right here, surrounded by your community, your classmates, and your best friend...yes, this was the time where you felt the most normal. 

Deep down, you knew you wanted to leave Ichabod--without a doubt. But you feared the outside world all the same. 

The people outside wouldn’t be able to understand the things you had went through. They would giggle away your paranoia and reassure you of your safety, having no perception of the actual dangers you faced. 

They didn’t know the things that could set you off, the things that the people around you could understand with the simple exchange of a glance.

But you quieted the thoughts of your precarious future as the teacher began her lesson, falling into the routine once more.

----------------------------------------——————

Before the Kims even stepped foot into town, it was the Augustuses who ruled Ichabod with an iron fist. Their family came from old money. They had lived here for generations upon generations, their stature being crucial to the survival of the town. They oversaw the law enforcement of Ichabod. 

Nearly thirty years ago, when the town was still overrun with violence, miscreants, and chaos, the Augustuses did nothing to keep the peace. They sat from their high horse with other prominent families and watched the middle and lower classes struggle.

The then-head of the family, Rufus Augustus, was especially known for ignoring his duties.

Then Kim Moonsik stepped into town and established his position as mayor and, more importantly, as a servant of the divine Wylynne.

Once he saw how poorly Rufus acted, he fought to remove him from his position.

The man was too proud, too unwilling to give his position and title up to this “holy”, foreign newcomer. 

Mayor Kim had wanted to execute Rufus. It was his son, Aloysius, who had gotten down on both knees and begged for his safety. 

Two months later, both Rufus and his wife were sent to Wylynne as divine warriors, leaving the new head and his family to take his place.

The Augustus family were now the Kims’ right hand men: their enforcers and watchful guards within the walls of their kingdom.

The current head, Aloysius, was the chief of police, his wife, Domitia, a commander of her own squad.

Their daughter was Kim Namjoon’s aide, the vice president of the student body.

While the majority of the citizens of Ichabod feared the Kims, there were those select few who would cross the line between fear and respect. These subjects knew well enough to keep their distance away from that dangerous family, but revered them with an eery obsession.

Aemilia Augustus was one of those select few.

She was raised in luxury and privilege. The luxury of complete ease in her environment and the privilege of knowing that, no matter what she did, no normal citizen in this town was powerful enough to go against her or her parents. 

She grew up adhering to the law. The laws of Ichabod specifically, as they would apply to no other.

Aemilia thought of herself as town royalty. She essentially was, considering her family was only a step down the hierarchy from the Kims. 

Her parents were, in short, bootlickers. They trembled underneath their cloaks every monthly meeting, clutching the sophomore’s arms with grips strong enough to rival coconut crabs as they waited to see which poor, unfortunate soul Mayor Kim would call out next.

But when he called them in the middle of the night, ordering them to dispatch officers to “discipline” yet another citizen, they readily responded as if they were family friends carrying out an old grudge on behalf of the other.

Yet another reason why Aemilia found her parents’ subservience so utterly pathetic. They were subjugated to become nothing more than mindless, fearful followers.

She found her grandfather’s actions absolutely foolish. The opportunity for power and reform was well within his grasp, but his narrow mindedness prevented him from making the proper preparations. 

She did not want her parents’ life for herself, nor did she see it anywhere in her future. 

Aemilia wanted to rule rather than be ruled. She had no intention of leaving Ichabod--rather, she saw herself marrying one of Mayor Kim’s sons, the best son, and ruling beside him as his queen.

All of the students at Ichabod Academy knew her name and prestige. She felt that she had the entire school underneath her beck and call. 

She never had to explicitly say what she wanted, because everyone else was already prepared to grant her wish. After all, who was brave, or stupid, enough to go against her? 

Imagine her surprise when she walked into the cafeteria the next day and spotted you, seated with Kim Jimin, Kim Taehyung, and Kim Jungkook, smiling up a storm.

A little nobody doing something no one, not even she, had ever gotten to--she’d never heard your name before, she thought to herself, whispering to one of her friend’s to tell her who you were.

You were driving a nail into her carefully crafted plans.

And if you thought you would get away with it, you clearly had another thing coming.

-------------------------------------———————

Your cheeks were starting to hurt.

All you had wanted to do was go get lunch with Mana and Jimin. You skipped breakfast this morning, as usual, and your stomach was growling throughout the majority of morning classes.

When you had jumped up to run off to the cafeteria, you slammed into Taehyung, who had been waiting for you by the door. He in turn backed up into Jungkook, who was standing silently behind him. 

The long, black haired boy caught his older brother with one hand and prevented you both from falling. 

Apologies spilled out of your mouth and Taehyung grinned his boxy grin, apologizing for scaring you. He pounced on Jimin soon after, wrapping an arm around his shoulder.

“Jimin told me about you guys going to the cafeteria for lunch! I really miss the three of us eating together, and getting to know you yesterday was so much fun, (Y/N)! Would you mind if we joined you...?”

He turned those puppy eyes on you and you found yourself with no reason to refuse. You nodded yes, despite feeling Mana’s laser vision tearing into the back of your skull.

Thus, here you are.

If entering the cafeteria with one Kim yesterday caused some whispers, you knew today would cause full on conversations.

You smiled awkwardly at the brothers with your lunch tray in front of you, suddenly having lost your appetite. Then you clapped your hands together.

“Ah! How rude of me--Taehyung, Jungkook, please meet Mana. They’ve been my best friend since childhood. Mana, this is Jungkook and Taehyung.”

Mana waved in a good natured manner at the boys. You tensed as you watched the interaction. 

Taehyung eyed them suspiciously, and you surmised that he was giving them the same “test” that you received yesterday afternoon. Thankfully, his lips split into that broad grin once more as he leapt across the table to pull them into a hug. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you!” He cheered.

They grunted, sending you a look of bewilderment over his shoulder. “Yeah, you too...?”

Jungkook mumbled out his greetings soon after.

After Jimin finished scolding Taehyung and he calmed down, the conversation took off. It was hard not to feel relaxed around Jimin and Taehyung together, for their exuberant natures made for fun conversations. You even felt Mana lowering their guard a bit, cracking some jokes that had the four of you disappearing underneath the tables in giggles.

Once again, you were almost able to forget what life was like in this town. You slipped into a comfortable sense of normalcy, picturing yourself as five school friends who had recently met.

Nevertheless, you never should have let your guard down. You never should have forgotten your place.

And by the time you did remember, it was far too late.

A cold substance spilling over you shocked you into reality, your vision obscured by a bubbly, brown trail dripping down your back, over your hair, and landing in your lap, staining your skirt.

The cafeteria, once boisterous, went completely silent. 

You heard a stifled snicker from behind you just as someone else began to speak.

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry. Are you alright?”

You turned around and spotted none other than Aemilia Augustus, standing there with her spotless uniform and lunch tray held firmly in her hands.

 Behind her were her two best friends, Brooklyn and Constance...one of whom did not have a lunch tray.

It appeared to be on the floor directly behind you, half of its contents spilled over your back and the other half over your head.

“My dear friend wasn’t watching where she was going and ended up tripping.” Aemilia continued, turning around to face one of them. “Constance, why aren’t you apologizing?”

The blonde had one hand over her mouth and another behind her back. She removed her hand from her mouth, which you presumed was meant to hide her smile, and stepped forward. 

She bowed a little. “I’m so sorry. I can get someone to pay for your laundry bill, or I could buy you lunch next time?”

You felt Mana's eyes on you, but surprisingly, the first person you looked at was not Mana or Constance, nor was it Aemilia. 

You met eyes with Jungkook across the table. His dark eyes glinted dangerously, glued onto Constance and her every action. Taehyung and Jimin shared his look, glaring at the blonde. Taehyung’s hand clenched into a fist on the table, crushing the soda can he held in his hand.

The brothers met your gaze, waiting to see what you would do next.

You blinked the brown liquid out of your eyes and turned to her with a politically polite smile. “It’s fine, everyone makes mistakes. I’m pretty clumsy myself. There’s no need to pay for anything, I can just wash my uniform when I get back home. All is forgiven.” 

How extremely like you, the brothers thought. How extremely like you to not draw attention to yourself at the behest of these hags.

The whispers picked back up in the cafeteria and Aemilia sent you a smile right back. She walked over to the table, stepping into the space between you and Jimin. 

She gently set her tray onto the table, picked up the napkins on your tray, and proceeded to wipe some of it off your face.

“I’m glad you forgave Constance for her mistake, but still, sitting in a dirty uniform all day probably won’t be comfortable.” She spoke placatingly. 

You were momentarily frozen, mystified by her treating you like a child. At least you could see clearly again.

She put the napkin down. “Why don’t you come with me to the student council office for now? We can get you a new uniform there.”

“Oh, you don’t have to go that far-”

“She’s right, you don’t want to have to sit in sticky food for the rest of the day. I’ll come with you,” Mana interrupted with a tone that left no room for permission. 

Mana stood, pulling you up with them. They picked up both your bags, kicked the tray back in the blonde’s direction, and followed Aemilia’s lead out the cafeteria and away from the callous whispers.

As you walked out, Constance smirked, squeezing the Pepsi can hidden behind her back. 

After the three of you left, Jimin slowly lifted his gaze, casting it onto Aemilia’s friends.

They scrambled to clean up the mess, bowing multiple times. 

Before Brooklyn and Constance could scurry away, however, Taehyung lifted a hand, pointing his finger at the blonde. He bent it in a “come here” gesture. She inched over, trying and failing to hide her giddy expression. 

She clutched the tray of trash in her hands, her heart pounding in her ears as the younger sophomore leaned toward her. 

He whispered something in her ear, a malicious smile creeping its way onto his face. 

Constance paled and she stilled. The tray she was holding went crashing to the floor. 

Jimin smirked as he looked at the filth, living and non-living, and picked his bag up, swinging it over his shoulder. Jungkook scoffed and glared at them, prompting them to finally leave. 

Brooklyn picked up Aemilia’s tray and pulled at Constance. The blonde managed to unfreeze herself and walked away trembling. What she was trembling from--fear or admiration--no one could tell. 

The brothers looked at each other and nodded. They stood in unison and left the cafeteria.

-----------------------------------------—————

You had thought yesterday was going to be the most eventful day of your life, but clearly, Wylynne had more in store for you than you could ever imagine.

Not only was your uniform left a mess, but your stomach was growling louder than ever, considering you had been too shocked to eat your meal.

You traipsed down the hallway, cringing as you felt the stickiness of the soda travel from your thighs to your socks.

Now that you were no longer in the heat of the moment, you re-examined your response. You seriously doubted just how clean you’d be able to get in the bathroom. You were honestly thankful for Aemilia’s offer and for Mana insisting you take it.

Of course, you could have gone the rest of the day in your soda soaked mess of a uniform out of sheer pride, but now you wouldn’t have to.

Mana kept you right beside them as Aemilia walked ahead, her strawberry blonde pony tail swinging gently with each step she took.

Aemilia Augustus reeked of luxury and privilege. She did so in a way that few could ever come after her for it, you observed.

She exuded grace like Mrs. Kim did, but hers was different. She looked as though she felt she earned everything she got. 

Rather than Mrs. Kim’s gentle elegance, Aemilia was righteous and indifferent. She knew her place, and reveled in it.

“That witch has something to do with this,” Mana harshly and quickly whispered in your ear. “Now you’ve done it. You’ve incurred the wrath of Strawberry Shortcake and her she-devils.”

“It’s fine,” you whispered back. “We know she didn’t do it, and she’s offering to give me a new uniform before class starts. It’s fine.”

You cut Mana off with a look, internally suppressing a rising negative attitude. There were too many eyes on you, too many ears around you.

Aemilia led the two of you to the third floor, walking until she reached a room at the end of the hall. 

She pulled out a key and put it in the door, unlocking it. “Usually, we aren’t supposed to be in here during school hours to ensure that we’re working diligently in classes, but as the student body vice president, I have a key.” She winked and swung open the door.

“Now about that-oh!”

Aemilia stopped short and you walked behind her, peering over her shoulder. 

Several windows lined the room, lighting it up with the midday sun. It was moderately sized, like that of a classroom. A wooden table set up in the middle with black, rolling chairs pushed up against the edge of the table. 

Kim Namjoon sat at the head of the table, several papers spread out around him and glasses perched on his nose. He looked up, peeved at the intrusion.

“Aemilia...to what do I owe the pleasure?”

The strawberry blonde smiled. “Good afternoon, Mr. President. I have a student here who went through a bit of an accident at lunch. We’re just coming to get her a change of clothes.”

Namjoon made no reaction when he spotted you behind Aemilia. He nodded at her, gave his greetings to you and Mana with a small smile, and turned back to the paperwork.

Aemilia waved, implying the two of you could follow her in. The floor was made of a royal blue, lush carpet, and you winced as you dirtied it with your wet shoes. “What are your sizes, (Y/N)?” She questioned.

“I’m a (size) for the shirt and (size) for the skirt.” You quietly stated.

She nodded and walked to the back of the room and disappeared around a corner into what you presumed was an atrium of sorts. You heard a door open and the shuffling of clothes.

Mana entered, sitting on one of the seats lined up against the wall. You stood by one of the walls and peered out of the nearest window.

In the distance, you could see the dark leaves of the forest trees peeking over the tops of buildings and homes. Different students were making their way across the quad, heading back to afternoon classes. You sighed and placed a hand over your stomach.

“Here you are!” Aemilia returned with a uniform shirt and skirt in your size as well as a brand new pack of socks on a hanger. “Usually, the emergency uniforms cost students some additional funds, but you won’t have to worry about paying for it. This one’s on the house.”

You took the hanger gingerly. “Please, you’ve already done so much. The least I can do is pay. I’ll be making it out to the student council?”

Aemilia shook her head. “You really don’t have to, it was Constance’s fault. I’ll do you this favor for her.”

You smiled. “I insist. Please tell me how much is it.”

Aemilia leered at you, her eyes searching for whatever you possessed that made you think you even had the right to challenge her.

This bitch.

“If you insist! It’ll be $30. You can make it out via cash or check to the student council. It’s due by the end of the week.” 

You nodded and gave both students a bow. “I’m so sorry to have disturbed your day. I’ll be going off to class now.”

Aemilia returned your courtesy and Namjoon gave you a small wave.

You locked arms with Mana, left the student council room and headed to the bathroom. 

-----------------------------------------—————

“I’m telling you! There’s something so messed up about that girl!” Mana complained loudly as you stood in the bathroom. You unbuttoned your shirt and proceeded to clean soda residue off your chest, arms, and legs.

Ichabod Academy consisted of three types of bathrooms: men’s restrooms, women’s restrooms, and a gender neutral restroom. There was only one and it was jammed into the basement, and it was your and Mana’s safe space because hardly anyone else ever came down here.

“Even if there is, what am I going to do, call her out on it?” You muttered as you took off your socks, wiping as much of the stickiness as possible off with a warm, wet napkin.

You dried your arms and threw the rest of the napkins away, then went into a stall and took your clothes off completely, changing into the new uniform. “I don’t have the mental energy required to play her mind games today. How much time do I have left?”

“Fifteen minutes.” They said, unlocking and locking their phone. “No, but you seriously haven’t heard of her? Of what she does to people who get too close to the Kims?”

“There’s been someone else getting close to the Kims?” You questioned dryly, pulling the socks on.

“Got, as in past tense, love. Anyone who associates with the Kims excessively, according to her, in any form or fashion has died by her hand.” Mana said. “She practically worships the ground they walk on.”

“She wouldn’t be the only one,” you replied nonchalantly.

“You remember Grace Ster?”

“The girl from our freshman class who left to be homeschooled?” You frowned, buttoning up your shirt.

“Yes! The only reason why she was sent home is because Aemilia blew a fit and ended up tormenting the poor thing until she didn’t want to show up anymore!” Mana said. 

“All Grace did was hold hands with Kim Taehyung. In drama class. For a skit!” You could see them throwing their arms up in disbelief through the crack of the stall door. “That’s why I had you go along with her. If you kept being so stubborn, she might have publicly humiliated you even more in the cafeteria. I wanted to make sure she didn’t get the chance.” 

“Oh...thanks, Mana.” You smiled slightly. 

You walked out the stall and folded your dirty uniform, placing it inside your book bag. You didn’t really have a response, not necessarily shocked by Aemilia’s nature. Something had told you she was different than the persona she made an effort to display.

You washed your hands and slung your bag over your shoulder. “We should just get back before we’re late.”

Mana patted you on the back as you dejectedly walked back to class.

-----------------------------------------—————

When you stepped into the classroom, you got a number of looks and comments, people whispering under their breath about how you dared to anger the queen bee. 

Jimin had, once more, been waiting for you. “(Y/N)! Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine.” You said. “Aemilia gave me a new uniform to change into.”

As you sat down, your stomach growled loudly. 

Jimin’s eyes snapped back up to meet yours. “You didn’t get to eat, did you? She dragged you out before you could even touch your food.”

You shrugged. “I’ll just eat after school. It’s not the first time I’ve gone without eating and I’m sure it won’t be the last.”

Jimin eyed you worriedly as Mrs. Hargrove burst into the room, full of nervous energy as usual. “Good afternoon, students!”

You and your classmates chorused greetings in return. You internally sighed at how long of a day this was turning out to be. 

Jimin continued to fret over you throughout the rest of afternoon classes. You kept reassuring him that you were fine. No, you didn’t need anything from the vending machine, yes you would tell him if you got too hungry.

You reminded yourself that he wasn’t Mana or one of your other classmates--you wouldn’t be able to tell him off, even if you kind of wanted to.

The end of the school day finally arrived and you walked out the double doors between Mana and Jimin.

Jimin pulled you toward him. His brothers stood several feet away from the rest of the student body, watching as Driver Bin pulled up to the corner.

“(Y/N).” Jimin smiled at you, but the look in his eyes was serious. “Remember, you’re much, much stronger than you think you are.” 

He reached his hand down to gently squeeze at yours, and held onto your hand for a bit more before letting it go. “Those petty people are nothing compared to you.”

He let go of your hand and walked toward his four brothers, who began climbing into the vehicle. Hoseok and Taehyung lifted their arms to wave goodbye, and you lifted yours in a half-hearted wave as they pulled away.

You stepped to the side and on one of the benches outside of the school. Mana stood next to you, leaning against a pillar.

You eyed students warily as they linked arms to walk home together in bunches or ran to the curve of the street in front of the school to hop into their parent’s cars. 

A glossy, strawberry blonde ponytail soon caught your attention as it hit the light of the afternoon sun. 

You watched Aemilia walk toward a gray car resting beside the curb, her hair perfect as usual. She waved farewell to her friends and made eye contact with you over their shoulders.

The girl glanced at you. Her eyes were teeming with disgust, but all she did was smile at you as she bent down to sit in the car.

Should I be scared? You thought to yourself as her driver closed the door. They drove away, heading toward the Augustus residence at the center of the city.

Mana popped a bubble of their chewing gum. “(Y/N), your mom’s here.”

You lifted your head and spotted your mother’s familiar car making its way down the pickup line. 

You stood up, brushing off the back of your skit and walked with Mana to the car. When Mana entered the backseat, your mother scoffed with a smile. “What’s this?”

They beamed and blinked rapidly at your mother. “Oh please, Aunty (M/N), won’t you take this poor child home?”

You giggled as your mom rolled her eyes. “Just put your seatbelt on, Manareyyn.”

Mana gasped and hushed her. “Not the full name, Aunty! Am I a complete stranger to you?”

You laughed, feeling relaxed in the presence of your loved ones.

When you got home, you had the interesting combination of leftover takeout and your mother’s cooking for a meal. 

You put both school uniforms in the wash and informed your mother of what happened at school. She prepared the funds for the council and handed the check to you. 

You went upstairs and took a shower, washed your hair, and completed some homework assignments.

Soon enough, you both turned in for the night.

-----------------------------------------—————

Later that evening at the Kim residence, Namjoon stood outside of Jimin’s room. The younger boy had summoned him and the rest of their siblings for some kind of conference, but he wasn’t keen on staying too long.

He sighed and knocked on the door.

“Come in,” Jimin’s voice sounded from the other side. Namjoon twisted the doorknob and pushed it open.

The rest of the brothers were already in the room, he noted, seated on Jimin’s king sized bed.  

He shrugged in response to their irritated gazes and climbed onto the mattress.

“Now that everyone’s here,” Taehyung stated, side-eyeing Namjoon, “we can properly begin our discussion.”

“How long is this going to take?” Hoseok interrupted. “I have several assignments that need to be completed, and dances to choreograph.”

“Yes, and I have stacks of paperwork I need to finish for student council.” Namjoon sighed.

Jimin leaned back. “You don’t necessarily have to be here-”

Hoseok leapt up, walking over to the door. 

“-unless, of course, you wish to know how to help our angel.”

The senior stopped in his tracks and looked over at Jimin, gaze darkening.

“I thought we agreed that we wouldn’t help (Y/N),” Jungkook said, playing a game on his phone. “Namjoon hyung said that she needed to come to us on her own.”

“I still stand by that statement. The more we pressure her, the more she’ll back away.” Namjoon coolly replied. “She’ll come find us, of her own volition, eventually.” 

“Then what are you talking about?” Hoseok asked.

“It appears that people at school are mistaken about who deserves the most respect from them,” Taehyung said. 

“Your subordinate stepped out of line today, Namjoon hyung.” Jimin followed.

The older boy shifted his gaze onto his younger brothers. He thought back to today’s lunch period when (Y/N) and her friend entered the student council room. The girl had shifted uncomfortably where she stood, and he thought he’d heard the faint sound of a stomach growling.

Hoseok scoffed at his silence and turned to look at him. “Don’t tell me it was the Augustus bitch. I told you to throw her away ages ago.”

“No, it was one of her underlings,” Namjoon stated, recalling the girls’ conversation. “The blonde airhead in love with Taehyung, Constance. She must have ‘accidentally’ spilled her lunch all over (Y/N), no doubt directed by Aemilia herself.”

Taehyung glowered at the reminder. When he leaned over to whisper into Constance’s ear, the idiot was smiling as if it was the best day of her life. The acrid smell of her perfume made him gag. It nearly suffocated him. 

It was nothing like (Y/N)’s. Her scent caressed him from afar and washed over him when they were close, promising warmth and consolation.

Her scent was probably ruined by the stunt that scum pulled in the cafeteria.

When he saw Constance holding the soda can, he’d wanted to reach his hand around her neck and-

“Ah, I see.” Namjoon smiled, his realization coming full force. “So, you want to prepare a lesson of sorts.”

Jimin nodded. “People need to be well aware of how to treat (Y/N) before and especially after she takes her place by our side. This can a good teaching moment.”

“Okay,” Hoseok hummed. “And how are you going to go about doing that?”

“Like Namjoon hyung said, we can’t directly interfere without it being too obvious.” Taehyung said. “But-”

“-there’s no reason as to why we can’t distribute due punishment.” Jungkook finished, his lips twitching into a smile.

Namjoon grinned, nodding. “How about the three of you tell me everything you saw in the cafeteria this afternoon...spare no details.”

-----------------------------------------—————

Chance Pierre was a quiet kid. He never bothered anybody and preferred to focus on his studies.

Students often found him tutoring a classmate in between classes or reading in the library, and they nicknamed him the freshmen class’ Kim Namjoon. Not that they could say it so loudly around the guy’s younger brother, Kim Jungkook.

Chance Pierre dreamed of becoming rich and influential enough to come back to the town, save the people inside, and burn the Kims to the ground.

He wanted to find a way out of Ichabod using his intellect. He would appeal to Mayor Kim, explain how he hoped to bring excellence to the town by pursuing his academic career and spreading the word about Wylynne and all of the moon’s grace.

Surely, the mayor would let him take his intellectual influence outside. And he would be able to escape the hellish nightmare that was this town.

Thankfully, he and Jungkook were not in the same class. Even though Chance was at the top of his specific class, if he wanted to place first in the entire freshman class, he would eventually have to confront the youngest of the Kims. A conflict he’d been readily avoiding.

Still, despite his academic prestige, he was still what high schoolers would call a “nerd”. He was bullied by his peers, the same peers that he wanted to spare. They mocked him for his financial status, for his intellect. The goddess forbid he ever share his dream of leaving Ichabod, for they would mock him for that as well.

Chance entered his home and it was quiet, as usual. His parents worked late hours and he often had no one to talk to. The spirits in the walls were his friends, he liked to joke.

He took his shoes off and just as he was about to turn to go upstairs, something was thrown over his head. 

His vision went dark and he immediately began to struggle. He kicked and fought, his breaths rapidly increasing. The inside of the material was coated in what smelled like bleach and alcohol.

Chloroform.

Chance tried to hold his breath, cursing himself for struggling earlier, but he only delayed the inevitable. The boy’s movements slowed and his assailant pulled the bag around his head tighter and tighter until he blacked out.

Hours later, the police station was visited by his mother in the early morning, the woman hysterically crying and clutching onto Chance’s discarded book bag as she reported her son’s abduction.

-----------------------------------------—————

You were awoken by your mother entering your room. You looked up at her inquisitively, trying to blink the sleep out of your eyes. 

You both had several hours of rest left, so why...?

She wordlessly approached your bed and lifted the covers, and you scooted backward to give her space. She lay down next to you, slipping her arm under your head.

You felt her press a kiss to your forehead. She started playing with your hair and humming a little, like she used to do when you were little. You drifted back to sleep in the comfort of her arms.

Yet in the morning, she was gone again, off to work an early shift at the hospital. 

It was a gray, rainy day today. 

Mana’s dad had been the one to take you to school that morning, and both he and his child chuckled as they saw you running out the door with a clothing bag and your book bag in the rain. You had entered the car squealing from the cold water droplets.

When you walked into the building, you had almost expected another horrible, suspicious “accident”.

If only that had been the case.

You and Mana entered the lobby to find your classmates gathering around the school bulletin board, where another missing poster had been put up.

A freshman. He’d been taken sometime last night, you gathered from the horde of students in front of you. 

The boy looked slightly familiar to you; he was probably someone you were accustomed to passing in the halls.

You sighed, your heart falling in your chest. That was probably why your mother was clinging to you in your sleep this morning...

You met eyes with Mana’s, whose own flashed with sadness and anger. 

There was no telling where this kid was going to show up again. If he was lucky, he would make it back to his family in one piece. If not...

The double doors opened again, bringing in an icy breeze with them, and the halls instantly silenced. You turned away from the crowd and watched as the Kim brothers walked in. 

Jungkook strolled along with his head held high and headphones in his ears, indifferent to all the stares. 

Namjoon walked through the students, smirking as they parted for him with Hoseok, calm as can be, a couple of feet behind him. 

Contrary to yesterday’s kind and bubbly energy, Taehyung had a dangerous glower on his face. Jimin was expressionless, his eyes glued forward as the brothers made their way to their respective buildings.

If they noted the amount of students surrounding the bulletin board, they certainly did not show it. There was no sign of concern, or pain anywhere in their expression.

This was why the Kims, while so close, felt so distant from the rest of the student body. 

It’s one thing to live in a town like Ichabod and experience the horrible things that happen here. It’s another thing to refuse to look deeper and question everything around you.

It’s another thing to live here and think that these types of occurrences are alright. 

You shivered. Yes, you remind yourself. This is the atmosphere. This is the place I am in.

You were not in a normal high school or a normal town. The law of your land simply could not compare with that of anywhere else.

Never far behind them, Aemilia Augustus entered, her posse at her back. She followed the Kims, a serene, pleased smile on her face. 

No doubt she had knowledge of what had happened to that freshman, but she would never tell.

She passed by you and Mana, looking you up and down.

That one glance told you more than anything you had gathered in your conversation yesterday.

This is the difference between us, it proclaimed. I am safe on the inside, while you are disposable on the outside. 

You are nothing. 

Aemilia walked past the two of you, continuing on her way to class. Brooklyn and Constance followed behind her, staring dead ahead. 

The blonde was far from her usual picture perfect attire--her uniform was wrinkled, she was dragging her feet, and her eyes were red and puffy. She made no move to look at you or Mana, seemingly caught up in her thoughts.

Soon after they left, movement in the halls returned to normal as students walked to their classes. At some point, you finally forced yourself to move. 

The chill from the rain and wind settled in your bones and you shivered on your way to class.

The teacher had not arrived yet, as usual. Your classmates didn’t even have the heart to discuss rumors or joke around. Every movement seemed to break the silence.

You walked down the aisle and sat next to Jimin, waving at him in greeting. He gave you a small smile in return. You silently took your books out your bag, not wanting to bother him anymore after this morning’s display.

The cold couldn’t seem to leave you alone. Your shivers persisted and within a few moments, you were shaking so badly you couldn’t hold your pencil straight.

Mana sent you a concerned look but you waved them off, circling your finger to tell them to turn back around.

You put your writing utensil down and tried to hold your own hand still when you felt Jimin shift next to you.

He caught sight of your trembling fingers and he removed his school cardigan, handing it to you. 

You tried to refuse his offer, pushing the fabric back into his hold, but he spread it out, draped it over your shoulder, and lifted your hand to slip one of your arms through.

What is it with people thinking I don’t know how to take care of myself? You thought as you gently pulled your arms from his hand, slipping them into the cardigan and pulled it closed. 

He watched with a satisfied smile as it draped down your sides and shifted in his seat to resume his staring ahead.

You thought back to the other night. 

His gaze was just as caring, just as frigid as the one from your dream. 

You shivered again, hiding it by shifting in your seat. The class sat in silence until your first period teacher walked in. Without another word, she quickly began her lesson.

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

During lunch, Mana had to go to a meeting with one of the teachers, and Jimin and his brothers were nowhere to be found (not that you were dying to sit with them), so you took the opportunity to clear your debt with the student council.

You walked up to the third floor and went to the end of the hallway, fiddling with the paper and clothing bag in your hands. As you approached the door, you tentatively turned the knob and found that it was still locked.

You were contemplating sliding the envelope under the door when a voice sounded out from behind you. 

“What have we here?”

You turned and found Kim Namjoon leaning against the wall behind you. He didn’t have his glasses on today, but wore a playful and righteous look on his face. 

“(Y/N) ah, it’s wonderful to see you. I see Jiminie is still making sure to take good care of you.” He smiled in a good natured manner and you flushed, remembering the sweater your classmate practically dressed you in himself.

“Yeah...it’s been really chilly,” you muttered. You bowed slightly in greeting. “Good morning.”

“How have you been?”

“I’m alright. I didn’t want to bother, I just have the uniform I borrowed yesterday and the money I owe the council.”

Namjoon put his leg down, gently kicking off the wall and approached you. He flicked his hand toward the door. “Oh, is that so? Why didn’t you come in?”

“The door was locked-” You watched in surprise as Namjoon opened the door easily, without having pulled out a key. “...or not, I suppose.”

I must not have twisted the door hard enough because of all the stuff in my hands...

“Come on in.”

You entered the room cautiously. Namjoon took his place at the head of the table, placing his bag at his feet. “The uniforms go in the closet in the atrium, around that corner.”

You nodded and walked the same way Aemilia went yesterday. 

There didn’t appear to be much in the atrium--there were two restrooms, a vending machine, a place to hang coats and bags, and the supply closet. 

“Speaking of clothes, I apologize for not being able to assist you yesterday. I was terribly behind in some student council matters and worked all night to finish it all.” The student council president stated from behind the other section of the wall.

You hung the wardrobe up and walked back out, sliding the check in front of Namjoon on the table. “It’s completely fine, it wasn’t anything important.”

“I don’t think so,” He gestured for you to take a seat in the chair to his right. “Would you mind telling me what happened in the cafeteria?”

You hesitated, prepared to brush it all under the rug, but boy’s gaze sharpened and you found yourself taking a seat.

“It was an accident,” you began. “Someone tripped and spilled their food on me at lunch.”

Namjoon hummed. “Who was it?”

“A friend of Aemilia’s. I was sitting with Mana, Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook at lunch and we were talking, and then I felt something cold run down my face and back.” You looked down at your lap, folding and unfolding your fingers.

Namjoon rested his chin in his fist as he looked at you. “I take it that it was Constance, as Aemilia said yesterday, correct?” 

You nodded.

“So, Constance managed to trip and splatter her food all over you, and only you, as you sat at your lunch table, which is fairly out of the way of the center of the cafeteria. A table that had plenty of room for people to walk around.”

“How did you know where I was sitting?” You asked.

“Jimin informed me of the basic details, but I wanted to hear the story from your perspective.” He reasoned with a smile. “This...accident...also occurred well into the meal, when everyone else was already seated.”

You frowned. “It doesn’t sound like you think it was an accident.”

“It sounds as though she were targeting you, (Y/N).” Namjoon said, removing some papers and textbooks from his bag. “I’m simply speculating off of what I know. I’d advise you to be careful of Aemilia and her ‘acquaintances’.” He said, smiling a bit worriedly. 

You looked away, thoughts racing rapidly in your head.

You were already wary of the girl because of her status and the things you’d heard from Mana, but you found something incredibly unsettling about being warned about her from Kim Namjoon himself. 

He’s one to talk.

Namjoon asked you to spend the rest of the lunch hour with him, as he felt he needed some company to complete the rest of his documents. 

He offered to purchase snacks for the two of you, and after that you could hardly refuse. You pulled out some assignments of your own and worked in tandem.

Hazel eyes peered through a crack in the doorway of the student council room. They saw you and the student council president, sitting together as though you were the best of friends, discussing certain books or classes with an intermittent joke placed every now and then into the conversation.

Hazel eyes saw nothing but a repulsive wench taking what was supposed to be her place. Speaking to her future husband, her future king. The longer she gazed upon the heinous sight, the angrier it made her. 

She made a move to swing open the door and announce her presence, but dark brown eyes met hers through the crack and Aemilia stilled. 

She was not surprised that he had managed to sense and spot her, as she had been able to tell long ago that the president was a master of perception. Yet the usual polite warmth that she so loved was gone. It was replaced by unyielding anger. 

His eyes were alight with purple fire.

He was angry because she almost interrupted him being with you.

Aemilia let go of the handle to the student council room, letting the door click closed. She shoved past the shoulders of her minions friends, raging down the hallway until she reached an empty classroom. 

Once inside, she locked herself in there and began throwing around the desks, chairs, anything within her arms’ reach.

After she quelled her rage, she pressed her nails into her palm and decided:  no, she would not be going out like this. She would not allow that pretentious shrew to chip away and what she so carefully built, what she strove for.

(Y/N) (L/N) would soon experience hell on earth. Aemilia Augustus would make that happen. She swore it on her family name.

(Y/N) (L/N) would never return to the school in one piece, of body or of mind, as long as she could help it.

-----------------------------------------—————

~taglist~

@melaninkpops​ @loserwithapen​ @hellaspookystudent​ @ecillartto​ @omgsuperstarg​ @ace-angel-judas​ @jjamsbangtan​ @lovinggalaxies​ @lovesick-heart0​ @ksxmpoison​ @girlmeetsliv3​ @thedarkwinterrose​ @purpuravm​ @oneweirdbean​ @hopelessfountainjoonie​ @mazmaz30​ @enigmaticlove-03​ @uppiespuppy​ @queenceline22​ @kokofikats​ @taeyohonic​ @creatorspalace​

[lokilickedme]

The Way

I’m writing horror again.  I guess it’s that time, you know, that time that has nothing to do with Halloween or the seasons or whatever, that time when it just hits me for some reason.  And just like I always do, I’ll say I don’t know why.

Even though I know why, and you know I know why.

Because the truth is always so much weirder and worse and more disquieting than any excuse I could make up for it, and sometimes I just feel the need.

Today I felt the need, and I couldn’t make it go away.

And so I sat down, and words I didn’t want to write were written.

.

8592 words I would rate this Mature 18+ if it was a fic, strictly because of the subject matter.

Warnings: Death, mostly.  Religious trauma, brief descriptions of abuse, mentions of mental illness, domestic violence, grief, familial dysfunction, religious abuse, emotional abuse, medical conditions, brief mentions of drug use/abuse, mild gore in reference to corpse decomposition, psychological unease and mild terror, child abuse (mental/emotional/psychological), brief allusion to physical child abuse, cult references, loss of faith, attempted murder, possible actual murder.

A Note:  I love you guys, you’re always so quick and willing to be helpful and offer advice and suggestions and such, and I adore that about you.  But on this piece of work I ask that nobody offer any theories about what happened to my brother - medical, criminal, or otherwise - and please no suggestions on things we could do to pursue investigation, that ship has long sailed.  It’s been 23 years and he’s a cold case.  We spent years trying to sort it out but in the end it’s just something that happened, and we moved on because we had to.  There are a lot of open ends, a lot of question marks, a lot of suspicious details that never connected to anything - and we tried, we truly did.  If anyone out there knows the truth, they’ve never shown themselves to us.  We do have our theories, but my brother was a secretive person living a life none of us knew about, and the people he knew weren’t people we knew.  Everyone involved is either dead or moved on or got away with whatever it was they did, and there are only three of us who still care.  It’s over.

Until today, I’ve never put these events into words.

It was something I needed to do, finally.

This is PART ONE.  There may not be a part two, unless doing this ends up making me feel better.

Please feel free to comment if you wish.  As you can see, pretty much nothing triggers me.  I just ask that you please refrain from the type of comments noted above.

And thank you.

----------

This is, regrettably, a true story.  Nothing has been changed but the names, because the dead don’t like being talked about, and James was just enough of a shit to haunt me for it.

----------

----------

They made up their minds And they started packing They left before the sun came up that day An exit to eternal summer slacking But where were they going without ever knowing the way

They drank up the wine And they got to talking They now had more important things to say And when the car broke down They started walking Where were they going without ever knowing the way

Anyone can see the road that they walk on is paved in gold And it's always summer They'll never get cold They'll never get hungry They'll never get old and gray You can see their shadows wandering off somewhere They won't make it home But they really don't care They wanted the highway They're happier there today, today

Their children woke up And they couldn't find them They left before the sun came up that day They just drove off and left it all behind them But where were they going without ever knowing the way?

Anyone can see the road that they walk on is paved in gold And it's always summer They'll never get cold They'll never get hungry They'll never get old and gray You can see their shadows wandering off somewhere They won't make it home But they really don't care They wanted the highway They're happier there today, today

You can see their shadows wandering off somewhere They won't make it home But they really don't care They wanted the highway They're happier there today, today

- The Way, Fastball, 1998

.

That was the year James died in his sleep.

Or that’s what they say, anyway.  Asthma, the likely cause based on his medical history, our first and least disturbing assumption.  Undetermined, the official determination based on the hastily scraped-together autopsy, the best that could be done under the circumstances.  We tell people he had breathing problems, and they nod their heads and agree because they knew he did, and now he’s been gone so long that nobody asks.  Most of the people who ever met him have long moved on or disappeared or died themselves, or just remember him as the enigmatic middle son from the Keithley family that nobody really knew very well.  You know, the odd one, the one that showed up at meetings maybe once a year and smiled nervously but didn’t really talk to anyone and always seemed anxious to leave?  The one who died under mysterious circumstances?  That one.

He left the way he always came in.  Quietly, unexpected, without anyone being aware of either his entrance or his exit.

But me and mom know some things, and she’s not talking.  She probably never will.

So maybe it’s time I did.

December 1998.  I’d gotten married two years previous and moved back to the family land with my new husband.  He hated it there, but we had an affordable place to live.  It wasn’t bad.  He’d tell you otherwise.  The land never sat right with him, but I’d lived there too many years to see it.  I’d been fifteen when my father uprooted his large family from the city and hauled us out to the great back door to nowhere, and even though I’d left several times to wander elsewhere, I always came back.

I didn’t realize why at the time, at any of the multiple times.  But now I know.  That place gets you, and it holds you, and unless you’re goddamned devoted to staying gone you will always be pulled back.  It took me till I was 49 to funnel the necessary amount of devotion away from the religious dedication I’d had jackbooted into me and turn it toward getting out, but against a great number of overwhelming odds I finally did it.

But this isn’t about that, not yet anyway.  This is about my brother James, and how he went to sleep one night and found his own way out.

----------

It was snowing, had been for days, a bit unusual but not unheard of.  The part of the state we lived in was notorious for extended ice storms and we knew a bad one was coming, but until it hit we played in the snow like it was a gift and we were deprived children who knew it was all going to be taken away soon.  My brothers and I were adults but you wouldn’t know it, watching us sneak around in the woods staging elaborate commando attacks on each other.  James was the best of us, a stealth king who could stand in the middle of a room for an hour without a single soul seeing him.  Perception bias, he said.  Your brain ignores me because I obviously don’t belong, like those puzzles where you circle what’s wrong but it takes you forever to find them.

He crept around in the forest scaring the shit out of people, dropping his long tall self out of trees, appearing from nowhere to administer a well aimed snowball to the face of whoever happened to cross his path and then disappearing just as quickly.  We called him a wraith and it wasn’t a good natured jibe.  We meant it.  He made people nervous.  He was the stealthy kind of quiet you associate with danger, and he knew how to do things an average person doesn’t ever have any need to know.  It was a quiet cool that we admired him for, because none of the rest of us had it.

The religion we were raised in kept a tight lid on us, but me and James, we never really let it get into our bones.  We were the smart ones, in retrospect.  I went through the motions by force of habit and a sense of self preservation, doing what was expected and demanded of me, following the rules and making myself a perfect example of a young member of the church so I wouldn’t bring shame on the congregation and my family.  But mostly the congregation.  It was always more important than anything else.  And I had behaving down to an art form, but mostly when people were looking.  Usually also when they weren’t.

But sometimes, not quite.

And then I prayed for forgiveness about it later because God was supposed to forgive you if you asked him to, right?  The tenet of willful sin being unforgivable never took root with me even though that was what the church conditioned into us through fear and constant repetition.  They said it from the stage two nights a week and again on Sunday to hammer it home.  Two nights a week and again on Sunday my head silently disagreed.  God’s not like that.  And then I did the praying for forgiveness thing even though I knew I was right, because I was disagreeing with the church, and the church was God’s channel here on Earth, wasn’t it?  I committed a mortal sin at least three times a week on that subject alone, and though the dread of divine punishment was hardwired into me, I never could reconcile the concept of a loving and forgiving God destroying me simply for knowing better.

I’m not sure the comprehension of an overwatching deity ever actually established itself in James’ brain.  A moral code, yes.  But isn’t that what God is, really?  Maybe he understood more about God and forgiveness than the rest of us.  But he was considered an unapproved fringe member of the church because he couldn’t suffer people and noise and being looked at and he refused to preach, and he was soft-shunned as a result.  Because if you weren’t all in to the point of being willing to die at any moment for your faith, you were as good as faithless.

And faithless meant condemned.  And the congregation couldn’t be bothered with condemned people, regardless of their reasons for not having both feet in the water.  The first and only option on their list was to put the person out and let them find their own way back once they realized they had nobody left in the world who cared about them.

James escaped that somehow.  He was supposed to be shunned whole scale, but he wasn’t trying to convince anyone to leave the faith and he presented no threat to anyone’s strength of belief, and so far as anyone knew he’d committed no grave sins other than disinterest.  So the rule that dictated we cast him out was bent enough to allow him to remain living on the family land, though at one point during a fit of overzealous righteousness my mother had tried to have a family meeting to vote on whether or not we were going to let him stay.  I refused to vote and when I walked out of the house the meeting fell apart.

I’ve never forgiven her for that.  Her son’s life being put to a vote with her presiding over the proceedings, vengeful and unfeeling and devoid of compassion on behalf of God himself.  It takes my breath away, the anger, still to this day.  The only thing I ever truly learned from my mother about parenting was a long and intensely detailed list of what not to do to my own children, and I suppose I should be grateful for that.  It’s a bitter thank-you to have to give, but it’s something.

We knew James as much as he would allow us to, and not an inch further.  Which meant the extent of our knowledge of him pretty much stretched to include the singular fact that he was different.  What that meant, I still don’t really know - but it was there from the day he was born, that slight off-ness, the oddly off center calibration that you can’t really see so much as sense in a person.  I know now he was likely on the autism spectrum and he walked through life seeing and reacting to everything differently than most of us, but that wasn’t a thing back then.  You were just weird, or you weren’t.  And I’m not convinced that was a bad thing for him, strictly speaking.  But in the confines of our religion and our family’s devout and sometimes violent dedication to it, it took its toll almost daily.

He stood out, and he was very much a person who didn’t want to.  He wanted to fade into the background, to not be seen, to not be known.  And our religion didn’t tolerate that kind of nonsense, because we were commanded to be bold bearers of The Word Of God, and no exceptions were made.

None.

I’m going to stop calling it a religion now.  I beg your indulgence as I shift to calling it what it is, because calling it a religion is an insult to actual religions that don’t destroy peoples’ lives with callous indifference and murderous glee.

We were raised in a doomsday death cult.  There’s no other name that fits.

And we were trapped in it and its ugly cycle of neverending mental and emotional manipulation and abuse until we were adults, and some of us are still bound to it.  My oldest brother worked his way up to the upper levels of oversight in the local congregation and was solidly entrenched in it until his death, which is a story for later.  My youngest brother, the last remaining living blood sibling I have, is still deeply in it to this day and will likely never leave it.

I took the hard way out, three years ago, by walking away.

James, though.  He took the easy way.  He simply closed his eyes, and he was free.

----------

December 22, 1998.  Three days before Christmas, though that meant nothing to us.  The cult told us Christmas was a filthy demonic pagan ritual that was condemned by God, so to us the season was just a nice chilly time of year with lots of time off from work.  We’d had an unusual amount of snow, the most we’d had in years.  The roads were impassable and everyone was home except my husband, who worked close enough that his boss at the glass shop came and picked him up that morning with chains on his tires.  Lots of windshields had shattered from the sudden violent cold that had struck the previous night and Scott had the only glass shop for sixty miles.

I think it must have been around noon, and likely my mother had sent my dad up the hill to see if James wanted to come down for the lunch she was making.  He and his wife had split up against the strict rules of the church after a few years of suffering through an ill advised marriage, an important detail to this story that will come into the tale later, and he was alone up there at the top of the hill a lot.  Sometimes he forgot to eat, or he got so busy that he just didn’t bother, so our mother always made something for him because even though he was in his 20′s he was still a kid who needed looking after and her zealous fervor against him had died down with time.  I think he let her believe he was helpless because it worked in his favor and there was always lunch waiting for him in her kitchen as a result.

He was different, he wasn’t dumb.

We all lived on the hill back then with the exception of our youngest brother.  He’d moved to the city with his new wife not long prior.  The locals jokingly called the place a commune, and I guess they weren’t completely wrong.  Thirty-eight acres of wooded land far beyond the city limits that we’d painstakingly spent years carving a livable space into, with five houses, all built from the ground up and inhabited by an extended family of well known culties from a well known cult.  It’s almost comical, looking back on it, knowing now how they kept an eye on us for years to make sure we weren’t doing anything weird up there.

They should have run us off with pitchforks and burning stakes at the very beginning.

Things might have ended differently for us if they had.

----------

My grandparents lived at one end of the property, an old couple as simple and solid as salted soup, devoutly religious and devoted to the cult and very much cut from the can survive anything and probably will cloth like so many old country folks of their generation.  They were waiting out the end of days up there in their little wooden house, expecting the final hour of this old system to come long before their own demise.  I liked my grandmother, she had a sweet smile and fell asleep every time granddad started talking about the Bible and she paid me five dollars every Wednesday to drive her into town to get groceries, and years later, when she was dying, she told me she’d had a dream where she met my unborn son.  I was four months pregnant and didn’t know yet that I was having a boy.  She died before he was born, but to this day, fifteen years later, he tells me he’s sure he met her, he just can’t remember when.

I was scared of my grandfather.  Not terrified, but there was nothing grandfatherly to him and I always suspected he never actually liked kids much.  He’d once told us a story about the great Fort Worth flood that wiped out most of the city when my mom was a baby, and how he had told my grandmother to let go of my 2-year-old mother while he was struggling to get them across a rushing flooded creek in water up to their shoulders.  My grandmother couldn’t swim.  We could make another Ruthie, he said.  But I couldn’t get another ‘Nita.

He said it proudly, like he was to be admired for his choice.  I was young when he told that story, but it settled into me that this was evil.

Even when he was old as dirt and dying of a brain tumor in hospice care, he made me uneasy.  I was never close to him.  But for some reason, in his final days, he forgot who everyone was except me.  I had been living in another state for years and he hadn’t seen me since before the tumor started taking his life.  But when I walked into the room he turned his head and looked at me, and he mouthed my name.

He couldn’t speak.  I don’t know what he was trying to say, struggling with words that nobody could hear.  And I felt bad.  I didn’t want to be the last person he recognized.  My cousins adored him and had spent the last few years constantly at his side, and they were angry, maybe justifiably, that I was the one he reached for.

I didn’t want that at all.

I don’t believe he was a bad man, but he never spoke of anything except the cult’s interpretation of the Bible, and it was as tiresome as it was terrifying.  Granddads are supposed to be fun.  Ours quoted doctrine at us in a deep loud commanding voice that you couldn’t interrupt and you couldn’t tune out, and once he got going you had to just settle in and wait for him to run out of zealous steam.  And then he would suddenly stop and command grandmother to turn on a John Wayne movie and bring him some ice cream, and it was over until the next time.

I know my mother resented him.  She knew grandmother was the one that had refused to let her go, the one that had held onto her even though she almost drowned by the simple act of holding on.  She knew her father had been willing to let her wash away and drown.  That he thought she was interchangeable with whatever baby they would have next.  How she could spend her entire life with that knowledge and not be deeply affected by it was something that never made sense to me, but now, when she’s in her 70′s and I’m in my 50′s, I finally understand.  It affected her.  She’ll just be damned if she’ll let anyone see it.  And she had stood there in that hospice room watching him mouth my name with resentment burning in her eyes, though she would have rather died than let anyone know what it was for.  He’d forgotten her weeks ago.

The house in the center of the hill was mom and dad.  The homestead.  The house we’d all lived in together, that we’d built with our own hands, the first thing that marked that wild overgrown hill as a place where people actually lived.  A long path through the woods connected it to the grandparents’ house, and it was the epicenter of everything in our lives.  James and I had lived in the upstairs rooms of that house until we both moved out and married our respective mates years later, a reprehensible act on our part that was never okay with my mother and that she never forgave either of us for.  She’d wanted us all to stay.  We can all live here together until the New System comes, she always said.  That’s how the Bible says it’s supposed to be.  We can all keep each other safe and on the right path until the end comes, and then we’ll all be here together forever.

A decade later when I sat up on the hill watching that house burn to the ground, there was as much relief as grief billowing into the sky with the black smoke.  It was the end of an era, and it was far beyond time for it.

Nobody saw it but me.  James was dead, had been for years.  Robbie was dead now too.  Dad was gone, so was granddad.  Me and my youngest brother David were the last two left of the kids, but he had moved to a neighboring city when he got married and he has never seen things the way I see them.  We were of different generations, we weren’t raised the same way, and he’d never experienced the abuse I lived with for the first half of my life.  And he had dedicated his own life to the cult with all the honesty and lack of guile that I didn’t have when I’d made my own dedication vows at the too-young age of sixteen.

It was the end of an era, but apparently only for me.

James’ house was up the hill, past a clearing where my dad used to keep old cars that he cannibalized for parts.  Our oldest brother Robbie, long married with kids of his own, lived at the bottom on the farthest corner of the land.  And my house was on the slope to the west, built on the spot where we’d cleared off an old half-fallen homestead from the late 1800′s, dutifully paying no mind to the fact that a grave was nestled into the slope, right where the yellow daffodils grew.  The cult told us superstition was tied up with the demons and false religion, so we didn’t have the built-in human instinct that tells most people to stay the hell away from certain things.

We just pretended it wasn’t there, and put no importance on it.  It was just an old grave.  The soil was good and the garden I planted next to it did well, though those strange daffodils always wound themselves through everything I put in the ground.  My husband said something wasn’t right about it, but I didn’t pay any attention to him.  He hadn’t been raised as devout as me.

My dad knocked on my door around lunchtime and I opened it.  He backed up, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket, the fancy leather coat the dealership had awarded him when he was designated a five-star Chrysler technician and given the state’s first and only license to work on the new Vipers that had recently rolled off the prototype line.  It was a cool jacket.  Made him look like the old pictures my other grandmother had shown me of him from the early 1960′s, when he was young and very much a product of a fancier era.  He’d never stopped greasing his hair back and was still so thin that he and I wore the same size jeans.

I’ve never understood the look on his face when I opened the door.  To this day I can’t sort it.  It wasn’t a blankness like so many people who’ve seen death wear without awareness.  It wasn’t grief.  It wasn’t even shock.

He was sorry.

Those were the first words out of his mouth.

I’m sorry.

I stood there, not knowing what he was sorry for.  It was cold.  I couldn’t push the screen door open very far because of the snow blocking it.  And my father was standing at the bottom of the steps James had helped my husband build, his hands shoved down far into his pockets like a penitent child about to get in trouble, telling me he was sorry.

James is dead, he finally said.  He’s in his house.  I went up there and he’s dead.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but I do now - just now, this very moment in fact, I know that I was the first person he told.  He came straight from James’ house to mine and told me my brother was dead.

I don’t know what I said back to him, I just remember sitting down on the top step and feeling the cold bite of the snow through my pajama pants.  There’s a vague recollection of putting my face in my hands, and the embarrassing knowledge that I did that simply because I didn’t know what else to do.  And dad just stood there, nervously stepping from foot to foot in the snow, because he didn’t know what else to do either.

I think I asked How at some point.  He said he didn’t know.  He had something in his pocket but to this day I don’t know what it was.

I don’t know if it was important.  Something tells me it was.  Or maybe it was just the eternally present handkerchief he always kept on him.

I’m sorry, he said again.  He seemed to feel like it was his fault somehow.  I’m sorry.

What do we do?  I asked him.  I’ve never felt more blank.  What are we supposed to do?

I don’t remember what he said, other than he was going to get my older brother.  I remember thinking that was a good idea.  Robbie would know what to do.  He always did.  Brash and blustery and bigmouthed, he got things done while other people stood around debating how to do them.  He would get on it, whatever needed doing.  He would figure it out.

I went back in the house and dad walked away, headed down the path through the woods that connected my house to Robbie’s, hands still shoved deep in his pockets, the big retro vintage Chrysler emblem on the back of his jacket the last thing I saw before I pulled the screen door shut.  I stared down for a minute at the mound of snow it had scooped into my livingroom, still with no clue what I was supposed to do.

No clue at all.

I kicked the snow back outside and shut the door.

----------

It’s an odd thing, watching the coroner’s van drive away with someone you know inside it.  Someone you saw just yesterday.  Someone who was alive.  Someone who should still be alive but isn’t, somehow.  And since there’s really no way to earn a ride in a coroner’s van without dying, there’s an awful unsettling sensation to it that you can’t get away from.  The last time I saw James he was laughing that devious little laugh of his, his eyes red and bloodshot from the ever present asthma he’d suffered with his entire life.  I don’t count the sight of the coroner’s van leaving the hill via our long steep driveway with his cold corpse tucked into a black zippered bag, because I didn’t see him.  I never saw him.  I didn’t see him dead in his house and I didn’t see them carry him out, I didn’t see them put him in the van.  I didn’t see him later, when it was all over with.  And if I try hard enough I can imagine that van empty, with that long black bag tossed crumpled in the back without a body in it, and James somewhere else living his life however the hell he pleases.

I hold onto that.  Some days it helps.  And some days I think I see him, walking by the side of the road or getting out of a car in the post office parking lot, and it makes me happy thinking he escaped.  I see him in every hitchhiker, in every wandering traveler making his way down the interstate, in every tall thin man I glimpse from the corner of my eye as I go about my business in town.

He’s out there.

I hope he’s happy.

The ice storm hit the next day.

----------

For the next two weeks we were stuck on our hill.  Power out, no electricity, no heat, no lights, roads iced over and impassable.  We all piled up in mom and dad’s house, quietly grieving James, trying to stay warm.  Most of the state lost power for days, including the city 150 miles away where his body had been taken to the state coroner’s office.  There was no apparent cause of death, so the state ordered an autopsy.

His body had just been placed into cold storage to wait its turn when the power grid went down.  And then, by some unholy stroke of nightmarish luck, the facility’s generators failed.

Nobody could make it in to work because of the ice.  By the time someone finally got into the morgue the cold storage had been down for four days.

Six bodies melted, including James.

----------

No viable autopsy could be done, though they tried their best I suppose.  The end report was obtained two months later.  It was mostly inconclusive due to the long delay and resultant decomposition of tissue.  There was apparent scarring on James’ heart, but it was old scarring and had nothing to do with his death.  His lungs were scarred as well, but that was no surprise, he’d had severe asthma his entire life.  There was no determinable cause of death, no inflicted trauma, no presence of illicit drugs as far as they could tell from the limited toxicology report they managed with what they had to work with.

No reason.

He’d simply died.

It seemed fitting, to me at least, that the end of him be enshrouded in an unsolvable mystery.  He was a secretive person, intensely private.  He would have loved knowing nobody had a clue what happened to him.

And so we drew our own conclusion as a family.  He’d had an asthma attack in his sleep.  There had been an inhaler next to his bed, but it was new and still in the box.  He simply hadn’t woken up to use it.  Dad didn’t participate in the drawing of this conclusion, his input kept stoically to himself, like he knew something the rest of us didn’t.

We pretended not to see it.

He and mom braved the last of the ice a few days later to make the 150 mile drive to see James one last time.

They came back different.

You couldn’t tell it was him, my mother said.  He was melted, literally.  It was like one of those science fiction movies where they melt you with a laser beam and you turn to goo.

Dad had nothing to say.  He went to bed and stayed there until the next day.

You can go see him, mom told me.  I’ll go with you if you want to go.  But I don’t recommend it.

I decided not to go.

And so I never saw my brother dead.  I never saw any proof that he was gone.  He just wasn’t there anymore.  There was no funeral, he was cremated and his ashes were sent home weeks later, and I went on with my life with the image in my head of James, alive, somewhere else.

----------

Dad was different from that day on.  He’d always been stoic, terse, strict.  My childhood had been spent in fear of him, an eternal dread of making him mad and feeling his temper erupt keeping me from showing any hint of a personality during my formative years.  The cult had forced him to abide by the violent tenet of Spare the rod, spoil the child and there was never any risk of me being spoiled.

James being gone flipped a switch in him.  He was nicer suddenly.  Mellow.  Kind.  After the trauma wore off his humor discovered itself and he was funny.  The dour angry demeanor fell off and revealed a man that I was sad never to have known before.  He and I became friends.  I could sense in his new attitude toward me that he regretted how he’d raised me and respected the way I’d always stood up and been my own person despite it.  But my mother was falling off the deep end and for all the newfound easygoingness of my father, she counterbalanced it with an extremism born of the religious fervor of a mother determined to gain enough favor with God to see her dead child again.  And she was going to make sure the rest of us did too.

We all had to get good and straight on the path, get completely right and stay that way, or we’d never see James again.  He’d be in the New World and we wouldn’t, and how would she explain that to him?  She and I worked together in a law office at the time and as she became more unhinged and unpleasant, I reacted by becoming more outgoing and accomplished.  Our boss changed my work designation from receptionist to Executive Assistant and started teaching me how to do everything from filing papers at the courthouse to photographing accident scenes.  I no longer answered to my mother, the office manager.  I answered directly to the boss.

That didn’t go over well.  She was a control freak with heavy untreated trauma, and the one person in the world she felt the most obsessive need to control was suddenly no longer under her thumb in a workspace where she considered herself the supreme authority.  She countermanded every order the boss gave me and tried to load me up with general office chores that left me no time to do the important assignments he’d given me.  I had no choice but to tell her she wasn’t my superior anymore.

She chose that day to have her nervous breakdown over James, jumping out of my car at a red light on the way home and storming angrily through a shopping mall with me trailing frantically along behind her, yelling for security to arrest me while I tried to get her to calm down.  I ended up telling her she wasn’t the only person who lost James but that none of the rest of us were allowed to experience our own grief because we were too busy catering to hers.

She sat down on a bench outside the sporting goods store and glared at me with a cold hatred I’ve seen on very few other faces, ever.

I knew it would be you, she hissed at me.

That moment changed our relationship forever.  It changed me forever.  That was the day I decided my life was my own, that she not only didn’t have authority over me at work, she didn’t have authority over me anywhere else either.  She could no longer dictate my actions, my behavior, my thoughts and feelings.

For this she disowned me.  It was the first of several disownings over the next few years.  I got used to it.  We went to work the next day like nothing had happened, and I didn’t do a single thing on the task list she slapped down on my desk.  It was a metaphor for the rest of my life, but I didn’t know it yet.

My husband and I moved out of state a couple of months later, away from that hill, away from her increasingly controlling paranoia and bitterness, the first of many small steps toward freedom.

As we were driving away with our trailer full of personal belongings behind us, he said one thing that I tried to argue against, but that somewhere deep inside I knew was probably right.

That land is cursed, he said.

----------

A few weeks before we moved my youngest brother came to town and we went into James’ house together.  It was exactly like it had been the day my dad found him.  The only thing that stood out as different was the bare mattress on the bed - the men from the coroner had wrapped him up in the sheet he’d been laying on and took it with them, leaving just the naked springform mattress James had bought for Jessica right before her final breakdown and their subsequent separation.

It took me a while to go in the bedroom, but I knew from the moment I walked into the house that I was going to end up there.  I needed to see it, the place where James had closed his eyes and left us.

There was a small puddle of dried blood near the foot of the bed, brown and stained into the fabric.  James always slept backwards, with his head at the wrong end.  The blood had come from his nose.

I touched it.  I don’t know why.  It was dry.

He was gone.

----------

David and I laughed a lot that day.  James had been funny in a way that was distinctly him, quiet and of few words, but those words had always counted.  And as we sorted through his things and talked about him and moved some of his stuff into boxes to be stored away, I felt as much awed respect as befuddlement at what was around me.  He’d never been a conformist, which I knew was why the cult had never gotten a firm grasp on him.  He was unknowable and therefore unbindable.  But his house was proof that he didn’t conform to any human expectations either, and nothing in it made sense unless you’d spent time around him.

There was an engine in the bathtub.  I’m not sure what it went to.  Another engine, in the beginning stages of disassemblage, rested on a blue tarp in the center of the livingroom floor, obviously the last project he’d been working on.  There wasn’t much furniture - his wife had taken most of it when she left and it would have never entered his mind to replace any of it.  Jessica’s cookware was in the kitchen cabinets, unused, some of it still in the original boxes, some not even fully unwrapped from their wedding shower years before.  Jessica didn’t cook, she microwaved.  David asked me if I thought it would be okay for him to take a glass Pyrex measuring cup because he’d broken his.  I told him to take it.  It had never been used.

I didn’t want anything, but knew I needed to take something.  One of my husband’s solo CDs was sitting on the entertainment center and the cover, the cover I’d designed, caught my eye and brought me to the CD player to pop the tray open.

Inside was a CD single of The Way.

It was the only thing I took.

----------

My husband told me some time later that my dad and older brother had altered the scene before the police arrived.  After the phonecall from me his boss had rushed him home and he’d gone up to James’ house without my knowledge.  He’d thought it strange that he’d had to step around at least a dozen empty compressed air cans scattered haphazardly around the place as he entered, like they’d been used and tossed aside one after another.  There had been several more on the floor around the bed.  My father had told him to go back down and see how mom and I were doing, and when he returned to James’ house after the coroner’s departure, the cans were gone.  Other than that he said things seemed different, but he couldn’t say quite how.  Just not the same.

He told me my dad didn’t call the police until after he and Robbie had been in there at least an hour, alone with the body.

It’s not something we’ve talked about often, because there’s no satisfactory explanation for it that either of us can come up with.  My mother says they probably didn’t want the police to assume the cans meant he was huffing compression fluid and accidentally killed himself, because Look at the shame and reproach that would bring on the congregation if anyone thought such a thing!  We all knew he used the compressed air to clear the valves on the engines he was working on, all mechanics do, it’s common.  Wouldn’t the police have accepted that explanation?  Dad was the only one that spoke to them.  They wrote down whatever he said, and then they left, and then the coroner came and took James away and that was that.  My father, the most upright straight-and-narrow devoutly dedicated man I’ve ever known in my life, misled the police for a reason that he took with him to his own grave.

The only other person in the world who knew the truth about it took it to his grave too.

At the same time.

In the same car.

Four years later, on October 18, 2002.

----------

The big garbage bag of empty air cans and whatever else that was removed from James’ house that morning had been stashed in my dad’s garage and stayed there until a few weeks after he and Robbie’s joint funeral, when my mother asked my husband’s old boss to come and dispose of it.  Scott was a man who knew people who could do things.

The evidence, whatever it was evidence of, vanished.

----------

The mystery around James never dissolved and eventually no one talked about it anymore, I guess because there was no way we could ever truly find out what happened without him here to tell us.  There were a lot of details that we could never find a way to weave together into anything that made sense and a lot of it was probably inconsequential anyway.  There was a girlfriend that he’d tried to keep hidden from us, a woman that was quite a bit older than him who wasn’t a member of the cult and therefore needed to be kept a secret.  In the end she had convinced him to stop hiding their relationship and he’d bought her a ring.  We met her all of twice before he died, and within days of his passing she left town with her brother and never came back, taking whatever she might have known with her.

James’ ex Jessica had sneaked onto the hill and broken into his house to put a dead raccoon in his kitchen sink a few days prior to his death.  We were shocked when he told us she trespassed on the land often without anyone knowing, and my mother made my father fix the electric gate down at the road so that it wouldn’t open without one of three clickers in the possession of herself, my father, and me.  James would have to come to her house and get hers any time he needed to leave the hill, an arrangement he agreed to because Jessica stole things from his house all the time, she would absolutely take a gate opener if she saw it.

He told us the gate wouldn’t keep her out though, and that she didn’t come in that way anyway.  The only way to protect ourselves from her was to lock her up and he doubted even that would do it.

He died less than a week later, and twenty three years later we still don’t know how or why.

----------

We never felt safe on the hill again.  Jessica was deranged in the worst possible way, we’d known it for a while, and James was her obsession.  She’d threatened to kill him multiple times and had tried twice.  We hadn’t known this, because James, big strong stoic Clint Eastwood type that he was, wasn’t about to tell anyone he was violently abused for years by a skinny little woman that everyone believed was not much more than a meek dormouse with shyness issues and a case of painful awkwardness.  But we knew she was evil.  We just didn’t have any proof.

The first thing my mother said after the initial emotional breakdown of finding her son dead was Jessica did this, I don’t know how but I know she did it.

I believe she was probably right.  But if Jessica was anything she was wily and devious with a strong survival instinct and an uncanny ability to lie convincingly and draw sympathy onto herself.  She’d convinced us for years that she was the perfect combination of sweetly harmless and endearingly clueless, but that only lasted until the day she called 911 screaming that James was beating her and then threw herself face first into a tree in their front yard and sat, calmly singing and coloring in a coloring book on the porch with blood running down her forehead, waiting for the police to arrive.  The act she put on when they got there was one for the Academy, but the officers didn’t buy it.

James calmly rolled up his sleeves and showed them his scars where she’d burned him and slashed him with a kitchen knife.  He pulled up his shirt and pointed out the marks she’d left on him with her teeth and nails.  He hooked a finger into his mouth and showed them the empty hole where she’d knocked one of his teeth out with a baseball bat.  One of the officers asked him why he hadn’t killed her and buried her somewhere on the land already.

She left in the back of the squad car, and my mother took James to the courthouse to get divorce papers started two days later.

Jessica came to his memorial service when we finally had it, several weeks after his death.  She wasn’t invited but we couldn’t keep her from coming.  She wore black like a widow and created a dramatic disruption complete with loud wailing and declarations of undying love, and afterward she stood to one side of the room, smirking at us with the kind of icy malice that you only see on the dangerously deranged, and then usually only in the movies.  Several people commented in hushed voices, asking why she’d been allowed to come.  At one point she started wailing They killed him!!, but everyone with the exception of her mother ignored her.

Her mother, who was still in our congregation, flitted around the room chatting with everyone, sobbing her heart out like it was her own son we’d just memorialized.  She was an ER nurse and had been famously fired from her job at the hospital for taking locked-cabinet medications home by the purse load.  She claimed she put them in her pocket to use on her shift and forgot to return them to the cabinet before leaving.

Jessica had been staying with her for a while.

----------

We fed the crowd at mom’s later that afternoon with my husband and his boss guarding the gate, making sure she didn’t try to come into my mother’s house.  The police were called preemptively, and because this was a town of 300 with not much of anything else to do, a squad car was dispatched and stationed near the inlet to the main drive.

Jessica showed up not much later, like we knew she would.  She drove past the police and parked a few yards down from them in plain sight, just sitting there by the side of the road, far enough away from our property that we couldn’t legally do anything about it.  The officers got out and talked to her, warned her not to cause us any problems, and she fed them a woeful tale about being banned from her beloved husband’s memorial service and denied the right to say goodbye to him.

The officers knew there was no body at that service to say goodbye to.  They also knew her.

My husband came up the hill and told us she was down at the road and that Scott was blocking the driveway with his truck to keep her out.  I told my mother it was time to file a restraining order against her.  She was living in fear and Jessica was known to be trespassing on our property frequently.  No, she told me with tears in her eyes but not a sign of distress on her face.  It was a look I knew, because my mother rarely showed emotion unless she was angry and the rest of the time it was this cold detachment.  That would bring reproach on the congregation because everyone knows what we are.  I can’t do that.  I won’t let her win that way.  I won’t let her cause us to bring shame on God’s name.

God’s name.  I took it in vain that day.

More than once.

I was leaving in a few weeks, moving a thousand miles away.  My husband and I weren’t going to be there to help her keep an eye out, and thirty eight acres of heavily wooded land is impossible to protect and easy to sneak onto from a hundred different directions, James had shown us proof of that.

God will protect us as long as we do the right thing and leave it to him, she said.  He knows what she is.

I think it was just a coincidence that nothing terrible happened in the following weeks, because my faith was getting tenuous and a lot of prayers were going unanswered.  But Jessica quietly disappeared back to her own world after a couple of infuriating weeks of putting herself in our paths every chance she got, and not long after that my husband and I moved away, and as we left the driveway for what we thought would be the last time he sighed and shook his head with the exasperation of a man about to say I told you so.

“That land is cursed,” he said.

I tried to disagree, though I don’t know why.

----------

Less than a mile up the road we passed a man walking.  He was tall and thin and covered in the dust of a long journey with a ratty backpack strapped to his back, and as we passed him I caught his reflection in the side mirror.

It was James, I knew it in my heart every bit as strongly as I knew it couldn’t be.

He was walking away from the hill, toward the west.  The way we were going.  And I swear on whatever holy relic you wish to place under my hand that he raised his head and met eyes with me in the mirror, and he smiled.

.

Anyone can see the road that they walk on is paved in gold And it's always summer They'll never get cold They'll never get hungry They'll never get old and gray You can see their shadows wandering off somewhere They won't make it home But they really don't care They wanted the highway They're happier there today

.

[toomanyrobins]

MINIMAL LOSS

summary: Spencer and Y/N head into the Separtarian Sect and are greeted with trouble.

pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

content warnings: few swear words, guns, character death, violence, cult behavior

word count: 3.7k

It had been a few months since Y/N had joined the BAU. Despite initial worries, she fit right into the team. She had joined the women for girls’ night and even helped Garcia plan JJ’s baby shower. Hotch was truly showing how much trust he held by sending the two youngest teammates on their own assignment. Y/N and Spencer were in a car in La Plata with Nancy, a CPS worker, on their way to Liberty Ranch. Spencer played the call for the three of them: “He comes into my bedroom and lays with me. He says it's god's will. I'm only 15. And I'm not the only one. Please help me!” 

Y/N turned to Nancy, “Who is the ‘he’?”

“I believe the ‘he’ that they referred to is the church's leader: Benjamin Cyrus.”

Reid flipped open the file and leaned forward so that Y/N could look at it too. She smiled appreciatively at him, “Benjamin Cyrus--No criminal record. No record at all, really. What else do you know about him?

Nancy shrugged, “It's rumored that he's practicing polygamy and forced marriages.

Y/N scanned the file as Spencer read aloud, “Do we know who the caller is?”

“Jessica Evanson is the one who the age fits, But...we can't be sure. I negotiated interviews with all the children. It wasn't easy.”

“Well, considering their view on outsiders, it would be best if you didn't identify us as FBI. Just use our real names and introduce us as child victim interview experts.” Y/N and Reid left their badges and gun in the car. The trio pulled up and was greeted by a single man lounging on the stairs. He seemed unimpressed by their presence and continued to read his book. Y/N noted that the act seemed a bit over the top and a definite attempt to appear nonchalant about their visit.

Nancy walked up to him, “I'm looking for Mr. Benjamin Cyrus.”

The man walked down the stairs, shutting the Bible in his hands, “You found him.”

“I'm Nancy Lunde. We spoke on the phone regarding the allegation.”

“Savages they call us because our manners differ from theirs.”

“We didn't come here to hear you cite scripture, Mr. Cyrus.

“Actually, It's a Benjamin Franklin.” Y/N smiled softly at the ever fact-driven Dr. Reid.

Nancy motioned at the two of them, “Y/N Emard and Spencer Reid -- they’re child victim

interview experts.”

“How far from God's word must we have strayed for there to be the need to invent a job called child victim interview expert?”

“We wish we didn't have to be here,” Y/N said.

So do we. But you are welcome, nonetheless. The children are in the school,” He pointed to the building behind him.

Nancy nodded and thanked him. The two women forged ahead, but Y/N stopped when she heard Spencer remark on the compound’s use of solar power.

“We're completely self-sufficient,” Cyrus explained, “Electricity, food, water. Ben Franklin said, ‘God helps those that help themselves.’ You look surprised.” Y/N noticed that Spencer was working to build a relationship with Cyrus and followed Nancy to begin interviews. They decide to start Jessica: the suspected victim. Y/N immediately noted the defensive posture that the 15-year-old held. Her mother, Kathy, stood beside her and looked much more submissive.

“So, what does a normal day on the ranch look like for you?” Y/N inquired.

“We go to school. We do our chores. And we treat ourselves and each other with the respect that God demands.”

“But you've never been off of the ranch?

Kathy spoke, “I brought Jessie here when she was 2.”

The young girl had a very sour look on her face and had her hands folded tightly in anger, “You've talked to lots of children in your work. Tell me, are their lives somehow better than ours? We devote ourselves to God.” Kathy put a hand on her daughter’s shoulder to calm her.

Y/N reassured the teen, “We are not here because of your religious beliefs.”

“Then why are you here?”

“We received a phone call alleging that an adult male member of your church was having inappropriate relations with the younger women here.”

“You're talking about Cyrus.”

Reid had joined them and heard the last bit of the conversation, “What makes you say that?”

Kathy tried to stop her daughter, but the indignation was clear. “Is it inappropriate for a husband to share a bed with his wife?

Y/N was shocked, “You are married to Cyrus?”

“Yes. Cyrus is my husband and a prophet. It's an honor to bear his children.

“Jessica, you're 15 years old. The state of Colorado requires parental consent.”

Y/N stared at Kathy and saw the regret in her eyes. She looked up at Reid, “She gave consent.”

Before they could continue to question, they were interrupted by members of the ranch coming in armed. They forced the three outsiders back and pointed their weapons at them. ”What's going on?” Nancy demanded. Three men came over and patted them all down. Y/N dug her heel into the man’s toe when she felt him linger. He groaned and stepped back with a scowl, nodding to Cyrus to confirm that all three were weapon-free.

“We just got a very strange phone call from a news reporter. Is there anything you want to tell me about a raid, maybe?” All three of them were shocked. Especially Y/n and Spencer since they knew that JJ had checked with other agencies before sending them in. Cyrus shook his head, “They don't know.” The men shepherded the woman and children through tunnels hidden under the buildings to a bunker filled with weapons. Gunfire could be heard overhead as instructions were given by Cyrus. 

Y/N and Spencer both saw how the guns lining the walls. She whispered, “Where did all these guns come from?”

Spencer shook his head, “I don't know. Garcia checked with the state police.” Nancy broke free of the group in the bunker and hurried up the church, thinking she could stop the raid from continuing. They heard the gunfire cease and he whispered again, “The raid is over.”

“What does that mean?”

“Either Cyrus convinced them to leave or this is over a lot faster than we thought.” When the men returned back down, Y/N realized that they were stuck in the compound again. Spencer inquired into where Nancy had gone and Cyrus explained that she had been shot by the Colorado authorities. 

“They’re pulling out.”

Reid shook his head, “Not for long.” They were stuck in the bunker while the male members of the cult all armed themselves. 

Y/N leaned over, “The team will have to be on its way now that a failed raid will be on the news. 

“With an average flight time of five and a half hours between DC and the La Plata County Airport plus the half hour drive out to the ranch, I estimate that they’ll be here by 4 o’clock, maybe 4:30 depending on who drives.” Y/N and Reid stayed trapped in the bunker, covered by an armed member at the door.

Y/N needed grounding and turned to Spencer, “What is the playbook here?”

“If the BAU is put in charge, which I imagine they will be because we are inside, they will go for the minimal loss situation. Statistically, it is improbable that they will get every member out, so they will do their best to save as many as possible. With the indoctrination in cults like this, some will be too far gone. It will be impossible to convince them that what they have been following is a lie. They’ll first try to get out 1 or 2, then 3 or 4, and then as many as possible before it goes bad,” Spencer stopped talking and looked confused, “You haven’t told me to stop rambling.”

“Why would I tell you to stop? This is valuable information,” Y/N’s cheeks warmed, “Plus you have a nice voice. We are going to be here a while until someone gets in contact with Cyrus. Best to be informed and it seems that you’re a wealth of information, Dr. Reid.” 

Despite the situation, Spencer smiled and continued talking quietly to Y/N about the tactics used. She asked him questions and let him answer them with as much information as he had. Y/N had seen him get cut off by the others before, and she understood why they did it, but she realized he probably didn’t get to share to his heart’s content often and currently they had a minimum 6 hours of waiting ahead of them. That plan was cut short by Cyrus coming back down. He brought them all up to the church. The duo were off to the side, watching as Rossi came in carrying a box. He was patted down and Cyrus spoke to him. Y/N and Spencer were both careful to keep any hint of recognition off of their face, knowing that even a twinge of weakness could seal their fates. 

Rossi let his eyes pass over the duo, before turning to Cryus, “I’d hope you let me take the children.”

“Nah, they’re our protection. I remember Waco... we all do. They stay for now. While I pray for God’s guidance. Please don’t try to force us out.”

“No one’s gonna try to force you out of here.” The two men walked to the door and Rossi left again. 

The moment he was out the door, Cyrus ordered a member to prepare wine, “We are celebrating. Everyone drinks. Everyone rejoices. Because today we are one day closer to being with him.”

Y/N watched a scene unfold in front of her and brushed her hand against Spencer’s to get his attention, “Look at Jessica’s body language. The way she looks at him. She literally worships him.”

Spencer nodded, “There is no way she made that 911 call.”

They both watched as Kathy stood up to speak to her daughter, “Look how she comes between Cyrus and her daughter. She's inserted herself between them. I don’t think Kathy is as devout a follower as she wants people to believe. Cyrus isn’t the most important thing to her; Jessica is.” Spencer squeezed her hand in silent agreement. 

Cyrus began preaching from the front as all the followers drank the wine, “Acknowledge him in all things and he will guide your way. Drink to acknowledge him and I will guide our way. We will be with him soon. We drank the poison together. Mothers… Fathers… Children, though we walk through the valley of the shadow of death, we fear no evil, for thou art with us.”

Y/N eyes widened and she looked up at Spencer, “What do we do?”

He shook his head, “Nothing.”

“We have to do something. These people just took poison.”

“Cyrus just told them they did. I think he's just bluffing. Just after he told them about the poison, he waited for them to start to react. Then, he nodded to Cole and he started writing. They're scanning the audience looking for reactions. They're writing down the names of the people who are crying.

Realization hit Y/N, “It's a loyalty list. So he knows who will follow him to the end.”

Cyrus spoke again, “Be still. There was no poison. Instead a test of faith. Because your adversary, the devil, waltzes about as a roaring lion, choosing whom he may devour. Watch each other for signs of weakness. You are your brother's keeper.”

After the test, they forced Y/N and Spencer back into the bunker. A guard again stationed by the door. It wasn’t long before Cyrus came back into the bunker, anger written across his face, “Which one of you is it? Which one of you is an FBI agent?”

Spencer and Y/N shared a look. “Why do you think one of us is an FBI agent?

“God will forgive me for what I must do.”

Spencer kept his face confused and innocent, “I--I don't know what you're talking about.”

Cyrus cocked a gun and pointed it at Spencer’s forehead. “One of you does. Who is it?”

Y/N knew that Spencer had built a rapport with the sect leader. She took a deep breath, “Me. It's me.”

Spencer looked at her worriedly as Cyrus uncocked the weapon. He flew forward and grabbed Y/N by her hair, dragging her into another room, “I told you not to put me in this position!” She tried to stand, but he backhanded her. She got up again, staring determinedly at him. This time, Cyrus threw her into the wall. Y/N crashed into a mirror and felt the shards cut her arms and face. He continued to preach while beating her, “Proverbs 20:30 tells us blows and wounds cleanse away evil.

Y/N remembered what Reid had said about the FBI trying to find a way to listen in, she had to stop them from coming in, “I can take it.” Cyrus thought she was antagonizing him and hit harder. She repeated herself, “I can take it.” Y/N hoped that the team understood that she could handle this fight and not blow the operation by trying to save her.

“Pride comes before the fall,” Cyrus punched her in the stomach and threw her to the floor. Y/N lay on the floor, trying to catch her breath after the last kick to her stomach knocked the wind out of her. He called for another man to come in, “Tie her up. Put her upstairs.

Kathy snuck into the room they had trapped Y/N in. She had brought a small first aid kit and cleaned the blood away from her face and removed bits of glass, “You should have told Cyrus who you were. He's a prophet. He predicted Satan's armies would come and lay siege to us.

Every inch of Y/N’s body hurt, but she knew she couldn’t give up. She looked at Kathy, “There's a name for that kind of prophecy-- self-fulfilling.”

“You don't know how dangerous It is to lie to him.”

“I know it would take a brave woman to defy him, Knowing the consequences. And that woman would have to have a damn good reason to do it. Kathy sucked in air when she realized that Y/N had suspicions about who made the 911 call that had led to them coming to the compound. She left the room and Y/N let her head fall back against the pillows, hoping that she was getting to the woman. 

She tried to track how long had passed but when the sun set, she had no measure of time. It hadn’t been long before the door to the room flew open and the same man who had tied her up entered. He roughly dragged her up and cut the rope binding her wrist. He kept his weapon trained on her and forced her into the church, where everyone else was. 

Cyrus stood at the altar, “It has come to my attention that some of our brothers and sisters have lost their faith in God. That they no longer love us. They want to abandon us. So when I call out your name, please stand.”

Spencer came up to her. She kept her eyes trained on the sect leader, “He looks pissed.” She turned to him and smiled softly when she saw the worry in his eyes, “Spencer, it's not as bad as it looks. I’ve had worse.”

“I'm so sorry,” Spencer scanned over Y/N’s body, taking in every injury inflicted by Cyrus. Moments like this, he hated his eidetic memory; knowing he would never forget the beating Y/N took to protect him. Their attention was drawn back to the members, 

“Look at who he's releasing. It's the ones who failed the loyalty test. I'll get word to the team. Wait for a sign from outside to indicate what time the raid will come.” Spencer walked away from her to speak to Cyrus. He turned and nodded to her, before she was dragged back up the room. Her arms were tied again and she was thrown on the bed. 

Y/N nodded off for a few hours, but had woken up when the sun had started to rise, cursing herself for falling asleep. Y/N situated herself on the bed and used her shoe to pull the blinds down. She knew that the glass needed to vibrate in order for them to hear her, “If you can hear me, I know you're coming. I can try to get the women and children down to the tunnel, but I need to know when you're coming.” She continued to repeat herself, when a red dot shone on the opposite wall, “Ok. Ok. I got you. What time?” The dot held steady for a moment and then moved 90 degrees. “3 a.m.?” The dot moved up and down confirming, “Understood. Reid is on the first floor somewhere with Cyrus. And, please, remember there are children here.” Y/N heard someone coming and dropped her foot, letting the blind close again.

Kathy came back into Y/N’s room. She helped her sit up and gave her a glass of water. This was Y/N’s last chance to convince Kathy to held, “Cyrus is planning a mass suicide. You made that 911 call.”

The woman shook her head regretfully, “This is all my fault. None of this would have happened if I hadn't of made that call.

“You were trying to protect your daughter. No one would fault you for that”

“There were other girls before Jessie. He--he would marry them in secret, and after a while he'd take another. And we weren't permitted to speak of it. So, when she asked for my consent, I wanted to just take her and run. But I was afraid she wouldn't leave him.”

“You wanted us to take her.”

“Well, I--I wanted to save her from Cyrus.”

“I can give you another chance. The FBI is coming here at 3 a.m. I need you to gather Jessica, the kids, the other women -- get them into the basement just before 3 a.m.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I have faith that you are a strong enough woman to do the right thing for Jessica.” Kathy stood and walked out of the room without another word. Y/N was left with the hope that she had gotten through to the woman. 

Only a few moments later, Kathy came back. She helped Y/N sit up and removed the bindings from her wrists, “You were right. They're setting the place to blow up. I told Jessie that Cyrus wanted her to gather the women and children.”

Y/N’s thoughts were on Spencer, “Where is the man I came in with?”

“He's in the chapel with Cyrus. It's 2:45, though, we gotta hurry.” Y/N and Kathy rushed to get the women and children down to the basement, careful to avoid any of the armed men. 

Once they got to the basement, Derek and Rossi were waiting for them. He rushed up to her, “Y/N, Y/N, you all right?

“Worry about me later, Derek. They've wired explosives.” Kathy and the agents rushed everyone out of the compound. 

“Where's Reid?”

“He's in the chapel with Cyrus.”

Rossi turned to her, “We gotta get you out of here.

“No. We've gotta get Reid!

Derek grabbed her shoulders, “I will get Reid. Get out of here. Get to safety. Go now.” Y/N nodded and followed after the rest of the members. She stayed watching the building as the other continued to run. Y/N had to know that Spencer was okay. The church exploded and Y/N fell to the ground, covering her head. Once the smoke cleared, she stood up, “Reid! Morgan? Reid? Morgan!”

“We're ok!” Derek called.

Spencer ran up to her and wrapped her in a hug, “Are you okay?” She nodded and he put his arm around her, helping her to walk to get medical attention. Only once he was certain she was getting help did he leave.

Y/N sat in the back of an ambulance as the paramedic pulled shards of glass from her arms, and bandaged and disinfected the cuts on her face. JJ came over to check on her, “How bad is it?”

“Everything is sore, but the worst is cuts from the mirror he slammed me into. They said I don’t even need to go to the hospital.”

“Take it easy and don’t move until one of us comes to help you. Understand?”

Y/N smiled, “You’re already such a mom, JJ.” The blonde laughed and sat next to her, one hand on her belly.  The rest of the night passed quickly and soon the team was on the jet back to DC. Y/N sat next to Spencer on the couch, “Hey.”

“Hey.”

Y/N gently pulled the book out of his hands and put her hand in his, forcing him to put all of his attention on her, “I need you to listen to me. What Cyrus did to me is not your fault. It was my decision, and I would do it again. Do you hear me?” Spencer nodded. Y/N smiled at him and handed him his book back. She tucked her feet under the blanket and put her head on his shoulder, exhaustion weighing her eyelids down. Spencer read to her, remembering what she said about his voice, until he was sure she was asleep. The team all shared looks at the familiarity between the youngest teammates and smiled.

When they landed, Spencer offered to drive her home. The duo ended up at Y/N’s apartment. They ordered Chinese food and Y/N let him turn on Star Trek and explain all of the science and how it was ahead of its time. By the end of the night, Y/N had her legs slung across his lap and a frozen pea bag on her bruised face. She fell asleep sometime during the fourth episode. Spencer turned the TV off and covered her with a blanket. He quickly put the leftovers and peas away, and even laid out some Advil and water on the coffee with a note for when she woke up. 

Y/N,

You fell asleep and I decided you need your sleep. I put the food away and the peas back in the freezer. Take the Advil when you wake up. You’re going to need it. Text me when you wake up and I’ll pick you up. You shouldn’t drive until you’ve healed.

Dr. Spencer Reid

[lubdubsworld]

Make you mine.

One Shot.

!8 +

Hoseok x OC

Angst , fluff 

OC is a popular solo idol  in love with street dancer Jung Hoseok. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

“One date. Come on...let me take you out for coffee. Once, just once?” I sounded like a broken record at this point , hands gripping his arm as he leaned against the table, writing out something about positions on his notebook. 

Jung Hoseok, impatient as always, gave me a shove, causing me to trip and land on my butt.

“Ow.” I muttered glaring at him. He stared down at me, unimpressed. 

“I told you not to come in here when I’m working. No. I won’t get coffee with you. Now go climb into that million dollar car of yours and get the fuck away from me.” He said sharply and i flinched at the coldness in his tone. 

I swallowed. Grinning wide, i ignored the sharp sting of his rejection. i could process the hurt later. For now, i had to change tactics. Lifting myself up, I rubbed my tailbone , moving closer and trying to peer into his notebook. 

“Okay...no coffee..” I smiled, touching his arm gently and pulling back again when he glared pointedly at me., “ That’s fine . What’s your plan when this ends? I don’t have anything on my schedule for the next two hours. We could just hang out? Talk about stuff? Your sister told me you’ve been working on a mixtape recently? I’d love to listen ....”

Hoseok groaned.

“Leah, go get your fucking hair done or buy out the latest Gucci collection or whatever it is that you rich snobby bitches do in your free time. Stop hounding me... we have  nothing  in common? Why on earth would i want to hang out with you?” He snapped. 

I shrugged.

“Because of my rocking hot bod and angelic voice? Because I happen to be the nation’s sweetheart? Because i got voted, “most likely to offer you her umbrella in a thunderstorm “ last week? I’m kind and beautiful and sexy. I can cook you your favorite dishes  and  suck your dick under the table while you’re eating it? “ 

One of his students, who just happened to be drinking water a couple of feet away from us, spat it all back out, wheezing as he gave me a look of horror. 

I gave him a sweet smile and a wave. He blushed red and smiled wide at that and my smile faltered. \

 I was sick of the adoration, sick of the applause, the praise , the compliments and the flattery. Sick of the stage itself and I couldn’t wait for my contract to end this year. I wanted to get back to songwriting and singing in my studio. Releasing vocal tracks only. No more make up or pastel dresses or bunny years. No more aegyo in fansigns , no more pretending to get scared by fucking confetti on the stage. No more giggling when a guy looks at me. No more shying away from anything even remotely adult because i was delicate. 

I was drawn out of my thoughts by Hoseok clearing his throat. 

“So you’re not leaving?” He tilted his head in question.

“I love you.” I said simply. 

Hoseok sighed, reaching out and gripping my elbow hard. He yanked me close, till I was right in front of him and I licked my lips, shamelessly staring at the plump redness of his lips. He gripped me harder at that, fingers digging into the tender flesh of my arm and I gasped.

My entire body sang at the contact and it was impossible to explain how it made me feel. Hoseok looked angry. He was angry. But I didn’t particularly care. Not when he was touching me like this.

I stared at his face, his beautiful fucking face with the sharp angular features, his dreamy body ,broad shoulders and lean waist,  those mile long legs and those thick thighs. 

I wanted something raw and real and heady and strong and there was nothing more breathtaking than the man in front of me. A  real  man. The kind of man you wouldn’t mind getting on your knees for, even in public. the kind of man who makes your breath catch in your lung. Makes your lips part and your thighs wet.

 He smiled. 

“You don’t know what the fuck love is, you little--- ” He shook his head , swallowing the insult and I bit my lips, making to move closer but his grip tightened holding me away from his body. Pain began shooting up y arm but I ignored it. 

“Then show me...I want you.  “ I said softly.

“I’m not a sextoy you can buy because you saw me in a catalogue. if you’re horny go fuck one of your cotton candy haired oppas. ” his free hand shot up, gripping my jaw . 

I wanted to scream . 

“That’s not what this is.” I choked a little when his thumb slipped down to my neck and squeezed . I kept my eyes trained on him, refusing to back away. I’d done a lot of that in the early months. But after nine months, this crush or whatever sure wasn’t going away. and i wasn’t even going to try denying how badly I wanted him. 

“What is it then? Because right now all I’m seeing is a desperate little slut, so eager for attention she’s willing to beg for my di-”

“Hob-ah...let her go.” Min Yoongi’s calm voice rang out from behind us and hoseok smirked. He stepped away and I knew he’d bruised my chin and my arm. But I resisted the urge to rub against the skin. 

“One date.” I whispered. “Please.”

He smiled , his face softening .

“Never in a million years. Get the fuck out of here before I call security.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yoongi watched Hoseok go through the routine one more time, flat on his back, head cradled in his arms . 

“Why do you keep refusing that girl?” He called out . 

Hoseok didn’t stop dancing.

“Cos I don’t like her.” he grunted, hips rolling in tune to the music, sweat dripping down his neck. 

Yoongi scoffed.

“You do know I’ve seen your search history right? For someone who doesn’t like her you sure spend way too many of your waking hours watching her fancams. ‘ 

That made Hoseok pause.

“Whatever hyung, she’s just joking around. “ 

“For nine whole months? i think she means business.”

“What business? Fuck me once and leave... not into that.” 

“ Or maybe she wants to get to know you...”

“What’ there to know hyung... nothing that would interest someone like her, for sure. She probably spends more many a day than i make in a month. I’m nowhere near her level.”

Yoongi sighed. 

Hoseok’s mind seemed to be made up. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When i first heard that they wanted me to debut Solo, I’d been so flattered. Debuting solo meant I would have no one else to please or get along with. i could do my own thing and just the fact that they trusted me enough for that made me feel on top of the world. 

But as time went by , I realized that all it meant was I would be saddled with bone-crushing loneliness.

Alone in the waiting rooms.

Alone on the stage. 

Alone while the other female artists crowded together. 

It was lonely on the top and I had to smile and laugh through it all. 

But the loneliness was most pronounced when I was stuck without a friend. A girl i could confide in and trust . 

When everything is silent and quiet,  that is when the loneliness inside you screamed the loudest. 

I sat with my knees drawn up , leaning against the wall  and staring out of the bay windows, watching the rain pound the glass.

And in the vast emptiness of my apartment, it was always silent and quiet. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Alright , that’s it!!!” Hoseok grabbed my arm, hauling me straight off the small stool i was sitting on and I yelped, surprised.

“Hoseok-”

“Get the fuck out of here. I know for a fact that you’re only looking for someone to play around with and I’m not going to be the poor pathetic sod who get caught on camera with you only to get hated on and cancelled and whatever the fuck else your cult does..... I want you out of my life.!!” He shouted and I dug my heels into the ground, yanking my arm away from him.

“I don’t fucking care about any of that. My contract ends in two months ...I’m not going to sign back on with my damned company!! They can’t control who i see and neither can my fans!!” 

“You’re going to quit your company...? the biggest label in the country? You expect me to believe that?!” He scoffed.

“It’s true! I’ve had enough of being on the stage. I don’t enjoy it anymore ! All its done is “  left me sad and alone and without a single friend. 

‘”Paid for all your ridiculously expensive lifestyle?” He sneered.

I sighed.

“You’re obsessed with my money Hoseok. I’ve never flaunted it in front of you. I’d be happy eating dukkbeokkie from a street stall with you. I don’t care about money or my company.” 

“Really? you don’t care about your company?” he shook his head in disbelief . 

“I don’t.” i insisted. 

“then how about this. I’ll be done with the day at nine o clock tonight. Meet me at the dance studio at ten. Come alone. just you. And not in that flashy car of yours. Take a fucking cab. Don’t bring your fucking bodyguard or your manager. Don’t even tell them where you’re going. If you can do that, I’ll believe you.” He said softly. 

I swallowed. 

“I...that’s... that’s dangerous.”

He scoffed.

“Thought so. Your money and your label is a part of you. And they’re things i can’t stand. So just stop-”

“Okay!” I blurted out, heart pounding. 

Hoseok stopped talking, staring at me with a frown. 

“What?” 

“Okay.. i’ll... I’ll take a cab from my apartment.... I’ll come meet you at the studio. “ I whispered. 

“Don’t be a fucking idiot.” He said harshly.

I felt my anger rise. 

“You asked me whether I can put aside my money and label.... I can! I fucking can!” 

“Just leave Leah! ” He turned on his heel.

“I’m going to be there!! At ten , tonight. And if I show up and you don’t, let’s just admit that you’re a fucking coward, Jung Hoseok!!!” I screamed at him.

He didn’t even look back. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

The studio is deserted. 

Of course it is. 

Feeling a little bit like a fool, I wrap my arms around myself, sinking into the shadows as I walk up and down the hallways. Its still just a little past ten. I could wait a while. Just in case he changed his mind. 

Ten minutes. Fifteen minutes. 

I swallowed, the darkness seeming to close in on me. 

Footsteps made my ears perk up but then anxiety spiked when i heard unfamiliar voices.

“....she fucking pants after him like a bitch in heat and the bastard is too much of a pussy to take her up on the offer.” One of them says .

“I know. Holier than thou Hoseok. Fucking prick. Like if you don’t want that a grade cunt, why not just pass it on to one of us huh?”

“....fuck ...just wanna run into her in some dark alley. I’ll stuff my fingers in her whore mouth and give it to her nice and hard , like she obviously wants. “ 

Nausea rising, I stumbled to my feet and made to move away but they had already turned the corner, both of them stopping at the sight of me. 

I felt my heart leap up into throat... stark terror blooming inside me. I opened my mouth to scream but my voice wouldn’t come , I was too petrified to even breath. 

I turned on my heel, adrenaline making me run really hard.

I’d barely moved a few inches when i crashed into a very familiar chest.

Strong arms wrapped around me, drawing me into his warmth and i heard Hoseok’s voice growl from above me. 

“You’re fired. “ His voice trembled with rage. “ You have five minutes to get the fuck out of here.” 

Both of them stood frozen.

“Hyungnim...we’re...”

“If you leave right now you’ll be walking out. If not you’re gonna be needing a fucking ambulance , Jaehyun.” 

The sound of them scarpering away made me relax, exhaling in sweet blessed relief as I sagged into his arms. The cry that I couldn’t vocalize earlier came back with a vengeance and i choked, pushing away from him. 

“I... I’m... i need to go.” I sobbed out, my nerves completely frayed as I stumbled a little. Hoseok’s hands reached out gripping my waist when i lost my balance and I flinched trying to pull away.

“Leah...wait. Leah...” He said , sounding upset and i felt like a stupid, pathetic fool. 

“They were right. You’re.... you don’t want me. That’s not your fault...I’m such a... “ The tears threatened but i refused to cry in front of him. That’s what my big, expensive apartment was for.

“Leah...no. Its not fucking true...Fucking look at me, Damn it” He grabbed my shoulders shaking me and i was forced to stare at his face. 

“I like you.” He gritted out. “ Fuck I may even be a little bit in love with you and I feel like the worst kind of bastard, making you come here tonight..alone but i swear I didn’t think you would turn up... It was so fucking reckless baby.... You could’ve gotten hurt, why would you come here....”

“you like me?” I whispered, stunned. 

He stopped , sighing.

“Yes... I do.. Always have. i just... I wasn’t sure if it was a good idea what with who you are and....You deserve someone who can spoil you and I’m far from being made of gold....” 

I cut him off with a kiss, throwing my arms around his neck and pressing my lips against his. 

He laughed and kissed me back, lips soft and gentle against mine. 

“It’s a good idea. “ I whispered, nodding my head. 

He hummed, rubbing his nose against mine, gripping my thighs and hauling me up into his arms. I wrapped my legs around his waist, clinging to him. 

“We have a lot to talk about.” He said softly. 

“We do.” i agreed.

His lips pressed against mine again. 

“But than can wait?” He asked softly.

“Yes it can.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

author’s note : just a snipper for that prompt i wrote earlier :D I’ll probably make one more part of this later :D 

[razorblade180]

Interdimensional Moms: part 1

Intro <-

Yang:So how we doin this? Drawing straws or... well we actually don’t have straws here so-

Weiss:It’s obvious that you wanna go first.

Blake:Extremely obvious.

Ruby:All over your face.

Yang:Hey now, don’t call me out like that! We all have so much to sort out here. I don’t even know where to begin. Differences could start and stop anywhere for all we really know.

Blake:From what it seems, Beacon itself would have one or two minor changes, but the real changes start after the fall. At least, for you three that is.

Weiss:You saying you’re different?

Blake:Unless you three started going on dates with Jaune at Beacon, then yes, I’m different.

RWY:(They’ve been together that long!?)

Yang:Okay, starting from Beacon...nothing really stands out too much. Jaune and I were just friends. *cringes* Back then, a certain faunus caught my eye.

Blake:Ah...right. I guess that tracks in practically every universe.

RW:Oh yeah it does. You two are joined at the hip.

Yang:Haha, really? Glad to hear it. My Blake and I are best buds! Remnant has never seen such a dynamic duo! Can’t say it didn’t take a lot of time effort after a rough patch. We actually dated in my world.

Blake:Same.

Yang:What!? How long?

Blake:I don’t know, it was pretty on again off again.

Yang:Well for me it was after Haven. Both of us had gotten pretty serious. All the growing we’ve done together and apart had brought us closer. However, Adam unintentionally put a wedge between us. His attempt to change and the problems that came with it were-

Yang stopped midway and saw the confused faces of her otherworldly teammates. They were shocked, confused even. Especially Blake, who looked the most shocked of all.

Yang:Umm did I say something odd?

Blake:Adam, he...isn’t dead?

Yang:Oh, well I guess that’s the start of the major changes then. Blake and I fought Adam at Argus. Stabbed him through the chest and watched him fall down rocks into a river.

Ruby:That lines you with my world. Dude died that day. Like any normal person should.

Yang:Well Adam is anything but fucking normal. Man has the craziest luck. A young women, the winter maiden in fact, she saved his life. She’s not exactly normal either. The maiden, Jacquelyn, ended up sticking by him to see if she could change his ways. This naturally meant we’d run into them again. And that’s how things fell apart.

Blake:What do you mean?

Yang:You were fully committed to seeing if Adam could actually change. I wasn’t, so we constantly butted heads in any situation involving him. Then we would fight about things that had nothing to do with at all. Eventually, we broke it off. We remained on decent terms but I was pretty heartbroken about the disconnect. Enter our lovable blonde idiot. Jaune did everything in his power to cheer me up.

Weiss:Sounds like him. Always such a bleeding heart. That boy just can’t help himself. Let me guess, his kindness and concern made you feel all warm and fuzzy?

Yang:Hehe, guilty. It was more of his willingness to laugh at my puns. Jaune’s always been interesting to talk to. He tries to act cool and calm even though he’s terrible at it, then comes clean right after. Before I knew it I was telling him things I hadn’t talked about with people before. I could tell he looked at me like most guys do, but also genuinely wanted to listen to me. Talk about playing unfair; he got defenseless. Suddenly I was smiling again. Anytime with him was time well spent. Then one day, I kissed him.

Ruby:Happily ever after?

Yang:Not even close! Hahaha!

Weiss:Why do you sound proud?

Yang:It’s funny looking back at it to a certain degree. Gods, I was such a brat. More than a few fights are on me. Between Blake, Raven, and other experiences, my insecurities flared up in ugly ways over nothing. It even got us to break up too. I was officially done with dating. My Ruby was out in an uncomfortable position.

Ruby:I bet! I’d never want you two fighting. Especially in my world. Picking between the person I love and my sister!? I don’t know what will happen.

Yang:I kinda do. *sets up* You’d start dating Jaune because you’ve looked at him since Beacon. The two of you would confide in each other and share a special kind of love, but it would be bittersweet. All because your sister still pines for him and never met to make him leave, and Jaune never says it, but he hates how things fell apart. He’s faithful to you and would never do you wrong, a guy to truly cherish. So... you let him go. Watch him walk back to your sister like you asked, because my happiness was worth that much to you.

Ruby:....

Yang: In my world at least. Honestly it’s still the most amazing thing I’ve seen you do. We must’ve cried over that conversation for hours. I felt so guilty and you only smiled, hugging me tight. Jaune and I had a few more stumbles. Nothing serious though. Eventually we moved in together when the world was saved. You and Oscar got together officially which made me happy. Even made our weddings a competition of who’d make dad bawl his eyes out the most. You won by the way; Raven came back into our family and into dad’s arms. Last but not least I had a baby. Yujin Xiao Long, my fucking pride and joy from above.

Weiss:Wow, that’s a lot.

Blake:What am I doing? Did I marry Sun?

Yang:Yep. You and blondes Blake, I tell ya.

Weiss:Hold the phone! Who am I with!?

Yang:Pretty sure you’re technically single. Buuuut, Neo and your have gotten pretty friendly from what I managed to interrogate out of you.

Weiss:That’s, highly unexpected. For a number of reasons.

Yang:Better believe it. Besides Cinder, a few crazies, and Salem, a few people made something of themselves. Dying sucks after all.

Ruby:You have a dead Cinder?

WBY: You don’t?

Ruby:*crosses arms* Hmph, I’ll wait my turn. Yang, you said you’re the only mother from our team. If Blake and I have been married for quite some time then what, we don’t want kids?

The joyful sunshine from Yang slipped into grayer skies. Her smile faded and it increasingly got harder to look at this Ruby without thinking of her own.

Yang:Are you sure that’s something you wanna know? I’ll tell you, but I didn’t want to bring down the mood with the problems where I from.

Blake:Problems? How big of a problem.

Yang:The biggest we’ve faced. It’s...a lot.

Ruby:Well we’ve listened this far. *takes hand* Lay it on us.

Yang:Pfft, oh boy. So...umm...another secret war came up. One that caused us to leave our friends and family for over a decade.

Weiss:A decade!?

Blake:What gets worse after Salem!? Who tries anything after a grimm queen!?

Yang:So a majority of Remnant was still unaware of her, but a fight like that can only be kept under wraps so tightly. Plenty of people still learned fractions of the truth. A few of those people weren’t exactly nice guys. They idolized her efforts and became her followers that wanted to keep her will alive, starting with taking revenge on the people who defeated her. We were so unaware. So caught up in normalcy. They ambushed us, and I mean everyone. We...we didn’t come out unscathed. Ren was crippled badly. Weiss, you almost your brother. Jaune’s family got hit but thankfully lived. The real casualties were aimed to hurt Ruby.

Ruby:Oh, of course. S-So, either you’re about to say I had no time to start a family, or...

Yang:...

Yang:When I tell you the look you made when you learned what happened to Oscar, to Qrow... that’s the moment it felt like my little sister left forever. Till this day you don’t smile like you used to. Very recently, now that it’s finally over, you’ve started looking better, but those ten years were hell. We choose to go out and fight again, avoiding contact with family. I haven’t had a real opportunity to be in my daughters life.

Ruby:How old is she?

Yang:Sixteen soon. Left her when she was four so you know. *tearing up* I missed everything. Just about anyways. Ironically it was Raven and Adam that helped her through the years with Jaune and Dad. Eventually we came back and ooohh boy was Yujin not thrilled in the slightest. Hehehe. Her right hook is really strong. I only had about a week with her before things got complicated again. *wipes eyes* But it’s okay. We left on good term. Something I definitely don’t feel like I deserve.

Blake:I can’t believe a thing like that would be possible.

Yang:Cults are a huge problem in Remnant now. You’re definitely aware of that. You actually oversee a little group from the shadows to deal with them in secret. An idea you got from experience. Adam works for you and everything. Hate to admit, but he’s become the guy you wanted him to be. Even has a family. I’m grateful to him. He personally kept my girl safe.

Blake:To think I’d hear you say that. Now I know this isn’t my world.

Yang:Don’t get me wrong, I still will hit him if given the chance. My life hasn’t been charmed and sacrifices too great were happening way too many times but it finally has gotten to a point where everyone feels like we’re taking steps towards a better future.

Weiss:Moving forward?

Yang:Yes, I was trying to avoid the phrase but yes Weiss, we’re moving forward. Still... *looks at Ruby*....

Ruby:W-What?

Yang:It’s unreal seeing you like this. My Ruby has become so strong and endured but hasn’t really picked herself up completely. All her tragedy stemmed from the loss of Oscar and Qrow; her last talk with Oscar was fight about kids too. That’s the entire reason she went off alone in the first place. Looking at you I can’t help but question my own choices. If...I just let her stay with Jaune, then maybe-

Ruby:Nope.

Yang:Huh?

Ruby:Look, if I know anything about your world, then it’s gonna be me and I can tell you without a doubt your Ruby doesn’t blame or would consider her own happiness without you. She loved you enough to take the chance to find love again. You really think there’s anything you could’ve done differently at that point. That girl is as stubborn as they come! *smiles* So buck up cowgirl. You deserve it.

A sense of warmth came over Yang as she heard those words. This other Ruby smiled at her with the same love as her own; completely caring about Yang’s feeling before her own. Yang felt so...unburdened. She couldn’t help but cry a little, laughing softly as she did. Who would’ve thought love could transcend worlds? It was so vindicating, therapeutic even.

Yang:Ruby, you’re something else entirely, you know that?

Ruby:It’s my curse. All I ever wanted was normal knees but the world said “no, special eyes!”

Yang:Well I guess I should thank the world then?

Weiss:You said your Ruby is getting better? That’s good. Still, it must be pretty weird looking at Jaune. Can’t imagine how lonely it must feel losing a love twice.

Blake:It never numbs.

Yang:Geez you two, lighten up. We can’t all be depressed. Ruby also didn’t lose Jaune. Actually....there may or may not have been an interesting...arrangement for a brief period of time.

Ruby:Ehhh what?

Yang:Hehehe well, hahaha, ummmm a decade is a very long time without feeling any kind of pleasure in a bleak situation. And you know me, I have to share things with you all my life.

Ruby:OH MY GOD!!!

Blake:*grinning* Yooooo! You loaned out Jaune!?

Weiss:That’s....accurate; in a lot of ways.

Ruby:That’s so scandalous! How could you!?

Yang:I didn’t force it! I gave the option, you said no, then you changed your mind because things got real stressful. Like come on, a decade of death and loneliness.

Ruby:Sigh...yeah. I can see it. Still, it’s so filthy. He’s a married man. What, so I’d just look at you and say “Yang I’m gonna sleep with Jaune, don’t come in the room.”

Yang:....

Ruby:What?

Yang:....Nothing.

Ruby:Bullshit! What is it!?

Yang:*scratches head* Well, I was lonely too, and a week is only so long-

Weiss:Oh so it was a group thing!!?

Ruby:WHAT!?

Yang:Only sometimes!

Ruby:SOMETIMES!?

Blake:HAHAHAHAHA!!!!!! THAT IS AMAZING!

Ruby:Why are you laughing!?

Blake:Because that’s just so extreme, and not, all at the same time. I could totally see that happening.

Weiss:Same. Dang, Jaune slept with sisters. That’s dangerously close to being like your dad.

Ruby:That’s different!

Blake:Is it though?

Yang:Eh, I don’t see the problem. We’re all grown and make choices. Plus I’m the one who guided you through awkward teenage changes. It not like we didn’t share a room for years.

Ruby:That doesn’t make it okay.

Yang:Eh debatable.

Ruby:*red* It isn’t though! How could I do something so bold!? So taboo!?

Weiss:It isn’t like you’re the one who did it. Just a version of you.

Ruby:Not better!

Yang:Awwww it’s okay Ruby. Let’s hug it out. Hehehe *opens arms*

Ruby:Don’t touch me!

Weiss and Blake laugh until their sides hurt as Ruby tries escaping the bear hug that terrorized her. Yang’s world found interesting for sure. Weiss finally decides to help Ruby out.

Weiss:Got a picture of Yujin?

Yang’s eyes lit up and pulled out her scroll. Her team huddled around her and collectively cooed like that parents they are at the sight of a blonde young girl with gorgeous blue eyes with a black combat school graduation cap and gown and a certificate proudly raised up high. If it wasn’t for those eyes and shoulders length hair, they might’ve mistaken her for Yang.

Yang:She’s going to Beacon early because she’s fucking awesome like her mom.

Ruby:I think you mean her aunt?

Yang:I know what I said.

Weiss:I bet she’s just as hardheaded.

Blake:What do you think your kid is up to right now?

Yang: Well...*smiles*

xxxx

The girl in question sat at a work bench with oil on her face and her hands busy tinkering with gauntlets. She looked over at blueprints in a journal. If they were right, then she was definitely doing something wrong. How her mother made something so complex was crazy!

Yujin:Come on Yujin. You can fix a car, making gauntlets into a sword that don’t break should be easy!

Footsteps came up from behind her and a plate stacked with sandwiches. She looked up and smiled at her dad that gave her a wink, then kissed her forehead.

Jaune:Haveing fun, you grease monkey.

Yujin:Jokes on you, I like monkeys. Just a few more attempts and I’ll have the coolest weapon in Remnant. That entrance exam is as good as aced.

Jaune:Not if you don’t have a landing strategy. Tomorrow we’re going on a trip.

Yujin:Does it happen to be near a cliff?

Jaune:Who can say? Rule one of being a huntsman, be prepared for everything.

He ruffled her hair and left, laughing evilly. Yujin could tell he’s been waiting for this day. She pulled out her scroll and searched through a collection of videos labeled “mom” and found a super early one. She hit play and watched her mother give a peace sign to the camera as trees increasingly got closer from below.

Yang:Beacon rules!!!! Wooohooo!

The camera flipped and focused on a familiar blonde flailing through the air like a doll in the distance.

Yang:Oof, hate to be that guy! Wait, that’s vomit boy! Hahah, hope he survives. He owes me shoes. Poor dude. I guess he needs more training in flirting and landing. Wait, eugh I think he barfed again! Hahaha!

Jaune:Stop watching that one!!!!

Yujin:Hahaha but it’s the best one. The ending is priceless.

Jaune: *walks back down*

Yang:Well if he survives this I guess I can off him at least I can offer him mints and company. Fake it to ya make Jaune. Between me and Ruby, at least you’ll look like a player. Heh, nah, I don’t think I can support a bunny onesie.

Yujin and Jaune:*grinning* And then she did! *high-fives* Arc charm, baby!

[chibimyumi]

Kuromyu Q&A

Dear everyone, as promised, here are the A’s to all your Q’s!

PVs are usually carefully selected to show the best part in hope to convince people to throw the money at them, right? 💴 The Kuromyu 2021 PV was really showing the best parts without plot-consequential spoilers. None of the most awful scenes were in the PV.

Click here for all official Kuromyu 2021 PVs.

Tateishi explicitly said the following in this interview.

Host: ーーThis is the role that has been played by Mr. Matsushita Yuya and Mr. Furukawa Yuta until now. What are your thoughts about succeeding them as “the third generation”?

Tateishi: “During the rehearsal period I turned how fast I could absorb this role into my own body into a game. Even though there were limitations on how much time we had for rehearsals and how much we could communicate under of the corona virus measures, I wanted to do everything I could. For that purpose, it was necessary for me to know how the people who built this [role] until now played [Sebas], after all. Even though both Mr. Matsushita and Mr. Furukawa faithfully represented the Sebastian of the original manga, they also showed themselves as actors. While carefully learning from the Sebastian portrayed by those two, I also need to show my own interpretation, and the significance of playing [Sebas] by the [start] of the actual show. I want to present the world view of the “Kuromyu” loved by the many people in this new Kuromyu properly.”

Host: ーーAbout your role of Sebastian Michaelis , what kind of character do you think he is?

Tateishi: “He is omnipotent, is cool and has his gaps. Including his roots of being a demon he can be described using one word: “sneaky“ (laughs). While I’m reading the original comics and watching the anime, I started from how he moves as a butler, and explore what he’s like as a demon. Of course the way he speaks and his posture included. At the base I want to have his calm tone, and show this part that it’s reversely creepy “should he laugh.”

There are more asks about the reaction of the JP fandom, so I shall only be posting this one here, sorry other Anons (≽△≼)

【Edit:】I compiled a few JP reactions here in this post.There are positive ones, neutral ones and negative ones of course, but overall it seems overwhelmingly negative.

.......it was supposed to be this scene ⇊, but this Myu!Ciel ⇈ is wearing the eyepatch, so it must be Our!Ciel....

I also don’t know why that scene was necessary, not even through context of having I watched the full musical. I think it was just a desperate attempt to pander to Undertaker fans, because as everyone who’s read the manga knows, Undertaker’s role in this arc is pathetically small.

A.....4/10 I guess.

The song is called “perfect black” I think. It doesn’t sound bad, just very unimpressive. I just have the feeling that this sequence doesn’t really fit the atmosphere of the contract scene well because it is very rushed.

The total sequence was about 7 minutes, and here Sebas is summoned, frees Ciel, discuss all the contract terms, kills all cult members, Ciel returns to his normal attire, Sebas and Ciel get their character exposition of what the Watchdog is, Sebas is expositioned as the omnipotent demon butler, there is a recap of the mafia arc, Lycoris, Circus and Campania, Sebas defeats Undertaker, and swears loyalty to Ciel. Yes. ALL that happened in ONE SONG.

Something else that made me give this such a low rating is because it was basically a love-letter from the lyricists/songwriters to these characters. Sebas is constantly describing himself as one hell of an omnipotent butler who is “the perfect black”, and the entire sequence was just showing off how perfect he is....realllly boring. The music and atmosphere also don’t really give this ominous feeling that Kuro is supposed to have.

Past “Contract” scenes

I don’t like “The Most Beautiful Death in the World”, but “Contract” was memorable and impressive. At the time the writers didn’t know better so it’s in retrospect out of character. BUT, there was this silently approaching shadow that almost symbolised Ciel’s chance of being reborn into a much darker version of himself. It worked at the time, and it still works for people who didn’t read the manga.

Lycoris’ “contract” song was kindaaaa terrible because it sounded like a mashed together product and the lyrics were ABOMINABLE. HOWEVER, when performed well it was the first “contract” song that reflected the energy of Sebas’ summoning. Sebas ain’t some charming vampire to the rescue; he’s a drab of dark that’s gonna fucking devour a child, but he’s the best Ciel has got. It conveyed the characters properly at least.

Circus was a blast. The lyrics were retroactively inserted into the manga by Yana after watching that. The song was good, the atmosphere was loyal to Yana’s world, and that demonic scream of Sebastian at the end, easily one of the most memorable moments of ALL of Kuromyu.

Campania didn’t have a contract song, but DAYUM was that performance memorable ughghghgh 💖

The opening and ending of Kuromyu 2021 both focus on Sebas and Ciel indeed. The opening is as you can see in the PV, the forming of the contract which was in song. The ending however does not have a song unlike all past Kuromyus.

The instrumentals of the opening song was played (at least... that’s what I think it was), and the last line spoken is Sebas going: “Well then, I will be baking you a super sweet cake!”

Vincent and Deidrich don’t have an appearance in the musical, they were only mentioned in the exposition that there was once a Blue Miracle.

The best scene was Derek’s appearance! His actor did such a good job at portraying a “normal” boy who just had something REALLY off-putting about him, but until he revealed himself as the zombie, you just couldn’t quit explain what’s so wrong about him. Amazing.

The worst............. oh gosh don’t make me CHOOSE. Erm.... either the Harcourt getting diarrhea and sounded like a screaming pig.... or the unnecessary SebaCiel shoe-horning........or any of the MIND NUMBING expositions that were just repeating themselves or just straight up unnecessary. I guess the first two candidates are marginally worse... because they just made me want to run away in discomfort. The mind numbing exposition were just boring, but you could space out for a bit.

Related posts:

Full review Kuromyu 2021 - First day performance 05-03-2021 Live Stream, Ticket, and Proxy Service

Official PVs of Kuromyu 2021

Tateishi Toshiki (New Sebastian) at Academy Night G.

Full cast 2021 names

Full cast 2021 visuals

Kuromyu 2021 asks

[bluegarners]

So I got an ask the other day about my thoughts on the Court of Owls; I gave my general  opinion, but in this post, I’d like to dive into what I actually know about them

The Court of Owls

"Beware the Court of Owls, that watches all the time,

Ruling Gotham from a shadowed perch, behind granite and lime.

They watch you at your hearth, they watch you in your bed.

Speak not a whispered word about them, or they'll send the Talon for your head."

So the Court we know has existed since colonial times and is pretty much a secret society/crime group that resides in the corners of Gotham City. The Court first appeared in Batman V.2 #3, back in 2011. The Court is composed of some of Gotham’s oldest and wealthiest families that use the Talons as assassins (I’ll make another post about them) for political influence and other gains and means. The members are all human (the so called “Owls”) and wear an owl mask to conceal their identities; the mask doesn’t look much like an owl though. It looks more like a smooth, white, porcelain mask with some slits for eyes

However, the rest of the Court is speculated to be mutant human-owl hybrids with long claws, owl-like distorted faces, and owl-like eating habits. I’m not sure what the mutants role is, but I believe they are experiments gone wrong that the Court just hasn’t killed off yet.

The Court’s origin of operations is Gotham City, but they’ve expanded internationally, where they call themselves the Parliament of Owls (this is explored in the Robin Wars storyline) or the Tribe of Judas (the Court is an extension from this religious cult, but that's a whole other can of worms). Not much else is said about the Parliament of Owls, but it can be assumed they do the same things as Gotham’s Court, but on a more worldly scale. For those who do not know, a group of owls is called a parliament, so this suggests that there are more “groups” of Owls stationed across the globe other than the ones just in Gotham, hence the Parliament.

DC Rebirth Nightwing Series

The Court is led by a Judge of Owls, the overarching leader. They wear a bloodstained owl mask, unlike the clean white masks the rest of the court wears, and garb themselves in a dark cloak to cover their head. Not much is known about the Judge, as there doesn’t seem to be specific criteria that needs to be met for one to be the Judge (taking into account that the Judge of Owls was a woman in the Batman vs. Robin the animated movie, but they also called her the “Grandmaster” instead soooo)

Doomsday Clock #6, 2018

So, because everything must always connect back to Batman/Bruce Wayne,  many of the Court's bases are in hidden rooms in every building established by the Alan Wayne Trust (Bruce’s great-grandfather), supposedly all located on the thirteenth floors. Hilariously enough, Bruce didn’t believe in the Court of Owls for a long time, as his investigations initially did not prove their existence in Gotham. Previously, he had investigated them because he believed they had something to do with his parents' murder. That line of thinking came from a young and traumatized Bruce Wayne, as he believed it didn't make sense for his parents' to have been murdered over some pearls and loose change; he thought there had to be a greater conspiracy than a mugger named Joe Chill with a gun. At some point, young Bruce had asked his father about the Court of Owls but had been denied a true answer; just like when Bruce had needed a sign to become Batman (a bat flew by his window), young Bruce had found an owl nest in his attic, which he proceeded to destroy and kill the owls in it, and thus began his investigation into the Court of Owls and his conclusion that they did not exist.

I always laugh at this panel because Bruce is so darn sure that he knows everything that goes on in Gotham and that there is no legend or myth he doesn’t know about, going on to say that his own work is proof enough that the Court of Owls doesn’t exist because he couldn’t find them. But then we get this great and ominous quote from Dick (who actually plays a larger role in all of this)

“Look, Bruce. No one knows Gotham better than you. It's your city. It's Batman's city... But it's also nearly four hundred years old. Which means over the years, maybe it belonged to something else, too. Something big. Something dark.”- Dick Grayson, Batman V.2 #4, The Court of Owls, Part 4: Face the Court

All you really need to know about that series is that Bruce didn’t believe in them, then almost got assassinated by a Talon and thus fought the Court. He didn’t defeat them, as defeating them would mean having to dismantle everything, but he fought them. Bruce, I suppose, is a more “seeing is believing” type of guy; won’t believe in a deadly court until they send someone to kill him lol

The last thing about the Court specifically, which I feel like is the most focused upon thing in fannon/fanfiction, is the labyrinth. There is an underground labyrinth that contains a drugged fountain, and it is where victims are trapped before they are killed. In the maze, the stories of all their victims are told, eventually leading the victim to their own room where they are killed by a Court Talon. This was heavily focused on when Batman was captured by the Court, where he was forced to spend a week in the labyrinth without food or water, his only source for sustenance being the drugged fountain.

The point of sending a victim into the massive underground maze is to degrade their minds to the point of hallucinations, of which Batman suffered from and at one point saw his parents, slowly going insane. This also weakens the body, making an easier kill for the Talon or an easier persuasion by the Court to join their ranks as an Owl or as a Talon to work for them. It is here in the labyrinth that the bodies of Talons, past and current, are stored, residing in these coffin-like structures with their pictures placed on top (most are pictures of children).

Now, unfortunately, in Batman V.2 #5, Bruce is drugged out of his mind and hallucinates frequently, so not everything he sees can be proven true; for instance, there’s a floating boat with an owl as its ships’ figurehead, and he punches the head of it off in anger. Bruce also talks to himself, though it can be assumed the voice in his head is someone specific, so it just lends to the narrative of how manipulative the Court is. Other than the coffin room, there is also a room where pictures of all the Court’s victims are laid out, showing how they broke down over time and became more and more insane until Talon was sent to kill them.

There’s also a room showing all the names of every person who has ever been involved with the Court, be it the victims/Talons, the members, or enemies they’ve killed. Along with these names are models of Gotham, little buildings, roads, and city maps built as smaller structures.

Batman V.2 #5

I'll make a post detailing more about Talons (uber cool but sad assassins), but this is pretty much all I know about the Court

The Court is such as cool concept, and I'm excited they're getting more attention! I feel like what they do is undervalued/underestimated considering that they've existed for centuries and are composed of almost every major elite and wealthy person in Gotham