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strawberrysoup · 4 years ago

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Pocketful of Posies || Chapter 2

You’d been hiding for years and years now; from your family, from society, from alphas and packs. Suppressants were dangerous but effective and necessary for an omega who refused to be owned—but no suppressants were strong enough to fool the nose of a super soldier, who together with his pack would stop at nothing to bind you to them forever.

pairings: dark!Avengers x reader word length: 5k chapters: 2/? warnings: A/B/O dynamics, power imbalances, noncon and dubcon sexual situations, loss of autonomy, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat — this is a dark!fic, read at your own risk. Open the read more and CTRL + F, search “content warnings” to skip to detailed trigger warnings at the bottom of the chapter.

hey read this: im desperately hoping this lives up to the standards the first chapter apparently set my dudes, fingers crossed i don’t lose any of you with this one 🤞🤞 also before we get started i just wanna let yall know i am very firmly set in my decisions for the designations and i do not apologize lmao 🤙

You had been manhandled often enough in your life but fuck this time in particular. Even if you’d managed to pass as a beta for more than a decade, you weren’t strong and couldn’t stand your ground in the face of an alpha three times your size. Steve had sucked his fingers clean and easily hefted you up into his arms, following Bruce back into the cabin and down into the basement—you hadn’t been allowed to clean the basement, it was one of the off-limits areas that were noted in your many instructions. If a door is locked, leave it alone. No cleaning is necessary in the basement, garage, or third floor. Wash the linens with a scent free detergent. Make sure the refrigerator is properly scrubbed out.

He’d left you on a metal countertop with instructions to be good for Bruce. You weren’t sure what that entailed but as soon as the blond left the room, your mind started to race. There was no way you could get away from Steve, Sam you could potentially outrun, but Bruce? Being left alone with the beta was the best thing they could’ve done for you. You could get away from Bruce.

“Have you been to see a doctor recently?” His voice was gentle, intended to be soothing as he came to stand in front of you. "Any check-ups, clinic visits?”

You knew there was blood drying on your cracked lips, cutting a jarring path down your throat. The taste was still in your mouth, you’d gouged your tongue and it was still actively bleeding. With that in mind you made direct eye contact with the beta before letting the mouthful spill over your bottom lip and drip down your front, hoping the gore would help emphasize your opinions on the situation.

“Sweetheart, I know you’re upset—”

“Bruce, why is she bleeding?” It was like getting punched in the face by alpha pheromones the moment the door to the room opened again and a much younger alpha stepped through with a practically panicked expression.

Before you or Bruce could respond you’d been swept up in the alpha’s arms. He was a few years younger than you, early twenties probably and being manhandled by a fetus was particularly bothersome. His scent kept you still for a few seconds before you started squirming, making a beta-like snarl while he corralled your limbs.

“Here Pete, can you sit with her over here? We need a blood draw and full work up, her natural hormones have probably been devastated by the chemicals in the suppressants she was taking,” Bruce gestured for the alpha to carry you to a metal table, likely meant to be used for some sort of experiments if the rest of the room was anything to judge by. "All of her reproductive organs could’ve been affected, I’ll need to do a pelvic exam. We’ll run an STD panel and—”

“No! I don’t consent!” Your voice came out as a growl, the best one you could manage. "This is false imprisonment! Let go of me you fucking knothead! This is illegal!”

The alpha started to purr immediately and you found yourself rendered boneless under the onslaught. It was startling—you’d forgotten how it felt, how calm and safe it made you feel. Alpha purrs were meant to soothe and comfort, the tones perfectly adjusted to the omega ear. They also caused a completely involuntary reaction in omegas, the same as all other alpha sounds. You had no choice but to feel relaxed, the white noise of a purr jumbling your thoughts.

Bruce smiled down at you, hand running over the top of your head where it rested against the alpha’s chest. "It’s okay, you don’t have to be afraid. I won’t let anything happen to you, I just want to make sure you’re healthy.”

“Isn’t that better baby?” The alpha sat back on the table and pulled you to sit between his legs, tucked close to his chest. “And unless you have a guardian alpha, it’s not illegal. We’re doing our civic duty, taking care of an omega in unsafe conditions.”

The worst part was that you couldn’t fight it; you couldn’t find your way out of the calm static the purr filled your brain with. Even when Bruce started taking multiple vials of blood from your left arm, when he opened your mouth to check the damage to your tongue, when they started undressing you, you couldn’t fight. It was a hazy sort of half thought, that you wanted them to stop. It must’ve been apparent in your eyes, that you were trying to work your way out of the purr’s effects.

“Shhhh, sweetheart, you’re alright,” Bruce murmured quietly as his hands pressed the glands in your neck, fingers brushing gently against the scent gland in particular. "No swelling in your thyroid or mating nodes, that’s good. Suppressants can really cause problems in your hormone glands; the blood tests will tell us for sure but it looks like you might’ve dodged the worst of it if nothing’s enflamed. How long have you been on suppressants?”

Answering was the last thing on your mind, your eyes slowly roving over the room instead. It was some sort of lab set up, tons of machines and parts of machines, technology you couldn’t even begin to comprehend. Bruce had been taking things from one particular cabinet that seemed to hold medical supplies, the rest of the place resembling a robotics factory or some kind of high-tech research and development lab. The doors had swished open automatically when Steve brought you in and when the new alpha came through. Who had automatic doors in a vacation home?

“Should I stop?” The alpha questioned the doctor, chest continuing to rumble. “I might be making her too calm I guess.”

“No, just keep doing what you’re doing Peter,” Bruce sighed slightly. "There’s too much coherence in her eyes as it is, I don’t know if the purr affects her as much as it should. I’m worried that if you weren’t enhanced it wouldn’t work at all. Look at me sweetie, can you focus on face?”

His hands cupped your cheeks, tilting your head carefully while watching your eyes. You couldn’t find the energy to focus on his face; you couldn’t imagine the purr affecting you more than it already was and dreaded the idea that it could be worse. What did enhanced mean? Like the superheroes you’d been hearing about? You didn’t keep up on current events, unless they were Omega's Rights related.

“I’m sure it’s a result of the beta chemicals dampening her omega instincts,” Peter shifted you slightly as Bruce exchanged his gloves for a new pair. "Once her body starts producing hormones on its own again she should revert back to common responses to alpha stimuli.”

“You’re probably right, we’ll know for sure once I get the blood results,” Bruce gestured for Peter to sit up more, bringing your limp body with him. “I’m going to do a breast exam and a pelvic exam and we’re done. There are some other tests I want to run but I don’t have the equipment on hand so they’ll have to wait until Tony manages to get here. Peter, can you help move her arms?”

You felt like you almost managed to swim through the purr, rage fueling you as hands manipulated your breasts. The exam itself was clinical, professional even—or it would’ve been if he hadn’t been cooing at you the whole time, how good you were being, how sweet you were, how pretty your breasts were. Peter had hummed in agreement along with the doctor, his nose trailing up and down your neck. Your hands clenched into fists and you could feel Peter’s grip on your wrists shift with the movement.

“Calm down, baby,” the alpha’s voice cooed gently against the side of your head, lips pressing into your hair as Bruce shifted away and went for the medical cabinet again. "This is important. Suppressants could’ve caused tons of problems, cancerous growths in sexual organs or secondary sex characteristics is very common.”

Death would be a reprieve. The same thought that crossed your mind any time you considered the potential effects of suppressants. A reprieve from the hiding, the exhaustion, living out of your car or a tent, eating garbage because it was all you could afford—from the constant threat of having your autonomy ripped from your hands.

You relaxed your fists until you felt his grip loosen again, even if only slightly. Your only chance would be to rely on surprise and your speed, there was no other way you’d be able to get away. Forcing your body to relax was a trial though, adrenaline was starting to course through you the more you became used to the effects of the purr. Your scent was still massively dampened by the suppressants, Peter likely wouldn’t be able to smell the shift from fear to anticipation. You bit down on the sluggishly bleeding wound on your tongue, reigniting both the pain and blood flow.

“Alright, last part, we’re almost done and then we’ll get you comfortable, okay?” Bruce was wearing new gloves again, a bottle in hand as he walked back over. "Have you had a pelvic exam before?”

You waited until he was close enough and performed what seemed to be your go to act of defiance: spitting blood directly in his face. He reared back with a short curse, Peter immediately releasing your wrists—his goal was likely to readjust you in his lap, to gain a better hold, but you were fast, faster than an alpha (always faster than alphas, it was all you had). You’d slipped from his lap and darted for the automatic doors before either of them could respond. Running through the woods naked was the lesser evil.

Steel bands. You should’ve noticed, the doors opened too soon for them to be reacting to your presence, you were so focused on getting through. But the moment you did, it felt like steel bands wrapped around your torso, pinning your arms.

The alpha’s scent was like Steve’s—the moment your brain registered it the world went hazy. You were floating, body going limp for a precious few seconds that the alpha used to sweep you into his arms and stalk further into the room. Your senses came back just in time for you to be deposited back into Peter’s lap on the table, a massive blond alpha coming into view for the first time. Your gaze was immediately stuck on his, the heterochromatic eyes nearly hypnotizing. Fighting the daze he put you in was overwhelming, especially when a wide smile split his lips and his cheeks dimpled. One massive hand reached out, almost engulfing the entire lower half of your face.

“Hello little love.” Were alphas always as insanely massive as this one and Steve, or had you just stumbled across literally your worst nightmare? “They told me you’re a flighty thing, I suppose I arrived just in time, hm? Are you going to spit blood in my face as well? It seems to be your calling card.”

The look on your face must’ve betrayed the fact that you were really, really considering it. You had a mouthful of blood and nowhere to put it but his face, honestly. Instead you used the fact that Peter was mostly propping you up to lean over the edge of the table and proceeded to open your mouth, spilling blood down onto the alpha’s shoes nice white shoes.

“I wouldn’t challenge her,” Bruce’s voice drew your attention to where he was using a towel to wipe blood off his glasses, a wry smile and affection clear on his face. "She’s putting a lot of effort into being belligerent.”

The blond alpha rumbled with a grin, thumb brushing across your cheekbone. "It’s been a stressful day for her, there’s nothing she can do that will cause any persisting damage anyway. Let her have her little rebellions.”

You wanted to be furious—what kind of asshole looked a person dead in the eyes and called their attempts to escape false imprisonment little rebellions?—but Peter seemed to have realized where your train of thought had gone because he started purring immediately. Your spine went boneless, laying you flat against his chest.

“Can you lean up against the wall with her?” Bruce directed the younger alpha to shift until both of your legs were dangling over the edge, Peter’s back to the wall the table sat against. “You’re going to need to hold her in place, even while you purr. Alright sweetie, let’s get this out of the way. Thor, will you hold her leg please?”

The sound you made was an accident. Desperation and humiliation were crawling up your spine with astounding speed, even with Peter’s purr going like a motorboat and the sound was making it too hard to think through your instincts. Omega cries were a deliberate counterpart to the noises alphas made; whines and cries and hisses, perfectly pitched to make an alpha’s hindbrain stand at attention. The sound you made was a sharp, chirping whine—distress, distress, distress, help me, help me help m—

“Oh little love,” Thor’s voice had dropped several registers and he gently shuffled Bruce to the side so he could stand in front of you, slipping as close to the table as possible and tugging your legs to rest on either side of his hips and gently running his hands over your skin. “Let’s get you taken care of, you need rest.”

The pheromones he was putting out were meant to calm but you immediately opened your mouth, using the overwhelming scent of your own blood to drown them out. The alpha sighed and stepped aside again, taking your leg with him and spreading your thigh to rest over Peter’s leg with your foot planted on the table. A whine rose in your throat again but you locked it down, instead biting down on your tongue yet again. It was as grounding as it was painful, the tang of it souring your stomach.

It was your last coherent thought, that you were starting to feel nauseous from all of the blood you'd swallowed. Thor began to purr just after that and the sound was entirely devastating, bone deep and you went completely limp, your head falling to the side against Peter’s chest and your shoulders dropping. This is what acid felt like, you were pretty sure.

Your eyes lazily followed Bruce’s path as the doctor took his place between your legs again, lifting the other into a matching position. Some part of you was fully aware of how gut wrenching this was; completely naked and spread wide in front of two alphas and a beta, a situation you’d rather kill yourself than be in, but your brain couldn’t follow any emotional tethers while Thor purred. The doctor was speaking, you could feel his hands manipulating your vulva, but you couldn’t understand anything coming out of his mouth.

Peter’s hand came to your chin and tilted your head back until you could see him, smiling down at you. His mouth moved, your eyes almost able to track the movement of his lips enough to read them but your brain gave up halfway through. The two alphas were chuckling over something but you were distracted by the discomfort of something being inserted into your vagina. A sharp yip escaped your lips, your body still completely boneless as your eyes rolled down.

“It’s a speculum, sweetie, I’m sorry it’s uncomfortable,” it sounded like Bruce was talking underwater and you could almost feel his breath on your thigh, your mind irritatingly unable to think beyond the question 'who just keeps a fucking speculum lying around?' "Just a few more seconds while I get a pap smear.”

More discomfort came before the instrument was removed, another yip leading Peter to purr along side Thor. The rest of the exam was a blur, slippery fingers and pressure and foreign sensations. You could barely think, let alone realize that Bruce was finishing up the manual exam, when your eyes noticed movement behind them. You couldn’t really make out anything, nothing would focus, but you assumed it was Steve and Sam.

There were more voices but you couldn’t hear anything for an indeterminate amount of time. It wasn’t until Thor stopped purring again that you were able to start regaining your senses, as much as the continuous rumbling in Peter’s chest would allow. The difference between the sounds the two alphas produced was marked by your sudden ability to focus your eyes, to concentrate on voices, in the way your muscular control was slowly returning.

You were almost glad the young alpha was still purring—it meant that the spike of terror that tried to shoot through you was somewhat dulled, enough that it wouldn’t show in your scent. Sam and Steve had indeed come in, accompanied by a young woman with long auburn hair and porcelain skin, a beta from the scent. As soon as she made eye contact with you she smiled vibrantly, slipping forward and sneaking between your still spread thighs.

“You’re so beautiful,” she murmured, long fingers stroking absently against your neck as she leaned in, forcing your back tighter against Peter’s chest. "Will you let me see your trauma my love?”

Some sort of red miasma filled your vision, a fog you quickly realized was coming from her hands—and realization slammed into you like a freight train. You seen that before, in passing. And then the recognition made you nauseous—Thor. You didn’t keep up with current events, but certain names you couldn’t miss. Thor, Tony Stark, Captain America. Your eyes flashed to the blond man standing towards the back of the room; Captain America, Steve Rogers.

Desperation shot through your body like you’d been tazed. Your foot shot out of Thor’s hold, the alpha hadn’t been putting any actual effort into holding you still since you’d been so dazed, and connected with the woman’s chest to send her reeling. Before anyone else could respond, your throat rasped for several seconds before a warbling shriek escaped. The four alphas in the vicinity reacted like they’d been shot; Thor and Steve both stumbled back, and Sam’s knees practically gave out, sending him careening into the wall. Behind you, Peter, far too close to the source, immediately went limp.

There were several distress calls an omega could make. Most of the time, they were whines or chirps, noises meant to draw attention from packmates. They were small, careful sounds—nothing loud enough to attract attention from a foreign alpha or delta. Omegas were quarry to be stolen, after all, which was precisely why they had one, singular method of defending themselves against their biggest biological threat and that was a shriek.

When in close proximity, the sound was loud enough and tuned just so to daze an alpha’s hindbrain. The evolutionary explanation was that a loud shriek meant that an omega being confronted by an aggressive alpha could both temporarily stun their attacker and summon assistance—alphas or deltas, far enough away that the negative effects were nullified but within proximity to hear that an omega was in danger. The assumption being, of course, that an omega who shrieked was in danger from a stranger, not a packmate.

It only worked for a very short time though, any alpha or delta in the area would immediately converge on the omega’s location and deal with the problem—it was the reason you hadn’t used it outside. There was no reason for the effects to last when it summoned immediate assistance, though, and that meant you needed to move. You slid off the table, bare feet slapping tile as you just barely managed to dodge Bruce’s grasp. The woman, the witch from the news, was on the floor clutching her sternum.

The stairs were a blur, so was the foyer and the driveway. You hesitated at your car for all of ten seconds before running for the forest; your keys were in the pocket of your jeans, back down in the basement. Abandoning all of your possessions hurt somewhere deep in your heart but there wasn’t any time for sentiment. You had to get away, quickly.

Luckily the woods had become your home a long time ago. You moved between the trees silently, feet so heavily calloused from constantly going barefoot that you didn’t even notice the twigs and sharp stones digging into your flesh. Your brain shot into overtime. You needed to steal clothes, then cash. You’d lived with nothing for years, you could do it again for however long you needed to. The only thing you really needed was suppressants; everything else was a luxury.

You assumed they were behind you, you’d been running for a good three minutes. The straight path meant they could follow you easier but the goal had to be the maximum distance possible rather than the most strategic pattern. Your only advantage was being fast and you had no choice but to rely on it, especially since your hindbrain was wailing with every step you took. The suppressants were the only reason you could do it at all, the trade off for quieting those damn instincts being a tolerable mildness of character that did not appreciate the constant, incessant shriek of your baser self while you were trying to focus.

All you had to do was keep quiet until you could find one of the creeks running through the forest—so close to Lake Superior there was water everywhere. You would run through the creek in several different places, to mask your scent and make it difficult to follow. It wouldn’t be hard to find a hunting blind or shack, a hole in the ground was better than going back there. The moment your eyes caught on running water you dove into it, covering yourself with mud before jumping back up to continue running.

Captain America was super fast and you’d bet the rest of them were similar if not the same and you needed more distance. Somewhere in the back of your mind, prey behavior was setting in. Natural selection had driven your existence, you were the result of thousands of years of evolution, and the life you’d lived meant you were far more adapted to being hunted than most omegas. You were vulnerable but not helpless and as you coated yourself in more mud from a different part of the creek, chemosensory instincts started rattling through you.

They were coming. Your scent was inhibited by the suppressant’s and that made it harder for them to follow you but they were doing their best. Combined with the water and the mud, your scent was very difficult to pin down, even for a super soldier. You contemplated climbing a tree to hide, but the insane memory of how keen the noses of the pack following you were spurred you on. You kept running, covering yourself in mud two more times, before finding a tree with a massive tangle of roots at the bottom. Fighting whatever creature had made a home down there was worth it—it went deep, was heavily covered by underbrush and detritus from the trees, but most importantly it was surrounded by wild bergamot in full bloom.

It smelled lovely, spicy and floral with a citrusy overtone. You crawled through the dirt, wiggling between the roots and carefully avoiding crushing any plants or branches that could give you away. Whatever lived in there was out, likely foraging, and you took the creature’s absence to your advantage and pressed as far back into the hole as possible.

You weren’t tired, despite the long, exhausting day and the fucking trauma. Another small grace that adaption had provided was that once an omega began producing adrenaline, sleep became unnecessary—it was actually considered a very unenviable omega trait in the general population, but you’d found it’s uses worth the unpleasant side effects. Your heart would continue to race for the next several hours, your pupils wouldn’t return to normal for potentially days and your blood sugar had sky rocketed and that was going to be a nightmare for how ever long it lasted.

The waiting was going to hurt—there was nothing to pass the time and you had to actively focus on not being terrified or your omega scent could seep through, oh, what was it now? Five coats of mud from the creek, a significant amount of bergamot, and fifteen years of whatever the fuck suppressants did to your scent over time.

It wasn’t ten minutes later that you heard them. Stealth wasn’t their objective, that was clear from the amount of noise they made. You could hear Steve and Peter calling your name, although you didn’t know how they knew it. Thor was speaking, his tone low but certainly not quiet. They weren’t even moving that fast, walking almost leisurely.

“She’ll need to bathe and eat. Clint and Natasha are finishing up in New York. Steve, have you heard from Tony or Bucky? Carol?”

“Tony’s wrapping up, should be flying over pretty soon. Carol and Bucky were on their way up but I gave them a list of things to grab while they’re going through the bigger cities. Shouldn’t be too much longer for them either though.”

Steve and Thor were different than Sam or Peter. You couldn’t pin down exactly what had set your teeth on edge, but the scent the two blond alphas gave off was different. Their pheromones were worse, more infectious. Eye contact with Steve had made your hindbrain beg to go to him, regardless of the rationality you could usually manage thanks to the suppressants. You could remember the feel of Thor’s hand on like it was seared into your skin instead, you wanted him to never not be touching you ever again—

If you could’ve slapped yourself without making noise you would’ve. The stupid omega in your brain, that dumb, easy cunt was going to get you killed. You sealed your lips, clenched your teeth and tucked your hands under your bent knees. Night was starting to fall to your benefit, the shadows were getting darker. You were so far back they would have to crouch down and crawl half way in to see you.

If you could keep your wits until they passed you could double back, trying to find your keys would be a wash but you could grab clothes from the back of your ancient Tahoe. You weren’t sure how long you’d been in the basement, but you didn’t think it was long enough for them to have gone through your things.

“Could she have gotten this far?” You held your breath as Sam stopped far too close to your hiding place for comfort.

“Omegas are fast and she seemed faster than most,” Bruce answered. “We’ll know for sure once her blood work comes back, but from her physiology I’d say she presents as a classical omega. She’s probably the first in her family in a long, long time. To have a scream that loud in this day and age? The omega gene must’ve been skipped so long that there was no chance for it to adapt to modern omega qualities.”

“There’ve been some studies suggesting that the classical omega attributes are making a come back in the general population,” Peter’s voice came from much farther away. "They haven’t been peer reviewed enough yet and they haven’t been replicated en masse because they don’t have enough subjects, alphas aren’t exactly thrilled to have their omegas studied, but—”

“The lack of data aside, I assume there’s a correlation between the alphas willing to allow their omegas to participate and the behavior of the omega in question. Do you think—”

“Focus, Bruce,” Steve’s voice was light with affection. "The point is that yes, she could’ve gotten this far or farther. The way she keeps running into the creek is messing up the footprints and—”

Their voices faded as they continued the same linear path you’d been running earlier. The fact that they didn’t even sound a little concerned that you could get away was both insulting and unnerving. You didn’t need alphas having that kind of confidence regarding your behavior—and why weren’t they moving any faster? The paranoia was immediate and overwhelming, what did they know about that you didn’t? Something they assumed would hinder you farther along in the woods? Something they were planning for when they found you? When.

You forced yourself to count slowly to six hundred, waiting what you hoped was a full ten minutes before silently crawling out of your hide. Their scents were everywhere, you could smell where Sam had been standing almost directly over the opening in the roots. They were still too close for comfort and you turned, running back through the forest. Your feet were starting to feel sore, usually you’d at least watch where you stepped but there just wasn’t time—you had to get away before they could enact their plans.

The clearing the cabin sat in was coming up and you forced yourself to slow as you approached the tree line, keeping a careful eye out for the beta woman. You couldn’t remember what her call sign was, something to do with witches, and you definitely didn’t want her using that red magic stuff on your head.

The extra seconds of waiting paid off, watching her pace the porch for a few moments before her phone rang. She answered, walking inside and closing the doors behind her. You didn’t wait an extra second, darting across the clearing to where you car was sitting in the driveway with the trunk popped. They must’ve started going through your things but stopped part of the way through.

You could see one of your go bags though, squished between your rolled up sleeping bag and tent. The straps of the bag squeaked with how hard you yanked it out, hesitating slightly—instinct told you to leave the sleeping bag, but you’d grown used to the luxury of it and leaving the stupid thing behind made you decidedly sad. You tossed the straps of the go bag over your shoulder and turned away, knowing it would slow you down and—

There was an Iron Man suit standing directly behind you, gauntlets rested on the hips and the head cocked to the side. You froze, as if staying still could prevent it from noticing you. Fuck, you hoped there wasn’t a man in there. A stupid thought, you considered as you stared silently, trying to decide if there was any way out. Hope was a joke at this point but you didn’t have anything else.

“Hi princess,” it was a distinctly human voice, if filtered. "Hope I didn’t miss too much of the fun.”

content warning: nonconsensual medical procedures, general noncon touching/assault.

edited 7/9/21 - still on hiatus

#avengers x reader #dark!avengers x reader #steve rogers x reader #thor x reader #peter parker x reader #bucky barnes x reader #sam wilson x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #tony stark x reader #bruce banner x reader #carol danvers x reader #clint barton x reader #will reblog w tags

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wingsofkpop · 3 years ago

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Hiraeth - I.X: Was it Worth it in the End? Part Two

pairing(s): Hybrid!Im Jaebeom x Reader, Witch!Mark Tuan x Reader, Werewolf!Jackson Wang x Reader, Vampire!Park Jinyoung x Reader, Supernatural!Got7 x Reader

genre: Supernatual!AU, Dark Magic!AU, very heavy Angst, eventual Smut

warnings: Mature language, violence, explicit descriptions of fighting and injury, weapons, blood and gore, brief mention of a mutilated animal corpse, minor character death, description of trauma and mental illness, brief mention of suicide, mentions of murder, satanic themes and ritual, etc.

Trigger Warning: This chapter does contain graphic and explicit themes regarding violence, trauma, and death. Please do not read if this will harm you. This is your final warning.

word count: 10,6k

synopsis: How far are you willing to go to find out the truth about Moon Dye Bay?…

chapter directory

The nighttime is hushed, almost anxious as Minho maneuvers his way past gravestones and overgrown shrubbery. It’s almost like nature itself is too afraid of accidentally provoking the witch, sensing the torpedo of dark magic and violent sorrow stirring through his veins. He peers up at the crimson moon, grateful for the illumination it provides, and continues down his path—ignorant of the cold air bleeding into his flesh.

Minho knows this is probably not the best time for a visit, aware that his ex-covenmates are likely plotting some sort of mission to overthrow him, but he doesn’t care—he can’t care anymore. A part of him, the shameful, guilty part of his mind. actually hopes they will succeed, at least then, he would no longer have to endure the pain that comes with bearing this black magic. He can feel its poison rushing through his veins, seering his body from the inside out, killing his soul over and over and over again…

But isn’t this what he wanted? Revenge? Retribution? Minho performed that spell to hurt the very friends that hurt him—to hurt Mark, and he got his wish… so why does it feel like the world is caving in around him, swallowing him whole?

Once he reaches his destination, Minho collapses to his knees, unable to bear the weight of his burdens. His eyes burn with tears, but he doesn’t allow himself to cry. A silent gust of wind strokes his cheeks, painting his skin red with bitterness and anger. He welcomes the cold air, accepting the punishment, before lifting his hand to splay his fingers against the even colder surface of the headstone.

“I’m sorry…” Minho whimpers, “It didn’t have to be like this…”

The silence heightens his anguish—deepens the wounds in his heart.

If he could take it all back, he would… but he can’t.

“I wish you were here, noona…”

His murmur is lost to the wind, but it doesn’t matter. He climbs back to his feet before sparing one final glance at the burial place of his lost friend. After a deep inhale and a wordless goodbye, Minho turns and hastily begins back toward the mausoleum.

He was allowed this one moment of weakness—now he must get back to the horrible reality he manifested for himself.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“Can you be any more obvious…?”

Mark quickly awakens from his mindless trance, discovering, to his dismay, Dahyun looking down at him with a single raised, all-knowing eyebrow. He fakes a cough into his elbow before shrugging his shoulders, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re kidding me, right?... You literally haven’t taken your eyes off of her since we met up in the forest.”

Heat immediately rises to Mark’s cheeks. As if on instinct, his eyes trail back to his subject of interest, watching as you wipe the sweat from Jaebeom’s girlfriend’s forehead and neck before shifting to do the same to Felix. It’s such a simple action, but you somehow look so ethereal—almost like an angel sent from heaven.

He curses himself for his own cheesiness, then releases a defeated sigh.

“We got into a pretty big fight earlier.”

“Then don’t you think you should—I don’t know—talk to her instead of staring her down like a creep?”

“I think the last thing she wants to do is talk to me.” Mark drags a hand through his hair. “I… said some really stupid shit in the heat of the moment. She probably hates me.”

Dahyun scoffs, “God, you are such a fucking idiot.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you need to get your ass over there and apologize to that girl.”

Her harsh tone doesn’t falter beneath his glare, nor does her tenacious expression as the two proceed with their silent staring contest. After a minute or two, Dahyun breaks off the competition with a long, heavy sigh. Her eyes are soft when she looks back at him, and suddenly Mark finds the dried mud on his shoes a lot more interesting.

“Mark, anyone can see how much you care about her—how much she cares about you.” Even when a gentle hand caresses his shoulder, the witch keeps his attention to the floor. “(Y/N) could never hate you—no matter how much stupid shit you pull.” She snickers, “And you pull a lot of stupid shit, so that has to account for something.”

He can’t help the amused chuckle that falls from his own lips.

“Thanks, Dubu.” Mark says, tilting his head to finally meet the warmth of her gaze.

“She’s a good one—a really good one, Mark.” The wolf hums, “Don’t let it be your fear that pushes her away.” She doesn’t give him a chance to reply further, pacing to a nearby corner to join a conversing Bang Chan and Yugyeom.

Sparing the wolf trio one final glance, Mark musters up the remaining courage he has left and pushes from his perch against the kitchen countertop. He forces himself to walk in your direction—each step releasing more butterflies into the confines of his stomach. Once he reaches you, close enough to touch your turned back, he almost chickens out, content with spending the rest of the night watching you like hawk, but the sound of Felix’s breathy voice locks him in place:

“—Channie-hyung and I have always wanted to go to Chicago… Is-Is it as windy as they say?”

“Even windier.” You say with a laugh. “I can’t tell you how many scarves I lost, and don’t get me started on how freaking cold the winters are.”

Felix laughs too, although it resonates as more of a wheeze than anything.

You shrug, “It’s a gorgeous city though—probably my most favorite place I’ve ever lived.”

“Then why did you leave? If you loved it so much?”

Mark’s interest piques when he notices how your figure grows tense at the young boy’s croak. He’s heard his fair share of stories of your heartfelt time in the Windy City, but he never quite figured out why you ultimately decided to move to Moon Dye Bay. You’ve always been reluctant to reveal certain details from your past, especially regarding your time in the foster system, but even then Mark has been able to pry the worst memories from your brain.

This subject, however, has been a brick wall.

“Because I couldn’t stay.” You finally answer, “It’s complicated, but something happened and basically I—”

“(Y/N)?”

He silently cusses as Felix interrupts your explanation, but his annoyance dissipates at the panicked expression etched along the teenager’s sweaty face.

“What is it, Felix?” You shift your position on his bedside to better face the boy, leaning forward to place a gentle hand on his forehead. Mark can only imagine how hot the skin is to the touch.

Felix’s words crack as they leave his lips, slicing at the witch’s heart like a dagger:

“Am… Am I gonna die?”

“Of course not.” You immediately say, but Mark can sense the uneasiness in your tone. “Everyone is doing everything they can to help you, okay?... You’re gonna get through this, and one day you and your brother are gonna go see Chicago yourselves and try not to get blown away into the next century.”

Felix sleepily chuckles, “Thanks, (Y/N).”

“You should get some sleep.” The moment the command leaves your lips, Felix is already closing his eyes and diving headfirst into dreamland. Not wanting to startle you, Mark waits a couple seconds—partly to give you time to regain your composure, and partly to give himself time to think of what to say. However, he doesn’t have much of a choice when you suddenly turn, growing aware of his presence. A frown overtakes your face, and he instantly regrets ever leaving his countertop.

“Did you need something?”

“No—yes, I mean—shit.” Mark buries a hand in his tresses to tug at his roots, attempting to juggle between putting together the right spoken words and reminding his body to breathe. “(Y/N), I—”

“If you came to apologize, I don’t want to hear it.” He helplessly watches as you rise from the bed before tossing your used rag on a nearby table. “I think you made yourself pretty clear back at my apartment.”

“I shouldn’t have said what I said—” Before you can storm away, Mark latches his fingers around your wrist. “—please. Just give me a chance to explain.”

Your shoulders rise and fall in a heavy sigh, but you make no move to tear away from his grip and he takes it as a chance to continue:

“After my mom died, I was so fucking angry…” Mark notices your surprised gaze when you lift your head, but he doesn’t meet your eyes. “I was angry at the world, at her, at myself… and when my magic began to show up, things got a whole lot worse.” He shakes his head, “I thought about just ending it—jump into the bay or maybe drink myself to death—but then I met…”

“Then you met Jackson.”

“He taught me how to deal with the anger—to use it as a tool, not a weapon.” His eyes begin to burn at the countless memories that reel through his mind. “It was because of him I learned how to control my powers, and I was able to bring the coven together—hell, he was the one who told them to nominate me as Regent, which right now, seemed like the worst fucking decision on the planet.”

Mark takes a moment to blink away his tears before taking a seat on an empty cot. He still can’t find it in himself to glance at your face, keeping his eyes trained to the wooden flooring.

“But when Jackson had an idea, there was no stopping him.” He chuckles sarcastically, “The bastard was as stubborn as a goddamn mule.”

“What happened to Jackson, Mark?” Your voice is both a sweet lullaby and a screeching siren against his ears. “How did he die? Really?”

“The initial plan was to infuse enough magic into Jackson’s werewolf form so his venom would be lethal to the Primes, or at the very least, to Jinyoung. It all went smoothly in the beginning, I was able to channel enough power to complete the transformation… but something went wrong—

“—Jackson was different when he shifted. He was ruthless… He didn’t want to just kill the Primes—he wanted to slaughter every vampire along with those who protect the secrets of their existence… no matter if they were witch, werewolf, human—they all deserved to die…

“The combination of his determination and the bloodlust drove him fucking mad… If Jaebeom hadn’t ripped out his heart, there’s telling what he would have done—who he would have killed…”

Mark leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees, attempting to hide his shame beneath the curl of his bangs. “—Jaebeom may have dealt the final blow, but Jackson died because the dark magic I used turned him into a monster—he’s dead because of me…”

Silence encompasses the room like a vice grip to the throat. For a moment, Mark believes you left him, too disgusted and ashamed to even breathe the same air as him, but the entrance of your worn boots into his vision proves otherwise. The image is replaced by your face when you kneel in front of his broken figure, laying your hands over each bicep. He notices your touch is gentle, but not hesitant, and warm—always so warm.

“You can’t blame yourself for his death, Mark.” Mark doesn’t realize he’s crying until you wipe a tear from his cheek. “How could you have known what that spell would do? You couldn’t have—”

“Magic always comes with price—especially dark magic.” He whispers, unable to hold back more liquid sadness as it trails down his skin. “(Y/N), if I ever lost you the same way I lost Jackson, my mom, I—”

Mark’s voice cuts out into a sob, and once your arms wind around his form, he completely breaks, releasing every ounce of repressed sadness and despair and pain into the crook of your neck. He knows he’s selfish for melting into your embrace—for consuming your comfort like a demon expelled from the heavens—but he doesn’t care.

When you guide his eyes to meet your own, Mark can spot the glassiness of your own orbs in the artificial light—along with enough compassion and ardor to send another flood of tears down his face.

“I’m not going anywhere, okay?” You affirm, your tone unwavering and stern. “I’m here—and no matter how many times you fall, I’m gonna be here to pick you up…

“I’m here, Mark… Do you understand me?”

He nods with a sniffle, tightly squeezing your hands between his own.

“I’m sorry.”

You smile at his apology.

“I’m sorry too… for everything.”

“Just… No more secrets. For real, this time.”

“For real, this time.” Mark’s heart rate picks up when he suddenly notices how close his face is to yours. From this angle, he can count the constellations glistening within your eyes and map the delicate curves of your facial features. If he were to lean just an inch closer, just one tiny inch, his lips would be on your own—

“Sorry to interrupt, but we have an issue.” At Yugyeom’s statement, you and Mark immediately wrench away from one another, almost as if having been caught engaging in forbidden territory. Mark pretends he doesn’t miss the weight of your hands inside his own as he rises from the cot, making sure to put an appropriate amount of distance between his and your shoulders.

He clears his throat before humming, “What’s going on?”

“Chan wants to go and find Chaeyoung’s body.” Although Yugyeom’s face remains neutral, Mark can see the sadness lingering within his eyes at the mention of his fallen packmate. “He doesn’t remember exactly where she was, so him, Dahyun, and I are going to search the forest.”

You immediately shake your head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Sunrise isn’t for at least another hour, and we have no way of knowing Youngjae broke the curse yet.”

“I’m with (Y/N) on this one, Gyeom.” Mark agrees, “We’re safest here in the bunker.”

“We can’t just leave her out there. I mean, she—” Yugyeom cuts himself off with a heavy sigh, before continuing in a softer tone, “You know how it feels to lose someone, hyung… Chaeyoung is—was… our family.”

Mark takes a moment of silence to ponder, conflicted between his common sense and Yugyeom’s pleading gaze. As you said, sunrise is an hour away—but Youngjae, the coven and the Primes should have overthrown Minho by now, right? Plus, he literally blew Changbin’s head off with that shotgun. There’s no way his body could regenerate that quickly…

“We’re all staying together.” He finally says, moving toward the kitchenette to grab his weapon from its perch on the counter. “And if anything seems shady, it’s an immediate retreat.”

Yugyeom delivers a nod before heading off to gather the other wolves. Mark moves toward the bunker exit, but is stopped by your form. A heavy sigh cascades from his lips—just from your expression, he knows this conversation isn’t going to go his way.

“(Y/N)—”

“If you’re gonna tell me I can’t go with you, don’t even bother.”

He shakes his head, “It’s too dangerous…”

“If someone tells me that one more goddamn time—” He can’t help the tiny smile that spreads across his face at the sassy way you roll your eyes. And he doesn’t protest when you move to follow Dahyun up the ladder.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Youngjae inhales a deep breath, taking the moment to feel his lungs expand, before releasing the air in an even deeper exhale. Even with the relaxation attempt, his body remains tense and his thoughts disorderly. He can’t help but feel as if Minho is waiting somewhere in the darkness of the crypt, ready to pounce on him like a predator to its prey.

Would he toy with his catch first? Or would he skip the pleasantries and go right in for the kill?

A hand appears on his shoulder, wrenching Youngjae from his morbid daydream. He angles his head to meet Lia’s concerned gaze and immediately tries to mask his fear beneath an expression of indifference. Unsurprisingly, the female witch sees right through his facade:

“I’ve known you practically my whole life, Youngjae. Whatever it is, you can’t hide it from me.”

His shoulders sag in defeat as a sigh blows past his lips.

“I’m just… worried about Mark-hyung. He’s powerless out there.”

“Mark is smart—he’ll know what to do if he finds himself in trouble.”

“And if he doesn’t?... I-I mean, what if Minho or Changbin found him before he could warn the pack? He could be dead for all we know—”

Lia silences his desperate quip with a shake of her head, “You shouldn’t think like that right now—”

“What else am I supposed to do?” Youngjae runs a frustrated hand through his hair before gesturing toward the main exit of their underground penitentiary. “Even with yours and Jisung’s energy, I don’t have enough power to take down the barrier spell.”

“Help is on the way—”

“How do you know that for sure?”

Lia remains silent, simply continuing to stare at Youngjae. He feels almost uncomfortable beneath her gaze, resisting the urge to shrink back and become one with the shadows.

“I don’t know… but I have faith.” She murmurs after a brief moment. “We’ve lost a lot, but I still believe that we’ll all somehow manage to come out of this alive. You should try doing the same.”

With that, Lia leaves to speak with a dangerously quiet Jisung. Youngjae spares the pair a single glance before heading toward the crypt entryway. A single beam of moonlight illuminates the exit stairway, almost as if mocking him about his inability to escape the dingy prison.

Youngjae knows Lia is right—of course she’s right. Worrying about the possible pitfalls of this plan won’t help him, or Mark, or anyone. He can only pray that his mentor safely found his way out of the cemetery and is sending backup right this very moment.

He needs to have hope, if nothing else.

“What if we somehow lure Minho down here?” Youngjae’s thoughts quiet at Lia’s suggestion, angling his head to meet her gaze. “Technically Youngjae just needs to touch him to siphon his magic… so why don’t we bring him to us?”

“Minho-hyung won’t step past the barrier.” Jisung dissents, dragging his fingers through his already tousled hair. “He probably knows we’re planning something against him, so there’s no way he’ll believe whatever ruse we try to pull.”

“Then we have no choice. Youngjae, are you sure you can’t take down the spell?”

Youngjae sullenly shakes his head.

“Is there something else you can siphon? Maybe the crypt itself?”

“The crypt was built by humans.” He answers, “I can only draw power from the supernatural—”

“Then it’s a good thing my dear brother and I weren’t turned into superwolf bait.”

Youngjae, along with the other witches, nearly leaps a foot in the air at the sudden voice. He whirls around to face the stairwell, which to his surprise, is now occupied by the last person he ever expected to see:

Im Jaebeom.

Jisung chokes, scurrying backward into the shadows as the hybrid approaches the trio. After taking purchase against the doorway, he offers his signature sly smirk.

“Evening, Harry Potter and friends… Funny meeting you down here.”

“Now is not the time for games, hyung.” Youngjae breathes a sigh of relief as Jinyoung’s voice echoes throughout the stone walls. Seconds later, he comes hustling down the staircase before shoving Jaebeom out of the way. The vampire then peers into the crypt, his gaze burning with the determination of a man at war. “Is anyone hurt?”

“No. We’re okay.” Lia steps forward. “If you’re here, I’m guessing Mark reached the wolf pack?”

“Your guess is correct.” Jinyoung nods, placing a hand against the invisible doorway. “My brother and I will do everything we can to help disarm the rogue, but I think it’d be best to free you all first.”

Youngjae joins the conversation. “I can take down the barrier spell, but I’ll need to draw energy from one of you to do so.”

“Let’s do this quickly then.” Jinyoung goes to roll up the sleeve of his white shirt, but is halted by his immortal companion. Surprise filters through Youngjae’s veins as Jaebeom shrugs the leather jacket from his shoulders with a huff:

“With my luck, he’ll drain you dry and I’ll have to deal with this voodoo fucker myself. I think it’s best we use my energy—sorry not sorry.”

“Alright, then.” Youngjae hums, “I’ll need you to push through the barrier just enough that I can touch you… It’s gonna hurt. A lot.”

“Good thing I’m a sadomasochist.” Jaebeom snickers at his brother’s unamused expression, “Too much?”

“Move your hand through that goddamn barrier before I throw you to the superwolf myself.”

The hybrid rolls his eyes, but follows Jinyoung’s instructions and proceeds to force his limb past the invisible blockade. He remains silent, but Youngjae can spy the uncomfortable twitch of his eyebrow and the tension along his stone-cold features. Blood begins to bud along his knuckles like a patch of blooming roses before flowing down his pale skin the more he presses against the barrier.

The siphoner raises his hand in preparation. “Just a bit more.”

A mere couple seconds later, Youngjae feels Jaebeom’s bloody flesh brush against his own. The skin-to-skin contact is slight, but enough, allowing the hybrid’s energy to spread through his veins like wildfire. Youngjae almost cries in relief as the magic conquers his entire body—a new kind of hope sparking somewhere within his chest.

“Phasmatos Siprum… Emnis Abortum…” Youngjae murmurs, positioning both hands against the invisible wall. He feels it crumbling beneath his fingertips, unable to withstand the power flowing through his figure. “Fasila Quisa Exilum San… Fasila Quisa Exilum San…”

A proud grin stretches along his features as the barrier buckles, then completely shatters. With Lia and Jisung in tow, Youngjae beelines out of the crypt and into the stairwell where Jaebeom, who’s cleaning the crimson from his knuckles, and Jinyoung reside. The latter nods, which Youngjae is quick to return.

“‘Kay, they’re free… Now what?”

“Now we find Minho and end this once and for all.” Lia answers, not sparing the hybrid a glance as she dashes up the stairs. Youngjae and the rest of the group try to keep up with the female witch as best as they can, not faltering until they reach the surface. The cemetery is quiet when they emerge from the crypt, Youngjae notices—almost too quiet.

He takes a short moment to breathe in the fresh night air before turning to a tense Jinyoung, “I need to get close enough to siphon Minho’s magic to perform the counterspell. You think you and your brother can find me a way in?”

Jinyoung nods. “You can count on us.”

“Stay close…” Lia warns with a sigh, “I wouldn’t be surprised if the bastard already knows we’re free—”

Lightning suddenly strikes a mere few feet from where Lia is standing, earning a chorus of screams and surprised gasps from the witch trio. Youngjae watches as Jinyoung speeds forward, grabbing Lia just in time to avoid being burnt to a crisp by a second bolt. With Jisung at his side, Youngjae quickly takes shelter underneath the overhang of a nearby tomb as even more lightning bombards the earth. He surveys the area, searching for the perpetrator responsible for the weather abnormalities.

“Minho!...” Lia screeches from behind a large tree, her tone far less than friendly. “Quit being a fucking coward! Come out here and face us goddamnit!...”

Youngjae huddles closer to Jisung as the wind suddenly picks up, ripping at his hair and clothing like a vengeful spirit. He moves to speak to his younger companion, but his words die on his tongue as the subject of the hour waltzes into view. The heavy gusts don’t seem to affect him, though that’s no surprise since the wretched weather is his doing.

Minho smirks, “They say lightning never strikes one place twice… You must be really special then, Lia.”

“Oh fuck off! We’re tired of playing your stupid games!”

“This only ends one way, Minho—” Jinyoung says, cautiously moving from Lia’s side to approach the powerful witch. His steps, however, are halted by another vicious bolt of electricity. Youngjae attempts to make out Jaebeom’s form through the blurriness of his wind-induced tears, but the hybrid is nowhere to be found. “—so we can do it the easy way, or the hard way! The choice is yours!”

“Last I checked, this isn’t your fight, Prime.”

“It became my fight the moment you threatened my family and my friends!”

Minho snickers, “Trust me, I had every intention of ridding this town of you and your brother’s filth.”

“Was it also your intention to kill an innocent werewolf girl!?” Youngjae’s heart drops at the vampire’s following statement. “Son Chaeyoung is dead because of Changbin—because of you!”

“Every war has its casualties.”

“And what of Felix!? Will his death just be another trivial loss in your obsession for revenge!?”

This time, Youngjae notices the cockiness melt from Minho’s features into something akin to trepidation. The wailing of the wind picks up to a screech, nearly drowning out the dark-haired witch’s weak inquiry, “What are you talking about?”

“Felix was bitten… and is dying as we speak!” Jinyoung shakes his head frantically. “Do you believe he deserves this, Minho!? Do you believe Chaeyoung deserved to die!?... You can fix this—make this right!”

Minho remains silent, and for a moment, Youngjae wonders if the witch will actually come to his senses and call off this whole ordeal. But just as soon as it appeared, the pained look along his features transitions into something more sinister.

“We’re all gonna die someday, so what does it even fucking matter!?”

“Are you hearing yourself!?” Lia screams from behind a nearby tree, “Look what you’ve become, Minho! How would Nayeon see you right now!”

“Don’t bring her into this!” Minho’s hiss blends with the moans of the wind. Massive raindrops begin to pelt down against the earth, immediately soaking Youngjae to the bone. For the first time, he notices the dark witch’s position in relation to his own. Realistically, Youngjae can be at Minho’s side in mere milliseconds, before he has a chance to blink. If only he can get him to move a bit closer…

As if reading his thoughts, Jinyoung attempts to coax the witch another step forward.

“Please, Minho… I don’t wish to hurt you.”

The latter shakes his head with a chuckle. “It’s too fucking bad that you think you can.”

Minho raises his hand, harshly forcing the vampire down against the muddy earth. Youngjae watches in horror as Jinyoung’s limbs begin to contort and rearrange against his own will—the sound of cracking bones and the vampire’s pained groans filling his ears like a haunting melody. He forces his gaze away from the gruesome sight and prepares to advance on the dark witch, but Jisung stops him with a hand to his shoulder:

“Not yet, hyung.”

“But Jinyoung—”

“Trust me.” His eyes are wide with determination—Youngjae can’t remember a time he’s ever seen Jisung so fierce. “I have a plan. Wait here until my signal.”

Though filled with confusion, Youngjae does as the young witch requests and stays in place while Jisung himself carefully maneuvers his way through gravestones and buildings, attempting to remain out of sight. A sudden burst of lightning cracks through the atmosphere, and at first, Youngjae fears Jisung has been caught, but quickly realizes Minho has his sights set on another party:

“I was wondering when you’d join the fun—I looked forward to tearing your bitch-ass apart.”

“I would say I’m flattered, but I rather like my ass.” Jaebeom saunters across a nearby rooftop. In the midst of the storm, he almost reminds Youngjae of a superhero—or more likely in his case, the psychotic supervillain. “Look, you’ve had your fun, kid. Now I suggest you release my brother and cut out all this petty-teenage bullshit before I break your body in places you never thought possible.”

“That’s it?... And here I thought you’d want the antidote?”

Jaebeom’s face darkens.

“...So there is a cure?”

“Of course. Every spell has its loophole.” Minho finally lowers his hand, ceasing the painful reconstruction of Jinyoung’s skeleton. Youngjae watches in confusion as the former retracts something from his pocket—some sort of vial, it seems—and offers it toward the hybrid. “The blood which Changbin drank to turn—it’ll heal anyone fallen victim to his bite.”

“You better hand that over before I rip your teeth from your skull.” Jaebeom growls darkly, hopping down from his overhead perch.

The witch shakes his head, “Not so fast, Mr. Wolf… See, there was only so much left—enough to heal one lucky soul.”

“You’re a sick fucking bastard,” Jaebeom spits. “You wanted this to happen—”

“Your little bloodsucking girlfriend is dying, isn’t she?” Minho tosses the vial toward the hybrid, who effortlessly catches it between two trembling fingers. “If you want to save her life, then I suggest you go before the venom does its job.”

“Jaebeom-hyung, don’t—!” Jinyoung gasps, slithering across the muddy earth like an earthworm lost to the world.

“You know she doesn’t have much time—”

“We can’t do this without you—we need you!... I need you, hyung!”

Jaebeom, staring at the tiny container in his grasp, doesn’t reply to his incapacitated companion. Youngjae curses the smirk that spreads across Minho’s face—a sign of victory—and attempts to spot Jisung and Lia somewhere between the ferocious raindrops. He has no such luck, and instead decides to pray for a miracle instead.

“If you hadn’t fucked around with the few people I care about, I might have actually liked you.” Jaebeom murmurs with a sigh before tucking the vial into his pocket and sending the dark witch a malicious sneer. “Well isn’t that too fucking bad.”

Youngjae leaps almost ten feet in the air as lightning strikes for what seems like the millionth time, although this time, it’s inches from where Minho is standing. After searching the area, Youngjae discovers Lia and Jisung across the way, hands clasped, eyes bright with passion, uttering some sort of offensive charm. Minho attempts to sprint in the opposite direction, but Jaebeom easily tackles the witch before he can get far.

“Now Youngjae-hyung! Do it now!”

At Jisung’s cue, Youngjae takes off into the rain. The bitter feel of Mother Nature’s tears against his skin quickens his movements, wanting nothing more then to end this hurricane, both literally and figuratively, once and for all. He reaches Minho in what seems like hours and hurries to grab his wrist—but just like the tides during a storm, the tables quickly turn.

At the wave of Minho’s hand, Jaebeom goes flying across the cemetery, crashing into a stone statue and collapsing into the resulting rumble. White-hot pain spreads through Youngjae’s veins like a poison, freezing his muscles and immobilizing his limbs from any further movement. He collapses to the ground, where mud immediately clings to his clothing.

Minho rises to his feet before stepping on Youngjae’s hand with a cackle, “Don’t you fuckers get it!? I’m untouchable! You can’t fucking win!”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Minho…” Youngjae chuckles, curling his fingers around the tread of the dark witch’s boot. Minho realizes his mistake as soon as the former’s hand begins to glow, foolishly attempting to squirm from his touch.

Thunder roars in the distance as Youngjae grins in triumph:

“Because unlike you… we’re not alone.”

The last thing Youngjae sees before he loses consciousness is a flash of white and the bewildered face of the dark witch as he collapses beside him.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“I take it Mark apologized?...” You nearly leap out of your own skin at the sudden inquiry. With a less than agitated frown, you turn to acknowledge the culprit for your almost heart attack. If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear some of these supernaturals have powers of teleportation or something…

“Goddamnit, Dahyun. Not all of us have superwolf hearing.”

“Sorry, dearie. Force of habit.” The she-wolf offers an apologetic smile, moving forward to hook her arm with your own. She allows Yugyeom, Chan and Mark to gain a bit of distance ahead before repeating again, “So Mark…?”

“We both talked it out and apologized… so everything’s okay now.” You hum—the tiny fib leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

Truthfully, your encounter with Mark left you conflicted. Of course, you’re more than glad he finally opened up about his past, and even more glad that he trusts you enough to reveal his lingering feelings of trauma, but there’s still a pretty big fucking elephant in the room—one involving his dead best friend and the fact you can talk to him beyond the grave.

You should have told him then and there—right after you promised to abolish all secrets—but something inside you couldn’t do it… and you don’t know why.

“Why are you so interested in Mark and I’s relationship anyway?” You utilize your curiosity as a distraction from the guilt breathing down your neck, angling your neck to peer at Dahyun’s side profile. “Is there… history between you two?”

“No, no—nothing like that. Mark and I have just known each other since we were kids. Our moms were close friends, so Mark, Yugyeom and I pretty much grew up together.”

“He never told me that.”

“Don’t take it personal, sweetheart. Mark doesn’t like to talk about his past—” Dahyun sighs, “—too many bad memories between his dad and the bullshit that happened with his mom. He’ll come around eventually… he just needs more time.”

“I know his mom passed when he was a teenager, but Mark never actually mentioned how she died…” You bite your lip, sending a curious glance to your wolf companion. “It’s really not fair to ask you, but—”

“Mark found her in their own kitchen with her entire throat ripped open.” Dahyun’s blunt answer leaves your throat dry, unable to speak another word if you wanted to. “The sheriff ruled it as an animal attack, but I’m sure you’re smart enough to figure out what really happened.”

Your heart sinks, and you choose not to say anything further.

“Dahyun! (Y/N)! Don’t get too far behind!” Chan’s voice echoes from somewhere up ahead. With the black of night beginning to fade, you can just make out his, Yugyeom, and Mark’s silhouettes a couple dozen feet away. Dahyun gives your forearm a gentle squeeze before releasing your conjoined limbs to catch up with her packmates. You do the same, meeting an armed Mark about halfway.

His eyes glitter with concern underneath the fading starlight.

“Everything okay…?”

“Yeah, Dahyun and I were just catching up.” You inhale a deep breath before releasing it in an even heavier exhale. “But there is something I need to talk to you about—about Jackson and the whole resurrection thing.”

Mark shakes his head, “You have every right to make your own decisions, (Y/N), but I wish you and Youngjae would have come to me.”

“I know that, but it was more complicated than that—” You try to gather your thoughts while also attempting to make sense of your words. “I couldn’t tell you because, well—because Jackson told—”

“Mark-hyung! We’ve got an issue!” Yugyeom’s warning immediately cuts off your explanation. Mark shoots you an apologetic glance before hurrying the two of you forward to join the wolf trio. It only takes seconds for you to distinguish the cause of the beta’s distress.

A deer carcass lays precariously on the forest floor, and albeit it’s practically torn to shreds, you can just make out a single word carved into its bloody flesh:

Die.

“Shit—we need to go. Now.”

“We’ve already come this far. Chae should be around here somewhere.” Chan ignores Mark’s directive, stepping over the animal corpse to traverse further through the forest. He barely takes a step before the witch is grabbing his wrist. “Let me go, hyung.”

“Don’t be an idiot.”

“Don’t tell me what to—”

“Shut the fuck up. Both of you.” Dahyun quietly hisses, “Listen.”

You try to do as the she-wolf says, but all that meets your ears is the combination of your own labored breathing and uneven pulse. Judging by the confused expression along Mark’s face, he’s probably dealing with the same situation.

“What is it?”

“We’re being watched.” Yugyeom answers Mark’s inquiry in a whisper. “Mark, you and (Y/N) need to find somewhere to hide right now—Chan, Dubu, get ready to fight—”

As soon as the command leaves Yugyeom’s lips, Mark takes you by the arm and drags you behind a broad tree trunk. You fish Jinyoung’s pocket knife from your pocket while Mark cocks his shotgun in preparation. Who knew the day would come that you’d actually be grateful for the presence of two dangerous weapons…

“If anything goes wrong—you run like hell, got it?”

You shake your head at Mark’s demand. “I’m not just going to leave you—”

“Yugyeom! Above you!” At Chan’s warning, you’re suddenly shoved to the ground by the witch, watching in horror as a deranged Changbin descends from the treetops onto the beta himself. His skin is a sickly ashen shade, and his black veins so prominent it would make a nurse weep. There’s no human emotion left inside his dark eyes as he strikes Yugyeom over and over again with his lengthy sharp talons, tearing open his skin like a birthday present—he’s a complete animal.

“Bin, stop!” Chan throws his arms around Changbin’s shoulders in an attempt to pull him from Yugyeom, winding a tight arm around his throat before thrusting a knee against his spine. “Think about what you’re doing!”

With Dahyun’s assistance, the two wolves manage to separate the dark wolf from that of Yugyeom’s wounded self. Even so, Changbin clearly does not appreciate being stolen away from his prey. He easily escapes from Chan’s hold, landing a couple heavy hits against the latter’s nose before shoving him to the ground. Dahyun takes the moment to strike, bringing the dark wolf to kneel with a harsh kick to his knee, but the action does minimal damage. Changbin punts the she-wolf a dozen feet away as if she weighs nothing. You wince as Dahyun connects with a nearby tree trunk with a vocal thud before dropping to the ground with no movements of rejoining the fight.

“Shit…” You curse to yourself, “They won’t be able to take him down by themselves—he’s too fucking strong.”

“Watch your ears.” You notice Mark aiming his gun toward the dark wolf, waiting for an opportunity with his finger on the trigger. At his discretion, you cover your ears just in time for him to fire a first and second shot. A ferocious growl echoes through the trees, spreading goosebumps across your flesh like wildfire.

You watch both Chan and Yugyeom take advantage of Changbin’s distraction. The alpha delivers a swift, yet heavy hit against his wounded shoulder while the beta goes for his legs. Similar to Dahyun, they manage to pin Changbin to the forest floor. For a moment, you almost believe the fight has concluded in your team’s favor—but the tides shift. In the blink of an eye, Chan is impaled with a large jagged branch and sent tumbling into some foliage whereas Yugyeom is dealt punch after strike after kick, unable to escape the barrage of Changbin’s wrath. He eventually, like the former two, collapses to the earth and makes no move to rise.

Changbin cracks his neck before stalking toward where you and your companion stand.

“Mark—”

“I got it!” Mark quickly feeds another couple shells into the shotgun barrel, cocks the weapon, then aims down sight. He manages to sink a bullet into your target’s abdomen, followed by another in his bicep, but Changbin merely releases an annoyed snarl and continues charging forward.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—(Y/N), move!” You leap out of the way just in time to avoid a powerful strike. Changbin’s hand splinters the trunk of the tree, sending pieces of bark in every direction. A particular shard catches the bridge of your nose, causing blood to warmly cascade down your skin. You quickly wipe the liquid from your right eye, ignoring the nausea fluttering inside your gut, before focusing back on the situation at hand.

You look up in time to watch Mark swing his shotgun harshly against Changbin’s skull. Taking advantage of his disorientation, you rush forward to stab your pocket knife into the wolf’s back. Changbin practically roars in fury, angling backward to land a hit to your face before you have time to react. The force of his strike throws you to the ground, a sharp pain lingering in your left cheek.

“Don’t fucking touch her!” Mark throws himself against Changbin, delivering hit after hit to anything and anywhere. Still, Mark’s human strength does little to outbeat the dark wolf, and you watch in horror as Changbin effortlessly pins the witch against his chest with a bloody hand around his throat. You desperately search for something, anything, in hopes of saving Mark from whatever deadly fate awaits Changbin’s bloodlust, but fate doesn’t seem to be on your side.

“Changbin—please don’t do this!” You cry, praying to some type of deity that the wolf is sane enough to understand your words. Even so, your confidence is low, seeing as talking clearly had no effect during your last encounter, but you’re fresh out of options at this point. “You know this isn’t who you are!”

To your surprise, Changbin actually answers, “You don’t know anything about me.”

“Maybe not, but I know you don’t actually want to hurt anyone…” You cautiously rise to your feet with a shake of your head, wary of the tight hold Changbin currently has on Mark’s jugular. “Your thoughts are all sorts of fucked up right now because of the dark magic, so why don’t you just let Mark go and we can—”

“Don’t you fucking get it! This fucker—” He yanks at Mark with more force than necessary, “—took everything from me! He took my pack, my alpha—the only people I ever felt safe with!”

“I understand you—”

“No, you don’t!” Changbin wails, “You can’t even imagine how I feel! How fucking hard it is to wake up in a world you know you’ll never belong! How much it fucking hurts just to go on and pretend like everything’s normal when it’s fucking not!”

“Tell him it’s okay to feel angry—” You whirl your head around to find a seemingly exhausted, yet wild-eyed Jackson Wang at your side. “—but none of this was Mark’s fault.”

You’re mortified at first, having never encountered the ghost anywhere outside your bedroom—but whether it’s the desperation etched along his features, or the flush of purple that overtakes Mark’s complexion—you quickly transfer back to reality:

“Changbin, it’s perfectly normal to feel angry and cheated, but this wasn’t Mark’s fault—deep down, I think you know that.”

“What does it fucking matter anymore? I’m all alone anyways.” The pure agony etched along his face has your heart splitting in two.

You’ve never seen a creature so strong and so powerful look so… vulnerable.

“You said the exact same thing to me when we first met…” Jackson murmurs softly.

“You told Jackson you were alone at one point too…”

An obvious wave of tense silence washes through the forest, making the beat of your heart that much more prominent in your ears.

Changbin’s whisper is dark—dangerous. “How the fuck do you know that?”

“Because… Because he’s here, Changbin.” You say, your eyes meeting Mark’s as the words leave your tongue. “You’re not alone because Jackson is still here.”

You don’t know what kind of reaction you expected from your revelation, but it certainly is not the heinous laughter that spills from the dark wolf’s lips.

“You must have lost your goddamn mind… Jackson-hyung is dead!”

“Maybe physically, but his spirit still remains.”

“You mean—” You turn to discover a bewildered Yugyeom unsteadily leaning against a tree, “—his… ghost? You—You can see his ghost?”

You nod.

Changbin sneers with a low growl. “I don’t fucking believe you.”

“There’s a cliffside back along the bay about twenty miles from the lodge,” Jackson begins, his tone a blend of nostalgic and sorrowful. “Changbin and I used to go there to watch the full moon rise before we turned into our wolf forms… I-I’ve missed that so much…”

“You and Jackson would always watch the full moon rise on a cliff overlooking the bay before you transitioned,” You repeat. “He says he misses those moments with you…”

“Stop it!” Changbin frantically shakes his head, “You’re lying!”

“He’s here, Changbin… He’s really here.” You move forward again, more confidently this time, and raise your hands in a sympathetic gesture. “And the last thing he wants is for you to make the same mistakes he did, so please—let Mark go and let us help you…”

It’s as if time freezes for a moment. Changbin seems to fight a battle with himself—countless emotions rushing through his teary eyes. You watch the dark wolf glance toward an unconscious Dahyun and Chan, then to a silent Yugyeom, before finally setting his focus back to you. You can only pray your face reflects the hope swirling throughout your veins—pray that Changbin will do the right thing.

To your delight, the blackness of his veins gradually begin to fade and the sharp claws protruding from his fingertips recede. You don’t realize you’ve been holding your breath until Changbin finally retracts his hold from Mark’s neck. You’re quick to take the unsteady witch in your own arms before sending the now normal wolf a thankful smile.

“Thank you, Changbin…”

He nods shyly before wiping a couple tears from his cheeks. You watch as Yugyeom cautiously makes his way toward the younger boy, murmurs something, then tugs the latter into a tight embrace that pulls even more liquid sadness from his eyes. The sight has your heart melting into a puddle of warmth—the emotion doesn’t last though, not when Mark’s dark croak enters your ears:

“You… can see Jackson…”

You shrug sheepishly, “I wanted to tell you, but he said not to… He didn’t want to hurt you anymore than he already had.”

Mark remains silent. You try to search for his features for some kind of anger or disappointment, but are only awarded with his surface level blank stare. Worry flooding through your veins, you look to Jackson for any possible guidance, but the ghost merely shakes his head.

After a couple tense seconds or so, Mark finally murmurs, “Jack… I—I’m so sorry. For everything.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Jackson says immediately, “If only I had listened to you, then maybe things would have played out different.”

“He says it wasn’t your fault—he should have listened to you.”

“We both made some pretty shitty mistakes.” Mark hums, “I miss you, man. So fucking much.”

You don’t wait for Jackson to reply, already knowing his answer.

“He misses you too, Mark. Just as much.”

“How is this even possible…?” You and Mark turn to find the shocked gaze of Yugyeom, who is closely followed by the despair of that belonging to Changbin. “Supernaturals can’t even see spirits, much less mortals…”

“We never exactly figured that out. Jackson said he felt drawn to me from the Other Side—he kind of just showed up in my bedroom the night after Mina and Momo died.”

“Any contact with the dead usually requires some sort of spell or medium.” Mark bites his lip in confusion. “I’ve never seen anything like this before, not even in any of my mother’s grimoires—”

“Jackson!” Your body grows rigid as Jackson suddenly collapses to the ground with a pained groan. You hurry forward, kneeling next to the man, and reach for his shoulder. The realization of his phantom existence hits you like a bag of bricks when your fingers phase through his form. You settle for calling his name again instead, “Jackson—what’s wrong?”

“What the hell is going on?” You hear Changbin stress from somewhere behind you, but your focus is completely on the ghost in question.

Jackson lifts his head with a gasp, revealing a line of blood dripping from his nose. “I-It’s the witches!... They know about our plans—they’re trying to force me back to the Other Side—”

“(Y/N)?”

You shake your head feverishly, “It’s, uh, it’s the witches on the Other Side—they don’t like Jackson crossing over, so they’re trying to bring him back…”

Mark nods. “Witches, dead or alive, will do anything to maintain the balance of nature.”

“(Y/N)—shit—I don’t have a lot of time—” Your chest tightens at the urgency behind Jackson’s words. “I know so much just went down, but—”

“Don’t worry, Jack. I won’t let you disappear again.” You affirm before climbing to your feet to face your new subject of interest. “Mark—I need you to perform the resurrection spell.”

“Woah, wait—” Mark shakes his head, “(Y/N), I can’ t—”

“If we don’t resurrect him now, then Jackson is gone forever!” Your warning spreads a new tension across the atmosphere, manifesting in the form of sullen and panicked expressions. “Please, Mark—we have a chance to bring him back!”

“I can’t do the spell because I don’t have any magic…” Your heart sinks at Mark’s revelation. “Minho absorbed all my magical energy back at the graveyard… I’m so sorry, Jackson…”

“Hold on, you told me that there’s different types of magic…” You push, “Can’t you draw energy from something? Like the forest, or the moon, or, or—”

“Or me.” You turn, discovering the speaker of the response to be none other than a determined Changbin. “Minho-hyung’s spell may be gone, but I can still feel the magical energy lingering through my body.”

Mark hesitates, “I-I don’t know if it will work… and if something goes wrong—”

“Do you want Jackson-hyung back or not?...”

A moment of silence passes after Changbin’s question. You keep an eye on a repeatedly wincing Jackson, and the other on the witch’s face, attempting to decipher his thoughts inside the glow of his gaze. For a moment, you wonder if Mark will even provide an answer, until the words finally leave his lips:

“Fuck the balance of nature. I’ll bring you back, Jackson—I promise.”

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Jinyoung stares at the sun as it gradually rises past the horizon, bathing his skin in a warm, celebratory light. His gaze wavers across the cemetery to the notorious mausoleum, where he watches Lia and Jisung carefully assist a barely conscious Youngjae past the doorway. After this crazy night, the siphoner definitely deserves a good, long rest. Then again, so does everyone else.

He releases a heavy sigh before shifting away from the witch trio. After sparing one final glance to the sunrise, Jinyoung allows his feet to carry him through the early morning glow, past countless tombstones and other structures, and settles beside a second figure in front of a particular burial site. He silently reads the engravings along the headstone before addressing his companion without so much as a glimpse:

“I assumed you would be halfway back to the bunker by now.”

Jaebeom doesn’t respond, not that Jinyoung really expects him to. He peers at the hybrid through the corner of his eye, attempting to seek meaning beyond his blank features. Centuries later, Jinyoung still can’t predict the workings of Jaebeom’s inner thoughts. Especially when it comes to the situation at hand.

“Mark called. Changbin is no longer affected by Minho’s spell.” He explains, “They’re also preparing a ritual to resurrect Jackson Wang—”

“Tzuyu…?”

Jinyoung’s chest tightens as the name falls from Jaebeom’s lips.

“Their youngest, Ryujin, is looking after both her and Felix.”

“So she’s still alive…?”

“It seems so.”

A brief moment of silence passes between the pair. The earth grows brighter and brighter as the seconds roll by, reminding Jinyoung that time is a friend to no one.

“Hyung, did you… truly switch off your humanity?”

“I did, at first.” Jaebeom’s answer is quiet, and Jinyoung can detect the subtle hint of vulnerability hidden beneath his gruff tone. “But I guess I can never completely turn it off.”

“It’s alright to feel, hyung—be it anger… or passion… or fear…”

Jinyoung notices Jaebeom shift uncomfortably before glancing down at the glass vial in the palm of his hand. For once, he can actually distinguish the emotions present within the hybrid’s dark eyes. The knowledge only jabs at his heart.

“Everything is taken care of, right?”

“The night has ended, and Minho is safely sealed away in the crypt.” Jinyoung nods, “We live to see another day.”

He watches his companion tuck the precious vial into the pocket of his jeans before turning away from the headstone. Jinyoung is not sure where the urge comes from, but he abandons his perch, grabbing Jaebeom’s shoulder before he can leave the cemetery. He ignores the hybrid’s confused expression and pulls him into a tight embrace.

“Thank you for staying, hyung…” Jinyoung’s murmur is slightly muffled against the fabric of his jacket, but he knows his companion heard them loud and clear.

Jaebeom hesitates for a moment, clearly taken aback by the sudden act, but eventually winds his arms loosely around Jinyoung’s back with a gentle murmur of his own:

“You will always be my family, Jinyoung… Always and forever…”

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“I’ve never used magic like this before, so I can’t promise this will work.” Mark glances to where he assumes Jackson’s spirit is located inside the white circle makeshifted out of a bag of flour Dahyun managed to find in a bunker cabinet, before glancing to the companion at his side. “You sure you’re up for this? It’ll feel like I’m literally sucking the life force out of your body…”

Changbin nods, “If it means bringing Jackson-hyung back.”

“Okay, then.” Mark turns to the surrounding crowd next, “In order to do this, I’ll need to lower the veil to the Other Side. This will create a temporary door that Jackson can pass through to physically enter our realm. Once he crosses over, he should become mortal again.”

“Seems easy enough.” Dahyun snickers, although the sound is dry and forced. “Anything else we need to know?”

“Whatever happens, do not enter the circle.” His eyes drift from the she-wolf to your silent form. As if sensing the scrutiny, your gaze connects with his own, and knowing he has your attention, Mark continues in a darker tone, “Just as spirits can pass into our realm, we can cross to the Other Side… so for the love of god, don’t do anything stupid.”

Your and Mark’s staring contest ceases when your head snapes toward the circle. Seconds later, you break the tense silence with a soft murmur, “Jackson says it’s getting worse. He can feel the witches trying to drag him back.”

“Then I guess that’s our cue.” He sighs before nodding toward the circle one last time, “I’m gonna do my best, Jack. Just hold on.”

With one final glance to the grimoire you gave him earlier, Mark inhales a deep breath and takes Changbin’s outstretched hand into his own. He closes his eyes, focusing every part of his brain on the electrifying sensation of the magical energy coursing through the wolf’s body. Bit by bit, he feels Changbin’s power bleeding into his own veins, awakening the slumbering supernatural nature of his soul. Once he’s sure enough he’s acquired enough magic, Mark opens his eyes and begins the incantation:

“Vita mortem, mortem vita est… Partis inferioris velum, partis inferioris ante illum vetum…” Almost instantly, the wind picks up while the air grows uncomfortably cold. He ignores the violent shivers wracking through his limbs and proceeds to repeat the words as the temperature continues to drop. With each spoken syllable, Mark’s head becomes dizzy and his flesh feels as if it’s being scorched off, but he continues.

No amount of pain could ever dull the hope of seeing his best friend alive once more.

“Holy shit—it’s actually working!”

Mark doesn’t realize he had shut his eyes until he opens them, nearly yelping in delight when he discovers the image of said friend standing in the center of the white circle. Jackson looks no different than the day he last saw him, and he can’t decide if he wants to laugh out of irony or burst into tears.

“The veil is down! I’m gonna start the spell to cross you over!” Mark yells over the howling of the wind, clutching Changbin’s hand tighter as he transitions to the next phase of the spell. “Ohto eestanay as vazat esvet ohnaz eespalit… Ohto eestanay as vazat esvet—fuck!”

A brutal force comes down against his head, almost resembling that of a punch, before spreading hot fire down his neck and to the rest of his body. Mark doubles over with a wheeze, attempting to fight against the painful sensations by grounding himself in Changbin’s touch. However, as soon as the first wave concludes, a second, even more excruciating one follows. He feels as if someone is trying to crush his brain—to kill him from the inside out.

“Mark-hyung! What’s wrong!?”

“It’s the witches!...” Mark is thankful that Jackson answers Yugyeom’s panicked inquiry, “They’re trying to break the spell!”

“Like… hell they will…” Mark hisses, righting himself with a pained groan before grabbing Changbin’s other hand. “I’m not going down without a fight—hold on!...”

He jumps back into the spell, weakening the manipulated pain through the absorption of more of the wolf’s energy. Borderline high off the power, he pushes everything he has into the ritual, determined to see it through to the end. After a minute that passes like a decade, Mark detects a shift in the atmosphere, indicating the near completion of the spell, and shouts:

“Jackson—get out of the circle! Get out now!”

As if in slow motion, Mark watches Jackson quickly move to escape the white border. But just as soon as his toe brushes the edge, he is wrenched away and lifted from the ground.

Dahyun cries, “What the hell is happening!?”

“They won’t let me cross over!” Jackson squirms and writhes, attempting to escape whatever invisible grip is holding him hostage. His efforts are futile, and he continues to rise higher and higher off of the ground.

“Hang on, Jack!” Mark releases Changbin’s hands and raises his own palms in Jackson’s direction. However, the same torturous pain from before returns once more, hitting his nerves like a sledgehammer to a brick wall, and throws him to the earth. “Shit—no! H-He has to pass through the circle!”

“(Y/N)! Don’t!”

Mark raises his gaze at Dahyun’s shriek, only to watch in horror as you rush past the flour boundary and grab hold of Jackson’s hand. A blinding light immediately erupts from your clasped palms, expanding through the area until all Mark can see is white.

After a long moment, his vision eventually returns, and he finds the forest completely silent. The temperature is no longer frigid, he notices, and the strain within his brain is gone. For a moment, Mark is filled with prowess, victorious at the fact he successfully carried out an ancient resurrection ritual, however, his triumph is temporary, especially when he notices your form laid motionless in Dahyun’s arms.

“(Y/N)—fuck!” Mark hurries to where you lay, stealing your figure from the she-wolf to cradle you in his own hold. “Shit, shit, shit—she’s not breathing! Fucking goddamnit!”

His panic only grows tenfold when he hears the murmur cascade from Dahyun’s lips:

“Mark… where’s Jackson?”

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Jaebeom scales the final rung of the ladder before making his way toward the corner where the snoozing trio resides. He moves cautiously, mindful not to awaken the young werewolf caretaker, yet eventually finds himself perched on the edge of a familiar cot. His heart thunders inside his chest, and he cannot tell if it’s out of anxiety or hope. Though at this moment, Jaebeom can really care less to find out.

“It’s about time you showed up…” He winces at the broken husk of his companion’s voice, attempting to keep his expression as neutral as possible. “I thought you were actually going to leave me to die in the hands of a neurotic teenage wolf…”

Jaebeom doesn’t respond to her quip—he can’t find it in himself to do so.

Tzuyu raises an eyebrow, “What’s with the face? Did you take down the witch or not?”

“We did.” He hums, “The spell is broken.”

“Good thing—” The vampire pauses to cough, and the sound is like broken glass against his ears. “—you and your brother are safe for the eternity to come.”

“Tzuyu… I found the cure.”

“What are you waiting for then? My consent?” She snickers playfully, “We fuck for over a century and this is the most gentlemanly behavior I’ve ever seen from you, Beomie.”

Again, Jaebeom remains silent.

Recognizing the obvious tension in the room, Tzuyu’s face falls. “But… I guess it’s more complicated than that, hm?”

“There’s only enough for…” He’s unable to finish his sentence, not when his companion’s eyes are gazing at him with such sullenness and sympathy. Jaebeom has to look away for a moment, though the action does little to relieve the tightness of his chest.

“Ah, I see.” Tzuyu hums, glancing across the way to a slumbering Felix. Her pale lips twitch, as if attempting to upturn to a smile, but it instead appears as a weak grimace. “You know, I really never meant to hurt (Y/N)… or you.”

“Tzuyu—”

“I’ve known you for decades… but I’ve never seen you look at someone the way you look at her.” Another violent cough wracks through her body, expelling a mass of dark blood past her lips. Jaebeom is quick to wipe the splotch from her skin with the blanket, trying not to dwell on the fact that her skin is ice cold. “I’ll admit, I was jealous at first… I’ve always wanted someone to look at me like that…

“I know you’re afraid to care—to love, Jaebeom.” Tzuyu murmurs sadly, lifting a hand to rest against the hybrid’s cheek. “Especially someone like (Y/N)… and you’re right to. She’s too good… too human.

“One misstep and you could lose her forever.”

“I want to be selfish…” Jaebeom whispers, “I want to be selfish so fucking bad—”

“But you can’t be, Beom. Not with her.”

“Then let me be selfish with you.”

Tzuyu smiles.

“I’ve lived over three lifetimes, and he is barely a ways into his one—so you’re going to give the cure to that damn kid, Im Jaebeom.” He leans further into her touch as she caresses the apple of his cheek. “Promise me that you’ll stay away from her—to keep her safe?”

He nods.

“Good… Can you hold me for a moment? I’m cold.”

“I’ll hold you as long as you want me to.”

And so Jaebeom takes Tzuyu into his arms. However, it’s not until the vampire grows still does he allow a single tear to cascade from his eye, staining the bloodied bed sheets with the agony of a heart that has been broken too many times to count.

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hellothere-generalangsty · 3 years ago

Note

I HAD A BRAIN WAVE MOMENT

DO YOU REMEMBER WAYYYY BACK WHEN EVERYONE HATED ASOKA? DAVE DID THAT ON PURPOSE SO HE WAS IN CONTROL OF WHAT PEOPLE HATED ABOUT HER. OK NOW THIS MIGHT BE A LONGSHOT THAT HOPEFULLY DOESN’T END UP LIKE LONGSHOT THE CLONE, BUT, IM HOPING THATS WHATS DAVE IS DOING WITH TBB. BEING IN CONTROL OF WHAT THE FANDOM HATES ABOUT IT AND THEN IMPROVING IT SLOWLY BIT BY BIT.

PLEASE IM DESPERATE FOR A EXPLANATION!

(also where’s my explanation about why the clones are white washed, dave? hmm? where is it dave?)

OMG LOOK.

It wouldnt excuse the whitewashing or the weak scenario, because he got us used to some good stuff now (tcw s7, Mandalorian, that kind of things)

But it would make sense - to a certain extent - to work that season as a "cliché team in a cliché scenario" and see how people react to be able for a second season (if there's a second season) to improve it

Disclaimer: I'm a white, abled person so I'm not trying to speak on behalf of poc/disabled people, but I think it's important to support them and listen to the critics they make about SW and it's content

Also this is quite long I got carried away but worth it it is!

I linked some of @rebekadjarin 's post here because I read a bit through her blog today and agreed with her posts; and I invite you to check out the "#whitewhashed tbb" if you want more extanded and developed information about that matter! (As my knowledge on the matter is still quite limited/ incomplete due to my privileges, and this post is more of a summary than a real analysis)

So here, we know that the fans are unhappy about:

- the whitewashing of the Bad Batch (especially since they proved they could animate dark skinned people/ more generally poc with the first seasons of tcw, Kanan in Rebels and the Separatist in the latest TBB episode)

It is a real problem and it shouldn't have happened in the first place. Even if they are different, the Batchers are still clones and it's really not that hard to show their enhancement while keeping Temuera's features and skin colour (I mean, look at all the artists who did and do it everyday on this app; no excuse here)

Star Wars has wasted a lot of potential on numerous occasions because they keep doing stuff like this; and it's quite ironic (and very sad) to see that racism, ableism and stereotypes are prevalent in a universe where people fight for equality and peace...

Here and here are two posts about it (if you're the author of these posts and want me to delete them from my post please tell me so; I took the liberty of adding them because I think they highlight quite well the issue and do a clear job at showing the whitewashing in SW/ around the clones)

- the way Crosshair is treated; both by the Batchers and the writers, he's manipulated by the chip yet no one is talking about rescuing him and we see nothing about the effect of his absence on the Batchers (they don't mention him, don't try to save him, and Hunter is more distraught by Omega's absence than by his own brother's)

And don't get me wrong, Omega is a kid and she's nice, of course they have to take care of her and protect her

But they also don't know her purpose; why is she here? She could be a bad omen (maybe she doesn't even know it! The Kaminoans probably didn't tell anyone about her real purpose and I stand by the idea that the infos they got about her are all wrong and purposefully misleading) and I have the dark feeling that she will be the end/ death of the Batchers by the end of the serie, even if she didn't wanted it that way

But Crosshair is never mentionned, except for when he's needed in the scenario. Which is a shame, because he's a Batcher too even if he's mind-controlled and (for now) working for the Empire. He's supposed to be a main character, and he's a key element to the plot; yet out of 10 episodes we saw him in only 3, and only the moments where he was acting bad (i'm excluding the lonely moment at the end of ep2 because it had a lot of potential about him fighting the chip but that was all we had and i'm still bitter about it lol)

Here is a post about it

- speaking of plot; I feel like it's always the same disk playing since episode 2-3: They have a mission given by Cid, they do it, things go wrong, Omega saves the day and they get the money.

Crosshair is doing bad guy stuff so no need to tall about him (haha right?)

Now. I'm a good public. I know when to activate the Dummie™ in me and enjoy a show about a found family doing crazy jobs for a criminal and raising a newly adopted daughter at the same time. It's fun, it's sweet, sometimes it get emotional and the animation is beautiful (the lights are amazing I am always in awe)

I can enjoy it and be in awe and see Echo sniffing food and Tech smiles and Wrecker playing with Omega and feel happy about it.

But I also expected more. I hadn't any clear idea because I didn't wanted to set expectations (how ironic) but I can't help but feel sad about the wasted potential around Empire! Crosshair and the rise of said Empire.

If you want to antagonize one of the main character, do it, but do it fully and do it well. Show us Crosshair getting really invested in a plan to catch the Batchers and suddenly making a scene for a tiny detail that could blow it up; show us Crosshair and Hunter fighting each other hand to hand after they disarmed each other, and Crosshair getting the upoer hand until something holds him back; just enough for Hunter to take control again

Show us a complex character who suffers but doesn't fully realise it, and show us brothers mourning yet hoping to get the family back again you know?

- the way Echo is treated by the Batchers. And as much as it saddens me, they do him dirty in the show.

Echo is a war veteran, an ex- prisoner and a disabled character. He went through a lot; first he lost the Domino squad, then he lost brothers on Kamino (including 99 who was close to his squad), then the Citadel happened and he lost both his legs, an arm, his freedom, his brothers and probably any hope to be saved.

Then they found him in that freezer, and he probably realised that, if Fives wasn't here to save him, it meant he lost him too.

Then he left Rex to go with a team of 4 because he probably didn't feel like he belonged with "regs" anymore; he chose strangers over brothers because he thought he couldn't find his place there. Which in itself is sad and problematic.

And now he's with the Batchers, and they don't seem to grasp the importance of his trauma. I mean; they always had the 4 of them and never lost a brother (apart from Cross; which is another wasted potential here because they could have exploited that trauma and made a parallel with Echo being so used to losing brothers and them experiencing it for the first time on such a personal level you know) and they do some crappy stuff to him.

Selling him as a droid? Not cool.

Brushing off his trauma for a mission and some credits? Not. Cool.

And Echo can't say anything because he chose them, and now he has nowhere to go anyway because Order 66 happened; and he probably doesn't want to be a burden to Rex, and he probably doesn't want to abandon his brothers especially now that Cross is gone and they have a child to take care of

But yeah there are a lot of things happening - or NOT happening - around Echo and his trauma and his disability that are wrong and people are right to talk about it

Here is a post I read and I agree with it

- Overall, the way the show and the characters are handled; they often feel very stereotyped/ cliché and the basic plot doesn't really help for character development or improvement

I read a post about it and it was really interesting; they linked the whitewashing of the characters with their abilities/enhencement

Tech and Crosshair are the smartest and the whitest in the group (which is bad)

Wrecker is portrayed as the Bid Dummie™ and he's the one with the "darker" skin and the features closest to Temuera/ Maōri features (also very bad)

Hunter is straight up a Rambo with a face tattoo, and Echo - and you guys know I love him - is whiter than a sheet of paper (all so bad)

Not only this, but there is no improvement in their personality or thinking

They don't seem to evolve, and just like their mission, they end up playing the same song over and over again

Hunter is the broody soldier and though people enjoy talking to him as a Dad (count me in) but he's not a good dad for Omega (he calls her soldier and is always acting awkward and uncomfortable around her)

Wrecker could be a better dad for her; but again they display him as a big dummie and give the impression he couldn't take well care of her

Tech is here to be the smart one, we only see him when they need someone to do the smart speaking and the complicated computer things

Echo is the grumpy reg, the "more droid than man" and sometimes the Mom™ but they never show him talking about the Empire or the trauma or how the I am not Freaking Out™ I did came back for this Shit™ he's just here to... Be here and be grumpy and bring the oldest clone wars fans to watch TBB

And Crosshair is almost non-existent.

Here is another post about it

What could it be then?

So either Dave is pulling a Ahsoka on us; but he'll still have a lot of things to correct and explanations to give because I can excuse a bad plot but I draw the line at blatant racism ans ableism (especially when they KNOW the fans and they KNOW what people want and they KNOW it would probably bring more people to enjoy and get invested in the show)

- If he's doing this, he will probably work with the animator to correct the whitewashing (because it really is the only really wrong thing in the animation, the rest of it is quite good to be honest like the light, framing and all)

- Understand that Tbb and Mandalorian are two different shows and cannot be treated the sale way; so he'll get back to the main plot and hopefully work on Crosshair's arc and hos his absence/ him being controlled by the chip affects him/ the Batchers/ their relation

- He'll probably work more on displaying the effect of their trauma; collective and personal, and see how it reflects on their relations (and give Echo the healing he deserves)

- By extension, give the characters more depth and complexity, dig their stereotypical surface and reveal their true nature (show me a ruthless yet easily overwhelmed Hunter; a smart but constantly anxious Tech, a very emotional Wrecker playing the big explosive dummie to protect himself, etc.)

Well, that's what I would do

Or he's just... Doing this and not planning any changes; in which case I'll probably do what I did with SPN s15: stop watching, scroll through tumblr to get some infos and gifs and tell everyone about how dirty they did the characters, and they did us.

But I really hope he's hearing us and taking our remarks into account; the show in itself had a lot of potential and I'm still hanging on the thin hope that the ending could "save it"; but I also have no expectations and am in fact waiting for a disappointing ending

On a brighter note, I'm glad the fandom exists because I see artists and writers and gif-makers and theorists and all kind of people creating and sharing their own content, headcanons, art, writing and they all feel right and better than the canon

Like yes, give me a in-character dark skinned clone who deals with his trauma and the sudden changes around him in a realistic way

Tell me about the real effects of the war on soldiers, and the truth behind the corrupted government taking over the galaxy, and the efforts everyone has to make to survive, exist and live together

If Dave and his team cannot do it, I know you guys can and that's why I'm glad to be here too; you give me hope when they fail to do so 💙

I hope I like... Answered this correctly? 😂 I got carried away but yeah, though I'm usually not vocal about it and try to enjoy it with my Dummie Energy™ I still see and read about what you all think, and usually I agree with you; the show deserved better and we deserved better

Now back to ignoring the canon and writing a fic about my very much alive and beloved Fives 🥰

#star wars #the bad batch #tbb #mesa shitposts #mesa answers #namesmox 💗#thank you for your ask!#it's a long rent #but I'm glad I did it #if you feel like I said something incorrect please do tell me #I am still learning #and I want to educate myself about these matters because it's important #echo #crosshair #tech #hunter #wrecker #omega #personal opinion

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ectonurites · 4 years ago

Note

for the character headcannons ask game, jason and cass?

ALRIGHT ALRIGHT im putting this one under a cut because it got SUPER long bc i cant shut up ever

lets start w jason

A (realistic headcanon):

ok using the ‘realistic’ category here loosely but GOD i love the idea of Damian & Jason having interacted while Jason was staying with the League before getting dunked in the Lazarus Pit. like. this obviously would need to be set more in preboot and following the Lost Days & Batman Annual 25 version of Jason’s resurrection, but god the idea of it just makes me scream in a good way. Like... these are things Jason likely doesn’t remember very clearly once he’s brought back to life more fully by the pit because he was uh pretty catatonic, but Damian being a little kid and knowing about the boy that his mother keeps around the base, that she’s trying to help bring back to health. Damian not even knowing that’s his big brother, just that he’s a presence that shares his mother’s attention. Jason again being unresponsive but like, ok god you know that part of lost days where Talia shows the others observing him that he only fights back at those he perceives as genuine threats trying to hurt him,

Because Jason can perceive that she’s safe, she’s not actually trying to hurt him, he trusts her because she saved him? thinking about lil child Damian who is ya know already being trained in fighting stuff and like the idea of him trying to provoke Jason just to see what happens but Jason not fighting back because on some level be it his connection to Talia or even little baby Damian visually reminding him of Bruce, he knows that Damian is safe too 🥺

and then when Jason and Damian meet again in Gotham as Red Hood & Robin respectively, Jason not really remembering because there was so much going on back then for him, but Damian realizing that oh... that was Him

B (hilarious):

alright so if we are looking at comics currently, in modern stuff jason is what, like 22? hes old enough to drink in the US but still definitely early 20s so around my around my age, thats what im using as a basis here. if we adjust timeline and still consider his death having happened when he was 15, that puts it around 2013. and then coming back to like interacting with people about three years later if we still kinda base things off of the preboot timeframe (since we never got a super solid retelling of the timeline of death -> resurrection -> training -> tries to get revenge aside from knowing he went to the all-caste instead of the lost days version of the story) making him reenter the regular world and stuff around age 18 in 2016. meaning a solid three years of pop culture that he was entirely missing, and like im sorry but he really doesn’t strike me as the type to bother looking into what he missed, he’s kinda busy focusing on other stuff. lets take a quick look at some major things from those years. 2013 gave us ‘what does the fox say’ and ‘the harlem shake’ . 2014 had that time U2 just put a fuckin album on everyone’s phones, The Fault In Our Stars movie came out. 2015 introduced the phrase ‘Netflix and Chill’ and the whole blue & black vs gold & white dress debate happened. imagine any of the other batkids (or even arguably roy during rhato stuff) bringing these things up and jason’s ensuing confusion. thank you for your time

C (heart-crushing):

so. there are two specific instances from rebirth era Jason i want to bring up here and much like a lot of these it’s less a headcanon and more of an inference based on observations, but i wanna take a sec to discuss Jason’s relationship with other people’s death. early in rebirth, Tim ‘dies’ from that whole thing in detective comics. he didn’t actually die, we as readers know, but in-universe they all very much so thought he was dead. frustratingly a lot of the batfam wasn’t really shown mourning him aside from in the Detective Comics Rebirth title itself (which just. when a major character dies even if its temporary- that should have a ripple effect) BUT an exception to that is in RHATO 2016, where we get this offhanded comment in Jason’s internal monologuing

similarly later when Roy, who like, had an incredibly close relationship w Jason that had just gotten mended before Heroes in Crisis, gets fuckin murdered in that whole thing... Jason doesn’t go to his funeral either. He leaves a dramatic voice mail and then visits the grave on his own later, choosing to instead keep working on the mission they’d started rather than going and taking the time to mourn properly.

Jason’s relationship with death is incredibly complicated, obviously. He has died, he has come back, and he now is willing to cross the line most other bats won’t and will kill people when he deems it necessary. I think thats something important though- he doesn’t just like... go around killing for fun (usually, some writers preboot made him a little murder happy but even then usually this still was vaguely followed) he kills people he thinks deserved it. Like, even looking back at the mess of Morrison’s Jason during Batman & Robin 2009, Jason was still trying to bring a sense of justice with who he was killing (”punishment that fits the crime”), it wasn’t killing for the sake of killing. He sees things in this kind of almost black and white ‘people who deserve it’ and ‘people who don’t’ way, and he has no problem dealing with death when it’s with the people he thinks deserve it.

but when someone who doesn’t in his mind ‘deserve it’ gets killed? i think he just goes into total avoidance mode. throws himself into other things he’s doing, tries not to dwell on it too much no matter how much he still thinks about it (this is especially evident in him consistently telling people “i’m fine!” after what happened to Roy, despite bringing Roy up literally like every few issues for a WHILE after he died and very clearly still struggling with it, Artemis is the only one who gets through to him on it a little bit)

but yeah, I just think that from Jason’s relatively unique situation of having been murdered, he knows what it’s like and he is perfectly fine wishing that on people he thinks are bad and deserve it, but it crushes him to imagine the people he loves and cares about having to experience something as painful as what he went through. not to mention the whole “I came back, why do I get a second chance at all this when they, who are a much better person than I am, probably won’t” mindset we get some implications of him having

D (canon is a coward and won’t)

hello DC i am once again insisting a batfam member is bisexual

CASS TIME

A (realistic headcanon):

ok so we know cass likes ballet. thats canon. however i think we also should in general explore cass experiencing other types of dance/performance as well, be it herself as a performer or even just watching. like... god imagine her & like my brain just automatically for group activities puts her with tim steph and duke but also for this in particular I feel would be a Jason embraced activity, but like them going to see a broadway show or some other professional theatre or something, and her just being enthralled by the reading of body language of the performers! like again by any point in current stuff cass does have like, the ability to speak fine (reading still hard tho) but even so I think like. okay im a theatre kid if that’s not obvious from the Everything About Me but one thing I always do after seeing a show is ya know spend dinner afterwards discussing it with whoever i saw it with.

I just think that like, bringing those people i just mentioned to the table to discuss seeing a show after would be so FASCINATING because cass would bring this whole perspective of critiquing their acting on a whole different level- not based on how well they delivered lines out loud, but by what their body language was saying as they moved on stage. like im very amused by the idea of cass getting a totally different picture in her mind about what a character’s motivations were because she was paying way more attention to what their physicality was saying vs the words that were written and how they were delivered. i think the debates her and the others would have would be EPIC there. jason defending the text as it was written adamantly and cass being like ‘ok yeah sure but thats not what they did’

B (hilarious):

cass having no concept of money because why would she bother? is SO funny to me. like it’s not that she couldn’t be reasonable if she wanted to, but like, she knows that the Waynes are well off so it’s not something she actually needs to be concerned about, so she just goes hog wild. takes steph out to fancy dinners and makes steph order for them since cass ya know doesn’t really read the menus, and steph’s like ‘jesus christ this costs-” “don’t worry about it” “but cass-” and she just holds up one of bruce’s credit cards and steph’s still like “but you don’t even know the range-” “it is fine”

bruce does not have the heart to tell her to stop

C (heart-crushing):

i mean this is pretty much canon but especially now after death metal where she’s remembering, not just being told by a guy using weird alternate timeline technology, that she used to be an adopted member of the Wayne family... like that hurts so bad. To look at these people who have ya know been kind to her, Bruce has still been a father-like figure to her (i mean literally from the moment they met in New 52 canon during the flashback in Batman & Robin Eternal, where he’s telling her that she’s not a monster just because of what people forced her to do.... that she’s a hero... that hug.... dad behavior), and they do to some extent treat her as family... But to then really know, to feel and remember that she was actually adopted! She was a part of their family. To look at how she’s been calling herself Orphan while working with them this whole time... that’s so heartbreaking! I have cried about this idea so much! I want so badly a conversation between her and Bruce now where he offers to officially adopt her again, I need it so bad and if it doesn’t happen at some point in the next year or two I will be so distraught.

D (canon is a coward and won’t)

i want an in-depth exploration of cass’ relationship to her own gender. being raised without language and you know with so much of her life being independent (remember: CASS RAN AWAY AROUND THE WORLD WITHOUT REALLY KNOWING ANY SPOKEN LANGUAGE) and outside of an organized society impressing too much of gender expectations on her, i feel like the way she experiences it would be very unique! like sure she’s so far been fine with being assigned ‘girl’ (ya know that comes with batgirl, and how people just automatically treated her based on how she looks) but in terms of gender expression and like her actual relationship with ‘traditional femininity’ etc like... because of how she was raised I just think she’d have a really different perspective on it that could be cool to explore, and I think she’d fall outside of the binary after she really thinks about how she identifies.

tldr on that: she/they nb cass is what i’m getting at here

#onwater #jason todd #cassandra cain #sam writes

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unforestalledreturn-a · 4 years ago

Text

Atsui Springs- Part 4

|| Fan fic part 4/5? Synopsis: After discovering his two best friends doing the dirty on his own bed, Genesis’ world is turned upside down. Now, the two of them have a lover’s getaway planned at Atsui, an elite resort famed for their hot springs. But not everything appears at it seems. And Genesis inexplicably finds himself crashing the getaway but discovering a truth hidden right beneath his nose. Featured ships: My guilty pleasure, OT3. NSFW: Yes, but not in this part Word Count: 2361 Part 1: Uninvited Guest Part 2: Awe Part 3: Unraveling

Part 4: Crimson Flower “Genesis… lets… play a game.” Sephiroth said, a near purr at his throat.

Curious, the redhead reached for one of the small dishes, bringing the liquid to his nose to smell. Strangely enough, it did not smell remotely alcoholic. “Oh? You think you can beat me at something?”

“Yes.” Sephiroth smirked. “Its SOLDIER grade, you know. The stuff would probably kill a civilian.” He gestured to the sake cups. “…So?”

At some point, Angeal had settled next to Genesis, quietly eyeing the exchange. While no antagonistic fires had been stoked yet, the man was intuitively on guard.

Genesis smiled sweetly in return. “Hmmm… The mighty Sephiroth turned hapless drunk.” Amused by the imagery, the redhead continued, “Fine. You joining, Angeal?” He swayed his head to look over at the quiet figure who blinked a couple of times before laughing nervously.

“G.. genesis… I do not think that is… a good idea.” Angeal trailed off.

“Oh, come on. I promise I won’t tell Sephiroth the time you tried to escort the stop sign across the stree-” Suddenly, Angeal’s hand was clasped around the redhead’s mouth. Genesis flashed an amused look towards Angeal before tapping his arm in submission. Only then was he released, but the redhead could not help but laugh a bit.

“It will be fun,” Genesis said, although, a part of him understood. Already, the tensions were high. Alcohol had a way of letting loose what was already difficult to contain. But the redhead could find no alternative. His thoughts were contained only to the present moment. Thinking beyond that was more than his emotionally exhausted brain could handle.

He needed something, anything to focus on. It did not matter what it was—it just has to be engaging. It had to be something mindless… It had to be something non-committal. Something to relieve his pains, even if the short-term act was the source of long-term sorrow. How… achingly familiar. It was funny, though. He could still feel Angeal’s warmth against his face. It oozed through his raw nerves, covering it like honey. Only, unlike other touches… It left him feeling… happy, even when it was gone.

Genesis smiled to himself. He was doomed.

“Rules are simple. We will take turns asking the other to select a truth they wish to reveal or a dare they will perform. The asker will define the conditions whereas the asked can opt to execute the conditions or… take a drink.” Sephiroth explained clinically, despite the growing smile on his face.

Laughter erupted from Genesis, frame hunching over as he gasped for air. “I… I… You mean we are playing Truth or Dare, right? Or did you come up with that one all by yourself.”

Frowning, Sephiroth crossed his arms. “If you are so keen, you go first. Ask.” A faint tinge of red dusted his cheeks.

“With pleasure. Angeal… Truth or dare?” Genesis hummed excitedly, the wheels of his mind visibly churning.

Uneasily, Angeal looked at Genesis, seemingly at a loss of what he could do. Gradually, he came to say, “…Dare.”

Smirking widely, resting his forearm against Angeal’s shoulder and leaning in, Genesis did not lose a second before he delivered the ‘condition’. “I dare you to come with me to peek into the lady’s bath--”

The response was immediate. Angeal grabbed the sake cup and downed it in a quick flick of his head. “Oh…”

It was too easy. And Genesis could not help but to snicker, covering his mouth loosely with his fingers. “Oh?”

“… You can’t taste the alcohol.” Angeal deadpanned, eye twitching as Sephiroth smoothly refilled the cup, eyes glittering in delight.

Curious, Genesis took his own cup again and took a tentative sip. It was subtly sweet, a hint of citrus and something herbal he could not place. But, true to Angeal’s words, the alcohol was either cleverly masked, or not present at all.

“Hmm… ~” Genesis smiled. “Your turn.”

Clearing his throat, Angeal focused his attention to Sephiroth. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Um… What… is in this alcohol?” Angeal asked, licking his lips.

Tilting his head, Sephiroth gave an amused smirk. “Is that your question?”

Blinking, Angeal gave a sheepish shrug.

And to both Angeal and Genesis’ surprise, Sephiroth continued smiling as he reached for his own cup and slowly swallowed it down.

“Genesis,” he said, pausing a moment before refilling his cup. “Truth or dare.”

Leaning over the table, Genesis rested his elbow against the surface, his chin perched on his palm as he intently fixated his gaze on the man in front of him. Indeed, he never did know what to expect of the man. Was it on purpose? What sort of secret could he be hiding? Or, perhaps, it was merely that he wanted to drink.

“Truth. I’ll chug the whole thing if I can’t answer.” Genesis challenged, leering at Sephiroth. There was nothing that Genesis could not lie about. And if he could stir some friendly competition, perhaps things could…

Go back to normal.

But what Sephiroth said next shattered the thought entirely.

Do you have a type you prefer to sleep with?

Did he… have a… “What does who I sleep with even matter to you?” He snapped, a growl at the back of his throat. Crossing his arms tightly, Genesis felt it at the base of his gut—the flame of simmering wrath that Sephiroth always managed to find a way to stoke. And given his unchanged expression, it felt like it was on purpose.

"Genesis, it's part of the game..." Angeal gently reminded, although he too had his eyes fixed on Genesis for some reason, as though intent on a response. He seemed nervous.

"Just answer the question or drink," Sephiroth said expressionlessly, fist tightening against his leg. The tension was visible. The air was thick with it.

Scoffing, Genesis angrily reached for something to throw into his mouth, from the table, a ball of rice being the victim of his anger. He took his time to chew, his heart scrambling to put itself back together. It was hard. Why did it have to be so hard? With anyone else, this sort of game, these sorts of questions were easy. Talking about crushes, giggling over bizarre fetishes, or having a ‘type’ was really what made it fun. But now? Now it just hurt. He ached in a way that threatened to swallow him whole.

He wanted to leave. But what good would spoiling Angeal's vacation? He had been planning this for months. Even if it was meant to be a romantic getaway for just him and Sephiroth...

Genesis winced. He was just baggage, wasn't he? He should have left.

"... I don't care." He finally said, brushing a few grains of rice off his face. "I don't have a type. Just give me a pretty face, and I'll probably fuck them." He slouched over to rest an elbow on the inside of his crossed legs. Perhaps he should have just chugged the alcohol. Given the way Angeal flinched, he knew his words were harsh. But Sephiroth was unaffected-- in fact, he had yet to lose the smirk from when they started the game.

Genesis felt his eyes sting as he stared at the table full of food. Nothing tasted good anymore. And when Genesis started to feel this way, he knew he was unrecoverable. Because if nothing tasted good, he would settle for anything.

“Truth or dare, Sephiroth.” He managed to say. He simply had to push through it. Whenever this sort of thing happened, it was the only way. Just as quickly as the anger and hurt came up, he had to divert the attention. Because if he dared let up if there was a single moment where those feelings were given center stage…

It could be the end. And Genesis refused. This… was all he had. And he would not give it up without a fight. For Angeal's sake, he was going to at least try... For... Sephiroth too. He could not face reality. If he hesitated... if he failed…

He was going to lose everything.

"Truth," Sephiroth stated.

“Fine. What is your type?” He directed the question back, although, he immediately regretted it the moment it came out. It was like every raw and brittle nerve he had was firing at once. Genesis was acting on impulse. There was no more calculation, careful distance or laughing masks.

Sephiroth tilted his head, before softly glancing over towards Angeal. “Someone… reliable.”

Genesis felt the vision around his eyes crowd. Why was it he already knew the answer? It was whatever Angeal was, right? Someone stable, someone who did not cave to every whim that came his way. Right? And while there was a time that Genesis had believed they were all so close… that the three of them had a bond like no one else…

But it was just him who felt that way, wasn’t it?

“Loyal.” Sephiroth continued, and Genesis felt his heart collapsing in on itself.

Please, no. Let him live the fantasy. Let him make love to the lies and ignore the truth. Please, don’t speak.

Please. He promised this would be the only lie. It was too sweet, too cruel for him to let go.

Don’t leave me behind.

There was silence. Genesis was shaking, breath ragged as he fought the welling of tears from breaching.

I’ll be better.

I won’t act out anymore.

P… please.

But the silence pervaded, and gradually, Genesis looked up, eyes caught in that ever-predatory gaze. And as prey, the redhead was trapped. Why was Sephiroth smiling that way? It was soft.

Genesis was scared.

“… and passionate,” Sephiroth said gently.

Everything was a blur as he stood from the tatami mat. The blood in his ears drowned all other noise. Something had shattered in his chest—he was bleeding all over the place. And he followed his body as it ran to the nearest exit.

“G-genesis! Where—” Angeal shouted after him, immediately on his feet and on the heels of his friend, hand clasping on the crook of his elbow, although a secure grip was impossible with all the extra fabric.

Jamming his fingers into the sliding door, the redhead threw the thin piece of wood back with a force that made the delicate frame splinter on impact.

"Leaving." He retorted, but before he could even step onto the catwalk, he was stopped by a more secure grip.

"Where...?" Angeal whispered, desperate to secure a hold.

But Genesis wrenched his arm away, turning to face Angeal “A… anywhere but… here. The bar. … I… I get it.” The redhead’s chest heaved. “I really… fucking get it. But you didn’t… have to drag me out here just because you felt … guilty. Just…”

Whipping around again, Genesis stepped forward to the outer catwalk, only to find himself face-first into something solid. Looking up, he found Sephiroth blocking his path.

"Move." He hissed. And when Sephiroth did not comply, he attempted to forcibly shoulder his way through. But he was swiftly reminded why it was he had yet to succeed in besting the man in any of their duels. Sephiroth's grip on his wrists was like iron clasps. "Let me--"

"What is it you are going to do at the bar, Genesis?”

Hissing, he strained, "D-drink. And if someone wants to take me home, I'm feeling about ready to get fucked up." At least his body could match his emotional state.

"There's alcohol here," Sephiroth said, unrelenting, leaning closer to Genesis.

Confused and upset, Genesis met the look as his mind attempted to register what it was Sephiroth meant. He certainly understood the implication. But it simply did not fit. "What the hell is that supposed-- Genesis would not have much time to think, as the gap inexplicably shortened between the two.

He gasped as their lips nearly collided. Instead, Sephiroth’s face was impossibly close, the smell of the supposed alcohol on his breath. Jerking his head away, Genesis struggled to break free from the grasp, but his motivation was rapidly depleting. And when a warm, familiar embrace wrapped around him from behind, it was gone. What was the use?

Hanging his head to the side, tears splattered on the wood below.

The embrace around him tightened. Softly, Angeal spoke, tone weighted and on the verge of cracking. But it was insistent all the same. “... Genesis... This... This was not what I envisioned this to be.” He whispered, burying his face into his friend’s back.

“I'm… I’m sorry.” His voice muffled against the redhead’s exposed skin.

It hurt. When Genesis thought he was beyond it, that he had numbed enough, Angeal’s words were another open wound.

"A.. and just what did you envision it to be... Huh? Not much of... A romantic get away with a third wheel." He said bitterly through broken sobs.

Sighing softly, Angeal gently tightened his grip. "You... Aren't a third wheel, Genesis." He said, hands rubbing against the redhead’s chest attempting to soothe him. He opened his mouth to say something more, but the words did not come.

“Your mission was extended longer than anticipated.” Sephiroth cut through, and although his grip was unyielding, the intense pressure lessened some, now that Genesis had stopped thrashing.

Sniffling, Genesis did not look up. Drained, he said, “My.. mission had nothing to do… with my best friends fucking each other.” His mouth was dry. “I… I was wrong, ok? I’m sorry. I… I thought we were all the same. That we felt… the same. But.. I just… I need to be… alone.” He choked out.

Genesis hated himself. His polished act was completely destroyed, laying with the tears at his feet. He was a sniveling mess. And there, blossomed in his chest was that reddened flower of corruption. There was nothing beautiful about it. There was nothing redeemable about it.

A certain silence fell over the trio. The words hung in the air like a guillotine.

Sephiroth released one of Genesis' wrists to instead grip his chin, forcing the redhead to look at the silver elite. Gently, he brushed a thumb over the rolling tears on his cheeks.

"We do feel the same."

#fanfic #Atsui Springs #Atsui Springs: Part 4 #u thought it couldn't get any angstier didn't ya?#sike

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comphersjost · 6 years ago

Text

Hooked ➸ Morgan Rielly

this is so??? long??? i didnt mean for it to get so long but here we are ig

ALSO i know the scenes with her friends are a little different from what i usually write, but thats honestly how i am with my own friends so i wrote it from my personal experience. let me know what you think!

also keep in mind that the reader is a woc and so are her friends (again, based off of personal experiences, and slang is how we talk where i grew up)

based off of the song hooked by why don’t we

words: 3.5k+

summary: you didn’t expect to run into the Maple Leafs captain at your favorite little bar in New York, but you did. you’re a die hard Rangers fan, and now he’s set on convincing you that not all of Toronto is so bad.

warnings: smut, morgan is a cocky bastard, alcohol, woc reader, hoodrat antics and slang (based off where im from, idk if its the same in ny but yk)

find my masterlist here

listen to hooked by why don’t we here

Ooh... (you got a bad... you got... you got, yeah)

You’d met Morgan at a bar after the Leafs had playing the Rangers. You were out with a couple friends at a bar after getting dinner at some drive thru and eating and laughing at a viewpoint that your group loved. In had come a group of men, not one under 6’0. You hated yourself for recognizing them immediately. Growing up watching most professional sports caused you to recognize prospects and players of each of them, and to be specifically able to recognize the build of each type of athlete.

You’d locked eyes with Morgan across the room, and a smirk had pulled at his lips when he saw the Rangers hoodie that you were wearing, along with gray ripped jeans. You and your friends had dressed comfortable, not looking to get all dressed up for anyone. All of you were wearing jeans or leggings, and hoodies.

“What’s up, Y/N? You good?” your friend Justine nudges you, dragging your eyes back to her.

You lean in to her so she can hear your next words. “Hockey players,” you murmur. “From Toronto.” Your friend wrinkles her nose in disgust. You’d all grown up together, diehard fans of your city’s teams. The two of you look back over at the group, who had now dragged two tables together to fit everyone. You catch Morgan’s eye again, and this time he smiles wickedly, swiping his tongue along his bottom lip and dragging his eyes up and down your figure.

“That one looks like he wants to fuck you in his car.” You let out a burst of laughter at her words, though you know she’s not exactly wrong. “That’s the captain isn’t it? Morgan Rielly?” You only nod in response, not breaking eye contact with him - a challenge. He beckons for you to come over there, but you only sneer at him, turning back to the conversation at the table.

It isn't long until you can feel a presence at your back. “Hi,” comes a deep rumbling from behind you. You turn to look up at him.

“Morgan Rielly,” you say shortly. Your girls have gone quiet, watching the interaction with wide eyes.

“Hot Rangers fan,” he responds, the teasing in his tone clear.

“Good game, Cap” Justine chirps, the disdain clear in her voice. Morgan’s face breaks out into a wide smile. The game had gone into a shootout, the Leafs coming out on top by only one goal.

“Thank you!” he says cheerfully, grinning at the compliment even at Justine’s passive aggressiveness. “It was tough and we both played well.” Justine rolls her eyes, clicking her tongue at you and raising her eyebrows. You do the same back to her, a smirk playing at your lips. After the interaction between you and Justine, the other girls seem to catch on. The 6 of you were all athletes and had used clicking your tongue as a way to communicate that you were feeling some type of way about someone, something, or the opposing team since high school. It was you, Justine, Aly, Lauren, Jalin, and Deja.

You've got a bad reputation in my neighborhood

You drive me mad with temptation 'cause it tastes so good

Morgan brushes his knuckles against your arm to catch your attention. “What’s your name?” You tell him and he repeats it, causing an involuntary shiver to run down your back, straight to your core. “Can I buy you a drink?” Justine snorts next to you, and you smile knowingly at her.

“That's pretty bold of you,” you say.

“Oh yeah?” Morgan challenges, “Why’s that?”

“You’re in Ranger’s territory-” Justine sneers.

“-you’re definitely out of your element-” Aly continues.

“-with a big ass ego flirting with our girl here-” Jalin hums.

“-and we’re pretty obviously Rangers fans-” Lauren says.

“-after a pretty tough loss,” Deja quips. “So maybe that’s where all your confidence is coming from but-”

“-this is our hood,” you finish. “And you’re playing a dangerous game.”

You know I wouldn't walk away even if I could

It took one night, one try, ay

Damn, I'm hooked (oh)

“Your hood, huh?” an amused, and slightly awed, smile plays on his lips. “I play a dangerous game for a living, Y/N, one I’m pretty good at, in fact. I think I can handle you. All of you, actually. Even with this weird in sync thing you girls have going on here.”

“We’re just on the same wavelength,” you grin at your friends, and they all smile back at you and smirk at Morgan.

“One drink?” Morgan wagers, “If you decide that you can’t handle my stupidly handsome and talented self, then you’re welcome to leave me wherever I am.”

“One drink,” you say, nudging Justine with your elbow as you stand. Morgan’s hand on your back feels hot, even through multiple layers as he leads you to the bar. You raise an eyebrow when he pulls a stool out for you, and he simply shrugs, giving you a small smile that almost seems...shy.

You were there when I was low, you held me high

And, baby, when you take control, we can go all night

Morgan was a lot more fun than you had been expecting, he made you laugh until you were in tears. But he also made you shudder when he looked at you, eyes gone dark. Your stomach knotted itself, the low ache of arousal in your core making it difficult to focus on what he was saying.

There were times when his teammates would come up to whisper something in his ear, and you would be thrown back into reality. No matter how fine and funny he is, this man is a Leaf. But then he’d look back at you with those eyes and bite his lip and all of those thoughts flew out the window.

Needless to say, he’d asked you to come back to his hotel, and spent hours with his head between your thighs. He murmured praises against your skin, along with “C’mon, come for me, the Leafs don’t seem all that bad now, huh?”

“Fuck you!” you groaned, tugging at his hair.

“As you wish.” You wanted to slap the grin off Morgan’s face, but then he was sinking into you and oh shit. He was long and thick and felt so good. “Fuuuuuck, Y/N,” he moans, “You feel so fucking good, baby.” He was intent on making you admit that not all the Leafs were as bad as you thought, and you spent the rest of the whining and squirming underneath him.

Every single place we go, you start a fight

But then you kiss my neck and take a bite

Morgan had come back multiple times over the course of the next 6 months, inexplicably finding you every time. Granted, you frequented the bar he’d first seen you at many times. But somehow the night always ended with the two of you in either his hotel room or your apartment. He stopped trying to bring up hockey after the fourth time you’d fucked, knowing that as much as it helped rile you up so he could bring you back down with wet kisses pressed into your neck, it pissed you off.

Something you found out on the first night, was that Morgan loved to bite. He had a thing for marking ‘what was his’ as he put it, but with your brain foggy with arousal, you chose to overlook the comment. Besides, you liked being marked up by him, it gave you something to keep from him every time he left again. He was good, an attentive lover, and everything you wanted in a partner. But again, he was a Leaf, and it wouldn't work.

Everybody says I'm sleeping with the enemy

I don't even care if you're gonna be the death of me, me, me

You hated Toronto, the thought of moving there made you sick. And worse, Morgan would be there. The one-turned two-turned three-turned however many night stands with the Maple Leafs captain had only strengthened your cold feet about taking this position in Toronto. It wasn’t the fact that you were moving, you’d moved many times in your life, but New York would always be home.

“You sure you’ll be okay over there?” Jalin’s concerned voice came through your phone. A chorus of questions came after that from the rest of the girls.

“Don't worry, Jay,” you respond, placing the call on speaker so you could move some boxes around, “All of you, don't worry. It’s not super permanent, and I’ll be back eventually.” You could tell that Jalin didn't believe a single word out of your mouth, and honestly, neither did you. But this was too good of an opportunity to pass up in your company, and you’d be damned if your hate for the city and its sports teams was going to keep you from taking it.

“You let us know if you need us okay?” Deja piped up, “You know we’ll get over there ASAP. We’ll drive or fly it doesn't matter.”

“I know Dej, I love you guys, but I’ll be okay.” After assuring your friends that you’d be alright, multiple times, you ended the call, placing your hands on your hips and surveying the boxes piled up in your new apartment. You’d avoided thinking about Morgan for weeks, since you got the offer for a promotion, but now he’d snuck back into your head. You shook your head to clear thoughts of running into him here, pulling on a Rangers hoodie and grabbing your keys. Besides, it wasn't like there was anything you could do about it, you didn't even have his number.

You've got a bad reputation in my neighborhood

You drive me mad with temptation 'cause it tastes so good

You pause the music coming through your headphones when you walk into a coffee shop two blocks away from your apartment, lingering awkwardly near to the door as you survey your options on the menu behind the bar. You jump when a pair of arms wrap around your upper body, pulling you against a strong chest that felt all too familiar.

“Looks like you’re in my hood now,” he hums, dropping his head to your shoulder. “What do you think you’re doing walking around wearing a Rangers hoodie in Leafs territory?”

“Hello to you too, Morgan,” you lean back against the giant of a man behind you, letting your hands trail over his bare forearms.

“Mmmm,” he drops kisses along your neck and jaw. “What’re you doing in Toronto?”

“Work,” you turn around in his arms as you answer. “Got a promotion offer that I couldn't refuse.” Morgan’s eyes light up.

“Congratulations!” he grins at you, “And welcome to Toronto. Let me buy you coffee? I can show you around?”

You know I wouldn't walk away even if I could

It took one night, one try, ay

Damn, I'm hooked

You should've said no. You should've said no. But you didn't. Because you couldn't resist him, he was like a drug that you couldn't escape. The feeling of his lips alone was enough to get you addicted, much less his arms, his voice, his thighs, his hands, his cock...

Ooh... I'm hooked

You let Morgan pay for your coffee as well as his own, and he made conversation as you waited for your drinks, asking you about your job, the move, and your new apartment.

Ooh... I know that I shouldn't touch but you twist my arm

'Cause I can never get enough once the feeling starts

You shouldn't have taken his hand when he offered it to you leaving the café. You shouldn't have let him lead you through the streets of Toronto. You shouldn't have let him point out tourist attractions, and good restaurants, and his favorite places in the city as you walked.

Baby, I'm the gasoline and your kiss is the spark

But then you take the wheel and crash my car

You shouldn't have let him walk you home. You shouldn't have let him keep holding your hand. You shouldn't have let him kiss you.

And you shouldn't have invited him in.

Everybody says I'm sleeping with the enemy

I don't even care if you're gonna be the death of me, me, me

Mo didn't seem to mind the mess of unpacked boxes stacked around your living room, too focused on finding the one spot on your neck that made you lose your breath.

“Bedroom?” he mumbles, not waiting for an answer before biting down roughly on your neck.

“Fuck, Morgan,” you whine, “Down the hall, last door.” You’re too small for him to keep bending down to kiss you, even on your tippy-toes, so he just picks you up and wraps your legs around his waist. He takes his time making his way down the hallway, content to just kiss you and mark you up.

“I love how tiny you are,” he hums after leaving another hickey. “Makes it easy to move you when I fuck you.”

You moan out at his words before saying, “Everybody’s tiny compared to you, Mo.”

He pulls back a moment to look at you in surprise. He’s standing in the doorway of your bedroom, still holding you, when he says, “Are you - oh my god, are you chirping me?” You huff at the lack of contact and drop your lips to his neck without an answer. “Oh shit honey,” he groans while you suck on his neck. “You markin’ me up? Huh? Like marking your territory? Yeah, I bet - fuck.” You cut him off by sinking your teeth into his shoulder and that’s definitely gonna hurt in the morning.

You've got a bad reputation in my neighborhood

You drive me mad with temptation 'cause it tastes so good

Mo’s got you on your back, your shirt is still on, hoodie thrown on the bed next to you, and he’s dragging your jeans down your legs when your phone rings. You whine when Morgan pauses to grab your phone from the pocket of your discarded hoodie, glancing at the screen before handing it to you.

“It’s Jalin, answer it.” The command is short, and then his lips are on your thighs, pulling your jeans the rest of the way off.

“Mo-”

“Answer it.”

“Hey J, what’s up?” you know you sound breathless as you answer, but you hope she’ll over look it.

“Hey, Y/N-”

“Put it on speaker,” Morgan murmurs against your skin. You gape down at him but do as you’re told.

“Look, I know you said you’re all good in Toronto,” she starts, and you know that she’s alone now, the other girls probably having left. “But I just - you gotta be careful, ma, you’re in enemy territory now, you can’t go around reppin’ NY.”

“J, I’m not stupid,” you answer, trying to keep your voice under control as Mo trails his lips closer to the center of your thighs. “I can handle it, imma keep reppin’ and you know I’ll just fucking deck anyone if they try and start something they can’t finish.”

Morgan chuckles softly against your core, causing you to squirm at the warm gust of air that washes over you. “Shut the fuck up,” you say before you can stop yourself.

“Uh, what?” Shit.

“Yikes,” Morgan says, loud enough so that Jalin can here.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N, are you with Morgan?” Jalin sounds exasperate, but not surprised.

“Yeah Jay, and you’re on speaker-oh shit.” You force a whine down as Morgan wraps his lips around your clit, sucking the bud into his mouth.

“Y/N, are you-? You know what, nevermind,” Jalin groans. “Call me back when you’re done fucking the enemy’s captain.”

“Got it,” you say quickly, ending the call as soon as the words are out of your mouth. “Oh, fuck, Mo, yeah, just like that.” Morgan seems to glow at your praise, humming as he sucks harder on your clit and drags two fingers along your slit.

“They know about us?” Morgan murmurs against your core, curling his fingers so that your back arches and a breathy moan escapes your lips. Us. He thought of you two as an us? Before you can get too wrapped up in your head he shoves another finger inside you, growling, “I asked you a question.”

You cry out at the action. “Yes, yes they do,” you whine, reaching down to tangle your fingers in his hair. “They knew after the first ni - fuck - first night. We - oh shit please - we don't keep secrets.”

He doesn't answer, only humming against your cunt again and whispering “Oh shit honey, I missed how good you taste.” You can only whine again, rocking your hips up towards his mouth. Morgan growls and lands a sharp slap on your thigh, making you yelp, before splaying his hand across your stomach to hold you down.

“You’re gonna come,” Morgan states - it’s not a question - “You’re gonna come for me, baby, all over my fingers and my face.” His fingers curl again, the pads of his fingertips pressing into your g-spot while his thumb presses down on your clit. You feel like he's holding you from the inside out and the pleasure is almost too much, thrashing against his hold.

You know I wouldn't walk away even if I could

It took one night, one try, ay

“Hold still,” Morgan snarls, holding you in place so that you can't escape. Even if you could, you're not sure that you would. You sob out, desperate for him to make you come, but everything is so much, too much. You can't stop yourself from squirming against his grips, the obscene sound of his mouth on your wetness and little gasps leaving your mouth - “ah, ah, ah” - the only noise in the room.

You scream when Morgan nips at your clit, the slight pain from his teeth only adding to your downfall. “Please, Mo, pleasepleasepleaseplease,” you moan, scrambling to hold onto him, push him away from your cunt. “Too much, too much, please.” He only growls again, keeping you pinned down with impossibly strong arms and sucking roughly at your clit. You let out a shrieking moan as you’re thrown into orgasm, the peak ripping through you so hard that you go blind for what seems like forever.

Morgan doesn't let up, his fingers cruelly continuing their exploration of your walls and his tongue circling your clit. Even as you start to come down, Morgan doesn't slow, intent on torturing you into another orgasm. “Fuck, Mo, please, I can't-”

“You can and you will,” Morgan growls. “Shut up and take it.”

You can’t say no to him. You don't want to say no to him.

So you let him bring you to the edge again, and again, and again. He makes you come with his tongue another 3 times, not once letting up to give you a break, and then he fucked you through another two orgasms, collapsing beside you when he finally came inside you.

Damn, I'm hooked

Ooh... I'm hooked

“How long are you staying?” Morgan murmurs against your skin later. You’d spent a couple hours in bed after your little escapade, though you should have been unpacking. His lips and tongue and fingers had been tracing patterns into your skin all over your body.

“Indefinitely,” you whispered into his hair. Morgan could most likely sense your sadness at the thought, and looks up at you with soft eyes.

“Hey,” he croons, cupping your cheek. “It’s not so bad here. I know it’s not New York, but you’re not totally alone, sweetheart, you’ve got me.”

“Mo,” you sigh, giving in to the soft kiss Morgan places on your lips, before he buries his face in your neck again. “Every time we’ve run into each other has been circumstantial, I’m not gonna wait around waiting to bump into you at a coffee shop or bar again.”

“Well then,” he hums, and you can feel his smile against the soft skin of your neck. “Y/N I-don’t-know-your-last name, I would like to take this moment to formally ask you for your phone number. Will you do me the honor of putting your number in my phone?”

“Ask me later, when I wake up,” you whisper, slowly drifting off, “I might say yes.”

You got me under your influence

I swear I'm never gonna give you up, up, up, up, up, up, up!

Morgan took you for breakfast the next morning. And then he took you for coffee the day after. And kissed you in front of your front door. And then offered to make you dinner at his place. And then kissed you again.

No matter what came up, he always made sure to check in and make sure you didn't get the chance to hate Toronto too much, especially not when he was with you. It was all too domestic and soft and you couldn't help the way he made you feel.

You've got a bad reputation in my neighborhood

You drive me mad with temptation 'cause it tastes so good

You know I wouldn't walk away even if I could

It took one night, one try, ay

Damn, I'm hooked

Your friends going to kill you, but you can’t help but smile every time you remember the first night, and thank yourself for letting Morgan take you home.

Ooh... I'm hooked

Ooh... I'm hooked, oh

#whew #that was...a lot #thanks for being my beta @ maddie #morgan rielly imagine #morgan rielly smut #toronto maple leafs #toronto maple leafs imagine #toronto maple leafs smut #nhl #nhl imagine #nhl smut #hockey #hockey imagine #hockey smut #new york rangers #mo daddy #morgan rielly x reader #morgan rielly one shot

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enchantedamusedslightlyconfused · 5 years ago

Text

73 questions.

I was tagged by @wescoasts @machine-gun-casie (BABES)

Almost all my friends have been tagged and I don't wanna be that asshole so ill try not to be. I tag @awkwardrocker @backoftheroomandnotbelonging @trixiehoe @she-who-is-timey-wimey

On a scale of 1-10, how excited are you about life right now?

Well it’s finals week so about -864. After that I have two weeks of legitimate nothing where I will bake my heart out so we’ll see

Describe yourself in a hashtag?

#yikes #ughshesinherfeelsagain

If you could do a love scene with anyone, who would it be?

Milo Ventimiglia, Kells, Rook.....being a music video love interest is only my life’s pipe dream

If your life was a musical, what would the marquee say?

And that’s on daddy issues and no supervision...

What’s one thing people don’t know about you?

I used to model like went to modeling school and got paid for it type shit

What’s your wakeup ritual?

get woken up by my dog tired of hearing my alarm, walk said opinionated quadruped, feed quadruped, get dressed, COFFEE, then take life as it comes

What’s your go to bed ritual?

melatonin gummies (gotta make anxiety fun), skincare when executive dysfunction will allow, brush teeth, fight dog for my spot in bed (moving a 90lb animal is no joke), turn on my sleep playlist or use my ambient noise app, stare at ceiling

What’s your favorite time of day?

witching hour followed by golden hour

Your go to for having a good laugh?

lately tiktok and Kellyvisions, previously vine compilations or Netflix specials

Dream country to visit?

Ireland. I NEED to go to the motherland. My families castle is still standing and I get in for free. its on my bucket list FOR SURE.

What’s the biggest surprise you’ve had?

getting into nursing school and chiropractic school. I’m a loser and I’ve never had a surprise party. I’d melt in puddle of love tbh

Heels or flats/sneakers?

Flats 98% of the time. Heels are reserved for business casual necessity, Halloween, or if I’m feeling myself

Vintage or new?

both, depends on the item

Who do you want to write your obituary?

Amy-Sherman Palladino

Style icon?

lmao a what? on the real though catch me fucking with those eco-friendly kitchen witch vibes. All the dainty jewelry, linens and converse/docks fam

What are three things you can’t live without?

my dog, my family (found and blood), healing people however I can (medicine ruined me for any other career and its sucks you guys)

What’s one ingredient you put in everything?

tbh salt, I question a recipes validity if salt isn't involved

What 3 people living or dead would you like to make dinner for?

Kells and the band (I'd be too nervous for a one on one), a dinner party with my MGK fam, Elvis

What’s your biggest fear in life?

Failure, not accomplishing anything

Window or aisle seat?

window all day everyday, on the wing preferably cause I like to feel the landing gear #pilotsgranddaughter

What’s your current TV obsession?

Roadies forever, pry that series from my cold dead hands (also Gilmore Girls and Criminal Minds)

Favorite app?

tie between Tumblr and Pinterest (im an aesthetic slut)

Secret talent?

I am bomb at disney princess songs, the girls I babysit for treat me like a jukebox at bedtime, cutest thing ever

Most adventurous thing you’ve done in your life?

delivered a baby has hands down been the coolest thing I’ve ever done

How would you define yourself in three words?

I fucking hate this question. always have. empathetic, resilient, intuitive

Favourite piece of clothing you own?

overall: my senior prom dress. its emerald green, backless, with a slit to upper thigh chefs kiss

everyday wear: Colorado sweatshirt

Must have clothing item everyone should have?

I second Jude: over sized hoodies

Superpower you would want?

nonspecific healing powers so they aren't limited to physical ailments

What’s inspiring you in life right now?

Colson

Best piece of advice you’ve received?

HA. probably that the body remembers more about trauma than the mind and your seemingly irrational physical reactions to things are your brain’s attempt to protect you

Best advice you’d give your teenage self?

his mistake does not define your worth. I went for a variant of these boys aint shit don't judge me cause she needs to hear it

A book that everyone should read?

Harry Potter series (yes the whole thing), Speak by Laurie Halse Anderson, Wintergirls by Laurie Halse Anderson, The Giver by Lois Lowry

What would you like to be remembered for?

empathy, the way I made people feel

How do you define beauty?

FOR THE LAST TIME ITS SUBJECTIVE, things that give you peace, it could be a song, a person, a sunset, a scone, a leaf. If it makes you stop a second and exhale then its beautiful to you

What do you love most about your body?

holy trigger question Batman...my eyes, my hair color, texture, and its ability to grow

Best way to take a rest/decompress?

drive with the windows down and blast music while singing at the top of my lungs

Favorite place to view art?

unexpected places, like street corners, carnivals, just somewhere it takes you off guard and makes you stop and pay attention

If your life were a song, what would the title be?

it’d be one of those crazy long 2000s fall out boy titles for sure, subject matter yet to be determined

If you could master one instrument, what would it be?

violin hands down, it hits me different

If you had a tattoo, where would it be?

I have a bunch planned, plane on my right shoulder, Kells related between 3rd and 4th ribs (maybe lower in case I ever need a chest tube), watercolor portrait of my dog at some point location TBD

Dolphins or koalas?

dolphins are stoners and they're super smart, but koalas cause they’re grumpy af and honestly same

What’s your spirit animal?

again Jude and I are vibin: I've been identifying with a phoenix as of late. according to pottermore im a greyhound though (yes a patrons is a wizarding spirit animal. fight me)

Best gift you’ve ever received?

seven year old me was stoked to get a functional microscope and metal detector, I was in my egyptology/archeology phase, I still have them lmao

Best gift you’ve ever given?

oh hell idk...I made my cousin cry once cause I made cupcakes for her birthday party, they were cherry limeade flavored and had little straws and everything. that was pretty cool, granted she was seven. I also made my teacher cry cause I made sea salt caramel chocolate cupcakes for her going away party. I guess my baking brings people to tears

What’s your favourite board game?

candy land, battleship, cards against humanity even though there isn't a board

What’s your favourite colour?

forest green atm

Least favourite colour?

bright yellow/orange, its offensive to my general The Dirt Mick Mars disposition

Diamonds or pearls?

pearls (actually opals though)

Drugstore makeup or designer?

not picky provided they are evironmentally friendly. I really like Besame Cosmetics though

Blow-dry or air-dry?

air-dry, I don't have the patience for blow drying

Pilates or yoga?

yoga

Coffee or tea?

COFFEE, im still learning to like tea

What’s the weirdest word in the English language?

holy shit how much time do we have, my favorite weird word to say is fistula or omphalocele (they're medical conditions, don't goole it unless you have a strong stomach)

Dark chocolate or milk chocolate?

dark chocolate

Stairs or elevator?

stairs

Summer or winter?

neither FALL BITCHES winter if I had to pick cause I love Christmas

You are stuck on an island, you can pick one food to eat forever without getting tired of it, what would you eat?

burgers

A desert you don’t like?

red velvet cake....just why is it a thing that exists

A skill you’re working on mastering?

baking scones or shit that’s flaky in general

Best thing to happen to you today?

being tagged to do this twice, I felt special for a hot second (thanks babes)

Best compliment you’ve ever received?

that I would make a good doctor (I handled a scary pt situation like a champ, they didn't know I threw up after I made sure my pt didn't die. puking in a foreign country on the download is a skill in and of itself)

Favorite smell?

bergamot, baking bread, baking spice cakes at Christmas

Hugs or kisses?

HUGS CAN SAVE THE WORLD

If you made a documentary, what would it be about?

gifted kid fall off

Last piece of content you consumed that made you cry?

In These Walls - Machine Gun Kelly

Casual Sabotage - Yungblud

genius assholes...

Lipstick or lip gloss?

lipstick for special occasions but actually tinted chapstick or lip stains

Sweet or savoury?

savory to eat sweet to make for someone else

Girl crush?

Brittney Furlan Lee, Alexis Bledel, Lauren Graham

How you know you’re in love?

you look at them and just say yep. them. usually while they're doing something stupid

Song you can listen to on repeat?

imma out myself but Swing Life Away - Machine Gun Kelly

If you could switch lives with someone for a day who would it be?

the grass is not greener ya’ll. id rather go back and relive days

What are you most excited about at this time in your life?

hopefully passing my first trimester of chiropractic school. fingers crossed pls

#quarantine games #don't come for me people #if you identify with this stuff hit me up #I can always use more quarantine buddies #love and good vibes to you all

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jawnjendes · 6 years ago

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little fighter | shawn mendes

university au, shawn x goth gf

an: this is apart of @fourtristattoos spring fest. i didn’t go with the weekly theme but i did use a few of the prompts from the list provided, and i will continue to do so for this series until the fest is over. honestly, im really proud of this chapter in particular, and it would be cool if ppl read it or whatever. if you like whats going on here, blease check out my masterlist for this series :)

masterlist | series playlist

For someone who acts composed with no fucks to give, I harbor quite a bit of guilt. I've always felt bad about things I did or did not have control over. I came from a good family. My parents never divorced, and they supported me through and through. I was always a good student in school, I even got into not one, but three amazing psychology departments at different universities. I had good friends throughout my life. I loved and lost. I experienced things the typical human goes through, and that was before I moved to Canada.

I was quite lucky. Nothing tragic happened in my childhood or teen years to make me the way I am now.

No, I don't count my abnormal digestive issues as something tragic. It's not tragic. Besides, that started in my early adulthood and yes, I harbored guilt about that too because I was able to manage it without much hassle.

So tell me why my self esteem was so shot that I went after shitty people so they could love me the way younger me imagined. Tell me why I got so depressed before university that I stopped going to work and school. Tell me what I did that made me a nervous stick in the mud. When and why did my brain become my biggest enemy?

This isn't about my not-tragic backstory. This is about where I'm at now. I've done my crying and wallowing. I go to therapy and swallow my pills.

I'm worried this will be perceived as a “she got a boyfriend and now she's healed” trope. It's not that. Like I said, I've done my healing. The fact that I have Shawn now is a very, very fortunate bonus. I know my worth now, even though sometimes I feel like I don't deserve him. I know what I don't deserve, and that's every relationship I had before Shawn came along.

He wasn't ashamed of his own feelings. There was never a moment where he didn’t tell me how he felt about me. He wasn't afraid to tell people that I was his girlfriend. He was all but bursting whenever he talked about our families meeting. I know that's the barest of minimums, but you would be surprised at the amount of relationships I had that were 50% shame and 50% hiding.

Shawn was always going the extra mile for me. If my digestive system was messing itself up, he kept me bed bound at his apartment, and he nursed me back to health. If I was bored to death at work, he would come and visit me after my manager's shift ended. He would drive thirty minutes into town to bring me lunch as well.

Work. That's where this is going. I was sat in my tiny office with Manager Stacy and Coworker Jason, counting down the minutes to my break. It had been a long day, what with customers complaining about $30 oil changes, or telling me their life stories in a rude manner over the phone. I had to smile at gross older men staring down my shirt as they paid for their car service. Stacy was short tempered and tired, so she gave us hell for little things like the printer being out of paper. She yelled at Luca for slouching in his chair, and that prompted him to leave the room. At least he had the liberty to to do that. I had to stay at my tiny window and feel Stacy's third eye burn a hole in the back of my head.

I would have texted Shawn telling him to just take me somewhere for lunch as opposed to bringing me something, but I didn't want to get yelled at for being on my phone. I just pretended to add up gas receipts while periodically looking at the time on the computer.

Somehow, Shawn read my mind. I saw him enter the dealership from my post, and he was empty handed. Typically, he had a to-go bag from my favorite restaurant. He made eye contact with me and smiled, coming up to my tiny window. Before he could say anything, a male voice called his name.

A deep pit formed in my stomach as Luca excitedly came into view. He greeted Shawn with a handshake/bro hug and a “What's up, man?”

Not going to lie, I forgot they knew each other. I forgot that Luca gave Shawn the concept for his song Mercy, even though I skipped that song when it came on these days.

I grabbed my purse from under my desk as I let the two catch up. I told Stacy I was taking my lunch break and then stepped out of the office. I stepped up to Shawn, still feeling uneasy.

“What brings you here, man?” Luca asked him. “Need service on your car? Or are you finally trading that thing in?”

“Nah, I'm just here to see my girl,” he replied as he took my hand.

Luca tilted his head and pursed his lips the way he always did when he was confused. His eyes trailed towards me like he barely noticed I was there.

“You two?” he asked in disbelief.

“Four and a half months,” Shawn replied with a smile.

I couldn't help but triumph in the shocked expression Luca had on his face. I smiled a little bit.

“I thought you were lying about that,” he said to me.

“Why would I?” I asked in return. Then, I walked towards the building exit, dragging Shawn with me.

I'm not one for flexing what I got, but I was particularly happy about Shawn walking me back into the dealership when we got back from lunch. We went for sushi down the street and spent most of my lunch hour in the car. We were still in our own little world, I was genuinely smiling. Other salesmen who worked here had to do a double take because I wasn't doing the typical customer service smile.

We stopped at the door to my office. Shawn planted a quick kiss on me and promised to see me later. I couldn't help but watch him as he walked past the office window towards the exit. I was okay to think about our little world until the end of my shift tonight. However, I was snapped back into reality at the sound of all too familiar words coming out of the all too familiar devil's mouth.

“Fucking whore…”

My smile dropped, but I was ready to roll my eyes and move on. Shawn, on the other hand, stopped in his tracks and turned on his heel. He went up to the window and looked directly at Luca.

“What did you just say?” he asked, leaning on the little ledge. He was smiling, but it wasn't hard to tell that he was annoyed.

“I'm just calling it as I see it,” Luca replied with an all too casual shrug. “She tell you what she got up to before you came along?”

I know I said I was about to let it go… but I ended up barging into the office and going right up to Luca. I grabbed the arm of the chair he was sitting in and forcibly turned him towards me.

“You don't get to do that,” I said loudly, not caring about my professional reputation at the moment.

Luca had an amused look on his stupid face. His dimples showed, and he was trying not to laugh.

“No - you don't get to act like I don't exist and then get salty because I found someone who's way better than you will ever be!” I pointed a finger at him. “You're the last person who gets to call me a whore! You broke the pieces of me that I gave you! You toyed with me for two and a half years, you manipulated and used me and you do not get to call me a whore because I decided I deserve better! You don't get to make any criticisms about my life. Get fucked!”

Silence rang through the tiny office. Jason and Stacy were standing at the back, mouths open. The smirk on Luca's face had vanished, and his face flushed with embarrassment. I was ready to throw hands if he dared to speak.

Then, Shawn spoke. “Let's step out for a second.”

My eyes darted to him. He nodded his head to the side, towards some customers who had lined up behind him. One was a girl about my age who was smiling at the tea being spilled. Behind her was an older couple who looked annoyed at my lack of professionalism.

“Go,” Stacy piped up in her stern manager voice. “I'll help these guys.”

I sighed angrily and went out the door again. I muttered an “excuse me” as I went past the small line of customers and I walked past Shawn. He quickly followed me, telling me to slow down.

“Hey!” He jogged up to me as I stepped outside into the oncoming night. He grabbed my hand to stop me. “Honey…”

I wanted to childishly pull away from his grasp and fold my arms. I wanted to run back inside and drop kick my coworker. Steam was still blowing out of my ears, and I wanted to fucking fight.

“Does he always say things like that?” Shawn asked.

“Yes,” I grumbled, looking out at the shiny new vehicles that were displayed in the parking lot. “That's all I am to him, that's all I've been to him since I broke up with him.”

“And you just let him get away with it?”

My seething eyes now pointed at my boyfriend. I yanked my hand away from his and flailed both my arms as I unleashed another bout of rage. “You think this is the first time I've yelled at him? You think I always just lay back and take it all the time? I'm always sticking up for myself in this god awful place because I'm the bitch who doesn't smile! Nobody here has my back! My own boss didn't even say anything to him! If you think I'm the type to take-”

Shawn quickly held his hands up, trying to calm my hysterical movements. “Okay, okay! I'm sorry. I know you don't take anyone's bullshit. He deserved to get yelled at. I would have done it myself, but you're my little fighter.” He offered a smile.

If there was any special nickname he had for me that wasn't the typical “honey” or anything involving my all black attire, it was that. “Little fighter.” Hearing it helped diffuse some of my anger.

I finally felt rational enough to take a deep breath, calming me down even more. Shawn offered his hand, but I wasn't ready for that just yet.

He thought otherwise. “Please, just take my hand.”

“I am a fighter,” I said, folding my arms. “I did not go through various amounts of bullshit to let some fuckboy tear me down.”

Shawn just looked at me for a moment, then he agreed. “That's right.” He was still holding his hand out. “And you're very cute when you're angry.”

I rolled my eyes. “You know, I wanted to kick the shit out of my coworker, but since you're here…”

He chuckled. “Okay, okay. What I meant is, I'm just glad you know your worth. And seeing you stand up for yourself is probably the hottest thing I've ever seen you do.”

Now I took his hand. “Shut up.”

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes blurb #fourtristattoosspring #shawn x goth gf #ya this was loosley inspired by greys anatomy #and my own personal experience lol

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dolce-fritz · 5 years ago

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So being the new evil girlfriend is fun

So recently my Partner has had some majorly stupid ass drama with their ex. Like this girl, she’s loopier then the Olympic oval, Like normally I’m nice and don’t slander people but like. She’s just, hoo boy. A mess.

And yeah this is from a completely biased stand point. And I’m about to tell you why that I feel the way that I do about this girl from my own experiences. This is going to be long winded, so I’m putting it under a read more.

So I moved from the lovely state of Utah this year, my homelifes never been 100% great. I love my mom but our issues clash and we do better separate. Not to mention I really wanted to try it out in another state again and this time the right way and not just a spur of the moment decision while i visited like what happened with Florida.

Well, planned my vacation to See my at the time friend to see if I really liked it there. I knew about their recent split with their Ex, and the two seemed pretty amicable about it. The other roommate was.... hoo, a mess to say the least. and My friend didn't want to be alone with her because they actually had been wanting to tell her to leave because of the issues that she'd brought into the home. anyways that in itself was a bit of drama.

So I was like OK. I'll come check it out and if I like it I'll be your new room mate.

Well. I plan my trip about four weeks out. and end up pretty excited about it. Come to find out with no real surprise that My friends Ex is going to move out before Octobers over.

My friend starts panicking. again doesn't wanna be alone with the other roommate that they're having hardships with. So I say ok... I'm going to do this vacation, then im just going to move on the 20th so I can get my stuff packed.

Shits already starting to go down hill.

I get there. everything seems fine. The ex seems nice, things seem ok. the other roommates.... already trying to cause shit with me and im not even physically in the house. I'm sleeping on a mattress on the floor in an old office space. bought a bunch of furniture because at this point. I know I'm moving here. Its going to happen. This is where I'm going to live might as well help my friend end up getting it taken care of.

Well. Day three of my vacation hits. The ex drops that her dad wants her to move out that day. completely screws the pooch for my friend and the other roommate. And basically bails on them and leaves the house just with the things she wants and then just leaves all the rest of her junk here like its her own storage unit. claims she’ll be back for the rest [ Spoilers never happened] so that... right there puts this sour taste in my mouth. Cause yeah, me and her ex at that point are sharing a bed. Because like theres only three beds in the house until she ends up leaving and so my friends like ill just sleep with you. me i’m very fine sharing my sleeping space with my friends. i’ve done it literally all my life. hell a its not a goodnight sleep unless your on your best friends bed snuggling the shit out of her kaneki ken body pillow listening to true crime documentaries on the TV but like seriously it was no big deal to me. which im begining to wonder if it was a big deal to her. Either way apparently instead of waiting till i officially moved. she bailed and forced my hand. So I had to stay, I couldn’t properly say goodbye to my mom. couldn’t properly get my shit packed. all cause I really didn’t want to leave my friend alone till I could officially move in. So already, I started getting a slight distaste in my mouth for her. but I let it slide. I know how overbearing parents are sometimes. well, so i cancelled my flights. money spent that i was never going to end up getting back that I could’ve later used towards something for the house. The girl left. and I was left, Cleaning up the mess that she walked out of and left behind. Turns out my friend was the only one that was cleaning up around the house. and working a part time job, while trying to side hustle some art for extra money. They were the one that was handling all the utilities, while their ex was buying everyone food. Separate it would’ve been an easier task if it was just the two of them. but you add in the extra roommate that was only paying her share of rent and none of the food and utilities and shit starts piling up. Well. sat down and looked at all the finances. found out that while yeah the Ex was making the most money. She didn’t bother to help out with any of the chores. I mean, they split the dish duty. And i’m sitting here wondering how long this pan of fish oils been on the stove for. had to buy new pans cause they were growing cultures. Hell half her chores and the other roomates were doing the cat boxes. dude it was shit mountain in there. it was so bad the cats were going in the corner. Yet it was like my friend was expected to pick up after them and pick up their slack because they didn’t work as many hours as the other two. Which I’m sorry. if you can’t balance cleaning up after yourself. and working how the hell are you going to live on your own. Well in comes me, the living off disability. [ which is not a glorious life] I have a lot of time on my hands. so first few days we douche out the house. things start looking good. in comes the ex to get something and brings this utter douchebag of a man that boasts about him being the whole reason that they broke up. Which like when we were moving out the ex. the ex’s dads...girlfriend??? was like dont let them take advantage of you. which like made me pull up a shit ton of questionmarks. cause yeah i wasn’t going to let the other roommate do that cause i was kinda aware what her game was and it wasn’t playable with me. everyone had their part to play in this household, and I wasn’t going to play mother for anyone. Well in comes this guy. boast about how he wont let anyone take advantage of her again and im like sure w/e dude. but like i started like... questioning wtf she was actually telling people that my friend actually did to her. see, what i was told was that it was an intimacy issue. my friends pretty Asexual so like there wasn’t alot of physical involvement. and that things just weren’t going the way that their ex wanted them to. Turns out it was SOOOO much more then that. so curious me, got digging about this girl cause shit just wasnt really adding up. and I started finding out things. At this time, friend started turning to partner. and eventually we started dating which made shit a lot more uncomfortable with me and this girl. cause yanno, new girlfriend. ex girlfriend. two things dont usually mesh well in situations like this. Well so, started finding out that while in a relationship she was leading on a bunch of other guys, and at work would like do this whole “im bi” thing if the guy was cute. like she was very male centered for a “lesbian” She was super horny on main during DND which made EVERYONE uncomfortable. to top it all off she was a narcissist, that had a victim that she could toy with. She tried to convince my partners parents while they were still together, to talk to their child when there were behaviours that she didnt like. She tried to have an intervention with their friends to force them into transitioning FtM when they were happy just being nonbinary. they would gaslight them, manipulate them, and abuse them. I watched this girl in the span of three weeks tear my partner down with her words in front of me. and be nothing but venomous to them. for no other reason then they were actually happy. While spining all these stories of how she was the one that was wronged. Well, I started having enough of her coming around just so she could be mean to my partner. She’d come over. immediately go to our fridge to drink some of the booze she left and then pick at my partner for small insignificant things only because she wanted to fight. When i had enough of that. I told my partner, we’re going to DnD early. she can find her own ride. She came to a family party, invited unknowingly by my partners brother that’s been over seas and in the military. She thought she was going to get a hookup complained she wasn’t having fun because he wasn’t paying attention to her. Snapped at my partners nephews because they wanted to play and made one of them cry. and was just toxic to be around. That was strike two. Strike three was watching how she conducted herself around our dnD group. she’d had this guy, mister “ i saved you from your bad relationship” on speed dial, and would tell him things. and then sit and shit talk him when she was bored with him to everyone. We were all sick of it. The ending straw with me, was when we finally wanted to be done with this drama. told her three months before hand to get off the car insurance. and it wasn’t done. ended up causing a big thing. She started saying that she’d leave the DND group to make things easier. because Thats what my partner would want. At this point i couldnt stand it any longer. Three months talking to everyone that physically knows her. and see’s what she’s becoming lead everyone to say the same thing about her She was turning into her mother. No i know fuck all about that. i dont know her mother, i dont know anything about her. I know she’s on a shot that fucks with your brain and ends up messing with your body. I also was on the DEPO shot for three years of my life and its caused so many problems after i was off it. and thats what i tried to impart to her my wisdom on. therapy, and a depo shot. now how we got there is really long winded, and highly dramatic. id admitted to her our dnd group wanted to chat. she was pushy, respected no ones boundaries, and left our friends house a complete mess. just like she left ours... and god, she ended up pissing me off cause the girl left slippers caked in cat puke in my tub after staining my bathroom doing her hair dye. she disrespected my home, she disrespected out friends, and our friends home. and she was needlessly mean and cruel to everyone around her that didnt serve some purpose to her. So yeah she had to go. Here i am thinking that this is the end of it. but i get updates about how I’m apparently the worst abuser in the world just cause I told some spoiled brat of a woman to get off a shot that messes with the brain, and to seek therapy cause this girl needs help. Funny thing is im not the only one that said it. apprently just the loudest voice to have said it. and this bitch still thinks i dont like her cause she’s not ‘ providing for us financially” We may not have a high roller life. but damn we’re doing just fucking fine.

#the dumb drama

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golgoterror · 5 years ago

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Alright, this is ungodly long, but I just wanted to talk about something regarding Jake.

A lot of this fandom -- at least, from what I’ve seen -- label Jake as stupid. Some may even say Jake and smart are antonyms. This could not be further from the truth. It almost irritates me how much the fandom places this mischaracterization on him. Also, I get to talk about The Lad™ for about ten pages worth of words on Google docs, which is always very, very fun for me.

Well, first things first, let’s talk about the child genius and multi-billionaire polymath that is Jake English.

Puzzle Modus.

Let’s begin with something small. Jake’s modus is of puzzlekind! This is described as:

It's quite a handy modus, allowing you to captchalogue objects of any size, as long as you can fit them all in a finite space by maneuvering the cards around like a big game of Tetris. You like it because it keeps you sharp for solving any puzzles you might find when you go out raiding hallowed tombs, which is never. (x)

He likes puzzles! This is a huge headcanon I absolutely adore that has a basis in the comic: He’s a puzzles guy! This is just sort of a neat little fact about him that I adore to the moon and back. Just the idea of Jake fiddling about with a Rubik’s Cube is kind of adorable.

This is how he goes about doing everything every day of his life. I think that’s just amazing! And incredibly smart of him, I might add.

Skaianet.

Jake is shown in the credits to take over Skaianet after the game ended. For those unfamiliar, Skaianet made many things for the game, including but not limited to: the interstellar travel we see, transportalizers, the lab by Rose’s house, all Jake’s fancy-schmancy computers, and Sburb itself. In the beta timeline, Grandpa Harley founded Skaianet. In the alpha timeline, Grandma English did. I know Jake didn’t start it up and trying to pass off his alt-timeline self as him is a bit far-fetched at best, but he had the spoons to take it over. I think that speaks volumes for Jake’s intelligence -- this implies, at the very least, he can understand mathematics and physics at a high level. Remind you of someone we already know?

It is also important to note that Jake does, in fact, build the company back from the ground up, because it went to shit before his grandmother died:

GT: Pretty sure her company made a tidy fortune til it went belly up. At least i still have a few of her knickknacks for keepsakes. (x)

So he built an interstellar company back up -- using what his intelligent grandmother had once used -- to being very useful and practical once again.

As someone with a degree in mathematics and about to finish a degree in physics, I can say this sort of work would for sure require at the very least a decent understanding of quantum mechanics, statistical mechanics, electrodynamics, calculus (vector and differential forms), ordinary and partial differential equations, and perhaps other things like topology. I don’t know about you -- and I’m probably tooting my own horn a bit by saying this -- but I think that’s pretty nifty, if I do say so myself.

Actor.

Once again, I’m reaching into the credits to show that Jake has become a movie star after the game ends. Memorizing all those lines, slipping into characters... Being an actor is no easy feat.

( Side note: This leads into my headcanon that Jake can imitate accents and voices on a whim. No more arguing about whether he has a British, American, or Australian accent -- you’re all right! )

And I would like to add he has two jobs! Skaianet and being a movie star! This guy’s a fucking polymath for Christ’s sake.

Reading People.

Let’s start of simple: Brain Ghost Dirk. I can hear the outcries now of Dirk’s powers being the cause for this. And, yes, I can’t ignore Dirk’s influence in this, but Jake’s hope powers were also needed for the projection to come alive. And the fact he was able to make such a startlingly accurate projecting of Dirk in his own mind is astounding -- even BGD himself thinks so!

TT: You could view me as a projection of the real Dirk within your mind, as expressed through all of your thought patterns about him. TT: So I'm kind of a splinter of his corporeal self who happens to live in your awareness. TT: I'm a startlingly close approximation to the real thing, for all intents and purposes. GT: Just how startlingly close are we talking? TT: I'm not going to give you a bogus percentage like the glasses cause that's not my shtick. TT: But pretty damn close. (x)

A very deep understanding of the other is needed for Jake to do this. That is pretty fucking incredible. He can clearly read people really well -- he had a few times where he was cluing in on Jane and Dirk have feelings for him:

TG: its one of those things jane likes about u so much GT: It is? TG: which TG: errrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr im not supposed to talk about 2 u evr so nm GT: Talk about what? TG: nope GT: You mean how um... GT: Well a way in which i suppose... TG: no nope GT: Jane is prone to looking upon me with what i fathom to be more than just friendly affection? (x)

TT: I guess call it an extra birthday present. But instead of a present that's awesome, consider it more like a weird confession that may change the way you feel about me. GT: Whoa uh... GT: Dirk are you... uh... GT: Saying what i think? (x)

He’s not completely clueless on people! In fact, he seems to have a really good understanding of his friends. That’s something a lot of people seem to forget because of the incident that I will be getting to later on.

Fending For Himself.

I’ve already written quite a bit on this, but I’ll sum it up here: Jake is exceptionally good at living in the wild and taking care of himself. Sort of like a wild garden; he doesn’t need to be taken care of. Survival skills, especially around fighting and fending off things, aren’t something everyone has. This, once again, counts in his favour, even if it doesn’t line-up with “book smarts”.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

That’s five things! It’s clear Jake is, in fact, a polymath and incredibly intelligent. So, what’s with the fandom painting him as being dumb? What’s with people actually thinking he’s stupid? I think we can all take several wild guesses as to why that’s the case.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Takes things literally.

This is something that plagues Jake quite a lot. Case in point:

GT: Wow like the epic kevin costner film? TT: Almost exactly. Especially by the same degree of shittiness. GT: Oh man does that mean you have to drink your own pee?????? TT: You get used to the taste. Welcome it, even. TT: That takes about 15 days in a row of hard piss drinking though. GT: Ewwwwwwwwwwww no dude. No ew. :( TT: Relax, I don't drink any goddamn piss, ok? GT: Oh ok. Whew. (x)

But, well, let’s address the elephant in the room. The chat I laughed so hard at when I read it the first time due to pure, unadulterated second-hand embarrassment: Jake asking Jane if she had feelings for him.

Let’s analyze this, shall we? Jake starts off by being vague as all Hell, and I’ll spare those details, until finally...

GT: Just come out and say it. Do you fancy me? GG: No! GT: I see. GT: Very well then. GT: Jeez i mustve really misread that one! I feel like kind of a bone head now. (x / x)

Okay, she says no, and he backs off. That’s fine and dand--

GG: No!!!!!! GG: Oh my God, what am I saying here? GG: Jake, I didn't mean it! I didn't want to make you feel that way! GT: Now jane lets not backpedal here. GT: Youve spoken the truth and i greatly appreciate and respect you for that. GT: But now that i think about it you know what? GG: ... GG: No? :( GT: Please dont take this the wrong way but your answer is actually kind of a relief! (x)

... Oh, right. Yeah. It keeps going. It just keeps--

GT: Actually since youve made your feelings apparent and only see me as a friend that makes it a lot easier! GG: Haha, yes! GG: Friends!!!! GT: Maybe you could help me sort out some stuff that has been weighing on me lately? GG: Well what are friends for Jake!!!!! (x)

Sweet Jesus, Jake.

GG: Me? GG: HOO HOO HOO! GG: I'm just GG: Terrific! GG: I'm feeling so... GG: Friendly!!! GG: I clearly just want to be a good friend and bring all my AMAZING FRIENDLINESS to bear on your problems. GG: Friendlystyle! Ahahahah? GG: Shit I mean GG: Ahahahah! GT: Thats aces. Jane youre a sweetheart. (x)

Alright, alright, enough! You all remember the fucking chat.

Regardless, it’s very apparent Jake takes things at face value. I also will cite him talking to Jane before her birthday, but not list examples, because what happened above will just happen once again.

Okay, so he takes things at face value. What’s wrong with that? He trusts people to not lie to his face -- to not sugarcoat things or beat around any bushes. Perhaps I’m projecting a bit, but I do the same damn thing. I think a lot of people do! I don’t think reading things as fact over text is a good measure of someone’s intellect. All it does is show he has issues with communication. Okay, so he struggles with one thing. Sue me.

Doesn’t catch things right away.

Yeah okay I’m just gonna dump a few examples of this.

GT: Haha wow. Must have been a hell of a guy. TT: So... TT: You're not making any connections there? GT: Where? Huh? TT: Famous comedian, about the age of your grandma, inheriting the family name of the Baroness... TT: Not ringing a bell? GT: What are you talking about! Dirk stop speaking in riddles and keep telling the story i am on tenterhooks here! TT: Ok, well it's not like it's that important. Just a super obvious thing that'll probably occur to you later when you're looking in the fridge you don't have, at which point you'll feel like an idiot. GT: Oh my god you can be one opaque motherfucker just clue me in bro! TT: Nah, it'll be funnier this way. GT: STRIIIIIIDEEEERRRRRRRR!!!!! TT: Moving on. (x)

GT: Whats going on? TT: Took you long enough to figure it out. TT: Pages really are a slow burning class. Damn. GT: Figure what out! TT: You're asleep. (x)

This leads into the point above. His mind doesn’t work that way -- but that doesn’t mean he’s not intelligent. He needs everything laid out in front of him so he can make the connections and understand what’s happening, but there’s no real harm in this, and it certainly doesn’t dictate whether the guy is “intelligent” or not.

There are many, many more examples in canon depicting Jake as having difficulties with communication and you all can open most of his pesterlogs and probably find one. I’m not going to list anymore. But, hold your horses, I swear I’m getting to a point!

Difficulty reading.

A lot of the media Jake consumes is picture-based. Movies, comics, even the puzzles are most likely spacial and probably not riddles. It’s not far to imagine Jake might not be a terribly good reader, considering nobody was really around to make him read. Of course, his grandmother was around when he was little, so he can read -- and he can read just fine. But he probably isn’t very good at it simply from lack of practice. He also has terrible grammar, something Jane picks on him for, so it’s entirely possible that’s a contributing factor. He may just have trouble reading and writing.

Speaking from experience, I have dyslexia. As such, reading and writing are incredibly hard for me. I never read the books in my literature classes -- both in English and French -- but I did get the gist of the books (enough to get a decent mark in the class at least) by watching a movie adaptation of the novel. I don’t think it’s that far-off to think Jake may, indeed, do the same thing.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

NOTE: This next part is a bit hard for me to write, because I don’t want to vilify any of you. It might not have clued in on anyone or maybe you just saw Jake as a sort of comic relief and meant no harm by it. And I hope shining a light on this will make you all think twice about the guy. However, I can’t really avoid this next part, and I may get a bit emotional in it. Just a bit of a warning.

All of the above points are just me trying to say Jake probably has undiagnosed learning disabilities and perhaps autism. I don’t think I need to go into detail about how those don’t make someone “stupid”. If you think that’s the case, fuck you. I can’t argue with ableists, much less do I actually want to.

NOTE: I wrote a thing on his speech impediments. That may be of interest too. I don’t really know, but here it is nonetheless.

My take-away message here is: just because someone struggles with socialization or other things doesn’t mean fucking anything in terms of their intelligence. Jake is very clearly smart and has the ability to read people incredibly well -- to the point of making copies of them! Perhaps it’s just a bit easy to underestimate the guy compared to other characters, though.

There are other things that muddy this up a bit, unfortunately.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Trolling.

Jake is such a fucking troll. Jesus shitting Christ, does he get a kick out of acting stupid just to make the other person look silly. Or perhaps even to make himself laugh in the process. Case in point:

uu: I WILL JUST BE YOUR PATRON DUDE. uu: OR MAYBE. YOUR PATRON MANBRO. GT: Sounds pretty gay. uu: WHAT THE HELL IS THAT? GT: Whats what? uu: GAY. WHAT'S GAY YOU IDIOT FUCK. GT: Oh right. GT: Forgive me i forget you arent familiar with all of my earth lingo. GT: Its like... GT: How do i explain. GT: You know. Its a rather old fashioned term for being jolly and festive together. GT: Like "that rollicking time we had scrumming the other eve sure was gay." uu: I SEE. uu: THEN YES. YOU ARE CORRECT. uu: THIS IS GOING TO BE GAY AS HELL. (x)

Look at his goddamn face during this exchange:

That little bastard knows exactly what he’s doing.

And these aren’t stand-alone events! Jake is very, very silly and will use the fact others see him as stupid to have a little fun. May as well, right? And, in the process, he makes others look pretty damn stupid.

But sometimes it’s a bit hard to tell when he’s acting stupid against when he’s genuinely not getting something. I think he even fools himself sometimes! So you have to be a bit careful about fake-outs. I’m sure even the other alphas have trouble deducing when he’s doing this -- which only adds to the myth of him actually being “stupid” when viewed on first-glace.

He probably also does this with crushes, purposefully ignoring the signs because he doesn’t want to deal with it or may not believe anyone could like him that way. After all, if he’s wrong, he may think himself to be conceded and having a big head. So, he ignores the signs, thus convincing himself the feelings aren’t there. Then he gets absolutely fucking bamboozled beyond belief to find out they actually do like him. But that’s just a little side-note.

Thinks he’s stupid.

This one is just a bit... Sad. Very sad. Jake genuinely does think he’s stupid. Quite a lot, really.

GT: I shoulda asked where he fit into the picture if you were raised alone. I can be dumb as a bag of penny candy sometimes. (x)

Just... Man, he’s been called and treated as stupid so many times, he’s at the point where he believes it. If you asked him, he’d say Dirk is a genius, Roxy is always smart and sassy, and Jane is brilliant. (I don’t have a source for that last one but... Come on. She lectures him about grammar. Don’t fuck with me.) But when it comes to himself? He can’t say the same. Of course he then acts that way. He sees himself as a burly adventurer who is also a gentleman and tries to live up to that. No where along those lines does he think he’s intelligent. And that’s just... a little heartbreaking, really, all things considered.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Can’t believe this blog is just me going, “Wanna see how fast I can talk about Jake?”, and a shit-ton of people all nodding before I talk for six hours straight. Anyway, take-home message is: Jake’s smart. Jake’s very, very smart. He’s also a himbo, but he’s incredibly smart. Just because he has learning disabilities doesn’t mean fuck-all.

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk. There are drinks and refreshments in the back. Have a safe trip home. Remember to tip your waiters and waitresses. Jesus fuck can I run this gag any harder into the ground? Giving me language was a mistake. No but, really, if you read this whole damn thing, thank you! I hope this was as fun to read as it was to write.

#ooc.#headcanons.#about.#ableism tw #and i hate to do this but after the speech impediment post i must:#dont steal these headcanons.#(unless youre a jake rper then by all means thats fine!)#yes these arent exclusive to jake but this took a lot of time and effort #id appreciate it if youd all respect that #tia! <3

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takerfoxx · 5 years ago

Text

IM Swiftly Descending Darkness, Chapter 9

With a clean heart and a resolute mind, Brother Nathaniel Skinner stepped up to the pulpit.

The Brotherhood of the First Gensokyo Baptist Fellowship met in a small, plain room in the back of Nathaniel’s house. With only six pews facing a small raised platform and a small wooden crucifix adorned with a wreath of ivy hanging from the wall, it was certainly a humble sanctuary for the few faithful of Gensokyo, which, all told, numbered only twenty-four.

Six of them, specifically Nathaniel himself, Andrew Shuemaker, Betsy Caulfield, Bobby Forester, Dorothy Forester, and Eddie Orozco, were from that fateful bus ride that had first stolen him away from their home, the others having either left the Human Village, perished, or wanting nothing to do with them. The rest were native Gensokyians, local Japs that had been wise enough to see their home country for the cesspool of spiritual disease that it was. when Nathaniel had first been stranded here, he had been convinced that none of the locals were even capable of salvation, that their families had been wallowing in sinful practices and demonic energies for so long that their hearts would be repulsed by the mere idea of the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

In this, he had been proven wrong, and for which he was thankful. As Joshua Stump, the man who had once been his brother, had demonstrated, Nathaniel could trust not even good American Christians to properly keep the faith. And in was good to know that even in the Devil’s own country, the Light of God could still shine through.

Nathaniel took a deep breath, and then said, “My brothers and sisters, we are the Chosen Few.”

“We are the Chosen Few,” his congregation parroted back at him.

“We are the Light in the Darkness.”

“We are the Army of Christ.”

“We are the Army of Christ. Amen.”

Nathaniel bowed his head in silence. Then he threw it back and called to the Heavens. “Oh Lord, have mercy upon me, a sinner! And thank You for reminding me of our true mission, which, in my zealousness to stand fast against the wiles of Satan, I had forgotten!”

…

The previous night…

At last.

I can feel it. Even in my place of imprisonment, even in my place of torment, I can feel it.

Can you feel it, my little lost servant? Can you hear them, my wandering prodigal? Though you have closed your heart and mind to me, you cannot hide forever. You carry a piece of me with you, and He will not take it from you.

For even in your rebellion, I have found others, I have chosen others. And you will help them. Even if you continue to resist my call, you will do this. You will seek out the children, and guide them into my darkness.

You will do this.

I have commanded it.

Nathaniel Skinner woke up in a cold sweat.

He was in the dark, still in the cold black, and he couldn’t move. The chains held him still, keeping him prisoner, damned for all time for his sins, his sins of…

…of…

Nathaniel blinked. No, wait, the darkness was impenetrable. Above him he could see…the roof. The roof of his house. He wasn’t in the cold, black pit, he was at home, in bed.

As for his restraints, his nocturnal thrashings had simply rolled the covers into a tight cocoon. Again.

Nathaniel hastily loosed the covers and tossed them off. Now lying naked on sweat-soaked sheets, he slowly breathed out and closed his eyes. The dreams were happening again. The visions once more called to him, all the way from the place of damnation. And his hand…

He flexed the fingers of his right hand, or at least gave the command to. But nothing happened. His brain registered no response.

Nathaniel’s head fell to the right. In the dark, he could see the silhouette of his right arm stretching out across the bed, his fingers curled into a fist. He relaxed them, letting them fall open, and again squeezed them tight.

Though he saw his hand obeying his every instruction, he still felt nothing.

His left hand swept across his body to slam into his right palm. Nothing. Sitting up, he struck again and again, pounding the cold hand. When that didn’t work, he shoved it into his mouth and bit down, trying to evoke some kind of feeling, some kind of pain.

He still felt nothing.

And then it happened.

Nathaniel.

Nathaniel Skinner froze. No. No, no, no. Not again.

Give in.

Not now, now again! He had shut the Dark Voice down years ago! For nearly two years he had resisted its whispers, blocking them from his mind, until they had finally ceased! He had kept careful control, making sure to never allow it to once again awake, making sure that his corrupted hand was well cared for!

But now it was back. The Dark Voice was back.

Give in.

It never said much more than that. Just his name, and the call to give in, to surrender his will. He needn’t ask what it wanted him to give in to. It wanted him to stop fighting, to let it claim his body as its vessel. It had gotten a small piece of itself inside of him, but it needed his consent to pour in the rest, consent he had always refused to give.

Give in.

Trembling, Nathaniel lay back. There was no doubt about it. It was happening again. Fortunately, this time he knew who to blame.

Then, as he lay there in the dark, thoughts racing and heart pounding, he was startled by a loud and sudden sound.

Knocking.

Someone was knocking at his front door.

…

Mai didn’t awake to the knocking. Making a mental note to have her chastised, Nathaniel rose from his bed and hastily dressed himself. Doing so without washing himself made him feel disgusting, but it was only a temporary thing.

The knocking continued. There was no time to bathe his hand, so Skinner had to wrap it up as is. Again he felt nothing, which made his insides squirm. The pain after thoroughly cleaning his diseased hand in hot water might bring tears to his eyes, but it was preferable to the cold nothing he felt now.

Finally he was at least presentable. Nathaniel left his room to confront whoever it was that was foolish enough to wake him at this hour.

Mai was finally up and just reaching the door, which irked him. In the time it had taken him to dress himself, she ought to have already answered, seen who it was, and be on her way to rouse him.

“Move,” he said hoarsely.

She drew back in surprise. “Master Skinner! Forgive me, I-”

“I said move!” He shouldered his way past her and slid the front door open.

Standing outside were several members of his fellowship, specifically Seiya Kirisame, his son Rito Kirisame, Andrew Shuemaker, Bobby Forester, and Satoshi Yuuki. That wasn’t good. The five of them had been sent to deliver Gendou’s message to the orphanage, so having them come to him meant that something had gone horribly wrong.

As soon as Brother Seiya saw that it was him that had answered the door instead of Mai, his sweaty face went pale. “B-Brother Nathaniel!” He bowed his head. “Apologies for disturbing you at this hour, but-”

“Brother Seiya,” Nathaniel said icily. “Well, yes. Apologies would be in order. I hope this is important.”

“It is! We were just at the orphanage, and-”

Nathaniel felt blood rush to his head, and it took a considerable amount of will not to backhand Seiya across the face. “Stop!” he hissed.

Seiya stiffened, but he obeyed.

Control, control. Think about this. Nathaniel closed his eyes and mentally pushed back against the geyser of rage he felt rising. Jesus, grant me Your strength. He was already sweaty from his rude awakening, and this was causing fresh beads to start trickling down his forehead.

“The orphanage,” he said. “You were at the orphanage?”

“Yes!”

“Doing what?”

“I…” Seiya looked utterly gobsmacked. “Delivering the message, of course! From the Leader!”

“The Leader,” Nathaniel repeated. “You mean, you were sent by Master Gendou Sonozika?”

The five of them stared blankly at him. Why? they were wondering. Why would they ask something that he already knew the answer to? After all, Nathaniel had been in the room when Gendou had sent them off. He had relayed part of their instructions, after all.

But there was a reason why they had been given their instructions in private! As such, now that something had apparently gone wrong, Nathaniel wasn’t happy about them banging on his front door in the dead of night for everything to see.

“Y-Yes,” Seiya said after a bit.

“Then why come to me?” Nathaniel said. “If something went wrong, shouldn’t you be taking this information to Master Sonozika?”

“I…” Seiya continued to gawk, his mouth opening and closing like a suffocating fish.

Then Rito, ever the pragmatist, nudged Seiya from behind. “Of course, Brother Nathaniel,” he said smoothly. “We will go report to the Leader at once. Our apologies for disturbing you with a matter that is none of your business.”

Nathaniel relaxed a bit. Rito had again proven himself smarter than his elder. Nathaniel really ought to start entrusting him instead of his idiotic father with errands of a sensitive nature.

“Not at all,” Nathaniel said. He made a point to give a long and obvious look toward the nearby back alley. “I apologize if I have been short with you. God go with you, gentlemen. And good night.”

He shut the door and waited until he heard the group’s footsteps recede. When he was sure that their trajectory was taking them the right way, he hurried through his house, toward the side door.

There were two ways to get to the Sonozika estate from Nathaniel’s house. The first was to take the long way through the main streets, which would take you all the way around the block, while the second was to cut straight across the alley between Nathaniel’s house and his neighbor’s. And from the sound of things, they were heading for the alley.

He waited by the side door, listening as their footsteps drew near. When they were loud enough, he swiftly opened the door, reached out with his left hand to seize Seiya by the lapels of his robe, and yanked him inside before the man could cry out in surprise.

“Go home, gentlemen. Go home and speak of any of this to no one,” Nathaniel said briskly to the other four and shut the door.

Seiya was reflexively struggling, so Nathaniel shoved his left hand over the squat man’s mouth, leaned over so that they were face-to-face, and whispered, “Do not cry out. Speak only in whispers. Do you understand?”

His eyes wide with fear, Seiya nodded.

“Good.”

That done, Nathaniel all but dragged Seiya to a small side-room where he knew they would have some measure of privacy. Tossing Seiya in with one hand, Nathaniel stepped inside and slammed the door shut.

“What is wrong with you?” Nathaniel hissed. “Banging on my door in the dead of the night and babbling like an idiot. Everyone could hear you!”

Seiya was not a brave man. He reminded Nathaniel of Gendou in that way, someone full of bluster and indignation that would crumble at the slightest pushback.

“Forgive me!” Seiya blubbered. “I didn’t mean-”

Nathaniel gripped Seiya’s cheeks with one hand, his right hand. “Stop. Quiet down.” He squeezed ever so slightly. “And tell me what happened. Slowly.”

He released the squat man’s face. Seiya stumbled back, clutching at his jowls. “I…I…”

“Now,” Nathaniel said.

The fear in Seiya’s eyes was apparent. He lowered his hand, and when he did, Nathaniel frowned. Was it his imagination, or was there a pair of faint black spots, one on each of his cheeks, where Nathaniel’s fingers had dug into the flesh?

“We went…” Seiya swallowed. “We went to the orphanage. The others, and I, like we were instructed! To deliver Master Sonozika’s message, about how they were no longer welcome at-”

“I remember,” Nathaniel said.

“Right! But when we got there, they were all outside. The children, their guardians, all of them!”

“And?”

“And…they were having a funeral!”

“A funeral,” Nathaniel repeated. “Whose?”

“One of the children. One of the orphans had died.”

“So what?”

“No, you don’t understand! She didn’t just get sick or fall off the roof! She had been killed! By youkai!”

Nathaniel shrugged. “Tragic. But why does that have you so upset? They live in a dangerous place. Distant relation, perhaps?”

Seiya shook his head. “No. It was-” He cut himself off, and fearfully looked around at the dimly lit room, as if spies were lurking in the shadows.

“It was whom?” Nathaniel prodded.

“It was the spiders!” Seiya said in a hissing whisper. “The same ones! They apparently attacked the house, took several of the children, and killed one before the others were rescued!”

“The spid…” Nathaniel’s blood ran as cold as his right hand. He finally understood, and the realization clenched the muscles in his chest, leaving him short of breath.

“Yes!” Seiya said with a frenzied nod.

Choosing his words carefully, Nathaniel lowered his own voice and said, “The same ones?”

“Yes!”

“How? I mean, why? They had clear instructions!”

“I don’t know!” Seiya said, somehow managing to both wail and whisper at the same time. “But they did!”

Nathaniel gritted his teeth. “They attacked early then.”

“Yes! Far too early!”

The icy cold fear that swam through Nathaniel’s veins was starting to thaw, as his rising anger began to bring things to a boil. “They accepted the job. They took our money.”

“Yes! Absolutely! And we were perfectly clear our demands!”

“We told them when to move,” Nathaniel muttered, his hands curling into fists. “We told them how, and against who. We even paved the way for them, and they ignored it all!”

Nathaniel felt the furnace in his heart grow hotter and hotter, blurring his vision with steam and causing the room to tilt. It was like standing on the deck of a ship in a turbulent sea, with everything swaying this way and that.

Damn them. Damn those wretched youkai! So little had been asked of them! All he had requested is that they act according to their godless nature, but save it for the appropriate time and against the appropriate person, but they couldn’t even manage that!

The smoke covering his eyes cleared just enough to frame Seiya’s face. The other man was nodding vigorously and making noises of agreement, as if he and Nathaniel were equal victims. How wrong he was. Seiya had been the go-between. Seiya had been the one to enter the Youkai Forest and beseech the spider clan to take their contract. He had been the one to explain the details.

He had to have fouled things up. Maybe he hadn’t explained things correctly. Maybe, in his squealing, cowardly manner, he had forgotten the important parts. Something had gone wrong, and in such cases, the messenger must be blamed.

Despite most of the room being rendered in cloudy shapes, Seiya’s fleshy neck was crystal clear, every fold standing out in stark relief. Nathaniel stared at it, wondering how it would feel with his hand clenched around it, his fingers digging through fat and flesh to close around the windpipe.

Give in.

It would be so easy. Just a small squeeze, and it would crumple like paper, and Nathaniel wouldn’t have to suffer Seiya Kirisame’s squeaking any longer. He thought of those black smudges his fingers had left on Seiya’s cheeks. He imagined Seiya’s entire neck covered with black, withering the fat and sinking in deep to smother him.

Give in.

(“Nathan, are you feeling angry again?”)

Nathaniel started a bit. He was used to the Dark Voice, whispering to him from the back of his head, urging him toward violence. But that gentle, admonishing tone came from someplace else, someplace buried…deep…

(Church was over. The sermon had finished, the final hymn sang, and the concluding prayer sent up to God. Now everyone was milling about, some leaving immediately, others helping clean up, others standing around and talking. Fellowship, Reverend DuBois called it.

Not Nathaniel Skinner, though. Nobody ever talked to him. Some would try, but they would soon find reason to excuse themselves. Nathaniel knew why. He held himself to higher standards than anyone else, standards that few were strong enough to attempt.

And that was the problem.

He was standing by himself, his sky-blue eyes staring with hawklike intensity across the room. There, the Hendersons were leaving, replacing the hymnals and gathering their things.

The Hendersons were…decent, he supposed, but were weak at heart, and that was demonstrated by their sorry excuse for a son. The boy was fourteen, and completely without respect. He had been slouching all service, not joining in the singing of the hymns, not paying attention to the sermon, not even bothering to close his eyes and bow his head during prayer. He had just slouched their the whole time, legs propped up on the back of the pew in front of him, beady little eyes sullen.

How dare he?

But as he had stood there glowering, someone had sidled up to him, one of the few members of the congregation that still spoke to him. It was Joshua Stump, the dark-skinned Jew, the former addict. At first all of those had repulsed Nathaniel, like someone might be repulsed by an odious stench. But there was something about Joshua that led Nathaniel to at first tolerate, and eventually kind of appreciate. Joshua saw the good in people, and as misguided as he could be at times, it was an admirable trait.

And he somehow always knew when Nathaniel’s heart and mind were starting to boil over, when the screaming was about ready to start.

“Nathan,” Joshua repeated. “You’re getting angry, aren’t you?”

Nathaniel didn’t respond. He just continued to stare.

Joshua laid a hand on Nathaniel’s arm. “Don’t do it, Nathan. Don’t.”)

“Brother Nathaniel?”

Nathaniel looked down. Seiya had laid a hand on his forearm. Even through the sleeve and the bandage, his fingers felt like hot iron.

“Do not touch me!” Nathaniel cried as he wrenched his arm away.

Seiya recoiled. “I’m sorry, I-”

Shaking with barely restrained rage, Nathaniel leaned over so that he was nearly nose-to-nose with the smaller man. “Do not ever, ever lay hands on me again. Ever. Understand?”

“Yes, Brother Nathaniel! Forgive me!”

“Get out.”

Seiya opened his mouth, maybe to argue, but he saw the look in Nathaniel’s eyes, and quickly hurried away. Nathaniel was about to let him, but then some small part of rationality surfaced.

“Wait.”

Seiya froze by the door.

“The spiders. Did they say what happened to the spiders?”

Gulping, Seiya turned back toward him and said, “J-Just that they killed them.”

Nathaniel stared. “Killed them. People kill youkai all the time. It doesn’t stick.”

“That’s all that they said! That they, uh, dealt with the with extreme prejudice!”

The wheels in Nathaniel’s head started turning. When that happened, the cloud of rage started to get pumped out, and the channels of his brain were cleared. If they had simply exterminated the spiders when they found them and ran off with the children, then that might be a problem. The spiders would simply return, hungry for revenge, and would go rogue. And the longer they were in contention with the orphanage, the morel likely that secrets would spill.

On the other hand, it was entirely possible that they had been dealt with permanently. That wouldn’t be so bad. The fewer loose ends lying around, the better, and the world was better off without them anyway. Though it was unlikely that those heathens actually had the means to permanently destroy a youkai on hand. The methods capable of pulling that off were both rare and difficult to pull off.

(It was the dead of night, with the moon shining brightly overhead. Nathaniel stood in knee-high grass, staring off at the hills. Though he couldn’t see it where he was, just beyond that hill was fence that encompassed the orphanage grounds.

He breathed in and out. It was time.

Opening the heavy book in his hand, he flipped to the tagged page, the one that detailed the ritual necessary to pull off the overload spell. The steps were both complicated and precise, which is why he had practiced them over and over until he had gotten them right.

It had taken time, but he felt that he finally got the spell down. He just needed the proper regents in order to do it for real.

He now had them.

One was a weatherworn paper charm, plucked right off a fence post. It was designed to repel youkai and their various supernatural cousins, so he had been able to walk right up to the fence and take it off without anyone noticing.

The second was sitting on a nearby flat stone.

There were five of them, three fairies and two youkai. They had been all tied together in a circle, back-to-back, their arms bound behind their backs, their legs roped together, and their mouths gagged, their terrified eyes staring at him with mute pleas.

They were right to be afraid.

It frankly galled Nathaniel to have to resort to such blasphemous means, to consort with the same magic he was working to destroy. But the Lord did often employ imperfect instruments. He had delivered his warning to King Saul through the witch of Endor, hadn’t he? This was no different.

Though he read the words, he was already mumbling them out loud, reciting them from memory. As he did so, he turned toward his bound captives. Though they were already struggling and whimpering, they froze when they saw the silver blade he drew from its pouch, the blade and the runes inscribed on the hilt. They knew what it was for.

Yes. It was time.)

But it was unlikely that they had anything like that at their disposal, much less anything that could be used in something as chaotic as a fight.

Then there was the worst-case scenario, that before eliminating those wretched bugs, they had time to question them, to interrogate them. Nathaniel had been careful to not personally involve himself with any dealings, but there was always a trail.

Then Nathaniel was struck by a thought. “Who told you this?” he said. “Was it Satoko Yume?”

Seiya inhaled sharply. “Oh, that’s right! I mean, no. No, it wasn’t. It was that woman, the one who insulted both you and Master Sonozika!”

“That woman? You mean, the cook?”

“Yes! She threatened us too. And she…she…” Seiya pressed a trembling hand to his forehead. “She breathed fire at us! Just…spat it at our feet!”

“Breathed…fire?” Nathaniel said skeptically. “You mean, like that trick where you inhale a torch, and…”

“No! She just opened her mouth and a jet of flame came out! I almost had my toes burned off!”

Now that was interesting. “Tell me: given how everyone here seems to have some kind of…occultic ability or another, is the ability to breathe forth flames something that’s known to happen?”

“I…guess?” Seiya shrugged. “I mean, my cousin can spit sugar. But I can’t say I ever heard of anyone able to do something like this.”

Hmmm.

Nathaniel inhaled deeply and exhaled. “Brother Seiya, I have been unduly harsh to you. That was unchristianlike of me. I apologize.”

Seiya blinked in surprise. “Ah, oh, um, not at all! I understand. But what are we going to do?”

“Give me time to think,” Nathaniel said as he slid the door open for Seiya. “But whatever it is, we must act quickly. Tell no one of this.”

“Of course,” Seiya said. “Of course.”

Nathaniel stood still and listened as the man departed. Seiya’s footsteps were fast and heavy, thumping loudly through the house until he had rushed out the side door, slamming it as he left.

Even after the man was gone, Nathaniel continued to stand as still as a statue, eyes staring at the far wall.

Think. He had to think. Now was not to time to lose control. Now was the time to keep and clear mind and approach things rationally.

“Lord Jesus, grant me your wisdom,” he whispered. “Give me your strength. Help me see through the lies of the enemy.”

Unfortunately, if Jesus had an audible answer for him, he couldn’t hear it, because another voice was already speaking, drowning any other messages out.

Give in.

…

“It is far too easy, I believe,” Nathaniel continued, “in our battle against the wiles of the Devil, to forget why we fight. Just as our Lord Christ was not sent to this world to condemn it, but to save it, we too our sent into the world not leave the wicked and sinful to wallow in their own corruption, but to try to lift them out, to bring them to the Light.”

He looked around the room, at all the rapt gazes. Some were nodding in agreement, others had their eyes closed in prayer, others seemed a little confused. After all, this sort of altruism wasn’t the norm for one of Nathaniel’s sermons. That was all right though. Nathaniel had something of a gift for persuading others to see his point of view.

“We all know that Gensokyo is a wicked country,” he said. “Unlike the Outside World, where devils hide in the shadows and work their evil through subtle means, here they walk openly without fear, and we Humans, who were made in God’s own image, have little defense against their wiles. And those who have forsaken the fellowship of their fellow Humans to dwell out among the devils often become little better than devils themselves. The Lord commands us to set ourselves apart from those who have invited sin into their hearts, lest we become corrupted as well.”

At this, there were more nods, but also more frowns. That was also to be expected. Even though they had been shown the light, the truth still stung.

“But just as we have been commanded to set ourselves apart, we are also called upon to be a Light in the Darkness, to try to draw those who might want to escape damnation and cleanse themselves.

“I speak, of course, of that dwelling place of sin that calls itself the Aoki Yume’s Children’s Home! It is they that gather the fatherless children of those families who have suffered the rightful consequences of their impiety. It is they that, rather than leading those little lost lambs onto the path of righteousness, instead drive them further toward the arms of Satan.”

“Now, in the past I have counseled that if they are going to close their hearts and minds to the Gospel of Jesus, than we ought to close ourselves to them as well, to keep them from corrupting those who might seek the Lord’s salvation. But today the Lord spoke to me, chastising me for my lack of compassion. After all, though those who run that place are surely damned for their blasphemies, is it not our responsibility to reach out to those poor children, to show them another way?”

“Earlier this week, a group of youkai from the Youkai Forest attacked the orphanage. And one of the children was killed.

...

That morning...

At a little past eight, Nathaniel Skinner left his house.

Unlike the night before, he was now rested, bathed, and fully clothed. His hat was straight, his coat unwrinkled, his hands tightly bound and gloved, and not a whisker was out of place.

As he walked, he took note of how the people he passed reacted to them. Some of them, those loyal to humanity and recognized that same loyalty in him, smiled and greeted him warmly. Those of lesser resolve merely politely bowed their heads in passing. Others didn’t acknowledge him at all, and a few even turned their heads away in disgust.

That was to be expected. Those who stood stalwart in the light would of course repulse those who dwelt in darkness. But he wasn’t interested in that. Rather, he was searching for some sign that any of them had noticed Seiya’s idiocy the night before.

Ignoring the immediate reactions of those who passed him in the street, he instead focused on those further away, the ones close enough to see him but not enough to come in direct contact. Though he did not make any indication that he was looking at them, he still studied their faces through the thick, dark glass of his spectacles.

His lip twitched. They were shooting him sidelong glances. They were whispering to one another. Even through dark lenses, he could see the unease on their faces.

Idiot. Though it had served a diplomatic purpose, he was regretting apologizing to Seiya Kirisame. Now he was wishing he had thrown the loudmouthed fool through a wall.

Keeping his visage straight ahead, Nathaniel quickened his pace.

When he arrived at the Sonozika estate, the elderly serving man bowed respectfully. “Welcome, Master Skinner,” he said. “You are expected. This way please.”

As was often the case, Gendou Sonozika was a mess of anxieties. He was pacing back and forth, hands clasped behind his back, his forehead shiny with sweat.

“Ah, Brother Nathaniel!” he said, brightening as soon as Nathaniel entered the room. “Thank you for coming.”

“Not at all,” Nathaniel said. “I assume you’ve heard.”

Gendou nodded. “Yes. A youkai attack. A dead child. Terrible business, just terrible.”

“Horrible. Just goes to show the dangers of trusting youkai.” Nathaniel sadly shook his head. “We tried to warn them, Gendou. We tried to warn them.”

“You think that they were friends with these youkai then?”

“It wouldn’t surprise me. Have you found what I asked for?”

“Yes, yes! Come with me!”

Gendou led Nathaniel to the courtyard out back. The Sonozika resident was a large, U-shaped building, with a lively garden growing between the two arms. The two men went was at the end of one of the arms. There, a slanted door had been opened in the ground, with steps leading to a room beneath the house.

Gendou lit a lantern and handed it to Nathaniel. As Nathaniel peered down into the dark, his stomach twisted.

He didn’t like to go down into dark places. He didn’t like it at all.

“I went through all of my family’s records,” Gendou said, not noticing Nathaniel’s discomfort. “And I arranged everything I could find into two piles. One for the Youkai Forest, and the other for…”

“The woman,” Nathaniel said, keeping his unease from his voice. “Thank you.”

Holding the lantern in one hand, Nathaniel descended into the dark.

Almost as if it were galvanized by the dark and the deep, the Dark Voice suddenly came to life. Give in, it told him, its tones sweet and seductive as always. Nathaniel. Give in.

Though it said little more than that, the meaning was clear. If Nathaniel were to let it in, to give it what it wanted, than all of the knowledge he desired would be his, with no need to sift through dusty old tomes in order to find it.

Nathaniel ignored it. He focused on the sound of the wooden steps creaking under his heavy boots. The more attention that he paid to the Dark Voice, the more power it had.

Unfortunately, though the message of the Dark Voice stayed the same, there were other voices, voice of his own weak, mortal soul, voices that longed to surrender to temptation.

You seek after lesser sorceries to meet your ends, telling yourself that they are a forgivable alternative to that power, they said. But there are no degrees of damnation, just as there are no degrees of salvation. You either are, or you are not.

Nathaniel reached the bottom. He held his lantern high, illuminating the wide space around him.

The floor was of rough stone, coated with dust. Square wooden pillars rose up, holding up the house above him. And everywhere was knowledge.

They came in scrolls and they came in books. There was even a small section of stone carvings. They sat in neat piles, lined up on shelves, and in boxes, some encased beneath ancient, dusty glass while others out in the open. The sum total of all Human knowledge in Gensokyo, both what the original settlers brought with them and what they had gained since. Any academic would gladly give an arm or commit an unforgiveable act of Gendou’s choice just to spend half an hour among that treasure.

Naturally, Nathaniel had free range.

Though most of the knowledge he had gained disgusted him, he learned it anyway. In order to destroy an enemy, one must know them. Nathaniel Skinner was fighting a war against the forces of darkness that literally permeated the air of this godforsaken country, both the demonic forces that lurked out in the dark and the ones that dwelt within his heart.

As promised, two piles of texts were waiting for him at a low desk. Nathaniel sat down on his knees in the dirt, laid the lantern down, and went to work.

It being what it was, Gensokyo was less of a country where supernatural phenomena occurred and more of a wellspring of supernatural phenomena that occasionally had meager attempts at civilization spring up like patches of mold. Demonic activity was the rule rather than the exception, and there were large swath that mortals were content to leave well enough alone, making no move settle in and modernize.

The Youkai Forest was hardly the largest or most notorious of those places, but it was up there, and despite Gensokyo’s small size, very little attempt had been made to delve into its secrets, even though the country had supposedly existed in its own little pocket of reality before even America had been civilized. Oh, there had been people who tried here and there, daring explorers who had gone in and even a few who had come out. And of course, there was that one family of pagan priestesses that seemed to consider themselves humanity’s protectors from the dark forces despite serving those same forces.

As such, there were some recording and observations. There just wasn’t very many of them, and what they did have mostly took the form of hearsay, theory, and conjecture. There was very little hard fact to be found.

What little did exist was the smaller of the two piles. Nathaniel thumbed through it, looking for anything that might be what he was looking for.

A rough census of the various youkai communities within the forest, one that was seventy years out of date? No. Something about a “pale white strider”? No. A meadow of sentient mushrooms that lured victims in with songs of sexual ecstasy before…wait, they ate their sexual organs? And nothing else? Why?

Shaking his head, Nathaniel put that one aside quickly. The bloodrattles? No. The Yamauba? No. The Throne of Bones?

Nathaniel paused. That one, at least, seemed to be near what he was looking for. He scanned the report only to scowl in disappointment. It was a description of a chair with a bunch of animal bones on it, one hypothesized to contain some ancient forest spirit. Certainly it seemed dark and evil, worthy of being burned away in Christ’s cleansing light, just not the source of darkness and evil that he was looking for.

Give in.

And then, right when he was convinced that he had gone on a snipe hunt, he found it.

It wasn’t much, just a small entry in some long-dead researcher’s journal, but it matched the description.

Of all the myths and legends passed along by the local youkai, few are more perplexing than the talk of something that they called the Bone Grove. Those willing to speak to me are strangely hesitant to mention it, as if doing so will draw its attention. As those who have been willing to speak of me have always seemed to delight in spinning dark and bloody tales of the forest’s dangers in hopes of scaring me, this struck me as very strange.

Nathaniel sat back on his haunches, hand stroking his beard as he thought. Well now, that sounded very familiar. Unfortunately, there was little else in there, just a mention of a rumor by someone who was long dead.

Regardless, I have not been able to even ascertain its location. I spoke to my friend Momo Tweeldewing, who has always been more forthcoming about the forest’s secrets. Even she seemed scared to speak of it, and all she would tell me was that long ago, there had been a small village where both Human and youkai lived together in peace, until one day a ball of flame fell from the Heavens and destroyed the village when it hit, and since then no life has been permitted to exist there, and no one in their right mind would ever set foot in that place. She begged me to promise not to seek it out, saying that I would not be strong enough to come back out again.

Though I could get no more from her, I have to admit I am now even more fascinated by this fabled bone grove, as until now I have never heard of any kind of peaceful coexistence between both man and youkai within the forest’s borders. If this story is true, then it could imply that this mysterious comet itself is responsible for the many dark energies that swirl through the Youkai Forest.

Despite his many thick layers of clothes, Nathaniel felt cold sweep through his whole body. He searched through the rest of the documents but could find no other mention of the bone grove. Part of him was glad for that. What little he had found told him that he was in greater danger than he had realized.

And there was still one more pile waiting for him.

Nathaniel cast a dour glance at the much larger stack of scrolls and ancient pieces of parchment. This one he honestly expected to be a waste of time. After all, what were the odds that the woman with the smart mouth working as the orphanage’s cook was also the Sonozika family’s ancestral enemy? It was far more likely that she had simply heard the name somewhere and used it to screw with Gendou’s head. Lord knew the man was certainly…malleable.

Still, he had promised, so he reached for the first scroll and unrolled it.

Though this time there was an abundance of information and carefully recorded observations, Nathaniel wasn’t really sure what he was supposed to make of it. According to what Gendou had told him and what he was reading, the Fujiwara family had been business rivals to the Sonozikas sometime before Gensokyo had even been created, which had later grown to being enemies of a more personal sort. There was mention of farm raids, assassinations, attempts to publicly humiliate, and other unscrupulous skullduggery one might expect from that kind of barbaric society. However, while there was plenty talk of Fujiwara no Fuhito and his sons, his single daughter only got a few passing mentions, and then only among familial lists. Apparently even the Fujiwaras’ arch-enemies hadn’t even considered her worthy of attention.

Right up until she was.

Of the “incident” in question, there was plenty, as the survivors had launched a full investigation once the flames had been put out. Apparently, one day a young woman claiming to be the estranged daughter of Fuhito had shown up at the Sonozika residence. She had called out the family patriarch, demanding that he face her personally to account for the murder of her brother and the many attempts to ruin her family. Predictably, she had been laughed at. And then…

Nathaniel arched an eyebrow.

And then an arrow had been sent through her heart. The culprit had been a bowman positioned on the estate’s walls, one who had acted without instruction. Why the fool had done so, whether it be overzealousness or accident, wasn’t recorded, as he hadn’t survived to be questioned. What was known is that despite being seemingly killed on the spot, the woman had not stayed down. Instead, she had gotten right back up again, pulled the arrow right out of her chest, and…

It was there that the details got muddled. There were several firsthand accounts of what had happened, but few offered anything concrete. What was clear was that the woman had become some kind of demon, a fiery abomination that had taken to the air and rained down damnation on the entirety of the Sonozika estate. Gendou’s ancestor had been cooked alive inside his own armor, as had all of his elder sons. His guards had either fled immediately or they perished as well. And seeing how much the Japs valued loyalty, they had probably lost their lives as well, once everything that could be learned from them had been learned.

Nathaniel thumbed through the accounts, but there was little variety. Fire and fear, those were the common threads. Reports from later spoke of wanton destruction, indiscriminate and thorough. The estate had been destroyed, burned to cinders but not pillaged. The devil-woman had come to kill and destroy, nothing else.

That had proven to be her undoing, at least insofar as her revenge had been concerned. If she had taken the time to search out the smoldering remains of the estate she had destroyed, she might have found the caches of wealth that had gone untouched, papers and documents and deeds that had been stashed away in safe places, all things that had allowed the Sonozika family rise from the ashes and reestablish themselves. And had she bothered to pursue those who had fled the inferno instead of concentrating on those who were fighting back, she might have prevented the escape of the youngest of the Sonozika children, from whom Gendou was descended. Instead, she had focused on the old man himself, him and his grown sons.

Regardless, as far as revenge went, it had still seemed fairly successful. Four Sonozikas dead, the patriarch and all three of his immediate heirs. Most of the staff had survived, those who had fled anyway. And they all said the same thing. The woman had taken flight, and everything had burned.

As Nathaniel thumbed through the reports, he came across something interesting. It wasn’t really a scroll, though it was wound like one. Rather, it was a silk tapestry, one that had been carefully preserved, though wasn’t on display upstairs for obvious reasons.

It was an artist’s rendition of that day, or at least as near as could be made.

It was done in that weirdly slanted style that the Japanese seemed to favor, with its broad strokes and flowing lines. Nathaniel had always found it kind of ugly, but regardless of the art style the scene it depicted would be hideous.

The lower half showed the courtyard of what had probably been considered a great house, though it probably had paled to even the most humble of homes in Philadelphia. There were several men wearing primitive armor lying on the ground, screaming in agony. And everything, including the men, was on fire.

The source of the flame was fairly evident. The upper half was taken up by the unholiest of abominations, a flaming demon that was half-woman and half-bird. It flew on great wings of flame, and gore dripped from the talons it had in place of hands and feet. Its beaklike mouth was open, and it was vomiting flame directly into the stomach of the man directly below her, whom was wearing green armor while everyone else wore blue. Gendou’s long-murdered ancestor, no doubt.

Nathaniel thoughtfully stroked his beard as he studied the depiction of the creature claiming to be the renegade daughter of the now-extinct Fujiwara clan. Well, he had certainly seemed several youkai who bore animalistic features, no doubt owing to their demonic origin, though he was fairly certain that this was merely artistic license. Or maybe the Sonozika clan had actually almost been wiped out by a flaming bird-woman. Honestly, at this point, Nathaniel would accept anything.

Of greater interest to Nathaniel wasn’t the bird-woman’s appearance, but what she was doing in the picture, or to be more specific, where the fire was coming from. Specifically, her mouth. Now, given that it was highly unlikely that the artist had set up his easel at the actual site of the slaughter and had her pose to be painted, that was probably just another attempt to be dramatic rather than accurate.

Still…

Seiya’s words came back to him. “Out of her mouth!” he had said. “She spewed fire out of her mouth!”

Interesting.

He mentally formed a picture of the uncouth woman claiming to be named Fujiwara no Mokou in his head and transposed it over the rendition of the Fujiwara no Mokou of old. Of course there was little they visually had in common, and by any reasonable metric that Fujiwara no Mokou ought to have been burning in Hell for the last several centuries.

But what if she wasn’t?

What if the two were one and the same?

He had to learn more. He had to get in close, examine the situation for himself.

But how?

Give in.

He shook his head. No, shut up!

Think. He had to think. He had to figure out a way.

Nathaniel sighed. This would have been so much easier in Philadelphia. There, it would be so easy to send someone under the guise of providing charity, and have them-

Wait.

Nathaniel frowned. An idea was forming. It was incomplete, it was certainly risky, but…

He slowly nodded. Yes. Yes, that could work.

…

“For as the Christ our Savior once said, it is better to have a millstone tied around your neck and to be thrown into the sea than to let even one of the little ones be lead into darkness! And though I am certain that some of those children have already welcome sin into their hearts and are beyond saving, there might be those whom still hear the Lord calling to them. There are those who might be persuaded to break away, and seek out the Light.”

Nathaniel paused, letting the faithful soak in his words. Then he said, “I am going to propose that our church offers the orphanage relief and support in this trying time. I know this goes against what I have counseled in the past, but the Lord does not make mistakes, and he finds faithful in even the most unlikely of places. Moses was a murderer hiding in the desert when the Almighty appeared to him in a burning bush. Jonah was a coward who ran and hid rather than deliver salvation to the wicked. The great Apostle Paul was a violent man seeking to eradicate the followers of Christ. It might be that, among them, we might also find the next vessel of the Lord’s will. And though they may laugh and curse us, though all but one of those children might turn their backs to the Gospel, that single one would have made the attempt worth it. Amen?”

In this, his congregation had no qualms in answering him.

“Amen!”

…

It was at the end of the day, and Nathaniel stood naked and alone in his washroom, staring once again at his reflection.

It was well that his sermons tended to be on the excitable side. That way it was easy to explain how his brow glistened with sweat. Besides, it was the middle of summer! Given how many layers of thick clothes he wore, of course he would come out a little sweaty.

But if that was the case, why did he feel so cold?

He looked down at his hand, the corrupted hand, the one that had been the Dark Voice’s conduit. On the surface it looked perfectly fine, and it moved when he told it to, how he told it to.

But he still couldn’t feel it. It was like everything from his bicep down had been hacked off.

Give in.

He always needed to put in work to wake it up. He would often rise to find it feeling cold and lifeless, but after a hot herbal bath he would be able to beat some feeling into it, even if that feeling was searing pain.

A deep basin of steaming hot water treated with herbs sat on the table next to him. After taking a moment to prepare himself, Nathaniel thrust his hand into the water.

Normally that would be when the agony started, when the heat and herbs would come in contact with the corruption and he would have to bite down on a piece of leather to keep from screaming.

Not this time though. This time, he felt nothing.

No, no, no, no. Nathaniel clenched his hand into a fist, digging his fingernail into his palm. Come on, feel something! Anything.

There was nothing.

He yanked his hand out of the basin and stared at it. Murky water dripped down and steam rose up, but it wasn’t flushed with pink in response to the heat. In fact, it was still pasty white, like that of a bloodless corpse.

Nathaniel fumbled around with his left hand until he found his silver shaving razor. He pressed the blade against his palm and drew it across, making a shallow cut.

There was no blood.

No!

Again he thrust it back into the water. Come on, feel something! Where was the pain? There was always pain!

But then, though there still was no response from his hand, something did start to change.

The water had stopped steaming. He waved his left hand over the surface and felt no heat.

But it couldn’t have cooled that quickly! It had been boiling hot just a moment ago.

Then, as he watched, ice started to form, spreading out from his wrist to consume the entire basin.

Nathaniel hastily yanked his hand back out again. God, even though he still felt nothing from his hand, he could still feel the cold radiating off of it on his chest.

It looked dead. He could move it, but he couldn’t feel it, and he couldn’t bleed it. It looked dead, it felt dead, and had done so ever since…

(eyes. Eyes of devils, opening all around him. The relief carvings of twisted death had opened their eyes and were staring at him straight from Hell.)

…ever since…

(something was rising from the center of the room. A cylinder, a multi-sided black cylinder. Oh Jesus, help me!)

…ever since…

(it’s calling to me. I can hear it! It calls my name, draws me toward it, but I cannot resist! My legs are no longer my own, my body moves of its own accord!)

…ever since…

(I touch it. It is as cold as ice, freezing my palm to its side. I give the command to tear my hand away, but my body does not move. Then something jabs into the center of my palm, and I feel warm blood leaking out)

…ever since…

(I lose an entire layer of skin when I finally rip my hand away. I see it there, a perfect white handprint, frozen to the side of the black box. In its center is a tiny scarlet bead of blood. The blood begins to spread, covering the skin, dying it red)

…ever since…

(the box is opening. Oh God, it’s opening! It’s opening, and-)

Squeezing his dead hand into a fist, Nathaniel looked up again at his reflection, at his hollow eyes he always hid behind dark glasses. He was scared.

Give in.

Nathaniel’s legs could no longer support him. He sank to the floor, curling his limbs up into a tight ball, his dead hand clenched at his heart while the other grabbed at his hair. “No,” he sobbed. “No, I won’t. I won’t!”

Though the Dark Voice rarely changed the candor of its message, he was pretty sure he heard its laughter echoing through the deepest recesses of his soul.

…

So…this one will probably get at least partially rewritten before I start posting on FF.net, on account to me being totally brainfried and doing barely any editing. Oh well. Enjoy the beta!

Until next time, everyone.

#The Touhou Project #touhou #imperfect metamorphosis #fanfic

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