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artificialqueens · 4 years ago

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The Goode Case, 8/14 (Jaida/Jan) - Juno

Chapter Summary: Jaida, Brita and Jackie, with a little help from Dahlia, separate to look into the history of the guest house, and rendez-vous to discuss the plan to reach Gigi. Jaida is surprised by who else she sees that evening …

(A/N: As ever I’ve been really over the moon to receive such lovely supportive comments! Thank you to everyone!! I hope you enjoy part eight.)

2.50PM

Jaida led Aiden to the lobby to meet Crystal, who was sitting with Jackie, a box of tissues clutched in her lap. Aiden’s stoic expression softened at her friend’s tears, and she rubbed Crystal’s shoulder, while Crystal stood and pulled her into a hug.

Back in the meeting room, once the two students had left, Jackie could barely contain herself.

“Crystal saw that same woman that you described,” Jackie blurted out, as soon as the door was closed. “She gave the exact same description you gave us. And she saw Gigi too, in the same room you did.”

“Did Crystal mention anything about the day they found the anklet?” Jaida pulled out the chair next to Brita and sat down. “I wondered if a statement Aiden gave me corroborated with that.”

Jackie pulled out another chair opposite and sat down too, grabbing the jug of water from the centre of the table. “Yeah, she mentioned it. She said when they found the anklet, a woman appeared to her, and took her hand and started singing her some sort of lullaby. She suddenly realised she’d walked to the top of the stairs, and they both left. Well, ‘ran away’, Crystal said.”

“Who was the woman?”

Jackie looked grave. “She could just remember black hair. You were right, it’s the same woman that keeps coming up.”

“Any clues who she was?” Jaida asked, folding her arms.

Brita pushed the file she’d found to Jaida, who took a look at the yellowing paper and the name typed using an old label printer. “VISAGE, T. & M.”

Jaida opened the first page, and gasped at the picture.

“That’s her, I’m sure.” The woman had wavy black hair in a thick mane around her face, with sculpted cheeks and bright blue eyes. She checked the name in the ID details. Michelle Visage (née Goode).

“Records indicate the Visages bought the guest house in 1972. The wife had a reputation, the sort of thing you’d expect in some bad romance novel – seducing customers, you know – got her in a bit of trouble forty years ago,” Brita explained. “But the whole guest house had things happening. Have a look at the papers. Take one case in 1976. A fire broke out in the kitchen, and the only person to die was her sister-in-law. All the kitchen staff escaped, but her sister-in-law didn’t. And later on in 1978, well, read it for yourself.”

Jaida turned the pages, her eyes falling on another photo, this time of a man, a white shirt and large collar, open at the neck, hair long and swept over his forehead. He looked like –

“Girl, this is getting too strange now, this is the guy who I saw on the stairs!” Jaida pointed. She carried on reading the report, her hand going to her mouth as she did.

“He didn’t have a very happy ending, as you see. They found him hanged from the top of the stairs. It was ruled suicide, but it was suspect at the time, because there was a life insurance policy which had been taken out shortly before his death.” Brita craned her neck. “Have you seen the name?”

Jaida glanced at it. Thomas Visage. “Husband?”

“You got it. And of course there’s the link to the Goodes. We thought Gigi was making it up to impress her friend, but you can see the ID. It looks like she was right. And if both you and Crystal have both seen Michelle and Gigi together …”

“I don’t want to think about that until we find a body,” Jackie shuddered. “There’s still a chance. Just because Jaida saw Gigi, it doesn’t mean she’s dead. She saw you, didn’t she? Last night.”

“Anyway, what happened to this Visage woman?” Jaida asked, trying to keep them on track, leafing through the last few papers.

“Well, the hotel was in decline following Thomas’ death, and it seemed like the money from the life insurance couldn’t make Michelle happy,” Brita sighed. “She died in 1983. Overdose. Barbiturates and lots of vodka. The hotel was closed later that year, and it’s been closed ever since.”

Brita straightened up, adjusting her shirt. “Chief wants the whole street searched again. I’ve sent forensics already, sniffer dogs too, to see what they come up with.”

“Okay, good.” Jaida nodded.

“For the house, I think we need to get Dahlia in again. If Gigi is being sighted there, and as there are no other leads really, there must be some link. But we need a detailed plan this time. Anything can go wrong, especially as I for one don’t quite know how to control … this.” Brita motioned to herself.

“Not only that, I think we need some history of past paranormal investigations at this place,” Jaida suggested. “Dahl said she knew a psychic that won’t go near the place, so there must have been other investigations. Brita, I’d like to go talk to her at the shop this afternoon, if that’s alright?”

“Nice one, Jai, we need all the information we can get.”

Jackie clicked her ballpoint pen on and off. “If we’re going to get the truth about what happened to Gigi from these spirits, we need to use all resources. Including maybe Crystal, if she’ll come.”

“You can start on a plan, while Jaida is at Dahlia’s shop. I need to be available on call for forensics if they do find anything on Westfield. We can meet up from six and discuss the plan. Ideally, we’d need Dahlia to agree to come in tomorrow, preferably during the day.”

“I’ll ask, but she might not get time away from the shop. If her mom can get away from her shift early, then maybe. Where do you want to meet at six then?”

“How about … Vanjie’s? With a wine?” Brita suggested, as casually as she could muster.

Jaida looked at Jackie.

“I don’t even need to read your mind. Have you arranged to meet someone else there?” Jaida raised an eyebrow.

“Maybe, maybe not.” A grin spread across Brita’s face.

3.39PM

By the time Jaida got off the bus, the grey clouds had turned to a thick sheet of rain. Great. The wind hadn’t settled from yesterday either, so she had to jog the two blocks from the bus stop to Syn City, to avoid getting swept away by the New York autumn.

The “Open to demons customers” sign was on the door, which meant either Dahlia or her mom would be around. Jaida pushed the door, and the bell above it tinkled, letting them know someone was entering in case they were in one of the back rooms.

The shop was so narrow that there was barely room to walk past the bookshelves and esoteric wares, but once past them, the space was a little more open, with the checkout on the side and two rooms further back for personal readings. Dahlia had learned Tarot from her mom, which was her main trade, but she was also learning other divination methods, as well as her own studies. One of the rooms was Dahlia’s for reading appointments, along with Shuga and her crystal ball, and now Rock, who had replaced Lady Lemon who’d left for Canada earlier in the year.

Dahlia poked her head out of her room, and smirked when she saw it was Jaida. She leapt the three steps to the room and approached Jaida, slapping her hard on the arm.

“Hey! What was that for?”

“Girl, why didn’t you tell me you were a medium? I’ve known you for, like, two years, and you never thought you’d tell me you can see spirits?” Dahlia put her hands on her hips.

“I – I don’t know!” Jaida cried, a little exasperated. “You never asked!”

“I shouldn’t have to ask! You were seeing spirits at that house all this time, and I had to find that out from Rock!

“From Rock?”

“Yeah, she’s got this thing where if she touches someone, she knows what they’re thinking.” Dahlia rolled her eyes. “I know, that’s crazy, but it’s true.”

“Child,” Jaida muttered. “And let me guess. You can – I don’t know, you can fly or some shit.”

“Girl, I wish,” Dahlia snorted, “I can do cards, boards, but I can’t do anything naturally, like what you can.”

“I wanted to talk to you about last night, anyway,” Jaida whispered, looked around. “You got ten minutes?”

Dahlia led Jaida to her own room at the back of the shop, a tiny alcove just big enough for two people, and perched in one of the chairs, offering the other to Jaida.

“Thanks. I wanted to find out what you knew about the guest house.”

“Don’t you have the stories on files?” Dahlia cocked an eyebrow.

“Well sure, but we don’t log anything, y’know, paranormal or whatever.” Jaida used her fingers to draw quotation marks.

“I know what I’ve read, and it might not be the whole truth, but if that’s what you want to know?”

“Whatever you can give me would be a help.”

“Alright.” Dahlia grabbed her tablet from her bag under the folding table, and tapped into the screen, finally turning it to show Jaida.

“What’s that?”

“Paranormal Database on New York. Paradata, for short. It’s run by some lady in Queens. It’s like,” Dahlia ran a hand through her wavy brown hair, searching for the right words, “it’s kind of like Tripadvisor for the paranormal. People can go on there and report what they’ve done to investigate, and what’s happened.”

“And this website is in public domain?”

“Yeah, but it’s not really well-known outside the community. Keeps things a bit safer. And not everyone can register.” Dahlia shook her head. “You have to be invited by an existing member. I’ll invite you, if you want.”

“Sure, thanks.”

Dahlia found the house on the map, and clicked the link. She gave a low whistle. “Bitch, I’ve never seen this many reviews for somewhere that hasn’t been visited by, like the Ghost Hunters crew or something. There’s so many.”

She turned the tablet towards Jaida, who scanned through the reviews people had left on there, her breath catching in her throat.

“… domineering, territorial female presence, screaming at us to get out …”

“… my boyfriend saw a lady in the kitchen and won’t stop having nightmares …”

“ … tabletop session saw one woman possessed and a man incapacitated in a trance …”

“ … spirit drawing of a woman aged 37, died in a fire, year approx 1970 …”

One of them caught Jaida’s eye, from last year:

“Avoid the upstairs!!! DANGEROUS THREAT TO LIFE. Ghost tried to pull psychic off the stairs!! DO NOT GO HERE”

“Some of them can be a bit dramatic,” Dahlia interrupted Jaida’s reading, “but do any of them sound familiar?”

Jaida nodded. “Definitely some of them.”

“You want me to go back again, don’t you?” Dahlia asked cautiously. “I don’t even need to ask.”

“Would you consider it?”

Dahlia’s hands were trembling, Jaida noticed, but she moved them under the table to hide them.

“I mean, of course it pays well, but, like, I’m scared. And not just for me. For Rock, too. And for you. And for – actually, for all of us. All seven of us who were there last night, none of us came out the same. And Rock said –“ Dahlia gasped, raising a hand to her mouth. “I forgot to tell you! Rock said you saw Brita astrally project?”

“Yeah. But I didn’t know she was going to until she did it.”

With that, Dahlia leapt from her seat and grabbed Jaida’s hand, tugging her down the three steps and to the bookcases.

“She needs to read … this, before she does it again.” Dahlia pulled a paperback off the shelf. “Tell her she owes me fifteen dollars.”

“Dahl, I’ll just – settle that …” Jaida took her card from her purse. She turned the book over. Astral Projection For Beginners: A Complete Guide. “I’m sure she’ll put this on top of her pile.” Jaida rolled her eyes.

“I’m not joking, Jai. Being able to project naturally is really fucking unusual. Most people learn it. So if she can do it without even trying, she needs to know the risks. Like, now. Especially if she can’t control it.”

“Risks?” Jaida flicked through the book. “What sorts of things?”

“Mainly just other spirits wanting a free ride, or a free body to hop into.” Dahlia shuddered. “Not everyone you meet on the astral planes will be friendly.”

“Have you ever projected?”

“I’ve tried, but not so far.” Dahlia shook her head. “It’s really hard to master.”

The door tinkled, and Dahlia leapt from her seat, Jaida following her, but it was only Rock, her blue hair soaking wet with the rain which was still coming down in a sheet. She held two Starbucks takeouts in cardboard cup holders.

“Oh, hi again,” she waved to Jaida with her free hand. “I’d have bought you a mocha as well, if I’d known you were coming.”

“Thanks, baby,” Dahlia took her cup from Rock and planted a kiss on her lips. “You know just what I need on a Monday afternoon. And I was telling Jai about the projection book you recommended.”

“Yeah, you need to make sure your friend reads it straight away,” Rock’s expression turned grave again. “And tell her to train herself to control it.”

6.05PM

Jackie had met Jaida outside Vanjie’s, telling her that Brita had been called away by forensics to a potential lead on Northfield at about four thirty and hadn’t come back. Jaida had felt her heart sink a little, hoping it was not bad news, but Brita had stumbled in only five minutes after they had arrived.

“Was it serious?” Jaida asked quietly.

“Oh, no, it turned out to be a false alarm,” Brita laughed her infectious laugh, waving her hand. “Everything is fine. Wine?”

A glass of wine later, this time the three of them squeezed together on one side of the six-seater booth, somehow feeling much more comfortable and cosy than they had at any time previous. Jaida was on the end, always preferring an escape route, with Jackie sandwiched in the middle and Brita at the window, looking down at her phone and sometimes glancing outside at the street around them.

They’d forgotten it was student night when they had arrived, expecting it to be quiet like most places on Mondays, but the bar was getting busier and busier, and they had one of the last free booths. Lots of the students elected to stand, leaning on the bars and tables, and there was enough chatter in the air to drown out most of the music.

“What have you got so far, Jackie?” Jaida asked.

“The only person we’ve seen so far who’d led us to Gigi is … well, Thomas. And the only one of us who’s seen him is … well, you, Jai.” Jackie clicked her pen on and off, before Brita irritably snatched it from her hand. “Ow! Anyway, could he be responsible?”

“But he wanted to show me that Gigi was there,” Jaida said, the realisation dawning on her as she said the words. “Wait, why didn’t I get that before? He was trying to help us. Maybe he wanted to show -”

“I don’t think that’s right,” Brita interrupted suddenly. “He would have helped you get to Gigi, if that was the case. You said he just stood there.”

“That’s true,” murmured Jackie.

“Well, we’ve established that Gigi is stuck on the same plane that Thomas is on,” Jaida said, swirling her glass. “Can’t I just – link with him again? Persuade him to help? Maybe you two can connect too?”

“But we can’t see him,” Jackie whispered. She drummed on the notebook with her fingers. “Can we just link physically with you?”

“That won’t work, because it should have worked today if it did!”

“Maybe if Brita can project –“

“I don’t think that will work,” Brita interrupted again, wine obviously going straight to her head, “because I can’t control this fucking thing! There’s no point trying.”

“Can Dahlia come in the daytime tomorrow at all?” Jackie asked. “That would be the ideal, rather than waiting until the evening. And it depends on Crystal being free, too, but it’s been four days since anyone saw Gigi,” she added.

“I’ll ask Dahlia, but she works days in her shop.” Jaida pulled out her phone.

Jaida:Dahl, can u do tomorrow at all? Day time possible? X

Dahlia:girl u know I cant just close the shop! If I can get mom to watch it then yeh x

Jaida:Cool cool let me know x

“I’ll see if I can call Crystal,” Jackie said, and Jaida let her step out of the booth and walk to the door for better signal. Jaida’s phone buzzed in her hand as she left.

Heidi: Jai!! im french kissin in the USA lol xx

Jaida: LOL!! Are u with Nicky?? Xx

Heidi:yeah her student cancelled so we havin a night in xx

Heidi:her housemate has a big Farsi dictionary

Heidi: and a french one too

Heidi:Jai do u wanna know the french word for bitch?? Xx

Jaida laughed at the selfie Heidi sent over, in the apartment she recognised as Jackie’s. Wait until she mentioned to Jackie that her housemate was Heidi’s date.

“Left her a voicemail. Also, when this case is over, I’m not drinking for a month,” Jackie declared, coming back over. “I swear we’ve been out to a bar all week. Saturday, Sunday, and now today. I don’t wanna be drinking on weeknights!”

“Speaking of which, it’s your round Jai,” Brita sang, nudging her empty glass towards Jaida and pointing to the bar at Vanjie’s. It was still quiet, but people were starting to filter in and it wouldn’t be long until they were engulfed in people, queueing at the bar.

Jaida got up and grabbed the tray, going to the bar to order. Vanessa was way at the other end of the bar with someone else, and Brooke was nowhere to be seen, so Jaida was all alone, with her thoughts.

“Well, hey there!”

Jaida spun round at the voice, and the familiar peach shampoo, to the radiance that was Jan. Her brown eyes were crinkled as she smiled, her blonde hair slightly damp from the rain. Jaida felt her heart jump at the sight of her, the very last person she’d been expecting to see.

“Hey, Jan.” Jaida wasn’t sure what else to say, but she smiled widely, and turned to look for Vanessa, who was still on the other side of the bar. It wasn’t like Jaida to feel tongue-tied, but she couldn’t find any clever words to say for once.

“I uh, will try not to spill stuff on your shirt today, looks too smart to ruin!” Jan laughed at her own comment.

“Your shirt is nice too,” Jaida said, taking in Jan’s lavender blouse and the black knee-length skirt. Jaida silently admired how the material fell.

“Thanks! I had an audition this afternoon. Another ‘don’t call us, we’ll call you’ moment!” Jan laughed again, this time a little bitter. “Getting a break is hard anywhere, but here in NYC? It’s impossible. I was just on my way back, and a little birdie told me you’d be here.”

“Which little birdie might that be?” Jaida chuckled, looking over at Brita and Jackie, who went from watching them to snapping their necks the other direction, in the blink of an eye. “Or do I need to ask?”

“I don’t think you do!” Jan sniggered.

“So,” Jaida rested her arm on the bar, “you sing?”

“Sure!”

“What’s your favourite song to sing? Because I can’t sing a note!” Jaida cringed at her awful conversational skills. When did she become this corny?

“That’s just modest! I bet you can sing Christina with me.”

Jaida’s jaw fell wide open in shock. “The Christina? I’m not even sure I can sing one octave, let alone five!”

“I’ll teach you,” Jan winked, “just follow my lead.”

She tossed her hair, rolled her shoulders back, and opened her mouth.

I am beautiful, no matter what they say / Words can’t bring me down!

Jaida listened to the slow, emphatic lyrics, the perfect pitch that came from that throat, the way Jan’s face twisted with the emotion, and Jaida’s whole body tingled for a couple of seconds, feeling a spread of goose pimples down her arms.

“Now you try,” Jan took one of Jaida’s hands, her shoulders twitching with excitement. “Just relax, look at me, take a deep breath …”

The peach shampoo swirled round them both, and Jaida started to feel like she was in some sort of dream, and not wanting to wake up; as she took a sharp breath in to knock Jan flat with her dreadful voice …

You are beautiful, in every single way / Words can’t bring you down / So don’t you bring me down today!

Jaida realised that she wasn’t singing the words; it was Jan’s voice, while Jaida just mouthed the lyrics along, the glorious sound filling up every pore of her skin, every empty space in her mind. Jan’s thumb was rubbing her palm, and Jaida found she could focus on nothing else but the slight pressure, feeling herself being pulled slowly into Jan’s eyes as they came closer to her …

“WAIT, who’s singing? Does this bar say KARAOKE on the sign? Monday nights are for SINGING are they?” Vanessa had come out of nowhere, breaking the spell, Jaida dropping Jan’s hand and turning to face Vanessa.

“Sorry, V!”

But Vanessa was smirking, raising her eyebrows knowingly at the pair of them, before disappearing to the other end of the bar. Jan waited until Vanessa was busying herself serving before resting a hand on Jaida’s forearm.

“Well, it was nice seeing you again,” she said, her eyes darting around Jaida’s face. “My shift starts at seven, I have to get back. See you soon.”

Jaida was hit with a little bit of courage. She put her hand on Jan’s, holding her to her forearm. “Jan, give me your phone number. And on Friday, get the night off your shift.”

“What?” Jan looked stunned.

“Well … if you want, we can go somewhere nice. Quiet. Have a coffee or something. If you want, that is? I clock off at four thirty if I can get round Brita.”

Jan was silent for a second, blinking. Then she leaned in towards Jaida, and kissed her on the cheek, right next to her lips. Jaida momentarily lost herself in the heady scent of Jan’s perfume, the tender sensation of Jan’s lips against her skin, and as Jan reclined, smiling gently, Jaida had to blink to get her eyes to focus again.

“That sounds perfect.”

She was gone before Jaida could even think, a whoosh of blonde hair, closing the door of the bar and putting up her hood before walking off into the evening. Jaida exhaled slowly, not realising she’d been holding her breath.

Jaida glanced at her own booth, where Brita and Jackie hurriedly turned away from her again, like nothing had just happened.

“Child,” Jaida muttered to herself as she came back with the tray and three wines on it. Jackie looked at Jaida through her eyelashes, while Brita smirked triumphantly.

“You weren’t actually messaging Aiden, were you?” Jaida realised, tilting her head at Brita.

“Maybe I was and maybe I wasn’t,” Brita teased.

“Maybe you had a message from Jan, asking you to get me here tonight so she could drop in before her shift!”

Brita looked far too pleased with herself. She picked up her wine from the tray and chuckled.

“Have you got any more single friends?” Jackie asked Brita with a laugh.

Jaida ignored them both for a few minutes, busying herself with her phone, sending another urgent message.

Jaida: Heidi Almighty x

Jaida:My lovely ride or die

Jaida: The Bonnie to my Clyde xx

Heidi: Jai how many times have I told u, I got no bail money xx

Jaida: I got a fashion emergency, need date outfit help for Friday night! Xx

Heidi: oh really, where have I heard that before lol x

Jaida: Please!!!!!! :(

Heidi:ok hang on

[Heidi has added Nicky to the chat]

Nicky: bonsoir

Heidi:Jaida needs ur help with fashion cherie xx

Nicky: bien sûr

Jaida: LOL have you been teaching Heidi french? X

Heidi: merde!!

Nicky:that one was from my housemate’s dictionary……

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drsilverfish · 5 years ago

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Adam x Michael!Adam in 15x08 - The Integration of the Self and the Shadow

Hey again folks,

Time to write a little something about the Jungian significance of the relationship between Adam and Michael!Adam in 15x08 and what that means for our heroes internal journeys towards The EndTM (I’m specifically focussing on Dean and Cas in this meta, but Sam is our hero too, of course).

Just a quick refresher - Jung, who was a psychoanalyst with a bit of a mystical bent, called the unconscious, the Shadow.

That means those elements of the personality or self which the conscious self is unaware of, or rejects. For Jung, that doesn’t mean the Shadow is inherently negative; it can contain much creative potential, when it is contacted and integrated by the conscious mind (often in dreams, guided through therapeutic work). However, when the Shadow is not recognised, it can negatively control a person, because then (repressed) it often leaks through, particularly in the form of projection - whereby rejected parts of the self are projected onto others and become the target of rage or other negative behaviour.

“The shadow is a moral problem that challenges the whole ego-personality, for no one can become conscious of the shadow without considerable moral effort. To become conscious of it involves recognizing the dark aspects of the personality as present and real. This act is the essential condition for any kind of self-knowledge, and it therefore,. as a rule, meets with considerable resistance.”

Aion: Phenomenology of the Self published in The Portable Jung, edited by Joseph Campbell, Penguin Books, 1976, p. 145.

Integration with/ acknowledgement of the Shadow is key, for Jung, to healthy psychic growth and individuation. It’s not something you do once and then it’s done, either, although the first conscious work to encounter one’s Shadow is often particularly revelatory, but it’s a continuous process of self-reflection.

Image credit: http://www.kerosene.digital/reviving-art-shadow-puppets/

I wrote a lot of Jungian themed meta in S14, where that motif was used particularly overtly in the writers’ room, in relation to Castiel’s encounter with the Shadow entity which guards The Empty (wearing his face) and Dean’s encounter with AU!Michael possessing him (wearing his face).

Dean and Cas’ Shadow sides are multii-faceted (as are all our Shadow sides) and include, for example, Dean’s low self-esteem and fear of abandonment (triggered by his mother’s death when he was a kid, and the subsequent pressure his father put on him to be a carer to Sammy) and Castiel’s feelings of low self-esteem and unworthiness (triggered by his journey, over and over again, into doubt against Heaven, and his development of “feelings” for humanity/ The Winchesters/ Dean). We have seen them both struggle individually with these issues, and often be negatively controlled by them, and now these issues are also coming to a head between them, as they lie at the root of their present “break-up”.

In the show’s queer subtext, Dean and Cas’ Shadow sides can also be understood to include their (closeted) queerness, and their anxiety about how powerfully they each love the other, yet fear the other does not love them back.

There is a link below to my S14 meta masterpost, and if you scroll right down to the bottom, all the Jungian-themed meta is collected together in a post-script, for a deeper background dive:

https://drsilverfish.tumblr.com/post/184628959784/drsilverfish-s14-meta-masterpost

So, what does this have to do with Adam and Michael in 15x08?

We discover in 15x08 that the two of them are in a relationship - not a trapped vessel chained to a comet - but two beings who share Adam’s physical body, take turns at the wheel of conscious control, and have mutually supportive conversations with one another in their shared mind-body. They listen to each other and they trust each other.

Dean is flabbergasted, after his own recent, tormented and coercive possession by AU!Michael (always a metaphor for his Shadow-side, including the repressive ghost of John Winchester in his head and, in subtext, his closeted queerness):

Dean: “Wait... Michael lets you talk? I mean he lets you... be?”

Adam: “Uh... yeah.... In the cage we came to an agreement. We only had each other.”

Of course, this is not the first time we, or Dean, have come across an angel-vessel relationship like this. In 12x10 Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets we were introduced to the relationship between the angel Benjamin and his human vessel Madrid:

CAS: “Benjamin is always very careful. Long ago, he found a powerfully devout vessel in Madrid, and her faith, it... she gave him everything – her trust and her body.” DEAN: “Wait. So Benjamin's a woman?” CAS: “Benjamin is an angel. His vessel is a woman. But it – it's – it's more than that. She's not just his vessel.” SAM: “She's... She's his friend.” CAS: “Yeah. Benjamin would never put her in unnecessary danger.”

Thanks to SuperWiki for the transcript:

http://www.supernaturalwiki.com/12.10_Lily_Sunder_Has_Some_Regrets_(transcript)

I’ve always loved this exchange, because it emphasises the way in which human gender doesn’t apply to angels. We could say that angels are genderqueer and that Benjamin and Madrid’s relationship was a queer one, in the sense that it transgresses human and angelic “norms” (although, that also imposes a somewhat human frame of reference).

It’s noticeable that both Adam AND Michael are better beings than they were before they got locked together in the Cage in Hell in 5x22 Swan Song. Adam seems less bratty, more reasoned, and Michael seems less arrogant, more willing to listen (to Adam, and hence to others). That is because their mutually supportive relationship is a metaphor for the integration of the self and the Shadow.

In a mirror for Dean and Cas, Adam and Michael!Adam have a conversation in 15x08 where they can clearly understand their respective Daddy issues:

Adam: “Maybe you don’t know your Dad as well as you think you do... Parents keep secrets, right? Does it hurt to ask the question?”

Michael: “Yes, it would! It would mean that I doubt him, the good son, the favourite doubts his father!”

Adam: “Do you still care about that? After he left you in the Cage?”

Adam, of course, was himself kept as a secret by John Winchester from his other sons. And Michael (in a long-running parallel to Dean) here mirrors an earlier version of Dean, when he was “Daddy’s good little soldier”, as well as mirroring an earlier version of Cas, when he was Heaven’s obedient servant (in between his many rebellions and brain-washings).

Adam and Michael!Adam’s good communication and mutually supportive relationship, which, again, like Benjamin and Madrid, we can read as a “queer” relationship, by angel and human normative standards, is a positive sign-post for our heroes - both in terms of Dean and Cas separately being able to turn, and face, and thus integrate with their respective Shadows (they’ve already done significant work on this, but there is more to come) and in terms of Dean and Cas’ relationship (which Adam and Michael!Adam’s “queer” angel/ human relationship is also a mirror for). Dean and Cas will, this mirror tells us, eventually, be able to talk honestly, and supportively, with one another.

But first, they must go on a symbolic underworld journey, back to Purgatory, which is again, a Jungian metaphor for the encounter between the conscious self and the Shadow.

Michael!Adam says, “There’s the door!” as he opens up a rift to Purgatory and holds up the angel-binding handcuffs, requesting to be freed, in exchange. Which, provides us with a symbolic image suggesting that Dean and Cas’ return to Purgatory together will, despite its painful difficulties (which, as I’ve said in my 15x08 spell meta here:

https://drsilverfish.tumblr.com/post/189656694954/the-purgatory-spell-in-15x08-love-death-and-an

may involve a literal, or perhaps figurative, enounter with death) be a journey that will set them free (in terms of their encounters with their own Shadows and thus their ability to communicate better with one another):

Jung even described the encounter with The Shadow as a narrow doorway:

“The shadow is a tight passage, a narrow door, whose painful constriction no one is spared who goes down to the deep well. But one must learn to know oneself in order to know who one is.”

Carl G. Jung, The Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious, vol. 9, pt. 1 p. 21.

And we could thus understand the Leviathan blossom, in this reading, as symbolising the flower of self-knowlege that grows in the deep recesses of monster-land, aka the land of the unconscious.

N.B - My usual disclaimer applies - reading the queer subtext in SPN does not promise an overt, unequivocal, “confetti, it’s a parade” queer romantic denouement, But, subtext IS part of narrative.

#Supernatural #15x08 #Our Father Who Aren't In Heaven #SPN meta #Meta #Jung in S15 #Jung in SPN #The Shadow #Destiel #Still subtext #But subtext IS part of narrative #Adam Winchester #Michael!Adam #The archangel Michael

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klvht · 4 years ago

Text

The Occult vs. “A Cult”

How many can agree that Christianity is a cult?

I thought so too, at first.

I grew up in a Catholic faith, went to a Catholic church, and attended a Catholic school. Over the years, it has changed. I have been to a few different churches, but all focused-on God.

I believe a couple days ago, that God put it on my heart to write about the occult and witchcraft, but I wasn’t sure how to, in order to get my full point across; So I figured I’d just share my journey.

As many of you know, I used to live in Salem, MA & have been visiting there for most of my life. (Shout out to Mr. Roy who had brought my father up there almost his whole life as well, R.I.P.) Don’t get me wrong, Salem is a BEAUTIFUL place, and I love it there, even til this day. The area is super peaceful, has an amazing history, and is overly beautiful. I believe that Salem is one of the centers of witchcraft, and unfortunately, I got into it too. I used to read oracle cards, use a pendulum, practice spells, create sigils, the list goes on. Even as a little girl, my parents were getting their car fixed, and there was a witch there who wanted to speak with me, for whatever reason, which now I find funny that I ended up walking down the same unrighteous path as her later on in life (but as early as 12 years old).

Let’s go back to the home that started it all... upstate, NY. I got my first pack of oracle cards when I used to live in a house built in the 1800’s; my mom purchased them for me. They were contained in a beautiful package littered with “Angel” messages, that would help me tell the future. I also had my first pendulum in that house that I purchased from a visit in Salem. It was a beautiful home, the first one my parents purchased, and we had acres of land, including and above ground pool, a separate garage/bay/barn area, chickens, guinea hens, and an awesome pup.

Above the garage/bay/barn area, there was a door. You walked up the stairs in my backyard, up the hill to the right, and found it. It was very weird, but since the home was so old, we never thought anything about it. I remember the first door, and first room. It was wood, dark, damp, and gross lol. But if you kept walking forward, you came to this second door. I cannot stress enough that this door had Satanic writing all over it, including warnings saying “demon/devil inside”, “do not open”, had a big pentagram on the door, as well as sigils written all over it in what I believed to be red paint or ink. Thinking about it now, I wish I never had the curiosity to open that door, I wish I understood that it was a true warning, whether people believed it to be or were just fooling around. I truly believe upon opening that door is what could have led to the outpouring of demonic and evil spirits in that house, and could have latched on to my family, because once we moved into that home, things were never the same. I remember a trap door being in there, and I remember a burst of warm/hot air that came out as soon as I opened it. It took me a while to open that door, and I’m not sure if that was the only reason, but there were ghosts in my house, and demons, and no one knew any better. My mother saw, felt, and heard a few different ghosts in that house. One she called the ‘cowboy ghost’ which stood in the doorway in one of the hallways that went by my living room and led to the upstairs. She was also in our downstairs bathroom one time, and heard a woman call out “Hello…” as if she just wanted my mother to know that she was there. Lastly, my mother was asleep on the couch one day, and woke up to something screaming in her face, which I know now, had to be a demon. My sister at the time, who could not have been older than 4 when we were living at that house, saw a little boy ghost walk straight through the wall. I never saw anything, but I never really have, I’ve just always been the one to feel presences.

There was sooo much negative energy in that house, and sorry to say it, but so much had manifested over time and had increased the greediness, heartlessness, separation, and negativity in my family. I didn’t see my parents much, they ran a successful construction business out of the home, us kids would NEVER go downstairs or walk around at night by ourselves, and my brother was definitely attacked and latched to in that house.

Upon seeing, feeling, and experiencing all this, my mom went to the local psychic to find out what was going on. She did not know, but trust me, you guys should NOT be relying on a psychic to tell you about your life. The psychic may tell you true things, they may be able to see your home through their ‘third eye’, and they could probably predict things that actually came true at a later date, BUT their messages come from Satan, and other evil spirits who wish to destroy, manipulate, and kill. I’ve experienced this a few times, I’ll elaborate in a few paragraphs to come. The psychic my mom went to, described our home “to a T”. She spoke about my grandfather who had passed, and other life experiences my mom had gone through, which most psychics start off with to gain trust. Then she moved on to how a dark entity was basically scaring my brother day in and day out; he wouldn’t even shower alone. She told my mom how our home was a “walk through” for spirits because there were two cemeteries on each side of the home, down the road both ways. I don’t remember if we ever tried to pray Jesus over the home, or had a priest bless the home.

My mother became ill in that house. Long story short, she collapsed on her and my father’s wedding anniversary in 2005, and my dad resuscitated her. I fully believe she has been latched on to, regardless of what anyone says. It has been 15 years, and the doctors STILL don’t know what is fully wrong or what happened that day. She has had multiple operations, been on a variety of medications, and still, cannot seem to get better.

My most recent encounter was with the New Age religion, earlier in this quarantine time, sometime in February 2020, which seems to collaborate all types of faiths, such as buddhism, chakra practices, satanism, witchcraft, meditation, spirit guides, and even some excerpts from the Bible. The problem was, that I have always known that I had a type of psychic gift, as well as, I considered myself to be an empath; and while that may be true, I did not hold the true meaning or source of these gifts, that were given to me by God, and manipulated by Satan.

What I got out of being involved with multiple groups of “The Great Awakening”, moving from “4D to 6D consciousness”, practicing “meditation” to find my “spirit guides”, “the law of attraction”, etc. was that it is ALL motivated by Satan and manipulated to deceive the souls created by God, to fool them, and to use them for his purpose, just by putting a simple twist on the subject, and to practice this type of inclusivity that the world had never seen before. That’s the thing about Satan, he appears warm & fuzzy, cool & collected, cares about all types of love and inclusivity, JUST to deceive people. He’s an evil mastermind. Remember that when he decides to reveal himself and push his new world order, just as the Bible says will come in these end times.

Let me tell you, the New Age religion is false. I found myself headed down the path very abruptly, and it was like I could not focus on anything else. Whatever demons I was letting into my life legally, (because that’s what you do when you welcome and practice in sin, worldly matters, emotions, feelings, and forms of witchcraft), were now starting to manifest and turn my whole world upside down. I was in a dark and depressed time, suicidal thoughts were again surfacing, I wasn’t caring about my wellbeing, I was hateful towards others, the list goes on.

One day I was meditating to find my “spirit guides”, and idk maybe about 10-15 minutes in, while focusing on my ‘third eye’ chakra, I saw a demon. A literal demon. It was crawling on all fours, had menacing, scary, sharp, flesh ripping teeth, and it JUMPED at me. (Think of those stupid jump scare videos on social media). As SOON as that happened, I called out to Jesus and said the ‘Our Father’ prayer, and instantly at once, I felt safe again. It was either that day or a few days later, that Jesus visited me in a dream to save me once again, because I had decided to focus on dark powers to give myself purpose, identity, and power. He was there for me, even though I left the path that He was with me on.

Others that I have spoken to that once practiced meditation and finding ‘spirit guides’, said that as soon as they turned to Christianity and Jesus once again, the same thing happened. These ‘spirit guides’ were demonic in spirit, but appeared as nice, helpful beings initially. This is terrifying stuff guys, but that’s what Satan is all about. He wants to deceive you until the very last second when Jesus comes, just so you will worship Satan and his beasts, rather than knowing that you can call on Jesus anytime to come help. There really is no way to “close the circle” as some witches call it during some of their sacrificing, or “white magic” rituals.

I have to admit, that I do feel guilty and a bit of groaning within me because I waited so long to write on this, because God put it in my mind and in my heart a couple days ago. And now look, there’s a full moon/eclipse that’s happening tonight, and witches all around the world are trying to “hex the racists”, “restore order”, and “bring peace” with their practices TONIGHT. I’m just glad that God showed me that before I went another day without writing on this subject.

Again, if you have any questions or want to hear more about my experiences, (I have plenty more that I may write about), feel free to comment or inbox me.

Thanks for reading,

God Bless You,

Jesus Saves.

I love you guys.

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rational-mastermind · 5 years ago

Text

King’s Cafe Ch 1

HELL YES we’re starting this year off with a shit ton of writing!!

Now fair warning to the five others in this fandom and what few read my writing for the sheer sake of it: I’m not intending on making this a serious fanfic. Trilby won’t save the day or have any sort of epic quest to save the coffee shop. Just...more like glorified head canons than anything. How they meet. What others do with their modern-day life. A few consistencies, but nothing major. No over arcing plots. Hell no real plot at all. Just slice-of-life shit. That being said, enjoy.

Chapter 1 - Introductions

On the corner, at the intersection between Bronwyn road and Kings street, sat a small cafe which was aptly named King’s Cafe. It was small and quaint and obviously trying its best. Nothing too fancy or special. A modest little coffee shop that got by on the average. It had its share of regulars and made decent enough sales to keep the employees paid.

And one employee in particular, Siobhan O’Malley, was running late.

She hurried into the store and closed the door behind her. She sighed disappointed and frustrated, knowing she’s likely to hear about her tardiness from the manager, Cabadath. But now wasn’t a time for self-pity. Now was a time for work. She came over to the door to the worker’s back room, grabbed her apron, punched in, heard the snide remark from Cabadath about being a few minutes late, and came out, ready to start her day.

First she headed to the back to check on their resident baker, John DeFoe.

John was an unusual lad. He was tall, pale as a ghost, and lanky, practically skin and bones. He had a gaunt face and hollowed eyes, but he wasn’t really as spooky as he appeared. He was actually very timid and sweet, but a hard worker as well.

He always arrived first, bright and early, to get started on the cakes and doughnuts and pastries. It would’ve been a surprise that the cafe’s management even allowed him to have so much free reign, but it was no secret that his baking was what really brought in customers. Between his sweet treats and the way his twin brother, Matthew, would ice and decorate and customize each and every cookie, it was a wonder you could call it a cafe at all and not just a bakery.

Siobhan peeked into the kitchen to check on him, the sweet warm smell of spices, yeast, and fresh brewed coffee already wafting about the air.

“Morning!” she greeted cheerfully.

John was in the middle of stirring up dough and looking at a recipe on the company’s laptop. He jumped, slightly startled, before his gaze became expressionless once more, as it normally was, and he fixed it on her. He gave a curt nod.

John was a mute. He could hear, and he often used sign-language as a means to communicate, though it was really only something Matthew understood. In all truth, it always made Siobhan uneasy and constantly in the dark of the lad’s real thoughts or intentions. She hoped the nod was meant well and she gave a thumbs-up in return, feeling momentarily stupid for doing so.

“Morning, Ms. Siobhan!” Matthew’s sweet and excited voice rang out as he came in, from the pantry behind the kitchen, carrying a large tray full of different colored icing.

Siobhan immediately started to lighten up and feel better. Matthew’s sunny disposition and youthful energy easily filled any room. A complimentary yang to John’s yin.

“Hey Matt.” Siobhan smiled back. “How we looking today?”

“Doing great! Same as always!” Matt replied easily.

“Awesome.”

Siobhan came back out to the main room and looked up at the chalkboard. She noticed Cabadath had already scribbled in specials for the day and the cake display was already polished and gleaming. She got started on brewing a few of the coffees, and, when ready, made herself a Caretaker. A personal favorite of the unusually named coffees they served.

Siobhan then went about the cafe, setting chairs to tables, setting out the old magazines no one looks at, and setting pillows up on the couches, where they belonged.

“S’cuse me, Siobhan.”

She turned and saw Theo standing behind her with a broom and dustpan. An expectant and rather bored look on his face.

“Oh! Yeah, sorry.” she stepped out of the way and Dacabe began sweeping under the couch. “When’d you come in?”

“Same time as you. I came in right behind you.”

“Oh..” Siobhan gave a weak grin. “Ah.. Sorry, I didn’t see you.”

“No one ever does.”

She rolled her eyes and walked away. Theo was always a bit of a crybaby. He was the janitor though, so not only was it easy to overlook him, it wasn’t exactly like he had the hardest job. Not in Siobhan’s opinion at least.

Siobhan came to the front and pulled away the blinds and turned around the open sign. She came back to the counter.

‘5….

‘4….

‘3….

‘2….

‘1….’

“Morning!” Claire’s voice rang out, out of breath but still perky. She hurried to the door to the back office and soon reappeared, dressed for work. “Hey! Sorry! Sorry I’m late!”

“You’re right on time, Claire.” Siobhan grinned.

Claire hurried around the counter, said good morning to the boys, and came back to the counter and began helping set things up for the morning.

“So, how’s it going?” Claire asked.

“Same old, same old.” Siobhan sighed with a patient smile.

Claire worked the counters with Siobhan. She was a sweet, short, bespectacled woman. The type who loved to collect cat figurines and make movie references. She was bubbly and kind and claims to be psychic. Some believe her, some don’t. It didn’t really matter to Siobhan either way. Working with Claire was always a delight.

They got the store ready and opened. After helping a few early morning patrons, Siobhan looked up at the clock. 9:30.

She heard the door jingle and looked over in time to see Dr. Somerset walk in.

“Morning, Somerset!” she called out with a smile.

“Morning.” he greeted with a small nod.

“You ordering anything this time?”

“Maybe in a bit.” he walked over to the same corner he always sat at, in the arm chair underneath the space poster, and pulled out his laptop from his bag.

Siobhan rolled her eyes. Somerset was nice enough, but being a psychologist, trying to get into the field, he was almost always jobless. As such, he hardly ever actually ordered coffee. Instead he sat on his laptop, scrolling through the internet, busy with job hunting.

Not 3 minutes later did the door jingle for another regular.

“Siobhan!” Prof. Abed Chahal called out, as soon as he came in. He was a good man, a history professor for the nearby university. He always came in on the weekend, carrying a suitcase.

Siobhan waved, smiling.

“Morning, Abed! What’ll it be?”

“Ah.. I’m feeling adventurous today.” Abed thought for a moment, looking at the menu. “I think I’ll have a Guide.”

“Got it. Anything else?”

“Do the boys have any pastries ready?” he glanced over at the glass display of cakes and tarts.

“They’ve already been baking. Whatcha need?”

“Mmm.. What would you recommend?”

“Hm. I think I saw Johnny put in a sheet of cookies!”

“Well that sounds perfect. I’ll have one of those when they’re finished.”

“Alright then.” Siobhan jotted down the order and rang him up.

Abed walked over to a booth to wait. He sat down his suitcase, opened it up, and began setting up the chess board he always brought with him. Siobhan chuckled and watched him set up all the pieces.

“Who are you gonna play today?” she asked.

“Not sure, yet. But I’m sure I’ll find someone. Perhaps Johnny will entertain me on his break.”

“Hm. Maybe.” though Siobhan was sure he wouldn’t.

Johnny almost always liked to keep to himself and stay in the back. Abed was likely confusing him for Matthew.

Time went by, she made the coffee, got the cookie, came out to the counter.

“Abed, you’re coffee’s ready!” she immediately turned to find Chris Quinn, just as he was about to attempt shouting and scaring her. “Morning Chris.”

“Aw- what?!” Chris’ face fell in disappointment. “Bullshit, how’d you know I was here?”

“Because you do it almost every morning.” Siobhan chuckled. “And I heard Claire take your order.”

“She’s a sharp one, Chris.” Abed was chuckling as he took his coffee.

Chris blew a raspberry and proceeded to act like he was deflating and drape himself over the counter.

“You’re no fun, Siobhan.”

“And you’re still a child.” she chuckled.

“Here’s your coffee, Chris!”, Claire nudged past Siobhan and handed him a cup. “One Arrogant Joe.”

“Hell yes. Thank you!” he grinned and quickly bounced over to the couch beside Somerset and sat down to bug him instead.

Chris Quinn was an odd one. A man who supposedly wrote for a living. He was childish, excited, exuberant, and eccentric. He would’ve looked like a psychopathic horror, with the dark bags under his wide eyes and the long black trench coat that had red splatter paint on it.

He was a type of person Claire would describe as “bright”, but not in the traditional sense of being intelligent. “Bright” as in the way a 1000 watt lightbulb would be bright. He was friendly with everyone, had a horrible caffeine and sugar addiction, and was only ever kicked out once when he made everyone uncomfortable after downing 5 lattes on a dare and began talking about talking dog heads and zombies. He was mostly harmless, but has warned most of his slight schizophrenic tendencies.

After a while, the doorbell rang once more and the last regular of this cafe’s dysfunctional family arrived; Jim Fowler.

Jim was less common compared to others, being generally busy with school himself, but often stopped by on the weekends. He was a good, sensible lad who was on good terms with the DeFoe Twins, despite being a year younger. They go to the same school and on weekends, like today, Jim sometimes hangs around the shop and studies.

“Morning, Jim. What’ll it be?”

“Morning, Ms. O’Malley. Um..” Jim looked over the menu, thinking a moment before finally snapping his fingers with an answer. “Y’know? I think I’ll have the Bridgekeeper.”

“Got it.”

“Any of John’s cakes?”

“Plenty!” Matt came around, setting up another baked good for the display. “Whatcha need?”

“What was that one..? You guys were talking about it the other day. With the caramel?”

“Ooh! Yeah, the Salty Bears! We just finished those!”

Matt quickly disappeared into the back to retrieve his dish. Siobhan chuckled and rang him up.

“Jimmy! Why don’t you sit down and play a round with me?” Abed asked, looking up from his board.

“Wish I could, Abed, but I got studies!” Jim gave an apologetic grin.

“Nonsense! It’s just one round!”

“Mm. He should really study.” Claire chimed in, closing her eyes. “Big test coming up.”

“You’re telling me..” Jim rolled his eyes. “My dad’s gonna be all over me if I don’t pass.”

He hurried to another table and sat down, sitting his backpack beside him and started pulling out his textbooks.

“Welp, everyone’s here today.” Siobhan said to Claire.

“Yup. Another day in the King’s Cafe.” Claire sighed contently.

Jim soon got his coffee and pastry, and then it was just another, slow, typical day in the cafe.

Abed managed to convince Matthew to play with him on his next break.

A few randos came in and went out.

Simone Taylor droned on in the background on a small TV mounted to the wall in the back.

Chris decided he was done bugging Somerset and struck up a conversation with Siobhan while waiting for his next cup.

“So, can I ask a serious question, Siobhan?” Chris was asking.

“But you’re never serious.” Siobhan chuckled, pouring the milk into his latte, practicing her foam art.

“No, come on. Really.”

“Okay, fine, what?”

“When are we gonna stop playing these silly games with each other?” he grinned suggestively.

Siobhan laughed. It wasn’t the first time Chris was a flirt, let alone flirted with her. But as opposed to most guys, Siobhan didn’t think it wise to have even a casual fling with a man like Chris. She shook her head.

“Chris, I still don’t know what game you’re talking about? But if you’re looking for a date Friday, the answer is still no.”

“Aw, come on!”

The door jingled and rang. Siobhan handed him his coffee.

“Just take your drink, would...ya…” Siobhan’s thought slowed as she took in the recent customer.

He was tall.

He was handsome.

He was well dressed.

He was soaked to the bone.

His long black hair clung damply to his pale face.

He took off a small gray hat, a complementary part to the three piece grey pinstripe suit he wore, and shook the excess water off.

He looked up and smiled at Siobhan, politely.

“Good afternoon.” he said in a soft, posh, baritone voice.

“Um..” Siobhan quickly shook her head and smiled readily. “Welcome to the King’s Cafe, sir. What can I get you?”

“Well let’s see um…” the man frowned, reading the menu. “I’m...afraid I don’t quite understand what some of your options are.”

“Oh! Right! Uh, the King’s Cafe has a few specials, and ergo a fun and special lingo for the customers.” Siobhan chuckled. “It’s a little silly really, but I’ll do my best to explain anything that catches your attention.”

“Well.. What’s the Guide?”

“The Guide is basically a Mead Raf.” Siobhan explained. “Espresso with a shot of honey and topped with heavy cream. Bitter, strong, but a hint of something sweet.”

“Actually that already sounds lovely. I think I’ll try that.”

“Coming right up, sir. Do you like cakes?”

“Not often...” he said, looking at his watch, frowning thoughtfully. “...Perhaps another time.”

“Alright then. I’ll get that coffee ready.”

She rung him up and he paid, but was so distracted he left to a table and sat down immediately. He was carrying a leather messenger bag and quickly sat up in a corner booth, pulling out several notebooks and a laptop. He immediately got to work on whatever and it took Siobhan an embarrassing amount of time to realize she hadn’t asked his name.

“Uh, sir? Sir?” but it was too late.

The man was already too engrossed in whatever it was he was doing to hear her. Siobhan simply sighed and looked at the cup. She shrugged and drew a trilby on it. And that was when she realized the newcomer had caught everyone’s attention. Even Somerset and the DeFoe twins were all looking over, trying to get a look at the strange man.

“...Alright, come on you guys, there’s nothing to see. He’s just another customer.” Siobhan rolled her eyes and got to work.

“He is kinda cute though.” Claire grinned, leaning over the counter to look better.

“Claire.” Siobhan said disapprovingly.

“Hell maybe he’ll wanna go out this Friday.” Chris grinned.

“Chris, you’re not even gay.” Siobhan looked at him, confused.

“So?” Chris immediately went over to introduce himself.

Siobhan internally cringed. She hated when Chris did this with other customers. The one time it was funny because a guy named Philip clocked him in the face, but aside from that, it was usually just embarrassing and frustrating.

“Hey!” Chris greeted, taking a seat opposite of the man. “So what’s your name?”

The man didn’t skip a beat, and continued to type away on his keyboard, slowing only to reach over with one hand and hold up a notebook he was looking at. One hand still typing away while he read.

Chris sat there for a moment before leaning over a little closer, looking over the notebook.

“Whatcha working on there?” he reached to move the notebook down a little.

“Your demise if you so much as touch this notebook.” was the sharp and quiet answer.

Chris immediately retreated. The man continued on, unphased.

“I’ve no time for idle chit-chat, thank you.” the man said politely. “I’ve a very important deadline.”

“Then maybe another time? ‘Nother place?”

“Here and now is plenty for me to worry about. I’ve no interest in any further plans.”

Siobhan chuckled at how utterly rejected Chris looked. Eventually she finished the order and looked over at him. She wasn’t sure at first how to address him, but figured if she had to, she’ll go over and tap him on the shoulder.

“Um.. Sir? W-with the trilby?” she leaned over the counter a little.

At that, as if by magic, the man’s head popped up from his work

“Hm? Me? Oh, yes.”

He came over and grabbed the coffee.

“Thank you very much, miss.” he smiled politely.

“Wait, what’s your-?” He already turned and retreated back to his corner.

“Maybe his name’s Trilby?” Claire suggested.

“What kind of name is that?” Siobhan scoffed.

“Hm, judging by his laptop and notebooks, it could be a pseudonym.” Somerset commented thoughtfully. “Likely an author or writer of some sort.”

“You think he’s here to stay?” Chris asked.

“Whatcha mean?” Claire asked.

“Well I mean.. Look at us.” Siobhan shrugged. “Normally we’re all here at some point or another. Sometimes with Philip or Janine.”

“Oh.. So you think maybe he’s gonna…” Claire looked back and Chris helpfully finished the sentence.

“Stick around.”

Everyone was looking at him curiously now, lost in their own thoughts and assumptions.

Siobhan watched him for a while, serious and busy hammering away at his laptop. He occasionally paused only to look over his notes once more or to sigh, rub his chin, and soon enough get back to typing. Perfectly content and oblivious to the world around him. She smiled.

“...Maybe he will.”

#Chzo Mythos #trilby somerset #siobhan o'malley #jim fowler #defoe twins #john defoe #matthew defoe #johnathon somerset #chris quinn #quinnby #trilbhan #simone taylor #abed chahal #philip harty #theodore dacabe

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donnerpartyofone · 4 years ago

Note

Whats your take on missing 411?

like what do i think happened to the missing people? or how did i like the movies? i enjoyed the first movie a lot; it has a foggy, anxious atmosphere that perfectly accompanies the unresolved mysteries that it describes, and i liked how it invited speculation on various explanations, from the mundane to the supernatural, without pushing any specific agenda. there’s a kind of poetry to it. the second movie, THE HUNTED, didn’t do as much for me; it felt like a long episode of America’s Most Wanted or something, I actually wound up looking it up to see if it was in fact compiled from a TV show. it’s still worth watching, if you enjoy that sort of thing. it does push the creator’s obsession with bigfoot more openly, which is kind of interesting in its own way.

personally, i don’t have a theory about what happened to the missing people. i have a complicated relationship with the paranormal. i mean, principally, i’m just obsessed with any and all bizarre mysteries--but that’s part of the problem. as a depressed little kid, i bought in with the deepest sincerity, in no small part because i desperately wanted to believe that the world i was forced to live in was not as boring, oppressive, humiliating, and barren as it very much seemed to be. at various points in my life, one person or another picked up on my devout desire to believe, and used it against me in ways that i will never, ever discuss. so that planted the seeds of a certain amount of skepticism in me. then later on, in my 20s, i knew a lot of people who formally subscribed to like, psychic powers, benevolent spirits, their own abilities as “witches”, the idea that the Universe sends you messages that are aimed at your personal success, etc. i mean, i WAS one of those people. but after a fashion, i started to notice that not only was my own life not improving, but it seemed like everyone i knew who held these beliefs was always in hot water, dealing with cheating boyfriends, backstabbing friends, financial setbacks, and all types of other shit that the Universe had inexplicably failed to protect them from. i realized the whole racket ran no deeper than blowing out the candles on a birthday cake and hoping for whatever selfish thing you can think of--and often, all this ideology was just employed to help convince you that whatever unhealthy thing you’re obsessed with is something the Universe wants you to have. i went cold turkey on everything, including newspaper horoscopes; the whole experience had just been really delusional and damaging.

eventually, like pretty recently in fact, i began to realize that in spite of the bad experiences i’ve had, a fundamental inclination toward the unknown is just part of my soul. i have a really different attitude toward it than i used to, which i’m very grateful for; i don’t buy into any wish fulfillment type of stuff that doesn’t come with the cost of doing work on yourself, and i’m highly skeptical of anything that smacks of ego gratification, like that you or anyone you know has ~powers~ or receives the focused attention of demons or deities or whatever. but i think it is intellectually sound to believe that we simply don’t have the wisdom or technology to detect and measure every single worldly phenomenon. i tend believe that many--maybe even all!--of the missing 411 fell victim to anomalous accidents or animal attacks that took place in a way that appears statistically improbably, but is apparently not impossible. like i was riding my bike near a construction site once and caught a flat; when i looked, i found that a nail had shot sideways right through my tire, like the old arrow through the head prank. i couldn’t even visualize how that happened--it was “impossible”!--but it was clear that the one extremely unlikely condition that could cause that to happen, through a series of ricochets or something, had indeed happened. but, at the same time, i also believe in ideas like, “ghosts” are the residue of extreme episodes that occurred in a certain location, or that poltergeitic activity is the result of energetic disturbances caused by troubled youths ala Carrie White. there’s a certain kind of logic in those concepts, that appeals to me. two examples i think about are (excuse me, I appear to be changing cases in my text and i’m too lazy to keep up with it):

1) i read about a guy who was conducting some sort of study of an ancient monastery somewhere. (I don’t remember all the details now) One night while sitting in the chapel, he perceived the apparition of a hooded dwarf, drifting up the aisle toward him. He ran away, naturally, and then dug into the monastery’s records to see if he could identity a former occupant who was a little person. He didn’t find any such monk, but he did learn that at one point decades ago, the chapel was renovated and the floor had been rebuilt about a foot or so higher than its original location--so plausibly, the guy had witnessed the ghost of a monk, treading the floorboards that existed when he was alive, not so different from a film projection.

2) I once had this terrible friend who turned out to be a pathological liar and a dangerous freak of the highest order. One year, her family moved into a place in these row houses that originally accommodated the mill workers who once labored at the enormous ruin across the street. Naturally, rumors of ghosts abounded, especially while my friend’s uncle was digging a hundred years’ worth of detritus out of their creepy basement. One afternoon we were there by ourselves--a sunny, still day--and my friend was being extra annoying about all the supernatural goings-on around the house, which I began to suspect were all made-up for attention. just to vex her, i opened the basement door and left it that way, a few feet from where we sat in her dining room. she begged me to close it, but did nothing herself. then her dog came over and started growling into the darkness, with its hackles on end. then, out of absolutely nowhere, a bottle of aspirin that had been sitting in the middle of the table rose up into the air between us, and flung itself across the house, into the living room, landing somewhere near the front door. there’s simply no way for there to have been any kind of physical intervention with this thing; it happened in plain sight, in the middle of a sunlit room, right in the middle of my field of vision. looking back, i tend to think that my awful friend was so full of disturbed energy that it just shot out into the room, even freaking out her dog. most days, she lied about any number of falsifiable things; sometimes, it felt like she was such a freak that she could just make a lie HAPPEN.

so, uh, yeah, i don’t have a unified theory of what’s going on with the missing 411, and to be honest, i think it’s better if i don’t. mysteries are better off as mysteries, without a lot of cumbersome unprovable “explanations”--i mean, doesn’t the paranormal become less and less interesting the more people bog it down with highly specific pseudo-scientific theories about it?--and it just adds more color to my life, to allow things to be mysterious.

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loretranscripts · 6 years ago

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Lore Episode 19: Bite Marks (Transcript) - 26th October 2015

tw: death, graveyards, corpses, details of decomposition, ghosts Disclaimer: This transcript is entirely non-profit and fan-made. All credit for this content goes to Aaron Mahnke, creator of Lore podcast. It is by a fan, for fans, and meant to make the content of the podcast more accessible to all. Also, there may be mistakes, despite rigorous re-reading on my part. Feel free to point them out, but please be nice!

[Announcement of upcoming live shows (now in the past)]

In 1890, the tiny Greek village of Messaria on the island of Kythnos was plagued by something otherworldly. Whatever it was, the villagers claimed that it would enter their homes, eat their food, break their dishes and then move on to repeat itself elsewhere. They named this creature “Andilaveris”, and they claimed it was a vrykolakas, a close cousin to the traditional European vampire. Andilaveris drank their wine and smashed their belongings, howling like a wolf and making a loud, horrible mess, but the most interesting feature of this story is that no one actually saw Andilaveris do these things. The villagers claimed to witness it all, of course, but they said he was invisible; he was, in essence, a noisy spirit, but the only cultural lens they were able to view him through was as a vampire. And they weren’t the first: between 1591 and 1923, people across Europe told similar stories – an invisible monster that raided their homes and destroyed their belongings. Today, we see events like these play out across the screens of our local move theatre. Hollywood has been fascinated with invisible, violent forces since the early 1980s, when they brought us Poltergeist. What once was looked on as overly spiritual and easily disproven is now attracting the attention of popular culture, but poltergeists have a history that runs far deeper than just the 1980s. From first century Roman accounts to modern newspapers, stories of humans interacting with angry ghosts have been told for a very, very long time. Some are clearly hoaxes; some are misinterpretations of natural events; oftentimes they are a grab for attention or a cry for help; but sometimes, on very rare occasions, a story comes along that is nothing short of haunting. I’m Aaron Mahnke, and this is Lore.

The word “poltergeist” evokes a number of ideas for most people. Most think about the movie. Some picture objects being thrown around a room by invisible hands. You might even envision the sound of chains, or doors creaking open in the night. And they wouldn’t be too far from the truth – the word “poltergeist” is German, and it literally means “noisy spirit”. The idea is that, while the typical ghost story only uses one of our five senses, our sight, stories of poltergeists can often tap all five. Most poltergeist accounts reference the same types of activity: objects that are mysteriously moved or broken; noises in and around the house; physical attacks such as biting, pinching, hitting, and even tripping. Some people even claim to have seen objects, or other people, levitated by an unseen force, and unlike some folklore, stories of noisy spirits are nearly universal. Similar manifestations have been reported by witnesses in dozens of cultures for centuries, from Japan and Brazil to Australia and the United States. To those who view widespread distribution as a major sign of proof, poltergeists have become an indisputable fact. One of the earliest records of a poltergeist encounter actually comes from the 1st century Jewish historian, Flavius Josephus. He recorded an exorcism in 94AD that sounds eerily similar to those of us familiar with modern exorcism tales. In his report, he describes how, as the spirit was being driven from the person, a bowl of water all the way across the room was suddenly overturned by an invisible hand. Jacob Grimm, half of the famous Grimm brothers who recorded many of the stories we remember from our childhood, also wrote more scholarly books. In his book Deutsche Mythologie, Grimm recorded a story from the German town of Bingen am Rhine that took place in the 4th century. According to the story, people were pulled out of their beds by an unseen force; loud noises could be heard, as if someone were knocking on the walls or floor; stones were even thrown, but the person – or spirit – who did the throwing was never found. Gerald of Wales, the famous clergyman and chronicler, wrote in 1191 of a house in Pembrokeshire that was filled with poltergeist activity. Here, the unseen spirit was said to have thrown handfuls of dirt as well as tearing clothing and breaking objects in the house. Most frightening to those who experienced it, though, was the fact that this spirit was also said to vocalise all the secrets of the people in the room.

Similar stories have been recorded countless times in the centuries since Gerald’s day. In one story from the early 1700s, one family encountered unusual activity in the church rectory, in Epworth, Lincolnshire. Reverend Samuel Wesley and his wife, Susanna, had 10 children and had lived in the house since it had been built, shortly after the previous rectory burnt to the ground in 1709. During the winter of 1716 to 1717, the family began to experience regular noises. They would hear knocking on the walls and doors, or the sounds of people running up and down the stairs. The house was searched from top to bottom, hoping to find the person responsible, but no cause was found. They even named the noisy spirit “Old Jeffrey”, and it was said that the spirit made himself visible on Christmas day that winter. Shortly after, the noises stopped, never to happen again. In more modern times, one well-known story is that of the Black Monk of Pontefract. There, in the growing community just outside the city of Wakefield in West Yorkshire, England, reports began to circulate about the most violent poltergeist in European history. Joe and Jean Pritchard lived at 30 East Drive in 1970 along with their son, Phillip, and daughter, Diane. According to their report, they were plagued by problems in the house from the start: objects were thrown, the temperature in rooms would suddenly drop, and they would even find puddles on the floor. They named the spirit Fred, and soon learnt that Fred was not just mischievous, but also violent. Not only did the spirit throw eggs and take bites out of their sandwiches, but it also dragged their 12-year-old daughter, Diane, up the stairs by her neck, leaving handprints on her skin. After Fred attempted to strangle Diane a second time, this time with an electrical cord, the family asked for help. The police were brought in, as were a number of psychics and paranormal researchers. Even the mayor came by for a visit, but nothing seemed to help. Eventually, the Pritchard’s moved away, and the noises inside Number 30 stopped. But according to the woman who lives next door to the house that’s connected to Number 30, Fred the ghost hasn’t gone anywhere. He still makes frequent visits to her side of the wall, and although he’s usually very quiet, she claims that he sometimes stands in the room and glares at her with menacing eyes. Under the scrutiny of historical research, though, most recorded poltergeist stories have been shown to be frauds. Oftentimes they were nothing more than pranks put on by the homeowner, or the person who stood to gain the most from the attention. But every now and then, a story comes along that defies explanation, and when that story involves violent physical attacks and a serious threat to human lives, it becomes downright chilling.

In 1999, a homeless man broke into a large tomb in a prominent cemetery known as Greyfriars, in Edinburgh, Scotland. It was cold and rainy that night, and the man was looking for shelter. I might have gone elsewhere to find a warm, dry place to sleep, but when you’re down and out, anything will do, right? This man wondered through the graveyard in the dark until he found a large mausoleum, something that looked large enough to allow him to get out of the elements and sleep in relative comfort. This one was known as “The Black Mausoleum”, and it was enormous. It resembles a large rotunda, with the spaces between the pillars filled in with cut stone. When the homeless man stumbled upon this tomb, it was exactly what he had been looking for, and had plenty of room to stretch out and sleep in, and it was dry. So, he did what anyone desperate for shelter would do: he broke in. Because it’s rare to find a tomb with windows, the interior of the vault was completely black. Thankfully, the man had a lighter or some other form of illumination, and he used it to explore. In the centre of the floor was a large, iron grate, similar to what you might find over a sewer drain or in the sidewalk over a subway tunnel in New York City. Beneath the grate was a staircase that curved and twisted its way down to a lower level. I know - this sounds like something out of an Indiana Jones movie, but believe me, it’s real, and it gets worse, because beneath the first level, at the bottom of the stairs, this homeless man discovered four wooden coffins. They were, of course, very old, and the man probably assumed that, because of this, they would contain valuables that he could sell. I imagine he set down whatever it was he was using as a light on one of the nearby coffins, and then began to try and open another one of them. When it didn’t work, he resorted to smashing the lid to break the lock, and that’s when he took a step backward. The boards in the floor must have been very old. The man must have put his full weight in just the right spot. All the possibilities must have lined up perfectly in that moment. A brief groan from the wooden floor was followed by a loud crash, and the man tumbled backward into a long-forgotten pit, some part of an even lower level that dated back centuries. The best guess that historians can make is that the pit was actually used for the illegal dumping of bodies in the wake of the plague, in 1645. What they do know for sure, however, is that the pit was sealed very well. So sealed, in fact, that when this homeless man landed on the pile of 350-year-old corpses, they were surprisingly well preserved. They weren’t skeletal and dry, like you might expect. No, these bodies were wet with something that resembled green slime. The clothing was intact, albeit ragged and torn, and their hair was matted to their shrivelled heads, and of course, there were an overwhelming stench in the air. The man bolted, and I don’t think there’s a single on of us who could blame him for doing so. Fearing for his life, the man climbed out of the pit, up the stone stairs to the main vault, and out the door. He was in such a hurry that he even fell and cut his head on the doorway to the mausoleum. Outside, a security guard was patrolling the area with his canine partner, when the homeless man burst out of the tomb. Now, maybe it was the blood running down the man’s face, maybe it was the white dust that covered him from head to toe because of his adventures… below the tomb, maybe it was just the simple sight of a pale, shrieking figure charging out from a dark crypt �� whatever the reason, when the guard saw the man, he turned tail and ran, just as fast as he could, away from the darkness of the cemetery, and into the city beyond.

As difficult as it is to imagine, the frightening events of that night in 1999 were just the beginning. Like a tiny spark igniting an entire barn, the break-in at the Black Mausoleum set in motion something that no one has since been able to adequately explain. It turns out the mausoleum belonged to none other than Sir George Mackenzie, a man who had died in 1690. Along with being a lawyer and Lord Advocate to the crown of Scotland, Mackenzie had been instrumental in sending hundreds of Presbyterian Covenanters to their death in the late 17th century. Today, he is known as “Bloody Mackenzie”, and according to the local reports, this invasion of his resting place set off a series of events that can only be blamed on a very angry spirit, and it didn’t wait very long. They day after the break-in, a woman was taking a walk through the cemetery. It’s unclear whether she was a tourist interested in seeing the Covenanters prison area of the graveyard, or just a local out for a walk, but when she drew near to the mausoleum, she decided to peer through one of the two small grates in the tomb door. As she stood there, a gust of cold wind rushed out of the tomb with such force that she claimed it knocked her backward and off the stone steps, landing on her back. A few days later, another woman was found unconscious on the sidewalk outside the tomb, sprawled out on her back as if she had fallen. She claimed that invisible hands had grabbed her around the throat and attempted to strangle her. When she pulled back the collar of her shit, her neck was ringed by a series of dark bruises, as if fingertips had been driven into her skin. Soon after, another tourist, this time a young man, experienced something eerily similar. For others, though, the consequences of visiting the tomb were more physical and lasting – some people have found scratches on their arms, neck or chest, while others have discovered burn marks. Many of these injuries disappear almost as quickly and mysteriously as they appeared. Some, though, claim to have been permanently scarred. All told, people have broken fingers, felt their hair pulled, been pushed or struck, and all by an unseen force. People have even felt nauseous or numb, or both, and not just one or two people, but hundreds. Sometimes these attacks happen near the tomb, and sometimes they happen later.

One particular story stands out: a former police officer reported participating in a tour of the cemetery a few years ago. After returning to his hotel room that night, he picked up the book he had been given on the tour that covered the details of the haunting. As he did, he felt a sharp pain, as if someone were trying to burn him. When he ran to the mirror to check, he found five deep scratches on his neck, beneath his chin. The following morning, the officer visited his mother and told her what happened. He also gave her the book – according to him, he couldn’t stand to have it around any longer, and so he left it at her house. When he called her later and asked about the book, he caught her in the bathroom. She was standing in front of the mirror, examining five, long scratches on her throat. All told, nearly 400 people have claimed to have been attacked by something other-worldly around the tomb; almost 200 of those people have actually passed out during a ghost tour. Sometimes, every person on a tour will feel the exact same thing. Oftentimes, complete strangers will independently report the exact same experience. The odd experiences extend beyond the tours. An unusually high number of dead animals have been found in the area around Mackenzie’s tomb; unexplainable fires have broken out in nearby buildings; people have reported cold spots, and the usual photographic and electronic malfunctions have occurred there as well. Some have gone looking for an explanation for such a large number of unusual reports, but the theories are as varied as the types of attacks. One idea tries to connect the unlikely dots between the nearby Edinburgh University’s artificial intelligence unit, which uses high voltage machinery, and the sandstone deep undergrown, beneath the ancient cemetery. The porous stone, they say, absorbs the energy and releases it later, causing odd experiences. But this is a difficult theory to swallow, especially for the people who have been physically assaulted by whatever it is that haunts the tomb. The company that conducts the tours through the graveyard is just as interested in finding the cause, though, and that’s why they’ve spent years collecting photographs of injuries, first-hand accounts, letters from witnesses, and other documentation. Unfortunately, most of those records were destroyed in 2003, when a fire swept through their office. Everything inside the tour company’s space was incinerated, but nothing more. Every single nearby building remained untouched. The insurance company never found the cause.

Outside of places with frequent earthquake activity, most people don’t think it’s normal for photographs to fall off their walls, or for a chair to slide across the floor, or to be knocked down by an unseen force. For some, these events are equal parts unusual and inconvenient. For others, though, they are frightening. It’s difficult to say what’s really going on in these stories. Some events can be chalked up to natural causes, or the human tendency to misinterpret the things we see. We are very good at finding patterns, after all – it’s called pareidolia, that moment when we see patterns where they don’t really exist. We do this when we look up at clouds and see the shape of a turtle, but it happens subconsciously as well. Our minds are always searching for patterns – or perhaps there’s something more to the stories. What if there really are sinister, violent spirits that can attack us if provoked? In many stories, priests are brought in to bless the homes and perform exorcisms, a solution that certainly assumed there’s a supernatural source, and sometimes, it’s worked. In the years since the break-in at the Black Mausoleum, there have been two attempts at exorcism. The second of those took place in 2000, just a year after the activity began. Colin Grant, minister of a spiritualist church and professional exorcist, was brought into Greyfriars Cemetery. While standing in front of the Black Mausoleum, he performed his ceremony. While doing so, he claimed to feel overwhelmed by the sensation of oppression, that hundreds of tormented souls were swirling around him, trying to break through into our world. He said that he had feared for his life, and he quickly left before he could finish. Just a few weeks later, Colin Grant was found dead, victim of a sudden heart attack.

[Closing statements – from this episode onward, it seems that the more recent closing statements, including mentions of both the book series and both seasons of the show, have replaced the original closing statements, and so I won’t be transcribing them until I am caught up with the show].

#lore podcast #podcasts #aaron mahnke #poltergeist #grimm brothers #gerald of wales #greyfriars kirkyard #black monk of pontefract #george mackenzie #bloody mackenzie #hauntings #folklore #transcripts #19

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tereswriting · 6 years ago

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The Little Ghost Girl

Victor was hospitalize for a severe heart attack. He lapse in and out of coma for several days. In one of the days Victor was in coma, he had a recurring dreams of a disturbing young girl who offered to heal him. Mysteriously the girl in his dream said, “I have a stuffed animal for you and when you receive it, you will be heal.”

When Victor awoke from his coma, things got even creepier.

His wife had something for him; a stuffed animal. She said, “a young girl came by the hospital and gave me this stuffed animal and said to give it to the gentleman so that he can be cured.”

As he lay unconscious, his wife laid the stuffed doll in his room near the hospital bed. After recovering fully, Victor returned to his home and thing became even more bizarre.

Strange supernatural events begin to take place around his home. The stuffed animal that the mystery girl had given him would randomly fall off shelves. He would hear strange noises and things around the house would mysteriously move on their own. Victor became convinced that the little girl from the hospital dreams had followed him home, somehow attached to him from the other side.

The majority of the strange events happened in the room occupied by his two young sons, as if the girl were drawn to the other children. Not wanting to frighten his sons, Victor would record videos only when his sons were asleep in the other room or if they weren’t home.

Later one day, Victor returns to his home this time with candles and incense, he read that the local psychic media has advised that this is the best way to cleanse spirit from the house. He places the stuffed animal that the little girl gave him, at the head of this bed in his son’s room. But, things don’t turn out so well.

He begins to speak, “This is my house. I am the owner. My name is Victor. If you are still here… they told me you are the girl who gave me the stuffed animal when I was hospitalized. Are you still here? Are you still here with us?

Then, the stuffed animal that was on the bed move around slowly until in hit the ground.

“God… the stuffed animal fell,” Victor said in disbelief. “They said not to be afraid, that this is not evil. Are you still here with us?” Victor spoke softly, trying no to add for fear in himself.

Then, a car from under the bed move out slowly to the otherside of the room.

“I don’t know… they told me the child occupies something,” he took deep breaths to calm himself down, “Do you want to talk to me? They told me you needed something. I’m going to close the door. I’m going to ask you some questions and try to understand what you need. I mean you no harm, please don’t harm me or my family. I’m going to close the door, but I left the lights on for you.” Victor said, as he closed the door but only halfway.

Then he repeated, “My name is Victor. This is my house. I am the owner. Are you the girl who gave me the stuffed animal in the hospital? Are you here with me?”

He passed for a moment for any sign of the little ghost girl presence. There was only silence.

He tried again, “are you the girl… that beautiful girl who gave me the stuffed animal so I would be cured?

“Hello.”

It sounded like the wind, but Victor knew he heard it. He knew that it was little girl saying something.

“Holy God!” Victor was now feeling anxious, “I don’t want to harm you. Are you the girl, the beautiful girl who gave me the stuffed animal? Are you here with me?”

“Nooo.”

Victor was beyond frighten by now. The goosebumps in his skin won’t even describe how much fear he’s feeling at the moment.

“Dear God… I want to run out of here but this is for my kids.” He tried to relax his body before continuing, “Are you lost? Do you occupy something? Do you need something? If you need something, I will try to help you. Do you occupy something? Do you need something? Please let me know!”

“Mommy,” the little girl cried.

“Mommy. She called her mommy,” Victor said it frequently, thinking that if he repeated it again and again until knew that the little girl was no harm.

Victor went and opened the door, “I did hear you… that you need your mother. I don’t know how to help you but I brought someone here that will know what to do to help you. I’m going to close the door. We will try to help you.” This time, Victor closed the door all the way.

“I want to help her. I’m very scared-”

BANG! BANG! BANG!

The bangs of the door didn’t stop.

“God!” The man walked slowly to the door, “I’m go-going to open the door,” he said with a shaky voice.

I’m not going to harm you, I do not want you to harm me. I know you want your mommy... we want to do everything we can.”

He open the door with trembling hands, he saw the basket that was sitting next to the bed, was now on the laying on the floor near the door with the toys surrounding. He looked around the room. “If you are the-” he suddenly forgot how to breath. He was in beyond shock. There was a strange black shadow sitting in the far corner of the bed.

“Holy God! God! God!” Victor ran in fear outside the house.

He knew that whatever it was that was on the bed, was not the little girl that gave him the stuffed animal at the hospital.

#short story #scary story

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thurisazsalail · 6 years ago

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i was having such fun dreams

i forget how it started out- one of those things that shift into other dreams as you go along, and you forget the first sequence was ever there somehow i was younger, an alternate life. never got married, wasn’t living out of my car. tiny apartment to myself, working a regular job, running the pagan shop, had a car that ran without needing major repairs all the time. much less anxiety. wasn’t sick all the time or battling the disability things. a better life in a lot of ways. and i’d gotten work on this reality show as a supplier. i got cut out as a consultant really quick because i would provide actual historic info and... that’s not what they’re going for. -ish.

so this reality show, it’s kind of like ghost hunters or whatever?? but not quite. it was something about ‘living a magical life’ in suburbia, not too close to the city but not too far out of it either. the kind of outskirts of the suburbs. and ‘strange happenings’ were documented all over the ‘neighbourhood’ (it was one house, but y’know, reality tv). my job is to be able to drop everything and deliver whatever they needed for a filming (shooting, which is a word that in my neighbourhood means something very different heh). they need an orange candle and two shells at 3am? wake your ass up and have it there in 20 minutes. That kind of job. but it paid really well, and sometimes an extra or an actor or whoever would want to shop my shop, which was neatly contained at all times in the back of my car for the show. some chick in her early 20s was one of the ‘stars’ doing magic in this house. in one bedroom, the symbol for fire (a big triangle maybe a foot and a half high) was painted on the wall. the show did get something right; even birthday candles are useful for ritual magic. she was .... how can i describe it. ‘spiritually muddy’, does that make sense?? not ‘dirty’, but clouded. unsure beliefs, no real structure, everywhere all at one and yet not thinking anything specific. Just this idea that she wanted magic to be real, to make things happen... and wouldn’t it be better if she could get real results, for something scary or powerful to happen? ::sighs:: at some point, i come on set with some things in blues and blacks, water stuff. there’s this... black thing that looks remarkably like someone’s blackened, severed calf (like, lower part of a leg, minus the foot) on the floor. with some weird blistery beige stuff embedded. apparently for the show, they did a segment about some ancient ritual from the cyprus area (this part, complete fantasy, but who knows). mixing hair shaved from a sick person (must specifically be from the head, if possible), with a grain/honey mixture rubbed onto their skin and then scraped off. mix it with volcanic ash and ash from ... now that I’m awake, I forget. a precious resin, maybe? mix this with the hair and the honey/oat mixture and bake it, hardened. the blisters that form from the honey/grains will tell if the person gets better. i told them not to be doing any ‘old magic’. i told them. i supplied them with tv-friendly ‘modern magic’, spell-poems mixed with modern, accessible ideas about colour magic and such for a reason, with just a line here or there about something ‘old’ or ancient, something rendered harmless. ‘old magic’ means ‘old gods’, ‘old spirits’. they have no business messing with that. you know how you shouldn’t mix milk with meats? and if you want, say, almond milk with a beef knish, you should put an almond sliver or something to float in the glass so it doesn’t appear that you are breaking rules? being near the thing was like this. the drive to pick it up and dispose of it, but the sound magical warning not to, but i cannot transport it by using paper or sticks or something else because of the act like picking it up. they just couldn’t help themselves, could they.

the need for something ‘old’ to come. something real. something scary. makes good tv.

so something old came. making the delivery, she’s messing with small candles- on the bed??? reading wax drippings or somesuch on the fabric. something nearby on paper, parchment-looking. i stay out of sight of the cameras. they edit out some sounds later, but why make more work?

they leave. she’s finishing up. i forget what she’s chattering about. like the sound editors, i also edit out what most people say and stay noncommital<--->friendly to actors. no one keeps their job by being ‘unfriendly’, uncooperative. i’m about to leave when i feel the air shift, like a vacuum, less of a scream and more of a rumble of dis-ease. actress chick is scared of something. of what? i can sense she isn’t alone in that room anymore. i didn’t see anyone walk in.

i go back to the room, past a camera crew discussing the next scenes, order of events, etc. there’s a guy who reminds me of gordon ramsay talking about what costs more- just leaving the cameras to roll or stop-starting. was i imagining it?? or were they acting like actual strange things were starting to happen in this house? i could see that. psychic energy stirred up, like a poltergeist. too much energy, too much expectance in one small place. buzzing like a hive. people might even start seeing things that aren’t there, psychosis of expecting.

i call her a girl, but she’s fucking grown and should know better already. do i put much stock in every wind shift or odd creak in a house? no. i put about as much stock in most superstitions as i do in The Craft being a documentary. even something being old or antique has about the same power; everything was contemporary, once. doesn’t mean much. but there are some things, beyond human memory, beyond our stories that we can’t touch. why every human has a terrible, unspeakable reaction to the pale thing with dark eyes, long teeth, and a red mouth in the dark? why every human thinks of the dense trees as whispering, alive at night when walking. every human “remembers” a world before humans had power, populace like this. some of us remember better than others. there are some things... some things, they call up memories of lives we never had. of people we cannot name, and once actively trying to recall, we forgot what the image ever was.

i open her door. there’s less than a quarter inch of a candle on the bed. she keeps trying to light it before giving up. she has a small desk with a bookshelf hutch over it. i said something to her, about this being ineffective, and that charred block needs to be out of here. it isn’t a prop anymore. but what would I know? something like a strange tear, not like smoke but more like old velvet, then linen appears, forming a two-faced human-like old man, yellowish, aged skin covered in liver spots, pockmarks. long tunic-like garment. like janus, one face on each side. something that i thought i might have the hebrew word for, but it was older than hebrew ever was, and it was never a “jewish” demon by any means. these ran the place before hebrew people ever reached that land. something from near where the honey/ash/grain spell came from. the closest thing i can think of in my quiet horror is ‘shedim’. or shed? two faces- does that make it shed or shedim? if I ask a rabbi, i might have three answers.

shedim hasn’t noticed me- in english, that grammar makes most sense. two functioning as one. it only speaks to her. the other face speaks to itself. it is a language i’ve never heard, one that i suspect goes back before humans had names. i hear english, intent. the energy has intent, regardless of language. layered sounds not really spoken but heard regardless. she is horrified, paralyzed. not by shedim, but by realization that she got what she wanted. isn’t this what she wanted?

people think of two-faced creatures as such that are game-like for clever humans, one telling truth and one telling lies. we don’t like to think of them as both telling the truth in two perspectives, two opinions. we don’t like this- it’s uncomfortable. i told her a truth: this is her own fault. she called. something old came. did she know better? yes and no. no one, not any of us, could prepare for the shedim advancing on her. but was she warned? yes. i warned her. all of them. that this wasn’t right. to some extent, this space will become Real. a construct. and if they don’t use the energy... someone who wants it will come.

this shedim was of the sort where one face spoke and wanted conversation. it could weave conversation like a net, like a snare. be careful what you say. what you don’t say. it is safest to answer nothing. like dealing with the american police- invoking the 5th amendment, the right to silence, requires specifically speaking to invoke the 5th amendment. the other is all about implementing, in doing. it isn’t “all talk”, as if the two are separate. and they aren’t. they are two faces on one entity. like a lawyer, i know that verbal agreements are also a ‘physical’ thing, tangible to those who agree to them. she asks me for help, to lock it up, to just... do a spell! for banishment! but i can’t. i don’t know what kind of thing this is to banish. and he is more real than your magic. you called. you brought him here. them. aren’t i afraid? i can’t tell if she asks me or if the shedim who Does Things had asked. papery, whisper-weak voices. of course i’m afraid. it’s energy is spider-like, creeping, spreading the way decaying flesh bloats and then sags, revealing the bruises and veins of a corpse post-mortem. but i say there is and isn’t anything to fear. neutral as possible, vague as i can manage. “but he’s a monster! a demon!” and a hurricane is a storm. what is your point? you called, they came. they were here before humans had names. they are not unnatural, any more than we are. they are as they are created. can’t you have some respect?

“what if it kills you?” so what if it does. if i die, i die. i’ll be just as dead from a shedim than as from a volcano, or a hurricane, or anything else. i cannot stop him, or control him. i have no want to. it’s nothing personal.

shedim who Does Things looks at me from the side of is face, the other still fixed on the girl pressing herself closer to the wall. it must be hard for him to look at us when i’m at a 90 degree angle from her. its eyes look like they might have been humanoid once. maybe? or they were always animal-like, the way we impress human features on others being a sign of our own species’ arrogance, or our desire to find common ground. it’s eyes shine like black milky glass set into bruised sockets, mottled to look like all one dark space. i lean into the doorframe so that it might get a better look at me and nod to it before also staring at her. i’ve tuned out her blustering again. she’s sinking to the floor. i meant it, shedim. if i die, i die. i can’t really stop you. i hope my death isn’t protracted or painful, but eh. it’ll be what it is. i don’t know if i left? I think i did. but i know i woke up with a kitten on my face, tapping at my head madly before bouncing off my bed at a high speed

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chimmy-joos · 7 years ago

Text

Monstrum

Description: Moving to an entirely new town is already hard as is, but now you’ve got a serial killer on the loose and your name is first on his Kill List.

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

word count: 16.4k

tags: smut, angst, serial killer Jungkook!AU

WARNING!!!! I understand that this fic may be very triggering as it contains mentions of murder, extreme violence and rape, so if you are sensitive to those topics I recommend you DO NOT read this. Thank you in advance.

Moving to a new town is hard, especially after the company you worked for went bankrupt and you're left jobless and alone in the hot, summer weather. Thankfully, a close relative informed you about a new apartment near them that was insanely affordable. You didn't even think twice about the possible living conditions before driving out to the secluded town. In all honestly, anything would've sufficed as long as you got out of your old apartment which was now too expensive for you to rent out (not to mention the air conditioning cut off a while back).

The town was, to sum it up, eerily empty. A ghost town. The population wasn't even around a few thousand, probably 3,000 at most, and having a new face come in was as strange as an alien abduction. You knew you'd be the talk of the town for at least a week, but you dealt with it. The apartment that was for rent was cheap and you had internet connection. What else did you need?

Well, other than a job. You had taken care of that one as soon as you could, cruising down the shopping center lined with mom-and-pop stores up and down the boulevard. Stores like antique shops, a run-down movie store which only had movies from the 90's and all of them were in VHS, and even a carpeting store which you hadn't seen the open sign once since moving there. You wouldn't be surprised to see a tumbleweed passing through the vacant streets.

Near the outskirts of town was the sea and the long pier connecting the land to water. The wood leading off the coast was a dark brown and was chipping off at the edges of each piece, weathered down from the constant waves washing over the docks. Along the pier bobbing up and down in the water were fishing boats varying from simple canoes to ginormous metal ships.

The waters were a murky blackish blue, only the shimmering light from the sun as it illuminated off the surface. You peered into the waters as if to see through the thick blackness and the sandy bottom. The fishermen at the docks were very nice and very welcoming towards of you and warned you not to get too close or you'll tear your pretty face apart.

There was a place that caught your attention. Located more towards the downtown area where most of the population used their leisure time was a small donut shop. They were known for their jelly filled donuts and you stumbled across it while hunting for a job.

You ordered a glazed twist and a strawberry banana smoothie when the cashier smiled at you as he took care of your change.

"I recommend the strawberry jelly donuts. They are amazing." The man said, taking your glazed twist from out of the display and placing it in a small paper bag with the logo Sugarcoat spelled out in beautiful cursive font.

"Really? If that's the case, then sure, I'll take one." You smiled back which made the man's expression light up. He took out one of the jelly donuts, perfectly showered in powdered sugar, and placed in a separate bag.

"Let me know what you think." He said while handing you the bag before turning around to make your smoothie. You promptly took the donut out of the bag, curious to see what the excitement was all about, but after biting into the jelly-filled confection, suddenly nothing else in the world mattered.

"Oh my god," you stuttered, your hand going up to your mouth to catch any crumbs that had fallen from the crispy donut. "This is so good." Your brows wrinkled in disbelief and you thought, how could something so delicious be real?

"Isn't it?" The man turned around with your smoothie in his hand, topped with fluffy whipped cream. You nodded in response since no words came to your mind.

"It's so good. Amazingly good. How is it so crispy? And the jelly is so... so tart and sweet at the same time!" You exclaimed. The man nearly jumped over the counter with excitement.

"Exactly!" He grinned, clearly satisfied with your response. "I'm glad you like it. We use strawberries from my grandma's farm and they're all made right back there." He said and pointed a finger to the back of the shop, closed off by two swinging doors.

"Do you make them?" You asked, taking another bite and trying not to melt in front of him from the sheer deliciousness of the donut. He scoffed and shook his head.

"Oh no, I can't even make a omelette without it turning back into a chicken," he said and you fell into a fit of giggles. "The owner makes them but she's out doing errands right now so I'm covering the store for her."

"That's nice," you said and glanced around the bright shop. The walls were a vanilla white and had large, bright pink circles painted along the walls. On the largest circle was the name of the shop, Sugarcoat painted in the same beautiful cursive font. Overhead the menu, there were old pictures in black and white in what the assumed to be the first years of the shop. You guessed that, even in the city, there were mom-and-pop stores that thrived to this day. Around the shop were small tables that seated two people at each, each set of furniture followed the same white and pink color scheme. "I like this place. Are you hiring?"

The man shrugged. "Sure. It's only the owner and me, but I supposed we can take in a new face," he said and leaned over the counter, eyes narrowing in on you. "Speaking of new face, I don't believe I've seen you around here before. Are you visiting?"

"Nope, I just moved here let's say, a couple of hours ago?" You replied and the man's eyes widened. "I still haven't unpacked anything but I thought I should probably get a job first."

"Did you move into the new apartments that just opened up for rent?" He asked and you nodded. You figured word got around fast in such a small town like this. "Good luck, I hear it's haunted."

You jaw dropped. "W-What?"

"Yeah, why do you think it's been up for rent?" He said and you swallowed thickly. Seeing your paled expression, the man burst out in laughter. "I'm kidding. The old residents moved and the landlord was desperate to find new ones, which is why you're paying such a low price, am I right?" He smirked.

"Wow, you are a psychic. Tell me, what does my love life look like in the future?" You leaned in and fluttered your eyelashes and the both of you laughed out loud.

"If you're looking for a job, you can work here." The man said, his smile innocent and widened into a rectangular shape. Your brows raised in shock.

"Seriously?"

He shrugged in response. "Sure, why not? The owner's just an old lady, she won't mind having more company here. Also, I think you're kind of cool," he grinned and reached out his hand. "I'm Taehyung, by the way. Nice to meet you."

You took his hand and squeezed firmly. "Y/N, and likewise. Are you sure you should be making decisions while the owner's away?" You narrowed your eyes suspiciously and Taehyung shrugged.

"I'll be fine. I'll tell her when she comes back, so just drop by here tomorrow and we'll figure out all the legal shit or whatever." He rolled his eyes and you giggled. Maybe working here wasn't going to be such a bad thing. Sure, dieting would be completely out of the question since you would be surrounded by such tempting treats, but that was fine with you.

Taehyung and you spoke a bit more about the best hot spots in town, the cafe everyone goes to, the drive in movies that happens every Friday night. Taehyung warned you not to go because there will always be somebody getting caught having sex and he didn't want you to see it because more often than not, it'll be some middle aged couple and nobody wants to see that.

You returned back home and after filling up your stomach with sweet desserts, you decide to use your hyper energy to unpack your belongings. Taehyung offered to help, but you declined. He was already generous enough to give you a job, so you didn't want him to do any more extra work. Besides, you had moved into this new place by yourself and it wouldn't hurt to act like an adult for once, would it?

The owner of Sugarcoat was, as Taehyung described earlier, an aged woman. Wrinkles created thin crevices around her eyes and mouth and her cheekbones were starting to discolor as sunspots settled in. Her eyes were a deep, brown color and were covered by her loose eyelids. Her thin hair was streaked with strands of grey and white. Although her appearance gave away her age, she moved around quite nimbly. However, she did make Taehyung carry out trays of donuts to the front as well as picking up heavy sacks of flour, but she made every batch of donut by hand.

The owner told you to call her Sue, short for something, but she didn't tell you. You tried asking Taehyung but he didn't know either. As Taehyung assured you, Sue was very pleased to have another face here so Taehyung wouldn't be so lonely. He obviously retorted back to that, whining to Sue about how he was perfectly fine by himself, which only resulted in Sue scolding him. This was going to be a great job.

You received a uniform, which was simply a baby pink tee with Sugarcoat on the front. Other than wearing that, Sue couldn't care less about what you wore.

Apparently on Sundays, everyone closed up early. The entire shopping strip had closed down and the only places that were open were a few fast food restaurants and bars in which the old timers would head over to and perform karaoke throughout the night.

Taehyung invited you out for a meal and you gladly accepted it. He took you to a 24-hour burger joint and the two of you got a cheeseburger and fries. Taehyung pulled into a secluded parking lot so the two of you could eat in peace.

"So," Taehyung spoke up before remembering that his mouth was stuffed with food. He swallowed it down before continuing. "Why did you move to such a shitty place like this?"

You gave him a hard look. "It is not a shitty place. It's cute and makes you feel at home," You laughed and Taehyung muttered back an, I guess under his breath. You rolled your eyes at his childishness before continuing. "The place I used to work at went bankrupt and they couldn't afford to pay their employees anymore, so they fired each and every one of us."

"Ouch."

"I know," you sighed and peered out the window at the violet colored clouds that melted into the aegean sky over the blackened buildings. "This place isn't so bad. I can get a good nights rest without being interrupted by honking cars and my neighbors yelling at 3 in the morning." You scowled while remembering the terrible nights you spent awake back in the city because of the bustling world.

"True, but you do have to worry about tractors breaking down in the middle of the road and chickens stealing your crops." Taehyung shuddered at the thought.

"I'm starting to think you actually hate it here." You chuckled with a wide smile. Taehyung's eyes widened, but he couldn't open his mouth because of all the food stuffed in his cheeks. However, his expression said, I do! You gave him a moment to swallow his food before letting him continue.

"I'm glad you moved here, Y/N, but there's some things about this town that you still don't know about," Taehyung said and suddenly the entire mood in the car went grim. You noted Taehyung's averted gaze and his rigid jaw that clenched at he grit his teeth. He was eating so enthusiastically but now, he looked at his food as if he were holding a dead puppy. Suddenly, the smooth indie music playing from his CD left you feeling distant and detached from the happy mood earlier. You gulped, afraid to say something wrong in a situation such as this.

"What do you mean? Like, secret satanic rituals performed at night?" You laughed, but it only thickened the awkward air. Taehyung realized you were making a joke and the sides of his mouth jerked into a shadow of a smile before disappearing behind his scowl.

"No, I mean serious stuff." Taehyung took a long, deep breath to collect himself. "Recently there... has been some murders happening around town."

You blinked. "Murders?"

Taehyung nodded his head slowly with pressed lips as he hummed softly, anxious for your reaction.

"Murders. Murders as in, killing people or..." your trailed off your sentence, hoping something would come to mind but you were left with nothing.

"I don't know what else constitutes as murder besides killing people," Taehyung managed to chuckle a bit before the mood returned back to solemnity. "I didn't think much of it at first---nobody did since it's such a small town. Old people die often, but when it's women in their late 20's to mid 30's, people start to notice."

"Wait, women? It's only women being killed?" You stammered quickly; your heart rested suddenly increased upon hearing the age range in which you were creeping into.

"Yeah, only women. So far it's been, I think, five women? I forget the number of missing people posters are hanging up on the town bulletin." His eyebrows creased deeply and you knew he was recalling the faces of the victims. Your heart ached for Taehyung. You were new here and the only people you knew were Sue and Taehyung, but Taehyung must've been living here his entire life. He was much closer to the townsfolk and who knew, maybe he was friends with the victims as well.

Your body went stiff as the awkwardness in the air struck you. You didn't know what to say and how to make the mood better. But before you could say something might've made the situation worse, Taehyung let out a startling growl.

"Fuck! Fuck all this depressing shit!" He shouted and your jaw fell at the sudden string of curse words that spilled from his mouth. "I'm so sick of this town and all the stupid shit that goes on here! Like, Jack the Ripper stumbles in here and all of a sudden everyone's running like headless chickens!"

Your hands slapped over your mouth to silence your snort and not to ruin Taehyung's monologue.

"Taehyung, that's really harsh. People died, you know." You stated as a matter-of-factly.

"Look, I know you might think I'm some sort of sociopath---"

"No, not at all." You giggled.

"But my point is, at least something eventful is happening in this place." Taehyung shrugged in response and proceeded to shove fries into his mouth to relieve his anger.

"Why don't you move out to the city? I'm positive it'll make your life more eventful." You suggested and it only made Taehyung frown.

"It's not like I haven't been to the city. I've gone... for field trips in school and stuff like that, but I don't know if I can ever leave this place." He said and you caught a glimpse of a smile over his lips. "This is home."

You spent your time at the shop learning how to make donuts from Sue and decorate them. She gave you free range in that area, allowing you to dowse the donuts in as much sprinkles and edible glitter as you pleased.

Taehyung began leaving early to head down to the dock. Summer was fishing season here in town and Taehyung had been helping out at the ports, packaging fish and delivering orders throughout town. He came back to the shop reeking of smelt and trout and you took joy in watching Sue scold him for that. Although, it never hurt to receive fresh fish on your doorstep with a note that said, fry it using bread crumbs for maximum taste bud EXPLOSION!

On a day Taehyung wasn't working at the docks, the two of you suffered through the intense heat together. You had the air conditioning blasting throughout the store while Taehyung and you sat around sipping new smoothie mixtures that the two of you came up with. Sue had blessed both of you with permission to use the smoothie machine to keep cool while sipping on icy drinks. It was a slow day and the streets were emptier than usual, so Taehyung and you tried to come up with a new smoothie combination. He created a blueberry and coconut smoothie while you, taking a huge risk, tried lemon and pomegranate.

Let's just say pomegranate became your least favorite fruit for the day.

"How high is it?" You grumbled with your head thrown back as you slouched in your chair. Taehyung reached for his phone and slurped his smoothie.

"98." He replied. You groaned louder.

"It was just 96 like, two seconds ago!" You complained.

"Quit it, you baby. Sue's coming back with ice cream in a bit." Taehyung replied. You frowned, feeling sweat trail down your temple and your clothes matting to your body.

"At this point, it'll be ice cream soup."

Just then, the chime of the doorbell rang throughout the store, alerting you and Taehyung that somebody was here. Usually, hearing the doorbell would've been music to your ears considering you were currently working in the middle of a ghost town, but now, in this smothering heat, the last thing you wanted to do was get up.

In the end, it was your job and you didn't want to seem rude to anybody in this nice town, so you pulled your best customer service persona.

"Hi, welcome to Sugarcoat, how can I---" you froze; the words latched onto your throat and refused to come out. Your eyes were wide and staring so intensely as your jaw continued to descend to the floor.

The first thing you noticed about him was his eyes. They were wide and his thin eyelashes cast shadows over his brown eyes and onto his cheeks. His luscious, black hair was frayed in an unkempt manner, as if he had just gotten out of the shower and headed out the door. He wore a thin, black muscle tee revealed his chiseled arms and just a peek at his muscular chest.

He must've been wearing that because it was so hot outside and definitely not to show off his irresistible muscles. Most definitely not.

You also couldn't help but notice the bright red swimming trunks that he wore which caught your eye because of the outstanding color and not the way they accentuated his thigh muscles.

You gulped, eyes fluttering as if he were a mirage and you were trying your hardest to see through it.

"Hey, Jungkook. Long time no see," Taehyung greeted him and the two did a little handshake. Jungkook. The name fit him so well. "Are you still working at the pool?"

"Always have been since the 7th grade," he said, and his voice was like rich honey that passed his lips with a rolling purr. It sent shivers through your body, but nothing like the shivers you felt when his eyes fell on you. Suddenly, the world stopped upon Jungkook making eye contact and you didn't think it was possible to freeze up more than you already had.

"Who's this?" The edges of Jungkook's mouth jerked with a smirk.

"This," Taehyung politely gestured a hand to you. "Is our new hire, Y/N. I'm sure you've heard of her."

"Sure, heard of, but never seen before," his smirk widened and he tilted his head, eyes still on you. "Maybe I should've stopped by sooner."

"Maybe I should go out more." You replied, surprised that you could even form words. Jungkook's eyebrow jerked suggestively and you were quick to turn your gaze away.

"So what'll it be, my friend?" Taehyung smacked the glass counter, taking Jungkook's attention away from you.

"Mixed fruit smoothie, large, please." He smiled back. Taehyung gave Jungkook a thumbs up before turning around to make his smoothie. You slid next to Taehyung, nudging his arm.

"Hey, Taehyung." You whispered. He raised a brow at you while throwing frozen berries into the blender.

"Hm?"

"Who was that?"

"Oh, him? His name's Jung Jungkook and he's the lifeguard at the municipal pool." He sang and your eyebrows raised in interest.

"Lifeguard?" You whispered and glanced back at Jungkook. He was staring up at the menu with his lips pursed in thought. Occasionally, he would glance down at the donuts behind the glass counter and his eyes would sparkle. "He's sexy."

Taehyung froze and looked at you with wide eyes before rolling them back into his head. He huffed and pinched the bridge of his nose before placing the lid over the blender.

"You're actually delusional." He turned the blender on and drowned out any arguement from you. After making the smoothie, Taehyung handed it to Jungkook and he took it happily, handing Taehyung a 10 dollar bill.

"Stop by again sometime, Kook." Taehyung said. Jungkook laughed and pulled the straw into his mouth. He glanced over to you and you made the mistake of making eye contact with him. Although you wanted to look away so badly from embarrassment, there was something about his brown eyes that pulled you in so magnetically.

"Maybe I will." He smirked and turned to leave. After Jungkook left the store, you flopped down in your chair and sighed, fanning yourself.

"Is it just me, or did it get even hotter in here?" You asked. Taehyung reached for his phone again, sighing as he scanned the screen.

"Nope, its at 100 now."

On your day off, you took a trip to the pool. Just to get a good tan and maybe finish reading a book, and definitely not to snoop on Jungkook.

Definitely not.

You wore a simple, red one piece and threw a white kimono over that. With a pair of sunglasses sitting on top of your nose, you were ready to go to the pool.

It was a small building, there being a larger pool indoors that was mostly used by athletes to train as well as a pool on top of the roof of the building. Since it was summer, nearly everybody was up there. You took careful steps to the roof, the sound of your flip flops squeaking on the wet concrete.

When you reached the top, the sun immediately blared down on you and you promptly pulled your sunglasses over your eyes. You headed over to an open lawn chair, saying hello to some people that you knew. Sitting down, you pulled out a book from your bag and opened it to the page that you left off from, but you weren't reading at all. Your eyes scanned the pool in an attempt to find Jungkook. The lifeguard chair was empty so you assumed he was walking around.

"Jungkook!" The man sitting on the ledge of the pool with his legs submerged underwater bellowed across the pool, making you jump in your seat. You looked out to the far end of the pool to see Jungkook wading through the deep end, his hands clasped around a young boy as the child flapped his legs wildly. Jungkook looked over to the man, brushing his hair away from his eyes.

It seemed like time stopped the moment you laid eyes on Jungkook. His body glistening with water droplets that fell off his godly arms. You sighed dreamily when you saw his wide smile, which distracted you from ogling at his shirtless body.

"Don't baby him, okay?! He's a man, he can take it!" The man cackled and Jungkook gave him a thumbs up before returning his attention back to the child. You decided staring wasn't going to help you at all, so you turned back to your book. You would look up on occasion to see Jungkook watching over the pool in his high chair and take a moment to drool over his tanned skin. He would often scan the pool and when he turned to your direction, you would look back down at the book.

"Hey there," you heard his honey voice call out to you. You jumped and looked up, pulling your sunglasses over your head to see Jungkook smiling down at you. "Y/N, right? How's your reading going?"

You looked down at your book and gawked like a fish out of water, unable to answer the sudden question sprung onto you.

"I-Its great." You stammered finally. He sat down in the lawn chair next to you and you finally noticed that he pulled a loose black tee over his body.

"Really? What's it about?" He leaned in. You didn't know if he was faking his interest in your book, but nonetheless, you had no idea what you had read.

"It's um... its about---"

"You wouldn't know, would you?" He chimed in with a smirk. "I see you haven't turned a single page since coming here."

You looked down at your book and sure enough, your bookmark was still placed neatly in the middle. A bright blush covered your cheeks and you wanted to cover our face in embarrassment, but you weren't going to let him get to you.

"Isn't that considered stalking?" You narrowed your eyes at him. Jungkook shrugged.

"I'd consider it being observant," he smirked. "I have to know what's going on in my pool."

You raised an eyebrows and swung your legs over the chair to face Jungkook. He pulled back, startled by your sudden action.

"Oh really? Well then, if this is your pool, what are you doing over here talking to me?" You sneered with narrowed eyes. Jungkook's tongued the inside of his cheek as a smirk widened across his lips.

"Well," Jungkook leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands together. "I'm currently on break so my coworker's covering for me." He replied and you glanced over to the lifeguard chair to see a blonde sitting there. "And I thought you'd be lonely sitting here, not reading." Jungkook grinned mischievously and made your cheeks color.

"I was reading." You muttered under your breath.

"Mmhmm, sure," he chuckled and scooted forward. "Are you free this weekend? I'd like to take you out."

You blew a raspberry and stared at him with wide eyes. "Wow, you work fast." Jungkook shrugged at that.

"I like to get what I want. So about it? Maybe a nice dinner date with a movie afterwards?" He suggested. You pondered on that, even though the idea seemed so romantic and perfect. You pulled your bottom lip under your teeth and smiled, pulling your hair behind your ear.

"I like horror, if that's okay with you."

Jungkook and you exchanged phone numbers and the minute you got home, he texted you. He was a very straight forward person and the first few texts from him laid down the time he would be picking you up, the place you would be eating at, and the movie you would be watching. He was sweet, always asking if his choices were okay with you but since you weren't familiar with the area, you let Jungkook take the lead.

On the night of your date with Jungkook, you dressed up in a casual, white romper and curled your hair just enough so it fell like waterfalls. He picked you up at 7, just like he said in his text and you didn't want to keep him waiting. Not to mention the fact that you were nearly shaking from excitement and boy did Taehyung receive the blunt end of your endless squealing and gushing over your date with Jungkook over the past week.

You headed out your apartment upon receiving a text from Jungkook. After stepping out of the apartment complex, you nearly melted after seeing Jungkook casually leaning against his sleek, white car which contrasted with his black leather jacket and ripped black jeans. His hair was messy, just like you liked it. Everything about him just screamed sexy.

Jungkook looked up when he saw you walking towards him; a warm smile spreading across his lips.

"Hey," he said, pushing himself off his car. He held out his hand and you grasped onto it. "You look beautiful."

"And you don't look so bad yourself." You giggled when Jungkook shrugged his shoulders.

"It's an effort. Shall we depart, madam?" He raised an eyebrow at you and opened the passenger door to his car. You pressed your lips together to hold back the wide grin threatening to show.

"Why, thank you." You said and stepped into the car. Jungkook drove to a steakhouse located downtown, where most of the modern stores were located. Sugarcoat was the one store that connected modern business to old-fashioned one since it had been around for so long but still kept that fresh, modern feel to it.

You ordered a filleted grilled salmon while Jungkook had a roasted, half chicken, which you took great joy in watching each such a monstrosity. Over dinner, he asked you about the city and what you did there. Jungkook had been to the city more than Taehyung, so it was easier to talk about it without explaining what everything was.

"Do you ever want to go back?" Jungkook asked, his eyes seemed to sparkle with curiosity as he listened to you speak. You twisted your lips in thought.

"Maybe one day, but I like it here." You chuckled.

"Really? In this shit hole?" Jungkook narrowed his eyes at you suspiciously, as if you had said the most offensive thing ever. You laughed out loud.

"You and Taehyung both. I don't get what's so wrong with this place! Why do you two hate it so much?" You argued. Jungkook licked his lips and scooted forward in his chair, leaning in as if to tell you a secret.

"Well, for one, there's absolutely nothing to do here. It's more boring than watching two snails have sex."

"I bet you'd love watching that, wouldn't you?" You sneered, making Jungkook pause. He quirked an eyebrow at you.

"Oh, I'm not interested in slow sex, baby girl." He smirked and your jaw dropped immediately. You gawked at him in shock at the sheer suggestiveness behind his words. Jungkook was a straight forward man who liked to get what he wanted, but for some reason, the way he dodged directly spouting risqué comments by lacing his words with subliminal, raunchy content made your face flush more than if he were to say it directly. The fact that he said slow sex was uninteresting and boring to him only hinted that he loved rough sex.

And god were you willing to do anything to experience that.

"Y-You---" you stuttered, eyes blinking furiously as you tried to find words to say. Jungkook chuckled as he rest his elbow on the table, leaning in towards you. You gulped as a whiff of his sweet cologne wafted through your nose.

"I know it's still early into the night, but I think seeing a movie is the last thing on our minds right now." He whispered to you, nearly purring into your ear. You squeezed your legs together and suppressed a moan. How could such a man trigger such a reaction from you from just talking?

Turning your attention back to Jungkook and away from the possible ways he could fuck you, you nodded. Jungkook smirked and stood up from his seat, taking your hand again.

The next thing you knew, Jungkook had you slammed and pinned against the wall of his apartment as his lips ravished yours aggressively. You wrapped your arms around his neck to hold you up, moaning into his mouth as his hands traveled up your sides. Jungkook pulled away with a growl, biting your lip in the process.

"Fuck, why do you have to wear this thing?" He cursed, pulling at your one piece romper. You giggled and began unbuttoning the romper in the front. Jungkook watched with wide eyes, anticipating the reveal of your supple breasts only covered by your bra.

You let the top of the romper fall and Jungkook exhaled in satisfaction, the sight of your tits turned him on so badly that his cock pressed painfully against his jeans. Jungkook snatched your hand and lifted you over his shoulder, rushing to his bedroom. He flopped you on the bed before dragging the rest of your romper down your legs and threw it on his floor.

"Off. I want it all off." He snarled, ripping your panties off. You hummed happily and reached behind your back to unclip your bra. Meanwhile, Jungkook had already stripped off his jacket and shirt and was now unbuttoning his jeans. After being completely naked, you got on your knees and watched with glazed eyes as Jungkook pulled down his boxers; his erect cock springing up. Immediately, he grasped his long fingers around it, stroking it a few times as a low grunt came from his throat.

"Come here and suck me off." He said. You gladly slid off the bed and got on your knees. Jungkook stood in front of you and you took his member in your hands. You stroked it rhythmically, squeezing it from time to time. Hearing Jungkook's moan as you rubbed your palm over his head made you determined to make him cum in your hands.

Remembering Jungkook wanted you to suck him off, you took him into your mouth and ran your tongue over the slit. Jungkook jerked his hips forward and hissed. His hands went up to run through your hair before gripping it tightly.

"Just like that." He said under his breath, eyes glossing over with need as he watched his cock disappear inside your mouth. You took him deeper, humming happily as he slid down your slick throat. You continued to suck Jungkook off as strings of moans and grunts left his mouth. He would occasionally throw his head back and you would look up to see his neck damp with sweat and his arms flexing as he gripped your locks.

Jungkook pulled your head back suddenly and you gasped when the sudden fullness Jungkook's cock gave you was snatched away from you.

"You were about to make me cum." He chuckled and helped you stand up by grabbing your arms. Jungkook pulled you close and planted his lips onto yours briefly before pulling away. He picked you up from under your arms and pinned you to the nearest wall; his cock pressed against the underside of your ass throbbing painfully. You giggled and ran your hands up his chest to wrap around his arms.

"You do work fast." You purred. Jungkook took his cock in his hand and slapped it against your folds making sure the tip caught all of your juices that were already lathered around your sex.

"Looks like you don't need any foreplay, do you?" Jungkook smirked as he continued to tease your hole with the tip of his cock. You whined in need, pressing your head against the wall.

"Please, Jungkook. Just hurry up and fuck me!" You pleaded. Jungkook wanted to tease you more, maybe taking the time to watch you squirm as his tongue explored every part inside of you, but seeing you so desperate for his cock made it impossible not to slam it into you.

He suppressed a possessive grunt with a shaky exhale and positioned his dick at your entrance, slowly entering inside of you, filling you up to the brim. You gasped as Jungkook's length stretched you out. It had been a while since you had sex that you had forgotten how good the stretch was.

"Holy fuck...!" You clenched around Jungkook subconsciously. He grunted and latched his lips onto your neck, grazing his teeth along your flesh.

"You're so tight. So fucking tight." Jungkook moaned into your neck before he began thrusting into you. He was slow at first, making sure that you adjusted to him perfectly before grinding deep inside of you. Your eyes fluttered back from pleasure and your jaw hung low.

Jungkook held you pinned against the wall with his hands gripping the bottom of your ass tightly as he continuously slammed into you. With each thrust, you could feel him reaching your deepest parts. When he pulled out of you, it was like being released from the sweetest sensation you had ever felt and you wanted more.

"God, you feel so good squeezing around me," Jungkook groaned loudly, his thrusts started become more erratic and rapid. His lips found yours and he sucked on your bottom lip, nibbling it. Finding it hard to stay up with Jungkook's hurried movements and your breath being taken away by his lips, you latched your nails onto his back and dug into them. Jungkook groaned into your mouth in pain as he pulled away, pressing his forehead against yours. "You like that? You like it when I fuck you deep?"

Your only response was a needy whimper and you nodded your head furiously while biting your lower lip. With every deep thrust, a burning sensation began to gradually grow hotter in the pit of your stomach. It was so intense that it came to a point where no moans were coming out of your slacked mouth. Jungkook caught onto the fact that you were on the brink of climaxing from the way your eyebrows knit deeply and how your fingernails were carving out crescents in the nape of his neck.

"Cum for me, baby girl. I want you to come all over my cock." He whispered in a husky voice. You whimpered, biting your lip in need before tightening around Jungkook. He moaned and his sporadic thrusts returned and they synced with his desperate moans and whimpers.

It must've been because Jungkook was striking your g-spot with every thrust of his and not because he told you to cum, but here you were, cumming all over his cock as he drove it into you without a second thought. You scrambled to stay up, nails scratching up his shoulder blades and the nape of his neck. Your pussy was pulsing around him, clenching involuntarily as pleasure washed over you in intense waves.

"Oh my god!" You gasped from oversensitivity. Jungkook began to move slower, pulling out of you so agonizingly slow and pushing his wet cock back in to grind into you.

"Tell me where you want my cum." He nibbled on the meat of your neck.

"Inside. I want it inside me." You exhaled sharply. Jungkook grunted and slammed into you; his mind was hazy from your sultry words. Jungkook managed to get a few hard thrusts in before he was spilling his seed over your walls and your entrance. His eyes squeezed shut and he tried not to black out from the blinding pleasure of your soft walls constricting around him as he came. Jungkook pulled out before his cock was throbbing in oversensitivity and slowly set your feet back on the ground. Your hand reached down to cup your sex and scooped up the dripping cum that leaked out of you.

"You're right," you said as Jungkook was putting his boxers back on. He glanced up at you through his sweat-soaked hair. "Slow sex is pretty boring." You laughed and Jungkook managed a smirk.

"I'm happy you think so."

The next few weeks go by in a fluffy daze with your heart dictating your every movement and action. Taehyung and Sue couldn't help but be somewhat creeped out by all the hearts you were icing on the donuts. Jungkook asked you to be his girlfriend officially after a long night drive to the outskirts of town. He proposed the question so subtly as you spoke about moving into an apartment with your significant other. Jungkook then asked if you wanted to move in together and you, quite taken back at his sudden question, told him that it would be appropriate to start off dating before moving in together to which he replied, then what are we waiting for? You could not stop screaming about that to Taehyung for a good week or so.

Jungkook would now stop by the shop to pick up a smoothie before going to work over by the pool just to see you.

"You should come by later." Jungkook smirked as he nibbled on his straw. The action was so nonchalant yet Jungkook pulled it off so sexily that you couldn't help but gawk.

"I'm not off until later tonight." You pouted, intertwining your hands with his over the counter.

"I'll miss you." He pouted back, gazing dreamily into your eyes as you melted into his.

"I'll miss you more."

"You guys are disgusting. Get a room, would you?" Taehyung gagged from behind you, nudging you with his hip to move out of his way.

"Oh, well, the storage room is empty. We can---"

"Absolutely not." Taehyung interjected with a glare and the two of you giggled.

"Alright, I gotta go or else my manager's gonna chew my ass out." Jungkook said before smoothly brushing his lips over yours with a kiss. It happened so quickly that you didn't have time to react, but he left you feeling bare and needing his touch so desperately. You watched him walk out the door, a silly grin spread across your face.

"I see somebody's in love." Taehyung snickered as he studied your face. You pulled away from the door which Jungkook had left through long ago.

"In love? No, not even close. Completely and utterly obsessed with him? Maybe." You shrugged and Taehyung flopped down in a chair from the lobby. A long and deep sigh came from his chest and the strange sound worried you. "Are you okay?"

"I'm... tired." Taehyung closed his eyes and it was then with the sun shining down on his tan skin that you could see the deep set of dark circles under his eyes. "It's gotten so busy down at the docks that they're not letting anyone go home until 3 in the morning." Taehyung complained as he rubbed his eyes. You frowned deeply. Seeing the usual energetic Taehyung so down and lifeless hurt you, but you knew there wasn't anything that could be done about it.

"I can always come down and deliver a smoothie." You grinned, trying to make him feel better. Taehyung purses his lips in thought.

"I don't know if drinking a smoothie while surrounded by disgusting, raw fish is a good idea." Taehyung laughed and scrunched up his nose at the thought.

Saturday nights were movie nights with Jungkook and you. Over the time that you two started dating, you've already went through all of the Disney movies and we're getting into early 80's movies. Now, Saturday nights were your favorites. On these nights, even if you didn't have sex (which the night usually ended with), just snuggling up with Jungkook on his couch with his arm around your shoulder and your hands intertwined together. His thumb would draw small circles over your knuckles and you melted the small gesture.

"I still think Samantha should've ended up with Ted." Jungkook shrugged his shoulders while popping M&M's into his mouth. You rolled your eyes.

"Ted was a freak and a stalker. Plus, Jake is so hot!" You exclaimed, making Jungkook glare at you.

"So that's your type? Cocky jocks that bully kids smaller than them?" He wrinkled his brow. You twisted your lips and tilted your head sideways.

"No, my type is cute lifeguard boys that think they're so much better than everyone else." You sneered and watched Jungkook's eyes widen and his jaw drop in shock.

"When have I ever?!" He snapped, grabbing your wrists and pulling you over him. You squealed, straddling your legs around him. Jungkook still held your wrists tightly as he gazed into your eyes. You stared back, melting into a soft smile upon seeing his puppy dog eyes. All of a sudden, Jungkook squeezed your wrists and your attention was pulled away.

"Your wrists are so... soft." He said in a low voice, almost inaudible. His thumb began rubbing small circles over it, feeling every tendon and gracing over your veins. There was an awkward silence that filled the room despite the ending credits of the movie you just finished playing in the background.

Suddenly, Jungkook's touch felt cold and distant. His eyes weren't filled with light and excitement and instead there was a shadow cast over them, void of his beautiful brown eyes. Now, you were looking at black marbles that paid no attention to you.

You jerked your hand away from Jungkook and the sudden movement made him jump, almost as if you had snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Sorry, I got lost in my train of thoughts. Where were we?" Jungkook said and let his hands fall on your thighs. You managed to smile back, part of you already forgetting what had just happened, but the other part was still uneasy. Of course, the former was definitely more dominant.

"Well, I believe I'm still waiting to receive my punishment." You sang in a sultry voice. Jungkook quirked a brow as you scooted up his legs. Your hands snaked up his chest to wrap around his neck, grinding on his crotch. He let out a deep growl in return as his nails dug into your thighs.

"You're such a treat." He said through his clenched teeth. Jungkook's hands grabbed under your thigh to pull you upward so you were no longer straddling him and instead your knees were digging into the couch. From that position, you were now face to face with your noses nearly touching. You inhaled sharply, surprised by his dominant actions and forwardness. Jungkook ran his hand up your hamstring slowly as chills ran through your body. You shuddered and let your eyes fluttered close. You were already anticipating the incredible sex that would come after all his teasing, so you didn't mind.

Then, as if to deliberately rip your mind away from thinking of anything pleasurable, Jungkook dug his nails into your skin and ran them along your flesh, leaving burning trails in their tracks.

"Ow! What the fuck?!" You pushed yourself off of Jungkook and stood up, looking down at your legs to see claw-like marks running across your leg. Your jaw dropped in utter disbelief.

"Y/N, oh god, I'm so sorry. I wasn't---" Jungkook immediately stuttered and stood up.

"What is wrong with you?" You snapped, taking a step back and putting a hand up as if to ward him off. Jungkook refused to take a step forward and his face fell upon seeing your panicked expression.

"Y/N, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking straight. It was an accident and it won't happen again. I promise." He said in a calming voice. You lowered your hand reluctantly while the other one continued to hold your hamstring, soothing the pain with soft rubbing.

"I think I should go home for tonight." You said hurriedly, grabbing your jacket and purse from the couch and turned to head out the door. As you fumbled with the lock, Jungkook approached from behind you, pressing his against the door.

"Y/N," he whispered into the shell of your ear. You froze and let his hand trail down your arm until he reached your hand. Jungkook squeezed it softly. "Have a good night." He said before pulling away. You exhaled sharply, very much tempted to stay and forgive him, but the mood wasn't right and you already had the door unlocked. In the end, you left Jungkook's apartment and drove home; your mood already bitter for the night.

A few nights passed after your falling out with Jungkook, but he still came by during work to say hi and converse before going to work. Even after a few nights passed, the marks Jungkook left on you that night still remained. Taehyung wasn't blind to it either. He noticed the uneasiness you portrayed when Jungkook came by the shop and he saw the way you clung to your body tightly, hugging yourself as if to make you smaller whenever you were in the presence of Jungkook.

He also noticed the red marks that mysteriously appeared after the weekend. He noticed how you wore long jeans instead of shorts despite the sweltering heat and when he asked why, you dodged the question. Taehyung wasn't dumb. Sure, he was a goof and was always looking for a good time, but he could read in between the lines. It was when the bruising hadn't gone away for days that Taehyung finally asked you about them.

"How are things with you and Jungkook?" Taehyung asked as you were wiping down the counters. You didn't react too much, but even from the slight twitch of your mouth Taehyung knew you were hesitant to answer the question.

"We're fine. We still see each other everyday and we hang out on the weekends." You answered quite vaguely. Taehyung frowned knowing that you were still dodging his questions.

"Y/N," he said, his tone firm. You glanced up at him meekly. "You know you can tell me anything."

Silence laid between you save the scratchy radio playing over the speakers and the soft humming of the smoothie blender behind you. You swallowed thickly. You were definitely afraid to tell Taehyung. This was something that happened in your relationship and you weren't sure if letting people know about it was a smart idea.

But Taehyung was your friend, your closest friend, and you felt guilty for making him worry.

Clearing your throat, you responded. "A few days ago, I was over at Jungkook's place. You know, Saturday is movie night and I went over to spend time with him. But then... things escalated and---"

"Escalated? Like how?" Taehyung leaned in over the counter. You gave him a look despite the seriousness of the conversation.

"You know what I mean," you said and looked down at the inside of your wrists. The mark was fading away, but the coldness and apathy you felt from Jungkook that night still made you shudder. It was as if he was a different person. "I thought he was being romantic and everything, that was until he---"

"Did he hurt you?" Taehyung perked up, nose flaring in silent rage. "He hurt you, didn't he?"

"No," you interjected quickly. "Well, not exactly. I don't think it was intentional."

"Y/N..." Taehyung sighed as if to one, collect his thoughts and two, hold himself back from saying something he might regret later. "I don't think that's healthy at all."

You nodded in acknowledgment. "It's okay, Taehyung. I'm okay."

"It's not!" Taehyung exclaimed loudly. You stared at him with wide eyes, clearly startled by his outburst. Taehyung took a deep breath and calmed himself. "It's not okay, Y/N. This is wrong. You shouldn't be with someone who hurts you."

"I know," you nodded, refusing to say anything more than that. You knew it wasn't right, but you wanted to give Jungkook the benefit of the doubt. Maybe it was just a one time thing. Maybe it was an accident.

"If he does anything else, let me know." Taehyung grunted and turned away to release his anger elsewhere. A small smile twitched at your lips. You were happy, or more enthralled to know that Taehyung worried about you to this extent. Heart-warming yes, but did it ease your anxiety? The unsettling feeling you felt in your gut whenever you were around Jungkook? The fear that Jungkook would hurt you again? Definitely not.

You assumed, since coming to this small town, that nothing eventful would happen. That was somewhat true. During the day, the townsfolk carried out their routine as if it were any regular day, not caring about anything else; not even batting an eye at the news of a serial killer on the loose. At night, you could sleep carefree without having to wake up in the middle of the night to bang on your wall to quiet the neighbors.

That was somewhat true.

It was nearing one in the morning and you were absolutely determined to finish the latest season of the new show you started. You had been texting Jungkook all night up until he had fallen asleep on you in the middle of the third season. You were just laying in bed, eyes red and stinging from forcing them to stay open so you could finish the show. As usual, the residents around you were dead asleep and the only sounds were either from your laptop or the barking of a dog.

You were dozing off at around three with a couple episodes left when the most unexpected thing that could happen in your apartment complex occurred. You were suddenly jerked awake by the sound of glass shattering. You straightened up your posture, eyes wide and alert as you looked around wondering where the noise came from. Your windows were still intact, but the sound was so pronounced that it could only come from your neighbor's.

You grabbed a cardigan before walking out of your apartment and into the hall. You could see other residents coming out; their movements slow and groggy as they had just woken up.

"What's going on?" You muttered to yourself and headed outside the complex to see a gathering of people standing outside. You poked and nudged your way through their shoulders to see what the commotion was about, only to reveal an array of broken glass on the ground.

"What happened?" You asked one of the residents.

"The house got broken into." The person replied and pointed the smashed window. Egg colored curtains swayed in front of it from the slight summer breeze that passed by.

"Has anyone called the police?" You asked, reaching for your phone in case nobody had done so yet.

"Don't worry, they're on their way. It's a shame nobody here puts up security alarms anymore. That way, the police'll be here quicker."

Indeed, the police arrived long after the woman's house was broken into. You were debating on letting the issue go and returning back to your apartment to finish the show if only the police were investigating right outside your window. You didn't know that the resident was living next door. There was nothing stolen, but that was the least of your worries. The police had found out through hours of investigating that the resident, a 76-year old woman by the name of Meredith, was murdered with a knife wound to the chest and died of blood loss. It wasn't said amongst anyone there, but they were all thinking the same thing.

This was undoubtedly another victim of the serial killer.

The police came to the conclusion that there was no more harm done other than the one murder and they would be wary of anything happening like this again. They suggested that you stay inside for most of the time and if not, be careful of your surroundings.

After everything had settled down, you returned to your apartment. You didn't want to stay after and witness the paramedics escort the elderly woman out of her home. If you weren't already so tired and sleep-deprived before, you were most definitely depleted afterwards. Luckily you didn't have work the next day (or in a few hours) so you slept in. Before going to sleep, you texted Jungkook and Taehyung and told them what happened so they would hear it from you first before word got around town as quickly as it did.

You awoke to a bountiful amount of text messages from both of them consisting of panicked "are you okay?" and "are you hurt?" More of a frantic and urgent manner with random capital letters from Taehyung but that was just his personality. Jungkook wasn't much different, but he was more mature than Taehyung.

You walked into Sugarcoat the next day and was immediately bombarded with questions from Taehyung. It was so much that it went from worrying about you to scolding you for being so careless.

"Taehyung, I'm fine! I've told you at least a thousand times over text that nothing happened to me!" You laughed at his absurdity.

"Well, you should still be careful! Who knows, maybe the person was going from house to house!" He continued to scold you and you rolled your eyes at him as his words went in one ear and right out the other. Just then, the bell on the door jingled lightly and the both of you turned your heads. You raised your eyebrows in surprise to see Jungkook panting; his hair was disheveled and matted to his forehead with sweat.

"What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be at wo--" you asked but before you could finish your sentence, Jungkook ran towards you and cut you off with an extremely tight hug. You groaned in pain and tried to tap on his back to loosen his grip, but Jungkook didn't budge. Finally, after a desperate whimper, Jungkook released you and his hands went up to cup your face.

"You're not hurt or anything, are you?" He asked, tilting your face in all sorts of directions as he examined you. You gently pulled his hands down away from your face and gave him a reassuring smile.

"I told you, nothing happened to me. I'm perfectly fine." You replied in your best calming voice. Jungkook nodded, but you could tell he was still hesitant to let the thought go.

"I can't believe there was another victim. There hasn't been one for the longest time," Taehyung shook his head in disbelief. His teary eyes wandered to the glass display of donuts and he ran his fingers over it. "Poor Meredith... the coconut sprinkled donuts were her favorite." Taehyung reached into the display and pulled it out, taking an unenthusiastic bite out of it.

"Are you going to be okay with staying at home?" Jungkook pouted as he gave you his signature puppy dog eyes. His fingers pushed your hair away from the face idly as he anticipated your answer.

"Well," you took a deep breath. "The police are still swarming around the complex like bees so I'd rather not stay there."

"In that case, you can stay with me. I'm sure my grandma would love having you." Taehyung smiled innocently. You were about to reply when Jungkook intertwined his hands with yours.

"I think it'd be better if Y/N stayed with me. You know, since we're dating and all." Jungkook squinted his eyes and you could nearly taste the sarcasm dripping from his words. You hoped Taehyung didn't take any offense to it because you knew his intentions were good, but when you glanced at him, his smile was still strong.

"Y/N? Is that okay with you?" Taehyung raised his brows. You felt Jungkook's thumb begin to rub circles around your knuckles which was his way to calm you. He always had a way to make your heart skip a beat by doing even the slightest gesture.

"That's fine," you squeezed Jungkook's hand back. "I haven't been over in a long time." You gazed upon Jungkook with dreamy eyes. He smiled softly at you and kissed you just as softly.

"I'll see you soon, then." He said and released his grasp from your hand. Jungkook raised his hand to Taehyung in a casual farewell before heading out the front and running back to the pool where he should've been the entire time.

"Are you sure about this?" Taehyung asked, bringing you out of your longing stare out the door. You turned back to him to see Taehyung's eyebrows wrinkled. "After everything that happened, you still want to stay at his house?"

You couldn't seem to answer the question right away. It was harmless; in fact, you knew Taehyung was asking only because he cared deeply for you. For you, being with Jungkook seemed to overshadow the fear of him doing something again.

"I'll be fine, Taehyung. If anything happens, you'll be the first one I'll call."

So the night crept in and Jungkook picked you up from work. You could see as you left the shop after closing up how Taehyung frowning in worry as he watched you leave. He probably wanted to say more and stop you from going, but he really had no right to say anything anymore.

Jungkook drove you to his place and the two of you caught up on work, personal life, and even passed around inside jokes. It was so nice to catch up and talk to Jungkook that you completely forgot the worries you had. He had a way of doing that to you; to take all of your worries and cares away so easily.

Upon arriving at Jungkook's apartment, you immediately got comfortable and changed into one of his oversized hoodies(which always smelled pleasantly of fresh linen) and stripped yourself of any undershirts and pants. You know, for easy access. After being void of Jungkook's company for so long, it was almost impossible not to rip his clothes off and mark up every inch of his body. The two of you must've been fucking for hours, round after round with little to no time for rest.

And then came your period of rest, at around one in the morning as you slept curled up in his sweater. You fell asleep with Jungkook's fingers raking through your hair, snuggled in his chest that radiated warmth.

You didn't think it was strange for Jungkook to carefully remove his hand from underneath you and sneak out of bed. Maybe he was just using the bathroom, or getting a drink of water. Maybe all that rummaging and clinking was him trying to find a cup in his drowsiness.

Then, rough hands were tangled in your hair, pulling strongly at your scalp. The covers were thrown off your legs as you were dragged off of the bed. Your mind couldn't wrap around what was happening through the sleep drawn over your eyes, muddling your mind in confusion. You felt your legs get scratched by the laminated floors of Jungkook's apartment and finally after seconds of realizing the pain coming from your head, your hands shot up in an attempt to release the muscular hands that were gripping your hair.

Your body was slammed against a wall and your breath was knocked out of you; you didn't even have the strength to utter an ow.

Your eyes fluttered open and you tried to make out the blurry figure that was now kneeling in front of you. Hands roughly grabbed your face and squeezed to stabilize your head so you could focus on the person. It wasn't long before his wide, brown eyes met yours through his soft fringe.

"Are you awake now?" Jungkook's voice was as smooth as ever, still retaining that velvety tone that always made you melt. "If you aren't, there's still much more to come." He flashed a quick smile before releasing his tight grip on your face. Pain began to settle in quickly from the stinging in your cheeks to the burning of your back. He stood up and walked to the kitchen table and grabbed a frayed rope. He examined it for a few seconds before running his palm over it, feeling every fraud strand.

"W-What---" you tried to speak, but your words tumbled out of you in a quiver. Jungkook didn't bother letting you finish as he knelt down in front of you, grabbing hold of your leg. You gasped sharply, panic overcoming you as the true severity of the situation came to realization. "Don't touch me!"

Jungkook slapped you across the face and your mouth fell open in shock. Never had you been hit by your significant other, and for someone like Jungkook to do it was unbelievable.

"Stop struggling and we'll end this quickly." He growled under his breath. Despite all your struggling and thrashing, Jungkook still managed to push your legs together and tie them with the rope. He grabbed your face again and squeezed making you gasp and hold your breath in sheer fear. Your limbs weren't listening to you even though your mind screamed for them to move. Jungkook was so close, so vulnerable that with a single punch you could get away, but your arms were frozen. Trembling.

Suddenly, Jungkook was no longer the cute lifeguard that visited you at work. He was no longer your boyfriend that took you out to dinner and made mix tapes for you, about you. His eyes no longer looked at you with affection and adoration and instead a cold, glazed sheet fell over them. His hands that used to hold you in their comforting warmth were now working nimbly with ease and practice to tie up your wrists in a thinner rope.

Suddenly, Jungkook was no longer your Jungkook.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a red ball gag, raising it in front of you for you to examine it.

"Open." He demanded. You didn't move. He grabbed your face again, fingers sinking into your tender cheeks. "Open up or else I'll rip your jaw open." He growled and your jaw fell open in obedient silence. He popped the gag into your mouth, scraping against your teeth as you resisted just slightly, but not enough in fear that Jungkook would do something to hurt you.

"Perfect," Jungkook smiled in satisfaction as he gazed upon his work. Your feet were bound together by the rope which dug into your ankles with a sharp pain every single time you struggled. Your hands were the same; tied tightly together by a rope and knotted for extra measures. "I knew your wrists would look beautiful in those ropes." Jungkook's hand reached for your face and you turned your head, shuddering in sheer fear.

"What's wrong? All of a sudden you hate when I touch you? What about two hours ago when you were begging for me to touch you? Hm?" Jungkook sang in a mocking tone and with every single word, the urge to vomit became stronger. How could someone you felt so fondly towards suddenly seem so revolting?

"So here's the plan, Y/N," Jungkook shifted into a squatted position. "You play it by my rules and I'll make things quicker for you. Painless, even. If you don't and you make one single sound, I'll make sure that pretty little face of yours won't be seen ever again." He stroked his knuckles against your cheek, too softly for a psychotic killer.

"Do you understand?" He asked, eyebrows wrinkled. You don't remember if you nodded your head or if you just sat there shaking uncontrollably. Whatever you did, Jungkook stood up from his squat and headed back to the table of supplies. As he ran his hand over them, his lips pursed in deep thought as he pondered on what to use. The clinking of metal rang in the apartment.

In the corner of your eye, you watched as Jungkook pick up a long, sharp knife that made a resounding shing. You cried out desperately, tears streaming down your cheeks.

"Oh, you like this one? I like this one too." Jungkook chuckled and set the knife aside. You squeezed your eyes shut and felt the tears pool at the corners of your eyes. You wondered what you did that caused you to end up in this situation. Was it because you forgot to wish your grandmother a happy birthday before she died a month later? Was it because you forgot to give the right amount of change to a customer? How could you have been so ignorant and blind to the fact that your boyfriend was a psychotic serial killer?

Jungkook returned to your side with cheerful steps and a drawstring bag slung over his shoulder. He knelt down and gripped the area where your feet were bound by ropes and then where your hands were before picking you up effortlessly. He reentered the bedroom and threw you onto the bed carelessly before stripping the drawstring bag off his shoulder. He opened it and pulled out the same knife that you saw before.

You cried out a muffled scream as best as you could with the gag in your mouth and thrashed around in a useless attempt to free yourself. The more movement you made, the more the ropes dug into your skin, peeling and scraping at your wrists and ankles until blood seethed through the shallow cuts.

Jungkook stilled your movements by climbing on top of you; straddling his thick legs over your waist. He held the knife in his hand as an eager smile curled at his lips.

"Why are you doing this?" You managed with a shaky voice, but with the gag in your mouth it came out as 'hwai aw hyuu doohing hiss'

Jungkook wrinkled his brows, clearly surprised that you could even speak in a situation like this. "Because I'm bored. I'm so unbelievably fucking bored in this shit town that I decided to take matters into my own hands. The police should be thankful that they're actually doing their jobs instead of sitting on their asses all day not even giving tickets to those who drunk drive."

Jungkook let out a frustrated huff after his monologue and you continued to stare at him because you knew he wasn't done.

"I know what you're thinking. 'Why not move out to the city if you're so bored?' Well, news flash, the city's boring too. There really isn't anything better than watching defenseless women cry and beg for their lives like sows."

You didn't realize how hard you were glaring at Jungkook until your eyesight became blurry from you squinting at him.

"What? You have something you want to say?" Jungkook asked and pulled the gag from your mouth; trails of saliva connected to it.

"You're a monster, Jeon Jungkook."

He frowned and shoved the gag back into your mouth, scraping against your teeth in the process. "I changed my mind. Unlike the others, I'm going to take my time with you. Slowly torturing you just to hear those sweet, sweet cries," he sang as he ran the blade along your cheek so agonizingly slow. You felt the blade sink into your skin as a sharp pain shot through your face; you whipped your head away and cried out desperately with your legs squirming beneath him.

Jungkook grabbed your neck and gripped it, his fingers digging into the sides of your neck. You gasped and your body immediately froze up.

"God, you're so aggravating!" He grunted and pressed his palms against your Adam's apple. "You know, I'd rape you right now, but knowing you, you'd probably like that, wouldn't you?" Jungkook released his grip around your neck and you gasped for air in rapid, desperate intakes. Jungkook pressed the knife against your other cheek and created another incision along your cheekbone. He continued to do so, inserting tiny cuts into your skin which gradually grew into larger, deeper lacerations which you could feel blood dripping from as they mixed with your endless tears.

Throughout the entire time, Jungkook seemed to be enjoying himself. It was obvious from the small smirk on his face as he worked on you. His crazed eyes burned with a manic glow.

Jungkook made his way to your jaw and scraped the blade along your mandible. Your breathing suddenly became erratic and frantic the moment you realized how close he was to your neck, your vital arteries which would end your life almost instantly. Feeling the blade sink into your skin, you squeezed your eyes as millions of thoughts zipped through your mind.

You wanted to apologize to your family for all of the stupid shit that you said or did to them. If not that, then maybe a simple goodbye would suffice. You wanted to see Taehyung again, to laugh with him again and talk endlessly about the most strangest topics. Your mind traced back on all of your mistakes and you regretted every single one of them, even if they didn't matter anymore. You regretted ever meeting Jungkook and lusting over him. If it weren't for you and your thoughtless actions, maybe you wouldn't even be in this situation. Maybe it was your fault that you were going to die without a last word to anybody.

To your surprise, Jungkook didn't slice into your flesh and have your blood spurt out and stain his bed. Instead, he pulled the knife away and tossed it aside.

"I just had a wondrous idea." He smiled and climbed off of you. A part of you was relieved that you didn't die. A big part of you, actually. But that was immediately overcome by the dread of what idea Jungkook could possibly have in his twisted mind. It was as if you had accepted your fate, not even resisting as Jungkook picked you up again and headed for the door. Before leaving his apartment, Jungkook pressed his mouth against your ear.

"Just know that if I hear a single peep from you, you will be responsible for an entire massacre in this town, do you understand me?" Jungkook hissed. You nodded, knowing that he was dead serious. Jungkook opened the door to his apartment and grabbed his keys which hung from a wall mount. Jungkook walked down the hall of his complex while humming an upbeat song. You contemplated on screaming out. Just straight up bellowing as loud as you could without a care of what your throats would feel like afterwards. It was a thought, but it was also a suicide mission. You decided not to, not because you were afraid of dying because at this point it was going to happen sooner or later, but because you didn't want to drag anybody else into this mess. If anybody was going to die, it was going to be you and you alone.

Jungkook loaded you into the trunk of his car before slamming it shut. You heard him walk around to the drivers side and climb in. The car started promptly afterwards and then he was driving off to who knows where. During the drive, you could hear Jungkook playing music which reverberated throughout the car. It was calming, in a very twisted way. You were swallowed in complete darkness and your heart was beating intensely, but hearing a familiar tune helped you take your mind away from the harsh reality you were about to face, even if just for a short time.

After what seemed like an eternity of laying in the trunk, the car pulled to a halt. Your eyes shot open and you focused on the sound of Jungkook getting out of the car; his footsteps became louder the closer he approached you. Then, the trunk clicked open and you were blinded with the sudden yellow fluorescent lights. You squinted to shield your sensitive eyes that burned from the abrupt shift from complete darkness to blinding light.

Jungkook pulled you out from the trunk and set you on the ground, which was an aged pier with wood splinters poking out. You looked around to see yourself on the dock. The long wooden platform was illuminated by the same yellow hue from the lights above that stretched all the way down the coast. It was completely empty, not a single soul to be seen or heard. Just the soothing sound of water crashing against the wooden planks holding up the dock.

You didn't have the pleasure of enjoying the lulling silence of the water before Jungkook yanked you away by your wrists and dragged you down the dock. You yelped as the wood stabbed your legs with splinters, but your cries went unheard.

Taehyung raised his head from behind the giant crate of fish, still fresh from today's catch. He looked around with wide eyes, body frozen stiff.

"What... was that?" He muttered to himself. Ever since he started working at the docks, the older fishermen always teased Taehyung about ghosts showing up at night. His fear of the supernatural was already a nuisance enough, but now that he was staying late into the night, his paranoia was amplified tenfold. Not to mention he was alone tonight after his superiors had left him to do all the dirty work like they did every night.

Taehyung considered leaving the fish to rot while he ran for his life, but not only would he get an earful and possibly one less job, but he was sure the ghost or whatever was out there would find him. He quickly placed the lid over the crate of fish and peeked out from behind it again to get a better view of the dock.

There he saw it. A limping woman in her pajamas, all bloody and hair strewn over her face...

A stifled scream rumbled in Taehyung's chest and he ducked behind the crate; his hand clutched over his chest to calm his beating heart. Okay, maybe the old men weren't joking about a ghost, not that Taehyung ever doubted them, but to see it in the flesh was completely different than hearing about it.

Taehyung, letting curiosity and wonder get the best of him, slowly peeked out from behind the crate again to see if his eyes were playing tricks on him. And to his surprise, the woman had disappeared. That was either a good thing or bad if she had suddenly decided to pop up right behind him.

Taehyung's eyes wandered the docks in search of the ghost when he saw something strange. The front of a car parked at a careless angle. He narrowed his eyes at the familiar dented bumper.

"Is that..." Taehyung muttered, slowly creeping out of his hiding spot to catch a better view. The closer he got, the more Taehyung was sure that the car belonged to Jungkook. He could recognize that car anywhere. But what was Jungkook's car doing here? And more importantly, where was Jungkook?

He crept out of his hiding spot and tip-toed to the car with light steps, making sure the weight of his footsteps didn't cause the dock to creak. When Taehyung saw the car up close, he was certain that it was Jungkook's car. There was no doubting the matching Playboy air fresheners that hung from his rear view mirror (Jungkook's was black while Taehyung had a white one).

Taehyung peered down the dock, squinting his eyes to adjust in the darkness that swallowed the end of the dock despite it being lit by the lights overhead. Then, he caught a slight movement---a jerking motion as if... as if someone was dragging a heavy object. Something in Taehyung's mind clicked together and he ducked behind the car as his hand shot over his mouth to silence any sounds that could possibly be heard.

There was no mistaking that Jungkook was here, but who was he with? Why would he be here in the dead of the night? What business did he have at night, disposing of something large into water that was so thick with dirt and blackness? It was a perfect place to hide something, or worse, someone. If that were the case, then Jungkook could possibly be...

"Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Taehyung didn't stop the stream of curses that came out his mouth as he ran his hands through his hair in a frustrated manner because he didn't know what to think at this point. He didn't even dare think of the hypothetical that his best friend for years had been murdering women and dumping their bodies into the waters of the town that he grew up in his entire life. It was just impossible.

Not believing his own thoughts, Taehyung peered over the car again. The figure, which Taehyung knew was Jungkook at this point, was getting further down the dock. If he squinted his eyes hard enough, Taehyung could see legs flapping around in a frantic manner.

"They're still alive!" Taehyung gasped in relief and shot to his feet. But wait, if he were to go over there, what could he do? Kindly ask Jungkook not to kill an innocent person? Even if Taehyung were to barge in there, the outcome will be the same.

Fuck that. This was a human life he was talking about. Nothing is more precious and important than that and Taehyung was more than prepared to put his own life in danger if it meant saving another.

Before heading over, Taehyung rang the local police station, silently cursing them for not picking up immediately, but when they did he informed them of the possible danger that was about to go down.

"Hello? Yes, I have information about the person who broke into Meredith's house recently." Taehyung said as he took slow steps down the dock. He wanted to move faster, but he also didn't want to risk getting caught by Jungkook and add another name to Jungkook's kill streak.

"How do you know that?" The officer asked.

"My friend lives in the same apartment and she saw the face of the intruder. She wasn't able to report it to the police because she had to leave town for a trip."

"I see, thank you. Where are you right now?"

"I'm at the docks and the intruder is here. I saw him walking just a while ago."

"I understand, we'll be there as soon as possible." They said before hanging up. He felt bad for lying to the police, but at least it'd give them a real reason to come down to the docks instead of trusting some boy's guttural instinct about his best friend being a serial killer. Taehyung turned the flashlight on his phone on and flashed it down the dock as he approached the end.

"Who's there?!" He shouted, loud enough for Jungkook to whip his head around in panic.

"Shit," he cursed under his breath before pushing your body behind a ole of fishing nets. His hand stroked your hair gently, too gently for the words that came out of his mouth afterwards. "I won't hesitate to give you a swimming buddy if you make a single sound, do you fucking hear me? Not a single sound." He gripped your leg tightly before standing up.

"It's me, Jungkook." Jungkook replied to Taehyung, covering his eyes from the blinding light from Taehyung's phone. He lowered it and his eyes widened in shock.

"Jungkook? What are you doing here so late?" Taehyung asked, stepping closer.

"Just taking a breather."

"What about Y/N?"

You tensed at the sound of your name. It was the perfect opportunity to scream out and get Taehyung's attention, but the image of Taehyung's dead body sinking down beside you stopped the scream mid-throat. You simply sobbed silently, trying your best not to let your shaking shoulders move the net.

"She's still asleep. Why are you out?" Jungkook asked nonchalantly, clearly unshaken by the sudden interruptions in his plans.

"I'm still working. They're still making me stay behind to finish inventory and shit like that." He laughed shakily. There was no way Jungkook couldn't sense the uneasiness seething out of Taehyung. He was nearly shaking in his own skin.

As the two talked mundanely about work, your mind raced with ideas of getting his attention. Maybe if you moved while they were talking, Taehyung could see you. But then what? By doing that, you'd put Taehyung in danger as well. Then again, you could just sit here and do nothing. Your life was in danger and you were not about to just give it up to some psychopath who you thought was your loving boyfriend.

As you slowly inched yourself into a position where you could raise your legs more easily, you were grateful to hear their conversation include more laughing than interrogating. It was just a slight raise of your legs, but it could very much be considered the deciding factor of your life.

Taehyung was no different than you. He was simply stalling Jungkook in order to make time for the police, but anxiety still bubbled in the pit of his stomach. What if he was too late? What if Jungkook had already disposed of the body before he reached him?

Taehyung's eyes began darting around frantically as he was running out of conversation starters and searched for another way to distract Jungkook.

Then, he saw it. The rustling of the fishing nets shied away in the shadows created by the dock lamps. At first he thought it was just being pulled along by the crashing waves, but remembering how long it took Taehyung to heave those nets out of the water, he knew that wasn't the case. Jungkook was too busy talking about his job to hear the rustling and the waves were too loud to hear it, but Taehyung was positive he saw it move.

They're alive.

The only thought that ran through his mind was such and a wave of relief crashed into him. It took him a lot to hold back on pumping his fist in joy.

"You know, you've been working hard, Taehyung. Why don't you go home and rest? Don't you have work tomorrow anyways?" Jungkook said.

"Well," Taehyung paused and took a breathe. "I should say the same to you. Making sure little kids don't drown sure sounds tough." He chuckled and jungkook pulled a smirk.

"Well, it's a good thing bodies float, right?" A thick silence filled the space between Jungkook and Taehyung as they stared at each other with tense glares. The only sound present was the softly crashing waves against the poles underneath the dock, the faintness of police sirens in the distance, and the slight scraping against the wood coming from your direction. Immediately, Taehyung's eyes darted to you and his heart dropped the second Jungkook turned his head around.

In an instant, Taehyung leapt towards Jungkook, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and pushing his weight against him. Jungkook slammed against the dock and groaned in pain. Taehyung held him down as he pulled his legs over him.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing, Kim Taehyung?!" Jungkook shouted as he reeled back and swung at Taehyung. He moved back slightly, luckily only getting brushed by Jungkook's knuckles. Just when Taehyung thought he was safe, Jungkook's other fist met Taehyung's side and sent him doubling over.

"I should ask you the same thing!" Taehyung grunted and knocked Jungkook in the cheek. His eyesight was laced with rage as he continued to parade on Jungkook's face with fists. While doing so, he looked up at the fishing nets. He didn't know if you were watching, but you must've heard what was going on. Taehyung saw only the outline of your leg in the light, but he shouted anyways.

"Hurry up and move!" He yelled and Jungkook punched Taehyung in the gut.

Their brawl continued and you were giving your best effort to roll away from the edge of the docks because one wrong move could have you tumbling over and sinking down to the ocean floor. You managed to pull yourself over onto your side. The best option would've been for you to keep rolling over until you were in a... safer place. Nothing about this situation was remotely safe. The next best thing was to get somewhere far away from Jungkook.

"Get the fuck off of me, Taehyung!" Jungkook growled and pushed Taehyung's chest, but he was resilient and determined to hold Jungkook down. It was just until the police arrived, but it was starting to feel like an eternity.

"You do realize what you're doing, right? This is murder, Jungkook!" Taehyung retorted back with a punch, which Jungkook skillfully dodged with a jerk of his head.

"Of course I know what I'm doing! Stop treating me like I'm some sort of kid!"

"Then grow up! If you've got nothing else to do besides murder and ruin people's lives, then maybe you should leave! Leave and never come back!"

At that, Jungkook lunged at Taehyung. He gathered his strength and sat up, causing Taehyung to topple over. Jungkook grabbed Taehyung's collar with one hand, gripping it tightly in his fist while his other hand rained down on Taehyung with punches.

It hurt you to see your dear friend get beat up so you turned away, inching further down the dock, further away from Jungkook. You kept repeating 'please be safe' over and over in your mind because the last thing you wanted was Taehyung to be in the same position as you.

You were almost to the end of the dock when you felt your leg get pulled behind you. You yelped out loud and turned back; your face fell when you saw Jungkook holding onto your leg. His face was painted over with pure rage. He had cuts and bruises all over his face especially around his cheekbones and nose and his hair was matted to his forehead with sweat. You glanced over at Taehyung who was on his side, holding onto his stomach as his face contorted in pain.

"You..." Jungkook heaved and pulled you up by your wrists. You screamed and although it was muffled by the gag, the shrillness of it reached across the dock.

There was no hope anymore. There was no savior, no superhero to come to your rescue.

"You really pulled a fast one on me there. Both of you," Jungkook turned back to Taehyung and breathed out his nose. "You must've been thinking you were getting the upper hand, weren't you?" He snorted condescendingly. Your face exploded in embarrassment because he was absolutely right. For a moment, you actually thought you were going to live.

Jungkook walked closer to the edge of the dock and for some reason, the feeling of fear left you. You had no energy, no will to resist nor fight back. At this point, death was pretty much inevitable. Now, you wondered what drowning would be like. How long could you hold your breath, or should you even hold your breath at all? How cold would the water be as if enveloped you in its soothing embrace? How long would it be for people to find your body? Decaying and eroding away in time with the ocean's current, snuggled safely in the soft sand on the bottom of the ocean sounded like a dream.

By the grace of the gods, Jungkook released you. You were too doped out and dazed in your imagination to realize that the police had pulled up.

"Freeze! Drop the girl and put your hands in the air!" An officer yelled and Jungkook followed their orders. His hands slowly reached above his head as he clasped them together. He couldn't do anything now, not when he was surrounded by people carrying weapons.

The police immediately rushed in and took Jungkook custody by pulling his hands down behind his back and locking them with handcuffs. A few officers ran to your side, brushing the hair out of your face to see if you had any serious injuries or if you were even alive. They promptly untied the ropes from your joints, but since you were in that curled up position for so long, it seemed almost impossible to stretch out from it. It was as if you were paralyzed.

Taehyung seemed alright, for the most part. When the police arrived, he had already gathered enough strength to stand, still clutching his stomach which ached whenever he moved. Taehyung watched Jungkook get pulled away by the police, trying to hold back a smirk. He knew it wasn't the appropriate time, but he couldn't help it. He saved you.

The police had wrapped you in an emergency blanket and carried you out to the ambulance which arrived just shortly after the police had. You sat on the edge of the truck as medics attended to your wounds, wrapping them up in what seemed like an endless supply of gauzes. You were silent for the entire time and found it hard to find your voice. Although, you knew you had to speak up at some point for future interrogations with the police. Everything happened so fast, you were stuck wondering if it was really over.

After treating you, the medics gave you a cup of coffee, but they didn't provide any cream or sugar so you simply held it in your hands to warm yourself up. All of a sudden, Taehyung's shouted your name and your head whipped up to see him rushing towards you. You set the coffee cup down before Taehyung knocked it down with his squeezing bear hug. You whimpered in pain, but there was something comforting about Taehyung's arms binding you together tightly.

"I'm so, so so so so so glad you're okay!" Taehyung exclaimed, his voice cracking from holding back potential tears. You gave him a sympathetic smile and returned the hug.

"Thank you, Taehyung. Seriously, I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't come." You replied as tears blurred your vision. You bit your lip and a hand went up to dab them dry. Even through your efforts to hold back tears, they all decided to come streaming out at once from the overwhelming emotion of reassurance that still didn't seem real. To be completely logical, your psychotic boyfriend attempted to add you to his long list of victims. Sobbing shamelessly was completely reasonable.

Your light tears eventually turned into frantic hiccups which Taehyung tried to calm down by stroking your back. He sat beside you on the truck while looking out onto the scene that played before him. Police officers were scattered along the dock, marking it up for potential evidence. Taehyung glanced over at the police car that held Jungkook and his heart sunk into his chest. He sat there in the backseat, staring off into space with a tense expression. His locked jaw and dead fish eyes were enough to express the frustration Jungkook must've been feeling. Thinking about what could've happened to you if he hadn't intervened sent shivers through Taehyung's body. He might've been considered a hero in your eyes, but at what cost? Both of you were traumatized and you might never trust anybody ever again.

Just then, as if Jungkook knew Taehyung was watching him, he looked over and locked eyes with him. Taehyung inhaled sharply and straightened his back in a poor attempt to look stronger despite getting his ass handed to him just minutes before. Jungkook smirked and his lips moved slowly as he spoke. It was slow enough for Taehyung to read his lips as he annunciated every syllable and when he realized what Jungkook had said, he paled and found it extremely hard to swallow.

See you soon.

It wasn't long before you got back into the swing of things. The doctors suggested you take things slow and not to engage in too many extraneous activities (which you used to your advantage and made Taehyung wipe down all he tables after closing) and they had you come in for regular checkup. Luckily, since you had no fractured bones and nothing was torn, your recovery didn't take long at all.

Talk of Jungkook being the mysterious serial killer became the only thing the town talked about and still hadn't died down even after your recovery. You couldn't imagine what they must've been thinking; a young boy that everyone saw grow up only to turn into some sort of... monster. Especially Jungkook's parents who couldn't even look anybody in the eyes after that. They locked themselves up in their house, away from everyone's stone cold, judging eyes. You felt sorry for them, so say the least. It wasn't their fault their son turned into a psychopath killer. In all honestly, there was nothing they could do to change what Jungkook became.

You heard news that Jungkook had been sent to a solitary prison across the state, but despite the distance between you two, the mark he made on you still managed to keep you up at night. Sometimes you would wake up in cold sweats, arms wrapped around yourself to still your shaking body. He would appear in your dreams and flashbacks of the incident would interrupt you in your daily life. Sometimes, your imagination would make you think you saw Jungkook riding down the sidewalk on his skateboard, but he would disappear with a double take.

You started calling Taehyung in the middle of the night because he was one of the people that could calm you down. Him, as well as your parents, but you always felt bad for calling and interrupting their sleep so late at night. Of course, you felt bad towards Taehyung too, but he reassured you that he didn't mind, so you took his word for it.

Although your body has recovered from the wounds, there was still a deep scar in your memory that still haunted you after the fact. But you were fine, for the most part. You still had your job, your family, your friends, what else could you need? What else could you possibly ask for?

Perhaps, maybe a pill that would erase your memories and heal your insomnia, but other than that, nothing.

#jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook scenario #bts jungkook smut #bts scenario #bts smut #GOD I AM REALLY SORRY FOR NOT WRITING #X1000000 APOLOGIES

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saltyobjecttheorist · 7 years ago

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Close Reading The Path. Season 1 Episode 3

WARNING! HUGE SPOILERS FOR SEASON ONE AND SEASON TWO!

Welcome to my obsessive close reading of The Path. you can read Episode Two here.

Scene: Cousco Peru. Meyerist Compound.

Steve’s death bed. Introducing Felicia Bill and Silas.

DOCTOR: “The tumor just hasn’t responded, and whatever optimism we did have… I know Steven doesn’t have any next of kin, so we need to find a Power of attorney. Any sign of a will?”

CAL: “Don’t you think we need to consider a plan in case?”

FELICIA: “If you’re not going to pray with us you’re of no use here.”

This strikes me as a harsh response to a totally reasonable request. But then again there is a lot of animosity between Felicia and Cal. In Season 2 Felicia later rebukes Cal again for his reaction to Steve’s impending demise. Saying that all he was interested in was power… She’s not entirely wrong either. But there is still a lot of insecurity in Cal at this point. His security blanket is burning and without his position in the Movement secured he is doomed.

She doesn’t like him. Firstly she thinks he’s an upstart. This is kind of hypocritical given her firm belief in The Ladder. Of which Cal has reached the metaphorical top as a 10R… Unless she knows something we don’t about his character… I suspect as the only other person to touch The Ladder Felicia secretly considers herself more entitled to that place in the hierarchy than Cal. She appears to know just how ambitious he is.

She sees a lot. And this makes me wonder if she saw more than she wanted to in Cal’s relationship with Steve. The same observation goes for Silas who, its hinted, might be a genuine psychic. Your Messiah and best friend being a child molester is a hell of a thing to miss if you have that kind of insight. Just saying.

Cal is terrified by both Steve’s impending death and his newfound freedom. He’s like a child stealing the keys to the family car. Felicia, Bill and Silas are all grieving their beloved friend. Felicia is a true believer who genuinely thinks that prayer may resurrect their prophet. After all its not his time yet. The prophesy said he would write three more rungs. So he cannot be dying. Her entire world view rides on this.

Cal on the other hand, no matter what he tries to tell himself, knows Steve was just a man. And a flawed one at that. He’s clearly aware of Steve’s mortality and human falability in a way the others aren’t.

“Source of Light within us, we pray that you bring healing energy to these vessels, our bodies.

Together: That you banish all suffering, and restore us to wholeness.

Bringing strength of spirit into our hearts.

So that we may ascend The Ladder of Enlightenment together.”

Their prayer for healing bleeds directly into the first line of dialog in the next scene which is…

Eddie’s Apology speech.

Voiceover

“EDDIE: The truth is, we’re all idiots.”

This next scene underlines again that Eddie really did the IRP because he hurt Hawk. This is a man who would do literally anything for his children.

In a moment of that beautiful visual/aural dissonance the show does so well, we hear Eddie’s insincere speech in voiceover about how incredible Meyerism is at forgiveness. But see Miranda Frank being dragged down a hallway by two goons and thrown in an IRP room. Poor Miranda. she didn’t ask for this. She has done nothing wrong. She has no idea why this is happening.

This is an act of staggering hypocrisy for a movement that claims to be 100% invested in The Truth.

Eddie kisses the Movements ass without once apologising to his WIFE.

Then Cal gets up and lies through his teeth to everyone about Steve. Which, at this point, is par for the course. Fuck you Meyerism.

A word on the end of Cals speech:

“The climb continues, ever closer to The Garden.

Soon we will be more than reflections of Light.

We will be The Light.”

He says. in a direct retelling of this line from Corinthians:

12 For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.

This a hell of a line coming from a Liar.

Cal and Sarah talk about Miranda.

Sarah wants to know whats up with Miranda Frank. Cal says it’s on a need to know basis ( I get the feeling he says that a lot) Sarah insists. It turns out Miranda Frank won’t talk.

CAL: “So I asked them to bring her here.”

SARAH:”That’s not protocol.”

If we have a resister, we tell them to go.

We don’t…”

CAL:”Yeah, this isn’t about protocol.

This is you. I want to give this everything we have.

If we just send her off without unburdening that that could impede your clarity.”

Theres a lot in this conversation. Cal is willing to bend the rules for Sarah. His motivation, as always is murky. He could be honestly worried that Sarah won’t get closure if Miranda doesn’t unburden. He could be hoping that the infidelity saga is extended and Sarah’s marriage destabilised even more or … And this is what I think… He strongly suspects that Eddie didn’t sleep with Miranda in the first place and wants to find out whats going on… Or maybe all three.

But what really jumps out is the fact that if they have ‘ Resister’ ie someone who won’t admit to whatever it is they’re being accused of. That person is BANISHED. This is what happened to Shelby later in the series. Utterly unjustly and without cause.

The movement operates on the assumption that everyone is telling the truth at all times. So essentially anyone can accuse someone of anything they want. And if the accused party won’t admit to it they get thrown out of the moment. So a total witch hunt could happen over any lie that is told.

This is almost exactly the same reasoning the Spanish inquisition used. And its a shitty way to do things. Miranda has none nothing Illegal. What this means is that the upper Rung Meyerists consider themselves either above or outside the law of the land. This is important later in the series.

So then Cal does a 180 degree flip from “ this isn’t about protocol Its about you Sarah “ to “ You know not everything is about you Sarah.” When he gets a call from whatever unfortunate soul has to deal with his mother.

Cal drives to his Moms place:

While he drives over to her slummy apartment he listens to a self help tape. We will later see him obviously and deliberately using the body language described on the tape throat the series.

“What are non-verbal expressions of power and dominance? Well, in the animal kingdom, they are about expanding so you make yourself big.

You stretch out.

You take up space.

You’re basically opening up.

It’s about opening up, and this is true across the animal kingdom.

It’s not just limited to primates.

Humans do the same thing.

So, they do this both when they have power, sort of chronically, and also when they’re feeling powerful in the moment, and this one is especially interesting because it really shows us how universal and old these expressions of power are.

In primate hierarchies, if an individual needs to take over an alpha role, sort of suddenly, within a few days, that individual’s testosterone has gone up significantly and his cortisol has dropped significantly.”

if an individual needs to take over an alpha role

Cal is about to step into Steve’s shoes as leader. A first time viewer could be forgiven for thinking that Cal has been trained or groomed for the position. But it becomes quite clear throughout season one that his position was not as certain as he pretends. His position in relation to Steve was an unequal and submissive one in every way and, tellingly, this is framed in an “Alpha male” context by the tape. Its about sex hormones and power.

To take up a leadership position is something that he is utterly unready for. He, much like the Roman emperor Caligula, is fast tracking from slave to king overnight. A bit like he fast tracked the Ladder initiations. and the higher they climb… Well.. you know the rest.

And out of all this talk of power,dominance and leadership he walks into his childhood nightmare.

“Hi Mom.”

NB. On the drive over he stops at an intersection outside a Church with “Friend Jesus” on the door.

It interesting to note that throughout the series as Cal’s belief in Meyerism wains he reaches for Christianity. When welcoming back Allison he quotes Christ on forgiveness and we see him listening to Mother Theresa early in Season 2. This makes perfect sense in that Cal, at this point is looking for redemption and Christian philosophy is based around the concept of forgiveness.

Ashley takes a shower:

A word or two on showers; Water is, as I’ve mentioned before, a huge motif on this show. It’s shown as a transitory symbol from one state to another. Mary is offered water as she entry into the Meyerist world. Eddie also, was introduced to Sarah with a glass of water. Later on, Sarah will drink poisoned water and transition out of innocence and into corruption. Its a pretty obvious metaphor. But showering particularly is used to show a characters transition form one state of being into another.

Examples:

Mary showers aways her dirty old life upon arriving at the compound.

Eddie showers after Peru and his unwanted enlightenment.

Cal Showers after murdering Silas, he will never again be the same person he was before.

It literally washes away their old self and leaves a new one.

So Ashely is shown showering at the school while Hawk keeps lookout. She is becoming a different person because of Hawk. She’s young, her sense of self still growing, a big love relationship at that age is a very formative thing.

In a word, showering on this show is a form of baptism.

And now a word from our sponser, John the Baptist:

Matthew 3:11-13

11 I indeed baptize you with water unto repentance. but he that cometh after me is mightier than I, whose shoes I am not worthy to bear: he shall baptize you with the Holy Ghost, and with fire:

12 Whose fan is in his hand, and he will throughly purge his floor, and gather his wheat into the garner; but he will burn up the chaff with unquenchable fire.

13 Then cometh Jesus from Galilee to Jordan unto John, to be baptized of him.

Think about the burning away of the old and corrupt, as in the fire the end of season 2. Leaving the way clear for the Messiah to come.

Eddie and Allison

So… Allison really really does think they murdered her husband.

“There is no Dark! There is no Light! Theres only us!” She states.

Eddie makes the rather ironic statement that he is “living in the truth again.” She responds by asking him if his wife knows where he is. Because you see, he may not be having an affair, but he is being ‘unfaithful’: in that he is literally ‘without faith’.

“I know you now! You can’t hide from that!” She says.

For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.

‘Seeing’ people. Knowing them for who they truly are and not just the reflection in the glass, is a major theme of the series. It also ties back to the fable of Plato’s cave in episode 1. Reality versus “shadows” of reality.

Allison is speaking sense here, technically. We, the audience, agree with her. She is the voice of secular reason here. There is no doubt in her, or our, mind.

But the show does a risky, and kind of amazing thing. Because looking back from the end of Season 1… Allison is pretty much technically wrong about everything.

A: Her husband wasn’t murdered.

B: they weren’t trying to kill her ( they were trying to get their money back. )

C: There does , indeed, appear to be light and dark.

There is more to this reality than meets the eye.

Sarah and Miranda Frank

Speaking of eyes…

Poor Miranda Frank, just going about her day, trying to be a good Meyerist, gets scapegoated and forced to confess to something she didn’t do, or get her whole life destroyed.

We learn a lot from this scene without any clunky exposition being used which is nice.

We learn that the official Meyerist line on marriage is that its the bedrock of the movement , therefore adultery is the ultimate threat to the movement ( the hypocrisy here is staggering given what these people get up to.)

Miranda accuses the Armstrongs of being able to bend the rules and being “ like the Kennedys.”

This, is not the first time we’ve been told this. The Armstrongs break the rules and get away with it. Repeatedly in fact. Hawk is allowed to take his vows early, Hank visits his daughter (secretly but he still gives himself permission) Sarah allows Miranda to be help captive at the compound. There has, always been nepotism aplenty in the Meyerist movement. Even pre-Cal.

Cal and Brenda:

There is SO MUCH in this scene.

Our Mothers are the first connection with another human being, they are literally the first thing we connect with and how we learn to love.

So lets take and objective, post Season two, look at what we know about Cal and Brenda’s relationship.

Brenda Roberts was such a hopeless alcoholic that her fellow alcoholic husband left her… He got sole custody of their 5 year old son ( She was , it seems legally, declared an “ Unfit Parent.”) and took Cal away. And, probably in an attempt to overcome his drinking habit, he joined the Meyerists… Or perhaps he first joined the Meyerists and then left her because she wasn’t willing to work on her problems and join them. Its not clear.

Brenda, at some point, probably as a result of her husband’s attempt to reunite the family, visited the Meyerist compound. There she witnessed Steve abusing Cal and left without saying anything.

NB.See the child’s drawing of the cat on the wall? He probably painted that as a kid. It’s perhaps safe to assume he maintained vague contact with her from time to time growing up.

At some point thereafter (before Cal’s 7th or 8th year if we go by the photographs and flashback.) Cal’s Father left the compound without his son.

At some point, maybe years after that, he reunited with his estranged wife and “ Drank himself to death.” This was about 3 years ago. And the last time Cal saw Brenda.

This is, in case you didn’t notice, a tragedy and a horror story. Its no stretch to speculate that the early separation from his mother, and her abandonment of him to Steve, was what broke Cal’s heart. And His fathers leaving probably finished it off.

Its also worth thinking about what might have led Cal’s father to leave the movement and commit slow suicide. Guilt would be a good guess.

BUT in the way that abused people often do… In as much as he is capable of loving anyone… Cal loves his mother. Their dynamic is interesting, with Cal playing a caretaker role, that he would no doubt have fallen into entirely had he lived with her growing up. When she calls him over to take her hand he hesitates. He doesn’t want to touch her, or maybe to have her touch him. intimacy with his mother is too painful for him. Its the core relationship that was lacking.

He still cares enough to take responsibility for her oil fire mistake and check up on her, upon entering the apartment the first thing he does is to put out an unattended cigarette. He doesn’t expect too much of her. He softens his voice when he talks to her, he doesn’t pull the alpha male act he was practicing in the car, instead he falls immediately into a submissive and childlike state. We get a rare glimpse at the real Cal… And he’s a goddamn pushover.

He puts up with her abrasive, poisonous manner and even allows her to manipulate him into drinking again. He is inordinately patient with her… Well until he suddenly isn’t.

Heres the thing, a normal person would have told her to fuck off when she demanded he drink in exchange for her looking at the nursing home. But he’s also so used to a manipulative way of living, hell a manipulative ways of being. Where there’s always a trade off, and angle and a game being played, that he allows it to happen.

Hawk and Ashley

Hawk explains Meyerism to Ashley. Meyer correctly posited that the Adolescent brain is open and sensitive to bad influences. Of course in Meyerist doctrines those bad influences are things like Steak and girlfriends. ‘ You’re not bad! He tells her adorably, “ you’re just ignorant… Of the right way to live your life.”

Adolescence is also when we begin to think critically. Religions don’t like that much.

Ashley says she doesn’t pray.

Hawk: Really? Even before a test? Or when you’re really stressed out about something? You don’t go, “Please, please, let this be okay”?

Ashley: Yeah.

Hawk: Or when your dad died.

Sorry.

Ashley: That’s okay.

People just don’t really talk about it.

That’s all.

But yeah, I mean, I guess I do that.

That’s not really praying though.

Hawk: Why not?

Ashley: Because I don’t believe in God.

Hawk: Then who are you talking to?

Ohhh! well played Hawk. Perhaps theres a little Meyerist in all of us.

Steve is a Quack.

Brenda makes a sick joke about a catatonic woman at the home. Either Hugh Dancy corpses at the improvised line or Cal actually laughs at his moms joke. I kind of like drunk/real Cal. We literally never see him like this again. And thats kind of tragic. On some deep level. He kind of likes his mother.

So… Thus far Cal puts up with a variety of abuse from her, she insults his lifestyle, his food, his religion, his living arrangements, his general existence, She insists he drinks with her- knowing he’s an alcoholic. and through it all he is patient.

Until she insults Steve.

So We’ve seen Cal really lose his shit a few times and it’s usually when someone tells him the truth… So what if Steve was indeed a Quack? What does this mean for Cal?

We know Cal’s worst fear is being a “ nobody and a nothing.” And we know that he was told, as a child, by Steve, that he was ‘Different and special and held apart.” This is, by the way, typical pedophillic grooming. They choose kids with very low self esteem and convince them they are loved and valued. Its the worst manipulation, and incidentally, the same way Cal manipulates Mary (and Sean in season 2.)

So If Steve was a Quack, if he was a Liar, then that love was a lie too. And Steve’s behaviour didn’t say “I’m the only parent you have” or “you are loved and valued” it said “ you are a nothing and a nobody and I don’t care how badly I’m hurting you.”

And deep down he knows it.

Dinner at the Lanes

One of the repeated set pieces I love in the show is the mood barometer of Dinner at the Lanes. You can compare each dinner scene and get everything you need to know about the episode from it.

Sarah and her mom-of-no-boundaries Gab are talking about Miranda Frank and her weird lack of desire to unburden. You may notice that at no point does Gabby say “Holy Fuck Sarah, why are you breaking the rules and holding the woman captive against her will?”

“Denial is a comfy house” Says Gab “but it’s made of glass, and when it shatters…”

People in glass houses shouldn’t throw eye shaped rocks Gabby. I see what they did there most clever show, most clever.

Sarah wants to tell Eddie. But he isn’t 7R! Gab points out.

“Well, neither are you, and neither is Nicole.” Says Sarah

“You know, it really upsets me.

Am I the only one that adheres to the system?”

NO SARAH. You aren’t because you DONT. Denial indeed!

Meanwhile Nicole of the hundred children is practically orgasming over the Eddie in-house drama and everyone knows it.

“ Come on!” Says Gab “ you’ve always been ‘the perfect one’”

Sarah, golden child of Meyerism. Who has, supposedly, never strayed from the path. Indeed it was her light that Saved Eddie, Her light that Saved Cal as a kid. And yet she too had doubts that almost made her leave. Doubts she’s buried.

Also. Hank cheated once. And did the In-House. Out in the yard he gives Eddie the least threatening Shovel Talk ever.

“It’s hard not to be tempted… But you feel differently when it happens to your kid, your daughter. Less compassionate. You get it? I mean, you know what it’s like when you see pain in your kids’ eyes. You’d go to lengths to take that pain away.”

Ok so Hank is very protective of his kids. This is the first hint we get that he’d break the rules for them. And indeed he has been all this time.

So who wants to see the lyrics to Russell’s terrible song?

“To the top of Huayna Picchu Our brave Doc Meyer climbed

So much evil in this world that He promised to make right

After many years of searching And nothing to be found

The tears fell down down down his cheekbones

Like raindrops to the ground”

It’s terrible as a song, but perfection as a bit of world building that doesn’t feel clumsy. Its gives us a peek at Meyerist culture and mythology and is almost subliminal.

Tolkien did the same thing in Lord Of The Rings, seriously.

Then Sarah gets a phone call from a drunk and guilty Cal:

We get a little look at how close they actually are. Its pretty clear that Cal’s drinking problem isn’t common knowledge, and that she’s known about it for some time. ( We find out later that Alcoholism is an “I.S. Illness.” and not something thats meant to affect the enlightened few.) She also knows all about his mother. This has happened before.

Call doesn’t show his real self to anyone… But he let the mask slip for Sarah.

He hasn’t had a ‘slip up’ for 2 years and 37 days… Not long after his father’s death. We’re not sure, in this context, if ‘slip up’ means drinking or violence. Either way he’s been working hard on the ‘ Problem” and feels like he’s back to square one now.

Eddie Threatens Allison.

So Heres the thing about Eddie and Cal…. There is one character trait that has remained constant throughout the series. Something they both are prone to repeatedly. Violence.

Eddies actually a violent dude. Bare with me here. I know he’s the protagonist. He’s a basically good person. But he is violent, verbally and physically. Not in the same way That Cal is violent… Cal represses his feelings until they build up into an explosion of rage and he lashes out in an uncontrolled manner. This happened four times in the series so far and makes him very dangerous.

Marys dad.

Grabbing Brendas arm.

Silas.

Threatening to kill Mary’s dad when he comes to the compound.

Punching the douche at the party.

One could arguably say that having Eddie beaten by stooges in S2, although its not direct violence. Its cold and pre-mediated though which maybe indicates that he is escalating to something worse.

Eddie chooses to be violent and/or threatening, in a more conscious manner, fairly constantly throughout the series.

In Ep 2 he shoves his wife into the wall and has dubiously consensual rough sex with her.

Here he threatens to murder Allison and says “ thats not a threat You don’t know where iI come from.” (Ie its ‘not a threat’ is a fact.)

Sarah describes a youthful Eddie as being murderously angry.

He punches Cal in the face

He threatened to murder Cal in season 2

He punches a Meyerist Spy at the swimming pool in Season 2

He shoves Hawk into the wall in S2

He shoves Cal into the wall and literally gets in his face in Season 2

Eddies violence is emotional, it fires up like a spark and in the moment but stems from his temper in a more controlled and conscious way than Cal’s ‘Mute darkness’ that fuels his rage. (He describes it to Sarah “my mind just went black with with rage.”) Eddie might seems more impulsive than Cal but he’s actually way a more self aware and self possessed character. He actually KNOWS what he’s capable of.

It’s the Yin and Yang symbolism again. Light, hot anger stemming from the immediate. Versus dark, cold rage. Stemming from the subconscious.

In short, Eddie controls his violence and uses it. Cal lets it control and use him.

If one were to put a moral judgement on either…They reflect each other, they are opposites in some ways. They are two halves of whole. They kind of hate one another, because they see themselves in one another.

And Heres the thing about moral binaries… Steve, with everything he may or may not have done. Did write a very beautiful Prayer. Which the family say every evening. In the spirit of Truth.

And poor Hawk is having an existential crisis because he loves a girl. And I wonder how many millions of kids in very religious families have this exact pain every day? When the truth and the lie are at odds with one another in their hearts. The ONLY barometer of truth we really have is in our emotions and intuition.

Eddie and Sarah.

So Eddie and Sarah did this weird Meyerist Tantric thing that was supposed to increase intimacy… And it didn’t work. Because despite the fact that Eddies made good with The Movement. He still broke her heart.

“And I can’t stop thinking about you and her together, and I hate it, and I know I’m supposed to be better, - but I am not.“

Thats at last, is Sarah’s truth.

And we finally see the restriction that the scene dominating eye has put on them. Far from encouraging transparency and truth it has caused a web of lies and secrets to be woven within the marriage it supposedly holds so sacred.

Hawk resolves his moral dillemma ( for now) in a delightfully innocent way. He gets a generator and turns Ashley’s power back on. Because he knows it’s the right thing to do, He’s still young enough that he can follow his heart in the right direction. And, maybe even thanks to Meyerism, he knows which direction that is. Because theres truth in the Eye too. There is compassion and goodness and practicality in Hawk that hasn’t been stripped away from him by I.S. culture. That also is true.

Miranda Frank is a Nobody, Nothing Whore.

And Sarah? She looses it completely, because until now it been more about Eddies transgression against the Light than her own feelings. But she can’t just sit there calmly for the Movement anymore, this women fucked her husband. She is in real pain and she’s had to suppress it. Not anymore.

“You are nobody! You are nothing! You’re a whore!” She screams.

Interestingly a few episodes later Cal describes himself ( in his worst nightmare) as ‘a nobody, a nothing.’ He leaves the whore part out but in retrospect thats… Yeah thats a callback.

Cal Can’t Escape.

Meanwhile Cal gets Brenda settled in her generic but fine apartment. She tells him:

“We talked about you.

Those last years after he came back.

We talked about you a lot.

He said “Cal is our son.

“Not that man’s.

He’s ours.”

Keep running, but you can’t escape.

Once you stop trying, you’ll feel better.

‘Cause wanting to be someone else never works.

Just brings you right back here.”

This is actually the best advice Cal will ever get. And he, of course, won’t follow. It also hints at the true tragedy of their story. He was stolen. He might not have seen it that way (one persons abducted is another adopted I guess). But his mother lost a son. He lost a family that, while fucked up beyond repair, did love him. And knew him. And his father resented “ That Man.”In the end.

And Cal, in his heart of hearts, is a sad, fucked up drunk just like her and his dad. In fact maybe he drinks to keep that connection to them that he lost. And he wont progress towards the truth unless he owns it.

“ It’s too bright” She tells him when he opens the curtain. The light hurts.

Also look at the audio that is deliberately overlapping from the next scene over the long shot of Cal? Viewers… We should have known.

Turns out its Daddy Cox talking and that guy is Cal:

But When Cal returns there has been a change inside him. He tells Sarah:

“Um There’s been a shift.

Something monumental And I’m walking around with it rattling inside me and and I have to get it out.

Even though it’s 10R, - and I shouldn’t disclose ”

(I hadn’t considered before, that the policy of transparency only works in one direction, upward through the rungs. Meaning that the policy actively lends itself to corruption among the upper rungs. It may have been conceived with this in mind.)

He tells her some version of the truth. As much as he can without destroying her faith and his position. This isn’t the last time he tells a lie as a veiled desire to confess all to Sarah. ( Later he nearly tells her about Silas but reneges at the last moment and makes it about Eddie.)

It’s the first time he’s said it out loud. That he will take Steve’s place. And he desperately wants her approval. Because he must be the new Guardian of the Light. Because his visit ‘home’ made it very clear. He cannot be himself.

Meanwhile Eddie uses some of that sweet Armstrong nepotism to get to Miranda and finds her passed out on the floor. Feel bad Eddie. Feel very Bad.

NB. Miranda Frank's name derives from Latin and Saxon and means "Admirable Honesty." The poor woman is caught in a web of lies not of her own making. She will not lie under pressure.

The Episode, “Homecoming.” Was bought to you by the ancient Greek aphorism “ Know Thyself.”

#the path #the path on hulu #analyzing the path #close reading the path #the path recap

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