#maul his neck like a rabid dog boy

[ihavesomejays]

GAY GAY HOMOSEXUAL GAY

crackposting with this one… vampire aventurine and dr ratio

[yungidreamer]

Claimed

Summary: An intruder enters the territory of Chan and his pack, attacking people and causing havoc. Seemingly by chance he saves a victim that turns out to be his mate, but as fate would have it, he happens to be a wolf at the time. How will he protect her, come clean, and claim his mate?

Word count: 8.2k

Content warnings: slightly dark themes, a werewolf serial killer who is a vindictive asshole, impregnation kink, marking, minor descriptions of violence, sort of stalking, sort of possessive behavior. Some cursing.

Music: Come Out by Lenise Morales and War of Hearts by Ruelle

“Come on, boy,” she said, patting her leg and holding out the leash. “Let’s go on a walk before it gets too late.” Chan hopped up off his round dog bed near the couch, wagging his tail as he came to her. He sat patiently, turning his head to let her reach the leather collar she had put on his neck. Jesus, his pack mates would be in hysterics if they saw him like this, he thought to himself. But he could have endured the embarrassment for her.

How had he ended up like this? Really, it was a mix of destiny and bad luck on  both of their parts. He honestly never thought he would meet his mate when he was in his wolf form and hurt on top of it. Fights weren’t something he got into that often and something he avoided when he could, but that night three months ago he had caught that piece of shit lone wolf stalking her.

Why the loner had picked her, he had no idea, but Chan had to be grateful in some ways. How long would it have been before he ran across her if not for that? Jesus, what if he had gotten there too late? He didn’t want to think about it.

That night he had been sent to track the interloper that had been causing havoc in their territory. He was the first of the pack to actually find him, which must have been luck since Minho was generally the best tracker and Changbin a close second. They had taken the two days before and barely missed catching him at the no-tell motel he had been staying at and at some restaurant where he had mauled some poor woman heading home after her shift. Changbin had been furious with himself for not tracking him fast enough and had been the one to find her bloodied and crying near the back door of the restaurant. He had shifted back to human and called 911, telling them he had been passing by when he heard her crying, a plausible enough story not to raise any suspicion. Besides as far as anyone involved knew, it was a rabid dog attack… a massive rabid dog.

Tracking was exhausting work and got shared amongst all the members of the pack. The third night had been his job and he had taken a neighborhood near the one he had been stalking, suspecting he had moved his hunting grounds but not that far. His hunch had been right, but it was pure luck that he had come across the scent of the intruder as he patrolled, just hoping to catch some hint, some clue.

That whiff had pulled him down an alley and into the strip mall parking lot of the craft store. For the life of him, he could not figure out why on earth he would pick this sort of place. The parking lot was half empty since most of the stores were already closed… except the big hobby shop. The sodium orange lights of the parking lot had flickered and buzzed, bothering his sensitive senses and it must have done the same for the lone wolf… so why on earth would he choose to hunt here.

Chan had spotted him, in human form, leaning casually on a planter half a dozen meters from the entrance to the store taking a drag on a hand rolled cigarette. He had let out an involuntary huffing sneeze, hating the smell as it drifted to him. That had given him away. Even if he hadn’t been able to sense that he was a fellow werewolf, no dog would have been wandering around alone in a parking lot here, like this, at this hour.

“I’m surprised you found me, rover,” the loner had chuckled, self-satisfied and amused. “I would have let you guys be, but you couldn’t just let me hunt a little.” Chan had growled as he watched him stand up, letting the shadows and flickering lights obscure his face as he pulled himself into a standing position. He had moved fast, charging at Chan and drawing a knife just before he got within an arm's length of him. Chan dodged but not fast enough, and the knife caught him in the ribs, grazing over a couple of them before he could dig his teeth into the man’s arm.

“Fuck,” the man yelled, punching Chan in the jaw to force him to let go. Stars sparkled in his vision and pain sliced through him as the knife slid along his collarbone and upper leg. He had gotten one last swipe in before retreating, leaving Chan bloodied and limping.

A safe place to shift was what he had needed, there surely would have been someplace nearby, a little alcove or alley between a couple of the shops, but before he could get very far, she had stepped out of the store, locking up and leaving for the night.  Chan froze. He had been slinking away, slowly trying to get out of view, but was still very clearly in view when she had stepped out. His pain had blinded him to other sensations at first, but even before she turned and saw him, it hit him like a freight train.

Mine the sensation said with a ferocity he had never felt before. Why he had to find his mate like this, he had no idea. He wasn’t particularly unlucky. He didn’t spend tons of time as a wolf either. His pack was pretty chill and was pretty careful to stay below the radar. Their territory was safe and they were known for not being overly territorial, letting people pass through without a problem so long as they left and didn’t make problems. So how he ran across her while he was shifted and injured was just stupidly bad luck.

She had gasped when she finally turned around and saw him, but who wouldn’t when they turned around to see a massive dog behind them limping and bleeding. A moment’s fear had shot through her at the sight until Chan had whimpered, flattening himself on the pavement to look as unthreatening as possible.

“Hey puppy,” she said softly, putting out her hand for him to sniff as she leaned down, slowly coming closer. “Can I take a look at you?”

Yes please, he thought, rolling gently onto his uninjured side.

“What on earth happened to you… boy?” She asked, catching sight of his belly. “I don’t suppose you are going to make this easy on me and would just get in my car if I brought it around?” She sighed and patted his head. Rubbing his head into her hand, he rolled back over and pulled himself up to stand again. “Maybe you can just come with me, hmmm?” Standing up, she started to move towards her car, keeping an eye on him as he slowly limped behind her. She opened the back door to her car and patted the seat, inviting him to hop in, which he did quite happily. “Well at least that was easy.” She observed, closing the door behind him as he laid down on the back seat. “Now we just have to go spend my whole paycheck at the emergency vets.”

Sorry, he said to her in his head. I’ll pay you back when I can. Pain pulsed through him as the city lights swished over him in the back seat. The emergency vet clinic was only a half an hour away but that was way longer than he would have ever wanted to have to lay bleeding in the backseat of a car. In fact, he really was sure he could have gone his whole damn life without knowing what that felt like.

He was tough, he was the alpha of the group, though he didn’t enforce a hard hierarchy like some did. They were more family than anything else. They looked out for each other, did their part, contributed in any way that they could. It worked well for them and everyone was pretty happy with the arrangement. It was just his job to be the final voice when decisions needed to be made or to speak for the group when dealing with outsiders.

“Can you get up, pup?” She asked when she opened the door in the parking lot of the vet’s office. Chan nodded, though it probably didn’t look like it, what with being a dog and all, and stood up on slightly shaky limbs. Thank god they were close, he thought to himself as he stepped out the door and onto the pavement.

“I need some help please,” she said as they stepped through the automatic sliding door of the clinic.

“Oh my god,” the woman behind the counter said when she caught sight of him, picking up the phone on the desk and hitting a couple of buttons. “Doctor West we need you in reception now please, and bring whoever is back there to help.” She hung up the phone and dashed out from behind the desk. “What on earth happened?”

“I don’t know,” she said looking down at Chan as she kept a hand on his head. “I was just coming out of work and found him like this in the parking lot. Maybe he got cut getting out of a yard or went through a window or something?”

The receptionist had shrugged, it seemed like as good an explanation as any. They had taken him back, stitched him up and scanned him for an ID chip, which, shocker, he didn’t have. With no one else seemingly accountable for him, she had decided to take him home, saying she would try and find his owners. For now, she would pay for the vet bills and she just had to hope whoever owned him would pay her back. Though honestly, given the shape he was in, she wasn’t holding out hope there was someone, or at least someone responsible.

That was how he had ended up here and stuck in his canine form way more than he was used to. The one upside was that he was with her. She had spent a couple of weeks hanging up posters with his picture, but eventually just decided to adopt him herself, leaving him in the weirdest bind he could imagine.

The first few days he had stayed just because everything hurt too much to do anything else. I’ll change back soon, he told himself, I just need the stitches to heal a little first. Then one evening when she came home he could smell him and cigarettes on her and his heart had clenched. The loner had been there for her? For his mate? At that moment, that realization he had a feeling he never would have thought possible. Thank god I was the one that got stabbed. That had settled it. He had to be there, he had to stay and protect her, at least until the intruder was caught.

Not long after that he had shifted when she was off at work, finally getting in touch with his pack. After the understandable chewing out he let Jisung give him since he had basically disappeared without a word for DAYS, he explained what had happened and told him to pick someone to shadow her while she was out or at work. Jisung agreed, letting out a low whistle at the story and the news that he had found his mate. Chan left the details to him and the others, still not feeling even 50% if he had to be honest. He trusted them and for now, he was stuck.

Now it had been three months and the loner was still on the loose and still in their territory. They had no idea why and he had only attacked one person since that night. Now and again, when she came home from work, he would smell him on her, and still other times, he would catch the smell of the loner when they walked through the neighborhood. But it was never enough, never that fresh, and he had no idea how he was flitting around so close yet so far.

Jisung had the brilliant idea of getting one of them hired to work with her at the craft store. Chan had to admit, it had been a good idea, it kept someone close, but it probably wouldn’t have been the solution he would have wanted. Smelling Changbin on her every night when she came home from work rankled him an unbelievable amount, despite the fact that he knew nothing was happening with them. But between smelling his pack mate and the loner on her, and being unable to do anything with her aside from pretending to be her pet was going to drive him mad.

How on earth was he supposed to tell her who he really was? Buck also couldn’t just disappear. And yes, she had named him after the dog in Call of the Wild which was both adorable and painful. She was attached to him...just the wrong him. He needed to come clean but, aside from breaking to her that werewolves existed at all, something that would most likely freak her out, saying, surprise (!) you know that dog you’ve been letting sleep in your bed and changing in front of… well, he’s actually a guy. Because, you know, that would go over really well.

So that was how he ended up on the end of her leash, heading out for a walk. If he didn’t have to do this as a dog and have to make a show of going to the bathroom on these walks, he would be far happier. It was nice being out with her, he just wanted to be able to do it as a person, maybe holding her hand, though he might have tolerated a collar and leash if she really liked it for some reason.

Chan walked ahead of her, scenting the air as they made their evening loop of the neighborhood. All seemed well and normal for the most part, at least for the first half of the walk. But as they made the turn that would head them back towards home the scent of the loner drifted across their path. Chan stopped, causing her to bump into him and make a little sound of surprise as she accidentally stepped on one of his back feet.

“What’s the matter, Buck?” She asked, looking in the direction he was looking. “Did you see something?” Unsurprisingly, he didn’t answer and, after pausing for a few seconds, she moved past him, trying to snap him into moving again. Chan stepped in front of her, preventing her from going as he tried to place where the scent was coming from. “Come on, boy, I want to go home.”

I know, he said mentally, willing for her to understand him. Trust me, me too. Suddenly he saw it, the shape of another of his kind skulking on the other side of a cinder block wall. It’s dark chestnut fur moved slightly in the breeze as the animal stayed stock still. In a split second, it dashed back behind the wall and Chan gave chase. He pulled his leash out of her hand, sending a mental apology to her, and immediately gave chase. He couldn’t let this just keep going on. She called out his name, well the name she had given him, as he disappeared behind the wall, giving chase.

Quick as a flash, he saw the tail disappear around the back of the house on the other side of the block wall. He skidded around the corner, keeping the scent trail of the intruder under his nose. The chase led him through alleys and back yards as they ran and dodged. Finally he saw him disappear over a high fence and Chan lept after him, feeling like he was finally gaining on him.

When he landed he heard a snap and knew immediately that he had made a mistake. A sharp pain shot through his front leg. It had all been a plan, been a trap to get him here, to get him trapped… and to leave her alone. He had never really felt as stupid as he did right now. He finally gathered the will to look down at his leg to see it clasped in a leg hold trap, cut and bleeding, but thankfully not broken, probably by sheer luck. He couldn’t run like this and he had to get back to her.

With a gulp, he changed back, needing the dexterity of human hands to get out of the contraption. It pinched harder, stinging his nerves as his leg turned into an arm, thickening in the vice like grip. It took him a moment to stop seeing stars and then another to figure out how to press down the sides of the trap to open it. When he was finally free, he looked around. He had to get out but running around naked and bleeding was a great way to get the cops called on him.

Making his way to the edge of the neighboring yard, he looked over the wall to see laundry hanging on a line outside. He hopped over the wall and took a t-shirt and some pants, promising to try to remember to bring them back when he could. Once he was dressed, he ran. He ran towards where he had left her; ran like his life depended on it. Ran because hers probably did. His feet barely touched the ground as he rushed back to where he had left her.

Suddenly he heard a scream rend the air and he felt his whole body go cold. So stupid, he berated himself as he willed his body to move faster. Turning the corner a couple of blocks from where he had left her alone, he saw her… and him. The loner had cornered her against a fence in the front yard of some house, a hand around her throat and a knife pressed against her ribs. Without a second thought, Chan rushed forward with a guttural growl. The loner heard him and turned. Momentarily distracted from her, he didn’t notice when she jerked herself down, loosening his grip enough on her neck to fall in the direction opposite the knife he held on her. With his attention torn between two people now, Chan had the upper hand and wrestled him away from her.

“Run,” Chan commanded her as he tackled the loner to the ground. They rolled and grappled like gladiators, vying for dominance, both ignoring her. Something that turned out to be a mistake on the part of the loner. Just as he rolled on top, pinning Chan by gripping his injured arm, she rushed toward them, picking up the dropped knife and driving it into his back. The loner let out a rage filled scream and rolled away from them both as he changed back into his wolf form. Running away as quickly as he could manage and disappearing into the neighborhood.

“Are you okay,” Chan asked, getting up and grasping her upper arms. Her face was a mask of shock, eyes wide and not really seeing anything. “Look at me. Tell me that you are okay.”

“I have to find my dog,” she said, her eyes flashing around them, yet she didn’t pull away. “I think he tried to chase that thing away. He ran off and I need to make sure he’s okay… he was already hurt and…”

“I’m okay,” Chan said to her, giving her a little shake to get her attention. “I’m Buck. You found me in a parking lot and saved me. It’s me.” Her eyes snapped to his face and she went white. “I was following him that night, trying to figure why he was here. That’s how I got hurt, but that’s how I found you.”

“You were looking for me, too?” She shrank back, her eyes searching for something in his face.

“No, but,” Chan sighed. He needed to come clean but this wasn’t the place. Not in the open, not in someone else’s yard. “Let’s go home. Please. Can we talk there?”

“Home?” She asked, looking at him suspiciously.

“Your home,” he corrected. “Just, let me explain. Give me a chance.”

She looked down at the arms that were holding her, finally noticing his cut arm. “You’re hurt.”

“It’s not that bad,” he let go of her arms, trying to hide his injury a little.

“Let me take care of it,” she offered timidly. “Then we can talk.” Chan let out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. With a nod he led them both back to the house, keeping a gentle hand on her wrist as they walked. He needed the assurance that she was there, that she was safe.

She followed, letting him take the lead, slightly unsettled by how well he knew the way to her house. Part of her still didn’t believe him. But then again, she had just seen a man change into a dog or… wolf maybe, and she couldn’t explain that. She had never seen him before and yet he knew her dog, he knew where she lived, he had saved her. She wasn’t 100% sure, but something told her to trust him.

When they got to her house, she let them in and Chan pulled her inside, locking the door behind them before tucking her behind him as he scanned the room and tested the air inside the house for anything amiss. When he was satisfied that it was safe, he stepped further into the living room and headed towards the bathroom to care for his arm. He really knows where everything is, she thought as she watched him head there without hesitation. Stepping up to the sink he started running warm water, dipping his arm under the spigot to rinse it. He hissed as the water hit the wound, a tingling pain shooting outwards from it.

“Here,” she stepped up beside him, dampening her hands and lathering them so she could gently wash his wound. Chan sucked in a breath between his teeth at the sting. “Sorry,” she said softly.

“No, it’s okay,” he assured her. “I appreciate you helping me. I owe you my life twice over now.”

“Seems like both times it was because of me anyway so…” she didn’t meet his eyes, focusing on what her hands were doing.

“It’s not your fault,” Chan soothed. “We should have gotten him out of here long ago. He just… he keeps slipping away.”

“So what are you?” She asked as she patted his skin dry with a towel. 

“Werewolf,” he replied softly. “But I won’t hurt you.”

She nodded and pulled some gauze and tape out of the cabinet behind her. Kneeling down in front of him as he sat on the toilet, she spread some anti-infection cream over one of the wounds before putting gauze over it and taping it down. She did the same with the other side, then wrapped both with a sports wrap to keep it secure on his arm.

“What’s your name?” She asked, finally looking up at him.

“Chan,” he replied gently, reaching out to cup her cheek. “My name is Chan.”

“That fits better than Buck,” she gave him a nervous smile and laugh.

“God I love hearing my name on your lips,” he admitted. He leaned forward hesitantly, giving her a chance to pull away, taking her lips with a gentle firmness. She tasted like heaven, even better than he had dreamed those nights when he lay beside her in bed pretending to be her pet.

What am I doing, she asked herself, feeling a fuzzy, intoxication filling her brain as his lips pressed against hers. His tongue darted out against her bottom lip, begging her to open to him. Why did he taste so good, she wondered as she shivered under his touch. He was hardly the first guy she had kissed but he felt different and she didn’t understand it. She didn’t know him at all, despite the fact he seemed to have been living in her house for months.

“Love, I… I need,” Chan pulled back and stepped away from her. “We need to talk.”

“Sorry,” she leaned back, not meeting his eyes, wiping her lips to try and erase the distracting sensations.

“No, don’t apologize,” he soothed, reaching out to her. “I just need—” he broke off. “I need you to understand.”

“What do I need to understand?” she asked him, frustration coursing through her.

“You’re mine,” he said, taking her face in his hands. “I knew it the moment I saw you that you were supposed to be mine. I protect what’s mine. But I need you to choose me. I can wait. I can send someone else to stay here and protect you. Just… I need it to be your choice because once I have you. I’m not letting you go.”

She should have been afraid, she should have made him leave and run as far as she could as fast as she could. But something in her trusted him. No that wasn’t strong enough. Something said he was right, they were a part of each other.

“Okay,” she nodded as much as she could, still restricted by his hands on her face.

“What?” He asked, his eyes searching hers, trying to divine what she was saying.

“I understand,” Her hands came up to loosely grip his wrists, guiding his hands down from her face. She leaned forward, bringing her lips to his.

“Wait,” Chan took a step back, having to use all his willpower to do so. “You’re sure?” She nodded and his will broke. It had taken so much of him to pull away, to do the right thing. He hadn’t expected her to accept him and what he was. With a desperate hunger, he smashed his lips into hers as he lifted her and carried her to the bedroom. He already knew the place well enough he didn’t have to take his lips from hers as he took them both to her room. He tossed her onto the bed and crawled in over her, pressing her into the mattress with his body. He was pure muscle as he pressed himself against her, she could feel it even through the odd mismatched clothing he was still wearing.

“Chan,” she breathed when he shifted to kiss along her cheek.

“Say it again,” he groaned, grinding himself against her. “Say my name.”

“Chan,” her hand tangled in his hair, holding him close. He pulled back, only long enough to strip off the shirt and to slip the borrowed jeans off his hips. He covered her still clothed body with his, drawing her arms around his neck. She moaned underneath him, parting her thighs to let him settle between them.

“I think I’m a little overdressed,” she pointed out.

“I can fix that,” he grinned, rolling them both over. With hurried hands he pulled off her shirt and unhooked her bra before sliding it off her arms and tossing it across the room. His pupils widened as he took in her bare breasts. They looked soft and inviting and he couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to cup them. She giggled and covered his hands with hers. Sliding backwards off him, she unfastened her jeans and stepped out of them.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Chan propped himself up on his elbows and took all of her in with his gaze. Her hands lifted to cover herself and he sat up, grabbing her wrists to stop her. “Don’t hide…” he blushed slightly as he admitted it, “You’re so beautiful.” He pulled her down to straddle him, running his hand over her waist and thighs.

She leaned down, bringing her lips to his as his hands wandered over her body. He had thought about this moment for months. Being so near her and having her not notice him, not see him had been killing him. So close, yet so far. Every night when she changed for bed, he had done his best not to stare as she stripped and put on her pajamas, only peeking a few times. Everytime she wrapped her arms around him and cuddled into his fur as she went to sleep. He had wanted to change, to confess, to throw himself on her.

Now he had her holding him as his human hands wandered over her soft curves and it was even better than he had dreamed. She smelled like heaven. Like the forest in summer and fields of wildflowers. He wanted to take her in every way possible. Kissing along the side of her neck, he buried his face in her shoulder, pressing her body against his tightly. He wanted to taste her, to feel her flesh in his mouth, to see if she tasted as sweet as she smelled.

He knew why. It wasn’t that he wanted to eat her. The bite would mark her as his to any other wolf that might cross her path. It would meld them together according to their customs and the rules of the pack. The mark would claim her as his alone and give her the protection of the pack.

Breathing deeply, he fought the urge. He needed to do this right. I’m not an animal, he reminded himself, rolling over and moving them both to the center of the bed. Her pleasure had to come first.

“Close your eyes,” he commanded softly. “I just want you to feel me.” She looked into his eyes for a second before nodding and closing her eyes as she laid on the bed beside him. Kissing her lips, he tasted her with a slow and lazy sense of leisure, reminding them both they had all night. He licked and nibbled at her lower lip, letting out an involuntary whine as he asked her to open to him. She parted her lips and let him in, still allowing him to set the pace, to guide her. His tongue thrust into her mouth with a hungry confidence. He devoured her like a sweet dessert, enjoying her taste with a slow deliberation. As he did, one hand played lightly over her chest and collarbone. His touch was as light a feather, teasing her with the contrast of sensations.

Leaving her lips, he slid himself down her body, dragging his lips and tongue over her neck to the center of her chest. He could hear her heart beating under her delicate rib cage, fluttering like a wounded bird. The sound stirred the animal inside him. Was she afraid? Her scent tickled his nose telling him that she was mostly aroused but underneath it was a faint sliver of fear. It wasn’t a fear of him, or at least not a real fear of him. It was the type of fear that makes a rollercoaster fun or that tickles your stomach when you stand near the precipice of a mountain and take in the wonder of the view. That frisson of a potential danger that was entirely unlikely, but not impossible. Looking up her body, he saw her bite her lip in anticipation of… something, of him.

He slid between her legs and moved lower on her body. He kissed and nipped at the flesh of her belly; so soft and vulnerable. The wolf in him loved that she trusted his teeth there. His wolf could have ripped that flesh with such ease and the fact that she trusted him like this made pleasure rippled through him. Moving lower, he settled himself between her thighs, lifting her legs to rest on his shoulders.

“Can I taste you?” He asked, nuzzling against her inner thigh.

“Yes,” she nodded, squeezing her eyes tightly as her hands fisted around the blanket beneath her.

“Show me what you like,” he instructed, licking a line up the slit of her body. “Let me know how to please you.” She nodded, her hands fidgeting with anticipation. “Baby girl, you can look at me now.”

Opening her eyes, she looked down the line of her body to see his hungry eyes fixed on her. Chan’s hand reached up to take hers as he held her hips down with the other, keeping eye contact as he made a testing thrust of his tongue into her. She gasped and squeezed his hand. Satisfaction settled in his chest and he threw himself into pleasing her as he read her body. He licked and nipped and sucked at her until she came apart underneath him with a strangled cry. She was beautiful and he had never felt as powerful as he did in that moment.

He needed to take her, to fill her with his seed until he was sure she would bare his child. An image of her, round with child, floated through his mind. Yes, the wolf inside him growled, take her. Chan slid up her body and positioned himself at her entrance as he pulled her into a kiss. She could taste herself on him as he stole her breath.

“Are you ready for me, baby girl?” He asked, brushing hair off her face.

“Yes,” she nodded, eyes hazy as she looked up at him. “Please, I want you in me.”

“I would give you anything you asked for,” He admitted, coaxing her thighs around his hips. “Have you… done this before?”

“Yeah,” she assured him. “Don’t worry.”

“Okay,” he nodded, a little relieved he wouldn’t have to hold back. Holding her face in his hands, he looked into her eyes as he curled his hips into hers with a slow deliberation. He watched as her face filled with wonder at the feel of his invasion. When he was finally seated fully inside her, he paused, taking a moment to enjoy the way her body stretched to accommodate him. It was like she was built to hold him.

“Can I move?” He asked softly, running the pad of his thumb over her cheek.

“God, yes, please,” she nodded, digging her nails into the skin and muscles of his back. Smiling down at her and keeping eye contact, he pulled himself half way out before thrusting back inside her. She sighed at the delicious friction. His body felt so good inside her, felt like it belonged, or perhaps that they were becoming a part of each other. Chan moved slowly, relishing this moment. She shivered, her hands grasping at his wide shoulders as he moved.

“Please,” she said again. “I need more.”

“Anything for you,” he soothed, placing a few kisses across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. He pulled his hips back and plunged inside her, going as deeply as he could. Setting a steady rhythm, Chan buried his face in her neck as he began to let go and lose himself in the feeling. She filled every sense of his. Her smell, her feel, and the taste of her skin under his lips. Even her pants and moans filled him as they teased his ears in the quiet of the room. Her limbs held him close, gripping him like he was the only thing keeping her from falling. 

Pleasure rose inside him and he knew there was only so long he would last like this. He wanted to feel her come around him, feel her body milk him as she came beneath his touch again. Her heels hooked around the back of his thighs as she arched against him. The slight change in angle let him brush the sensitive spot inside her, making her quiver and gasp.

“Harder, there,” she begged, a desperation growing inside her.

“Are you close,” he questioned, his face tucked in against her neck.

“So close,” she whimpered, her nails raking his spine.

“Cum for me, baby girl,” Chan panted. “I need to hear you cum.” She whined and moved restlessly against him as the warm pleasure pooled in her stomach. He put his lips to the thrumming pulse of her throat.

“Chan,” her voice was barely a whisper when the knot of delight finally snapped inside her. As her body gripped him, he bit the flesh where her neck and shoulders met marking her as his. The shock of pain melded with her orgasm sending a cascade of sensations through her. With a final thrust he came inside her, filling her body with his emissions. He stayed like that until he felt her move restlessly beneath him and only then, reluctantly pulled out and moved to curl up beside her on the bed.

Her hand went to the bite on her neck. It still stung slightly but not nearly as much as she thought it should. Chan splayed a hand over her stomach, rubbing it in small circles.

“Are… are you okay,” he asked, looking at her lovingly as he laid beside her.

“Yes,” she nodded, taking her hand from her neck. “I didn’t expect you to bite me.”

“Just this once,” he promised, pulling himself closer to her. “It marks you as mine, gives you the protection of my pack. You’ll carry a little of my scent now.”

“Oh,” she blushed and looked at him. “Am I supposed to feel different? I don’t feel any different.”

“No,” he chuckled and smiled at her. “It’s something only my kind would notice.” She nodded and laced her fingers with his where they laid on her stomach.

“Did you do it so that he, whoever he is, would know?” She questioned. “Was this all just to, I don’t know, put him off?”

“No, although I would be happy if it did,” He gave her an adoring look. “This was because you were meant to be mine. Meant to be the mother of my babies; to be by my side for as long as we live.”

“So you want children,” she laughed.

“I want to see you filled with my child,” he admitted, his eyes going to where his hand lay on her. “I want to see it grow inside you. I want to raise it with you, watch it grow into someone as beautiful as you are.”

“Someday,” she nodded. “But I’ve been on birth control, so I don’t think we could just yet.”

“The bond,” he explained. “When I claimed you with my mark, it sort of…” he paused, searching for the right wording. “It opens you to me.”

“Oh,” she blinked at him a few times, trying to process what he was saying. “Even if we just… this one time?”

“Maybe,” he furrowed his brow slightly. “If  you don’t want, at least not yet,” sitting up, he moved to help her walk to the bathroom. “We can try to clean you out, maybe prevent it.”

“No, it’s just a lot to adjust to,”  she explained. “A lot has sort of happened since this morning.”

“I know, baby girl,” he laid down again and pulled her into a spooning position against him. “Let’s go to sleep for now and figure out the rest in the morning.”

Over the next few days neither of them left the house. She called in sick to work, not wanting to put either of them in danger by going out to a place he could so easily find and potentially corner her. Even with Changbin there, with so many people and such a big space, it would be possible to miss him, or at the very least, to not notice him until it was too late. Instead his pack mates came over to plan their next move. Chan spent most of his time planning with Minho and Changbin, setting patrol schedules and scout missions for everyone. Hyunjin was assigned the duty to investigate at the hotel and talk to the woman who had been mauled. Maybe it wasn’t a random coincidence that he had picked her, Felix had suggested after their second meeting. After all, if he was just looking to hurt people and just stir up trouble here, why target her? Sure it could have been a coincidence if he had just been foiled and chosen another target, but he hadn’t.

The suggestion had made Chan go cold. It made sense, but what had made him target her? There wasn’t something particularly special about her, except that she was his mate, but even he hadn’t known that yet. Was it possible the loner had some way of knowing even before Chan did? As far as they knew, it wasn’t possible to know but, still the thought lingered.

As the meeting was drawing to a close, Chan’s phone rang. Hyunjin was calling him from the hospital where he had gone to talk to the other victim.

“Chan?” There was a slight edge of panic to Hyunjin’s voice as he spoke.

“What’s the matter?” Chan asked the other boy, worried immediately by his tone.

“She’s… she’s my mate,” Hyunjin whispered into the phone.

“What?” Chan had a sudden sinking feeling in his chest. He stood up, needing to see his mate, to touch her and know that she was there and fine. He found her sitting at the table in the kitchen, snacking on something as she read.

“I’ve never met her before,” Hyunjin started to explain. “But I felt it the moment I walked into her room. She was just lying there, still sleeping, so hurt, and it just hit me. Her scent and just her presence; I know she’s mine.”

“How did he know?” Chan asked, pulling his own mate against him as he spoke.

“I don’t know, but this can’t be a coincidence,” Hyunjin insisted.

“I know,” Chan agreed.

“Look,” Hyunjin sighed. “I can’t leave her alone here. I have to stay for now.” Chan understood, letting him stay with the promise to send someone else to keep watch over her tomorrow so he could get some rest and come back to discuss what to do next.

“I hate this,” Chan said, as he sat at the cafe a block away from the craft store.

“We can hear everything that is happening,” Jisung assured him. “She’ll be fine, but we need him to come out.”

“I know,” He shifted in his seat. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

They spent the afternoon waiting, and waiting, and waiting. Over an open line, Chan, Jisung, Changbin and Jeongin listened as she went about her day like everything was fine and normal. She helped customers, stocked shelves, and worked at the register, all while Chan was on the edge of his chair, waiting for something to happen. But, it seemed, it was all for nothing. The sun set and the store closed and seemingly all was well. She locked the front door and set about closing everything down by herself.

Chan relaxed a little, hearing her calm humming as she closed down the register and counted out the money in the back of the store. After the money was counted and locked in the safe, she just had to make one last pass through of the store to make sure no one had left something behind or left a mess and then she could head home. Over the radio, Changbin and Jeongin started joking around, getting playful after a tense day. Everyone was relaxing, at least until a loud crack broke over the mic followed by her surprised squeal. The jokes stopped and everyone froze.

“I know you all are out there,” the loner’s self-satisfied voice cut through the silence. “Don’t worry. I won’t make her suffer, but sadly, you will.”

Before the words were even finished coming out of the loner’s mouth, Chan was up, running as fast as he could to the store. He had to get in, he had to protect her. Jisung was on his heels as they ran across the street and into the strip mall parking lot.

“Why?” She asked, her voice slightly strained.

“Why should he have you when my mate was stolen from me?” He growled.

“What did they have to do with that?” She asked, keeping him busy for as long as possible. If he was explaining things, he wasn’t killing her.

“Nothing,” he admitted, dragging her towards the back door. “But neither did anyone in the last three territories I went through. This one was the first one that figured out it was me though.”

“What the hell is the matter with you,” she spat. “You think you can take something from others just because it happened to you?”

“Why should I be the only one who has to be alone?” He demanded, pushing her against the wall by her neck.

“The only one,” she scoffed, realizing this was probably not the ideal way to handle this, but she couldn’t help it. “You know most people don’t have some beacon to tell them who they are supposed to be with. Even those who do, people lose the people they love all the time. Car accidents, illness, crime, no one needs your help suffering, you selfish, shitty person.”

“What do you know,” he hissed back. 

“I know that your mate was lucky not to have had to spend a lifetime with someone who would do this,” she challenged. “No one deserves that.”

Shock and rage vied for dominance in his expression as he stared at her. He made a sound of pure rage and pulled back a hand to strike her. Never having been the sort to just lay down and give up, she kicked out catching the side of his knee. It didn’t really hurt him, but it was enough to unbalance him and make him catch himself, giving her the chance to break out of his grip. She knew she wouldn’t get far, he was faster and stronger, so she just tried to get as close as she could to where Chan and the others were. They would come, she had faith.

The loner came up, grabbing her from behind. “I’m glad, even if this is the last thing I do, I’m not just denying him his mate, but I’ll take his child, too.”

On the other side of the glass door, Chan felt half a second of numbing terror. He had to get inside, for both of them. Changbin picked up a part of a broken concrete curb stop and smashed it against the window, cracking the safety glass into a million little pieces, still stuck together by the coating, but weakened. He hit it again, opening a hole the size of a fist, and again, until the tear in the inner plastic layer got bigger. Impatiently, and perhaps a little recklessly, Chan covered his hand with his jacket sleeve and tore at the shattered glass. Finally the hole was big enough and he crawled through onto the display on the other side of the glass. He had to find her.

Their scuffling was audible and he found them quickly, rolling on the floor a few aisles into the store. She had curled into a ball, only moving to thwart his attempts to move her or drag her further to the back of the store. They all leapt on him, pulling him off her and dragging him away before they made sure he could never hurt another person. Chan stayed with her, trying to get her off the floor where she lay. He needed to hold her, make sure she was okay, make sure the loner hadn’t done anything to her that needed an ambulance.

She peeked out from under her arm, checking who it was before throwing herself into his arms. Relief coursed through her like she had never felt before. She breathed his name and threw her hands around his neck. Pulling her to his chest, he held her close for a moment before pulling her back to get a better look at her. Bruises were blooming on her neck and wrists, but that seemed to be the most serious injuries inflicted upon her.

“Baby girl,” he looked into her eyes, trying to find the words to express how sorry he was he hadn’t been there.

“I knew you would come,” she assured him.

“I will always come for you,” he promised, his hand dropping to her stomach. “For both of you. I will always protect my loves with everything I have.” Over the past few days he had been so preoccupied with their hunt and their planning that he hadn’t noticed the subtle change in her scent.

“How do you know,” she shook her head. “I don’t feel any different.”

“Nothing much, just a little change in your scent… hormones and all that,” He smiled and shrugged. It wasn’t really something a person could sense themselves. “Are you happy? I know this has been… too much.”

“I am,” she nodded. “I may not have chosen this way to meet you and fall into your world, but I don’t think I can imagine ending up anywhere else.”

“You’re mine,” he assured her. “And there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do just to see you smile.”

Masterlist

[kathyprior4200]

So...It’s A Deal Then?

Chapter One: Alastor’s Game

  The year was nineteen thirty three. A tall man with short brown hair, medium brown skin and round glasses was running for his life, his feet making boot tracks in the snow, spotted with red. He wore dark pants and a white and brown shirt with a black bow-tie, all stained with blood from another victim he had butchered and eaten. The sounds of footsteps and barking dogs came from behind him. The police were chasing Alastor Moreau, a serial killer and Louisiana’s most famous radio host. Alastor ran with a crazed look of terror in his eyes…and a wide grin he kept on his face despite the situation. The man maneuvered through the trees, racing at full speed in the direction of his cabin. He felt like his lungs would burst out of his sore chest but he didn’t dare stop.

 During the chase, Alastor had been bitten by a rabid dog in an alleyway. His arm and hand throbbed where the punctures were and his head felt inflamed. It was like someone was taking a hot knife and bashing repeatedly against his skull. Black spots danced across his vision as he ran. Several times, he felt maggots and bugs crawling in and out of his skin, always staying there no matter how hard he shook them off. The frozen lake seemed to be chasing after him as well. Alastor saw waves of water threatening to pull him under to drown.

 With loud growls and barks, two of the police dogs bit hard into his leg. Alastor yelled out, shaking his leg frantically to get the German Shepard and Black Labrador off him. A gaping wound from his leg and torn pants splashed crimson blood as Alastor ran and wobbled along, gradually getting ahead of the officers.

 Not too far away, he spotted a hunter dressed in deer skins, rifle at the ready. Alastor glanced down at the dead doe that the hunter had recently shot. Alastor wailed in sudden despair, for the doe had his mother’s face. He gave the hunter a murderous look and charged forward. The hunter gasped in fear as the madman raced toward him, his pupils constricted, eyes devoid of sanity.

 The hunter raised his rifle in fear. “Don’t come any closer!”

 But there was nothing left for Alastor now. He wasn’t going to let himself get arrested. He was going to feast on this hunter or die trying. He kept running right into the hunter’s line of fire. Through the pain and agony, his face yelled, “Do it!”

 An ear-piercing gunshot rang out, echoing off the bare trees in the snowy woods. The bullet pierced straight between Alastor’s eyes. Alastor crashed to the snowy ground, the dogs mauling him with their paws on top. The police soon arrived and the dogs moved aside. They turned him over and there was Alastor’s mauled body and cold dead face. The hole in his head made the surrounding snow stain red with blood. His brown eyes were glazed over, and even in death, there was a strange smile on his face.

 The hunter looked shaken at what he had done. “He’s gone,” he said. “He was going to kill me…”

 Alastor’s body was promptly burned, his belongings destroyed or, in the case of his old radios…given away. His obituary was announced in the newspaper and at his own radio station, ironically enough. It was the last broadcast before his station, too, was destroyed. Although his fans were devastated, the majority of New Orleans were relieved that the Louisiana Lunatic was dead.

         Alastor saw black nothingness for a while, until he could feel hard ground below his back. He slowly opened his eyes, staring at a red sky. Wasn’t he supposed to be dead?

 He slowly sat up and stared at his hands and legs. Before his very eyes, his brown hands grew longer into a hideous shade of tan-gray colored palms, the fingernails turning into sharp unkempt claws. Strangely, there were four digits instead of five on each hand, the ring and pinkie fingers fusing together. His unnaturally proportioned bare feet were also an ugly tan-gray, with four long toes and claws extended.

 Stretching pain coursed through him and he grit his teeth. Alastor slowly stood up on shaky legs and looked into a nearby window. His face was now pale gray, his eye glowing red and bigger than his previous eyes had been. The short brown hair on his head crept down to end near his chin, the hair turning red with black at the ends. A red and black deer tail grew from his lower back. Small black antlers grew from his head as well as fluffy red and black tuffs shaped like deer ears. He opened his mouth in shock, watching as his white teeth yellowed and grew into sharp pointed fangs. His tongue became long and lavender, the gums black. Within his groin, Alastor’s grey member was still the same as it was in the living world. Beneath his blood-stained white and brown shirt, his pale gray skin was laced with scars along his back and chest. They were scars from his father’s whippings, ritual cuttings and from attackers. Just like during the Great Depression, his new body was unnaturally bony and thin.

 He snapped his fingers absentmindedly and nothing happened.

 But after a few minutes, something appeared in his hands…a red vintage microphone staff.

 “What the…?”

 He tapped it a few times. “Hello? Is this thing on? Testing, testing…”

 A red glowing eye appeared beneath the speaker. “I heard you loud and clear!” the voice said. ”In fact, all of Hell can hear you now! You’re live on the air!”

 How was that possible?

 Alastor gasped and threw the staff in front of him like it was cursed. The staff vanished before it could hit the ground and reappeared in his hands.

 He soon realized that the staff was a part of him.

 He gasped out loud and swore in French Creole. He tapped the staff and it blinked off before vanishing. He stared around, his eyes frantic. “Where am I? What is this place?”

 He clutched at his throat, his radio voice sounding strange to him. This was what he must’ve sounded like to his listeners back in New Orleans.

 “You’re in Hell, buddy,” said an evil looking demon flanked by a gang of goons. With a flick of his ears, Alastor froze in place like a deer caught in the headlights. The leader had green skin and scales. “And you’re about to become fresh meat!” The trolls held spiked bloodstained clubs and snickered.

 Having no powers, save for his radio voice, Alastor promptly fled.

 “Get him!” yelled the lead demon as his goons followed. Alastor wasn’t about to die again, not even in this nightmare of a world. He remembered his mother telling him that smiling was a show of strength, so he did. Out of all the forms he could take, he was stuck as a demon deer hybrid. It briefly brought back memories of him hunting deer in the woods. What a way for a former predator to become the prey.

 On the plus side, he had better strength and enhanced hearing, sight and smell. With the glowing eyes, Alastor knew he could also see perfectly in the dark.

 Alastor evaded his pursuers by dashing into an alleyway and hiding behind a dumpster. The footsteps faded away. Alastor looked around, then crept out. A red skinned girl wearing provocative black clothing winked at him. “Ready to have a good time?” she drawled. Alastor yelped in fear and disgust, pushing the prostitute away before heading back out into the streets.

 Above him in the sky was a giant glowing red pentagram that took up most of the red sky. Beside it was a brown planet with a black and red pentagram on it. He felt like an alien being forced to adapt to a new planet. Forget New Orleans…this place was New Horror-leans.

 The city was huge, the population greatly topping New Orleans…and all of Earth. It was sort of like New York and Tokyo, but more chaotic. At every corner were drug stores, strip clubs, malls and in shady areas, black markets. And the denizens themselves looked very bizarre. A majority of them took the form of colorful bi-pedal animals, though a few looked more humanoid. Alastor saw snake demons, dragon demons, demons with many eyes or some with just one eye. The human ones had similar features to when they were alive. Alastor’s eyes widened when he saw the Axeman talking to Attila the Hun and Dr. Facilier. Alastor was lucky to have avoided the Axeman during his killing sprees.

 A group of demons sneered at Alastor, taunting “deer boy newbie,” as he walked. An arrow narrowly missed Alastor’s head as a bull demon cheered “bull’s eye!” Alastor promptly took the arrow from the wall and threw it right into the demon’s right eye. The bull roared in pain, covering his eye as he stomped off.

 “That’s how you really make a bull’s eye,” Alastor smirked before moving on. He briefly spotted a bi pedal wolf smoking on a balcony of his apartment. “What’cha lookin’ at, punk?” the wolf yelled, spitting on the street before continuing his smoking. Signs nearby read “drugz,” “smoking,” and “endless spam” in bold letters on brick walls. The putrid smells of odor and garbage reached Alastor’s nostrils.

 Then another thought came to him: where was he going to live? Just the thought of him becoming homeless after living a luxurious life in the nineteen twenties both stunned and infuriated him.

 On the news, a black and white screen showed Tom Trench sitting at a desk, talking about weather and turf wars. He wore a suit with a neck tie and his face was a face mask below short blonde hair. Below him was the 666 News logo in the right hand corner.

 “…and then I died in a trench by a gas attack in the nineteen hundreds,” he said, pointing to his gas mask face. “Hence why I look like this. Now no gas can get me…as I’m already dead. Take that, you toxic producing demons out there.”

 Demons were smoking, fighting, raping, killing and just generally being cruel to each other. Those of similar species hung out more often, excluding others. A group of Hell born elite wearing velvet clothes and top hats with eyes and teeth whispered to each other while glaring at Alastor.

 “Sinner scum,” Helsa spat, giving off an aura of superiority in her glowing orbs. Her skin was dark grey and her hair was shaped like octopus tentacles. She wore a bright pink dress with fur trim and carried an expensive white purse.

 One of the elite joined in, a pink creature with punk clothing, wild colorful hair, and an overall dinosaur-like appearance. “They do nothing but add to the population and chaos of this dump.”

  “Those native to Hell have a hard enough time as it is without catering to those common pre human fools,” another added. It was a man dressed in green wearing a top hat with eyes and teeth. Seviathan. “They can’t even reproduce, let alone keep proper jobs. Immigrants need to stay out of our realm and go back to the void where they were spat out. If only my royal girlfriend could see that.”

 Helsa scoffed, “That spoiled bitch is oblivious to everything that goes on around her. She should’ve been blind decades ago.”

 “You make Charlotte blind, Hels, you’re gonna pay.”

 “Make me, Sevia. I already have enough money.”

  A growl rumbled in Alastor’s throat as he felt those burning critical eyes on him. Alastor had first-hand experience with discrimination as a man of mixed heritage back on Earth. Now in Hell, it appeared to be less about skin color and gender than it was about class and nationality. Alastor was reminded of the different forms of discrimination that Blacks, Native Americans, Irish and Italians dealt with as he had learned about in history.

 His ears flicked on their own, taking in the sounds and sometimes the distant screams of this new place.

 “I miss my mama,” he thought.

 In the distance, Alastor heard loud evil laughter as Sir Pentious blasted at buildings from a metal blaster gun, the man looking like a well-dressed black and yellow snake. “Bow before my mechanical might, cowards!”

 He stood on a podium carried by metal propellers, while a bunch of Egg Bois followed him on the street below. Thankfully, he was far enough away from Alastor to notice him. Running behind the egg minions was a blue scientist fish dressed in a lab coat carrying a vial of liquid in his hands.

 “Hurry up, Baxter!” Sir Pentious yelled, looking behind him. “That clone serum won’t get used by itself. More minions at once!”

 “Coming, sir,” Baxter said in a German accent, trying not to slip in egg yolk and step on egg shells.

 “This place is a mad circus for lost causes!” Alastor thought, almost saying it out loud. Then another thought came to him. “If we’re all mad here, then why can’t I be the maddest of all?”

 And mad he was.

 Alastor was mad that he somehow ended up in Hell, despite killing all those rapists and racist men in life. He should be in Heaven with his mother, not down in Hell with his asshole of a father, wherever he was. He was mad that even in the afterlife, he and so many others were treated like shit by ignorant folk too stuck in their ways and beliefs.

 Alastor glanced up and saw a billboard which read “66.6 FM, brought to you by Muse the Demon Radio!” The picture showed a man dressed in a brown suit with a bright red necktie decorated with cris-crossing lines shaped like the metal beams of radio towers. His head was an old fashioned radio, his eyes white triangular shaped dials, his teeth metallic.

 “Amusing, Muse,” Alastor himself mused. He clenched his fists. No way was he going to let this piece of clunky junk run Hell’s radio station. If Alastor could broadcast through his microphone, then he might as well make a goal to become Hell’s only broadcaster. “Demon Radio, you’ll meet the Radio Demon soon enough.” Mentally, he put Muse as the first on his hit list.

 Although it was Alastor’s first day in Hell, his drive to kill grew stronger by the minute. And his desire for flesh made him even hungrier than he had been during the Great Depression. He wished he had more power. Just being able to broadcast what was going on anywhere wasn’t enough for him.

 As if reading his thoughts, the microphone spoke up in a radio voice. “I believe there is a way to get power, power beyond even your wildest dreams. You remember your voodoo rituals, yes?”

 Alastor nodded.

 “Then there should be a book that’ll allow you to do all sorts of things. Now we just need to find one.”

 But where?

 Alastor made his way into a bar where he met one of the Overlords, a deer with a flaming blue head and a deer skull for a face. He wore a suit with a black bow tie and buttons.

 “Excuse me sir,” Alastor asked.

 The deer turned around. “Yes?”

 “You don’t happen to know where I can find a powerful spell book do you?”

 He didn’t expect the Overlord to answer to some stranger.

 Surprisingly the Overlord did answer. “Sure. There’s one that Lord Stolas keeps in his palace. It’s not too far from Imp City.”

 “Thank you kindly,” Alastor said before making his way there.

 “Why’d you tell him the location of such an object, Furfur?” asked a bird demon with two heads wearing comedy and tragedy theater masks.

 “Comodia. Malum,” Furfur addressed the fellow bird Overlord with a laugh. “He’s a sinner. Stolas loves killing off foolish ones like him! Ha! He’s gonna die!”

 Nearby, a grey skinned woman wearing a pink hat with black roses on it, eavesdropped on their conversation. She shook her head as she daintily sipped her tea.

  Alastor soon reached the palace, narrowly avoiding killer imps roaming the streets. It was a great brick building covered with yellow sigils of Stolas along the high walls. Several windows had white and pink stained glass designs. A balcony had banners sowing the family crest and white and pink double doors with a silver crown design on it. Two bird guards holding glaives and wearing armor stood by the front doors, their feathers white with black spots, their yellow becks shaped like those of eagles. Out near the garden, the white owl queen sat with other owls drinking tea with a pink layered cake in front of them. There was a water fountain with blood on the bottom basin. The statue consisted of a crown and a posing Stolas in the center.

 Alastor spotted some green vines off to the side. Checking to see that no one was watching, Alastor grabbed onto the vines and climbed up. The vines ended not too far from a stained glass window. But the window was too high up for him to reach. Alastor tried not to look down. Just because he was already dead, didn’t mean that being so high up was comforting. The vine began to snap under his weight and a bird guard patrolled along the lawn, nearly looking in his direction. The vine snapped and he almost yelled out and fell. Thankfully, he had extended his long claws, which dug into the small crevices of the wall, briefly keeping him in place. Wasting no time, he clawed his way up to the window, lifting himself up. He was surprisingly strong, despite his lanky body. He raised his fist, getting ready to break the window, but then he stopped. What if he had a little bit of magic in him as a demon? A little bit of natural magic he could use?

 Alastor concentrated and found that he could turn into a full demon form. A form he quickly grew to appreciate. His black antlers branched out from his head and his eyes turned into red radio dials. He knew that if he transformed further into a wendigo, all Hell would break loose. He stared at himself in the reflective surface of the glass and smiled. The window promptly shattered into pieces on the marble floor inside. He quickly swung himself inside just as the bird guard glanced up toward the window. Avoiding the shards on the floor, Alastor reverted back to his base form and looked around. Nothing much in the room except old furniture, candles, and tree branches decorated with feathers. No sign of books anywhere.

 Alastor knew all about Voodoo and rituals because he had practiced them with his mother on Earth. He found out that he had a spiritual connection to Kalfu and an affinity to fire. It was only natural for the microphone to remind him of what he had learned in the past. Alastor made his way down the hallways, curved steps leading down to the lower levels. The rugs were red and decorated with symbols and wings. Decorating the walls were small black emblems of the Gnostic demon family crest, a crown flanked by wings and an owl head underneath.

 Alastor entered another room, this one decorated in pink drapes and a queen size bed. There was a large vanity area with bottles of makeup by the mirror. An old fashioned white dresser was by a wall. On a bedside table were several pictures: Octavia playing with Charlie and Helsa when they were little at the ash beach and Blood Red Sea. Octavia and Charlie going to Loo-Loo World together, posing by a Disney looking castle eating apple shaped popsicles. Octavia with a grumpy expression on her face, her father doing a goofy face and pose next to her.

 The microphone appeared and the glowing eye scanned for books at a distance. The eye read the tiles and saw the book covers while the books were still lined up.

 “Anything?” Alastor asked.

 “Just books on the Lessor and Greater Keys of Solomon, owl history, herbs, astronomy, Chinese festivals and some romance novels.”

 “Urgh, where is it? You said it’d be here.”

 “Technically the Overlord did.”

 “He wanted me killed, didn’t he?”

 “Welcome to Hell, deer face.”

 “What did you just call…”

  Both of them paused when some humming was heard. The bathroom door was ajar and a book was on the floor. Ever so silently, Alastor crept to the door and slowly opened it wider. The microphone buzzed in warning but Alastor ignored it. The book had a symbol on the back cover with the name “Octavia” written on it. Alastor picked it up and looked at the front cover. It was black and had an eye in the center. Instead of voodoo symbols, the book title read: “Living with a hyperactive dad and a distant mother.” In smaller letters it said, “Cheating parents 101.” It appeared to be some sort of diary.

 “Wow that’s deep,” the microphone muttered as Alastor gently put down the book. Princess Octavia was humming to herself in the shower, a combination of hoots and a British tone. She turned the water off and fluffed up her white and grey feathery chest, sending droplets everywhere. Her pink dress hung on a hanger by the door, her golden crown by the sink.

 Octavia opened the shower curtains and Alastor froze. Octavia’s eyes widened.

 “Hello,” said an embarrassed Alastor.

 Octavia took one look at the tall smiling demon staring at her, and screamed. Alastor’s hand was over her mouth in seconds. The guards would surely be alerted of his presence by now.

 “Sorry darling,” Alastor whispered.

 He reached forward with his other hand and pinched her throat with two of his fingers. Octavia gasped a few times, then went limp. Alastor wrapped her up in a white towel, picked her up and gently placed her on her bed.

 “Ever the idiotic gentleman I see,” said the microphone.

 “Close your head,” Alastor seethed. “She’ll be fine, she’s only knocked out.”

 “I don’t have a head.”

 ‘You know that’s not what I…never mind, let’s go.”

 Outside, the guards were already searching the grounds and some were flapping their wings in the air. A few hurried down the halls inside. Time was running out.

 Alastor glanced at a big room with double doors: the master bedroom. Alastor made his way over to the doors and opened them. Inside was a master bed with several pillows, a white head board and banners above the curtains. A royal portrait showed Stolas, his wife Melodia and their daughter Octavia, dressed in red robes. Not too far from a diamond chandelier, was another portrait of Stolas on his red throne and a detailed picture of a king’s crown.

 The Gnostic owl king was currently talking on a white rotary phone with a few wings on it. He was wearing a red robe with white furs and had a gold crown on his head. His black top hat had eyes that matched his own.

 “Hello Donner,” he said. “How’s your son, Blitzy doing? Still looking for work and being a rebel?”

 Alastor looked around and then he saw it. Right next to a Satanic ritual book, cover facing forward was a grimoire with Voodoo and Satanic symbols on it.

 “So what if you want Blitzy to be a boring killer and trickster? If he’s pursuing musical theater, just let him have at it. You don’t want to crush his musical theater dreams do you? Oh wait, you already did. Some asshole father you are.”

 Alastor inched his way closer toward the book.

 “Do you know what happens when I’m angry, Donner? When I’m angry, I become hungry and when I’m hungry, I want to…Hey!”

 Stolas gasped as he spotted Alastor grabbing the book.

 “Intruder!” he yelled. ”Kill him!”

 In an instant, several guards burst into the room, holding deadly spears.

 “I’m gonna have to call you back,” Stolas said before slamming the phone hard.

 Alastor looked down below the window, the ground was many feet below. The guards rushed at him, Alastor not wanting to jump out the window from such a height.

 Just then, a forceful wind, blew back the guards, sending them toward Stolas. One crashed into his lap, the other into the wall.

 “Get off, get off!” he squawked, pushing the guard off. Octavia rushed into the room, now in her pink dress. “What happened?” she asked.

 “Bastard’s stealing my book!” Stolas cried.

 Alastor couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw something strange and amazing. An elegantly dressed woman was floating in the air, one hand holding a pink umbrella in it. Her other hand was the one that caused the wind blasts. She held out her hand to Alastor with a stern look.

 “Let’s go, foolish fawn.”

 Alastor took her hand and the two of them flew away from the window and farther from the palace. Stolas yelled in anger as they left. Melodia and her family watched the two flying individuals with puzzled looks on their faces. Then they went back to their tea.

  “I’m Alastor, pleasure to be meeting you, sweetheart.”

 “Rosie,” she responded. “Don’t go thinking that I’ll save you again.”

 The two of them landed by Franklin and Rosie’s Emporium. They had discussed musicals and kill counts along the way. The shop was currently closed but it had clothing and antiques displayed in the windows.

 “Thank you for that,” Alastor said. “Why’d you save me anyway?”

 “I overheard my fellow Overlords mentioning a sinner going to risk his life for some magic book. Figured it wouldn’t be fair to let a newcomer die, even in this place. You’re not from around here, are you?”

 “No, mam’.”

 “Just be careful out there,” she said. Despite being new to Hell, Alastor’s charming personality had already gotten to Rosie.  She jabbed a claw against Alastor’s chest, “And if I ever find you doing stupid stuff like that again…”

 Alastor held up his hands. “You have my word that I won’t.”

 “Good. Tea and a massacre singalong in a week?”

 “That would be splendid!”

 Alastor didn’t bother to mention that he only liked black coffee and hard liquor.

 “Goodbye for now.” She eyed his clothes distastefully. “And do change into some better clothing.”

 Alastor kissed her knuckles and the two of them parted ways.

 With the book finally in his possession, Alastor began the ritual in a wood full of dead trees. He drew Kalfu’s veve on the ground, surrounding the symbol within a larger pentagram. Several black and red candles surrounded the circle…Rosie had let him borrow some of her own after he had claimed he was practicing a Satanic ritual dance. He then invoked Kalfu. The Loa appeared as a man with black skin and flaming bull horns from his head. He wore a red suit with a top hat to match. His mischievous eyes glowed red. Shadow demons with glowing eyes appeared in the surrounding darkness from the black portal.

 “Greetings Alastor,” Kalfu said with a smile of sharp teeth. “As you are a person who’s faithful to us and one who has witnessed death and loss, I hereby bestow a portion of my power onto you. You will be able to control the shadows, teleport, conjure fire, make portals, possess others and many more. Remember, your shadow form will be separated from your body and take a form of its own. My demons will get ten percent of your full power to use as they please. And along the way…you’ll have to learn some harsh lessons, experiences that can break even the strongest demon.”

 Alastor nodded in understanding.

 Kalfu cut his hand, handing Alastor a black bladed knife etched in both angelic and demonic symbols. Kalfu then held out his palm for Alastor to shake. Alastor cut his own palm and their blood intermingled as they shook hands.

 “Why does this feel too easy?” Alastor asked himself before shrugging it off.

 The Loa extended his palm. Red electricity raced out and consumed Alastor.

 It all happened before Alastor had the chance to blink.  Through his high pitched screams and deer barks, Alastor felt something being ripped from him, the pain almost making him black out. Moments later, a grinning look-a-like shadow hovered by him. The dark subconscious thoughts that Alastor had in his previous life was now in shadow form. Shadow creatures rapidly circled around him and black tentacles enveloped his entire body like a macabre cocoon. His body curled up like a fetus in the darkness.

Tingling hot red electricity spread into his head, then moved down his body, much of it resting in his hands and fingers. He snapped his fingers on instinct and a burst of red magic sparked to life like a firework. Voodoo symbols and static filled the air as power coursed through him, magic merging with every nerve and fiber of his being until it became part of him.

 Then knowledge of magic and voodoo spells entered into his brain. The new information faded into the back of his head, staying there like he had it within him all his life. The tentacles moved away, allowing him to move. His body glowed with a red aura. Alastor briefly shape-shifted into a red stag before turning back again.

 Alastor snapped his fingers again, this time changing his outfit. His old clothes were replaced with a tattered red dress coat with vermillion vertical light red stripes going down it. His undershirt was bright red with an upside down black cross design. His pants were long and wine colored. Black tap dancing shoes were on his feet, bright red deer prints were underneath his soles. A wine colored bow tie was under his long gray neck. His clawed hands were soon covered by dark wine colored gloves with red spots on the tips and knuckles. He waved his right hand and a monocle appeared under his right eye. His deer tail was now hidden underneath the tail end of his dress coat.

 Alastor took in his new appearance, his body glowing with a red aura.

 "HEHEHEHEHAHAHAHA!"

 Alastor let out a maniacal laugh that rose higher into hysterical giggles. All this supernatural power was coursing through his veins, and he loved every second of it.

 Finally the magic quietly faded with a humming sound.

 “Good luck,” Kalfu said before he and the demons vanished.  

 Alastor soon toppled many Overlords, including Muse. He had barged into the radio studio, interrupting Muse’s show.

 “What is the meaning of this?!” Muse Marconi exclaimed.

 Muse fired electricity at Alastor but he blocked it with a tentacle.

 “There can only be one Radio Demon in Hell,” Alastor said, grabbing onto Muse’s suit. “And that won’t be you.” Muse tried to fight back but to no avail. Alastor ripped off his metal radio head and tossed the screaming contraption out the window. He snapped his fingers and in a haze of neon colors and static, the studio transformed into a large cabin with radio towers nearby. The new studio was by the woods as well. Alastor snapped his fingers and Muse’s body and head burst into flames.

 Who knew that finding a place to live would be so easy? Private and rent-free as well.

 Alastor grinned and spoke into his microphone, the red light blinking on.

 “Greetings denizens of Hell. Your former radio host has fallen from grace…quite literally. Now, it’s time to welcome your one and only new host, Alastor on 66.6 FM!”

 It wasn’t long before sinners called him the Radio Demon, a name Alastor embraced as evidence of his increasing influence. Even the most fearsome of monsters were scared, for good reason, at the demon who could shatter reality, if not their souls.

 Now that Alastor had his powers, he could also summon his shadow and dark minions to do his chaotic work. His microphone staff could now play jazz music, hypnotize demons and send out destructive radio waves that blew out brains and destroyed nearby buildings. His minions looted stores, slaughtered demons and feasted on deer carcasses in the streets. Several voodoo imps carried demon heads on spikes as they jumped around wearing top hats and pinstriped suits to fit their small sizes. Skeletal deer and shadowy deer watched with evil grins at the burning carnage. Laughing tracks emitted from the staff as Alastor admired his gruesome handiwork.

 Alastor met flapper woman Mimzy Hannigan at her jazz club and they bonded over songs, drinks, and the occasional murder. They also talked about their memories from New Orleans. Alastor eventually became an Overlord, bonding with hell born Overlord Rosie Poppins who became his friend and mother-figure. Overlords Valentino, Vox, and Velvet would arrive in later decades.

 Alastor had overthrown several Overlords, including Overlords of the Telephone, Telegraph, Textile, Cars, Books, and even a demon with a grandfather clock face. He made a truce with the demon of Film and the demon of theater. Alastor also learned the Hell names of his parents: Neleus for his father and Poena for his mother. He didn’t know where they were or if his mother was even in Hell. He had assumed that she had gone to Heaven, but maybe she was just waiting for permission. They said his father was a demonic black stag and his mother was an angel doe humanoid.

 Hopefully, he would find them in the future.

 Alastor became one of the most feared Overlords, even getting into king Lucifer’s good graces. Both men were goofy and enjoyed having fun…and both had powerful dark sides that were not to be trifled with. In fact, Lucifer didn’t mind that Alastor went off and slaughtered many demons. Alastor was almost like an executioner for him. Less souls equaled less trouble. As long as Alastor obeyed the rules and didn’t cause too much trouble, Lucifer was content to let the Radio Demon do his thing. Though, they did disagree on a few things: Lucifer liked polka music while Alastor preferred jazz. Alastor was also stunned that Lucifer could only make somewhat decent carnival food, but he didn’t dare mention it out loud. If Alastor was a dapper man, Lucifer was a ringmaster. Lucifer and Alastor even bonded over drinks while watching Lucifer’s wife, Lilith perform on stage in a gorgeous blue and purple dress and a hat with pink flowers that had moving eyes in them. Her band, Resist, played in the background as she sang her heart out on stage (quite literally, as a witch doctor had to rush over to put the organ back into place before the show continued). Lilith sang many classics: “God spelled Backwards Is Dog,” “The Apple of My Eye,” “Fall From Grace,” “Adam the Asshole,” and “Grieve For Eve.”

 Later in his cabin, Alastor looked through the spell book to find anything interesting. A sketch book lay next to him on a table, with well detailed drawings of crocodiles, deer, and radios in it. Not too far away was Alastor’s grander lair underground in the shadow world. The above ground cabin near the woods was more of a casual hideout and studio. The radio towers from his roof and nearby watched the area with all seeing eyes at the very top. Any intruder who came near the place would be forced to the ground by the radio waves and consumed by shadowy monsters. Even those who wore ear plugs would be at the mercy of the waves.

 Toward the end of the book, Alastor stumbled across a Satanic pentagram drawing and spell that would allow him to briefly enter the living world. It was the same spell that I.M.P. would use to enter Earth and kill humans for their clients. It would be a great opportunity to build his army and recruit allies to work for him. He knew that there would be powerful enemies around to hinder his broader goal of someday taking over Hell and the hierarchy system. Plus, it got boring working alone at times.

 Everyone would be equal in a chaotic world, all of those hopeless denizens tumbling into death and failure while Alastor watched. No more oppression from anyone else, only fear and respect. Even the more powerful rulers would eventually be at his mercy. Everyone would be puppets for his grand act…those who disobeyed wouldn’t live to see the finale. Hell would be the first world stage, then maybe Heaven and Earth. If the world was a stage, then the stage was a world of entertainment for Alastor.

 Alastor grinned sinisterly. This was going to be very entertaining.

     Chapter Two: The Chipper Cleaner

 Niffty lives her life as a Japanese American woman and teenager in the 1950s. She is little, with short black hair and pale skin. She is born in the 1920s…on March 22 (VA birthdate), 1929! Being the same age as Vaggie when she died at age 22, Niffty died in 1951. She is a human named Nerissa Nifuti (after the maid. Her last name is Niffty in Japanese). She works as a maid for a white adoptive family after her parents are taken to an internment camp for being Japanese. Niffty faces taunts and hate for being Japanese at her school and by her family. Niffty lives in West Virginia. Pearl Harbor bombing in 1941 traumatizes everyone. During World War Two from 1939 -1945, Niffty is in her early teens.

 Alastor appears to Niffty between 1933 and 1950. 1946. Niffty is 17.

 Niffty wishes for true love and her fanfiction and cooking and cleaning to be appreciated. Then she encounters Alastor. Alastor gifts Niffty with three things: a new boyfriend, appreciation for her work, romance mangas and, as a bonus: a radio. The radio has a smiling grin on it, one of many versions that Alastor made. Niffty calls Alastor “senpai,” already charmed by him. Niffty signs a contract, agreeing to help him out.

 But Niffty gets more than what she bargained for. Her boyfriend is abusive. Her fanfictions gets attention from her friends and attracts ugly horny males to her. Her adoptive family appreciates her cleaning and cooking so much, they make her do more. Niffty looks for the strange demon’s guidance, remembering him saying, “If you ever need my advice, just turn on the radio and call out my name.” She does, the radio seeming to appear when she needs it. The radio blinks on and jazz music plays, along with an alluring voice. Hypnotized by the radio and tired of her boyfriend, Niffty goes and kills him. She also sets his house on fire, with a crazed laugh. “He took my virginity, so I took his life.” She then goes and kills her racist adoptive family (something she wouldn’t normally do) and cleans up the area very well.

 Niffty’s actions draw attention to the police. They break into her house in 1951 when she is 22. Niffty gets stabbed several times near her thighs by the racist officers. One officer is a relative of Niffty’s former boyfriend. Before anyone can stop him, he throws her into a burning fireplace for revenge, where she dies. The radio vanishes from Earth.  

  Chapter Three: The Grumpy Gambler

Husk lives his life as an Irish American man in the 1900s to 1970s. Husk is born on December 10 (VA birthdate) 1896, the same year as Alastor’s birth!  He is a human named Hilario Foley (name meaning happy in contrast to his grumpy personality in Hell, surname meaning plunderer in Irish). Husk is born in Las Vegas to his parents. In his youth, he enjoys being around children, singing and putting on magic shows. He adores cats. Husk faces discrimination for being Irish, soon having to work in second class jobs. He is bullied in school and his family loses their jobs. In addition, his father is a heavy drinker, which encourages Husk to get into his addiction as a teen. Husk eventually makes a living by working at a casino, having previously been exposed to the heavy gambling culture and the thrill of chance games. He plays many games, Solitaire, Poker, Blackjack, among others. Husk enters World War Two in 1940 until its end in 1945. Husk endures PTSD from the war, ending up with nowhere to go.

 Alastor appears to Husk between 1933 and 1970s. 1946. Husk is 25.

 Husk wishes for money, a comfortable life, booze and a chance to find true love. Then he encounters Alastor. Alastor gifts Husk with three things: several stacks of booze, enough money to start a career in the gambling business, increased luck in all things, and, as a bonus: a radio. Husk signs a contract, agreeing to help him out.

 Husk becomes lucky in gambling and soon, he becomes wealthy. He kills many people in the war and he also wins bar brawls. He also gets a wife and the two have a child. But he gets more than what he bargained for as time went on. His drinking addiction gets worse, and so does his gambling and reckless spending. It becomes so bad that his wife files for divorce, taking his child with her. Sometime between 1955 and 1975, Husk leaves to fight in the Vietnam War and survives, but at a great cost. When he comes back, he is traumatized, having nearly died eight times. With nothing left to live for as an old man, Husk drinks himself to death in 1971 at age 75. The radio vanishes from Earth.

   Chapter Four: A Hellish Mess

 Niffty ends up in Hell in her cyclops form in 1951. She discovers that she can move very fast, which helps her evade attacks from predatory demons who target the young. An evil dragon breathes fire at her and she flinches…only to find that she is immune. Niffty conjures a large sewing needle and stabs the evil attackers. But one giant creature picks her up and tosses her into the burning lake of fire. She plunges to the bottom of the lake, unable to breach the surface as sinners sink to the bottom instead of floating like in regular water. Though Niffty can survive in hot places, the heat and pressure becomes uncomfortable. There are also fiery underwater monsters to avoid. There is no way for her to interact with the world, make friends and no one to fall in love with.

 Until one demon is alerted by her presence…

 After having signed the contract on Earth, Niffty’s presence is sensed by Alastor’s shadow. The shadow reaches in and picks up Niffty, the little demon gasping for breath. Then, she meets Alastor. Alastor reminds Niffty of the deal she had made in the living world and invites her to shake his hand to seal it. Niffty is eager to do so, already enamored by the Radio Demon’s charm. Niffty soon works for Alastor, making his meals, cleaning his cabin-like lair underground (Deer’s Den), sewing voodoo dolls and tailoring his suits. She also is handy in fighting as she is immune to fire, speedy, skillful with her hands and can fit into small places. In exchange, Alastor gives her a place to stay, money, some journals and clothing for her hobbies, plus voodoo creatures for her to eat and play with. Niffty is soon summoned from the fireplace and gets to work cleaning the hotel rooms and helping make meals for the hotel residents. Niffty writes erotic fanfiction and sews in her spare time. Niffty calls herself Niffty.

 Niffty’s true intentions would eventually be revealed. Niffty seeks to be doted on by lots of men, and she lives in a fantasy world of her own. And she’ll use any means necessary to make the world of Hell her own.

 Chapter Five: Cat’s Out Of The Bag

 Husk ends up in his black and white cat form with red car suit wings in 1971. He gets into more bar fights and shoots at demons who try and steal his gambling money. Husk hisses and his cornered and chased by Hellhounds.

 Until one demon is alerted by his presence…

 After having signed the contract on Earth, Husk’s presence is sensed by Alastor’s shadow. Alastor’s shadow swoops in and finishes off the hellhounds, saving Husk. Then he meets Alastor. Alastor reminds Husk of the deal he had made in the living world and invites him to shake his hand to seal it. Husk refuses at first but Alastor reminds him that he saved his life…now Husk must work for him. Alastor grins and threatens Husk with the thing cats fear most. Husk concedes before Alastor can enact on throwing him into the burning lake. Husk groans out loud and, having no other choice, shakes it. Husk calls himself Husk, but Alastor likes calling him Husker, much to his frustration. Husk soon protects Alastor in battle, flying through the air, scratching and killing enemy demons and even former Overlords. Husk uses blade cards, his claws and teeth to attack and his wings to defend himself and Alastor. Husk also provides Alastor with hard liquor. Alastor gives Husk money, booze, and a place to stay. He also promises that Husk will find love, though neither one believes it. Husk had lost the ability to love years ago due to the wars, drinking, and his self-interests…plus being influenced by Alastor’s deal. Alastor summons Husk from the Blackjack casino, just as he was about to win the pot. Husk soon works at the front desk and as a bartender at the hotel, swearing at everyone, gambling and drinking booze.

 Eventually Husk would bond with his new friends, and grow closer to Angel Dust.

[merlinistheredheadedstepchild]

Magic Bullet - June 13, 2011

Ugh, Kate I do like that they’re going for a Buffy cold open moment where we think the blonde’s in trouble and then she’s a badass But it’s Kate Also neat shot of the Alpha running along side her car How is she not deaf? She fired a shotgun three inches from her ears

And the Alpha howling wakes Scott And he decides to come check it out?

Chris should be better at lying than this

Derek getting his blood hound on The Alpha getting its gorilla on And parkour Kate getting her sharp shooter on Derek does not understand how injuries work

“Not even a hello, nice to see ya?” “All I’ve got now is please put the assault rifle away before someone sees.” Like a reasonable werewolf hunter

They think there are only two of them and they need the beta to lead them to the alpha

Kate hasn’t seen Allison in a year And she and Chris should be better at lying To be fair she did almost get mauled

Stiles is asking all the important questions and Scott cant handle any of it

“No more talk about the Alpha or Derek. Especially Derek, who still scares me.” And he looks genuinely scared in that moment. Because I’m fairly certain he’s trying to hide the existential crisis he’s going through behind werewolf research

I know Derek looks too old to still be a high school student and thus people in the halls should notice him. But I’m not certain I ever looked at the people around me once while walking between classes in high school

I might have noticed the guy who looks like he’s in withdrawal

God he looks so sad for a second before he puts on his game face to threaten Jackson “Where’s Scott McCall” “Why should I tell you” “Because I asked politely and I only do that once” Derek looks so offended that Jackson thinks he’s selling Scott steroids And then he accidentally claws open Jackson’s neck

Derek looks confused while he listens to Lydia and Allison talking about condoms and dates He’s such a good actor Like I’m offended by how much he makes me feel for Derek while he’s just staring and listening or cringing away from a ringing bell

Ooh the jeep scene Just pass out in the parking lot why don’t you?

“What are you doing here?” “I was shot.” “He’s not looking so good, dude.” “Why aren’t you healing” “I can’t. It was a different kind of bullet” “A silver bullet” “No you idiot” (Roll your eyes a little harder while you’re dying, Derek) “Wait, wait. That’s what she meant when she said you only had forty eight hours” “What? Who… who said forty eight hours?” “The one who shot you”

“Why should I help you” “Because you need me”

Scott you should help Derek out because he is dying and you have empathy! But you’re sixteen and in denial about being a werewolf and in love with this girl who’s family wants to kill you and you are putting all of the blame and hate on Derek

“I hate you for this, so much”

It’s strange that they don’t have a mountain ash situation in their house But I guess they haven’t thought up mountain ash yet

“Haven’t been here for like, over a month?’” That purple dress is so cute This techno music is not

“Start the car or I’m gonna rip your throat out. With my teeth.” The scene that launched a thousand ships The make up on Derek is doing such a good job that it actually looks like they cgi-ed him into the scene. Like his lighting and coloring is so different it looks like it was filmed on a different day

“That’s my dad’s sister Kate. Except she’s more like my sister.” “She actually used to live in Beacon Hills, maybe you saw her once?”

Allison is clearly a perfectionist who is searching for something artsy but is ultimately very good at athletics and not art

“So I was nationally ranked as a kid. My dad really wanted me to go on.”

Chris is so fucking great at being a terrifying dad

Kate is great at being a cool aunt To bad she’s a terrible person

Chris, cool your fucking tits He’s sixteen You don’t even think he’s a werewolf yet It’s cute that he anchors her even though it’s him that her dad is attacking

“And by the way he’s starting to smell.” “Like what?” “Like death!”

Dylan and Hoechlin are far and away the best teenage actors on this show right now and they have amazing chemistry and I totally get it Derek is more of a person in those scenes with stiles and it’s probably partially that he’s dying and partially that Stiles is a human

The Argents have no chill

Why are only a few of her bullets wolfsbane? Shouldn’t they all be?

Oh god. The rabid dog speech. Find your fucking chill Christopher!

Does he think Scott knows a werewolf?

Ooh abs

“Last resort” “Which is?” “You’re gonna cut off my arm”

And Kate confronts Scott And Allison whips out a condom to protect his virtue

Ugh, Stiles. That jacket Is the no chest hair so that he looks younger?

“Oh God! What if you bleed to death?” “It’ll heal if it works.” “Look I don’t know if I can do this.“ “Why not?”

You are actively dying! How much sass is necessary?

“You faint at the sight of blood?” “No, but I might at the sight of a chopped off arm!” “Look either you cut off my arm or I cut off your head”

Derek only knows how to get these kids to listen with threats But his threats are fucking weak

“He’s not waking up” “I think he’s dying. I think he’s dead!” Stiles holds Derek’s face so gently

And we get the first punch Derek in the face to save his life

I like how the burning of the wolfsbane seems like a drug ritual

He is just cut to pieces

“That was awesome! Yes!” Not the time Stiles “Are you okay?” “Except for the agonizing pain.” Not the time Derek “I’m guessing the ability to use sarcasm is a sign of good health.” Still not the time Stiles

“You think you can trust them?” “They’re a lot freaking nicer than you are!” “I can show you how nice they are.”

Beacons Crossing Home ( Because they hadn’t realized they needed him at the hospital yet

Oddly, perfectly clean shaven Peter looks so much older than scruffy Peter

“Six years ago my sister and I were at school. Our house caught fire. Eleven people were trapped inside. He was the only survivor.” “They’re the only ones that knew about us.” “They say they’ll only kill an adult and only with absolute proof but there were people in my family that were perfectly ordinary in that fire. This is what they do. This is what Allison will do”

Derek believes that Allison is like Kate

Scott have some fucking empathy his entire family was murdered by the Argents there is no reason for that He tells you there were humans in the house and thus innocents who shouldn’t have been killed And yet, you think he’s liar

“How do we know its just the two of them?” “We don’t.”

“You and the code.” “It’s there for a reason.” “Of course. I always play by the rules.” And then she lights the gas fireplace. Because they are not fucking around with the allusions on this show

End Episode Four

Notes:  I think Kate is meant to be no more than a decade older than Allison. Otherwise them being like sisters would be strange. I think Chris suspects every teenage boy might be the third wolf Derek becomes twenty or twenty one around episode three Though if he was fifteen and it’s been five and a half years that still checks out

[ask-dancing-fox]

In an instant Sabito was the one infront of the demon instead, everything happened so fast he had no time to process it. His eyes grew wide behind his mask.

That gutless piece of shit was using him as a sheild.

And it worked.

"HRRK!"

A ton of force hit Sabito, the impact shooting through his bones and ricocheting inside his ribs which took the most impact. There was no air left in his lungs after the demon crashed into him, his body landing hard ontop of Kaigaku who was quick to squeeze out from under them.

Shit!

Sabito was left to the monster and thinking fast he shoved his way further down just under it's chin, bearly saving himself from it's terrible and hungry maw. His heart was pounding, feeling bruised in his chest from the weight crushing him. He grunted, trapped under what felt like an avalanche. He couldn't breathe, his chest couldn't raise even slightly. The beast 's noises were impossibility loud as it writhed ontop of him, not caring about it's missing limbs so long as it got a bite of the tender flesh it was given.

Sabito could feel it's thick drool getting in his hair and the added pressure pressing him even more.

"Nngh..!"

He gritted his jaw, his entire body buzzing, fingers trembling though fear wasn't to blame. He had to escape. Kaigaku was DEAD.

Taunting and smug words came from the thunder breather but there was so suprise there. He was only digging a deeper grave for himself.

Suddenly that yellow blade jutted through the demon's neck, a waterfall of blood pouring down onto his mask as the katana's tip pressed against the brow of his mask.

Beg?

He never would. He was nothing like Kaigaku. No matter what Sabito would never give him or anyone else that kind of satisfaction. He was nothing like the thunder breather, he would die like a man.

And it wouldn't be tonight.

Sabito's fingers spidered his swords handle back into his hand and he mannaged to take the smallest morsel of a breath.

"Seventh...form...Piercing raindrop...!"

SHHHNK!

Sabito drove his sword through the side of the demon's head above him, throwing its body to the side and allowing him a very small window to shoot out. He ripped his blade from the demon's skull and slashed Kaigaku, his katana slicing the bastard across the stomach in a diagonal pass though it wasn't quite as deep as Sabito would've liked it to be.

The fox rolled off to the side, chest heaving as he swallowed a few desprate breaths. That was it.

Rage, unbridled, ultimate rage churned within Sabito like stormy tides. He almost attacked Kaigaku then and there hadn't it been for the demon regenerating its limbs.

It came for him again, stampeding on all fours torwards the fox boy.

He just stood there as it got closer like he had a death wish then the beast was upon him and it was too late, his blade wasn't even poised, claws were coming to slice his stomach open.

It would be difficult to get a good shot at it's neck like that. It had to come up higher. So Sabito made it.

He kicked the demon like a rabid dog, uppercutting the beast with his knee knocking it's chin up. He hit the thing with such force a couple of it's fangs broke upon it's jaws clashing together. It's neck was exposed and a single slash of water passed through it's neck.

Another limp body fell to the ground.

Sabito panted, the air stinging his lungs and drying his throat but he didn't care. The veins on the back of his hand were buldging as he clutched his blade. His mask and haori was drenched in blood, he was dirty from the fight, knowing he had bruises all over but he wasn't at all tired.

No, he still had plenty of energy left to maul Kaigaku.

He turned, those nightmarish eyes of his mask stabbing through the thunder breather and Sabito ran right at him with a yell, leaping up and slamming the sole of his shoe dead center into Kaigaku's face, sending him into the ground. Sabito stomped on his face several times, he stabbed the arm weilding his sword pinning it to the ground. He was beyond words, yanking his sword from his arm only to stab it again in a different place, downright animalistic in his fury now.

This disgrace really tried to drag him down to his level, no, below him.

It was something he wouldn't forgive. Kaigaku had shown his true colors, willing to resort to any means to get what he wanted.

No more insults came from Sabito, noneworthy enough to describe the scumbag under him. His name itself should be a word of shame, meaning a personification of all things loathesome and dishonorable.

He wouldn't stop what he was doing, even if Kaigaku were to go unconscious Sabito wouldn't stop the senseless beating until he had enough. Kaigaku could cry and wail and scream. It wouldn't be enough and once he was satisfied or until his body could no longer continue he'd destroy his sword and relay what had happened tonight to the master. Kaigaku would be exiled and once he was what would stop Sabito from killing him?

He wanted Kaigaku to live the rest of his miserable life in fear. Yes, that would be better than death, it was a torture that would go on for years before he finally died in the street like a dog- alone and nameless.

Exactly what he deserved.

Sabito stomped on Kaigaku's arm with one foot, grinding his heel into one of the punctures while the other foot on his throat, putting his weight on it.

His sword pointed right down to one of those bright green eyes and Sabito leaned closer.

"Tell me..."

His voice was heavy, his words slow to push into Kaigaku's brain- if he even had one.

"Why do you have such a warped view of reality? Why is it you can't see how worthless you really are? Why can't you realize that you'll never amount to anything?"

His eyes narrowed behind the mask.

"No...You do know these things, you just don't care... so I have a better question...."

He moved his sword down, pressing it against kaigaku's cheek.

"Why do you live in denial..?!"

“What’s behind the mask?”

"Behind the mask?"

He repeated the question, one many thought though never had the courage to voice. It was a great mystery to all who did not know him. For those who only saw glimpses of him through the forest on cloudy days many assumed him to be a spirit of sorts, a wrathful but protective diety who kept evil at bay but the truth was he was only a human with a talent for slaying demons. His appearance was like a phantom and it conjured fear and curiosity in any who laid eyes upon him for the first- and often the last- time.

"It's none of your buisness."

His voice was harsh, that harrowing mask cruel with It's peircing eyes and void expression. It was a carved face without mercy, a sheild protecting his great secret. He stood there unmoving and staring the stranger down, his aura deeply menacing dispite his loose stance.

"If you want to find out so badly come and try to see for yourself."

He challenged, the hand that wasn't gripping the wooden sword at his side beckoned the other person to do just that, to take a single step and get struck down right away. He stood and waited, watching, wondering if this person actually had the guts to try.

Were they man enough?

[cleopatrarps]

In India, Protecting Cows May Be Creating Killer Dogs

KHAIRABAD, India — On a recent evening just a few minutes before the sun went down, Sahreen Bano, a 10-year-old girl, walked into a sugar cane field to urinate before going to bed. A pack of wild dogs was waiting for her.

The dogs formed a tight ring and then closed in, pulling her down as one dog’s teeth sank into her neck. She screamed. Nearby farmers dashed in as fast as they could, rocks, sticks and hoes in their hands, yelling at the top of their lungs.

Sahreen now lies on a hospital cot, a brown, bloodstained bandage wrapped around her neck like a scarf, eyes fluttering, most likely out of danger.

But the attack on Sahreen was not an isolated event. At least 14 children have been mauled to death by dog packs around Khairabad in recent months.

Khairabad is one of those little towns, off a highway in northern India, that prosperity and hope seem to have skipped over. The houses are small and smothered in dust; the villagers thin and poor. Most are farmers, many are Muslim, and on this terrifying dog menace, they blame politicians — specifically the Hindu-right politicians whose zeal to protect cows, they say, may have created killer dogs.

Last year, a new Hindu-right government, led by Yogi Adityanath, a monk who is one of India’s most divisive figures, was swept into power in this state, Uttar Pradesh. Mr. Adityanath built his career by pushing a Hindu-supremacist agenda and demonizing Muslims.

One of the first things he did as Uttar Pradesh’s chief minister was shut down most of the state’s slaughterhouses, scores of them.

The stated reason was that many were operating illegally. But residents are convinced that the yogi and others in his political party wanted to wipe out the meat industry in order to protect cows, a sacred animal in Hinduism. That many Muslims had been employed in the meat industry may also have been attractive to him and to some of his Hindu-supremacist followers.

But another consequence was the stray dogs. And nothing — not increased police patrols, high-level visits, a surveillance drone or a dog vigilante squad that employs macabre tactics — has been able to stop the attacks.

Last Wednesday afternoon, minutes after another young girl was mauled in a mango orchard, a squad of police officers, wearing jeans and gym shoes, rushed to the area.

They sprinted past the arcing mango trees heavy with hard, green fruit and into the endless sugar cane fields. They were sweating through their shirts, yelling to each other to go this way or that, rifles and shotguns bouncing on their backs.

But the officers didn’t squeeze off a single shot. The killer dogs had vanished.

School attendance is dropping. Khairabad’s farmers are terrified to linger in their fields, especially at night. Over this past weekend, wild dogs struck again, attacking five people.

Khairabad, like just about any other Indian village, has a lot of strays. Many of the strays used to survive off scraps from the slaughterhouse and after it was abruptly shut down, villagers and veterinarians said, some of the strays might have gone mad with hunger.

“Because these dogs are getting less food, they move toward the neighborhoods in search of food,” said Dr. R. K. Singh, the director of the Indian Veterinary Research Institute. “That is leading to intense human animal interaction.”

Children, he said, were “a soft target.”

Mr. Adityanath’s government is prickly when asked about Khairabad’s dog menace, denying that the closure of the slaughterhouse had anything to do with it.

“Why would the dogs of only Khairabad turn into man eaters when slaughterhouses have been shut down all over?” said Awadhesh Kumar Yadav, an urban development officer.

That remains a mystery, though veterinarians said dog attacks were happening in other areas as well.

The forensics here in Khairabad tell their own story. Pictures of mauled children reveal that the dogs clamped down on their throats, the way a leopard or a lion takes down its prey. Some of the children had parts of their legs and arms chewed off.

A few adults have been attacked as well, but none killed.

The dogs, who may come from one pack, have developed a taste for human flesh. On some days, maulings are reported five to 10 miles apart, in the span of just a few hours, a lot of ground for a dog to cover.

But these are not normal strays, villagers insist. They can run 40 miles per hour, “faster than a motorbike,” said Ayub Khan, a village elder. Their mouths were larger, their health better, and, he added with wide eyes and a knowing nod, “their jump is very long.”

Police officers say the dogs travel in packs of five to seven; according to tests performed on several animals linked to the attacks, none were rabid. More than 40 suspicious strays have been captured and sterilized but that has not made any difference.

The dog vigilantes are not taking any chances. On a recent evening, they moved out en masse, dozens of men and a few preteen boys, all carrying sticks, knives or axes.

They spread out across the sugar cane fields and mango orchards, just about the only source of jobs out here. As they moved, the village dogs lounging in the shadows seemed to sense trouble and scrambled up on skinny legs and high-tailed it away. The vigilantes were clear that they were not trying to kill all dogs; India’s dog laws are quite protective and courts have ruled it is illegal to cull strays.

But in January, this same vigilante group killed three dogs and nobody got in trouble. Elders said the dogs had attacked children, and they strung up their carcasses from a mango tree for nearly a month.

“We wanted to send the other dogs a message,” explained Rahimullah Khan, part of the posse.

Not far from where the vigilantes were mustered stood the Khairabad slaughterhouse, its brick floor grooved to drain away blood. Thousands of animals, mostly buffalos, used to be slaughtered here.

But the slaughterhouse is now deserted, the sun casting harsh shadows on its empty courtyard. All the dogs who used to hang around have disappeared.

Many villagers here said they never suffered such vicious dog attacks when the slaughterhouse was open. They said it was not fair to protect cows at the cost of people.

They also complained that stray cows routinely trampled their crops but if they tried to do anything about it, they would be arrested.

“Forget about killing them,” a farmer named Saeed said. “Under Yogi, you can’t even touch them.”

When asked if it were dangerous to so openly criticize Mr. Adityanath, who has a reputation for being ruthless, Mr. Saeed shrugged.

“We are free to say what we want,” he said. “But who will listen?”

In the district hospital, the young children who barely escaped lie on their backs in metal cots, one after the other, blood-soaked bandages wrapped around their necks.

“This is the chief minister’s responsibility,” said one mother, Rani Sharma.

But then she shook her head, as if coming to her senses.

“Only God helps the poor.”

Suhasini Raj contributed reporting from New Delhi.

Follow Jeffrey Gettleman and Hari Kumar on Twitter: @gettleman and @HariNYT.

The post In India, Protecting Cows May Be Creating Killer Dogs appeared first on World The News.

from World The News https://ift.tt/2IYPTKo via News of World

[dani-qrt]

In India, Protecting Cows May Be Creating Killer Dogs

KHAIRABAD, India — On a recent evening just a few minutes before the sun went down, Sahreen Bano, a 10-year-old girl, walked into a sugar cane field to urinate before going to bed. A pack of wild dogs was waiting for her.

The dogs formed a tight ring and then closed in, pulling her down as one dog’s teeth sank into her neck. She screamed. Nearby farmers dashed in as fast as they could, rocks, sticks and hoes in their hands, yelling at the top of their lungs.

Sahreen now lies on a hospital cot, a brown, bloodstained bandage wrapped around her neck like a scarf, eyes fluttering, most likely out of danger.

But the attack on Sahreen was not an isolated event. At least 14 children have been mauled to death by dog packs around Khairabad in recent months.

Khairabad is one of those little towns, off a highway in northern India, that prosperity and hope seem to have skipped over. The houses are small and smothered in dust; the villagers thin and poor. Most are farmers, many are Muslim, and on this terrifying dog menace, they blame politicians — specifically the Hindu-right politicians whose zeal to protect cows, they say, may have created killer dogs.

Last year, a new Hindu-right government, led by Yogi Adityanath, a monk who is one of India’s most divisive figures, was swept into power in this state, Uttar Pradesh. Mr. Adityanath built his career by pushing a Hindu-supremacist agenda and demonizing Muslims.

One of the first things he did as Uttar Pradesh’s chief minister was shut down most of the state’s slaughterhouses, scores of them.

The stated reason was that many were operating illegally. But residents are convinced that the yogi and others in his political party wanted to wipe out the meat industry in order to protect cows, a sacred animal in Hinduism. That many Muslims had been employed in the meat industry may also have been attractive to him and to some of his Hindu-supremacist followers.

But another consequence was the stray dogs. And nothing — not increased police patrols, high-level visits, a surveillance drone or a dog vigilante squad that employs macabre tactics — has been able to stop the attacks.

Last Wednesday afternoon, minutes after another young girl was mauled in a mango orchard, a squad of police officers, wearing jeans and gym shoes, rushed to the area.

They sprinted past the arcing mango trees heavy with hard, green fruit and into the endless sugar cane fields. They were sweating through their shirts, yelling to each other to go this way or that, rifles and shotguns bouncing on their backs.

But the officers didn’t squeeze off a single shot. The killer dogs had vanished.

School attendance is dropping. Khairabad’s farmers are terrified to linger in their fields, especially at night. Over this past weekend, wild dogs struck again, attacking five people.

Khairabad, like just about any other Indian village, has a lot of strays. Many of the strays used to survive off scraps from the slaughterhouse and after it was abruptly shut down, villagers and veterinarians said, some of the strays might have gone mad with hunger.

“Because these dogs are getting less food, they move toward the neighborhoods in search of food,” said Dr. R. K. Singh, the director of the Indian Veterinary Research Institute. “That is leading to intense human animal interaction.”

Children, he said, were “a soft target.”

Mr. Adityanath’s government is prickly when asked about Khairabad’s dog menace, denying that the closure of the slaughterhouse had anything to do with it.

“Why would the dogs of only Khairabad turn into man eaters when slaughterhouses have been shut down all over?” said Awadhesh Kumar Yadav, an urban development officer.

That remains a mystery, though veterinarians said dog attacks were happening in other areas as well.

The forensics here in Khairabad tell their own story. Pictures of mauled children reveal that the dogs clamped down on their throats, the way a leopard or a lion takes down its prey. Some of the children had parts of their legs and arms chewed off.

A few adults have been attacked as well, but none killed.

The dogs, who may come from one pack, have developed a taste for human flesh. On some days, maulings are reported five to 10 miles apart, in the span of just a few hours, a lot of ground for a dog to cover.

But these are not normal strays, villagers insist. They can run 40 miles per hour, “faster than a motorbike,” said Ayub Khan, a village elder. Their mouths were larger, their health better, and, he added with wide eyes and a knowing nod, “their jump is very long.”

Police officers say the dogs travel in packs of five to seven; according to tests performed on several animals linked to the attacks, none were rabid. More than 40 suspicious strays have been captured and sterilized but that has not made any difference.

The dog vigilantes are not taking any chances. On a recent evening, they moved out en masse, dozens of men and a few preteen boys, all carrying sticks, knives or axes.

They spread out across the sugar cane fields and mango orchards, just about the only source of jobs out here. As they moved, the village dogs lounging in the shadows seemed to sense trouble and scrambled up on skinny legs and high-tailed it away. The vigilantes were clear that they were not trying to kill all dogs; India’s dog laws are quite protective and courts have ruled it is illegal to cull strays.

But in January, this same vigilante group killed three dogs and nobody got in trouble. Elders said the dogs had attacked children, and they strung up their carcasses from a mango tree for nearly a month.

“We wanted to send the other dogs a message,” explained Rahimullah Khan, part of the posse.

Not far from where the vigilantes were mustered stood the Khairabad slaughterhouse, its brick floor grooved to drain away blood. Thousands of animals, mostly buffalos, used to be slaughtered here.

But the slaughterhouse is now deserted, the sun casting harsh shadows on its empty courtyard. All the dogs who used to hang around have disappeared.

Many villagers here said they never suffered such vicious dog attacks when the slaughterhouse was open. They said it was not fair to protect cows at the cost of people.

They also complained that stray cows routinely trampled their crops but if they tried to do anything about it, they would be arrested.

“Forget about killing them,” a farmer named Saeed said. “Under Yogi, you can’t even touch them.”

When asked if it were dangerous to so openly criticize Mr. Adityanath, who has a reputation for being ruthless, Mr. Saeed shrugged.

“We are free to say what we want,” he said. “But who will listen?”

In the district hospital, the young children who barely escaped lie on their backs in metal cots, one after the other, blood-soaked bandages wrapped around their necks.

“This is the chief minister’s responsibility,” said one mother, Rani Sharma.

But then she shook her head, as if coming to her senses.

“Only God helps the poor.”

Suhasini Raj contributed reporting from New Delhi.

Follow Jeffrey Gettleman and Hari Kumar on Twitter: @gettleman and @HariNYT.

The post In India, Protecting Cows May Be Creating Killer Dogs appeared first on World The News.

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