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impactedfates · 1 year

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Can you do imbibitor lunar! Dan heng x troublemaker! GN! Child reader? (Platonic)

Dan heng was supposed to babysit the reader but the reader is a little bit a trouble maker.. The reader has a soft spot for Dan heng lololo

A/N: Hihi :D I’ve returned!! Sorry for leaving for so long, but I should be able to get back to writing!! Requests are still closed for now, once all my current requests are finished and maybe some short fics and/or scenarios are written I'll open them up again. Thank you anon for the request!! And thank you for being patient with me to write this, I hope you'll enjoy this :>>

W.C: 1692

Warnings: None (I hope - Not fully proofread but I’ll fix anything once I’m back from school Ü)

Extra: Dan Heng is in his Vidyadhara form // Child reader so ofc is younger and shorter then most characters // Trailblazer is whoever you want it to be lol // Reader has been babysat for awhile by the Express (specifically Dan Heng) but now lives with the express in the fic

“[Name]!! Get down from that…NO DON’T J U M P”

March let out a small groan as she ran and stopped you from trying to jump off the fridge. She sighed and shook her head at you.

“Just what would Dan Heng think about this”

You stook out your tongue at the tired girl as she carefully put you down. Shaking her head. You were a new member of the Express family, Dan Heng had found you hiding when he was walking around Scalegorge Waterscape. And you seemed to cling to him, always hugging his tail. He doesn’t say no to it but he is surprised you seem to like him so much.

The Express like you as well!...Expect you seem to only like Dan Heng…especially when he’s in his Imbibitor Lunae form, not to say you don’t like him when he’s in his regular form, but you seem a LOT more attached when he lets you cling onto his tail.

It’s obvious to all the express (except Dan Heng it would seem) that you won’t listen to anyone but him, and on one hand it can be cute, on the other hand…it can be painful.

“[Name] All I said was that you couldn’t eat ice-cream for breakfast…it is not healthy whatsoever!”

March explained, puffing her cheeks, though maybe she shouldn’t say anything as she herself tried eating ice-cream for breakfast.

“Who’s trying to eat ice-cream for breakfast?”

A tired voice came, as Dan Heng came walking in, rubbing his eyes as he had just woken from sleep, his long hair tied back. After you joined he seemed to be in this form more often, for different reasons, one of them being you refused to sleep unless his tail was your blanket.

“[Name] is! Dan Heng tell them they cannot have it, and we’re saving it for tonight!!”

“[Name], Himeko bought them so we can have them to eat for movie night later tonight…plus having ice-cream for breakfast isn’t healthy y’know”

Dan Heng spoke gently, crouching down to your level, March stood behind him with a victorious grin. She knew you wouldn’t be able to say no to him…and she was right, you pouted a bit and looked away, crossing your arms, mumbling out an annoyed and reluctant.

“Fine.”

“[Name] sweetheart, please give that ba-”

*C R A S H*

Yet another mug belonging to Himeko broke right in front of her eyes. She silently mourned the mug, taking a small deep breath and looked at you.

“Y’know…your auntie Himeko liked that mug a lot sweetie…”

She spoke, gesturing to herself, but you simply stook out your tongue at her, about to reach over and knock over ANOTHER mug, this time belonging to Welt. Himeko was quick to swoop you away from it and caught the mug from making another loud noise. She placed it on a higher shelf, away from your reach even if you climbed and despite your thrashing, moved you on the Express couch.

“I heard a loud crash, is everything alright?”

Dan Heng called out, walking in, spotting the broken mug on the floor, his eyes softened and looked at Himeko apologetically.

“That was your favourite mug…wasn’t it?”

“Yep…”

She sighed, shaking her head disappointedly. Dan Heng was quick to grab a broom and start cleaning the broken shards, Himeko smiled at his gesture and began ruffling his head as if he was a child.

“Himeko…”

*C R A S H*

Himeko froze and her head snapped towards the source of the sound, the direction of your very own bedroom. You had seemingly left quickly when Dan Heng and Himeko were chatting and now you seemed to have broken yet another thing, you came waltzing in with a bunch of credits in your hand, lifting them up to Himeko, and with puppy eyes said.

“I’m sorry auntie, here. You can buy another one!”

Himeko smiled softly at you and shook her head, carefully taking the credits from your hand. Although you probably only ran to your piggy bank (assuming that’s what you broke for the credits) because Dan Heng entered, she could tell you did feel sorry upon hearing it was her favourite mug.

“It’s okay sweetie…just…try not to do it again”

You smiled and nodded. Promising her you won’t do it again…if you couldn’t actually keep that promise, she wasn’t sure. And she was sure you weren’t sure either but. She’d forgive you again in a heartbeat if she’s being honest.

Welt stared blankly at your wall, the wall that had now been decorated with some of his artwork…his artwork that had been torn up and collaged up without his permission.

“[Name]...what…is this?”

He spoke, pushing up his glasses as he closed as his eyes narrowed, darting at each page, clearly with a rip. Though he will admit that the collage…was pretty nice. Just…he wished it wasn’t from one of his sketchbooks, old or not.

“Art”

You said proudly, and sure…you weren’t technically wrong. Welt simply sighed and shook his head, crouching down to your level and carefully explained to you that you shouldn’t take things without people's permission. It isn’t nice.

You tilted your head and grinned, before grabbing his sketch book from your bed, looking him straight in the eye…you did ask but you did it while…ripping the page in the process. Welt could only pinch his nose in slight irritation…until the door to your door opened and his sketchbook was thrown behind your bed as you looked at whoever entered innocently.

“Big Brother! Look what I made”

“Huh? Oh…looks nice [Name]”

Dan Heng spoke, his eyes looking at the wall before it noticed Welt, he turned to face you with a concerned expression.

“Did you…ask Mr Welt if you could use his things?”

“Well no…”

“[Name], next time ask, Mr Welt really treasures his drawings”

You simply nodded with a small pout, honestly you thought it was an old sketchbook Welt didn’t care about…but hey. You still got a compliment from Dan Heng right? Welt could only hope you’d listen now that Dan Heng told you.

“Did you both really just go hunting in trash?”

Dan Hen asked with a deadpan, looking at you and the trailblazer, now filthy. You giggled a bit, scratching the back of your head. As the trailblazer was quick to defend themselves.

“THIS TIME…this time it wasn’t me, believe me. This one right here jumped into the dumpster first, so I jumped in to get them. Then I tried to catch them but they kept…SWIMMING?? Around in the piles of trash…wait can you swim in trash?”

The Vidyadhara put up his hand to silence the grey haired trailblazer, before his eyes glanced at you. Raising an eyebrow, he silently asked if this was true to which you…slowly nodded again, embarrassed. He sighed a bit and rubbed his temples, he was still calm. He simply pointed in the direction of the bathrooms.

“You two, bathe. Now.”

“But-”

“N o w.”

Movie Night! Finally, nothing bad happens. Perhaps that was due to Dan Heng managing to keep you calm and quiet with just his presence. But no one complains, everyones happy enough.

Everyone goes to their own room after they finish up so they could go to bed and get ready for the next mission, but they seem to find something in their room, a gift it would seem?

March's eyes widened a bit as she looked at the new camera that was decorated too! With her family, and a small note near it, reading

‘Thank you big sister!! I know you like photos right? Dan Heng helped me buy this for you, I hope you like it’

March squealed a bit and hugged the camera, thanking you a million times in her head.

Himeko’s eyes landed on an (albeit badly) made mug, decorated with various shades of her favourite colours and writing that she knew instantly was yours.

‘Best Auntie Ever!’

Perhaps she found her new favourite mug already…now for some coffee to pour into it.

Welt flicked through the pages of the new sketch book, only one drawing was made, at the front cover. He recognized your art style and smiled softly as he saw the mini doodles of the Express family and a very angry Pompom.

He grabbed a pencil and began sketching on the first page.

The Trailblazer lifted up the small trash bin pin, they could till it was custom made…I mean who would sell bins of them peaking out a bin?...

But they didn’t care, it was cute. They knew exactly who got it for them too. Carefully they pinned it on their jacket.

Yes you could be a pain for them sometimes, especially if Dan Heng wasn’t there to settle you. But they all cared for you, and just these gifts alone told them that you indeed also cared for them.

“But you helped me with buying them all and writing the words”

You grumbled, crossing your arms as the raven hair tucked you into bed.

“And you were the one who decided AND knew what to get them, additionally it was also your idea”

He speaks, a soft smile painting his lips. He always knew how troublesome you were, from the day he began babysitting you to the day you were allowed to actually live on the express. He knew you only really behaved around him and with the others well, your ‘true colours’ would appear.

It was the others who thought he didn’t know you had a soft spot for him due to him calmly telling you to stop things then going on about his day, but he just knew that all it would take is a few words and you’d do it.

But he also knew you still cared for the rest of your family. Although sure, you had your favourites, you had the one you were most soft for…that won’t change the love and care you have for your other family members. But uh perhaps you should show it a bit better…still though

They were your family.

And you were their family.

Neither of you would change that.

It didn't occur to me until after writing this that the anon could've meant Imbibitor Lunae Dan Heng like Dan Feng, also I didn't exactly write babysitting (I mentioned it) but I wrote it more so as the reader living with the Express family. To the anon who requested this I'm so sorry if I messed it up ‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥)‧º·

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cherubispunk · 11 months

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ICHOR. BLOOD. WATER. (part ii // blood.) - Din Djarin x Witch!AFAB!Reader

summary: stranded. alone. a traitor to your people, your family. aeaea is the prison of paradise you call home, and he is the prophecy you like to call an enigma. the 'man made from metal', forged in fire, melted by your spell that is no witchcraft on your part. he is the hunter, you will always be the prey. it is the way as the fates designed it.

a note from lucy: this was meant to be posted earlier and it was also meant to be longer but ive been through so much these past few weeks i couldnt bring myself to write much more. for those waiting on dealer!Joel, its coming. it might just take me a little while. thank you all for your patience. i love you all, look after yourselves.

playlist

wc: 1692 Warnings: 18+ MDNI! DARK CONTENT! mythology!au, no use of y/n, dubcon, smut, p in v sex (unprotected), reference to , cussing, mentions of witchcraft, voyeurism, mentions of drinking alcohol, mentions of food and descriptions of eatin, oral sex - m receiving, orgasm denial, toxic relationships, dom!din/sub!reader dynamic, sex as a means for manipulation and control, manipulative!din, stockholm syndrome?

series m.list | m.list

You can teach a viper to eat from your hands, but you cannot take away how much it likes to bite. — Madeline Miller ‘Circe’

‘Strangle me with Aphrodite’s very pearls. What a beautiful creation. Funny how we will all die but seek love for a pitiful salvation.’ Words engraved, etched into the gravestone of…this. This creation of torture. Of serpents’ forked tongues and gnashing lions teeth. Silence so large and gaping it made your heart dare to beat only in the ricochet of the shiver down your spine. He was the sharp blade of a knife, you were the wetstone he used to perfect its slide of slice. Bleed ichor from your veins while he grazes blunt teeth over the shallow skin upon your collarbone.

You didn't care. ‘Give me that pointed, glimmering blade’, you thought, its vermillion stain now smeared too with gold. ‘Give me that blade. Some things are worth bloodshed.’

He was a killer. And his bounty was set on your spirit. Your calm. Your superiority over him. In his field, he was a master of his art. His armour gleamed as a trophy for his succession of rank. His clan– Here…he was a novice once again. Knew not a drop of knowledge of your craft, nor the whispering properties of each flower bud, fruit pit and herb stem in your garden. Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme were nothing but cooking materials to him. And even that was a stretch to his mind.

You wished to be Anothny’s Cleopatra to him. Not a wicked witch of the western tides. Toughened beauty, once black coals under pressure, now gleaming in diamond and its own giant covalent structure. Him swooning over your flesh for months and his tongue speaking within your mouth. There was no turquoise over your eyes, nor the stain of the madder root over your lips to paint him with. His face was still an image that belonged to your mind. Not the reality you lived now with him tangled in your sheets. Rippled muscled under a tapestry of scars and skin.

He did some things. Mainly doted care to the child whom you sense properties in. A magic akin to your own, yet not all the same. His was one of energy, a flowing combination of entities, living a breathing through you, him, the mandalorian and each living being on this island. Mauve further. It was a balance that even you did not know the tipping point of nor the origin of its birth. It was shaking. It crumbled under the erosion of water to salt pillars until its foundations skimmed to their very bare bones.

It took with it the light of your sanctuary and morphed into Tartarus, so your soul may burn in forged cast iron chains. They were white hot in the black soot tinders. Glowing violently in your corneas while they singed sight. Scorched touch. Seared taste. The battle of yours and the child's power.

You watched in awe one night, the lights out, but a single sliver of silver from Artemis’s glow caught the sharpened tip of a knife you know strapped to your thigh under the skirts of your dress. Would his blood sizzle when it touched the blade, as you only imagined it ran hot and thick with the brazen burn of his anger. Ichor? No. He was no god. But his touch was of divinity. And left a tingle of power in its bone cramping wake. Wailing for more.

Only just the night before you had dropped to your knees in the doorframe of your chambers. Took off his armour beforehand in wordless undoing. Your tragic hero ending. And then gave him your mouth. Not words. Nor cunt. Just the mouth. Tip of the tongue, the lips and teeth. The stretch of his cock still wrung out your throat. Slick and wanting while it mimicked the way your cunt hugged the tip so well. Tased of salt and something more. Something forbidden or taboo. And he took his time with slow shallow thrusts at first, a large gloved hand cradling the curve of the jaw that went slack to let him buck deeper.

This morning was one of the first times you lamented over the now restricted motion in your jaw. The ache still nagged into the later hours, when The Mandalorian returned from your gardens, the bloody and mangled caracas of a rabbit thumping down on the table. He sat at the head of the table opposite you, cleaning the blood from his knife on his cape. You thought if you saw his eyes — be it hickory, azure, or pine — you would have crystallised in that very moment and that very form. Cured oak table under your fingertips, feet planted into the terracotta floor. His irises setting your thrumming heart dead still.

This was the man you let into your bed.

He remained there, sat still in his chair while the child babbled in the kitchen with you. You took that rabbit. Skinned it. Dressed it. And roasted the meat in a marinade of white wine and spices from the edge of your fenced garden. Later you would hang the pelt and let it air — make something for the child. Mittens maybe.

For now, you took your time circling the table to place each plate down: cheese, seasoned greens, a cup for the vessel of wine to his side. The silverware gleamed menacing in dim candlelight while he awaited each plate, unmoving in his armour while each delicacy was gifted to him upon his high table. And when you retired to your seat, the child had taken his too and started his feast, sticky plum jam smeared over his lips as he dribbled innocently and unaware over his rabbit leg.

But upon your silver plate was a single strip of black cloth, folded over twice on itself.

Your eyes lifted to meet him, wide in wondering question. Only to hit a barrier of beskar when you see his visor still covers his face. Not a scrap of food had been helped onto his plate by his still gloved hands. His boots that traipsed dirt through your door were still on his feet, caked in mud on the soles.

“What’s this?” Nothing. Not a word past his lips. “Am I to figure it out for myself?” He cleared his throat, raising his head so his chin jutted out towards you. “Your eyes.”

“My eyes?”

“You must wear it if you are to eat with us.”

You pouted, pressing your tongue to the flesh on the inside of your cheek, then kissed your teeth.

“You mean to dictate my freedom in my own home.” You scoffed and slung your arms across your chest, crossing them. “At my own table? You are sick in your own head, Mandalorian, if you think I am one to bend my will to the whims of others. Especially in my own house.” And he repeated,

while his shoulders drew taught under his pauldrons with the armour gleaming in the silver glare of Selene’s chariot. And he planted a seed in your stomach, turned in it, and made you feel sick. You preferred him between your legs, his name between your teeth and tongue.

“You must wear it if you are to eat with us.”

Eyes fell to the plate, that cloth once more. Would it be poisoned? The fabric snared with nettle to sting your eyes. Here you had two choices. Stay, blind yourself, yield to him somewhere other than your chambers. Or stand and leave. Either way, it was an act of submission.

You did neither. Instead, you stood, kicking your chair back behind you before swanning over to the seat next to him, taking the other leg of rabbit and sinking your teeth into its cooked flesh, all the while your eyes on him. To tartarus with xenia, he outstayed his welcome long after he passed the threshold of your home. Helios could come and smite you for all you cared, the fates could snip your golden immortal line of yarn. No horror could compare to the satisfaction you had as you stuffed your face with food you'd slaved over for him. His refusal was your gain and soon you moved onto the plumbs, sticky sweet juice dribbling down your demented smile.

You wafted the half chewn and mangled fleshy bone in his face, smirking with your mouth full.

“Go on, Madalorian.” You crooned, “have a bite. Give in a little.”

His hand snatched your wrist the moment the words left your stained lips, gloved fingertips making something click in your bones. You bit down the pain with a swallow, smirk remaining triumphant across your features.

“Put it down.” He grimaced, curling his helmet covered lip at the state of you. Unkempt and wild, shrewish in your dignity.

“Or what?”

He let go. Sat back, pushed out a huff through his nostrils.

Then he stood. You watched unphased and delighted with yourself as he took the child who cooed up at him. And listened out for his heavy footsteps as he climbed the stairs to his and the child’s room. Then silence. All the while you tossed the stripped bone to his plate and licked your fingers.

You didn’t know what you would rather prefer. Him to come back down. Or stay and retire to bed. Regardless, he’d take you eventually. Here or up in your bed chambers. Unlace your corset or nightgown. Use you as his nightcap before slipping off. Without getting a look upon him. Not a sliver of his visage to hold to in sleep.

He did come down. And with a heavy hand bent you over the head of the table, a gloved palm pressing your face into the wood.

Physically you were here. Mentally, you were back against the silver birch. His cock splitting you in two once again while you smiled sadistically in candlelight. Him seeping into you through the cracks of your ribs, the gaps between your teeth. The opening of yourself to the twisting knot of denial within you.

Between your thighs where he belonged.

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cherub-notifs · 1 year

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ICHOR. BLOOD. WATER. (series masterlist) - Din Djarin x Witch!AFAB!Reader

a note from lucy: so, its back. i'm officially back! basically, I went through it. accidentally deleted my blog. had to start from scratch. repost it all. but! I'm here. you're here. we're all here!

Greek mythology is a huge love of mine. I always like to add a small sprinkling into my fics where possible. and now im wiring Ince based wholly of two greek myths: eros and phsyche, and circe. I've read Madeleine Miller's 'Circe'. I fell in love with it, it's genuinely one of the best books ive had the pleasure of reading --hence the fact that this is heavily based off it in terms of 'lore'. Din is the perfect character for these myths to be translated into fic.

So, without further ado, I present to all you lovely people, my mythology!au; ICHOR. BLOOD. WATER. for @inklore and @psychedelic-ink's haunted hoedown. A three part fic with our beloved space cowboy. I really hope you enjoy it as I put a lot of time and thought into this. I love you all, you wonderful Pedro fanatics.

playlist

PART I // ICHOR.

w/c: 2255 | smut, angst

warnings: 18+ MDNI! DARK CONTENT! mythology!au, no use of y/n, reader is referred to as 'Circe' twice in this chapter alone, dubcon, smut, p in v sex (unprotected), reference to past sexual assault (very mild), cussing, mentions of witchcraft, voyeurism, mentions of drinking alcohol, mentions of food and descriptions of eating, choking, breath play, oral sex - f receiving, edging, orgasm denial, toxic relationships, dom!din/sub!reader dynamic, sex as a means for manipulation and control, manipulative!din, stockholm syndrome?

PART II // BLOOD.

w/c: 1692 | smut, angst

warnings: 18+ MDNI! DARK CONTENT! mythology!au, no use of y/n, reader is referred to as 'Circe' twice in this chapter alone, dubcon, smut, p in v sex (unprotected), oral sex - m receiving, choking, toxic relationships, dom!din/sub!reader dynamic, sex as a means for manipulation and control, manipulative!din, stockholm syndrome?

PART III // WATER.

w/c: ? | smut, angst, fluff

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scarletqueenx · 15 days

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chapter five - witch city

Dean Winchester x female oc

Summary: After experiencing an alternative life through the spell of a Djinn, Dean realizes that he is missing something in his life. He and Freya Holloway had been dating for a few months before his father disappeared and his journey with Sam began. Now, having made a deal to save his brother's life and with only a year to live, Dean considers reconnecting with the only girl he's ever had feelings for.

Author’s Note: this is my first time writing in tumblr. Also english is not my first lenguage.

series masterlist

Since Freya had told them that she wasn't going to join them on the next hunt, Dean had been trying to hide his concern for her. The Holloway girl had decided to go to the address Bela had left written down for her in hopes of finding answers. She didn't know exactly what answers, but if they were about her older brother or the demon that had possessed him, Freya needed to find them.

Part of Dean's concern came from where Freya wanted them to leave her while they headed to Albany, New York for a vampire case. Truth was, Freya felt the same way as he did. It seemed like a twisted joke that the address where she was supposed to find answers would be in Salem, Massachusetts, of all places.

Witch City, people called it, due to the trials that took place in 1692.

"Are you sure you don't want us to go with you?" Dean asked as he stopped the car in front of a motel.

"I'm just gonna visit an old friend. I'll be fine." She assured him. "Besides, you guys need to go to New York and stop those vampires before more people end up dead."

"Yeah, I know. It's just... it had to be Salem of all places?" Dean sighed, looking at her through the rearview mirror. Sam couldn't help but smile with amusement at his brother's obvious concern for the girl.

"Believe me, I thought the same thing when my friend sent me the address." Freya admitted, leaning forward against the back of their seats. "But she doesn't know anything about hunting or the supernatural."

"Okay. Just... call if you need anything, okay?"

"You know, you're really cute when you worry." Freya said before leaving a kiss on his cheek. That gesture caught Dean by surprise, making him blush slightly. "Sam, make sure he doesn't do anything stupid."

"And who's gonna make sure you don't do anything stupid?" Dean asked, as if nothing had happened.

"I'm not going on a vampire hunt."

"No, you're going out with your friend."

"Yeah, and I know how to protect myself from pervs." She assured. "Be careful, okay?"

"You too." Dean sighed.

Freya smiled slightly, waving goodbye and grabbing her duffel bag to leave the interior of the Impala. Once alone, Dean noticed his brother's gaze on him and an amused smile on his lips.

"What?" He asked, letting out a annoyed sigh.

"Nothing." Sam answered, looking away from him. "I thought you were mad at her about the crossroads demon."

"I was. I am. But I also know her well enough to know when she's lying. I don't know what she's hiding, but she's not going to visit an old friend." Dean stated, starting the car up again as he watched Freya walk into the motel lobby.

"You think she's gonna try something else to save you?"

"I don't know. But I'm sure you'd like her to." He sighed. "It's okay, Sam, I get it. I mean I'm not blind, I see what you're going through with this whole deal, me going away and all that. But you're gonna be okay."

Sam looked back at him.

"You think so?"

"Yeah, you'll keep hunting, y'know, you live your life. You're stronger than me." Dean declared, leaving the motel parking lot. Sam cleared his throat. "You are! You are... you'll get over it. But I want you to know I'm sorry, I'm sorry for... putting you through all this, I am."

Staring at him with narrowed eyes, Sam lost his patience.

"You know what, Dean? Go screw yourself."

"What?"

"I don't want an apology from you! And by the way, I'm a big boy now, I can take care of myself."

"Oh, well, excuse me." Dean snorted.

"So would you please quit worrying about me? I mean that's the whole problem in the first place. I don't want you to worry about me, Dean, I want you to worry about you! I want you to give a crap that you're dying!" Sam exclaimed. Dean said nothing but smirked annoyingly. "So, that's it? Nothing else to say for you?"

"I think I should call Henry. He'll make sure Freya doesn't do anything stupid." Dean spoke again, changing the subject completely.

"You are unbelievable." Sam snorted angrily, rolling his eyes and turning his gaze away from him.

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

After Dean informed Henry that Freya had made a stop in Salem, the man wouldn't stop calling his daughter. However, the girl decided to ignore his calls for the time being. Her head focused on what she had gone to do in the Massachusetts town.

Although she didn't know exactly what she was looking for her confusion only grew when she saw that the address Bela had given her led her to what looked like a mental institution.

"Freya, I didn't expect you to call me back so soon." Bela admitted when she answered her phone.

"Okay, what is this? A bad joke?" Freya asked angrily. Her hands gripping the steering wheel of the car she had rented and her back leaning back against her seat.

"I know what it looks like, but that's as far as my leads got me."

"What leads? Why the hell were you investigating my family?" Freya questioned as her eyes traveled back to the mental institution.

"Someone paid me to do it."

"Who?"

"I don't reveal my..."

"Oh, cut the crap." Freya cut her off. "You brought me here, so talk."

Bela sighed, taking a breath of air before speaking again.

"A woman name Christine Lockhart." She answered. "She lived in Salem when she hired me. She wanted to know what happened to Laurel Holloway, your mother."

"And what did you tell her?"

"I told her I didn't investigate normal crimes or disappearances. I explained that my job was to sell supernatural objects and she offered to pay me with something very valuable in addition to informing me of the necklace I stole from your father."

"So you took both items and left the investigation." Freya assumed.

"Oh, no. I kept my deal." Bela assured her. "But your father, or whoever, covered up very well everything about your mothers death. Would you mind telling me what happened? I know you were 10 years old at the time."

"I'm sorry, it's a family secret."

"Whatever." Bela sighed. "I didn't find anything, except for a donation record. From your father, to that mental institution."

"I don't understand." Freya frowned in confusion.

"Neither do I. But after Christine died, I stopped investigating."

"Christine died?"

"Uh-huh." Bela nodded. "The same day I went back to Salem to tell her what I knew. Her daughter Maddie found her stabbed to death in her kitchen."

The resemblance of Christine's death to her own mother's was obvious. And so her curiosity only grew on her. Did Christine know her mother? And if she didn't, why did she care enough about the circumstances of her death to hire someone like Bela to investigate it? Why was her father donating money to that mental institution? And on top of all those questions were the doubts that the crossover demon had given her. Was all this related to Carter?

Without a word, Freya ended the call, grabbed one of her fake badges and exited the interior of the vehicle to head to the building located on the opposite street.

She had a slight suspicion, a suspicion that didn't quite fit with what her father had told her all those years before. She didn't know where her older brother was. After the incident her father had made sure to erase traces of his existence and send him away from home, away from her and Peter. But after the crossroads demon's comments and Bela's information, Freya couldn't help but make her own conclusions.

"Agent McVie, FBI." She said to the receptionist at the mental institution, flashing her badge. "I'm looking for what I believe is one of your patients. Carter Holloway."

The woman nodded, looking down at the reception computer.

"I'm sorry, we don't have anyone by that name here." She then answered.

"Oh, that's okay." Freya murmured, frowning in confusion. Then an idea popped into her head, causing her to pull her wallet out of her jacket to show her a picture. "Uh... do you know either of these two men?" She pointed to her brother and father in that old family photo she had managed to save after the incident.

The woman shifted nervously, as if she recognized one of the men. Or maybe both of them.

"I'm sorry, I can't answer that."

"Why is that?" Freya frowned.

"It's confidential."

"Confidential, right." Freya sighed, putting the photo away. "Well, I'd like to speak to the director of this place."

"Sorry, she is not here right now. You can come back with an order."

"Right, I'll do that. Thanks." Freya assured before leaving the building.

With the doors of the institution closed to her for the time being, Freya decided to investigate her other lead, Christine Lockhart. And for that she had to find the address of her home. So, with her phone buzzing from her father's continuous calls, Freya headed for the motel where she'd decided to stay.

"Want to tell me why you weren't answering your phone calls?" Henry asked when his daughter finally answered one of his calls.

"Because I know what you were going to tell me." Freya sighed, resting her head on her hand with exhaustion. She had been searching for hours and had found nothing on Christine.

"Then listen to me and get out of Salem." Her father ordered her.

"Why?" She frowned. "What are you hiding from me, Dad?"

"Nothing you need to worry about."

"If it has to do with Carter, I think I do have to worry." She stated.

"Carter is not a problem." Henry assured her.

"No? Then, why do demons care so much about him?"

"You talked to a demon?" Henry asked. His voice sounding alarmed and concerned. "Freya, tell me you haven't made a deal."

"I haven't made any deals, but apparently you did once."

"That was a long time ago and I never got to close the deal. It was a stupid idea, and I'm glad I didn't do it."

Freya sighed, keeping silent for a few moments. In her hand she held the family photo with her parents and Carter on her ninth birthday. Her last good and happy birthday until the one she spent years later with Dean. It was a bit ironic to think that at the current rate she was going with the investigation she would surely spend her next birthday alone.

But Dean wouldn't let that happen, would he? He'd come back for her before that happened. At least the Dean she had known years before wouldn't let her spend her birthday all by herself. This Dean... Freya wasn't so sure she knew him.

"Do you know a woman named Christine Lockhart?" Henry sighed at her question, running a hand over his face.

"She was one of your mother's best friends." He answered. "Why?"

"She died the same way Mom did."

"I know." He sighed.

"It had to be the same demon, Dad. I think I'm close."

"Maybe you are." Henry admitted, knowing how important this was to Freya. "But it wasn't Carter who was possessed that time. It couldn't have been him."

"Because he's in that mental institution, isn't he?" She asked. "The one you donate money to from time to time."

"It's for his own good. He was traumatized..."

"We all were." She cut him off.

"Yeah. But you didn't see him like I did, Freya."

"Yeah, I guess I didn't." She sighed.

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

Reviving the memories of that night wasn't good for Freya. It wouldn't be good for anyone knowing how traumatizing it had been for the whole family. Except, perhaps, for Peter. He didn't remember anything, he was just a baby. But like Freya and Carter, the little boy had also lost his mother.

She and Henry had sworn never to tell him anything. They had promised. But Freya wanted to tell him, she wanted to tell him once she had made sure she had killed her mother's killer.

During all the hours of searching, Freya had failed to find anything about Christine Lockhart. No one by that name lived or had ever lived in Salem. So there were only two options. Either Bela had lied to her completely, which was more than possible. Or Christine had another name.

So, as she suspected, Freya came across the case of a stabbing murder five years earlier. A woman named Andrea Summers had died murdered in the kitchen of her home, with several stab wounds found on her body. Her 21-year-old daughter, Hope, had found her and called 911. The case was still open, with no clear suspects or leads.

"Hi." Freya smiled as a slightly older girl with brown hair opened the house door she had just knocked on. "Agent McVie, FBI"

The girl narrowed her eyes, looking at the badge Freya flashed at her.

"Hi." She responded, confused by her presence. "Can I help you?"

"That depends. Are you Maddie Lockhart?" Freya asked.

"I'm sorry, I think you've made a mistake." Taking a nervous step backwards the brunette tries to close the door but Freya places a foot in the way to block her.

"I just want to ask you a few questions." Freya insisted.

"Yeah, I don't think so. Like I said, you made a mistake." She answered, using all her strength to try to close the door.

"No, I didn't. I'm Freya Holloway."

"And you expect me to believe you just like that? You could be..."

"I could be... What? A demon?" Freya cut her off. "You can test me if you want. Salt, holy water, whatever you have on hand will do."

Maddie sighed, slowly opening the door again. "What do you want?"

"Like I said, I just want to ask you a few questions." Freya took a step back. "Talk about your mother and mine and why they knew each other."

After Maddie agreed to talk to her, she stepped aside letting her into her home and leading her into the main living room. Freya's eyes roamed the room, noticing the pictures above the fireplace and next to the table lamps beside the sofa.

All the pictures were of Maddie, but she was always accompanied by someone. Always the same person. A woman who Freya assumed was Christine. She was a beautiful woman, and one who seemed to have raised her daughter all by her own.

"Laurel and my mother met at summer camp here in Salem. They became friends very quickly, along with another girl named Harper." Maddie explains, handing Freya a cup of tea as they both sit on the couch. "My mother told me that Laurel moved to California to attend college and that's where she met her husband."

"My father, yes. I've heard that story many times. He needed a tutor for his chemistry classes and my mother needed a history tutor. They fell in love instantly, or so they said." Freya smiled wistfully, remembering how as a child she used to ask her mother to tell that story over and over again.

"My mother always envied their relationship. She... got pregnant with me by accident. My father... well, he left her when he found out."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. My mom was the best mom in the world. I was lucky to have her." Maddie admits with a faint smile.

"That other woman, Harper, do you know her?" Freya asked after taking a sip of tea.

"No. My mom always avoided talking about her. I don't know why, though."

"Mine never talked about any of them." Freya admitted, looking down at her cup of tea.

"Well, my mother didn't talk much about that camp either." Maddie said, gaining back her attention. "She talked about Laurel, remembering her as a very good friend. She always regretted that their relationship drifted apart."

"Why did they drift apart?"

"No idea." Maddie shrugged. "I always thought something had happened in that camp. That that's why she never talked about Harper." Freya nodded thoughtfully, while Maddie tilted her head in confusion. "If you didn't knew any of this, the how come you're here?"

"I heard what happened to your mother five years ago." Freya explained. "My mother... she died in a very similar way."

"She did?" Maddie frowned.

"Yeah." Freya murmured. "I guess I wanted to know if you knew anything. They never found my mother's killer and I... I can't get the image of her body out of my head."

"Yeah, neither can I. The police here didn't do much. There wasn't any evidence in the house, and... they just dropped the case. I've done everything I could to put it behind me, you know?" She explained.

"Yeah. No. I understand. I shouldn't have come here to stir all this up. I'm sorry." Freya answered nervously.

"Oh, no. It's okay, you can come back anytime." Maddie quickly assured her. "I'm glad to put a face to the daughter of the woman my mother talked so much about."

Freya smiles slightly, not knowing how to respond to her words.

"Uh... One more thing." Freya said, pulling the family photo out of her jacket pocket. "Do you know him?" Maddie frowns, leaning forward to look at the photo with more clarity. Recognizing in it a younger Freya and Laurel, and fixing on the boy the girl was pointing at.

"No, I'm sorry. Should I?" She asked, looking back at Freya.

"No. Uh... I'm sorry about what happened to your mother." Freya repeated, setting the teacup down on the table and standing up. "And thank you for your time."

Maddie smiled, standing up and shaking her hand in goodbye before walking her back to the door.

Knowing she had to find more information, Freya grabbed the false police order she had prepared and headed back to the mental institution where she now knew for sure that her older brother was being held.

The same receptionist attended her upon her arrival, but soon the director of the center appeared before her to take her to the high security room where Carter was being held. Freya's nerves only grew with every step she took, knowing that after 14 years she would once again see the face of the man who had murdered her mother. And not only that. Carter had also chased her around the house with a baseball bat in his hand. And...

Her memories were interrupted when the door to the visiting room opened before her. Handcuffed to a table in the center of it was him. Carter, dressed in a white robe, as white as snow and mimicking the color of the room's padded walls, raised his gaze to meet hers. A gleam of confusion appearing in his eyes as he recognized his little sister. Who wasn't so little anymore.

"Hi, Smarty." Carter smiled at her. It was hard for him to see her so grown up. The last time he had seen her, Freya was a scared ten year old girl and now she was a much braver woman. And the seriousness on her face showed it. Though hearing that nickname come out of his mouth, Freya couldn't help but feel like a little kid all over again.

"Don't... Don't call me that." Her voice trembled as she spoke for the first time, but Freya did her best to pull herself together quickly as she walked to sit in the chair placed on the other side of the table, directly across from him.

"I thought you would never come to see me." Carter admitted, watching her closely. "Dad said you hated me."

"Not I... I almost killed you that night, Carter. And you... you... I was traumatized. And Dad never told me where he'd taken you." Freya explained.

"I'm a taboo subject at home, aren't I?" He smirked, looking down. "At least I've accomplished something in life."

"Don't joke."

"It's the only thing I can do, sis." He shrugged, looking back at her. "Be honest, does little Peter know that I exist? No, I'm sure he doesn't. Dad must have erased all traces of my existence. Drawings, home movies, that Christmas ornament I made for him at school. What a dick." Freya remained silent, which was confirmation enough for him. "What are you doing here, Smarty? Sorry, you don't want me to call you that. Freya."

Taking a breath of air, Freya was finally able to look him in the eyes again.

"Have you talked to any demons lately?" She asked.

"Yes. There's a crossroads here in the west wing hallway. I go there every night." He smiled sarcastically. Freya rolled her eyes, annoyed by his response. "No, I haven't spoken to any demons since that night. This place is strangely protected from demons."

"It is?"

"Uh-huh. There's symbols written all over it. But they're invisible."

"If they're invisible, how come you...?"

"It's not just me. You could too if you wanted to. All it takes is a little bit of magic and..." He explains, extending his arms until he reaches her hands. Freya tried to pull away from his grip, but Carter was still stronger than her.

"What the hell are you talking about?" She cut him off.

"Magic, sis. It's what started all this." Carter answered, releasing her hands and leaning back against the back of his seat. "It's why the demons were after mom. She made a deal, promised she'd never use her magic again and neither would her children. She broke the deal, and they sent a demon to kill her. It's why I'm here, why you're traumatized, and why Peter grew up without a mother."

"So you're saying Mom was a witch?" Freya raised her eyebrows in confusion.

"Ding, ding, ding. You're just as smart as i remember."

"Okay, you're crazier than I thought."

"Crazy? Crazy for what?" He asked in disbelief. "Because I can still hear his voice in my head? Because I remember how helpless I felt as that demon used my body to torture you, kill mom and haunt our baby brother? Okay, I'm crazy, but it's not my fault. And what I am saying is the honest truth."

"I don't believe you." Freya stated firmly, standing up.

"That's okay, I'm not the one who came all the way out here looking for answers." He shrugged. "You should talk to Dad, or that friend of Mom's. Chrissy? Caitlin? Cl...?"

"Christine." Freya completed, interrupting him. Carter smiled, looking up at her.

"That's the one."

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

Freya had not done much research on the false identities of Christine and her daughter Maddie. Andrea and Hope Summers were false names under which they were registered in the city, with which they had signed over ownership of their house and car and with which they donated money to the psychiatric institution. But it was not only that, Christine was also part of the board of the center and a doctor there, she had been in charge of admitting and treating Carter personally.

So it was no surprise to her to find the house empty. With no car in the garage and the doors unlocked due to Maddie's rush to escape. But Freya also knew she couldn't have gone far, and because of the roadworks, there was only one way out of town.

Seeing Freya's car in the middle of the road, Maddie slammed the breaks on before she ended up crashing into it. Freya was leaning against her rented vehicle, arms crossed and a serious look on her face.

"Going somewhere?" She asked.

Letting out the air she was holding, Maddie got out of her car, staring at Freya in disbelief.

"Are you out of your mind?!"

"Well, it's not the first time someone has asked me that." Freya shrugged. "We're not all very mentally stable in my family, but I guess you already know that."

Maddie scoffed, walking over to Freya. "Okay, I lied, but you can't blame me for it. The reason my mother died was because she helped your father to hide your brother."

"Why would your mother want to investigate the circumstances of my mother's death if she already knew them?" Freya asked with confusion.

"When your father brought Carter here he didn't explain much. A demon had possessed him and killed your mother, but he didn't mention anything about a deal." Maddie explained. "My mother hired Bela to see if she could find anything else."

"Bela didn't find out about any of that, how did your mother figure it out?"

"Carter confessed to her the day before she died." She answered. "He said he heard him. That the demon had told him he was after my mother, that it didn't matter if she knew because she was going to die very soon."

Maddie's explanation seemed plausible, and from the look in her eyes Freya knew she could trust her words this time.

"Do you know why my mother made that deal?" Freya then asked, dropping her arms on each side of her body.

Maddie nodded slightly.

"It all happened at that summer camp. There was a massacre, a boy went crazy and started killing all the kids and monitors there. Your mother was the only survivor, and she made the deal for my mother to be saved." She explained. "When she broke her part of the deal, the demons killed her. They left my mother alone, but... something changed. And they killed her too. I was there that night, hiding while they interrogated her to tell them where Carter was hiding, and when she didn't answer I heard them stab her to death."

"You said 'they'." Freya pointed out, confused. Maddie nodded. "Was there more than one demon in your house that night?"

"Two. They disappeared after that. I don't know why."

"Well, they're back, at least the one that killed my mother is. He set me up and tortured me. But he didn't ask me any questions."

"Freya, I understand that you want revenge, they destroyed your life. But I want nothing to do with all this." Maddie stated, before walking to her car to pull a backpack out of the back seats. "Here, this is the only interesting thing my mother had about the supernatural world. It's all yours. I don't want it, I was going to throw it in the ocean."

Freya frowned, opening the backpack to find a mysterious book along with a knife whose blade had various symbols written on it.

"I'm serious, Freya. I want nothing to do with the supernatural world. I'm not a hunter or a witch or anything like that. I've only seen two demons in my entire life."

"You think you can describe them to me?" Freya asked, looking back at her. "I studied art, maybe I can draw a portrait and identify them."

"I've got something better. I studied photography." Maddie said. "It was dark that night, but I was able to take three pictures. They're all yours. They're inside the book inside an envelope. I hope you can find them, send them back to hell or kill them, I really do."

"I'll do it for my mother, and for yours." Freya assured her, closing the backpack.

"I appreciate it, I really do. But like I said, I want nothing to do with any of this."

Freya nodded, giving her a slightly smile.

"That's ok. Thank you."

Maddie nodded, getting back inside her car to leave the city that had been her home for her entire life, not knowing exactly where she would be headed. Freya watched her disappear down the road, her head filled with more doubts and questions. Each thing she found out about her mother or the demons complicated everything even more.

When Freya went back to the motel, the first thing she did was check out that mysterious book. On its brown leather cover was a strange mark formed by several geometric figures. The pages inside were ancient and rustled when opened. Dust covered them and hid the words and figures written in black ink. Blowing the dust from them, Freya couldn't help but cough. Her eyes narrowing as she saw what was written inside the book. Words and drawings that even she wasn't able to understand. That certainly looked like a witch's grimoire. And the most intriguing thing of all was the name written in small print on the back cover of it. Ophelia.

Freya stayed up all night, studying and searching for the meaning of every word and drawing written on it, until sleep overcame her.

That same night, in the safe room where he had lived for the past fourteen years, Carter had one of his recurring nightmares once again, although this one was different. After five years of peace, the voice of that demon was once again echoing in his head. Threatening him about the near death of his little brother.

Meanwhile in Albany, New York, Dean Winchester was awakened by the ringing of his phone. With his eyes still closed and half asleep, the hunter grabbed the phone and held it to his ear without looking to see who was calling.

"What's up?" His voice sounded sleepy as he spoke.

"Wake up, you idiot. My sister is going to spend her birthday alone." Peter Holloway's voice on the other end of the phone made Dean wake up quickly, confused by the fact that he was the one calling him.

"She won't. Her birthday is tomorrow and it's four in the morning, what are you doing calling me you should be sleeping, you little runt?"

"It's one in the morning here." Peter pointed out. "You better go to her before midnight."

"You're a pain in the ass, you know that?" Dean grunted, sitting up in his bed. "I'll be there."

"Before midnight."

"Yeah, yeah. Before midnight." He assured the kid. "Anything else?"

"Well..."

"What is it?"

"Would you buy her something from me?" Peter asked. "I've only spent one birthday away from her, but I was still able to send her something. Now you guys are traveling and I don't know where to...."

Dean sighed.

"What do you want me to buy her?"

Peter smirked before answering him, giving him all the necessary indications to make sure his sister had a memorable birthday.

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

When Sam and Dean arrived in Salem it was still October 30, but Freya was not in her motel room even though it was two hours before midnight. She was at the mental institution, having managed to sneak in to visit her brother, posing as a nurse and taking advantage of the fact that the receptionist who had received her the day before was off duty.

"You look very convincing, sis." Carter smirked at the sight of her dressed as a nurse.

"Shut up." Freya grunted, closing the door behind her and setting the food tray on the only table in the room. "Why the hell do you eat dinner at 10:00 at night?"

"I don't. If you don't eat on time they bring it back until you do. And I have to eat to take these precious blue pills." Carter explained, approaching her to show her the small plastic cup filled with pills. "What are you doing here? If I'm not mistaken your birthday is tomorrow, or did you like it here and want to keep me company? Sneaking into my room like when you were little and thought you saw monsters in your room."

"Those monsters don't scare me anymore." She assured him.

"That's clear, or else you wouldn't be talking to me." He smiled, walking back to his bed.

Freya narrowed her eyes, watching him closely. "You don't look so good."

"Yeah, I think I've been like this for 14 years."

"I'm serious. You looked a lot better yesterday. Today you're pale and the circles under your eyes... Did something happen?"

Carter shrugged his shoulders. "I had my session in the electric chair today morning."

Freya rolled her eyes in annoyance.

"Just the usual nightmares." He then explained.

"Just that? You sure?" Freya insisted.

"I would never lie to you, Smarty." He assured giving her a little smile. "Have you talked to Maddie?"

"You know her?" Freya frowned.

"I've seen her in dreams." Carter explained like it was the most normal thing. "And that book too. Tell me, what does it say?"

"I didn't come here to talk about that."

"No, you came because you don't want to spend your birthday alone. I can still see through you, sis. You're like an open book."

"Whatever you say." Freya rolled her eyes once again. "I wanted to say goodbye. I don't know if I'll ever see you again."

Carter smiled sadly.

"Oh, I have a feeling you will." He answered, looking down at his hands.

"Is that a threat?" Freya crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows with disbelief.

"No, it's a warning." He said, looking back at her. "Be careful, Smarty. He's still out there and he's not alone."

"I don't get it. Mom broke the deal and he killed her, okay. Then he went after Christine because the deal was made to save her life and he wanted to restore what should have happened in that camp. But why does he keep coming after us?" Freya asked as she paced around the room.

"Because we are special?" Carter answered as if it was obvious.

"Special how?" She asked, confused.

"Ask dad."

"Everyone keeps saying that." Freya complained with a grunt. "You've said it twice already."

"Mom was the only one who knew and she told him." Carter explained.

"But you know."

"No. I know what that demon told me. He also told me he wanted that book back so I hope you know where to hide it."

"This is the safest place against demons, so..."

"You hid it here?" Freya shrugged. "I like the way you think, Smarty."

"Don't smile so much, you won't find it." She assured him.

"We'll see about that."

"You're locked in the high security wing." She pointed out.

"And you snuck in." He shot back.

"Tuchè." Freya sighed.

"Look at that, we're back to being a team." Carter smiled.

"We never were."

"Keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better." He shrugged. "We should never have been born, Freya. Deals with demons go way back in our family."

"What does that even mean...?" A noise in the hallway interrupted her question.

"I think you need to leave."

"Yes, I suppose I do." She sighed "Be safe, okay?"

"Aw, I'm glad you still care about me." Carter smiled making Freya roll her eyes. "You take care of Peter, okay?

"I always do. Why do you...?" There was that noise again. "I've got to go." She said a quick goodbye, leaving the room to retrace her steps before she was caught inside her brother's room.

Even after leaving the institution, Freya still wondered why Carter would be concerned about Peter's safety. He barely knew his little brother. That caused a knot of fear to appear in Freya's chest, forcing her to dial his number as she drove back to the motel.

"It's not your birthday yet, you've ruined my special midnight call." The young boy complained when he answered the phone. Freya sighed with relief as she heard his voice.

"I'm sorry, buddy. It's just... I was worried." She explained. "Is everything okay at home?"

"Well, it's a lot quieter without your music playing 24/7." Peter admitted. Freya smiled slightly at his response.

"Use the radio I bought you."

"It doesn't sound the same as your vinyl records."

"You know they are..."

"Banned territory, yeah, yeah. Relax." He cut her off. "Hey, It's midnight!" Peter exclaimed as Freya pulled into the motel parking lot. Her eyes quickly meeting Dean's Impala. "Happy birthday, Frey."

"Thanks, buddy." She smiled.

"I love you."

"I love you." She answered him. "And happy Halloween, by the way. Save me some candy, will you?"

"You know I won't."

"Well, at least remember to take a photo with this year's Halloween costume." Freya asked.

"I will." Peter assured her as his eyes traveled to the kitchen door. "Dad's here, do you want to talk to him?"

"No. I'll call him later." Freya replied as she saw Dean leaning against her room door. "I love you, buddy. Bye."

"Bye." Was all Freya could hear before she hung up the phone as she left the interior of the rented car. "What are you doing here?" Her eyes watched Dean with confusion.

"It's your birthday." He pointed out with obviousness."You didn't think I was going to let you spend it alone, did you? Sam's off to buy a cake. But in the meantime... do you feel like going for a drive?" He pointed to his car. Freya frowned, even more confused than before, but quickly nodded, following him into the Impala. This time settling into the seat that Sam usually occupied.

The drive wasn't very long until Dean slowed down in a large open field. Freya frowned even more confused. The ride had been quiet, though not uncomfortable. Each of them had their heads in different thoughts. Thoughts that neither had the strength to share with the other yet.

"You're not going to kill me, are you?" Dean chuckled at her question.

"No." He assured, opening the door to get out of the vehicle. Freya followed him close behind, interested. "Do you remember the birthday we spent together? We went stargazing near Lake Michigan in Chicago."

"Of course I remember. It's my second favorite birthday." Freya smiled making Dean frown. "Don't make that face. Peter has really good ideas. He's got you beat by a few points."

"Well, if I had to lose to someone..." Dean sighed which caused Freya to smile. "I haven't had much time to think of a better plan this year, and I wanted to relive that day." He explained, pointing to the sky. The smile on Freya's lips grew as she saw the stars in the sky, accompanied by the full moon that made the Halloween atmosphere even more magical.

"I love it." She assured, looking back at him. Dean quickly smiled back, feeling how his heartbeat started racing.

"Peter also asked me to buy this for you. It's his birthday present." Dean cleared his throat, pulling a small package out of the back seats of the car. Freya smiled, grabbing it with excitement.

It was a cassette of her favorite Fleetwood album signed by Stevie Nicks herself.

"He did an exhaustive search and luckily found a seller in New York. It honestly scares me what he can do." Freya laughed at Dean's confession, her eyes looking up at him tenderly before she returned to appreciating her brother's gift. "I don't think my gift is on his level at all, but... I hope you like it." Dean commented, handing her a small package. Freya smiled, clutching it in her hands and slowly tearing it open as they both settled on the hood of the car so they could look up at the stars.

"A brand new journal." Freya observed, her eyes sparkling with joy at the sight of the brown leather-covered notebook decorated with various patches from different music bands. Mostly her favorites, though there were some of Dean's favorites as well.

"I noticed you were finishing the most recent one, so I thought...."

"I love it." She assured him, cutting him off and giving him a loving smile. Dean quickly returned the gesture, happy to have gotten it right. "Thank you."

For the next hour, they lay on the hood of the Impala, admiring the stars in comfortable silence until Sam called to inform them that he had dinner and needed the room key to get in, forcing them to go back to the motel to meet him.

It may not have been her best birthday due to recent events and discoveries, but Freya was happy not to spend it alone. That thought scared her to death, since it had never happened before. But this birthday had been special nonetheless. She felt she had found a closure by seeing her older brother again, and as she shared dinner with the Winchester brothers she felt like she had found a new family.

Tag List: @deans-spinster-witch @lmhf1

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sweetestofchaos · 8 months

Text

Run From Me - Four | K.TH

p. vampire!taehyung x vampire hunter!reader

g. soulmates - enemies to lovers - reincarnation

r. 18+

w. flashback - blood drinking - illusions to sex - murder - witch hunts

wc. 5.2k

an. divider and support banner made by @benkeibear. betaed by the lovely @theharrowing.

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Spring of 1692…

If one were to believe in luck then Taehyung (who certainly did not believe) would have at the very moment his foot touched the soil of The New World. There was a pull at his heart, a rope wrapped around the muscle and tugged him in one direction. He had no choice but to follow as his mind conjured up different scenarios of meeting his fated after all this time.

Would you remember him? Would you fall into his arms weeping and begging for him to never leave your side? Have you looked for him too?

Taehyung, in his frenzy to find you, left a trail of bodies. He had wanted to look his best, a picture perfect image of his past self with a few modifications. His hair that was always kept long was now shortened to frame his face and hung in his eyes. Gone were the grandiose fabrics, jewels and homes. Now he wore the clothing of laborers to avoid unwanted attention and slept beside the common folk.

He played the part of a simple man, a man of strong faith and sound mind. He kept his funds and higher quality clothing stashed away in different locations and investments. Taehyung made sure that no matter what, you would never go without once he found you.

As he followed the invisible line that led to you, he came to Salem Village. A fairly sizable village in the state of Massachusetts that was run by Reverend Matthews and a few others on his council. As Taehyung had come to town with a small group of travelers looking for work, he was easily accepted into the town. Taehyung was given a room in old man Peck’s home. The older man had lost his wife and son to a fever in the winter, so he offered his home with melancholy eyes and a kindly smile.

Taehyung had yet to see you but his heart ached, clenched in his chest tighter and tighter. You were so close, he could smell your creamy sandalwood and cardamom spice. If he focused hard enough, green citrus would tickle his nose and burn the back of his throat. He searched for you, from sunrise to sunset. He followed that all too familiar scent and yet, you were always out of reach. The sun to his moon, destined to never hold each other again. Taehyung wondered if he had finally lost his mind. The longing in his heart had led him here but where were you? Couldn’t you feel him nearby? Had he mistaken his own feelings?

It was in the evening when he first saw you. He had been chatting with Reverend Matthews about the next church service when your summer scent wrapped around him in a fine mist. His words trailed off as he saw you three cabin’s down holding the hands of two young girls. Reverend Matthews offered up your information without any prompting and Taehyung committed every word to memory.

“Did you fetch the water like I asked?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good. Fill the wash bin and call the girls to supper.”

You bowed your head and spun on your heels to leave the cabin of Reverend Matthews. Outside the air was crisp with the promise of a new beginning, spring was finally here. Gravel crunched beneath your shoes as you followed the beaten path to the field of flowers where all the young girls played. Ella and Pagie, Reverend Matthews’ daughters, were sitting in a circle with a few of the other girls creating daisy chains. You smiled at the sight and walked over, while humming a song.

Paige, who was the younger of the sisters spotted you first and nudged Ella’s arm. You beckoned them to come along and Paige pouted while Ella just shook her head.

“Just a little longer, please?” Ella whined and held up her bracelet. “We’re almost finished.”

“Supper is ready and your father is waiting.” The girls both started to whine and you tisked at them lightly. “Come on girls. You can finish your project once you have had your meal.”

“You promise?” Paige sulked, her eyes watery and you nodded your head holding out your pinkie finger.

The girls jumped to their feet and ran over to you, linking your fingers together while giggling. They said goodbye to their friends and followed you back to the cabin where you helped them wash their hands and face. At the head of the table, Reverend Matthews sat and waited while you placed their meals before them. He held his arm out, palms face upward and the girls placed their hands in his.

“Let us say grace before we eat this wonderful meal.”

You stood nearby and silently watched as the family of three blessed the food together. Once the prayer was over, you scooped some stew into your own bowl and bowed your head.

“Enjoy your meal.”

You excused yourself to your room in the back of the cabin and sat alone at the table in the corner. You gave thanks to God and a chill ran down your spin. You looked at the window of your room and frowned; it was open. You liked to sleep with your window open at night but you always closed it during the day. Maybe you forgot? You stared at the tree line that acted as a barrier around the town and shivered.

As the days grew warmer, you spent more time outside of the cabin with the young girls in the town. Mayar often helped you with the children since her charges were among the young ladies. The two of you taught them girls how to braid, how to stop the bleeding of a minor cut, and a fun rhyme to sing while they danced around with each other.

While you spent your time outdoors, the chill in your bones never seemed to go away. Even with the warmth of the sun, goosebumps would randomly appear on your body. There was news of a newcomer to the town but you had yet to see the young man around. He and a few other men had apparently been looking for work and Reverend Matthews was more than willing to hire him. You heard that the young man, Taehyung, stayed with old man Peck and you prayed that this newcomer's presence would pull the old man from his grief.

“Ella be careful on that tree!” You called as the girl continued to climb the large apple tree with another of the girls. They were having a race to the top and you knew that Ella would most likely be the victor. You would often find Ella lost in the tree tops since she liked to watch the town from up above. It made you worry for her safety all the time, but Ella was a natural. She knew falling from such a height would surely break a bone or two.

You could see the ripe apples at the top from your place in the grass as you sat with Paige in your lap. One of her braids had come undone and she had begged you to fix it for her. Ella and the other girl, Mary were arguing about cheating as they climbed and you shouted another warning to be careful.

A shiver crept down your spin and you turned your head towards the forest. Your eyes darted over the tree line but you saw no one. A scream grabbed your attention and you watched in horror as Ella’s foot slipped and she went crashing to the ground.

You jumped to your feet and rushed to her side with Mayar and the other girls behind you. Ella wailed in pain and you shushed her, seeing the ugly way her arm bent at the elbow. You knew something had broken, and as you looked over the rest of her body, you saw her leg was bent oddly as well.

“Get the doctor!” You ordered and one of the older girls ran off.

Mary came down the tree shortly after but you paid her no mind as Ella cried louder.

“Mayar take the girls home and-”

“I heard crying…is everything okay?”

A voice cut into your words and your mind went fuzzy quiet. Your words were stuck on your tongue as you blinked up at the man. The sun casted a warm halo around him and you swore you had heard his voice before.

Warm brown eyes stared down at you in worry and you shook your head, your thoughts scattered and piercing together as you looked away. Mayar and the other girls were nowhere to be round, only the young man stood before you and Paige.

“P-Please help! Ella fell and I-I don’t want to-”

“Easy now, dear one.” The man spoke with such a firm reassurance that put your worry at ease. He knelt down beside you and ran a hand over Ella’s brow before he started to hum, a tune so deep and low. He scooped Ella from the ground and she whined as he clung to him. “Lead the way.”

You scrambled to your feet, not caring for the dirt on your skirt and led the man into town with Paige hanging close. Reverend Matthews and the doctor were rushing towards you, worry twisted on their faces as they took in the state of Ella.

“What happened?” Reverend Matthews demanded as he stared at the blood and weird angle of his daughter’s limbs..

“S-She fell from the apple tree, Sir.” You explain with Paige hidden behind your skirt.

“Get her inside,” the Reverend motioned for the young man to follow the doctor before he turned his attention back to you. “I’ll deal with you later.” His voice left no room for argument and you ducked your head low, staring at the ground. Reverend Matthews hurried after his daughter and Paige cried into your skirts.

“Hush now child,” You squatted down and patted the girl’s head. “Ella will be okay.”

“S-She didn’t fall!” Paige cried and you wrapped your arms around her. “She was pushed, Mary pushed her!”

You hushed Paige once more and carried her to the cabin where you then sat in the rocking chair and sang until she calmed down. You saw Mary with your own eyes, she was nowhere near Ella and couldn’t have pushed her from the tree. Your gut turned and a sour taste sat in the back of your throat as you thought over Paige’s words.

Two days had passed since Ella fell from the apple tree and the girl had yet to wake up. You kept a close eye on her along with Paige, but Reverend Matthews was worried. The doctor couldn’t explain why she had not woken up…that was until Paige told her father what she saw. You tried to tell him that Paige had seen it wrong, you knew Mary didn’t push Ella but he wouldn’t hear it.

“If you say that she was not near, and yet my daughter saw her, then what? No one can be in two places at once!”

“Sir, please-”

“I will speak to the other girls and see what happened.”

You told Pagie to sit with her sister and hurried out of the cabin to try and stop the Reverend, but he was out of sight. Someone nearby cleared their throat and you saw the young man from before. You bowed your head and he walked over, standing two feet in front of you.

“Forgive me for not introducing myself, and thank you for helping us.”

“I wished to have meant you under better circumstances, but I am relieved to see that you are unharmed.”

“Unharmed?” The Reverend’s words echoed in your head about ‘dealing with you later’ and you quickly shook your head. “Oh, you misunderstood. Reverend Matthews would never.”

The man smiled, his lips pressed into a tight line before he bowed deeply to you, “I’m Taehyung and it is a pleasure to finally meet you.”

It started with Paige’s accusation of Mary pushing Ella from the tree. Next it was Paige waking up with night terrors claiming that Mary had threatened to kill her for telling on her. The last straw was Paige being unable to eat anything. Everything made her vomit, and whispers of witches began lingering all around town.

Mary’s whole family had been put on trail, and the grandmother was found guilty of being a witch. Days later, the old woman was hanged in front of the whole town.

That very night, Ella woke up and Mary’s family was chased out of town. Things settled down for a while and you were able to spend more time outside now that Ella was awake. You ran into Taehyung often when you went out for errands, and you were always polite. The young man was indeed very handsome, his midnight hair often became a curtain for his piercing whisky eyes that always seemed to find you.

You found yourself dreaming of Taehyung late at night, and a few times you woke yourself up, moaning his name. He made it a point to visit you in the evening for a walk around town, which you accepted after Reverend Matthews gave you this blessing. Being with Taehyung felt like playing with fire, his very being burned your soul. His voice caressed your mind and his eyes opened a door in your heart that you never knew was there.

Women and men alike started to appear in town wearing more layers than they should be. When questioned, they all said they were coming down with something. The doctor was in over his head and sent for help. So many people were cold and Reverend Matthews grew concerned. Did he have an epidemic on his hands or something more sinister?

He shadowed the doctor in his exams and every person who fell sick had small cuts along their neck and inner arms, along the main veins. The cuts were no longer than two inches and thin enough to think nothing of. Once the doctor confirmed that every patient had the marks, Matthews knew something ill-omened and foul had plagued the village.

The first time Taehyung touched you, you worried that he had come down with the sickness that had spread within the village. His skin was cold, much too cold for the summer heat that had rolled in. He hadn’t meant to touch you, the two of you were walking side by side in the fields and your ankle rolled over a rock. Taehyung had grabbed your arm and steadied you before you could fall. He forced you to sit on the side of the road as he removed your shoes and checked your ankle.

His fingers were so cold but they felt wonderful on your burning skin. Heat coursed through your body as he examined your exposed ankles. It was improper and he apologized for his forwardness, but he had to make sure you were okay. As he looked over your ankle, Taehyung assured you that he was fine and that he always ran cold no matter what time of the season it was. He explained that he was born with low iron, so his blood didn’t run as hot.

Your ankle was fine and Taehyung offered to walk you back to the cabin to rest in case your ankle started to hurt later on. You agreed and Taehyung offered his arm to which you linked elbows. Heat seemed to permanently warm your face, and you leaned into the coolness of Taehyung’s body. It was heavenly in the summer heat.

At the gate out front of the cabin, Taehyung parted from you, holding your hand in his. He bent slightly at the waist and raised your hand to his lips.

Your stomach flipped and tumbled as his lips touched the skin of your knuckles. Even his breath was cool and you stuttered over your words as you bid Taehyung farewell. You hurried into the cabin and Revend Matthews raised an eyebrow at your flustered state before he turned his attention back to the book in his lap.

“I am holding a council meeting once the new doctor arrives in the morning. Please keep an eye on the girls and keep them close.”

“Is everything okay, Sir?”

Matthews sighed and rubbed at his temples, “There is an evil swallowing this village and I will bring it to light by the grace of the Lord.”

You nodded your head in understanding and made the cross over your body. “By the grace of the Lord.”

The warmth of your body weighed deeply on Taehyung’s mind. He could still smell you on his clothes and a flame simmered deep in his stomach.

He needed to feed. He could not wait any longer, consequences be damned. Your very being called to him, and Taehyung knew better. He would not put you in harm's way, not if he could help it.

Finding his next meal was easy enough. Taehyung was a walking temptation and he used that to his advantage. He had the names and faces of those who looked at him memorized. It was to lure them in with sweet words and an even sweeter touch. He picked his targets and followed them early enough in the evening for no one to question his motives. He would request a meeting and they would make a show of visiting old man Peck, offering their condolences and baskets filled with sweet breads, jams and smoked meats.

Old man Peck was sickly himself, often bedridden as his health steadily declined. Taehyung had such luck when he moved into the old man’s home. The village people were so trusting of his handsome face, and that is where Taehyung took advantage. He had his victims cut themselves with a sewing needle and he did the rest. The venom in his saliva acted as a blood thinner and the flow came faster, easier as he sucked at the broken skin. He never bit anyone, that would have left proof of his existence, after all.

In the comfort of his room, Taehyung seduced widow Melody and ravaged her body. The warmth of her skin, the pounding of her heart, and the soft sounds she made as he rocked against her were dizzying.

Taehyung’s fangs ached, and in a fit of pleasure he rolled their bodies, so that Melody was now on top. His hands grabbed her hips and he bounced her in his lap. The woman threw her head back and Taehyung could smell the sweet tang of her blood. His gums pulsed and he tightened his grip on her hips. His fingers dug into the skin hard enough to bruise, and as her fingers tangled into his hair, Melody pulled his face to her skin.

“Mark me, make me yours!” She begged, and Taehyung lost himself. His fangs pierced the tender flesh of her throat and blood flowed into his mouth quickly. It was messy as Taehyung was a little out of practice.

Blood spilled down the side of Melody’s neck to the front of her bare chest and made her all the more slippery as it mixed with their body sweat. Melody’s voice sang Taehyung’s name as she succumbed to the pleasure, and Taehyung felt her walls tighten around him. He ripped his mouth away from her neck and moaned loudly as he came, his grip so tight that it broke the skin and nearly pressed the bones into dust.

Melody had started to cry but Taehyung was quick to shush her as fear widened the pupils of her eyes. Her body shook and Taehyung dove back into her neck, a new place where his fangs had not touched before. He slurped and gulped loudly, moaning even more at the taste as he sucked the life from Melody’s veins.

Pulling away once more, Taehyung gasped, his face flushed and body warm from the nice meal he enjoyed. Melody’s head dropped backwards and Taehyung shoved her body off his lap. It fell to the side of the bed, lifeless, and Taehyung ran a hand through his messy hair.

He wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand and licked his lips. A knock at the door caught his attention and before he could cover up, old man Peck stood in the doorway. The smile on his face was gone in an instant the moment he saw the blood all over Taehyung. Taehyung sighed and frowned deeply at the old man. In the heat of his meal, he forgot to keep his control on Peck’s mind. A grave mistake.

Taehyung rushed from the bed and slapped at hand over Peck’s mouth and apologized to the old man before he sunk his fangs into his neck. He never liked the taste of older blood, so he ripped the old man’s throat out and helped him fall to the floor. As the old man gurgled and choked on his own blood, Taehyung groaned and looked at Melody’s dead body on his bed. A grave mistake, indeed.

Taehyung felt tired, the adrenaline and sweet high that came from drinking blood had vanished from his body the moment he murdered his kind host. A knock at the front door made Taehyung wince. He had no time to clean up his mess and needed to get out of the cabin. Quickly, he pulled on a fresh set of clothes and wiped himself off as best he could.

He had to take you with him. He couldn’t leave you here in this crazy village.

The front door opened and footsteps echoed through the air. “Peck! Taehyung!”

It was Reverend Matthews and Taehyung cursed. If that man was in the cabin, that meant that you were home alone with his daughters. As the footfalls grew closer, Taehyung groaned. He needed to leave, now.

Ducking out of the window, Taehyung bowed his head and hurried out towards the forest where the rest of the villagers refused to go. He kept close to the treeline and rounded over to your cabin. Your window was closed and Taehyung glanced around. No one was in sight, so he sprinted to your window and peeked inside. You sat in a chair in the corner reading a book. You were a portrait of peace and beauty.

Taehyung knocked on the window and you jumped, the book in your hands tumbled to the ground. You looked at the window and smiled when you saw Taehyung. You opened the window without a second thought, and Taehyung grabbed your face with his hands.

“I have to go now, dear one. Come with me?”

“W-What? What are you saying Taehyung?”

“I don’t have time to explain. Please? Come with me!”

A metallic scent came from Taehyung’s mouth as he spoke and his hands were so much warmer than they had ever been. His eyes seemed brighter and his skin was flushed. He looked like he had been kissed by God.

“T-Taehyung…”

Voices shouted from outside and you tried to turn your head, but Taehyung wouldn’t let go of your face.

“Dear one, please?”

“I-I cannot go with you Taehyung-”

The voices were closer now, and Taehyung’s eyes flickered in a swirl of emotions that you couldn’t unwind in time before they fell dull. Taehyung licked his lips and rested his forehead against yours as he spoke.

“Forgive me, dear one. I will find you again.”

His lips were petal soft and oven warm, a heat like never before scorched your very soul and you gasped into the kiss. You could taste something unwelcome on his tongue as it slipped into your mouth, but it didn’t deter you from seeking more of Taehyung’s lips.

“I swear I will find you again.”

Taehyung’s words were muffled as he spoke into your mouth and you nodded your head, your mind foggy as he slipped from your view and melted into the treeline. Shouts grew louder yet, and you made your way to the front of the cabin where the girls were peeking out the window.

“What has happened?” You questioned and the girls turned towards you, their eyes widened in terror.

“Witch!”

“Devil’s whore!”

The girls screamed at you and your heart froze. What was the meaning of their words? Witch? Never.

The front door was kicked in and a mob of people flooded the home. You screamed as men grabbed your arms and dragged you out of the house. You called for Reverend Matthews with tears in your eyes. The grip on your arms was too tight, you could feel their fingers digging into your bones. Everyone around you spit at the ground by your feet and sneered as you were dragged away towards the lake.

What was the meaning of this? What had you done to deserve such treatment?

At the lake, you saw Reverend Matthews, the two doctors, and the rest of the town. Reverend Matthews’ eyes were narrowed, darkend in disgust as he opened the bible in his hands. You were thrown to the Reverend's feet and your arms were tied tightly behind your back.

“You are accused of witchcraft and summoning a demon to our village. How do you plead?” Reverend Matthews stared down at you and you shook your head. His words did not make any sense in your mind. Witchcraft?

“The laborer Taehyung has murdered the widow Melody and Old Man Peck in cold blood! What say you?”

“H-He would never!”

“I have seen it with my own eyes! And now those who have fallen sick, have come forward with clear memories of Taehyung seducing them in the night. He forced their own hands to harm themselves before he fed off their life’s essence.”

You didn’t believe the Reverend's words. Taehyung wasn’t a demon, he was just a man. He was being blamed for something that was utterly preposterous.

“You were seen in town with the demon Taehyung. Do you deny this claim?”

You stared at the ground before you. You knew that no matter what you said, the Revered would not listen.

“Taehyung had courted you, isn’t that so? You were in love with the demon?”

“He is not a demon!” You shouted, unable to hear such slander. “T-Taehyung is a good man! He would not harm anyone in this village! Nor would I, sir! I have raised your children when they were just babes! H-how can you accuse me of such horrors?”

“Enough!” Reverend Matthews cleared his throat and opened the bible in his hand. “My child, you have been led astray from God’s graces. You have welcomed the devil into your heart and summoned a devil to our village. Our people have been attacked and plagued by unseeable nightmares…”

You tried to pull your arms free of the ropes but it was no use, they were tied tightly.

“You harmed my children and all of the children in this village. I cannot forgive such crimes, nor look past the vile evil that has tempted you into its arms.” The Reverend ducked his head and started to read from the bible. “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.”

Tears rolled down your face as the men lifted you from the ground and sat you in a wooden chair. Your legs were tied down and your arms secured to the back before they carried you to the edge of the dock.

All around, the village people screamed and cried as they threw rocks your way. A jagged rock slammed into your temple and you cried as you felt the throbbing pain spread along the back of your head. The broken skin bleed freely like your tears, and you shook your head once more.

“Reverend please! I-I have committed no crime!”

“You would defend that demon even in your last moments of life?”

You thought over the Reverend's words and your last moments with Taehyung in your room. He had been panicked and so very, very warm. The late night walks, the sweet touches…the dreams. Your heart quickened its pace as you fought to discern the truth from the lies.

Was Taehyung a demon? Had he tricked you into falling in love with him?

“Admit your sins and the All Mighty above will grant you forgiveness.”

“...I am sorry, Sir.” You whispered, unable to lie to everyone for their own piece of mind. “Drown me if that will put your hearts at ease but know that I speak the truth. I have never given into the temptation of the devil and I will pray that God has mercy on your misguided souls.”

“Kill the witch!”

“Die!”

“Harlot!”

Voices screamed around you, and as you looked at the village people, you thought for a moment that Taehyung was hidden in the crowd.

“Taehyung?” You tried to clear your vision as it started to blur from the pain in your head. “Taehyung…”

“Kill her!”

“She calls for her demon lover!”

“Kill the witch!”

The chair jostled as the men lifted it up and you inhaled a shaky breath as you looked at Reverend Matthews for the last time. His face was void of all emotion but his eyes were filled with conflicting emotions.

“Admit your sins.”

“Is it a sin to love someone?”

Reverend Matthews pressed his lips into a firm line and gave one single nod. Tears streamed down your face as you were thrown into the air and gravity pulled you quickly into the lake.

You were sinking, deeper and deeper. Your lungs flooded with water as you inhaled against your better judgment. One single name fell from your lips and it fell on deaf ears, drowned by the water. No one would listen to what you had said. Fear was a dangerous emotion that created so many deaths in the village. The images of the people above started to distort and the light dimmed. You cried as the chair you were tied to hit the bottom of the lake.

Cold.

You felt the icy fingers of the grim reaper wrap around your wrists. You wanted to pull away, you wanted to swim to shore and run far, far away. At the bottom of the lake, your eyes burned but you couldn’t look away from the fish picked bones that surrounded you. You were going to die. You were going to die and no one cared. You screamed and screamed, repeatedly, but no one came to your aid. The last of the air in your lungs pushed out and replaced by the cold dark water.

Darkness coiled in your heart, the tender touch of his embrace meant nothing now. You were alone, drowning at the bottom of the lake for loving him.

Where had he run off to? Doubt started to cloud your mind as memories of Taehyung flickered behind your eyes. Did he plan this? Were you merely a plaything to pass the time before you became his scapegoat? Your eyes grew heavy, weighed down by the water.

From above, the air bubbles that frantically rose to the surface slowly came far and few in between until not one broke the water. The silence stretched on as Reverend Matthews inhaled deeply before he sighed.

“May God have mercy on her soul.”

#taehyung fic #taehyung angst #taehyung x reader #vampire!taehyung #fic: run from me #soc taehyung

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arbitrarygreay · 4 months

Text

Biddy Math

When a Biddy nears death and eventually dies, Alder takes those years back. (There is no sign in 1x3, 1x10, 2x1, or 2x8 that this strain is redistributed to the other Biddies when one of their own is injured or dies. They only take on stress that is directly inflicted upon Alder.)

Therefore, the bare minimum requirement for the Biddy program is that if one Biddy dies, Alder will not die just by taking on those years. Assuming an equal sharing of Alder's life force (not necessarily a safe one to make, given that the Marshal's setup is so different), then this means that Alder doubles her physical years when a Biddy dies. Therefore, the number of biddies is defined by what is half of life expectancy, plus some number of buffer years so that Alder isn't on death's door just from losing one Biddy.

Delicious numbers, analysis, and graphs under the cut. Click through to see exactly which years Alder probably increased the number of Biddies over time! Now with bonus "how much is Alder drinking" potshots!

To decide some things, we can bypass life expectancy at younger ages, because those numbers are the product of mortality rates, which include causes of death other than old age. Because in the Biddy process, people proceed directly to old age, we can look at life expectancy for people who already survived to that old age.

x = Alder's total age n = Total number of people sharing life force (number of biddies plus 1 for Alder herself) Alder's physical age = A = x/n L = life expectancy (most probable age of death) s = safety buffer L-s = Age at which a person is expected to still live for another s years L-s = The age Alder will become if a Biddy dies = 2A = 2x/n

For Life Expectancy numbers, I looked at the Human Mortality Database. Here is the full citation:

HMD. Human Mortality Database. Max Planck Institute for Demographic Research (Germany), University of California, Berkeley (USA), and French Institute for Demographic Studies (France). Available at www.mortality.org. See also the methods protocol: Wilmoth, J. R., Andreev, K., Jdanov, D., Glei, D. A., Riffe, T., Boe, C., Bubenheim, M., Philipov, D., Shkolnikov, V., Vachon, P., Winant, C., & Barbieri, M. (2021). Methods protocol for the human mortality database (v6). Available online (needs log in to mortality.org).

For most all of the datasets I looked at, "Expected to live 5 more years" correlated to a ~10% mortality rate (that 1 in 10 people of that age died that year). So a 5 year safety buffer seems reasonable.

So, for example, I look at the US females dataset. I go to 2019 (the year the show started, and also to avoid the influence of the pandemic). In the dataset, the age at which they are expected to live 5 more years is 89. This is our (L-s) term. So, the physical age that Alder is safe to be at in 2019 is at most 89/2 = 44.5. (Lyne was 40 in 2019.)

If we assume that Alder was 18 years old when she signed the Salem Accords in 1692 (in order to codify conscription age to match hers), then in 2019 she is 345 years old. When we divide 345 by 44.5, to see how many total parties need to share those years equally, we get 7.625, which rounds up to 8. And well well well, that makes for Alder and 7 Biddies. Eliot did his math!

Something Eliot didn't quite do his math on, though, is his claim in After the Storm 1x3 that Biddies only tend to last 5-6 years. In 2019, Tally (somewhere between 18 and 19 years old) picking up 44.5 years upon getting Biddy'd means that she was physically…somewhere around 63 years old! In the US, 63 year ladies could expect to live another 23 years, to age 86! In order to get back down to the "less than 6 years to live as a Biddy" range, we would have to assume that the stress of military combat and also Alder's alcoholic liver would lop off another 17 years from their natural life expectancy. No I am not going to research how muchFine, let's find out how much Alder is drinking in order to destroy 20 year old candidates in 5-6 years.

Found an online calculator that cites this study:

Westman J, Wahlbeck K, Laursen TM, Gissler M, Nordentoft M, Hällgren J, Arffman M, Ösby U. Mortality and life expectancy of people with alcohol use disorder in Denmark, Finland and Sweden.; Acta Psychiatrica Scandinavica; April 2015

For a person to start drinking at age 63 and shorten their lifespan from 86 to 69 years, Alder is pounding at least 9 doses a day (but that would also only be enough to kill one Biddy! do we need to multiply that by seven...). Per NIAAA, a dose is 0.6 ounces of pure alcohol, which averages 5 ounces of wine and um only 1.5 ounces (a shot glass) or less of liquors like whiskey.

Alder famously ends up downing both of these glasses in this scene.

Sarah. Sarah. How many fucking doses is that, Sarah!? ("the height of two fingers against a regular sized glass is about 2 fl oz", so these glasses are probably "neat" pours, and she took 4 ounces in the Petra scene, and 2 ounces above. But we also know from Tally that "she loves her wine" and probably has it daily during at least breakfast with Anacostia, if not also at all other scheduled meals.)

...Okay, crack tangent over. Biddy candidate age speculation! Well, we started this whole thing with the assumption that when Alder takes back her years from a Biddy, she basically becomes Biddy age, with 5 years ahead of her (matching the expected years of service that Eliot quoted, eh). Which means that, really, Biddy candidates following that pattern should just be Alder's physical age? Whomst 44 year old Biddy candidates lmao. And even if we include that extra 10 year buffer for Alder's alcoholic liver combat stress, the standard Biddy candidate (looking forward to only 5-6 years of service) would just be whatever is 10 years younger than Alder's physical age. In 2019 that would be at most 34 years old, not anything near conscript age.

Here's another analysis angle, because why not: If we assume that Alder is actually frozen in time and only the Biddies are ageing for her, then 7 biddies are ageing 1.143 years for every year. So they need to actually have 6 years left in them to live 5 years of real time. With that conservative 5 year estimate, the Biddy that died in 1x3 (in 2019) became a Biddy around 2014.

Going back to our mortality tables, in 2014, the age at which a US woman would have 6 years left is 87. If we just lop those 10 years of stress, 77. The age at which they would have 16 years left is 71, which demonstrates how causes of death not of old age like alcoholism come into play a lot more the younger we look. Or there's also a survival bias at play. But it would be real awkward if someone had a genetic/health issue where they would naturally die in their late 60s/early 70s, so they keeled over right after getting Biddy'd. I'm sure the candidate screening process is mostly about avoiding that. Still, in 2014 less than 2% of 71 year olds died, so.

Working backwards to lop off the 44.5 years of Alder's life they're carrying, then the recruitment candidates for that Biddy could have been anywhere from 26-31 years old (with the 10 extra stress years). If we don't, then back to the 40-47 year old range. So yes, Anacostia could have maybe been a viable Biddy candidate, at least on age alone?

The way these are all probabilities means that the stars might align to maximize the longer lifespan of an individual against the age at which they were recruited. If they were playing it real safe and going younger, then a Biddy could serve for 10 years before succumbing to old age. See again how Tally could have had multiple decades ahead of her as a Biddy. That doesn't seem to be the norm, if Eliot is saying that 5-6 is the expectation, but maybe Biddy lifespan increased over the years as life expectancy for the elderly rose.

Here's where it gets…tricky. The Human Mortality Database is very fastidious with their data, and it turns out that most nations didn't keep/take very good records before 1950. The US data set doesn't begin until 1933, which means that I need to look elsewhere for the 200 years before that. The UK and Scotland are obvious choices, given the surname Alder. UK data begins in 1922 when they began merging the various realms of the Isles, which is why the Scotland data actually ends in 1930, when it got folded in. After that, it was mostly finding any European data at all that exists before the 1920s. I picked England+Wales and France, as both made it into the mid-1800s. And finally, the earliest dataset HMD has is Sweden, which somehow went back to 1751. As with the US dataset, I grabbed the oldest age for every year at which the remaining life expectancy was at least 5 years.

This is where I ran into some issues. You can see in the graph above that the Scotland, England, and Sweden data all show a rise in the life expectancy 60 years before the US, France, and the UK do. This is likely due to sampling bias in the older data, but I still have to decide what to do for this analysis. From the graph, you can see that I just averaged the England and France data to split the difference, and it looks like a plausible trend to the US data. Besides, the amplitude of the difference is only a 5-10 year spread, which gets divided out to a couple of years difference per Biddy, which is then well within natural spreads of lifespan. When I perform the calculations to get Alder's physical age from these estimations, it remains quite stable between the 40-45 range.

At any rate, I strongly suspect that Eliot may have looked at the same datasets as I did, because the earliest data point is, as said before, Sweden in 1751. In 1751, Alder would be 77 years old. And what is the life expectancy with a 5 year buffer for 1751? 77.

It's hard to imagine that Alder would have let herself become 77 years old as an active combatant, particularly as we know she looked like her 40-something self crossing the Delaware and when she created the Mycelium after pushing the British back, which according to 1x8, took place around 1735, when she would have been 61. If she had just one Biddy that year, with an even life force split she would have been physically 30.5.

If we go back to that Sweden dataset, the calculated death age for people between 18 and 40 is fairly stable between 60-65 until the 1800s, is that way in France until the late 1800s, and those numbers are likely a lot lower in a much less established region like the Americas. Alder herself would have seen that in the people around her, so it would make sense for her to take on the Biddy program fairly in advance of that. I wouldn't be surprised if she set up contingencies in her 40s, in her 50s at the latest.

(An alternative theory, given the wonkiness of some lore claiming that the Biddy working was shared in exchanged for the Cession in the 1830s when Alder was already over 130 years old, is that Alder used other means to prolong her life before getting Biddies, such as whatever made her be linked to Fort Salem's fauna and flora, not to mention the fact that when she lost all of her Biddies she turned to wood, not dust. Those seem to be separate workings from the Biddy program, and given that alder trees typically live between 60 to 80 years, some reaching 100 years, then the need to switch over to Biddies around then makes sense.)

But finally, what you're all actually here for: a graph of Alder's physical age and when she would have to increase the number of Biddies over time, as influenced by changing elderly life expectancy over time. (Note that if she indeed did not get Biddies until the 1830s, then she went from zero to 4 Biddies at once.)

#motherland fort salem #sarah alder #ag is a neeeeeeeerd #category: tv

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