#they shift into nightmarish beasts of our own making

[thejurassicparty]

"They took everything from us, and then they called me a monster?... This ends when I grant them my forgiveness, not the other way around."

This particular quote - honestly, this whole scene - has the nauseating force of a sucker punch directly to the gut

#honestly I could write an entire essay about Black Sails and its use of monster imaginary #Black Sails forcing the viewers to acknowledge society and 'civilization' as the true villains of the series is so intriguing #the show flips the typical historic narrative surrounding pirates on its head and makes us ask 'are pirates truly monsters or are they men? #we as viewers have preconceived ideas about pirates that the series makes a point to address #ideas can squirm and crawl into our brains they can snarl and heave and become twisted disgusting things #ideas grow more terrifying and monstrous as time progresses #they shift into nightmarish beasts of our own making #things that we recoil from and that we fear #we created this monster in our heads so it must be true #right? #are pirates monsters? or have we twisted them into beasts to suit our own narrative? #an 'other' for society to lay its blame upon so it can resolve itself of its own sins #OUR sins #society needs its 'monsters' to function #but the so-called monsters in Black Sails aren't just villains #they're martyrs #men we've demonized and cast aside #so why not become the monsters that society fears? #Captain Flint is a monster of their own making #but society will never ever shoulder that blame #you reap what you sow #and all that jazz #Flint being good or bad isn't the point and honestly I'd argue that his moral character as little to do with his identity as a monster #he's a scapegoat he's a man he's a martyr he's a lover he's a god he's vicious he loves to the point of his own destruction he's a monster #he's all of those things and none of the above #I'm gonna stop now lol #Black Sails is fascinating and it makes me what to chew on glass :) #Black Sails #I'm just ranting and raving at this point #so just ignore me

[warningsine]

In 2015, we asked Rushdie to share some books that have shaped his life and work.

The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov

"The Devil comes to Moscow and, of course, makes trouble, accompanied by a cat shooting six-guns and an associate who disappears when he turns sideways. But he also assists a writer, known as the Master, who has been writing the story of Christ from the point of view of Pontius Pilate and, in despair, has burned the only manuscript. But, the Devil says, manuscripts don't burn. And there the book is, unharmed and intact. One of the greatest Russian novels. Stalin didn't like it."

The Sirens of Titan by Kurt Vonnegut

"This is a real delight. Among its leading characters are a certain Winston Niles Rumfoord who, along with his dog Kazak, accidentally enters a 'chrono-synclastic infundibulum' and gets stretched out across space and time. There is also a Martian invasion of the Earth, and Salo, a messenger from the planet Tralfamadore stranded on the moon by a spacecraft malfunction. After that the Tralfamadorians distort the whole of human history to get Salo the spare part he needs. (The Great Wall of China is a message from Tralfamadore and so is the Kremlin. Draw your own conclusions.)"

Riddley Walker by Russell Hoban

"An unjustly forgotten novel that is utterly unlike anything else, a portrait of a world after a nuclear holocaust — the explosion of the '1 Big 1,' written in a brilliantly fractured language in which a bomb appears to have exploded as well. Folktale and science fiction blend in this portrait of a devastated world trying once again to become, and Riddley Walker's riddles may contain the secrets which, if unlocked, will provide the key."

The Bloody Chamber by Angela Carter

"Carter's sensual, erotic retellings of fairy tales and folk tales — her 'wolf stories' — blend Snow White, Red Riding Hood and Beauty (of the Beast) into shape-shifting creations that are Carter's own. In these tales a girl attacked by a wolf can love the wolf or even become a wolf herself; the beauty can be beastly too."

Pedro Páramo by Juan Rulfo

"A short hypnotic novel which Jorge Luis Borges thought to be one of the best books ever written in any language, and which Gabriel García Márquez claimed to have memorized, and which, he said, unblocked his imagination and allowed him to create Macondo, the world of One Hundred Years of Solitude. A man named Juan Preciado is told by his mother on her deathbed to go to the town of Comala and find his father, Pedro Páramo, and get what he is owed. Juan Preciado embarks on the journey and as he nears Comala falls into a nightmarish world that may be populated entirely by ghosts."

The Non-Existent Knight by Italo Calvino

"This is a fable, set at the time of the emperor Charlemagne, about an empty suit of armour that believes itself to be a knight and keeps itself going by willpower and strict adherence to the rules of chivalry. It's one third of a trilogy of fantastic fables jointly known as 'Our Ancestors.' The others, The Cloven Viscount and The Baron in the Trees, are just as good."

#salman rushdie #books

[yoongsisbae]

Bon Voyage: Into the Sea - Chapter 3

BTS fantasy AU. OT7 x reader. werewolf!Namjoon x werewolf!Hoseok x werewolf!Jungkook x siren!Yoongi x vampire!Jimin x vampire!Jin x whatis?Taehyung. This is the "vampire chapter" :'D

Thank you for all the love on this random nightmarish story lol. This extra update is for all the readers who made it my most popular post! Thank you! <3 Also this is my contribution to the start of the spooky season :D

Warnings: Hi, remember when I said this was horror? This chapter in particular is pretty horrific, you have been warned! blood, fighting between m/w, blood, graphic violence, blood, imprisonment, blood, blood, blood, minor character death, vampires doing vampire things including noncon blood drinking, human imprisonment, mind manipulation, stockholm syndrome, dubious consent, slut shaming, anal, degradation, foursome, orgasm control, orgasm denial, what a ride, you must be over 18 to ride this ride, scary scary scary

Word Count: 22k

---

“Scared, y/n?” Jimin’s face sends you a wicked smile.

You look back and forth between the men, uttering an unconvincing “No.”

Seokjin speaks again, “You should be.”

---

‘So did you get the answers you are looking for?’ You sit up, jolted out of your sleep, Hoseok’s words echoed softly in your mind.

Seokjin moved so fast, his striking face in front of you in an instant, his red eyes centimeters from yours, delicate lips curving into a smile over his fangs as water splayed around where he stood. That was the last thing you remember.

He smiled down at you sweetly and held you by the neck, putting pressure on your vein until you passed out. It all happened so fast your scream remained halted until this moment. The response came out of you abruptly, as fleeting as the memory.

And now where the hell were you? It looked like the room of an old bed and breakfast; large bed, writing desk, love seat, high windows; but to your captors the breakfast on the menu was you.

The first thing you notice is how the curtains are drawn together blocking the sunlight, but you know it’s there, just out of reach, as evidenced by the small line of light that trails its top edge. The room you found yourself in was dark, from the wallpaper to the furniture, the stillness unsettling, you listened as your own rapid breathing filled the silence.

You were seated right in the middle of a king size bed. They left you atop the cleanly-made white bed sheets, a treat placed in the center of a platter. You shiver, your clothes still remained damp from the night before, cold and stuck to your skin. That is why you shiver, you tell yourself, because you don’t hear them, but you feel them...watching you...

You build up enough courage to scan the room, and that’s when you see two pairs of red orbs staring back at you from the corners’ shadows, glowing in the darkness. Eyes of beasts, watching you, studying you.

You try not to react, not show your captors how scared you are, but every mechanism in your body betrays you, and the pair immediately pick up on your rapidly beating heart, the sweat on your brows, your unsteady breathing-

“Good morning, y/n,” Seokjin says, walking out of the shadows. Jimin stays hidden, but you can hear his soft laughter.

Those answers you wanted, where are they?

Seokjin slowly moves to the edge of the bed. “It seems like our friends have taken quite an interest with you and I want to find out why. Is that okay?”

You purse your lips, keeping your eyes trained on the thin strip of light showing at the top of the window curtains. You sit in silence. Has your breathing always been this loud? The shaking of Seokjin’s legs, a sign of his growing impatience, rattles the bed and your resolve.

He clasps his hands together, finally saying “If you don’t want to speak to me,” he leans in slightly and whispers the rest, “I can always let Jimin pry information out of you, but I don’t think you’d appreciate that very much.”

The pounding of your heart and the uneasiness in the pit of your stomach makes you feel like you’re going to become sick at any minute, but you manage to form a coherent sentence to ask him, “What do you want to know?”

“First, I want your permission to find out,” he speaks softly, placing a gentle hand on your calf, but you flinch away anyways. That’s a loaded question if you ever heard one. You wonder if it’s all an act, the same way Jimin fooled you. You stay silent.

Seokjin sighs again, looking over his shoulder, “Jimin?”

“No!” you yell. “Not Jimin! You...you, okay I give you permission.”

“Thank you, y/n.” He smiles, “I’ll be gentle.”

You yelp. Seokjin’s cold hand travels down your leg, wraps around your ankle and pulls you down the bed closer to his body, and in an instant his lean frame is hovering over yours. This close, his beauty is intimidating alone, but his eyes feel like they are piercing through you, digging inside, seeing all the ugly secrets you try to hide from even yourself, you feel like you could catch fire the way his gaze burns you.

He holds you down loosely by the neck, fingers searching for a pulsing vein, eyes focused on you with the concentration of a doctor performing surgery. Seokjin wipes away the tears that begin spilling from your eyes and smirks, “Don’t cry Dove, I promise this time will be the least pain you’ll experience from now on.” His words are devoid of any real sympathy, a false comfort, a looming warning.

You consider fighting back, but in this position there is no way you would be able to reach for your dagger (hidden away in a secret pocket in the front of your corset) without Seokjin stopping you, and even if you were lucky enough, there’s still Jimin, waiting in the shadows.

So you choose to wait, and try to find comfort in Seokjin’s twisted words. It could be worse. A tiny voice inside you reminds you it will become worse. You’ll just have to escape before then. You take a deep steadying breath, preparing yourself.

Don’t cry.

Seokjin’s lips latch onto your neck, soft and full as he rolls his tongue harshly over your pulse point. Goosebumps bloom across your body, and you try to focus on the sunlight rather than the vampire above you and his overwhelming aura, that sliver of light that you pray won’t dim.

This could be worse. This could be more painful. This could be Jimin.

Seokjin can feel the jumping of your pulse against his tongue. The vampire wants to know your story, what is it about you that riled Jimin up more than he’s ever seen him. But with your sweet scent enveloping him and the cocktail of emotions Seokjin’s keen senses could smell: fear and anger and mounting arousal, you smelled better to him than the finest wine and he can’t stop himself from teasing you a little longer, drink it in just a bit more and savor the moment.

Seokjin still understood the importance of ‘living’ in the present, he enjoyed taking his time with things. Others would have gone mad by now with the infinite amount of time, but not Seokjin, he used it to his advantage. Your warm body, your addicting smell, the softness and saltiness of your skin, the shifts in your breathing, Seokjin took his time to savor the gifts of life that he still missed.

You try not to react to his sensual touches, tensing your body under him, until you feel two sharp pricks on the surface of your skin. Your reaction is involuntary, you grip the bedsheets with your fists and let out a soft cry, moving against him. His bite hurt for only a second, like a pin prick, but Seokjin in his precision had nicked an artery for optimum bloodshed. With each gasp of breath you take, with each pounding beat of your heart, you feel your blood drain as it escapes the punctures in your neck and into Seokjin’s waiting mouth.

Seokjin groans against your skin, sending fire through your veins, pressing himself harder into your body. The vampire is better at keeping his physical responses to blood drinking at bay than Jimin, but he hasn’t had a new taste in awhile, and you’re so responsive.

When he pulls away from you you reach to cover your neck and stop the blood, a reflex in an attempt to save your own life, but Seokjin grabs your wrists before you can, pinning you to the bed, studying, his red gaze challenging you.

You gasp as the blood rushes out down your neck, over the sheets, seeping into your clothes. ‘They’ll underestimate you...’ Yoongi’s words replay in your mind and you stay still. No matter how much you want to fight back, this time you have to be smarter, you have to believe in Yoongi’s words.

Jimin has stayed quiet for this long, staying in the shadows, but your whimpers and grunts of pain are music to Jimin’s ears, the blood pouring from your body like an offering to him. His groans can be heard from the shadows.

He holds himself back for now, waiting for his turn. Jimin wonders where all that fight went, he had expected a show, for you to thrash away from the older vampire like you did the merman. He can’t help but feel a little disappointed. When it’s his turn, he thinks, you’ll become more entertaining then.

You watched in silence as Seokjin licked his lips clean of your blood. The red liquid that he had stolen from you, that was now steadily seeping from your wound and covering the white bedsheets underneath you, like a Rorschach picture mapping your life. “You’re strong,” he grins, speaking too tenderly for the brutality he was inflicting. “Stop fighting and it will end sooner, y/n. Let me into your mind.”

What does that even mean?! In your blood loss the tips of your fingers begin to feel cold like your captor’s, your head pounds and your vision blurs with each passing moment as the blood drains from your artery, you don’t want to give in, but if it will end this torture...

You shut your eyes tightly, and turn your head to expose your bleeding neck further to the monster above you. When Seokjin lowers his lips to your neck, you try to think of sweet Jungkook instead, his warm body instead of Seokjin’s cold one. You didn’t dare wish to be with him again, you didn’t dare think you made a mistake, that you should have stayed. Now all you can do is hope you can save him and yourself from this horrible island. Jungkook doesn’t deserve to be imprisoned with the likes of them.

Seokjin drinks the warm liquid pouring from your throat. You listen to him gulping down your blood, How much longer, until he finds what he’s looking for? You feel your fight escape you with each swallow, you feel yourself slipping away. It reminds you of drowning, it reminds you of Yoongi and how he kissed life into you instead, but this was the kiss of death.

‘Yoongi,’ you close your eyes and think of him. And then you felt it, the pull inside your mind. Your current circumstance falls away in shambles, your memories are pulled out of you through the cracks, the images race through your mind as Seokjin bears witness to it all.

---

Yoongi sits at the table, hair and clothes dry, turning his head to see you awake.

The relief that softens his features as he’s walking to your side.

The delicate way he places the hairpiece back in its place.

The way his eyes melt at your words.

Why hadn’t you seen it before? Seokjin saw it all. The way Yoongi screams at you, the rage and embarrassment in his eyes as he tells you how much he can’t stand you, the way he licks his lips when you yell back. His eyes studying you when you yank him closer, full of anger and full of-

You weakly push against Seokjin, you don’t want to remember, you don’t want to miss him. You can’t stop it, you can’t stop the memories flooding through your system.

You suddenly remember Jungkook’s sparkling round eyes watching you, wanting you, the crinkle of his nose when he laughs, the pink flush on the edges of his ears when you talk to him, the muscles of his arms flexing as he cages you under him, his deep groaning in your ear, the vein in his neck when he pushes into your wet heat, the truth in his voice when he says he’ll protect you.

You feel Seokjin’s hands travel down your body the same way you remembered Jungkook. You curse him in your mind, but your body couldn’t tell the difference, your stomach tightens and you’re no longer cold, warmth spreads over you to the tips of your toes.

You want to scream, scream for Jungkook, but you’re frozen, lost in your own thoughts, confused by your senses. Jungkook feels as real as Seokjin, but you know he’s not really there, no matter how much you wanted it to be true.

You remember Hoseok’s harsh looks, the growing anger in his eyes, the hurt in his eyes, the pain in his eyes, the pain still present in his eyes even in his wolf form when he howls and cries at you. He’s begging you to stay, he’s telling you he can’t bear to lose someone again. How could you leave them? Why can’t they be enough for you? Hoseok will treat you better, if you just stay with him, please. You understand his barks and howls now, because Seokjin understands. Tears well up in your eyes and you try to move away, but Seokjin is too solid, too powerful, and unyielding in his search.

Namjoon’s eyes are on you as you eat next to his brothers at dinner, filled with nothing but warmth and happiness. Those brown eyes, you miss them. You feel dizzy and helpless, you can’t take it anymore. You grab a fistful of Seokjin’s hair to try to pull him off of you.

“What have you done to Jimin? What have you done?!” Namjoon’s voice roars in your memory. But it’s not any memory you remember having. Before you realize what you are doing, your hands hold on tightly to Seokjin’s hair, pulling him closer and holding him to you so you can see more.

---

“It-It wasn’t me...” The tall vampire is covered in blood. Some of it is Jimin’s blood, yes, but the majority of blood that drips down his face and hands, that covers his clothes, belongs to five other men. Dead men. Men who beat the broken man in his arms to the brink of death.

Seokjin found his dear friend screaming in pain. He saw them over Jimin’s bleeding body, blood Seokjin treasured just as much as he treasured his bond with the compassionate and playful man. His friend, Jimin, who wailed for Seokin, for Namjoon, for Hoseok, for Taehyung, for anyone to help him, while his bones cracked, lying in the dirt, choking on his own blood, precious blood.

Seokjin explained to Namjoon when he saw them laughing, like hyenas over a carcass, spitting hateful slurs down at Jimin, he couldn’t control himself. Seokjin tore them apart one by one. He chased each one down like the pathetic animals they were, and tore the limbs that touched his dear friend straight from their bodies.

Seokjin had been weak, he had become too accustomed to the harmonious life he and Namjoon had created for themselves. Had it been decades before, he would have endured, but living with the pack had softened him too much and he couldn’t stand the pain of losing Jimin, so when he found a weak pulse he gave Jimin as much of his venomous blood as he could.

Namjoon simply nods at the information, his weary eyes examining his two friends, friends who were like family to him. He didn’t want to lose Jimin either. “We need to take him somewhere safe...to the island, before he wakes up,” Namjoon places a hand on the trembling vampire’s shoulder.

“What if he doesn’t wake up?” the vampire’s voice shakes, he notices the cuts on Jimin’s face and body have yet to heal themselves.

“That’s not something you should be worried about,” Namjoon runs his hand through Jimin’s tangled hair, gently placing the dark strands back into place, his eyes filling with tears, “it’s when he wakes up, we need to make sure he doesn’t hurt anyone.”

Seokjin nods weakly.

“Go now. I’ll clean up the mess, brother.”

Your hands fall, the blood loss making you too weak to grip onto Seokjin’s hair. Seokjin had taken more blood than he intended, lost in his own memories.

The vampire pulls away from you, even as the edges of your vision blurs, you see his eyes, glowing red and glassy with unshed tears, staring at you with a mixture of pain and surprise. He shakes away his bewilderment and rips into the flesh of his wrist, placing the cut across your lips as you can no longer hold consciousness.

---

When you wake again it’s night time, the light behind the curtains has left you.

Your body aches. You run your fingers along your neck, searching for the punctures, and you can only feel smooth skin crusted in dried blood. Your head feels like it’s splitting. You groan in pain.

You see Jimin before you hear him, and even then you’re not sure if your brain created the sounds to ease your mind as he stalks closer to your waking form.

“Finally! Now what could you have possibly done to Jin?” Jimin says, contemplating the reason his friend holed himself up in his office, refusing to speak to Jimin or even look at him.

He jumps on the bed, shaking your already pounding head. “He refuses to let me bite you,” he whines, “Explain now, pet.” Jimin prods you with his foot. “Explain what memory of yours Seokjin pulled.”

You just groan back, turning away from Jimin, burying your head into the cold pillows of your bed, one of the few things not soaked in your blood. Everything is so cold you can’t stand it. Jimin places a hand on your shoulder to make you face him. Cold fingers touch your skin, everything is cold.

“Don’t touch me!” you pull away from him, yelling.

Your face stings. Jimin had slapped you hard, you come to the realization only after the fact, the skin he touched burns hot. It makes you laugh, because you wanted warmth, didn’t you?

Jimin’s eyes narrow on you, “Say that again, I dare you.”

You bite back tears and ask, “What the fuck happened to you?!”

“So you’re back to being a disrespectful brat. You’re not on the same level as me, human. Learn to behave.”

“No! What happened to you to make you so heartless? What changed you?” How did the bleeding man you saw Namjoon cry over in Seokjin’s memories become this monster? He was human at one point too, you wouldn’t have believed it if you didn’t see it for yourself.

Jimin rolls his eyes, “Don’t act like you know anything about me, bitch.”

You take a deep breath trying to calm your temper. Not only had you seen Seokjin’s memories, you had felt his emotions. His pain lingers in you still, beside the fear and hatred you feel, you look at Jimin and feel...sorry for him. You have to look down, the emotions are too much and too overwhelming. It was easier when all you knew was the monster before you. Jimin takes your silence as obedience instead.

“Now can you be a good little pet and answer my question,” he says, tapping you on the head hard enough to make your headache roar back to life. You flinch and search the eyes of the man before you. Or rather the shell of a man, you think bitterly.

And what a beautiful shell it is. Jimin is stunning, bright white hair pulled away and styled so you can see the delicate features of his face. He holds himself gracefully, like a dancer, his elegant figure hiding his true strength. You wonder what he was like before turning into a monster, what kind of man was he? Someone whom Namjoon cared for.

“It wasn’t my memory...you. I saw you…” You whisper, knowing Jimin’s sharp senses can hear you loud and clear, “I saw Seokjin turn you.” Silence falls over the room again, a silence so deafening you start to hear the pounding in your head becoming louder.

The vampire stares at you, soft features stoic. He looked lost in thought, you pictured his face full of cuts, bloody lip, black eye, human, and Seokjin so unsure, scared, worried, trembling, so unlike themselves now.

“How did he turn me?” It surprised you how genuine Jimin’s question sounded. Did he really not know?

You keep your mouth shut, you don’t think it would be wise on your part to tell him. Jimin seems like the type to shoot the messenger. Unfortunately, unlike Seokjin, Jimin had little to no patience. His expression changes like lightning, full of anger. He pulls you by the hair dragging you off the bed and onto the floor.

The vampire crouches over you and grabs your face, holding you down to the wood floor, pressing his sharp nails into the skin of your cheeks making you yell.

“Ahh there’s your voice! Tell me.”

“Why don’t you ask Seokjin?!”

“But I rather you just do as I say,” he says playfully, as his fingers dig harder into your skin, cutting the flesh and drawing blood.

“Why don’t you just bite me, then?!” You spit the words out through clenched teeth.

You watch the vampire lick his lower bottom lip, thinking it over briefly as he pulls your face closer to his, you struggle against his painful grip. “How impetuous...” he watches you squirm like an insect stuck in glue. “You’re rather dumb, aren’t you?”

Should you reach for your dagger now? Should you try to kill Jimin?

Every time you thought about hurting him, you remembered Seokjin’s crying face, and you wanted to cry as well, what was happening to you?

“Jimin, leave us.” Jin stands in the doorway to your room.

Jimin stands up in a huff, letting you go. You fall back onto the hardwood floor. He balances on his heels, ignoring you and scrutinizing Seokjin. He wanted to question the older vampire, he has so many questions now, but decides against it. What does it matter anyways? The idea of being a weak and powerless human revolts him. “I’m getting impatient,” he says before he leaves, slamming the door and making you jump.

“T-thank y-you.” You try to calm your breathing.

Seokjin looks at you with a frown, extending his hand out to you. You hesitate and place your hand in his and he easily lifts you to your feet. You watch the older vampire walk slowly around the room, drawing his fingers along the furniture he passes. You stand awkwardly, you don’t think making a run for it would gain you any favors right now.

“I’m hungry,” Seokjin says. He doesn’t even look at you when he says it, continuing to meander around the room, waiting for your response.

You clench your jaw. So this is what you’ve been reduced to, you think, a late night snack. “Are you going to just keep me trapped in this room? I’m hungry too, I haven’t eaten anything-”

“Dinner's already passed. Before I let you go roaming around, I need to make sure you’re going to behave yourself, do you understand?”

No, you don’t understand at all. It sounds like he’s going to starve you into subservience, and you have to get out of this room, you have to find the portal.

“I will do as you say...please...” you walk over to where he’s standing, trying your best to seem meek. “I’m starving,” you reason, “I’m sure you know how it feels to hunger for something” you say, turning your head to stare at the windows, curtains now open to the night sky, extending your neck to the vampire. His eyes are pulled to your attention, following the lines of your shoulder. You roll your neck, loosening the stiff muscles, moving close enough to him that your chest bumps into his. You look up into Seokjin’s eyes through your lashes, “I-I will behave.”

Seokjin smiles, bringing his head down into the curve of your neck, lips skirting across the skin. Your fingers reach up to caress the back of his head. You can see the pair of you in the bedroom mirror. Another myth proven wrong, you think, as you study your seduction, how his lean frame bends closer to yours, his arms wrapping around the lower part of your back.

In truth, Seokjin wasn’t hungry. He had taken more than enough blood from you this morning already, but Seokjin wanted to see if lightning could strike twice. Never had the pull been so strong for him that a human had been able to enter his memories, not even when Jimin was alive. He needed to learn more.

Seokjin licks your face, tongue tracing the cuts Jimin’s nails left behind. You hold your breath, trying to act like you enjoyed it. You hated it, you wished you could stick Yoongi’s dagger into Seokjin’s cold dead heart and be done with it already.

Seokjin trails kisses back to the place he bit you before. He keeps kissing your sensitive skin until his lips reach your ear and he whispers, “I’m not Jungkook, little Dove, you’ll have to do better than that.”

You stumble backwards but it’s too late, Seokjin already has you in his clutches.

He pulls you into a tight embrace, walking you backward even more. His bite is precise, you suspect perfectly precise to where he bit you this morning. Your arms are locked tightly in between your bodies as he holds you to him.

Thunder roars in your memory, you feel yourself drowning. Your muscles ached, your lungs burned. You feel Yoongi’s hand on your ankle, pulling down, hand on your waist, pulling down, hand on your neck, pulling you closer, his lips on your lips-

You cry and yell against Seokjin’s grasp. Cold turns to warmth as you see Namjoon, Jungkook, and Hoseok laughing around the firepit, and Seokjin, and Jimin, laughing too. Yoongi sits with a calm expression on his face, his lips curved upward, and a man you don’t recognize sits next to him-

Seokjin yanks his mouth away from you and you fall backward, back hitting the bed while you struggle to breath. You cover the holes on your neck with your palm to stop the rushing blood.

“How?” is all Seokjin can say, shaken by the happy memory that even he had forgotten about.

You stare up at the high ceiling dazed and too weak to move, “Do I...” you can feel the blood spill between the gaps of your fingers, “look...” you gasp, “like a vampire expert...to you?”

Seokjin moves to the window, his back to you. He watches the waning moon and lets his mind wander to his old friends. If they were off the island, he could see a scenario where you and he would meet at a bar, laugh over drinks, but the ending would always be the same. “You look,” he looks over his shoulder at you, “like you could use a drink,” his lips curving into a half smile.

“Are you,” you gasp, “offering?”

He walks over to you slowly, bringing his wrist to his mouth, and then extends the sliced skin to your mouth, waiting expectantly.

You take his offering bitterly, gulping down the metallic liquid, the wounds burn like fire as they heal over. The pain is nothing like you’ve ever experienced before. You shut your eyes tightly, you want to cry, or scream, but like Namjoon said, no one can help you here. You feel fingers intertwine with your bloody fingers, pulling your bloodied hand away as you weakly protest. The room spins, even if your wounds are healed, your blood is still gone and you’re feeling the effects of two feedings.

Seokjin brings your hand to his lips and licks away the blood, tongue circling your fingers. “This can hurt or it can feel good,” he says slowly.

You laugh, delirious from hunger and blood loss. “I wonder, that memory,” you gasp, still laughing, “does it bother you to be reminded of your humanity? Does it hurt you?”

You probably shouldn’t have said that, but the blood loss is doing funny things to you, or maybe you just really wanted to get a reaction from the guarded man, no, guarded vampire.

If your accusation angered Seokjin he didn’t show it with any emotion, instead he sighed and bent over you, biting down hard on your shoulder. The searing pain makes you scream. You cry out, not expecting the sharp and throbbing kind of ache from his bite as Seokjin’s teeth stayed deep in your flesh.

Seokjin pulls another memory out of you, and you curse your luck in remembering Jungkook again, remembering his tanned and muscled body next to yours. Jungkook kissing your knuckles and telling you how he’s yours now. Jungkook kissing down your body. His head between your legs, his mouth feverishly licking at your folds. The more you try not to think about him the stronger the memories feel. The pain in your shoulder dulls as your legs tighten around the vampire's sides.

Perhaps it was your bloodloss mixed with Seokjin’s bloodlust seeping into your consciousness, the memory of Jungkook’s length buried deep inside you and feeling of Seokjin’s growing bulge pressed against your stomach makes your head spin and you just want to feel more. You hear Namjoon’s deep authoritative voice whispering dirty things in your ear, it makes you shudder, a moan escapes your throat-

Seokjin pulls away from you abruptly at that, his eyes are deep red, so dark they look black. He watches as your body twitch in pain, as he focuses on calming the storm of human emotions, your emotions, running through him, as he tries to forget the compromising memory of his old friend. He bites down on his bottom lip until he draws blood, his blood mixing with your own blood in his mouth, and he presses his lips on yours.

You realized how passionate Yoongi’s kisses were compared to Seokjin’s. The merman was distant, but his actions were full of feeling, whether they be good or bad. Seokjin was cold in body and mind, a hard shell, you felt like you were kissing a statue as you choked on his blood, the liquid metallic and sweet.

You can feel the punctures in your skin closing, it hurts so much worse than when he bit you, you distract yourself by licking into his mouth, feeling his tongue against yours.

Seokjin jumps off of you the second your wounds are healed and leaves without saying a word. You can hear the door lock in your daze.

You scoff, what was up with him, you wonder, dining and dashing like that. The blood loss has you quickly falling asleep despite wanting to use the time alone to plan your escape.

---

They both leave you alone all day until night again. You wake up hungry and weak. When Seokjin wordlessly stalks towards you that night you tell him so.

“I still can’t trust you to play well with others.”

“I need food! I need to eat! I am not a goddamn vampire like you! I can’t survive off your blood!” You throw your pillow at him. Should you have done that? Probably not, but you’re too hungry to care.

Seokjin pauses, looks at the floor where the pillow lays at his feet after coming in contact with his chest. “I’ll bring you food later tonight, now lie down, I’m hungry too.”

Ugh.

---

There were so very little things now that intrigued Seokjin, and this connection had become a mystery he wanted to solve. The strength of his pull on you was so intense it had become almost addicting to feel for Seokjin.

A vampire's pull had always been one-sided, but this pull acted like a wave, crashing onto the shore of your consciousness, pulling back and forth, dragging his memories along the current too.

Promised food, you comply, lying down against your better judgement. You glare at him as he lies next to you, and he smooths your furrowed features with his fingers instead of matching your anger. It makes you feel self conscious, the way he watches you with searching eyes. “Well? What are you waiting for?”

“So demanding, do you want me to bite you that badly?”

Is he teasing you? “No. I don’t. At all!”

“Okay then.” he lies back down, his arms underneath his head.

You sit up to look down at him. “Is this a joke?”

“I’ll wait, I don’t mind. I can wait for days, the question is can you?”

If you tried to stab him now he would definitely be able to stop you. Too bad. “I think I can’t stand you.”

“You barely know me!”

“I’ve seen enough,” you scoff.

“I’ve lived a long time,” Seokjin says, serious again, “you don’t care to see more? Who I really am?”

“Who are you?”

“Let me bite you and find out,” he winks.

'Well, he seems to be in a better mood,' you think. You wonder why he is even bothering to ask you, you’re his prisoner, after all. “So this is not just about feeding anymore?”

“I’m a vampire, of course it is.”

You sigh, you’re hungry and tired from blood loss. “Okay, bite me, but choose some place else,” you rub the sensitive spot on your neck and shiver. “NOT THERE!”

Seokjin stops pushing your legs open. “But there is an artery in your leg-”

Your face goes hot, you shove your wrist in his face. “Here then!” He sighs and lies back down again, pulling you over his body easily. You sit awkwardly against his lap as you watch his fangs prick your inner wrist. The blood loss this time wasn’t so bad, but it still made your weak body sway, your free hand bracing yourself against his chest.

He does the same thing to you again, pulls memories of your life. You saw memories from before the boat wreck to your childhood, and you saw glimpses of Seokjin’s life as well. You learned at one point in his very long life he stopped being a complete monster and became a part time bartender.

For decades he moved from taverns, to pubs, to bars. The perfect career, and as his beautiful looks were admired everywhere he went, he was never short of meal options. You woke in the morning and you laid on clean sheets, there was water for you and bread and butter and jam, an apricot and an apple, food not found on an island. The portal.

Tonight. This night you will be ready for Seokjin. You quickly realized you weren’t just remembering with Seokjin, you were feeling, and he was feeling too. If you could distract him well enough with a memory, you think you’d be able to escape!

---

Tonight Jimin walks into your room instead.

“Where’s Seokjin?”

“You didn’t miss me?” He holds a pear in his hand, throwing it up in the air and catching it easily. “He is busy, the others were feeling neglected by him-”

“There are others? Other humans?!”

Jimin smirks at your wide eyes. “Yes, pet, did you think you were special?” You swallow, keeping your questions to yourself. So Seokjin really meant it when he talked about playing well with others. Who were they and how long have they been here? Could some of them be your friends? Maybe you weren’t the only survivor on your boat! More humans, more people to help you fight against Seokjin and Jimin, if you could just meet them and somehow convince them...

Jimin heard your accelerating heartbeat, could see the happiness dance across your features. “What ever you are thinking, I suggest against it. Actually, go ahead and try, I haven’t punished anyone in so long.”

“Are you going to bite me or not?”

“Oh, so now you’re eager for it, it’s always the same.”

“Still not allowed, huh? Must suck to be you. Ha! Get it?”

“Do you think you’re being cute? Jin said I can’t bite you, he didn’t say anything about not hurting you.” Jimin throws the pear in the air again, “What? No clever retort?”

“I don’t know about Seokjin,” you speak softly, “but you used to be human, why do you act like this?” You watch as Jimin drops the pear on the ground and steps on the fruit with his feet. You bite your lip. What a waste. You consider pulling out your dagger just for that.

“Being human?” Jimin runs a hand through his hair, “I don’t remember anything about that. I can’t imagine being so weak and foolish.”

“You really don’t remember?” You look at the pear, squished into a pulp. “Can you do what Seokjin does, with the memories?”

“What makes you think I want to learn about your pathetic life?”

“No,” You idiot. You sigh. “But maybe you want to learn about your pathetic life?”

You scream, Jimin’s nails were digging into your skull, a handful of your hair in his fists. “Call me pathetic again,” he threatens lowly.

“Pathetic,” you say bearing your teeth. Jimin smiles, because in that moment you reminded him of someone. He’s going to enjoy breaking the bones of your body and watching your limbs reassemble again. He grabs your forearm, pulling your arm closer to your face. You wince as his grip tightens, struggling against his tight hold on your hair. “Call me pathetic again,” he sings, his eyes sparkling with delight.

You weigh your options in that moment.

“Seokjin!” you scream.

Jimin laughs, tightening his grip even more so you are sure to have bruises, “Do you think he really cares about what happens to you?”

“Jimin was a regular at your bar! Wasn’t he?!” You had seen the younger vampire, only briefly, you barely recognized him with dark hair, but you knew it was Jimin the way you felt your own heart soar when Seokjin glanced at him for the first time.

You screamed louder than you’ve ever heard yourself, making the vampire wince at your volume, because in that moment Jimin snapped the bone in your forearm. “Even if you don’t remember,” you cry, mumbling out the words through your pain, “you were human. Just. Like. Me.”

Jimin grabs your upper arm this time, and squirm in his hold. You start to cry harder despite trying to hold the tears in. The door to your room slams open. Seokjin looks furious when he steps towards the both of you.

“Jimin leave!"

“What?” The white haired vampire loosens his grip, but stands his ground. Seokjin doesn’t speak again, only gives him a look, and Jimin relents, breaking his stare with several blinks and releasing you. The younger vampire can’t hide his emotions as well as Seokjin and you see the hurt twist his beautiful features.

You sit on the ground grimacing in pain, holding your broken arm to your chest. Outside your room you hear the familiar crash of glass and scrape of wood and you suspect Jimin is not taking Seokjin’s orders well. Seokjin looks much more unhinged than you ever recall seeing him and then impassiveness washes over his face again, much to your disappointment.

“He is usually not like this. He can go months without drinking blood, it seems my ban has just made him all the more obsessed with you,” he sighs.

“Greeat,” you wince, “Lift the ban then, might as well.” If you were being honest with yourself, you were curious what would happen if Jimin bit you. Maybe then he wouldn’t despise you so much.

“The ban is not to protect you, naive little dove.” He sits down on the floor next to you. You find the sight comical, Seokjin in an expensive suit sitting on the dusty floor.

You roll your eyes. Of course. “You care a lot about him,” you whisper softly. He nods. You turn to him, “Do you remember why you started caring? Do you think who he is now still acts in the same way that made you care so much for him?”

“You think I’m a fool?” he laughs softly, “I know Jimin’s...lost his way...” You sit in silence as you struggle to take your mind off the pain in your arm. “For us, time, is infinite. This is only a small stretch of time compared to what I’ve been through. Jimin will come back around, I know it.”

“Well I think he’s a lost cause,” you mumble.

“He’s not, no one is...This is going to hurt a lot, if you don’t mind, I can make it quick.” His hand traces your jaw and turns your head to face him, eyes glancing towards your lips.

“Am I going to have to get used to this, you fixing the pain he causes-”

“Am I going to have to get used to you both provoking each other all the time?”

You bite your lip, he started it, it’s not your fault he freaks out over every little thing you say. You change the subject. “Are there really other prisoners here? Other humans like me?”

Seokjin tuts disapprovingly, “House guests, y/n! They can stop being in service to us whenever they want, we provide them all with a choice.”

“Oh, and what are the options, be your personal feeding supply or die?”

“Ahh see, you catch on quickly, and Jimin calls you stupid.”

Your eyes narrow on him, “Not much of a choice there.”

Seokjin leans into you, “it comforts them, when they think they have some control. You know, you would all be at the bottom of the ocean if it weren’t for us.”

You pull your legs closer to your body, it’s hard to look at him, much less listen to the disturbing things he says, “Why are you telling me this? Am I supposed to be grateful?” You shuffle your body, trying to get comfortable despite the throbbing pain of your broken arm.

“Perhaps,” he scrutinizes your body, “At least don’t provoke Jimin. Ready?”

You hum, “Yeah, I’m ready for my medicine, Doctor.”

He looks down, nodding. “No anesthesia for this surgery I’m afraid.”

He motions you closer, bites into his wrist and fills his mouth with his own blood. You’re careful not to jostle your arm too much as you move in front of him. His long fingers hold your head still as he presses his mouth onto yours, feeding you his blood. Even when you scream in pain he holds you to him as your bone readjusts itself and heals back together, your body in excruciating agony. He holds you tightly, his mouth swallowing your screams until the process is complete, until you pass out in his arms.

---

You wake up to clanging silver. The light feels warm on your face, and then you feel nothing as the curtains are drawn. You open your eyes, ready to protest.

“Oh my god!”

The woman before you jumps at your words. “Your breakfast,” she motions to the tray.

“You're real, oh my god, it’s true! Help me! Please, we can escape together!” The woman stumbles away from you as you desperately try to hold on to her.

“What?” Why is she looking at you like that? Why is she acting like that?! She pushes you away as she opens the door. You’re too stunned, too hurt by this stranger who you thought could help you to question her when she says, “There is no escape.” She closes the door, locking you inside. What just happened?!

Now that you’re alone again you search the room from top to bottom, desperate now that you’ve realized you’re up against so much more. All the drawers are empty, not even a pen and paper in the desk. The window opens but that doesn’t help you because you’re several floors up. The bathroom has running water and the prettiest bathtub you’ve ever seen, so you give up and spend the day soaking yourself, in your clothes. The dress floating and surrounding you reminded you of a certain man, well, merman. No one visits you that night.

The day repeats itself six times. You try different approaches to try and convince the older woman to help you and every time she refuses or ignores you completely.

You don’t get it, you don’t understand, and her behavior disturbs you. You had asked her, “Don’t you want to see your friends and family again?! Do you have children? Or a spouse?” Her answer was, “I don’t think so.”

‘I don’t think so.’ She couldn’t tell you how long she’d been here either. The implication scared you.

You sit at the door, your ear to the wood all day. Sometimes you’ll hear footsteps, you know it’s not Jimin or Seokjin, because they don’t make any noise when they walk. Sometimes you yell and bang on the door waiting for a response that never comes.

One day you yanked down the drapery, opened the window completely letting all the sunshine in, and soaked it in like a cat. Before you woke up the next morning everything had been set back the way it was. It was maddening.

So one day you flooded the bathroom, just to see if anyone would come to stop you. They didn’t and the next morning the tub was gone. You cried all night.

For six nights you’re alone. The fifth night you dig into your dress pockets to find the tiny shell Yoongi gifted you. You tap it three times and wait, holding it to your ear.

“Y/n?” His groggy voice fills the sea noise. You can’t bring yourself to speak, or you would really break down. Hearing his voice was enough.

---

Before the sun sets on the seventh night there is a knock on your door. You’re already so close to the entrance you can hear the soft click as it unlocks and you swing the door open to see Jimin.

He smiled down at you, a picture of sin. The young vampire wore casual loose-fitting clothes, shirt hanging over his shoulders. He dresses so relaxed, so opposite to Seokjin, who wore his shirts buttoned up to the collar. All you wanted to do all day was talk to someone, be heard, but with Jimin here you feel like an animal cornered in a trap, and you want to hide.

He gives you a cocky smile and drapes his arm over your shoulders, dragging you back into the room. “Look at you! Perfectly fine, Seokjin always overreacts,” he whines, “I’m tired of waiting. I can trust you not to tell on me, right pet?”

The vampire presses himself against your back and wraps his arms around your waist, locking you to him, chin digging into your shoulder. You stand frozen against him, Jimin is excellent at making sure you feel like you’re trapped and powerless when you’re around him.

His nuzzles your neck, lovingly like a lover would, inhaling your scent. You craved human contact, but this man isn’t exactly human now, is he? Your stomach turns as the familiar feeling of fear bubbles inside you.

“And if I don’t?” you whisper, and his grip tightens around you.

“You tell me, what do you think will happen, if you don’t?” he mumbles against your neck, teeth grazing your skin and he moans softly. He wrapped himself around your body, caressing your curves, it confused you at how affectionate he was being, or was he just a snake constricting his prey?

Your stomach tightens, you were stronger than this, right? A week in time out didn’t work on you, right? You couldn’t stop the sounds escaping your lips every time Jimin shifted against you. You blame Seokjin’s fondness for him that must have rubbed off on you. You try to step away but Jimin pulls you in closer.

“I thought I was a disgusting human, are you the one who missed me, Jimin?” You ask him softly.

“There are things about you that are only barely revolting, I guess.” He can feel the shift in your mood as annoyance bristles through your body, it makes him smile. You are so defiant for being so scared, it makes him want to break you even more.

You’re scared, but deep down there was a part of you too curious for your own good, that just wanted Jimin to bite you, just to see why and what Seokjin was protecting him from. It would only be to your advantage, if that was the case, right? You stretch your neck to the side slightly to see what Jimin’s reaction would be. His fingers dig into your hips. “What’s this?” Oh no.

Jimin pulls the shell hidden inside your pocket. You grab at his hands, but he’s too fast, dancing around you as he pushes you away, pushing you to the ground.

Somehow you always end up here on the floor, at Jimin’s feet, probably exactly where the vampire thinks you should be. You’ve never seen him more excited, it twists your insides.

Jimin’s cold fingers inspect the tiny shell, tutting. He mouths the words, ‘bad girl’ silently. Tapping the tiny shell, he brings the shell to his lips.

“Yoongi, I know you’re there. Do you want to hear y/n?” He crouches next to you, lifts your chin so your eyes meet his, smiling as if you were playing along on an inside joke. “Do you want to hear her cries? Do you want to hear her moans?” his sinful voice sings tauntingly.

The younger vampire promised Jin he wouldn’t touch you, but Seokjin has so many rules, and this just proved you couldn’t be trusted, that you needed to be taught a lesson. Seokjin will forgive him, Jimin thinks, he always does.

“C’mon, Yoongi wants to hear you, y/n! I bet he misses you. Let him hear your pretty voice.” You just glare at him, staying silent. Jimin didn’t seem angered by your defiance, in fact, he seemed happy.

He pulls your hair, moving your face closer to the shell, his nails dig into your scalp, and you feel them pierce your skin. The pain causes you to let out a strangled cry. “That’s it!” You hold back tears as you glare at him, Seokjin is wrong, Jimin can’t be saved.

“I’m not afraid of you anymore,” you grit out, scratching at his hand.

“Oh, no?” He releases your hair. You jump up but Jimin pulls you down to the ground again. Even as you kick and hit him, it’s obvious it’s not hurting the vampire. He easily pins you down, caging you in with his thighs, his knees pinning your arms to your sides. His fingers wrap around your neck, holding you tight as you grunt against him. You’ve become a mouse, trapped by a snake.

“Afraid yet?” You know he won’t kill you, it seems like torturing you is just too much fun for him. Jimin may be stronger than you, faster than you, but he’s as caged as you are, stuck on this island, leashed by Seokjin’s rules, acting out like a child.

“No.” He lets go and you heave in air, coughing. “Seokjin will find out, even if I don’t say anything. He said-”

“Jin,” he bares his fangs, “says a lot of things.” He brings the shell to his mouth again, “What bone should I break first?”

Jimin laughs, and you wonder what the merman said to him.

Jimin grabs your jaw, tilting your head to the side, reveling in your struggle. He places the tiny shell next to your ear. You try to silence your heavy breathing. “Yoong-g-gi?” You hear the ocean, the rumbling of the sea, and you hear-

“Y/n!” Yoongi’s voice rumbles through the tiny shell, he calls out to you, words rushed and worried, full of concern that has your heart dropping, “Jimin has a weakness, It’s T-” Jimin crushes the tiny shell between his fingers.

Jimin pouts, “I thought he would have used the opportunity to confess, now he’ll never get the chance.”

He moves away from you, “Well, aren’t you going to make a run for it? I didn’t lock the door.” He lifts his eyebrows up, nodding towards the door.

You lie on the cold hard ground stunned. Yoongi's gone. You think of a scenario where you rush towards the door, only to be stopped by Jimin as he tackles you again. No, you won’t do that. Jimin takes and takes, you're going to make it your mission to take from him. You stand up on shaky legs and walk towards Jimin.

“Actually, I rather you just bite me instead.” You’re not confident that he’d really go against Seokjin, so might as well egg him on. “Unless you’re scared of Seokjin?”

Jimin scoffs, jaw clenching in annoyance and eyes narrowing. “Any other cute little means of communication you tried to sneak in here, hmm?” He yanks you close to him again, his hands pull at your dress, wandering over your thighs, skirting dangerously close to your center. He smirks down at you as you pretend to act unaffected by the way his hands glide over your ass, kneading the flesh. His hands run up your corset, getting closer and closer to your dagger.

You run your hand over the front of his pants. It was the only thing you could think to do to distract the vampire before he found your dagger and really killed you. It worked. Jimin stops you, digs his nails into your wrist, but he doesn’t pull your hand away.

So without many other options, you send your quarrel with the vampire off into a whole other direction as you grab for the bulge in his pants. You feel the weight of him in your palm, your mouth drops a little at his size. Jimin’s jaw tightens as you rub up and down his bulge.

You’re stuck in a staring match with the vampire. Two stubborn beings, challenging each other to see who breaks first.

Surprising you, he spins you around and starts undoing the straps of your corset.

No, no, that’s the opposite of what you wanted! “What are you doing?” You try to wiggle your body to face him again, “Just fuck me already!”

Jimin cages you against his lean frame, crushing your body to the closest wall with his own. He inhales into your neck. He can sense the torrent of your spiraling emotions, he feels your hatred for him radiating off your body stronger than ever as he slows his advances down.

“You are acting more stupid than usual, pet.”

“You wanted to play,” you say, “Well, let’s play then.”

He’s never played this kind of game before, and you’ve enticed him, he has no problem calling your bluff. His hand runs along your cleavage, kneading the flesh.

Jimin pulls your dress up slowly, his cold hand running up your leg. You rest your forehead on the wall, shuddering when he drags his fingers across your center. “Your hands are cold.”

He pushes two fingers inside you, deep, you were barely ready for the stretch, crying out from the sudden intrusion and cold sensation. Jimin groans as you whimper against him, “Forget what I am already?” He licks your neck, fingers pumping in and out at a dizzying pace.

“How could I ever forget?” you whisper.

“I regret destroying that shell, I would have liked to let Yoongi listen to what a whore you are.”

Your body tenses and Jimin leans his body harder into yours, pressing another finger inside. “What would the dogs think, knowing their bitch is so wet for their enemy, hmm?” Making you angry is too easy, he thinks, and makes you smell so much better, sexier. Jimin is used to fear, he’s grown accustomed to desire, but your rage makes him ravenous. If Jimin wasn’t so consumed by his carnal desires, he might question himself as to why he wants someone to hate him so much, but all he can think about is how he’s going to drive you to madness with just his fingers. He resists the urge to bite you by sucking harshly on your neck, pulling the blood closer to your skin and leaving dark marks behind.

Before you have a chance at release he pulls his fingers out of you, leaving you empty and holding up the evidence of your arousal, the clear substance clinging to his fingers as he licks them clean, moaning in your face. The sight is depraved, and you can’t look away. He smiles smugly at you as he smells your lust surround him.

“I knew you wouldn’t bite me.”

“We will get to that, we’re playing a game remember? Or do you want to stop now?”

“All this talk and I still haven’t been bitten or fucked, are vampires impotent or something or is it just you?”

Jimin laughs, yanking your body to face the wall again and pinning you to him. “I’ll make you forget everything but my dick while I’m fucking you, you won’t have a single other thought in that pretty little head of yours other than giving me all your pleasure.”

“Oh yeah? Well, I’m waiting.”

Jimin laughs again, pressing three thick fingers deep inside you again, you legs go weak as he holds you up with the force of his body against yours. He drags his fingers out and higher until he’s circling your other opening. His digits press into both of your holes, filling you up completely as you cry out. You haven’t had someone give attention to that part of you in so long, you tense at the unexpected stretch. His thumb works against your clit expertly as he rocks his hand against yours. You feel so full and overwhelmed by Jimin. “So close already? Beg me to make you come, pet.”

“I’m not your pet.”

You take his torture silently, hold in your moans as he brings you to the brink of release and stops short of satisfaction over and over again. He thrusts his fingers in and out of your holes, until the tight stretch goes away, his fingers easily gliding in and out of your wetness, until the ache is replaced with a need for more. Your entire core pulsates as he slowly and torturously circles your swollen bud, changing the pressure just enough to drive you crazy by ghosting over your clit when you needed more and rubbing even harsher circles when it all becomes too much, his touch making you feverish and sick with desire. When you clench around his fingers, closer than you’ve gotten to release since he started this torture, he pulls out of you completely, pressing his hard cock, straining against the cloth of his pants, into your sore center.

“You smell so good,” he moans. You don’t want to think about Jungkook, you don’t want to taint his memory, but Jimin’s words are so similar. Jungkook is nothing like Jimin, but they are more similar to each other than to a human like you. Perhaps you are just as weak and pathetic as Jimin says, a human can be no match for a vampire, and you’ll never be able to win against him.

“Please Jimin...just let me cum...”

“Beg me.” His usual airy voice drips with arousal, and he presses his bulge harder into your wetness.

You don’t do as he says, you can’t, so he continues his torturous little game, until you’re moaning loudly, head thrown back against his shoulder, whimpering every time he stills. He pulls his fingers out of your dripping core, focusing his attention on your ass, thumb rubbing harsh circles into your throbbing clit, you feel so empty and painfully full as your sensitive walls clench around nothing and his fingers stretch your rim open for him. Your entire body vibrates, but you’d rather stay unsatisfied than say please to Jimin ever again.

Finally, as the sun sets and the last bit of light around the curtains disappears, Jimin realizes he can play his game no longer and pulls away from you completely. Your legs give out as you slide down the wall, mind finally free from the haze of lust Jimin kept you in.

“So weak,” Jimin tuts.

“...impotent...dick...”

“Pathetic slut.”

“I thought about Seokjin the entire time,” you whisper.

“...liar.”

---

You must have fallen asleep, you feel a hand cupping your cheek, and you open your eyes to Seokjin, blonde hair, red eyes, suit buttoned to the collar. You let out a small laugh, and then groan once the pain in your joints wakes you fully.

Jin carries you back to your bed. You tug on his sleeve.

“Please take the pain away,” you ask softly.

Seokin’s eyes search the expanse of your skin, “There are no cuts on your body.”

Groaning, you sit up and kiss the vampire who freezes against you. So you take the opportunity to straddle Seokjin’s lap, and start unbuttoning his shirt, kissing, licking, biting his smooth skin. Jimin’s harsh words replay in your mind and sting you. Screw him, let him think whatever he wants, let him hear you. This had been a part of your plan anyways, first Seokjin, and then you’ll worry about him, might as well have some relief too.

“What happened?” Seokjin asks as you rut into his body, tearing his shirt open. He doesn’t look upset that you popped the buttons, does he ever get upset anymore? You hastily unbuckle his belt. His hands cover yours, repeating his question, “What happened, y/n?”

You grab his hand and move it under your dress. Seokjin stills as his fingers come into contact with your thigh, slick with your wetness from hours of Jimin's teasing. His hands travel up your shaking leg.

“You’re so wet,” he groans, “...Did Ji-”

You silence him with a kiss. “Fuck me, I feel like I’m dying.”

Seokjin laughs against your lips, “Humans are so dramatic,” but he’s already pulling you closer, turning you around to lie on the bed. He bends down to your core, pushing your dress over your waist, you spread your legs wide open for him.

He licks your arousal from your inner thigh, fingers massaging your aching center.

“Ugh fuck, stop teasing me,” you whine. Seokjin fills you with two long fingers, pushing inside you to the knuckle. His teeth bite down on your inner thigh, it stings but your lust somehow lessens the pain. Your body tenses, you clench around his fingers and he speeds up, pulling more blood from your veins.

You flinch when you see Jimin again, reliving the memory from Seokjin’s mind. He’s half naked, kissing a beautiful woman who is fully naked, right in front of Seokjin.

Jimin looks so different, dark hair, flushed skin, tenderness in his eyes.

The girl lowers her body between the men, and fills her mouth with Seokjin’s hardening length. You feel yourself become wetter. Seokjin moans against your feverish skin, biting you for a second time, higher up your leg. It stings again, but you’re too busy trying to get off on his fingers to care about anything but release. Seokjin bites the mound of flesh close to your center, his tongue pressing against your hood, your vision goes white and then-

You see Yoongi’s sharp eyes above you, his naked body on top of yours, cold and wet, hard cave rocks against your bare back. You see Namjoon, a younger version of him, long hair pulled back into a low bun, across the room in bed with another woman. The room is small and empty. Two beds, two couples, Seokjin watching his friend fuck the random girl senseless.

You feel jealousy, watching Namjoon through Seokjin’s eyes. He looks so different, so feral and savage. The bed creaks loudly underneath him as he grips the headboard, and thrusts into her wildly. Jin pumps his fingers inside you in time with Namjoon's thrusts, it makes you feel like you’re going to burst into a thousand pieces. Namjoon’s eyes glow yellow as he gives Seokjin a wicked grin and you’re scared for the first time of Namjoon as he growls, releasing into the woman.

“Don’t make a mess,” he drops the spent girl on Seokjin’s lap, who caresses her face. She’s breathtaking, you feel inadequacy course through you, you feel jealousy, you feel turned on when her full lips envelop Seokjin's thumb. Namjoon pulls the sleeping naked girl from Seokjin’s bed, tapping her check to rouse her awake.

Seokjin’s arousal is overwhelming you. He slams into the woman’s body from behind, chasing his high while holding her face down into the bed, and then his fangs pierce her back as her screams are muffled. You don’t want to come to this, to the feeling of her blood filling his mouth, arousing him and arousing you. Namjoon’s grunts and sounds of sex fills your mind again and you come undone in a silent scream around Seokjin’s fingers.

---

Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit.

You run around the room, darting around Seokjin who watches you rather calmly for the unfolding situation. The rest of his body frozen, the blessed dagger lodged in between his vertebrae, stopping his regeneration.

Once you came, thighs snug around his head, you pulled the dagger from your corset and stabbed him in the back. You kicked him away from you before he could attack and he fell backward, the dagger piercing deep into his back, and that’s where he was currently, frozen on the floor, watching you as you run around the room in disbelief that you actually managed to stab a vampire.

You trip over him by accident and he lets out a soft grunt. “Fuck! Are you okay?” you sit next to his frozen body, “Like, relative to being stabbed, I mean? Don’t answer that...because you can’t. Oh fuck.” You put your head down, resting it on his chest, you don’t hear anything but your laboured breathing. ‘Believe in yourself, y/n! Yoongi believed in you…’

You gather yourself up once again and you move to the window, jiggling the handle. It’s still unlocked! You’re too high up to escape but...

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you whisper, “I really am sorry,” you grunt as you heave the immobilized vampire to the window, inch by inch, Seokjin’s body like a sack of bricks. You place him against the wall and crouch down so you can look him in the eyes, patting down his messy hair, tousled in your struggle to move him, “I’m sorry,” you repeat again, “but you’re a vampire right?” You say encouragingly, and you give him a couple of pats on the cheek, his eyes dart down to watch the action, “Technically, you can’t die.”

With every ounce of strength you have left inside you, you shove Seokjin out the window.

---

You quietly lock the door to what had been your room and prison cell behind you, quickly walking through the halls. You’re not sure what you expected, maybe a gothic interior fit for Dracula, burning candlesticks and red velvet drapes, but you got electricity and mid century modern eclectic, the walls were colorful with art pieces, deep emeralds and golds and blood red. You open the first door you come across.

A young woman sits on a large bed reading a book, looking up at you. Is that how you looked to them? A more disheveled and unpleasant version of her? She looked happy, until she noticed you, and then her smile fell, disappointed you weren’t Jimin or Jin. You slam the door shut and lock it again.

You race as quietly as you can through the halls, you have no idea what you’re looking for, quickly peeking into each room you come across. Strangers, stop what they are doing to look at you, waiting like obedient lap dogs. You have yet to find an empty room. Four doors you’ve opened on this floor, no empty rooms, and you begin to feel hopeless.

You open the fifth and final door and you’re assaulted with the loud sound of moaning. The moaning comes from a woman specifically, her cries almost as loud as the slapping of her skin against Jimin’s naked body. Jimin had needed an outlet after his time with you, specifically, someone to use and bite that wasn't 'off limits.'

You stand frozen in shock, it feels like all the air has escaped the room, filling the woman’s lungs instead as she screams in ecstasy. He is standing next to the bed, fucking into her at an inhuman speed, holding her hips in the air as she struggles to hold the rest of her torso horizontal. You can’t look away, because her body, her stomach, her large bouncing tits, it’s all covered in blood. You almost scream, almost, but the small huff of air you let out instead is enough. The bed stops creaking as Jimin’s movement stops and you meet his surprised eyes.

You shut the door, lock it and run.

You run down the stairs, you see the entrance and you almost run out the door, but you instead run down the hall, flinging every door you see, praying you find something. There's a kitchen, a dining room with the longest table you’ve ever seen, and an empty room! It looks like an office! You run inside. You run to the desk, looking over the papers. Weird markings litter the pages, it reminds you of the markings on Yoongi’s bag. You have to be getting closer to your objective, you have to be! You scatter the papers around, yank open the drawers, hoping to find something useful. There’s a bookcase behind the desk, and you start pulling down books, nothing is catching your eye. You pull on the bookcase, you run your hand across the wood frantically, searching for perhaps a trap door-

“What are you looking for? I can try to help.”

You jump, almost screaming. You hold your heart, it hadn’t stopped, to your surprise. You had no idea someone else was in the room with you. You stare back at a calm man with messy brown hair, he looks at you timidly. “Sorry, I didn’t want to scare you. I just wanted to help, and it took me a while to organize those books,” he laughs softly. The man shuffles back to the wall, you hear metal clanging and look at his feet, they have chains around them, his hands too.

You look down at your feet, papers and books are all around you “I-I’m sorry. I was just-I didn’t know-” You had no idea how much more time you had to spare so you cut to the chase. “Is there a portal here?!”

The man’s eyes go wide, “Not here,” he speaks softly, “One level lower.” He gave you the answer you were looking for without any hesitation, was this a trick? You look at him more closely, his clothes are loose, like pajamas, and he’s barefoot, he looks at you happily, like you didn’t just storm into his room and destroy his things. The innocent expression on his face reminds you of Jungkook.

You remember why he looks so familiar, “You were sitting next to Yoongi!”

The man tilts his head confused, and then he stares at the door, “you need to leave now,” he rushes towards you, “Go down the stairs to the right.” He finds a pen on his desk. “The portal is in the basement, in Seokjin’s office. You’ll need this to open the door, it will only work once.” He grabs your hand and writes a long looping character on your palm, it burns gold and then disappears, while you stand still in shock.

Before you can question him the door bursts open. Jimin stands in the doorway, looking at you and the other man. His anger is replaced by an expression you don’t quite understand. Heavy silence envelops the room. The awkward tension is cut when Jimin speaks to you calmly saying, “Come here. Now.”

The man steps between you and Jimin. “Stay here, he can’t come inside, just like I can’t leave.” The man leans against the desk, his long legs blocking you from leaving, his chains clanging again.

“Y/n, come here now.” That was the first time Jimin said your name. You look between the men.

“Why would I go to you? You’re going to kill me!”

Jimin runs a hand through his hair, rolling his eyes to the side, “I promise you I won’t kill you if you come here right now.” He says the words as sweetly as he can in his growing irritation, trying to coax you to him, but to you he sounds patronizing and angry.

“Jimin’s lying,” the man next to you whispers, confirming your suspicions.

“Tae, just bring her to me!” the vampire screams.

“No, I don’t want to, you’re going to hurt her.”

‘Tae, he said. Is this Taehyung?’ The same man you saw next to Yoongi, the same man Namjoon warned you about, the man who is protecting you and gave you a way out of this hell of a place?

“Can’t you just do the right thing for once?!”

“You haven’t come to visit me in how long, Jimin?”

They yell at each other like an old married couple. You stare down at your hand, it looks perfectly ordinary, you think you might have just imagined it all, what Taehyung did, but you realized on this island nothing was impossible.

“A-are you a wizard?” you interrupt the men’s arguing.

Taehyung turns back to you surprised and gives you a bright smile, “No, I just learned from one. He didn't call himself a wizard, though” he laughs, “I think the correct term is warlock?”

“Oh, okay, good to know,” you mumble. Jimin quietly seethes at the doorway.

“Why do you have chains on if you can’t leave this room?”

“Yeah, why do I have chains on, Jimin?” He turns to the vampire accusingly.

“Just wait until Seokjin comes,” Jimin mutters, and he pulls the dagger you used on Seokjin out of his back pocket, holding the handle with a handkerchief. “Nice trick, by the way, y/n. Seokjin is still healing himself from the fall. You’re going to regret not coming to me when I asked.” He glares at you.

“So that’s what fell!” Taehyung roars with laughter.

“I said I was sorry,” you mutter, biting your lip. How the hell are you going to get out of this situation now? As if you summoned the Devil himself, Seokjin appears next to Jimin.

You hide behind Tahyung out of instinct, grabbing onto his chained arm. Taehyung holds in his joy while the two vampires' expressions darken.

“Don’t fucking touch him!” Jimin seethes.

You let anger get the best of you and wrap your arms around Taehyung’s waist instead, glaring from behind his shoulder.

“Y/n-” “Don’t,” Taehyung interjects. “-get away from him,” Seokjin warns.

“Why?! How do I know you both aren’t going to murder me as soon as I leave this room?”

“Is there not a spell we can use to get her out?!” Jimin turns to Seokjin ignoring you. You grind your teeth. Two can play that game.

“Why are you locked in here? How do you know Yoongi and Namjoon?”

“Yoongi? We all met him when we came to the island.” Jimin screams Taehyung’s name to silence him, but he ignores him easily. “You should have seen Seokjin and Jimin, he got them all wet and they vowed to make sushi out of him!” he laughs, turning his body around in your arms to face you instead of the pair.

You look over to the two vampires who have gone quiet. “And Namjoon?”

“Taehyung..” Seokjin warns.

“What? I’m not even allowed to talk about it now?” Taehyung whines.

“Enough! Y/n come here...please.” You hadn’t expected a request from Seokjin. “I swear, I won’t punish you for what you’ve done, just come here.” he holds out his hand for you, you can see the magic swirl around his fingers, burning his skin. He winces, but doesn’t move his hand away, even when his tips begin to turn black with char.

“What about Jimin?”

“Yes, fine, I won’t punish you, just hurry the fuck up,” the younger vampire looks anxiously at Seokjin’s hand.

“Y/n, please no! I’ve been here by myself for so long, I can’t stand it! You’re the first person who’s visited me. I don’t want to be alone,” Taehyung whimpers, a high pitched whine as you hesitantly make your way to Seokjin. He reminds you so much of Jungkook. He paces around you, begging you to stay.

“I-I don’t want to be locked in that room anymore.”

“Okay! Just come here!” Jimin yells.

“How can I trust you? How do I know you won’t go back on your word?!”

“They will, y/n, please! Look, Jimin promised he would visit me, he lied!”

Seokjin pulls his hand away, completely burned black and puts out his other arm instead. “You’re just going to have to trust us, like we will have to trust you not to pull any more stunts. We’ll trust each other, okay?” Seokjin pleads with you.

“I-I’ll come back to visit you,” you say to Taehyung. “Right?” You turn to Seokjin who relents and gives you a hasty nod.

“No!” Taehyung whimpers, “They are going to lock you away! Please believe me! You’ll never be able to escape.”

You reach for Seokjin’s hand, but Taehyung jumps in between you, holding out his chained hands. “Look at them! Look closely, what are these made out of, y/n? LOOK!” You study the metal, it looks shiny and silver. It’s silver.

Seokjin lurches forward quickly, his suit catches fire, his warm hand grasps onto yours and pulls you out of the room and away from Taehyung and everything goes black.

---

You wake up in a different room. You’re not alone. Another woman sits on the bed next to you, she jumps when you wake up. It makes you jump, ‘fuck why is everyone so jumpy here?’ you think holding your head in your hands to calm your nerves.

You try to scoot away, and you feel a tug on your ankle, so you pull the covers off of you. You’re in a new dress, all white, like the sheets, like the woman’s dress next to you. You see a chain connected to your foot that reminds you of Taehyung’s shackles but darker metal. No. “My clothes!”

“They made me, I-I’m sorry, I had to give them your clothes. The necklace wouldn’t come off, I-I didn’t tell them,” the woman pulls at her sleeve. “I kept your secret, but I can’t promise you they won’t find out, Master might look into my memories.” Your hand traces the gold watch chain around your neck, calming down.

“Okay...thank you.” You whisper uneasily. “H-How long have you been here?”

The woman thinks, humming to herself. “I lost count, Master did give me this on our Fifth Year Anniversary!” She shows off the blood red jewelry dangling from her ears.

Ugh. “That’s nice,” you say and get out of bed. The dress is tight around you, covering your arms and flowing down to your ankles, the one place the fabric doesn’t touch is your neck, the hemline sits off your shoulders and plunges into a deep V. You scoot your way to the door until you can’t take it anymore and reach for the bottom of your dress, pulling the fabric until it tears.

You hear the woman let out a soft, “oh no.”

The chain stops you from reaching the door, even if you stretch out your legs you can’t grab the handle. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

You wheel your body back around, “Hey, what’s your name?”

The woman thinks, humming to herself. “I don’t remember.”

“Listen, I’m going to need you to-WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DON’T REMEMBER?!”

The woman flinches from your volume. “Well Master calls me his little doll and I like that name a lot, and I just, well, forgot my other name.”

You take a deep breath as you try not to be sick. “Well Dolly, your MASTER IS A HUGE FUCKING ASSHOLE. YOU FUCKING LIARS!”

---

The group in the parlor turn their heads to the small voice echoing through the halls, Jimin winces, hearing your words clearly, moving one of the women off his lap. “She’s awake.”

“I’ll go-”

“It seems you failed at controlling her, brother. Why can’t I just try?”

Seokjin scoffs, “You can barely control yourself.”

Jimin’s jaw clenches. “I’ll-” he coughs, “-use restraint. I won’t hurt her.”

---

“Monsters!”

“Oh no, they’re going to be so mad.”

“Taehyung was right! I swear to God-”

“So so mad, oh no, oh no no no.”

“I won’t let you get away with this! Liars! Bastards!”

“Master!”

The door opens and Jimin stands against the door frame, ignoring your irateness and addressing your new roommate with a smile, “Hey Doll.”

Jimin standing in front of you had extinguished some of your rage and replaced it with apprehension, halting your tirade for now. “You fucking lied,” you glare at him.

“It’s not locked, I’m not forcing you to be here,” He looks over your shoulder, “Right Baby Doll?” The woman nods enthusiastically back. “The chain was a precaution, I’ll remove it, I promise. We just need to set some ground rules, okay pet?”

“I am not your fucking pet!”

He moves around you, like a buzzard circling it’s next meal, “You look so much better in this instead of that ugly sea dress.”

“Don’t I look pretty?” you hear the woman’s tiny voice ask Jimin.

“Of course!”

You rub your temples, “Jimin, just take this chain off me.”

“After everything you’ve done, and you’re still trying to make demands? Do you know how incredibly lucky you are? Can’t you just show a bit more gratitude like her?”

Jimin kisses the woman and she moans against him, deepening the kiss. You rub harder at your temples. You're chained, a captive audience to what ever the hell display is happening in front of you, becoming more uncomfortable and annoyed with each passing minute.

“Seriously?”

He drapes his arms around the woman’s shoulders and stares at you, “Jealous?”

You scoff. You think back to the version of him in Seokjin’s memories, with the other woman. You remember the tenderness in his eyes as he watched her and you swallow down the lump forming in your throat. You are not jealous! And anyways, Jimin’s tenderness is all gone now.

“She doesn’t even remember her name anymore.”

“She doesn’t seem to mind,” he winks at her, and the woman giggles at your exchange.

“Her entire life has been taken away! What happened, it’s worse than death.” You hug your arms close to your body. Was that going to become you if you stayed here?

“Worse than death?” Jimin echoes your words and you notice him stare at his reflection in the room’s mirror. You stand in silence, watching him as he runs a hand through his hair, pushing back the loose strands while the woman softly hums to herself a sweet melody. She doesn’t sense the looming danger all around you and it makes your chest tighten in anxiety.

“You’re right y/n. Come here.” He holds out his hand for her.

He pulls her into a kiss, she smiles against her lips. You awkwardly shift at the exchange. She seemed happy with Jimin, even if she couldn’t remember the person she was anymore. It makes you wonder if she had resisted in the beginning or had always been this irritatingly agreeable...or maybe she even loved him, maybe her love was the only thing left in her.

Jimin holds her face in his hands, dragging his lips across hers, a spectacle of two lovers. She’s beautiful like Jimin, they fit perfectly together, a rose and a thorn.

It happens so quickly you stand stunned, you don’t have time to scream or stop him. She’s on the ground, neck twisted, dead.

You’re so stunned you can’t even cry, you just shake, fallen to your knees, staring at her beautiful lifeless face. Her red earrings dangle from her ears catching the light.

“What have you done?” Your voice sounds tiny and high, like hers.

“I saved her from a fate worse than death, according to you. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

You can’t speak. He moves closer, putting a hand on your cheek, the same way he had held the woman’s head a few seconds ago. His cold finger wipes away your tears. When did you start crying?

“We aren’t liars. I’ll unchain you. So, will you behave now?”

---

You walk the halls during the sunlight. You stop by Taehyung’s door knocking four times, opening the door an inch. “I found this in the kitchen!”

“I’m...allergic.”

“Allergic to chocolate?! I-I’m sorry,” you mutter, though it doesn’t stop you from enjoying the bar yourself.

You lean forward into Taehyung’s room, he puts his chained arms over your head, and gives you a hug. He reminds you of Jungkook so much, sweet and gentle. But he’s not warm like him, he’s still a stranger to you, always dodging your questions. Namjoon’s words constantly play in your mind not to trust Taehyung. Even though out of everyone here, you trust him the most, you like him the most. Being able to spend time with him, even if your conversations are shallow and lighthearted, is the best part of your day.

“Y/n?”

“Hmm?”

“Why haven’t you escaped?” He whispers.

You play with the hem of your dress as a distraction, “I don’t know.”

He always asks you the same question and you always give him the same answer, but today Taehyung persists. “They won’t catch you if you go now! Isn’t that the whole reason you let yourself get caught?” Even though you hardly know anything about Taehyung, he knows so much about you already.

“I’m...I’m scared.”

He pats your head, you shake his hand away, lightly shoving him back. “I’m not a dog!”

Taehyung laughs, “Yeah, you’re a scaredy cat.”

“How dare you!” you hit his leg as he giggles.

“I want to show you something! It will help you when you finally escape!”

You cover his mouth with your hands, shushing him. Looking around to see if there were any others lurking around you, but no one ever comes around Taehyung. “What is it?”

“Well, um, you’ll have to come all the way inside.”

“...I can’t.” You move away from him again and lean your head against the door frame.

Taehyung sighs. “I knew you’d say that!” he whines. “Do you do everything Jimin says now?”

You roll your eyes, “Not even close,” you mutter. “And it’s not just Jimin...”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve been told not to trust you...and you haven’t been very open with me, have you?” you look down at your hands, intertwined with his, you trace the gold markings along his chained wrists.

“It’s complicated,” he whispers.

“I can’t see how it could get more complicated than being a werewolf trapped in a house full of vampires.”

“It’s much more complicated,” he pulls on your arm, staring at you with pleading eyes. “Leave a shoe outside and they won’t notice you’ve come inside, I promise!”

You hum, searching for a compromise. “How about this,” you scoot over the entrance, sitting closer to Taehyung while making sure to keep your legs outside. “Technically, I am inside and also outside.”

“But the magic won’t work unless your body is fully inside here,” Taehyung pouts. “The spell on the room will clash with mine and who knows what will happen then!”

“How do you know so much about magic?”

“I can’t say…” Taehyung whispers.

Your expression turns sour, ‘What can you say...’ you think. “Well can’t you just like, Houdini yourself out of here?”

Taehyung shakes his head regretfully. “No, if only it were that simple. And please don’t ask me to explain,” he teases. Taehyung scoots behind you and pulls your body onto his lap. “Let’s stay like this for a while.”

“Okay,” you hum.

“Let go of each other!” You wake up on the floor with Taehyung cuddled to your side, one lone foot of yours still remains outside the door. Jimin pulls on your foot before you can untangle yourself from Taehyung, dragging the rest of your body into the hallway. Taehyung grunts, waking up as you’re pulled from his embrace.

You blink away the sleep from your eyes, face-to-face with Jimin, his head hovering over yours, eyes bright red with anger.

“Leave her alone, Jimin!”

“I-I am allowed to talk to him,” your words come out small and high when you finally speak and you hate it, the way your fear strangles your voice.

“On one condition, just one.” Jimin hisses.

“W-well, t-technically-”

"You're being so unfair!" Taehyung yells. "Do you like her that much?"

“Tae, enough!” He slams the door in Taehyung’s pleading face.

There is a bang on the door, only once, so loud and strong it shakes the entire connecting wall, the picture frames wobble and dust falls from the ceiling, the sound so abrupt and booming it makes you, and even Jimin, flinch.

---

“Jimin told me you were in a...compromising position, with Tae today.” You and him watch the stars from your bedroom window, now locked.

Your stomach tightens. “Taehyung is lonely, maybe if Jimin spent time with him I wouldn’t have to,” you mutter.

“Do you care about Taehyung?” Jin’s eyes study your features, his sharp hearing picks up your heartbeat, waiting to hear any lies in your answers.

“No, I just-He’s the only normal person here.”

“Person? Normal?” Jin quietly laughs.

“A werewolf is a person too.”

“Ahhh, so you think Tae is a werewolf.”

“He is, isn’t he?” You spin around to look at Jin but his poker face is as strong as ever as he smiles down at you.

“Is a vampire a person too?”

You chew on your bottom lip, “I guess so,” you side eye the man next to you, “Deep down. Somewhere.”

Jin kisses your lips softly, carrying you back to your bed and placing you beneath him. You’ve managed to latch onto Jin since that night, a lesser of two evils. The vampire truly was a forgiving man, and even if parts of you were weakened by fear, your mind had impressively blocked Seokjin’s pull since that night as well, so he had deemed you his personal pet project, his puzzle to solve, keeping Jimin an arm’s length away from you.

Jin was nice, sometimes. And sometimes, you enjoyed his company too.

You play with his soft blond locks. You know the pain is coming eventually, so you do everything you can to distract yourself, admiring the vampire’s beautiful features before you. He pulls the deep neckline of your dress easily down your body, exposing your chest to his piercing eyes. His eyes stop on the gold piece nestled in your cleavage, like always, he ignores it. He knows what it is, what he doesn’t know is why Namjoon gave it to you.

The cold air and Seokjin’s cold fingers kneading your breasts sends you into a bout of shivers, when he drags his tongue across your skin you arch your back and push your chest closer to his soft lips. He’s so gentle with you now. Sometimes, you wish he was rougher, like the Seokjin you witnessed with Namjoon.

“Won’t you let me in again, Dove?” Namjoon’s watch falls into the dip in your clavicle, replaced by Jin's fangs as he bites the flesh of your breasts, his fingers pull at your nipples distracting you from the pain. He doesn’t drain you unconscious anymore, instead Seokjin likes to covers your skin in lovebites, taking all night with you.

“I-I can’t control it.”

“Let’s practice control,” Seokin smirks, lips stained red, and he moves his hands down your body.

He takes time stretching you full with his fingers, his lips never leaving your chest, steadily building up the pressure inside you with each quick stroke of his thumb against your core until you’re tightening around his digits. “Don’t cum.”

You tense around him, unable to successfully hold in your moans. “I can’t. I’m going to-”

“Just try, Dove.” You would hope he’d stop moving his fingers, at least slow down, but he’s steady and relentless, his digits pushing inside you in the most perfect mind-numbing pace. There’s no way you could stop your impending orgasm, but you try to hold it off, just two more three four five agonizing seconds longer. Seokjin sucks on the sensitive skin of your breast, mouth pulling as much of the mound as he can fit inside while you pulse around his digits. You feel his teeth sink deep into your flesh and his name escapes your lips in a strangled moan.

His usual dull eyes look up at you shinning with desire. “Let’s try again.”

---

“I brought biscuits.” You hold up the sweet cookies in front of Taehyung’s confused face.

“Thank you, y/n.” Taehyung gives you a bright smile and hugs you extra tight when you peek your head into his room.

“Ready to escape?”

“I-I don’t know.”

Taehyung pouts. “You’re-I'm-” Taehyung struggles to say the right words, “We’re running out of time, y/n.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just need a couple minutes with you, please. I have everything ready!” Taehyung runs to his desk, pulling together a stack of papers. “You want to see everyone again, don’t you? You friends and family?” he pleads.

Your family, you’re ashamed to admit you haven’t thought about them. It wasn’t even purposeful, your mind just had stopped wandering to thoughts of them.

Yoongi, Namjoon, Jungkook, and Hoseok, you couldn’t bring yourself to think about them anymore either, it hurt too much. The small traces of their personalities that Taehyung reminded you of had become sufficient enough as you tolerated living. “W-What do you mean we’re running out of time?”

“I think I have just enough magic to fill your necklace,” he whispers, “but if I remember correctly, that model only holds twelve weeks worth of time. How long have you been on this island, y/n?”

Your fingers clutch at Namjoon’s watch resting against your heart. Could you really rewind back time to when you never got on that damned boat! “I-I just need to take off a shoe?”

Taehyung’s face lights up. “Yeah, or something that has your scent that they can still sense, just in case”

“So the more I leave the less noticeable it would be?”

“Well, I guess so?”

You look around at the hallway, still empty like always, and pull off both shoes from your feet. “Do you have a shirt I can borrow?” You begin to shimmy out of your dress. Taehyung’s eyes go wide, and he wets his drying lips, then he springs into action, searching his closet for something to cover you. You pull his large sweater over your body and take a hesitant step inside.

Taehyung wraps you into his arms in a proper hug, holding you close. “I’m so happy you found me, y/n. I’m so happy.” He whispers.

He holds you tight to him, you're ashamed how affected you are by his kind gestures, you shouldn’t feel this way about someone who Namjoon told you to stay away from, it felt like a betrayal. “Don’t forget about me once you escape,” Taehyung whispers.

You melt into his embrace. “I won’t. Isn’t there a way to break the spell on the island? There just has to be! There has to be a way to save you and Yoongi and-”

“You like him,” Taehyung pouts.

“What? Who? Yoongi?!” Your face flushes hot.

“I don’t like sharing,” Taehyung mumbles into his sweater currently draped over your shoulders.

You swallow thickly. “Tae?”

He pulls away, holding you loosely, searching your eyes. During your interactions, you usually kept your attention around Taehyung, unable to focus too long on his intimidating aura and good looks, worried you'd start feeling too much for the mysterious man, worried you'd disappoint Namjoon. But now Taehyung is all around you, and his magnetism is too strong for you to resist. “Tae-”

His kiss is brief, however no less impactful, the way he pours his desires into you until your lost in a haze, following his lips as he pulls away, entranced by the small smile he shows you.

When he lifts his chained arms over your head, he pulls your necklace off as well. You were surprised how easily he removed it, when even Jimin couldn’t pull it off you (much to the vampire’s annoyance). You watched intently as Taehyung turns the watch's dial and whispers a spell in a language you can’t understand. “There, it worked, I set it to the full twelve weeks. you’ll know when to use it.” He places the watch around your neck again, his fingers cupping your cheeks and he rests his forehead against yours, content. Your face burns hot, Taehyung is so affectionate and sweet and treats you like glass.

This close, you can peer into his deep warm brown eyes, irises twinkling back at you so beautifully, it looks like gold swirls in them. “Just one more thing, and then the world is ours,” he says.

---

You sit up in your bed abruptly. Your fingers search for Namjoon’s watch as you try to steady your breathing. The hard gold feels comforting against the tips of your fingers as your eyes adjust to the darkness. You’re reminded of the night you first arrived. But gone is Yoongi’s colorful dress, the clinical white fabric of your new dress, sits tight around your body like a straight jacket and blends in with the white bed sheets.

Weren’t you just with Taehyung, what happened? You remember he told you you were running out of time. Then what happened?

You have to go find him!

You leave the bed and search out his room again. Jimin passes you in the halls, as quiet as a cat, startling you so much you almost fall if it weren't for his fast reflexes. “There you are, ugh I figured you’d be headed to Tae’s room,” Jimin frowns, “Let’s go.”

“Where are you taking me?” You fight against his grip as he pulls you in the opposite direction.

“I haven’t fed in weeks, and my favorite meal is gone because of you.”

You shut your eyes tight, trying to push away the images of the woman who haunts your dreams.

“So you’re taking her place.”

“What?!” You're doing what now? “J-Jin said-”

“Are you his parrot now? Well lucky for me, tonight Jin went to go speak with Yoongi,” he says smugly.

You step into Jimin’s room. The dresser was covered with random items that don’t seem personalized to the vampire’s taste at all. Unread books, countless jewelry pieces, and a plethora of knives.

“Don’t even think about it, pet.” Jimin warns as he sees your eyes stop on the sleek blades.

“I wasn’t,” you mutter. It was the truth.

There’s no window in his room, no mirrors, just wood furniture, covered in scratches and dents of aggression. The areas of his room, like his dresser, are littered with things, so many discarded things. The room is soulless, like Jimin, it feels like a lavish prison cell.

“So,” you don’t look at Jimin, instead you look at his things, trying to find some sense of his personality, “I guess you’re going to finally prove to me you aren’t impotent after all?” you mock. You know you shouldn't poke the beast, but Jimin is like an annoying itch you can't help but scratch.

Jimin scoffs, “Slut, can you go a night without getting fucked?”

“Can you?!”

Jimin smirks. “I'm almost going to miss that.”

You take a step away from him at his words. “What are you going to do?”

“Jin is too sentimental, he only skims the surface of his powers now. There is another aspect to a memory pull, it’s much more fun. Can you guess what that is, pet?”

You’ve been guessing and trying to make sense of everything since that night. “That woman's memories, you took them, right?”

Jimin claps his hands, slow and mocking at your right answer. “It’s not a simple task, but she was particularly compliant,” he bites his lip in memory. “She was much more willing to part with her past, her previous life wasn’t so great if you were wondering...some would see what I did as a blessing.”

The vampire stands in front of you cupping your cheek. “But I’m sure you...” his hand follows your jaw, “...will put up an impressive fight.”

You let out the breath you've been holding, if you can do what happened to Jin, maybe you can find something you can use against him. Maybe his torture won’t work on you...!

“You’re going to regret this,” you say, pulling your head away from his hand.

He laughs, “I regret not doing this sooner.” Jimin was tired of Jin's special treatment of you, all these new rules, all the things you've gotten away with when he wasn't even allowed to drink from you, follow his most basic of urges, it was annoying, you were annoying.

You feel exposed under his penetrating stare, you turn your head and hold your wrist out to Jimin, “Well? Go right ahead.” You think the inevitable has been dragged out long enough.

He looks at your wrist, lips rolling over his tongue as his fingers glide over the thin skin, and then he pulls you closer so you stumble into him, yelping. He looks up and down your body, his hair brushing against your forehead, the strands ticking you. You're supposed to hate each other, but the way he holds you and touches you, it’s too intimate, too rough and too soft for you to make sense of it.

“Do you have to ruin all the dresses we give you?” He noticed the slit you cut into your too long dress.

“Why are they so tight?” you say, watching his eyes as they roam over your exposed skin, feeling hot from his attention. You try to keep your thoughts calm, pure, so he doesn't notice what he's doing to you. “I can barely walk around.”

“Then maybe you should stay on your back,” his voice low and taunting. His free hand reaches for the torn fabric and as quick as a flash Jimin tears the slit higher up to your hip bone.

Your hands attempt to pull the slit closed in vain, and Jimin takes the opportunity to pull at the neckline of your dress, ripping the line even lower, exposing your cleavage to him. You slap him across the face, like you would have done any other man, but Jimin is not just a man, not anymore. He turns his face around and you see his fangs against his curled lip, he looks delighted, like you gave him just the reaction he wanted.

He grabs you around the waist and you feel vertigo as you're thrown across the room. You land on his bed, sinking into the mattress, and before you can scream Jimin is hovering over you.

“Your foreplay sucks.”

Jimin pulls your head back, laughing down at you.

"Get it?" you struggle to speak, “because you're a-”

You scream as Jimin finally bites the column of your neck, his body weight pressing down on you. Pain erupts and you can barely breath. His bite is somehow even more painful than Jin's, you hit his shoulders, pull at his shirt, trying to push him away to release you.

---

“What’s your name?” You can barely hear Seokjin’s voice over the trumpets of the band.

“Jimin.” He yells back.

“Military man,” the bartender nods to his uniform, “This one is on the house.”

“Thanks, um?”

“Seokjin.”

Jimin pulls his bottom lip in, studying the handsome stranger. “Thank you Seokjin.”

---

Jimin pulls away from your neck, breathing heavy. You laugh, and laugh, feeling exhilarated, eyes meeting the vampire while you laugh again. Did you just beat Jimin at his own game?

Your laughter stops when Jimin flips you on your stomach. His fingers dig into your hair, bending your back up to meet his chest. You grunt, jaw slack. “Still waiting to see what you've got, Jimin.”

You’re confusing. Jimin doesn’t even smell fear on you anymore, even when he tightens his grip. You must be feeling overwhelmed, like Jimin, who is trying to make sense of the long forgotten emotions coursing through him right now.

For the first time in a long time, Jimin feels uncomfortable, struggling to make sense of your taunts and why you aren’t submitting. Something unpleasant inside him stirs. He’ll make you regret acting like this, he’ll break you in half until you beg for mercy. He’ll do it. So why isn’t he doing it?

“Well?!”

“Fuck, you’re annoying,” he hisses into your ear.

“So I’ve been told, military man.”

Jimin knows you're goading him, yet still, blind rage courses through his veins, stinging his chest. He rips the back of your dress, tearing it down the center.

Was Jimin fulfilling a twisted fantasy you had ever since you saw Namjoon and Seokjin fuck that nameless woman senseless? Could you admit that to yourself as you feel your core become wetter as he presses his hand down onto your bare back.

You push up on your elbows, but Jimin uses his strength to push you back down, holding your head down. His sharp hearing can hear your muffled moan and the unpleasant feeling in the center of his body twists again.

"You like this?" He groans, affected by the smell of your lust. “Fuck, you act like such a desperate slut.” He palms his dick, needing a release. His moans fill your ears as his stokes himself to the state of your body.

You feel his spit hit your skin, his hard length running along your center, covering his member in your juices and his saliva. His tip teasing your entrance, you push back into him seeking more, and his hands hold you down, making you all the more feverish.

Your arousal hits the vampire’s senses in waves, affecting him more than usual as he tightens his grip to keep you still, focusing on the blood blotting your neck. His cock runs up your slit until he rests over your second hole. You look over your shoulder, prepared to taunt the vampire even more, but his dark expression, filled with carnal desire, slightly unraveled, entirely captivated by you, sends your thoughts into a tailspin.

Jimin pushes his thick length into you, stretching you over his cock, inch by inch until your whole body spasms.

Jimin stayed pressed up against you, a small kindness, his fingers circling your aching core. “Don’t-” you moan, and he stills against you, “d-don’t hold back.”

"I wasn't intending to."

And he doesn't. Your orgasm wracks through you, you feel so full and empty as your walls clench down on nothing while he pounds himself into you relentlessly. You start to shake in overstimulation. His thrusts are wild, your neck is there, you smell so delicious and he's so close to release.

When you come close again, at the peak of arousal, he bites down on your soft skin. You yell, clenching around him even tighter.

“This is your fault.”

You see Tae laugh, so unlike his usual sweet boisterous laugh, he chuckles deep, fighting against the chains around him, his wrist markings glowing gold, then deep orange like fire. “No, this is your fault. You were supposed to kill Jin, we could have had everything we ever wanted. How could you betray me like this?”

Jimin’s hands go lax around your waist, so you put yours over his, holding on as tight as you can.

You see Seokjin and Jimin under a street lamp, you and Jimin watch the way the flies dance around the bulb.

“You’re a vampire.”

Seokjin tenses, so Jimin continues, “I saw you with that girl, the regular with black hair.” His eyes scan the man beside him.

“And what are you going to do now?” Seokjin’s words come out low, almost menacing. Jimin laughs.

“Would you believe me if I said you’re not the strangest thing I’ve seen?” Breaking the awkward silence, Jimin brings an arm over Seokjin’s broad shoulders, pulling the man into a headlock. “I forgive you for always ditching me for lunch.” He teases.

Jimin releases his mouth from your neck.

You shift beneath him to look up at the vampire. Jimin’s bite wasn’t as meticulous as Seokjin’s who knew how to expertly pierce an artery, so you weren’t profusely bleeding, but the wounds still ached. Seokjin has the precision of a doctor, Jimin is messy, wild, his entire front is covered in blood. Jimin's eyes were unfocused, you could tell he was lost in thought.

“Jimin?”

“Enough,” his voice shakily commands you. “I’ll just take the part of you that keeps doing this.”

He pierces your exposed flesh once more concentrating harder.

---

Jimin is tiny. His head reaches the older woman’s knee as he hugs her leg. He points to the butterfly, wings fluttering back and forth slowly as it sits on a leaf Jimin found.

“I fixed it, see!”

“My beautiful son,” she kisses the top of his head, laughing at his cuteness. She looks weak and fragile, sunken eyes and skin pale.

“I’ll fix you too, I’ll learn!” He hugs her leg tighter. She soothes her little boy, knowing it’s already too late for her.

“Grow up to be a doctor, heal people.”

---

He pulls away from you. His eyes look wild, like an animal’s, caught. “Stop looking into my mind!” He screams.

“I can’t control it!” You’re just as stunned as Jimin, you never expected to see a version of himself so innocent.

Jimin holds you down by the neck, he doesn’t squeeze your neck enough to stop your breathing, even though he should, he thinks, he can’t do it, he can’t bring himself to tighten his grip.

“Do it again and I’ll fucking kill you,” he lies.

“I said I can’t control it, asshole!” you struggle against his hold, “Maybe if you weren’t so weak-minded-”

Jimin roars. Pressing his weight back on you, his fangs strike at the sensitive flesh between your collar bone. Your first kiss was so special to you, you could still remember it to this day. You were young, awkward and shy, he was your first crush, a cute boy, his features reminded you of one of your favorite idols at the time, who was-

What did he look like? What was his name? When did he kiss you again? It was after school, you think, you can’t remember. How did he kiss you? That’s right, it was an awkward kiss, because you and him were...friends? Weren’t you? You can’t remember, you can’t remember what had happened, it was so special to you and now it’s gone.

Jimin sucks harder onto your skin, pulling more blood out of you. He took it, your first kiss, you know he did. Jimin, if that sweet little boy could see himself now.

You start to cry. You cry for your stolen first kiss.

His teeth sink into your neck again, pulling more blood greedily, trying to silence the memories he found with the steady beating of your pulse instead. He drags his fangs across your skin, more blood releases, so much blood lost already that everything spins around you. “Jimin!”

He covers your mouth to stop your protests. Jimin seems determined to lose himself again, ravaging your body with more bites. So you close your eyes and your thoughts drift to the young boy.

“Good job!” the soft voice of his mothers fills both your minds. Jimin holds a syringe full of milk to a tiny kitten’s mouth. “You have to take care of her now, remember, treat her gently. There you go!”

“She’s so cute, momma, I love her.”

“You both have to watch out for each other when I’m not around, okay?”

You can hear Jimin whimper into your neck.

You feel sadness wash over you. He could have been a doctor, he could have been a healer. He is, in some twisted way, he been given the gift of healing, and yet he uses it to inflict pain. Even if he wanted to pretend he didn’t experience it, you felt the love that he held so dearly for his mother as a small child. You can hear his laughter, he had the same laugh as his mother.

‘Jimin, I’m going to save you too.’

---

You wake up healed, your head pounding. You look around, Jimin lies next to you, he’s out like a light. You both look like you’ve been in a massacre. Your clothes shredded and blood everywhere. You move away from him, his features look angelic, but his skin is covered in dried blood, like a killer. What the hell happened? You take a step and your legs buckle, you cry out when you knee hits the hard floor. The vampire next to you sways, moves across the bed until he falls completely out of it, groaning.

You crawl your body to the other side of the bed where he is still lying on the floor.

When you look at him again, meeting his eyes, you come to a realization. You know his secret.

“Oh Jimin...”

“Y/n...” his voice is shaky, he covers his face with his hands and his soft cries fill the room. You struggle to get up, everything feels tilted on an axis. You sway and hit furniture as you make your way to the door.

There’s a ringing in your head that won’t leave. You follow the halls down to Seokjin’s office, a place Jimin has been so many times before, retracing his footsteps from a memory of his.

Taehyung’s spell worked just as he said, opening the door to Seokjin’s office, the bright markings glowed and then burnt away from your skin, leaving a trace of ash. ‘Taehyung,’ you’ll have to deal with him later, you think. First you need to get away, as far from the island as you can and try to find Jimin’s family.

There’s a large door to the right of his desk, wood an alien shade of purple. The high pitched ringing in your ears makes the room sway again, but you’re able to grip the handle and fall through to the other side.

---

You sit on the floor of a tiny shop. There’s intricate gold pieces; statues, vases, piled high on countless of glass shelves, every inch of the shop is filled with items, it reminds you of someone but you can’t remember who. You can’t even remember how you got here. Where the hell are you? It feels dangerous, it feels wrong.

You move to a corner and hug your knees to your body. ‘Where am I? Wait, who am I?’ You try to remember anything, any memory from your childhood, from your adulthood. And the past five minutes replays in your mind instead. Gold jewelry in glass cases and the feeling that you shouldn't be here, and a deep voice in your head whispers, “y/n.”

Y/n, is that your name? Your hands skim over the fabric of your torn dress, looking for pockets, looking for anything that might explain something to you. You need to get out of here, you need to leave, but you don’t even know where you are.

You hear a ding, a bell alerting an opening door. You hear a man speak to another. You run out the door while the man behind you lets out a surprised yell to come back.

You run and you run, past buildings past people. You’re barefoot, your clothes hang off you. Eventually you stop. Eventually you decide to ask an old couple who looks unthreatening where you are while you unsuccessfully try not to burst into tears. The old woman holds your hands and strokes your arm to calm you while the husband calls the police.

At first they suspected you were a victim of abuse. They took you to a hospital. The doctors performed several tests on you, each one worse than the last. You had no old memories, and all your new ones were horrible. Clinical, painful, strangers prodding and poking your body. Your dreams were filled of palm trees and warm sunshine on your skin, a sparkling blue ocean, laughter, happiness. So you slept most of the day.

Then one day, detectives came with nurses and they told you who you were. That it took so long because you had been pronounced dead over a month ago. Your parents were on a flight to come get you. You listened to them explain the events hoping to have a jog of memory but nothing comes. They talk about the boat, the crash, no survivors. Always another horrible new piece of information. When will it end?

When your parents picked you up, a lovely man and woman who you tried desperately to remember, the hospital staff gave you a bag with the clothes they found you in. There was a gold pocket watch, an item you didn’t remember having, but you didn’t remember anything, so it didn’t surprise you. You told them to throw everything away, but you kept the watch with you.

You have to stay with them, everything in your life had been reduced to a few boxes they had kept. You lost your home, your identity, you had no money, no job, the only thing you acquired during this whole time was a death certificate.

You start remembering your childhood, slowly at first, a memory here and there, a fall and cut knee, a tea party with stuffed animals, a school field trip, and then years at a time.

You found yourself again. You remembered who you were, your entire life up until you didn’t, the memories fracturing at the end, and the harder you tried to remember how you could have ended up in a different country across the world, your mind would construct horrible images instead, blood, drowning, and death. You couldn’t bare to think of it.

---

“Y/n!” you make your way into the coffee shop, you reconnected with some old childhood friends now that you were back in your hometown.

“Hey, oh my god, who is this big cutie?” Your friend’s dog barks excitedly while you fluff the black fur on his head. He’s so cute, his ears flop to the side with each happy bark.

“Y/n, are you okay?”

“Huh?”

“You’re...well you’re crying?” She looks at you concerned.

You touch your wet cheeks. Why? You don’t know when it started, but as your friend’s dog nudges his head into your palm for more pets, your heart aches.

---

One night, a crazy thought enters your mind. You want to go back to that shop. You want answers. You leave a note for your parents telling them your intentions and pack your freshly made identification cards and travel documents into a suitcase.

So here you are again, in a foreign country, alone again, filled with purpose that seems to pull you in despite how terrified you are.

You scroll through your phone while you lie on the hard foreign hotel mattress. You open a map of where you are on your phone, and zoom out until you see water.

There's islands around the peninsula, you zoom into each one and search each name on your phone, learning each habitat, who lives there, if it is accessible. You do that to pass the time until you fall asleep.

“It’s too dangerous.”

You reach for the merman, grabbing at Yoongi’s shirt and pulling him closer, your eyes meeting his. “Explain.”

Yoongi is taken aback, licking his lips trying to think of a good way to start. "We made a blood pact to protect this island from the outside world, it's indiscoverable and once anyone does come here, they can't leave."

"Why..." you let go of his shirt, but he stays close, "Why would you do that?"

"Think, just think what you humans have done to the world...the others needed some place safe to go to and I-" the merman huffs, "At the time, I thought...well, they were...at the time I didn't mind sharing the island with them. "

Your fingers roll over the bracelets Yoongi put on you. "That was nice of you." The merman glares at you in return.

"You know, they'd come here, we all spent time together." Yoongi's stare is faraway and distant. "In the beginning, at least."

"I-I'm sorry." You hold his hand, and he stares at your fingers only briefly before shaking you off.

"Whatever, I'm surprised they didn't start trying to tear each others throats out sooner," He mutters. "We had portals of course to leave when we wanted to, but one day Namjoon and those dumb dogs destroyed all the portals-"

"What?! Why would they do that?"

"I don't know all the details, but I believe Namjoon did it to protect the rest of his pack. I can respect him for that...but the problem is they trapped us all here like idiots!"

"Is that why you're helping Jin and Jimin?"

"What? To get back at Namjoon? Pfft no. Jin came to me with a deal. He looked off, sick, and he offered me anything I wanted, so I helped him. That's it."

"So technically you can leave the island?"

"I can swim the waters, but I can only go so far, the magic always pulls me back eventually, it's useless to try," he mutters.

You hum.

"Anyways, what Namjoon doesn't know is Jin used some leftover magic and created a portal. Jin has lots of friends that serve him, owe him favors, he uses it as a delivery system."

"So you think if I?"

"That's the only portal I know of, but the magic is dangerous, the vampires put so many protections on their house, they won't even go through it themselves, there has to be a reason, right?"

"I...I'll take my chances."

"They wont even chance going through it, and you will?"

"Yes! And what if I can find a way to break the spell? Then you can finally leave! Yoongi, you have to let me at least try!"

"You're going to get yourself killed one way or another," Yoongi scoffs.

"No, I refuse to believe that."

"You're impossible to understand."

"I'm going through that portal. Then I'll come back for you."

"Wait, you'll come back?" Yoongi asks.

"Well, yeah, if you help me, a deal is a deal. Yoongi please, help me come up with a plan and I swear to you I'll come back with your payment. You're the only one who can search the ocean, you just have to find me again, so what do you say merman?"

"I'll find you again."

---

Your alarm wakes you up. 'What a weird dream,' it felt so realistic. Like all your dreams, the more you think about it, the less you remember, but that man's scarred eyes, whose name you forgot already, they stay with you.

You brush your teeth and wash your face. You notice something as you rinse off your skin. 'What the hell is that?' You inspect the gold writing behind your ear. Taking some more soap, you work to remove it but it doesn’t come off, the glittery ink is permanent. You rubbed your skin raw trying to take it off, it didn’t look like a tattoo, but nothing you did would get rid of the gold markings. You pace around your hotel room, things are getting weirder and you start to feel a nagging sense of dread, but there's a voice inside you that says to keep going until you find the answers you are looking for.

You don't walk right into the shop at first, instead casing out the place. You drink coffee at a nearby restaurant and keep watch on the shop. There are not many visitors, and those who do enter are not who you would expect. You would think maybe some older people who were looking for vintage items would decide to enter, or eccentric younger people, but it was almost always a intimidatingly large man entering, bringing items in rather than taking items out.

You’ve gotten into the habit of playing with the gold chain around your neck, the gold pocket watch had become a permanent accessory.

It's almost closing time for the restaurant, so you reluctantly make your way to the shop, and walk in after a group of tourists.

The shop looks different than what you remember, new items litter the shelves. You hide behind the large cases, studying the objects, until you come across something that makes you hesitate. A necklace with a large red gem hidden behind a thick glass case with a lock.

“You’re that girl! You...you came back.” Your head turns into the direction of the voice, a very old man stares back at you. He looks at you incredulously while you can only stare back dumbly. “C'mon, let’s go,” the old man says, he grabs your elbow. “Seokjin should be awake by now.”

“Let me go! You can’t keep me here!” You pull away from his grasp, your hand tightens around the amulet.

He laughs at you amused, giving you some space. “You walked into my shop, did you not? You don’t want to talk to Seokjin?”

“I…” Do you?! Would he know what happened to you, why does it make you shiver hearing his name.

Wait...you look down at your hand, to make sure you didn't imagine it, and there you see the necklace in the middle of your palm, heavy in your hand, you hide it behind your back, looking over your shoulder to the empty case, the shock of it makes you freeze.

The man looks at you cautiously, “Why are you here, girl? Are you here for Seokjin?”

Seokjin. That name fills you with dread. A vision of a man flashes across your mind only briefly, “I d-don’t know.” The old man raises an eyebrow at you. “Stay here, girl. I'll be right back.”

Where is he going? What is he going to do with you? Your mind spins and the skin behind your ear stings. 'Now y/n. Do it now.' that deep voice is back. You panic when the old man comes back with two others.

'Use the watch, y/n. Use the watch. NOW!'

---

“On one condition, just one.” Jimin hisses.

As you lie on the ground you feel like the weight of the world just crashed upon you. Your chest feels like it’s going to explode, there’s a ringing in your ears, the skin behind your ear still burns hot.

Jimin noticed the sudden shift in your demeanor, the way your heart begins to race as you start to break down. Every day, starting on the night your boat was capsized, replays in your mind as you start to remember your time on the island. You see Taehyung, who looks at you and then his eyes go wide, realizing the situation, eyes ablaze with growing excitement.

“It worked, didn’t it?” Taehyung’s deep baritone voice breaks the silence. You can only take in shaky breaths as your tear filled eyes try to focus on where you are. You traveled back in time, precisely twelve weeks to the second, you’re back on the island, thrown back into your nightmare like you never left. The only difference now is your left hand clutches a second pocket watch, now broken, and your right hand clutches the amulet.

Jimin looks between you and Taehyung. “What have you done?” Jimin accuses Taehyung, whose eyes haven’t left yours. Taehyung’s lips curve into an encouraging smile, he holds out his chained wrists to you. The vampire whips his head in your direction, but it’s already too late. You throw the amulet into Taehyung’s awaiting hands. You didn’t want to give it to him, but as if Taehyung had pulled strings around your body, you complied to his silent request. The minute the gem touches his skin, the gold markings around his wrists burn away.

The explosion knocks you back meters, everything is broken, everything is dust, you can’t see and your body aches. You hear screaming and yelling and groans of pain. You crawl through the debris searching for a way out.

Red light flashes through the smoke. You choose to crawl towards it, hearing Jin’s loud booming voice.

Taehyung pulls you back, his body behind you like it just materialized out of thin air. "C’mon y/n. Let’s escape."

“This...This is all your fault!” He looked surprised by your reaction.

“What you think you know, you’re mistaken.” He lifts you to your feet easily.

It feels like the air around you is vibrating, your body feels lighter in Taehyung’s presence.

“Please let me go,” you cry.

“Don’t worry, once we escape, we’ll be fine again.” His hand holds your hip tight to his body as he drags you in the direction of the portal.

Seokjin crashes into you both, knocking Taehyung away from you. You hear their struggle, and you’re back to crawling away through the smoke helplessly. Your fingers hit the hard cold gem of the amulet, and you wrap the chain around your fingers.

You can’t remember how you found the stairs, the wood half shattered, or the exit, blown wide open by magic, you can’t remember leaving the mansion, you just remember once your bare feet hit the soft grass outside you ran and you didn’t stop running, until you heard the sounds of waves. You ran until water hit your feet and then you screamed.

---

YAY I FINISHED THIS MONSTER OF A CHAPTER (Get it? I’ll shut up). Thank god, I felt as trapped in this chapter as y/n in that damn room :’). Okay, but now we’re getting somewhere! What do you think is going to happen now? Looks like this story might finally be headed off the island :D. I’m excited!

Questions to ponder for the next chapter: What is Jimin’s secret? Looks like there was a good reason for keeping Taehyung locked away, so what is his ultimate goal? What did Taehyung do to you? And why are Jin and Namjoon no longer friends?! Those are just some of the questions floating around in my mind as I am writing the next chapter, now do you have any questions you want answers to? Let me know! <3

#bts smut #jimin smut #seokjin smut #namjoon smut #Jungkook smut #bts fantasy au #bts fanfic #bts hybrid au #bts vampire au #werewolf bts #ot7 x reader #jimin x reader #jin x reader #seokjin x reader #taehyung x reader #namjoon x reader #yoongi x reader #jimin fanfic #jungkook x reader #rm x reader #jin fanfic #seokjin fanfic #taehyung fanfic #namjoon fanfic #yoongi fanfic #rm fanfic #bts angst

[konietzko-sylvoran]

Firelight - Kon’s Fire Fest Performance

"Tonight we open with an act that tells a story we can all relate too. It is our nature to struggle with fear and doubt, to be afraid to live and to love but within us all lies hope, faith and strength! Our ‘firelight' if you will. It’s what we find when we reach deep within us. What keeps us fighting! This symbolism you are about to bear witness too is a fusion of the daring grace of the cyr wheel with the majesty of fire as we take a personal journey with our very own Heart of Tenacity, Konietzko, who seeks to embrace his own inner firelight!"

Music For Part One Curtains slide away from the stage side to side revealing a vast nightmarish landscape radiating with heat waves. From the front of the stage leading towards the back is a vast chasm of dark jagged rocks rising from the surface creating a deep cleft. The path at the bottom of the chasm is lined with hot embers that lead along with the jagged rocks to the back of the stage. At the end of the chasm along the back wall of the stage stands a giant, dark, gnarled tree bleeding with pockets of hot gas which occasionally ignite into small spouts of fire.  At the top of the tree lies the body of a lion caught in a mess of thorns that arc up and over the lion like a circular web of thorns. Some even seem to pierce its body in various places indicating the poor creature is in a dire situation with heavy wounds. With a very foreboding feel to it, the show opens with the distant call of a dying lion echoing through the rising waves of heat coming from the chasm of embers below it. A lone venatic armored in blue regalia of the firebird seems to hear the call as the blue owl himself approaches the scene silently and barefoot. His bow drawn, a single arrow knocked as he approaches the dark chasm drawn by the echoes of the beast’s cries.

Stopping at the opening of the chasm, he looks across the river of embers and up the length of the nightmare tree. At first he seems in shock, the dire scene a bit horrifying for the lone venatic leaving him momentarily frozen with unease and dread. Bouts of fire sprout up from the sea of embers before him, the heat making that vast chasm between them look farther than it is as the heat waves distort the scene. Gazing in discomfort seeing the struggle for life as it occurs, he frowns as he debates with his own internal struggle whether or not he should put the lion out of its misery.

Raising his bow high and taking aim, he almost swore he could see the lion make eye contact with him from across the way. That internal struggle coiling his stomach into a knot, was this mercy or fear.

Just before letting the arrow fly, the lion ROARS as Kon’s entire bow lit up in a shower of sparks and flames! Shock and confusion grip him as he starts spinning around in a wide circular arc with the bow, trying to keep the shower of sparks and flames from burning him! He finally manages to toss the bow as it skids into the river of embers before him. Quickly he shakes his hands, trying to shake off the sting of the burn on his hands or maybe just the shock of what just occurred, he looks to the lion above.

The lion’s eyes meet Kon’s with such a piercing gaze right through his very soul. Fear over saving a life, or would he embrace his inner strength?

A vine suddenly rises up, wrapping around the lion’s throat making the beast cry out in pain and defiance as it fights against its thorny restraints. The vine breaks off but where it breaks embers started to bleed from the branch arcing over him till it caught on fire! Seeing the dire situation the lion was in, Kon’s choice was made as he looked to the chasm's river of embers knowing it was now or never if he wanted to make it in time! Facing his doubt and fears, he takes that first step with his bare feet onto the river of embers. Arms out side to side for balance as he tried to walk fast but not too fast. Standing too long in one spot his heels would start to sink in where the embers would burn him just as pressure from stepping too hard would. He had to find that happy medium, that inner calm and focus to make it across without burning himself. The cries of the lion above in the tree keep driving him onward, trying to ignore the bouts of flame rising up from the embers beside him. At last, he makes it to the base of the tree hopping atop a root to spare his feet! Looking up the full length of the tree, he can see his path to climb using the tree's larger thorns. Embers fall from the burning branch above as the lion roars again fighting back against its pending doom.

Quickly Kon begins to climb showing his determination to make it in time. The tree fights back however as one of the thorns he grabs partway up suddenly breaks and spews molten flame from it. He recoils,  jerking to the side, almost slipping and falling as he desperately grasps for another giant thorn. The struggle continues most the way up till he is unable to dodge one vent of flame, the feathers along his armor starting to smolder. Now both Venatic and Lion are in a battle against flame as he continues to climb only to see the last few thorns burning away. Refusing to give up he grabs ahold of the last and starts swinging his body. With one forward swing he pops his hips up and reaches high like a lache. His grip almost slips but he manages to pull himself to the top and rolls with his smoldering armor towards the lion. The heat is unbearable making him stagger up as the mass of flaming vines engulf the poor lion trapped inside!

Elf and beast lock eyes filled with such an intensity in their struggle to survive against this nightmare! Yet in that moment they choose to embrace the firelight together as a palm gently settles against the lion’s head.

The lion suddenly lets loose an ear piercing ROAR as its entire body engulfs in flames! The heat from the burning flame now in the form of a lion grew with impressive intensity but Kon did not back away from it. He watches as the vines literally burn away to mere ash as the lion shaped flame continues to build. A trail of flame reaches out and licks along Kon’s body as his ruined blue feathered armor of the firebird reforms and sizzles now with red and orange feathers. As Kon raises his hands to look himself over, he gasps as the lion’s body of flame rises up and wraps around the last of the giant thorny arc above them. The flame sears the last of its former prison away, burning it to mere ash and revealing something hidden within it. A large Cyr wheel shaped like an oversized hula-hoop stood there in place of the former thorny prison now free of its confines too.

The stage starts to shift as lights focus on Kon and the wheel of fire alone. In the dim light the audience can see the tree lowering slowly beneath the stage bringing one mesmerized Kon and his cyr wheel down to stage level. The jagged rocks also start to lower beneath the stage leaving only the river of embers above the stage. Slowly, they start turning till the planks of embers are parallel with the audience leaving Kon and his wheel on the other side. The stage now clear, his eyes remain fixated on that flame from the lion still coiling around his wheel. The mystic sounds issue a challenge to Kon himself as the lion’s fire becomes the very flame that ignites the wick within the wheel in a burst of flame.  

Music for Part Two  Facing the wheel of fire which stands taller than himself, Kon reaches out with both hands to take a hold of the wheel in a slow and almost intimate caress.

Using both hands, he pushes the wheel to the right letting it go as he sets the wheel on a course of a slow wide revolution around him. As the fire wheel passes behind him he turns his body to the right side with one knee bent and the other out straight. His arms reach out side to side in a warrior’s pose as the wheel continues to revolve around him in perfect sync with the psychedelic vibrations of the music.

Quickly he spins one leg around as his body begins to rise up to his toes mid spin. Just as the wheel completes one revolution he slides himself forward on his knees towards the audience. All can feel the heat of the wheel and embers between them and kon as the wheel completes another revolution with a slight tilt forcing his body to lay back beneath its passing. Still in sync, his arms lay out behind his head along the stage as he rolls his shoulders and body back up centered with the wheel’s revolution.

Standing fully, he catches the wheel with both hands as the haunting chorus rises. Rotating the wheel once, he seems to be testing the touch of flame as he lets the wheel go, sending it into more of a flop before him. At the sound of the sharp synth in the music two pillars of fire rise up from the embers before him. The cyr wheel flops twice around Kon before he steps right through it on the third then kneels down with hands to the stage as the firehawk feathers of his armor sizzle and smolder. Two more free flops towards him as it then flops right over the top of him. He stands in sync with the motion and catches the wheel with his hands no longer afraid to keep a hold of it.

Stepping forward towards the center of the wheel, he manipulates the wheel to spin in an orbit around him while standing in the middle of it and its flame. Continuing this coin spin motion around him in sync with the mystic vibrations of the vocals, he raises his head up high embracing the passion of the moment. Keeping a hold of the wheel mid spin suddenly, he turns his body to spin with the wheel and starts to pick it up. Slowly the wheel of flame rises up above his head holding it with both arms out wide high into the air. Embracing the grace of the wheel and the majesty of the fire, he continues to spin in time with the music.

Rotating around, he locks his shoulders and forces the wheel to make tighter spins center stage. Slowly the wheel is brought into a flat spin with his body face down still within it. Resembling a coin losing its speed after being spun on its edge the wheel becomes flatter and flatter as if he might fall on his face with the wheel any second. The spinning picks up speed rapidly in timing with the psychedelic vibrations emanating the passionate struggle every heart feels in the peak of a moment! A perfect reflection of just how difficult this move and the emotions are as his body remains locked to keep from truly letting the wheel fall flat! At the last second he brings the wheel back upright while spinning it in a handspring before he and the wheel stand erect once more, always embraced by that inner fire.

With hands both gripping the top of the wheel in a wide outstretched grip he raises both feet off the wheel and extends his legs outward while facing down, ankles together and toes pointed. Mimicking a free flying motion while the firehawk feather armor along his upper body burns away!

His head and torso now bare, he displays his well defined body as flames lick around it in one last bout of passion. Placing his feet back down within the wheel he locks his arms and legs spread wide within it while rotating it faster in a wide arc around the stage. His body pushes outward into a perfect arc that brings his chest far out of the wheel while his head arcs back between his shoulders, gazing upward. The perfect visual with feathers, flames and dreads splayed out around his form indicating being pushed along by some unseen force, the passion of one’s firelight.

Slowing the wheel’s speed, he brings it into a slower waltz center stage. Gracefully he slips his feet from the wheel and steps back with one last push of his hand to keep the wheel rotating entirely upright on its own axis. Behind the wheel facing the audience through it as it spins, Kon is seen slowly kneeling down with both hands on the stage. He raises his head as two deep amber moons stare out with such a fierce passion in them right to the audience. In sync with the final four haunting yet mystifying chants of the song’s end, the wheel shows Kon in one rotation and chant. Upon the second,  in his place sits the full fire lion with those same glowing and intense amber eyes staring right back at the audience through the wheel. Synched with the wheel and final two chants, Kon then the lion appears off and on once more before the stage goes dark, all but that river of embers between them.

Performed at @tartfirefest Konietzko is a proud performer of the @succulent-tart troupe Artwork at the top of the stage art was done by @misssellaneous  Screenshots taken by @talthorn-sylvoran​ ♥

#firefest #succulent tart firefest #succulent tarts #succulent tart #performance #konietzko #Firelight #cyr wheel #roue cyr #Fire #Lion #Wyrmrest roleplay #Wyrmrest Alliance #kaldorei #night elf #Druid #Hunter #within temptation #Gifs from Fusion Arts Performances #also rammstein

[coffee-and-cookies-mochi]

the patriarch and the (light) bearer

[ almost 2k+ words ; fluff ; story-telling, dramatic wwx style ]

[Or, the only way to defeat the yao in this…strange night-hunt was to answer its questions in a poetic form]

-

Wei WuXian merely glances at the juniors—Lan SiZhui, Lan JingYi, and Jin Ling—trying to exorcise the aggressive yao, not even lifting a finger or dropping hints. Beside him, Lan WangJi gazes at him curiously, trying to figure out what exactly is going on in his husband’s mind.

 After all, in night-hunts like this, Wei WuXian has the upper hand considering his demonic cultivation abilities and his position in the spirit world. He must have an idea on what to do to wrap up this case as soon as possible—then share it to the juniors later.

 But Wei WuXian is quiet, just looking, not saying a thing.

 “Wei Ying,” Lan WangJi murmurs, but it is enough for Wei WuXian to blink and glance at him. His silver eyes sparkle under the moonlight, specks of tease and warmth and affection on his orbs.

 (And sometimes, even if his husband is in a different body, Lan WangJi drowns in such gaze, reminded of that night he caught Wei Ying sneaking in alcohol, lips curved up in an impish smile as he offers him wine.)

 “Not gonna help the kids yet, nope,” Wei WuXian chuckles, playfully tapping Lan WangJi’s nose with a finger. “I’m not yet done figuring something out.”

 Lan WangJi’s eyebrows knit in confusion. “What are you trying to know?”

 Wei WuXian only smiles, telling clearly that he will not tell Lan WangJi—yet. And Lan WangJi respects this; he has come to learn that there are days Wei WuXian doesn’t share things until he is so sure of what he will say, or if he is not sure and he will need Lan WangJi’s input.

 So Lan WangJi remains quiet, although curiosity starts to flare inside his chest. He wants to know—he wants to know what Wei WuXian knows, he wants to see what is on Wei WuXian’s mind.

 (Lan WangJi, for all his self-restraint and discipline, is greedy, greedy, avaricious when it comes to Wei WuXian.

 But for all his selfishness, Lan WangJi does not restrain Wei WuXian—to which, in turn, makes Wei WuXian stay with him.)

 “Okay, that’s enough,” Wei WuXian calls out after a long moment, hopping down the branch of a tree. “You’re going to lose spiritual energy at this point.”

 “But Senior Wei—!” Lan JingYi starts to protest, but one look from Wei WuXian silences him.

 “I got it already, I’ve figured this one out—and I’ve come to the conclusion that I should be the one doing it anyway,” Wei WuXian says, and Lan WangJi hears the note of mischief hidden underneath the sternness of his voice.

 “It’s our night-hunt!” Jin Ling lashes out. “And you’re supposed to just supervise!”

 “Aih, what manners! Really, you’re so much like your purple uncle,” Wei WuXian shakes his head, a look of mock displeasure in his face.

 “You—!”

 “Yes, me,” Wei WuXian laughs. “But you’ve heard me. And anyway—haven’t I told you that while there are things you can do, there are also those that you can’t for the time being? Haven’t I, SiZhui-er?”

 To which Lan SiZhui, albeit confused, replies, “Yes, Senior Wei.”

 “You’ve heard him!” Wei WuXian grins. “And so, at this point, I will have to deal with this. You kids, on the other hand, will stay with HanGuang-Jun and watch as I do it. All right?”

 The juniors look at Lan WangJi, as if asking—pleading at—him not to let their obnoxious Senior Wei have his way.

 But Lan WangJi simply says, “Listen to him,” for he knows that whatever Wei WuXian does or says, it is for a good reason. He knows beyond doubt that Wei WuXian always considers things in a very detailed manner, then decides on his own justly.

 Although sullen, the junior disciples walk over to Lan WangJi. Only Lan SiZhui asks, with curiosity, “HanGuang-Jun, do you have any idea what Senior Wei will do?”

 (Secretly, Lan WangJi is proud for having such a son who, despite his confusion, has the mind to inquire and learn.)

 Lan WangJi shakes his head, then his gaze turns back to Wei WuXian. Wei WuXian casually strolls where the yao is encaged, his stance relaxed.

 “Why, hello there,” Wei WuXian greets. “Do forgive my children, they have no manners in dealing with the kind of you sometimes.”

 “Who are your children?” Lan JingYi hisses, but Lan WangJi sees how the said children preen on Wei WuXian’s words.

 “You should’ve stopped them earlier,” the yao snarls quietly, yet it makes no move to attack Wei WuXian, “and you must’ve stepped in instead.”

 “But I have to know first what you want,” Wei WuXian chuckles. “But now I do, and now I have stepped in. Aren’t you pleased?”

 The yao is silent, not answering.

 “Well then, let’s finish this, shall we?” Wei WuXian’s posture shifts slightly—still relaxed, Lan WangJi knows, but in a way that is somewhat somber and serious. “What would you want to ask?”

 “Ask?” The yao blinks, and Lan WangJi is sure it’s not the only one blinking in surprise.

 “Yes, ask!” Wei WuXian beams. “You seem to want to ask something before my children suddenly attacked—sorry about that. But go on, ask—and I shall endeavor to answer.”

 Now there is also a subtle change in how Wei WuXian speaks—a tone unfamiliar to Lan WangJi’s ears.

 “Does a demon love?” the yao blurts out, its eyes on Wei WuXian.

 …That’s the question Lan WangJi least expects.

 “Oh, it does!” Wei WuXian replies immediately. “It loves chaos and uproar; it craves blood and death. A demon loves them like how one would speak of its beloved—lusts for them like a crazed beast.”

 As perplexed as he is, Lan WangJi listens on (and quietly, quietly, melts on Wei WuXian’s smooth cadence of his speech, of how his voice flows like gentle water on a stream).

 “Not that love,” the yao refutes. “Of course the demon loves the beauty of dissonance—but—” it hesitates for a while before it continues. “Does a demon love another? Or…a human?”

 Wei WuXian pauses, closing his eyes, as if considering for an answer. Meanwhile, the junior disciples look at each other in utter bemusement, talking quietly to each other

 “Can a demon love?!” Lan WangJi hears Lan JingYi sputter, and Lan SiZhui has to throw his fellow junior a warning look.

 “Just what kind of a stupid question is that?” Jin Ling mutters acidly.

 But Wei WuXian does not hear them, too focused on his own thoughts. After a while, he answers.

 “Yes.”

 A collective gasp echoes throughout the empty clearing.

 “Which demon, which demon?” The yao excitedly asks. “And who does the demon love?”

 Wei WuXian opens his eyes, and slightly turns to look at Lan WangJi with a half-lidded gaze. His ravishing lips curl up slightly, then turns back to the yao.

 For once, Lan WangJi is at a loss of what his husband is trying to convey.

 “The world does not know what kind of a demon he is,” Wei WuXian starts, again with that cadence, “but the world calls the demon Patriarch.”

 “What?!!” Lan JingYi and Jin Ling exclaim with wide eyes. Lan WangJi, on the other hand, listens intently.

 “The world says the Patriarch loves chaos—he seeks them, drinks in them, but if he is too bored, he starts chaos himself,” Wei WuXian goes on. “His chaos is his own form of a dance, with the undead stepping along to the tunes of death played on a single flute.

 “For some it is a saving grace; for others a nightmare. Regardless, they agree it is ghastly; still, they do not agree it is worth watching.

 “Yet they do not know that what the Patriarch loves is not the dissonance his flute brings, but the momentary quiet that comes after. The Patriarch laments that the quiet is fleeting; that his flute, despite the clarity of his notes, bring the opposite of what he seeks.

 “And the quiet—pity the Patriarch! It always evades him, even in the corners of his mind. In his sleep he hears voices that are not his own; in his waking hours he still is not alone!

 “The world says the Patriarch loves his own kind—nightmarish and ghastly—but no, the world does not know that the Patriarch respects his kind, yet does not, does not love them.”

 The audience is enthralled; even the children listen more attentively.

 “Enter the Patriarch’s opposite—and he is not a demon, far from it! No demon carries light and purity; demons only carry darkness and filth! And the Patriarch’s opposite—the world does not know what he is, but they call him…Bearer.”

 (There’s an unexplainable leap in Lan WangJi’s chest when Wei WuXian utters that.)

 “He is blinding, the world sings, like the sun high up in the sky. The Bearer is like that of a deity, walking with mortals, yet his countenance is of frost and coldest winters. He is quiet, so they say; barely the world hears a sentence flow from his snowy lips.”

 (Lan WangJi barely misses the smirk in Wei WuXian’s lips.)

 “The world hopes, even implores, that the Bearer will eventually stop the Patriarch’s madness. After all, the Bearer knows the Patriarch for years and years back, has fought with him side by side in wars.

 “But the Patriarch, for all his stubbornness, does not let the Bearer get him. He refuses every time the Bearer asks, he ignores every time the Bearer tries.

 “Yet strangely, the Patriarch seeks his presence. He lets the Bearer in despite the arguments that will follow, he converses with the Bearer like friends meeting once more! He does not hinder the Bearer’s presence within his own cold cave—for the Patriarch feels the Bearer’s warmth underneath the freezing façade.”

 “Aww,” Lan JingYi utters, and Jin Ling elbows him.

 “And so, despite the fact that the Patriarch forgot the world, he lets the Bearer see what he truly loves. Not the chaos, not the wars, not the ghosts that follow him all around.

 “The Patriarch loves a sister who took him in; the Patriarch loves a brother underneath snarky comments and sneers. The Patriarch loves a second family who he saved from the peonies’ thorns; the Patriarch loves a child, like how a father dotes on his own son.

 “As if trying to tell the Bearer—look, I am not the demon the world fears me to be! I may be a demon, but see—you see! I only seek for a solace no one offers me!”

 There is a heavy silence that follows, and the audience cannot bring themselves to speak. It is a long moment before the yao braves to ask, in a small voice, “Did the…Patriarch obtain his peace?”

 A sad, bittersweet smile graces Wei WuXian’s lips. “He had not,” he finally replies. “Until the very end, peace does not find him—it evades him still, like a teasing, frivolous maiden playing with a boy’s heartstrings. But is what the Patriarch has expected a long time ago, after he emerged from his own Hell and tried to live with the world.

 “His own home—Hell—has not truly given him solace, thus he sought for it in the world. Yet the world is selfish and unkind, it seems.

 “Two words, two very simple words—that the world associates with the Patriarch when they burned him with scorn.”

 “The Bearer could have saved him!” the yao exclaims, indignant.

 There is a tentative pause before Wei WuXian replies. “Oh, the Bearer has saved the Patriarch—”

 “Did the Patriarch live, then?” the yao asks excitedly.

 “No. The Patriarch burned back in Hell.”

 “What?! But you said—”

 “That the Bearer saved him? Yes, he did. The Bearer saved the Patriarch’s son from the peonies’ thorns and lotuses’ poison; the child is the reason why the Patriarch still sees light despite the darkness. To say simply, the child has become the Patriarch’s life, tethering him to the living.”

 (There are tears in the children’s eyes this time, and a suspicious sniffling. Lan WangJi, on the other hand, tries so hard not to break down.)

 “But,” a sudden laugh escapes Wei WuXian’s lips. “Strangely—or not so strangely—even in flames, the Patriarch realizes he has found his peace a long time ago; he has found his solace that he once thought of is an illusion.”

 “…Where?”

 Wei WuXian’s silver eyes are on Lan WangJi’s startled gold orbs as he says, slowly, “The Patriarch has found his peace with the Bearer’s presence, which explains why he let the Bearer see what the world refuses to see. The Patriarch has found his solace with the Bearer’s light—and oh, how the light silences the voices in his head! Even after days that the Bearer left him, the voices do not return—until they do, of course.

 “And before the Patriarch closes his eyes and returns to the flames, he realizes that there is one more that he loves.”

 (The audience hold their breaths, their hearts thudding.)

 In a softer voice Wei WuXian says, closing his eyes, “He loved the Bearer, as ridiculous as it sounds.”

 “The demon loved…the Bearer?” the yao chokes.

 “He did, he did—oh, he did.”

 (Lan WangJi’s heart seems to have stopped beating.)

 “The Patriarch loved the Bearer when the former asked the latter to leave him alone; the Patriarch loved the Bearer when he made him see who he loves. The Patriarch loved the Bearer, blindingly so, which was one of the main reasons why he decided to let himself burn.”

 (There is heartbreak in Lan WangJi’s soul as he hears this—why didn’t Wei WuXian tell him this? He could have saved him, he could have given him more, much more—)

 “Did the Bearer know?”

 “He has not known—and it is better if he had not known back then. The Patriarch thinks that a love of a demon is dangerous elixir, enough to cast off the light the Bearer brings.”

 (Wei Ying! Lan WangJi protests. It is not poison, it is not, it is not—)

 “Did the Bearer…love the Patriarch?”

 (He did, so much, Lan WangJi wants to say. The Bearer was all too ready to sacrifice everything for the Patriarch to burn brightly still—)

 “Will the Patriarch know, as he burns in Hell?

 “But the knowledge that he loved the Bearer was enough—even though he knows that his final knowledge will be as fleeting as their meetings, the Patriarch knows that the truth he loved the Bearer was enough.”

 “But they met again, right?!” It is Lan JingYi who reacts this time. “The Patriarch and the Bearer met again, didn’t they!?”

 There is laughter in Wei WuXian’s eyes as he replies, “Yes, they do.” He meets Lan WangJi’s eyes again, a tender smile on his lips. “They do.”

 “Did the Patriarch tell the Bearer he loved him?

 “…Yes.”

 “Did the Bearer…love him?”

 “Quite surprisingly, the Bearer loved him before the Patriarch realized his own feelings.”

 “And did the Patriarch know?”

 Wei WuXian’s smile widens. “Yes.”

 “Are they together now?”

 “Yes.”

 “Are they happy?”

 “Yes. Very much so.”

 “And how do you know?”

 Wei WuXian’s laughs—it reminds Lan WangJi of wind chimes tinkling in the spring breeze, warming up his heart and reminding him of the joy he basks in now.

 “The Patriarch told you his story himself—and yet you choose to doubt?”

 It is a moment before the yao understands, his eyes moving from Wei WuXian to Lan WangJi then back to Wei WuXian. “Oh.”

 “But the Patriarch not a demon!” the yao protests. “It does not count—it does not count!”

 (To which Lan WangJi wholeheartedly agrees.)

 “Oh, he is,” Wei WuXian laughingly remarks. “Or so the world says. Anyway, if he is not a demon, then how come he speaks to you like one of his own?”

 The yao frowns, unable (or not wanting) to answer.

 Wei WuXian laughs once more before he says, “I have answered your question now, and so you must heed to my request.”

 “What is it?”

 Wei WuXian’s gaze morphs to that of someone familiar, of a figure nearly omnipotent and powerful. With a gentle smile yet a stern voice, the Patriarch utters, “Rest, and do not disturb us further.”

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #grandmaster of demonic cultivation #short fic #wangxian #wei wuxian #lan wangji #lan sizhui #lan jingyi #jin ling #junior trio #self indulgent LMAO #happy birthday hanguang jun!!!

[thatonedoctorwhoau]

Chapter 10! Remember when I said I was probably going to slow my updates because I was running low on prewritten material? Yeah, me neither. Once again, special thanks to @dtvibez for all her contributions on this story, so go send her all your love and support

Summary: 24 hours ago, George Ashworth lived a completely normal life, with completely normal people, and a completely normal job. 24 hours later, he was running for his life beside a man he had met mere hours prior from an otherworldly monster. Suffice to say, this was the start of something new and wonderful. And hair-pulling annoying

On Wednesday the 23, October 2015, at precisely 9:05 am, George Ashworth came to a stop, as the Marcorx slowly got off of the bench and began walking towards him. Watching the two come closer, George observed how with every passing step, their bodies began to shake. Slowly, the humanoid shapes began to stretch, extending themselves upwards. Their arms became skinnier, the flesh drooping, before correcting itself into paper thin wings. Their fingers grew narrow and thin, and their downturned hats rolled into the back of their heads. Worst of all were their faces: their thin mouths curved upwards violently at the slits of their mouths. Their heads contracted and extended at the same, their teeth erupting violently into the light. George felt unwell, and slowed down his pace, in an attempt to rationalize what he was seeing. 

The wind had begun picking up, causing large swaths of leaves to fill the air. Storm clouds had begun to roll in. George pressed a hand to his earpiece. “Wilbur, I’m ready.” He was met with static. “Wilbur, are you there?” The static tone only increased. “Tommy, Tubbo, is anybody there?” He turned his head around to look back at his friends. The three had frozen in place, unmoving. “What’s going on?!” He screamed; his friends remained static

The beasts began approaching him at a faster rate. George increased his pace, before fully turning around and running towards his friends. “For the love of god move!” As he approached them, he stopped and reached over to shake Tommy. 

To his horror, his hand passed right through him and with a flicker, he disappeared. George cried out in terror, before attempting to touch the others. Like Tommy, they disappeared beneath his finger tips. Realization dawned upon him: he was on his own.

+++

“George, George, don’t move until we say so.” Wilbur said, leaning into his earpiece. Meters in front of him, the human had frozen at the sight of the Marcorx transformation. While he was at a considerable distance, Wilbur could still see how horrific it was. “George,” he spoke again, attempting to gain the man's attention. 

George frantically turned around, his eyes scanning and screamed out “What's going on?!”

“You need to run now.” George continued to stare in terror, before turning back to face the monsters.

“Why isn’t he running?” Tubbo exclaimed. “George, run!” 

George turned on his heels and began approaching them rapidly. The group prepared their respective objects: Wilbur pulled a small silver box with buttons and a screen out of his jacket pocket, while Tubbo and Tommy each pulled a blue knife out of their pockets. Wilbur pulled out his key, signaling the Tardis to open its doors in time to let George in.

The door remained shut. Wilbur pressed it again, hoping it had been an accident, but the door refused to open. As horror dawned on him, George arrived, but deviated from the plan; stopping and attempting to touch Tommy, before his fingers passed right through him.

“What the shit!” Tommy exclaimed, watching as George attempted to touch Tubbo and Tommy with the same results. “Wilbur, what's happening?!” “I don’t know, this wasn’t supposed to happen. The Marcorx can manipulate reality, but not this much, not enough to keep the Tardis shut.” George began running towards the Tardis, slamming into it before  pulling on its handle. 

“Please,” he screamed. “Please let me in.” The Marcorx passed Wilbur, and George barely moved out of the way before they crashed into the Tardis. He sprinted down the path, with the Marcorx screeching behind him.

“Wil,” Tubbo said, staring. “What are we going to do?” “Improvise.”

++++++++++++++++++++++

George ran as fast as he possibly could, hearing the nightmarish noises trailing behind him. The yellow park was all but abandoned, and overhead, storm clouds had gathered up again. George considered whether or not the rain that began pouring was a tactic used by the Marcorx, as it had been present at every encounter he’d had with them. As he felt the tips of the Marcorx’s claws brush his skin, he ducked down and began running into the more densely forested area of the park, forcing the Marcorx to double back. 

Upon entering the more wooded area, George immediately began searching for a hiding spot. The terrain was a lot more uneven, and the ground slanted downhill extremely quickly. George attempted to keep his footing as he raced along the terrain, but his foot soon got caught in a small ditch, causing him to fall into a larger pile of leaves. Gasping from the pain building in his ankle, George hobbled out of the pile as quietly as possible, before positioning his body within a dead tree in an attempt to hide himself. George's heart was racing, and he placed a hand over his mouth in an attempt to quiet his heavy breathing. Out in the woods, he could hear the Marcorx flapping their wings, making shrill noises as their means of communication. Through a hole in the tree, George could see the beasts making their way past the pile of leaves he’d fallen into. The Marcorx angled their faces upwards, as if sniffing the air. 

<Oh George> The voice in his head whispered again, louder than before.

 <You can’t hide from us forever> The Marcorx lunged at a nearby tree, ripping into it, before stopping. <We know you’re here somewhere> 

‘They’re going to destroy everything  until they find mine.’ George thought. The Marcorx confirmed his suspicions, approaching another dead tree and ripping it apart. <There's only one place you could be>

The Marcorx approached his tree slowly, making those noises once again. Realization dawned on George: He wasn’t making it out of these woods alive. There was nothing he could do now. Closing his eyes, he braced himself for the end

<One>

‘At least Tommy and Tubbo are safe.’

<Two>

The beasts readied themselves to attack.

“THREE!” 

A loud screeching noise filled the air. 

+++

Wilbur’s mind began working in overdrive, attempting to formulate a plan to save the human as he and the children began following their friend. “Wilbur,” Tommy yelled, running alongside him. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”

“I’m working on it!” He replied, pulling his sonic screwdriver out of his pocket and placing it between his teeth.” He began pressing the buttons on the silver box, repeatedly slapping the device in an attempt to get it to work. Ahead of them, George ducked down, before sprinting off of the path and into the woods. 

“Wilbur, what do we do?” Tubbo yelled, stopping as the Marcorx dove into the treeline. 

“Like I said,” He muttered through his teeth, “Working on it!” “Well work on it faster!” Wilbur grabbed the sonic screwdriver from his mouth and began scanning it against the silver device. It made a ringing noise, before Wilbur placed it back into his pocket. He pressed several buttons, attempting to get the device to work, before slapping it several times, stopping only when a soft ping was emitted. 

“Now we’re in business!” He exclaimed. The three of them ran into the woods, attempting to find a trace of their friends' location. Silence filled the air, as they strained their ears, attempting to hear any sounds indicating which way George had gone. 

Up ahead, the sound of something heavy falling to the ground broke silence filling the air. Pressing a finger to his lips, Wilbur grabbed the two boys and indicated towards a clearing slightly to the left of them. The three quietly made their way forward. 

Another heavy object  was heard smashing to the floor. Wilbur and the boys scrambled, ducking behind a fallen log and poking their heads up. The Marcorx were closing in on a tree stump, where Wilbur could only assume George was hiding. 

<One> The Marcorx screeched. Wilbur began to stand up. 

<Two> He pulled out his sonic screwdriver and pressed it against the device. 

“THREE!” He yelled, and pressed the button on the sonic screwdriver. A sharp ringing noise, not unlike the one he’d used the previous night to ward the Marcorx off, was emitted, sending the beasts screaming to the floor as they shifted in and out of their monster form. “Tommy, Tubbo, go!” The boys jumped forward and sprinted down the hill, pulling their knives out of their pockets. As they reached the first monster, they stabbed the beast repeatedly, black blood splattering across their bodies. The half human half Marcorx attempted to get up, but it's constant shifting made it difficult to move, allowing the boys to land several key blows. After several moments, the Marcorx let out a groan, before growing still, its body returning to its original form. 

The sound of crunching leaves alerted the boys to movement, and they jumped up, prepared for a fight. They were met with the sight of George emerging from the tree, hands covering his ears. “George!” They yelled, running over to him and wrapping their arms around him. From behind them, the ringing noise quieted down, and Wilbur made his way down the hill, approaching the final Marcorx, who laid still, glitching ever so slightly.

“I’ll make you a deal.” Wilbur exclaimed, reaching the beast. “I’ll let you go right now. I’ll let you live a long and violent life, scouring the universe for your next meal, on the condition that you never lay a finger on my friend again. Now,” He leaned his head over the Marcorx face, “Do we have a deal?”

With a screech, the Marcorx lunged forward, its jaw open. George and the boys flinched, but Wilbur just turned the dial on the box to raise the volume of the ringing. He stepped towards the boys. “Tommy, can I have your knife?” Tommy handed the knife to him, and Wilbur turned back to the beast. George raised his hands to cover the boys’ eyes as he plunged the knife into the Marcorxs face. After several swings, the alien was dead. 

Wilbur turned back to the boys and turned the box off. The group stared in silence for a few seconds. “Well,” he began, “Time for lunch. I’m starved.”

[chocoships]

Nightmarish dream

Chase is aware that he’s dreaming. 

He remembers going to bed, spending a few hours aimlessly scrolling through various apps on his phone while his tired eyes took almost none of the endless stream of information offered to him. There wasn’t any anxiety or fear as his eyes finally slipped shut and he let himself be taken away into the comfortable embrace of sleep, but as his eyes suddenly shoot back open with an acute lucidity, a deep feeling of unease already seize him. 

Chase’s gaze nervously darts from side to side as he tries to take in his surrounding. This isn’t what he’s used to. Instead of a dark expanse of nothing, Chase finds himself to be in some sort of... coffee shop? At least it’s the best guess he can make as to what the warped space around him is supposed to be. There is an air of familiarity to the chairs and tables neatly put away, to the unintelligible signs hanging above the empty service counter, but everything looks just a degree too off for him to fully recognize the place he’s supposed to be in. Just standing there feels wrong, it’s lifeless. He doesn’t know why he’s here, how he even got to this place, but as memories slowly slips back into places, fill in the blanks in his mind, he remembers now… And he knows what is about to happen next. 

He remembers the series of strange encounters he started having in his dreams, of the entity that infest his mind every nights, of Its… strange obsession with him. He has no idea what he could have ever possibly done to attract Its attention but it’s too late for him to wonder about the cause of it all. Chase silently curse himself for falling asleep so nonchalantly, but how could he have known? With each morning, or abrupt awakening, Chase forgets. He always does. The memory of his dreaming self simply slips away, and the gaps it leave behind trap him further into this vicious cycle. Dooming him to unknowingly commit the same error every night and finding himself yet again at the mercy of whatever being haunts his nightmares.

He recall  breaking down at the very beginning of it all, desperately asking It why he could never remember in his waking hours. The entity, which eventually named Itself Anti, simply answered him with; It is in the nature of dreams to be forgotten.The answer had been strange enough by itself, but Its following promise to change that unfortunate truth left Chase slightly more disturbed for the rest of the night. He didn’t want to learn what that promise could mean anytime soon.

 The current scene Chase finds himself in is a little odd though. As far as he can remember, his “meetings” with Anti have always happened in a mostly empty void. He doesn’t know whether to feel relief or dread at the change.

Eventually his attention is brought to the thing in front of him, to Anti patiently sitting on the other side of the small table Chase is currently seated at. He didn’t even notice he was sitting down until this moment... As if on reflex, Chase immediately avert his gaze from It. His head faces downward as he keep his eyes fixed on the table instead of looking directly at Anti.

He can’t bear to look at it.

It’s not inherently monstrous, in fact It probably could pass for a normal person at first glance, but simply looking at It for longer than a fleeting second is enough to shatter any illusion of normalcy It tries to put up. The more you look, the harder it is to see past all the details that aren’t quite right. Eventually, you’ll end up wondering how you could ever have mistaken this Thing for another human being. The wrongness Its presence alone exude is simply too strong to ignore.

And the worse thing of all is that It’s wearing his face.

It look like someone took Chase’s skin and then draped it over a barely human shape. It doesn’t fit, nothing could ever be done to make it look natural or seamless. The way It moves or simply is cannot be hidden under the mere layer of stolen flesh It wears.

The air feels tense, thick with dread. Each inhale and exhale takes more effort than the last, it  almost feels as if it started solidifying in his lungs. Like it shifted from gas to liquid without him noticing, and as far as Chase is aware maybe it did. It wouldn’t be too much of a stretch considering his situation. Dreams are weird like that after all, right? But the pressure weighing down on him from every direction feels so real and he’s trying with everything he has to not outwardly show any of his growing discomfort. But with Anti’s gaze directly fixed on him, never once leaving his hunched over frame, finding the strength to not squirm under Its intense scrutiny is a much harder task. It feels like something is crawling under his skin wherever Its eyes land upon him, like It’s trying to find its way into the deepest part of him.  

Chase is eventually brought out of his spiraling thoughts as the wood grain of the table he’s staring at starts moving, dancing, crawling, in front of his eyes. The sharp yelp that escape his throat at the sight cannot be held back. 

Right. This is a dream. One that Chase isn’t in control of.

 A dull ache starts forming at the front of his skull as he keep his gaze fixed on the ever shifting shape trapped in the glossy surface of the wood. No words are spoken, but a clear choice seem to be offered to Chase: either look up and face the captor of his dreams or keep his head down and let the pain grow. The ache slowly climb in intensity as Chase weight both of his options. A decision is eventually made, and it’s with a whimper stuck in the back of his throat that Chase straighten up and slowly lift up his head.

He’s shaking as he finally meet eyes with Anti. As the man return Its gaze, the thing’s stolen visage shift from an expressionless mask to a twitchy facsimile of a smile. There are far too many teeth crammed into Its mouth, far more than what should be physically possible. The sight alone send a cold shiver down Chase’s back.

“do you like it?” Anti’s voice reverberate through the space, and yet Its lips do not once move. There is an eagerness to the question, perhaps even hope, but for what? Chase doesn’t know. 

He doesn’t know if he’ll ever get used to hearing the being’s voice. Like Its appearance, it seems similar enough to his own at first but an undeniable layer of wrongness hides right beneath. As if Its voice itself was afflicted with rot and decay, inevitably tainting it whole with a deep feeling of unease. If Chase’s voice was a melody, then Anti’s would be a cacophony of dissonance.

“What?” Chase’s voice is barely above a whisper, meek and confused. He watches as It vaguely gestures around Itself and him, Its movements jerky and stiff.  

“Our surroundings… From what I’ve seen, most humans seems to considers those places to be good spots for dates. I won’t pretend like I fully understand why. The supposed romantic charm of it is lost to me, but I thought you’d appreciate it” Anti’s head cock to the side, Its dark blank eyes never once blinking or leaving Chase as It spoke. 

“So, as I said before; do you like it?”

Chase stays motionless as Anti speaks, completely stunned. Well, until his chest shakes with a faint laugh, it’s more nervous than anything but Chase is at a point where he’ll latch onto any emotions that isn’t fear like a lifeline. 

“I mean… It’s better than the previous empty void for sure. It’s, uhm- it’s alright. This is kinda impressing, if I’m being honest...”

At the half hearted praise, Anti seems to glow with pride. Its whole demeanor perks up, but Its excitement seem to also cause Its disguise to slip ever so slightly. In a matter of seconds, multiple eyes blink open across Its body, breaking skin as they do so. Its smile stretches further and further until the flesh of Its cheeks rip apart, showing even more crooked teeth than before. Anti leans forward, placing his elbows on the small table as he rest his chin in the palm of his hands, more limbs soon following suit.

Chase watches, frozen with terror, the horrible display of body horror happening in front of him. He cannot look away from it no matter how much he tries to will his eyes to move or even simply blink. Panic surges through his body as he soon discovers he can’t move at all. He desperately tries to get up from his seat, to stand up and run, but his body feels like each joints has been locked into places. The only thing he can do is trembles as the phantom sensation of countless of hands starts grasping at him, at least he hope it is. Chase cannot look down to see if what he’s feeling is real or not.

The only thing he can see is the terrifying beast sitting across him, admiring him with either yearning or hunger in Its eyes.

“I’m glad my efforts paid in the end, maybe next time I should try to recreate your home” It sigh, yet Its chest never moves to even attempt to give the illusion of breathing. Its voice sounds dreamy as It continues on.

“For now though, let’s just enjoy our time together. I still have a lot to show you tonight” 

Chase whimper when a cold elongated hand take hold of his. It’ll be long before this nightmare end.

#eldritch au #antiaverage #I know there isn't much shipping but stuff gotta start somewhere #I hope it's good enough tho #choco's writing

[mattbrothersscriptwriter]

My Top 20 Films of 2019 - Part Two

I don’t think I’ve had a year where my top ten jostled and shifted as much as this one did - these really are the best of the best and my personal favourites of 2019.

10. Toy Story 4

I think we can all agree that Toy Story 3 was a pretty much perfect conclusion to a perfect trilogy right? About as close as is likely to get, I’m sure. I shared the same trepidation when part four was announced, especially after some underwhelming sequels like Finding Dory and Cars 3 (though I do have a lot of time for Monsters University and Incredibles 2). So maybe it’s because the odds were so stacked against this being good but I thought it was wonderful. A truly existential nightmare of an epilogue that does away with Andy (and mostly kids altogether) to focus on the dreams and desires of the toys themselves - separate from their ‘duties’ as playthings to biological Gods. What is their purpose in life without an owner? Can they be their own person and carve their own path? In the case of breakout new character Forky (Tony Hale), what IS life? Big big questions for a cash grab kids films huh?

The animation is somehow yet another huge leap forward (that opening rainstorm!), Bo Peep’s return is excellently pitched and the series tradition of being unnervingly horrifying is back as well thanks to those creepy ventriloquist dolls! Keanu Reeves continues his ‘Keanuassaince‘ as the hilarious Duke Caboom and this time, hopefully, the ending at least feels finite. This series means so much to me: I think the first movie is possibly the tightest, most perfect script ever written, the third is one of my favourites of the decade and growing up with the franchise (I was 9 when the first came out, 13 for part two, 24 for part three and now 32 for this one), these characters are like old friends so of course it was great to see them again. All this film had to do was be good enough to justify its existence and while there are certainly those out there that don’t believe this one managed it, I think the fact that it went as far as it did showed that Pixar are still capable of pushing boundaries and exploring infinity and beyond when they really put their minds to it.

9. The Nightingale

Hoo boy. Already controversial with talk of mass walkouts (I witnessed a few when this screened at Sundance London), it’s not hard to see why but easy to understand. Jennifer Kent (The Babadook) is a truly fearless filmmaker following up her acclaimed suburban horror movie come grief allegory with a period revenge tale set in the Tasmanian wilderness during British colonial rule in the early 1800s. It’s rare to see the British depicted with the monstrous brutality for which they were known in the distant colonies and this unflinching drama sorely needed an Australian voice behind the camera to do it justice.

The film is front loaded with some genuinely upsetting, nasty scenes of cruel violence but its uncensored brutality and the almost casual nature of its depiction is entirely the point - this was normalised behaviour over there and by treating it so matter of factly, it doesn’t slip into gratuitous ‘movie violence’. It is what it is. And what it is is hard to watch. If anything, as Kent has often stated, it’s still toned down from the actual atrocities that occurred so it’s a delicate balance that I think Kent more than understands. Quoting from an excellent Vanity Fair interview she did about how she directs, Kent said “I think audiences have become very anaesthetised to violence on screen and it’s something I find disturbing... People say ‘these scenes are so shocking and disturbing’. Of course they are. We need to feel that. When we become so removed from violence on screen, this is a very irresponsible thing. So I wanted to put us right within the frame with that person experiencing the loss of everything they hold dear”. 

Aisling Franciosi is next level here as a woman who has her whole life torn from her, leaving her as nothing but a raging husk out for vengeance. It would be so easy to fall into odd couple tropes once she teams up with reluctant native tracker Billy (an equally impressive newcomer, Baykali Ganambarr) but the film continues to stay true to the harsh racism of the era, unafraid to depict our heroine - our point of sympathy - as horrendously racist towards her own ally. Their partnership is not easily solidified but that makes it all the stronger when they star to trust each other. Sam Claflin is also career best here, weaponizing his usual charm into dangerous menace and even after cementing himself as the year’s most evil villain, he can still draw out the humanity in such a broken and corrupt man.

Gorgeously shot in the Academy ratio, the forest landscape here is oppressive and claustrophobic. Kent also steps back into her horror roots with some mesmerising, skin crawling dream scenes that amplify the woozy nightmarish tone and overbearing sense of dread. Once seen, never forgotten, this is not going to be everyone’s cup of tea (and that’s fine) but when cinema can affect you on such a visceral level and be this powerful, reflective and honest about our own past, it’s hard to ignore. Stunning.

8. The Irishman

Aka Martin Scorsese’s magnum opus, I did manage to see this one in a cinema before the Netflix drop and absolutely loved it. I’ve watched 85 minute long movies that felt longer than this - Marty’s mastery of pace, energy and knowing when to let things play out in agonising detail is second to none. This epic tale of  the life of Frank Sheeran (Robert De Niro) really is the cinematic equivalent of having your cake and eating it too, allowing Scorsese to run through a greatest hits victory lap of mobster set pieces, alpha male arguments, a decades spanning life story and one (last?) truly great Joe Pesci performance before simply letting the story... continue... to a natural, depressing and tragic ending, reflecting the emptiness of a life built on violence and crime.

For a film this long, it’s impressive how much the smallest details make the biggest impacts. A stammering phone call from a man emotionally incapable of offering any sort of condolence. The cold refusal of forgiveness from a once loving daughter. A simple mirroring of a bowl of cereal or a door left slightly ajar. These are the parts of life that haunt us all and it’s what we notice the most in a deliberately lengthy biopic that shows how much these things matter when everything else is said and done. The violence explodes in sudden, sharp bursts, often capping off unbearably tense sequences filled with the everyday (a car ride, a conversation about fish, ice cream...) and this contrast between the whizz bang of classic Scorsese and the contemplative nature of Silence era Scorsese is what makes this film feel like such an accomplishment. De Niro is FINALLY back but it’s the memorably against type role for Pesci and an invigorated Al Pacino who steals this one, along with a roll call of fantastic cameos, with perhaps the most screentime given to the wonderfully petty Stephen Graham as Tony Pro, not to mention Anna Paquin’s near silent performance which says more than possibly anyone else. 

Yes, the CG de-aging is misguided at best, distracting at worst (I never really knew how old anyone was meant to be at any given time... which is kinda a problem) but like how you get used to it really quickly when it’s used well, here I kinda got past it being bad in an equally fast amount of time and just went with it. Would it have been a different beast had they cast younger actors to play them in the past? Undoubtedly. But if this gives us over three hours of Hollywood’s finest giving it their all for the last real time together, then that’s a compromise I can live with.

7. The Last Black Man in San Francisco

Wow. I was in love with this film from the moving first trailer but then the film itself surpassed all expectations. This is a true indie film success story, with lead actor Jimmie Fails developing the idea with director Joe Talbot for years before Kickstarting a proof of concept and eventually getting into Sundance with short film American Paradise, which led to the backing of this debut feature through Plan B and A24. The deeply personal and poetic drama follows a fictionalised version of Jimmie, trying to buy back an old Victorian town house he claims was built by his grandfather, in an act of rebellion against the increasingly gentrified San Francisco that both he and director Talbot call home.

The film is many things - a story of male friendship, of solidarity within our community, of how our cities can change right from underneath us - it moves to the beat of it’s own drum, with painterly cinematography full of gorgeous autumnal colours and my favourite score of the year from Emile Mosseri. The performances, mostly by newcomers or locals outside of brilliant turns from Jonathan Majors, Danny Glover and Thora Birch, are wonderful and the whole thing is such a beautiful love letter to the city that it makes you ache for a strong sense of place in your own home, even if your relationship with it is fractured or strained. As Jimmie says, “you’re not allowed to hate it unless you love it”.

For me, last year’s Blindspotting (my favourite film of the year) tackled gentrification within California more succinctly but this much more lyrical piece of work ebbs and flows through a number of themes like identity, family, memory and time. It’s a big film living inside a small, personal one and it is not to be overlooked.

6. Little Women

I had neither read the book nor seen any prior adaptation of Louisa May Alcott’s 1868 novel so to me, this is by default the definitive telling of this story. If from what I hear, the non linear structure is Greta Gerwig’s addition, then it’s a total slam dunk. It works so well in breaking up the narrative and by jumping from past to present, her screenplay highlights certain moments and decisions with a palpable sense of irony, emotional weight or knowing wink. Getting to see a statement made with sincere conviction and then paid off within seconds, can be both a joy and a surefire recipe for tears. Whether it’s the devastating contrast between scenes centred around Beth’s illness or the juxtaposition of character’s attitudes to one another, it’s a massive triumph. Watching Amy angrily tell Laurie how she’s been in love with him all her life and then cutting back to her childishly making a plaster cast of her foot for him (’to remind him how small her feet are’) is so funny. 

Gerwig and her impeccable cast bring an electric energy to the period setting, capturing the big, messy realities of family life with a mix of overwhelming cross-chatter and the smallest of intimate gestures. It’s a testament to the film that every sister feels fully serviced and represented, from Beth’s quiet strength to Amy’s unforgivable sibling rivalry. Chris Cooper’s turn as a stoic man suffering almost imperceptible grief is a personal heartbreaking favourite. 

The book’s (I’m assuming) most sweeping romantic statements are wonderfully delivered, full of urgent passion and relatable heartache, from Marmie’s (Laura Dern) “I’m angry nearly every day of my life” moment to Jo’s (Saoirse Ronan) painful defiance of feminine attributes not being enough to cure her loneliness. The sheer amount of heart and warmth in this is just remarkable and I can easily see it being a film I return to again and again.

5. Booksmart

2019 has been a banner year for female directors, making their exclusion from some of the early awards conversations all the more damning. From this list alone, we have Lulu Wang, Jennifer Kent and Greta Gerwig. Not to mention Lorene Scafaria (Hustlers), Melina Matsoukas (Queen & Slim), Jocelyn DeBoer & Dawn Luebbe (Greener Grass), Sophie Hyde (Animals) and Rose Glass (Saint Maud - watch out for THIS one in 2020, it’s brilliant). Perhaps the most natural transition from in front of to behind the camera has been made by Olivia Wilde, who has created a borderline perfect teen comedy that can make you laugh till you cry, cry till you laugh and everything in-between.

Subverting the (usually male focused) ‘one last party before college’ tropes that fuel the likes of Superbad and it’s many inferior imitators, Booksmart follows two overachievers who, rather than go on a coming of age journey to get some booze or get laid, simply want to indulge in an insane night of teenage freedom after realising that all of the ‘cool kids’ who they assumed were dropouts, also managed to get a place in all of the big universities. It’s a subtly clever remix of an old favourite from the get go but the committed performances from Kaitlyn Dever and Beanie Feldstein put you firmly in their shoes for the whole ride. 

It’s a genuine blast, with big laughs and a bigger heart, portraying a supportive female friendship that doesn’t rely on hokey contrivances to tear them apart, meaning that when certain repressed feelings do come to the surface, the fallout is heartbreaking. As I stated in a twitter rave after first seeing it back in May, every single character, no matter how much they might appear to be simply representing a stock role or genre trope, gets their moment to be humanised. This is an impeccably cast ensemble of young unknowns who constantly surprise and the script is a marvel - a watertight structure without a beat out of place, callbacks and payoffs to throwaway gags circle back to be hugely important and most of all, the approach taken to sexuality and representation feels so natural. I really think it is destined to be looked back on and represent 2019 the way Heathers does ‘88, Clueless ‘95 or Easy A 2010. A new high benchmark for crowd pleasing, indie comedy - teen or otherwise.

4. Ad Astra

Brad Pitt is one of my favourite actors and one who, despite still being a huge A-lister even after 30 years in the game, never seems to get enough credit for the choices he makes, the movies he stars in and also the range of stories he helps produce through his company, Plan B. 2019 was something of a comeback year for Pitt as an actor with the insanely measured and controlled lead performance seen here in Ad Astra and the more charismatic and chaotic supporting role in Once Upon a Time... in Hollywood.

I love space movies, especially those that are more about broken people blasting themselves into the unknown to search for answers within themselves... which manages to sum up a lot of recent output in this weirdly specific sub-genre. First Man was a devastating look at grief characterised by a man who would rather go to a desolate rock than have to confront what he lost, all while being packaged as a heroic biopic with a stunning score. Gravity and The Martian both find their protagonists forced to rely on their own cunning and ingenuity to survive and Interstellar looked at the lengths we go to for those we love left behind. Smaller, arty character studies like High Life or Moon are also astounding. All of this is to say that Ad Astra takes these concepts and runs with them, challenging Pitt to cross the solar system to talk some sense into his long thought dead father (Tommy Lee Jones). But within all the ‘sad dad’ stuff, there’s another film in here just daring you to try and second guess it - one that kicks things off with a terrifying free fall from space, gives us a Mad Max style buggy chase on the moon and sidesteps into horror for one particular set-piece involving a rabid baboon in zero G! It manages to feel so completely nuts, so episodic in structure, that I understand why a lot of people were turned off - feeling that the overall film was too scattershot to land the drama or too pondering to have any fun with. I get the criticisms but for me, both elements worked in tandem, propelling Pitt on this (assumed) one way journey at a crazy pace whilst sitting back and languishing in the ‘bigger themes’ more associated with a Malik or Kubrick film. Something that Pitt can sell me on in his sleep by this point.

I loved the visuals from cinematographer Hoyte van Hoytema (Interstellar), loved the imagination and flair of the script from director James Gray and Ethan Gross and loved the score by Max Richter (with Lorne Balfe and Nils Frahm) but most of all, loved Pitt, proving that sometimes a lot less, is a lot more. The sting of hearing the one thing he surely knew (but hoped he wouldn’t) be destined to hear from his absent father, acted almost entirely in his eyes during a third act confrontation, summed up the movie’s brilliance for me - so much so that I can forgive some of the more outlandish ‘Mr Hyde’ moments of this thing’s alter ego... like, say, riding a piece of damaged hull like a surfboard through a meteor debris field! 

3. Avengers: Endgame

It’s no secret that I think Marvel, the MCU in particular, have been going from strength to strength in recent years, slowly but surely taking bigger risks with filmmakers (the bonkers Taika Waititi, the indie darlings of Ryan Coogler, Cate Shortland and Chloe Zhao) whilst also carefully crafting an entertaining, interconnected universe of characters and stories. But what is the point of building up any movie ‘universe’ if you’re not going to pay it off and Endgame is perhaps the strongest conclusion to eleven years of movie sequels that fans could have possibly hoped for.

Going into this thing, the hype was off the charts (and for good reason, with it now being the highest grossing film of all time) but I remember souring on the first entry of this two-parter, Infinity War, during the time between initial release and Endgame’s premiere. That film had a game-changing climax, killing off half the heroes (and indeed the universe’s population) and letting the credits role on the villain having achieved his ultimate goal. It was daring, especially for a mammoth summer blockbuster but obviously, we all knew the deaths would never be permanent, especially with so many already-announced sequels for now ‘dusted’ characters. However, it wasn’t just the feeling that everything would inevitably be alright in the end. For me, the characters themselves felt hugely under-serviced, with arguably the franchise’s main goody two shoes Captain America being little more than a beardy bloke who showed up to fight a little bit. Basically what I’m getting at is that I felt Endgame, perhaps emboldened by the giant runtime, managed to not only address these character slights but ALSO managed to deliver the most action packed, comic booky, ‘bashing your toys together’ final fight as well.

It’s a film of three parts, each pretty much broken up into one hour sections. There’s the genuinely new and interesting initial section following our heroes dealing with the fact that they lost... and it stuck. Thor angrily kills Thanos within the first fifteen minutes but it’s a meaningless action by this point - empty revenge. Cutting to five years later, we get to see how defeat has affected them, for better or worse, trying to come to terms with grief and acceptance. Cap tries to help the everyman, Black Widow is out leading an intergalactic mop up squad and Thor is wallowing in a depressive black hole. It’s a shocking and vibrantly compelling deconstruction of the whole superhero thing and it gives the actors some real meat to chew on, especially Robert Downy Jr here who goes from being utterly broken to fighting within himself to do the right thing despite now having a daughter he doesn’t want to lose too. Part two is the trip down memory lane, fan service-y time heist which is possibly the most fun section of any of these movies, paying tribute to the franchise’s past whilst teetering on a knife’s edge trying to pull off a genuine ‘mission impossible’. And then it explodes into the extended finale which pays everyone off, demonstrates some brilliantly imaginative action and sticks the landing better than it had any right to. In a year which saw the ending of a handful of massive geek properties, from Game of Thrones to Star Wars, it’s a miracle even one of them got it right at all. That Endgame managed to get it SO right is an extraordinary accomplishment and if anything, I think Marvel may have shot themselves in the foot as it’s hard to imagine anything they can give us in the future having the intense emotional weight and momentum of this huge finale.

2. Knives Out

Rian Johnson has been having a ball leaping into genre sandpits and stirring shit up, from his teen spin on noir in Brick to his quirky con man caper with The Brothers Bloom, his time travel thriller Looper and even his approach to the Star Wars mythos in The Last Jedi. Turning his attention to the relatively dead ‘whodunnit’ genre, Knives Out is a perfect example of how to celebrate everything that excites you about a genre whilst weaponizing it’s tropes against your audience’s baggage and preconceptions.

An impeccable cast have the time of their lives here, revelling in playing self obsessed narcissists who scramble to punt the blame around when the family’s patriarch, a successful crime novelist (Christopher Plummer), winds up dead. Of course there’s something fishy going on so Daniel Craig’s brilliantly dry southern detective Benoit Blanc is called in to investigate.There are plenty of standouts here, from Don Johnson’s ignorant alpha wannabe Richard to Michael Shannon’s ferocious eldest son Walt to Chris Evan’s sweater wearing jock Ransom, full of unchecked, white privilege swagger. But the surprise was the wholly sympathetic, meek, vomit prone Marta, played brilliantly by Ana de Armas, cast against her usual type of sultry bombshell (Knock Knock, Blade Runner 2049), to spearhead the biggest shake up of the genre conventions. To go into more detail would begin to tread into spoiler territory but by flipping the audience’s engagement with the detective, we’re suddenly on the receiving end of the scrutiny and the tension derived from this switcheroo is genius and opens up the second act of the story immensely.

The whole thing is so lovingly crafted and the script is one of the tightest I’ve seen in years. The amount of setup and payoff here is staggering and never not hugely satisfying, especially as it heads into it’s final stretch. It really gives you some hope that you could have such a dense, plotty, character driven idea for a story and that it could survive the transition from page to screen intact and for the finished product to work as well as it does. I really hope Johnson returns to tell another Benoit Blanc mystery and judging by the roaring box office success (currently over $200 million worldwide for a non IP original), I certainly believe he will.

1. Eighth Grade

My film of the year is another example of the power of cinema to put us in other people’s shoes and to discover the traits, fears, joys and insecurities that we all share irregardless. It may shock you to learn this but I have never been a 13 year old teenage girl trying to get by in the modern world of social media peer pressure and ‘influencer’ culture whilst crippled with personal anxiety. My school days almost literally could not have looked more different than this (less Instagram, more POGs) and yet, this is a film about struggling with oneself, with loneliness, with wanting more but not knowing how to get it without changing yourself and the careless way we treat those with our best interests at heart in our selfish attempt to impress peers and fit in. That is understandable. That is universal. And as I’m sure I’ve said a bunch of times in this list, movies that present the most specific worldview whilst tapping into universal themes are the ones that inevitably resonate the most.

Youtuber and comedian Bo Burnham has crafted an impeccable debut feature, somehow portraying a generation of teens at least a couple of generations below his own, with such laser focused insight and intimate detail. It’s no accident that this film has often been called a sort of social-horror, with cringe levels off the charts and recognisable trappings of anxiety and depression in every frame. The film’s style services this feeling at every turn, from it’s long takes and nauseous handheld camerawork to the sensory overload in it’s score (take a bow Anna Meredith) and the naturalistic performances from all involved. Burnham struck gold when he found Elsie Fisher, delivering the most painful and effortlessly real portrayal of a tweenager in crisis as Kayla. The way she glances around skittishly, the way she is completely lost in her phone, the way she talks, even the way she breathes all feeds into the illusion - the film is oftentimes less a studio style teen comedy and more a fly on the wall documentary. 

This is a film that could have coasted on being a distant, social media based cousin to more standard fare like Sex Drive or Superbad or even Easy A but it goes much deeper, unafraid to let you lower your guard and suddenly hit you with the most terrifying scene of casually attempted sexual aggression or let you watch this pure, kindhearted girl falter and question herself in ways she shouldn’t even have to worry about. And at it’s core, there is another beautiful father/daughter relationship, with Josh Hamilton stuck on the outside looking in, desperate to help Kayla with every fibre of his being but knowing there are certain things she has to figure out for herself. It absolutely had me and their scene around a backyard campfire is one of the year’s most touching.

This is a truly remarkable film that I think everyone should seek out but I’m especially excited for all the actual teenage girls who will get to watch this and feel seen. This isn’t about the popular kid, it isn’t about the dork who hangs out with his or her own band of misfits. This is about the true loner, that person trying everything to get noticed and still ending up invisible, that person trying to connect through the most disconnected means there is - the internet - and everything that comes with it. Learning that the version of yourself you ‘portray’ on a Youtube channel may act like they have all the answers but if you’re kidding yourself then how do you grow? 

When I saw this in the cinema, I watched a mother take her seat with her two daughters, aged probably at around nine and twelve. Possibly a touch young for this, I thought, and I admit I cringed a bit on their behalf during some very adult trailers but in the end, I’m glad their mum decided they were mature enough to see this because a) they had a total blast and b) life simply IS R rated for the most part, especially during our school years, and those girls being able to see someone like Kayla have her story told on the big screen felt like a huge win. I honestly can’t wait to see what Burnham or Fisher decide to do next. 2019 has absolutely been their year... and it’s been a hell of a year.

#top 20 #films of the year #films of 2019 #10-1 #toy story 4 #the nightingale #the irishman #the last black man in san francisco #little women #booksmart #ad astra #avengers endgame #knives out #eighth grade

[sideshowyelling]

Penance

@folkloric-love

A villager of The Hamlet blames The Abomination for a missing person. The Flagellant defends him.

Even in The Hamlet the quiet times were few and far between.

The tavern, and all of it’s seedy connecting rooms, tended to be tad bit too overwhelming for The Abomination to take most days. The very first time he had wandered in after his initial arrival in town, it had felt as though all eyes were on him the moment he walked in. It wasn’t as if he were even the strangest looking person there between all of the travelers and hired mercs that could be found trying to relax and decompress after various harrowing journeys in such a desolate land. He’d managed to convince himself that they weren’t all staring at him like they knew just what kind of a freak he was, and he’d had a few surprisingly decent drinks that night, but in the end he had come to terms with the fact that the tavern just wasn’t the place for him.

The Abomination was truly unwanted in the town center though. He’d pass through from time to time, often seeking news about when he would next be expected to venture out and do the job he was being paid to do, terrible as it may have been. It had taken a while for the townsfolk to learn exactly who he was, and to pass the rumors of what beast lay trapped just beneath the surface around town to one another. The more whispers and muttering The Abomination heard around him though, the more foul looks and sneers he noticed coming his way. He’d learned long ago to keep his head low, look to the ground, and don’t give anyone the chance to do gods knows what to him.

It would have been nice to be able to say it was the tactic that had kept him alive all these years, but he knew well that when it came down to it that it was the very curse that had him shunned that protected him from the most dangerous of the civilized world, in the very most gruesome ways.

No, the town center was not for him, and neither was the Sanitarium, even though he had often figured that he may be able to engage in some interesting conversations there, discussions of science and the alchemical treatments that could aid in curing the ill. He’d ventured in once, out of necessity more than anything else, and the entire experience had left him absolutely shaken with nightmarish flashes of his past coming back to haunt him once more.

Though… it wasn’t an entire loss. His time in the Sanitarium was what had first brought him into the sanctity of the town’s Abbey. Perhaps the only quiet place in town, there were very few who would dare disturb the relative peace that could be found within it’s walls.

And so The Abomination had found himself, once more, at a point in his life when most of his free time was spent hiding away in a church and seeking what refuge he could. He’d only returned to town hours ago, exhausted and still damp from such a dreadful traipse through The Cove. Though his traveling companions had survived the endeavor, the journey had been harrowing and now that they had returned safely all he desired was a night’s rest somewhere dry and indoors. They all needed time to wipe the horrors from their mind, and ease the stress that had been building up for days now, and they all did so in their own ways.

Despite the fact that the Tavern and it’s pleasures tended to be a more popular choice for the resting adventures, the Abbey was never empty, and never completely silent. Vestals and Crusaders alike could be cloistered away muttering quiet prayers to themselves and pouring over verses they had long since learned by heart, and they tended not to look towards The Abomination as he passed, and for this he was quite thankful. He knew them well, and that to them he was nothing but a blight on their church. The few times they did lock eyes though, they had said nothing. The Abomination was silent as he said his own prayers, and though they knew not what he prayed for, he caused no trouble for them and so he was left to his own devices. Today he shuffles past without a word, and they seem to take no notice, their murmuring going disrupted. It’s a surprising comfort, really.

There are a few lingering souls using the Transept, and as The Abomination makes his way towards the frontmost pew, a strong stench of alcohol hits his nose, and as he looks for the source of it he finds a man knelt before one of the grand idols built in the room. There was a mostly empty bottle in one hand, and a damp handkerchief clenched tightly in the other, and the man was more so letting out choked sobs rather than effectively praying.

“Please… please- by the gods please bring her back to me.” He whispered, but in the quiet of the church it was all to easy to hear just what the man was muttering to himself, and The Abomination felt an uncomfortable chill run down his spine as he took his seat on a pew a short ways away from the man. “The vile monsters of this land have already taken so much from me- from all of us -I… She’s just a little girl! I can’t lose her too!”

There was an uneasy air that settled in the room over everyone who was attempting to seek answers through prayer, and as hard as The Abomination tried, he simply couldn’t tune the troubling words of The Villager out. He bit the inside of his cheek and stared down at the floor before him as he listened to The Villager snivel and cry, muffled only by his hand and the handkerchief he had pressed against his face. He thumped the bottle in his hand against the ground, and for a moment The Abomination was worried that it might just crack and shatter, spill what little of the bitter drink was left. Instead The Villager used it to push himself back and up, dragging his hand down his tear-stained face. He swayed where he stood, rubbing at his eyes before he let out a heavy sight and turned to leave, only to stop short when he saw The Abomination sitting only a few strides away.

“You...” The Villager muttered, the tail end of a growl lacing his words as he took a half step forward. Then, without another word he reeled the bottle that had been hanging loosely in his grasp back, and he hurled it at The Abomination.

Thankfully The Abomination wasn’t drunk, and with wide eyes he quickly jumped out of the way before the bottle could smash again him. It shattered against the back of the pew he had been sitting at only a moment before, and just like that all eyes were drawn to him at the sound of shattering glass. Everyone else in the room watched, The Vestal, The Crusader, and the few others who had wandered in seeking refuge. Nobody moved, nobody spoke, and The Abomination took a shaky breath as he held his hands up to show he meant no harm.

“Please, I’m sorry, I-” The Abomination said, unsure of what exactly he was apologizing for, but there was a look of rage on the man’s face that he hadn’t often seen in anyone, and The Abomination could only hope that his only weapon had just been broken over the back of his seat.

“Smithy said he saw a monster done took her….” The Villager slurred, gritting his teeth as he balled his fists once more, and he shuffled closer to The Abomination. The look in his eyes… The Abomination had seen this look before. He’d seen it in the eyes of his traveling companions as their minds broke under the stress as they delved deeper and deeper into each hellish crevice this land had to offer. The look of a man who had no desire but to hurt, to break others down until they felt the same pain he had. “Never seen a monster dare rear it’s ugly head here in town though. Aside from one that is...”

It didn’t take a terribly smart man to figure out exactly what was meant by that, and for an instant there was a chilling cold that ran through The Abomination’s veins. The monster’s blood, poison…

“I am not a monster...” The Abomination said, his voice strong and sure. He’d said this a thousand times to a thousand different people. “I’ve hurt no one here, and I’ve no desire to do so. I’m so sorry for your loss, but your anger is not with me it’s with whatever beast out there has taken your child...”

“They drag all of these… these mercenaries, they bring them in to protect us, and what happens? They let the damned monster in too! Tell us it’s gonna keep us safe, all’s gonna happen is we’re gonna get our throats slit in our broken homes after everything good’s been taken from us.” The Villager rambled, and as he stumbled forward, he took a wide, almost flailing swing, and The Abomination raised his hand to grab The Villager’s wrist, pushing against him to try and shove him back. By the gods he was exhausted, fatigue long since having taken hold of every limb, of every muscle that was keeping him upright, and he could feel his strength failing him. As the two of them struggled, The Villager pushed down against The Abomination, and with a grunt The Abomination was felled, dropping to a knee and holding his arms above himself to shield himself from whatever blows would surely come his way.

The chill that had run through his veins shifted, growing hotter and hotter with fear and rage at such mistreatment. He felt as though he were being ripped apart from the inside out, something dangerously close to breaking free as he simply held his arms above his head to shield himself as a heavy handed fist rained down strike after strike on him, and he knew his forearms would be covered in bruises the next day, if he survived the night that is. Unhindered attacks like this always had a terrible risk of being taken well beyond the attacker’s original intent…

Pain bloomed, his defense wavered, and shame flooded him because he knew that the Vestal and Crusader would simply stand by and continue to watch, let him take this beating for simply being who he was. For a brief moment he couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if- when -the beast within him truly came out. Would their fragile tolerance of him shatter? Would they too take the chance to try and cast him out once and for all?

Just as quickly as it all went down though, the blows ceased and with a grunt The Villager was yanked back and away from The Abomination, and with just a bit of hesitance The Abomination lifted his gaze to see what had halted such a furious assault.

“The penance hall is downstairs.”  

The Flagellant. A man dressed in rag that still managed to hold such a strange, commanding air about himself. Perhaps it was the acrid smell of blood that seemed to hang off of him at all times. Perhaps it was the light tint of it that stained his clothes, his skin. Maybe it was the loud, heavy thud of his flail hitting the ground as he let it hang loosely in his free hand, his other wrapped painfully tight around the man he’d found beating his fellow mercenary. Silence fell over the transept save for a few quiet gasps and the sound of shuffling feet as the others backed away, and The Abomination found himself at the feet of both The Flagellant and his attacker, looking between them with wild, almost glowing eyes.

“A man… who would protect a monster is no better than the monster himself...” The Villager slurred, quickly yanking his wrist away from The Flagellant, and he did so with ease to the point that he almost stumbled back as he did so. “Holy man such as yourself ought to know better..”

“And a man who seeks salvation and guidance such as yourself ought to know better than to come in here starting trouble.” The Flagellant said, his voice low, the barest hint of a growl tainting his words as he stepped closer to The Villager, effectively placing himself between him and The Abomination. “The Transept is a place of peace and solace, and yet here you stand attempting to dole out punishment that is not yours to give.”

The emotions that flashed across The Villager’s face could only be described as nothing short of volatile. Drunken rage mixed with absolute despair, with shame and desperation and confusion that such a prominent member of the Abbey would stand against him and guard such a terrible beast. “Neither is it your place to stop me!” He bellowed, stumbling forward towards The Flagellant until their chests bumped and they were nearly face to face. He raised his hands and gripped the tattered remains of what had once been a cloak tightly, yanking him closer until their faces were mere inches apart. “A man who protects monsters deserves nothing, perhaps only to be beaten in their place...”

There was a grin that spread across The Flagellant’s face in that moment, twisted crooked and long since broken, and behind him The Abomination could only watch in a mix of awe and terror as his protector dropped his only weapon and raised his arms instead. He would shield The Abomination from harm, and welcome it home instead.

“For him? I would take all you could give without hesitation, my friend.” The Flagellant said.

“No,” The Abomination finally called out, his voice hoarse and cracking. “Please stop, just leave us be...” He said, before The Flagellant held his hand up to silence him. His pleas would fall on deaf ears once more, just as they always had.

It truly did look as though The Villager wished to spew more vile words at the two of them, curse them for their stance and demand that The Flagellant stand down and let things be as they were, but there was a flash of concern in his eyes as he took in the sight of The Flagellant so ready and willing to suffer at the hands of a stranger for someone who the Abbey had at one point shunned entirely. The Flagellant, a beast in his own right, thrived in this hesitation.

“I’ve stood by this man in the darkest pits that the land has to offer, where the truly most vile beasts lie in wait. There are horrors down below that make men far stronger than yourself break into nothing more than empty shells of who they once were, who feast on the bones of those who fall at their hands and haunt the dreams of those who manage to escape and live another day. He’s a man who has traveled where even the light can no longer help you, and all that we have left is blood tying you to this world, and though I may not care for his tainted form and damned soul, we’ve fought side by side and truly lived. I know for a fact that you are wrong my friend.”

And The Flagellant reached forward with surprising speed, grabbing the front of The Villager’s shirt and bringing him all the closer, knocking their heads together in an aggressive way.

“He is but a horrid abomination in this transept, but I have learned in my time that simply because one is a monster does not mean that one is guilty.” The Flagellant snarled, his upper lip twitching back to show missing teeth. “And so I say once more, if you so feel the need to lash out, then turn your violence on me. His suffering shall be mine and it will be divine!”

There is a moment of tense silence that falls over the Abbey halls, punctuated only by heavy breaths coming from The Flagellant himself as he stares down The Villager who had dared to disturb the sanctity of this holy place he so often sought his own salvation in. His grip on the man’s shirt slowly eases before The Villager is let go entirely with a small shove, sending him stumbling backwards until he could right himself proper. There was fear in his eyes, perhaps of the possible retaliation that might await him if he so much as tried to face The Flagellant again, or simply of what a man as unhinged and entirely devoted to such an extreme ideal could do to him with little to no provocation. He looked like a wounded animal, hunkered down like he expected a beating of his own. Instead, The Flagellant simply turned and pointed back towards the entrance of the Abbey, and barked a single order that had The Villager scrambling away as fast as his feet could carry him in his state.

“Leave!”

The man left with the sound of heavy footsteps echoing behind him, growing more and more distance until the slam of a heavy wooden door could be heard, and all at once it was like a collective exhale had been released. The Vestal and The Crusader slowly made their way forwards once more, back to their seats in complete silence and perhaps shock, but The Abomination paid them no mind. His head was swimming and he could still feel his heart pounding in his chest, but the burn of toxic blood had begun to die down and it no longer felt as though he were about to be completely overtaken by a force well outside his control.

The pain in The Abomination’s arms began to flare up though, and he sat back for a moment to push his shackles up just a bit further and rub over the abused skin. His eyes were locked on The Flagellant as he turned back towards him, bending down to pick his flail up from off the floor, and he cleared his throat to get rid of the shakes as he pushed himself up onto his knees. The Abomination may not have ever expected The Flagellant of all people to be his one and only protector, but by the gods was he grateful. “You didn’t have to-...” He said, only for The Flagellant to cut him off before he could even begin to thank him for coming to his aid when nobody else would have.

“On your feet now, Abomination. I know you’ve done nothing to hurt the people of this town, but despite what I said, you and I both know you’re are far from innocent. You seek salvation from a curse brought on by your own hubris, yes? You do not belong up here with the truly holy folk. You belong down below, taking absolution by your own hand rather than waiting for prayers to be answered.” He said, stepping around The Abomination without a care to head back towards the stairs near the upper left corner of the Transept that lead down to the Penance hall. The heavy ends of his flail scraped across the ground as he went, making a truly wretched sound that sent chills down The Abomination’s spine.

“Follow me, and pay your toll in blood…”

#This had like 2% effort put into editing and checking for errors #So if there are errors #or if it sucks #that would be why #Darkest Dungeon #the abomination #The Flagellant #Abomination #Flagellant

[royalreef]

Words: 1,629 Warnings (HEAVY): Body horror, gore, death, torture, general heavy horror content.

Here it is... The drabble that I promised I would write for New Years’, but then I had to send my computer off, and I didn’t get it back until after 2020 was already here, so... Yeah! Not quite as detailed or long as I would like, but I’ve had much less time to work on it.

So, here. A late gift, from me to you, on some tasty lore hints about Miranda, the Merkingdom, and what the fuck these fish have been up to in the ocean. Enjoy!

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

[CLASSIFIED – 0.3]

Translated from Modified Irides-Abyssal to English by Deluge-Tongue, Model Tlk’resh, Unit 971004772. Property of the Vanderbilt Empire under Decree CX-K-076-2.

     “And did Princess Laudanda say why she thought it was imperative for this particular addition to be grafted now?”

     Beneath the shifting mass of half-remembered facial features, Miranda almost thought she saw a twitch of fear along the senior overseer’s fins. It could never be proven, whether it be their shifting features or the lack of memory of who it was – but she had a keen idea what it was that they were feeling.

     Changes this big always had to be approved by an immediate member of the royal family. While Laudanda might’ve ordered for the grafting, one royal or another had to bear witness and approve of it, as that was how the credentials worked. How they had to work. Amanda and Laudanda were probably both already watching other processes, back in the kingdom.

     For all that the family was, all five Vanderbilts, operating as the highest titles within the Merkingdom – it was expected as any noble line that they held no bond beyond their power. It was genuinely even expected of them to care little for each other, beyond as ways to get ahead in the world, and to not do so was often seen as weakness. Hence why Miranda and Bellanda had to hide most of their sibling bond when in the eyes of the sea. Otherwise it’d be sharpened and turned against them.

     Even familial love was taboo to royals.

     And that meant, though one princess would demand it, the others did not always have to follow through. Even impartially relaying this information could result in the senior overseer losing things they could not afford to lose.

     All the better reason, too. They had seen and done Miranda’s sins for her. They knew of the fates worse than death.

     “Your Royal Highness, she did not speak in detail of it. Only that our operations on the western front were getting too close to Hell’s proximity, and that a recent foray might prove difficult otherwise. I’m sure further documentation will come through.” The voice shifter turned the usual luting notes of the language into something harsher, warped noise like hydrothermal vents through the deep sea, changing their voice and flattening their tone, but keeping the meaning there. It buzzed in Miranda’s earfins like a fly. The noise was grating. “Our stock should be enough to foster the growth and incorporation – but we will need to replenish.”

     “Have the gathering spots been discovered?”

     “No. We should be able to fully replace the loss within a month and a half.”

     Good news, at least. Still, what Laudanda demanded was pricy, and imps could only fill the gaps so much. Miranda was already risking it, as being close to the landfolk meant they knew her too and might start to understand hints that they otherwise would’ve never seen. But they still had a sample size of one, and that was easy to utilize when almost all of them would’ve never directly interacted with the Merkingdom to begin with.

     They didn’t know the true depth of the royal arsenal.

     Miranda mulled it over for a moment, clicking her claws against her arm. She’d have to organize a few lures, a few ambushes, a few disappearances when none could see – but it could be done.

      The loss would have to be taken, it seemed. Better to be armed to the teeth and need it to annihilate an enemy, than to lack and be defenseless when they did attack, after all. That was the entire point of having these measures, after all. Why their prices had to be paid.

     After her pause, Miranda sighed, the sound instantly edited out of her speech, and approved. “If we can replace it within a season, then I’ll have the resistances added. Take the offerings from Block 4-16 and pull the supply from storage. I’ll be there in 45.”

     “Yes, Your Royal Highness.”

     It was an unforgiving task sometimes, but this job was just another natural part of Miranda’s own title. It came in the territory. The overseer turned and left, while Miranda finished up on checking the rest of recent activities.

      Someday, she assured herself – she’d get used to this.

     That terror in her gut would flee.

     Someday.

       Down Miranda was shuttled in her private drop, led into the deepest depths of her castle. A place no guest could ever find, no psychic could ever scribe, no god could ever foresee. It took scarcely a few minutes, but the distance travelled still showed in how Miri waited a moment to readjust to walking, like when she had first come to land and learned what gravity felt like.

     Her dignity gathered, or what little the thaumaturgical protection robes offered her, and made her way from the loading docks. The last living guards were stationed here. It was a personal checkpoint, a creature with eyes and sense to make sure no one unapproved was making their way past. For Miranda, all it took was a scan of her biometrics and a pass of her credentials. Then, she strolled her way past the gargantuan gates of steel and hydraulics, and entered the ritual barriers.

     It was a bit of a walk to the innermost level; Miranda’s destination. Her path was naught but a single tightrope of a bridge, dwarfed by the great walls around her. Built of steel and lead and concrete and things far stranger – they took the shape of spheres around each other. A nesting doll for the horrors within, with the single bridge threading through, and the crown princess making her way within.

     Her only company was the faint shimmer of the ritual sigils cut into the walls of the spheres, pulsing like they were alive.

     In a way, they were.

     That was made apparent, as Miranda’s walk grew on. Distant at first, then closer, like a forest of bleached redwoods, came the shape of spires of bone. They strung the layers of spherical chambers together, keeping them suspended, veins of purple and red pushing into the innermost layers of the ritual boundary walls.

     They too, with honeycomb marrow in the shape of spells, kept the entity they contained within so distant and far from the world many miles above.

     To a visiting guest, the innermost barrier, nestled tightly in the bone growths, might have been an ominous warning as to what lay within.

     But Miranda had seen far, far more horrifying than this, and so the terror that settled into her gut was mundane. Almost familiar.

     Into the ritual circle she stepped.

     The offerings were already in place – strapped to vertical boards, facing each other, only blindfolds to spare them mercy. A cyclops and a werewolf, both of which Miranda had kept gathered for a while now.

     Those that none would miss when they vanished mysteriously in the night. The Merkingdom was good at finding those undesirables and removing them from existence.

     Fresh bodies were always needed in these depths.

     The demonic flesh, requested by Laudanda, was already in place. Impressions of faces, of limbs, of entities that used to live, were shaped into otherwise featureless pillars and arranged around the outermost rim of the ritual space. From there, they fed into the centerpiece by veins like tarry ink that wound through the floor, completing the space. All the while they pulsed sickly, deeper into the shuttering supply, pulsating in iridescent colors unlike that which really existed.

     Miranda tried not to look too hard at them.

     There, nested in the heart of this corrupt magick, lay the abomination.

     It was the misshapen form of a teratoma, left to grow and grow and spread without control.

     Cancer of the real.

     The crown’s great destroyers.

     Thousands of other additions had already joined in. Lives tossed in, fed to it, and left to grow, to become one with the corrupt. Indeed, there were the fins and gills and teeth of merfolk, already replicated and mutated by the entity – but other monsters were there too. Vertebrates and not, animals, plants, and beasts alike. All were consumed. All were destroyed. All were made one.

     Even machinery had not been spared, by the sight of metal plates, of wires, of pistols and gun barrels and screens.

     The marriage of all things, and its nightmarish bastard child too.

     Distorted faces, ripped apart by their own internal growth, jaws and ribs and muscle thrown in without care to where they connected, organs without cause, without meaning. Wires that twisted into nerves and nerves that twisted into wires. Eyes that burst like pimples from the ends of tongues, a latticework of bone and steel and chitin where muscle had yet to grow over before being threaded through with another layer, limbs with too many toothed joints, wings that could never lift the bloated body off the ground, stomachs that ripped into nails and tendons.

     Creatures set to replicate without care, grown over and over once fed in. A great, evil, sick thing, made of misery, knowing only hate, here to destroy all it could.

     A primordial terror seethed in Miranda’s own bones at the sight of it.

     Something itched in her head, hidden in her memories.

     That which should not be.

      It did not move. No heartbeat, no lift of breath, not the faintest sign of movement. Yet it lived, even beyond what life truly was, what it could ever be. In a state of suspended animation.

     Paused. Turned off.

     For now.

     The Crown Princess Miranda Vanderbilt stepped forward, her servants following her lead, lifting arms up to the ceiling of rotten and foul magic, wicked blades in hand and claw.

     Mercilessly, they set upon the offerings.

      The ritual had begun.

#Glory and Gore || IC #Most secret royal advisor || OOC #Given by Divine Right || Headcanons #You built up a world of magic ; Because your real life is tragic || Self #The sea knows something we don't || Drabbles #body horror #gore #death #torture #horror #(( posting now bc bad impulse control #(( ill rb again tomorrow at a better time!

[determinationisnotcrash]

‘Like Gunbuster, but with Dudes’

I wanted to try and capture the passionate, energetic tone of a scene from one of my favourite OVAs in writing, so I attempted it with characters from the GB Discord I’m on.

Kit belongs to @topazshadowwolf

Impact belongs to me.

The scene this is a reference to is this one!

“I-I… I can’t go on…!”

“Impact!?”

The raptor’s jet abruptly halted, formation breaking as Kit unintentionally overtook him in this strange space. Hurriedly fumbling with the controls, the half-Blaster turned on the commlink to reveal his friend huddled in the cockpit, trembling.

Concern for the larger, yet younger skeleton welled up inside him. What had happened to make him break down all of a sudden…!?

Impact’s voice was usually either calm and controlled, or completely over-the-top and bursting with energy. But now… “I can’t do it anymore…! It’s useless… all useless…!”

Flashes of what the Papyrus described to him of his home timeline ran through his mind. It was likely that this wasn’t something sudden – rather, it had been festering inside him ever since he first mutated. “Impact…”

“Even if we succeed in our task, there’s no point to it all! The Ray Empire’s still choking the Earth! With the Emperor hoarding all the power for himself, he could easily rip away everything from us at any moment!”

The beast brought his misshapen forepaws in front of his face, clenching and unclenching them. At the stage he was at now, they could barely be called hands anymore. “I’m trapped in this disgusting body, which could give out and degenerate at any moment! And…!”

He slumped against the controls with a pathetic-sounding ‘thunk’. “There’s no one waiting for me back in my home world! My friends and family are all gone… and there’s nothing I can do about it. With neither past nor future… I may as well just die!”

Kit pressed his paw-like hand against the monitor, as if trying to physically reassure his friend. “Impact… please get yourself together. If this continues, we’re both done for!” As if to emphasise this, the massive aircraft violently rattled, like caught in turbulence. Their enemies had taken advantage of Impact’s hesitation, bombarding the two with relentless attacks.

Regardless of his growing panic, Kit continued, “While you may never be able to return to the past, you don’t know what the future holds yet. You could have the chance to experience more happiness than ever before… but if you can’t take that step forward, you won’t be able to even try!

Now the lights within the craft were starting to flicker. More and more nightmarish shapes were latching onto their vehicles, trying to crush them. “This conflict… it’s grown beyond the scope of a single world. If we let the demons from between dimensions devour any of our worlds… no one will have a future! The entire universe – reality itself – will be eaten up by the Void, and not even Determination will be able to bring it back!”

Impact’s sobbing ceased, his body having gone still. Hope starting to well up inside him, Kit pressed through with his encouragement. “Doc, Sabre, Hikaru, Red… all of them are counting on us to get through this! They chose us to be the ones who would venture through the gap, stop all the demons, and save everyone!

“If we fall here, everything that’s happened up ‘till now… everything that will happen… it’ll all be for nothing! For the sake of our world… for the sake of the people living within it… we need to go on!”

The half-Blaster voice cracked, putting every last drop of his emotion into his plea. “So please, Papyrus…! Fight!”

…

…

…

After what felt like an eternity… Impact rose up. His eyes were filled with resolve. “Kit… I understand. We fight together!”

“Impact…!” Despite the dire situation, the Sans couldn’t help but grin. Eagerly, almost as if on autopilot, his arm shot to the special ‘MODE’ lever. From ‘transport’ mode to ‘battle’ mode! “I’ll focus on the weaponry and energy output. You just do your thing with the controls. I’m behind you all the way, bro!”

Kit’s grin was contagious, a huge toothy smile spreading across the Papyrus raptor’s maw. “Alright…! LET’S DO IT!” With a burst of light, the demons clinging to the planes were blown away! The two vehicles drifted closer to each other, glowing as the fusion sequence started.

As the machines combined, Impact’s thoughts wandered back to his Sans and Undyne. Sans… Undyne… watch me, from wherever you are. I’ll see this battle through to the end. 

The planes underwent several shifts as they merged together, each movement far faster and more complex than the untrained eye could follow. After mere moments, the light disappeared to reveal a humanoid shape. Two flames had united to form an inferno! The True Dimension Knight, warrior of justice! Defender of the innocent! Saviour of all Earths… had finally arrived!

Like moths drawn to a flame, dozens- no, hundreds of skeletal dragon-like demons swarmed towards the steel titan, rushing through the interdimensional space like ravenous sharks in pursuit of their prey.

The Blasters’ response? “Impact, remember the plan. We just need to make it to the centre of the Dimensional Gap. That would be… right past these guys.”

“Kit, shall we use ‘that’?”

Kit let out a genuine chuckle. “Heh, I thought you’d never ask.”

“UUUUUUOOOOOOHHHH---!” A battle roar exploded out of the main pilot as he launched the machine up into the ‘air’.

Within the mechanical knight’s hands, a giant sword materialised! A glowing golden weapon, illuminating the darkest of nights and cleaving through evil!

“ULTIMATEEEE…”

“HEAVEN-MEETS-EARTH…”

“SWOOOOOORD!”

True to the second pilot’s philosophy, the strongest attack came first. The blade of light cleaved through the abominations effortlessly, leaving titanic explosions in its wake. It slowed down in time to reach a floating chunk of rock, using it as a temporary foothold.

Despite the sun’s rays being unable to pierce this space, it nevertheless glinted off the mech’s armour. Its arms folded, announcing to the entire battlefield, “Don’t assume that this Dimension Knight is some random machine! Everyone’s legacy, from the past…”

His brother’s companionship.

Undyne’s fiery passion.

Alphys’ enthusiasm.

Toriel’s and Asgore’s warmth.

The compassion Frisk showed him, even if it was fake.

“Everyone’s dreams, for the future…”

Sabre’s kindness.

Doc’s care.

Red’s support.

Hikaru’s hope.

“THEY ALL LIE WITHIN IIIIIIT!”

The draconic helmet of the suit parted, revealing a mechanical Blaster head. It looked and functioned just like the real thing! An immense beam surged forth from the maw, blowing apart the formless monstrosities in their path with searing, pure magical energy.

A beep on Kit’s monitor alerted him to more danger. “Heads up, Impact!”

“Ah…!” Following his friend’s warning, he turned the mech’s head upwards, the blast coming with it. When he could see the giant meteor-sized ribcage bearing down on him… he had already bisected it. But that wasn’t the end of the demons’ counterattack. This time, Impact’s monitor was the one that flashed with the warning sign. “Kit! Incoming from below!”

“You got it! Beam Spikes, scatter!” The tail of the draconic mech whipped around with a slash, firing out several spikes as it did! With a force rivalling the most powerful of mother nature’s storms, the leviathans rising up from below were rendered harmless pincushions.

All this was enough to even inspire Kit, filling him with the energy to utter another speech of his own. “No matter how thick or smothering the darkness choking this world threatens to become… our hearts will only shine brighter!”

Impact would have given him an affirming pat on the back if he could. “Couldn’t have put it better myself! No matter what gets in our way, we’ll break through!”

As if in response to this challenge, wall-like beasts, living shields approached… their intent to hit them like trucks… but Impact wouldn’t allow that. “ROTATION LASERRR!” In a slick, fluid motion, he threw his shield and fired a sword beam, diffracting it off the spinning shield to slice through them all like butter.

Eager to seize upon this opportunity, he retrieved his weapon and rushed forward… but perhaps, he was a bit too eager. “Impact, pull back! We’re going too fast!”

Hundreds of blasts, made of choking darkness and equal in intensity to their own, obliterated the spot where the Blasters’ mech… used to be. Kit’s warning let Impact pull back just in the nick of time, separating the Dimension Knight into its component aircraft and evading the attacks!

Kit kept watch over the readings on his screens. Dodging everything while setting up a counterattack was a hassle… but pushed onwards by his motivation for a bright future, he could do it. Keeping one eye on the enemies outside, while the other eye on the system inside, he yelled to Impact, “Doesn’t look like the concentrated fire will let up! You know what to do next.”

Within the other aircraft, Impact grinned. If the enemies wouldn’t give them a break… then they would just have to make one! The jets boosted forwards as they re-combined, the humanoid figure already in a battle-ready stance. “HOLY GREATSHIELD!”

The knight charged, thrusting its shield forward as it smashed through the demons like a living battering ram. From a zoomed-out view, it would be as if the off-white clusters of twisted bones and teeth made way before this golden meteor!

Another boast left the pilot’s maw. “You think that’ll be enough to deal with the likes of US!?” Lowering its shield to expose its mouth, another blast from the mech tore through the unholy creatures.

Kit took advantage of this break in the enemies to check his display. “We’re almost at our destination! Just a little more to- WHOA!”

He barely had a second to react before he found himself almost literally holding up the heavens. A titanic planet, covering his entire vision, quickly came down on him. As if the mindless enemies were crowing, ‘There’s more where that came from,’ another living planet of bones and spikes rushed up at the mechanical knight from below!

Even the 250m steel titan started to struggle from this, the joints of its limbs creaking ominously as the pressure intensified… However, in stark contrast, the pilots were more composed than ever. Impact lightly chuckled, carrying the same air as someone who saw mildly interesting sight on a roadtrip. “Who would’ve guessed? That they could even become celestial bodies.”

Kit winked at his co-pilot. “The power of these things is truly astronomical, eh?” The Sans casually pressed a button, producing a blast to hit the ground beneath the mech. It didn’t even scratch the vast object.

“Not bad.”

“However… our own power – that of righteous hearts – is not to be underestimated!” Impact briefly closed his eyes, steadying his breathing… before announcing the mech’s true ultimate technique. “LIMITLESS LIIIIIIIGHT!” The golden glow about the mech intensified further, to almost blinding levels! It even burned his own body, every inch of him sizzling with pain… but for how much Impact was hurting, it hurt their enemies hundreds of times more.

With one last surge of energy, everything in the Blaster duo’s nearby area violently shook, before exploding in a flash of light! When all the smoke and flames cleared… the True Dimension Knight was still standing.

However… so were their enemies. If even one demon was left alive, it could reproduce endlessly and create more spawn. That was why…

“We’ve made it to the core. You ready, Impact?”

“Yes!”

The mech was powered by Light itself. If they overloaded it here, at the centre of the demon’s spawning grounds, it would certainly spell the abominations’ ends.

Kit entered the code for the self-destruct sequence, and the change was almost instantaneous. Unlike the golden, passionate aura that the two pilots could make it exude, it now took on an almost ethereal glow, indicating it wasn’t much longer for this world.

As the glow engulfed its body, it also spread to the space around it. The ghastly, roiling purplish-black of the Void began to clear, peeling away to reveal a pleasant, gentle blue sky beneath.

Kit and Impact couldn’t stay to appreciate the sights, though – it was still unknown what the Light would do to normal creatures. A lone jet, much smaller than the massive crafts that formed the mech, emerged from the Dimension Knight’s chest and sped away.

The remaining hellbeasts shrieked and writhed as they fizzled away into nothingness, like ghouls that vanished with the coming of dawn.

Impact turned his head back, looking for one last time at the remains of the creation that helped carry them so far. “Thank you for everything, Dimension Knight. This is farewell…”

Flying back to the portal from which they entered, the warriors returned towards their world… towards where their friends were waiting.

#undertale #gasterblaster au #gasterblaster sans #gasterblaster papyrus #papyrus #sans #my writing

[fairysmolsxoxo]

Unwarranted Destruction before Halloween!

MOMMA JADE GET HURT BUT GET NEW BITTIES AND ITEMS TO ADD TO THE SHOP!

It was a quiet evening at the shop,with Al managing the front and the little market while Jade is away on business. It was slow and the caretaker decided to get some new ingredients for the new items  to introduce into the shop. Halloween is coming up after all and the shop itself is pretty empty. The shopkeeper and alpha dragon skeleton bitty agreed that it will be a nice change of pace...And there is hardly any excitement in the front end, while in the back in the her packs and prides is a whole different story.  So Jade gave him the duty of being the Shop Manager for the time being.Though it was getting late, Jade usually comes back around this time yet none have yet to see her. Al was getting worried, he even called up Shy and the other adoption centers that Jade had recently visited but no one had seen her… 

That until... there was an explosion coming from Jade's living quarters...And the sound of a familiar yet eerie scream of pain echoed throughout the shop...It made all the bitties magical essence that all their creators that put the time and love into, to give them life? It felt like all their life had been sucked out of them when they know who's scream it was…

Jade.

Every submissive and child bitty started to cry confused and scared at the scary scream…

Why is Momma/Missus/Mistress/Jade screamed? Is she okay? She has to be right? Please be okay! 

Every  calm minded bitty quickly was set on alert as they went around to keep the rest of their pack safe and ready for the word of the alphas on their command… Some even started to patrol that area.

Every aggressive bitty that was kept away from the rest of them in their own started to claw their cages their doors was crawling their prison…The scent of blood and the scream made them have even more need for violence...

WHO HAD HURTED WHAT WAS THEIRS!

All the leaders of the packs and pride let out a snarl their body and soul screamed in the most primal way…

MUST PROTECT! MUST SAVE JADE!

 Al teleported just a few feet away from the closed door of Jade's Room and He was soon joined up with the leaders of each pack and lone pride.

Navy, Jade's Alpha Sans "Prince"  bitty and the Head of The Night Wind Whispers Pride was the second to appear before Al… He usually stoic and cold expression and personality that he had shown toward bitties that isn't in his pride and the other alphas is replaced with tense irritation and concern toward his caretaker as he nodded at Al in acknowledgement. Both Marigold, Jade's Alpha Papyrus " Stray" bitty who is in charge of the Blood Venom Sky Pack and Ramil, Jade's Alpha Grillby bitty, head of Golden Sun Burst Pride was sprinting quickly toward the room. Marigold was snarling as he charged through and slammed the door open, followed by his Alpha Leads. All of them cried out their fairy caretaker name to be greeted by the sight of her room in shambles and abominations in what was left of her room…

They did not see the fairy but a sobbing  voice of the fairy made it clear...They need to defend...They need to protect...They need to kill…!

The Aftermath

It took awhile for the Alphas to get rid of the monstrosities but they made quick work, leaving a big mess behind...They were tired and tried to listen for the fairy but the sobbing stopped halfway during the battle...They calls out the fairy's name…

But no one answered…

That til a few moments of silence later, a pile of destroyed piles of rumble started to shift and shake as a figure started to get out and under it. It was Jade, clearly hurt with cuts but that wasn't the only thing that was different about her...She looked a little nightmarish than her usual self...She seems relieved for some reason but also annoyed as she tried to morph herself back toward her more friendly form...but it deemed useless...She was injured in a way that she can't control her magic to shift back to her usual form...It would take some time to heal and it is a little annoying...At least no one saw her true form when she was injured from earlier by the beasts...She never want anyone to see her like that...at least her appearance is much preferred and it matches with Halloween. She seems calm now and the Alphas quickly mothered her as soon as she stood out of the rumble...She whined at the attention as she eyed the remains of the abominations in what used to be her room and her doorway toward her lab…

Hours later… Jade appears with her more Halloween theme appearance with still a gentle smile on her face. 

Jade: Hello my favorite dreamers…It is your friendly bitty loving dream fairy...I must apologize for my current appearance… It seems like my encounter with the unsavory sort, have made my magic glamour gone all haywire...So instead of taking off my glamour or overexerting myself with no desired results,I have managed to make a different appearance for the time being...just until my magic get sorted all out… Thank goodness for my adeptness in all sorts of dreams and illusions...So bonus points being a jack of all trades with that…

But worry not after all this experience, Al had made it his goal to keep me coop in the safety of the shop and quarantine my room and portal doors to the Realms...Just until things calm down I hope..

That being said… I hate being here… bored...with nothing to do...So I have some exciting news! 

We got some new companions to add to the shop! Along with some amazing new staff who will be introducing these delightful yet spooky treats and exclusive items for the month of Halloween and The Days of the Dead!

Please come and introduce yourselves everyone!

Monty: Ello' I am Montgomery Duvall...Please call me Monty… I am human?At least from what I know…I used to have a business of my own...that I had to close down because…*He cleared his throat.* of my personal problems..I will be taking over as a part-time caretaker for Ms. Jade bitties at the store and would be taking care of the delicious confectionery and delights of the store… I have a bit of experience with management and done some cooking as a hobby… I also worked at a bitty center recently. So I have some experience in that department as well...

Jade: *pushed the old gentleman aside* He is much too humble I swear! He is going to be the entrepreneur who is going to help start up better alternatives for our bitties nutrition! So what you are going to see in our food display is going to be from his amazing mind!

Monty: *blushes* Ms. Jade please...no need to praise an old man like me…

Jade: Nonsense! You are an amazing human…

*Another figure stepped before them, a small timeless young Japanese woman stepped in a kimono. She look like any normal girl if only it weren't for  her hair that seems to move around like it was a part of her...Like her hands…This was Mina, she was monster from where Jade was from. She was close acquaintances of Jade she still lived there...She was a Futakuchi onna...a yokai..Japanese spirit or monster… Even her hair was pulled up in a loose bun, what is hidden underneath will show you why she is a monster...*

Mina: Konnichiwa...I am Mina it is a pleasure to be here and be in presence… I am going to be Monty-san partner in the food department. I am the person who is going to help his ideas come to life in the things we cook. I am quite the expert when it comes to making food and tasting it. It will be quite desirable...I specialize magic infused food though I have experience in some human cuisine as well...

*Monty let out a sigh, having to deal with Mina quite well at this point, he knows of her sneaky eating habits… He could see the hungry glint in her eyes*

Monty: Ms. Mina...please refrain from eating our examples… We had to do several tiring and time consuming replacements, over the course of several accidents...

Mina: *Pouts* I have been good, what sort of person you think I am? * Both her and her new elderly acquaintance started to head back toward the small cafe located near the front desk of the bitty shoppe*

*Monty and Mina started to get the future item for this month in big trays…*

         

          CAFE HOT ITEMS OF THE MONTH

     FLUFFY PLUMPKIN FUDGE 

This irresistible sweet is great for all humans and monsters all alike who like a little sweetness in your day or night. 

This mildly buttery smooth,light  yet creamy delight is excellent for this time of year when welcoming the autumn weather and scenery. Don't eat too much of this though, it may be good for the heart and soul but too much of this addicting sweet, will cause the bitty or humans get plump in certain areas like the stomach, chest, hips and rump…

SPOOKY SHADOW MANGO AND PINESONIOUS TART

This delicious sweet yet sour treat is literary borderline poisonous to make.One wrong move, this treat can be down right deadly. But if done right, it can be quite refreshingly sweet and have healing properties, especially toward other infections and heal terminally sick humans and bitties. Make sure that your chef is well versed in with their ingredients and a well educated doctor is nearby, just in case. Must sign a waiver if it just for the thrill or taste these delight. So are you are willing to take the risk and sign your death wish?

ABYSS MUSHROOM AND GARLIC STRUDEL 

This pastry literary came from the abyss! Don't ask how our dreamy fairy  got her hands on these rare ingredients to make these but do know it is quite a pain to get them. But it is the number one item back home that the majority females,  foodie, health and fanatics sought for. This is a strudel not only it won't cause you to gain weight from eating it, but also eat your weight away. Well technically not eat away but store it elsewhere. Don't worry it effects are quite safe. It is all different for everyone but know this after a couple of days  will stop it effects. Get it while it lasts!

STARBAKED  BUN BUNS ASSORTED

This treat comes in sweet and savory fillings that makes you come back hungry for more. It's just that you need to have the speed and determination to catch it. Prefect for your more active bitties and humans that wants a little challenge catching their food or bitties have the need to hunt something “live”. As of right now for the month of halloween the bun buns will have a little more monstrous appearance and more of a spattering filling when bitten into. 

FAIRY BERRIES

Inspired by the different fairies back home and words from another bitty caretaker that Jade looks up to , these little delightful creations are certainly fun to catch and eat. Having different various set of wings and fruits, these are perfect for staying in a healthy diet while having fun at the same time as you dance with these fluttery snacks. Ideal with bitties that want a little change in their meaty diet and have something sweet with still the fun of being the hunter. Great for baby bitties and beginners.

OVEN-BAKED FOG FOWL PIE

A savory tasty pie for all races, the fog fowl is quite hard to catch due to is shapeshifting way of hiding and avoiding beings, but true a delicacy back home for Jade. And a luxury item to make, once you eat this fowl beast, it will provide a sharpness of the mind and improvement of stamina and energy. This is great for those sluggish days off for both humans and monsters. You will have energy and stamina for days Get it now for a limited time only. These fowls are hard to come by after all. Side effects include a sudden lightheadedness, nausea, lack of sleep, and sudden fatigue out of nowhere. Basically crash and burn out of energy ten-fold. So heed this warning...

            ASSORTED SKELE-WITCHES

 Just decent stacked  sandwiches made and shaped as your favorite skeletons of your choosing with witch/wizard hat or riding a broom. Made by human hands, Monty’s specifically. Safe for everyone...Monty works so hard on these...Don’t shame him...

CEREAL KILLER DONUT

Another Monty idea but infused with Mina magic, this scary horror pastry topped with your favorite cereal shaped into a little murderous killer that will come after you. But worry not, due to their squishy insides and their less than intimating "weapons", they will kill you with their cuteness instead. Little angry muffed yells and grunts as they try to kill you with their pretzel pitchforks… Will definitely make you scream in laughter instead. Though hurry and eat them while they are fresh, before they figure out that their weapons are stupid and look for stuff they can use to actually hurt you… 

TALL DARK AND MURDER COFFEE

Normal coffee...Were expecting more?...Of course you were! The coffee beans are potent! These beans were carefully harvested from the Land of Nightmares.These are for those who want to stay up a few days before during the days of the dead or planning something big that requires no sleep? This is the coffee for you, for experienced coffee drinkers that needs more oomph than the plain normal human coffee. Must drink one cup a day and no more! If drink more than 1,it effects will last for more than a week depending on how many cups you drunk...You will develop hallucinations and maybe see an entity that follows you around...waiting for the moment you finally crash...and well sweep your soul away...Not before scaring you and cause the most horrible nightmares you have ever faced…It is advised that you seek the local dream fairy, Jade(despite her constant warnings and the waiver you signed) as soon as you see them so their hold on you aren't strong…Your local dream fairy will try her best to deal with the situation but keep in mind...This is a dangerous situation that you could have prevented if you had only listened, so be prepared to trade something of equal value… Something that will cause you utter despair and can not live without can't not replace… Don't lie because both local dream fairy and the entity knows… Make the right decision or it will murder your soul one way or another… Please don't let your bitty have a sip of this since they are more prone to this and these entities would love little morsels like them...

CHILLING DIRTY CHAI LATTE

If you need that coffee pick-me-up as you pass out candy on Halloween but aren’t a huge fan of pumpkin flavor, you may love the homemade dirty chai latte. If you want to make it extra dirty for those legal adults out there we will offer some pick me up concoctions from your friendly fairy to add to delicious drink.

BLOODCURDLING I SCREAM

This creamy cold delight was made with the crushed teeth of ice wraiths...And of course being magical they will make the ice cream enchanted to stay cold for a long time. And it will scream as you take a bite out of them. Not in pain but just because they wish to not interact with anything. The screams are small, squeaky and quite exaggerated. Like " Ahh!.... Ahh!..." like it was trying to process what their next word should be...Don't worry if you think the screaming is annoying, just scoop where their screaming mouths would be and there no more screaming and you can enjoy the treat. It comes in common human flavors and new ones that Jade that bring back from home...

TRICE MICE

Enchanted little candy mice that has three layers. A candy coat, a chocolate coat, nougat center. . You saw right there are mice in the kitchen but don’t  fret, health inspectors or lawsuits won’t hit these store anytime soon.  these It is so good that will make all you chocolate lovers want some even though the scurry around and those who are a bit afraid of their counterpart reconsider. 

*Monty let out a soft smile as both him and Mina finished introducing those new treats.*

Monty: These are the items we order in the cafe as of right now… But we also cater to all our customers needs...So of their any item you want, we shall make it our goal to provide it for you…

Jade’s Medical Counter 

ROCK A BYE SLEEPIES

ENCHANTED GUMMY SHEEPS THAT YOU OR YOUR BITTIES TAKE IF YOU HAVE A BAD CASE OF INSOMNIA. JUST TAKE A SMALL BITE OF IT AND IT WILL COME TO LIFE AND MULTIPLY AND HELP YOU COUNT TO SLEEP OR THE LESS TRADITIONAL WAY, CUDDLE UP TO YOU OR INTERACT WITH IN A WAY TO HELP YOU SLEEP. ONCE THE MEDICINAL EFFECTS HAD TAKEN OVER THE SHEEP WILL MORPH BACK INTO ONE AND JUMP INTO YOUR MOUTH. IT DISSOLVES INSTANTLY.

STELLAR HUFF AND PUFF DROPS

THIS STARRY SHAPE WILL MAKE YOUR BITTY WANT TO TAKE THIS MEDICINAL CANDY. THIS WILL HELP ANY BITTY IF THEY ARE FEELING SICK AND LESS ENERGETIC THAN USUAL. COUGHING AND SNIFFLING BEGONE AS THIS STELLAR CANDY IS EATEN. JUST TAKE THIS THREE TIMES A DAY PLEASE. 

HEAL YEAH WOUNDS WRAPS

These magical wraps will help heal lacerations or scratches more quickly than any normal bandage. These are soaked from plants from Jade's home and is high with magical healing properties.

STARMINT CHEWS 

These chews will brighten anyone's day with a smile or fresh breath. Eating these will help your bitty teeth glow and grow strong and bright with minty freshness that is out of this world. Beneficial for skeleton bitties.

            LEMONY GINGER BITES

Citrusy and ginger mixed together to help with that sore throat or rasp. But these bites back, well more like gumming since they are gummies and it doesn't hurt you when it bite. Those who likes gimmicks and enjoy the soothing sensation of their sore throat melting away.

            *Jade smiles sheepishly at her stock. * 

Jade: This seem to be the only items I can provide at the moment but I will come up with new ones I promise! And unfortunately, we still need a tailor but it is okay...*She grins excitingly as her wings fluttered* Now the main event! You see during the mishap with the abominations destroying my room...They possibly... well... got into my lab and my bitties samples got well...contaminated with these dark creatures… They are still amazing mind you and I love them all the same! 

*She went into the back and brought out a basket that is covered with a blanket. She had a mischievous look on her face as she pulled the blanket away.*

MEET MY DARLING DARK INTUNED BITTIES!

Sugar Bites: ( a zombie candy-gore candied  dragon skeleton. A monster kid variant.)

This precious one was going to be part of the angelic series of her bitties but the dark magic got to him first. He is made from candy and from his ectoplasm, horns,  bones made from strong sugar and accessories. He is candy. Though he is a zombie as well...He is a zombie that likes eating candy...so you get the picture what he does to himself since he is close proximity to himself… To prevent from the bitty eating itself you need a durable muzzle to put on this sweetie and feed them candy daily. Don't take the candy away from his ectobelly please he needs it. Baby will cry. Don't eat the baby, he already knows he is delicious. Besides that he is a healthy bitty that tries to get along with everyone, if not a little hyper from his sugar intake.

BC: ( bad luck shadow cat skeleton. A sans variant.)

This bitty oozes bad luck, not like he wanted to...it was just how he is made. And it took him and his creator a few cuts and bruises to get his magic under control. He is aloof bitty with a permanent grin on his face and bones as black as the night. He loves to be in the shadows and often hangs around those younger and innocent...Not because they are cute and needs protecting...he likes to tease them and give them a little bad luck. He loves scaring them too...Though he means no harm...Don't be alarm when bad luck suddenly happens to you for the first few days of keeping this bitty. He is cautious and always will always know that he has a loving place to return to if he deems the owner unsuitable for him. Though once he realizes he is here to stay and you actually care about him, expect this mischievous feline to wake you up with him laying on your face and him constantly meowing for food, when you know well that he could talk...He also your personal stalker...He goes everywhere with you as long you have a shadow. He will be there...no buts and if about it...He won't be upfront with confrontation but he is vindictive...and has a quiet fury when it comes with the people he cares about...So if your bully suddenly gets pooped on by seagull then suddenly gets a thousand more seagulls droppings...You know who did it...He won't stop either...even if you tell him to stop...he will feel bad and make sure that he torture your bully more selectively and quietly when you are not around...as I said he is a vengeful thing…

Omen: ( Voodoo Doll...Nice Cream Guy variant )

 This bitty is bigger than most nice cream guy  bitties and more plush than most but you best not to underestimate him. This fluffy bitty can curse you if you ever look at him wrong. He is jaded to most of his emotions due to the fact he is a doll for curses and he could always transfer his pain somewhere else to the person he decided to curse...He is an amazing addition to the family and can easily be mended up. He has his own soft toy soul that he usually keep it away from his body. He will only hand it to the person who he trusts and those who his soul get to control him...Though I recommend not to...Let him be your plush buddy and let him keep his soul close to you can see the bae give you those rare happy buck tooth smiles. He comes in different varieties from the brownish coloring with X button eyes to the typical pure black with skeleton markings...We also have the original coloring… Though we have different varieties of "skins" that if you want to change his looks available. It is like changing clothes for the Omen bitty and won't hurt him. If remove his outer layer, he will disappear momentarily. Don't fret though, as long you let him know that you want him to change into a different layer. And leave the "skin" you want him to change into where he disappeared... He will disappear where his soul is (which is always nearby)...

Make you compliment him on his new look when he appears again afterward because he will love you for it…

*Jade smiles gently as she pet them affectionately.* 

Jade: As of right now they are available for the month of Halloween! So get them while they last...the merged magic that made them could only made them last for so long…

#jade creations #jade speaks #halloween event perhaps #halloween bitty adoption #halloween event

[queenburd]

and in the end; chapter 1

This fic has been a year in the planning. It is 25k in totality, split into 6 chapters and an epilogue. It’s meant to be a sort of soft close on the last incomplete character arc(s) of Teslaverse. As such, I’m probably not going to be writing a lot more Teslaverse stuff after this. If I do, it won’t be to the lengths the past few fics for it have been.

It’s... really important to me, this fic. Teslaverse is too, which is why I tried so hard. There’s a ton of callbacks to earlier threads and fics laced through it, all of which are covered in the beginning of each chapter. But finishing this fic helped me figure some of my own stuff out and I really hope it’s as good as I wanted it to be. It will update once a day.

This fic will have some mild graphic descriptions in the final chapters. @mysteriie, who beta-read, said it was not too upsetting. There will still be an author’s note on said chapters.

chapter 1: i'd do it all again

callbacks and references: The “Get Out of Jail Free” Card, The Party

[INCOMING PREVIOUSLY RECORDED TRANSMISSION. RELAYING...]

[PLAYBACK]

The lot was in poor shape; long cracks in the concrete that had never seen sealant crisscrossed the faded painted parking lines. They looked like lightning bolts in the day, but now, in the black of early morning, they were nearly invisible. May's flashlight bounced off the concrete as she leaned against the decrepit link fence that Kass was making his way down. He leaped off it a couple feet away from the ground, and it rattled viciously from the impact, before halting abruptly as May grabbed and steadied the links.

They crossed the lot in relative quiet, the light a few feet ahead of them, bobbing unsteadily while May tried to match Kass's longer gait. “If I didn't know any better,” she said, speaking softly, “I'd think you were trying to ditch me.”

Her partner made some sort of noise that he hoped she would not discern for the mild irritation that it was. “I can't help how short your legs are, bird. Don't look further into it, you're doing me a disservice.”

“Okay,” was the simple answer he received, and that was that.

While originally startling at first, Kass had slowly become adjusted to being taken at face value. It was relieving, to not have to bicker constantly about his alleged intentions behind his actions. Very simply, May knew when Kass was intentionally being unpleasant, and when there were underlying reasons. In any case, it made conflicts short, and overall, communication was easier. Less stressful.

They approached the defunct glass factory that the lot surrounded quietly, though it seemed unnecessary. It had long been a site for vagrants and unruly teens, if the graffiti and dank tarps were to be believed. Yet, now, it was silent, save for the two quickly moving bodies.

“Point it out to me?” May requested. In response, he took her light, and directed it upward, to the small broken window above the large bolted door. “Right.” Rolling her shoulders, she shifted and took flight, taking a moment's pause to flutter and examine the crevice. And then she had slipped through, and he lost sight of her.

After the bailout, many months earlier, May had sat Kass down very seriously and said that she outright refused to let him do these harder “missions”, as she had called them, on his own. She had said, very shortly, that she respected his privacy, but if the next phone call she got from authorities was about a body, she would yank his spirit out of whatever afterlife it landed in and trap him in a bottle, simply to shout at him.

While that in itself was hardly intimidating, they had finally come to an agreement of sorts. It was easier to have back-up—to have someone to keep watch. So she had begun to accompany him on the more risky ventures, and in the process Kass had learned much more about his housemate and her abilities. There had been moments where, when he was certain he was down for the count from a nasty wound, she would glare hard at him and put her hands on his arm, and then he was back up and at it with whatever beast had tried its luck.

This was to say nothing for the moments where she had thrown up golden walls, shielding them both from incoming blows and falling debris. And certainly, when fighting creatures that prowled in the dead of night, it was particularly handy to keep around a creature of sunlight.

So Kass had come to accept, albeit begrudgingly, the second pair of hands. He wished more than anything she didn't have such a smart mouth for what seemed like every occasion, but that was par for the course with her. Besides, she had pointed out, he was the world's largest hypocrite, so he would have to deal with it.

There was a deep metallic thunk, and the door was pushed open from the inside slowly. Kass aimed the flashlight into the crack, and May grimaced, squinting. “Put the light down, asshole. This thing is heavy.”

“It's not, you've just got the physical capability of a nine-year-old. And it's a torch.” He pocketed the light momentarily to help her pry the door open enough for him to slip through, and then handed the thing back to her to aim at the interior of the building. As she took it, she scowled.

“We're in America, dipshit. It's a flashlight.”

“Britain came first, ya booby.”

“Do not.”

The glass factory was not a complicated structure from the outside. It was a long, somewhat tall building, with several chimneys that once released toxic black smoke but now lay dormant. Its roof was a shallow convex. By all accounts, it was simple like a child's play toy—four walls, a roof.

On the interior, however, the simplicity was cut through with complex machinery that lined the metal and stone walls. The light cut distorted shadows on the walls as it slipped through old pipes. They surveyed the many corners with suspicion. There were too many places for a creature to squeeze into and hide.

With hesitation, May took the lead, leading the light around each corner. “This feels like a disaster waiting to happen. Do you even know what we're tracking?”

“I've narrowed it down to a couple nasties,” was his short reply, “but no specifics. Whatever it is, it's solitary, and it seems right at home.”

“That's not comforting.” She continued forward anyway. “Even a hint of what it might be would be more helpful, dude. Do you smell that?”

He did. The scent of rot was thick in the back of the factory. Kass grabbed the back of May's hoodie when she stumbled, keeping her from falling onto the oldest of the remains. The body had been mostly stripped of flesh, though what remained clung tightly to the bone.

May shuddered, holding the light out to reveal what looked like a massacre. “God, that's a lot of people.”

“Different rates of decay,” Kass noted, breathing far more shallowly. “Likely one of our friendly neighborhood crackheads would wander in to get away from the cold, and the beastie would have its next meal.”

“Why go hunting when food walks into your lap, I guess.”

They carefully stepped over the splayed limbs and loose organs. May grimaced at a torso that looked torn open, the innards shredded. “These ones are newer.”

Kass unholstered his pistol and took the lead, his jaw tight. The smell was worsening, centered at the base of a large vial machine. He circled it silently as he could, and raised the firearm in time with May's light, falling onto the freshest corpse, and the creature that crouched over it.

He'd barely the time to register the moth-like wings before he fired. The thing screamed wildly, turning to shriek at the pair of them, and took off up into the rafters where chimney pipes and metal machinery made nightmarish noises as he fired after it.

“Fothermucker!” he swore, trying to track it in the dark. “Get the fuck back here, you overgrown luna moth! I'll tear your stupid eyebrows off and feed them to you!”

Beside him, May was squinting, trying to direct the light up to the ceiling. Every so often she'd catch a flutter, and then it was gone again.

“I'll track it! Just reload, maybe find higher ground!”

She covered his back while he turned back to the body at the base of the machine. Grimacing, he examined it. The face had been mostly mauled away, as had most of the chest. It was fresh, as fresh as tonight, possibly. The body was propped upright, dressed in dark clothes, a large emblem on the upper sleeve, still intact.

He froze.

“I got it!” came from behind him, and then May made a startled squeak as he turned and slapped his hand over her mouth and pulled her down to the ground. The flashlight fell out of her hand and clattered and rolled, the light illuminating the coiled phone cord that hung from the lapel of the jacket, and the silver and black patch that had no letters, but was simply a circle, with three arrows piercing into it.

Foundation.

He was suddenly deeply aware of the amount of noise they had made in the past two minutes. There had been no sign of units on their entrance, and May had been thorough in examining the building, but the body was new, which meant they had very little time. Seconds, maybe.

Kass grabbed her by the hand and pulled her up to her feet. He said nothing, pulling her hard deeper into the building until they hit the back wall. There were doors here, into offices. Despite her protests, he shoved May into one, slamming the door behind the pair of them. The slam seemed louder than it should have been—he realized, stomach dropping, that the large bolted front door had been rammed open.

“Kass, what's happening?” May pleaded, hushed. In the dark, he could just barely see the anxiety in her face, inches from his own.

He pushed her aside to examine the room quickly. “What do you think, Maybelline? We weren't the only ones tracking this thing!” Fuck, why weren't there any windows? Wasn't ventilation important in a factory that produced this much heat?

Ventilation. Venting. Pipes. Kass lined the walls, running his fingers against the chipping paint as high as he could reach. No good. “Where's the torch?”

“I....”

He swore again. “You dropped it?”

“You didn't give me time to grab it!” she hissed back, holding out her palm. He watched the outstretched hand turn golden, then near blinding white, and it painted the room in stark light and shadow.

“Fuck me, fuck me blind, where is it.”

The vent was over the chipped desk in the near center of the room. He clambered onto it, a sprawl of stick limbs, and stood upright. Like this, he could press his hands right onto the cover. He pushed hard against it.

It didn't give.

“Shit tits!”

The smash against it with his elbow was a desperate one that ended only in a splitting agony down his arm. He nearly keeled over there, grabbing the limb and holding it close.

God, this was it, wasn't it?

May was yanking out the desk drawers and file cabinets one-handed. There was the sound of gunfire outside the door, which masked her own climbing on the desk beside him. She put her hands on his shoulders, and the pain in his elbow turned into pleasant heat that he barely noticed because she was climbing him to grab the vent cover herself. Her smaller fingers fit into the slots.

“Move, move, let me see if I can use my weight to pull it out.”

“You're too light,” Kass said sharply, but he climbed off the desk to grab her by the torso. He pulled her, and the vent cover with her, down to earth. The thing popped free, and she crashed onto the desk. The impact was loud, louder than the pained gasp she made, but for now the door stayed closed.

Kass panted. The shouting outside the door was getting louder. Closer.

“Okay,” May said, pulling herself to her feet. “Move your skinny butt, get up there. I'll follow.”

There was the slam and crash of metal just outside the door that they both swiveled to face. Kass recovered first, but he stayed frozen in place anyway, because May's expression was one of a cornered animal.

He'd never seen her wear that expression.

Fuck, she had never actually faced the Foundation. They didn't know about her. She was a prize specimen, a never before seen scip, her hands glowing with natural light. She was an agent's dream come true. Did she know that? Was she realizing that?

His face felt cold. He crossed the room, hand in his pocket. When Kass pulled it out, it was to hand his partner the PDA he kept with him near constantly. “No, you first. That tin can looks like a stiff breeze could dent it, with my shit luck it won't even hold my weight. You get up, get out. I'll go through to lead them off.”

“What? No. We can both make it--”

“Do you think that vent's still in the condition it was in the day it was installed? It's cheap metal, and it's probably buckling in places. Can you imagine, I get in Mission Impossible style, get halfway through, and then it just collapses right in the middle of thirty already trigger-happy agents?”

She didn't have a retort to that, though he could see she was trying to form one. “Okay, then we'll both go through, I can cover you.”

“No,” Kass said sharply. His heart was thundering in his ears.

“We're not splitting up! I'm sticking to you, that was the deal!”

He hissed through his teeth, eyes flickering everywhere but her face. He looked up to the vent again. Back to the door. How much time did they have?

“....Fine,” he said finally. “Let's try the vent. Christ knows I've ended up in more idiotic places to die. Go on.”

The tone with which he spoke was a tired, almost annoyed one. It was more like him, so May nodded. She shifted into a smaller form, casting the room back into darkness, and flitted into the vent system, calling out through it. “There's a couple different splits, maybe to the neighboring room, but I think it will lead out the side.”

“Good,” Kass said softly after her. He tossed his gun into the vent after her, and pushed the vent cover back into place. “You'll have no trouble then.”

“Kass? Hey!”

Little talons scraped against the inside of the vent cover. Kass pushed it further into place, his smile grim.

“Listen, I will meet you outside. Whatever you do, whatever you hear, keep moving. Do not try to play fucking hero.”

“Kass, no, no no no, this is stupid, I can help!”

His eyes flicked back to the door. “You know, I knew you'd say something like that. You're a fucking idiot, of course you would.”

Whatever retort she had, he stopped listening, hopping off the desk and striding to the door. He bit into his tongue, cracked the thing open, and peeked through.

The noise was starting to die a bit. Units were cleaning up the remains of the deceased victims. He watched a small squad of four surround a door similar to his own—another office, like May had said. Silently, Kass counted the seconds as they slammed the door open and dived into the room. When the last body had disappeared through the door, he dived out his own, ducking between machinery and the wall.

The factory was filled with too much light, now. Any flying creature that crossed the open space in the rafters would have been spotted in seconds, and brought down just as fast.

Kass was faintly aware that he was trembling. He tried to focus. He used to be so good at focusing, hyper-focusing, hyper-fixating (words he hadn't really understood until more recently, a whole other language about mental health he'd put off learning) but now, in the moments he needed to focus most--

He could see it, you know. He could see her throwing up shields, trying to keep the gunfire off of them as they bolted through the factory. He could see them being blocked in at the door, could see her doing something drastic to get them out. And hell, maybe it would get them out, but then suddenly a thousand pairs of eyes would be looking for her.

And if the SCP Foundation looked for you, you'd eventually be found. This was evidence enough.

“They'll keep you under the tightest lock and key. They'll shove you into the tiniest cell and poke and prod at you until they know every little thing you can do and then they'll leave you there.”

How long ago, had Dib warned May? Kass didn't know, but of the few things he did know, it was that Dib, for once in his obnoxious irritating life, was right.

Barely breathing, Kass leaped from shadow to shadow, trying to force his twig-like body into crevices too small for him. The blood rushing in his ears was loud enough that he was almost certain they would hear it, would look his way just from the sound.

Nobody turned yet. He forced himself to keep moving.

God, why was he doing this. Why was he in the thick of it, knowing there was no chance in hell he'd make it through? There was a tiny angry voice in his head, the one that was his, that sounded most like him and had never stopped being there, despite the kinder months. It was mean, and it was paranoid, and it was screaming at him. He was an idiot, he could have gotten out, and instead he was running out the clock. Had he even considered the result? Had he already forgotten the promises of D-Class?

Had he really thought he could outrun the Foundation forever?

It wailed in his head, while he ducked behind a metal cabinet, away from the moving lights. He told it kindly to sod off.

He was never going to get away from the Foundation, but she could. It mattered more, that she could.

He was an idiot, it repeated, softer now. He was an actual moron, he'd given in, he'd turned into a bleeding heart, and it had doomed him.

Kass had no response to that. He elected instead to ignore it.

He made it almost halfway through the factory before his luck ran out. Up on a scaffolding, somebody shouted, and Kass ran. There was no point to it, really, but like some sort of wild animal, he ran instinctively. There was a burn in his legs as he leaped over a metal table and hit the floor hard, and he was almost blind with adrenaline when someone finally tackled him from the side and knocked him hard into another vial machine.

He didn't make it easy, despite the inevitability of it all. He clawed, kicked, swung without looking, and he knew from the impact that some of his blows hit. From that, at least, he could get a grim sort of satisfaction, even as his head finally made hard contact with the ground and his vision filled with nasty black and red spots.

No, this had always been inevitable. Kass has never truly believed he would have some sort of picturesque happy ending, away from the Foundation. It had, after all, shaped him. It was too big a part of who he was, and he, stupid Kass, had made too many enemies inside it for it to ever really let him go. It had shoved its claws into his ribs years and years ago.

The spots were spreading across his vision. He tried to get up—a boot, he thought, pushed him back down with almost no trouble.

It was never going to let him go. This was the last time it was going to get to dig its claws into him, because this time, Kass knew.

He knew, struggling to stay conscious for a few moments longer, that this time, the Foundation was not going to let him go alive.

[TRANSMISSION INTERRUPTED—RECONNECTING...]

#may writes #may loves teslaverse #And In the End

[agentsofvenn]

The Hunt

Sunlight didn’t get this far down, instead a carpet of bio luminescent lichen far above gave the vast tomb complex a blueish, dappled light. The damp ground squelched below Rakshain, each careful step in the moss-covered ground accompanied by a testing grind to ensure the ancient masonry held. A thin scowl lined a lean, stubble-coated chin as the assassin advanced, his dark, lank hair swaying gently in whatever charnel breeze there was. His blade was held low in both hands, the bound fang of some enormous beast sharpened down to a fine edge. 

The smell was awful. A combination of rotting flesh and fear. That was nothing new this far under the surface though, it was a deservedly unpleasant locale. What WAS out of the ordinary were the whispers that permeated the tomb; the malignant chattering in a language one would hope not to understand lest that understanding be a sickness of its own, skirting the senses, seeming to come from the walls themselves. A pervasive wrongness, and one that would be excised come the morrow if the Devkarin assassin had anything to say on the matter.

The aberration was not difficult to track; it had left a carpet of foul, slightly acidic slime as it went, like some nightmarish snail. These tracks were all over the tomb, but these were fresh; there was an absence of small creatures that had drowned in it. He was on the right track. It wasn’t until he heard it that he realized just how close he’d come though.

A heavy wheeze, like old bellows, rasping at an unpredictable timbre with no apparent rhythm. The sound of the being’s morbid, slug-like bulk being dragged bodily over the stone, and whimpers of pain as the pressure of its own advance pressed stray shards of masonry into its soft underbelly. This was it. The target.

Steeling his resolve, he moved into the next room. It was more cramped than he would have liked, its roof sloped and clearly not long from buckling in on itself. The once-paved ground was rife with mud and ichor, playing host to shelves of angry-looking fungi. And then...It turned. Rakshain was being very careful, and making no noise, it must have had some otherworldly method of finding him.

Hearing it was bad enough, but seeing the target turned even Rakshain’s ironclad stomach.

It dragged itself along in what appeared to be a bloody, membranous sheath, as though it had nestled in its own oversized placenta. The oozing outer flesh did seem to be part of it though, as it bled from multiple open wounds on its underside. The skeletal, vine-choked being that emerged from that profane base had the form of an eviscerated human, its tattered nerves still winding around it like a morbid anatomical diagram. From the clearly broken neck sprouted three horse-like skulls, dripping cerebrospinal fluid from every desiccated orifice, the hollows of its eyes choked with multifaceted lenses like a fly’s. Its forearms ended in mantis-like claws which gleamed in the not-light. 

It screamed from every face at once, and it was all the Devkarin could do to keep standing. The wrongness of the sound was at odds with the world, and his heart longed to end it more than it longed to flee. A grim snarl on his face, he leapt at the abomination, blade extending, ready to end the life of this being, if its tortured existence could really be called a life.

-

“What happened then? Did you kill it?” Anais demanded from across the table, causing Rakshain’s gaunt jaw to shift in amusement. 

“So eager. One would think you were my superior, demanding a report.” Analla shook her head with a little smile of her own as they ate, looking down at their daughter. She hadn’t eaten a bite since Rakshain had started talking, though typically it isn't because of the graphic nature of what was being recorded. THAT was Analla’s job, and he could already tell that telling such a grotesque story at the dinner table would earn him a scolding harsher than the experiences of the story themselves. Still. 

“So did you?” He clasped his hands, resting his chin on them as he sat forward.

“I am still here, am I not?” “You could have ran away.” 

“Do I ever run away.”

“Not from a fight.” Intervened Analla, with a pointed look. Rakshain had to fight to hide the subtle barbs her words bore. It was going to be a long night…

“Well, it lashed out at me, screaming its maddening scream, but I knew something it didn’t…”

-

“Don’t think she likes my stories?” The tower the family home was built into opened up into a neat little balcony that looked upon their cavernous home for miles around. Rakshain leaned against the stone wall, tense and frustrated. He felt a gentle touch against his elbow, and in spite of himself he could feel his form start to deflate a little. Analla always knew how to bypass his defenses the way no horror from the depths of the undercity could.

“No, I dare say she likes them a lot. You have a lot of them, and they’re all very thrilling and captivating to a young mind.”

“But?”

“...But there’s precious few stories of her. You are missing your daughter growing up.”

“Tch. I’m here often enough.” A little stung, he brushed the fragile touch off. She sighed, running a hand over her braided hair as she eyed the back of his head.

“I don’t think you are. Take some time off.”

“You don’t just “take time off” from the Ochran.”

“What is the alternative Rakshain? Your daughter growing up without a father?”

“Analla, you think I don’t miss you both terribly? When I’m out risking my life?”

“I think you do. Just not enough to actually do anything about it.” Her hand landed on his back. “Don’t shut me out. Let me in. You know we’re bloody unstoppable when we put our heads together.”

“...Yeah...look, it’s...difficult. I’ll try and be around more for her. For you.” Finally he turned, tugging his dusk-skinned lover into a tender embrace.

“Not for me. For her.”

“For her, but hey. You’re worth spending time with yourself, you know.”

“I’m trying to make a point…”

“And I’m trying to give a compliment. Looks like we’re at an impasse, madame.”

“...Ugh.” She shook her head, but this time there was a hint of a smile. “So be it.”

#Golgari #Contact #Anais

[thetrashbang]

PlayerUnknown’s Battlegrounds Needs A God

No multiplayer game gets to live in a void for long. No matter how hard you may try to bleed yourself of troublesome concepts like context, or backstory, the reality is that people like to speculate. People like to tell stories. Doesn’t matter how goofy or outlandish; the creeping tendrils of narrative eventually wrap around the foundations of even the purest, most context-free experiences. Why are we bombing these crates? Why are we stealing that flag? Why are we fighting? Why are we here?

Somebody will come up with an answer. It’s the human thing to do.

But for PlayerUnknown’s Battlegrounds, it feels like that answer has yet to come. One hundred players parachute onto a deserted island, where the average density of firearms per square meter exceeds even the most deranged fanatical NRA wet dream, and a slowly constricting hemisphere of crackling blue energy forces them to mercilessly gun each other down until only one is left standing. It’s an absurd, nightmarish premise; a theoretical scenario seemingly engineered to turn people into rabid beasts, fighting tooth and nail merely for the privilege of living a few minutes longer. Who would orchestrate such a competition, and for what purpose? Is it an experiment? A ritual? A blood sport? Is some Silicon Valley bazillionaire sitting in a darkened room somewhere, surrounded by monitors, cranking his sad rubbery hog to every rifle crack and arterial splatter? Nobody seems to know, or care.

Ordinarily, I wouldn’t either; PUBG is fun enough without framing. And yet, tonight’s winds bring an uneasy chill, carrying whispers of restlessness, indignance and fury. You feel it, don’t you? There’s a philosophical schism in how we approach Pubguh—the very concept of ‘battle royale’, even—and the hairline fractures are beginning to show. Players whine and gnash their teeth at the red zone, esports organisers desperately attempt to harness the format for views, and the proverbial chicken dinner seems to attain a more and more mythical, trophy-like status by the day; a reference to back-alley gambling now ironically viewed as a badge of ultimate prowess. This isn’t a healthy relationship. This isn’t a healthy attitude.

What Plunkbat needs, friends, is a god.

Well, okay, not necessarily a god god. Divine power is optional. I’m not asking Brendan Greene to start wearing a white toga and chiselling his patch notes into stone tablets, as much as it would set an entertaining precedent. The job requirements are flexible: I’m simply asking for someone vengeful and capricious, with unfathomable intentions, inscrutable thoughts, and—at least within the bounds of the playable space—immense, unassailable power. Like any god, you need not supply scientific proof of their presence; you merely have to attribute sufficient existing phenomena to them, and change people’s collective perception of the world. Ooh, got’em.

See, battle royale games represent an important shift to me. I’m a competitive person by nature. It’s etched into my mind, irreversibly chiseled by years of test scores and parental praise and all the other ego-stroking bullshit that you were subjected to if you were a certain kind of ‘gifted’ child. “You’re the best. You should be the best. You should be winning. Why aren’t you winning, what the heck is wrong with you?” So it bleeds over, into hobbies, work, and of course, online shooters, in which I regularly demonstrate that I have an innate… whatever the opposite of aptitude is. I react slowly, I zone out, I bean myself on the head with my own grenades, and if you exert the slightest bit of pressure, I’ll empty half the magazine into a wall and drop my weapon through a gap in the floorboards. I’m not good, and yet some unreachable, fundamental part of my conscious will never be satisfied with that knowledge.

You would think, then, that Pubby-G would only serve to exacerbate this mindset. And yet, in a world of delicately tuned esports that are built from the ground up to be pure, unfiltered tests of skill, it feels like the only game to grant a genuine absolution of responsibility; a kind of freeing fatalism. There’s a sense in a lot of classic multiplayer experiences—like, say, Counter-Strike—that every outcome is more or less deterministic; a product of a series of controlled variables and actions. With every failure comes the overwhelming impression that it could have been averted, given enough competence, foresight, and concentrated guarana. By contrast, a porridgey cocktail of chaos flows through the veins of battle royales, surrounding you with factors that are not only impossible to influence, but—in many cases—impossible to know at all. You are swept up by the gusts of a hundred butterflies’ wings, tossed to and fro by the whims of the random number generator, bombarded with unavoidable risks and squeezed into unmanageable situations. It’s easier to go with the flow, accept that at any given moment you may have your head unceremoniously taken off—by somebody lying flat on a distant hill, or hiding behind one of the game’s ten thousand trees, or concealed in a shrub on the far side of the Moon—and concentrate on all the minute actions you can make to ever-so-slightly nudge the odds in your favour.

But it’s not always clear that this is the reality of Puhburger. With its vast scale and often languid pacing, encounters can feel like isolated incidents, detached from the cascading series of events that led up to them, despite being anything but. Anyone can parse the map for circles of safety and non-safety, and understand that their arbitrary placement gives certain players an advantage; it’s less apparent that the figure in that upstairs window might have had their sights trained on the area, or seen you first, shot first, picked up a better weapon, obtained a better vantage point, or some other action, because of a dizzying permutation of astral alignments that neither of you could even begin to grasp. So we get futile attempts to establish a level playing field, find meaning in accomplishment, divine fair elements from unfair, and generally make things needlessly stressful for everybody involved. Except the infuriatingly smug yours truly, of course.

How do you make that clear, though? How do you concisely impress upon people that their fate is almost entirely out of their hands, in such a way that they adopt an attitude of acceptance? Blaming the roll of the dice doesn’t come to mind as swiftly when you never see them rattling around, nor the way their innumerable ripples propagate across the map. Furthermore, as current events have taught us all too well, it’s a lot easier to ascribe fault to individuals than to an invisible, fundamentally hostile system. So what do you do?

You give the system a name. And, if you can, a face.

Allow me to momentarily slam us into reverse. When Valve released Left 4 Dead way back in 2008 (oh god, it’s going to be ten years old this year?) they made quite a song and dance about the game’s AI Director; an invisible, unknowable entity that would dynamically dole out items and zombies in a manner consistent with the tenets of dramatic tension, ensuring players were subjected to a “fast-paced, but not overwhelming, Hollywood horror movie”. While the opacity of the AI Director’s machinations always made me a tad sceptical of its mechanical effectiveness, giving people a name to pin the blame for all their earthly woes on was a masterstroke. Notorious video game jokesman Yahtzee Croshaw—the one with the hat and that trendy 00s cynicism, remember?—reported that he once witnessed someone praying to the AI Director, and I bet you all the pipe bombs in the world that players’ personification of it didn’t stop there. Short of making a catastrophic error, I never saw anyone get chewed out for not pulling their weight, and when tones got heated—as they inevitably do, when you’re throwing yourself against the frigid slopes of the higher difficulties—they were directed in the vague direction of the director: for its expectations, for its lack of pity, for being unfair. Awareness of our lurking orchestrator changed our perception of the experience, even though we couldn’t entirely prove it wasn’t just somebody sitting in a black box, disinterestedly flipping a coin over and over.

So, why not do the same for a game that does? Put a face on the system that holds a fundamental grip on who lives and who dies. You don’t need to change a thing under the hood; you need only introduce the vague implication that the evolving state of the battlefield is a consequence of a thinking, feeling, mysterious overseer. A bloodthirsty oligarch watching from their lavish observation zeppelin, a dystopian TV network broadcasting a deadly future sport, an amoral team of government agents sealed away in a bunker control room, an inexplicably sapient Shiba playing with a selection of levers, or indeed, a literal deity. People will take the faintest contextual cues and run amok with them, ascribing everything they can to the will of the one who set this conflict in motion: item drops, circle position, all the way down to the subtle spread of their bullets as they sail through the air. Yeah, maybe it’ll start off as a running joke; an ironic indulgence, the “thanks Obama” of Puddlebounds. But that’s the thing about ironic behaviour: get enough people doing it at once, and you’ll cultivate sincere participants without even realising it. We will learn to absolve ourselves of responsibility, and engage in the unhinged pandemonium of battle royale with the mentality that befits it.

There’s just one problem: you need to be able to keep a secret.

I’m still working on that part.

#pubg #galaxy brain bullshit

[whatzaoverwatch]

Anything can happen in the Woods (PART 1)

Heyyy it’s a scenario no one asked for but I felt like writing huzzah. All a part of a dream I had and yes, it’s kinda sort of a self-insert so please forgive my trash. Gee guess what kinda AU I am running here you’ll neeeeeever guess (I also blame @zarcake-writes for making the best damn werewolf AU trilogy out there seriously go read that shit). I’ll only continue if people want me to *shrug* I hope so. Next

Note: Female Pronouns

The empty path the fog continues to burden the waves of trees that surround the road. The crunching of leaves beneath your shoes is the only sound in the murk of the abandoned surrounding. Adjusting your hood and shifting the basket in your hand into the pit of the elbow, you furrow your brows on the direction you walked towards. It felt more like an eternity just to get to one location. The road got creepier the more you followed it. But your goal was to be made certain. There was someone you had to see and by God you were set on it. Speaking of the goal, you moved along the dirt road while communicating to the target of your destination.

“Tell me why again is your place in the middle of the woods?” A scoff could be heard on the other end of the line followed by a croaky voice.

“Because a writer needs isolation in order to work.” Quirking an eyebrow, you hum in sarcastic belief.

Your friend was a writer, an ambitious one. She would do anything to find her muse. But she was stubborn as you when it came to your missions. But you could see there was more of a reason why she decided to leave her own home to reside in these woods.

“So it has nothing to do with the huntsman that lives in these woods? You know the one with the accent you can’t stop gawking at in town?”

You could hear her flustered nature from the other side. He was a new face in town, just about showed up when our so called “disappearances” began to unfold in town.

“N-No! Besides he says he’s only here to handle the wolf problem,” You roll your eyes, since when was a dead town like theirs ever a place of interest for a wolf problem? “Speaking of which you should’ve stayed at home, you didn’t have to come over. I don’t want to find out by word that you suddenly went missing just because you came to visit me.”

“Nonsense who else am I supposed to give my baked goods to? You are my favourite customer,” You could feel her concern on the other side of the phone. She was your best friend after all, was more of a sister to you than your own flesh and blood, “I’ll be fine no damn beast is going to take me down not while I have anything to say about it. You are sick and alone and I’m not going to leave you hanging by yourself. If anything I should be worried abou-“

Suddenly the crackling of sound echoed in the device. Halting your words, the fuzzing static began to grow from the phone. Not now, you thought.

“Hello...hellooooo?” You can hear her try to speak out only by bits and pieces.

“I can hear you clearly. Fuck I think I’m losing...” nothing but static and a sudden beep disconnecting the phone is heard. You looked down to see no bars on the reception. Clicking your teeth in irritation, “Fucking piece of shit...”

Shoving the phone in the basket with the goods, you continue to walk the path. Just as you began to question the reliance of technology, a sudden howl could be heard in the distance. Looking over your shoulder, you saw nothing around, not even a deer in sight. Strange, ever since you entered the woods, you hadn’t seen a single bit of wildlife. In fact, It almost felt as if someone was watching you.

Picking up the pace, you shook your head in disbelief. There was no monster in these woods, as the huntsman had previously claimed. Besides, you have a friend who is living in these woods and you don’t hear her claim of anything. She was priority and nothing...a twig snapped. You halt in your step looking around you once more. Nothing in sight, but the feeling of being watched was still there. Thinking it was all in your head, You turn to your path of destination to suddenly see a figure in front of you. You assumed it to be just someone else tracking in these woods, or an animal. But as the figure moved closer, it became larger. Almost like a predator, bigger than a bear no doubt.

Widening your eyes, you halt your cries of fear seeing a beast standing in your path. A wolf sleek in black fur almost mimicking the shadows beneath it. Teeth sharp and white with eyes as red as blood. Everything about them just had a wave of death dripping from its aura. Marks and scars could be seen within the fur was spotted while it stepped closer. You felt the urge to run, to scream for help, but what use was that? You were alone in these woods and here in front of you was the monster everyone warned about. Judging by its stance, you were set out to be its next prey.

The beast stared for the longest time. Its snout perked, taking a whiff of the autumn air before growling deeply. Suddenly before you could think it would attack, a sly smirk appeared on its lips. Its tail wagged in curiosity.

“What have we here?” The beasts voice was gravelly and deep holding both an intimidating but nightmarish wonder. Judging by the tone, the creature was definitely male, “What’s a little girl like you doing out in the woods?”

Swallowing hard, you kept a fearless stance to the creature. Part of you wanted to say, but you knew better. Telling this beast where your best friend lived was just giving him another victim to feed.

“N-Nothing…just taking a walk.” You manage to speak out with a hint of fear in your tone. The beast could easily pick that up, his head tilted with a wider grin.

“Really? You know, they say that these woods are filled with dangerous creatures,” He growled taking a step forward with a chuckle, “Which makes me wonder: why would an innocent fool like yourself wander the woods all by herself? With such…decadent sweets in her hold.”

Gripping the basket in your hand, cursing to yourself at how the freshly baked scent possibly drove him to your location. You stepped back, keeping a hold of the hood that you wore that draped over your head and shoulders.

“Look I want no trouble, if you want some of the treats go ahead.” Thinking that bribery would spare your life, you hoped that would at least be a proper deal to free you. But your hopes were crashed by a demonic laugh by the monster.

“Now if I was to eat any of those, what would your poor friend get from the remainder?” Feeling your heart race and your breath becoming shallow, the creature hummed and started to pace around your stilled body, “Don’t think I overheard your little conversation, you are here to visit that girl in the small cottage. Such a noble act to go out of your way to tend to her sickened side. Perhaps you would like some company on your way there. I’ll be honoured to take you there myself.”

 Just as you feared, you didn’t want her to get involved in this. Furrowing your brows, you stepped away from him with a hardened glare. Debating in your mind to fight or run. He could see the conflict in your eyes and just brought himself closer with a sneer. The grin never leaving. Those red eyes locked on you as if you were the only thing around. Leaning into your ear he hummed with a whisper.

“What do you plan to do? Try to stray me off of her path? I’ll just scent you out till I find her. Planning on walking away, try to go back to her another time? That is just going to delay the inevitable. Even if you don’t plan on returning, I can easily look for her myself. What’s a poor girl to do? Either way, you have set up her fate the minute you set foot in these woods.”

Curling your hands into fists, you looked over your shoulder to him, feeling his breath coat your shoulder. He had really planned this so you wouldn’t escape. You were ensnared in this constricted trap.

“Stay away from her…” You manage to hiss out in displeasure. Feeling his tail brush up against your side he huffs. The softness of the fur didn’t help the fear that tingled down your spine.

“You think it will be that easy? I don’t think so. What do you have to offer besides baked treats that will keep me away?” Narrowing his eyes he awaits for your response. Only one thing in your mind you knew could subdue this beast. You knew your friend would not allow it, but it was her life on the line and you would do anything.

“Myself…” he moved around to face you again in curiosity as you pressed on, “My life for hers. I will do anything, if you don’t kill her.”

The beast was silent for a moment, his crimson stare still planted on you. You felt your body quaking as he stood there. What was he thinking? You couldn’t even imagine as all you wanted to do was keep your friend safe. The silence was cute by a sudden gruff of his voice.

“What makes you think I won’t go after her after I am done with you? Do you believe I will keep my word?” You looked at him dead in the eyes, pleading that he wouldn’t. But something in his stance showed that your friend was no longer of interest. He shook his head with a sneer, “You really are a foolish brave girl aren’t you?”

Just as you looked at him, you felt your body ache and grow heavy. Soon your breath was becoming difficult to control. Your knees gave out as you clenched your chest letting out desperate gasps of air. Exhaustion drifted over your as you watched the creature loom over top of you. His figure being the last thing you see before you slowly pass out. His voice deeply whispering in your ears as you collapse into the crisp leaves.

“You better hope you understand what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

To be continued

#overwatch #overwatch scenarios #overwatch imagines #overwatch au #reaper x reader #reaper #gabriel reyes x reader #gabriel reyes