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streets-in-paradise · 2 years

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Best Friends Till the End - Andy Barclay x (fem) Childhood Friend!Reader - Part 2

Masterlist

Word Count 3.800 (aprox)

Relationships: Andy Barclay x Childhood Friend!Reader (reunion with some love at first sight undertones)

Characters: Andy Barclay, Childhood Friend!Reader, Kyle (mentioned), Chucky (mentioned).

Warnings: Andy being a sloppy hunter, me taking inspiration on the fake cop interview/research scenes in Supernatural to imagine this.

Summary: Andy has to endure his most hated part of the work involved on the hunt for Chucky, but the tedious task of talking to people will lead him to an unexpected result through the guiding of a very cooperative kindergarten teacher who seems fascinated with him.

Notes: I know i said this was gonna be just two parts, but there may be a part 3 because I want to write the romance actually developing.

Tags: @losersclubisms

Starting searching schools was Kyle’s idea, Andy wasn’t as convinced of that new method to find cursed dolls because it was too exposing of his terrible social skills. Those rounds would happen sometimes and were usually just the startpoint for it. They weren’t killing any threats directly and that would always make him impatient. He wasn’t a big fan of any part of the work that didn’t involve emptying the load of his gun on Chucky and on that occasion he was more nervous than ever because it was their first time searching in a kindergarten. Frightening little kids was not in his plans that morning, but there was a lead on that area and that was the nearest educational facility on the map.

Resembling bureaucracy there wasn’t as hard as he thought, his sister took care of dealing with the director while he was supposed to sneak and start the talk with the teachers. For that he had no idea of where and how to start, since he was used to letting Kyle lead the interviews. His awkwardness must have been evident at that moment, because one of them approached him by mistake thinking he was a lost relative of some kid. There was some intense staring going on in her part, as if she was trying to decipher him somehow.

Neither of the other passing people in the hall stopped in his presence yet you, the visibly busy teacher carrying her morning coffee before returning to class, directed straight towards him. Not only did you want to help who you guessed as a probably institutionally lost adult hoping to see one of your colleagues about a child, the sight of him intrigued you. There was something oddly familiar about that man that you weren’t able to figure out and you wondered if he was perhaps the father of one of your students waiting for you. Only the blatant shock in his face to the assumption you presented made you notice a very awkward mistake.

“ I’m sorry.” You apologized in an exquisitely sweet tone that came out of you by accident in some subconscious push. “ I guess I got it wrong, so many people move around every year.. All the faces mash up in your memory after some time.”

He smiled in agreement, a short grin while briefly making eye contact. From up close your hunch kept intensifying as you noticed another powerful detail: his beautiful hazel eyes. You could swear you have seen those before, but couldn’t remember where. Of course, you kept any new assumptions to yourself, but the stranger could tell that you were fixating on him.

Andy would have preferred not to start with you because he didn’t want to either creep you out sounding like a weirdo or make a fool of himself due to awkwardness. Your interest was making him nervous, fearing he could be coming up as suspicious but also keeping a more personal motive for that reaction.

A woman he found gorgeous at first sight was showing unusual interest in him and it was distracting. Keeping eye contact with you was a titanical task, as it was to keep staying in character.

" It's no problem, miss. " He replied while trying to remember which excuse he was supposed to use there. " I'm here as part of a non-scheduled evaluation. In the light of some strange events happening across the state, these kinds of routine things are being accelerated. Would you mind if i make you a few questions?"

You had no clue of which events he was referencing, but wouldn't ask to not look bad.

" Sure, why not?"

Your cute smile emphasizing the answer afterwards made him feel nice just because of how sweet you were to him. For once, following a false clue would have been satisfactory instead of annoying and frustrating. He didn't want to find a Chucky in the hands of one of your preschoolers, especially remembering his tendency to attack authority figures getting in his way.

His questions didn't surprise you as much as he expected, even when those got weirdly specific. It was as if nothing he could say would sound odd to you. The incredible predisposition on your part encouraged him to ask things without fear, but when getting into the topic of classroom toys you got wary for the wrong reasons.

" ... I see, you must have read my file and you are trying to test me. I don't mind, it is understandable. Many people before you have tried to discredit my professionalism because of my very personal career choice. "

It was all turning out so good, but he had to do a fuck up.

" I don't mean to offend you. "

" I monitor the relationships that my class establishes with toys very closely for practical reasons that come in with my formation. '' You explained in a more defensive stance, keeping distance from an assumed detractor. "My college thesis was on developmental psychology, about the bonding with toys in different stages of childhood... Why can't i apply my findings without people on the field assuming that I am insane?"

Andy was seriously intrigued by your phrasing. Were you making files about toys and playtime observations? Keeping an exhaustive vigilance of what the children were doing for some science bullshit thing? It was way too perfect, checking on your notes could save him and Kyle a ton of home visits.

" I think it is fascinating. Dolls are our first friends, we experiment the world with them as little children."

Some frankly adorable excitement visibly grew on you to the indicative of validation.

" It's a sacred bond, the one a child forms with their favorite doll. I consider that part of my job is providing the framework for it to develop in a healthy way. "

Your words were getting dangerously close to his point and he was about to lose the filter again.

" What happens when it doesn't?" He asked without thinking. " I haven't read your thesis, but I would like to know your stance on the opposite case."

" Children who have internalized trauma, I have seen the abuser get incarnated on the doll during their playing." You added in response. `` Is it for them that I am so careful, through the toys you can spot the abuse. Keep the dolls vigilated and you may make a difference in some kid's life. "

That psychology ramble got him. He was thinking that maybe you wouldn't believe that there was a killer doll out there, but you showed a glimpse of the most tender understanding he received in a long time coming from a normal person.

It was wonderful, Andy felt moved by your passionate concern and his attraction was subtly growing at every instant being spent with you.

" This institution is lucky to have you, I'm feeling under qualified to evaluate you just while talking to you. It's obvious that you are a magnificent professional, consider this a mere bureaucratic formality. "

The compliments got your sweetness back and that made him feel blessed.

" Wow, that has to be the quickest evaluation I ever passed. " A nervous giggle followed your joke. " Are you sure you don't want to pass by my classroom? We have a scheduled activity with toys today. I asked the kids to bring their favorite doll and we are going to make a round where they all will be introduced to each other. "

He felt lucky, for once fate was throwing a good one for him. Easy access to what he needed and the attention of a captivating woman all in the same operation.

" That sounds perfect."

There he was, following you like some awkward mess of a man while wondering what the hell was he supposed to do on the possibility of finding Chucky. Open fire wasn't an option, so there had to be some other way of avoiding the little bastard's escape. While remaining attentive of his details of interest, he still kept follow of the classroom activity.

The children clearly adored you and that was beautiful to see. You were brightfully happy around them and that would make you look even more attractive in his eyes. It was eating him up and the odd sense of intimacy he was feeling with you in every little thing was making it worse. You couldn’t be just one random beautiful woman, there was some weird connection going on between you. Like if there was an invisible thread getting you closer, you seemed to understand each other way too well for a first meeting.

Answers were spontaneously presented during the round of toys. It was your tradition for that activity to start introducing your own favorite childhood toy that you would bring for the class, a sweet detail of yours for the little ones. He saw the Scooby Doo plush and fell into the happiest yet most shocking realization. Andy recognized you as his childhood friend, one of the purest memories left on him. The surprise was noticeable on his face, which made your mind turn back on its tracks and go back to your previous hesitation.

It was a dream come true, he needed to know if it was truly you and deep down you were hoping him to figure it out.

" Does he still have the same marks we drew over the washing instructions?"

Time stopped for you at the listening of that question, there was only one person who could be saying that.

" Andy?"

You stared at your old friend with the biggest smile, holding back tears because there were children present who could get worried of your crying.

The whisper of his name got confirmed when he smiled back sweetly. After all those years of contextually forced separation, you stumbled across each other by some work of fate. The changes of time turning you into adults made your mutual remembrance of faces get lost on your grown up looks, but the revelation made it somehow obvious.

Everything made sense and he wasn't the only one amazed with the discovery. Getting lost in the beauty of his eyes quite a few times before figuring out the mystery was the price to pay for your curiosity.

It was unbelievable to think that he was there. That shy and quite handsome man was your dear Andy, the child hero that once saved you from the human monster inside his doll. The friend whose posterior sacrifice served as your lifetime inspiration, the one you waited for years while growing up. Your painful separation hurt more than Chucky, the guilt over leaving him behind in the afterwards scenario never left you be. As a grown up you tried to find ways of reaching him, but after some failed attempts you simply gave up because he was nowhere to be found and you thought that perhaps he wouldn’t want to see you.

If you were never able to forgive yourself, why would he forgive you? You were kids when he assured you that he wasn’t mad of your choice, he had plenty of time to realize you shouldn’t have let him down lying about Chucky.

“ Hi,(y/n). I can’t believe this is happening.” He happily saluted you. “ I’m happy to see you, friend.”

You wished you could forget all professionalism and trap him in the tightest hug, the weight of more than two decades crushing you through just one moment while you were supposed to pretend to be cool. Instead you stood up, leaving the plushie momentarily on your seat spot, while gesturally inviting him to follow you.

“ Where were you? I tried to… Seeing you again is so wonderful, I need to make things right.”

His cheeks turned slightly rosy when you took his hand as you were about to formally introduce him to the children.

“ Please, let’s give a warm welcome to my friend Andy. He is my dearest play pal from many years and he is here with us for…”

That was the moment where you realized you really didn’t know what was going on. He couldn’t be any sent authority of the school district. If that was the case, you would have stumbled across each other before. You had no idea of where he had been, he had no social media presence and searching for him was like trying to find a ghost. As far as you know, he could be an agent of the FBI, a cop that went undercover, a superspy or a serial killer.

The kids must have confounded your sudden stop with an inquisitive silence, since one of them quickly finished your sentence.

“ To see our friends! “

The man was very thankful of the kid’s unawareness serving as a scape for his lack of excuses.

“ Well, Oliver. That is why we are all here for today and I can’t wait to meet them all as you just met two of my best friends from when I was your age.“ You sweetly replied, then glanced back at Andy. “ I hope you have missed me and Scooby as we missed you … and welcome to my classroom.”

A happy choir of excited kids in their loud salute for him interrupted and he couldn’t help smiling, even if he was really nervous. That was really cute and he was so scared of ruining things with something that could frighten them and you.

“ Hi, I am glad to be here. I do miss my two old companions of adventures and I would love to hear all of you talk about your toys.”

A girl holding a minion plushie made him the awkward, but somewhat expected question.

“ Where is your friend, Andy? We all have one, Miss (y/l/n) brought hers.”

You both stared at each other as if disgrace itself was being called to class.

“ Well, I have her.” He added, clearly teasing you and succeeding on bringing out a light giggle from you. “ I had a doll, but I lost him. The problem is that sometimes it comes back and I have to search for him. It is really important because it’s not safe for him to be out there alone, he is a sick toy.”

That was the way in which you found out Chucky came back for him, various times for what you could catch of his sugarcoated explanation. Emily seemed moved by it. Understandably unaware of the implications, she must have found it sad.

“ Do you want us to help you look?”

“ I got a clue saying he is around here, but I can handle the search on my own. I’m some sort of expert by now.”

A reunion that you waited for 27 years and, of course, the little redhead bastard had to be involved in it. How was it even possible? You stayed alert, you have been checking on all the signals of a comeback for years in your strategic position. None of your kids could be a new owner of Chucky, they would have come to you and you would have spotted him right away.

“ Andy is a toy doctor.” You quickly interrupted, decided to collaborate with anything he needed on the matter. “ He became one to treat his very sick, very bad friend. So.. he is here to make free check ups on all your favorite toys and make sure they are not infected with the same disease.”

The subject inspired curiosity among the public and you had to come up with a story for it together.

“ What is it?” Jake wondered, then followed by Thomas. “ How do toys catch it?”

Andy was so not ready for that, but he had to carry on or risk causing panic.

“ The Fever of Damballa, it is a terrible illness that makes dolls go mad.”

“ They don’t behave like they are supposed to, they become bad. An infected toy says tons of bad words and they get horrible laughs.” You followed, completing his startup lie. “ They do scary mischief and they make you play scary games. Villain stuff, but not funny like in Despicable Me: dolls get bad like the Green Goblin. They get feisty and disobedient, never want to go to sleep or listen to what your parents say. ”

“ The cause is still uncertain. Some doctors think it is a tropical flea that gets inside the doll through the hair and the stuffed material. That’s why red haired dolls are higher risk, the flea prefers red hair because it is red one and that serves to hide better. “

You glanced back at him, showing amazement for the elaborated explanation.

“ Can all toys have it, or is it just the reds?” Sophia continued.

“ Red haired dolls are the biggest risk population, around 98% of the registered cases… which is a lot. If you have a red haired doll I have the obligation of checking for symptoms …because it can infect all the other pals.”

He made up that last part to make it sound urgent.

“ Can they pass it to us?” Camila closed the round of questions. “ If I have a sick one, should I stay away?”

“ Not only they can, the disease would make them want to pass it on to you. “ Was your conclusion, presented ahead of Andy. “ The flea jumps from one body to another like this.”

You put one hand on top of your friend’s forehead, simulating the gesturing you once saw Chucky make when he was trying to possess him. It was understandable for you to repeat the rules you knew, but he didn’t have time to explain to you that you were giving outdated advice.

“ Then the doll would say some funny words, because the flea is making it delusional from the fever, and that’s when it will make you feel very very sick.”

Everyone wanted to get their toys checked, but Sophia was very worried for her mermaid Ariel doll and begged to go first. Andy felt as bad as you for the concern of the cute child, so he did his best to comfort her knowing hers wasn’t a danger. The tenderness he showed to her warmed your heart in a special way, cuteness having you about to suspire if you wouldn’t have been careful enough.

“ Is she gonna be alright?” The little girl asked him while he pretended to act as a parody of a medical checkup. “ She has never been sick, not even when I catch a cold.”

“ I see and I think she is a very healthy girl.” Andy followed, making her smile proudly to later smile back. He then stared into the lifeless happy expression of the Little Mermaid one last time before concluding. “ I don’t think she could turn bad any time soon. She is in excellent condition, with a friend who obviously gives her a lot of love. “

He handled the doll back and she hugged it as it meant the world, because to her it did and he knew that. Sophia thanked him with a kiss on the cheek, a gesture that reminded him of his own love language of childhood.

Emily and her Minion were next, but Jake and Spiderman were arguing the position. She was saying that hers was more urgent because a minion could turn purple and evil if it would get sick, while he insisted on being priority because his superhero had a red suit and got once infected by Venom. It was simple children’s bickery mixed with rambling about their favorite things that was directed at the so called toy doctor, to which he found a simple answer.

“ Would you want to be my nurse, (y/n)? I need to put all these patients in order.”

You were feeling like children again, as if the whole thing would be a game of toy hospital you would be playing together.

If Andy had reasons to believe Chucky could be hiding behind any of your kids, then all your assumptions were wrong and you had to face the fact that you were as unprepared as the last time. Knowing he was there for the doll and not for you was slightly disappointing, but you couldn’t blame him. All you could and should do was help him save a family, he didn’t have any obligations of wanting to see you.

None of the children brought any Good Guys to be examined, but that didn’t mean asking them would be a waste of time. Like in your case, they could have a friend, a cousin or sibling that could be a Chucky owner. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, until Camila got very upset due to some questioning coming from her classmates. She wasn’t holding any toys, a detail that you missed before because you were frankly too emotionally distracted with Andy.

“ I brought Oscar, but he left. I was explaining the classroom rules to him but he didn’t like that.” She explained to you, the mediator of the conflict. “ He said that no bitch was gonna boss him around.”

The relaxing happiness you were previously sharing faded. Andy’s expression transformed immediately to the sign of alarm and you instinctively grabbed his hand as a reminder to calm down.

“ CAMILA, YOU CAN’T SAY THAT!” Sophia corrected her, horrified.

“ I didn’t, Oscar did.” The little girl insisted, then glanced back at Andy. “ Is he sick? I would bring him to get checked, but I don’t know where he is.”

A blatant and unstoppable frustration filled you, years of borderline paranoid attention were pointless because Chucky got to one of your groups anyways and you didn’t notice. The name switching was a new detail, you wondered how many things must had changed.

“ Sweetheart, you have never told me about him before. Since when are you friends with him?”

“ I found him last weekend.”

Andy needed to talk to you in private but wouldn’t want to leave the kids alone either, so he sent a quick code text to Kyle in order to get ready. While he was doing so, you got the ultimate proof of the enemy’s comeback.

The classroom rules poster was vandalized, a ‘ FUCK YOU, BITCH’ written on angry red traces with a crayon.

#andy barclay #andy barclay x reader #alex vincent #alex vincent x reader #chucky 2021 #child's play #chucky fanfiction #andy barclay fanfiction #chucky series #chucky #chucky season 1

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krueger4eva · 6 months

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Top 12 LGBT Horror Characters

6. Will Byers (played by Noah Schnapp) from Stranger Things

*spoilers for Stranger Things*

Welcome to Hawkins, Indiana.

It seemed like a perfect place to live…

…up until November 1983.

…when Will Byers disappeared.

Up until this very unlucky day, Will lived an average life with his older brother Jonathan and his single mother Joyce. With their father no longer in the picture, Will relies on Jonathan for paternal guidance.

Shy and timid, he was a constant target of bullying and only had a few friends. Yet none of them were exactly popular.

But he had no idea how strong their bond would soon become over the next few years.

To think, Will thought him and his friends biggest issue would be which role they would play in Dungeons and Dragons.

Then, Will was taken to the Upside Down…

…setting off a chain of events that would change him and the town of Hawkins forever!

After Will’s round trip journey to another dimension, he brought something back that will always connect him to that cosmic world.

Soon, a few otherworldly tourists from the Upside Down have been making a few uninvited visits in Hawkins.

Since then, Will, his family, and friends have encountered dangerous enemies who have an interest in him, his psychic new friend Eleven, and any other strange events happening in Hawkins. These antagonists range from the mundane to the paranormal. This includes scientists and soldiers who are willing to do whatever it takes to achieve their goals, even at the expense of innocent parties. Among the supernatural creatures Will runs into are the Demogorgons and the Mind Flayer, who has caused the worst trauma on him. He was even part of a mission to defeat the very ruler of the Upside Down himself, Vecna, which led to the highest number of casualties in the town yet.

With his new schedule of being possessed, dodging gunfire, and battling brainwashed citizens, there is no time for D&D for Will and his friends.

But on the bright side, they were also joined by an eclectic group of friends and allies who’ve unwittingly stumbled onto something greater than themselves.

Yet, among this cast of colorful characters, how does Will stand out among them?

Will the Wise.

The missing boy.

The Zombie Boy.

Who was Will Byers?

As his friends (the ones who were still alive) began to mature, explore dating, and found other interests, Will felt like he was an outsider again.

He believes his friends are growing up without him.

It’s as if he was still stuck in the Upside Down.

Things were changing in Hawkins. Everyone was changing. (Especially the changes NOT caused by cosmic influence.)

But Will hasn’t realized that not everyone has their identity figured out as a kid.

It’s just part of growing up.

#noah schnapp #will byers #stranger things #netflix #fictional gay characters #lgbt horror #horror characters #top 12 lgbt horror characters

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vminity21 · 3 years

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Upcoming BTS fics....

Pairing: badboy!jeongguk x female!reader

Word Count: currently uncertain

Genre: fluff, angst, strangers to lovers, inspired by the song: Love Drunk by Boys Like Girls

Warning(s): smut, profanity Rated: 18+

Credit to: @suhdays for the cover which I will tag her in more on this post because she is phenomenal and I love her.

Summary: After a devastating break up, you immediately move in with your sister, leaving behind the country life to relearn the ups and downs of the city. Adopting a cat and gaining a new job, life seems to gradually bring happiness, but you didn’t expect for it to become even more interesting when you stumble upon the enticing yet alluring Jeon Jeongguk. Will this be the adventure of a lifetime? Or will hello always lead to goodbye?

Pairing: psychicmedium/therapist!namjoon x psychic!reader, supernatural!au

Word Count: currently uncertain

Genre: fluff, angst, strangers to lovers, smut, supernatural

Warning(s): smut, profanity, mentions of death, ghosts, Rated: 18+

Credit to: @suhdays for the fic banner!

Summary: With a mere touch, glimpses of the future flash in your vision without warning and due to your secret super power, you can save a life from being forever destroyed. Although, no one knows about your gift besides a few relatives, you never dreamed of meeting somebody who understands you deeply. With a fellow classmate who has peeked your attention, you help him find closure while falling in love with a fellow psychic.

Pairing: policeofficer!taehyung x privateconsultant!reader, f2l!au

Word Count: currently uncertain

Genre: suspense, thriller, angst, fluff, smut

Warning(s): profanity, smut, mention of death, mention of infidelity, mention of a mental institution; Rated: 18+

Credit to: @suhdays for this AMAZING BANNER OMG

Summary: As a private investigator with the rarity of consulting with the police force, you strive to sleuth any possible situation you can in order to find healing for your clients; and, with the help of your best friend, Kim Taehyung, the pair of you are a force to be reckoned with. When Jaehyun, the son of the chief of police, calls in desperation to save his girlfriend he claims has been wrongfully accused of strange incidents, you can’t seem to shake the feeling that something isn’t quite right. Little do you know, you are about to uncover the scariest crime you have ever encountered in your entire career, .... well, if the one truly guilty will let you get away with it first.

Pairing: bestfriend!seokjin x singlemother!reader, singledad!btsmember x singlemother!reader, f2l!au

Word Count: currently uncertain

Genre: fluff, smut, angst

Warning(s): profanity, mention of pregnancy, smut, Rated: PG 13

Credits to: @dee-ehn for making such a beautiful cover that truly embodies the story, thank you so much! @suhdays is the cowriter for this story and my love for her and her writing is beyond words!

Summary: When a job opportunity arises in the hometown you left seven years ago, you return with the gift that was never made known to the one person who hasn’t left your mind. Despite the love interest tugging on your heart strings, you wonder where he may be; tired of suppressing the guilt for hiding the biggest secret you have ever withheld. Now, after all this time, the truth is approaching much sooner than you anticipate, and the untold story of why you left will soon be revealed.

Pairing: photographer!hoseok x campcounselor!reader, vampire!au, strangerstolovers!au

Word Count: currently uncertain

Genre: fluff, angst, smut, vampire, supernatural

Warning(s): smut, angst, fluff, mention of disappearances, Rated: 18+

Credit to: @dee-ehn for making a cover that made my jaw DROP! You are super talented and I wish I had the creativity that you hold. Thank you!

Summary: When your best friend, Kim Taehyung, all but forces you to be a camp counselor at his mother’s camp for kids, you are dreading every second. Love at first sight hits you when you least expect it when your eyes land on the handsome Jung Hoseok. As weeks pass, the mysterious disappearances of a few people you know are starting to scare the town, and when Hoseok goes missing, the desperation to find him is strong. What you find out is a lot more unbelievable than you would have ever imagined.

Pairing: butler!yoongi x royal!reader, jester!jimin x princess!reader, royalty!au

Word Count: currently uncertain

Genre: angst, fluff, royalty, smut

Warning(s): profanity, smut, angst, Rated: 18+

Credit to: @suhdays like seriously how AMAZING is this cover!?

Summary: As princess and future heir to the throne, you live a conformed life to the castle under the scrutiny of your ridiculously strict parents, King Anistol and Queen Lidabee. When your heart is first broken by the loss of your first love, you never imagined getting a brand new chance to fall in love again, but approached with the same circumstances. After years of rescuing servants and rebelling against your parents commands, you find yourself facing the consequences of another broken heart. When secrets arise to your attention, you learn things that you never thought possible, plotting yet another attempt at finding freedom.

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deanwasalwaysbi · 3 years

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Thinking About How This Wasn't Actually a Denial

But was it self preservation?

The year was 2013 and rather than a denial, Jensen said "Don't ruin it for everybody now."

What was the fan 'ruining' for everybody? The Con? or something else? So if I was a tinhatter - and sometimes I am - I might think about other tv shows from the past that were covertly queer and how they handled the question, were TV shows 'out'?

Mainstream shows like Bewitched, you know, shows that are so clearly straight, you can tell because... well. ... they never technically used the word 'gay'. ... witches honor

SPN Film Studies is Back in Session! Join Under the Cut for more on supernatural & the story about how Bewitched! came out of the Broom Closet

Bewitched aired from 1964-72, it's so old the first season was in B&W. The show starred Elizabeth Montgomery as Samantha, the strange housewife with a stranger secret. Her husband, Darrin, unwittingly married into the whole witchy family, from the now drag icon Agnes Moorehead's Endora with her open marriage, to the unmarried and batty Aunt Clara (Marion Lorne who played the mother in Hitchcock's heavily gay coded 'Strangers on a Train'), to the extremely coded Uncle Arthur (gay actor Paul Lynde). (We can't know for sure, but it seems at least 4 members of the cast were gay themselves.) The core premise of the show involves Samantha balancing who she really is with repressing that self for the safety and comfort of her family.

Samantha and her husband keep her [ahem] 'queer' nature a secret which gets harder on Samantha when she has to tell her daughter to live the same way, “I know what fun it is to be a part of the magical life ... to have so much at your fingertips. But we’re living in a world that’s just not ready for people like us, and I’m afraid they may never be. So you’re going to have to learn when you can use your witchcraft and when you can’t.”

There are plenty of generic 60s wacky hijinks but there are also whole episodes metaphorically about repression being harmful, episodes where characters asked if another was a 'thespian', episodes where Darrin was queercoded while under a spell, episodes about representation & bad stereotyping in media, and even two episodes where witches discussed whether it was time for witches to come out to the mortals, (whether mortals could accept that they were just nice normal people trying to live their lives like everybody else - or not - and would just freak out and kill them again).

When it came time to recast Dick York's Darrin with a new 2nd lead, Elizabeth and her husband, William Asher, knowingly cast the gay Dick Sergeant. (Although he wasn't out publicly at the time.) Then, when Sergeant came out in '91, Montgomery supported him and the two served together as the grand marshals of the Hollywood pride parade.

Dick Sargent expressed in the 90s what he would want in a Bewitched reunion episode: for Darrin to meet another like couple, a witch and a mortal who are married, and another, and another, and end up forming a whole community and support group, finding out that it was never so uncommon after all, that it was actually "about 10% of the population." The two would march in the first mortals and witches pride parade, saying they should have come out years ago.

In '94, Montgomery had this to say about the queer themes of the show, “Don't think that didn't enter our minds at the time. We talked about it on the set, that this was about people not being allowed to be what they really are. If you think about it, Bewitched is about repression in general and all the frustration and trouble it can cause. It was a neat message to get across to people at that time in a subtle way.” (x)

Interviewer: Are you concerned that your involvement in the gay-pride parade will lead people to believe you're a lesbian?

"[Laughing] I'm really not worried about that. There are bigger things to worry about. Like the presidential election and finding a cure for AIDS. I did the parade in support of Dick. I mean, in the end, didn't we all?" (x) (Montgomery was also one of the first celebrity allies to fight for LGBTQ rights and support HIV/AIDS-related fundraisers.)

So did they talk about it at the time? No. You can bet they didn't speak about it publicly. What would have happened if a fan, publicly, had asked Elizabeth, William, or Dick about the show's queer allegory content? This was a time when being gay was a literal felony. They would have had to have lied or risked losing the show, their careers, and possibly subjecting themselves to violence.

Now. back to Jensen and the Schrodinger's long con:

This was in 2013 - The same year that the Supreme Court of the United States struck down a federal ban on gay marriage. You certainly couldn't call homosexuality illegal in the US at that time. It's the same year that Dabb and Sgriccia spoke about the Aaron moment on the DVD and whether there's 'this potential for love in all places' for Dean. Of course Jensen said this about the very same scene: "But it was - you know - it was comedy. It was a comedic moment in the show and fortunately Dean gets a lot of the comedic moments in the show and it was just, you know, Ben was poking fun at the fact that - you know, how can we make this very kind of manly, heterosexual guy uncomfortable - uh -you know, or or have him back on his heels and throw him off his game a little bit.”

I'm reminded of 2012 when Ben Edlund stepped in about a Destiel question at comic con, pretending it was some freaky thing that fans had made up even though he'd already written and directed TMWWBK, which had already aired.

Jensen: “What’s Destiel?” Ben Edlund: That’s some weird shit. Jensen: Is this something that you created, Ben? Ben: You don’t want any part of that.

Or the next year for season 9 when Jensen said “I think the whole Cas and Dean thing has gotten out of hand” “I don’t think there’s anything secret to their relationship even though a lot of people wish there was” EVEN THOUGH- that season we got the nightstands acknowledgement and Misha (or both of them?) was told to “play him like a jilted lover”

Or Jensen's knowing bromance smile in 2015

I think recent events (cough spn gate) have made clear that the network and many viewers were still uncomfortable with CAS being gay in 2020, deleting even familial mentions of Cas from the finale episodes once he was revealed to be not only gay but also in love with Dean. (x) (x) (x) Can you imagine then what Warner Brothers would have said to an acknowledge bisexual Dean Winchester in 2013? Granted, there was no Trump election, but legitimate, could that have been the end of the show? Or the Russian and Conservative US viewership? Is it possible that Jensen would have feared so?

Is it possible that Jensen had a more personal reason for a knee jerk defensive response?

So was Jensen covering in 2013? Well. This happened 5 years later in 2018:

That hostile "? No." came even though Misha confirmed that he and Jensen had discussed Destiel by that point. Granted, discussing Destiel as a concept and accepting Dean being inherently bisexual are two very different things - Cas is GN after all - still, less than encouraging.

I may never get over the jumps back and forth that Jensen did. At this point I think there's no denying that a lot of SPN's queer content was on purpose, even as writers and actors were telling fans and network execs otherwise. Yet when each person involved was brought in? that question haunts me at night. I have gone off before about the timeline in my pursuit of whether Jensen was Ben Hur'd (x) and, if so, for how long. I'm sure many in this fandom have so much to add.

In the meantime we'll just have to cherish this moment from 2019:

Interviewer: 'So, tell us just a little bit about what you’re most excited to tackle with your character this final season.’ Jensen: “Cas. Just like a full football form tackle.”

Bewitched references in SPN:

2.05 - Dean: Well, it looks like he can't work his mojo just by twitching his nose, he's gotta use verbal commands.

2.20 - Dean says Barbara Eden was hotter than Elizabeth Montgomery - sigh - Dean.

7.05 - Dean thinks a husband has no idea his wife is a witch, and refers to him as Darrin. Dean also indicates he likes the first Darrin better. - (I guess I can't make a comment about how much TV Dean watched as a kid if I get all of his references and also haven't saved the world.)

14.03 - Jules refers to the witch as 'Brunhilde' - this is a minor character in bewitched but more so from mythology and likely referred to the cartoon witch from WB cartoons - the stereotypical witch that faced bugs bunny with the green skin and straw hair.

let me know if you have any to add. Stay Witchy ✌

#jensen ackles #jackles long con #dean was always bi #spn film studies #spn queercoding #Spn tinhatting #ben hur treatment #bewitched #queercoding #Caslighting #Spn gaslighting #elizabeth montgomery #dick sargent #paul lynde #original content #Marion Lorne #Marion Lorne was also in a show called the gay adventure in 1932 but i dont have any information on the plot #and to quote misha. it's probably gay like happy #Schrodinger's long con

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starshipsofstarlord · 4 years

Text

Growing Pains | TFW

Request: Hey! Can I please request a platonic x reader with team free will 2.0? The reader gets turned back to a toddler by a witch and they try to ask Rowena for help but, the spell lasts for a week and it's just plain chaotic. The reader is extremely clumsy and hungry but knows a few words like "Hungry" and "Thirsty". The rest is up to you 😊. Thanks in advance!

A/N: It is a little different from the request, so I hope you don’t mind, also it’s not great. And I’m terribly sorry for the wait, I hope you can understand why xxx

Walking around the lab, you screwed your face up at the mess. It was like toddler’s had been let loose in the room, there was glass broken upon the floor, paper thrown out of the shredder, and worst of all, no one to condemn for the death of the scientist.

Sighing, you shut your eyes, leaning back into one of the counters. “So, the guy that was killed had like a dozen or so kids and we can’t find a single one of them, or the mother?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose as Cas circled the room once more, seeing if he could find anything that your human eyes had missed. But alas, there was no ultimatum, nothing that could direct the pair of you to answers.

“That sounds about right.” Dean’s gruff voice came from the doorway, stepping on shards of glass as he came closer to the two of you. “Although at this time, I am calling shots on the mom being the killer.”

“We don’t even know if this is up our alley Dean.” You sighed, opening your eyes and looking at the older hunter. “Did you get anything from the co-workers?”

“Not a peep.” His tone was almost too cheerful, especially considering the circumstances. The group of you were nowhere near completing this case, and all he could think about was the burger joint around the corner. You were close enough to it, that you would give in and accompany him. “Who’s hungry?”

“After the sight of the guts strung in the ceiling fan,” you looked up to emphasise your point, “I think I may have lost what appetite that I had left.”

“Bad luck. You snooze, you lose.” With that he left the room, presumably heading off to stuff his face. It was impossible not to roll your eyes at his childish behaviour, although in all fairness, you should have been used to it by now. However your dear angel friend remained with you.

“We should meet with Sam and Jack, and see if they have found anything in the house.” Castiel spoke, confused by the lack of evidence in this death. There was nothing that could have helped, even the majority of the man’s body was gone.

“Why would someone have that many children?” It was a rhetorical question, but just the thought of your body going through it’s natural process that many times made you shiver.

“To repopulate.” Cas put simply, although that was a straightforward fact. But that was not what you had meant, admittedly you had a soft spot for kids, even missed being one sometimes.

“I know, but doesn’t that seem sort of strange to you?” Your mind was spinning with all sorts of possibilities, of what could and couldn’t be going on. Unless, well... “It could be like some sort of supernatural litter, or they’re breeding test subjects. Is there even any record of them having that many children?”

Your conclusions made your friend frown, and he pointed his finger up, unintentionally pointing to the tendril of flesh that was hanging from the fan above.

“We should check the records.” And with that he grabbed your bag from just outside of the room, pulling your laptop from out of it. Just then, your phone began ringing. It was Sam, and so you answered.

“Hey, you find anything?” There was silence on the other end, until you heard the shrill sound of what you supposed to be a child.

“Was that Jack or -”

“Hey!” The nephilim retorted. You could already picture the child like frown on his face, but before either of you could bicker about your comparison, the Winchester on call spoke first.

“She left one of her kids, and we found hex bags.” He breathed, relieved that this did in fact involve what you all were guessing to be a witch, yet also frustrated about how messy this all was. “But the thing is, this son of hers was closed in the basement, and the only thing down there for him to eat down there was a man’s leg...”

“We should get that tested, it could be the father.” You said, trying to think about this case adjoined with all of its new revelations. “So, what is her goal here, she’s trying to turn her own children into cannibals?”

“That’s how the ‘myth’ of the wendigo started in human folklore.” Jack commented, before he frowned. Him and Sam both let out shouts, making you fear for the pair.

“Sam?”

“She doesn’t have any children, nor did he.” Cas spoke, the content on the screen disarranging this entire predicament further. “What just happened Sam?”

His breathing could still be heard from the other end of the line. It seemed like he was in shock of some sort.

“You’ve got that right, Cas.” He breathed, referring to the fact that she had no spawn. “And I suspect the others are like him. He’s just turned into a grown man, we’re going to attempt to get an answer to who he is. Be careful if you encounter Mrs Fletcher, both of you.”

So, now you had a presumed answer on how Mr Fletcher had died, you had to tell Dean. Quickly, you and Cas left the scene, looking for the elder Winchester, remembering to take any of your items with you.

“Thankyou.” You nodded, doing all of the talking to any police whilst Cas held your phone at an arm’s length. “Got any clues on where our witch works?” You asked him.

Sam replied soon, making the matter of reaching Dean that more prominant. “West Street, not far from where you are. At the burger joint, Paula’s.”

“Shit!”

When you and Castiel arrived, Dean Winchester was nowhere to be found. That fact had you deeply concerned, more so than you would usually be on a hunt. This presumed witch was targeting adults, and not only did he and the majority of you fit the agenda, but you didn’t want to know what would happen if you ended up disturbing her crosshairs.

There was no one inside, excluding yourself and the angel. It was eerie, almost too quiet to be owned by a witch. Scratch that, definitely too quiet.

“Behind the counter.” You nodded towards the door, taking the lead first, lightly pushing it. The bell atop of it jingled, making you blink hazily, before all turned to a deep gaze of pixels.

Castiel walked closer to you, tapping your forehead, but to no avail was your state resolved. Instead, you felt the need to collapse and keep your eyes contained behind their lids. And so you gave into that feeling, only hearing the voices of Sam and Jack before it was over.

When you awoke, you were in your bed in the bunker, but it felt much larger than it ever had before. There was so much room to move upon the mattress, the duvet even felt bigger.

As you looked down at your hands, you realised they had shrunk significantly. For all you were aware, this could all have been a very lucid dream, but you doubted that. As a hunter, the strange things were never false, they were real.

Attempting to leave your bed, you dropped your legs over the side, although they were now incapable of touching the floor. Instead of landing upright, you fell, causing a thud against the floor.

The sound had obviously rendered, and it removed all thoughts that were rattling around in your mind. Memories flashed before your eyes, sending a haze of dizziness to your shrunken body, until they all left, making you aloof in your own adult room.

Dean rushed out of his own reside as he heard the thud. He had followed the witch around the back and shanked her, but there had been a second plan up her long black sleeves. And he should have known, as he walked into your room, only to find a little girl with a strong resemblance to you.

This was her charade when alive, and the issue still stuck even now even when she was dead. Dean rubbed his face, feeling the muscles that were tensing beneath the skin. And now they were left with the outcome that they and you had tried to resolve.

Looking down at your youthful silhouette reminded Dean as to exactly why he hated witches so much. They were deceitful and cruel, and unfortunately so much more. “Sam!” He called out in a hurry, cradling your small, whining body in his arms.

You tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but your once fellow hunter would not allow you to do so. There was no logic turning in the cogs of your mind, instead, you were much rather shy to someone that you were viewing as a stranger.

In a flash, Sam was at the threshold of your door, looking in as it was ajar. He saw Dean with a kid, and there was only one explanation for it. They had been hustled whilst the witch turned in her grave...

Cas examined a book in the war room, whilst Jack followed his actions. Sam was on the phone with Rowena, asking, some would see it as begging, the witch to come and fix you up. And thus, Dean was left with you, whilst he nursed a beer in his opposite hand.

You tried to reach the glass bottle, but Dean jerked it away from your grasp. “No.” He warned you, having continuously done so before when you were too lazy to fetch your own from the fridge. But that didn’t stop you, instead it humoured you, making you laugh at the perceived game.

“Stop it.” He spoke again, making Jack laugh at your stubbornness which clearly hadn’t changed. For once, it was nice for him not to be the youngest in the room, even though technically he still wasn’t. But all got distracted when Sam huffed a sigh of relief over the phone.

“Okay, great. Me and Dean will meet you there.” And then he hung up.

Rather than being in Dean’s arms once again, you had been traded to Sam’s as the eldest drove Baby to the destination that Rowena had proposed. “Thirsty.” You mumbled, a gurgle following your very short sentence.

Sam looked at Dean, who only shrugged. He was unsure of what to do, they couldn’t stop at a gas station, otherwise they would miss their meeting with Rowena, and as they knew far too well, she was a tricky one to get a hold of.

“No you’re not.” Dean told you, trying to convince your mind otherwise to its actual thoughts. For the moment of which you were silent, he thought it may have worked, however the peace was not eternal, for you spoke again.

“Hungry.” You managed to speak next, making Dean huff from exhaustion. He thought of your need for a drink, and then it clicked, he tipped his head back at Sam.

“There’s a beer in the back.” It possibly could have rolled under his seat, these roads to the witch were bumpy. Sam gasped at the statement, placing his hand on your back as he bounced you and kept you distracted from your desires.

“Please tell me that you’re not serious.” At this point, Sam would not be surprised with his brother. Quite clearly, as much as the man adored kids, he was getting quite fed up with you in this state. It was day in, day out and yet the effects still hadn’t worn themselves out.

“She’s technically of legal drinking age.” He shrugged, remembering all of the times that you would steal his beer from the fridge, or even sometimes his hands.

“Technically,” the younger of the two pried, glaring at his brother, “currently she isn’t,”

“We’re here anyway.” Dean cut the conversation short, putting the car in park. For the first time in his life, the hunter and legacy was eager to see Rowena. Never did he think that day would ever come, but somehow your obliviousness had landed you all here, and he hated it.

Sam got out of the car, carrying you to a bench that Dean had decided to park his own rear on. There was a nice breeze whipping his hair before his face, and this younger you mirrored the reaction the elder one would have had.

You laughed, watching the swarm of locks cover his face, and move to the other side, with the swiftest and slightest motions as the direction switched itself up.

Footsteps, clearly heels, could be heard clicking their way over. It was isolated in this park, presumably the redhead’s doing as she came into view with an amused grin stretching her chin.

“Well, if I was not already quite acquainted with the pair of you, I would presume the two of you were fathers to dear little (Y/N).” Rowena bent forward, ignoring the glares she received from the men, ogling at your youthful expressions. “Are you sure that you don’t want to keep her like this? She is quite adorable when she hasn’t got the brains to work with my son when the two of you dimwits think it fits into your narrative. Or hold a gun to the back of my neck and blackmail me with my own security.”

“Definitely.” Was Dean’s instant response. He could not do another day with baby you, he’d start going grey, or his eyes would turn black all of a sudden from pent up rage.

“Yes, Rowena.” Sam answered, bowing his head, as your fingers decided to thread themselves through his hair.

“Shame.” She pouted briefly, before waving her hand, and then you were, dazed, but sat in Sam’s lap, full size. As soon as you came to, your eyes widened at the position you were in, and you were quick to launch yourself out of it. He however sat there stunned. “Told you we should have called her earlier.” Sam said, still feeling awkward from your exchange, and Dean only grunted in a reply.

Dean knew for sure though, you had been a pain in the ass. If it ever happened again, he would just leave you with Jack and Cas.

#supernatural imagine #supernatural one shot #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural prompts #supernatural requests #tfw x reader #tfw imagine #team free will #team free will x reader #dean winchester imagines #sam and dean #sam winchester imagine #cas x reader

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theparanormalperiodical · 3 years

Text

The Real Story Behind Insidious (2010) And The 5 WEIRDEST Stories Of Astral Projection You Need To Know About feat. The Cold War

It's one of those horror films that just gets it right.

Yes, it wears all the trademarks of overworked tropes, and sure, it has yet to shed its transphobic skin. But the beast that emerged from James Wan's mind and slithered onto the cinema screen recaptured timeless traditions with a new sense of terror.

And yet somehow the rosy cheeks of the Lipstick-Faced Demon gleaming in his various jump scares aren't the scariest thing about this film.

You see, most of the horror movies that manage to scar me for life are allegedly based on real stories - James Wan (who also directed The Conjuring franchise) is no stranger to fleshing out his dark ideas with even more twisted truths. So it was only recently when I discovered how accurate Insidious (2010) was to real paranormal phenomena that young Dalton's venture into the Further became far more terrifying.

And I need to tell someone about it. From the supernatural to the Soviet Union, Insidious is grounded in far more than rumours of a haunted house.

Insidious is based on real historic events and real experiences.

The first installment of one of horror’s most famous franchises, Insidious is already celebrating its 10th birthday. In fact, that’s how old Dalton was when he fell into a mysterious coma - and then stumbled into purgatory.

Instead of having anxiety dreams about not studying for the french exam like the rest of us, Dalton is falling asleep, separating his soul from his body, and having a gander ‘round an astral realm (like heaven or hell) called The Further. The Further is crammed full of dead people and they all want to possess the fresh young body that basically walked into the wrong room.

The first 2 films follow Dalton and his family as they navigate the all-American struggle of being followed by endless paranormal activity and various family members being stuck in purgatory.

After strange occurrences follow the family from house-to-house (which only seems to extend as far as hot-topic-goth-demons standing by the beds of Dalton and his younger siblings) a local psychic is summoned to figure out what in the f*ck is going on. Elise uses her spidey senses to determine that yep, there’s a demon and no, the house isn’t haunted.

It’s the boy, it’s Dalton.

It then turns out that this ability is hereditary (*piano wire flashback*) and comes from Dalton’s father. Josh actually worked with Elise when he was a kid after his astral projecting resulted in a ‘parasitic spirit’ of an old woman following him the afterlife. Elise therefore sends Daddy-O into The Further to fetch Dalton and bring him home.

Daddy-O does the job, and Dalton returns to his body safely and wakes up. But Daddy-O ain’t Daddy-O. Josh’s body has been possessed by the female spirit that stalks him and his soul is stuck back in The Further. The next film follows up on this plot twist and deepens our exploration into the capabilities of astral projection - namely the potential for time travel. But Insidious 2: Papa Don’t Preach mainly revolves around the backstory of the female spirit that possesses Josh.

[INSERT TRANSPHOBIA]

I’ve already dissected what Hollywood Horror gets wrong with transphobia. But I’ve yet to tumble into the world of astral projection - a world full of proof of the paranormal and political chaos, too. Dalton and his daddy issues are only the tip of the iceberg.

What Is Astral Projection?

Astral projection is an intentional out of body experience and is practised by those that follow esotericism (a religion which combines loads of different Western religious ideas) but it is present in many different belief systems. During projection the soul separates from the physical body.

The soul, or the astral body, is a body of light that links the rational soul to the physical body and is considered to be a silvery spine-like ‘cord’. The astral body travels to different astral planes which can be populated by all types of entities including angels, demons, and dead people. The Further represents one of these astral planes.

Each culture and each religion has a different take on projection, for example the Japanese believe those who are ill or comatose - like dear Dalton - are more prone to astral projection.

In Insidious we also see astral projection take a number of forms: there’s obviously the travel to different planes like The Further, but we see time travel, too. This chimes in with the different schools of thought regarding astral travel.

The history of this practice dates back to the Roman Empire, but only in the 18th century did discussion of astral projection take place when Emanuel Swedenborg wrote about his own out of body experiences. Interest in projection increased throughout the 20th century with many notable historic figures claiming they’ve ventured into other realms including noted American activist Helen Keller (she claimed she astral projected to Athens):

"I have been far away all this time, and I haven't left the room...It was clear to me that it was because I was a spirit that I had so vividly 'seen' and felt a place a thousand miles away. Space was nothing to spirit!"

Aside from being practised by historic figures, it took centre stage in a historic era, too. It was during the Cold War that the study and practice of projection took off and it became a political weapon. Beyond the cultural war, however, was a plethora of evidence suggesting the events we see in Insidious might be all too real.

The Soviet Union & The Supernatural

Unclassified CIA documents are a staple amongst paranormal enthusiasts, especially those who have a habit of following mysterious lights in the sky. A top secret memo from 1974, proposed an experiment where Patrick Price, a former police officer, would use astral projection to gain information regarding a Soviet installation in the Ural Mountains. They wanted entry and exit points, they wanted floor plans, and they wanted operations details. This was a covert operation that used paranormal capabilities already being tested and trialled by their communist rivals.

In the 1970s the Cold War took a different turn: thanks to Soviet research into ordinary people’s supernatural abilities including astral projection, American intelligence agencies sought to do the same. Just as the atomic bomb was being built, scientists Seymon and Valentina Kirlian were developing technology that could capture one’s aura in a photograph. They were investigating energy fields, trying to mentally influence animal behaviour, and practicing telepathic communication.

Yogis and masters of ancient magic were even brought in in an attempt to harness the potential of paranormal forces.

“the major impetus behind the Soviet drive to harness the possible capabilities of telepathic communication, telekinetics, and bionics is said to come from the Soviet military and the KGB”

A Defense Intelligence Agency report

Throughout the 1960s a surge in parapsychological research centres took place as ordered by a Kremlin edict. As per the Cold War, the US swiftly did the same.

But it was when the US caught wind experiments using bioplasma they grew concerned. Bioplasmic connectors to human beings echoed claims of the silver cord which - as mentioned previously - was a key part of astral projection.

A Soviet agent could travel across realms, eras, and countries in spirit-form and be going through American filing cabinets. The Americans needed to make astral projection a weapon of their own. Dr Eugene Bernard was one of the many doctors who would pioneer research into projection and sought people willing to travel to these distant realms.

Bernard was quickly caught up with the Soviet-supernatural-situ which included theories of an army of psychic spies.

Soon dozens of recruits would practice astral projection and recount their experiences including a woman called Beverly Chalker: she travelled in spirit from Dallas to a house in New Jersey and described in detail the things she saw. She saw a man asleep with a book on the floor, describing his pyjamas and the decor of the room. The team investigating her astral projection verified her claims.

She was right.

Similar stories soon leaked to the public and many ordinary Americans began to try their hand at exploring spiritual realms. Books, articles, and even a set of infamous tapes released in 1973 claimed to reveal how one could separate their soul from their body.

It used a rhythmic ticking noise to hypnotise those seeking new paranormal abilities - something we hear throughout Insidious. The tapes would be used by one Robert Antoszczyk, an infamous practitioner of projection who would mysteriously die in during a session. 6 weeks later, Patrick Price died, too. We will talk about Antoszczyk later.

Even security in the White House was allegedly amped up over reports the Russians were looking into giving their astral soldiers physical strength so they could become assassins. Interest in projection soon grew out of control, and by the 1980s the surge in serial killers was pinned on a vast number of them practicing it in prison.

(Many followed a range of extremist religious beliefs - practicing astral projection doesn’t make you a serial killer.)

Concerns also claimed some projectors could become ‘zombies’ if the soul got lost, just like Dalton was in Insidious. In fact, one practitioner demarcated several zones of astral travel with Zone C being the limbo where souls were trapped. According to some, The Further was real.

And Robert Antoszczyk was stuck there.

5 Craziest Stories & Accounts Of Astral Projection

#1 - Robert Antoszczyk

Antoszczyk was one of the many Americans swept by the incoming tide of astral projection. He had been taught the practice by a yogi whilst in India, but unlike many other Americans who tumbled into amateur projection, he delved in head-first.

He then began to have dreams about a beautiful woman. Her exotic looks and compelling voice was calling to him from a different realm and he wanted to follow it.

On the 1st of June 1975, he told his roommate not to disturb him. He went into his bedroom, locked the door, and followed the method of astral projection as explained by those tapes released in 1973.

3 days passed. His roommate grew concerned. He broke down the door to discover that Robert was dead. His seemingly healthy roommate was lying on his bed and smiling. There was no signs of a struggle or a seizure or any other cause of death.

Medical experts could offer no answer as to how he died. A local astrologer, however, claimed the answer was obvious: he simply decided not to return to his body. His death would be blamed on his astral projection and it would make headlines across the states.

But some alleged that he was not fully at fault - he was drawn in by a beautiful female entity that would call out to many others with her enticing voice. The descriptions of the woman all related to Ammut, an ancient Egyptian female demonness. And according to the Ancient Egyptians, she existed in astral planes and consumed souls of those she came across.

Laverne Landis heard the same voice. It might have killed her, too.

#2 - Laverne Landis

This mother of five was found dead in the woods in Minnesota by a construction worker in winter of 1982. She wasn’t a typical recruit for projection as a nurse working at a local hospital - but she had started hearing a voice.

The voice was from an astral spirit that promised her the power to heal the sick. So she quit her job, abandoned her children, and drove for 6 months with the voice of Ammut as her guide.

The voice grew stronger and she felt the voice vibrating in the wilderness around her. Her psychic group warned her against astral projection, claiming she might get stuck in limbo. She ignored them, and Landis and her boyfriend followed the voice to Loon Lake on a long trail road through the wilderness.

“We’ve got to stay here. They’re going to be in. I know it, I can feel it, they’re almost here.”

After Laverne passed away, probably from starvation or hypothermia, her boyfriend pulled himself through the snow and alerted a local.

Landis also reportedly was very interest in UFOs and was part of a UFO ‘cult’, and might have also gone to the woods to wait for a flying saucer to land. Either way, she was waiting for something out of this world.

#3 - Seton High School

In 1975 an entire class of students in a prep school in Cincinnati attempted astral projection. They were led in an experiment from which they would ‘travel’ home, report back what they saw, and phone calls home would prove travel via spirit was real.

(Unfortunately, this is all I can uncover on this case, but it is still creepy AF.)

#4 - Robert Monroe

Robert Monroe was obsessed with astral projection. He had often practiced it during the 1970s, even becoming angry seeing a man sleeping next to his wife in bed - before realising it was him. He subjected himself to examination at a local hospital by a psychiatrist.

They verified his astral projection put him into a comatose state rather than a sleeping state.

Monroe then spent a huge fortune on an institute in Virginia to specialise in research into projection featuring an isolation chamber to provide optimal circumstances for projection. And on one occasion he even felt a ‘trunk’ in his back during projection, something he believes was the silver cord.

The United States Army Intelligence and Security Command investigated his techniques and used his claims to inform their desire to create an army of astral projectors.

#5 - Cadell Jeansen Raja

What do Charles Manson, Herbert Mullin, and David Berkowitz have in common? Yes, they are some of America’s most infamous serial killers. But they also all studied astral projection with a desire to harness paranormal abilities they believed would provide new tools to accompany their horrific acts.

(I don’t often make mention of serial killers on this blog, but the perplexing and evil acts committed by Cadell Jeansen Raja should be mentioned.)

In 2017, Raja killed each member of his family over several days. He constantly changed the motive for murder to mislead the police, but later admitted he harboured anger against his successful family members and was obsessed by the occult.

He experimented with the separation of the soul from the body and was living in a ‘virtual world’. He then claimed his family members were killed during their own astral projection.

***

Would you dare venture into The Further?

Let me know in a comment below!

Make sure you also like and reblog this post and then hit follow to read a new article on the paranormal every weekend.

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procrastinatorimagines · 4 years

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Helping Hand

Fandom: The Originals / The Vampire Diaries

Characters: Reader, Elijah,

Warning/s: none

Word Count: 4,171

Request: Hi! Can I get an imagine where the reader is a teenager (about 16) who has powers and she learns that Elijah Mikaelson has a necklace that belonged to her ancestor that will allow her to keep her powers under control and asking him for help?

hey ,can u write something with elijah???? love your blog

Summary: The reader moves to New Orleans with her family after her grandmother dies, leaving them with a large property and inheritance. But the reader also starts to develop powers, powers she cannot control, not without the help of Elijah Mikaelson.

Note: I’ve had this first request buried in my drafts for a very long time, I don’t even still have the actual request anymore so idk who sent it but here it is

Your magic was... volatile, to say the least. They’d started to show themselves last year, around the time your family had moved to New Orleans, but despite your best efforts, you were still unable to keep them under much control. It felt like there was a well of power deep inside of you, but no matter how far you reached, you’d yet to find the end.

You longed to reach the end of your power, to finally know your limits. By understanding what you were capable of, maybe you could begin to learn to control barely contained power within. It was a miracle your family hadn’t found out yet, especially given the whole you’d accidentally made in the back wall of the house, but as much as you wanted to tell them, you didn’t know how they would react.

The timing of your powers couldn’t have been a coincidence, at first you’d thought it was related to your age maybe, did 15 mean something magical? You obviously had no idea, but the longer you were in New Orleans, you started to realise that that wasn’t the case. Your estranged grandmother had died last year, you’d only met her once as a baby and your mother never talked about her, but she’d left behind a massive estate and inheritance in New Orleans, and following the divorce from your father, your mother had decided maybe it was a good chance for a fresh start. So she’d packed you and your younger twin brothers up, ripping you away from your lives, friends, everything you’d ever known, and taken you to the Crescent City.

It had been an adjustment, especially with the added problems of your powers. Needless-to-say, discovering you had magic was a shock, a big one. At first you thought you were dreaming, or seeing things, but eventually you’d accepted that this was real... and you should really plant a few trees to make up for the damage you’d accidentally done to the ones on the edge of your property line.

That’s where you were now, headphones on, beads of sweat on your brow as you tried to concentrate your magic at a single tree stump about ten metres away from you. Taking slow breaths you listened to the beat of the music pumping in your ears, letting all else slip away as you felt that familiar opening inside of you, leading to the well of magic you could feel stirring in anticipation. It always gave you a bit of a rush when you started, but you had to be careful you didn’t dive in too quickly.

Too much too fast was your problem, and you’d spent many, many... many, frustrating days trying to master it. You were sure there was a better way, maybe an instruction manual? But who could you ask, New Orleans may have been full of stores and stalls promising knowledge of the occult and the supernatural, but nothing had seemed to do you any good. Parlour tricks mostly, so you were alone.

Feeling that familiar build up of power, you yet again tried to steady it, tried to send a concentrated blast only. You felt your hands tingle, then warm, focusing intently as you felt sweat drip down the side of your face. Almost there...

A bird landed on the tree stump, catching you off guard as it cawed, stretching its wings but refusing to move. At the last second you threw your hands to the side, a blast of power flying into a nearby tree as you tried to reign it back in.

“Damn it!” You swore, clenching your hands into fists and pulling them to your sides as you stared wide eyes at the giant smouldering hole in the tall tree, the creaking and groaning sound it was making as it began to splinter at the break.

You took a slight step back, casting a dirty look at the black bird still perched on the stump as it watched you, regarding you with a more curious look than you were comfortable with. A loud snapping sound caused you to look back to the tree, now unable to support the weight on top as it began to topple.

“Crap...” you mumbled, pulling your headphones down to your neck as you watched it start to fall slowly. Not again, you thought as it fell, crashing into another tree before falling back and slamming into the ground.

You stared at it in stunned silence for a minute, glad you were too far out for anyone to have heard. The bird let out a small noise, still watching you, seemingly unaffected by the sound of the toppling tree. “What are you looking at?” You demanded, the bird cocking its head like it was listening, “this is your fault,” you told it, pointing to the mess behind it.

The black bird actually turned its head, looking to the tree before turning back to you, cawing and flying off over your head. You ducked as it flew past you, wind blowing your hair. Well... that was weird, but honestly, talking to a bird was probably the least strange thing that had happened to you recently.

So with a shrug you turned on your heels, grabbing your school bag and heading back down the overgrown path you always followed back to your house, checking your watch to make sure you wouldn’t miss the bus. Your 16th birthday had been a few days ago, and the balloons your mother had insisted on putting up on the railings of your front porch were still flying as you appeared out of the clearing in the woods.

Your brother’s were waiting by the road as you picked up your pace, noticing the school bus turning down the end of your road and heading to where the boys were stood. “Cutting it close,” one of your brothers, JJ, commented as you rolled your eyes, ignoring him and Nick as you rifled in your bag for your pass, finding it just as the bus pulled up and the doors opened.

You sat away from your brothers once you got on, headphones back on as you thought about how you were ever going to get a hang of your powers.

The rest of your school day when like it usually did, you went to class, did your work, ate lunch alone, and researched magic whenever you had some free time. You’d had losts of friends back home, but being the new girl struggling to control dangerous powers didn’t leave you with much opportunity to be anything other than the loner who talked to the librarian more than any of the other kids.

Your brothers fit in just fine, and the party your mother had been expecting to throw you over the weekend had been embarrassingly empty, so now she was worried about you. Great, another thing you had to worry about.

Thankfully, your magic hadn’t really ever acted up at school, expect in gym once or twice, but nothing too noticeable. Heightened emotions seemed to make it worse, and the boredom you felt at school seemed to subdue it the most.

After school you debated getting the bus home with JJ and Nick, but your mom was working until late so you decided to walk into the city instead, trying your luck again at one of the supposedly magic stores or stalls, you never knew, maybe someone might actually be able to help you.

It was a warm day, even into the afternoon as you strolled along the crowded streets. Okay, you actually liked New Orleans, the people, the buildings, the atmosphere, you felt like you could disappear here. If you hadn’t come into uncontrollable powers when you’d moved here... well, things would be very different.

You ended up walking through the French Quarter, definitely lost but not caring too much, you’d just use your phone to find the best way home when it got a little later. You were so lost in your music and surroundings that it took you a while to realise you were being followed.

It felt like a cold breeze on the back of your neck, like your magic warning you of danger. But there was so many people arround that you wouldn’t have been able to tell who was following you even if you saw them, so you picked up your pace.

That feeling didn’t leave, cold going down your spine as you weaved your way through the crowds of people milling about the square. You probably would have thought you were paranoid, but you’d learned enough to not doubt your magic right now.

Spotting a side street you slipped down it, only realising once you were half way down that it was a dead end. You quickly tried to double back, heart pounding as you turned to see a man at the end of the way, blocking your exit.

He was a sharp dressed man, black suit crisp as he leaned against the cool shaded bricks on the wall, hands in his pockets, regarding you with a cool but intrigued gaze. There was something... off about him, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on as your magic buzzed in you with warning.

“Hello there,” he said casually, pushing himself up off the wall and strolling towards you, hands still in his pockets. He didn’t look threatening, but there was something in his eyes that made you want to run, but where?

“H-Hello,” you got out, not doing well to pretend you weren’t scared as the man smirked at you. There was a lot of times over the past year where you wished you didn’t have magic, this however, wasn’t one of them. You’d never used your power on another person before, but the more scared you got, the more you could feel it burning in your core, ready to burst out to defend you if needed.

“I’m Elijah,” he introduced himself, British accent clear as he slowly spoke the words. Was he expecting you to introduce yourself? Stranger Danger 101, you were not giving this man your name. He seemed to realise that when you didn’t respond, but he didn’t seem offended. “Very well, I apologise for startling you, but you looked like somebody I knew once.”

“We’ve never met,” you replied, you were sure you would have remembered this well dressed individual.

“No...” Elijah mused outloud, “no I suppose we haven’t, a relative maybe?” The only relative you knew in the city was your late grandmother, you supposed your mother had lived here, but not for the better part of 20 years.

“I don’t think so,” you answered, itching to get away. He seemed to register this, but he still seemed curious about you. What was this guys deal? You scrunched your fists at your side, palms warm with power, your fight or flight response sounding alarm bells in your head as your power threatened to spill out.

He took another step towards you, glancing down at your hands like he knew what was going on inside of you. Was that possible? You knew that you couldn’t be the only one in the world with power like this, but still...

“I have to go now,” you told him quickly, trying to simply quickly walk past him back to the crowded street, determined to get home as you regretted not just getting the bus with your siblings.

“On second,” he said, just as you passed him, hand reaching out to grab your arm. As you as he touched you, you exploded.

It happened so fast, one second you were trying to twist out of his grasp, the next a blast of energy had sent him down the street. Breathing heavily, your heart pounding in chest, you didn’t look back to see what you had just done, instead all but running out on the street and making your way back home.

What had you just done?

You made it home before your mom, ignoring your brothers questions about where you had been as you ran up the stairs two at a time and into your bedroom, slamming your door shut and locking it. Only when you heard your lock click into place did you let out a shaky breath and try to relax, leaning against the back of the door and sinking to the floor. Your mind was racing as you tried to process what had just happened.

Had you killed him? You didn’t think so, you hoped not, but he had provoked you, scared you, it had been out of your control the second he’d put his hand on your arm. What were you going to do now?

You groaned and wiped your hands over your face, exhausted and drained. You just needed to think. Reluctantly pulling yourself up you went into your bathroom to take a shower. Every bedroom in this house seemed to have it’s own bathroom, what your grandmother did alone in this place was beyond you.

The water was scolding as you slipped in, but you didn’t care, standing there for a long time as it poured down your face and body, eyes glued to your hands as you thought about the power they contained, the power you possessed.

Your eyes drifted to the pale blue wall tiles, you grandmother had had most of the house redecorated before she died, she’d been sick for a while apparently, but your mom had never told you any of that. This was the room she’d decorated for you, the one she’d instructed you to take in the will, and you had to admit, she’d done a damn good job of decorating it to your taste. Eerily good, considering you weren’t exactly doing much talking the one time you’d met her.

She’d left you a note too, on the bed when you’d entered. Old people rambling about how you had more potential than you realised, you were special and important and she wished she was there with you... You hadn’t thought much about it at first, but a part of you kept going back to those words in your mind, had she meant this? Had she known?

It seemed crazy, but there had been something not right about that man, Elijah, something cold and... not human? If he had known your grandmother, maybe he would have had more answers about what was going on with you?

With a sigh you finally turned off the water, drying yourself off as you thought about your grandmother alone in this big old house. As you did you walked over the creaky floorboard outside the bathroom door and paused, leaning back on your heel and making it squeek again. You shook your head, thinking you must be reading too much into everything that had happened to you. But as you stepped off of it and listened to it creak again you let out a defeated breath, what the hell, why not? You thought, kneeling down and prying at the sides of the board.

To your slight surprise it budged, were you really looking for hidden compartments in your room? But your grandmother had left it to you, if your suspicions about her were correct, maybe she’d left you more than you realised. She did, you realised as you got the board free, a dusty box beneath it. This was crazy.

Taking it out you set it on your dresser and got dressed, eyes barely leaving to box until you tentatively tried the latch, it didn’t have a lock on it so you carefully lifted up the old lid, revealing a leather bound book within. It looked like an old-timey journal as you slowly pulled it out, your magic buzzing at the touch. What was this?

You went to sit on your bed, book on your lap as you opened the first page, careful not to tear the pages as you did, it felt fragile but it was definitely well worn, the spine was basically coming apart. The language inside looked like it was mostly... Latin? Maybe, you hadn’t exactly studied it in school, but there were annotations in the margins in English, fresher than the original text, the handwriting appearing to match the writing in your grandmother’s letter.

The more you flipped through the pages, skimming passages and trying to understand illustrations, the more you thought this was a spellbook of some kind. You assumed that was a thing anyway, especially with your grandmother’s notes.

“Y/N!” A knock on your door had you slamming the book shut probably a little too hard and rushing to put it away, your mother calling you from the otherside.

“Yeah?” You called back, frantically trying to replace the floor board, barely managing to as she entered, uniform on as she look at you, on your knees n the floor. “Dropped by earring,” you lied with ease and she believed you, it’s not like she’d have believed the truth anyway.

“I’ll have dinner ready in 20, okay?” She smiled and you nodded, standing back up, “how was school?”

“Eh same old,” you told her, deliberately not mentioning your strange encounter with Elijah, she’d freak out if she knew, and you didn’t want her involved in any of this.

“Okay, could you set the table when you come down?” She asked and you nodded again, more than eager for her to leave your room.

She did after that and you breathed a sigh of relief, you couldn’t be doing any of this in the house, you’d go out into the woods again with the book tomorrow, maybe it was time for a new approach to your magical problem. You just hoped the answers you were looking for had been right under your nose, or feet, the entire time.

It was a quiet morning as you made your way down the familiar walkway into the woods, switching into autopilot as you stepped over the roots and stones you had been avoiding nearly everyday for the better part of a year.

You’d tried to sleep last night, but your mind was wide awake, thoughts of that book swirling around in your mind until you finally caved and switched on your lamp, reading through the pages until you’d eventually fallen asleep in the early hours of the morning, book in hand.

It had been eye opening. Vampires, werewolves, witches... well, you were a witch then, but the fact that the others existed too was nearly too much, your brain becoming so overloaded with new information you barely thought was possible. You’d fallen asleep at a chapter on New Orleans, the different factions there and information on the ‘Original Family’ that had once ruled, the name Elijah Mikaelson had caught your eye, was it the same Elijah you’d met yesterday? It would explain a few things, but it didn’t exactly make you feel any better.

You made it to the area you had been the previous morning, the fallen tree a reminder that you really needed to get your powers under control. You sat on the stump you’d been trying to blast yesterday and pulled the book out of your bag, a torn piece of homework bookmarking a page with a spell you’d decided to test out. It seemed simple enough, and this far into the woods you only had to worry about the damage to the trees, which was nothing new when it came to your magic.

Leaving the book open on the correct page you stood back up, focusing your breathing as you held out your hands, facing the fallen tree as you reached down into that familiar well of power. But instead of firing blindly like you usually did, you now had a spell that you hoped would at least concentrate the energy.

“Motus,” you said when you were ready, feeling your power blast out of your hands, absolutely shattering the tree you had previously felled... along with a handfull of others in the vacinity.

“No, no, no,” you muttered. It hadn’t worked, you’d just wanted to hit the one tree, now what were you supposed to do?

You were so lost in your thoughts you hadn’t noticed that you weren’t alone, jumping and whirling around when you heard a twig snap behind you. Suddenly you found yourself face to face with Elijah.

“Impressive, uncontrolled and reckless, but impressive nonetheless,” he commented, standing there in a suit as crisp as he had worn yesterday, seemingly unaffected by the blast you’d sent into his chest at your previous encounter.

“How...?” You stammered, looking around to see where he had come from all of a sudden, what your grandmother’s book had said about Elijah the Original ringing in your mind as you faced him.

“I’m a vampire,” he told you, waiting for your reaction, “so you know what I am then?” He asked when you didn’t flinch.

“I did some reading last night,” you said honestly and he glanced down at where you’d left the book open on the tree stump, recognition flashing in his eyes.

“I can see that,” he noted, wandering over to the book. You wanted to stop him as he reached it, but your feet were firmly planted. What did he want now? “My apologies for yesterday by the way, you just looked so much like your grandmother that I let my curiosity get the better of me, I’m sorry if I scared you.”

“How did you know her?” You asked and he smiled, like he was thinking of fond memories.

“She was one of the oldest witches in New Orleans, most went to her for guidance, she had a gift of sight you see, I went to her from time to time as well, her passing was tragic,” he explained, “how long have you known?”

“Well I found the book yesterday so since then really,” you admitted.

He looked at you in confusion, “but you powers...?”

“Yeah I’ve had those since I moved here, but I never really knew what they were, or how to use them,” you elaborated.

“I can see that,” he said with a nod to the destruction behind you. You looked down sheepishly, embarrassed by your lack of control after so long.

“You know, your grandmother had the same problem,” he began, your head shooting back up to face him, finding that very hard to believe after what he’d just told you about her. “It’s true,” he insisted, noting your hesitation to believe him, “the witches in your family are born with an immense amount of power, more than most could handle, which is why she wore this, to channel that energy and take control,” as he finished he held out his hand, an amulet dropping from it.

“What is that?” You asked him, drawn closer by the power radiating from the small half moon hanging from his index finger. It looked old, but it also felt oddly familiar in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

“It belonged to your ancestors, passed down from generation to generation since before my family even reached these shores in the early 18th century, your grandmother gave it to me for safe keeping, so it could be given to you,” he told you and you shelved the comment about the 18th century away for another time, your eyes unable to leave the amulet as Elijah held out his hand, offering it to you.

“Can I?” You reached out for it slowly and he nodded, letting you take it. It felt cold in your palm, so different from the heat you always felt when you were using your power. Elijah offered to fasten it for you and he did, a sense of calm and clarity washing over you as soon as he fastened the clasp and stepped back.

“Try it now,” he suggested and it took you a second to realise he meant the spell. You swallowed, here went nothing.

Turning until you found a target you held out your hand, your well of magic seemingly contained by the amulet, a smaller opening available to you now as you whispered, “motus,” and sent a beam of energy into a nearby tree branch.

Usually, the whole tree would have been blown apart at least, but you your surprise and delight, only the branch was sent flying off. You’d done it.

Smiling you turned back to Elijah, “thank you,” you breathed, hand going to the amulet around your throat.

“Of course, I gave your grandmother my word that I’d help you when the time came, but I’ll admit, family matters kept me from even checking to see if you’d arrived in the city,” he admitted, “for that I’m sorry, but if you’d let me, I’d like to help you now, it’s the least I could do for your grandmother.”

Although you barely knew this strange man, this vampire, he seemed genuine and it’s not like you really had many other options. So you straighten up and nodded. “Where do we begin?”

#elijah mikaelson #the originals #the vampire diaires #elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikaelson imagine #the originals imagine #elijah mikaelson imagines #the originals imagines #the vampire diaries imagine #the vampire diaries imagines #elijah mikaelson one shot #the originals one shot #the vampire diaries one shot #one shot

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von-posts-stuff · 3 years

Text

Hyacinth

Dedicated to @dead-bones

Synopsis

When Wilbur sends Technoblade his plea for help, he sends it much too late for it to be of any use. Two months later, Technoblade arrives in the Dream SMP after an error with his communicator and comes upon a bloody revolution being fought with no resources and little chance of success. It gets worse from there.

(Takes place in an alternate universe, where Minecraft is its own reality with its own rules - demigods and their vassals, servers with supernatural sponsors that act as small pocket dimension, and a more fantasy take on Minecraft game elements - and there is a lot more going on in the dream smp than just a Hamilton a/b/o fanfiction nock off. This chapter (one) is 11k ish words!)

• Chapter One •

The encroaching heat he felt permeating his skin was a comfort in a way only he would understand. Constantly, he felt this stirring in his chest, a feeling which drew him closer to the sweltering heat of summer and the feeling of molten rock just meters from his grasp. Feelings which spoke of warm, dry nights curled into crevices to hide from the fan ends of the outside world, or sweltering trips to foreign villages where local residents would gaze at him and see either prey meant for the hunt or an abomination meant for the pit. These feelings, memories and instincts all neatly wrapped together, were stronger when he gazed upon the few surface lava pools which littered the fields around the home of his — Father? Brother? — friend, or noticed how the clear, blue skies of above held a source of burning which many overlander’s viewed as a burden. He actually quite liked that light source, so much like the glowing stones of his homeland, and yet so different. It reminded him of home, even if he rarely truly missed the harsh weather and unfriendly company of the Underlands.

Instead, it was a feeling of instinctual longing, perpetuated by the cacophony of voices echoing through his head like an audience yelling from the seats of an amphitheater. A feeling he couldn’t quite explain in either his tongue, or his dear friend's tongue. There was no descriptor for it. It just... was.

A lot of things about Technoblade just were.

His arms swung in a rhythmic motion, striking up and down with trained precision. The open field he occupied was blistering, the sun beating down against his bare skin — he still didn’t quite understand the concept of layered clothing — in a way that was both uncomfortable and deeply satisfying. Rarely was it this sunny in the mountain wilderness of the land his friend occupied; land he now occupied.

That was also a strange concept to him, land in which he belonged. Land which belonged to a person. The lands only belonged to the higher beings, ownership couldn’t be given away without permission and it would never truly belong to a single individual. He had lived in his homeland, a world scattered with fire and brutal tribes, and yet no single race owned any land. It all belonged to their patron.

He wondered idly when this concept of ownership came about, and what granted these overland dwellers such arrogance to think they weren’t subjected to these laws.

The gold blade in his hands made another swing down, stopping just below his waist. He had been out here for hours, practicing with the aid of his voices. Listening to instruction, adjusting his grip, imagining his enemies being cut down by the sword which had been with him for as long as he remembered. This practice was cathartic, something he did to maintain the illusion of routine in this new world. His friend always told him how he should sit down and relax, not understanding that it was something he needed to do.

(Swing your sword properly, don’t get distracted Technoblade, you need to focus, keep your shoulders back, that was awful form, Blood for the Blood god-)

He needed to focus, needed to fix whatever was wrong with him, square his shoulders, and somehow, someway, ignore that comforting heat against his skin and the dark desire to slice and kill-

“Techno!” A voice cut through the symphony of noise screaming at him from all directions, in a way which separated it from the sounds in his head. It made him pause mid-swing, causing his entire body to tense in reaction to the shout. The voice was bright, extremely young, and a couple pitches lower than his own. The name, his name, on the almost-stranger's lips was poorly pronounced as well, sounding like a warped version of his native tongue — like a child mimicking an adult with no real understanding behind that repetition. The pronunciation was irritating; too sharp, with no accent. It made the voices wail with injustice, frustrated and angry at the disrespect which was being given to him, their vessel. Technoblade didn’t care much. After all, he didn’t quite grasp the common words those overworlders spoke yet.

The little Wilbur Soot, his friend's son he learned. He had been there for only a few days, and yet he could only recall three things about the boy. One, he was extremely attached to Technoblades friend and his even younger second son; two, he was irritatingly chipper and endlessly excited about artistic hobbies; Three, he was quick to get attached to Technoblade and now spent his days wishing to pester the underworld native.

It was a weakness, to become and stay this attached to people. Something that Techno was constantly reminded of when the echoing voices called for the blood of the feeble child. It would be so, so easy to snap his neck, or to bring his golden blade down on the small beings neck, rendering him incapable of babbling endlessly at him-

(Kill, kill the disrespectful one, he doesn’t deserve to live after giving you such cheek, no don’t, the blond one will be sad, hes irritating, destroy him, don’t Technoblade-)

Technoblade was a child as well, but it never really felt like that. He felt so much older than his age, aided in his education by hundreds or even thousands of warriors and fighters. Techno could never enjoy the music which was strummed out of a guitar, or how the wild flowers littering the hills made beautiful flower crowns. He would never understand that simplistic beauty that could only truly be seen through the lense of an innocent child. He’d seen too much of this cruel world, and how sentient beings abuse each other.

Wilbur, the bright child with dark coloring and a love for the artistic, ran up with such vigor to Technoblade. He looked excited, willful and joyful. It was clear the small human with mildly pointed ears - maybe his fathers hybrid blood peaking through? - was on a mission, and Techno took a guess that the mission was him. More than a few voices called for him to take the gold sword which was now dropped to his side, clung in his right hand, and drive it through the child’s jugular. Techno had learned it was best to ignore the voices in this new, colder world when they wanted him to kill and maim.

“Techno, Techno! Dad wants you to come back in for dinner!” The child ran up the hill, stopping just before the pink haired warriors formed, panting heavily. He took a minute to catch his breath, before standing up straight and giving Techno a light smile before continuing with what was clearly on his mind. “We are having pork, freshly caught from a pair of wild boars-“

There was a pause, where Wilbur’s face fell. Technoblade felt his ear twitch, passively raising an eyebrow at Wilbur’s sudden hesitation. He idly wondered if Wilbur had stopped. Was having pork of any kind some sort of taboo in the overworld? Technoblade didn’t quite know what pork was, but he did know that wild boar was a species of hog. He was sure it tasted fine.

“That, uh”, Wilbur wring his hands in front of him, a sign of nervousness about a topic (weakness, it’s a weakness, exploit it Techno, use it-), “that isn’t, like, cannibalism or anything for you right?”

The eyebrow which was raised went even higher, the look on Techno’s face transferring into a deadpan which he was sure caused Wilbur’s heckles to rise. He had no way to express himself with his broken common, but he was positive his expression delivered his utter disappointment in the question. How would it be cannibalism? He wasn’t a wild hog, or a boar. He was a piglin, a hybrid. He wasn’t anything like Wilburs pathetic, weak overworld livestock. He was sure that these tusked pigs were more like the violent hoglins than anything like the piglins Technoblade was barely similar to.

“Hey! Don’t look at me like that, how would I know? You are part piglin, which is like… a species of boar or pig right? At least that’s what Dad told me.” Wilbur took a moment to pause, staring at Technoblade with dismay and stubbornness. “So it only makes sense right? I’m not crazy.” Wilbur crossed his arms, a defensive stance in his small posture. The hybrid noticed how his lip jutted out and he tried to square his shoulders to appear taller. It wasn’t working as intended. The child was still tiny.

(Small, small, so small, easy prey, easy to kill, so easy to destroy, consume him Techno-)

Technoblade shook his head, unsure whether it was to inaudibly tell the voices off, or in response to Wilbur. It communicated his message effectively either way, as the kid before him brightened at the action, grinning wide at the hybrid-who-didn’t-quite-feel-like-a-child. His easy acceptance of Techno’s nonverbal answer mildly surprised the piglin hybrid. The warrior had thought for sure that the child would become angry or frustrated at being wrong. But he only brightened in response, uncrossing his arms and reaching out towards Technoblade with excitement.

Rushing forward and grabbing Technoblade by his free hand, Techno almost dropping his golden blade in the process, Wilbur yanked on the piglin hybrid with all the vigor of a distracted toddler. It was like Wilbur was a pet, whining and touching for attention, beckoning Technoblade to come with him. It caused Techno to tighten his grip on his sword, irrationally afraid it would be ripped from him, leaving him alone and defenseless in a world that was so much colder, with monsters just as dangerous as his homelands native species, and left afraid and without anything to defend himself, left weak-

(Never defenseless, always here, we are here, Techno is never alone, you will never be defenseless, the blood god is with you, we are with you, you are strong, strong, strong, powerful, you will be-).

His fears were only slightly abated with Wilbur’s large grin and wide innocent eyes. He looked so happy to just hold onto the hybrid warrior, dragging him from his practice with extreme vigor. Wilbur wouldn’t take his sword — he wouldn’t be able to, he just couldn’t. Technoblade was too strong for him, too powerful. He could take him apart with a wave of his hand, there was no need to panic.

Staring at his hand held in Wilbur’s grasp, Technoblade felt himself warm in a different way. The heat which came from inside of his chest instead of from the blazing sun. It was a strange sensation, one which he didn’t quite want to explain. It was as if the moment he came to the realization that Wilbur wasn’t going to harm him in any way, he had relaxed in the child's hold.

(Strange, this shouldn’t happen, destroy the child, it's comforting, let him take you home, don’t go with it, this is nice-)

“Come on!” Wilburs tug became even more insistent, “Dad and Tommy are waiting, and you know how much Tommy hates waiting! He’ll probably bother us, asking about training, or what we did today, or asking questions about-“ Wilbur continued to go on and on, pulling harshly on Technoblades hand as he led him south to the home his friend and Wilbur’s father stayed at. This time, Wilbur succeeded in moving him out of the wide flower fields and into the direction of the homely cottage with little to no effort. The child didn’t need to exert force with Technoblade so willing and compliant.

After all - for some odd reason - the voices quieted while Wilbur rambled on and on, and that desire for the heat of his homeland and the feel of boiling blood against his skin slowly drifted away as it was replaced with a new heat in his chest.

Warmed spread through him, and his grip instinctively tightened on his blade, grasping it for dear life. He wasn’t used to this need, this feeling of being...wanted for small and insignificant things such as commentary. Maybe this is what his friend (Phil, Dad, Father, Brother, Phil is friend) meant when he told Techno about the meaning of a home, and the meaning of family. Maybe this was what it was like to have a place to belong.

The voices let Technoblade have a moment of silence as Wilbur continued to ramble on. The silence in his head brought Technoblade nothing but comfort.

———————————————————————

The blistering heat of the uncovered sun irritated his skin and made him long for winter nights and dark shade. It was sweltering, irritating in a way that he had grown to know. He instead wished for those shaded days and winter nights where he and his closest allies made the world their own. The sun, as it was on this balmy day, high in the sky indicating noon time, caused him immense annoyance.

Once upon a time, he would have found the light beating down against his skin, causing him to sweat extensively, a comforting feeling, reminding him of his homeland and his patron.

Now it only served to frustrate him as he plowed and tilled his vast fields of potatoes, his shirt soaked against the front of his chest and back. He had even had to hide his tail, the sensitive skin becoming blistered in the blazing heat. With barely any plant variations for natural herbal protections on Hypixel’s large sky island fields he had claimed as his own, there wasn’t much he could do to protect himself from his greatest annoyance.

His native lands had long since ceased being home to him, and his patron god was a fickle master whom Technoblade viewed with more negative skepticism than any other. Unlike other demigods, such as the grand Hypixel and the flashy Beast, the Blood God never graced the mortal world with his presence. Instead, much like the God of Destruction and the missing End God, the supreme being sat on his metaphorical throne, watching the runes of his lands suffer under exploitation and limited innovation. Now, unlike when he was younger, Technoblade was more bitter than he liked to admit.

Bitter enough to grow a resentment for the heat, despite how the cold bites at his skin, and to avoid battles and blood sports after the downfall of his own state by hiding away in self-imposed isolation, only pulling himself from his loneliness to briefly placate the ghosts which lived inside him.

Technoblade had been in Hypixel for over a year now, specifically the Hypixel sky islands generated for personal use for much more wealthy and adventurous clients, and he had still not gotten used to the scheduled weather controls which served as part of the territory's famed functions. It wasn’t scheduled to rain, or to even overcast, for another few days if the ruling he had read in town a few weeks back was to be remembered. That didn’t change his current situation though. Technoblade was still blistering in the heat.

(Heat, heat, warmth, we like the warmth. Home, when are we going home, It's boring, why don’t we fight, lets go, battles to be won, wars to fight, kill, kill, maim, destroy-)

Technoblade ran a clawed hand over his sweaty brow, narrowing his eyes in concentration as he tried to determine if there was any relevant or important information being spewed at him. Turns out, like usual, there was nothing. “Chat”, Technoblade called out, talking at the blank space of air in front of him as he swung his farming hoe and let it casually rest on his shoulder, “shut up. You aren’t contributing anything useful”.

Like usual, the reprimand only served to irritate the cacophony of voices in the piglin hybrids head, causing them to screech even louder, rattling his brain with their bombardment of noise. With a groan, he took the same hand he used to wipe his brow and pressed it tiredly against his face. First the damned heat, reminding him so callously of the nether, now Chat was acting up and shouting opinions left and right. He still had another whole field to till before the night hit and he would have to defend his crops from wayward spiders and baby zombies, he didn’t have time to get distracted by the voices in his head.

Technoblade has been in this section of Hypixel for over a year now. He had first come to this land, this new territory of the Hypixel demigods' personal server, as an escape. The demigod’s vassale, Simon, had even hooked him up with all he needed to maintain a boring and nonviolent (for him) livestyle. Sure, there were small skirmishes which broke up the monotony - he still couldn’t understand how he had come about battling Squid Kid of all people in potato farming - but he had mostly kept to himself these past months, cutting contact with the outside world and staying away from tournaments, competitions, events, and anything in-between. He did not want to be involved with any state authority anymore, to be used and then discarded like a blunt weapon when his opinions and beliefs no longer align with the majority. He had no desire to spend time underneath the thumb of an oppressive regime, whether it be someone else's or his own.

He needed to be as far away from the Antarctic Empire and its bloody history as possible, and with all communicators and cameras turned off, he found himself desiring more and more of the peace brought about by the simplistic lifestyle of a farm on a private island. So, he obtained a prime piece of land, used his funds to get himself started, and then grinded dungeons in the territory's inner city to make ends meet - all while hiding himself from the public eye. He had dropped out so suddenly from the campaign event within Earth that it was inevitable that he would have to hide as the whole thing blew over. After all, his popularity had skyrocketed during that campaign, and the empire he and… his friends had built gained a completely absurd amount of notoriety.

Hiding was inevitable, and this quiet life was something Technoblade found himself desiring.

(Lies, utter lies, you miss it, we miss the carnage, we miss the grand battles, we miss Phil, battles and honor, glory, blood spilt in honor of the patron, blood for the blood god, blood for the blood god, blood for the blood god-)

This amphitheater of voices moved to a crescendo, echoing around him, shouting from all sides. The chant echoed and repeated throughout his mind, invading each and every one of his thoughts as it became louder and louder. Technoblade began to tremble, the hybrid's hands shaking before dropping the farming hoe. It wasn’t because of any fear or nervousness, but rather the voices channeling their feelings and desires through Technoblade, forcing him to feel the need for bloodshed and the need to destroy. He grabbed his shakiest hand, the one which dropped his farming hoe, with his decidingly steadier one. Clutching at it, he took three deep breaths, inhaling and exhaling slowly as he tried to calm his body's reaction to what was being echoed around him.

It wasn’t the first time something like this had happened during his long vacation, if he could even call it that. They, Chat, had been getting more and more agitated and angry with him in recent months. He had stopped visiting the dungeons to take out monsters and mobs three months ago, had stopped interacting with other community members four months ago after he had won the potato harvest against Squid Kid. Techno had taken his routine seriously, falling into it easily. Get up at dawn, eat the harvested crops for a meal, go out to till and sow the fields, maintain his crops until noon, eat his harvested vegetables, go back out to remove any dead crops and replant more, head in at sunset, consume more harvested foods, go to sleep. It was a routine he had stuck to for almost three long months. No visits to the outside, only the occasional spiders or zombies invading his expanded floating island, barely any signal for his communicator to give him updates, just the same old steps repeated day in and day out.

So, Chat was upset with him. But they were always upset with him, when he ran from his responsibilities with the determination to hang his sword and axe up for good. They wanted him to go out and provide exhilarating fights, battling for honor and fortune. They wanted him to slay his enemies, or anyone else who got in the way, and consume the world as if it was his to devour. They wanted the world in the palm of his hand, so that they could see how it felt to hold it. Technoblade supposed that was just in their nature, being shades and ghosts of people who had long since passed, who had forgotten what it meant to be people as they were trapped within the vassal of the Blood god.

That would be him, far in the future. A cursed existence set to live out his afterlife trapped within the next poor soul who would be chosen upon birth to represent the patron.

Shaking his head, Techno looked out at his field pulling himself back together. “Chat, I need to work. I don’t have time for this.” His words incited another loud round of chattering, but at least they weren't chanting or channeling their wills through him, undermining his own personal freedom of choice. Reaching down, Technoblade picked up the farming hoe from the ground, swinging it a few times as he rolled his shoulders and looked out to his fields. He had almost finished the west field, its crops - potatoes and melons - almost ready to be completely harvested. Looking to the sky, Technoblade made note of the time as he put a hand up to shade his eyes. The sun was still relentless and glaring,but he noted how it seemed to be just past its highest point. He supposed he could take a break now, after all, he'd been in the field for hours at this point.

With a pointed sigh, Technoblade turned away from his farm lands, ignoring the cheering of his Chat in the background, and headed towards his small house over the hills. He had built it out of wood and stone, acquired through both natural and material means. It wasn’t home, per say, but it was a house he was comfortable with. The piglin hybrid wasn’t sure if he would ever have another home again.

Climbing up over the hills, using his beaten dirt paths and carved markers to tell which way he was going despite the fact he knew this land like the back of his own hand, Techno saw his house in all its glory. Heading in its direction from the west field, the trek was only ten or so minutes before he was standing in front of the structure he had seen at a distance. At closer inspection of his temporary home, he noticed the worn cracks along the cobblestone and the rot that was beginning to set into the wood. He needed to start maintaining renovations for the place, it was turning into a disaster. It might just fall apart on him while he slept.

Entering his home, Technoblade felt the rush of cool shaded air hit his overheated body, instantly chilling him. It was nice to be away from the heat. Not only was the cool shade pleasant on his body, but it also calmed his nerves and his agitation. No longer was his mind being subconsciously brought back to the nether of all places. The cold air and the cool colors of his small farming house dragged his thoughts away from bright reds and burning flame. This wasn’t his homeland, and it never would be. He was in the overworld, only his own personal choice could force him back into the fires of the underworld.

Moving through the house and winding in-between furniture, Technoblade headed for his kitchen, determined to get something to eat. He had long since given up maintaining or taking care of livestock after one too many incidents with kept bovines, but he had an abundant supply of pumpkins, melons, potatoes, and other various fruits and vegetables. It wasn’t as good as a steak or even some golden carrots, but it was nourishment enough for him to keep his physique and continue his work.

Roaming from one side of the kitchen to the other, the hybrid began rummaging through his cabinets, looking for any kind of stock base to use to make himself some sort of soup, when he saw it out of the corner of his eye.

A lit up communicator, sitting square in the middle of his crafted table.

The communicator had been dark for almost a year, the occasional message from Phil checking up on his notwithstanding - he never replied to those, eventually seeing their decline and cancelation. A lit up communicator meant an emergency then, either with the server he was occupying or with his… family.

Was his family in danger?

Moving quickly from his spot, Technoblade dashed forward to the communicator, grabbing it with a clawed hand and ignoring how his tail twitched in nervousness and worry. He hadn’t spoken to his family in years, besides Phil, and even those communications had been cut off and discarded with his lingering resentment towards the crow hybrid. He hadn’t even seen Tommy or Wilbur since the fateful day he and his dear friend (father, Phil, dadza, Phil is dad, Phil is your father, Techno-) had left to enter the campaign. That was nearly three years ago, Tommy would be almost seventeen now.

(Small Tommy, sweet Tommy, very rambunctious, Wilbur too, we miss them, why not go visit, they could be injured, maybe even worse, anyone who hurts our brothers must perish, we shall destroy anyone who harms them, did they get caught up in a scheme, where were they-)

Were they hurt? Did something, anything, happen to them?

Reaching forward, grasping at the old modeled communicator, Technoblade looked at the screen, desperately searching for the name of the sender. His eyes wandered from letter to letter, seeing but not completely understanding or grasping the situation.

Wilbur.

It was from Wilbur.

Why would Wilbur contact him now? They hadn’t seen each other, hadn’t been on the best terms even before he had left in pursuit of greater things. There was nothing for them to talk about, no acknowledgement needed between them. Wilbur wouldn’t contact him, not unless he truly and desperately needed him.

Opening his communicator up, he read the message out, noting how it sounded on his lips as he mumbled the letters and scanned the page.

“Techno”, he began to read the words, starting with the address sent by Wilbur, “ We haven’t been close in a while. We haven’t even spoken in… years.” Techno didn't know why that declaration stirred something inside him, igniting his soul with an ache he could only describe as longing. Had his absence in Wilbur’s life these past years affected him so much? Why did he contact him now then?

“Tommy and I found a place for ourselves, on a server created by a minor demigod and his vassal.” Subconsciously, Technoblade ran through the list of demigods and demigoddesses he knew of with territory. Hypixel, The Beast, The Hermit, and of course all the minor demigods and admins working for the Mojang Corporation, partnered with the God of Creation - Notch. There shouldn’t be any unregistered celestials, especially not young and minor ones, going around and creating servers with unregistered vassals. Already, the situation was beginning to worsen in Technoblades mind. Even he was registered as the Blood Gods vassal.

Technoblade continued on, ignoring the voices screaming out names and locations and threats of violence as he did so. “We created our own place, a community for ourselves. Just like you and Phil did, years ago when you left.” That gave him pause, before he continued on. “Our place has been taken from us now.”

What did Wilbur mean by ‘a community’ for themselves? Like what he and Phil did? What they had done, years ago, was enter a campaign organized by the major companies, a competition where communicators would broadcast the creations and the empires built from nothing on a server created to mimic the original Earth. It was a glorified television spectacle, with real world empires and bloody battles and death which could be permanent. His and Phil’s ‘place’ was an empire they had built from nothing and used to take over the entire campaign, securing their victory over a two-year long event. It wasn’t a home, certainly not after how Technoblade was betrayed. Certainly not now. He hoped to the gods that Wilbur and Tommy - little Tommy who was still a child by his calculation - were out there creating countries and starting wars. What kind of brother would he be if it was true, and he had abandoned them for years while they went around recklessly without his protection? Had running from his responsibilities really backfired this much?

He ignored the unanimous “yes” being echoed throughout his head.

Techno paused as he read the next part. “A tyrant has come to rule it, exiling us from our own home. We-” Techno took a steadying breath, before continuing, his chest alighting with injustice.

“We need you, Techno. We need help.” Techno stared at the paper in front of him, reading out the very last note before Wilbur had signed it.

“Please. For your brothers.”

How did it come to this? Where Wilbur would send such a desperate note, pleading for Technoblades help instead of just asking him. Techno did not need his brother to beg for his help. He didn’t need an emotional note filled with explanations and traced with sorrow and repressed anger. The hybrid would have come, even without all of that, if Wilbur really needed his help.

… He would’ve, right?

The piglin hybrid thought back on what he had been doing for the past year, hiding away and participating in harvesting competitions of all things. No, no he probably wouldn’t have left, would he? He was too content, too scared of facing Phil after up and leaving their empire to the dust, too desperate to get away from blood and death and fighting. Now, his brothers were fighting against the corruption of a failed empire - something which hit far too close to home fr comfort - and they needed him.

He needed to leave.

Putting his communicator up to his pointed ears, Technoblade was desperate to hear Wilbur’s voice. He didn’t know when this message was sent, he didn’t know if it had come through late or if it was an alert that came through today. He needed confirmation with Wilbur, needed to tell him he was on his way - he just needed to know where to go.

The communicator rang. And rang. And rang.

No answer.

Technoblade tried again and again, nearing twenty times before Chat started insisting it was useless and to stop wasting his time. Wilbur was not picking up, either indicating he couldn’t get through because of the distance between them, this server Wilbur talked about and it's whitelist settings, or there was damage on either of their ends. That worried the hybrid immensely. He needed to get into contact with someone who knew what was going on, who had an idea on where to start to get information about Wilbur and Tommy and what they were doing. Without getting the facts from the original source, Technoblade could only think of one person who may have the answers the piglin hybrid was seeking.

He needed to see Phil.

A feeling of dread and frustration filled his being as Chat began to scream Phil’s name around him. He didn’t want to speak to the other hybrid, he had been avoiding him for so long that he wasn’t even sure if their relationship would survive. Six months or more since the last message, a year since the last phone call and it had ended in a screaming match where Techno had accused Phil of betraying their friendship. He didn’t want to face that again.

He had no choice though, if he wanted to figure out what was going on with Wilbur and Tommy.

His palms were sweating as he narrowed his eyes at his communicator. The heat had begun to creep its way through the farming house yet again, causing him to grow warm in a way he hated. It was too warm, too balmy. It was overwhelming in a way only he could truly feel, in a way he couldn’t put to words. It just was.

Too many things about Technoblade just were, and he hated it. Pushing his communicator to his ear, he heard it ring twice before a click was audible and Techno knew he had reached who he was looking for.

“Phil, we need to talk”.

———————————————————————

Leaving Hypixel was easier than he thought it would be.

All he had to do was pack up a travel bag, grab all the important things littering the house and place them in an ender chest, and head out immediately to the ruined portal. Fixing the portal itself - which would take him to the hub town for the floating islands territory - took only an hour at most, and then he was in the small town center heading to the bustling city of Hypixel’s main territory. Another portal jump, and he was there, looking out at the vast tournament arenas, the large number of tourists and competitors which littered the expensive shops and restaurants, and the few residential areas usually kept for the more famous warriors and influencers. Technoblade used to have an apartment in that area, having been one of the largest earners all throughout his teenage years before his anarchist beliefs and bad experiences sucked all the joy out of corporate and nation sponsored tournaments.

Occasionally, on his way to the main server hub, he would witness crazed fans cosplaying competitors and fighters whom they enjoyed, and Technoblade even saw a costume depicting his own signature crown and cloak. It gave him a mild start, at first. He hadn’t known he was still relevant, not with his year long break from the public eye and his status as a hybrid. Usually, there was only begrudging respect given to those of mixed races on the sponsored public servers. A prejudice - especially against aggressive mob hybrids - which Technoblade remembered all too well with a shiver.

From the sector which took rich tourists and residents from the sky islands territory, it was easy to hide his more distinct features. Covering his sharp, downturned ears with a cloak hood, and his protruding tusks and piglin-like eyes with a plain bone mask. His tail was tucked into his trousers, and he made a point of keeping his hands - more specifically his sharp claws - out of obvious sight as he moved through the busy roads and occasional back alleys. He reached the Hypixel server hub soon, making sure to stay out of sight and not cause trouble. The only individuals who would know he left the server would be Simon and his admins, since Technoblade needed to enter his residents key to leave and enter Hypixel. He trusted Simon to keep his departure out of the public eye.

(Leaving, leaving, we are leaving, finally, are we going on a road trip, now the interstate is paved- be quiet-)

Shaking his head, Technoblade let out a sigh as he looked for an unassigned portal, where he could enter a personalized whitelist code. He needed a portal without a locked teleportation key to get to Phil’s small residential server. Noticing an unlit, unattended, unlabeled portal near the back of the Hypixel server hub, Technblade entered his residence key and headed to the back, ignoring the wide-eyed look that the admin on duty gave him.

From there, he entered the whitelist code for his- for Phil’s home into a transportation portal, and watched as it was lit, admiring the deep purple shade of energy and particles. Portal technology always baffled him, ever since he had entered his first one as a young child, searching for any way out of his homeland. They functioned off of the energy created by the servers, connecting them in a web of essence and almost-magic. A supernatural device which admins, vassals, and demigods have perfected the creation of, though Technoblade himself didn’t know any inner workings behind portal creation. Then again, he didn’t have his patron god present to guide him like many vassals did. His patron was too elusive and never present. A cruel, toxic master in some ways, leaving his blessing upon his vassals at birth and leaving them to figure out their purpose and allegiances alone, with only the previously dead vassals for help. And they were all decidingly unhelpful shades of their past selves.

Still, the portal was lit.

It was all too easy to enter the bright veil of spatial energy, feeling himself warp and bend and tear apart as he was deconstructed and reconstructed at the designated spawn point. Landing smoothly, Technoblade heard a small ping on his communicator, letting him know his arrival had been sent out in an alert in the small servers public channel.

It was too easy to come here, to enter the portal and arrive at the center of the small world which Phil had claimed his own. There was no grand entrance, no feast or welcome waiting for him. There was nothing to stop his pursuit either, the entire process of portal jumping entirely painless and normal. In the back of his mind he knew it would be like this, knew how easy it would be to get to this point, but the hybrid had expected it to be at least a little harder. It didn’t feel right to Technoblade, with how vehemently he was avoiding this place and its single occupant. He was expecting more.

It made him feel foolish for ever avoiding Phil in the first place.

Taking a look around the center of the server, Technoblade noticed how the once barren field had been cleaned up, decorated with wood and stone. A nice, clean path had been installed, heading in the direction of the home he remembered from his youth. In the distance, Technoblade could see the flower fields he used to train on, back when he had first arrived in Phil’s small world and came under his care, back when he wouldn’t let go of his golden sword and his language skills left much to be desired and he longed for the intense heat of his homeland. Oh, how far he had come since then.

Beginning his trek down to the cottage, Technoblade chose to listen to the ramblings and ravings of Chat as he tried to take note of every difference and change, trying to decide if he was happier with them, or distraught that everything didn’t look exactly like he remembered. He moved from the open clearing of the small plains biome to the spruce forest, following the path set forth by who he assumed would be Phil. Even the forest had grown, in its own way. What did that say about Technoblade, so caught up with the past to move forward?

Technoblkade shook his head at those thoughts, not wishing to get caught up with his own grievances when he was here for someone other than himself. He needed to know what was going on with Wilbur and Tommy, and Phil is the only one whom he could speak to about it.

He trekked along for another ten or so minutes, before the trees began to slowly decline in their frequency, indicating he was close to his… to Phil’s home. He saw it then, coming up to the tree line. A medium sized cabin, beautifully built and maintained, surrounded by gardens and small farms, and looking exactly like Technoblade remembered it. Everything else in this place had experienced some sort of change, from the trees to the land, but not this cottage. It looked exactly like it did when Technblade was first brought here, huddled sick in Phil’s arms, only knowing him as a friend instead of a father. It looked exactly the same as when Technoblade left - the second time - only to not return until all these years after that fateful day. The piglin hybrid didn’t know how to feel about the fact that it remained untouched by time, not carrying on to depict any of the bad memories he had gathered after he had left. With a sigh, Technoblade walked up to the oak door and banged on it twice.

“Phil! It’s me.”

He heard a muffled bang, as if someone had crashed into a piece of furniture, as the sound of footsteps hurried to the door. Anxiety began to push its way into Technoblades chest, bubbling up from the pit of his stomach as he began to worry. Was it a mistake, coming here? Would Phil turn him away, now that he stood at his doorstep? Would Phil even speak to him, would Phil even miss him if he turned around now and went straight for the portal at the center of this server, or would he watch with cold eyes and whisper good riddance while watching his back? Did Phil even want him here? On the communicator, during their call, he had only told Phil he needed to speak to him in person and all Phil had said was a simple and pleasant “okay, mate”. This was a mistake, this was a mistake and before Phil (Dad, Phill, Dadza, Crow Father, where’s dadza, we miss him, we want him, you want to see him too Techno-) answered the door, before he messed up, before his anger took over and he ruined his already damaged and strained relationship with his truest friend, his father-

The door was yanked open with such force, that Technoblade found himself flinching at the action. In the doorway was a heavily breathing Phil, looking up at Technoblade with wide eyes, standing in the doorway looking like he bolted for the door the minute Techno knocked. It made Technoblade gulp nervously, raising a single hand in a half-hearted wave and opening his mouth to greet the crow hybrid with a pathetic greeting. “Hey, Phil-”

Technoblade flet the embrace before it completely registered. Philza reached up, grabbing Technoblades tall form and bringing him down to him with the deceptive strength Phil hid from most of the world. The piglin hybrid didn’t register the action at first, eyes wide as he froze mid sentence, unsure what he was supposed to do. Instead, he waited for Phil to make any sort of additional reaction, holding him close in an embrace which provided so much more comfort than Technoblade would ever be willing to admit.

“Techno”, Phil spoke softly, barely above a whisper as his arms tightened around Technoblade, “welcome home.”

The hybrid tensed, before he instinctually relaxed into Phil’s arms. He was home, wasn’t he? Why had he refused to come back, why had he avoided his problems? His arms cautiously moved up, gently holding Phil back being careful to avoid the large wings protruding from his back. He didn’t want to ruin whatever this was, not yet. He needed it, needed the comfort and feeling of easy acceptance Philza was giving him. The slow burning anger in his chest that he remembered holding onto like it was his lifeline, the feeling of betrayal and angst, the denial and avoidance he dished out to the winged hybrid… it was all entirely pointless, wasn’t it?

His anger wasn’t with Phil, it never really was. Pete was the one who had instigated the decline in the Antarctic Empire, had started consuming their resources to start pointless wars and used their advantages to destroy their competition with extreme prejudice, and who used Technoblade as a weapon to point at the territories they would then take over. Pete was the instigator; Phil just did nothing at all to stand in the way as it happened. Too consumed with his own wanderlust, filled with too much desire to begin moving once again to catch or care about what Technoblade was going through.

Technoblade never told him either, did he? He had never communicated with Philza - about how much his actions hurt Technoblade, how the fact that the piglin hybrid was constantly being sent out to reclaim and take territory, to expand the empire they started together, and how it made him feel less like a person and more like a ticking time bomb. He had never talked to Philza, only taking his anger out on him when it was convenient and running away when it mattered most. It wasn’t Phil’s fault, not really. The Antarctic Empire was doomed to fail from the start, its power set to corrupt anyone at its head from the very beginning.

And as Techno stood there in the doorway, holding Phil and letting the winged hybrid to hold him in turn, he realized he didn’t want to be angry with Phil anymore. He just wanted to be able to come home, to spend time with the person who had taken him in and raised him when he was broken and warped beyond measure. Technoblade just wanted his family back, all together.

The realization snapped him back to reality, letting him pull away from the other hybrid's warmth as he looked down at him. For a few seconds, there was a stretch of silence as Technoblade fought to find the words for this situation. Phil, for his part, was giving Techno a soft smile, looking at him with joy in his features. It made the fuzzy feeling in his chest even worse as the voices cooed and chattered in the background.

“... hey Phil”, Technoblade hesitated, before steeling himself and continuing, “I’m home”.

———————————————————————

“So”, Phil started, handing Technoblade a cup of herbal tea of some variety, “Wilbur contacted you?”

The piglin hybrid took the tea cup, lifting the drink to his nose and taking a smell of the fragrant concoction. It smelled of Lemon and Honey, a flavor he favored. Taking a sip, Technoblade hummed to Phil’s question, nodding as he closed his eyes to savor the taste. “Yeah, and I now can't get a hold of him. No calls are getting through, no messages. It’s weird, I don’t even know how long ago this message was sent.”

Phil let out his own hum, looking off to the side as he set his own tea cup down on the coffee table, not bothering to take a sip as he folded his hands in his lap. His gaze was off, looking at the fireplace with a strange intensity that Technoblade recognized as remembrance. It was never good when Philza drifted off like he was now. It usually meant melancholy reminiscence, or bad memories. Technoblade could never tell when either was happening.

Setting his own cup down, Techno turned more fully in Philza’s direction, clearing his throat to get his attention. The action caused Phil to flinch slightly, as if startled by the noise, to which Technoblade raised an eyebrow. In response, Phil sent a warm smile in his direction, still that sad recollection in his eyes. “I’m alright, Techno. Just a lot on my mind.” Technoblade couldn’t help the tilt of his head as he gave Philza a more discerning look.

“What kind of things are on your mind?”

There was hesitance in Philza’s stance as the piglin hybrid raised an eyebrow at him, silently insisting he continue. Technoblade needed everything that Phil knew, especially with Wilbur being awol and Tommy without a communicator number that he knew or had saved. He needed information, and their touching moment early notwithstanding, Phil had that information and Technoblade would do anything he could to obtain it. The hybrid had let go of his long standing grudge, but that did not mean all was forgiven. Though he figured that was the case on both of their sides. The Angel of Death was notorious for holding a grudge.

“I am only thinking.” Technoblade could tell he wasn't telling the whole truth, instead choosing to continue giving Phil a narrowing look until he caved. The silence stretched between them for a few seconds longer before Phil let out a long sigh as he picked up his ceramic tea cup and took a long gulp, nearly finishing the drink in one go. With a satisfied breath, Phil closed his eyes and took a breath, finally electing to look at Technoblade. “Fine, you win. I may have left out some information-”

“-Great! So, you just tell me and I-”

“But”, Phil continued, putting an emphasis on the but, “It's personal.”

Technoblade let out an irritated sigh, his impatience getting the best of him. Usually, he was the epitome of collecting, taking the principles of Sun Tzu as seriously as he took his potato farming. But, with Phil, his more childish side always seemed to come out, and this was one instance where his irritation was mostly justified. He needed to get to Wilbur and Tommy, and this delay was not helping him, or the loud chorus of voices in his head, achieve their goals. Quite the opposite, actually. He had yet to get any useful information about Wilbur and Tommy’s wearabouts and what server he needed to get whitelisted on to go and find them. For all Technoblade knew, they could be dead. And that was a thought which scared him.

“Phil, just tell me.” Technoblade practically growled the demand. Even Chat was beginning to get frustrated, and when the voices were collective about something there was usually very little Techno could do about it and how it affected him and his emotions.

(Tell us, we need to know, Wilbur and Tommy could be in danger, we need to kill, we need to go, patience is a virtue, enough patience has already been exerted, just tell us Philza-)

Philza gave Technoblade a hard look, his eyes narrowing before he exhaled his breath sharply and stood from his seat on the cushioned couch. Watching him closely, Technoblade noted how he headed straight for the fireplace, picking up a small box which sat on the mantle. He hadn’t even noticed the wooden container, its form blending seamlessly with the burgundy background. What could possibly be in it? Why would Phil get that specific box in response to Technoblades question?

Sitting back down on the couch with a sort of grace only he could achieve, Philza’s wings shuffled as the box was placed in his lap. Looking up from his locked gaze, Philza’s eyes met the piglin hybrids, giving him a serious look. Whatever Phil was about to show Technoblade was of serious importance to the crow hybrid.

“Wilbur”, Philza began, stopping only briefly to steel himself, “he had been sending me letters.” Technoblades own eyes widened at the statement, his eyes immediately darting to the box with a hungry look. That was the key to getting more information about this situation, to get more of an explanation than a brief plea for help. This was the key; he needed to see what was in the box.

Philza continued, pointedly ignoring the glint in Technoblades eyes. “He had said to me, in his first letters, that communicators were known to act up where he went. Cases of people not being able to contact the outside too effectively. So,” Phil gestured to the box, “he began sending me letters.”

Technoblade felt his hand reach out in the direction of the box, only for Phil’s grip on the container to tighten. Giving the bird hybrid a curious look, Technoblade tilted his head. “I need to see those letters, Phil. I have no information on where Wilbur and Tommy are, how to get there and who to talk to. I need this, in order to help them.” Technoblade paused for significance, giving Phil a serious look. “They could be injured, Phil. Or dead. If what you told me is true, then we have no way to ascertain when the message I got was sent.”

With a pained look in his eye, Philza tightened his grip once again, before loosening it with a sigh and the sagging of his shoulders. “I just… mate, I promised Wilbur I wouldn’t share them. And you know how I feel about promises.”

Technoblade did know. Philza Minecraft, in all his years as an adventurer and a survivalist, an entertainer and even a father, had broken many promises. He had promised his late wife he would take care of his sons, and he had broken that promise. He had promised his boys, all of them, that he would be there for them, and yet that promise was abandoned when he abandoned him years ago. He had promised Technoblade he would never betray him, and yet their entire relationship was strained by Philza’s presumed betrayal. Promises, when made by Philza Minecraft, the Angel of Death, were always inevitably broken. And Technoblade knew just how much those broken promises ate at Phil, keeping him away from sleep late at night and causing him to chase after adrenaline and adventure as a means of avoiding that pain. Though, during the late nights when Techno would meet Phil out in the cold, gazing up at the stars above the stronghold base of a young Antarctic Empire, Phil had confided in him how much he regretted the need to travel and the need for the rush of excitement. How he had always wanted to be a better father, how he felt he had failed his wife by choosing personal gain over familial commitment, and while in a way this was for Wilbur and Tommy, it still ate him up inside to leave the two boys. At the time, Technoblade had no answers for Phil, instead just lending him a hand which rested on his shoulder in comfort, sharing his worries in silence. It was an eye opening moment for the younger Technoblade, who had put Philza on a pedestal, not quite realizing how flawed he really was.

Now, Technoblade knows better. Now, he understood the worth of a promise to Philza, after so many times getting it wrong. And so, it pained him even more to ask Philza to share the letters.

But Wilbur and Tommy’s safety was more important. And Phil seemed to think so as well, because when Technoblade began to let out a resigned sigh, Philza closed his eyes and ran a hand over his own face, before loosening his grip completely on the letter container.

“You need this information, for Wilbur and Tommy. Just… let me tell you what I know. Don’t read them yourself. I want to keep at least that much of my promise.”

It was a vow Technoblade was more than happy to agree to. With a vigorous nod, Technoblade felt himself give Phil a smile. “Thanks, Phil.”

Philza for his part nodded seriously at Techno’s thanks, the bird hybrid still all business. “Sure, mate. For Tommy and Wilbur.” Technoblade nodded along, his own face growing serious. The voices had even quieted enough for Technoblade to expertly ignore them, their white noise fading into the background as he focused completely on the conversation in front of him.

“What can you tell me?”

Phil looked to the box, and with a single combination, it was open. Taking out a few of the worn letters - written on parchment of all things - Philza quickly gave them a brief glance over, most likely refreshing his memory of Wilbur’s writings and ramblings. “Wilbur and Tommy had ended up in a server owned by a man called Dream, apparently the server was supposed to be used for a campaign event but it was scrapped and opened as a regular community server.” Shuffling through a few papers, Philza read out more information. “Wilbur, Tommy, and even Fundy - Will’s own son, all grown up now - had gotten into the business of creating nations.” At this time, Philza paused briefly, eyes locking with the worn old letters.

Technoblade took the moment to wait, before speaking. “What does it say, Phil?”

“Oh,” Phil seemed to snap out of whatever was bothering him, shuffling the papers before continuing after clearing his throat, “he- uh, Will, I mean, said he created his… L’manburg as a way of proving his worth.” Phil seemed to stare off into space for a second, his next words seemingly breaking through without his consent, “he never needed to prove himself, not to me...”

Technoblades own features softened at Phil’s words, ignoring the screaming Chat telling him to get up and embrace the avian hybrid. “Wilbur wanted to go with us to the campaign event, remember? He even followed us halfway there, Tommy sneaking along right beside him, together like they always are.” Techno felt himself look away for a moment. “I think I called them kids, and told them they’d never make it in the real world. Pretty ironic, at the time, coming from the guy who was a year younger than Will. He may have taken it as a personal challenge.” Turning and locking his gaze with Philza, Technoblade gave him a meaningful look. “You aren't at fault, Phil. Wilbur isn’t the same kid we left behind when we went to Earth. He’s a grown man, with a kid of his own, a grown kid. His decisions are his own, but he's also still… family.”

Phil nodded, eyes still gazing periodically at the letter he had set aside, steeling himself as he picked up another piece of parchment to continue. “Sorry, mate. Got lost in the head there for a moment.” Phil let out a cough, as if clearing his throat. “Well, Will also mentioned an election. He wrote that he won, but he and Tommy moved away and were now creating a new home, almost like a side project… no, that can’t be right. He told you he was in danger, right? Exiled from his own community? There was a serious look of concern in Philza’s eyes, as he locked his gaze with Technoblade.

If Wilbur’s letters were to be trusted, then Wilbur and Tommy wouldn't need Technoblade help. The voices in Technoblades head began screaming at him, calling out for Wilbur, calling him a liar, and yet Technoblade needed to confirm for himself. Taking out his communicator, he scrolled through his messages with Wilbur, rereading it to varify its contents. No, it was right.

The letters message, and Technoblades recieved plea for help, were completely different both in tone and story.

Technoblade looked up from his communicator, and stared into Philza’s eyes. “No, the communicator message is right. Its a cry for help, which means…” Technoblade trailed off as his eyes fell to the letter, along with Phil’s. Wilbur had lied in his letters to Phil, and for a purpose Technoblade had no knowledge of. The piglin hybrid was sure it wasn’t for innocent reasons.

“Maybe there was a mistake, mate. Will wouldn’t lie,” Phil continued to look at the letter like it was completely foreign to him, “not like this.”

Technoblade looked at Phil, and in a steady voice, spoke evenly. “We don’t know what Wilbur was thinking, but that still doesn’t change the fact that the message I received speaks to something a lot more sinister going on than you thought.”

Phil absently nodded, gripping the parchment piece tightly before setting it to the side. With a deeply conflicted look, he picked up another letter and continued on from where he left off, an unsure look crossing his features. “Wilbur talks about the server in this letter. Dream needs to whitelist everyone who enters, there isn’t much Will seems to know about the patron god who sponsors the land, and it seems Dream is a rather elusive figure.” Phil paused then, looking to Technobalde. “Does that name ring any bells, mate? Dream.”

A sigh escaped the piglin hybrid, his thoughts racing through the long lists of fighters and influencers he knew from his Hypixel hay-days. Dream didn’t ring any proper bells, though. Unless…

“Does Wilbur mention a mask at all when he talks about this Dream guy?”

Philza shuffled through the letters, bringing a couple more parchments out and scanning each of them carefully. His brow knit in concentration and Techno saw his lip curl as he read through the words. His eyebrows then lifted, a look of astonishment on his face as he turned back to Technoblade. “Yeah, right here, mate. Dream wears some sort of strange smiley face mask according to what Will says.” Technoblade couldn’t help the curse which escaped his lips at that confirmation. It just had to be that Dream, didn’t it? It couldn’t have been any other Dream someone he didn’t have a previous acquaintance with. “Techno, do you know this guy?”

Sighing, Technoblade let the agitation bleed into his voice, “yeah, I do. He’s an old competitor of mine, we've got a casual rivalry. He’s, uh… a bit much. But I know where to find him and how to get a hold of him.” At that declaration, Phil’s face lit up, a bright smile crossing his features.

“That's fantastic!” There was a moment which passed between them, where Phil’s bright smile dulled into a sardonic grin. “Though, I don’t know how much help that’ll be. From Wilbur’s letters, he seems to be a bit of a problem. You sure you know how to handle him?”

Technoblade nodded, humming softly. He knew exactly how to deal with Dream, especially after their duel almost two years ago. The hybrid had bested that mask wearing weirdo before, he could do it again if need be. No matter how strong he had gotten over the last few years. Technoblade knew how to take care of his type, the type who always schemed and who always seemed to yearn for control. Keeping him in check would be easy. It was finding him which was the hard part.

Looking at the cold tea, still sitting on the coffee table, Technoblade felt his voices yelling excitedly in his head. Last they had seen of Dream, it was just after the battle in The Beasts sponsored arena. It was a grand tournament, where Technoblade and the green clad mask wearing fighter had fought in a ten round competition for fame and fortune. The fight had ended then, in Technoblades favor, but it was a hard battle. Six to four is nothing to brag home about, even if Tommy had been singing his praises after that win. Even then, Technoblade had sensed something about Dream which unsettled and intrigued him. He had the same aura that Technoblade got from Simon and Mister Beast, the aura of a vassal.

And that made Dream incredibly dangerous.

Even if he found him, and somehow convinced the mask-wearing warrior to let him into his territory, Technoblade would still have to worry about how much Dream is a threat to his family. And if he could be turned into an ally, or a business associate.

(Dream, Dream, will we fight Dream again, can Dream be our friend, we should destroy him before he destroys us, hes unsettling Technoblade, don't trust him, that smile is the work of the chaos god for sure-)

Still, that could wait, if only a few more hours. With Phil here, and so much to talk about between them, Technoblade didn’t want to leave even with the urgency of the message he received. The piglin hybrid needed to talk to Philza, needed to explain and to clear the air between them, to reassure him that he still thought of him as his family, that wherever Phil was would be home. Because Techno had missed him, this past year. And it wasn’t until he had seen Philza, who had embraced him for the first time since the Antarctic Empire, that he realized how much he was missing by holding onto his anger.

Dream could wait, just a few more hours. Technoblade needed to take care of his father.

#Von Writes Stuff #Hyacinth #dream smp #dsmp au #dsmp fanfic #found family #sleepy bois inc #alternate universe #canon divergence

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maskthesimp · 3 years

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Cold Blooded, Warm Hearted - Malia Tate x Self-Insert

Warnings: mentions of child abuse, general violence and gore, crude language, monsters

If you wish to follow this fanfic more closely (as it will be a full on book hopefully) check my Wattpad in the Pinned post! It just makes everything easier~ XOXO

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Chapter 1: Paths Crossed

"Bring him," a voice rings out, fire crackles as chains gently rattle against parallel stone pillars. Echoes of footsteps ring through the halls, coming to a whisper as they enter an open space, the ground lined with sand, crunching under the small boots of he who entered the ceremony room.

"You, child of Connor, Lord of the West Territories; Here you shall evolve. Shed your skin, accept your heritage and become one of us! Take your first kill, and burn away the weakness that plagues you," the voice continues to boom through the vast space, voices whispering and muttering as the small figure makes it's way closer to the rattling chains, "Are you ready, my child?" The voice booms as a man groans, his chains shake and knock together, the heat of the fire laying ontop of his skin like a blanket waiting leap and turn him to ash, "...I am!".

Two cloaked men, jam their spears to the ground next to the younger figure, and take their place next to the chained man, "It's time for you to evolve," says the left man, "Shed your humanity." Says the man on the right. A chant erupts in the observing crowd, 'kill, shed, evolve...kill, shed, evolve...'

The young, small figure slowly walks towards the rattling chains, and the bare man constricted by them. He looks at his hands as ash red claws crawl their way out of his formerly human finger tips, wine red scales peel back up his arm, waist, chest, neck, and face, amber rings brand his once ivy green orbs. "Kill, shed, evolve," the two men echo, gripping the edges of two stone bowls on either side of the chained man, filled to the brim with molten rock, glowing with the licks of flames. The ash red claws glint in the light of the flames, and swing down, sending flicks of blood to the ground, as they melt into the already red scales of the young figure's hands.

The chant continues, over and over again, 'kill, shed, evolve, kill, shed, evolve..', the first stage having been complete. The child winces in fear and nearly stumbles back, but holds himself steady, as the two men release the heated rocks onto the scaled child. A piercing scream erupts into a roar as flames slither their way across the child's body, when he opens his eyes in agony, the burning Amber rings are replaced by a now cold, blue glow.

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[Beacon Hills High-school, Last Period]

"Hey do you guys wanna study after hours?" Stiles asks, standing up from his seat. "I need to, I have a maths test coming up soon," Malia responds, a slight pout growing on her face as she reminds herself of her least favourite class. "Cool, I'll help you out!" A tall, dark boy stands from his seat aswell, Scott, he follows his girlfriend, Malia, and his best friend, Stiles, out of the classroom. They make their way up the stairs, running into their resident Banshee, and Stiles' girlfriend, Lydia, eventually reaching the doors of the library.

They settle down at one of the central desks, each opening their books and beginning to study for their respective classes. "Ya know, we haven't had anything supernatural happen in the past few months, it gives me bad tingles in my feet, like something is gonna happen soon," Stiles squirms in his seat with his his chin resting in his palm, Lydia agrees with Stiles, "Yeh you're right, it does seem weird doesn't it? Maybe The Beast was the last big bad in Beacon Hills. Seems fitting that our last one would be the first Werewolf killed by an Argent." Scott turns to his friend, somewhat rolling his eyes, "C'mon Stiles, you're being paranoid! Not everything is supernatural in this town, we can go one year without finding a body, or having kidnappings, or giant phantom werewolves tearing people apart!" Stiles looks down at his open book, a concentrated frown on his face, "Yeh I guess you're right.."

The conversation moves on, everyone but Stiles focusing on other things. A few minutes pass, before Stiles pipes up about a new face who's entered the library,with long brown and blonde hair, light denim jeans, and a black jacket. "Who's that? I don't recognise them from the new Freshmen, are they a transfer student?" The person wanders over to the Anthropology section, also known as where the stories on Mythological creatures are, "I think so, I've seen them at the Jujitsu hall, I think they were signing up," Malia answers Stiles' characteristically unrelated and random question. She gazes off at the new figure, watching them wander around, their raw fingertips glazing over the spines of each book they pass, until eventually they stop and open one, setting themselves down at a desk behind theirs. Scott turns to his girlfriend, a confused expression stapled to his face, "Why were you near the jujitsu Hall? None of us have a single class near there." Malia directs her attention back to Scott and her friends, her focus on the new teen broken, "Hm? I find it entertaining, why else?" She says as if it's blatantly obvious, which to her friends; it is, almost confused as to why Scott would even bother asking. "They seem like they're around our age, I'm just surprised anyone is even bothering coming to Beacon Hills High anymore, let alone what appears to be a transfer student." Lydia looks up from her notes, also oddly transfixed by the person, who is now deeply involved in their own selected book, "You sure they're our age, Lydia? They're kinda short, maybe puberty is stuck in traffic for them," a chuckle comes from the group's friends Liam, Corey and Mason as they sit down next to the main four, with Scott's Beta, Liam glancing at them each one at a time as a silent greeting. "No, they likely have some form of Dwarfism, a condition that essentially puts a limiter on how tall someone can grow, although there's hundreds of different types so I can't for sure say which one they may have.." Lydia responds almost distantly, still keeping a keen yet seemingly misty eye on the new kid, everyone taking a glance at her, not at all surprised by her scientific knowledge anymore, before they all go back to silently watching the figure.

After a while Stiles stands up, and begins making his way towards the new kid's desk, but not before Scott questions what he's doing, "I'm gonna go talk to them! Every time a mysterious new student shows up something happens, what if we have another Liam? Another time bomb?" Stiles points out, accidentally taking a small dig at their friend with I.E.D, "Hey! That was Scott's fault, I didn't come here as a wolf!" Liam retorts, glaring at Stiles with a frustrated gesture, "Well technically you got yourself tossed off the side of a building, so it was sorta your fault," Mason pipes up, "That was the wendigo's fault! Not mine!" The Beta reminiscences over the time he got bitten by Scott, when he fell off the hospital roof after he was hunted by a hungry Wendigo. "Alright enough! I'm going to talk to this kid and see what their deal is, okay?" Stiles eventually interrupts the debate, settling to try and conversate with this strange new face, "Who's to say they're anything at all? You don't need to be suspicious of every new person ya know," Malia points out to Stiles, shrugging her shoulders, "listen I always trust my gut, they transferred to Beacon Hills High even after everything that's happened here, and oh look! They're reading a book on supernatural creatures! That's not suspicious at all!" The skeptic says sarcastically, before stumbling over to the desk the young figure is sitting at.

He sets himself down clumsily, glancing between the person and their book, "So..a fantasy lover?" Stiles awkwardly asks the stranger sitting before him, he looks up from his reading in an almost panicked state, suddenly closing his book most of the way, "Oh um--..Hi, yeh, just studying for History," They let out a small, awkward chuckle before introducing themselves, "Cael by the way!" They reach out, shaking Stiles' hand as he too introduces himself, "So, you a fan of Mythology too, huh?" Cael attempts to break the Ice a little, worried that his social anxiety was showing, "Yeh," Stiles stares at the back of Cael's chosen book, somewhat zoning out while reading the title; 'The Extensive History and Physiology of Dragons throughout History'. "So, you're a dragon lover aswell then?" Stiles questions the kid's taste in History so Cael explains their history project, "Pff no, I have quite the distaste for them in fact, the history project is to study a part of any culture that we fear, whether it be real, religious, or historical events that took place in a Country's past," he awkwardly shifts in his seat, explained away by his discomfort with the Winged creatures depicted in his selected book, "So, what makes you dislike them so much, just scary? Or a separate reason..?" Stiles lightly stares at the androgynous figure sitting across from him with suspicion he hopes isn't noticeable, "Because they're the most scientifically realistic, in most cases," he responds with a deadpan and almost cold stare. Stiles' mind starts running wild with theories on every word Cael spoke, the way he said them, and other meanings of what he could've meant, his gut giving him more feeling than ever that Cael wasn't who they said they were.

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[Scott's House]

"Scott I'm telling you! This kid is shifty as hell! I checked with some of the people in his class, and they don't have a history homework even close to what he described!" Stiles points out his evidence for Cael's lying, showing his continued distrust for the young lad, "Maybe he just wanted to learn about Dragons, people have interests, Stiles!" Scott argues with his friend, while he watches him rummage through his desk, clearly searching for something, "Why would he lie about something like that? What's the point of lying about an interest in something such as dragons? Why not tell the truth, unless the truth is something you wish to keep hidden?" Stiles finally appears to find what he's looking for, he holds up a hard drive that Scott recognises, the Bestiary that used to belong to the Argents.

Stiles plugs in the Bestiary to his computer, and loads up the index. He scrolls down to the Dragons section and look through it for a while, reading some useful parts out loud; "Much like other shape shifters, dragons appear as human...Dragons have various species among their communities...they have a similar hierarchy system to ancient Kings and Queens of the English Empire..." Scott looks over Stiles' shoulder, silently reading along with him, "Stiles you should head to bed, it's late and we can talk more tomorrow. Listen if something is up with this kid, then we'll eventually find out, but other than a natural interest in fire breathing lizards, he hasn't acted suspicious in the slightest." Stiles turns his spinning chair around to face Scott, "Scott, he said he hates dragons and has a fear of them," Scott's face sinks with confusion, he asks what the skeptic is talking about and Stiles responds, "Whenever I was talking to him, he said that he had a really bad fear of Dragons, when I asked why all they said was because they're the most likely supernatural creature to be exist, is that not in the least bit suspicious?" The Werewolf stands up properly, thinking in silence for a few seconds, "Scott you didn't trust me with Theo, or when I realised I was the one who wrote Kira's name on the chalk board, I just need you to trust my gut this one time!" Stiles begs his friend to go along with his hunch, but Scott seems to be somewhat distant, until he snaps his head up "He could be a hunter! Maybe he's not a supernatural but a hunter!" Stiles claps his hands and points a praising finger towards his best friend, "Yes! Now you're following along! That explains why he was researching dragons, he wasn't studying them for himself, he was trying to figure out ways to defend himself or--"

"Kill them.." Scott quickly interrupts, his gaze sinking to the floor, "That's it, tomorrow we inform the rest of the Pack, and we find him. We'll question him, if my hunch is right and he's a hunter, then he poses a risk to all of us. Including any humans who are involved with protecting the supernatural, aka me! I only have a metal bat to protect myself so it'd be nice to have a heads up on this guy!" Stiles retorts with a snarky undertone, Scott nods his head, agreeing and saying goodnight to his partner in crime before heading home, the last thing he needs is his girlfriend climbing through the window to find his room Scott-less.

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#scott mccall #lydia martin #derek hale #stiles stilinski #liam dunbar #teen wolf #teen wolf fanfiction #self insert #self ship #malia tate #fanfic #self insert fanfic #canon x self insert

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taeyongdoyoung · 4 years

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summary: the forest is your only escape from the everyday troubles with your family until you find danger lurking behind the trees. or rather, danger finds you. your fateful encounter with the vampire ravn leaves you wishing for a different life. you strike an unexpected deal with the stranger that will soon turn into something more…

pairing: vampire!ravn x reader

genre: vampire!au, humour, fluff

warnings: unresolved sexual tension, a lot of shakespeare lmao

word count: 2.2k

part one 🌙 part two 🌙 part three 🌙 part five 🌙 part six 🌙 part seven 🌙 part eight 🌙 part nine 🌙 part ten🌙 part eleven 🌙part twelve 🌙 epilogue

A month after you started living in Ravn’s castle and you were getting anxious to go out. Not that you weren’t doing fine inside. The vampire was treating you great and you were happy to read books together, feed each other (literally) and have interesting conversations. However, you missed the fresh air outside, you missed just walking around aimlessly and wandering to new places. You didn’t want to risk your parents spotting you so the village was out of the question. The forest, though…

You wondered how to bring it up. Ravn had initially said that he doesn’t expect you to stay trapped in his castle forever, but he never mentioned it after. Maybe, he enjoyed just chilling at home. You did, too. But your adventurous spirit was eager to try something new.

As you were lost in thoughts, Ravn touched your shoulder and you jumped at the sudden contact.

“Sorry, did I frighten you?” he asked gently and sat down next to you on the couch.

“N-no, it’s fine, I was just thinking.”

“You do seem a bit antsy. Anything bothering you?”

“Why? Everything is peachy,” you quickly responded, because you still hadn’t figured out how to ask Ravn if it was okay to go out without upsetting him. You didn’t want him to think that you were ungrateful for everything he had done for you.

“Don’t lie to me, Y/N,” Ravn said in a serious tone, which made shivers run down your spine, reminding you of the first time you met him. “I can’t take that.”

“I’m s-sorry,” you whispered. “I was…hoping we could go out sometime? But I didn’t want to seem unappreciative of your efforts to make me feel at ease. Which is why I had no idea how to ask for it. I’m so sorry.”

Ravn smiled softly.

“Is that it? You didn’t have to lie. I told you that I won’t keep you prisoner, didn’t I?”

You nodded slowly.

“I know you did, but still, I’m so used to being a burden that I don’t know how to act around…around someone like you.”

“A vampire?” Ravn laughed ironically.

“No. Around someone who doesn’t judge everything I do or say.”

“Oh,” Ravn was surprised at how you viewed him. He was supposed to be the monster in the story. So, why did you treat him like a saviour of some sort?

“I mean it,” you insisted once you noticed how unsure he was.

He shook his head. This emotion thing was too new and too scary for him and he didn’t know how to deal with it.

“Where do you want to go?”

“Maybe the forest?” you asked quietly.

Ravn was shocked at your choice.

“Haven’t you been there a lot? Don’t you want to try something new?” he suggested casually.

“As long as it’s not anywhere near my parents, I’m game,” you chuckled.

“Do you want me to surprise you or would you rather know where I’m taking you?” Ravn teased, a wonderful idea already forming in his mind.

“Surprise me, then,” you lifted your chin and looked at him boldly.

“You trust me?” he repeated the question you had so far responded to negatively.

“I do, actually,” you decided to be honest for once, because he had warned you not to lie to him ever again. He was obviously taken aback by your answer.

“You stupid lamb,” Ravn chuckled and placed your hands around his neck. Then, wrapped his arms around you and lifted you up. “Hold on tight.”

And he began running at a speed that shouldn’t have been humanly possible. But yet again, he was no human. At one point the accelerated motion made you so sick that you closed your eyes and hid your head in his chest. You had no idea where you were going but the realization that it didn’t matter amazed you. He didn’t scare you. But this terrifying journey did. You probably should have warned him you had never travelled with anything faster than a bike. You had spent your entire life in your small village and the forest nearby. You were pretty sure you would pass out soon, but before that happened, Ravn stopped running.

“You may open your eyes.”

You did as he said and looked around. The first thing you noticed was how big everything around you was. The buildings, the towers, the cars, the bridges, the river. How…magnificent. And not in the way his castle was. Ravn’s home felt familiar in a way you couldn’t quite put into words. This place, wherever it was, felt so strange. But in a good way.

“Where are we?” you murmured nervously.

“Can’t you tell?”

You shook your head in embarrassment.

“Welcome to London,” Ravn informed you of your current whereabouts.

“You’re kidding!”

“Nope,” he laughed. “I thought you were into Shakespeare. How can you not recognize where we are?”

“I only managed to borrow and read some of his plays in my village. I’ve never seen…”

“Pictures of London?” Ravn helped you out when he saw you were struggling to find the right words.

You nodded, suddenly feeling intimidated by the vampire’s vast knowledge of the word.

“I’ll be your guide, then,” Ravn offered you his hand like a gentleman. “Do you want to visit the Globe Theatre first? It’s a reconstruction of-“

“I know what it is,” you responded. “Again, I haven’t seen pictures, but I read about it in one of the introductions to the book of plays.”

Ravn smiled proudly.

“That’s my girl,” he smirked.

First, he’d called you his human and now this? You could swear Ravn was going to kill you. Not with his fangs but his words.

The two of you spent the morning visiting many interesting places. Starting from the Globe Theatre, where Ravn showed you around like an expert, pointing out curious facts about Shakespeare that got you staring like a wide-eyed puppy. He also led you to a couple of lovely vintage bookshops and insisted on buying you some of Shakespeare’s plays you hadn’t read.

“But you have these already in your library!” you reasonably argued.

“Yeah, but I want you to have them. Besides, they’re different editions.”

“Ravn…you really don’t have to,” you were ashamed that he was spoiling you so openly.

“Y/N…please, let me,” Ravn whispered in your ear. It was like he was asking you to get him something and not the other way round.

You finally conceded and once the two of you left the bookshop, you found yourself clutching a paper bag with Shakespeare plays. You weren’t sure how to thank him properly for doing this for you and you couldn’t exactly offer him to drink from you in such a public place, so you did the one thing that came to mind. You lifted yourself on your toes and gave him a quick but heartfelt kiss on his cheek. Ravn seemed flustered and you could swear you saw his usually pale skin turn red for the briefest of seconds.

“Thank you,” you told him, your smile full of gratitude and affection.

“It’s nothing,” Ravn coughed and suddenly found the ground beneath you very amusing. You smiled when you reached the conclusion that he could get so easily embarrassed.

“It means everything to me,” you confessed. “No one has ever given me such a precious gift.”

“Come on, we still have many places to see,” Ravn grabbed your free hand and pulled you along.

You were lucky enough to see a couple of museums associated with famous British writers. The afternoon was dedicated to the more “basic tourist destinations” as Ravn called them such as the Big Ben, Tower Bridge and the River Thames. Everything was so grand that you couldn’t help staring at it like a lost puppy. Finally, as the sun was setting, Ravn suggesting going to the London Eye, which was most magnificent at night. Its lights shining through the dark, you were completely awestruck. Suddenly, you remembered a story you must have heard around the village.

“Wait, how did you survive throughout the day?”

Ravn laughed.

“Funny, it took you so long to notice. And if you’re referencing the foolish myth that the sun harms vampires, fear not, my lady, I am perfectly immune to daylight.”

You were relieved to hear that but a large portion of your mind was choosing to focus on the part where Ravn called you my lady, which was honestly making things to your heart that you couldn’t quite control or comprehend.

“I’m sorry for being such a dim-witted person,” you looked down in shame.

“You’re the brightest person I’ve ever talked to,” Ravn reassured you.

You faced him in the dark; the London Eye lights were giving his features a mystical, supernatural glow. He was so beautiful. You wanted to trace your fingertips down his porcelain skin and tell him how much you ached to touch him. It was insane, you knew. He was supposed to embody everything little kids were taught to fear, every dark fairytale, every warning whispered before midnight, to force the kids to finally go to bed or the scary vampire would take them away. But he was nothing like the stories. In the brief time of your acquaintance you’d seen nothing but tenderness. Who were you supposed to believe? These foolish myths or your own eyes, your mind and your heart?

“Shall we?” Ravn urged you to approach the London Eye, thus, breaking the spell he held over you. You followed him in a rush.

“Oh no,” you mumbled, pointing to a sign. “It says here it’s closed.”

Ravn smiled devilishly.

“When has that ever stopped me before?”

“Ravn…what are you planning?” you asked cautiously, but it was already too late.

His hands were already on you and the next second you had somehow ended up on top of the London Eye, with a view to the whole city, its lights making it look even more beautiful at night.

“This is…insane,” you gasped, holding tightly onto his shirt for support.

“Yeah.”

“Bite me,” you requested out of nowhere, looking into his dark eyes.

“W-what?” Ravn choked.

“Bite me, so I know I’m not dreaming.”

He laughed, amused by your reaction.

“If I bite you, we’ll both fall from here.”

You scoffed lightly.

“Thus with a bite I die,” you joked, slightly paraphrasing Romeo’s last words.

“Rawr,” Ravn teased.

You looked around the city street lights. Everything seemed so tiny from up here. And there you were, a human and a vampire on top of the world. It felt surreal.

“It’s so beautiful,” you said, completely stunned by the view.

“It really is,” Ravn confirmed, only you had no idea it wasn’t the city he was staring at…

🌙🌙🌙

Once you were back in Ravn’s castle, you walked to your room in a daze, still finding it hard to believe how you’d spent the day. But the paper bag with Shakespeare plays in your hand was the material proof that it had, in fact, been real. Ravn followed you silently and the minute your back hit the bed, he tucked you in gently.

“Good night, Y/N.”

“Aren’t you hungry?” you asked sleepily.

You were so exhausted from the journey and you still found enough energy to care for his needs. Ravn couldn’t believe he’d met such a selfless, precious human.

“I can manage a couple more hours,” he chuckled.

“You’ve given me so much more than I deserve,” you murmured weakly.

“That’s not true,” Ravn said. “You deserve all the stars and the moon.”

“O, swear not by the moon, th’inconstant moon,” you were still able to recite Shakespeare despite being so tired and it was only fitting, considering today’s adventures.

“What shall I swear by?” Ravn played along and you could feel yourself falling, not only asleep.

“Swear by thy gracious self and I’ll believe thee.”

🌙🌙🌙

You woke up to the smell of something delicious. Eggs? Bacon? What was this enticing odour? You hurriedly put on a robe and ran down the stairs and towards the kitchen. You were struck to find Ravn cooking human food!

“What are you up to?” you asked, sneaking up behind him. To your further astonishment, he hadn’t heard you, maybe because he’d been so focused on the task at hand.

“Nooo, you should go back to bed!” Ravn scolded you. “You ruined the surprise.”

“This all for me?” you inquired curiously and wrapped your hands around his waist, which made Ravn jump in shock.

“Duh,” he replied. “I can’t eat that.”

“So, you’re just fattening me up so that you can eat me later?” you admonished him playfully.

“Oh, no, you’ve uncovered my evil plans!” Ravn groaned dramatically.

“What shall we do, then? Do you think I’ll be so easily tempted?” you continued to joke around and ran your fingers down his back, making him slightly tense under your timid touch.

“I think,” he started. “That after you try my eggs, you’ll be begging me for more.”

“Yeah?” you giggled at the double entendre. “We’ll have to see about that.”

You were still trying to distract him from cooking when Ravn turned around swiftly, grabbing your hands.

“Don’t play with me,” he hissed, aiming to sound threatening but you were having too much fun to feel any fear.

“Why not?” you pouted adorably.

“Because you’re making it really hard for me to resist you.”

“You can have me whenever you wish,” you pointed out. That was your arrangement, after all.

“Not like that, I can’t,” Ravn whispered, almost too quiet to hear. Key word: almost. “The eggs are ready. Eat up.”

You didn’t question it, because you were too hungry to care what exactly he meant by that.

To be continued…

#oneus #ravn #ravn x reader #twilight #oneus fanfic #kim youngjo #fluff #vampire au #ravn fanfic #vampires #kim youngjo x reader #writing

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huntertales · 4 years

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Part One: Two Heads Are Better Than One. (Heaven Can’t Wait S09E06)

Episode Summary: When Dean gets a call from Castiel about a possible case dealing with spontaneous human combustion, the older Winchester decides to investigate--on his own. The reader decides to tag along. She doesn’t take no for an answer when Dean shares his odd hesitations on letting her work on a hunt with Castiel. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 4,518.

Previous Part | Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist

“What am I exactly supposed to be looking at, again?”

You tilted your head to the side and stared at the sheets of paper Kevin handed over to you to read over. He called you and the boys into the library this morning after claiming he had a breakthrough worth sharing. The kid had been working on translating the tablet for days now with almost no breaks at all. He was overly eager with what he claimed was some kind of monumental breakthrough. It was the first update he had in weeks. All of his supposed hard work came in the stack of papers you flipped through to discover it was nothing you were expecting. Pages upon pages filled with what you guessed were doodles and illegible chicken scratch Kevin called his handwriting. This was the progress he had to offer. It made much sense to all of you as the words etched into the stone.

You managed to read a few of Kevin’s notes that offered no clarity to the next step in his work, causing you to worry he didn’t make any real progress at all The boys weren’t happy either at the small ounce of hope Kevin had instilled you with his news. You flipped through all the notes to see if there might have been something useful, but it was all the same. Nonsense. You raised your brow in curiosity as to how this was supposed to help all of you. The demon tablet took months to translate just the trials, unfortunately you didn't have that luxury of time. You needed to undo what Metatron did quickly as possible.

"That's your 'big news',” Sam sounded the least bit enthusiastic at the promise turned into a let down at seeing the prophet's notes that were most likely going to turn out to be useless. “is that you translated the tablet into doodles?"

"It's cuneiform." Kevin tried to explain the long and tedious process of how he managed to get to this point. "I hit a wall translating the tablet into english. But I found an ancient codex linking the angel script to proto-elamite cuneiform, and I was able to translate the tablet and the footnotes into elamite, which is—"

“Doodles.” Dean finished the younger man’s sentence.

“It’s extinct.” Kevin added.

“Well,” You let out a quiet sigh of annoyance from his news that all sounded to be turning out the same way. Bad and pointless to even still be talking about this. You glanced back to the doodles in some kind of attempt to make sense of it. You had an ear for languages. But even you found yourself drawing a blank for what the hell this could even mean. “Can you read it?”

“No one can.” He said. “Scholars have tried for centuries.”

“So it’s a dead end?” You took a wild guess at what this meant for you. You threw the papers to the table in defeat at the continuous walls you kept hitting. It felt with each turn you took to try and get yourself out of this angel mess only turned out the same, time spent wasted and no progress to show for your effort. Kevin wasn’t defeated as you were. He thought there might be a way to keep going with this angle.

“Not quite.” Kevin said. You crossed your arms over your chest to hear what the kid had to say, hoping this conversation turned out to be worth your while. "Now, most proto-elamite is abstract, but I was able to decipher one phrase from Metatron's footnotes. 'Falling angels.'"

You and the boys exchanged a glance to one another at the set of keywords that had started this entire mess in the first place. Maybe you had been looking at this the wrong way. You thought the answer to your problems would be hidden somewhere in the tablet. Words God spoke himself might not have held the information you needed. You wondered if it was hidden somewhere between the lines. Somewhere most would simply ignore.

"Okay, so, the footnotes to Metatron's spell?" Sam asked, wondering if that’s what Kevin figured.

The kid merely shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe.”

You let out a quiet sigh from the little information you had to go on. Sam wasn't about to give up just yet. He decided to take the only lead you had going for all of you. The Men of Letters had enough resources to help. "Well, maybe if we can decipher the footnotes, then we can reverse the spell..." Sam thought out loud a possible plan all of you could follow. He made his way to one of the shelves, pulling out some hardcover books for you to read.

“Punt those winged dicks back to heaven.” Dean said. He slapped his hand against the table in agreement with his brother’s genius idea. Little did he realize what was in store for him. “Where do we start?”

"Research." Sam said, saying his older brother's least favorite word when it came to hunts and solving supernatural problems. He tossed one of the bound books to the table, landing with a rather heavy thud. Dean’s expression of hopefulness slowly fell when he realized there was no getting out of this. "We comb through the library, see if we can find anything else on elamite."

The older Winchester grabbed the book up from the table and read the title out loud. His excitement for the tedious research ahead darkened at the struggle ahead. “Zimmerman's Encyclopedia of Extinct Languages Volume One: Adai to Atakapa.” He frowned. “How many volumes are there?”

“Twenty-four.” You said. You smiled in delight at the sight of his drooping jaw and the failure for any words to come out. You placed a hand under the table and lightly patted his thigh in reassurance. “Don’t worry, babe. We have all of them.”

“Awesome.” Dean muttered. You were going to be no help for him to try and sneak his way out of this one. His brother only scoffed and turned his attention back down at his book when Dean subtly pleaded to have some mercy thrown his way. However it seemed there was someone looking out for him. Dean was saved from a tedious afternoon filled with research when his phone went off. “There is a God.”

You rolled your eyes in slight annoyance at how joyous he sounded at being able to slip out from the responsibility of research. You returned your attention back to the first page of the encyclopedia as Dean tended to the phone call. He wasn’t sure who was trying to get in contact with him. It was always a guessing game when a random number flashed across his screen. Dean answered the call after the second ring and was greeted by a familiar voice he hadn’t heard in weeks, not since the awkward departure that sent Cas back on the road alone. The older Winchester wondered if the guy was calling up to reassure him that everything was okay on his end. Or he was in some kind of trouble.

"I may have a case for you. Four missing in Rexford, Idaho. Presumed dead, but no bodies have been released to loved ones." Turned out it was neither of them. To say it was a surprise upon hearing Cas' voice on the other end discussing a possible hunt was a shocker. Dean jumped up from his seat as the man went on without giving even a simple greeting. "And there were reports of a strange substance at the scenes."

"Oh, well, hello to you too, Cas." Dean whispered to the man over the phone, making sure to keep his voice low enough not to disturb everyone who had been working diligently. He knew the moment you heard Cas' name drop into the conversation you would be all over him in trying to ask questions about the whereabouts of the man and how he was doing. So far you had your nose buried in the book and engrossed with whatever you were reading about to care about who he was talking to. “How are you?”

“I...am busy.” Cas answered.

“All right.” Dean mumbled. He wasn’t sure what to expect from the guy. Cas’ people skills were never the sharpest, despite him being down here on earth for a handful of years and interacting with people. Trying to have a simple conversation with him always ended up with words lost in translation. Dean decided not to try and make small talk and go straight to the reason why Cas called in the first place. “So, how do you want to do this? You want to meet up at the latest scene? You want me to pick you up? What?”

Dean heard something that sounded to be liquid splashing over the other line, making him momentarily confused as to what the hell Cas was up to. "Um. I've got my hands full. I just—um..." Cas was quickly learning that he wasn't able to multitask. "...thought you would want to know about the case."

"Hey, are you sure everything's—" Dean tried to be a good friend and ask the man about his transition to normal life, but he wasn't able to finish his question when he was cut off by a dial tone. He rolled his eyes and ended the call. “Okay.”

You and the boys were no strangers to taking on a case with little to nothing to go on. From what Dean heard, this seemed like something all of you might be interested looking into. It might turn out to be nothing in the end. Or it could very well be a monster. All Dean knew for sure he couldn't ignore it without at least checking it out by himself. He forgot the last time he was able to go on a hunt by himself. But he didn’t see the need for you and Sam to tag along when there was so much reading to be done. He wasn’t sure if it was even a case after all. Whatever it did end up turning out to be, Dean was going to run with it. It wasn’t everyday he got a perfect excuse to get himself out of doing research. Before Dean went on his way to Idaho, he knew all of this was going to raise a few questions.

“So, he said nothing about where he is or what he’s been doing?”

Sam was rightfully confused at the shift in plans after Dean silently excused himself from research only to come back with an overnight bag all packed up and the strap hanging off his shoulder. The younger Winchester was given a brief summary of the conversation Dean had with Cas and nothing much else to go on. He was more caught up with the fact that Cas had given no proper details about his whereabouts and wellbeing. Only about some bogus case Sam personally felt would be better suited in another hunter’s hands.

“In case you forgot, he’s not exactly Chatty Cathy.” Dean said, walking a few steps up the staircase before stopping to face his brother.

“And you’re not even gonna see him when you’re in Idaho?” Sam kept on with the questions to try and understand the man’s eagerness to go through with the trip.

“Well, like I said,” Dean repeated the same excuse he gave you when you found him packing up a bag after you noticed his disappearance from the library. “as long as he’s catnip for angels, he’s keeping his distance.”

“So, then what’s the point, Dean?” Sam called out to his brother as he continued to the top of the staircase and towards the front entrance. “I mean, it’s barely even a case.”

“That’s why I’m just gonna go have a little look-see, and we’re not gonna waste a whole lot of manpower on a big pile of nada.” Dean explained to the two men from top the balcony overlooking the lower part of the bunker. If there was one thing Dean was good at, it was always sneaking his way out of wasting a day on reading some dusty old book.

“In other words, a perfect excuse to bail out on research.” Kevin said, calling out the man on his behavior.

“You got me.” Dean felt the need to sarcastically reply.

Sam and Kevin were left to tend back to the tedious amount of research that was waiting for them back in the library. All though they were short a pair of eyes, not all hope was lost just yet. They thought there was still one more person who could help keep the reading somewhat manageable. Or so they thought.

Dean was the first one to notice you had decided yourself that you weren't going to be part taking in research either. He found himself slowing his walking pace when he discovered your lower half sticking out from the backseat of the Impala. While it was always a lovely sight he enjoyed on almost every occasion, this one made a groan of frustration build up in the back of his throat. He should've known you were going to weasel your way into his plans of taking this hunt. You always did. You got yourself out and into a standing position, one hand rested on the car door and the other on your hip. The smile on your lips made him wonder if even holding a conversation as to how you managed to beat him out here was even worth it.

"You honestly thought you were going to leave without me?" You asked him. Dean tried to open his mouth to give you an answer, you cut him off before he could even breathe. "No way. When's the last time you took a hunt by yourself?"

Dean's face scrunched up at your question, "You don't think I can handle one on my own?"

"I didn't say that. Who says you’re the only one who wants to skip out on research? I really didn't want to spend my time reading eight books on a dead language that might help us translate that stupid tablet." You admitted to him. "Besides, we haven't had any alone time in forever. We can make it a little getaway from Sammy and Kevin."

"I thought you didn't like mixing our dating life with hunts." Dean said. You smiled at the little rule you implemented years ago when you both started going out to make a balance. You walked closer to him so you could wrap your arms around his neck to be near. You looked off into the distance and pretended to think for a second.

“If it is even a case. Might be just something for the cops." You said. “And even if it turns out to be one, we can always add a few more extra days. Tell Sam it's going longer than expected."

Dean pretended himself to think about the plan you hatched up. It didn't take much thought to agree with what you had in mind. He didn't see the harm in letting you tag along, it wasn't like he was going to be around Cas to worry about any winged dicks to make things more complicated. He answered your proposal by leaning down for a kiss before hitting the road. He felt your lips stretch into a smile against his own when he agreed. The man knew deep down you would have come along no matter what he said. This way if trouble got in the way he would be able to keep an eye on you.

+ + +

By the next morning you and Dean made it to Idaho with your first stop at the most recent crime scene that was still swarmed with police. You managed to blend in with the uniformed officers from the federal clothes you changed into before making your way here. The both of you flashed a pair of smiles and fake badges at the officer in charge in exchange for some information. While Dean chatted up the sheriff, you took the chance to snoop around the property of the most recent victim.

It wasn't hard to see his living conditions weren't the best. The rundown house he called a home was in desperate need of repairs, not to mention the grass littered with junk from broken down cars to objects rusting from the elements. Despite the neglect to make the place appear tighty, there wasn’t much anything out of the ordinary from what you could tell. All except for for the strange coating on the front windows that overlooked the property. The bubblegum pink clashed with the clutter and ramshackle home. It felt out of place.

“So, four missing?” You asked the sheriff, making sure to watch your step on the wet grass as you approached the police tape securing off the perimeter.

"Four dead." The sheriff corrected you. "Just got confirmation."

“And any common threads you can think of?” Dean wondered.

You bent over the tape and into the crime scene so you could examine the surroundings a bit better. So far what you could tell was the amount of useless junk lying around the lawn that had been neglected from good mowing for a while. Overgrown grass and weeds helped blend in the things he had kept lying around. It was an eyesore for this neighborhood.

"Well, Joe in there had the suicide hotline on speed dial. The gal before him was a shut-in. Head enough antidepressants in her medicine cabinet to stock a pharmacy." The sheriff gave you a quick rundown. You crossed your arms over your chest and listened to the theory he had, thinking it might help you in the long run later. “The first victims—a married couple out of Sugar City. Pretty much a walking billboard for no-fault divorce.”

“Were they all basket cases?” You asked.

“If you asked me to make a list of this county’s saddest sacks, these four would’ve been right on top.” The sheriff said, giving her own personal opinion.

“All right, so four unhappy people, one of them definitely suicidal.” You summarized all of the information you knew so far at the moment. You passed a quick glance over at Dean when you gave a small shrug from what you had. It wasn't much, but you had a feeling there was more to the story. "But you've ruled out suicide, right?"

The sheriff grabbed a few pairs of what appeared to be rubber gloves from another officer and handed them over to you. You furrowed your brows slightly in confusion when you realized there were also protective booties for your shoes to help from tracking in any dirt into the crime scene. "You're gonna want to put these on."

You and Dean complied with the request and slipped on the protective equipment before entering the home. The sheriff was the first one inside, opening up the door to possibly one of the strangest crime scenes you had seen in a while. You quickly got an answer to why the windows were tinted bubblegum pink, because the entire place was coated in it. You didn’t know what the hell happened that caused the place to make it seem like a can of paint exploded in here. You highly doubt Joe thought some color in his life would help with his depression.

You made sure to watch your step as you entered the home after Dean followed the sheriff, taken back by the strange sight himself. You spotted a forensic investigator crouched down on the ground taking a swab of the pink substance. Right away you noticed a foul smell that caused you to press your wrist against your nose in some kind of attempt to help muffle the odor. It reeked of decomposition, a smell you were unfortunately quite familiar with.

“This look like suicide to you?” The sheriff's question caused you to rethink your theory. You glanced around the place to try and figure out what the substance was. If the police hadn't identified it yet, you wondered if something supernatural might be to blame for this after all. This was starting to feel more like a case after all. Dean took a wild guess when he asked if the substance was blood. “If the tests come back the same as the others, it’s the same as everything. Blood, skin, hair, nails, internal organs, even clothing fibers—like these poor souls got a run through the world’s finest wood-chipper.”

“What about witnesses?” You asked.

“Same as the rest. Neighbors reported some kind of pink flash. By the time we got here, all that was left was…” The sheriff took a sweep of the room and the remains of Joe, something he couldn’t quite explain. “this.”

You and Dean shared a similar expression with one another at what you were learning. The deaths were odd enough for you to keep digging more into what might be the cause of this. People just don't naturally explode without a proper reason why. It seemed Cas found you a legitimate case. What you wondered next was if he was willing to lend in a helping hand.

+ + +

After checking the crime scene and going through the usual suspects, you and Dean were left back at square one to who or what might be to blame for these deaths around town. The both of you decided to find a motel for the remainder of your stay and switch out of your fed clothes for more comfortable ones. You had a tedious amount of research and what you needed the most was a caffeine pick me up for the long night ahead of you.

You decided to make a quick call to Sam to see how his own progress was going with the amount of reading he and Kevin were forced to do on their own after you abandoned them. You felt a little guilty for leaving them high and dry, but it seemed like they were functioning just fine on their own. And it seemed your suspicions had turned out to be right when Sam gave you an update on their progress.

"Yeah, we're almost through the texts over here." Sam said. “We got nothing.”

“Have you tried Professor Morrison?” Dean suggested.

“Yeah, he’s unreachable. He took a sabbatical to live amongst the trobrianders of Papua New Guinea.” Sam explained yet another useless dead end. You furrowed your brow slightly when you overheard what the professor had been doing in his free time. “Needless to say, we’re pretty burnt out.”

“Well, there’s one guy there who is nothing if not well-rested.” You felt the need to remind the younger man of the extra housemate who had been rotting in your dungeon. Sam scoffed at the thought of Crowley helping out. "I'm just saying. We're not keeping him chained up for the one-liners."

“It’s worth a shot, I gess.” Sam said.

"Just be careful, all right?" Dean warned his little brother. "Don't fall for any of his 'quid pro quo' crap."

“Noted. So, what about you guys?” Sam asked, curious as to how progress was going with the hunt you decided to take. “How’s Cas’ lead panning out?”

“Four victims suddenly exploded. We tried EMF. We looked for hex bags, sulfur—nothing.” You ran down the list of the things you had searched for back at the crime scene only to come up empty with no possible leads of where to go next.

“Spontaneous combustion?” Sam took a wild guess. “Maybe the Thule?”

“No, no, no. We already ruled them out.” Dean said. “The bodies were vaporized. They weren’t burned.”

“That sounds like a real case.” Sam was starting to sound worried from how things were starting to shift into something more serious. "Guys, I should be there."

“No, Sammy. That’s not necessary. I’ve got this under control.” You reassured the younger man. "I'll make sure Dean doesn't get into too much trouble. And bug Crowley, see if he knows anything. We'll call you if we hit a dead end."

When Dean said he was going out for a quick stop, you happily tagged along. It seemed Dean had been doing his own research as well. You found yourself making an extra stop after getting some coffee to discover he wanted to check up on Cas to make sure he was doing all right. He tracked the man’s call to a local gas station.

You ended the call shortly after exchanging a quick goodbye with Sam, letting him see if the king of hell might be of use for once. You slipped your phone into your pocket for safekeeping before setting your sights on the reason why Dean wanted to head out besides for coffee. He had been doing his own research while you were getting settled into your motel. It was to track down Cas after their shared phone call the day before. You were happy to know the guy was doing all right. But confused as to as to why he was working the register of the local gas-in-sip.

This entire situation with Cas and his departure from the bunker was strange that left you bothered. Dean held the same excuse when you asked him days after Cas decided to hit the road again. The man had a target on his back with his fellow brothers and sisters. He thought the bunker wouldn't be safe enough to keep you all from the danger. While you were happy to see that Cas was safe and out of harm's way at the moment, you still didn't understand why. Someone was eventually going to find him trying to blend in with the rest of humanity.

"I don't know if I should laugh or cry." You mumbled under your breath.

"It's kind of funny, if you ask me." Dean said.

“Of course you would.” You said, rolling your eyes. “I still don’t get why he ditched us.”

Dean shrugged his shoulders at the answers he couldn’t give to you. He took a sip of his coffee and watched as his friend waited on another customer like he’d been doing this for years. “I’m surprised there’s no one complaining.”

You furrowed your brow in confusion at what you overheard the man mutter into the paper cup. “What?”

"Nothing." Dean replied a little too quickly. He noticed there wasn't an angel taking control and popping out to warn him about letting you go near Cas. So far it was just you staring at him, curious as to what he was hinting around. "Let's go. I wanna play the lotto. Suddenly I'm feeling lucky."

You knew it was Dean's flimsy excuse to go inside the gas-in-sip and ambush your friend at work. You finished the last of your coffee and properly disposed of it in the nearby trash can before following behind the man into the store. You had a few questions you wanted to ask Cas. You weren’t going to leave him alone until he answered them. And to make sure he was truly safe on his own.

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strangertheory · 3 years

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I’ll admit I’ve been very skeptical about the DID theory, but your most recent post discussing the “layers” was mind blowing to me. I’m still standing back to see how things play out, since it is a theory, but reading the first “layer”, I 100% can see that being part of the plot. The rest is a little more abstract and I’m curious to see how they would write it in if this theory is true. Thanks to you and Kaypeace for your posts on this theory, they’re interesting!

[This is a follow-up Ask referring to this earlier post.]

Thanks for Asking! I have a lot of thoughts on the possible “layers” going on in the story, but I find it challenging to put into words what my ideas are sometimes because I don’t consider myself a very good writer. I can’t promise that anything I write in this reply will make a lot of sense, but I will do my best! I’ve avoided trying to explain certain thoughts I have on the layers of the scenes because they’re complicated and I hadn’t been sure how many fans would have an interest in them since there’s already such a small number of fans interested in the interpretation that the story is about a DID System in the first place. This is yet a sub-theory of that theory! But I’m really excited that you asked. I will try to explain as best I can.

Please keep in mind that although kaypeace21 and I both theorize that Stranger Things is about a DID System (her blogpost about which characters are alters is excellent and I highly recommend it if you haven’t read it yet), we each have our own interpretations of the DID theory that are sometimes very different from each other’s. Her analyses are based on the theory that the alters, internal worlds, and traumas in Will’s mind have escaped his subconsciousness through supernatural means and have become real. I see her interpretation as one possible explanation for the events in the series and I do like that interpretation a lot. I think it’s a very compelling theory and interpretation of the events so far. But what I’m going to describe in the rest of this blogpost is not currently representative of what kaypeace21 theorizes is going on in the series. This “second layer” interpretation that I’ve considered is based on the idea that there are no real superpowers in the story at all and that they exist strictly within internal worlds or in the imagination of the storyteller.

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To explain my “second layer” theory which I also like referring to as my “story within a story” theory: I believe that some scenes (but not all scenes) that we see in Stranger Things might be metaphorical and not meant to be taken literally as they are shown, but rather seen as an artistic interpretation of certain concepts and scenarios.

Let’s look back at season 1. Imagine that a character (I’m going to say Mike because I do suspect he’s the one writing the story) is explaining the story of “what happened in 1983″ in a journal, and then a film crew had found what Mike had written down and adapted it into a series but the film crew did not know the original context of Mike’s story, and so the film crew was unaware that it was a story about Mike’s friend who has DID and that many of the characters in the story are actually alters.

“One day Will went missing and then a girl who said her name was Eleven showed up. She was scared and said that she knew Will but that he was ‘hiding’ and that she could help us find him in the ‘Upside Down.’ She told us that we absolutely couldn’t go tell any adults because it wasn’t safe and that ‘bad men’ were after her. I hid El in my closet upstairs when my mom came home unexpectedly. Mom told me that she wants me to feel like I can talk to her. (“All this that’s been going on with Will. I want you to feel like you can talk to me. I’m here for you!”) Later, Dustin and Lucas and I helped find clothes and a blonde wig for El. We made sure that my mom didn’t see El while she was at my house. We snuck into the school with El and tried to get to the radio in the AV Club Room, but Mr. Clarke found us and reminded us that we should be attending Will’s memorial assembly. Oops. (Thankfully Mr. Clarke didn’t ask too many questions about El and he believed our story that she’s a cousin from Sweden!) Attending Will’s funeral was a funny experience since we knew that he was actually alive after El channeled him on the walkie talkie (”Like Professor X!”) Eventually Nancy found out about El (”Is that my dress?”) and so did Joyce and Hopper and we worked together to put together a sensory deprivation tank because El remembered that she could enhance her ability to reach into the ‘Upside Down’ that way. We set up a sensory deprivation pool in the school gym. Joyce thanked El for everything that she was doing for Will and told her that if she ever got scared that she should let her know and that she’d be with her the whole time. El was able to reach out with her mind and find Will in the Upside Down. She found him in the Upside Down in Castle Byers, barely conscious. She told Will that his mom was coming to get him, and Will whispered back ‘hurry.’ Then El became upset as Will faded away into the darkness and her connection to him weakened. She took her goggles off and sat up in the water, panicking. Joyce held her close and told her that everything was ok. Joyce and Hopper went into the Upside Down to find Will and Hopper gave Will CPR until he regained consciousness. Then the Party got to visit Will at the hospital once he was feeling a bit better, and we told him all about the adventures that we’d had and that we’d “made a new friend” named “Eleven.” (”Like the number?”) Dustin said that El was “basically a wizard” but I insisted that she’s much more like a Yoda.”

So. I recognize that I skipped many scenes in the above example summary of how author Mike Wheeler might retell the story of “what happened in 1983,” but I skipped scenes because I want to primarily focus on the connection between El and Will that is represented in season 1 and set aside what is going on with the other characters for a moment. But if you re-read the summary that I wrote above you might realize that the way in which I described season 1 could be interpreted (at its core) as the non-fiction story of a bunch of kids finding their friend who went missing in the woods, realizing that the person they’re interacting with is no longer Will but a new individual (an alter, a distinctly separate state of consciousness and separate self), and then going on an adventure as they try to sort out the best way to “find Will” and bring him back while also becoming friends with El and protecting her from the “bad men” that she says are after her. The ‘Upside Down’ is a space in the DID System’s subconsciousness that is an internal world. The innocent creativity of Mike, Dustin, and Lucas as they try to find an outfit and a wig for El to wear to school is very sweet. The scene in which they accidentally run into Mr. Clarke when they are trying to break into the AV Club room becomes even more charming when you realize that Mr. Clarke does not appear to recognize El (but Mike, Dustin, and Lucas appear very nervous that he might realize something strange is going on!) Attending Will’s memorial service with El at their side gains an amusing layer of narrative irony, and Joyce’s protective parental affection for El gains new layers of significance. Every moment in the story changes if we imagine that the story we are seeing on screen is like a creative theater performance telling the story of “what happened” and each alter in the series is represented by their own individual actor on screen.

Are there moments in season 1 that break this “second layer” theory that I’ve considered? Arguably there are. I consider this a theory-in-progress. But the key concept of this “second layer” theory is that the story is perhaps not meant literally but is meant as a story that is artistically representative of the experiences that alters in a DID System might have. Many films and tv shows that portray fictional characters with DID approach telling their stories as an outside observer might and without taking into account the individuality of each alter, alters’ experiences in internal worlds, or the way that alters might have different understandings of our reality when they’re very new to the outside world and are fronting (controlling the body) for the first time. Perhaps Stranger Things is taking a new approach.

You’re probably wondering how I carry this “second layer” theory into season 2 and especially season 3 in which we finally see Will and El in more scenes together. I might write a longer blogpost about it at some point. But I believe that, if I were to assume that my “second layer” theory is correct (it’s just one of a few very different theories I’ve considered), that it is possible that significant portions of season 3 take place in an internal world or a dream in which characters that exist in Will’s life are now NPCs or alters. This would make Will’s statement “What if we locked him out here with us?” incorrect. What if Will should have technically said “What if we locked him in here with us?” What if “the Gate” is specifically the doorway through which alters need to pass in order to front in the body in the external world? As I’ve mentioned in a few other posts: I theorize that El is a gatekeeper alter. I suspect that Hopper is also a gatekeeper and that he has been mentoring El. In summary: I often wonder if Will is not always entirely “awake” and if many scenes are taking place in a liminal space between his conscious and subconscious, between reality and his dreamlike experiences in an internal world.

You might be interested in reading a summary of my observations regarding how Will and El do not interact with each other in any scenes in season 1 or season 2 directly in this older blogpost that I made about the parallels between El and Will. I think it might interest you a lot and provide more context to my “second layer” theory if you haven’t read this older post before. I am infinitely fascinated by how Will and El parallel each other so closely and yet rarely interact. I think that this is an intentional consequence of whatever secrets the writers have in store for us in future seasons and I cannot wait to find out what those secrets are. I hope that the connection between El and Will is going to be explored more in season 4.

How might we expect the layers to be peeled back in the series itself if the writers decided to reveal this “second layer” existed beneath the current story? I think that they could reveal things to us a few ways if this “second layer” does exist. Perhaps we could see a character meeting with a therapist and a medical professional would openly name the condition and describe what the characters have been dealing with in a way that provides very new “second layer” context to earlier events in the series. (Sidenote: Back in the 80s it was called “multiple personality disorder” and we might have characters in the series refer to it that way since it takes place in the 1980s, but that term is outdated and it should be referred to as “dissociative identity disorder” or “DID” today.) Perhaps we might see them artistically or literally represent concepts like co-consciousness (two alters being conscious and aware in the body at the same time) or have characters transform back and forth into each other while sitting in a chair in order to represent them taking turns fronting in the same body.

Or perhaps this “second layer” theory that I’ve described is insisting on too much artistry and metaphor and the real “second layer” is that the vast majority of the story so far has taken place in internal worlds and Hawkins itself is an internal world. (I have wondered if this might be why Hawkins doesn’t exist in the real world even though other locations referenced in Stranger Things do exist: Chicago, Indianapolis, etc.) If that were the case maybe we’ll see the shared body of the DID System for the first time in a future season which may (or may not) resemble any of the actors we’ve seen portray characters so far. But from everything that we have seen so far I theorize that the host is most often known by the name Will in the external world. (We've had both Will Byers and William "Billy" Hargrove canonically referred to as hosts. And we have "Will the Wise" who I suspect is also an alter.)

Thank you for your Ask! I hope that I was able to explain some my thoughts in a vaguely coherent way. I really should do a larger post breaking down every single scene between seasons 1 and 3 and how this “second layer” interpretation of the story could apply, but I haven’t had the time and I’ve been wary of doing it since I’m not sure how it would be received. But maybe I’ll do that sometime soon if enough people have an interest in it.

#stranger things #stranger things theories #the did theory

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erekiosuncreativeideas · 4 years

Text

Being Human - Chapter 11

<= Chapter 10

Summary : Snatcher meets someone new. Warning for this chapter : depressive thoughts. Also available on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/24826561/chapters/64721650

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NEW CHAPTER, HELLO THERE

Sorry for not posting in a while and thank you so much for your patience ! I hope you'll enjoy this chapter ! Thank you so much for all your nice comments, likes and reblogs, you're the reason I'm still writing today, you're all so great !!

The “Oh The Humanity” AU belongs to @doodledrawsthings !

Happy reading !

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Chapter 11 - “Let’s chat for a bit, okay?”

Snatcher covered himself with a colourful towel and opened the other door of the shower, revealing the room he had been in before: the machine room, apparently. It was a wonder how this ship still functioned despite all the fires and holes there were in the engines… That thought made the man extremely nervous. Who wouldn’t be, when they were in space, in a seemingly damaged spaceship run by children? Of course, it made him anxious! He could feel his heartbeat increase and he had to take deep breathes in order to calm himself down.

Now wasn’t the time to panic. Everything would be just fine. And hey, who knew, maybe he’d become a ghost again if he somehow died at some point? He scoffed at the idea: yeah, no, he knew that wouldn’t work. His knowledge on the supernatural and on magic in general were enough to give him a pretty good idea of what would or wouldn’t work.

Well, especially what wouldn’t work.

Once he felt calm enough, he focused once more on the current situation. Right next to the door lied a bag of clothes, all very diverse. This probably was what the hatted brat told him about earlier. With some hesitation, the former ghost bent over it and sunk his hands inside to inspect it. Unsurprisingly, those were all male clothes, very different from what he used to wear before he died. It made sense, in a way, considering a few centuries had passed since then, but that didn’t mean he could adapt that fast to this fact. It was a lot to take in, after all.

It took him a while to find something fitting him. Most clothes were either too small or too big for him. Some looked familiar to him, huge blue costumes especially, and he remembered he had seen these on those mafia goons that sometimes entered his forest. Well, no need to try them on, as they were visibly too big for him. It wasn’t until he reached the bottom of the bag that he found a few clothes that could fit him: one was something he remembered was called ‘t-shirt’, although he didn’t understand where that name came from. Another piece of clothing was a green jacket made out of wool, which would certainly keep his body warm. He found an underwear to his size, though it looked like nothing he used to wear back when he was alive. The last clothes were blue pants that felt really weird to the touch and strange-looking brown shoes with laces.

What the heck was all of that.

With a very confused face, the former ghost did his best to put those clothes on despite his lack of balance. He couldn’t help but have the feeling they wouldn’t be comfortable to wear and oh Gods, was he right to think so. The ‘t-shirt’ was the less worst of all, having a strange shape yet a nice texture, so it wasn’t entirely bad. However, the jacket was itching him on his arms, the underwear felt extremely wrong on his skin, both because of its form and texture… But the worst thing was the pants. Oh, Gods, he absolutely loathed them. The feeling of the fabric on his skin felt so unnatural, and while it seemed a bit elasticated, the man felt like it was too tight around his legs. And what about that thing he had to use to close those pants! What even was that thing?! Who invented that?

With his hair still wet from the shower, Snatcher glanced at his own body, all confusion on his face replaced by exasperation and an obvious lack of understanding. How clothes like these could be worn casually? It made no sense to him.

A sudden noise coming from his stomach cut his thoughts short, forcing his mind to come back to reality. Right, the kids had mentioned someone who would cook for them, even if he didn’t remember their name. However, despite his blatant hunger, the former shade didn’t really look forward to eating anything, mostly because he knew this was going to be a bad experience. He hadn’t tried doing so yet but, considering how every action as a human, even the littlest ones, were so hard and painful to do again… It was obvious that whatever would happen, it wouldn’t be enjoyable.

Snatcher let out a frustrated sigh as another gurgle echoed in the room. Well, it wasn’t like his body was giving him any other choice, so he decided to accept whatever fate destiny had in store for him. He knew it was going to be bad, so it was better to just close his eyes and let fate do its magic. And so, with great reluctance, the former spirit walked away from the shower, taking the bag of clothes with him so he could give them back to whoever they belonged to.

He climbed the metal ladder leading to the upper part of the room, with some difficulties due to his need of adaptation, and approached the door, which opened swiftly once he was close enough to it. That still made him ill-at-ease, if he had to be completely honest, but at least he didn’t jump from surprise anymore, so that was still some progress. He entered the hallway, using the walls to help him to walk in the slope of the floor. No matter how it looked from an exterior eye, Snatcher was definitely getting better at that walking thing. If the movements still felt strange, it was becoming more natural for him, and his legs hurt less from the efforts.

He soon reached the other door, which opened just like the first one. The man arrived in the main hub and glanced around, looking for the kids and whoever they brought onto the ship. However, he was a bit surprised to see that no one was in the room, except for the little vacuum cleaner, still doing its job happily. It greeted Snatcher with a high-pitched sound, bumping into his foot as a way to say hello. He couldn’t help but cringe at the action, still saying nothing as he waited for the little robot to get away from him. Gods, this made him uncomfortable, and yet he felt so ridiculous for that. He could perfectly imagine the kids making fun of him, and he promised himself not to ever mention that in front of them, no matter the circumstances.

Just as he was about to explore the ship to find the little brats, several distant voices caught his attention towards the kitchen. One of them sounded unfamiliar and he guessed it most certainly belonged to the person the girls had mentioned before. Taking a deep breath, preparing himself for the worst, the former shade braced himself and walked to the green wooden ladder. Just like the one from before, Snatcher gritted his teeth as he climbed, the action being quite trying for someone who had come back to life. Gods, the things he’d do just to float again… With great efforts, he still managed to get back on the top of the platform, his forehead sweating from how hard it was and how warm the jacket was for him during such an exhausting effort. He quickly dried it up on his arm, having nothing else to use other than that. Once he calmed his breathing, he pushed the kitchen door open… And a strong smell hit his nostrils, a delicious one that made his mouth water and his stomach gurgle louder. His hand dropped the bag of clothes on the floor from the shock. Oh Gods, whatever was cooking, it smelled amazing. His eyes instantly fell on three silhouettes in front of the gas stove or whatever was the futuristic or alien equivalent.

He didn’t even know at this point.

There was a frying pan on the stove, with something cooking in it that the man couldn’t quite see from where he stood. All he knew was that it had a yellowish or orangish hue and that it smelled really good from his body’s point of view.

The three persons turned in his direction, two of them being the little girls he knew quite well and the other one… Being a cat in a chef’s uniform. What the heck.

-“Hey Snatcher!” was the first thing that came out from the hatted brat, soon imitated by her younger friend, waving at him: “Nice clothes,” she said with a thumb up. The bow-wearing kid added her own question:

-“I heard you had some trouble with the shower commands. Did you figure it out or…?”

Snatcher sighed and nodded, a frown on his face:

-“Yeah, I did. I would have appreciated an explanation about them, though,” he reproached, frustrated, making the kids wince at the remark. Well, he was right, so not his problem. His eyes then glanced back to the stranger, who was smiling at him, waiting for an opportunity to join the conversation:

-“Oh, hello !” greeted said cat with a feminine and gentle voice, as she approached him, dusting her paws on her clothes. The kids watched them from afar, next to the stove, surely because they originally were helping the other to cook. The hatted brat was watching the food, probably making sure it wouldn’t burn or something… Well, not that Snatcher trusted her on that regard, especially since she seemed to be poking at the food with a fork as if to see if it was still alive or not. The other little girl just slapped her hand away lightly, as if she were telling her it was impolite or something, whispering something Snatcher couldn’t hear from there.

What kind of alien food were the kids eating usually if they had to check if it was dead…? He suddenly became very nervous about the meal he was going to have. Well, in the end, he didn’t really want to know anyway.

Maybe he’d get lucky, since the cat was most certainly a native of the planet, just like he was. And since she was the one in charge of the cooking…

-“The girls and I were just talking about you,” added the stranger, giving the man a bright smile.

-“Oh, is that so…?” replied the former shade, glaring at the kids for talking about him while he was away. Whoever taught them politeness, they didn’t do a good job at it. What were they even talking about? The kids faked not noticing him, making Snatcher even more irritated. If only he still had his powers… Apparently, the cat seemed to notice his change of attitude and raised her hands in an apologizing gesture :

-“Oh, don’t worry, it wasn’t anything serious!” she explained, a little bit embarrassed: “They mostly told me what happened so I could be in the know,” she paused and extended her paw for him to take: “I’m Cooking Cat, but you can call me Cookie if you want.”

The man hesitantly took her paw, shaking it lightly:

-“The Snatcher,” he introduced himself, quickly pulling his hand back. The feeling of fur on his hand was extremely strange, new, and a bit overwhelming. He wasn’t ready for that kind of touch yet, he supposed. Cooking Cat didn’t seem bothered by that, as if she had been expecting it. Well, it made sense, if the brats told her about his bad experiences back in a human body.

She stepped away, making her way back to the stove as she replied:

-“I heard some stories about you,” she said, though she didn’t look scared. He couldn’t really blame her, though: who would be afraid of him the way he looked like now?

-“Terrifying ones, I hope,” he answered, his tone mixed with sarcasm and pride, a very terrible mix. The cat took the frying pan back from the kids, and quickly instructed them to fetch a large plate, which they quickly did. The former ghost came closer and finally got to see what was cooking: a few grilled cheese sandwiches. The sight and smell made his mouth water again. Gods, he hated being hungry and what that feeling did to him and his body.

-“Yes, for the most part. I must admit I didn’t think you were real until the girls told me about you and asked me to come here,” she confessed, looking a bit embarrassed as she did so: “I mostly heard about you from urban legends and scary tales for kids.”

-“Yeah, scary, right…” scoffed the hat-wearing brat, probably in order to tease him. He shot her a warning glare, which effect was only to make her and her friend giggle more. Those brats.

-“Anyway,” the cat spoke again, decided to change the topic for something lighter. She pointed to him with a smile: “I’m glad the clothes fit you well. I borrowed them from friends, you can keep them until you’re able to buy yours.”

That sentence suddenly made Snatcher realize that he had no money to buy clothes with. Or anything else, really. His thoughts must have been pretty easy to read from his expression as Cooking Cat lifted her paws again:

-“Don’t worry, you’re not in a rush, keep them as long as you need to,” she told him with a reassuring tone.

-“Yeah!” added the bow-wearing kid with a sympathetic smile -ugh- : “We’ll help you to find more clothes! And, not to brag, but I’m pretty good at picking clothes.”

-“She is,” upheld her older friend, “Whereas I’m the pon catcher,” she teased and then laughed, only to receive a light hit from the other with her elbow, giggling as well:

-“Hattie!”

The former shade couldn’t help but cringe at the sight. Gods, this was much too sappy for him. Next to him, Cooking Cat was looking at them fondly, like a mother figure watching her kids teasing each other. She eventually turned back to the stove, turning it off and lifting the frying pan in the air until she found a plate to drop the sandwiches on it.

-“Food’s ready!” announced the cat, smiling brightly. She put the frying pan in the sink and opened the tap to cool it down. She then handed the plate to the kids for them to pick a sandwich from. Without too much surprise, said kids were more than happy to finally eat something. Snatcher, in comparison? Not so much. The smell was perhaps appetizing, but the very idea of putting something material in his mouth after centuries of eating souls, immaterial remains of what used to be alive at some point… This was extremely different and he didn’t want to find out how exactly. However, his thoughts of disgust and nervousness were cut short as he was handed the plate as well. Eyes were on him instantly, waiting for him to take a sandwich too. The man couldn’t help but feel even more nervous, being stared that way made him quite uneasy. The cat was showing patience as she held her arm in the air, holding the plate still, as if she somehow knew what went through his mind. The hatted brat was about to say something, her face clearly mischievous, but her younger friend slapped her hand over the other’s mouth, preventing her to say anything. That action alone silenced the older girl, though she frowned at the bow-wearing kid, visibly unhappy with the latter’s reaction.

After what felt years to him, Snatcher eventually extended a hesitant hand to the plate, grabbing a sandwich. A scowl was plastered on his face, showing how anxious the whole situation made him. He could feel his mouth watering even more, saliva pilling up inside and making him even more uncomfortable. As if to encourage him, the bow-wearing kid took a bite of her own sandwich, soon imitated by her older friend, both stopping looking at him to focus on their food instead. Somehow, knowing he wasn’t the centre of the attention anymore made Snatcher feel a bit better. His posture relaxed and his expression softened, as he eyed his food with a wary look.

He was just so ridiculous, being afraid to eat a sandwich, out of any possible food in the universe. A pat on his arm suddenly brought the former ghost back to reality with a slight jump, his eyes looking for the reason of the contact. It was Cooking Cat.

-“You don’t have to eat, you know,” she offered with compassion, “We can put it in the fridge for later, when you feel ready for that.”

The abrupt sign of concern hit Snatcher’s pride right in the face. An angry blush appeared on his cheeks and he furrowed his brow. He loathed being pitied, especially for such a trivial matter. It was just food, what was he, a kid?! With a scoff, the man rolled his eyes: yeah, right! As if the powerful ghost of Subcon Forest couldn’t do something that simple!

Irritation soon replaced his apprehensiveness and he quickly brought the sandwich to his mouth, pushing all the nervous thoughts out of his mind. He didn’t need those right now. Without thinking anymore, he opened his mouth and took a bite.

It was at this particular instant that Snatcher realized he had definitely underestimated how much this would affect him. As soon as the food entered his mouth and touched his tongue, the former spirit was hit by a wave of sensations he hadn’t felt in years. The taste of food, the warmness of it on his tongue and on his inner cheeks, the texture of each ingredient, how everything together formed all new tastes-

It was absolutely overwhelming.

It was hard to explain how weird and strong all those new sensations were to Snatcher. He couldn’t help but freeze as his mind was unable to do anything else but focus on everything he was feeling at the moment. The taste was indescribable, in a way the man couldn’t describe as positive or negative. It was just there, flooding his brain with many, many signals he hadn’t expected to feel and didn’t understand yet. The texture was… Not something he enjoyed. The presence of something material in his mouth was strange and unnatural to him. Snatcher’s mouth remained motionless, not moving nor chewing because he was too shocked to actually think of doing so. His stomach gurgled louder and… It hurt, as if someone were twisting his guts in the most painful way.

Was this how hunger felt like? Like his guts were twisted again and again and again? Gods, how he loathed that feeling.

Snatcher’s thoughts were once more cut short as the hatted brat called out to him, this time not held back by her younger friend:

-“Uh, Snatcher…?” she started, hesitantly, raising one of her eyebrows as she continued: “You know you have to chew and swallow… Right?”

The words didn’t register right away in the former spirit’s mind. When they did, however, Snatcher felt his face heat up in embarrassment. Hell, learning to control a body after centuries was awful. Frowning even more, he started to move his jaw, though a bit awkwardly at first. The feeling of his teeth crushing food was so foreign, so… Weird, and almost disgusting, if he started to think about it too much. The sound of chewing echoed in his head, and he felt the need to close his eyes. It was loud, loud, too loud, much too loud. He didn’t know when he had to stop chewing. Did the food need to be a complete food mash? He had no idea, and his embarrassment just intensified as the seconds passed. He knew he was being watched, he knew that, and it all made everything worse.

After a while, when he felt the food was just a mashed mix of ingredients… He tried to swallow, the same way he managed to when it came to saliva. Strangely… It didn’t go the wrong way. Instead, the former shade felt the food coming down in his throat, rubbing each wall inside in the most uncomfortable possible way. The man cringed and shivered from the sensation, eyes shut hard and his body tensed more than he ever imagined.

There. He had chewed and swallowed the first bite. Woah. How amazing, truly. Now there were a dozen more to go, now this was just great.

Claps suddenly echoed in the room, making Snatcher jump. He quickly reopened his eyes, only to find the two kids cheering upon him by clapping their hands. The sound was ringing in his head each time their palms met, making him cringe again and again. The little girls were smiling, looking at him with wide eyes, full of… Admiration? Pride? Happiness? No, this couldn’t be that. This just couldn’t be. They weren’t cheering for him, how could they?

Snatcher was being mocked. He knew that, he was ridiculous, he couldn’t even eat properly, he was even more pathetic than a human, he couldn’t believe it- No one would ever cheer on someone for something that simple, something anyone could do easily but him.

The former ghost gritted his teeth strongly, so much that it hurt. Inside his chest, he felt like something was squeezing his organs, even squeezing at something that wasn’t really there in the first place. His hands were shaking, no, his whole body was. His face was becoming hotter and hotter, red like a tomato from how furious and ashamed he felt at the moment.

This was stupid, so stupid, why was this happening to him, why, why, why-

With a strangled cry, Snatcher threw the rest of the food on the floor violently. All the ingredients scattered on the black and white tiles with a repugnant sound, and silence fell in the room, the kids stopping their cheering instantly. Shock was on everyone’s face but Snatcher’s, his own frowning to the point where it just hurt.

He didn’t want this, never in his life and afterlife did he wish for such a terrible humiliation.

Ignoring the loud and high-pitched reproaches of the hatted brat, the man turned away, fleeing the room quickly despite how unstable he still was on his legs. He didn’t even see the kids and cat’s face well before he snapped, but he could perfectly imagine it. The hat-wearing girl was angry, revolted by his behaviour, by how he wasted food that was made for him, disappointed in him-

The younger kid certainly had that awfully annoying worried expression plastered on her face, pitying him, like they all were-

As for the cat, Snatcher was certain she either felt outraged like the older brat or upset like the younger one.

The man left the room as fast as he could, feeling his legs trembling more and more. It wasn’t like he could leave -he was in space after all, stuck in a spaceship-, but he just wanted to be alone, alone, alone for the love of Gods! The man’s breath was heavy and he could hear voices calling out to him, but he couldn’t understand what they were saying. A loud and deafening ringing noise was playing in his mind, hitting the walls of his skull at each heartbeat. He wanted to flee, wanted to go away so much-

He went down the mezzanine, his fists clenched, his nails almost piercing the skin. He was just at the middle of the large hub room when his left foot walked on the shoelace of his other foot, shoelaces he hadn’t tied up before. Instantly, it was like he had received a bucket of freezing water on his head as he realized that his body was falling, falling onwards, and he couldn’t stop it. He lost his balance, his arms instinctively tensed before him to protect him from the impact. Just before hitting the floor, he shut his eyes hard… And something wet leaked from them.

Oh. He was crying. Now, this was just pathetic-

The shock of the impact shut his thoughts up, silencing them immediately. A breathless cry left his lips as the air of his lungs were forced out of his body. Pain spread in his whole body, making him curl up from the ache, from the humiliation, from how bad he felt.

He didn’t want to be a human. Especially not who he used to be.

Far away in the room, the little cleaning robot seemed to watch with concern, beeping in a lower tone than usual. It looked like it understood that it was best not to approach Snatcher in his current state of mind.

The kitchen door opened swiftly, revealing the trio watching him from the top of the mezzanine. Just like he had expected… The hatted brat was angry and the other kid looked just as sad as he had thought. As for Cooking Cat… Her expression was unreadable. Was she worried? Disappointed? He didn’t know.

-“What the peck, Snatcher?!” yelled the older girl, gripping at the railing of the mezzanine as she bent over it: “Why did you-”

The former ghost had expected to hear yells and reproaches -who wouldn’t in his situation, after all?-, but… The hatted kid was silenced by Cooking Cat, the latter putting her paws on the children’s shoulders. Her grip on them seemed to be stronger than it should normally be, as if she were trying to catch their attention, which apparently worked, as silence fell into the room. The little girls looked at her with a mix of confusion and curiosity, though the anger was still very much visible on the hatted brat’s face.

-“Why don’t you two prepare a bed for your friend while he and I talk for a bit?” she offered them, with a tone that was nice but still wasn’t just a suggestion, or maybe a strong one.

Both of the kids looked at each other before glancing at Snatcher, who was still lying on the floor, more than humiliated. Why did the cat want to talk to him? He didn’t need comfort, he just wanted things to go back as they were! Why couldn’t it be simple?! Why did it have to be so hard and so unbearable? He didn’t ask for any of this!

Surprisingly, the children listened to Cooking Cat and nodded, probably because they understood how serious the other was. They remained hesitant for a few moments as if they were having second thoughts about all of this, but they eventually left the room, entering the hallway leading to their bedroom, whispering to each other.

Snatcher loathed this, he hated what was happening to him, this wasn’t fair! He gritted his teeth, hearing the cat approaching him one step after the other. What did she want to talk about? They didn’t even know each other, what would be the point?! She wouldn’t be able to help him, only the kids were, and they weren’t able to do so quickly! All he had to do now was to wait, while he could only hope for Vanessa not to go crazy and freeze the entire forest again! But sure, he could play the perfect little human! After all, this could only be a fun experience!!

He hadn’t realized he had been holding his head until now, his nails scraping his scalp painfully. He felt a paw on his shoulder, rubbing it slowly and gently. It made him jump once more, his eyes shutting hard: he could barely handle his emotions and now he had to handle the sensation of a paw rubbing his shoulder?! But as he was about to complain, Cooking Cat spoke first, with a calm and soothing voice that silenced him completely:

-“Let’s chat for a bit, okay?” she offered, her tone full of compassion and understanding.

Snatcher didn’t want to talk, he didn’t want to be comforted! Comfort was for kids, for helpless people, and he was neither of those things! And yet… Yet…

The man nodded silently, tears suddenly leaking out of his eyes and gross sobs leaving his mouth, echoing all around them in the room.

Snatcher just wanted to feel good for once.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

So uh will you believe me when I say this chapter was supposed to be completely fluff and all... But it just went downhill as I wrote it and I couldn't stop it. It just happened. Well, in a way, I imagine Snatcher having good and bad times, it's not a linear experience, having to like himself and his old self. So yeah... But next chapter is going to be calmer and Snatcher will have the opportunity to talk about things a bit.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and my drawings ! See you on the next chapter !

(Also I'm posting this four days before my birthday, look at me giving you a gift when it's my birthday soon idjqhdihqdu. ANYWAY. Hope y'all have a great day !!)

=> Chapter 12

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raibebe · 4 years

Text

Guardian

Genre: smut (!) Words: 5.822 Prompt: Guardian Demon Kihyun Warnings: Violence (he’s a demon, what did you expect), dirty talk, fingering, unsafe sex (please use protection, kids), light cumplay (I’m so sorry)

A/N: The beginning is inspired by Clean eyes on AO3, I never finished reading it because it literally destroyed me several times, but if you are into that and into Chanki, I highly recommend it. Thanks to the lovely @im-a-special-bebe who made this beautiful moodboard. She posts those from time to time and they are awesome, so check her out. Also if anyone cares the working title was literally: Kihyun birthday demon, good job me. This is not part of my still unfinished Halloween promts, I just like supernatural concepts who am I kidding Not betaed because I’m a horrible person and because this is already late. So all mistakes are my own. Also I can’t believe I wrote this filth, I legit got possessed in the midst of writing this, I swear. Please feel free to sream at me about this once you’ve read it And most importantly: Happy belayed birthday, Kihyun. I hope your day was amazing and you will nerver read this 🖤

Demon: A vicious creature who is a subordinate to one of the rulers of hell and gifted with different supernatural powers. Some of them, especially the more powerful ones, once were angles before they became tainted by sin and fell from heaven. Oddly enough their name originates from the Greek word Daimon translating to guardian spirit.

You usually weren’t one to go to shitty college parties at a random frat’s house, but your whole week had been fucked up and you really needed to get your mind off of the things that had happened. Not only had you managed to spill coffee on yourself twice but it also was in class in front of your crush. You also had tripped over nothing while running to catch your bus which had resulted in you scraping your knee open and missing the bus. You were also pretty sure a man casually walking the street had seen you fall and laughed at you. And if all of that wasn’t enough, you were pretty sure your crush had also seen you when you arrived late to class, drenched to the bone because it of course had not only started to rain but your umbrella had broken as soon as you had pulled it out of your bag.

So in conclusion your week hadn’t been going well. So what worse could happen if you went drinking alone at this random party because your best friend had cancelled last minute because she had to rush to the vet because her cat was hit by a car? Exactly: A lot of things. First your crush was also here which made you more nervous than it should have. But he was looking illegally good with his hair styled upwards and a neat button down with the sleeves rolled up. And second you had already been tugged away by one of the frat boys, who you shared some classes with, to join in a horrible drinking game which not only left you with a light buzz already but of course when you got up to catch some air outside you bumped into your crush resulting in him almost dumping his drink all over you.

This was what had led to your current situation which was simultaneously best and the worst that could have happened: You were standing in the empty kitchen with your crush, trying to make casual conversation while he was mixing himself a new drink because his old one had ended up all over the floor. “You look really hot today,” he said, letting his eyes roam your body, lips curling into a smirk behind his red plastic cup. Blushing you tried to hide behind your own cup, taking a long sip to calm your nerves. You did dress up a little bit, the dark blue dress showing off more skin than you usually showed and the black stockings hid your scraped knee while also looking cute. “We are in the same literature class, right? I never noticed how good you looked,” he kept flirting, raking his hand through his styled hair. You could just nod, silently sipping your drink until a stranger aggressively pushed past you in the kitchen, making you lose your balance, resulting in you almost falling if your crush hadn’t caught you. Blushing again you apologized for being so clumsy. “Well this isn’t too bad, is it?” Your crush asked, tightening the grip he had on your waist, pressing you against his chest.

Grinning and setting his cup down, he slowly closed the distance between you and him. Just seconds before your lips were touching his, the stranger who had shoved you on his way inside, loudly cleared his throat, making your crush stop and glare at him. “What’s your problem dude?” He asked while releasing you from his grip and walked over to the man, clearly irritated. Even though the stranger was a couple of centimetres shorter, he didn’t back down even in the slightest and stared directly into the other male’s eyes when he spoke. “I would rather not witness you tainting this kitchen or this girl right now,” he spoke calmly, pronouncing every syllable very carefully. “Tainting? What decade are you from dude?” Your crush asked, laughing at the very handsome stranger. His jaw seemed like it was chiselled out of marble, his pale skin just as flawless as his expensive looking black suit jacket and his dark eyes had a sharp edge to them, almost animalistic. When the stranger just raised one of his perfectly arched brows and didn’t give an answer, your crush huffed in anger. “So you ruin my chance to get laid tonight but don’t have the balls to talk back to me?” Hearing that almost made you choke on air. Who had said anything about you having sex with your crush tonight? Was that what he had planned on doing? Was he just after a quick fuck? Sure he already had a couple of girlfriends through the year but you had never taken him for the type to just be after that type of stuff. “I merely don’t want to descend down to your level of standards when it comes to conversations,” the stranger answered calmly, his face an expressionless mask and you couldn’t help the little laugh escaping your lips.

“You find that funny?” your crush snarled and turned back to you, face contorted with anger, making him look so unlike himself. “I... No, I jus-”, you stuttered trying to explain yourself. The way he looked at you really made you feel uncomfortable. “Hm, bitch, cat got your tongue now?” He continued to curse at you, taking a step towards you. “Don’t touch her again,” the stranger interfered, his tone carrying a strange weight that didn’t tolerate any misbehaviour. A wide grin was spreading on your crushes face when he slowly stretched his arm towards you, eyes on the stranger. Crowding your body against the kitchen counter you tried to bring as much space between you and your crush. Your heart was beating furiously, the blood rushing through your system drowning out the sounds of the party. “I’m giving you one last warning,” the stranger growled in response, eyes narrowed in anger. Before you could realize what was happening, the stranger had leapt forward and twisted the wrist of your crushes hand, that was about to touch your skin, making him wail in pain. “I don’t like being talked back to. I ordered you to not touch her and yet you chose to disobey,” the stranger spoke through gritted teeth, “You know what I do to those who disobey me?” When your crush didn’t answer, the stranger broke his expressionless mask and grinned. “I will show you exactly what I do, creature.” Taking the other’s wrist in both hands, the stranger quickly but pressure on the joint until you first could hear bones cracking before your crush screamed in pain, falling to his knees and clutching his hand which was now helplessly dangling off his arm.

Yanking your crush by his hair to make him look up, the stranger spoke dangerously calm: “Do not come near her again or I will take my time breaking all of your knuckles separately before I snap your wrist. I might not even stop there. Maybe I will take the time to dislocate your shoulder, break a couple of ribs or shatter the bones in your arms so you won’t even be able to touch anyone ever again. Did you understand?” Still whining in pain the other didn’t answer. “I asked a question, creature. I will not repeat myself.” “I understand, fallen one,” your crush whimpered, baring his throat to the stranger who immediately released his grip as if it was burning him. “Leave this place,” he spat out before looking at you for the first time tonight.

You didn’t even notice your ex-crush scrambling to get up and hurrying out of the kitchen when you felt the stranger’s gaze wandering over your body. To say you were terrified wasn’t even enough to describe the fear you felt. He had just broken this guy’s wrist just because he had tried to touch you again. “You have nothing to fear, girl. I can’t hurt you,” he said after a while. “I think you are perfectly capable of hurting me after what I saw,” you dared to say which earned you a grin from the man in front of you. “I didn’t say that I wasn’t capable of it. I just said that I couldn’t.” Swallowing around the lump that had formed in your throat, you willed your body to not shudder at his words. “We should leave this place. There are way too many disgusting creatures here and I don’t have the desire to let you witness any more violence today.” With that the stranger took your hand in his and led you out of the kitchen, through the mass of drunk people and out of the house.

When he began walking in the direction that your apartment was, your brain seemed to finally catch on to what had just happened and you shook off his hand. Stopping dead in his tracks, he looked down at your now separated hands before raising an eyebrow in question. Gaping at him with an open mouth you just managed to breathe out a “What the fuck” before the scene in the kitchen played again before your eyes. “You just broke that guy’s wrist.” “You just noticed?” He asked teasingly while running a hand through his messy dark brown hair. “He didn’t even do anything.” “He would have if I hadn’t stopped him. You heard him say it.” That knocked the wind out of your sails. He was right of course. But that didn’t mean that you had to admit it. “What if that’s what I wanted?” You asked, feigning confidence that you really didn’t have. For all that you knew this man was aggressive and did not shy away from using violence. “No.” “No? What do you mean no? Who are you anyways to patronise me like this?” You asked the stranger, getting angry. “You may call me Kiyhun,” he answered calmly, scanning the surroundings, probably for any passer-by that heard your shouting. “Oh, I may?” You asked, sarcasm dripping from your lips, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Listen up, princess,” Kiyhun began speaking while shedding his suit jacket, leaving him in a black turtleneck, before draping it across your bare shoulders, “I can sense that you are getting cold, scream at me all you want when I brought you back to your apartment but let me assure you: You did not want to go home and spend the night with that foul creature.” Blushing from his sudden gentle move, you pulled the jacket tighter around yourself, it was indeed getting chilly. When Kihyun began walking again, you hurried to fall into step with him again. You couldn’t quite make sense of him. First he was all violent towards that guy and now he acted all gentle towards you even though he was a stranger to you. You were pretty sure you had never even seen him even once on campus. A man like him stood out with his handsome features and sharp style. How did he know who you were and where you were living? “You still haven’t answered my question though,” you whispered after some time. “What question?” “I asked who you are.”

Wrinkling his nose, Kihyun almost nervously rubbed his neck. “That’s not an easy question to answer, princess. You weren’t supposed to ever meet me.” “What does that even mean?” You asked in confusion. “I was sent to protect you. In secret. From the shadows. It’s what I have been doing for a while now, trying to keep you away from foul creatures like that one at the party. But you are quite the stubborn person,” he chuckled darkly. “I didn’t think you would keep approaching him after you spilled coffee on yourself twice.” “You made me spill my coffee?” You didn’t believe him. How would he have done that if you had never seen him? “One of my many talents,” he only grinned and wiggled his fingers. Rolling your eyes at his innuendo, you groaned: “How are you any better than him?” “Never said I was. Technically speaking I’m worse than him but I already told you that I can’t hurt you, princess,” he told you with a wink before opening the door to your apartment complex for you, mind you without any key. Catching your surprised look he just cryptically said: “Told you those fingers had more talents.”

The walk up the stairs was quiet and before you could search for your keys, Kihyun had already opened the door to your apartment, holding it open for you with a sly grin. “After you, princess.” Blushing at the nickname, you stepped past him, toeing your shoes off and neatly hanging his jacket up. “What... What are we supposed to do now?” You asked him, unsure about what he had meant before when he had told you about how he was supposed to protect you. From what? It wasn’t like you lived in a terrible area of the city where you had to fear getting robbed or assaulted. “Whatever you want, princess,” Kihyun answered, slipping out of his shoes and making his way to your living room like he owned the place. Had he been in here before? Had he broken into your place? “I’m going to make a cup of tea, would you like anything?” You asked him, at a loss what you should do, too many questions filling your head. He just shook his head, inspecting the pictures you had put up on your wall. The little time it took for the water to boil was barely enough to sort out your thoughts. Who or what was the stranger? And what was that whole protecting thing about?

Now sitting on your couch with him, sipping your tea in silence you still weren’t sure what to make of everything that had happened today. “You look like you want to ask something,” Kihyun ripped you from your thoughts. “I don’t know where to start,” you admitted, searching for the right way to ask the question that had been in your mind for a long time now. “What exactly are you, Kihyun? You definitely aren’t human. Humans can’t cause accidents without even being in the same space or open doors without keys. Or tell people that they have been sent by someone to protect you from creatures, not men but creatures.” He chuckled and focused his wandering eyes back on your face. “I thought you would never ask, princess. I already told you part of my name. The rest of my title would be prince Kihyun, fallen angel, one of the 72 demons of Ars Goetia, tainted by lust, banned from heaven by the archangels themselves who used to call me their brother.”

Your mouth opened to reply something but your mind was wiped clean. What does one even reply to something like this? “That’s why he called you fallen one?” You decided to ask to fill the silence that had settled between you two. Kihyun just nodded, his eyes somehow seemed like he wasn’t with you, like he was lost in a memory or something. “And someone told you to protect me?” Another quick nod. “And who was that?” At that he just shrugged his shoulders. “They didn’t reveal themselves. But they needed to perform a powerful ritual to bind a prince of hell.”

“But why do I get a guardian demon? Everyone gets guardian angels.” That statement made Kihyun burst out in laughter. It was probably the most beautiful, melodic laughter you had ever heard. Not quite the laugh that made you laugh with them just for the sake of laughing but a laugh that made you smile softly and tinted your cheeks a rosy colour. “Angels wouldn’t even bat an eye at any human’s problems. They just don’t care. Everyone thinks they are these empathetic creatures who just want the best for everyone which is as far from the truth as it could be. They are cold-hearted, calculating beings with no desires other than keeping everything as it is and follow their orders without questioning them,” he lectured you, raking a hand through his messy hair again, causing a couple of dark strands to fall into his face. You had to grab your teacup harder to not give in to the need to push them back to feel if they were as silky as they seemed. “But what about demons? Aren’t they supposed to just follow their desires no matter what? And just mess with people just because it gives them joy? How does that make them any better?” “We aren’t. But we are different. Angles and demons or more specifically fallen angles are two sides of the same medal. One side cold and indifferent, the other only lead by their own desires. But both seem to only care about themselves,” he spoke calmly, stretching his arms out on the backrest of the couch, picking at a loose thread near your head.

“And what are you supposed to do now? Follow me everywhere like a stalker and keep embarrassing me in front of everyone when a creep is present?” “I suppose,” Kihyun sighed before he grinned at you, flashing his perfectly straight, white teeth, “But embarrassment doesn’t seem to quite work on you. You are quite persisting, princess.” You blushed but didn’t know whether it was because of the pet name so casually slipping over his plush lips or because of his teasing. “How long do you have to do this?” you asked after sipping the lost drop of your tea, gently setting the mug down. “Until the binding breaks I guess. Depends on whoever cast it in the first place. You don’t know anyone who would know how to summon and bind a demon by chance?” “I didn’t even know creatures like demons or angles were real until today. I still don’t really believe it,” you confessed, scared and fascinated by your guardian at the same time.

“Oh, I can show you just how real I am,” the demon grinned and scooted closer to you, your bare thigh touching his, the feeling of the rough denim making you shiver. “Sensitive, aren’t we, princess?” He grinned, placing one of his hands where your stocking met your bare skin, toying with the elastic, letting it snap against your skin in a playful manner. Taking a shaky breath, you tried to not let him affect you so much but he was really close to you and you could swear you could feel his breath ghosting over your lips. Getting bolder, Kihyun teasingly slipped one of the straps of your dress off your shoulder, kissing the skin gently before kissing his way up to your neck where he sucked harshly on your pulse point, leaving a purple bruise behind. Moaning in pleasure you bared your neck for him, granting him further access to your sensitive skin. You felt his chuckle more than you heard it, his teeth scraping against your skin making you whimper.

“I’ll give you one chance to tell me to stop, princess,” he spoke, his lips almost touching yours while his hand on your thigh slowly made its way to the hem of your dress. When he didn’t hear any words of complaint but only heavy breathing, he captured your lips in a heated kiss, claiming your mouth. Not wasting any time, he hiked your dress up and pushed your thighs apart to cup your panty clad sex, grinding the heel of his hand against your clit. Kihyun swallowed the moan that escaped your lips and let his tongue slip between your lips. Tangling your hands in his messy hair you tried to push him even closer to you, your body arching against him. Grinning he broke the kiss. “Eager to find out how good I can make you feel with my hands alone?” He asked while taking in your already wrecked appearance: Your eyes were blown wide in pleasure and you ground your hips shamelessly against his hand when he had stopped moving it against you. “Answer me, princess,” he whispered into your ear, his free hand grabbing your hair and exposing your neck to him. “Please, Kihyun,” you managed to say, biting down on your lip to stop the moans from spilling out. Chuckling he pulled the damp fabric of our panties to the side so he could gather your arousal on his fingers. “So wet for me already,” he moaned before attaching his lips to your neck again while slipping a finger inside you, pulling a satisfied moan from your lips which turned into a whine when he didn’t start to move his finger immediately instead gently circling his thumb on your clit. “You have to work for it, princess,” Kihyun breathed, placing a kiss on the abused flesh on your neck, where a dark bruise was already forming. Sighing while grinding your hips against his finger, you formed the words he had wanted to hear: “What do you want me to do?”

Growling deep in his chest, he captured your lips in a bruising kiss and thrust his finger into your heat harshly, filling the silent room with obscene noise. You broke the kiss with a loud moan when he added a second finger and crooked them just right so he was massaging your sweet spot. Just when you felt your orgasm approach almost embarrassingly quick, the demon quickly pulled his fingers from your heat and pushed them past your lips instead before any complaints could leave them. Almost instinctively you sucked on the digits and swirled your tongue around them, tasting your arousal. “I want you to undress, princess. Then you will sit on my lap where I can spread your beautiful thighs apart and reward your little pussy for being so obedient,” the demon demanded, his voice deeper than before, rumbling in his chest, before he pulled his finger from your lips and sat back against the couch, spreading his legs out. Wanting nothing more than his hands back on your body, you stood up with shaky legs, gradually slipping the second strap of your dress off. “You are in no position to tease me, princess,” Kihyun growled, palming himself through his jeans. The sight of his cock straining the dark fabric made your mouth water. Almost ripping your dress and panties off of you, you fell to your knees in front of him, stroking his strong thighs, eyes fixed to his hand moving lazily along the outlines of his dick.

“You want me that bad, princess?” You only managed to nod before he grabbed your hair and pushed you against him, making you nuzzle his clothed erection. A shaky breath left his parted lips when he felt your hands undo his pants to push them down, the lack of underwear making you chuckle. His cock wetly slapped against the skin of his abdomen where his shirt had ridden up, a bead of precum glistening at the head. When you just stared at the bare size of it, he grinned smugly. “What are you waiting for, princess?” His voice snapped you out of your stupor and you gave his dick a couple of experimental strokes, spreading the precum to make the slide easier. Licking a stripe from base to tip, tracing one of the prominent veins, you took the head into your mouth while looking up at him. A curse left his lips and he rested his head back when you sucked harshly and swirled your tongue along the sensitive slit, tasting him. Feeling proud that you could make him loose his composure like this, you closed your eyes and slowly took more and more of his length into your mouth, bobbing your head and wrapping your fist around the part you couldn’t fit. “Fuck princess you look so good like this, your pretty lips around my cock, sucking it like you were made for it.” Kihyun’s praise made you moan around him, ripping a growl from him in response. “Look up at me,” he commanded and you gladly obeyed, moaning again at his appearance. He had taken off his turtleneck, exposing the pale flesh of his strong chest. But what turned you on even more was his heated gaze that had turned his eyes into dark pits of obsidian.

He grabbed your hair again, pulling you off of his cock with a wet pop. Catching your breath, you both just stared into each other’s eyes for a moment. You were sure you looked just as fucked out as he did, squirming on your knees and pressing your legs together, your sex clenching around nothing in need. “Get up here, princess,” Kihyun ordered, tapping his lap. Not before pressing a last kiss to the flush head of his cock, you slowly climbed onto his lap and claimed his lips in a kiss that was more teeth, tongue and want than anything else. When he grabbed your hips to grind your pussy against his erection, you loudly moaned into each other’s mouths, trying to swallow the sounds. “Please, Kihyun,” you begged again, bracing your arms behind yourself on his thighs, trying to get more of that sweet friction by rolling your hips down against him harder. “Not yet, princess,” he moaned, reaching between your bodies to rub steady circles on your sensitive bundle of nerves, making you cry out both in pleasure and frustration, “I want to see you cum like this first, squirming on my lap, desperate for me to fill you up with my cock, spreading you open.” Another loud moan left your lips at his filthy words. This man would be the death of you, you were sure. You were grinding against his length like a horny teenager trying to get off as fast as you could just to finally feel him inside you. You gasped loudly when he closed his lips around one of your nipples and twirled his tongue around the sensitive nub. Grabbing onto his messy hair, you held him in place, squirming between his hand on your clit and his hot mouth. Feeling your orgasm threatening to wash over you, you aimlessly yanked at his hair, suddenly feeling something hard beneath your hands. Looking down in confusion you saw two little horns hidden in Kihyun’s hair. The realization that he actually still was a dangerous creature along with his eyes looking up at you from where he was still sucking on you nipple, made you trip over the edge, your orgasm hitting you hard.

Throwing your head back in pleasure you felt his grip around your hips tighten. The moan of the demon’s name got stuck in your throat when he suddenly lifted you up and thrust his length into you while you were still shaking and clenching around nothing from your orgasm. A loud curse left Kihyun’s lips when he ground his dick inside you. “Fuck, you feel so good, princess, squeezing my dick like that.” Still riled up despite your orgasm, you kissed him feverishly, fingers finding his horns again, stroking along the base of them. Gasping against your lips, Kihyun bucked his hips up, fucking his erection even deeper into you. “Keep touching me like that and I’ll fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk tomorrow,” the demon growled into your ear before sucking another hickey on your neck. Grinning you lifted your hips and sank down on him again, loving the slow drag of his cock against your sensitive walls. Picking up a slow rhythm, you tried to find the right angle for him to hit that spot inside you that made you see stars. Gasping when his cock was hitting it just right, you yanked at his hair to pull his lips from your neck to kiss him feverishly. Moaning into the air between you, you picked up the rhythm of your hips and gently massaged the base of his horns before whispering: “Fuck me like you mean it, demon.”

That made something snap inside Kihyun, an inhuman growl escaping his throat as he gripped your hips hard to hold you in place to fuck up into you hard and precise, making you squirm and moan in pleasure. “Watch your mouth, princess. Even with you on top of me, I’m the one in charge, you understand that?” He spat out between ragged breaths, landing a harsh slap on your ass, making you arch in his hold. Suiting the action to the word, he placed his feet more firmly to the floor, getting more leverage to slam his cock inside you. With each thrust his hips met yours and you let your head fall beside his, the breathy moans you let out only spurring him on even more. “Is that what you wanted, princess?” he growled, “You want to cum all over my cock?” Not able to form any coherent sentences, you just let out an embarrassingly high pitched moan, clutching tighter to him, raking your nails down his shoulders, feeling the knot in your stomach already tighten. It just took Kihyun to slip a hand between your bodys to rub quick circles into your clit, to trip you over the edge, the orgasm hitting you even harder than the first one. Your whole body was trembling and it felt like your blood had been exchanged with molten lava. You let out a string of curses, clutching tight to your guardian demon, riding out the pleasure with soft circles of your hips. Yanking his head down so you could kiss him again, you lazily licked into his mouth.

“I’m not finished with you princess,” Kihyun breathed when you two separated, grinding his still hard cock into you, making you whimper, your body still sensitive. He gave you some time to come back down from your orgasm, gently running his hands along the curves of your body. “Come on princess, be a good girl for me. Hands and knees, let me see that beautiful ass,” he instructed when your legs finally had stopped shaking, lifting you off of his cock. You couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped your lips at the sudden emptiness when you shifted on the sofa, arching your back. Chuckling he grabbed a handful of your ass and kneaded the soft flesh. Almost purring you wiggled closer to him until you could feel his cock slide against your backside. Grinding against you, the demon pushed a hand between your shoulder blades so your upper body was pressed against the cushions, making your back arch. “So pretty and all spread out for me,” he murmured, grabbing the base of his erection tightly and teasing your entrance with the head of his dick. “Please,” you begged, needing him back inside you.

“If you ask so nicely, who am I to deny you?” The demon growled, pushing into you in one swift move, wasting no time in setting a harsh pace, the sound of your skin slapping against each other filling the silence of the room along with your moans and his groans. When he started to grip your ass so tight, you were sure you’d have bruises tomorrow, pulling you back onto him and his rhythm faltering you could tell that he was getting close. Growling deep in his chest, the demon grabbed your hair, pulling you up so you where flush against him, the change of the angle making you cry out and clench around him. “Fuck, princess, keep squeezing me like that and I won’t last much longer,” he panted into your neck, snapping his hips more vigorously and reaching around you to rub tight circles in your clit. “I’m so close please don’t stop,” you begged him, tears close to spilling over from all the pleasure you were feeling, throat raw from all the moaning. When you were right on the edge of your orgasm, you clenched down around him, squirming in his hold. But that was already enough to send him over the edge, spilling his cum deep inside of you, biting down on your shoulder to muffle his load moan.

Groaning he let go of you, causing you so slump back against the sofa, his softening cock slipping out of you. “No, no, no,” you squirmed, pushing back against him, “Need you back inside me.” “Don’t worry princess,” Kiyhun chuckled, watching his cum drip out of your clenching pussy, “Three time’s the charm, they say.” Dragging a finger through your folds, he gathered the cum that had leaked and fucked it right back into you, ripping a moan from your throat. “Ass up,” he commanded and you immediately obeyed, arching your back further. Slapping your ass once, the demon fucked three of his fingers into you before attaching his lips to your clit, sucking harshly. With how close you had been before he had reached his climax, it didn’t took long for you to be right on the edge again, your moans rising in pitch. “I’m gonna cum,” you choked out, not even realizing the tears that were staining the pillows beneath you. “Cum for me, princess,” Kihyun breathed, barely audible over the sound of your moans and whimpers but the vibrations it send to your clit send you over the edge for the third time that night, your whole body going taut before every strength left you, slumping against the cushions, legs twitching. Pleased with how fucked out you were, the demon pulled his fingers from your twitching heat, licking them clean from your arousal, humming in satisfaction.

“You believe me now when I tell you I’m real despite being a demon?” He breathed into your skin when he kissed his way up your spine before pulling your body flush with his, wrapping you up in his arms. “Very real,” you murmured, reaching to tread your hands through his damp hair, trailing your fingers over his horns, making a sigh leave his lips. “I like those,” you giggled, taking a closer look at his dark horns peeking out from his messy hair. Chuckling he nuzzled his head into your hand. “If you keep scratching them like this, I’m going to fall asleep in no time.” “No round two?” You playfully pouted at him. “I don’t think either you or me have another round in us right now,” Kihyun grinned, running a hand along your still shaking thigh. “How come you are this exhausted? I thought demons tainted by lust could go for longer,” you teased him, pillowing your head near his heartbeat. “Restricting myself costs quite some energy, princess. I didn’t plan on suddenly knocking various furniture everywhere because my wings decided to sprout because I lost control completely. My horns weren’t supposed to come out either,” the demon said, voice already heavy with sleep. “You have wings? Like with real feathers?” Pulling you closer to him, he softly kissed your hair. “If you are a good girl and stay out of trouble, I might show you sometime.”

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masquerade-story · 3 years

Text

Chapter 1 - Moving In

"Whose dumb idea was it to go camping like this anyway?" Grey grumbled, smacking away a tree branch that seemed determined to get friendly with his face.

Walking behind him, his twin sister Lillian rolled her eyes and poked the small of her brother's back. "Yours. It was your idea."

"Oh please Crystal! Please oh please might we go live at the haunted house in the woods where we'll certainly perish! I, Dorian Grey Duvall, swear on my sister's honor to let you protect me!" Rayne fluttered her eyelashes, lowering her voice to sound more like Dorian. She yanked the handcart she was dragging over a set of roots, careful to steady its contents before resuming her walk.

"Has to swear on my honor cuz he doesn't have any of his own left after the last time," Lillian snickered, while Grey pointedly ignored their teasing and continued clearing the overgrown path.

Bringing up the rear with a digital camera trained on everyone's back, Crystal grinned and panned the camera to take in the large, dense trees, and huge, leafy bushes. "For a haunted forest, it's actually pretty nice here. Ah, more meadow rue! Specifically thalictrum rochebrunianum, neat."

"Gesundheit," Rayne said, eliciting giggles from the group.

"The lacy one over there with the purple flowers," Crystal clarified. "There's some rue anemone and meadow rue 'splendide' around here too. Don't touch the white flowery plant up ahead by the way, it's giant hogweed. The leaves and sap can give you phytophotodermatitis, making you blister up in the sun."

"Bro, how do you remember any of this? And as for you, you're a scary bitch," Grey cringed away from the plant in question while swearing at it, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at its pretty little flower clusters.

"I read a lot."

"Me too, doesn't mean I absorb any of it! I spent like six hours on Wikipedia the other day, don't even fully remember what I looked up."

"Was it about The Hobbit or Merlin? Cuz that's all you ever look up."

"Look, Lils. I know I'm walking in the front and all, but you don't need to stab me in the back like that. Also sometimes it's Pacific Rim, thank you very much."

"Was it Pacific Rim?"

"No it was The Hobbit."

The group talking and laughing were the self-proclaimed 'Fairy Rock' band Aos Sí Echtrae. Each of them wore a hiking backpack containing personal items, while Rayne also tugged along a sturdy handcart holding supplies and instruments with ease - a drum kit, harp, bouzouki, and keyboard piled up alongside some smaller instruments and the camping stuff Crystal insisted they bring along.

Though their banter was light-hearted and comfortable, they took their excursion very seriously. After all, they'd temporarily rented a locally infamous haunted house to use for a music video! It was a large investment, but they'd become popular online and had enough supporters that they were able to fulfill one of their member's dearest dreams.

Dorian Duvall, or Grey as he preferred to be called by friends, and his twin sister Lillian Duvall played bouzouki and keyboard respectively. Both had the same willowy stature, button nose and almond eye shape, but despite their similarities they both gave off very different impressions. Where Lillian looked soft and gentle, with large doe-like green eyes, and a kind smile, Grey had a mischievous glint in his hazel eyes and a roguish grin that he utilized with careless abandon. Lillian wore her sleek black hair long and loose, falling down past her waist and kept away from her face by a cloth headband, while Grey wore his hair in a high ponytail decorated with small braids.

As the one who absolutely loved haunted houses and anything spooky, it was Grey's idea to film on location for their new Halloween-themed album, Masquerade. Though it was the middle of July, they were hoping to get everything ready for an September promotional release before the album dropped in October, and so hurriedly set up for their video shoot in order to give themselves plenty of time for editing.

All four of them worked together to compose their music, write lyrics, and design stage costumes as well as fan merchandise. They also lacked anything resembling a lead vocalist, taking turns depending on what sound worked best with each song, and preferring harmonies rather than solos.

"Ray! There's a log up here!" Grey called out suddenly, kicking the fallen tree blocking their path. Rayne grunted acknowledgment, and shuffled around Lillian to help move the obstruction.

Rayne Rose played the drums, and also did a majority of the heavy lifting due to being the strongest person present in any room that didn't involve professional weightlifters. Her muscular arms were covered with watercolor flower tattoos, which she proudly showed off by refusing to wear any shirt with sleeves. Her curly hair, dyed a gradient of aqua blue and purple, was cropped close to her face for summertime weather. The short style purposefully revealed ear gauges and more than a dozen total ear piercings, matching the many piercings on her brows, lips, and nose.

The twins had fresh yet roguish charms, while Rayne had a more heroic air with heavy brows and an intense black gaze over lips naturally curved into an amused smirk. She dusted off her hands after tossing the log aside with little effort, while Grey panted for breath from the exertion of merely helping her lift it. Crystal, for her part, made sure to get the whole thing on video for future blackmail purposes.

Crystal Rose, Rayne's older sister, played the harp. Unlike her athletic and statuesque sister, Crystal was on the soft and plump side. Her long, wavy blonde hair was pulled back into a messy twist to keep it off her neck, the ends still pink from the last time she dyed it. Her face was round and childish, with bluish gray eyes above an upturned nose and broad cheekbones, unremarkable features made more charming by her innate overwhelming charisma and natural exuberance.

She was the kind of person that random strangers would strike up a conversation with, lost kids would try to hold her hand, wild animals would approach like an old friend, and when she raised her voice even the most crowded room would quiet down. She was also the kind of person who got carded when buying alcohol despite being thirty years of age, due to what Grey dubbed 'Acute Babyface Syndrome'.

"Anyone need to clean their glasses?" Crystal asked, pulling a cloth from her pocket to swipe hers clean. Aside from Rayne, who wore her contacts, Grey and Lillian both opted to wear glasses for the hike so they wouldn't have to worry about losing a contact forever if they tripped - a serious and ever-present concern for the slightly clumsy twins.

"I'm good!"

"Not yet, thanks."

"I'll take it," Rayne said, keeping her expression blank, and Crystal narrowed her eyes.

"If you wipe your sweaty face with the glasses cloth I'll push you into the patch of poison ivy over there."

"Ope, nevermind then."

The haunted house was a thirty minute hike from the nearest road, along a mostly uphill path that hardly anyone ever used and certainly wasn't wide or steady enough for any automobiles. By the time they reached the stone fence encircling the house's enormous overgrown yard, everyone except Rayne was ready to collapse.

"I'm gonna be so in shape after this if my binder doesn't kill me first," Grey wheezed, leaning on the stone fence and looking up at the haunted house of his dreams with a longing yet exhausted expression. It stood atop a hill in the distance, surrounded by several acres worth of mostly empty property speckled by a few large trees and scraggly bushes. Behind it was a small barn, a chicken coop that hadn't seen use in ages, and a greenhouse conspicuously lacking anything actually green. "A stone brick cottage in the middle of the woods overgrown by vines, a sagging peaked roof with exposed beams, and gaping windows whose panes are cracked like spiderwebs... Looks spooky enough! If the door doesn't creak ominously when we open it, I'm filing a complaint."

Rayne pulled the handcart into the yard, then glanced over her shoulder at Crystal, who was panning the camera up to take a wide shot of the house from just inside the fence gate. "How's it feel, Coco?"

Crystal frowned, furrowing her brows. All four of them believed in the supernatural after they all experienced several strange circumstances growing up, and Crystal had long proven to have abilities that most people would've considered fake nonsense.

She kept a dream diary after experiencing incidents where she'd dream events before they occurred, and wanted to prove to herself it wasn't a figment of her imagination. Whenever something weird happened, she was the first to alert everyone and get them away from danger before anything bad happened, and had an uncanny sense of whether people were lying.

"Hard to say. It does feel... Weird. The walk through the whole forest was fine, but as soon as I walked into the yard... The air's different."

"Really?" Grey raised his eyebrows, hopping over the fence and holding out his arms. He was the second most sensitive to any external oddities, with a particular penchant for finding rather nasty unexplained phenomena. After a few seconds he frowned as well. "No, yeah. That's a weird vibe for sure. It's like, the forest was fine and funky fresh, then you get over here and it's..."

"Musty," Crystal and Grey finished at the same time, and exchanged wry smiles.

"Could be trepidation from perceived fears," Lillian pointed out, gesturing toward the house. Though she also believed in the supernatural, Lillian also liked trying to find reasonable explanations before resorting to the occult. "The big empty windows feel eerie because people expect houses to be brighter and look more lived in, right? It's possible it's just a subconscious response to an old, dilapidated building."

"Dilapidated..." Rayne muttered, raising her eyebrows as she surveyed the house. She had a sensitivity to people's emotions and motivations, and could sometimes pick up lingering feelings from objects, but she didn't feel anything in particular coming from the building. "I don't think it looks that bad? We've lived in worse."

"It hurts me, physically, every time you and Crystal tell us about that kind of thing," Lillian sighed, patting her hand over her heart while Grey nodded next to her. "This place looks gross! It's horrible to imagine little Ray and little Coco in a place even worse than this..."

"Hey, they hired someone to clean the inside and arrange some basic furniture for us to use," Grey said. "It won't be fancy, but the interior shouldn't be too gross! And we'll sleep in the same room for safety! After all... This is the Corpse Consuming Cottage!"

"Ugh, that name..." Crystal and Rayne both cringed at the same time, while Lillian's eyebrows shot up.

"Wait, it's called what?!"

"Yup! Bad, right? But it's earned the name cuz of how many people have gone missing here. Poof! Gone without a trace! Every single person who's ever bought this place has disappeared, along with any family they brought along." Grey grinned, wiggling his fingers at his suddenly horrified twin. "I even made a spooky spreadsheet citing all my sources, aren't you proud? It's legit, this place is either hella haunted or hella cursed."

"Will we be okay!?" Lillian muttered, color draining from her cheeks.

"There's a loophole," Rayne said, and Crystal nodded.

"Yeah, we didn't buy the house. We're just renting. Supernatural stories are always big sticklers on rules, right? Chanting something three times, turning a certain way, walking a certain pattern. If buying the house is part of the problem, then renting it shouldn't be counted as the same thing because possession isn't being transferred." Crystal turned the camera to zoom in on poor Lillian's pale face, hiding her mischievous grin behind the lens. "Theoretically."

"Don't even pretend you aren't absolutely terrified too, Miss I Can't Go On The Haunted House Ride At The Amusement Park I Have A Doctor's Note," Grey scoffed.

"I don't like ghosts or wraiths or poltergeists or whatever wicked whatsits terrorize the night because I feel bad for them thanks very much, but..." Crystal glanced over at the house and frowned, furrowing her brow again. "I feel bothered but not... Threatened? Like there's something here watching but it won't hurt us."

"That's as good as a gold star to me. Let's crack this bitch open and make some lunch!" With renewed vigor, Grey fished the key from his shorts pocket and ran up the creaky old porch to the front door. "Come on in, it's nice and cool inside! Comparatively speaking, I don't think there's an air conditioner. Just fans. But it'll be clean!"

Like he'd promised, the interior was cleaner than the exterior condition belied. Furniture was sparse, but they were all fine wood antiques with a hand-polished sheen. Everyone dropped their backpacks in the foyer and stretched for a moment before getting to work.

"Water's on!" Grey called from the kitchen, where he set the tap to run. "There's dishes and cookware in here too!"

"Silverware?" Lillian called back, in the middle of helping Crystal and Rayne unload the handcart.

"Yup, as requested! I think they're all antique like the rest of everything here."

"Don't you dare break any antique dishes, Dorian Grey!"

"No promises!"

"Electricity works," Crystal said with some surprise, flicking a nearby switch after setting her harp case on the floor in the living room, alongside a towering pile of boxes holding personal things they'd had delivered via the realtor. She held her breath to listen for any crackles or pops, but the overhead light didn't give so much as a flicker. "Wires might actually be okay? That's surprising, this house is really old. Must've been recently renovated."

"Probably to try and reel in prospective buyers," Rayne said, setting down three drum cases. The rest of her kit was already unloaded, so she took a moment to glance around the living room with Crystal. "Inside looks much nicer than outside."

"We can make it look spookier with filters and editing," Crystal said, running her finger against the windowsill. When it came up without dust, she furrowed her brows. "They were real thorough cleaning this place."

"Found the terrifying cellar!" Grey's faint muffled cry echoed from somewhere in the house, followed by the sound of Lillian shouting his full name and charging off after him.

"Any cold spots?" Crystal shouted down the stairs after circling the entire bottom floor trying to find them. The cellar door was tucked into the kitchen's pantry, which was a full walk-in room rather than a little cabinet.

Since the house was so far from town, part of the rental contract involved the current real estate agent making sure the kitchen was stocked before tenants took over. All the shelves were packed full with newly purchased dry goods and spices, mostly sorted into pretty glass jars for aesthetic appeal.

"No cold spots, just some nice shelving, big old ground freezer and a wine rack! Fruit preserves and stuff but they didn't leave any complimentary wine. Zero out of ten, not recommended."

"What makes it terrifying then?"

"Big spiders."

Crystal grimaced and backed away from the cellar door, narrowly evading Lillian as she retreated up the stairs at maximum speed.

The house was surprisingly large. The ground floor had a large open kitchen with an attached breakfast room, a living room, a dining room, a sitting room, a study with empty floor-to-ceiling bookshelves alongside display cabinets, and a laundry/changing room attached to a bathroom with an enormous sunken bath large enough to be used as a hot tub.

"I would buy this house just for the tub," Lillian said, stroking the porcelain with obvious affection.

"Please don't," Grey muttered. "We're evading the horrible disappearance curse via fairy loopholes, don't you go walking into the trap face-first like that!"

"Fine, but when we leave, we're bringing the tub with us."

"Yeah sure that's completely feasible and not at all slightly insane."

The upper floor had five large bedrooms with attached changing rooms, two lavatories, and a walk-in storage closet. Rayne carried their bags into the master bedroom, then returned to the handcart to retrieve the extra supplies they brought - a couple of brand new air mattresses, blankets, boxes of instant food, tents in case the house was in worse shape than expected, a first aid kit, and little tools like scissors, binoculars, and lighters.

"This place is supposed to be super haunted and cursed, yet..." Rayne hummed to herself, patting the mattress in the master bedroom. Every bed in the house was neatly made, with clean sheets and blankets that still smelled like soap. "Won't need the air mattresses. They really worked hard to make this place nice, huh?"

Finally, the attic under the peaked roof had a few small gaps in the shingles, but otherwise lacked any signs of weathering or exposure damage. The only things occupying the space were a few cobwebs in the darkest corners. "Ugh, nothing for us to snoop through," Grey muttered, poking his head into the attic for only moment before heading back downstairs to start moving boxes from the living room into various bedrooms for later sorting.

Crystal and Rayne turned the fans on in all the rooms to start circulating air, opening windows on the shaded side of the house to catch any stray breezes, while Lillian and Grey got started on making lunch. The house which stood empty for so long soon filled with laughter, conversation, and the smell of good food.

"I just can't get over how unhaunted this haunted house is," Grey lamented, tapping a fork against his empty plate. "I've been looking and there's not so much as a suspiciously shadowed corner or creaky stair board!"

"Are you sure those disappearances were legit?" Lillian asked, gesturing for Crystal to pass the salt so she could douse her potato salad. "You checked the sources themselves, right?"

"I did! That's why it's so weird!" Grey drained the remaining water from his glass, glaring down at the ice cubes rattling at the bottom. "Other than the terrible cell reception, weak internet signal, and our gut feelings, there's really no sign of anything being weird. I was promised jumpscares!"

"You were promised no such thing," Rayne muttered around a mouthful of grilled chicken sandwich, deftly capturing some lettuce before it escaped her lips and hit the table. "The outside looks spooky enough for use in our video, we can think of this like a vacation and relax for a bit until we have to leave."

"There's a barn out back, maybe that's haunted?" Crystal suggested, but Grey shook his head.

"I already checked... It's clean as a whistle. No disturbed earth or rattling rusty tools or anything!"

"Would you feel better if one of us got possessed by a demon?"

"Maybe. It'd have to be a really good possession though, if you're not crawling on the ceiling I want a refund."

"Oh, you're paying us?"

"Hell no, a refund of my feelings. My feelings!"

"Speaking of feelings, how do you feel, Coco? Lils?" Rayne interrupted just as Grey was about to get dramatic. "That was a doozy of a hike. You guys alright?"

Both Lillian and Crystal suffered from several health problems when they were younger, and were still weaker than the average person because of it. They had to work harder to remain healthy than most people did.

Lillian, since her mouth was full, flexed her arm and gave a thumbs up to show she was feeling alright. Once her mouth was clear of food, she added: "Mostly just sore, but nothing a long bath and some music won't cure!"

"Coco?"

Crystal gave a start, realizing she'd been staring out the nearest window for awhile and tuning out the conversation. She turned back to Rayne and smiled apologetically. "Sorry, what was that?"

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Just feel a bit woozy, I think."

"Sensing something weird?"

"Honestly? I don't know." Crystal sighed, opening a can of grape soda and pouring it into her glass. "I still feel like we're being watched. And..."

She hesitated, then shook her head. No matter how Grey tried to cajole the rest of the sentence from her, Crystal kept the rest of her thoughts to herself. If she felt they were in danger she wouldn't be so tight-lipped, so they dropped the subject and started discussing their upcoming album instead.

After lunch they moved several beds into one room, turning the master bedroom into a big slumber party area. The rest of the afternoon and early evening was spent getting video and photos of the house and its yard, trying to find the perfect angles for use during the actual performance recording.

Rayne gathered some logs for firewood after noticing a fire pit in the back with some carved stone benches surrounding it. Dinner consisted of an open flame barbecue using packaged meats they found in the fridge, and a few veggies and fruit rolled into foil packs.

"We've really gotta thank that agent lady," Grey said, reclining in his chair. "She really came through with the supplies! It's so good having a fully stocked kitchen from the start, I was worried we'd be having pancakes and instant ramen for days."

"I'll head to town tomorrow and grab more meat for the freezer in the cellar," Rayne said, chewing on a skewer of chicken. "It's got a little variety right now but I'd like to stock up so we don't have to make as many trips. You and Lils might be fine with rabbit food, but Crystal and I need that good good protein."

"We're natural carnivores," Crystal agreed.

"Is there anything else we need from the store?"

"Nah, I can't think of anything. There's like, four entire bags of toilet paper, and towels and wash cloths and soaps and detergent and even pads and stuff. Like, I know we paid for the service but the level of consideration is really impressive!"

Crystal stared into the flickering flames, watching the embers rise into the rapidly darkening sky only to flicker away among the stars. The strange feeling she'd had all day was building to a crescendo, swelling in her chest in anticipation of...

Something.

Rayne glanced over, nudging her sister in the arm. "Coco? You're out of it again."

Crystal nodded. She opened her mouth, closed it, then opened again. Seeing her strange behavior, Lillian and Grey both fell silent.

Finally, Crystal heaved a sigh and poked at the burning logs with a long stick. "Remember when we first posted the video for our band? It was uploading and we were all watching the loading bar while holding our breaths? How it felt?"

"Don't get nostalgic on me old man," Grey muttered. Though his tone was teasing, there was an affectionate smile on his face.

Lillian nodded and smiled. "It was so exciting and terrifying at the same time. Maybe nothing would happen, maybe we'd be one of many bands that never got any traction. But maybe... Maybe we'd get lucky."

"It was kind of a relief too," Rayne added, gesturing with the skewer in her hand. "Like, we did it! We made our first song, and did our first video, and were gonna show it to the world. It felt really real right then. All our hard work."

"Yeah... And remember what I said?" When they all shook their heads, Crystal chuckled and poked the fire hard enough to send a flurried shower of sparks into the air. "I said it felt like a change was coming. For better or worse, something big was about to happen."

"Right, right! We'd either succeed in our dream or fail absolutely, with no in-between. That's what you said, yeah?" Grey sighed, patting his full stomach. "I remember. Man, that was heavy. I couldn't even sleep that night, you know?"

"Is it happening again?" Lillian asked, her voice even softer than usual. "That feeling?"

"Yeah. I've felt that way all day. I thought maybe it's cuz we never did anything as big as this, renting a house and doing a whole video shoot on location, that maybe I was worried about how ambitious our idea was, but..." Crystal bit her lip, poking the fire again. She made a point of avoiding their gazes, focusing on the burning embers and crackling logs. "I think if we stay here tonight, there's no going back."

Silence reigned for a few minutes. Then, quietly, Rayne whispered: "Are we in danger?"

"It's not like that. It's just... A massive change, that feels... Overwhelming. This is bigger than the previous time."

"Bigger than chasing our dream?"

"Yeah."

Rayne reached over to grab Crystal's hand, while Grey hopped up and sprawled across Lillian's lap despite her protests. He just laughed and said, "What's that matter? No matter what happens tonight, tomorrow, or whatever! We'll get through it together like we always have. You and me, sweethearts. Us against the world!"

Crystal smiled and gently squeezed Rayne's hand. "Yeah. We'll be fine, no matter what."

Once dinner was finished, the fire fully smothered and the leftovers packed away for later, everyone did rock-paper-scissors to determine order of bathtub usage. One by one, they soaked away their worries, changed into the pajamas they brought, and crawled into one of the master bedroom's beds.

As midnight ticked over, a single shaft of light from the full moon filtered through the room's lacy curtains, illuminating their peaceful faces. The sleeping occupants remained blissfully unaware of the tendrils of fog creeping along the ground, emerging from the forest to wrap the entire house in a dome of mist.

Several hours later, as the first rays of dawn burst from the horizon, they were finally awoken by a piercing scream.

#writing #chapter #original #original story #masquerade #fantasy #isekai

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