#its not that spooky and its a dumb idea but its hard because the book is a fucking tome theres a lot of story and a lot of characters
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*begins to feel the ominous pull of yet another au idea....*
#i came into this month w high hopes!! everything has fallen apart for me tho#im trying to put creative energy into a project to maybe help channel these feelings#halloween is my fav time of year and it makes me sad that im so sad this time around and whats better for that than making a spooky au#its not that spooky and its a dumb idea but its hard because the book is a fucking tome theres a lot of story and a lot of characters#a LOT OF MOVING PIECES#but theres a particular element that makes it highly cathartic 2 me so i think im gonna dig it out and try to read it#idk how far im gonna get bc its a bIG FUCKING BOOK (THAT IVE NEVER FINISHED LMAWEOFEFOJ) but it weirdly means something 2 me#the thing is tho........... im trying to make it a shance au but it might not be#i think allurance as the main ship actually works better for it awfojew it could maybe even be shallurance tho if i get creative#but there are seriously way too many moving pieces and a few heavy themes that im trying to figure out how to interpret#like its a period piece and modeled in the style of books in the period so theres some bad shit about how u know...#commentary on how women mentally ill ppl (particularly women) and black ppl are mistreated in society and how their voices are lost#and thats kind of integral to a lot of themes but i dont want 2 put any voltron character into like the shoes of#a black man in olden days where he is free but slavery exists#THATS A LOT#even tho they DID take the only half black paladins family and put them into slavery and no one elses lmao thnx dw#anyway these tags got out of hand im think9ng out loud im just chattering while i try to figure out who should be who in this crossover#also im sure ive made the book sound boring (and it kind of is) but its also exciting (just a really really slow burn) and about magic#LOUD HUFFS predictably i only know where lance belongs in his au#my fav of the two protags NATURALLY but he really actually is a good pick for this role#like the allurance/lotura love triangle possible here is very powerful (except lotor would be fixated on allura and she wouldnt even know)#oh shit though this indirectlky reminds me of the poto au DAMMIT#BOTH GOOD TIME PERIOD SPOOKY DRAMA AUS THAT ARE ALL ABOUT ARTISTIC SPIRIT INTEGRITY AESTHETIC AND WHAT IT MEANS 2 BE HUMAN#HELP.#text posts#feels good to tag vomit again lmao so weirdly typing all this junk lifted my mood#whats up say hi if u got this far do ppl even read these damn things??????#my mad ramblings?????????/
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can we get any sort of hc for frankie & baby bat, i love the headcanons that you have for them🥵🥵🥵
YES YES YOU CAN MY LOVE
HEHEHEHE ive been thinking about babybat and frankie literally all day i was hoping somebody would say something and you HEARD ME I LOVE YOU
It’s 12:30 am so if these are messy and bad i apologize i just got way too excited akskks.
Some tags: @captainsamwlsn @goldafterglow @thesadvampire @cinewhore @thirstworldproblemss @justanotherblonde23 @lilkermit14 @buckysalefty @qveenbvtch @clydesducktape @themarcusmoreno if i missed anybody else who wanted to be tagged in bb content please let me know! It’s late so my brain and working as hard as she should
Content warning: foul language, talk of insomnia and PTSD, allusions to sex, camwork, light angst(?)
Frankie makes sure to give you honest good compliments.
Of course he’s not gonna pretend he doesn't say the usual porn dude stuff of “I want to cum on your tits” but he’ll also make comments of how lovely your smile is and how pretty you look in the fluffy robe wrapped around your figure at the beginning of each show.
Sometimes he’ll ask how your day was.
These little comments feel insanely more intimate than the mountains of crude ones you get.
The first time you do a private show for him??? Oh my god he’s so nervous
Why is he so nervous??? He shouldn't be so jittery
Little does he know you feel the same way
You haven’t been nervous for private shows since you've started doing cam work, but something about this guy made you feel giddy. It wasn't until his camera switched on that you froze in realization that oh no he’s cute.
When it comes to actually talking? He needs to be coaxed out of his shell. Sure he can make comments in the chat of a stream saying he wants to see your perfect pussy but saying it out loud?? To your face?? Ohhh boy. He’s a little awkward at first, as most customers are so it takes some gentle conversation before he’s able to ask you to take your shirt off.
“Why don’t we start with names?” You untie the robe and slowly let it fall from your shoulders. “I have to call you something, sweetheart.”
In hindsight he could've given you a nickname, or a fake name. Giving a fake name definitely would've been smarter but he was just to busy staring at you and your waiting smile and he just blurted out “Francisco” without even thinking about it.
“Francisco?” You hummed and let your eyes shut, as if imagining all the separate situations you could say his name. “I like that. Handsome name for a handsome man.”
He knows it’s a line. That you're most likely lying, just feeding him rehearsed words you give to every other man who pays for your shows. But he doesn't care.
He wants to hear you say his name again and again and again. Moan it, scream it, say it while you give him praise and beg him to fuck you until your voice is gone.
“Francisco?”
He’s shaken away from his mind when he looks at the camera, youre staring at him expectantly. Oh god he spaced out. How long was he like that? Did he say any of it out loud?
You seemed to notice his panic and laughed. “I know this can be a little awkward the first time. So we can take it slow.”
Your fingers curl over the hem of your shirt and slowly pull it up just enough to show him the bare skin of your chest peeking out underneath.
“Tell me what you want Francisco.”
In your regular day to day, you work at a small bookstore. Your apartment is decked out in halloween/spooky decor year round and you have two hairless kitties, poptart and biscuit that will throw fits if you aren’t giving them attention.
Frankie accidentally met the two rascals during a private show when you thought you had shut the door all the way. But turns out you didn't because poptart zooms across the floor and into your lap, yowling for love meanwhile biscuit goes straight for the camera, batting at it with a curious paw because?? Hello???who is this???strange man taking mother’s attention
You are mortified, topless, and holding two cats while apologizing to him because “oh my god im so so sorry they were in the other room and-”
He laughs and shakes his head. “It’s okay, they're really cute actually.”
You smirk. “Was that directed towards my cats or my tits, Francisco?”
“Both actually, both are very very cute.”
You begin to share anecdotes and stories about your days over these shows and streams, until late one night you get a payment with a message from him.
‘You don’t have to do anything, I just don’t want to be alone right now.’
Its 2 am, you don’t bother doing makeup or switching your pajamas for lingerie before turning on your camera and accepting the link, to be shown a black screen and his voice.
“Hey, I hope i didn’t wake you. I’m sorry it’s just been a bad night and i cant sleep, i didn’t-fuck. This was a bad idea. I’m sorry-”
“It’s okay Francisco.” Your soft voice stops him as his finger hovers over the leave chat button. “I’m happy to be here with you. Is there anything I can do?”
“Talk.” He rasps, a switch is heard and light fills his camera to show you his exhausted form. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days, his hair is sticking up in separate directions and his eyes, looking anywhere but you, are red and puffy.
“About?” You knew this was dangerous territory. You never messaged customers out of chats or private shows. This was not professional, this was personal, intimate. He could have reached out to anybody else, friends, family, but he chose you. Did he not have anybody else?
The notion shouldn't have made your heart swell as much as it did. Fuck this was bad.
“What do you want me to talk about?”
“Anything.”
So you did. You talked about books and movies and dumb stories from college, frankie learned you worked at a small bookstore and had your own personal reading nook in your house.
You learned that frankie was a pilot who loves to cook and in his words, “makes a bitchin’ chicken alfredo.”
“Yeah well-” a yawn broke through your sentence and he smiled. Somewhere through the night you had wrapped yourself up in blankets as you spoke to him. “-you’ll have to make some for me sometime frankie.”
Frankie. A name he’s been called for years now but for some reason hearing it from you was like hearing it for the first time.
He wanted to hear you say his name again. In bed, the morning after as he made our breakfast, the day after when he took you out to dinner and walked you home and-
Oh.
Oh no.
This is very bad.
Unbeknownst to him, you're having the exact same revelation.
“Goodnight frankie.”
“Goodnight Baby.”
#Frankie & BB#frankie morales#frankie morales x reader#francisco morales#francisco morales x reader#catfish morales#catfish x reader#catfish morales x reader#triple frontier
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A Self Indulgent First Chapter
Enjoy...something
Words: 2,549
Genre: Young Adult / Paranormal
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Slam!
Gasp!
And then the apathetic yell of “Walk it off, Willow!” from Coach Martin. No stopping the game or running over to make sure I’m not deprived of air or dying or something. Just “Walk it off, Willow!”
I suffer for a second with the wind knocked out of my body. My inhaler finds its way from my pocket to my hand, and while I hold the one breath I force myself into and wait for my crap lungs to jump-start again, I contemplate the most-likely-illegal play that landed me flat on my back in the middle of the field. Quarterback Tom Styles’ outstretched elbow connecting with my neck at full speed in his chase for the checkered ball and high school sports glory, clearly confusing his claim-to-fame varsity moves with a pickup game of soccer since I doubt he has the brain cells to remember the rules to two sports at once. And probably a little bit on purpose. Because he’s a dick.
My chest wheezes a little, but at least it’s something, and the weak inhales finally start to catch as a sun-freckled face appears above me and blocks out the light. Ivy offers me her hand.
“Did th-that look a-as bad as it f-felt?” I sputter.
Ivy tilts her head from side-to-side like it’s the scale measuring how uncool I am. “Worse. Very pathetic. You will die alone.” She yanks me to my feet and acts like a support in spite of the height difference.
“P-Please stop making m-me take gym with y-you.”
“Nah. It’s too funny.” She ignores my scowl. “Come on. Let’s get you some water and wait for those shitty lungs to work again.”
She escorts me – hobbling like some eighty-year-old man with spine problems and not just what will soon be a terrible, ugly bruise – toward the bleachers, empty except for the water bottles of our classmates. I’m happy enough to sit on the sidelines, not just while recovering from having all of the air robbed from my chest, but for the rest of gym class, and also forever. Ivy is equally as happy, but only because it prompts the girls’ teacher, Coach Caruthers, to scream in her booming voice:
“Hammond! Back on the field!”
Without missing a beat, Ivy responds, “In the event of moderate injury, students are allowed to have a friend or fellow student for mental, emotional, or physical support. It’s in the code of conduct.”
I don’t know if that’s actually something in our school’s rule book, but Ivy has read the whole thing cover-to-cover for the sole purpose of seeing how many provisions she can disregard without getting into trouble through malicious acts of over-compliance or sheer dumb luck. So, she’s either following the rules to the letter or lying about them. As I sit, I see that Caruthers does not look impressed when Ivy plops onto the bench next to me. The whole reason our gender-segregated phys. ed classes collaborate so often is because they’re full of athletes – and me, the outlier – so more often than not, it’s just an extra practice for the varsity players. Even though Ivy was born with the “good at physical stuff” gene, and talented enough to be a forward on our girls’ soccer team, she prefers to rely on the natural part of her ability and not the practice part to the vexation of literally everyone.
“Hammond!” Caruthers screams. “On the field, or off the team!”
Ivy squirts a stream of water into her mouth and quickly swallows before passing the bottle on to me. “Cool. Who’s replacing me?” she retorts.
I focus on downing some water and breathing evenly again and not on the vein beginning to pop out of Caruthers’ angry-red neck. She can’t say anything back because, well, Kinross High School isn’t huge. Pretty much everyone who can play sports is already playing sports, and as far as Ivy’s tendency to disrespect anyone of authority can go, she’s also crucial to securing victory over visiting teams. Caruthers just grits her teeth and returns to refereeing the game where Tom Styles has once again stolen the ball that got away from him, this time without incapacitating anybody since the one guy with asthma has left the field. (Asshole.) I watch as Abby Jefferson starts to gain on him, and Tom makes the choice to skillfully send the ball flying across the grass to the next open player, Drew Young, the only person in our gym class who does even less than I do.
That’s not for lack of talent either. I’ve seen Drew actually try on the rare occasion, and he could absolutely score a spot on a boys’ sports team. But most games, like today, he receives the pass and kicks the ball along to the next open player – it’s intercepted by one of the girls – and continues pacing the field leisurely. Coach Martin yells at him to get his head in the game, but Drew doesn’t bother. If the activity doesn’t involve selling the pens that he stole from the cheerleaders to the football team, the little weasel has no interest.
The game continues on.
Ivy reclines until her shoulders are touching the bench behind us, tilting her head back and staring at the sky. I have to wonder how comfortable it is.
“My dear Sid,” she theatrically addresses me. She likes to be dramatic sometimes. She thinks it’s funny. “I have a proposal for you.”
“I told you I’m not training a messenger pigeon with you. We only live three houses apart.”
“I’ll wear you down eventually, but no, that’s not what I wanted to talk about.” She looks over at me without breaking her questionable position. “I know what we’re doing tonight. I’ve concocted a perfect plan, you see, for this most All-Hallowed of Eves.”
“You can say ‘Halloween’ like a normal person. It’s okay.”
“Let me bring you back in time,” she continues, ignoring me, “to the Kinross of yore. Just decades after its founding, the Salem Witch Trials came about and our town was no exception to the noose–”
“Salem is two hours away, Ivy,” I interrupt with the fact.
“Shut up. The Salem Witch Trials swept across the state of Massachusetts, migrated into Kinross, and thus the most famous trial of Kinross history was set in motion when one Ann Kelly was accused of being a creature of the occult!”
“Can I get the abridged version of this plan please?” I ask her. “Like, the part that takes place in this century?”
Finally fed up with my interjections, Ivy sighs exaggeratedly and rolls her eyes at me. “Blah, blah, blah, she was hanged, she’s buried in the historical section of Riverview, and we’re going there tonight during the witching hour to see” – she switches to her best spooky voice with elongated, trembling vowels – “her haunted grave.”
“Hard pass.”
That makes her sit upright again with a slouch to her posture. She’s wearing a fabricated pout. “Sid,” she whines.
“Ivy, I’m not sneaking out with you at three in the morning on Halloween to go see a ‘haunted grave.’” She opens her mouth, but I follow up with, “Our parents would kill us. Besides, what’s-her-name probably just angered a bunch of Puritans and got executed because of religious prejudice. That doesn’t mean she was a witch.”
“Well, of course. I think angering Puritans was a mandatory activity back then. But come on, Sid! The legend says she’s a witch, and it’s the perfect Halloween thing! I think we are obligated – if not encouraged by the spirit of Halloween herself – to go see a ghost witch.”
“Does the spirit of Halloween have a gender?”
Ivy pushes past that and waits to catch my eye dead-on. “Bet you a hundred bucks we actually see Ann Kelly’s phantom.”
My lips part to say no just a split second before I register the number. “Wait – a hundred?”
Something cocky has taken up her face, and she recites with inflated confidence, “Ten A-Hams. A Franklin. A thousand Roosevelts.”
“You know what? Fine. I’ll take your money,” I tell her. “You’re on.”
Her grin is smug as we fist-bump on it and close the deal, but I decide that I don’t care so much with the promise of an easy hundred dollars coming my way. Ivy ingests another stream of water, and swallows while her eyes quickly scan the grass to catch up with the game again. Suddenly, a yell flies from her mouth:
“Box him out, Julia! Come on!”
Then she’s up off the bleachers and jogging back out onto the field. As unwilling as Ivy is to make an effort and practice, she’s also equally as competitive, even if this is just a gym class where victory doesn’t really matter. I, on the other hand, take my time on the bench. Struggling to breathe isn’t my idea of fun. I need to stop letting Ivy manipulate me into taking phys. ed. If she keeps it up, she might kill me.
***
I can nearly be qualified as a mess by the time Ivy and I reach our lockers after final period, and she’s humming like she’s got live wires for veins despite just spending an hour burning off energy. Meanwhile, I’m still recovering from my last bout of airlessness after I returned to the field and ran for maybe ten minutes. And I feel gross. The benefit of having P.E. last period is that I don’t have to shower here and can wait until I get home or to Ivy’s. The con is the window of time in between. I usually try to keep the gap as short as possible, and therefore, my time at my locker brief. I think Ivy and I took enough time getting changed after gym to avoid most people – at least the non-athletes.
“Hi, Sidney! Hi, Ivy!”
A mixture of feelings suddenly rockets through me and don’t add up in the end. While my chest is beginning to slowly overclock, and the hallway seems a few degrees warmer and rising steadily, I’m ready to play dead as Naomi Park opens the locker right next to mine on the opposite side of Ivy’s. Her shoulder is a fraction of an inch from touching my arm which is probably too close when I’m still drenched in gym sweat. Ivy greets her politely with ease while my brain is trying to catch up with the mundane situation and not think about how she smells like some kind of flowery perfume and I smell like crap.
“Hey, Naomi,” leaves my mouth and sounds too drawn-out and weirdly cheesy, so I just try to smile to make up for it. That feels awkward too, but she thankfully doesn’t seem to react to that, and her glossy pink lips tilt up without much effort into a perfect grin.
She puts some books on the shelf in her locker. “Any exciting Halloween plans?”
“Nope,” Ivy says immediately, likely because our actual idea involves a wager and might not be entirely legal – it’s a misdemeanor at the least. I just take the hint and don’t add anything to refute her answer.
“You? Any plans? For tonight – Halloween?” I wish that had come out differently. It could have at least sounded coherent.
“Nothing tonight,” Naomi responds. “But Heather’s having a ‘Belated Halloween Bash’ on Saturday while her parents are out of town so I’m ‘required’ to be there.”
“Oh, cool. That’s…cool.”
“I guess so. Heather’s parties get a little boring after a while though. I bet your plans for Saturday are much more fun.”
“Yep. Pints of ice cream, horror movies, and making bets on how long it takes Sid to hurl when the blood starts gushing,” Ivy interjects.
“Ivy.” I mutter the snap of her name so it doesn’t sound as harsh as I want it to. The temperature in the hallway rises astronomically.
Naomi giggles, which hurts. Well, it would if her laugh wasn’t so musical and twinkly. It’s like a damn harp quartet. “Sounds like a good time,” she comments. Her locker door shuts. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”
“Yeah, totally – tomorrow. See ya’, Naomi!” She’s nearly out of earshot down the hall, and I wait until I know she definitely can’t hear anything before I say to Ivy without daring a look at her, with the heat of embarrassment and shame boiling me alive from the inside, “Please say nothing.”
I can hear the grin on her face when she speaks. “You realize she’s just another human being, right?”
“Are you kidding? She’s at the right hand of Heather Loch. She’s popular. I’m shocked she still knows my name.”
Ivy shuts her own locker with a characteristic slam. “Dude, you’re ridiculous. She likes you back. If you just talked to her, and told her that you like her, you would have a girlfriend.”
“Ivy, she thinks I’m a loser.”
“I think you’re a loser and I still like you sometimes.”
I roll my eyes and can’t say anything to that. I don’t care if Ivy thinks I’m lame. It’s not the same. We’ve been together for as long as I can remember, so at this point, she’s locked into this friendship, no matter how easy it would be for her to hang out with the people at Kinross High who are actually popular and liked.
I close my locker and we start walking to the main exit of the building and eventually across the school’s student parking lot. Some groups linger, but most people seem to be dispersing and heading home for the day. Ivy and I walk straight through the lot as always, avoiding the cars pulling out.
I want to avoid the Styles’ Ford Everest – which is so bright red that it’s an assault on the eyes – but we have to walk past it and the clump of popular kids loitering next to it: blonde, perfect, popular Heather Loch, Asshole Quarterback Tom and his not-as-terrible twin, Ed, and my locker neighbour and secret crush, Naomi. The girls are under the guys’ arms like they belong there, popular with popular. There’s usually not much interaction between our pair and their group because I’m pretty sure most of the popular kids either don’t know who I am or just hate me for no reason, but today Tom decides to rub in his full-contact plays on the soccer field.
“Nice moves out there, Pussy Willow!” he shouts clear across the lot. It makes me feel the bruise on my back, still fresh, but I’m past the point of being mad about it. Really, Tom’s just an annoying jerk, and that’s all he’ll ever be.
I try to tap into Ivy-like sarcasm and passiveness. “I get it. Because my last name is Willow, and you’re insulting me. That’s really funny. It’s original.”
He yells something back that includes one of Ivy’s favourite swear words, but we disregard it and turn out of the parking lot in the direction of our houses. Ivy states that we’re going to my place because, in her mind, it’s easier to sneak out of a single-parent household. I don’t try to refute it because arguing with Ivy when she has her mind made up is like talking to a brick wall.
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Resident Evil Time
As we all know, Spooky Season began on August 1st, as it does every year. Skeletons began to emerge from the earth, and we all joined together to help along the slightly unripe ones with just a knuckle bone sticking up out of the lawn. Pumpkins rolled down into town from the foothills, snuggling into piles of radiant leaves as they awaited their new, temporary keepers. Here on the west coast of America, ash began to fall from the sky, as it does every season of ash, and we all went out to frolic in the ash as we gasped for air in our newly toxic Zone. It never rains in California, except when it’s raining ash. As such, around August 1st I began my quest of playing every mainline Resident Evil game, and a couple of spin-offs. What follows is the book report that I wrote on this experience.
Resident Evil is a series that’s been on my radar in one way or another as far back as 1996, when I was a kid, but I never really took a very close look at it, or wanted to, until I played RE7 in 2019. My oldest memory involving this game is wandering Blockbuster with my older brother looking for a game to rent. Another kid was there, also with their older brother, and the little kid suggested Resident Evil, but the bigger kid sagely declared “Nah, the controls are bad,” and they left it at that. I don’t know why I remember this, but I do, and my general feeling about Resident Evil was negative, I think because I had played the demo and didn’t like it, due to the fact that it’s not really designed in such a way that a kid would like it much. My first actual experience with the series, outside of that, was playing Resident Evil 3 in 1999. At the time, I loved it, but I was 12, and wouldn’t have been able to articulate anything about why I liked it other than “cool videogame, Jill pretty. Jill me.” I also played RE4 and RE5 around the time they came out, and I enjoyed them as fun action games, but still didn’t think much of the series or really care about survival horror. My other experience with the genre pretty much only extends to Alan Wake, Dino Crisis, and Dead Space, all of which I played so long ago that I remember almost nothing about them. What kind of monsters does Alan Wake fight? Couldn’t say. Could be anything, really. I remember the main character of Dino Crisis, Regina. She had red hair. Regina pretty. Regina me? Strangely enough, wanting to play the role of formidable, independent, resourceful, attractive women in games was a running theme in my formative years. What could this possibly mean? We may never know. But anyway, I was very excited to go on this journey into the survival horror franchise, and one of the most iconic franchises of all time. It had its highs and lows, but it was well worth it, and I emerged with a newfound appreciation for the design and appeal of survival horror games. The intention here isn’t to give a full, thorough analysis of these games or a breakdown of every aspect of them, but to compile my various thoughts on them, so it’s more of an opinionated overview than a deep dive.
Resident Evil (1996)
It’s actually really hard to place this game when making a tier list, due to the simple fact that none of these other games would exist without the conventions Resident Evil set. It was groundbreaking, and literally invented a genre. At the same time, it's impossible for me to not compare it to other, better games, because I have knowledge of the rest of the series. It was an experiment for Capcom, and it shows in the game's rough edges. It feels like it had good ideas that didn’t always live up to their full potential, due to some combination of inexperience, available hardware/software, and questionable implementation.
RE1 is... not very good at being scary. It does its best, but it's a fairly early PS1 game. I think a lot of this has to do with the atmosphere and graphics. Visually, it’s just kind of ugly in that early PS1 way, and the color choices are dull and lack cohesion. For a horror game taking place in a spooky dilapidated mansion, it feels a little too bright, and I’m guessing it has to do with the fact that no one really knew how to make darkness convincing on PS1 at the time. But it’s not entirely the PS1’s fault this game is ugly, as you can see from RE2 and RE3 being not ugly. The color choices and backgrounds just aren’t especially lush or interesting.
I don't really need to go into the voice acting and writing of this game, due to their status of legendary badness. The live action cutscenes are unbelievably cheesy and almost impossible to watch with a straight face. The live action ending where Jill and Chris hold hands as they fly away in a helicopter is incredibly dumb. If you correctly chose Jill as your main character, it just seems incongruous that after fighting her way out of a deathtrap of horrifying creatures, she's now laying her head on the big strong man's shoulder. It’s bad, but fortunately the game isn’t entirely bad narratively. It was surprising, in a game from 1996, to see the in-world documents scattered around that add to the narrative, telling you what's really going on and adding detail to the broader strokes of the story. This is a thing that's ubiquitous in games now, AAA or otherwise, and I'm wondering if this game helped to establish that facet of games. RE1 has a simple story of evil corporate experiments gone wrong, with the driving force behind everything the player/character does being escape from the mansion, and this simplicity really works in its favor. As we shall see in later RE games, convoluted stories don’t really lend themselves all that well to horror.
If you look at other games released in 1996, there are a lot of fast paced action games, like 3D platformers and first person shooters, as well as RPGs, and it's clear this game was something different. It has that slow, methodical play that makes survival horror feel unique. The feeling of not knowing what's waiting for you behind the next door, but knowing you have to go anyway, and that balance between surviving and solving puzzles to progress. The backtracking and item hunts, the interlocking paths and puzzles, the environmental storytelling and documents, the sense of isolation, it's all here in the first game. Some players may not find inventory management thrilling, but it’s a key part of these games, and it’s mostly done well in the good ones. Inventory management and item scarcity are a big part of what actually captures that feeling of “survival horror.” Since items are needed to progress, your inventory is directly tied to your progress, and at its best this forces you to make tough decisions about what you really need to carry and by extension makes you play more conservatively and prioritize avoidance. At its worst, it forces you to go back to previous areas for no reason and wastes your time while hurting the pace of the game, which RE1 is only guilty of at one point toward the end. The more weapons and ammo you have, the less room you have to do the work of actually progressing in the game through item-based puzzles, so you often have to sacrifice some of your lethality to progress smoothly. There’s a fine line between giving the player too many resources and too few, and almost all good survival horror games walk that line very well. It's also just thematically appropriate that your character isn't able to lug around a hundred pounds of gear. The open-ended nature of exploration, or the illusion thereof, is also an important aspect of survival horror. In good Resident Evil games, you usually have multiple doors you can choose to open, multiple potential paths, and feeling out which one is right, and which places are safe to travel, is a big part of the game. That exploratory feeling of gradually extending your reach and knowledge of the place you're in, knowing how vulnerable you are but also knowing you have to keep going deeper, gives the player a much greater sense of agency than more linear horror experiences.
All of these good design elements are firmly established by RE1, but they're just not executed as well as in future Resident Evil and survival horror titles, and by today's standards, playing it can feel like a chore. I think it certainly deserves a huge amount of credit for establishing almost everything that's good and defining about survival horror. There were earlier horror themed games, and I'm sure there are online people who'd be strangely invested in arguing that it's not the first survival horror game, but Resident Evil was clearly something new, different, and more sophisticated. It feels like a beginning, a rough draft, but it established something special. In some ways, I feel like RE1 has actually aged better than a lot of its 1996 contemporaries. Not in terms of controls, visuals or voice acting, heavens no. But, in terms of things like a focus on atmosphere, good pacing, and elegant, focused design, much of it still holds up today.
-Monster Review Corner-
These are the monsters that started it all. Zombies, undead dogs, hunters, Tyrant, and the absolute classic, a big plant that hates you. And who can forget the most forgettable monsters, giant spiders? The enemies themselves aren't especially exciting, but honestly, they work very well for the style and slow pace of this game. The deadly mansion full of the living dead is a classic horror setting. Things like Hunters and Tyrant seem pedestrian by series standards now, but they would have been a surprise in a zombie game in 1996, and Hunters are terrifying when they first appear. Overall monster score: 7/10
Time to complete: 5:46
Games were shorter overall in 1996, but the short game length is another survival horror trait the game established, and that brevity is a trait I really appreciate about this series and the genre as a whole.
Resident Evil 2 (1998)
I feel like I’m going to be using the word “better” a lot. RE2 is immediately more cinematic than its predecessor, which is a good thing. It’s an important element of establishing tension and atmosphere. All the best horror movies, in my opinion, have smart and artful cinematography behind them. I’m not going to say Resident Evil 2 has masterful cinematic direction, but it’s a vast improvement over the previous game. Gone are the super cheesy FMV cutscenes and the atrocious voice acting. The voice acting here isn't great by today's standards, but people do talk mostly like humans! This must be due to the fact that it was the first time Capcom ever outsourced voice acting to a studio outside of Japan. The writing is also much, much better. The soundtrack is much more atmospheric, and even the save room music is better. Visually, the game looks so much better. Character models are more detailed and lifelike, and backgrounds are much more detailed, colorful and cohesive. I vastly prefer the character designs to those of RE1. They’re very 90s, in a fun anime way. Even the portraits in the inventory screen look way better. Even the story and the documents you find are more well written and interesting, and Umbrella is established as a more sinister and far-reaching presence.
RE2 gives you separate campaigns for Claire and Leon that are similar, but different in some major ways. Rather than being a super long game, it has a short campaign that can be replayed multiple times with different characters for improved ranks, unlockables, and short bonus levels. I actually really like this kind of replayability, as opposed to the much more common type of replayability of modern games, which is just making the game 100 hours long and filled with boring sidequests, trinkets and skill points. This is partially because I inevitably burn out on that kind of game, even if I like it (Horizon Zero Dawn, Breath of the Wild) and never finish the game. Super Bunnyhop has a whole video (“Let’s Talk About Game Length”) about the advantages of this game’s style of replay value which is worth a watch. I’m much more likely to rank a game among my favorites if I’m actually compelled to finish it. I’m always annoyed by how persistently gamers thoughtlessly complain about these games (or any game for that matter) being too short. Gee, maybe that has something to do with why 4, 5, and 6 all feel so bloated and outstay their welcome. Funny how the three most recent games in the series that brought it back from the brink of total irrelevance are all under ten hours in length.
The level design feels less haphazard and boring than RE1, but retains the satisfying sense of interconnectedness that the original mansion had. The balance of the game is good, and it feels dangerous without ever feeling unfair, like all the best RE games. Distribution of healing items and ammo feels right - I rarely felt like I was in serious danger of running out, but I always felt the pressure to conserve ammo and remember where healing items were to pick up later. This game is also a sterling example of the kinds of boss fights that work in survival horror. Rather than being reflex tests, boss fights are more a test of how smartly and conservatively you’ve been playing. If you’ve saved enough powerful ammo by playing well, you’ll have no problem with boss monsters, and there’s also the alligator fight, which, if you were paying attention to the area you just traversed, can be ended with one bullet.
Overall, it’s a huge improvement over RE1 in every way imaginable, and a genuinely good game even by today’s standards, if you discount the cheesy voice acting and dated cutscenes. I finished RE1 in two sittings because I wanted to get it over with, but I finished RE2 nearly as fast because it was hard to stop playing. This is where the series came into its own, and RE2 feels like the beginning of the series as we know it today, while RE1 feels more like an experimental rough draft.
-Monster Review Corner-
This game, overall, has some great monsters. Fantastic monsters, and this is where you’ll find ‘em. First, we’ve got your classic zombies. Classic. We’ve got your zombie dogs, two for one deal. We’ve got some evil birds who inexplicably burst through a window one time. Okay, decent. Giant spiders, boooring. But then, here comes a new challenger! It’s lickers, one of perhaps the most iconic Resident Evil monsters. These nasty wall crawlin’ flesh puppies have got exposed brains, big ol’ claws, razor sharp tongues and a complete lack of sight. Due to this last fact, you can avoid them by being very quiet, which is extremely survival horror. Lickers are great. RE2 also has a giant alligator, which even the RE2 remake team thought was too silly to include in the remake (but to the great relief of everyone around the world, he made it anyway). Personally, I love the fact that they brought the classic urban cryptid, the mutant sewer gator, into the RE family. RE2 also has a Tyrant who chases you around in the second scenario. He’s just Nemesis before Nemesis. There are also big plant monsters who look like walking venus fly traps, totally rad. And finally, all of the G-Mutation designs pretty much set the stage for the monster design of all future RE mutants, including Nemesis. They have this alien, body horror feel to them that’s become a hallmark of the series. Overall monster score: 10/10
Time to complete: 5:06
Resident Evil 3: Nemesis (1999)
RE3 has a darker tone than RE2, a lot of quality of life changes, and the terrifying presence of an unstoppable Nemesis. It’s a more combat oriented game, not in that combat is more complex, but in that there are more weapons, more ammo, faster zombies, and in comparison to the two previous games there are more times where it’s safer to kill enemies than avoid them. Jill can also dodge and quick turn. Dodging is fine, and quick turn, was an excellent addition that’s been in every RE since then, minus RE7. It’s a very good game, but the fact that there are fewer moments of quiet exploration and puzzling detracts from the variety of the game and makes it feel more one note. It definitely feels more like an action movie, not just in its increased amount of fighting but also in its story beats and cutscenes. I think it’s important to make a distinction between the style of this game and RE4/5/6, in that those are action games with light or nonexistent survival horror elements, while this is a survival horror game with action elements. I played the game on hard mode, because this game only has hard and easy mode. Hard is essentially normal, it's what you'd come to expect from the series, and easy mode is easy and gives you an assault rifle at the start.
The titular Nemesis is such a great way to change up the Resident Evil formula. The first time you encounter him, he kills Brad in a cutscene, and you run into the police station. You think he’ll just appear at certain times during cutscenes and maybe a boss fight, but then a little while later he bursts through a window and chases you, and he’s faster than anything encountered previously in the series. That’s when it becomes clear that you’re going to be hunted, and from that point on Nemesis is in the back of your mind at all times, injecting an undercurrent of paranoia into every moment of methodical exploration. Although, I do have complaints about Nemesis, too. If you’re familiar with the series up to this point, his appearances are undermined by that very knowledge. What I mean is that if you played the first two games, you start to get a sense of when events or attacks are going to be triggered in Resident Evil, and that makes Nemesis much more predictable. You start to think “whelp, it’s about time for another Nemesis attack,” and then he shows up. Also, the first time you’re actually supposed to stand and fight him is an awful boss fight, and the first really bad boss fight in the series. The game’s dodge mechanic is finicky and hard to time, and it’s an important part of winning the fight, at least on hard mode. He’s basically a bullet sponge, which is not interesting.
Something that I like about three is it really expands on the setting by giving you lots of details about Umbrella and their relation to Raccoon City. You learn that not only have they infiltrated the city government and police, but a lot of the city's infrastructure was funded by Umbrella donations. You also learn that they maintain their own paramilitary force and are a far reaching, international corporation. Umbrella is really fleshed out as a more robust and powerful organization here.
Another unique aspect of this game, that’s never been in another RE game, is the “choose your own adventure” system. Nemesis will be after you, and you can choose between two different options, such as running into the sewers or hiding in the kitchen. You have a limited time to make these choices, and they have positive or negative outcomes, but never outright kill you, as far as I could tell. It’s kind of neat, and an interesting way to change things up occasionally, but not especially important.
Overall, this is an excellent Resident Evil game, though a good deal less original and groundbreaking than RE2.
-Monster Review Corner-
Honestly, most of the monsters are fine, but nothing to write home about. Nemesis is the star of the show, which you can already tell by the fact that the game is named after him and he’s on the front cover. He’s like the cooler, better, more deadly version of a Tyrant. Nemesis score: 10/10
Time to complete: 5:32
An Aside About Puzzles
I’ve been trying to figure out how to articulate what I like about the puzzles in this series, and this seems as good a place to put these thoughts as any. I get that not everyone likes the puzzles in this series, and that many of them can only be called puzzles in a very loose sense, but I think they add a crucial ingredient to the games.
The thing is, if they were more complicated or difficult puzzles, they would take up too much screen time, they would overpower the rest of the game, like too much salt in a dish. There are a lot of them where you have to follow riddle-like clues to figure out what to do, but they're all pretty easy. There are a lot of item hunts that boil down to finding item A and bringing it to point B, or combining item A with item B and using the result at point C, and I remember plenty of jokes over the years playfully lampooning this facet of Resident Evil. But, while playing through these games, I found myself dissatisfied with the view that these item hunts and simple puzzles are stupid, or bad game design. Because really, what makes these games good is not shooting or puzzles or atmosphere or good monsters, but all of these elements working together in harmony. It seems like the more harmonious that balance, the better the Resident Evil game. All these little parts make up the whole. The puzzles aren't hard, sure, but they aren't meant to be. They add an element of sleuthing and a sense of accomplishment and progression that would otherwise be lacking, and which could easily slip into frustration if they were any more difficult, and detract from the overall experience. If you just went around and shot at monsters and opened doors, it would be missing something big, and it would be a much poorer series. If you need evidence of that, may I direct you to Resident Evils 4 to 6. Without that exploratory feeling, without that aha feeling of figuring it out, it would feel bland. "If I use this item to open this, then I get this thing and I combine it with this, it frees up space in my inventory, and now I can take them back to the spot I remember from earlier because I was paying attention and taking mental notes, and I can open this path..." I'd argue that this feeling of things clicking together neatly, of attentive and methodical play paying off, is integral to the series and to the entire genre it spawned. The whole game is a puzzle that you’re figuring out, and things like item juggling, map knowledge, and carefully leaving enough space in your inventory are a part of that puzzle.
The puzzles in the series are more representational than what might usually be called a puzzle. The item lugging, inventory swapping parts that I remember being maligned at one time are more akin to piecing together a jigsaw puzzle, but those pieces are scattered across a monster infested, carefully designed, difficult to traverse map. What made RE7 feel so much like a revival of Resident Evil, despite it being a first person game that looks and feels very little like its predecessors, was returning to this approach to game design. It was a polished and well made return to the principles that made survival horror popular. The fact that Capcom brought back all those often complained about puzzles and item hunts, and slashed the current idea of game length to ribbons, returning to the roots of the series, and then those games being so highly praised, feels so right in part because it feels like the developers are saying "look, a lot of you were totally wrong about what made these games good."
Resident Evil - Code: Veronica (2000)
To me the most immediately noticeable thing about this game is Claire’s embarrassingly early-2000s outfit: high rise boot cut jeans, cowgirl boots, a short-sleeved crop top jacket, all topped off with a pink choker and fingerless gloves. I don’t think I’ve ever seen character design that so perfectly encapsulates the time period of a game’s release. It’s bad, and the game only gets worse from there.
I really tried to like Code Veronica, at first. But after playing RE1-3, saying it's underwhelming is putting it lightly. I honestly don't think I have a single good thing to say about this game, and it's possibly the worst mainline Resident Evil game ever made (RE6 being the only thing that might take that crown of trash in its stead). It's pretty much not possible to take Code Veronica seriously in any way, especially not as a horror game. The visuals have no sense of darkness or atmosphere and manage to look much worse than the old pre-rendered graphics, the puzzles are uninspired rehash, the enemies and bosses are irritating, the character designs are a particular type of early-2000s bad, the voice acting is insufferable, the story is asinine, and the game is full of the bad kind of backtracking. It's not entirely the game's fault it's ugly, it's a product of its time, but it's weird to see in retrospect because it looks worse than RE3 from one year prior. Previous RE games had bad voice acting, but this is the first one where the voice acting makes you want to turn the game off.
Up until this point, the storylines of Resident Evil games were very simple. Evil corporation caused chaos with a virus, get out alive. There are details scattered throughout about how the city and government were being paid off, but that’s the gist of it. Code Veronica is where the lore of RE starts to get convoluted and sometimes very dumb. I won’t go into all the ways the story is bad, but suffice it to say this is definitely when Resident Evil jumped the shark, and it paves the way for the stupidity of RE4. It also uses the “mentally ill people are scary” horror trope, which is perhaps my least favorite horror trope. The villain for most of the game, Alfred, has *gasp* a split personality and thinks he’s also his sister. Of course, at one point Claire calls him a “crossdressing freak.” I’ll just leave it at that. Of course nobody who writes this kind of thing bothers to do any kind of research into the mental illnesses they use as story crutches. I feel like I need to mention the voice acting, for Steve and Alfred particularly. Steve sounds like he walked off of a middle school campus, and Alfred sounds like your local community theater’s production of Sweeney Todd. They’re both absolutely atrocious and make the game that much more annoying to play. Claire’s acting is about what you’d expect from a Saturday morning cartoon of the era.
As though the fact that it's a bad game visually and narratively wasn't enough, it's also badly designed, not much fun to play, and way longer than the previous three. The game’s map, at least for Claire’s portion (most of the game), is divided into multiple small areas, each with one path leading to them, so you have to go over these paths repeatedly once you’ve retrieved an item from a completely different area, and it makes for a lot of very tiresome backtracking. The series always had backtracking, of course, but never over such long, samey stretches of space. On top of this, there are tons of blatantly bad design choices. To name a few:
-The hallway you have to traverse multiple times containing moths which poison you and respawn every time you leave and are really hard to hit on top of being a waste of ammo. It’s hard to see how they were unaware that this is bad since they also leave an infinite supply of poison antidotes in the same room
-The fact that there’s no indication whatsoever that you should leave items behind for the next character you have to play, which left me struggling to even be able to kill enemies as Chris
-Multiple times where in order to trigger progress you have to look at or pick up a certain thing, not for any logical in-game reason but just because it triggers a cutscene. One of these makes you look at the same thing twice, and I wandered around not knowing what to do for a while before checking a walkthrough
-More than one save room that contains no item box, when this game asks you to constantly juggle items and repeatedly travel long distances with specific items
There’s more, but I don’t want to write or think about this bad game anymore. This game is a slag heap that deserves to be forgotten, and I hope it’s never remade. Something I find really disappointing about Code Veronica is that the setting is ripe for a good Resident Evil game, but they botch it. It takes place in two locations, a secret island prison run by Umbrella, and an antarctic research station, both of which I can imagine a great RE game taking place in. I guess, really, the best thing that can be said about Code Veronica is that it’s a survival horror game. They didn’t totally stray from the principles that made the series good, they just implemented those things very badly, in a very stupid game.
Time to complete: who knows, I quit near the final stretch of the game. The internet says it takes about 12:30, which is far too long.
REmake (2002)
I played the remake first, and it’s the only game I played out of order, because when I started I had no plans to play the entire series. It’s a remake that fixes everything wrong or dated about the original while keeping the things that made it good, and I would say it’s the definitive version of the game and the one that should be played.
Visually, a lot of it looks very good, and uses darkness much better than the original. I like this game’s high def pre-rendered backgrounds, because it’s like looking into an alternate reality where pre-rendered graphics never went away, and just increased in fidelity. I actually really like a lot of the backgrounds in this game. Pre-rendered backgrounds have their shortcomings, but I think they can play a role in horror games. They give the developers total control of how things are framed, and framing/direction are a big part of what can make things ominous or scary in horror movies. You can do this to some extent in games with free cameras, but without nearly as much control. I think over time the popular consensus became that pre-rendered backgrounds are inherently bad, but I think like any style of graphics they have their pros and cons. The late 90s Final Fantasies are great examples of how pre-rendered graphics can be used to frame characters and events in certain ways.
The strongest suit of this game is that it really feels like a horror game, and avoidance is encouraged over combat due to scarce ammo and healing. The pace is slow and thoughtful, the mansion is sprawling and claustrophobic, and even one or two zombies feels like a threat, especially before you find the shotgun. Even after that, shotgun shells are fairly scarce. Like the original, combat mechanics are intentionally very simple and limited, though this one sees the introduction of the defensive items that return in the RE2 and 3 remakes. One thing I really like is that if you kill a zombie and leave their body, without decapitating or burning it, it will eventually mutate into a fast and powerful zombie, and these are genuinely threatening to encounter. You constantly have to make decisions in this game about what’s more important, immediate safety or conserving ammo. The fuel that’s used to burn corpses is limited, and can be used strategically to eliminate threats from frequently traveled areas. It’s a great idea for a game mechanic, but in practice, I rarely did this, because inventory is so limited that it didn’t feel worthwhile to use two of my eight slots on a lighter and fuel. Another nice added horror element is the fact that doors aren’t always safe. You’ll hear monsters pounding on doors, see them shaking, and at multiple points they’ll be smashed open when you thought you were safe.
A lot of the ideas that made this game good and the original good are ideas that were returned to in RE7, the RE3 remake, and especially the RE2 remake, and a big part of what made those games so successful.
Time to complete: 10:15
In my opinion it ran a little too long. It takes almost twice as long as the original, and I feel like the added areas pad out that length rather than improving the game. Even though I think it’s a very good game, it started feeling like a slog in the last few hours.
Resident Evil Zero (2002)
After Code Veronica, it was initially refreshing to feel like I was actually playing Resident Evil again and not some subpar knockoff. This one feels a lot more like classic RE, and in its slower pace it’s most similar to REmake or the original trilogy. I played the HD remaster of RE0(which changes nothing but the graphics) since it's the one I own on steam, so I can't speak to the original GameCube graphics, but the art direction itself is vastly better, and it creates an atmosphere that's perfectly Resident Evil. Highly detailed backgrounds, with rich dark colors, old paintings, dusty bookshelves, soft clean lighting, marble and dark wood, wind-rustled ivy, shadows and rain, creep dilapidated industrial spaces. The HD remaster is gorgeous, and one of the best looking games in the series.
This game adds two major new mechanics: playing as a team of two and swapping between characters, and the ability to drop items anywhere. Character swapping is an interesting gimmick, made more of a curiosity by the fact that it will probably never be used again in a RE game. Often it's pretty neat, but just as often, it's an annoying chore. I like the idea of controlling two characters, but I don't think what they attempted to do with it was entirely successful, and could have been better with a couple of simple changes. Ultimately all the inventory management required feels like more trouble than it's worth, especially since you have to carry weapons and ammo for both characters. Between inventory management and swapping off-character actions, I found myself in the inventory screen a lot more than in previous games. It seems like they could have alleviated these problems with more inventory space and buttons for switching off-character actions. Most of the time it ends up feeling like a chore to manage two characters and two separate inventories. In theory, the ability to drop items anywhere adds an element of player choice and planning, but in practice, I just found myself missing the item box that allows you to access the same items from different places.
This game is fine for the first hour or two, but ends up getting more and more frustrating the farther you get into it. After playing about half the game, I started feeling like I'd be having a less terrible time on easy mode. I died in it a lot more times than in any previous game. The combination of really irritating new enemy types and all weapons (even the grenade launcher) feeling underpowered means there are multiple enemy encounters where you're just forced to lose health. This wouldn't be so bad if there were enough healing items around, but there aren't. Every enemy in the game, even a basic zombie, feels too bullet sponge-y. I repeatedly found myself with very little ammo and no healing items, so in a lot of situations I would just die, and reloading with the foreknowledge of what rooms would contain felt like the only way to progress. Managing the health of two characters, one who has very low health, makes it that much harder. I played through all of the previous games on normal difficulty (RE3 on hard) so I know I'm not imagining the spike in difficulty. It's possible they wanted to make this game challenging for series veterans, but if that's the case they missed the mark, because part of what makes a good RE game is excellent balance of difficulty. In a good RE, you always feel like you're facing adversity but still progressing, and you really don't die all that often if you're being careful and using the right weapons for situations. In RE0, you just die a lot to frustrating video game garbage and feel irritated that you have to reload and repeat content. To make matters even worse, aiming feels weirdly sticky in this game and movement feels clunkier than previous games for some reason.
Just like Code Veronica, this game has a premise that seems like it should excel as a Resident Evil game, but it misses the mark. With the new mechanics, it feels like they were struggling to think of ways to further refine and reinvent a series that was getting a little tired. I love the formula of the first three games, but I can understand why after six games following that same formula, with a lot of very similar in-game occurrences and puzzles, they wanted to move in a different direction with RE4. This game feels like it's floundering, attempting to reinvent the series while being chained to the same rules, and though I have mixed or negative feelings about the next three games, it feels like the series was in dire need of a total overhaul.
-Monster Review Corner-
Whoever designed the monsters in this game thought that giant animals are absolutely horrifying. Giant bat, giant scorpion, giant centipede, giant roaches. There are also guys made of leeches, and they're pretty boring and annoying to fight, and it's hard not to find the way they move comedic. There are also hunters and your typical zombies. All in all, a lackluster offering of critters. Overall monster score: 3/10
Resident Evil 4 (2005)
Let's get the obvious out of the way: this game feels almost nothing like Resident Evil, and feels less and less like it the further into it you get. The devs made sure to do a lot of things that make RE4’s identity as an action game very obvious. It’s a game of series firsts: first in the series with an over the shoulder camera, first with weapon stats, first with such an abundance of enemies and weapons, first with QTEs, first where the primary enemies aren’t shambling zombies, first with currency and a merchant, the first where Umbrella isn’t the big bad, the first where you can karate kick and suplex enemies. It’s incredibly not survival horror. It might succeed as a 2005 action game, but it fails miserably at being Resident Evil.
I’m feeling generous, so I’ll start with the things I like about RE4. I really do appreciate that it’s a slower and more methodical action game than its contemporaries, and precise, thoughtful shooting is rewarded. I also like that the over the shoulder camera gives you a pretty narrow field of view, which makes it always feel like enemies could be lurking just off screen. This makes things more tense and is often used to surprise the player, especially in the early game. The almost identical perspective used in the exceptional RE2 and RE3 remakes shows that they weren’t off the mark with this element of the game’s design. However, in RE4 even this good thing is undercut by the fact that jarring, anxious combat music plays whenever enemies are anywhere nearby. The first 2-4 hours of this game, just about up to the Mendez boss, are actually a pretty good game, and provide most of the really tense and scary moments. Unfortunately, these opening hours aren’t really indicative of all the stupid shit to come. Something I grew to hate about this game is that it feels like it just goes on and on and on. It took me around 12 hours, which is short by video game standards, but long by RE standards. By the time I reached the end, it had long outstayed its welcome. Even in these early, decent moments, there was still stuff I hated, like the button mashing quick time events to run from Indiana Jones boulders, the garishly glowing item drops, the dumb kicks, the dynamite zombies.
The crux of a survival horror experience is the feeling of vulnerability, and this feeling is only scarcely captured in the opening few hours of RE4, when it’s still sort of pretending to be Resident Evil. But then, you keep getting more and more powerful, as you do in action games, you keep getting more and more weapons and upgrades and grenades and facing more and more enemies and bosses until it all feels trivial. It’s thoroughly an action game, and by the time you’re near the end, storming a military fort guarded by heavily armed commando zombies manning gatling turrets while you’re aided by helicopter support, it’s clear the game has entirely stopped masquerading as Resident Evil. On top of being a big stupid action game, it’s also extremely a video game. The glowing items that are dropped whenever enemies die, the tiny adorable treasure chests full of doubloons, the big garish video game markers for QTEs(and the most heinous kinds of QTEs: button mashing QTEs and mid-cutscene QTEs), the action movie window jumps and kicks, the cultists driving a death drill, Leon’s backflips, the dumb one-liners that scarcely make sense at times, a giant fish boss, a mine cart level. The absurd stupidity of this game never lets up, so much so that playing it in 2020, it feels almost like an intentional parody, which I know it’s not.
The story is kind of silly from the start, and delves increasingly into the realm of asinine bullshit as it goes on, as though Capcom and Shinji Mikami sought out the dumbest ideas they could find. In RE2, Leon was a cop for one day during a zombie apocalypse, and now somehow he's working for the White House on a solo mission finding the president's daughter. It's quite the barely explained leap. One of my least favorite things in the narrative department is that Leon's voice acting and dialogue make him insufferable. The humble rookie from RE2 is gone, replaced by a heavily masculinized, aggressive, arrogant, misogynistic, backflipping action movie hero. We went from six consecutive games with women either as one of two playable main characters or the only playable character, with Jill Valentine in RE3 single-handedly destroying the most powerful BOW ever created, to a game where a gruff manly man is tasked with rescuing a literal damsel in distress, and has actual lines like “Feh, women” and “Sorry, but following a lady’s lead just isn’t my style.” It’s atrociously bad, and I hate the character they decided he should be for this game. It also doesn’t even make sense, because why would he even have that attitude towards women after seeing what Claire can do in RE2? It’s a huge step backwards for the series. On top of this awfulness, the actual plot points are just increasingly unbelievable and imbecilic, in a way that totally undercuts any way in which the game could theoretically be frightening. At the end of the game, it’s not Leon and Ashley sitting in silence as they contemplate their harrowing and traumatic experience, it’s “Mission accomplished, right Leon?! Please have sex with me!” and then they literally ride off into the sunset on a jet ski.
At first I thought they were aiming to turn a beloved survival horror series into a big dumb action movie, which is partly true, but then I realized what they had really made: an amusement park. It’s divided into themed zones, like an amusement park: there’s a spooky village, a deathtrap castle, a haunted manor, slimy sewers, an underground tomb, a Mad Max island. There are little coaster cars with purple velvet seats that carry you through the castle, there’s a mine cart ride, living suits of armor, there’s literally a giant animatronic statue of Salazar you can climb around on, there are trinkets and treasures everywhere and a merchant always magically appearing to sell you new toys to make sure you don’t ever get bored or think too hard, there’s a lava-filled carousel room with fire-breathing dragon statues, a haunted house section, a shooting gallery, a cave full of monster bugs, a hedge maze, a tower of terror where flaming barrels are rolled down the stairs(and then you get to pull the lever to roll them!), there’s a crane game, an evil villain lair with a deadly laser corridor, there is for some reason a subterranean battle maze in a cage suspended over a chasm, and your whole visit to this horror themed wonder park culminates in a jet ski ride through a collapsing cavern.
I find it baffling, but "a masterpiece", "the best Resident Evil game", and “one of the best video games ever made” are actual ways I have seen this game described. Multiple reviewers called it the best of the series, and people continue to call it that. Gone is the tense, atmospheric, resource management based survival horror gameplay, the harmonious balance of puzzles, survival and action that made this series so beloved. It’s replaced with a theme park of homogenous action gameplay and an incredibly stupid story. In my mind, it’s not Resident Evil at all, and may as well have belonged to an entirely new series that’s continued in RE5 and RE6. Another oft repeated bit of unquestioned conventional wisdom about RE4 is that it “saved the series from itself,” which is strange given that it marked the beginning of a slump that lasted over a decade. But, who knows? Maybe Resident Evil had to undergo this kind of transformation and decline to ultimately produce the four most recent Resident Evil games, all among the best of the survival horror genre. If these bad mid series games had to come first in order for the latest four exceptional games to come later, then I’ll gladly suffer their existence.
-Monster Review Corner-
Another thing I actually like about this game is a lot of the creature design work. The Mendez boss fight feels like a Resident Evil fight, and his insect-like true form looks like a classic Resident Evil BOW. Verdugo and U-3, likewise, feel like classically inhuman RE creatures, and they’d be right at home in a survival horror series entry. Regenerators and Iron Maidens are genuinely terrifying creatures – or they would be in a survival horror game. Here, they’re just another enemy to mop up. The Plagas that burst out of enemies are a shock when they first appear, and look like horrifying hybrids of The Thing and facehuggers. The chainsaw men are initially one of the best and most horror-centric additions to the game, that is, until you get powerful enough to trivialize them and they stop appearing. At least in the first two hours, they’re legitimately scary due to your narrow field of view and the fact that they one shot you. But it seems like with each thing this game may have done right, there comes something that it did very wrong. Toward the end of the game, you start fighting stuff like the zombies with huge gatling guns, and it’s very dumb. I hate these military zombies, I really do.
Overall monster score: 6/10
Overall monster score minus the merc zombies and dumb robed cultists: 9/10
Time to complete: 11:28
By around the 8 or 9 hour mark, I was practically begging for this game to end.
Resident Evil 5 (2009)
When I started this, I thought I'd like RE4 more than RE5, but it turns out 5 is a much better game. It's a big dumb action movie, but it's a much better big dumb action movie than RE4, or RE6. The action is better, the graphics and art direction are better, the controls are better, the story, characters and dialogue are all better. It's too bad they just couldn't let go of the QTEs. It's a very good Capcom action game, but again, not a great Resident Evil game. It's much more confident as an action game than RE4, and almost entirely stops pretending its gameplay is about anything other than action, to its benefit. The combat is faster and more responsive, but still feels slower and more methodical than most action games. It’s just overall a significantly improved action game.
RE5 Chris is so much better than RE4 Leon. Chris and Sheva are a likable duo who feel like a typical RE pair and play off of each other well. The dialogue likewise has much more natural localization than most if not all previous games in the series. I don't really like how they gave Jill and Wesker Kojima character designs, and this bad aesthetic continues in RE Rev.
The files unlocked in the menu are actually kinda good, and this game expands and fills out the setting in some interesting ways, setting the stage for the Revelations games and RE6.
If you read the files, you learn what happened to Umbrella and how they shut down. What's nice is that the files and in-game story actually go into the ramifications of a world where BOWs exist and can be sold to people with various agendas. It's a world of corporations, NGOs, political subterfuge, and black market dealers making profit off of human suffering, where a whole international organization was created to handle bioweapon incidents. It's disappointing that with this backdrop, the game's actual story is ultimately reduced to a battle in a volcano to save the world from a supervillain. It's a very comic book conclusion.
I know they're infected with a monster virus, but the visual of black people as writhing, animalistic subhumans is, uh... problematic, to say the least. Also, the image of Africa The Continent as a land of dead goats, megaphone-shouting lunatics and rabid, violent crowds. Also the scene early on where some brown savages are carrying off a scantily clad white woman. At least she turns into a tentacle monster shortly after instead of being rescued. It's hard to deny that they probably chose part of Africa as RE5's setting due to the misconception of the entire continent being a war-torn land of petty dictators.
Some parts of the game are much better than others. Generally, the early game is good. The ancient city level is... pretty bad. And it culminates in a laser mirror puzzle that some version of would feel at home in an older RE, but here feels out of place and rhythm-disrupting. I wouldn't necessarily say the game gets really bad toward the end, except for the two consecutive Wesker boss fights. The boss fights against Wesker are both bad and pretty dull. You don't really want your climactic final battle against a longtime series villain to be so boring. I imagine it's a bit less long and dull with another player, like everything in the game. I've played this game in co-op and alone, and you're really missing something by not playing co-op. Sheva's AI can be very frustrating and many parts are clearly designed for two human brains. Overall, RE5 ends pretty fast, and wears out its welcome less than RE4. The biggest problem with RE4, 5 and 6 is that they totally lose the spirit of survival horror. Because of that, I don’t have much to say about the gameplay of RE5 other than it’s a pretty decent action game. If you’ve played an action game, you’ve seen this kind of game design before, and it’s just not all that interesting.
Neither of the D LCs missions are especially good or interesting, but I want to mention them because they do show the beginnings of Capcom experimenting with the episodic formula that they'd continue with Revelations, Revelations 2 and RE6.
Lost in Nightmares sees Jill and Chris exploring Ozwell Spencer's sprawling mansion, and is meant to be a throwback to the old style of RE. Unfortunately it doesn't have the spark that made those old games good, probably because it was designed by the RE5 team. It mostly ends up just being an extended and unnecessary reference to the classic games.
Desperate Escape is essentially just another level of RE5, but you play as Jill. Since RE5 already exists and is a fine length, this doesn't really need to exist.
Time to complete: 9:17
Resident Evil: Revelations (2012)
It's very rough around the edges, far from the production value you'd expect from the series, and definitely not something I'd call exceptional, but there are some good things going on. It definitely does feel more like RE than 4 or 5, but still only kinda feels like survival horror. It would be no great loss if this game didn't exist, but it's an interesting experiment.
This game was originally made for 3DS, and it feels very inconsistent, in a way you'd kind of expect a spinoff game made for a handheld console to be. It’s split up into episodes that usually take around half an hour, and have you switching between characters, and the short length was meant to be tailored to a handheld experience. Usually each chapter starts with a sort of interlude related to the main story where you play as other characters in another location, then it switches back to Jill exploring the main ship the game takes place on. The bite sized nature of the episodes makes it feel easy to keep playing. Some parts of the game are very fun and flow well, and other parts are just dull or frustrating. The game feels like a confused mix of survival horror and RE5 style action, and between that and the constant character swapping and hit-or-miss dialogue, it feels like a game that’s not very sure of what it wants to be. The bulk of the game where you’re playing as Jill aboard the Queen Zenobia, a BOW infested ship adrift at sea, tends to be the strongest part of the game, and it’s a great setting that’s perhaps underwhelming due to the graphical capabilities of the 3DS. You end up in a similar setting near the end of RE7, also directed by Koushi Nakanishi, and it looks a lot better there, and does justice to the concept better. Like so many things in Revelations, it was a good idea, but a bit underwhelming in its execution. This period of Resident Evil was definitely a time of trying out new directions for the series. Revelations, RE6, and another spin off I didn’t play called Operation Raccoon City were all released in 2012. RE6 is bad, Revelations is okay, and by all accounts Operation Raccoon City is not all that good. After a year like this, it makes sense Capcom went back to the drawing board.
The writing in Revelations is not great, and is sometimes suddenly better or worse, but I appreciate what they were going for with the rapport between characters. I also feel like this game messes up that classic survival horror feel of exploring an intimidating place alone. You're always with a partner and always switching perspectives, so it never feels like you're alone, and because of that switching you never even really feel like you're isolated from the outside world on the Zenobia. It feels more like a TV show storytelling technique than something that works well for survival horror. Part of what makes survival horror work is that atmosphere created by feeling isolated and vulnerable, and it doesn't really work when the game is always cutting away between chapters to show what so-and-so is doing elsewhere.
Most of the characters get Kojima style designs, which I'm really not a fan of. Previous RE character designs were always very grounded without being too boring, and included classics like Jill's beret look, Jill's blue tube top look, Claire's magenta shorts look, and Ada's red dress look. I’m really not a fan of the skintight suit covered in tubes, straps and gadgets style of character design. It feels very “anime Rob Liefield.”
I appreciate what they wanted to do by telling a story in multiple perspectives, and how they did it to suit a handheld game, but at the same time I feel like it disrupts the flow of exploration and the atmosphere of survival horror. Revelations 2 does a significantly better job of telling a story in different perspectives. Revelations was pretty fun to play, and had some decent ideas, but it’s nothing I’ll ever return to. It would be remiss of me not to mention my favorite bad dialogue of the game, so here are all of the best lines:
"Sorry, I don't date cannibal monsters."
"Me and my sweet ass are on the way!"
“Jill, where are you?”
"I dunno. A room, I think."
"These terrorists must be brought to justice... blast it!"
-Monster Review Corner-
They went for an “under the sea” aesthetic for the monsters in this game, so almost every monster is a variation of a bloated pale humanoid. It does have guys that are like walking mutant sharks with arms that are swords and shields, which I’m not going to pretend isn’t sick, but they really, really don’t fit in a Resident Evil game. Oops, wrong game, these guys were supposed to go to Etrian Odyssey. The only kinda cool RE monster is the one that’s like a nightmare mermaid with spiny abdomen teeth. Overall monster score: 4/10
Time to complete: 5:12
Random fact: this was the first RE game where you could move while shooting.
Resident Evil 6 (2012)
I’m not going to have much to say about this one. RE6 is bad in many of the same ways the Tomb Raider reboot trilogy is. Abandoning almost everything that gives the series its unique identity in favor of trying to make a game that will sell a lot of copies. Obsessed with QTEs and explosive, loud set pieces, and resentful of player agency. "No no, silly player, look over here. Move at this speed. Go this way. We know best. Now that's entertainment!" It's a game that desperately wants to entertain and impress, dragging you by the wrist through loud, brash, guns-blazing action campaigns that totally miss the point of both horror and Resident Evil. Most of the time it just feels like an arcade shooter, and you're expected to stick to the script so closely that it may as well be a rail shooter. It really does take away everything that makes survival horror special: it doesn’t have a slow pace, it’s not about exploration, you don’t feel vulnerable or isolated, there’s no sense of map knowledge or pathfinding, it has overwrought combat mechanics, there’s pretty much no quiet time, the atmosphere is more goofy than scary, and it takes forever to finish. Sometimes it feels like this game really wanted to be Left 4 Dead 2: the way campaigns are set up like movies, the special zombie types, the co-op play, the sprawling levels. Except the devs seemed to have no clue as to what actually makes Left 4 Dead fun. The producer said the idea behind RE6 was to create the “ultimate horror entertainment,” which perfectly explains why it feels so much like a bad movie you’re being forced to sit through. It’s bombastic and stupid like a Fast and Furious movie, but doesn’t even have the idiot charm of one of those movies. Resident Evil 6 is a long, forgettable and stupid third-person action game that doesn't even have the common decency to be fun.
Time to complete: Who knows. I'd finish this game if someone was paying me to, but they're not. People say it takes over 20 hours, which sounds unbearable.
Resident Evil: Revelations 2
Finally some good fucking Resident Evil. I was actually kind of surprised by how good this game was, something the mediocre Revelations didn't prepare me for. It's a very welcome return to a more survival horror style of gameplay. From the start, it's dark, lonely and atmospheric. You do always have a companion, but it's still mostly very good at capturing that survival horror isolation feeling.
It does have a few holdovers from RE6, most notably sprinting, skills and dodging, but it's the same style of dodge as RE3R, which doesn't feel totally out of place in a survival horror game, rather than the over the top rolls and dives of RE6. It doesn't have any of the dumb combat moves or the pointless stamina gauge or the action movie bombast. Skills are mostly passive and have only a very slight effect on gameplay. To me, this is a good thing, but it also means there may as well be no skills at all. It feels like something that’s needlessly tacked on, as though they wanted to convince a certain subset of their potential audience that it’s not just a classic survival horror experience, or perhaps they were trying to make it feel more modern, or extend replay value, or all of the above. In any case, it doesn’t need to be there and I’m glad it has little effect.
The game has a good deal of combat, but combat is simple enough to fit into a survival horror game. It would have been fine with less, but it's still fine, because it actually has things outside of combat, unlike 4-6, and lets you play, explore, and figure things out without a lot of overbearing guidance. A lot of the puzzles and navigation feel like classic RE, and it’s a great return to form in that regard. Sometimes it has a bit too much combat for my taste, but this is made up for by long stretches with few or no enemies, and it has those survival horror moments of exploration and puzzle solving to balance things out.
This game does AI companions right, for the first time in the series. Moira and Natalia are both really useful, and I found myself wanting to switch to them almost as often as I wanted to play Claire and Barry. You also don't really need to babysit them because it's pretty hard for them to die and they’re good at following behind. There are multiple good segments of the game where your characters separate, and Claire or Barry need to cover their partner while they traverse a room to gain access to the next area. Unlike in RE5, though, you’re not required to have a second player to have fun during these parts, and I don’t think it’s even possible to play the game co-op. At first glance this seems like a missed opportunity, but honestly, if someone had to play either of the secondary characters full time, it would get boring very quickly. I think it was a necessary sacrifice to make the two character system work well in a single player experience. I really don’t mind, since I think of survival horror as a single player genre. As a result, it lacks both the painfully slow character switching of RE0 and the painfully stupid AI of RE5.
It’s funny that just as in RE5, Rev 2 ends in two consecutive Wesker boss fights, but this time against Alex Wesker rather than Albert. Also, these Wesker boss fights are much better. The final boss makes use of the character swapping, and actually does it really well. Barry is running from mutant Alex through cliffside caves, and you switch between him and Claire, who’s in a helicopter with a sniper rifle. It’s very much a Resident Evil fight, in that it’s more about positioning and survival than it is about fast shooting or burning the boss down with damage.
I also actually think this game has a good story for the series, but mostly what makes it stand out is the characters themselves. I also really appreciate the callbacks to previous games. It refers back to things from RE1, Code Veronica, Revelations, and RE5. Alex Wesker, who I think previously only existed in lore notes, is the villain, and the Uroboros virus of RE5 plays a small role. It makes nods to the larger mythos without being so convoluted that someone who doesn’t know everything about every game would have trouble following. The central story is easy to follow: you’re trapped on an unknown mastermind’s monster infested deathtrap island, infected with a virus that causes you to turn into a disgusting, mindless monster if your level of fear gets too high. I love their choices of Claire and Barry as the main characters. Claire being a beloved series staple, and Barry being an unexpected but surprisingly great choice. I also love how you play in two different timelines, Claire and Moira on the island six months before, and Barry and Natalia searching for them in the present. You travel through a lot of the same areas, but fight different enemies, take different paths and solve different puzzles. Rev 2 also has the most naturalistic character dialogue and acting the series has seen thus far. It feels like the rapport they were going for in Rev 1, but done better, and both pairs of player characters play off of each other well. I like that Claire takes a matter-of-fact, seen it all before approach to the situation, because she’s been through two different self-contained zombie apocalypses, while Moira the teenager is always cursing and yelling and basically saying “what the fuck,” and she really acts like I think a teenager might in such a situation. Barry, the dumpy old dude with dad jokes who came prepared with his dorky backpack and cargo pants, and the fearless 10-year-old girl Natalia, also go together well. By the end, I found myself actually caring about what happened to these characters.
Between Rev 2's gameplay, dialogue, and visual style, it's easy to see how it paved the way for the third-person RE2 and RE3 remakes. It was a very good move for the series, and I'm surprised it's not mentioned more often. Despite being a sequel to a spin-off, it was at the time better at being Resident Evil than anything since REmake, which came out thirteen years prior. It has its highs and lows, but it’s a big step in the right direction, and a good survival horror game. It’s not quite the same quality of RE7, RE2R or RE3R, but I really liked Revelations 2.
-Monster Review Corner-
Honestly, the monster designs are one of the weakest parts of Rev 2. The principal zombie-likes are just these kind of blobby, gross dudes who run at you, sometimes while holding wrenches or other makeshift weapons. Most of the enemies follow the same pattern, kinda blobby humanoids that look like bloated corpses or conglomerations of body parts, and I find it pretty dull. There are also some generic RE dogs that for some reason have pig heads. I never hold zombie dogs against a Resident Evil game, because you can’t have a Resident Evil without evil dogs. I don’t make the rules. As you progress you just get bigger, meaner blobby corpse guys with different abilities. There are only really two exceptions that I find less boring than the rest: Glasps, and Alex Wesker’s monstrous forms. Glasps are invisible, bloated flying insectoids that instantly kill you if they catch you. In order to kill them, you need to switch to Natalia, who can sense them and point them out, then switch back to Barry to take your shot. They cause this weird vision effect when they’re near, implying that their invisibility is something they’re doing to your mind, which to me feels less out of place than physical invisibility. If you had asked me before if I thought an invisible enemy was suited to RE, I would’ve said no, but Glasps feel like a creature out of a STALKER game, and I like it. Alex's final form is classic RE, like the Tyrant or G-Mutation designs, but with more of a disfigured crone vibe. Her unnaturally long spiky spine and humanoid limbs give her a creepy marionette feel. The heavily mutated humanoids, like Nemesis, tend to be among the best RE monster designs. Before she injects herself with Uroboros and transforms, she looks like an ancient haglike being with the air of a hunched vulture, with tubes and staples and half her face peeled off, a victim of her own T-Phobos virus.
Time to complete: 7:45
A practically perfect length. It feels like a long and satisfying experience that's paced well and wastes very little of your time.
Resident Evil 7: Biohazard (2017)
I actually played this game in early 2019, before I ever conceived of this journey through the series, and I was as surprised as anyone at Resident Evil 7 being a good game. An oft repeated sentiment among RE fans who dislike RE7 is "it's not Resident Evil." In my mind, that's a very strange thing to say, since it borrows almost all of its design principles from the classic trilogy. I think the negativity some people feel towards this game is a knee-jerk reaction to the first person perspective. I've learned that like any fandom, Resident Evil's is full of idiots who just kind of say things, and barely make any attempt to understand the thing they like so much. (Not to say everyone who's an RE fan is an idiot. People like Suzi the Sphere Hunter and Critique Quest on YouTube have plenty of insightful things to say. Your average video game comment leaver or redditor is just a "whoa, cool videogame" meme). RE7 brings back so many things from classic RE: a slow methodical pace, save rooms, a classic style map, limited inventory space, item boxes, emblem keys, limited ammo and healing, a small array of weapons, a relatively small number of enemies, a creepy isolated mansion, a lone protagonist, survival horror puzzles, a focus on exploring in order to escape, item-base progression, simple mechanics, a feeling of vulnerability, environmental storytelling, a relatively simple story, a harmonious balance of all these elements, and a short game length. Even the character switch at one point near the end of the game is classic RE. The design philosophy applied to RE7 is classic survival horror, through and through. This is so much the case that I noticed myself playing in a similar way to the classic era games. Checking my map to carefully plan the safest, most optimal route. Managing inventory for the least amount of backtracking. Making sure I checked every room as thoroughly as possible for useful items. Slowly making my way through a small but interconnected and well designed map. Feeling that sense of tension every time I opened an unfamiliar door. Getting absorbed in the atmosphere and taking my time. It's weird to say playing a horror game feels comforting, or cozy, but RE7 does, in a way. All of this isn't to say it feels just like playing the old games. It's a reinvention, rather than a re-creation, and I think that was the right route to take.
RE7 is the first game to use Capcom's RE Engine, and it looks extremely good, especially its lighting. The one thing that doesn't look exceptional is the models for people and their movements and expressions. People move and make facial expressions in that weird video game way that never looks natural, and it's kind of impressive how far Capcom has come since 2017 in that department. This is greatly improved in the 2 & 3 remakes, which also both use the RE Engine. The first thing I noticed while replaying this game is how incredibly detailed everything is, including the sound design. You hear your character's slightly hesitant breath, his footsteps, the creaks and groans of an old house, and other muffled sounds that can't possibly be attributed to a house's age. All of the visual details let you imagine how every part of the Baker farm slowly fell into disrepair, the toll that multiple floods took on the place, and the gradual disintegration of a family's sanity and normalcy reflected in the physical dilapidation of the house. Like the Spencer mansion in 1996, the Baker property is as much a character as it is a setting. The return to a seemingly abandoned, sprawling house as a setting really helps establish that this is a return to form, a return to slow, creeping horror. The house is a shadowy urbex nightmare of abandoned spaces and black mold. The washed up tanker and the mines you explore in the game's final stretch aren't nearly as memorable or characterful as the house. RE7 succeeds in actually being scary more than most Resident Evil games. It's very good at being a horror game, but has all of the survival horror gameplay that makes the genre so satisfying.
The RE7 team wisely created a new narrative that’s almost entirely disconnected from the convoluted mythos the series has been building on since Code Veronica, but used the ending to leave the narrative open to that connection to the larger story. This, combined with the first person perspective, makes the game feel more intimate and more focused, which really works for it. It's really more a story about the house and its inhabitants, about Eveline, Mia, Zoe and the Baker family than it is about its protagonist, Ethan Winters. In my opinion, he's one of the weaker parts of the game. This series isn’t exactly renowned for its brilliant character writing, but he’s just kinda there, like American cheese. At least characters like Jill, Carlos, Ada, Claire, Chris, Sheva, Barry and Wesker are likeable and/or memorable in a video game character kinda way. Ethan feels intentionally designed to be the most unremarkable mid-30s white dude you could think of, almost like he's meant for a target audience, and he drags an excellent game down a little bit. Even Nemesis, the monster whose only line is "STAAAARRSs," is more memorable. They can really do better. So while I’m very excited to see what they do with RE8 after the quality of the last three games, I was disappointed to learn I’d still be playing as Ethan. I'm hoping they'll figure out a way to make him less lame. The other thing is, almost every RE protagonist is a member of S.T.A.R.S. or the BSAA, or someone who knows how to shoot a gun, so they at least have some explanation for how good they are at handling these situations. Ethan is literally just some guy who goes into a swamp to find his wife.
RE7 is at heart an amalgamation of a bunch of horror tropes and references, even references to the series itself, and yet it feels more like a loving homage to horror than a hackneyed rehash. Meet the family from Texas Chainsaw Massacre as you explore the mansion from Resident Evil/The People Under the Stairs and evade your wife who’s now a deadite from Evil Dead, meet the gross body horror man from From Beyond, shambling swamp monsters, an evil witch grandma, and the little girl from F.E.A.R. You also solve a puzzle from Saw in a serial killer’s murder maze. It's all bundled together and interwoven so well that it feels like something fresh and unique rather than horror's greatest hits.
Time to complete: 7:40
Like all of the best survival horror games, it ends right before it starts wearing out its welcome. The short length keeps any of its ideas from getting stale.
-Monster Review Corner-
There really aren't that many different kinds of monsters in this game, which I'm fine with. The principle zombie-likes of this game are slimy black sinewy humanoids called molded. Eveline, the bioweapon in the form of a little girl, is the cause behind everything bad that happened to the house and family, and she creates a black mold which infects those she wants to control, and which molded are made of. A lot of people think they're boring enemies, but personally I think they're perfectly suited to the setting of a dilapidated, water-damaged house that's being slowly reclaimed by the surrounding wilderness. The first enemy you actually encounter in this game is your wife Mia, who switches between normal Mia and evil deadite Mia. She also chops your hand off with a chainsaw, which is pretty fun. Jack is the Nemesis of RE7's early game. He's an unnaturally pallid middle-aged man who stalks you and has regenerative abilities which are later revealed to be... extensive. As you explore the house in the early game, you're always on edge because you know he could be lurking anywhere. In his later boss form, he's a bulging body horror monstrosity. Marguerite is another enemy who stalks you through the boat house with a creepy lantern. She creates bugs that attack you, so she's like a nasty bug crone. As a boss she employs hit and run tactics, lurking in the dark waiting for you, so slow and careful is the best way to fight her. Eveline is just the little girl from FEAR. No two ways about it. I'm honestly not a big fan of her, just because I kind of hate the creepy little kid horror trope.
Side note: I think this is the first game in the whole series without evil dogs.
Overall monster score: 7/10
Resident Evil 2 (2019)
To my taste, Resident Evil 2 remake might be the most ideal incarnation of Resident Evil that exists. It has everything that makes survival horror great, and it’s all implemented extremely well. Combine this with the gorgeous graphics and chilling atmosphere and you have a practically perfect survival horror game. It feels like the culmination of everything that worked in the series over the years, with the visual fidelity to do it justice. It’s a good remake because it does more than just faithfully recreate the original – it takes the best ideas from across the series. It has the methodical pace of classic survival horror, the backtracking and slow unlocking of new areas, the shadowy, eerie atmosphere of REmake, the highly detailed graphics and sound design of RE7, the item combining of RE3, Revelations 2 and RE7, the close over-the-shoulder view of RE4 and beyond, which notably feels like Rev 2. I’ve talked about how survival horror is a balance of things, and in that sense, RE2R is superbly balanced. Visually, it’s so detailed and nails the atmosphere so perfectly that it makes you want to move slowly just because it feels like you should. Moving forward feels foreboding. The way zombies look and move is scary, and lickers are terrifying. Narratively, it’s the same story but told better, and characters are much more human and believable than the original. Leon is just a regular dude, not the regular shithead he became in RE4 and RE6, and Claire is a great character. The Raccoon City police station is the strongest setting of the game, it’s all shadowed corridors, bloodstained walls and shattered windows. You really get the sense of it being a building that was formerly used as a museum, and the barricaded doors and aftermath of carnage everywhere help you imagine what happened as people fought for their lives, and lost, before you arrived. The sound design is extremely well done and detailed, which I never noticed until I played with headphones. (I wish I had paid more attention to sound design on this series playthrough. It can be an important part of survival horror). Gameplay is no slouch, either. Patient, precise shooting and tactical retreats pay off, and inventory management remains an integral part of progressing through the game. You eventually have much more inventory space than in the classic games, but it still never really feels like too much until right near the end of the game. Puzzles and item usage feel just how they should in survival horror. The Sherry and Ada portions, in Claire and Leon’s campaigns respectively, are both a nice change of pace and they’re short enough that they don’t wear out their welcome.
Strangely, I don’t feel like I have much to say about this game, just because it so well embodies everything I’ve already cited as being good about survival horror. The police station especially is exceptional, in terms of atmosphere, map design, the layout of enemy encounters, methodical play, and balance. It’s very light on anything resembling fast paced action, and I love that. All in all, I think this is the most well-rounded and well-made Resident Evil game to date. It would be a great place to start the series, and a great way to show someone everything good about the genre.
Time to complete:
First run, Leon A: 7:49
Second run, Claire A: 6:39
Resident Evil 3 (2020)
Here are the common criticisms people have of this game, and why they’re wrong:
“It’s bad because they cut content from the original.”
First of all, these two are both excellent games, but they’re different enough to be completely separate games. Even the maps and the paths you travel through the game are totally different. Sure, it would be fun to see a clock tower area in the style of the remakes, but I’m not going to hold nonexistent content against a game, especially one that’s this good. If you want to relive RE3, it still exists. No one seemed to complain about how different RE2R is.
“It’s too short.”
It’s pretty much the same length as RE3, and it’s a fine length for a survival horror game. I like that the game is fast paced and concise, and this captures the spirit of classic survival horror. In this day and age I find short games refreshing, and brevity is a mark in a game’s favor rather than a mark against it. Also, when a game is short, I’m a million times more likely to want to replay it in the future. Case in point, this was the second time I played this game. If it took 20 hours, if it even took 10 hours, it would run too long.
“It’s an action game, not survival horror.”
It’s more of an action game than RE2R, but even that is up for debate. I feel like throughout a lot of the game, you’re really not doing more shooting than you do in RE2R, and Jill isn’t really any more heavily armed than Leon or Claire end up being in that game. There are more boss fights, and more explosions, though, and by the end of the game you have a ton of ammo and resources, but they generally give you tons of stuff at the end of these games. I mentioned that original RE3 felt more like an action movie than the previous two games, and the remake is a lot better at being an action movie. It has a breakneck start where you’re almost immediately in a fight for your life against Nemesis as he bursts through the wall of Jill’s apartment and chases you through the streets, which culminates in the player ramming him off of a parking garage with a car. I’m normally not a big fan of explosive set pieces in games, but this one is really good and is great at setting the tone for the rest of the game. Just like the original, it’s more action oriented, but it’s just much better at action than the original RE3. I really wouldn’t classify it as an action game, like a lot of people seem to. Its pedigree and presentation are thoroughly survival horror, in my mind. Inventory management is an integral part of the game and most of the game has that slow survival horror gameplay. One thing I like less about this game than RE2R is that it has fewer puzzles. It’s not like it doesn’t have any, but they take a backseat, which is why I’d call it more action-oriented survival horror.
“Nemesis doesn’t show up often enough.”
I really don’t know where this comes from, because I feel like if he showed up any more often than he already does it would get irritating and redundant. There are literally four separate boss fights against him, and multiple parts where he chases Jill around. How much more do you need in a five and a half hour game?
Now that that’s cleared up, on to other things.
The Resident Evil 2 Remake has a lot of noticeable similarities to the original version, but Resident Evil 3 Remake is basically a completely different game, and I honestly think that’s a good thing. Somehow, when you play the original RE3 in 2020, it feels more dated than RE2, and I thought RE2 was a better game.
Back on the topic of action: this game does a thing video games do I don’t usually like, which is when the main character is often seen falling off of exploding things and staggering through corridors and burning buildings and thrown against cars and so on and so forth. Here, I don’t really mind it though, maybe because it’s not a long game and these parts take up little of its play time. It also makes the fight against Nemesis feel more immediate and tangible. It does often feel like playing an action movie, but it’s Terminator 2, not Michael Bay. Also, the bad Nemesis boss fights of the original are replaced with actually good boss fights.
One thing I really like about RE3R is the way characters are presented. Jill and Carlos both feel like more relatable, human characters, with actual personalities, and this makes you much more invested in their fight to escape the city. They end up being two of my favorite versions of RE characters, and I hope we see them in future games, though I find that kind of unlikely. Resident Evil is really not great when it comes to consistency in characters. It’s a shame because I’d love to see a direct sequel with this version of Jill and Carlos. Apart from these two, even the rest of the cast are given a lot more character and feel human.
The Carlos segment of the game in the hospital is much more atmospheric and interesting than the original’s Carlos section, and this one ends with a siege style fight much like the cabin fight of RE4. On the topic of RE4, this game has a document explaining that Nemesis was created by implanting some kind of parasite into a Tyrant, and the author of the document berates Umbrella for going the route of parasites due to their unpredictability. You also fight a few zombies in the game who were infected by Nemesis and grow alien-looking parasites on their heads. It can be assumed that this is tying the lore of these games in with the Las Plagas parasites of RE4 and RE5 and paving the way for the RE4 Remake. I think this is neat, even though I wish they wouldn’t remake RE4 on account of it being garbage.
All in all, I really like this game, and it’s one of my favorites of 2020. It’s a very good survival horror game with tons of detail and character that can be finished in two or three sittings. I have pretty much no complaints about it other than the aforementioned lack of puzzles. It’s more fast paced survival horror, but it’s very good in it’s own right.
Time to complete: 4:36 (2nd playthrough)
I don’t know the exact time of my first playthrough, but my old save file that’s right before the final boss was at 5:52.
Final Thoughts
I feel like after playing all of these games, it should be asked: is the story of Resident Evil any good? The answer to that is… kinda, sometimes? But also no, not really? It’s often entertaining, scary, gory, tense and atmospheric in the way that a good horror movie is. It’s also a little silly, often in a charming way, like how you can always tell at any given moment that this setting is a Japanese interpretation of America. The story itself goes well off the rails by the time you reach RE4. I mean, you’re rescuing the president’s daughter from evil zombie villagers and space alien tentacle monsters and cultists and ogres and then the zombies get body armor and guns. (Let's just not ever talk about the story of Code Veronica.) But the story isn’t really the point, is it? I think the series is vastly improved because there is a narrative, and it just wouldn't be the same without it, but you won’t find anything too deep or meaningful in that narrative. The one saving grace is that a defining feature of the story is ultimately the fact that corporations and governments are evil and only care about profit, to the extent of sacrificing hundreds of people in multiple biological weaponry incidents. That aspect at least feels true to life, especially in the midst of a pandemic that neither our government, nor the extremely powerful corporations that exercise control over that government, are doing anything about. Umbrella is an international corporation that no one dares or bothers to oppose who maintains their own paramilitary force, has their own private prisons and research sites, and has their hands in every part of the government and infrastructure of Raccoon City and who knows how many other cities. The villain is always ultimately the unchecked corporation - even in RE7, the nightmare family that seems disconnected from the outside world is ultimately revealed by in-game documents to be directly linked to corporate experimentation.
In Revelations 2, as well as the new 2 & 3 remakes, the characters are at least likable and there’s nothing incredibly dumb like you’ll find in RE 4, 5 or 6. Some would cite the part at the end of RE3R where Jill uses a humongous railgun called the FINGeR (Ferromagnetic Infantry-use Next Generation Railgun) to kill the final form of Nemesis as something dumb, but they are wrong. The characters of RE2R, RE3R and Revelations 2 are likeable and human, so they seem to at least be going in the right direction in that regard. The storytelling of RE7, RE2R and RE3R returns to the more grounded approach of the original trilogy, which is a good thing, and I think a good sign for the future of the series and its setting.
There’s something I’ve noticed about RE games, which might just boil down to my own personal preferences. In pretty much every game, you end up in an entirely new location in the final act of the game, and that last part is never as good as the rest. In RE2R, you spend most of the game in the police station, then go to the sewers (and the orphanage if you’re playing as Claire). For the last stretch of the game you end up at NEST, Umbrella’s secret underground lab, and this part is weaker than the rest. Likewise, the ship and mines areas in RE7 are weaker than the majority of the game, the lab in RE3 and its remake, the lab in REmake, even the last section of RE5. This isn’t to say these parts are necessarily bad, just that they tend to be worse than the rest. At the same time, I think they’re necessary changes of pace and locale. I think there are two reasons for this: one, the first locations of RE games tend to be very strong settings with lots of character, and two, it’s an an example of a problem all horror fiction faces, which is that the more you ramp up tension, the harder it gets to do it in believable and interesting ways. If horror goes on too long, situations become predictable and it loses its bite, and survival horror games are no exception. Ramping up tension and action necessarily compromises the things that initially make horror enjoyable, like slow and eerie pacing, the danger of an unknown threat, the vulnerability of character or player, and the slow unraveling of mysterious and fatal circumstances. At the same time, horror needs a final act, needs some kind of closure, otherwise the building of tension feels like it was for nothing and the story is unsatisfying. I have no idea what the solution to this is, except brevity, which good RE games are very good at.
I liked a few RE games already, but playing through them all really made me realize I like this series more than I previously thought, and I like survival horror a lot more than I thought. The really bad and long mid-series slump that lasted about thirteen years can’t be ignored, but I really like more than half of the games in the series. It created an entire genre with a devoted following, and I feel like RE2R brought the genre back into the limelight somewhat. You can see the influence of the genre even on games that aren’t really in the genre, like Prey, Gone Home, Bloodborne, and Left 4 Dead. I’m really looking forward to playing through my list of other survival horror games.
Things Resident Evil showed me that I love about survival horror:
-Slow paced, thoughtful gameplay. You’re rarely rushed, and action isn’t the focus. Generally there’s nothing dragging you along in a certain direction, forcing you to look at or interact with certain things. It’s up to you to figure out the way forward.
-An emphasis on exploration. This is tied in with the previous point. A lot of the fear and tension comes from not knowing what's through the next door or what will happen next, but knowing you have to explore to progress. These games have a lot of backtracking, a healthy sense of map knowledge and memory as a useful skill, and lots of item-based progression. As I mentioned in my note about puzzles before, the whole map feels like a puzzle to be solved.
-A feeling of vulnerability, reinforced by things like limited defense options, slow movement, scarcity of items, limited inventory space, and simple combat. This goes hand in hand with the sense of isolation usually found in survival horror games.
-Environmental storytelling. Setting details being revealed through documents, destruction, corpses, bloodstains, locales, and even puzzles.
-They aren’t defenseless walking sims. It's on you to survive. Having a way to respond to threats, but not feeling like you ever have quite enough, is much scarier than being defenseless. It's because it's a game - mechanically, you know a game isn't just going to give you no defenses, then throw you to the wolves. Survival horror acknowledges its framework of video game, its limitations and advantages. It gives more of a feeling of success or failure hinging on your decisions rather than on scripted events. The player feels like they have more agency, even if it's not always strictly the case.
-Making use of silence, something games aren't generally good at. This ties in with quiet time, something I wish more games were aware of. That is, times when the player is just quietly left to their own devices, exploring alone, solving puzzles, reading notes. You're not in danger 100% of the time, which gives the danger teeth.
-Simplicity of play, or accessibility. These games generally don’t contain any difficult mechanics or concepts that need to be explained, have little need for tutorials, and are easy to understand and play. Things like difficulty settings, auto aim, and the assist modes seen in RE2R and RE3R expand accessibility too. I think difficulty goes in this category too. Honestly, most survival horror games aren’t all that hard, because if you died all the time, you’d get bored and frustrated. Survival horror games seem to actually want you to have a good time. Imagine that.
-Mostly short playtime. A genre that's often good at not wasting your time. It’s very good for people without much time or people who like to actually be able to finish games and move on to other games, or replay games. It might sound weird, but also, sometimes I feel like really long games have something to hide under all that repetitive content.
-New weapons or abilities feel earned, because you generally go through a lot to get to them and they’re not handed out very often.
-A harmonious balance of elements. When a survival horror game is good, it elegantly combines all of the aforementioned traits.
RE Score Sheet
Endings where I flew away in a helicopter: 8
Crank or valve handles collected and turned: 16
Zombies or dogs or birds that burst through windows: 19
Object pushing puzzles: 14
Shaped indentations filled (including cogs): 71
Jump scares: 13
Puzzles where you configure shapes or valves or gears or numbers or lights a certain way: 18
Oversized animal types: 12
(Spider, Bee, Moth, Snake, Shark, Worm, Scorpion, Cockroach, Centipede, Bat, Salamander, A Different Bat)
Rooms with monsters in tubes: 8
Gigantic mutant plants: 4
Times when it looked like a character died but they didn't really: 10
Secret subterranean labs: 10
Switches that change the water level: 5
Batteries/cables attached to things: 9
Clock towers: 4
Vaccines synthesized: 4
Self destruct sequences: 7
Helicopters shot down or otherwise destroyed right before they were used to escape: 6
Unique viruses: 9 (Progenitor Virus, T-Virus, G-Virus, T-Veronica Virus, Uroburos Virus, T-Abyss Virus, C-Virus, T-Phobos Virus, Mold Virus)
Resident Evil Tier List
Obligatory tier list disclaimer: tier lists are stupid and bad and fail to acknowledge the many nuances of things.
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Hello! I was wondering if you can do a Harry Potter au Gryffindor Tom & Hufflepuff Reader? That the both of them love magical creatures. I’m sorry that you’re working on the stories for the Harry potter au... you can ignore this request, I don’t mind it because it’s a bit dumb to ask you such a stupid idea
A/N: Wow I’m so sorry this took so long but here you go! I loved this request especially since I’m planning a Hogwarts au! I used to write for Harry Potter so this was quite easy but I hope I did your request justice! Also Harry Potter always reminds me of Halloween so happy spooky season!
WC: 1.4k
Warnings: None :)
“Hey hufflepuff wait up!”
You rolled your eyes at the sound of a familiar voice, your books clutched to your chest. You stopped walking and sighed as Tom caught up with you.
You turned to look at him and noticed he was slightly out of breath. “I have a name you know?”
“I know that Y/n. It’s just you’re my favourite hufflepuff.” He nudged your shoulder playfully and you could feel the blush rise on your cheeks. He smirked at you as you met his eyes, the warm honey brown making your heart melt.
You looked at him expectantly as a stretch of silence appeared between the both of you. His brain clicked and he finally sprung into action. “Oh um, I was wondering if you could help me out with the care of magical creatures essay?”
You were surprised at his question, he was good at care of magical creatures, always excelling at the projects. Tom noted your surprise and rubbed a hand at the back of his neck sheepishly - you had never seen him so nervous. He was just about to dismiss his question but you stopped him.
“Of course I will.” You placed a hand on his arm, feeling a spark at the touch before blushing at the realisation of what you were doing and quickly retracting your arm away. He almost looked disappointed at the removal of your touch. You tried not to read too much into it and looked away nervously. “Um, I have to get to class but meet me in the library after dinner?”
Tom nodded with a smile before watching you leave. He went back to a smirking Harrison with the biggest grin which he of course got teased about until dinner.
The library was almost empty when he arrived, he searched row after row of table until he found you. He tried to calm his racing heart as he sat down across from you with a smile. You returned the gesture with a blush before opening your textbook and getting straight to helping him.
Your plan was to help him with his essay and exit as quickly as you could lest you embarrass yourself in front of the Gryffindor boy who had been your crush since third year. Tom however, didn’t want the night to be over so soon.
“Well I think you’re gonna pass. I guess I’ll see you around.” You returned to your normal volume of speaking as the library door closed behind you. Tom tilted his head in confusion. “What?”
“Oh I just thought maybe I could show you something?” It was hard to tell under the dim light of the now dark corridor but if you weren’t mistaken then Tom Holland was blushing. You shuffled your feet nervously, biting your lip.
“What’s that?” You asked, curiosity peaked at his sudden nervous behaviour. He smiled, not giving a response except for holding his hand out towards you for you to take. You blushed for the millionth time that night as you placed your hand in his.
He led you out to the castle grounds, nearing towards the forbidden forest.
“Tom!” You stopped in your tracks making him turn to look at you, your hands still interlocked. “We’re not allowed to be down here.” You whispered, the fear of being found out and getting into trouble running through your system - your fight or flight system ready to kick in at any moment.
“What’s life without a little risk, Hufflepuff?” Tom winked at you, squeezing your hand and smirking. Your heart raced even quicker but as a smile spread across your face, Tom knew that you were in. You nodded and let him lead the way into the forest.
The trees were ominous and dark, the full moon just peeking out from behind the branches. You gulped and moved closer to Tom as you walked and he just smiled, once again reassuring you with a squeeze of his hand. You trusted him.
You were just wondering how far he was going to take you when he stopped. “Here.” He led you by the hand over to a crowding of trees, a stump resting in the middle. He let go of your hand to bend down to the stump.
“Hey little guy.” You inched closer and saw that Tom was holding a bowtruckle on his finger, delicately petting him. You smiled and bent down to his level, careful not to scare the creature or any of its family who also seemed to be hiding there.
Tom looked to you and smiled as you picked one up too. He’d seen you in care of magical creatures class, he knew you loved the creatures you studied just as much as he did.
“This is Stick.” Tom looked back to the bowtruckle which was now making its way up his arm and into his pocket.
“Stick?” You giggled, placing the creature down from your hand and turning to Tom with a bemused expression.
Tom let out a laugh before mocking offense. “Hey don’t judge me - I named him when I was 11, okay?”
You thought about how often Tom must have been coming here since first year for the creatures to be so familiar with him. He told you that he came down here to think when life got a bit too much or whenever he needed comfort and you smiled at his vulnerability, placing your hand over his sweetly. He looked at you with a small smile.
A moment passed between the two of you, both of your hearts thudded as you leaned in but before your lips could touch a twig snapped in the distance and you yelped, falling into Tom. He laughed and you sent him a death glare as you quickly got up, dusting yourself off and trying to remain calm.
“It’s probably just the wind.” He reassured. You sighed about to give him a crash course in muggle horror films when the sound happened again this time followed by a voice.
“Who’s there?”
You and Tom shared a panicked look, both able to recognise that voice from anywhere. It was Filch, the school caretaker and if he was to spot you out here after hours it would be detention for sure. Tom tried not to seem to phased but you could feel the slight sweat to his palm as his hand held yours.
A light came closer as did the sound of meowing and you knew in that instant you were done for. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath before Tom was pulling you behind a tree. You yelped and he was quick to put his hand over your mouth.
Both of your held your breath as he came closer, the lantern creating a path of light in the dark of night. When you opened your eyes you saw Tom was on the verge of laughing and you quickly glared at him, removing his hand from your mouth.
After a couple of more yells and close calls, Filch seemed to have disappeared, his footsteps growing more distant. You sighed in relief, your body falling into Tom as he too let out his held breath, running a hand over your back.
You were the one who started laughing this time and it wasn’t long before Tom was joining in, both of you were giggling messes until your eyes met. You kept laughing but Tom had stopped, choosing instead to watch you, his lips remaining in a smile as he listened to your laughs.
Before you could question his silence he brought his lips to yours making you gasp. The kiss was soft but far too short as Tom nervously pulled away. You could tell he was about to apologise so you initiated another kiss to reassure him.
This kiss was longer, sweeter and deeper. It was a bit clumsy as you both tried to navigate each other’s lips but it was just as perfect as you had imagined. Your heart beat against his as he pressed you up against the tree, he was just about to try and deepen the kiss when a light shone in your faces, blinding you and causing you to jump apart as Filch’s unmistakable voice rang in your ears.
“Well, well, well, we are in trouble.”
And as Tom sat scrubbing trophies as you were at the other end of the room smiling at him whilst carrying out your own chore, he couldn’t help but think his detention was very worth it.
Taglist (I actually remembered): @its-the-unknownspidey / @eeyore101247 / @hazmyheart / @mybesttobobcratchit / @parkersvibes / @aussie-holland / @moorehollandplz / @glowunderthemoon / @awkwardfangirl2014 / @buckysdoll / @ppkrtingle / @angelhaz11 / @devin-marie / @mlt2000 / @fulltime-fangirl-k / @emcsii04 / @apollopls / @tyemmamarvel / @hauntedparker / @aesonsgirl / @legendsofwholock / @maybemona / @biglouche / @autumnlyholland / @gennyld / @thomasholyholland / @writeheight / @xxtomxo / @parkerpuff / @xinyourdreamsx / @itsjusttor / @hocuspocusholland / @novaddictx / @waterspider7 / @spaceprintesa / @tomhollandspideys / @juneholland / @simplyineffablesposts / @blackeighteen / @hollandisapuppy / @lovely-blackinnon
#katiesblurbs#tom holland#tom holland x reader#tom holland imagines#tom Holland drabble#tom Holland x you#tom Holland x y/n#Hogwarts au#Gryffindor tom#Hufflepuff!reader#my writing#blurbs
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The End of Year Awards Are Back... and This Time, It’s Personal!
And so we approach the end of 2020, the year that never really began. On paper, at least, it looked incredibly promising. There were lots of great movies slated to come out; culture seemed slightly less paucity-riddled and pointless than usual; good things were in the air. Then COVID happened, and basically fucked everything. Actually, that’s not quite true: my personal year has been fucking spectacular. I’m in a long-term relationship with a gorgeous woman for the first time in forever- no more abrupt trysts and stolen moments for yer humble narrator: I’ve got a sumptuously plus-size lady-friend who actually wants to spend substantial amounts of time me (and has knockers you could sled down, were you so inclined). I also started a Youtube channel where I upload performances of magic tricks I’ve designed and a few people seem to quite like it. Oh, and I’ve written four novels, with a fifth well on its way to completion. Unfortunately, that’s my life, not the life of our civilisation and culture as a whole. The fact that bugger all happened in that makes this end-of-year round-up a little hard to write. With that in mind, I’m going to hand out the gongs for 2020, but I’m also going to do my usual dodge of giving end-of-year awards to things that I discovered in 2020, even if they came out the year, decade or century before. It’s not like any right-minded person gives a hoot about my opinion anyway. Right then, everyone clear on the rules? Then let’s roll up our sleeves and plunge elbow deep into the fetid trough of our decaying society to ferret out the best and worst of the Things That Humans Have Done Recently.
The ‘I Like It Because It Confused Thick People’ Award for Best High-Concept Sci-Fi Movie...
… Goes to the sterling Tenet, a spy film that used entropy inversion and symmetric, opposite-direction timelines within the same physical space the way most spy films use hacking and guns. Christopher Nolan films are always intricately constructed and meticulously-executed, but this one must have had Japanese Master Puzzle-Box Makers crying into their breakfast cereal. Is breakfast cereal a thing in Japan? I honestly I have no idea. For some reason, all I can imagine is a sort of dry kedgeree where all the ingredients that aren’t rice have been removed. But I digress. For all its intricacy, Tenet is actually really easy to follow once you’ve grasped the basic premise that there’s a machine that lets people move backwards through time, and that this makes them appear to move in reverse to the rest of the world while they perceive the rest of the world as moving in reverse. Nolan maintains a mastery of cinematic visual language that makes even the most abstruse concept easy to wrap your head around. Nonetheless, following Tenet’s release, dumb people took to the Internet on mass to complain that the film was confusing and stupid, never once realising that their inability to conceptualise time in non-linear ways was their own failing, not Nolan’s. I find that refreshing. It’s nice to see a sci-fi film that’s actually made for smart-cookie sci-fi fans and doesn’t give a hoot if it alienate thickos.
The Award for Most Inexplicably Compelling Web Comic…
… Goes to Questionable Content. I originally started reading Questionable Content because I’d heard that the female lead and love interest was a plus size lassie and that shit’s my jam. However, the art style makes everyone look like a skinny indie-type, regardless of their actual, in-universe size, so it doesn’t do much to titillate my Fat Admiring Titillation Centres. And yet, I’m over five hundred ‘episodes’ in and still reading. The thing is, I couldn’t tell you why for the life of me. Maybe it’s the hope that the art style will evolve to the point where the people look like actual human beings with different body types (but then, why would I care unless I was invested for some other reason). Maybe it’s the fact that when I get one of the many, many obscure band or pop culture references, I feel a little buzz of kinship with the writer. Maybe it’s the fact that it takes place in a universe where robots and superheroes are things that regularly happen, yet most of the strips are just normal people chatting shit in a coffee shop and the slice-of-life narrative/sci-fi setting appeals to my sense of juxtaposition. I don’t know, but I find it really compelling to the extent that I’ve pissed away entire days reading it. I have a horrible feeling that it’s a short step from this to really angsty hentai. If I start singing the praises of that, somebody please shoot me in the crotch.
The ‘Forest Gump Debating Peter Andre’ Award For Most Sustained or Elongated Instance of Stupidity…
… Goes to Donald Trump. I was tempted just to award this gong to his entire presidency, but that wasn’t just stupid: it was also venal, corrupt, horrifying and punctuated by terrible moments of low cunning. So, instead, this award goes to his ‘soup’ rant. For those of you who missed it, the former President of the United States spent a really, really long time (in the run-up to the election) wittering on about protestors throwing cans of soup at police. What was dumb and weird about it was that he appeared to be extolling the virtues of soup as a siege weapon, going into really specific detail about how it was better than a brick because it could be thrown with more force, finishing with the utterance that protestors would just argue that “this is just soup for my family” if they were caught with the cans… which is phrased wrong in such a subtle and inhuman way it’s hard to imagine that anyone actually ever said it, at least in those words. I have no idea if protestors in America were throwing soup cans at police (which would be entirely justified considering how many innocent people American police have murdered in cold blood quite recently) or if this was a fantasy dreamed up by the former president in the cloudcuckooland that is his diseased little brain. Either way, the connected rant was balls deep in dumb.
The Most Disturbing Unintentional Impression of Vincent Price Award…
… Goes to the narrator from One Step Beyond, a Twilight Zone-esque anthology of weirdness that purports to be based on true events and has to be seen to be believed. The stories are oft-disturbing instances of spooky-inflected human drama and can occasionally be quite disconcerting… until they’re book-ended by a dude who sounds like Vincent Price reading a children’s book in a really earnest voice. It’s weird and no, it didn’t hit our screens in Space Year 2020, it dates back to Ye Olden Times of the 1950s or 60s, when men were men, women were women and technincolour was a distant dream that could get you strung up for witchcraft. Nonetheless, I only encountered it this year, so it’s getting its prize. I warned you I was going to pull this shit, but you foolish fools didn’t listen.
The ‘It’s Not Gay If I Don’t Clench’ Award for Cognitive Dissonance…
… Goes to Amazon Prime, the content-making branch of evil, tax-dodging, anti-monopoly-law-breaking megalith Amazon. You see, while Big Daddy Amazon is off being incredibly sinister and worrying, like a shifty vampire hanging off the economy’s throat, the creative people at Amazon Prime are busy making or acquiring some of the flat-out best TV ever committed to a streaming-service, from the extra-weird slice of fun-pie that is The Tick, to the entertainingly horrifying cultural dissection of The Boys to the utterly unique Carnival Row, to the superbly adapted American Gods. It’s a bit like discovering that Geoffrey Dahlmer single-handedly created a body of artistic work to rival Vincent Van Gogh’s when he wasn’t pouring acid onto the brains of emotionally vulnerable young adults. It gives me a headache.
The Clint Eastwood Award for Most Effective Older Gentlemen…
… Goes to Joe Biden, for unseating dipshit in chief Donald Trump with the casual badassery of a Wild West gunslinger shooting a baddy (probably played by Leonardo Di Caprio) in the balls. I mean, he’s not the best Prez America could ask for but a) as a Brit I don’t have to care and b) anyone who ousts Trump gets mad props from me.
The ‘It’s a Pity Everything Else is Shit Now’ Award for Best New Ongoing Series…
… Goes to my own Youtube series, Victor The Magician, in which I claim to be a reality-hopping, interdimensional wizard on an endless quest to… perform magic, basically. I’ll admit that the quality is super-variable (Youtube algorithms and their constant demand for fresh content be a harsh mistress, etc., etc.). However, when I’m good, I’m really good. If you’re looking for a punch-line other than the fact that this whole bit is a self-promoting plug, it’s this: my Youtube series really was the best thing to come out this year. Not because I’m great or anything, just by default. A promising year really did turn into a cultural wasteland the moment COVIDius Rex reared its scaly head.
The Zombie Ian Curtis Award for Most Crushing Disappointment…
… Goes to Rick and Morty Series 4. As I think I’ve said before, it was still good, but it just didn’t reach the dizzy heights of nihilistic lunacy achieved in series 1-3. I think the problem is that the audience is meant to learn something from Rick’s poor choices, even if he doesn’t, because the creators saw the amazing success of Bojack Horseman and decided they wanted a slice of that sweet, tangy deconstructionist pie. It worked up to a point in the climax of Series 3, but having made their point, the showrunners probably should have moved onto a different point. They forgot that the appeal of Rick Sanchez is his combination of ‘entertaining car-crash of a human being’ and ‘unstoppable superbeing’. Push him through an arc and you risk breaking the thing that makes him and the show so endlessly watchable. Rick, unlike Bojack, just wasn’t built for heavy introspection. Also, the team hired on new writers who were less than familiar with the characters, setting and subtext, and that’s always an invitation to disaster.
The Special Sir Mixalot Award for Posteriority…
...Goes to… my girlfriend and glamorous assistant, Mystic Miss Terri, who’s arse is gorgeous and majestic.
The ‘Are They STILL Making That?’ Award for a Show You Forgot Existed And is Now Back…
… Goes to Supernatural, which never technically went away and whose final series is apparently being broadcast on one of the 4 channels (though who knows which one, any more), It’s kind of nice to realise it’s still out there and be reminded that there are still people who care deeply about what happens to it. It’s like when you remember ‘oh yeah, [insert cute animal here] actually exists and isn’t just an internet meme. That’s nice’. Also, it’s good to see Jared Padelacki working steadily. It can’t be easy to find acting gigs when most producers just want to shoot you and mount your antlers over a fireplace.
The Irritating Magician Award for Something That Just Won’t Fuck Off…
...Goes to this blog entry, which is three pages long in Word. Good grief. Bye y’all! See you next year, assuming that the last few days of 2020 don’t culminate in a civilisation-destroying attack by giant space-ants. If that seems worryingly specific, let’s just say that- as Leonard Cohen would say “I’ve seen the future and, brother, it is murder”… by giant space-ants.
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I am both kind of glad she didn't like. Spiral into thoughts or more realization of what exactly she's done to these people. But also not, because I love angst. So. Questions. Will she ever meet the other survivors? What will their interactions be like? Who do you think she gets along with most? Will she meet any other killers? (probs introduced by other survivors??) And also. A painful one but. Does the entity realize she's lying? Do you think you'll continue this story in anyway?
Haha, I feel that. Adiris certainly will hit that horror realization more completely than she did during her breakdown in the archives room. I think because of her realizations of both what she’s done and just how much danger she and they and everybody upstairs depending on her is in suddenly because of the truth, happening at the same, she had a whole lot of fear and anger in play (I was used and hurt and manipulated and lied to and made to suffer, whatever you[Not Nergal/Entity] are, you have been doing horrible stuff to innocent people for no good reason, my people have also been manipulated and lied to and forced to suffer, oh Gods what happens to us if he knows I know? What can I do to save my people and myself and these foreigners? Can I do anything?) and I think the immediacy of the parts of that she had to act on hit so hard it was her core focus, but next time she either is in a trial and has to method act through hunting down people she now knows are not murderers and infidels, or the first time she’s in a safer and more calm setting with the survivors and one of them mentions something, that will all uhhh, it’ll hit home. I’m sure. God, this poor woman.
Okay! For the questions.
“Will she ever meet the other survivors?”
Yes. Definitely, and all of them.
“What will those interactions be like?”
It’s hard to say since I haven’t written that yet, but probably exceedingly awkward. I think there’s a lot of inherent fear from them towards her, and like, how would you feel talking with someone you used to murder a lot because you thought they were the enemy? Nnnmnnnnn probably not great! TuT which is how she gon be feeling. I think she is very aware she’s coming from a place of power, and is also still super used to thinking of herself as a priestess/holy/kind of removed, so she’ll try to approach it like that. Reassuring, and thoughtful/careful to not be scary or threatening, but also in control and a little aloof. And probably after a little time with the survivors, who will all go from “Scary. D:” to “A curiosity but in a good way. Weird. Neat. Still kinda spooky.” to “I like her : )” and thinking of her the way they would any normal human (the normal version of the fkn speedrun Quentin & Dwight went through), she’ll have to adjust to being treated like a normal person, and the way 21st century humans act when they’re being casual and friendly—which honestly, not too different from being friendly throughout history, but sadly either way not something this girl is used to. I think it’ll be weird and she’ll be nervous to try shifting identities from one of the only two things she’s ever known how to be, and into normal human and friend, but that it’ll also be really welcome. Because she has literally never gotten to have a family or a normal life or a friend or any single goddamn healthy or even decent relationship with another living human being. And like, god, humans need that. On a DNA level—We die in isolation. And she hasn’t been “isolated,” but she’s been mostly isolated her whole life, and she sure as hell has never ever gotten to belong or have any kind of certainty or permanence in her relationship, even her spiritual ones. She needs that. She just needs someone to look at her, go: “There’s a human being right there, and I see who she is, and I think she’s very worthwhile. I would like to keep her in my life.” God, she needs that so, so badly. I don’t think she knows it, but she really, really, desperately does.
And she deserves it, too. None of the abandonments or alienations or failures in her life are things she did wrong. But when that kind of thing keeps happening to a person, it sure as hell makes them feel like it. So, haha, sorry, got carried away (the name of my memoir probably >.>). But I think she’d be awkward, and confused, and then nervous, because she’d be invited into something she has literally never had, doesn’t know how to do right, but also desperately wants without fully understanding, which is a terrifying combination to work with socially. But then deeply impacted and happy and moved. Also afraid—I mean, girl smiled without doing it on purpose one time and flipped out emotionally with no idea why, because every time she has felt attachment or sought belonging or thought she had it her whole life, she’s been routinely betrayed and abandoned. She’s a lot more than once burned. But after the initial fear, she would be a mixture of happy and very awkward, and then eventually hopefully just exceedingly happy and also proud of herself and confident. I listened to I’m Still Here from Treasure Planet a lot while writing Adiris. Like, a lot.
“Who do you think she gets along with most?”
Hmmm, well, Dwight and Quentin I think will always be special to her after the day in the temple. Claudette is a sweetie who will definitely try to help alleviate sickness symptoms and be maybe the single least afraid to touch her of all the survivors, and that can’t help but be meaningful. Meg & she have a lot of complimentary similar personality traits, Jeff is super kind & also a great artist so he’ll probably be group interpreter & she’ll be around him a lot, and since Tapp is 2 and 0 so far on drawing bullet barrel in friend luck Russian roulette and keeps befriending women with absentee fathers, I can only assume that means she will end up close with Tapp as well. It’s too funny for him not to be 3 & 0. The world itself demands it. Beyond that, I’d have to write interactions and see how they fall. 👈👈😎 (Also a large part of how she feels about Meg & maybe also Ace, possibly Nea too, maybe even Feng, will come down to how she feels about being flirted with shamelessly. F in the chat for my poor confused ancient Mesopotamian. 😔)
“Will she meet any other killers?”
Yes, definitely. And it will be very interesting to me to see that.
“Does the Entity’s realize she’s lying?”
No. It absolutely does not. Queen method acted hard enough to give herself trauma—the first person experience thoughts and narrative are what she lived, and luckily the Entity is an emotion sponge, not a mind reader. It may or may not have been aware Quentin & Dwight were in the room (legit just depends on if it decided to/thought to look, which I don’t know, because I didn’t need to to write the scene & it be like that sometimes, but regardless of if it did, the outcome is basically unchanged. Either it didn’t look because Adiris clearly wasn’t lying, from its POV, as she felt nothing but what she exhibited outwardly as well. Or it did look for them, saw they were under there, and thought nothing of it because it lined up with her story. She said they ran off. Wouldn’t be weird for them to go to the Archives to try to steal information, or hide, or even just get lost. And it had no reason to expose them if it did see, because if it had dragged them out, it would have had to do something Adiris would understand to them, and it’s really just easier to give itself time to figure out in what way to do its “Nergal the God” aftermath, than to do it right in the room on the spot. TLDR: No, it has no clue. She method acted the fuck out of that situation, and there was nothing weird to sense, so it didn’t. Queen out-bullshitted the Entity.
“Will you continue the story in any way?”
Harder question. Probably? Likely? Maybe? Hard to say. I would love to, but I also have four, five other stories right now? Ever since I made a dumb Fate joke about having four multipath AUs, my brain has been trying to convince me to adapt New Dawn Fades, From the Earth of No Return, and some fourth, as yet unchosen story, into full length monsters. But I might die. Like, y’all, ILM is a hunk of book. If I recall correctly from back when I saw my word count, got nervous, and looked stuff up, if I published a physical single volume copy of ILM, it would become the longest single volume book ever published in a physical single book form. Which I both kinda want to do now just for the knowledge of it, but also!!! That’s SO much, like, I don’t even know how that happened. Like I am immensely proud, but also kinda like wtf? Did I drug me?? And also mostly just because rip @ me that the longest work I have written is a fic I /can’t/ ever publish or include in a resume or reel or anything. :’-](Also, @ the speed readers who did ILM in under two weeks, HOW? And please teach me your absolutely terrifying powers). I don’t plan, even if I do full length stuff again, to make another ILM length one or something. But even then, full length is big! (Also I live in fear of saying this to myself, trying to write, and becoming:
Like u have no idea rip lol.) It takes a whole bunch of time to do books, and like, I do fic books because I love it! Like SO much. It has and does bring me great joy. But, it can get a liiiittle daunting too. It eats up most of my free time to all my free time, if I get super into it.
So yes, I would really like to adapt it further. I have the barest of bones for an outline, I even have two possible endings already envisioned and several major events more fleshed out! : D But if I do write more long-form full novels for DbD, even in more manageable sizes than their forebearer, I’d try to do them in the order I began. Which means Signifying Nothing—the prequel to ILM about Philip’s time with Vigo, Alex, & Benedict (which is a will do, not if), then New Dawn Fades (the ongoing fic I have on AO3 centered around Joey & Quentin’s relationship), then From the Earth of No Return. Which for the record, my soul very much wants to adapt. Every time I hear Brave Shine now, I see cool TV show opens for it in my head. TuT But I guess the best I can say is, “We’ll see”? Since fics aren’t like my paying job or smth, it depends largely on my personal & work life & how much time I have to devote to for-passion writing. So, I guess the short answer is I’d love to, and I hope to, I’d even say I think I intend to sometime, but I’m not completely certain I’ll be able.
#i hope i can though! i really loved it. TuT#just writing is a full time job if its long-form & sadly writing this is /not/ my full time job so im in time management hell#ask#anonymous#long post#from the earth of no return (fic)#from the earth of no return#in living memory (fic)#in living memory#writing#dead by daylight#rip me. for multiple reasons TuT#this is the power adhd gives you kids#wildly impressive but also thoroughly terrifying feats or work#and im goddamn proud but also a little intimidated#by my own past self#which is a weird way to be but 💁🏻♀️#i guess its my life#kinda cool#also wtf#but cool >.>
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Threads of a Resurgent
⍖ Pairing▹ BTS Namjoon ⇆ Reader
⍖ Genre▹ Grim Reaper| Witch | Horror | Fluff| Angst|
⍖ Warning▹ rated Mature; Graphic depictions of death and gore, main character death, necromancy, traumatic events, blood, animal sacrifice (not detailed), witchcraft inaccuracies, explicit language and horror themes.
⍖ Summary▹ That dress. It was all because of that tainted dress. The dress you found at a second-hand store wasn’t just a pretty thing on the rack. When the grim reaper sits across from you telling you he’s come to collect, your life takes a turn. However, he made a mistake..a grave mistake. The threads of the Resurgent begin to unravel as you and the Grim Reaper are unleashed on an adventure tangled by threads. How will you mend the threads and save your soul in time before he collects you?
⍖ Word▹31.6K
⍖ A/N▹ Hope you’re still in the mood for something spooky. I apologize for the grammar errors in advance, I will correct them asap. I made a dictionary for you to keep open while you read so you can refer to things. I hope you enjoy, thanks for reading! Gif source unknown, but I don’t take credit for it [if you know please let me know].
⇴ Masterlist | Book of Spells [Dictionary] | Moodboard
The hangers clacked as you shoved articles of clothing past like an abacus. The clothes were so tightly packed on the rack that hangers were sticking out in all directions. Your face was in a permanent scowl as you picked through the thorn bush. Shopping hasn’t ever been a pastime that you would put high on your list of fun activities. It had its scarce perks and all, but the process was always a long journey: picking clothes, trying on clothes in a scrutinizing mirror, then returning 99% of the items to an underpaid fitting room attendant. Rinse and repeat. However, here you were, on Friday evening, rummaging through a second-hand thrift store’s dress section to find something to wear for a date in about an hour.
You kept pushing past ugly polka dotted dresses, grandmother moo moos, overtly ruffle dresses then you stopped counting. You pushed another bead on the abacus when you stopped counting when something seemed to glow, call to you. You found the one. It must’ve been a rich-woman’s dress at some point. It was a simple black dress, but there was beauty in its minimalism. You assumed it made it here because of that stupid rule: wear it once then never again.
Who came up with that rule anyways?
You happily unhooked it from the rack, but it snagged when it was halfway out. It got caught in the thorns of about three other hanging pieces. You grunted and tried jangling the pieces loose, but the hangers were as messy as headphones in a pocket. After a few minutes of trying to figure it out you were nearly placing your foot on the rack to yank it out. This is ridiculous, but you weren’t going to settle on a polka dotted dress. One tug, two, then on your last heave you heard ripping and gasp from your lips with the liberated dress finally in your hands. You stumbled backwards and held the dress up in victory, but your smile turned into a heavy frown. The dress had a slit up the side from where a metal hook from another hanger ripped the delicate fabric. You just found something, and you ruined it in a matter of seconds.
After looking at it for a bit longer, you quite liked the new look. A risqué notch up the thigh gave the dress bonus points, perfect for date night. You checked the price tag with a satisfied smile, twenty bucks was doable on your budget. No further torture was needed, end of discussion, you found the dress!
You ran up to the counter, bought the dress, then ran back to the changing room. You changed out of your professional wear that you wore to the office earlier into the dress. Luckily you were already wearing accessories and shoes that transitioned easily. You checked yourself and swiped on a fresh coat of lipstick smacking your lips. You checked your watch, you had fifteen minutes to make it across town. You ran out the store and hailed a taxi. You took a deep breath as you sunk into the leather seat and crossed your fingers in your lap. You stared out the window watching the cityscape change, you hoped this went well.
You watched the flickering orange candle light in the reflection of the large window from your booth. Pattering rain hit the glass distorting the small light, but your reflection stared right back at you clearly. For the past hour some people ran past while others were covering themselves with umbrella to fend off the sudden rain. Luckily the rain started when you were inside the café. Couples giggled as they clutched onto eachother and some kids splashed in puddles only to be scolded by their parents seconds later.
The cooper bulb lights couldn’t completely wash out the overcast sky and heavy rain, nor the apparent absence besides you. Your hands felt cold despite trying to warm them up around the tea you ordered just to warm you up. Nothing changed that awkward feeling sitting in your stomach. You had been stood up.
You heavily sighed and looked to the empty seat across from you. It’s been over an hour and a half since you were supposed to meet. You looked around the nook café, although it was slotted between two popular brick and mortars, it was empty. You were the only patron in the establishment. The once burning espresso machines had cooled and the strong aroma of espresso had dulled to a dainty waft. The exhausted barista yawned, possibly bored out of their mind. They tossed their hand towel over their shoulder and disappeared into the back.
You ran a hand through your hair with a heavy sigh. It wasn’t about being stood up that upset you, it was the principal of the matter! You spent money—hard earned money—on a new dress, a taxi, a cup of tea and it wasn’t even worth it. You couldn’t even return the dress!
You reached down and traced a finger along the ripped seam up your thigh. Risqué notch my ass…it was just torn and got you an extra five dollars off this piece of junk. What if the rip was foretelling you that this wasn’t a good idea; perhaps an ominous foreshadowing you overlooked?
The depression of air wheezed out of the cushion as someone slide into the booth across from you. You looked up and met the dark eyes of a stranger. The tall stranger leaned back, resting one arm across the back of the chair. He was dressed in a sharp black suit that covered his lean body. His dirty-blonde hair was pushed back out of his face, but a few tendrils straggled on his forehead. The sinister look on his face, sharp scrutinizing eyes, and cocky demeanor washed over you like a cold shower. You didn’t dare to shiver, but your dilated pupils trembled.
“I’ve come to collect.”
You swallowed saliva you didn’t realize you’d been holding. You looked around the cafe and found the place completely empty. It was just you…and this stranger. Collect? Maybe this dude was mistaken or intoxicated. “What?” Stupefied you answered.
He scoffed running his thumb over his plump bottom lip, then clasped his hands, hunching over the table. He was only a single man, but his presence filled up the whole booth. He lifted his head, messy bangs fully covering his forehead. He looked through his lashes at you, eyes darkening by the second. For a second you were sure smoke filtered between his pearly white teeth as he smirked, “Oh, don’t play dumb now.”
You looked out the window and the foot traffic had stopped completely, but the rain still was heavily trickling, heavier than before. Uneasiness settled in your stomach, something was not right about this guy. “I’m sorry you must’ve gotten the wrong person,” you were running out a patience. You scooted out of the booth, done dealing with this creep. You didn’t have a coat or umbrella, so you were going to have to make a run for it.
He remained in his seat hands still folded on the table. He kept unwavering eye contact with you from his spot, “You can’t keep running from what you’ve done. I have to collect.”
You busted at the seams, “I don’t have any debt! I just paid off my credit cards and stud—.” It hit you, “Sir, are you—are you…,” you leaned in a bit hushing your raised tone, “a part of the mafia or something?”
He chuckled throwing his head back in fake laughter, “Does changing now make you lose your memory?”
You had enough from this crazy, admittedly handsome—but insane guy! You snatched your purse turning around to leave. What a terrible night this has been. You’re going to throw this dress away, fifteen dollars or not, then yourself onto your bed when you get home.
You took about two steps and apparated before you in a blink of an eye. You gasped nearly running face first into him, “Whoa—What? How did—?”
His pupils engulfed his eyes in a deep black engulfing the sclera of his eyes. You could feel his hot breath on your cheeks as he growled out, “Pay-the-price!” He grabbed onto your elbow and dragged you towards the entrance of the café.
“Let go of me! I don’t know what you’re talking about!” His grip was nearly bone crushing. Through the pain you screamed, “LET GO!” You were pulled along regardless of your protest. You looked for staff, anyone, to help but no one was there to save you. Your heart was racing out of your chest, “Let me GO!”
He ripped open the entrance door, a cold front rushed over you both, but his large figure took the blunt of it. He pulled you along through the threshold, “Stop!” You expected to be pelted by rain, but instead the world warped around you, neon commercial lights whirlpool and turned into darkness that took a new life as a hazy blue-grey dense fog. He kept pulling you along with him unaffected by the transition. Nausea churned your stomach in an unfriendly manner. Your brain felt like static causing you to stumble over your own feet when your feet settled on uneven, gravelly terrain. His insistent pulling progressed you both onwards.
Where were you?
You couldn’t see anything clearly besides him in this nightmare-scape; until, in the dense fog, you began to pass trees that were characterized by their dark trunks and chaotic roots that were like spider legs sticking out the ground. This place left so much up to the imagination. Every muscle in your body was aching to run away, to fight, bite his hand even, but that fog—it felt alive. Whatever was out there in it could make the bravest being claustrophobic.
This must be the gateway to hell.
Coming from your right then left you heard the crunching of dead leaves. From the dark haze, the imagination begins to fill with horrors. Silhouetted human figures passed in different direction between the tress, but they didn’t turn towards us they kept their wandering demeaner. The fog was alive!
“Wh-Where are you taking me?” You whisper yelled it to him, afraid to attract the attention of those wandering figures in this passing hell. The ma—demon holding you hostage kept his pace graciously gliding in the fog. The silence between you was scarier.
A dark hill appeared and in short realization you realized it was a cave. He kept dragging you towards it with a sinister smile blooming on his face. Breaking through the susurration, the sound of heavy limbs being dragged was eerily followed by the crunching of bones and the mushing sound of moist flesh. The morbid sounds echoed through the forest as if it was hollow as it emanated through the cave.
Your jaw dropped in a silent scream, the nausea turned into cramps, replacing itself with a guttural twisting horror. Your heart was beating so fast that everything seemed to move in slow motion. The closer we got it reeked of death and sorrow—sulfur, methane, and burned fat. You tried sticking your heels into the ground, but he dragged you along easily. “Please, I don’t know anything, just let me go!”
The mouth of the cave greeted us with an infinite darkness and your shadows dissolved into it. Your captor chanted rapidly like a hissing snake in a voice so low and deep. A raging blue fire came to light as we suddenly stopped. You jelly legs nearly tripped over something as you came to a halt, you looked down realizing it was shards of bones. You let out a scream and pulled back, screamed louder when the formidable cave dweller came to life.
The beast feeling the heat roared in distress and moved away from the fire towards you. The colossal chains attached at its ankles rattled as it slugged forward with growls of its own. The two-ton behemoth legs and arms were thin compared to his protruding gut resembling someone with Cushing disease; except that gut was filled with digesting bodies while the souls were sent to pits. His protruding, bare torso was covered in old and fresh guts and other bodily fluids. It’s disgusting greyish, purple body was that of a human, but the head was that of a boar with horns sticking out its oversized jaw. It had a partially devoured femur in its thick hand that swung listlessly as he moved.
The beast eyes were pupilless, cloudy grey, and it searched out its victims with its other heightened senses. Your involuntary noises lead the beast to whip its head right towards you. All the suppression up until this point was peaking up your throat, you were going to throw up from fear.
Your captor spoke to the beast, “Edax Animae! I return the obliquatur pythonissam who cheated Statera and you!”
You were violently trembling, what had you done wrong? You’ve never crossed anyone, nor had you done something so terrible to deserve this! Did you do something absolutely stupid in college that’s haunting you now? Maybe when you stole Stacey’s crayons in second grade, but you swear you put it back right after using it. You swear you’ve lived fairly straight edge your whole life.
You were tugging and scratching and digging your nails into his hand with your other, “Let me go! I didn’t do anything. I swear!” Your nails were causing his hands to redden with thick scratch marks, yet he didn’t make a face or loosen his grip on you. “PLEASE!”
The beast roared and stepped towards you again, but his chains yanked him back. Fear engulfed your conscience, you screamed in your throat, pulling back, yanking hard but you could only get back as far as your arm’s length. The beast dropped the femur with a gross smack of flesh. You could feel tears dripping down your face without your conscious choice. You were going to die. You were going to get eaten alive.
“Please, please, please!” Your captor pushed you forward mercilessly, you landed at the feet of the monster. You couldn’t look up, tears streamed down your face in a steady stream. The beast wobbled forward like a toddler, blubbering blood out of its mouth. It dripped down the side of its lips and onto its torso. You cowered backwards, legs dragging on the rocky dirt, his looming colossal shadow began to engulf you. It heavily panted with each step. Hovering over you, the beast suddenly stopped and huffed a deep growl.
Your captor shouted at the monster, “WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?” The monster huffed again turning its stout away from you, “What-do-you-mean!”
He violently stomped over to you, bones cracking under his dress shoes, eyes completely black. He grabbed onto the hemline of your dress.
You try shoving his hands away, “What are you doing!”
“Stay still,” it was a command. He ripped a piece of your dress off where the thigh had already been cut, leaving you with an inverse scallop cut. You yelped and tried pulling the torn edge down, “Don’t move.” Your hands stilled.
He presented it to the beast and it craned its stout a few times seeking out his hand then heavily sniffed it. The beast roared again then panted like a dog, giddy about the fabric. Your captor tossed the fabric at the bottom of the monster’s feet. The monster bent down onto its knees searching for it with its snout and shoveled it in its snout and swallowed it. The beast grunted after making an audible gulp swallowing the fabric. They exchanged growls and grunts, your captor some Latin that you couldn’t understand. “You gotta be fucking with me! Just when…this-this isn’t?” He pulled at his hair in frustration, his anger shook the walls of the cave, loose rocks tumbled from their spot.
You backed away avoiding falling rocks from the ceiling. You backed up without looking and hit the cave wall with a thud. At the noise the beast made direct eye contact with you, its cloudy grey eyes focused in your direction. You froze and held your breath, it’s gaze held a hypnotic grip on your throat. Drool dripped from the side of its jaw and boiled as it hit the rustic mud digesting shards of bone on the spot.
You captor held his hand out, hissing, “Flax!” In his hand from a cloud of black smoke appeared a scythe. Your captor strode his way over to you, easily flipped the scythe around and held the long blade to your throat. You winced closing your eyes and when you opened them you could see your reflection in the blade as you took a quick glance down at it.
“Aren’t you a witch! She put you up to this didn’t she! Where is she?”
You shivered, “Witch? No! Look I don’t know what you’re pulling here—!”
The monster grunted again, and your captor closed his eyes in frustration. “That Witch!” Your captor exploded, black smoke rolled out of his mouth. He pulled his scythe away from your neck.
You shuttered and eyes bulge at the supernatural occurrence. Who...who was this guy! What was all this! You thought that this stuff was only fictional, yet a beast and whatever this guy was in front of you really existed!
The monster begins heaving like a dog and it throws up the piece of fabric it just digested, along with some other things you couldn’t make out.
You beg, “Just take me back, I’ll forget all this, I won’t say anything, just take me back home.”
He growled toxic smoke pouring from his mouth, “I can’t take you back!”
You yelled back, fear making you lose your temper, “Why? Why can’t you? Just take me back! I said I’ll forget—.” You flinched as the monster began moving towards the back of the cave again.
“You can’t forget this!” He yelled, veins in his neck popping. He recentering himself quickly, pointed to your body with his scythe, “You wore that dress…you’re tainted.”
Dress? What does this dress have to do with any of this? Tainted? “I don’t care about the dress. Just take me back!”
He sighed clanking the stem of his scythe once on the floor and it disappeared into thin air. He walked out of the cave and ignorantly you followed him like lightening was at your feet into the dense fog again. You kept close to him. You could run, but where would you go? Become one of the wondering souls? You had to persuade him to take you back home. More importantly, you needed answers.
He spoke as he walked, “That dress belonged to a resurgent. It was worn by that-that witch when they died then resurrected. A piece of their soul is attached to that dress.”
You almost felt relieved for a moment, your hands were wiped clean, this was all a mistake and you could go home. You just needed to get rid of the dress, done deal.
He spat the last words. “The fact that you wore it…that piece of her—necromancy it’s sticky—it’s tainted you. That’s why you were mistaken for her.”
He slowed his pace, “Your soul is hers and until her debt is paid, you’re tainted.”
The color dropped out of your face.
He stopped in a clearing and turned around facing you with a sad expression. “And if her soul isn’t collected in time…,” he looked you directly in the eye, “yours will be.”
Your knees gave way and you collapsed like a ragdoll. Fresh tears streamed down your cheeks. He kneeled and lifted your chin and wiped away your tears. You flinched when he touched you expecting to be hit or worse. He pulled his hands back, frown deepening, “I won’t hurt you. I know it’s hard to believe, but I won’t hurt you.” His black eyes receded into something more humanistic again. His demeanor took a one hundred and eighty, but his face was still stern. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. I really am.” This was low, he’s never known it was possible to split the soul. But here you were, proving everything he thought wrong.
The tears continued to stream down your face, he tried wiping each of them away. He genuinely felt terrible, he had brought an innocent mortal into Limbo and showed them something you should have never seen. Never. However, you weren’t just an innocent mortal anymore, “But…until I can find her and bring her soul to Satera…we have to remain together.”
You screeched out, “Together!”
“I will find the resurgent.” He stood up taking your hand and gently helping you up, going as far as to dusting you off. He shrugged off his blazer and wrapped it around your shoulders. “But in the meantime, you and I are connected as well.”
You tried shrugging his coat off before it touched your shoulders, “Will this taint my soul too?” You were suspicious of everything.
He laughed, the straight-faced man laughed, dimples even appeared on his cheeks. He was quite good looking when he wasn’t threatening your life. He shrugged and placed it around your shoulders again, “Just be grateful Keres didn’t come to find you.”
You asked, “Who?”
His face went dumbstruck, “Oh.” He cleared his throat, “My sister…she would not be as kind if she were assigned you.”
“Assigned?”
He chuckled, “You have so many questions.”
You sputtered out in disbelief, “Who are you?”
“The mortals call me Thanatos, at least they used to about two thousand years ago, or the Grim Reaper more recently.”
Your jaw dropped, and spat out, “Death, YOUR death!”
He laughed again, “The one and the only.”
He held out his hand, “I can satisfy one of your requests, I’ll take you home.” You were too stunned to say anything and before you knew it you were traveling again.
You stumbled as you emerged, but he caught your arm, gently this time. He straightening you out, “You alright?”
You panted, “How-how do you do that?”
He smirked, “Comes with the job.”
He took you to your front door, for a short moment you wondered how he knew where you lived but you felt he had his ways there too. He stopped you from going inside, “I’m going to find out more…information. If you need me, call me.”
You looked at him inquisitively, “How am I supposed to call you?”
“Just say my name.”
“Reaper?”
He shook his head and scuffed his shoe, surprisingly shy, “Namjoon, my real name is Namjoon.”
You tested the name on your tongue, “Namjoon.”
He nodded, “Keep the blazer, and call me when you need me.”
You took the hint, “My name’s Y/n.”
He turned around once more, “Oh, Y/n, don’t tell anyone about this.” You wanted to scoff, but you swallowed it, nodded in understanding instead. Who would believe you if you told them anyways?
“Good night, Y/n,” he vanished in the next second in a cloud of black smoke.
What had you gotten yourself into?
Magic, the supernatural, beast, monster, and God knows whatever else you hadn’t seen with your eyes yet exist. Magic exists.
Before you knew it, it was Friday again. The whole week after you felt like a zombie, like your own body didn’t belong to you. You were still questioning if it all was just a bad dream, a twisted nightmare. The bruises from his hard grip were there…his blazer was still with me and that dress…I still had that dress. You had hooked up the dress on a hanger and left it on a hook behind your door. You didn’t know what to do with it. You didn’t know if you threw it away or that would only make things worse. The best solution you could come up with was “out of sight, out of mind”.
You came home around nine, Fridays were always hell at the office. Your coworkers were making you pay since you took last Friday off early, it was your turn to shoulder a majority of the work. Your manager would pile on work that he’d been slacking on during the week onto the team. Instead of getting off at five like everyone else, you’d usually get off the earliest at eight at minimum.
You treated yourself with a long shower to wash away the stress. You dried yourself off and replaced the towel back on the rack and slipped on fresh underwear you had set out for yourself. You lived alone, so you often went around your apartment practically nude. You stepped up to the white counter humming a tune; showers always eased your mind. The medicine cabinet open with a magnetic click, mechanically following your night routine taking out your toner, moisturizer, and toothpaste from the neat shelf.
When you closed the cabinet, getting a good look of yourself in the mirror, you noticed thick, black flakes of mascara was still caked under your eye. You heavily sighed and dug into a drawer and pulled out a pack of cotton pads, tossing them on the counter with a crunch of the plastic. You reached over scavenging between your scented lotions and perfumes for your makeup remover. You really needed to get rid of some of those lotions and perfumes. You popped open the bottle and generously dowsed a cotton pad. You looked back up and begin wiping away at the black clots under your eye. In a way this was therapeutic as well, removing physical sludge was oddly satisfying.
You tossed the dirty cotton pad in the trash and turned back to the mirror checking your work. In the corner of your eyes you caught something moving behind you. You whipped around, but nothing was there. You stared for a few more moments waiting for the trickery to happen again, but nothing, there was nothing there. Despite just taking a steaming hot shower, an icy draft came over the room. Goosebumps welted all over your body. You rubbed over your arms and shrugged it off. A draft from under the door must’ve swept in and you must’ve had a flake of mascara in your eye. You turned back to the mirror, but the hair on the back of your neck was still at attention. “It’s nothing, it’s nothing, it’s nothing. You’re spooking yourself you idiot.”
You kept looked over your shoulder a few times despite your assuring monologue as you finished up your routine. You massaged in the excess moisturizer into your neck and the wiped rest on your towel. You opened the medicine cabinet and put the products back faster than you normally would. That eerie feeling you couldn’t seem to escape was traveling down your spine, but you choose to ignore it.
It was just your imagination.
You picked up your toothbrush and applied a dollop of paste then ran it under water. You popped it in your mouth then closed the cabinet. You scrubbed your teeth and pulled your eyes back up to meet your reflection. The lights flickered encroaching you in darkness for a split second. When the lights turned back on, your reflection was accompanied.
A wasting figure began to rise in the intervals as the lights flickered. You screamed at the top of your lungs, the toothbrush dropped from your mouth clanking in the ceramic sink. You watched as the being built itself from cavities to limbs that looked Frankenstein when it was fully equipped. Your clean scent was being stained by the heavy earthen smell of soil accompanied by a smell of death. The room filled with complete darkness for a heartbeat, then a feminine figure replaced the Frankenstein when the light came on. The dark figure behind you shushed you and snaked a hand around your neck holding you in place; although, you were frozen on the spot from fear and couldn’t move regardless. As she leaned in to you her cold chest pressed into your back, she hooked her pointy chin on your shoulder you got a good look at the figure’s face. She was a gorgeous woman with sharp features, deep eyes and long, silky black hair.
She brushed your wet hair behind your ear and whispered into your ear, “So we meet.” She chuckled in satisfaction knowing she had terrified you, “We meet my pretty.” Her eyes met your bulging eyes in the mirror. There was a hollowness within them that couldn’t be conjured even in someone’s worst nightmare. An image you wouldn’t ever be able to erase no matter how hard you tried.
“It was hard finding you, you hide yourself pretty well.” You had no idea you were hiding, much less hiding from her. It clicked, this was the woman the Reaper was speaking of. This was the Witch!
“Someone finally bought my dress, I’ve been waiting for someone to come save me.” She whispered in your ear, “What a fine sacrifice you’ll be. You have such a pure soul too, Satera will surely be pleased when you take my place.”
You shakily got out with a heavy bob of your throat, “Who-who are you?”
She chuckles, “You’ll find out soon.” She held onto you tighter and dragged her sharp nails across your neck imitating a knife. “When the day comes, I will come for you and my name will be your last words.”
In the next second, she vanished just as quickly as she appeared, her sinister laughter echoed off the bathroom tiles.
You found your breath again and clutched at the counter top trying to regain balance. Where she had ran her finger burned, your hand covered the mark neck on instinct. You focused on breathing, but her words echoed in your head.
This was real. The resurgent was real, the dress was hers, and she knows where you live. The resurgent found you! You were tainted. Tangled in a promise, you were going to become that image that brought you feared.
You ripped off your underwear and scrubbed your whole body with scalding hot water. It felt like her smell was heavy gunk on you, especially where she had touched you. You scrubbed until your skin was raw and the steam began to reek of your body wash. You broke down crying. It wasn’t a dream, this was real, she was real.
You’re tainted.
It was at least a half hour before you came out of the shower. You wrapped a different towel around yourself and stuck to the wall as you walked down the hall to your bedroom. You felt so exhausted. You slip on a new pair of underwear and unusually pajamas and what you think is your robe, you aren’t really paying attention. You needed to feel covered.
You walked out of your bedroom towards the living room when a voice called to you. “Are you alright? Why’d you call me?”
You screamed using your already raw throat past its limit and held onto your robe with a deathly grip. You turned towards Namjoon, recognizing the voice, “What is wrong with you!”
He took in your red figure and bloodshot eyes, but what was most surprising was you were wearing his blazer, “What’s wrong Y/n?”
You sunk against the wall, the way he looked at you made you cave in, “She-She was in the bathroom with me. ShecameupbehindmewhenIclosed the-the—,” deep inhale, ”mirrorandheldup her-her knifes to my neck!”
Namjoon bolted towards you picking you up before you sunk to the floor. He held your hands, stopping your flailing hands to get a look at your neck. Thick lines were inflamed across your neck. He could smell it too, a faint smell of death lingering on your skin. He weighted frown settled on his lips, this wasn’t supposed to happen. She had found you despite the protection you had because of his blazer. He had even placed one on the apartment when he left that night. He wasn’t expecting her ever to find you, much less taunt you. He thought he’d have more time, a year, before she went out looking for you.
Blubbering your words, “She said, ugggnnnhhh.”
“Shhh, Shhh, it’s okay, it’s okay.”
He had made an indirect promise to keep you safe, to figure this out, yet he wasn’t keeping it. You nearly died and right under his nose. Guilt bubbled in his stomach, how much more could he mess up?
“Pack some stuff and let’s go.”
You looked up at him in surprise, “Oh no, I’m not falling for that again.”
He frowned, “She’s only going to come back.”
“Where am I going to go? I have nowhere to go.” You raised your hand to your mouth nibbling on your thumb. Wouldn’t she follow you anywhere? Was anywhere safe?
He stepped back, “With me, you can stay with me. I have a house just outside the city. Until I can get this place cleansed you can’t come back here.”
“With you!” You scoffed, suddenly remembering your connection and pushing away from him. You still haven’t forgiven him, or completely trusted him. “I’m not going anywhere with you, the last time I did I nearly died! How do I know you’re not going to just do the same?”
He sighed, “The blazer, you have my blazer.”
“What about it.”
“Just like she has a piece of you,” he pulled at the lapel for emphasis, ”with that, you have a piece of me.”
You finally looked at what you were wearing, and you realized you had his blazer on. A hot flush covered your cheeks, and it deepened as you realized the intensity of what it really meant.
“Your soul is in this blazer?”
“The uniform is like a vessel, just like that dress. It holds a small bit of me, but it doesn’t harm you or transfer, instead…it protects you.”
You lessened your grip around the lapels, feeling a bit guilty for treating it so carelessly. For doubting his sincerity, it was just hard to trust anyone at this point. You still didn’t know if you could trust him fully yet though, he needed to earn that from you.
You ran a hand through your still wet hair, “Won’t she just follow me to your place.”
He smiled, “I’ll be there to protect you then if she does.”
You couldn’t find it in you to argue with him. Fiercely flicking your wrist, you pointed to your eyes then at him jabbing it a few times in his direction for emphasis, “ I’m trusting you, so…okay, give me a minute.”
“Leave the dress.” You didn’t bother answer him, you figured that much, and continued walking away to your room.
He watched as you walked away wrapped in his blazer with a quirk in his brows. You didn’t take it off after he pointed it out instead he watched you wrap it around you tighter.
What had he gotten himself into?
You weren’t capable of handling the responsibility of driving given your shaken state. He drove the both of you in your car over to his home with a stuffed duffle bag in the trunk. He drove twenty minutes away from your apartment to a suburban neighborhood where the streets were quiet and the homes were far apart from one another and well out of your budget. You had no idea this part of your city existed, maybe because you hadn’t lived here your whole life.
He pulled up to a stone pillared gate that had an elegant white fence concealing the estate from the outside world. On each side were two grand stone dogs that had their jaws open mid bark. He didn’t need to press a remote as they opened automatically for him. He drove in slowly away from the tarmac road onto a sun stone paved driveway. Along the driveway on both sides were various floral plants, shrubbery and trees. You could only assume much because it was so late and very dark, but the yard seemed to go on about a mile out. When he parked the car in front of the garage you were gawking at the huge, two story white transitional home. Lights were on inside of the home outpouring warm orange light that was so welcoming. You weren’t expecting this in the least, the white especially.
The first intelligent words out of your mouth were, “Wow, this home is beautiful.”
He smiled, “Thanks, just got it today.”
You looked at him, jaw hanging open. Today? Did he say today?
He shrugged, “Perks of being a Reaper.”
He got out of the car and opened the trunk. You came to your senses and flung the car door open and took your bag before he could. You didn’t want to impose any further on him. He chuckled under his breath and politely pointed towards the house for you to follow him. You stepped up a short staircase to a mid-size dark wood front door and engraved in the wood was an inverted torch. Ivy clung to border of the door and the white walls of the home and wrapped itself around the hanging lanterns. There was something mysterious about this place, it felt so magical.
Your eyes bulged as he opened the front door revealing the inside of his home. You weren’t in Kansas anymore that’s for sure, maybe not even Earth. He walked past you with natural ease, his dress shoes clicking on the polished marble flooring. When you were still standing outside, he looked back, “Take off your shoes and come in. My place is your place.”
You forced off your shoes hopping a bit, your duffle bag making you slightly lop sided, “What do you mean just go it today?”
He shrugged, “I don’t live ‘here’ per say…or anywhere really, so I got this place.”
You were about to question for more answers, but he left you standing there alone in the entry way. He walked through the house confidently to the kitchen. He opened the double doors of the fridge and looked over his shoulder, “Hungry?”
You deadpanned, “You know how to cook?”
He bit his lip, “No, but I can try. It seems easy.”
You were dumbfounded. This home was completely furnished, fully stocked and it looked like he had lived here for a while. It had that lived in cozy feel with the simple architecture but defining décor in a monochrome palette.
He dropped an assortment of vegetables on the table and slung a knife out the knife rack and begun cutting a carrot. When he depressed the knife half of the carrot flew right in front of you and across the room. You broke out of your stupor and ran over to him taking the knife from his hand, “No, no, no, you may be the Grim Reaper but stay away from cooking. I’ll cook, you do Reaper stuff…or something.”
He pouted then chuckled, “Are you sure? I can help at least.”
You picked a few vegetables out of the bunch, “Put the rest away and then wash these ones.” He followed orders easily and you were able to pick some more things out of the cabinets, and a dash of seasoning here and there. He found an apron for you to wear, “Don’t get the blazer dirty.”
You took off the blazer and placed it carefully over the back of a chair. You wrapped it around you, you didn’t even realize you left your house still wearing pajamas and his blazer. Your cheeks heated up, but you kept your eyes on the frying pan.
You plated two plates of stir fry in half an hour flat. You wiped the sweat off your brow, “Let’s eat.”
Namjoon sat down at the table eying the food like you had the house, “Wow.”
You laughed as you slid into the dinning chair, “It’s just stir-fry.”
He dug in immediately and practically moaned at the taste, “I haven’t had a home cooked meal…ever.”
You nearly dropped your fork, “Ever?”
He nodded but continued to shovel food in his mouth. You smiled and ate your food peacefully across from him. You had barely made it through half your plate when he was serving himself seconds. He was like a vacuum. It was such a simple dish, yet he was treating it like fine dining. You set your fork down after taking your last bite and he shyly looked up at you. He swallowed a lump of food then shoved around a vegetable with his fork suddenly modest, “Thank you for the meal.”
You giggled and took a napkin and gestured it towards the flakes of food around his mouth. He shyly took it and wiped his mouth. “You’re welcome.”
At this point you had completely forgotten about why you were at his house. However, you didn’t want to remain naïve to that comfort. You cleared your throat, “Who is she?”
He went silent chewing on a vegetable then swallowed it with a gulp of water. “Celina is a powerful resurgent. She’s was even one of the members of the Hecate Council. A council of only the most powerful witches. Her and her sister were one of the greatest witches to ever be a part of the council. However, that wasn’t enough for Celina. Secretly, against Hecate law, she started performing the Dark Arts.
They’re dark arts for a reason, it goes against the natural balance by betraying Hecate law. She learned cursed spells…and necromancy. The biggest sin by betraying Satera to interfere with life and death, but I’m responsible for maintaining the balance by collecting.
Celina was exiled when the council found out, her sister was exiled along with her from the council. Her whole family of prestigious witches was shamed for Celina’s betrayal to the Witch’s Oath.
Celina felt she had more potential than the council limited her to, so she went rogue and fully committed to the Dark Arts. She learned how to use her magic to achieve ‘pseudoimmortality’.
I’ve been chasing her for about a century, but she keeps changing form and finding new…host. But, resurging, it’s something that eventually eats you alive, literally. “
He took a big gulp of water, “She’s learned how to use objects to find her victims.”
He set down his fork and looked you in the eyes conveying a million things to you, but verbal unleashes the truth, “And you…you…happen to have one of them...her next host.”
His words hung heavy on your chest. Celina wasn’t an ordinary witch, she was your puppeteer.
You picked up your dishes and headed towards the sink wanting to distract yourself. Namjoon followed you, “Y/n, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said all that. She won’t bother you again.”
You turned on the faucet then turned towards him, “I know Namjoon. I know.” You took a sponge and rinsed off the dishes and placed them in the dishwasher.
Namjoon stepped in taking the dishes from you, “Guest shouldn’t clean.”
You nudged back in you weren’t raised to stand by, “Who knew the Reaper was so traditional.” He laughed nudging you with his elbow playfully.
He had showed you to a room soon after you both washed the dishes and cleaned up. You followed him up the stairs insisting you could carry your bag just fine. It felt odd being doted on by the Reaper. The second floor was just as impressive as the first. He walked down a warmly lit hall, stuffed bookshelves were about, plants with exotic flowers and figurines. You noticed the reoccurring crest of an inverted torch about the house.
He opened a door theatrically, “Your room.” He allowed you to walk in first. You looked around your room in awe, the room resembled a high-class hotel room. Luscious, thick carpet soothed your feet and you were instantly sure this was heaven. Your eyes focused on the queen-sized bed, the other furniture blurred as your eyes just focused on that single piece. You walked forward and tested it out by face planting into the comforter. Around you the fluffy comforter huffed as the air trapped within the fabric released sinking you into the softness.
Namjoon laughed from the doorway then trailed in and set your bag down by the edge of the bed, “Do you need anything?” You rubbed your heads into the comforter mumbling out no. He looked over his shoulders and smiled, you had already knocked out in a matter of seconds.
As soon as the door shut softly, the smile on his face dropped. His eyes swirled, and eyes turned black. He turned down the hall holding out his hand and in it apparated his scythe. His body slowly morphed as he dissolved into rolling, fine black dust as he dissipated. There were serious matters to deal with.
When you came down the stairs in the morning you found a note on the kitchen counter along with a key for the house for you to take. You went to work like normal, you felt protected. This route actually made it easier to get to and from work. When you came home you made dinner for yourself and Namjoon. He popped in unexpectedly appearing in the kitchen like a ghost, “I’m home.” You shivered tossing the potato you were peeling in your hand as your body trembled in fright. He caught it mid-air, “Whoa!”
You looked at him wide eyed, “Jesus! Don’t do that!” He set the potato down giving you that look of a scolded puppy, “Sorry, it’s just a habit.”
You sighed, at tapped his head like you would a puppy to comfort it. This was something you were going to have to get used to. “It’s okay.”
Over dinner Namjoon told you that it would take two weeks for your apartment to be cleaned. Yesterday you would’ve groaned, but you were quite content here for the meantime. Days passed and you started a routine in your new environment. You started warming up to Namjoon. You’ve come to be comfortable with his supernatural ways. You found out despite his chic exterior, he’s quite the goof ball. You’ve banned him from his own kitchen when he set a pan on fire. On quieter nights you asked him to explain things about the supernatural world and magic. He only confirmed some things, like werewolves were actually a thing, but he refused to go deeper than that. In his words, “There were just things you shouldn’t know.”
You came home through the front door shucking off your shoes. “Namjoon, I’m home!” As soon as your feet touch the cold tile you sigh in relief. Heels, why do they make you wear heels in an office? You make it a few steps into the house and Namjoon appears out of nowhere. You gasp holding a hand over your chest, “Jesus Christ! We’ve discussed this Namjoon, appear like a normal person.”
He chuckled, “Sorry, habitual.” He watched as you stung clung to the nearest item, “Would it make it up to you if I took you out to dinner?”
You raised a brow to him, “Your treat?”
“My treat.”
You smirked, “I guess I can forgive you then, let me get changed.”
He shook his head, “No need. You look nice.” He placed your shoes back in front of you silently bidding you to slip them back on. You wiggled your feet back into your shoes, feet protesting, but you weren’t going to pass up dinner.
He took your hand in his, “Ready?”
“Ready.” You began walking towards the front door again, but Namjoon yanked you back. You stumbled and landed in his chest with a huff and an apology. He wrapped his arms tight around you, and in the next second you were being consumed in smoke, “Namjoon!”
“Calm down, it’s going to be okay.”
You squeezed your eyes shut as the darkness rippled around you. You felt the world shifting around you and sudden a biting cold hitting your skin. You fought off the nausea as you staggered on the spot, but Namjoon held you up. You looked around noticing you were in an alleyway. “Namjoon, where are we?”
He took your hand, gently tugging you away, “You’ll see.”
You pulled your coat tighter around you with your free hand shivering a bit. You jogged a bit to walk next to him. Your tongue felt serpentious, “Can I pay you to take me to work in the morning? I’d really like an extra half hour of sleep if you could take me instead.”
A familiar smirk curling his lips, “My powers aren’t your taxi.”
You scoffed mumbling under your breath, “What is this then?” He kept moving forward unhearing of your sarcasm. Your hands were still entangled but you didn’t mind; his hands were very warm like a thermos. Winter was just around the corner, a few weeks before all the rustic leaves would take their final bow.
The alleyway was an inception as it opened up to one of the busiest streets downtown. You turned onto a smooth sidewalk falling naturally into the flow of pedestrian traffic. Namjoon altered his steps to match your footsteps. Whenever you’re alone going to work you feel the need to constantly look over your shoulder but standing next to Namjoon you don’t feel the need to do so. The walking talisman pulled you closer to the left alternating between people moving maximum speed.
You joked, “For a second I thought you were going to take me to Limbo again.”
He snorted, “No, no, I don’t plan to ever take you there again, unless—?” He raised a brow suggesting if you did want to, he could.
You punched his arm lightly. He banked further left in the crowd, “Come on.” He pushed a shop’s door open, the bell above dinging announcing your arrivals. The whistling of the espresso machine responded back to your entrance. You look over Namjoon’s shoulder and recognized the establishment. This was the same café where it all started. The familiar cooper lights, the barista with tired eyes, and it lacks the same pollution as the streets you just came from. Namjoon keeps walking and took you over to an empty booth, the same booth you both had met.
Confusion made you furrow your brows. “Why’d you pick this place?”
He waved over the waiter, “I thought this place needed a redemption. You know, give it a chance to be the place it is instead of a place where you got dumped.”
Narrowing your eyes at him, “Who said I got dumped!”
He shrugged, a fire flickering in his eyes, “A pretty lady sitting all alone with an unfinished cup of tea on a Friday night. I just took a wild guess.”
You felt your heart stuttering in your chest, did he call you pretty? You played it off coolly, “He probably was a loser anyways.”
The waiter comes over and leaves menus and glasses of water on the table. As you browse through the menu, “The scariest part about that night was the man who slid into my booth.”
He rolled his eyes, “How long are you going to hold that over my head?”
You shrugged. He set down his menu, “Next time wear pants to a date instead of a dress.” Your shoulders shook as you laughed, if only you wore pants that day. You missed it but a glimmer sparked in his eyes, he knew by the redness in your cheeks you were enjoying the teasing.
The waiter came back around and you both order dinner settling on getting the same thing. Not long after does the waiter come with your food. You poke around at your food, “Namjoon, how did you become…the Reaper.”
He looked at you silently while chewing his food, you knew that look. You could practically mock the words he spoke through his eyes: there’s just somethings you shouldn’t know. You ignore the look, “Oh come on Namjoon. Alright, fine, I’ll tell you something about myself then so were even.”
“I moved out here five years ago all by myself, fresh out of college. I wanted to move to the big city thinking that I could do it on my own. I moved in with a roommate after I couldn’t find a decent priced placed for cheap. It was nice because the person I lived with got me a job at the current place I work. She was a cool, but then it turned out she was sleeping with the boss. It got messy and she ended up leaving the company after his wife found out. She left the company and the apartment, so I had to leave. I luckily found the place I’m at now. It was either that or move back home and that was the last thing I could ever want.”
You looked up and made eye contact with the person in same position as Namjoon in the booth behind you. His eyes were wide as he averted his eyes the same time you did. You quickly sipped your hot drink; the steam could easily be blamed for your hot cheeks. You realized a bit too late you shared a bit too much.
He laughed into his coffee cup, not at you but your reaction. Hot liquid splashed onto his upper lips. He hisses and quickly wiped it away while still chuckling to himself.
“Fair enough.” He takes another sip of his coffee despite the sting.
“My great grandfather was the youngest of his siblings and the last to visit the Moirai. The Moirai were three sisters who bestowed fate. My great grandfather was a clumsy man, but an adventurer none the less. He always carried a sickle with him, a gift from his own father, Cronus.
On the day of his bestowment when he turned twenty-five, he was late to his own destiny. He got caught up in one of his adventures. He ran up the stairs of Fate and begged for forgiveness asking for another chance. Morta, one of the three sisters and goddess of death, stood up from her throne upset. She held up his thread with her scissors ready to cut the thread. He protested lunging up to stop Morta from severing his thread. In the process he tripped over his own thread, and when he landed his sickle pierced his heart. His blood tainted the thread and he died on the thread, but his fate didn’t end there. He awoke moments later, eyes completely black, because his blood tainted the thread that Morta was handling he changed his fate. His fate became to be the Reaper.
As a child I never wanted to be the Reaper. I wanted to go into education, teaching music, but that was never my destiny. The Grim Reaper before me was father, but his hour glass broke and fell before his time was up. I was only a boy, asleep in my bed when I was woken up by my Mother and I was told my father had passed. I had to take over immediately, before I turned twenty-five. There wasn’t time to mourn. The pits of hell needed to be tamed, the underworld commanded and to keep the river of Styx’s steady.”
“Why couldn’t your mother inherit the position? Why did you, so young, have to take it on?” You felt a bit of anger boiling, why would an adult put that much pressure on a child?
He smiled endeared by your reaction, “The responsibility is passed down through son. Although, women can be reapers, but they’re known as the Duximina’s. I may be the Grim Reaper, but I only have control of what happens over humans or humans turned supernatural like demons. The Duximina are reapers that can reap the supernatural. I obey Satera, but Duximina’s are of their own accord.”
The rim of your cup had coffee stains that reminded you of pulled waves leaving their foam residue. You ran your finger over the stains, the heat from your fingers softening it up. Namjoon was a young man who lived with the mind of an old man who had known suffering all too well. Although, you didn’t know his age, “How old are you Namjoon?”
He scratched at the underside of his chin jutting his chin in thought, “I stopped aging at twenty-five, because of the ‘curse’, but I will continue to live on until my time is up. I stop keeping track after three hundred, so I’d say—.”
You coughed choking on air, “Thr-three hundred?”
He looked around a few eyes were on you. He gestured with his hand towards them that you were alright, then he reached over patting your back. He passed you a napkin, “Is my age that surprising?”
You smothered the fire burning in your throat, voice hoarse, significantly quieter, “Did you say three hundred?”
He nodded, “I’d ask out of curiosity what’s yours, but I know its rude to ask a woman her age. I don’t want a felines death on my hands.”
“If we count my age in cat years, the cat would surely be dead.”
He bit his lip suffocating a laugh, “Glad I didn’t ask then.”
When you took a deep breath you got out, “Thank you Namjoon, thank you for telling me.”
His eyes softened up and just nodded, not really sure what to say. However, he found telling you easy. You were easy to talk to, easy to be around, easy to be with.
The foot traffic slowly trickled outside the window as the night prolonged on. Dinner with death was quite exceptional.
You split from Namjoon when you came home, a shower and a warm bed in your line up. You hummed contently, dinner had put you in bright sprits. You slipped your shirt off and pants changing into something more comfortable when you felt a chill rise your spine. Your nostrils filled with the scent of Earth. You turned towards the window, your curtains were gently flowing in the night breeze. You had this feeling, a pull, telling you to go towards it. You approached the window pulling aside the flowing curtains revealing an empty backyard lit up only by the moonlight. You heard your name being called melodically. You sought out the voice feeling an echo in your chest. It was calling you from somewhere out there. You froze as your eyes focused on a being levitating above the protected grounds outside the boundaries of the property. It was the Witch. Your eyes began to focus on the figure that called out to you in a changing voice that fills your room with her eerie timber. She was so far away yet she has power over you. Despite knowing what she was, you wanted to follow the enticing voice. Threads wrapped around your heart tugging you closer to the window. You brought a hand up to the cold glass, eyes glazing over as you let her control your instincts.
The door flung open, hard enough it put a dent in the wall. Namjoon swept over you like a crow with his expansive arms closing in around you and turning you away from the window. When he broke the spell, you felt like you were punched in the gut. You hunched over into his embrace groaning in pain.
He covered your eyes, “Don’t listen to her.”
He turned you into his chest and you buried your face in his chest covering your ears with your hands. You mumbled nonsense to overpower her spell. From deep within his system lava erupted, “I call upon the hounds.”
In the backyard hell hounds manifest mid stride from vapor. Despite cupping your hands over your ears tugging on your hair, feral barking resonates throughout the room. The sound dimed out until it was nonexistent and you as could only assume they chased the Witch far away.
He took your hands off your ears when it was safe. “Namjoon, what was that?” You clutched at his shirt feeling unsure about your stance.
He sighed, “It wasn’t her, just an animation of her. She can’t come inside these boundaries, don’t worry.”
Don’t worry? How were you not supposed to worry?
“I’ll stay until you fall asleep.” He closed the window and pulled the curtains. You got back in bed and he sat in the corner of the room like a guard dog. You found it hard to close your eyes, but eventually your eyelids felt heavy. You somehow were able to find sleep.
Days had passed since the animation had shown up. You’ve gone on with your life, there was no there was choice but to keep normalcy.
To keep with normalcy, you were watching TV in the living room. After a long day at work you sprawled out in your comfortable clothes across the couch. Namjoon slumped into the couch with you when he apparated in the living room, this time you didn’t flinch. You didn’t bother turning towards him as he sat, but you passed the popcorn to him. You were watching Family Feud and the host just asked, “Bad jobs for someone who’s accident prone.”
You hummed in thought then responded confidently, “Grim Reaper.”
Namjoon huffed in offense, “Hey!”
You chuckled and he sat through the show with you, stuffing popcorn into his mouth. He squinted, “That doesn’t make sense, why would a lawnmower be a thing you could use to cut vegetables?”
You pointed to the board and said, “Wait for it.”
Then sure enough the host called it and turned to the board and it was on the panel with ten people having suggested it. Namjoon huffed in disbelief, some popcorn waving out of the bowl as he threw his hands in the air.
You took the bowl form him for safety purposes. “The point is you have to think of illogical answers to logical questions. That’s how the game works.”
At some point he began pacing around the couch frustrated that his illogical guesses weren’t illogical enough. When he did start getting one answer right, he sat back down, competitive with the TV. You ended up spending all night on the couch watching a marathon of Family Feud. He looked over to you calling your name, but when you didn’t respond he looked over to you. He realized he was debating on his own and you had fallen asleep curled up on the opposite end of the couch. He turned off the TV and carried you up the stairs like a princess and tucked you in bed. It became routine for you both to watch the show when he came home from wherever he went. You tried asking him where he went, but he gave you a vague response, “Everywhere.” You’d facepalm, there was never any clarity with him.
Namjoon had left his door open to his room one day, and you peeking inside wondering if he wanted breakfast with you. You stepped inside reluctantly calling his name, but there was no response. He had already gone for the day. You looked around his room, you’ve never been in there before. The furniture in his room was dark and monochromatic like the rest of the house. The first thing that caught your eye was the impressive library. You glanced over the curious book titles such as Blood testing for Vampires, Textual Power for Newts, and Sociological Incantations. There were books in Latin, but you didn’t bother even touching those.
There was a column dedicated to leather bound books. You were about to reach for one, but a wave of nausea came over you. You clutched onto the book shelf holding a fist up to your lips burping up a putrid bubble. You felt sick to your stomach suddenly, the books could wait for later. You felt the sudden need to lay down. You wanted to head back to your room, but an intense wave of nausea washed over you and you crashed onto Namjoon’s bed. Tears welled up in the corners of your eyes, everything was fuzzy. When an intense pain came over you, that was the final blow, then you saw nothing.
Shaking you awake Namjoon’s voiced echoed in your ears until it became crystal clear. You came face to face with Namjoon; his face was covered in dirt and dark smears of red. You sat up haphazardly, “What happened to you?”
He disregarded your question, voice simmering, “What’s wrong? Why are you in my bed?”
You blinked awake taking his chin between your fingers turning his head to inspect for any injury, “Let’s get this checked out.”
You both were avoiding eachothers questioning. You slipped off his bed and into the bathroom wetting a washcloth and went back to him to clean him up. You ran the wet cloth carefully over the gunk on his face. He asked again, “What-happened?”
“I came looking for you,” you realized it was late in the evening, ”but …I felt dizzy for a moment, then took a nap. Sorry I slept on your bed.”
He cupped your cheek taking your attention away from him, “Are you okay?”
You nodded, “I feel better after taking a nap.” You did, you felt fine.
He nodded, not fully trusting your word but he let you continue your work, “Are you okay? Will you tell me where you’ve been? No avoiding the question Joon.”
Earlier…earlier he…
He had been collecting a soul in Limbo when he felt it. He raised his scythe to his kneeling victim who was rubbing their hands together begging for a second chance. Namjoon scoffed, “A man who hurt his own children and wife doesn’t deserve a second chance. “ He raised his scythe and ripped the soul out of the demon who dared to beg at his feet. The body began dissipating and eventually dissolved into the fog. A muddy brown sludge dripped off his scythe into his hand. He collected the sludge into a ball of sin and crushed it in his hands, “Satera: Ego hoc animo metitur seges. Expiet aeternum non solum pacis sitque terras.” The dirty soul dried up from his hands as he opened his hands back up.
Edax growled from his cave and it echoed throughout Limbo. He felt the echo of vibrations within the stem of his scythe. He didn’t have to seek it out, a crippled hand busted through the soil and the body crawling its way up make the soil boil. A head erupting following shoulders, the other hand, then a torso. The grey being with a head coming from the soil. Namjoon’s nose filled with the scent of rotting meat as the dark macabre emerged from its grave. She stood tall with dark soil falling from her figure. She was wearing that dress…that dress. It hung limply from her decrepit form. A smile formed on her lips, “Hello Namjoon.”
If hatred filtered through the air, the dense fog would be dyed scarlet. Namjoon readied his scythe, “Celina!”
She wasted no time in crookedly running towards him with a shrill scream. He raised his scythe and prepared for the worst. Her dried skin hung to her thin skeleton like body like leather, yet there was so much force in her actions. She crossed blows and he did his best to block them with his scythe and returned with equal force. Her frantic, violent movements were meant to smash him into the Earth from where she had risen.
It was odd she wasn’t using magic, he knew this witch was capable of terrifying things. He lifted her up with his scythe and threw her a few feet off of him. Like an animal on all fours, she bolted her way towards him and lunged at him snarling like a beast. The impact sent the both of them rolling and she kept mauling towards him. They rolled a few times and Namjoon landed under her, her bloody fingers reached out to his face grabbing at him. She scratched at his face and tried digging her fingers into his eyes. She wanted him obliterated, destroyed with nothing left of him but pieces. He concentrated his strength and rolled again with her under him and he continued rolling in the dirt. A wave of soil came off him as he summersaulted to a stand. Taking the opening chance, he swung his scythe and severed her in half. A gut wrenching scream filled the air as he raised his sludge tainted blade one more time. He took this opportunity and severed her head, it rolled cutting through the fog.
He was panting hard, covered in soot and blood, his face was scratched, but he was glad that was all that had happened.
The skull remained in the soil chuckling, “I’m still coming for her Namjoon. You’re not going to stop me. I will always win. Her soul is mine.”
He growled and chopped down the blade going straight through her skull severing the last piece of her. The Lich disintegrated back turning into soil.
Namjoon clenched his scythe in his hands, and roared into the fog, “CELINA!”
He was so close, so close.
“I was summoned.” You remained silent. You knew exactly what that meant, and it explained more than enough for you.
He sighed, “You…can go home now.” Your home had been cleansed for a few days, but he didn’t want to tell you, earlier just solidified that. He wanted you to stay within his grasp where he could protect you. More so, he looked forward to coming home, a home, because there was someone there. A Persephone to his hadistic life.
He quickly followed, “You don’t have to go back, you can stay.”
Two weeks had passed by so quickly. You lowered your hand with the dirty rag. Those dark eyes you’ve become accustom to looking at morning and night, his constant dark attire, and slightly disheveled hair and dorky smile. You would love to stay here. This home was beautiful and felt like home more than your own apartment had ever. You felt protected here…but so was your home now. Things were going to be better. Namjoon was looking over you so she wouldn’t bother you again.
It was going to be okay.
You finished cleaning his face, careful of the scratch marks, “Thank you Namjoon, but I’d like to go home.”
He swallowed any protest, gritting his teeth but he respected your decision despite how much he wanted to argue against it. If he protested harshly you would begin to worry and question things, “Leave in the morning then, it’s too dark out.”
There was a moment of silence between the both of you. You glanced at the discarded scythe on the floor and picked it up. You handed it back to him, “Okay.”
“Okay.” It was going to be okay.
Life went back to normal, you left Namjoon’s home the following morning and it’s been weeks since you’ve moved back home. As Namjoon promised, there weren’t any more incidents with Celina, however, there was always this looming feeling. You never felt truly safe, at least not the way you felt when you were at his home or when he was around. You could take care of yourself though.
Namjoon visited your apartment for dinner every night and often stayed longer after dinner. Your apartment was fairly small, but the giant somehow fit on the couch when he fell asleep watching TV with you. You didn’t mind, you weren’t sure you were comfortable living alone anymore. The couch felt too spacious when he wasn’t hogging about seventy-five percent of it.
You were making dinner the other day when all the sudden he stood up from his chair. He knocked the chair from under him, “I have to go.” You didn’t get a chance to bid him goodbye, he vaporized and only the tossed chair was evidence he was just there. The sizzling of the food in the pan filled the room, as your previous giggling at his joke died out. Just like that, you were alone again.
That was just how things were, and that was okay. Things were okay.
You walked up the stairs to your apartment and took out your keys out of your purse as you walked up. You hummed a tune that played twice as you were making it home on the radio. A funky smell intensified as you walked up the stairs, maybe your neighbor was cooking something rotten again. You came up to your apartment door trying not breath in the foul smell. You covered your mouth with your sleeve picking up speed towards your apartment. You haphazardly jammed your key into the lock then froze when your shoe squelched as you stepped on your welcome mat. You looked down finally noticing the source of the foul smell. Flies eagerly swarmed around the severed pig head that was discarded below your feet like the mat was a dinner platter. Vivid burgundy near black blood from the head had soaked in the doormat. You dropped your keys and into your sleeve you suppressed a scream. You didn’t want to disturb or notify your neighbors. You picked up your keys with a shaky hand and opened your door up and quickly ran into the kitchen to grab a plastic bag and dust pan. You hesitated, reached out once then pulled back screaming in your throat then bit the bullet and shoveled the head into the bag with the pan. With a paper towel you picked up your doormat and blood dripped in a stream off an edge. You quickly packed it into the trash bag avoiding getting it on you, holding back the gag with all your might. You rushed back inside and got bleach and a scrub brush. You got down on your knees covering your mouth with your wrist. You poured bleach onto the blood diluting the coagulated redness replacing the slaughterhouse smell with something equally as intense. You scrubbed furiously, but the cement was stained. You wiped up as much as you could, tossing the dirty rags in the trash bag.
You made haste towards your apartment’s dumpster. As you walked you held your breath not wanting to take in anymore of that putrid smell. The fear from earlier turning to anger. There was only so much intimidation a person could take before they snapped. You hated this! You hated that she was tormenting you, reminding you that you were tied to her. You tossed in the bag hearing it thud in the hollow bin.
A wave of dizziness suddenly over took you. You heaved and felt a sudden thickening of your saliva with an impressive wave of nausea. You held onto the edge of the bin and began dry heaving. The same dizziness you felt about a few weeks ago at Namjoon’s home. Your heaved once then as much as you tried preventing it you puked. You watched as a pile of mud mounded at your feet splashing onto your shoes. You wiped away the mud at your mouth, it tasted terrible. You looked at your hand noticing the dark sludge. Why were you throwing up dark sludge!
Something was terribly wrong!
You stumbled back up to your apartment. You slammed the door behind you and ran into your room. You yanked Namjoon’s blazer off the hanger and threw it on shoving your arms into the sleeves one at a time. You marched back out into the darkness of your living room standing in the center. You coughed then heavily breathed in, “Namjoon!” You screamed into thin air, “Namjoon!”
Moments later a thick black swirling cloud appeared in front of you. Namjoon’s head was leaning back and he slowly dipped it forward, soot eyes rumbling and smoky. He looked over you and was about to ask what was wrong, but you cut him off, “Why did you lie to me!”
You changed your train of thought, “Tell me what I gotta do.”
He sputtered approaching you, “What?”
You grabbed onto the lapels of his new blazer, “What. Do. I. Have. To. Do. Tell me!”
He grabbed onto your hands trying to release them, but you were tightly gripping, “Tell me what happened first?”
You loosened your grip and paced around for a moment, “A pig’s head on my doorstep that’s what! I can’t let you just try to solve everything Joon, I want to do something! I’m tired of just waiting around for this Witch. I can’t keep living like this! So, tell me! Tell me what I gotta do to help you Namjoon!”
He stepped closer stopping you from pacing. He wiped away the dirt and looked at it sadly, shamefully, he’s been working endlessly, traveling to different realms to find her, but every tendril he latched onto lead him to a loose end.
You shoved his hands away and sat down, wrapping your arms around your chest, the weight of everything adding onto your shoulders. “I’ve looked up who Satera, necromancy, and all this is. I wanted to know what I was dealing with.”
While at Namjoon’s you found some books that had the names of things that sounded familiar. It led you down a rabbit hole giving you more answers than Namjoon had ever. Satera was the goddess of Balance, a Titan of Earth and is the keeper of souls. You found out why witches weren’t supposed to deal in necromancy. Bringing someone back from the dead was cheating Satera and in order for Earth to be balanced a soul had to be collected. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.
His eyes widen, fatigue showing through his normally passive demeanor. Anger was building in his system, just what have you been sticking your nose into.
Most importantly, “Namjoon, you said that the dress tainted my soul.”
He nodded, “Why are you stating the obvious y/n?”
You sat and thought for a second back to a passage you read, “If-if I have a tie to her because of that dress and her soul has tainted me, then that means…I have magic too, don’t I?”
He was quite for a moment, worried if he spoke it will only inspire pandora. “I don’t think it works that way Y/n.” He shook his head in disbelief, going over a thousand more rejections in his mind.
You stood up he wouldn’t look you in the eyes when he said that. He wasn’t even humoring you! “If I do, then I have to fight her! We have a fighting chance against her. I have to put an end to this! So tell me, Namjoon! Let me help you!”
He turned around opaque, black smoke spilling out his mouth, “Then what? What if you get hurt and die? If I submit the wrong soul, then I get punished and I’m gone forever! I’ll end up just like my father! You’re not the only one on the line Y/n! If they find out—Satera finds out—that a human is working alongside me—!”
You raised your voice, “But I’m not completely human right now, I’m partial to the taint, you know that! It’s all the more reason for me to help! We have to try Joon! We can’t keep running into dead ends!”
He was firm, “No, you’re not getting involved in this.”
You argued, “I can’t keep looking over my shoulder wondering when she’ll appear!”
“Just let me take care of it!” he growled.
Words flew from your mouth, “And you see how well that’s going!” You felt regret as soon the venom left your spit, you had pushed harder than was wise. Yet, it was true. You felt so useless, a coward, you hated feeling this way. You hated feeling so vulnerable. His protection was only going so far because she kept finding ways to get to you.
He hard paused, hurt passing over his expression, “I’m-doing-the-best-I-can.”
Your lower lip quivered words slowly making way out of your mouth, “But it’s not enough.”
He steamed right up to you, chest to chest as he enunciated every hot breathy word. “NO! ENOUGH! Enough of—this! That’s the end of this discussion. You’re-not-getTING- INVOLVED!” He panted over your face, neatly tucked hair falling out of its place.
The both of you stood there, your glassy eyes intensely locked on his, you weren’t backing down, not even in the face of death. The air between you was ice cold. He took a deep breath closing his eyes centering himself again. The crimson drained out of his face, face unreadable as there was no typical smirk or dimples. He showed you his back, opening his eyes afterwards. There was a beat of silence when neither of you spoke and he was gone.
When he was gone a tear rolled down your cheek. You weren’t going to give up. With no fire there is no smoke, but sparks were coming.
You knew Namjoon wasn’t home during the day, off in the Hellscape or somewhere. After the argument the molten behind your words still were rumbling; you thought over and over how you could solve this on your own. With or without Namjoon. You drove to Namjoon’s home a few days later with a semblance of plan. Your car drove through the sea of orange and red leaves and they waved around your car as you drove through the suburban streets. You pulled into Namjoon’s driveway and the gate opened for you. You parked in front of the house, not bothering to properly park. You walked up the steps to the inverted torch crested front door. You traced your hand over the torch a tingling sensation tickled your fingertips, “I’m sorry Namjoon, but I must do this.”
You stuck your hands in the ivy that surrounded the door fishing for the extra house key. When you hand felt cold metal, you plucked it off a vine. The key itself resembled a torch except the blade was sawed like a normal key. You stuck it in the lock and twisted it waiting for the click. You turned the knob and pushed inwards. You locked the door behind you and took your shoes off at the entrance. “Namjoon? Namjoon are you home?” Your voice echoed throughout the house, but there wasn’t a echo back.
You bolted for Namjoon’s room. While contemplating, tossing and turning in bed, you remembered the bookcases in his room. He must keep something, maybe vital information, within one of those books. He always had his nose in one of those when he wasn’t watching TV with you. You just knew that there had to be something in there that could help you. You skidded as you rounded the banister, the rug bunching up as you drifted. You ran down the hallway, adrenaline running through your veins in anticipation. You knew you had a few hours before he came home. The exotic plants in the hall shivered as you zoomed past. You flung Namjoon’s bedroom door open. The large room was neatly kept, rays of light filtered in through the large windows breaking through the ash tree outside his window. It strongly smelled like him too, outlandishly of charcoal mixed with natural, delicate scents. You cautiously set down your purse on a bench. You avoided going through his desk, the only thing out was an hour glass that was top heavy. Facing the expansive library, “Speak to me books.”
You browsed through his books, taking a few down from the shelfs. You weren’t sure what you were looking for, but something’s gotta give. Book after book came up with no details that could help. You touched a book shelf and it tingled just like the door had. You kept holding onto the feeling and trailed your hands along the spines of the books. The sensation picked up as you moved right skipping bookcase after case. The sensation kept building and building vibrating your skin until it stung. Yeowing you pulled your hand back like you just touched fire. You stopped in front of a bookcase filled to the ceiling with leather bound books. You were going to test your theory, you felt silly, but you spoke out like you saw all wizards in movies, “Reveal something.” You cautiously reached back and delicately touched the books. You pulled out a book upon instinct and flipped to the first page. The journal that didn’t look a part of this century or from this century. Three hundred wasn’t a joke was it?
You felt guilty for looking through it, your conscious telling you to put it down, that this was a bad idea. You shoved those thoughts back, you needed answers. You flipped through the brittle pages, but a lot of what was written was in an ancient language or Latin. Some pages were missing as the binding was falling apart from where the original creator had sewed the binding. You placed it back on the shelf and picked through more journals. You should’ve brought a Latin dictionary with you. The journals changed according to the time frame, but it was hard to place which volume came before the next. The last journal in the row was a black leather book with rounded edges. Your eyes were growing tired after going through about fifty some books. You kept flipping through the journal, some pages started halfway, some only had a top sentence, while others were just empty. You and found a passage in a readable language.
You traced your fingers over the word:
“Debt soils the heart
drives the mind mad.
I couldn’t save him…I couldn’t save her either.
I’m sorry.”
Couldn’t save him…her?
Numbers and letters were scribbled below the monologue. You turned the journal wondering if changing your perspective would give you a new view. You sat there staring at it. Couldn’t-save-him, debt, what does that mean. You pulled out your phone and plugged the numbers and letters into google and an address popped up. This was it! Maybe this place could help you! You quickly took a picture of the address and slid the journal back in place along with the rest of the books. You checked the room over once and picked up your purse. You needed to go before he came back.
You closed his bedroom door with a click as you turned around you ran straight into something. You boomeranged backwards and caught yourself on the doorframe. Namjoon had his arms crossed over his chest, “What were you doing in there?”
“I-I I left behind something in my room…and I used the extra house key to get in. I didn’t want to bother you about it.” You righted yourself trying to find some structure.
He titled his head to the side, “That doesn’t explain why you were in my room.”
You brushed the hair out of your face feeling a heavy blush creeping up your neck, “I…I was…I missed you.”
His arms feel down to his side, features softening up and a hesitant dimpled smile appearing on his face. A blush you didn’t know could exist on his face blossomed. “Oh,” that was his only response.
You bit on your bottom lip, it wasn’t a complete lie. You had missed him, you hated that the first time you saw eachother again was because of that.
He softened up, “I’m sorry about the other day, I shouldn’t have reacted that way. But I still don’t want you getting involved.” He rubbed his hands together, “I just…you’re already involved enough.” He bit his tongue, swallowing his pride, “Would you come back? Your apartment isn’t safe, no type of cleansing or spell over your apartment is going to keep her away.”
A dead rat in equal condition showed up in place of where the pig’s head was the next day. You didn’t want to stay there longer to find out what else was going to show up.
“Okay,” but he didn’t have to know that you weren’t going to give up.
Dimple sink his cheeks as he sighed in relief, the brought you into an unexpected hug. He kept you in a strong embrace as if holding you wasn’t quite enough. You could feel every part of him as he pressed you tightly against him. You yelped then sunk into the warmth, your stomach fluttering at the feeling of his body pressing into yours. When you wrapped your arms around his waist and squeezed him back his dimples became craters. You rested your cheek against his chest and heard a strong heartbeat. “I’m sorry too Joon.” He squeezed you humming in relief as an answer. You wondered if he could feel your beating heart too?
He asked against your hair, “Are you hungry?”
You laughed tapping his back once, untangling yourself from his embrace. You walked backwards towards the staircase with a side of your lips raised, “As long as you’re not cooking.”
He blinked hard jutting his chin out towards you, “Hey, I’ve gotten better! I’ve only burnt one pan since you’ve left.”
He watched your face evolve from a felines smirk to that of a classic horror film. “Namjoon, you did not!”
He walked past whistling like he had no care in the world with a fool’s smile. You followed after him, “Namjoon, was that the only thing you burned?”
Surely enough, that wasn’t the only thing he burned.
Namjoon had fallen asleep on the couch next to you as you were watching Family Feud. You searched up the address you had taken earlier. The first result that came up was a pawn shop downtown. You did some research on the shop, but nothing particularly odd came up. All the reviews were about how they got a fair price on antiques and knick-knacks. It was nearly midnight and you decided you’d have to call tomorrow on your lunch break.
You turned off the TV and got up with a grunt. You picked up the book off of Namjoon’s face and set it on the coffee table. You pulled the throw blanket off the back of the couch and splayed it over him. You squatted down and situated a pillow under his head carefully. He smacked his lips a few times as he adjusted his head into comfortable position. You brushed the hair out of his face and kept petting unconsciously. A full minute had passed before you noticed you were longingly staring. This man was a nightmare when you first met him, he was going to have you killed, but here you were, tucking him in for the night.
You leaned in and pressing your lips to his forehead, “Night Joon.”
He was dead asleep, but you swore a faint smile pulled at his lips.
Tomorrow, you were going to figure things out. There was always tomorrow.
From the images you saw of the place online it looked like a place for eccentric hippies or kooky rich people. You snuck away from your coworkers and sought out a place where you could make a phone call in private. Your leg has been shaking under your desk all day counting the hours on the clock until you could make this call. You crossed an arm over your mid-section as dialed the number you found. When the dial tone kept ringing, you nibbled on your thumb.
A man picked up, “The Strange and Unusual Pawn Shop, how may I satisfy your curiosity?”
You swallowed, you honestly didn’t prepare well for this. You thought back to the script…him…her, you tried the later, “I was wondering if… she was there?”
He questioned, “Who?”
You honestly had no idea who “she” was, so you tried it again with an emphasis, “You know…her.”
You cleared your throat a bit, embarrassed to say it out loud, “She’s the only one that can help me. She knows someone important.”
He chuckled, “Sorry kid, can’t help you.”
You shouted into the speaker, “No, wait! I’m not some kid looking for Hogwarts, or a basement dweller that lives in their parents’ house, I—I need to—. You know what, forget it!”
You were about to hang up when the guy on the line said, “Miss, I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m sorry, but…the magician you’re asking about, she doesn’t work here anymore.”
So there was a she! At the same time, you felt your heart drop, what were you supposed to do now. You were going to have to start from scratch again.
He sighed into the receiver, “Look…I’m not supposed to do this, but whatever it is, it sounds really important. Here, write this down.”
You scrambled and pulled a pen out of your pocket and began writing down the address he was giving you on a receipt from your coffee run this morning. You sighed in relief, “Thank you, you have no idea, thank you.”
He chuckled, “Good luck,” then hung up.
You went back to work but headed straight towards the bathroom. You pulled out hair from its neatly tucked position and slapped your cheeks a few times. You lightly patted some water on your face and neck before you booked it out the bathroom towards your boss’s office. You knocked on the door and heard a muffled come in. You breathed in a structuring breath, counting down the seconds… and action!
You held onto the door knob and pushed open the door dramatically stumbling into the office. Your legs were bow legged with a case of clubfoot as you leaned on the door feverishly panting. You swallowed and held a hand up to your perspiring forehead, “I’m so sorry, but I don’t think I can make it through the rest of the day.”
Your boss looked up at you with a panicked look, “Oh my God! O-k-okay, go home and rest up Ms. Y/L/N.”
You nodded squeezing your eyes shut, “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry. I promise I’ll make it.”
Your boss asked, “Are you able to make it home okay?”
You waved him off with your hand, “Yes, yes, I’ll be fine.”
You began closing the door as he looked at you sympathetically, “I’m sorry.”
With a click of the door you speed walked over to your desk, still holding up the façade of illness. Your coworkers asked if you were alright and you coughed to play it up. You packed your stuff assuring them you just needed to go home. You took the elevator and as soon as the door closed you let a smirk rise on your face. The elevator opened up to the parking garage, your heels clacked and echoed in the parking lot. You pulled your hair out of its tight confides and shook it loose. You threw your purse into your passenger seat and set your GPS to the address the clerk had given you. You were going to chase the smoke and dig into the ashes to find the heart of it all.
You drove through the city and ended up in a neighborhood where tightly packed townhomes went on for about twenty blocks. The townhomes were classic brick, three story tall homes with white windows and black iron fences. You found a spot luckily right in front of the address, the street was practically empty since it was still working hours. You stared at the quaint home through your passenger window, the home seemed so…innocent. You rounded about your car and stepped up onto the sidewalk as a young jogger ran past you. The community seemed to be family friendly and young. Was the woman you were about to meet young as well? Was she a past lover of Namjoon’s? Steeling your lips, you needed to find out if she could help you rather if she shared overtly friendly embraces with Namjoon.
You pushed open the gate and climbed up the cement stoop to a white door that had golden numbers reading off 45730. You lifted the gold door knocker and tapped it three times then stepped back. Behind you another jogger ran past, but this time with a speedy canine. You turned to watch them, patiently waiting for someone to answer the door. You were about to knock on the door again when you heard the lock turning. The door fully opened, and words left you, heart falling silent, you couldn’t will your lips to move. You gawked at the woman before you who had a wonky gait, probably from arthritis, as she pulled the door open. She was seventy at minimum considering the deep-set wrinkles that could rival canyons. Her height reached no more than five two and her width was plump. Her ghostly, thick grey hair was neatly braided, and it hung over her shoulder hanging down to her waist. Her deep set eyes propped on pink, cracked cheeks were cloudy and ashy like her hair, not the albino type though. You swear they pillowed like smoke as they focused on you. In short you realized, she was blind.
Her articulate voice was soft, “Hello, may I help you?”
You stuttered, “H-Hello, I’m Y/n. I’m looking for…the magician.”
She scoffed muttering “magician” mockingly under her breath. She adjusted the purple shawl on her shoulders, “There’s no magician here.”
She began shutting the door on you, but you stuck your foot in the door, grunting as the door slammed your toes. “W-ooO-wait, wait, please!”
She opened the door back up, releasing your toes. You massaged your foot hissing, “Please, just let me ask you some questions. I need your help.”
Her face fell, wrinkles sagging at the depression. She looked away from you, “I’m sorry, but the witch isn’t in anymore.”
You stood there in stupor as she slammed the door in your face. Punctuation taken. You weren’t convinced though, you knocked on the door with both hands until your knuckles hurt. “Please, please, I’m going to die if you don’t help me.” You kept knocking, but the tempest didn’t respond to your pleas. Dampness built in the corner of your eyes as your knocks turned into sluggish thuds. A carousel of thoughts passed through your mind, and each one gets more toxic in its turn. Blisters were forming on your knuckles, “Please.”
You turned around and slumped down on the staircase with your head in your hands. What were you going to do now?
The door slowly creaked open again, “Come in, don’t start attracting attention now.”
You sprung up to your feet, fixing your hair up and wiping the budding water in your eyes. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
She stepped aside and let you in to her home.
The house was larger than the outside led on. You were a bit worried that she would run into things, but she navigated perfectly fine. Her furniture isn’t rounded but sharp like the creator intended. She trailed her hand over her dining table, “Take a seat, I’ll prepare some tea.” You looked up and hanging above the table was a swirled chandelier where cream candles of various sizes burned, and their wax dripped down the side like stalagmites from the edges.
You pulled out a red mid-century chair and sat down tucking your feet under you and your purse on your lap. The table was wooden, but unevenly painted teal and the chairs were mismatched that came from different times and styles. In the center of the table an incense was burning, but the ashes disappeared as it fell. She came back to the table with equally mismatched tea cups onto the table. You accepted it with both hands, “Thank you.”
She smiled, the wrinkles on her face deepening for a split second. “Green tea…it calms the nerves. I can hear your heart beating and I’m sure they can hear it in kingdom come too.”
Your face heated up, were you that obviously nervous even to a blind woman?
“I’m sorry to bother you, I called the pawn shop and they told me you were here.”
“Call me Kaya, child.”
You introduced yourself formally, “I’m Y/n.”.
She stirred her tea twirling her finger above the liquid and naturally it swirled. Your jaw dropped, simple acts of magic still impressed you. You were still getting used to this world. She spoke casually, her voice melodically filling the room, “I used to help out there, but I’ve retired from my ways a very long time ago.”
She sipped her tea with a hum of content, you followed along taking the perfectly warm cup in your hand carefully sipping from the rim. The taste is absolutely delicious, you felt a wave of calmness as it washed down your throat.
“Why are you here child? What can an old, blind hag do for you?”
You aren’t sure where to start, “I bought a dress that belonged to a witch.”
The woman across from you a-ha’s as if she knows the rest of your story. She set down her tea and stretched out her hand palm up. On her wrist was a tattoo of a wheel, but it was crossed out erratically as if it was scratched by a cat as her sleeve raised up. “Give me your hand child.”
You placed your hand in hers. Her oddly bony, cold hands ran over yours and she hummed, she squeezed your hand tight as she grunted. Fatigue plagued her suddenly worn face, “A terrible witch has touched your soul child.” She continued to run her hand along the veins in your hand, humming as she finds specific spots. “What about the dress child?”
“She was a resurgent.” She dropped your hand like she touched fire. Your knuckles thunked against the table and you brought them back to your lap shyly.
She hissed, “Resurgent?”
You swallowed hard, “Yes…and that dress, she wore it when she did her thing, so now I’m her next target.”
With a bit of confidence you scooted to the edge of your seat pursing your lips, you wanted to be honest with her, “I did some research and because I’ve been…tainted by her…some of her is with me. So, I want to know…, “you mess with your hands unable to meet her gaze, “do I have the ability to do magic as well? Am I a witch now because our souls are tangled?”
You sat in silence for a moment as she debated internally. It was the same way Namjoon had reacted when you told him. The longer she remained silent the more anxious you felt, were you unsalvageable? You sipped a bit of your tea. She bravely reached across the table again, taking your hand and brought your hand up to her chest over her heart and stared directly into your eyes. Her eyes swirled iridescently as she sought within your soul. When she let go she was panting holding onto the tabletop. You caught yourself coughing when she let go, but shakily stood up and rushed rushed over to her, “Are you alright Ma’am? What just happened?”
She looked up at you, her forehead dripping sweat. “Child, you’re not dealing with just any necromancer…if I think who I think you’re dealing with then…,” she looked away, maybe even afraid to mutter the words.
You speak them for her, “Celina.”
Her eyes widened, you spoke the exact words she dared not to. Solemnly she repeated, “Celina.” She rose from her seat and silently you followed her as walked back towards the stairs, slowly taking each step at a time with a huff. You took her hand and moved it to your forearm to help her up. She smiled and thanked you. When we reached the top of the stairs, she still held onto your hand and led you to a huge room where a large, black, cast iron cauldron was at the edge of a long working table. Unmatched Bookcases were filled with books and other shelfs had various sized and shaped bottles filled with potions. In the bottles some potions boiled, swirled about a toxic looking smoke, or ominously glowed. Crystals grew along a wall and different species of plants hung from the ceiling, some followed your movements. A gentle fire burned in a fireplace, you didn’t remember there being a chimney from the outside.
She let go of your hand and walked up to a bookcase. Some of the books jingled and shifted as she trailed her hand along their spine, “There.” She brought out a red orange, leathery book and opened it to a page she had memorized. She skimmed over the words with her fingers nodding along as she read them, despite them not being brail she was perfectly able to read them. She clapped the book shut with one hand, “That Lich, creating Vasanima.”
You repeated the last word but butchered it, “Va-shawn-minya?”
The witch laughed kindly, “Vasanima child.” She tapped her cheek with her finger as she propped her head into her palm, “She split up her soul and that dress, a Vasanima, holds a piece of her soul…but whomever takes new ownership of the item a part of their soul gets sucked in too, tangling with the creators like a contract.”
She hesitated to tell you more, “You are right child, you have great magic within you.”
You blurted out, “Will you teach me?”
She closed her eyes and shook her head putting away the book, “I don’t practice anymore.”
You begged, “Please, I need to know. You said I do have magic!”
“I don’t practice anymore.” She gathered her hands in front of her like a prissy cat. “You may leave if tha—.”
Your stomach felt full of lead, “I’m going to die if I don’t! Satera is going to come for me instead and Namjoon is going to die! I don’t want to die!”
She whipped her head to the side, “Namjoon?”
You grabbed her hand encasing them in yours surprising her with your sudden movements. You felt the tingle between you again, “Please, please, I’ll do anything! Teach me how to do witchcraft, magic, wizardry, whatever this is, please, please…please teach me.”
She grabbed onto your forearms and stared you in the eyes again, her pearls were swirling jaw going slack for a moment. She heavily sighed, blinking away the intensity, “Hold out your hands and repeat after me: Evigilare.” Her voice rang through your body like a gong, knocking on an unopened gate.
You held out your arms in front of you, palms facing up, and tested the word out, “E-Evi-gil-are.”
She scoffed, “Confidence child.”
You clear your throat and lick your lips, “Evigilare!”
A tingling pins and needles sensation shot up your suspended limbs. You hissed wanting to rub the pinching pain away, but you fought against the urge knowing you were to endure this. The acute feeling eases out into a pulse in your fingertips then your throbbing fingertips begin glowing. Suddenly flames licked and engulfed your hand. Your vision shifts, and you see colors like you’ve never seen them before, green flickering flames ghost between rose, magenta, then back to green. You let out a yelp expecting excruciating pain, but the burn never came. It felt smooth and silky, like fire was running in your veins, and intense overwhelming power. Power…magic, this was witchcraft. It was so powerful vibrating through your whole system, “Ms. Kaya is this…is this magic?”
She doesn’t have to see to know, she feels the great energy emitting from you in her bones. She feels it, “That’s magic child.”
“Will you teach me then?”
She grabbed onto your wrist and the flames in your hands extinguish like an off switch. Your eyes bugged, how was she able to do that!
“If you must defeat her…then I will teach you.”
You light up, surging forward to hug her, “Thank you, thank you.” The building tears from earlier coming back with a vengeance. You break down in her arms, muttering out snotty thank you’s.
Her hard smile turns soft as she rubs your spine, “Enough crying child, save those tears for when you start complaining I’m working you too hard.”
You laugh through the tears and nod.
The true hardship was beginning.
You stood at the front door with your coat hanging over your arm hand reaching towards the knob with hesitation. The door flung open Namjoon standing there, “Hey, what are you doing there?”
You stuttered for a moment pulling a smile, “I was trying to remember if I left something in the car.”
He nodded and stepped aside letting you in, “I bought take out, it’s getting cold hurry up.” You stood at the door watching as he walked away. You couldn’t help staring at his figure frozen like a statue. You felt the truth bubbling up in your throat, you wanted to tell him. You hated keeping secrets.
He suddenly stopped calling your name, once, twice, then on the third time you registered it. You blinked away, “Yeah-yeah?”
Carefully approaching you, “Are you okay?”
You laughed it off, “Yeah, yeah, it’s just been a long day.” He took your hand and led you inside wordlessly. You appreciated that, actions spoke louder anyways.
You don’t tell Namjoon a single thing. You smiled through dinner except he didn’t spend late night couch hogging with you. He had work to deal with, so he couldn’t join you. You stared at him with puppy eyes, you wanted to spend a quiet evening with him. You needed that. He gave a dimply smile and ruffled your hair, “I’ll be back, I promise.”
He stepped back and disappeared in a cloud of black smoke.
You sighed and picked up the dirty dishes. You paused in your step as you heard the hounds barking in the distance. You kept walking, disregarding the sounds. Warm water rinsed away bits off food instantly, you moistened the sponge and scrubbed of the residue. A wave of familiarity came over you, you felt your saliva thickening, your esophagus burning with a building pressure causing you to violently cough. Holding onto the side of the counter, your core contracted sporadically as you hacked. Bile was tickling the back of your throat, the acid burning, you were going to throw up. Your cheeks puffed out as you felt your mouth filling with a thick liquid. You hunched over the sink and let the contents project out of you. At the corner of your lip a string of drool hung limply as you fully hunched over the sink. You stared at the content finding your dinner amongst the dark…dirt. Your senses felt sharper after expelling everything you had picking up on the sour scent of puke, soil and the metallic smell of iron.
Another wave of nausea and again your cheeks puffed wide, this was going to be worse than the last one. You heaved, throat burning impossibly, and your mouth stretched out a massive clot of dirt covered in gelatinous blood left you. Your shaky hand reached for the lever and you turned on the water to wash down the waste. You watched the brick mud swirl down the sink as you spat out the excess swirling in your mouth. You brought the sprayer closer to you and you washed out your mouth. You kept washing until your teeth wasn’t crunching on soil and your tongue didn’t taste iron. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, your hearing was muffled, but you stood back up.
You stood there under the kitchen lights, the TV humming in the background and dirty dinner plates in the sink. The constant stream of water pouring was becoming clearing in your ears. You reached out and pushed the lever down cutting off the sound. You looked up through your lashes, but not focusing on anything specific.
Once more than night when you were showering you threw up again. Under your covers, fighting a headache, dizziness and a sore throat you made a decision. You flung off your blankets, sleep wouldn’t come to you anyways and began typing away on your laptop. You had to make haste, catalyze things even faster.
As you typed away, the hounds howled, snarling at what you could only imagine lurked in the tree line.
Only…imagine.
You handed in your resignation letter to work the next day with little to no explanation. You drove over to Kaya’s home immediately after, knocking on the door like a crazy woman. She answered the door already walking away as she left the door open for you. She called over her shoulder, “You’re earlier than I was expecting child.”
You shyly replied, honestly feeling groggy and jittery from no sleep, “I need all the lessons I can get.”
She smiled and led you up to her craft room. You tried helping her up the stairs but she swatted your hand away, “Child, I’ve lived alone for hundreds of years, I’m not that kind of old woman yet.”
You snickered, “I’m sorry Ms. Kaya.”
“It’s Kaya, child. Again, I’m not that kind of old yet.”
Your cheeks were hurting holding in the laughter, “Sorry, sorry.”
You couldn’t see it, but a smile was on her face as you followed her up the stairs into her craft room. She ran her hand across her work space then knocked thrice for good luck, “Prepare yourself Y/n.”
You shook your head like a bobble head, exhausted but eager, “Ready.”
Kaya wasn’t kidding when she said save the tears for later. You spent mornings until the evening at Kaya’s building the basics. She made you read and memorize what things were before you even thought about casting spells. She was surprised because you picked up all the techniques fast, faster than she ever did and memorized things with easy recall. By the end of the first week she casually suggested to finally start with actual casting.
She knocked on the table three times before she hung a hand in the air, “This is the standard position, now repeat after me and hold it until I say so.”
You held your hands up and after a few minutes your triceps were burning, “Kayyyaaaaa, how much longer?”
She smacked the underside of your elbows when you started slacking, “A Witch must have strength in their arms.”
You blinked hard at the pain trying to will it away. She finally let you release it and you heaved dramatically feeling an onset dead arm syndrome kick in. “Hmmm, you’re no match for Celina if that is too much for you.”
You turned dramatically, feeling insulted, narrowing your eyes like a feline. You wanted to prove Kaya, to yourself, you were worthy. You posited yourself in standard again, “Let’s keep going!” You challenged her word, and she responded with a soft good then three knocks.
Hours went by, you were getting familiar with casting positions and awakening muscle groups you’ve never knew existed. You could feel the reserves in your body, the same fire in your veins begging to be casted. Progress was being made.
Namjoon found himself eating leftovers for dinner because you were never home for dinner lately. He would place your plate in the microwave to keep it warm. He often would scrap it into the bin after hours of waiting. He began watching Family Feud on his own too, but it wasn’t the same. You weren’t there to compete or make the show as interesting as it normally was. There was too much blanket, too much couch space, too much popcorn in the bowl. He hated not tugging the blanket off you slowly just to bug you.
When you did come home late exhausted, dark circles were beginning to weigh heavy under your eyes. He’d ask about it, but you’d wave it off, “It just that time of the year where work is heavy.”
He…missed you.
Three weeks into training and you were learning spoken spells, finally casting. You held your arms up with a wand in your hand, you were trying to focus your energy into the conductor.
She instructed as she paced around you, “Stronger Y/n! Pour your energy into it!”
A wave of nausea overcame you. It was becoming more frequent and was becoming a normalcy. You held it in and quietly burped it away. The feeling wouldn’t settle and you knew what coming. You dropped your wand and booked it towards the restroom.
Kaya yelled hearing your feet thud on the wooden floor, “Y/n! Where are you going, you can’t just quit!”
You stumbled, running into the banister before you sharp turned into the bathroom. You flipped up the toilet seat and began unleashing. Kaya came running behind you with a hand on the doorframe. She heard the wrenching coming from you. She carefully touched along the doorframe and counter coming closer to you, “Y/n, what’s wrong?”
She rubbed your back sympathetically. When you pulled up, she caught the scent of your puke. She covered her nose with her hand and made a sound of disgust. You flushed the toilet, embarrassment taking over.
It took her a moment, but she recognized that scent: the soil of the dead.
She asked upfront, “How often?”
You wiped at the edge of your mouth slumping onto the cold tiles, “At least twice a day.”
She sighed heavily and helped you up and quietly cleaned you up, “This is something a special potion can help ease.”
She walked you back into her lab and brewed “the potion” in her cauldron. She ladled some tea out of the cauldron into a funky tea cup then handed it to you. The more time you spent with Kaya the more you realized that tea was her cure all, “It won’t stop it, but at least it’ll settle your soul.”
She poured her own tea and sat across from you. “Celina…was my sister.”
You we’re still lightly coughing, “What!”
She ran her fingers over the rim of her tea cup. Your eyes flickered down noticing the tea in her cup swirled painting the images flowing within her mind. Hypnotically you watched as the hazy image took resolution of a familiar woman, Kaya, but she was significantly younger, everything about her was so different especially her eyes. Her eyes were a deep brown that resembled the sweetest basset hound. She’s in this home, in her kitchen sipping tea at the same teal table. The front door busted open and slammed shut, clacking of heavy shoes echoed into the kitchen and out of the shadows a cloaked figure ran into the kitchen. The figure unveiled themselves pulling down the hood revealing a woman underneath. She frantically grabbed Kaya’s hands, “Kaya, they’re coming for me! We have to leave! They’re coming for me.”
Kaya pulled the woman down to sit in a seat across from her, panic painted on her face, “No Celina, what do you mean? Who’s coming for you?”
“The council! They’re going to hang me, they found out!”
Kaya was panicked, “What did they find out!”
Celina let go of her sister’s hands, embarrassed, “That I’ve been practicing the dark arts.”
Kaya spat, “You what!”
Celina began to toil with anger, “You know I am capable than more than they allow us!”
“Its illegal for a reason Celina!”
“You don’t get it Kaya! They’re going to come for the whole family, including you! They think your involved too!”
Kaya spat, “You’ve gotten us all involved! Now you think I’m stupid to do such a thing and follow you?”
Celina grew furious, “I know I was stupid, but come with me then!”
“My son, I can’t leave my son!”
Celina grew furious, “Take him too!”
Kaya smacked her hand off her, “No Celina, I don’t think you understand. I’m not guilty of whatever you were involved in. I can’t come with you!”
Celina grew furious, “You’ve never trusted me!”
“You put this upon yourself!”
Celina’s eyes glowed red as she lifted her hands up, and dishes levitated along with her, “I’ll make you then!” With her outburst dishes flew across the room towards Kaya, who ducked and found cover under the table. Kaya popped up and sent a spell towards Celina striking her. A magical fight broke out, it was like a battle between two martial artists, but lightening sparked between the two of them.
Kaya’s back slammed into the wall as her sister took a cheap shot. blood was streaming down Kaya’s face where the jinx had scathed her. Celina’s took a step forward cracking a plate under her shoe, “You’ve always been greedy sister, always in the top spot. I’ve never been able to beat you. It’s always been you!”
A boy, barely the age of ten, came into the room rubbing his eyes, “Mommy?”
Kaya’s eyes grew comically she wiped her towards the voice, “Mallory, go back to your room!”
Kaya’s son screamed, “Mommy!”
Celina smirked, “I’m going to show you true greed. You’re going to pay for all the years you’ve belittled me.”
Celina turned around and raised her hands, “Then you can’t remember me or any of this. I will erase everything.”
Kaya screamed out, “No! Celina! NO!”
Celina chanted, “Conspectum auferat, auferre memoriae, eam omnia!” A hot red bolt charged out of her and hit her nephew. Mallory screamed, and his eyes glazed over into a cataract resemblance. His head began to transform to that of a bore and his limbs lost their small stature as he began to grow into a monstrous size. He screamed as his body grew, bones extending, and he stretched out the doorframe. He thrashed about hands clutching his face, roaring in pain.
Kaya screamed, “Stop Celina!” Kaya jumped in front of her sister into the stream of magic and was struck with the spell. Kaya’s eyes lost their brilliant blue and faded into pearls, the eyes you were used to seeing. Celina tried catching her but had a loose grip on her sister’s wrist. Celina’s nails scratched over the witch’s tattoo over her wrist causing Kaya to scream even louder. Kaya screamed as she lost her sight covering her eyes. From here the memories go dark, there is only audio that rings in your ears.
“You got what you deserved,” footsteps were clattering, heavy thudding and glass breaking filling your ears, but distinctly clacking of heavy shoes echoed away until it ceased with a slamming of a door.
A black smoke began to fill the tea and eventually it was back to regular Green tea and you could only see the cracked bottom of the ceramic cup.
You didn’t realize tears were streaming down your face. You recognized the beast, it was Kaya’s son, Exadus Animae was her son.
“My sister and I were always competitive, but she took it to heart. She felt like she was less than because our parents doted on me more because I was the oldest, I had responsibility. I never wanted her to feel that way. I always made sure she was loved just as much, but it wasn’t enough. I never knew she would take it…that far.”
You can feel it in yours, this has squeezed at her heart for centuries. “I want to stop my sister. I want to put an end to her evil.” She grabbed your hand, “Child with the potential you have, you are the only one that can do it. You’re the one that can bring her down. You have the potential to become a greater witch than myself and her.”
You let the tears stream down and squeezed her hands back. “I’m sorry,” those were the only words you could get out.
There was so much you had to learn.
He hated going to places like this, but this was where evil crept freely. He made his way through the crowd; the strobing lights were blinding and the music numbing. He hated the smell of this place especially, it smelled like sorrow and sour loneliness. A succubus crashed into him swaying on her heels, she grabbed onto his arm as she pressed her chest up to him. She shouted at him over the music, “Hmmm, what is a Reaper doing in this part of town?”
He played into her trick, “Has Celina been around?”
She pouted, “Why are you talking about that Witch when I’m here?”
He trailed a delicate finger down her cheek, “Baby girl I’m asking a question, Have you?”
The succubus shivered loving the attention and nickname. She stood back up obediently with a thoughtful face, “No, but her recent play thing is here.” She pointed across the room through the swaying salacious bodies to the back of the club where a man with about five women hanging off him was tucked in a booth. He easily spotted the demon being nearly the tallest being there. Demons and their desires.
He shoved her off, “Thanks.”
She scoffed, “Hey!”
He couldn’t hear her protest anymore as he pushed through the crowd and came up to the booth. When the nymphs caught on to Namjoon they gasped and filtered out of the booth like roaches, “Hey, hey, ladddiesss!”
Namjoon growled, “Where is she?”
The playboy flipped hair out of his face and shrugged as he took a shot. “I’ve slept with many, who are you talking about?”
Namjoon didn’t humor the demon with a response.
“Don’t tell me I’ve slept with your bitch?”
Namjoon grew frustrated, “Where’s Celina?”
The demon shrugged again swirling his empty shot glass, “Don’t know.”
Namjoon grabbed the collar of the guy and dragged him outside through a side exit door into an alley. He shoved the demon up to the brick wall, “You’re going to tell me where she is.”
“And what, what are you going to give me if I do?”
Namjoon held out his hand, “Flax.” His scythe appeared in his hand and he shoved it under the guys jaw. “Nothing, you get nothing, but you get to live. I could feed you to Edax as I slice you up and feed you to him piece by piece.”
Panic filtered in the eyes as his eyes flickered between the scythe and him. “You’re the R-R-R-Reaper? “
The guy flipped the switched in a second the cocky smirk returning, “You can’t, that’s against Satera.”
Namjoon pushed the scythe harder into the guys jaw, “Watch me.”
The guy gulped, “Okay, okay, chill bro!”
“WHERE!”
“I last saw her here about a week ago. She looked really desperate, like sickly dude. I swear she was like fallin’ apart or some shit. I was gonna approach her but she already had another dude she was smashing faces with, then they disappeared.”
Namjoon kept his eyes locked on the guy waiting for more information. The guy squinted his eyes trying to think of more information, “Ugh-ugh, oh! Oh! What was weird was she smelled like cemetery soil, like strongly.”
Namjoon’s eyes narrowed, “Like…dirt?”
The guy nodded frantically. “That’s all I know. Let me go!”
Namjoon released the guys collar, droping the guy to the floor like a rag doll. The guy scurried to his feet, slipping a few times, then ran for it. He made one last comment over his shoulder, “Your crazy man!”
Namjoon stood there in the alleyway in the sickly yellow flood light over him. His dress shoes chuffing the tarmac of the alley. He watches as the demon slips away.
One year, he was supposed to have a year. A Lich’s corpse last a year before decomposition is too much and the animation disapparates. She needed new flesh, soon, and consuming raw meat in the mean time wasn’t going to hold her over much longer. Celina was putting herself out in the open more, her real self. He looked at his reflection in his scythe. Time was running out.
Black smoke cradled around him and he vanished into thin air. He manifested in the entryway and caught the edge of your feet as you were ascending the staircase. “Y/N?”
You stopped mid-step and turned towards him. In a tired voice, “Welcome home Joon.” He noticed the dark circles under your eyes have become heavier. “There’s leftovers in the fridge for you, make sure to heat them up if you’re hungry.”
He nodded, “Are you going to sleep?”
You nodded in return, “I’ve had a long day.”
He felt something crawling up his throat. “You don’t want to watch TV on the couch until you fall asleep? I swear I won’t hog the blanket, I swear.”
A small smile creeped onto your face, “No, not today Joon. Tomorrow maybe, okay?”
He sadly nodded, and you turned around making your way back up the stairs.
Your scent finally registered, he was so used to coming home to a twisted sell of delicate scents, but that daunting smell hit him like a cold shower. He smelled it thickly in the air, in fact it feels like it’s taken over the house, Cemetery dirt, soil tainted by death. Its leaking from you.
His long legs took the stairs two by two and he grabbed onto your upper arm, “What’s wrong y/n?”
You both stood still for a moment, then you turned around gently and thunked your head on his shoulder. He pulled you into his arms wrapping them tightly around your waist, “What’s wrong?”
Honest words hanging on the edge of your tongue, “I’m just tired.”
He didn’t believe you, you smelled otherwise, he’s smelled it from you before. He thought back to the demon’s words: soil. Celina smelled like soil. He tried an alternative, “You sure you don’t want to watch some TV?”
You shook your head wrapping your arms around him, “I just want to sleep.” You squeezed him once then let go, leaving a lasting touch on his arm before you turned around
He called your name as you were halfway up, words hanging on the tip of his tongue but couldn’t actualize. He swallowed it, because honestly, he didn’t know. He didn’t know how much time you had left. How long it was before everything came crashing down. It could be in the next second, or tomorrow. “Good night.”
You whispered back, “Good night, Joon.”
He watched as you disappeared around the corner, your hand being the last glimpse as it held onto the banister. He felt in his gut. Celina was on the move and moving fast. That dirt…you smelled like it. He was extremely worried, but you were being stubborn about letting him in. Just as he was, but only telling you would worry you. He needed to be around more, if the connection between you both was getting stronger he needed to be by your side. The hound he had secretly tagging along with you when you left the house wasn’t enough anymore. You didn’t have to know though, he could be your shadow.
He went to your work to check up on you, he even bought a coffee to leave on your desk secretly. However, you weren’t there, you weren’t even in their system anymore. He grew worried, then angry the longer he looked for you. Your car wasn’t even in the parking lot. He went to the roof and called upon his scythe. He let blackness cloud his eyes as he commanded, “Ostende mihi Y/n”. He sliced through the air creating a portal for himself. He looked into the vortex and saw you in a familiar setting that you didn’t belong in. He watched as your hands stretched out and you were chanting out…incantations! His jaw dropped then clenched hard. You had been going behind his back! He saw blue glowing from your hands and that’s when he dropped your coffee and charged through the portal.
“Wands are training wheels for the hands, as you get more practice you won’t need a conductor for your major and instead you will be able to conjure it from your hands.” She took the wand out of your hand and set it on the table, “Try it, try it with your hands.”
“I-I don’t think I’m ready.”
“Trust me child.” She turned you to the windowsill. “See, focus on that potted plant…now levitate it, this should be easy.”
You breathed in heavily and pointed your hands at it, “Volarsa”
The pot remained still. You tried it again with a different tone, but it didn’t levitate. You turned toward Kaya with a pout, you weren’t sure about this working without a wand. She knocked three times then clasped her hands behind her back, “Be patient, it will work.”
You turned back towards the pot and kept repeating the spell. Hours had passed by and sweat was running down your temple until you taste salt in the corner of your mouth. You wiped it away and licked your lips, you had gotten the pot to vibrate. You were so close. You just needed something, a push, you let your thoughts wander about the people’s life on the line, yours, Kaya’s…and Namjoon’s.
“Volarsa!” You shouted at the pot concentrating on the object. You held up your trembling hands and it vibrated intensely as before, you slowly started lifting your hands from the wrist. The pot oscilated on the spot then finally…it started lifting. You broke a smile and kept your hands strict forcing the pot to rise. It was heavy, heavier than lifting a pot without magic and lifted off he clay pigeon until it was floating in the air. “KAYA! KAYA, I DID IT! I did it!”
A dark cloud of smoke rolled in constructing itself into a shadow, but you were too submerged in your happiness to notice. “Did what exactly Y/n?”
You jumped, hands losing their concentration as you released the spell and the pot came crashing down. You abruptly faced the Reaper, “Namjoon!”
“You lied to me! I told you not to do this.” He stomped right up to you.
You stuttered taking a few steps back, “I-I-I.” You clasped your hand behind your back as if they were the guilty culprits.
“Why are you practicing!”
Kaya came around the corner with an extra mug, “Hello, Darling, its been a while.”
The black smoke rolling around him cut off, his eyes widening, “Kaya?”
She put the mug in his hand, with a flick of her wrist she commanded the broom and dust pan to do their job. “Sit down and watch, well discuss it later; you just ruined something big.”
“She’s practicing witchcra—!”
She whipped around, “I said, sit down.”
He obeyed tucking his tail between his legs but grumbled the whole time. She beckoned you to continue, “Go ahead Y/n, try it again on the Saffron.”
You eyed Namjoon with hesitation, but you turned towards the flowers. You had to prove yourself worthy. This was your chance to show Namjoon you could do this. You had to be the one to put an end to this with Namjoon.
You breathed in a deep breath letting the oxygen saturate your blood fully with a breath laced with confidence. You wiped your brow of sweat and held out your hands, shaking out the nerves a few times, then place them in a commanding stance. You closed your eyes and sprung your hard rimmed eyes open as you casted with confidence, “VOLARSA!”
The Saffron pot jerked about, oscillating in its spot like the last time. You kept focus on it then raised your hands slowly and with a bit of delay the pot raised from the pigeon into the air. You held it there for a moment then lowered it down safely finally taking a breath again. You heaved and turned with a smile on your face and Kaya smiled back at you once she heard the clinking clay.
Namjoon rolled his eyes, “She can lift a pot, so what? How’s that going to protect her from Celina?”
Kaya smiled and sipped from her tea with her eyebrows slightly raised. “You underestimate the important of lifting a pot. Don’t you remember how you started out with your scythe?”
He shut up real quick, turning away from her in his chair like a sulking child. “Child, you’ve done well. You’re ready for the heavier, unspoken spells.”
Namjoon spit out the tea he was bitterly sipping, “Now you’re pushing the importance!”
“Hush, Joon.” She shushed him by bringing her hand up and zipped his mouth shut. He grumbled behind his closed lips. You spat out laughing hard enough your eyes shut; you needed to learn that spell. She stood up and walked her way over to you, looking over her shoulder as she stood next to you, “Someone had to do it.”
The rest of the evening she moved on to different things and taught you other foundational spells and techniques. Namjoon’s mouth was sealed the whole evening, but you could feel the tension from him. He remained patient and watched you as you picked up things easily. He was impressed, but he was afraid. The potential energy and magic that you have in your amateur hands could be dangerous. He was worried…because of whom your source of magic was coming from.
What if you turned out like her?
Kaya tapped your shoulder, “That’s enough for today.”
You sat at the work table with Joon, reluctantly sitting down across from him. His eyes were squared on you with bitterness flowing towards you. Kaya sat down at the table with a steaming kettle pouring more tea into her cup and Namjoon’s, “Float a cup over for yourself.”
You looked across the room and pointed to a clean cup. You muttered under your breath and a cup levitated itself and clunked it onto the table right in front of you.
She unzipped him and as soon as his lips were free he couldn’t hold his tongue anymore, “Kaya! What if—what if she turns out to be like...!”
Kaya turned to him, “Her?”
He spat, “Exactly!”
“After all she’s done, haven’t we’ve been through enough. Y/n doesn’t deserve this.”
You look between them, feeling completely lost. Just how much didn’t you know? How did Namjoon know Kaya? You haven’t really pieced it together until now, why was she in his journal?
He sharply turned his attention to you, “How did you find this place?”
You stuttered out a thinning voice, “I-I.”
“I contacted her, I just felt Celina’s magic again and had to figure out if it was her, but instead I found Y/n.” You were surprised, Kaya stepped in to save you.
He looked at her with narrowed eyes, he wasn’t completely buying it. Under her breath barely audible to your ears, “The hound ’s loyal to their mistress not their master apparently.”
He turned to you to question further, but again Kaya stepped in to save you, “Calm down Namjoon, I can tell you that’s not what’s going to happen. I don’t see the same darkness in her that I saw in my sister. That won’t happen with Y/n.”
You blinked in shock, “How do you two know eachother?”
She casually grabbed onto both of your hands, “Revelata veritas occulta, monstrate memoriis vero Princeps.” In the next second you felt an energy surging through you, coursing through your heart then being. Your eyes blurred, swirling in a glowing green like Kaya’s. Namjoon watched on as you closed your eyes grunting, then they sprung open completely glowing blue.
He hissed at Kaya trying to release her hand, “What are you doing!”
Kaya remained patient, holding his hand tight, “Revealing the truth.”
In your ears their argument faded out. Behind your glowing eyes you were taken back, but this time you watched through Namjoon’s eyes.
Namjoon was acquainted with the sisters, as the witch community was tangled with the supernaturals. Everyone in the supernatural community knew of the witch sisters, the greatest witches of their generation. When Namjoon inherited the role of being Reaper, Kaya and Celina were the first ones to congratulate him. He grew close to the sisters, they were like real sisters to him; especially Kaya who helped him wield his scythe and even taught him some spells on the side.
Namjoon’s heart dropped when he received word to collect, to collect Celina’s soul. How had such a good person fallen?
His memory picked up right where Kaya’s had left off with Namjoon arriving in tragic timing. Celina had casted a spell over the house to cover her tracks. When he manifested in the hallway of Kaya’s home and the smoke faded, Kaya was already paralyzed, covering her eyes with her bloody hands. He ran over to her as she muttered out, “Mallory.”
He pulled her hands down from her eyes and gasped when he saw her pearly eyes, “Kaya, what happened?”
Kaya panted, feeling for him, “Namjoon! She—She!”
He heard thumping coming from the hallway. He stood in front of Kaya protectively against whatever was there. A large gangly figure popped out form the shadows wailing, “Mommy!”
Namjoon stood there, fear struck. Kaya screamed, “Celina, what have you done!”
Namjoon knew that the council would be coming soon since Celina had just been here. Kaya grabbed at his pant leg, “Please, Namjoon, protect my son!”
Namjoon didn’t have much choice, so he did the only think he could think of. He took out his scythe and with both hands he wrapped it around the staff and casted. Mallory began to be engulfed in black smoke. His similarly pearl eyes searched out his mother, he tried screaming for his mother, but it just came out as animalistic growls taking over his voice.
Namjoon took him to the only place he knew that would be safe, Limbo. He kept Mallory in a cave with a protective seal to keep anyone from entering, safe from the knowledge of supernaturals and other warlocks. He knew if the council found out what happened to Mallory there would be grave consequences.
He stayed with the child and would visit Kaya routinely. He knew he couldn’t fill the void of her son, but he was there for her like she was for him. He’d do anything for her.
They tried everything, every spell, hex, and art she knew to uplift the curse, but nothing worked. He helped her adjust, however, Kaya adapted quickly on her own.
Kaya persuaded Namjoon to let her see her child. Reluctantly he brought Kaya to see her son. She would hug her son and he would grunt out, no longer capable of speech while hugging his mother. He was still himself despite the curse. When she felt her son she’d began crying, she’d apologize and promised him she’d find a solution to revert him back. She was never going to give up, she worked herself to the bone, researching and testing lifting spells. However, no matter how great of a witch she was, no spell worked, the curse was too heavy. It was impossible to cure the curse.
Months passed by and Mallory began to forget his humanistic ways, slowly started becoming the monster he was cursed to be.
Against Namjoon’s protest, he brought Kaya to see her son. He had seen the change happen, the growth of the beast, the greedy curse taking over the child’s soul. He couldn’t tell her, he wanted to fix this before she found out.
As they came into the cave, they found Mallory consuming a wandering soul. Kaya heard it all, the disgusting sounds and crunching of bone. Namjoon witness the horrific image of intestines being yanked from the corpse and it being grind it up in the boar’s jaw.
Namjoon panicked, “Kaya, you can’t see him today! Go back!”
She protested, she wanted to meet her son, not believing the sounds were from her precious child. He shouted the truth, “He’s not your son anymore, but a monster!”
Kaya remained silent, the truth weighing heavy on her after she’s been denying it for months, tears streamed down her face as she stood there listening to Namjoon stopping her gorging son—or at least he was.
He hated doing this, but he had to chain him up. He couldn’t let him wander about, it was too dangerous.
Soon enough Satera found out about the souls being consumed. She herself showed up in the cave to expel the behemoth herself. “Reaper, this being belongs in the pits! He is no Earthly creation!”
Namjoon stopped her and explained what had happened, how it was Celina’s evil doing, that there was a human being underneath. Her green glow about her died down and sympathy rang about her. She slowly walked towards the beast—Mallory—who growled in agitation. She hushed him and surprisingly he obeyed. She touched his forehead and her eyes swirled as she watched the whole story unravel in her eyes. She pulled away, sorrowfully petting his head a few times. She gave Namjoon a deal ,”I cannot break this curse, his soul has been nearly completely consumed. But if you can promise me that…that this Edax Animae can collect evil or wandering souls and you’d send the spirits to the pits, then he can remain on Earth.”
Namjoon agreed immediately, “Yes, yes, I can promise that.”
She raised her hand silencing him, “And…only if you watch over him, then he can remain.”
Namjoon told Kaya of the deal for hours she cried, guilt weighing heavy on her, but she was grateful. He could live.
Years went by, decades went by and the chase with Celina continued. Celina grew stronger and her craft immensely more potent. He would visit Kaya less and less because he had to take on other collections. Celina’s disturbances became fewer and she’d always escape his grasp in the nick of time. Before he knew it, he stopped visiting Kaya all together, but he kept his promise. He always watched over Mallory, even if he wasn’t Mallory anymore.
Time speed up from there in blurs, you saw fights, the sickly image of Celina before him in a forest, but with a different possession every other memory. Time swirled again, and it was her again but different each time they fought, but she’d get away.
Then there was you. You across the table from him, as he slid into the booth. You felt the smugness as he felt like had caught the mouse. Time warped to when you were brought to Edax, then all the nights you spent together eating dinner, you saw the way he watched you as you were watching TV, or how you came in the door after work greeting him with a smile. It was blurs of the both of you, up until this very point, you sitting across from him.
You gasped as you were pulled back into reality ripping you from the tar of memories. The glowing green began to fade from your eyes as you came to consciousness. You felt your limbs succumbing to a great fatigue as your legs lost control and you began slipping from your chair.
Namjoon let go of Kaya’s hand and caught you before you collapsed to the floor. “Kaya, this is too much for her! I told her she needs to stay out of this!”
You gasped and clutched onto his shirt, “Namjoon, I have to do this.”
He looked down at you, “No!”
You cupped his face smoothing the wrinkles building under his eyes, “Namjoon, I’m not Celina. I’m not her.”
Something you never expected caused your hand to halt. Tears were building in his eyes until a single tear slipped down his cheek, “I can’t lose you.”
You smiled, “You won’t, I promise. She’s not going to win. Trust me.”
He looked at you then to Kaya feeling the pressure from both of you, “Fine.”
Now that you were able to practice freely your skills were only growing at an exponential rate. Especially since you could practice at home out in the open. Crafting just felt so natural to you. You were going through spell books like water. Kaya put you through obstacles testing you on your skills and reflexes. That meant training became far more intense, pushing you to your breaking point every day. She made a pseudo room for you to cast spells and strike dummies.
You paced around the abysmal room, you could never see the walls in the room, you honestly didn’t know if there were any. You stood under a bright white spotlight waiting for your next target, and in front of you Celina manifested. You knew it wasn’t her, but a dummy. It looked so much like her, like the image you saw that night in your bathroom. Even though she was a dummy you knew not to let your discomfort show.
She opened her eyes, completely black and soulless. There was no banter exchanged, a blaze of green light aimed right for you. Two more jets of green light zoomed past you from the arthritic hands of Celina. You spewed hexes and spells back avoiding each of her strikes. This was fake, so it wouldn’t have a lasting strike if it did hit you, but still you avoided each strike.
Carelessly with that knowledge you faced her straight on and called out a spell that would knock her off her feet. She swerved and in the next blink she was in front of you, “You lose.” She brought her hands up and chanted out a curse, one you had passed by Kaya before in curiosity, but she narrowed her eyes completely upset, “Never, never, EVER, utter those words.”
The black eyes of Celina were all you could focus on as she was nearly nose to nose with you. You were paralyzed in fear, none of the other dummies had gotten this close to you. You didn’t dare blink, the next moment the body melted, bubbled and Namjoon was face to face to you. The same eyes remained, he hissed like a snake, “Internum Cuppedine.”
You screamed and for a moment you believed there were walls as you screamed loud enough that it bounced off the invisible walls. Loud, hot blindingly loud. The pain was consuming as you dropped to your knees in front of Namjoon, whole body quivering. He walked around you, a smirk form on his face, “I will watch you die in the most painful way.”
This wasn’t real, this wasn’t supposed to be real, but why was the pain so real. Namjoon would never do this too you. This wasn’t happened. You struggled trying to break, but the more you struggled the more painful it was.
“It will be my uptmost pleasure.” He raised his hand up slowly, body morphing back to Celina’s figure, you levitating with it. You dangled in the air twitching as the curse caused you to spasm. He clenched his hand, you feel the pressure around your throat. It’s so much, so much. With a finally squeeze of her hand everything goes dark.
You wake up gasping for air on the floor of Kaya’s craft room. The roaring fire, the cracking of the wood in the mantle alerting you you’re back in the real world. Was this real? Was that all fake? You lifted up sitting on your side coughing. You grabbed at your throat where you felt the phantom feeling of the grasp. You felt a drop on your hand, you pulled away and a drop of blood was on your hand. You raised it and checked your nose. Your nose was bleeding.
Was that just a dummy?
You didn’t tell Kaya or Joon what had happened in the training room. The crackling fire burning in the mantle casted long shadows over the room, so you relied on the candle next to you to illuminate the words on the book you were reading. Kaya had gone to sleep a while ago, you sat there intently listening for the snores to begin. When you were sure she was asleep you slipped off your stool and ventured over to the library. Stealthily you avoided the creaky wood planks as you tip toed over to a bookcase. You trailed over books that you’ve been eyeing for a while, the forbidden ones. Kaya had warned you against them, you didn’t need to know those spells.
You thought different, the more ignorant you were to this stuff the more vulnerable you were. You needed to know what the animation had said to you.
You pulled out a nameless black book and snuck it back to the table. You pushed away the book you were “studying” and placed the new book in front of you. It felt different, it was a thin book, but it weighed as heavy as a science textbook. You tried opening the book, but it refused to open. Knowing Kaya it must’ve been hexed closed.
You thought back to all the things you had learned, sourcing through all the spells you knew. You were going to try something you didn’t know would work, but you’d try. Holding your hand over the book you whispered out, “Abracadabra.”
Nothing happened, you were expecting something a bit more dramatic. Maybe a puff of smoke or like a comical soul arising, but nothing.
You reached for the cover and it pulled back and it opened. The binding creaking with the new book sound, but you knew this book was far from being young. Gothic text etched in the center entailed “Book of Dreadful Curses.”
Your body felt giddy, you were actually going through with this. You flipped the coffee colored pages that were fragile, each page had entries that were handwritten with depictions every so often. This seemed more like a lab book than a dictionary for curses. The description for these curses were horrible promises of unescapable torture, pain and lunacy. You read over a few: Martyium promised self-sacrifice but not with the will of the cursed; Impotente promised lunacy; Dissolvo promised decomposition. You scrolled through pages, each page more interesting than the last. However, you didn’t dare to repeat aloud, only allowing them to hiss in your mind, you had that much sense.
You opened this book for one specific curse, Internum Cuppedine. You flipped through the pages and soon enough the pages were blank. The journal entries had ended abruptly. You kept flipping though and you nearly scanned past it but on a single page two lone spells were written, but one specific one caught your eye: Internum Cuppedine.
Internum Cuppedine: Level IX, extreme malice and intention to harm. A torture spell that causes sensation similar to burning from the inside out, asphyxiation, violent trembling and loss of physical control. Results from curse causes permanent damage and if continuous, death.
Shuffling came from the door, Kaya groggily asking, “You’re still here child?” You closed the book shut and propped your elbow on it, then with your elbow you brushed it under the other you were studying. Even though she couldn’t see, you still felt like a child caught with your hand in the cookie jar.
“Yeah-yeah, I just wanted to finish up this last chapter then go home.”
A smile bloomed on her face, “You worked hard enough, go home child. You’ll need the rest for tomorrow.
You nodded, “I will.” You began to pack up your stuff edging off the stool, “Good night Kaya.” Her figure disappeared down the hallway as she mumbled to you. You waited until the sound of her closing her door before you set down your bag. You were just going to read a bit more…just a bit more.
Just a bit more.
Namjoon would stop by and pick you up from Kaya’s because he knew if he didn’t come and get you you’d stay all night. Despite things being open, you’ve spent more time a part now that everything was on the table.
Besides throwing up, a new habit crawled its way into your routine. You started having nightmares every night since the dummy incident; Celina would always have the main role. The dreams would be vivid, but it was the same dream every night. You relieved the moment in the training room over and over again. Each night it would escalate, but it was the same environment. Celina’s dark figure would leave you paralyzed as she came towards you. She’d look you dead in the eyes and her lips would spread past her cheeks in a sinister smile. She violently thrusted her hand through your chest and ripped your heart out. She’d laugh and consume your heart like a morsel. She licked her fingers of your blood and with the same dirty hands she pushed you. You’d tip back unable to save yourself and you’d fall down into an endless grave.
Namjoon heard you screaming springing from his own bed and ran into your room. You were trashing under your covers, he sat down next to you shaking you awake, “Y/n! Y/n! Wake up!”
You sprung up violently sucking in air. When you noticed Namjoon was there beside you, you clutched onto him panting. He collected you into his arms holding the back of your head with one of his hands. You buried your head into his chest, he rubbed your back soothing you, “Shhhh, It’s okay. It’s okay.”
He’d lay you back down when your trembling stopped. “Want me to stay with you until you fall asleep again?”
You nodded rapidly, “Please.”
He scooched you over and laid beside you, his body taking up a large portion of the bed. He pulled you into his chest petting your hair, “It’s okay, I’m here go back to sleep. I won’t leave.” You nodded against his chest, his scent bringing comfort to you. It took about half an hour until you fell back asleep. His naturally low, deep voice sung you to sleep.
To your ignorance he was chanting away the demons, casting a protection spell over your mind for the night. A sleep worm had made its way into your dreams. He held the back of your head as you fell fast asleep. He kept chanting, slowly pulling his hand away from your head and along with it the worm that had plagued your dream. He squished it in his hands and it sizzled in his grip. You sighed in relief when he pulled it out and you eased into his chest limply, truly asleep.
His eyes narrowed as he looked over you and into the shadows of your bedroom. It was your silhouette in the shadows, but it wasn’t you. He could only sigh and hold you close, there was no telling when, but there wasn’t much time left. He fell asleep with you cradled in his arms, he didn’t want to let you go.
In his arms, you were safe.
You didn’t want to fall asleep, it was hard distinguishing the sun and the moon lately. White bled into black and you were somewhere in Limbo. Kaya had gone to sleep long ago; teaching had worn her out despite you doing all the work. Namjoon was here earlier but left when he was summoned. You slipped on his blazer you had brought with you on accident today when a draft came over the room. It partially still smelled like him, mostly because he tried it on again today, “Sure it was an accident Y/n. You like me that much huh?”
You blushed furiously attacking him with the best come back you could think of, “You wish.”
Sitting alone you wrapped it tighter around yourself. You looked around, despite knowing you were alone, and pulled out from under your other book the Book of Dreadful Curses. You hated to admit it but you were drawn towards it. Who were the people that made such craft, and who were they after? You were just so curious.
In your ear you heard a moaning whisper, “Y/N.”
You turned around expecting Kaya in the doorway, but no one was there. Maybe Kaya and Joon were right, you have been overworking yourself to the point you were hearing things. You waited, maybe Kaya would appear a second later, but there was nothing. You went back to flipping the pages and felt a chill down your spine as another barely audible whisper tickled your ear, “Y/N.”
The lights above you flickered, and the omnipresent voice cackled. The hair on the back of your neck raised as the roaring fire in the fireplace suddenly extinguishing. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears, it was dead silent. You were waiting, waiting in anticipation.
A struck of lightening jetted passed you striking the pit of embers reigniting the roaring flame, a flame so big that it licked your spine. You screamed at the intense heat and in shimmer of mist a figure before you manifested.
It was Celina.
You stumbled backwards, hitting the wall knocking down picture frames and crystals. One look at her and you could tell why she was here though, the once gorgeous woman was wilting away. Her flesh was rotting away in some spots as ghastly purple and grey chunks were missing; Streaming down her barely fitting dress was mud, you recognized that dress, it was the dress.
Celina trailed around the table with an awkward gait, “I told you you’d know my name when the time comes.” She smirked dropping a potion bottle on the floor and crunching the glass with her bare feet. “It’s our day darling!” The lights flickered manically as she raised her both her hands, fingers stretched outwards with the tips burning red.
A bolt of magic zoomed past your head and hit just near Celina’s head. The lights stabled. You turned, and Kaya was behind you with her hands raised, “Celina!”
Celina stumbled, “Sister, I thought you died a long time ago.”
Kaya scoffed, “You underestimate me.”
Celina huffed, “I won’t miss this time.”
Celina extended her arm and fired bolts towards the both of you. The crackling magic destroyed the shelf behind us and all Kaya’s tea cups fell to the floor. Kaya pushed you behind her and you both managed to fire back at her. Celina sensed the magic before the strikes and dodged them easily. You’ve never seen this before, Kaya was wielding beyond your comprehension. A rally of blue and red bolts soared across the room. You were dragged to hide under a desk along with Kaya, “Child, run, run while you can. I’ll take care of her.”
You shook your head, “No, I’m staying here and fighting with you. This is my battle as much as it is yours.”
“You’re not ready child! Run!” Kaya grunted, red flames roared above us as Celina grew frustrated.
“Come on out Kaya, you’re not a coward to hide. Come and fight me once and for all! Let’s end this!”
You couldn’t let Kaya get hurt, you’ve worked hard for this moment. This was it. “No, I’m ready,” you punctuated. You took the risk and stood up on your own. You raised your hand and fired out a spell at Celina. A charged spell shot out from your hands at her.
She dodged it and laughed, a hearty laugh, “Oh-ho-ho, Look at you my pretty! A witch in the making! Oh, how great it will be when I take over you. A perfect vessel, perfect blood.”
You fell right into her trap and she chanted, then a pulsing neon purple cloud consumed the both of you. Kaya gripped onto your hand, “NO, Y/N!” Her grip on you disappeared and you were consumed in opaque purple. A wave of nausea hit you that you were now familiar with. You came to in a dense fog feeling the cold breath of life resurge through you again. You knew this place, you knew it very well—Limbo, the edge of hell, where Namjoon first took you.
You whispered out his name out of habit, “Namjoon.”
“It’s just you and I,” the sick cackling echoed throughout the clearing. The silhouetted figures stopped their roaming as if Satan had called upon them and ran from the site. Celina’s red glow fired up and shot towards you, “Mine!”
You lifted your hands and chanted dangerous spells under your breath trying to keep up with her razor-sharp fast attacks. Her body may be decaying but her mind was sharp. It was hard to tell where the next strike would come from because of the fog. You ran behind a tree catching your breath, as quietly as you could you knocked on the tree three times. You could hear her footsteps approaching and on instincts you bolted from your safety. The next second the tree you were hiding behind cracked in half catching fire.
You ran out into the clearing and fired green jets at her with no sense of direction. She whirled around and flicked her wrist manically as she growled.
In the center of us a cloud of black smoke manifested and from it emerged Kaya and Namjoon. Kaya put up a protective shield around the both of them and ultimately you. Celina’s bolt crashed against the shield like tsunami wave crashing on a boulder.
Kaya turned her hands like a wheel and used that energy and shouted, “Praesidio!” The magical wave reversed itself and turned it back on the caster.
Namjoon sprinted towards you, “Y/n!” You ran up to him wrapping your arms tightly around him, you just needed that moment. You broke the embrace when Celina roared, and fireworks flared between Celina and Kaya.
Celina protected herself from the returning wave by casting her own shield. She grew frustrated, “SURGERIMUS!” From the ground hands popped up like daisies, soon enough skulls and fifty some full bodies rose. Their bodies were devoid of skin with insects who’ve burrowed themselves in cavities. It was an uproar as the swarming corpses stampeded their way towards us with loud war cries. The three of you equally regarded them charging forward into the mess. In a single swipe you shattered the center of a corpse with its limbs exploding towards all directions. Namjoon moved his scythe about with brutal strength, twirling past extended jaws lunging to bite severing heads off cleanly. Kaya strikes with palm open knocking down two at a time.
She turned around confronted with Celina no less than a few feet away, “Hello Sister.”
Celina growled firing spells, cold hatred behind each venomous strike. She was sending incantations, smiting with all she had. Kaya used her instincts to her advantage, a century of development with her impairment. She swayed and slashed her magic as jets of light flew from both of them. From under them the fog diminished seeing the forest floor for the first time. The ground below them shimmering as dangerous spells fireworked around their feet. The two witches were battling for blood, for the kill.
“Oh, Kaya you can’t protect her, just like you couldn’t protect your son.”
“DON’T SPEAK OF HIM THAT WAY!” Soaring bolts still progress back and forth like a tennis rally. “You will never touch my children again!” screamed Kaya.
A side of Celina’s lips raised, “Think again.”
It happened so fast. Suddenly Kaya was lifted off the floor floating in the air, an invisible force wrapping around her neck and squeezing tight. “It’s ironic, the one who wrote the Book of Dreadful Curses is going to experience it firsthand.” Kaya’s eyes bulged as Celina’s cursed the worst forbidden curse, “Silento.” The curse wrapped around Kaya and in one movement Kaya’s neck jerked abstractly.
"Kaya…Kaya...," you stupidly repeated watching as her body falls to the ground in a single thud. You felt something in you falling, something you'd never get back. Three corpses try suffocating you, but you scream out a smite that sends the three of them soring.
Namjoon takes advantage of the opening and charges at Celina, his anger taking over his actions. He dug the stem of his scythe into the ground and used it to lunge across corpses to land in front of her. He growls as he raises from his squat, “HOW COULD YOU!”
You slaughter any corpses in your path as you walk like Moses as your hands work without turning away from Kaya. Bones, flesh and fluids coat you and fly in front of you but you pay it no attention. You yell out, “Praesido,” casting a shield over the both of you as you fall to your knees next to her. You pick her up carefully, you don’t want to hurt her any further. You scoot her up onto your lap, you touch her face and caress trying something, “Kaya, come back, you can’t, you can’t leave me.” You continue to caress her head, “NO, NO, NO, NO!”
She was gone.
Namjoon charged towards Celina, efficiently cutting her magic as it deflected off his scythe. He readied himself and charged at her again and again no resting between his blows. Crossing of blue hell flame from the scythe and crimson magic from Celina collided illuminations. They collided her magnificent jets holding back Namjoon’s scythe, their flames blending at the collision point a vibrant violet. They were matched in power, but there was no love in war.
Namjoon screamed, “I will collect you Celina!”
Celina cackled, “Never!”
Her power surged causing an explosion between them, Namjoon was sent flying from the impact and he crashed against a tree with a thud. From the ground hundreds of hands began clawing around him. He screamed reaching his hand out of the mound that gathered around him. They buried him underneath the soil.
“NAMJOON!” From your protective shield as you held Kaya in your arms, you screamed until your throat was raw. You crouched over Kaya body tears streaming down your face, you wiped away the tears as Celina staggered towards you. Her body was falling apart as her hourglass was running out. She needed to change, she needed a new body, she needed you.
You don’t know where this strength stemmed from, but you raised from the ground. “I’m sorry Kaya.” You weren’t the same Y/n you were when you first encountered Celina. You were going to use everything of hers against her. Hands buzzed on their own accord, like some magnet, a burning emerald fire crackled on your hands. You had summoned a raging strength from deep within you. Your hands lit up and the flames of magical ombre emerald washed up to your elbows. You marched without breaking pace through your protective shield as if it was invisible. Wind swirled around you your hair whipping around you and Namjoon’s blazer rustling about.
This cycle had to stop.
Chaos ensued moments later, bolts of energy cut through the dense fog. “CELINA!” You mow through the animations who came rushing at you.
Celina shouted, “I shall have your life!”
Your power pulsed through you, it was like a second skin guiding you in the chaos. You stomped your foot into the dense soil concentrating magic in your foot to shower her in dust. You took the opening chance to get closer to her and attack close range. You strike her chest hearing a crack then grabbed onto her arm. When you touch all the sudden both your eyes glow green. The both of you stop, the animations stop as well, eyes glowing green.
Blurs of her life past before your eyes, as you watched her and Kaya as children running through their childhood home, the same one Kaya took residence in. You watched Kaya protect Celina from bullies, but from that Celina grew furious, ‘I can protect myself’
As a teenager she pushed Kaya away. She watched her Sister being doted on by her parents, by her peers, praised by anyone and everyone. There she was, alone. You watch as she sneaks into her sister’s room and steals a black leather book, the Book of Dreadful Curses. She flipped through the book it was only full of small spells at the time. A dreadful smirk curves on Celina’s face, she had dirt on her sister. She confronted their parents about Kaya’s book, feeling finally she had dirt on her perfect sister. Yet, they didn’t believe it was Kaya’s at all, but Celina’s book. Celina’s felt betrayed and resented her sister as Kaya let Celina take all the blame.
The memory whirl pooled jumping in time where Celina was a young adult. She was in the forest with a man double her age. The man she seduced was ignorant to her eyes open as they kiss. She took a knife and stabbed the man. She placed him in a circle and chanted, wicking up candles as she performed. The man rose like nothing had happened, but his eyes are completely black. She panicked, panicked because she never thought she could do it. She murders the man once more and buries him somewhere. The cycle continues with different men and women. She writes more in the book who was mistakenly hers, she develops the curses as she practices them.
You watch as she’s brought before the Hecate council, on her knees. They found out she was performing curses and had murdered a mortal. They were punishing her when she erupted, filling the room with black smoke and escaped. She ran off to the only place she knew, home. She ran into the house, up the stairs and into the kitchen where her sister was sipping tea. “Kaya, they’re coming for me! We have to leave! They’re coming for me.”
Kaya doesn’t handle the news well. Celina does the only thing she knows, she lifted her arms and recites something from the book she created.
She regrets it as soon as it happens trying to undo the curse, but there’s no turning back. She leaves the book and disappears. Leaving all trace of her family and her older self behind.
Celina lives everywhere and anywhere sucking the life out of others, the longer she spent practicing the Dark Arts the harder she fell.
The undead aspect of it began to consume her as you watched as she looked in the mirror and she was but a skeleton. She was wearing that dress, the dress, as she woke from a new reanimation. You watch her crawl out of the soil and walk through a forest. She cracks her neck and smirks.
You knew what happened from there…you were next.
The bond was broken and the corpses collapsed to the floor with nothing left in them. You don’t let a second blip by and you were acting.
Celina growled out, shock flitting across her face, “WHAT DID YOU JUST DO?”
You chanted out something you promised you would never use, but rules are meant to be broken. You roared out a curse, “ABSCINDERE!” Your hand glowed a violent light and for a moment you felt light headed and a blinding light surged from your hand. A guttural scream followed and Celina stumbled backwards. Her arm severed off where your hand was on her upper arm. Your eyes bulged, you didn’t think that would work. You were panting hard, you felt a surging pain in your own arm where you had taken hers. You wanted to scream in pain, but you held it back.
She screamed at you, “YOU BITCH!!”
“Kaya will always be better than you, a better Witch!” Your winced in a moment of weakness, your arm really hurt.
“She was weak, she believed in love and all that other bullshit. Just like you, and that makes you weak.” The remnants of the dress on her body taunted you as well. Spitting in your face for your foolish choice, but you weren’t going to grasp at those threads. You were going to weave your own thread, not a resurgent’s.
“Do you not understand? Do you truly not understand what you’ve done? She never wrote that book for what you did with it, it was meant to lock them away forever.” You sucked in a deep breath, “DO YOU HAVE NO REMORSE KILLING KAYA!”
You tried looking for the tremble or shift in her eyes, but there was none. She truly meant it. “You defend her still when she’s already dead. No, I do not, I’d do it all over again.”
The threads were weaved and she was wrapped in her sin.
Celina grew impatient with the banter, “Kaya is dead, and so will you be!”
At the same time you both muttered out a spell meeting in the center between the both of you with an explosive reaction. You kept your hand stretched out strong just like hers as you both projected towards one another. You were in a gridlock as the spell in the center of you swirled about fiery red mixing with emerald.
You didn’t expect it, but hands popped up form the soil and grabbed at your ankles dragging you down. It was a cheap shot. The hands clasped around you, beginning to bury your feet causing you to lose your balance. Her spell hit you with full force, but the hands kept you grounded. You screamed as it burned and fell to your knees.
You struggled to raise yourself, something hot and dense dripping off your jaw cascading down the side of your face.
Celina began murmuring words that sounded like a thousand words whispering in your ears. You covered your ears trying to cancel them out but they only got louder. Fear surged through you as you began to feel weaker and weaker. The murmurs began to register in your mind, “Internum Cuppedine.”
She had control of your being. You felt a shift in the flow of your blood going against the gradient. She laughed manically contorting her hand stiffly, “Your blood is my blood sweetie. I’m going to claim what is mine now.”
She picked up her severed arm and you horrifically watched as it began to mend itself back to her torso. She kept whispering out her curse and she held out her hand and a knife conjured. The gunmetal blade was raised in the air and black flames began to engulf the blade. She clenched her hand around the blade and swiftly cut her palm covering it in her own thick blood.
“You are mine!” She flicked her wrist and your back bent backwards displaying your chest openly. You stared at the moonless sky, grey clouding your vision. You couldn’t do anything. She picked up speed, branches cracking under her feet as she broke out into a sloppy run. You could only watch as she ran it through your chest with ease. Her cursed knife’s black flames met the soft flesh of your chest with a quick squelch and cracking your ribs with ease. You screamed, but it quickly was muffled as you gurgled on your own blood. You shakily grabbed over her hands looking Celina directly in the eyes. She kept pushing the knife deeper into your chest and you agonized a roar. She let go of the handle only to take some blood streaming down your neck into her palm. You were convulsing, trembling while your hands still held onto the knife. Breathing was difficult as thick rivets of blood was flowing down your chest.
“Just in time, a minute before midnight.” She laughed raising her hands up to the sky, “I will rise again!” She then brought it to her lips to drink.
Namjoon emerged from the dense fog, strong clanking of chains and growling announcing his ominous arrival. He held the leash of Edax Animae and his scythe in his other, face partially covered in blood with completely black eyes. The hounds formed a V formation around him, black smoke still leaving his mouth as hell still leaks from him. “You think the Reaper would die that easily? I never make mistakes.” Edax staggered, then caught Celina’s scent and tugged on the chains. Namjoon raised the leash and whipped them letting go of them on his down swing, “Sick her boys.”
Celina didn’t get a chance drink as Edax Animae hunched down and ran towards her like an animal growling and roaring. The hounds ran behind Edax snarling and barking ferociously. With an open Jaw he pierced her with his tusk and scooped her body into his jaw like a Venus fly trap. Haunting screams followed gurgling sounds as Edax feasted. Celina’s hand fell limp as it hung out of Edax jaw. Celina was dead and because of her own curse.
A black sludge trudged like a slug away from the corpse. Namjoon brought his scythe up and chopped down on it multiple times, splatters of black ink hitting his face. The sludge evaporated, never to be dealt with again. Celina was collected.
Edax began coughing, his body hacking up the stolen body Celina had used. He roared shaking his head around violently and slowly his body began to transform. His flesh rippling, features bubbling, fur receding and tusk collapsing to the floor off his face.
“Edax!”
The being shrunk reducing itself back into a small boy covering in mud and blood. The boy panted as he collapsed to his knee fainting from the shift. Namjoon picked him up in his arms and the boy still had a pulse, “Mallory!”
His attention turned when he heard a gurgling. His eyes widened impossibly, and he clutched the boy tighter to his chest. He stood up with Mallory in his arms calling out your name, “Y/N! Where aRE YOU? ANSWER ME!”
Namjoon searched within the fog and found you kneeling on the floor not far from Kaya. “Y/N!” He gently set down Mallory to inspect you, hands not sure were to fall as he looked at you horrified. Your hands were still wrapped around the knife. “Y/N! NO, no, no! Oh my god, I’m so sorry I took so long. I’m so sorry!”
Your vision was going blurry, you weren’t sure how much longer you had, but you wanted to stay at least to see Namjoon. You needed to know he was okay. You let go of the handle and winced, but you reached out for his hand and brought it to your cheek. You nuzzled against it. You smiled against all the pain, you could do that at least. You watched Namjoon’s panicked face turn blotchy and fade out meshing with the grey background. Your body slacked, head lulling to the side your eyes fell succumbing to the drowsiness.
Namjoon grabbed at your face screaming loud enough to shake the pits, “Y/N!” He tried shaking you awake, but your body swung limply about. He felt for a pulse in your neck with his fingers, but there wasn’t a response. He brought you into his chest caressing your head to his chest rocking back and forth.
It was midnight, and the debt had been paid, but there was always a price.
A green glow filtered in through the dense fog overcoming the four of you. Namjoon lifted his hanging head as a delicate hand pushed his hair back. He wiped his head up, tears dripping down his face.
Satera’s gentle smile greeted him, “Let me see her Reaper.”
He held you tighter to his chest, “Please, don’t—don’t take her.”
She continued to smile and crouched down in front of the both of you. Her grand white dress billowing about her. She reached out and grabbed onto the handle of the knife, “I cannot give her life back, but I can give her something more.”
Namjoon looked up surprised, “What?”
“She is a Duximina. Her fate changed when she died in your uniform. Do you not remember your soul is within it Reaper? Your thread changed her fate.”
He watched as the black knife burned in her hands as she ripped it out of your chest. Your chest levitated up with the tugging and fell back into his chest. Satera cupped her hands muttering under her breathe and her hands began to glow green. She carefully opened them revealing a glowing green ball. Satera kissed it then placed it in your chest. The energy melted into your chest, the injury sealing itself, there was a silent pause. Namjoon stared at your face watching in amazement as the purple around your eyes began to fade and color began to seep back in. You suddenly opened your eyes, nearly bugging out form your skull as your back arched as you deeply inhaled. Namjoon quickly sat you up as you began coughing up the remaining blood that was left in your throat. You inspected your hands, “Wha—how?”
Namjoon brought you into his chest smothering you, “You’re alive, you’re alive.”
Satera tsked, “You’re alive my dear, but not quite.”
You turned towards the mythical being, recognizing her from the multitude of text, “S-Satera?”
She smiled happy you knew of her, “Welcome to the world Duximina,” gently taking your hand, “fulfill your destiny.”
She stood up and walked over to Kaya, “I’m so sorry dear. You’ve done well, now you may watch over them from some place else.” She looked towards Mallory, who was still unconscious then back to Kaya, “He will be well protected, don’t you worry.” She placed her hand over Kaya’s forehead and the both of them disappeared into shimmering dust.
Tears streamed down your faces, as you watched them disappear. Namjoon checked on you, “You’re alive.” That was all he could get out.
You smiled back at him, cupping his stained cheek, “We did it?”
He nodded, stray tears making their way down his face. He slowly raised up, helping you stand as well, “Stay there, don’t move.”
He walked over to Mallory and scooped the boy into his arms and went back to you wrapping your hand in his, “Let’s go home.”
The three of you vanished in a cloud of black smoke.
Your pumps clicked on the wooden flooring. It echoed throughout the empty café. You spotted the booth and you gracefully scooted in. You adjusted his blazer and crossed your legs under the table haughtily, then tossed your arm behind the seat. You looked Namjoon dead in the eyes with a brow raised, “I’ve come to collect.”
He chuckled and copied your gesture tauntingly, “Witch Reaper.”
You both laughed and he leaned over the table and took your chin bringing your lips to his, “Collected.”
You leaned right and did the same to the boy swinging his feet under the booth, too distracted with his collaring page leaving a kiss on his forehead. “ Missed you Mallory.” He grunted in acknowledgement, but you knew that was a lot from the kid.
You felt your chest tingling where your medal was, another call was coming in. You groaned, “I just got here.”
He laughed, but it was cut short when he felt the same sensation, “Guess I gotta go too.”
He reached across the table and kissed you again, “We’re still on for dinner and Family Feud later?”
You lifted your brow, “Always.”
Namjoon picked up Mallory moving him onto his lap, “ We gotta go Kiddo.” In the next second the three of you vanished in your own clouds of black smoke, a half-colored page with discarded broken crayons and the white steam from the abandoned coffee still swirled.
Collected.
Copyright 2018 © by magicalsalamander. All rights reserved.
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POKEMON DOODLES. BETCHA DIDNT SEE THAT COMING.
These mediocre doodles are mostly for Omi. Theyre not even real characters from the games/show... its just... dont worry about it. Since im lazy its all just sketchy doodles. ((A shit ton of them under the cut!))
Hugo (Nat- ):
Candy (Nat- Naive): A not all together newbie. Im sure she was delighted to get he codename... and then less delighted that there was someone already called ‘Candyman‘.
Scarecrow or just ‘Crow’ (Nat- Modest): A spooky man who’ll fit whatever roll he needed for. Very flexible. Has an easy personality to deal with though hes not very forthcoming about himself personally... might be better in a job like this.
Lock (Nat- Quiet):
Doc (Nat- Careful): He has a lot of information on almost everyone... aside from Sickle whos doctor is Emanuel. Hes not a fighter and refuses to evolve because his tail was mutilated and he can be a Slowbro anymore. Hes somehow gained a weirdly dark organ harvester rep... maybe because hes rarely seen and peoples imagination go wild... but to the people under his care hes just a nice, tiny guy who does a good job of patching them up quickly. He will smuggle drugs however because now he gets to work in better conditions under Sickle... hes also got a strange morbid sense of humor.
Wisp (Nat- Hasty): An ice queen type, kinda haughty and smug but shes got the skills to back that up so no one can talk shit. Like ‘sure shes an asshole... but shes not wrong‘. She tries to work WITH people just so she can get them the fuck away from her as quickly as possible. She doesnt appreciate people overstaying their welcome and prefers to go solo. If she needs a partner she prefers another woman or at least a pretty man... but someone like Link or Skim would be better.
Skim (Nat- Sassy): Honestly just a nod to Catwoman in general.
Father (Nat- Serious): A very religious man, mute, demands perfection. If you work for him and fuck up and embarrass him youre in for a world of hurt. No matter how fond he may seem to be towards someone this is true. He doesnt play favorites and he doesnt want anyone under him to stagnate. You push yourself or HE’LL PUSH YOU. The operatives working under him are jokingly referred to as his ‘kids‘. Toward his equals he can be respectful... or maybe just tolerant.
Perma (Nat- Adamant): A cruel efficient lady. Has a thing for blades which is possibly why she has no trouble working for a guy like Sickle. The fact hes not interested piques her interest in him even more.
Gadget (Nat- Rash): Tries to be a fun gamer girl but her short temper makes it hard. Some suggest her codename should be ‘Tripwire‘ because of how unpredictably dangerous she can be... but she disagrees BECAUSE SHES A FUCKING DELIGHT. Can be a bit of a troll... and not the goofy fun kind (the malicious I’ll ruin your life if you cross me kind).
Blink (Nat- Calm) A Very obedient and very smart. Has a really droning dull voice and never loses his temper. Hes good at calming a certain Luxray down.
Mele (IDK)
Wool (Nat- Sassy) Plays dumb and pretty but hes rather clever and is a fun loving fella. Has a French accent. Master of disguise!
Wreckingball (Nat- Hardy): Has no real talent or skill. Hes just a tough bastard you call in if you need to fuck some shit up. Hes probably one of the more pleasant agents in Sickles crew and is chummy... probably not the greatest idea considering his coworkers are a bunch of shady assholes.
Mittens (Nat- Jolly): Hes another rather nice agent of Sickles. But hes not a dumbass like Wreckingball and has become of the head of the Sigma divison. He is a bit reckless tho. He can shoot his arms off and use them as weapons so he occasionally wears prosthetic arms and spends a lot of time with Doc.
Prick (Nat- Impish) Hes a smarmy lad who enjoys talking vaguely and annoying people. HIS NAME IS APPROPRIATE AND HE LOVES IT.
River (Nat- Naughty): Flirty and dangerous. Hes a killer but hes quick and efficient doesnt draw out anyones death. Not because hes nicer or squeamish or anything its because torture isnt in his job description. Hes great at getting people to think he honestly cares and like using built trust to crush his victims. He also like cucumbers! He somehow gets along well with Madam even though theyre both just being fake bitches.
Madam (Nat- Mild): Looks very dainty and delicate and uses peoples desire to please a pretty woman to take advantage of them. Shes not shy about minor edits to peoples memories to help her get away even though its illegal.
Cleo (Nat- Docile):
Cresent the Shiny Lycanroc (dusk form. Nat- relaxed)
Link the Golisopod (Nat- Quiet)-
Methuselah the Drampa (Nat- Mild)
Viola the Chatot (Nat- Naughty)
Sandstorm the Flygon (Nat- Adamant)... Her personality is like that of a strict teacher dont let her have a ruler unless you wanna get spanked. Shes neat and detail oriented and because shes so outwardly respectable... no one would ever suspect shes a fucking thief. Shes a collector of rare and valuable books and of course prefers original copies. Her social skills arent grea unless shes pretending to be someone shes not and gets embarrassed if she reveals too much about herself to anyone.
Cavendish the Tropius (Nat- Lax). Her personality is like shes on autopilot, she gets shit done but shes sorta checked out. Shed much rather just stay home but she also got expensive tastes and shes not rich.
Alkaloid (Nat- Lonely): A gloomy lass that craves companionship. Shes not great at making connections to people which is fine for her position but really wants to have someone to click with. After she lost her eye she became even more distant with people. Shes rather fond of Doc though their relationship is rather one sided... her projecting some strange friendship on him because he cares for her and keeps her secrets... but hes a doctor and its kind of his job.
Blanco (Nat- Quirky): A vain dramatic ladies man. Is a skilled in his job (of course) but he hates when hes gotta tone back his extravagant life. After a long job he likes to surround himself with lively people and have some fun. He thinks he works VERY well with others and thinks himself a perfect partner.... most find him obnoxious and a lot have told him so... he just takes all criticism as jokes and lets it roll off him. If nothing else hes very positive!
Mistletoe (Nat- Serious): He seems cold and scary but hes a man of honor (for a guy who tortures people for a living anyway). He refuses to harm anyone weaker than him and is very caring of children and will step in if he sees some injustice if he can. Rouge agents, traitors,and shit like that though... hes ruthless and is very good at prying information out of them. His hobby of developing new and dangerous poisons/chemicals are often tested on whoever hes toying with. ((He should have spots on the light red parts of his jacket... I forgot them IDK how OH WELL. I wanna tweak his costume a bit anyways. Vileplume colors are so bleh.))
Dust (Nat- Calm): Outwardly very charming but theyre not as sweet as they seem on the inside. Dust doesnt need to bring their victims in any kind of room to do their dirty work and prefers using their dust and psychic abilities to just mind fuck their victims into submission.
The Candyman the Alolan Muk (Nat- Quiet) is an annoyingly patient man and the perfect guy to call if you need to teach someone a lesson. If no one else can do it... THE CANDYMAN CAN. IDK what that Mr Mime did but he pissed Sickle off... Candyman has one weak point and thats his poor eyesight... and he’ll get very annoyed if you touch his glasses.
Doc gets a penpal.
BB Sparky helps Boat be a Pichu with the clever use of feathers and a pink marker.
Lees a hit with his mommas work friends.
Lee and his kids. (Sam and Sparky are his kids occasionally.) Hes a stronk boy but his health isnt the best... even Sam can feel a little guilty and worried when he causes trouble for his friend.
Alex is not an easy man to anger and hes very dangerous when hes angry but no matter how pissed off he is... just seeing Lee can sweep that all away. Alex can get away with a lot... but Lee still wont let him wear his preferred fighting attire. QQ so mean.
I revamped Boats friend Arcane. Hes a cop. ...he mostly hangs out with other dogs but also Boat. Nice guy, very righteous but also kind of a prideful asshole sometimes.
Ray revamp.
I made Sandy shiny because the black looked cool.
Some cops.
Another scientist
TAPUS!!!
Halos childhood friend turned criminal.
Stan and Davy fam!!
Stans mum is a detective, his dad is a stay at home dad.
Davys mum is an ~*~ARTIST~*~ especially in fashion but shes flexible and creative... and very spontaneous and his dad is former military turned workhorse for his wife. Hes good at sewing with all his tentacles.
Although her desire to have a kid was random and ill thought out... they werent as awful at being parents as he thought.
Another Ray! Mega Manectric and Hebenon.
BB Pokemon Quest crew.
I forgot to add Ho-Oh Lugia
And the trios.
#Pwny Gijinka mon fanarts.#PKMN fanarts#Slowpoke#Toxicroak#Milotic#Hitmonlee#Raichu#...I dont feel like typing all the Pokies I added to this post.#LMAO Fuck it.
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Return to Crimson Peak Pt 4
Return to Crimson Peak
Disclaimer: This story is written as a sequal to Crimson Peak. If you couldn’t handle the original story, please don’t read, because that would be dumb.
Sir Thomas Sharpe x Reader
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3
Mini Series Halloween
The slight creaking of floor panels, the sudden jolt of something running through the pipes in the walls, followed by eery, unnatural silence.
All the through the night, that’s all I heard. The constant sound of life flowing through a house that had known nothing but death.
I had stayed quiet, kept my eyes close, certain that if I ignored it, the nagging terror in the back of my mind would cease.
I just wanted to go to sleep.
But it was in that last moment of consciousness that I heard it. Faint but so distinctive I would know it anywhere.
My phone had just received a text.
Popping back to life, I scooped up my cell and praised to the Verizon Gods for bestowing me with enough signal to try and communicate with the outside world.
But when I opened the lock screen, I stopped.
The sender information read across the top: (028) **** - 6609, Belfast, Ireland.
I didn’t know anyone from Ireland.
I wrinkled my brow but clicked ‘open’, my blood turning to ice in my veins as I read, “Get. Out. Now.” down the message. No subtext. No name.
I jumped from my bed and ran out my bedroom door to Luke’s room. “Luke!” I begged, “Luke, open the door!” My fists pounded on the door in loud unison like a war drump. “Luke!”
In the corner of my eye, I caught movement. It caused me to freeze, my mind running rampant but my body unable to process a single thought. More movement, accompanied by a loud thump.
I moved, slowly, knowing that once I saw what was coming, I couldn’t deny it anymore. Any of it.
As my head rotated around, my heart began to speed up, When I finally saw the body, coated in some type of red gunk, I screamed. The body slowly came towards me, one forced step after another thump. “LUKE!”
I jiggled the knob, trying desperately to get in.
Thump.
Even if it was still in this horrific house, at least in his room I wouldn’t be alone. “Luke, please!”
Thump.
I could hear something on the other side of the door, but still no answer. “OPEN THE DOOR, LUKE!”
Thump.
I closed my eyes tight, whispering to myself, “It’s not real. They’re not real. They’re not real, they can’t hurt me.”
The door flew open and I pushed on through, slamming it closed behind me.
I hadn’t realized how hard I was crying until Luke snapped me out of it with a firm shake. My palms had dug so hard into my eyes that my vision blurred a moment before straightening out.
“What the hell, y/n?”
“Someone text me, and then there was a body in the hall!”
His face contorted in confusion. “What?”
I held my phone up to his face, giving him the extra long minute to read so his slow processing mind could understand before pointing at the door. “And then while I was knocking on your door, something started walking down the hall, covered in red.”
“Like red clay?” Luke exclaimed, his unnerving excitement sending a shiver down my spine. “That’s how they used to dispose of the wives. The Sharpes? Remember? They would leave their bodies in the clay wells in the cellar!”
Luke pushed me to the side and flung the door open despite my protests. But there was no one there.
“Dammit, how come you’re the only one who keeps seeing the cool stuff?”
“Why are you acting like this is great? I’ve been laying in my bed freaking out hearing all kinds of spooky shit! If this house is really haunted like in the book, then it’s only a matter of time before something happens to us, we need to leave...”
“Why are you so scared, it’s obviously fake?”
I narrowed my eyes and set my hands on my hips. “You think what I’m seeing is fake?”
“Y/n. Seriously. Why would a ghost call you?” he reasoned. I bit my lip, knowing that it made absolutely no sense. “Come on, think about it. It’s a marketing scheme. Your number is in their system, they obviously text you that message to freak you out. They’re probably what caused all the weird shit you’ve been hearing. If we, the great great whatever grandkids of Edith Cushing have a crazy experience here, maybe write a book or a blog about it, surely they’ll pick up business, right?”
I couldn’t believe his reasoning was so clear. He had wanted to believe all this far more than I did, but as far as he was concerned, none of what I saw was real.
I stood there trying to sort through what to do next when he pulled me into an unexpected hug. “You wanna stay in my room tonight, scaredy cat?”
I mumbled yes under my breath and we settled in for the night. I kept my phone in my hand all night, trying hard to feel as strongly resolved as Luke, but finding myself unable to shake the feeling that we shouldn’t be here.
~~~~~
I didn’t remember falling asleep but I woke up to a sharp pain my stomach. I grunted before finally coughing, hard. Luke was disturbed and sat up beside me, patting me on the back. “Are you okay?”
“I think my nerves got me sick,” I told him, feeling my face to check for a fever.
“You’re fine, just need something to eat. Let’s go check out the complementary open kitchen.”
One of the selling points of the Allerdale Hall was their meal plan: open kitchen. Some foods were supposed to be premade and stored there for the guests to enjoy for breakfast, lunch and dinner. For broke travelers, the price factored into their overnight stay was hard to argue.
Just like the rest of the house, the kitchen had its original gothic charm with some modern upgrades. I was just grateful for the overflowing pantry and fridge.
“I’ll find you something,” Luke offered, “You sit down and take a break.”
I appreciated the sentiment since he wasn’t exactly comforting the night before.
The the rear entrance door flew open and in came the bouncing pink haired owner, Rain. “Good morning, my lovelies!” she sang to us as she passed by. “How was your first night?”
Luke glanced over at me before grinning. “Intense. But satisfactory.”
She gave us her toothless grin before saying, “Glad to hear it!”
I felt myself relax a bit, for what reason I don’t know. Maybe because she looked so untouched by the events I had endured, or because she just had that glow of life about her that I was excited to see. “Yea, the dinner was a nice touch.”
“Oh? What did you guys do?”
Luke and I locked eyes. “The dress up dinner?” Luke pointed out.
Rain’s smile didn’t fade but her head tilted while she asked, “The what?”
He looked at me again but knew before I could speak a word what was going through my mind. “The dress up dinner. With the actors?”
Her smile faded. “Actors?”
“We got an invitation and clothes sent to our rooms?” I pressed, feeling a wave of nausea roll over me. “There were, like, 50 people in the great room. There were actors dressed up as the Sharpes. Are you saying you didn’t send it?”
“No,” she answered, “We don’t do dinners. Everything is ‘serve yourself’. And I certainly don't have the means to get actors to a hotel surrounded by 2 feet of snow.”
Luke laughed as he handed me a glass of orange juice, “Yeah, okay.” But you and Rain weren’t laughing. “So where were you at in this weather?”
“I was home?”
“You don’t live here?” Probably the first real hint of concern in Luke’s voice etched it’s way out this time, and that caught my attention.
“Of course not,” Rain scoffed with a half smile. As her eyes darted between the two of us, she added, “You really think I would buy and live in a haunted house? A ton of people died here, no I’m not doing that. That’s just asking for trouble. My husband and I stay in the trailer Outback.”
“Have you ever stayed the night here?” I asked quickly, needing to know if she had any idea what I could have been seeing the last 12 hours.
She paused. “Yes.”
“And?”
Her eyes went to the floor and she gave another pause, trying to find the words. “I run this house as a job. I like the macabre yea, and Victorian things, sure. But this house.” Her eyes ran around the kitchen, like she was expecting someone else to speak. “It's got a feeling with it. Like there's some dark force boiling thought with the clay…”
Silence. All three of us listening harder to see if anyone else was in the house.
But nothing.
“Can we go down to the cellar to see the clay wells?”
Rain smiled while I felt sicker at the thought. I stifled back a cough, but remember the odd taste of citrus and metal in my mouth.
“Sure ya can,” she encouraged to my dismay. “Let me show you how to go…”
“Absolutely not.” I was firm, and I wasn’t going to change my mind. “I’m not doing that.”
Luke didn’t care, he just shrugged. “I can go with her. You are more than welcome to wait in my room.” He grinned. “Alone.”
I bit my tongue and finished drinking my juice. “Fine.” Hopping from my seat I gave them both a final salute and marched up the stairs. I was not about to go into any cellar in a haunted house.
Absolutely not.
So alone I tracked to my room, sure that if I could just get to my phone and turn on some music to drown out the world around me, I might maintain my sanity.
I was halfway down the hall when I began hearing the strange rattling in the pipes again. I stopped immediately, my eyes following the movement of the rattle down the other hallway with the round mirror. And the room that emitted that strange light.
“Nope,” I thought. “Not today. I am done with this bullshit.”
But when I willed my feet to take me to my room, I couldn’t move. Instead, I started coughing.
Hard.
I leaned over, slightly retching on my own gags, when I felt a hand on my back trying tonsoothe me. Finally catching my breath I whipped my head around and see Sir Thomas Sharpe.
The actor?
Or something else entirely.
“You!” I snapped.
“Yes?” His brow quircked at my tone, his eyes focusing on mine.
“Who the hell are you?”
His tongue swept across his lips as he averted his eyes, trying to come up with a response.
“The owner said no one else was here last night. That she didn’t hire any actors for some dinner party.” I stepped up to him and narrowed my eyes. “So. Explain.” He didn’t answer, instead managing to look completely blank while my aggravation rose. “She said no one is here but her, her husband, me and Luke. Does that mean you’re her husband? If that’s the case, who were the other people at that party?”
“I’m not her husband,”
His tone was so ice cold I shuttered before asking in a low voice, “Then who are you?” He only stared at me with those blue eyes, his nostrils flaring while he ignored my questions. “I know I didn’t imagine that party. I know I didn’t imagine all those people. Luke saw it all, too. So why, then? Why would she say that?”
He didn’t answer and I felt my anger subsiding for fear and confer. “Please just tell me your name. Your real name. Tell me who you really are and what you’re doing here. Because you’re not a hotel guest and you don’t work here.” The tears were heavy, stinging my eyes more and more with each blink.
The rattling in the pipes started agaij, this time further down the hall. I pushed passed Thomas to follow jt, ending up outside of the door i had come to the day before. Light came through the bottom and i could hear distinctive movements on the other side. “If you won't tell me what's going on, I'll find out for myself.”
I could feel him as he got beside me, stopping me just as my hand got to the doorknob.
“Don't.” and again my anger came out.
“What you people are doing isn’t scary. It’s fucked up! It’s not funny, it’s not amusing, its driving me insane and I want it to stop! My brother insists that despite what I’ve seen, this is all fake. He is determined we haven’t experienced anything real and that what I have seen has been a part of some scare tactic to build up business. If that’s true, you people have a lot of nerve pulling this shit…”
I inhaled sharply, the ferocity in my voice so sharp it cut with every word I lashed out. But in the end, I felt myself weaken. Thomas’s eyes were glaring at me now, and I became well aware of just how large a man he was. For all his well spoken, well mannered impression of Sir Thomas Sharpe, this actor had never broken away from character. Even when he scolded me and Luke for the seayonce. And now, staring me down with a clenched jaw, I couldn’t help but feel something inside me twist like what I was looking at was no longer human.
I could see something burning in his eyes and I was made both painfully and frighteningly aware that I could be dealing with something far darker.
He spoke, low and serious, “Do you think it is meant to be amusing, Ms. y/n?” He took a step towards me, his eyes staying focused on my own. “You believe ghosts are meant to bring you amusement? That you can pay a little money, see the oddity, and maybe have something interesting to tell your friends. That ghosts exist here, in the world of the living to souley bring a touch of magic into your otherwise gloomy existence?” I took a step back, so small that it shouldn’t have meant anything, but Thomas reached out and took hold of my wrist. His skin was cold it felt like he wrapped me in dry ice.
It burned.
“No, I’m not done yet! You living come to this home, this place where I was born. Where I lived. Where I died. And you make a mockery of my life, asking with your little rituals to see some glimpse of me, of my sister, only to taunt us.” His grip on my wrist tightened, making me wince. “And you.” He took pause, seeing the tears swelling in my eyes. He didn’t let me go, but I could see the regret. “You.” It was like he snapped out a dream, his eyes lowered and he finally released me. “You should never have come here.”
There was a loud, unmistakable pounding from the other side of the door behind me. My head whipped around to see while my heart raced in my chest. A strong wave of confusion and pain washed over me as I began to cough again, Thomas letting go of me long enough to cough into the back of my hand.
When I stopped, I realized the knocking had ceased and Thomas was gone.
I also noticed another tinge of red on my hand where I coughed.
“Is that blood?”
Like my garbage? Read more of it! Master List
If you would like to be tagged or untagged from this series, comment or message me!
CP Tags: @intransittosomewhere @harata-raven, @whatislifewithoutlovestruck
ALL TAGS: @socialheartbreak @kcd15 @maladaptive-ninja-returns@nephalem67 @jessiejunebug @woodyandbuzz20-01@lokislilslut @bambamwolf87 @avenging-blackwidow
#sir thomas sharpe#thomas sharpe#edith cushing#edith sharpe#crimson peak#lucille sharpe#tom hiddleston#halloween
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Oh, hey! I’ve been meaning to do this thing for a while since I first saw it and I keep forgetting, so thanks to @stormiesquall for the tag! And this also solved my crisis of what to do first in the morning! I’m also still hella in the mood for tumblr dev, so if you have any more questions or ideas for any of my sso ocs, go hit up their sideblogs with an ask, kids!
[name] dot, we’re gonna say. cause i’m still a wee bit uncomfortable just sharing that unless its close friends.
[sign] gemini
[height] 5′ 4″ ish.
[put your songs on shuffle and & list the first four]
going from my “general playlist” on spotify cause it’s where i dump anything and everything i enjoy. (dear god it pulled songs i haven’t listened to in a while, way to call me out, spotify)
all star // smash mouth
setting sun // miracle of sound - an rdr2 inspired song
drunk on a plane // dierks bentley
fuck this shit, i’m out
hey. you wanted honesty. i swear, there’s actual shit on here. but sometimes, you just gotta have a good meme song.
[grab the nearest book, go to page 23. what’s the 17th line?]
“your goal here is to control it by pulling the rod left or right in the [line 18, opposite direction to the movement of the fish].”
this book happens to by my official guide to red dead redemption 2, hard back, collector’s edition, if i remember correctly. and page 23 happens to be about the fishing mechanic.
it’s actually really relaxing. i’m not much for that sort of outdoorsy hunty stuff irl, but the few times I’ve done fishing in rdr2 have been really fun. i should do more of it. Let arthur have some arthur time away from camp idiots like micah, i mean, what?
[had a song or poem written about you?]
maybe? i did creative writing in high school for two years, and there was lots of poetry involved in my second year. we had lots of good times no matter what we wrote, and that was really the best part. i loved that class and all we shared in it.
[when was the last time you played air guitar?]
fucc, i dunno. probably coming home from work one night cause we listen to the radio a lot. if my mom doesn’t decide to talk my ear off. so probably within the last week or two.
[do you believe in ghosts?]
i don’t know. i’m a baby when it comes to anything horror, so, usually, i don’t like thinking about it because people like to portray the spooky scary of it, and if i think about, i scare myself thinking about those ghosts. but maybe. i’m also not religious, so like... i don’t know? i think it’s possible there could be, like, spirits that have unfinished business, or like they stay behind to look after someone, you know?
[do you believe in aliens?]
do i actively think about whether or not i believe in aliens? no. do i believe in aliens in, like, the sci-fi sort of sense? eh, not particularly, but in the whole concept of some sort of life out there on another planet? sure. why not? just because earth is perfect for us and we’re so widespread on this planet, that doesn’t mean that some sort of life out there somewhere else doesn’t exist. Microorganisms are fucking everywhere here, after all, and plenty are important in several natural processes.
[do you drive? if you do, have you ever been in an accident?]
i have a permit, but i haven’t done a lot of driving. i’m talking like around the block and in a parking lot kind of driving. i don’t think i’ve personally been in anything too bad that i can remember as a passenger? scrapes and dings, yes, but nothing that wasn’t ~easily resolved.
[last book you read? actual book?]
fuck, i also don’t know this one. i do like to read, i just... don’t do a whole lot of it now that i’m not in school. i think, oh god...
i mean, technically, i’ve read out of my rdr2 guide as needed and, of course, continue to do so when i want to reference something.
but the last book i remember reading is the first book in the warriors series about the origins of the clans? like, the one about the tribe splitting up and the group from the tribe travelling to the area the clans lived. i’d get up and go grab the title and series name exact, but i’m lazy cause i’m under a really comfy blanket. >.>
[do you like the smell of gasoline?]
i’m gonna be the odd one out and say kind of, actually. sometimes, not so much, but, usually, i don’t mind it. would i want to spend loads of time around it? fuck, no, but in a gas station, i’ve found it like... idk, interesting, how it smells, i guess?
[what was the last movie you saw?]
i literally had to look up a 2018 release schedule to figure it out, y i k e s. the last movie i think i saw in a theater was the nutcracker and the four realms. i intended to see more, but my mom and i are actually horrible at making plans and sticking to them when it comes to going out to see movies?
the last movie i watched though was... i think sherlock holmes (2009), with robert downey, jr. and jude law. i love that movie.
[do you have any obsessions right now?]
star stable online is like my ongoing obsession, and red dead redemption 2 - mostly arthur morgan is a good character and i’m still not over how pretty the game is and i’ve had it since release.
[do you tend to hold grudges?]
i don’t know, i don’t think so. tldr, i have a fucked relationship with my biological dad that took me maybe three or four years to finally cough up that i wanted him the fuck out of my life cause he was a toxic, negative influence, and i still want nothing to fucking do with him for good reason. i’d like to think most of the people i purposely cut out of my life are for something like that, not because of some dumb grudge. i was way too fucking forgiving for way too long in that case, so... i just. i don’t think i do grudges. if you’re bringing me down and otherwise being more of a bad influence and energy in my life than a good one, i won’t want to be around you. that’s what i do. if you hurt my friends, i’m going to keep that in mind.
that one bad experience i kept going for too long was just too much for me to not be hesitant and careful now when you really hurt me or someone i trust. i don’t have time to give twenty undeserved second chances, especially doing so much better like i am now, far away from all that.
sorry that got a little personal, but i mean... hey, it’s a personal ask. might as well be honest.
[are you in a relationship right now?]
fuck nooooooooooooooo, as friends and i would say memeingly. i’m very asexual when it comes to me things, and i’ve honestly just... never been interested in anyone that way. not seriously. i was the one in high school to hear all my friends’ relationship woes and think to myself “i don’t need that kinda extra added bs stress, i have enough to worry about.”
and i like to joke that being single = more pizza for me, myself, and i when i want pizza, so that is a definite plus.
so tldr, no, and i’m not interested. i’m happy being a single pringle.
#tagged in#personal#yikes okay i didn't mean for that one to get so personal but oops here we are#i'm so fucking shook that spotify gives me 2 fucking meme songs the one time i'm actually taking note#it wouldn't do that if i wasn't doing this#i swear#literally picked 4 songs i don't listen to a lot unless i'm in a mood?#except for setting sun#setting sun i just need to listen to more#cause cry
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Right here are my very long thoughts about Hereditary and why it Disappointed Me beneath the cut. Watch out for massive spoilers.
I’m coming at this because I was EXTREMELY EXCITED going by its critic rating on rottentomatoes. A horror with a 90%+ rating on that system puts it in the tier of A Quiet Place, The Babadook, Get Out, The Witch, all of which I adored so this is the quality I was expecting. And I got nothing close to it. AND HERE’S WHY:
—Too long. It comes in at over 2 hours which is, in my opinion, far too long for a horror unless it’s complex and compelling. And it wasn’t compelling to me. Every single shot was dragged out in a way that I think was supposed to add suspense or emotional weight but didn’t do either of those things. Instead it took out all the emotional weight and all the suspense because I eventually was like ‘please get to it’. It was over utilized. There were so many shots of someone just STARING for like 2 minutes. And the grief of this mother dragged on for an hour in a way that was painful but not in a powerful way. In an unrelenting and maudlin way.
—Didn’t seem to really know what its style of horror was. Psychological horror? Ghost story? Exorcist-cult-esque horror? Family horror? Shock horror? It kind of dabbled in all of them without fully realizing any.
— While the premise could have been interesting, the narrative wasn’t tight enough to give it weight. I feel like if the presence of Collette’s deceased mother was really felt more in the family life, and the discovery of her family history happened more gradually it could’ve been more successful. Instead, the ‘hereditary goal’ is presented in 2 seconds from a silly highlighted line in a bookmarked page in a book sitting at the top of one of the two boxes labeled Mom’s Stuff.
—SO OVER THE TOP. In all ways. In its spooky moments (ridiculous headless figures floating up a ladder, she’s suddenly climbing on the ceiling, there are grinning naked people flitting out of corners they’re suddenly inhabiting for no reason), in its eventual Hail Satan theme (summon a prince of hell to get riches, complete with photos of grandma grinning under a wash of coins at what looks like a retirement party in a community center, showin she Got Riches). People in the theater were laughing at some parts, and by the end I don’t think it was entirely nervous laughter. Whereas when I watched The Witch in theaters, and A Quiet Place in theaters, people were Fucking Silent. I think the most effective horror is not the sort that incites nervous laughter, because in a way that nervous laughter is coming from a place that also understands that there’s almost a silliness to it, which I don’t think was the film’s intention.
— The scares themselves felt pretty derivative and predictable. You know. A Bird Hits A Window and Someone Flails Frantically On The Ceiling and There’s A Dead Deer In The Street and No One Ever Turns On The Damn Lights. The hints were too obvious i.e. the cult member who happens to be in all the same places as Collette and upon visiting, Collette mentions a home decor piece she has that looks just like the things her mother used to make. It’s comin from a mile away. There was not a single twist in the entire thing. Not even an attempted-but-failed twist. And the way the cult activities were orchestrated had a lot of holes in it too.
—Okay this isn’t a movie critique but my own personal…sadness that was more my narrative desire going in rather than the film’s intention so disregard, really:
BUT Collette processed her complicated family history through the tableaus she created of tiny rooms, which is interesting…and I think the trailer and bits of the film also hinted at this slight idea of them being used for sympathetic magic, even though that did not end up being the case. But there was such an emphasis placed on them that I was…kinda really hoping for some sympathetic room magic. But instead we just got some ridiculous cult activity. I think my bias is showing about my hatred of ridiculous cults. I’m all about cults if they’re done well but they never seem to be done well! They seem to just exist to be like OO WE NEED A SPOOKY NEMESIS and it’s never spooky or a good antagonist. It’s DUMB.
—It was hard for me to find a thing I liked about this film to be honest. I will just say I like the initial premise, of Hereditary Family Trauma and, the originality of the idea of an artist processing grief through tiny recreations of rooms and moments in her life, and I’m sad that…neither of those things felt realized in a meaningful way for me.
#i feel bad that i dont write reviews about horror movies I like...#i guess cos I like complaining#and so with movies i like im just like THIS IS SO GOOD AND BEAUTIFUL WATCH THIS
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@saioumotaweek
Day 3 of 7. Pets, Shared Apartment
“Hey there, kitty-kitty...” Stooping over, the sunlight glaring at his back... And a tiny mewl to answer him, orange eyes looking up at him. Ah! It’s melting his heart!
It started weeks ago. Every day on his way to his Uncle’s agency, bright and early, Shuichi passed through a quiet little street. It would have been entirely unremarkable if it weren’t for the lone denizen he often saw--a ginger-and-white tabby, happy to greet the rare stranger. The first weeks, he’d felt the compulsion to wave at them. This had to be their home, right? If it wasn’t from a house, then this street. It was a little scrawny, young, but unafraid even if he nervously couldn’t bring himself to approach.
It’s the next Monday by the time he could muster the courage to break this tentative trust. He approached, watching as they flitted their tail and moved a little away. No, not that good of friends. “Ah, sorry... I wasn’t going to shoo you away. Do you--do you want to greet me?” His hand outstretched toward them. Whatever it thought of it, it did sit down at least, passively accepting him. It warmed his heart a bit. “Is it alright if I pass through here? I have to twice a day to go to work and back.” Of course the feline wouldn’t care about it, but it seemed natural to talk to it like another person, hoping for the gleam of understanding in its orange eyes. He might’ve spent longer if he didn’t have the day booked--it was a lot of work, being an Ace Pet Detective.
By the time it’d been late that week, his boyfriends had already learned about it; it was hard to hide anything from them. “Oooh? Shuichi, are you saying you like cats?” That had been the first thing out of Kokichi’s lips, eyes filled with interest and bounding over to him. “What kind is it? A black cat, all spooky and bad luck and-”
“What? No, no! A ginger cat.” He could swear he saw Kaito exhale a held breath. Was Kokichi teasing him, using this as a--no, of course he was. “I don’t know if he’s someone’s. They’re really thin, so I’m a little worried about them in this summer heat... I brought a little milk with me yesterday for them.”
“You-” Kokichi faultered, surprise on his face. “You don’t know? Cats are super lactose intolerant when they’re adults. You probably made them sick.” There might have been concern there, but such simple a mistake, and with him being a pet detective no less-!
It had Shuichi freezing up, the feeling of a dull, aching pain rising up along his bones. A hell of an empathetic response if he ever had one, hands gripping at his shirt. “I must’ve made them--oh no!” He was a pacifist in his own accord, a boy who hated the idea of suffering in others, clinging to the vestiges of his own depression at times--so the realization was distressing. He’d never meant to hurt them.
“Whoa, hey, you didn’t--take a breath, man. Just don’t bring milk anymore. I mean, once its through its system, it’s alright, right? It’s like when you eat something with too much spice!” Kaito clenched a fist, gesturing at him. “Just bring some water next time!”
Stars, that sounded so simple. But Shuichi was a boy who always went the extra mile, and so he made a plan--he’d get some fresh fish from the market, and offer it. Surely that would amend things, right?
And so, to the mirth of his boyfriends, he took some extra change with him the next day and went on his walk. It wasn’t a work day, but he left at the same time as one, hoping they wouldn’t run from him after everything. He really hadn’t meant to poison them...!
Fresh salmon, fresh tuna... Ah, the tuna was a little cheaper, so maybe that’s better... Yeah, he’ll go with that. One slice was too little, that’d make the clerk annoyed with such a tiny order--so he bought enough for a lunchtime snack for himself and his boyfriends. One slice could be the cat’s.
Done with the market, he headed back toward his work, crossing the street into the clandestine block. He didn’t see the ginger cat immediately however, despite calling. Was it already too late...? Had he broken what trust he’d built?
...The blinds of a house moved. If he’d been wearing his hat, he would’ve missed it entirely, but sure enough, there was small scraping noises accompanying it, luring him close.
Ah-
The cat was inside someone’s home!
So was this the owner? He hadn’t seen anyone come or go, but he never waited too long on the street before, so he didn’t expect to. Would it be rude to...? No! He had to make up for his mistake!
Gathering his courage, Shuichi stepped to the front door and knocked on the wooden frame. It took a moment, but an old woman answered. “I’m sorry, we’re not interested in any products-”
“Oh! I’m not a salesman. I work at Saihara’s Agency--er, but that’s not why I’m here.” He had to make a mental note to relax his body. She seemed intrigued, which meant he hadn’t offended her. “I apologize for bothering you--the cat in the window... Is he your’s?”
“Oh my! Well yes, he is. I picked him up from the shelter not long ago, in fact. You must have seen him--he loves watching people pass through.” Her smile was wide, if not slightly awkward by her loose dentures.
“Yes, I’d seen him on the way to work. I don’t always walk back home so--a-anyway, I gave him some milk earlier this week and I was told that can make them really sick so--!” He fumbled with his bags, procuring the small single-slice package set aside from the rest. “Please give this to him!”
His ears must have been burningly red by the time she stopped laughing. It was like this could very well be the funniest thing she’d ever heard, before she wheezed and cleared her throat, taking the slice. “You did no harm, but I’ll give him this as a treat. You’re an incredibly kind and honest man. Not like a lot of boys your age.” Her eyes crinkled with her smile. “I hope you get home soon, though. It’s supposed to rain today, so I’ve kept him in with me--though he doesn’t like it. Might like it more after this.” The package was lifted a fraction, indicating it.
“A-alright, and thank you! Have a nice day!”
He parted ways.
As the days continued, he had to admit... He’d hoped they’d been a stray. The idea of taking an orphaned animal off the street was appealing and it’s not like their apartment was a no-pet-zone, but it seemed like fate had outwitted him. It’d been nice to have the companion in the mornings.
Late one afternoon, he came home to all but being swept into the kitchen under Kaito’s arm, Kokichi sitting with a box on the table. Large enough for a cake, he could swear, but it didn’t look like it was from a pastry place...
“Good thing you’re home! Kokichi and I have a surprise for you, since you’re been putting in all these hours at work and never ask for much.” Kaito’s arm slid lower, hooking around his waist to bring him close--the contact was nice. “Can you guess what it is?”
“A um... New shoes?”
“Whaaat? Why would we buy you dumb shoes? You gotta try them on to know if they fit anyway!” Kokichi burst out, snickering. “Try harder!”
“The package doesn’t look like it’s food, and it’s not a cake box... If it’s not shoes or clothing, I don’t know what else it could be. It doesn’t look heavy or delicate, so it can’t be anything too expensive.”
“He’s gonna be here all day guessing; just open the damn lid Kokichi.”
“Fiiine! Laaaaame.” The monochromatic boy stood up and pried off the lid, setting it aside and reaching in with both arms. And then--!
“Surprise! We got you a kitten!”
Was it kosher to cry over a gift? Well, he certainly was either way, because this had to be the best gift yet.
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So @thedrunkenminstrel did this so I might as well too. Let’s get an Aon’s Top Ten Ships list running! I will say right now that this list is honestly a very shaky thing. A lot of is something that is subject to heavy shifting around, and some of the things that are on it currently probably wouldn’t be if you asked me another day. The top three I can more genuinely state are like Actual Factual Top Three Material and wouldn’t shift much at all. But the rest are up to heavy degrees of change.
10. Naruto/Hinata from Naruto
We’ve got to start this list off right and to do that let’s put one of my weirdly enduring baby ships in the ten spot. This was honestly kind of tied with three other ships that I’ll mention later as honorable mentions, but Naruhina gets to win out its spot for its bizarre personal significance to me. Namely the ship is weirdly instrumental in my realizing I was trans, by way of an AU I worked on where Hinata was a transman. And the entire thing was very heavily focused on that woe and also romance with Naruto who tried to teach Hinata the ropes of being a dude. Which sounds like a beautifully terrible trainwreck now, honestly, given that it’d probably involve him showing Hinata the local pornshop and being like YES. THE HEIGHT OF MANHOOD. titty mags.
Stepping away from that weird personal significance that no one else save me holds for it though...Naruhina is one of those early ships I clung to really, really hard because I heavily related to one half of the ship and saw, in the other person, traits I found admirable. Like, yes, Naruto’s an irritating jackass who fails all his classes but he’s loud and out there and keeps trying even though he basically always fails up until the point when the plot deems him Ninja Jesus. All traits a nervous kid desperately wished he had and ones that I found endearing or attractive. Even if so much of the rest of him is so grating. Also this sets up the major theme of this list, namely that if you’re earning my undying shipper love chances are I relate to one half and have a crush on the other half.
9. Saria/Malon from The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time
This is really low on the list, but it’s here for one very important reason. And that reason is is that it is the crackship that will not die. Years have past since a little kid went ‘but what if the cute farm girl and the fairy girl were a couple!’ and the ship’s stuck. It’s also evolved over the years. Evolved into something that by its very nature is doomed to tragedy. Because really if you think about it there’s no real way it could be anything but. Saria dies in the end and is also a weird eternal child type deal. Malon’s going to grow up and move on from her first dumb little kid crush.
It’s not really a ship I like am actively, emotionally obsessed with but it is one that I repeatedly go back to and just toy with the idea of every so often. Like it’s just an idea I find compelling to toy with. Early childhood love that by its very nature must die between a human and what amounts to a fairy.
8. Satoko/Rika from Higurashi no Naku Koro ni
Alright now we’re back to something I am like deeply and emotionally invested in. As someone with an abusive family seeing Satoko’s story in Higurashi was a harrowing experience as a kid. Especially as a kid who has outright lied to CPS before to avoid further abuse. It was also a comforting one in a fashion. Since even before saving Satoko, Rika and her friends are always there to at least try and save her. Satoko’s a horrible brat and a horrible brat that I relate to.
Rika’s...weird meanwhile. She’s someone who’s technically a child but due to magical fuckery is actually mentally matured past that. She’s also been pretty scarred by the trauma of what she’s gone through and it’s left her not entirely ‘human’. So much so she needs to eventually go through an arc just to realize that, no, it’s time to give up being a witch and to just...try and find what’s normal. Even though everything about that sounds wrong or even impossible. And that in itself is also relatable.
But even then she’s still Satoko’s best friend and Satoko is her best friend. They stick by each other and I’d imagine they would later on in life. But even later on in life there’d still likely be mental disconnect there for a good chunk of time. And one also has to keep in mind that while Rika’s mentally lived for at least one hundred years she’s still not an adult. She’s just a child that was forced to grow up too fast and that’s eventually going to bite her I think, when she realizes that in itself isn’t adulthood. That’s an interesting thing to think of an toy with, I think.
7. Porrim/Aranea from Homestuck
An entirely unsurprising pick from me if you know anything about me from my Homestuck days. Which are like my normal days, honestly, but the fervor’s kind of died down. Give it a bit though and we’ll get right back to Hamsteaking.
Porrim is just...a very one-note little joke. In all honesty. But she’s one that provides like a vast sea of unexplored potential. Porrim is, like so much of Homestuck, a perfect Barbie doll to play makebelieve with. She is also a vampire. This nets her like 50,000 bonus points immediately.
Then there’s Aranea. Aranea is a bad person. Let’s make no bones about that. She is a bad person. But she’s cute in a way, when she’s not being awful. She’s also someone that reminds me somewhat of the person my current boyfriend used to be, while also having troubles that I myself find relatable.
And the most important part of the ship is that they canonically broke up. Which sounds like a weird ass reason to ship a thing I suppose, but the breaking up is what makes the ship interesting to me. It’s basically a tragedy in action. It can’t work out in the main timelines, though it might in alternates. And I like exploring what led up to it not working out.
6. Chise/Elias from The Ancient Magus Bride
This is sadly not in the top ten yet as I don’t quite feel comfortable putting it there when I’m not caught up. But given where I currently am in the manga I have to say that this is one of the most disgustingly me romances I’ve seen in a bit. We’ve got a spooky monster man, an awkward abused girl...He calls her puppy and gives her head pats and they nuzzle each other like dogs. He kind of wants to eat her and he’s kind of a creepy weirdo to her at times, but she’s also not seeming like someone that is just going to bow down and eternally accept that and...
And they’re both learning how to people. They both are. Neither of them really knows how to do this whole human thing that well. They’re both emotionally fucked and dysfunctional in their own ways. And they’re learning from each other. In such a fashion that I legitimately cried while reading my comics. Which is a bit hard to manage. Given proper time and catching up they may well travel up this list.
5. Malus/Carrie from Castlevania 64/Legacy of Darkness
Alright. Back to childhood ships. Also more monsters. Also these were kind of awful ass games and neither Carrie nor Malus really have much personality at all. Carrie’s personality is mostly relegated to material in the manual, which paints her as an incredibly angry and distrusting child that hates adults and also God for failing her repeatedly. But that’s all just stuff in like a summary. And Malus’ personality is NYEHEHEHE I WAS EVIL THIS WHOLE TIME.
So what, pray tell, is the appeal of this besides my obvious vampire fetish. The answer is that like...the bad end of the game has Carrie promising to marry Malus. Malus asking her to marry him presumably so he can like make use of the Belnades bloodline’s magic. Also Malus is Dracula.
Dracula and human women do not have a good track record. Both in terms of him being able to resist the rare strong willed woman willing to put him in his place and in terms of keeping those women not murdered for witchcraft.
Malus and Carrie is a ship of potential. Potential that plays into one of the central themes of Castlevania’s storyline which is that Drac really just wishes people would stop killing his girlfriends.
I may or may not have also had an OC who was their kid who is also kind of basically another character on this list.
4. Glinda/Elphaba from Wicked
Listen to What is this Feeling. Now listen to it again. Listen to Popular. Now listen to it again. NOW LISTEN TO DEFYING GRAVITY. NOW LISTEN TO IT AGAIN.
We’ve got a green woman who is kind of hideous and who thinks she’s ugly! She’s also angry at the world and wants to change shit! She’s also tragically fucked! In the book at least. How is that not a me character?
And Glinda. Gods. Glinda. She’s not stupid. She seems it in the book a lot of the time and Elphaba assumes she is right away but...Glinda’s not stupid. She’s actually very smart and putting on a front. Also she basically annoys Elphaba’s tsundere ass into being her bff. And if there is anything I love in my ships it is one half having to be annoyed into friendship by another happier character who is weirdly trusting and accepting of this horrible monster. Why? Who cares! But they are!
Now listen to What is this Feeling. Please.
3. Zero/Fiethsing from Force of Will
And now we are finally in the top three. We have also reached the part of the list where we have a character with alarming similarities to my weird kidfic OC from Castlevania.
So Zero. She’s cranky and serious. Kind of nervous. Really nervous honestly. She’s also pretty cynical and at her worst points actively gives up on trying to save the world and attempts to destroy it or is like on the brink of giving up again. She’s also got abandonment issues, self hate problems, and uncompromising sense of justice that can be reasonably connected to the self hate problems and shit’s just not a good time for Zero. Also she’s a vampire. And then there’s Fieth. Her Most Important Partner. Lovely, stupid, irritating Fieth. Fieth who adores freedom above all else and who is seemingly full of endless optimism and hope and who is a cocky bitch and who lies and sleeps and is basically a cat become an elf.
More importantly though there’s what they are. We don’t get to see Zero and Fieth becoming friends. We meet them when they’re friends already and have years of established history with one another. And shortly after we meet them they adopt a child. Or, rather, Fieth declares she’s going to raise the baby into her apprentice and Zero declares that she refuses to let Fieth raise a baby on her own. And then...they become a family. Just. A family. A pretty happy one at that. It’s eventually torn asunder by death and war but before that they’re just two mothers and their daughter. They are in a sort of quantum gay state like poor Nanofate despite their whole deal, but to me they do unquestionably read as a couple. One with problems. A laundry list of them. But a couple with a kid and, in a weird sort of way, a future.
2. Jame/Tori from The Chronicles of the Kencyrath
I adore this ship. It is hard to quantify how much I adore it. But it’s quite a lot. It’s dysfunctional. It’s got issues. It’s incest and that shockingly isn’t one of the issues. And that’s why I love it. Because Hodgell has managed to take fantasy characters and mythic archetypes and humanize them with some of the most starkly real depictions of mental illness I’ve ever seen. Hands down.
Tori’s a nervous wreck. He’s an asshole with problems from trauma and Jame doesn’t just take his shit. She actually does the exact opposite and tells him to fuck off. That’s important. Tori not just getting the girl despite being a human disaster is very important. The fact that his very behavior is why the girl does not want to get with him even though she really, truly wants to deep down is very, very important.
Jame/Tori is the awkward and rough tale of two people having to recover from frankly atrocious abuse. Two people who are deeply drawn to one another but who also fear and kind of hate the other. Two people who can barely stand being in the same room as one another currently. It’s a bumpy road. It’s a road we’re not even sure they can make it down. But that’s why it means things to me as someone whose undiagnosed BPD almost destroyed his relationship.
1. Sakuya/Remilia from Touhou
This just barely beat out Jame/Tori and the sole reason it beats out Jame/Tori is I have shipped this fucking shit for literally almost half my life. And I’m still not through with it or tired of it. It’s been years and years and it is still one of my most favoritest ships ever. So I feel pretty confident saying it is my One True Pairing.
It’s also got a vampire. Wow. It’s got a human partner who is bad at humaning too! Double wow! And what it’s got in particular is exceptional flexibility. Like all the Touhous Remilia and Sakuya are kind of just left up to the mercy of the fandom. There’s canonical traits they have and we have seen them interact together and with others, but in a far more limited degree than what is seen in a lot of other works. And the fandom is what basically runs Touhou. It is a self perpetuating machine and Sakuremi is still chugging along years later and with a bunch of variety in it, even if it’s got some tropes I am really tired of seeing at this point.
But why is this the Touhou ship to end all Touhou ships? Besides the obvious answer of ‘Duh, it’s a vampire and her maid. What the fuck else do you NEED?’ we have the ever important identification and wish fulfillment aspects. Which breaks into my own personal conception of the characters and their relationship with one another.
So Remilia’s like...a kid. Forever. She was turned very young so even after five hundred years she still looks like she’s ten at best. She’s also kind of a brat and at times fairly naive in the way a kid might be. But we do see that she puts on airs. She’s TRYING to be this intimidating, sophisticated vampire lady and she takes pride in the fact that people ‘respect’ her. But that respect is more fear of the fact that she’s a vampire and vampires are stupidly powerful in her world.
And as someone who had an extended childhood forced on him by his family and who is trying to learn what it is to be an adult and never being treated like an adult or not being able to handle it when he is...That’s just. Something very ripe for playing with.
Especially when you mix it with Sakuya. Who’s an outcast among her own kind and who gave up on bothering with them for it. She’s someone who might have been a vampire hunter than failed to kill Remilia. She takes care of her and chides her like a child, but she also is most definitely subservient to her. And she’s said that she’ll always be together with her as long as she lives. Always. Sakuya’s like this weird mix of a sweet, caring goofball of a woman and a hate filled, mopey edgelord that really only could get along with monsters.
So like, I like to think, that they’ve basically ended up finding what exactly the other needs. Remilia gets someone who sincerely respects her authority and takes her seriously, but who also will not entirely put up with her bullshit. Sakuya gets someone who...cares. At all. Someone to give her a name and talk to her and not chase her away for being monstrous.
And perhaps more than any of these ships freedom to fuck around is there. It’s what I want to make it.
Honorable Mentions
We have three of these. Nanoha/Fate from the Nanoha franchise, Usagi/Ami from Sailor Moon and Shimako/Sei from Maria-sama ga Miteru. They were all just barely beaten out by Naruhina, hence their inclusion here.
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Q ONAN IN THE AEON OF HORUS
Insanity is contagious in the Aeon of Horus. Hope you all had a happy and healthy Sirius day on 23rd... I wasn’t going to write another screed until late September but I might well be trapped on the festering cesspool prison island of guinea pigs in three weeks time where the oven ready Boris variant runs wild, and will have very limited access, if any, to the matrix. And I needed to rant off as catharsis on current popular topics. Arf arf arf and fnord as well.
Climate report Doom...fires, floods, earthquakes, hurricanes on the rise, watch the Texans and Arabs and all those aligned with oil continue to deny global warming in the sweating face of the evidence. The tyranny of the driller killers has been disabling those with clean solar power ideas and the mass use of limitless superconductive energy for decades, while they work out how ‘to put a metre between us and the sun’. Blame greed. Perhaps they think Bezos will have enough rockets for them to plunder other worlds and leave the future desert of earth behind. Climate change deniers usually have the same mind set as those who are anti vaxxers, it seems to be a typical item on their lists of dislike. Right alongside all the other bollocks and twaddle they don’t believe in, despite the enduring and building testimonies of the majority of professionals.
‘To prevent yourselves doing and seeing and coming into contact with this, that and the other...lock yourselves up in a monastery where you’ll be safe. Immunity...it teaches us how not to be affected by the countless vicissitudes of life; not how to avoid them by running away...The philosopher adapts himself to the exigencies of life, not the exigencies of life to himself.’ The Initiate in the New World by his pupil. Book two of a fascinating trilogy. Hello Cecil Jones.
America...the gurning evil one (‘I love the poorly educated’) doesn’t seem to be back in the White House quite yet, Q Onan and the boys can’t seem to get their insurrection up. Been there eh? White guys just take the blue tablet and avoid getting redpilled. ‘We hold these truths to be self evident, that all men evolved differently, that they are born with certain mutable characteristics, and that among these are life and the pursuit of pleasure.’ Yuval Noah Harari-Sapiens.
However, the Onan boys have exported their rabid drivel abroad...A shameful group of wannabe prophets in London a couple of weeks ago were spewing dire craziness and waves of silliness dearly wishing to become important and individualised particles by being observed and applauded. One of their brilliant ideas is that the Great Reset, New World Order of children’s adrenochrome drinking liberal reptiles will be a QUOTE’ An authoritarian socialist government run by powerful capitalists.’ UNQUOTE. Howls of derisive laughter turning into the growl of a wolf with a curled top lip and my left eye twitching for a blackout minute. When sentience returned, I was fairly sure there is no way in this lifetime of me attaining Satori while consumed by this spite. Fear and self loathing in England part 23. To attempt to counter...
Putting the con into conspiracy theories... 1. IF the vaccine is; (A. A poison to cull the overpopulated millions, that would mean that every single decent doctor and nurse in the world is in on it and not one of them is spilling the beans. Neither scenario seems plausible in any way, therefore the first premise appears to be excrement. If Covid doesn’t exist and the x rays are ALL faked (showing the difference between pneumonia, cancer and covid lungs, that also aggressively suggests a high level of implausibility. If you truly believe medical professionals are mostly freemasons and/or serving the Illuminati in the name of genocide etc, you are just a MORON. A DUNGHEADED IDIOT.
As God tweeted last month; It’s always the really dumb who make life hard for the moderately dumb.’
Drug companies and politicians have always been deeply corrupt, some would say with great justification, evil. Their foul business is as usual. But every nurse working a 16 hour shift in intensive care, do you honestly think they are doing it for the kicks to kill, for the (ha) money or to serve the Devil? Again, if Covid IS real but only the plebs are getting the bad vaccine and the here today gone tomorrow (unless they are Putin types) omnipotent holy world leaders are getting the good stuff...again this would be mighty hard to cover up. And it isn’t only the old, obese and those with ‘underlying health problems’ who are dying, teens and workers are too. No government wants to wreck its economy (apart from Brexit England) by murdering its workers, students and quarantining hundreds of thousands.
If the vaccine is a shot of death and the toll rises twice higher than it already is, governments will know that nobody will believe them the next time round when a new virus mutates...which is not good for mass control. (That said, I feel a deep grim certitude that step by blatant step, totalitarianism is coming to democracies as they realise the only way to dominate the drone masses is to do as China and Russia do.) But ‘why am I drifting into negativity’ eh?
And IF folk think the vaccine is a brain control agent by which we can be spied upon and controlled by our puppet masters via the ubiquitous spooky G5 masts, then the science of how the jab’s ingredients work (And could not possibly be activated with sound waves) should be explained in primary schools so the kids can go home and teach their elders with crayon. At the same time, the anti maskers need to watch videos (with their eyes held open (a la Clockwork Orange) of droplets in breath, the distance they travel without protection, the length of time they hang in the air and in what concentration. Humans react well to moving pictures, it might help. Yes that is dripping with rancid sarcasm. And as for those ranting that wearing masks causes illness, tell that to all the healthcare professionals of the last 100plus years who wore masks most of every bloody day, not just a couple of years. Did they all die of lung problems? I don’t have the actual statistics and I am damn sure you don’t either, so shut up and sit down. As Bill Hicks would say...
‘YOU SEE, IT MAKES NO SENSE’.
Beautiful to see so many holy men in the main religions, priests, rabbis, imans and pujari telling their flock to refuse the vaccine because it will (deep choking breath) make them impotent, gay and/or that it has cows blood and human foetuses in it. For the 23rd time, your shepherds will lead you to butchers again. Very spiritual blokes. Are any women as full of manure as this? Well actually...
One talking blonde cow on the London stage mooed about the vaccine being created by Bill ‘I think it makes sense to believe in God’ Gates, with the patent 060606, so was clearly ‘satanic’. Brilliant detective work and a rational conclusion. Except Bill didn’t formulate the vaccine and the patent was for an entirely different shot with an ACTUAL micro chip to measure if work had been completed and pay wages with Bitcoin. (Which, granted is creepy as fk, but nothing to do with Beelzebub or covid, unless you are going to bang on about none being able to buy or sell without the mark of the beast. So the antichrist is a protestant eh? I saw a video last year of an American ‘Christian’ woman blogger saying Bill was the devil, because of ‘the GATES of hell.’ That’s what we are up against and sidestepping the fk away from.
Those not vaccinated are walking time bomb laboratories of new variants. Making their own beliefs real as they will be able to say ‘See, told you the vaccine doesn’t work’. Listen to the doctors and nurses begging you.
Once yet again with even more feeling...These demonstrations of hogwash moonshine bullshit theories, mixed in with a fine blend of ahem, ‘patriotism’ are ripping the country apart. On one side the increasingly corrupt English government and their lies and on the other, the deranged and deluded with their falsehoods. An empty vessel makes the most noise and both sides are ripening the fields for populism.
Using the enemy’s own strength against them, well known to Judo black belt KGB pretty boy Putin...widening and deepening internal divisions in democracies, using the basic mistrust of half the people against their governments and encouraging it...works like a charm in times of stress/ fear/ anger. Just let them do most of the work and their own momentum will destroy them...at very least weaken them for the kill. Britain, America, Europe et al, you are being suckered and you bloody well deserve it for being so thick.
(Sidebar...By the way...Congratulations on 100 glorious years of Chinese communism and now all in the Middle Kingdom are being told, taught, trained, ORDERED to think just like Winnie the Pooh. Perfect unspoiled socialist paradise where millions wonder (as they do in most other places) ‘will there be any hunny for me?’ Unlikely...Communism doesn’t really work that way... another self righteous scam by those who seek power and to maintain their privilege. So the stick makes you keep plodding on for the promised carrot until all you believe in is the stick because it hurts and pain is real. (To greatly paraphrase Sir Terry Prachett, may he remain creative wherever he is.) )
Or...The Bilderbergers met a couple of years ago, discussed overpopulation and a threefold plan of how to deal with it...Release an airborne virus in several countries; allow it to spread for a year, Allow fear to rise. Use algorithms to predict the percentage of the obedient and those who will suspect conspiracy. When the vaccine is ‘found’ it will calm the believers for a while and enflame the rebels all the more who will look for ways to make it fit their own schemes of disbelief. This will cause a degree of expected demonstrations and rebellion...which will have the effect of enabling governments to create and quickly pass new laws on freedoms, including peaceful demonstration, to ‘protect’ the law abiding masses that need to believe all is for their own good.
The B boys talked about phased genocide, vaccines, drugs, supplies of medical equipment, government tenders to similar friends, knowing they will survive, and be well positioned to financially ride out the deaths and bankruptcies of lesser protected groups. Who they will then be able to buy out with ease and thus expand. The goldrush thrill of disaster capitalism! When all of this is (temporarily?) over, food and energy resources will be a little less stretched and/or stricter controlling laws will be in place and democracies will be far easier to control . A sadistic lack of empathy from the richest sociopaths.
There doesn’t need to be anything weird in the vaccines now, people’s minds are doing the paranoid job in their imagination, either with fear or with anger. The rich will remain rich empowering themselves with their inhuman business as usual. Populists will appear to take the side of the people as long as they are rewarded with money and power...and are allowed to join the club. All ethics and morals sacrificed for the temporary glory of pretend immortality.
This was written very quickly over a period of a couple of nights but at least it is a page shorter than usual eh? J I have to concentrate on booking tests (150 pounds in England for a PCR test is RIP OFF. Bastards. The outrageous weight of my suitcase with all my cds and books plus some pants and socks, the forlorn hope of getting a free seat or at least cheap for one of my guitars. The fear I might not be allowed back in to where I am now because the UK still seems to be Boris covid red. And Brexit and being a tourist again. Love the way the brexiteers are pissed off they will have to pay a few Euros to enter Europe as a third country citizen. The Tories voted yes to this idea in 2016 and you voted to become a third country you idiots. So now, you get to stand for a looong time in a longer queue with all the brown people you so disparage. In your nostalgic pride for something which will never be again, you have relegated England to the status of a failed state and voted for the worst government in my lifetime. You should be ashamed but you will just double down. Disgusting.
Anyway, late summer ‘holidays’ ahoy. Stay sane and in rude health...hope to see you again, spreading my cosmic rays of great happiness, comfort and joy. Outside of the insanity, keep visualising...Female male left right brain...Yin and yang let’s do our thang...
Y=01=FIRE...WANDS...ADENINE
H=00=WATER...CUPS...THYMINE
V=11=AIR...SWORDS...CYSTOSINE
H=10=EARTH...DISCS...GUANINE
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How do the BoB ships celebrate Halloween? Who wears the slutty costume? What stupid stunts get pulled? When does the inevitable cop show up? How much is Liebgott complaining in the background that Halloween is inferior to Purim? Where does the PDA couple get caught making out??? I feel like the Halloween party for these guys would be so #extra
WINNIX
nix is 200% the guy to give weird halloween gifts
he doesn’t see the point of buying a bulk package of little candy bars. “they’re small??? you finish them so quickly??? what’s the POINT?” for him, it’s family sized or bust
so he buys full candy bars and just hands them out.
inevitably he runs out of candy, and it’s not like he’s going out to get more, so he just passes 20$ bills out to trick or treaters. “yeah, uh… buy something nice for yourself. happy hallow–whatever.”
it should be added that he’s getting increasingly more intoxicated over the course of the night. his family always throws huge halloween bashes, so he goes out of his way to avoid them. he’s more than happy to just sit alone at home, drinking and answering the door. (it would be easier to put a bowl out front, but he likes opening the door and seeing the various costumes the trick-or-treaters come up with)
lowest effort costumes ever. he’ll wear, like, a superhero t-shirt, or a pair of sunglasses and a hat. it counts.
not a lot changes when dick comes along. dick isn’t a big halloween guy. he appreciates the costumes, but doesn’t dress up himself. he’s got no interest in alcohol-fueled costume parties, and isn’t that interested in spooky stuff. halloween is okay for him, so he’s happy to make it a chill holiday with nix. they stay away from the wild parties and spend a quiet night in.
(he does stop nix from answering the door after he gets too drunk. someone has to be a responsible adult.)
if they are dragged out to halloween parties by harry, they might do a couples costume. its a good excuse to laugh at themselves. they might go as something suave, like 1920s gangster husbands, or something ridiculous, like ham and cheese.
SPEIRTON
speirs takes halloween way too seriously.
its his favorite holiday??? its just the perfect opportunity to scare people, and he relishes it. he enjoys the old-timey batshit halloween costumes, but more than anything else he likes just terrifying people.
he likes dressing up all in black and jumping out of people when they’re not expecting it. he’ll just… lurk places. when they’ve got their back turned he’ll just walk up behind them and whisper “boo” in their ears in the most deadpan voice.
people have swung at him before. no one has manages to hit him. what would happen if they ever did is anyone’s guess.
it’s not about the candy for him. he likes scaring people.
lip at least is SANE about it. he appreciates a good scare as much as the next guy, but he knows his primary role in the group is to keep everyone else from getting arrested
(his job is hard. he had to stop bill from doing THIS one time)
he really enjoys decorating the house, and that’s one of his favorite parts about halloween. he’ll also get creative with his costumes, usually going as a book character, or someone from his favorite movies.
all the kids in the neighborhood love their house because it’s decorated so well and gives out great candy, but they’re all a little terrified of speirs. the candy is worth risking death.
BABEROE
they both love everything about halloween. they’re the halloween geeks.
babe loves dressing up in wild costumes, and loves decorating. he’s thrilled to find that gene has a flair for the spooky too.
gene LOVES halloween, and has a great eye for decorating. he and babe turn their house into a big spooky wonderland, and work together to get the job done. one of gene’s favorite things about halloween is getting to decorate with babe.
(babe will clown around, putting scary masks over his face and roaring, or jumping out and scaring gene.)
babe gets scared during spooky movies, but always makes himself watch them anyway. if he’s not at a party, he’s more than willing to turn halloween night into scary movie night. The Conjuring, The Exorcist, Annabelle, Friday the 13th... he’s seen all the halloween classics at least once, and he’s scared to death of them.
gene secretly thinks watching babe whimper through all the scary parts is adorable, but it also leads to babe nearly cowering in his arms, so it’s alright with him. he has a fine time being his boyfriend’s protector.
babe loves goofy costumes. if he’s not doing a group thing with his friends, he’ll try to go as something funny. (he dressed up as a teletubby once). gene has an affinity for scary costumes, and is great at making blood/injuries look real.
no matter what, babe always eats too much candy and winds up giving himself a stomach ache. gene gets exasperated, but will always give babe an antacid, and will cuddle him until he manages to fall asleep.
WEBGOTT
these two ARE the PDA couple.
there was a photo in the local paper last year of spiderman and superman, ten feet up in a tree, making out. the year before that, it was a cemetery. they almost got arrested. (webster got a very stern talking-to from the cops, while liebgott booked it and hid inside a mausoleum for an hour)
lieb dresses as a superhero every single year. webster is usually one of his favorite characters, but he’s not above trying out couple costumes with lieb. he loves the idea of couples costumes, but they can never agree, so they usually wind up being two completely contrary things.
webster loves spooky decorations, but lacks the motivation to decorate his own house. he’ll always exclaim over how cool something looks, but he’ll never actually do it himself. (once lieb decorated the whole yard, just to make him happy)
catch lieb in a haunted house when he’s dead. he doesn’t roll with that shit.
liebgott does personally believe that purim is better than halloween, and will say so at every opportunity – but on halloween he can hoard inhuman amounts of candy, so it’s not like he’s complaining.
webster will make himself watch scary movies, rant about how dumb the plot was and how terrible the special effects were. then he’ll inevitably have nightmares that night, and wind up waking up lieb to reassure him that everything’s okay. (it’s a pain in liebgott’s ass, but he gets free cuddles out of it, so it’s alright.)
LUZTOYE
george luz is the halloween party monster.
if he’s not throwing a party, he’s at one. sometimes he party hops, going to two or three in one night. everyone wants to invite luz, so he feels like it’s his obligation to show up at them all.
somehow his parties always get wild. police have been called more than a few times -- on one memorable occasion, firefighters had to get perconte down from a telephone pole. (no one knows how he got up there. not even perco.)
halloween always makes joe feel like an old man, okay? he’s not up for all of these children screaming and running around in weird costumes. he doesn’t really like candy, spooky stuff isn’t for him, and halloween parties always get too crazy too fast. he’s happy to put on a scary movie and stay in for the night -- that’s his halloween.
half the time, he doesn’t even bother to dress up. a pair of sunglasses counts, okay?
this changes when he starts dating luz.
suddenly he’s playing co-host to all these parties, and being dragged to more of them by luz. he has to learn to decorate for halloween. he figures out which candies are good and which are lame. he has to actually wear a costume!
(he lets luz pick out his costumes, because he’s not to interested. its a Sexy something, every time. last year, joe wound up being a sexy priest.)
he likes the apple cider (because it’s usually spiked) and enjoys seeing how slutty luz can make his costume THIS year. given the choice, however, joe would like to spend a quiet halloween night in the house.
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