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mymoodwriting · 3 years

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@xcharlottemikaelsonx

“So… what exactly can you do?”

Taemin chuckled. “Excuse me?”

“You’ve been so focused on training us, but I don’t think I even know what your power is.”

“I suppose that’s true.” A bunch of objects in the room started floating. “I’m telekinetic.”

“Oh, that actually makes a lot of sense. I figured you were pretty powerful.”

“We all are, especially you.”

“But how did you… I couldn’t read your mind? How did you keep me out without your shield?”

“My power… the Organization was happy with me, but there was always more that could be done.”

“What do you mean?”

“It was the molecular things they pushed me to control.”

“The what?”

“As long as it’s real in any capacity, it’s at the mercy of my will.”

All the objects that were floating settled back down, and then you felt a gust of wind blow past your face. You looked around for a moment before you realized it was Taemin’s doing, realizing he had a little tornado in his hand.

“Wow… you…”

“It seems rather impossible, I thought so too at first.”

“So my brain waves… are technically physical, so you can disrupt them yourself.”

“Pretty much, it’s like I can mimic your powers to some degree.”

“To be able to do something like that… you must have gone through a lot…”

“I did, and I’d go through it again just to be at this level.”

“The rest of us won’t be at your level… not for a long time, or ever.”

“That’s alright, I don’t need you to be.”

❤

There wasn’t that much tension in the air anymore, everyone was trying to focus on being better. Mark did figure out a way out of his restraints, incredibly impressed with his own abilities. Despite the rocky start, he seemed more eager to learn and try new things, figure out what else he was capable of. Lucas also improved, he wasn’t kept locked up, and was actually capable of walking around the base blindfolded. Kinda creepy but he also thought it was cool.

Taeyong seemed to be working the hardest. His collar had also been removed and he was training with himself. Seeing multiple versions of him wasn’t new, but it was the interaction. They were Taeyong, you could have a whole conversation with them, talk about things from the past, and the little flirty moments were so Taeyong. Although you felt a bit bad that you couldn’t tell who was the original.

“So, this means you’re always available, right?”

“What?”

“If you can just clone yourself like this, then I can always do things with you.”

“Like what?”

“Well while you’re busy with whatever, I can just go with a clone or something for ice cream.”

“I… yeah, I guess.”

“Awesome!”

“Except it can just be me, and the clone can take care of all the other things.”

“That sounds like you being lazy.”

“It’s being resourceful.”

“And how many can you make now?” Taemin asked. “I only see four, excluding yourself.”

“It’s not easy, and what are you expecting? An army?”

“I’m sure you’re capable of creating one.”

“No.”

“Why not? An army of Taeyong’s, I just need to borrow two, maybe three.”

“Ya! What are you thinking about?”

“Just that one clone question thing right now… why?”

“Gross.”

“So are you gonna answer?”

“No.”

“On another note.” Taemin interrupted. “You’re all making good progress.”

“And what’s that progress for?”

“Information. I have… a subject who has intel in regards to the Organization. I’m close to extracting the information I need in order for us to make our first move.”

“And what would that be?”

“As you can imagine, there are multiple locations, and I doubt my source knows where HQ is.”

“Don’t you? Weren’t you their top operatives?”

“We were just weapons, and with our desertion I’m sure they’ve made some moves. Our information is outdated at this point, so we need a refresher.”

“Then what? Storm HQ and not die?”

“You’re underestimating yourself.”

“Is this why you want an army?”

“We don’t need an army. The Organization has contingencies for me and my boys, but they have nothing to stop you.”

“Let’s say we get in, then what?”

“Don’t you want revenge? Perhaps not for yourself as I understand you don’t have a personal grudge, but thousands have died, and who knows how many more.”

“I’m not killing innocent people.”

“Hm, I know, there’s no need for casualties. What we need more than anything is information. We’re proof, we just need more to back up our claims. This isn’t something I intend to keep to myself, the public needs to know.”

“So when do we move?”

“Soon, I hope. You’ve all improved and are certainly better suited for my type of field work. I just want to make sure someone else is prepared.”

Taemin glanced over at you, but you were oblivious to the situation, chatting away with another Taeyong. You had already heard the plan so you were just waiting until it was time to execute. You were aware that you certainly weren’t ready for the field. You had been training to use your powers, not to fight. So you weren’t sure what you’d be doing, but you hoped you’d still be helpful to everyone.

❤

“You gotta be faster.”

“I can’t move as fast as you.”

“Not with that attitude.”

Kai was obviously the best person to train with Mark, he had patience, but it would only go so far.

“My portals are different compared to you just teleporting.”

“Not as much as you think. Using your power should be second nature. You should be able to will yourself wherever. Your powers aren’t necessarily an extension of you, they are you.”

“The theories you’ve given me about how to use my power sound impossible.”

“And I once thought it was impossible for me to just teleport a building into space but here we are. Believe in yourself, and try, if you don’t think you can, you never will.”

“You’re full of a lot of inspirational speeches.”

“Be grateful that’s what you get.”

“What motivated you to do better?”

“My life.”

“What?”

“If I didn’t improve, if I didn’t do better, I didn’t get a break, I got pain. If I wanted to live, I had to do better.”

“You guys really went through hell, didn’t you?”

“Pray you never do. Now let’s go again, get across the room in less than five seconds.”

Lucas’s training was really more on him. Without his eyes he had to learn how to use his hearing for everything. Once he had calmed down he was allowed to roam the base. Ten was the one keeping an eye on him, making sure he didn’t get himself killed, but it was an easy job. While watching Lucas, Ten could focus on his own powers. Healing a plant made sense, it was the other part that was complicating things. The painting Taemin had destroyed was still in pieces, and he was supposed to fix it.

“How are you supposed to fix a painting?”

“I’m not entirely sure.”

“People make sense, but things? Just use glue.”

“I’m supposed to be the glue.”

“Weird.”

“Says the guy who hasn’t seen anything in like a week.”

“I can see! The world just isn’t in color… it’s like grey with white outlines… there’s another door, besides the one we came in through, and there are three other tables in here.”

“Huh, so you can see.”

“Yeah so when do we take the actual blindfold off?”

“No idea, you’d have to ask Taemin.”

“Are we ever gonna do anything?”

“He says soon. He almost has what he wants.”

“And what would that be? He never really told us everything.”

“Information or something.”

“Look, using our powers like this, cool, but should we really be trusting them…”

“We don’t have a choice, remember. It’s not like we can leave.”

“This isn’t how you treat the people you trust.”

“It goes both ways, and I don’t think they trust us either.”

“So how does he expect us to be a team?”

“I’m not sure… he must have some plan for this, for us… but I don’t know what it would be.”

“Shouldn’t we be trying to escape then?”

“We can still use him. Learn to hone our own powers, and then when we get out of here, we split. Just be patient, okay, and focus.”

“You too, it’s weird that you’re staring at an apple and a mug.”

“I’m training!”

“Still weird.”

❤

“That’s so cool!”

You watched the little orb of light fly around the room. For once Taemin was giving you a bit of a break, having Baekhyun keep an eye on you. Since you had the time you asked about his powers, and the kind of things he could do.

“You can also create hallucinations, right?”

“Yup.”

“Have you ever used them for fun?”

“Fun? What do you mean?”

“Well… you can make it so it looks like we’re underwater. See the fishes or a whale up close!”

“I… I never thought of something like that.”

“Yeah, like a cool party trick.”

“Hm, I don’t think I’ve done anything like that.”

“I could help. I went to this aquarium when I was a kid, I still remember it vividly, well mostly. I could share the memory with you and then you could like… recreate it, if you want that is, I don’t just wanna intrude in your mind and… do things…”

“No, no, that… sounds cool, I wouldn’t mind.”

Baekhyun took off the bracelet that kept you out of his head, closing his eyes and welcoming you in. It was funny, but also nice to know he trusted you enough to just let you in. You hadn’t actually connected with anyone else besides your boys, at least not in a friendly way. It’s hard to describe, but Baekhyun was pretty quiet, unlike the mess the others could be. There wasn’t resistance or hostility, as if you two were just holding hands. You happily shared your childhood memory of the aquarium.

“Have you ever been to the aquarium?”

“A long time ago.”

“We should all go again sometime.”

“I like that idea. For now we have this.”

“Hm?”

“Open your eyes.”

When you did you were met with wonder. Fishes swam by you, and you could see them all around. It was like you were inside the tank. You got up and looked around, following some of them as well.

“This is amazing. Your powers are so cool.”

“You think so? Check this out.”

Some dolphins swam past you and then circled around. You were practically living a child’s fantasy. While you watched the fishes in awe you weren’t aware that Baekhyun was watching you with that same look. He had never used his powers before in a way that would make someone smile and laugh, instead of scream.

“We should do a beach next time! Or like a safari!”

“I’ll look into it.”

❤

“You’ve slowed down.”

“What?”

“Is four your limit? Because that’s pathetic.”

“You think it’s so easy?”

“Of course not, but you’re not trying that hard.”

“You expect me to make a million copies of me or something?”

“More than four is possible. It’s a miracle you’ve made one, imagine what you could have done if you had discovered this power sooner.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

“Look after y/n.”

“Excuse me?”

“What? Didn’t you ever think how reckless you guys were? Going off on your own for fun and leaving her alone, unprotected?”

“She-”

“My team had been monitoring you for weeks before we made contact, and I had known about y/n since the beginning. Do you know how easy it would have been to find her and take her? It’s fortunate I had no intention of sharing her discovery with the Organization, or else this conversation wouldn’t be happening.”

“Are you making a threat?”

“Hardly. I’m giving you motivation, if you could do this all along you could have made sure she was never alone, never felt useless to the rest of you. What would have happened if the Organization went after the four of you? She’d be left alone, abandoned, and eventually one of you would spill the details on her.”

“We wouldn’t have!”

“They have their ways.”

“Shut up!”

“Even then, you think one is enough to look after her? My team and I have gone missing and now you have as well, they know something is happening. Will one little Taeyong be able to protect her from an army? I am not asking you for one Taeyong, I am telling you to do better than four! You’re capable-”

“Shut up!”

Taeyong threw a punch, but Taemin easily dodged it. He wasn’t expecting such a response, but welcomed it.

“You definitely need to do better than that.”

“You suck at motivation.”

“I’m better trained than you Taeyong, do you think I can’t take you down? Perhaps more than one will be a challenge.”

“Fuck you.”

“Not even gonna try? Maybe I should have y/n come in for motivation.”

“Leave her out of this!”

Taemin shoved Taeyong back, a smirk clear on his face. Taeyong of course took the bait, creating two duplicates. For a while Taemin amused him, but he didn’t hesitate to snap the necks of the duplicates. Taeyong collapsed from the pain.

“You can’t even handle the pain of death, how can you expect your duplicates to be any better than you?”

“What… what do you want?”

“You. Come on now, you only feel the pain of your duplicates; death, not so hard to just have them take me on, huh?”

“You’re… horrible…”

“Not really, so how about-”

A hand wrapped around Taemin’s throat, another copy spawning from Taeyong. The boy was taking the advice, but it was only the start. It seemed that Taemin had pushed the right button, as Taeyong remained on the ground, but kept having doubles come at Taemin.

“I suppose it’s easier to have your doubles fight? Isn’t it? Did we learn something new?”

“Shut up!”

“It’s just a simple question. I want you at your best.”

“If you do this to me, what have you been doing to y/n?”

This time a knife was at Taemin’s throat, one of the copies getting a little creative. The real Taeyong was practically out of breath on the floor.

“Nothing bad, just what’s necessary.”

“Necessary? So if I asked her, she’ll say she wasn’t hurt? I already heard from Ten that she sprained her wrist. Care to explain that?”

“She can explain it herself if you’d like. She’s stronger than you all think. No wonder she works so hard to improve, she doesn’t want to appear weak to the rest of you.”

“She’s not weak!”

“Did you ask her? After all, you always left her at home, a-”

“Alone, yes, I’m aware! We had to protect her!”

“From what?”

“Everything! She’s a damn telepath who doesn’t know how to control her powers! All she had was us to lean on! Do you know the kind of outbursts she had when we first got our powers? She’d wind up hurting us by accident and crying until she passed out. We… we…”

“Sedated her without telling her in order to help.”

“… how…”

“I did a proper check up on all of you when you arrived, and I found drugs in her system. She doesn’t seem to know, and as they’ve worn off she’s happy to believe she’s improving. Which she is, but she still thinks she’s weak compared to the rest of you. You’ve all left her with that.”

“What were we supposed to do, huh? She was going crazy with guilt, planning on running away to keep us safe, how could we let her go? None of us could possibly help her any other way.”

“Until you met me, of course.”

“And what exactly is necessary for her? If you do this to me?”

“You? You’re not the real Taeyong, but you’re the Taeyong I want.”

“Huh?”

Taemin used his powers to get the knife away from him, knocking the duplicate to the floor and pinning him beneath his foot.

“I could kill you right now and you’d turn to nothing, but you see, I need you more than the real one.”

“What the hell…” The real Taeyong hissed. “… does that mean…”

“It’s simple really. Your duplicates now aren’t an empty shell, they’re you, with memories and thoughts of their own, but they’re only a part of you. I needed you to create many more in order to get exactly what I needed.”

“And what’s that?”

“The version of you that understood me and my goals. Creating duplicates excessively and in excess would only cause your mind to fracture, and this one right here is the one I was waiting for.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. Would you like to know what my plans truly are? With y/n that is?”

“What?”

“I need her to figure out how to push her will onto others. It doesn’t matter if we can break into a building and steal information, it’s the people and the information in their minds that we need. Only one of us is capable of getting that, and it’s her.”

“You want to put her out into the field? She can’t-”

“Oh no, you misunderstand. I just need her to figure it out, to do it once for me, and then we can move forward. She’ll be safe and sound, and properly cared for while we do the dirty work.”

“And why do you need me instead of the original?”

“Because, after I get what I need, she’ll have to be made docile. We can’t have a pretty girl with the power of mind control walking around, she’d be a danger to all of us and herself. It’s not like any of us would truly be able to stop her if she was at full power. I’m certain Taeyong over here doesn’t like that idea, but I believe you understand the bigger picture, don’t you? After all, you were the one willing to admit what you’ve done so far to keep y/n safe.”

“… what about the others? They won’t like something like this.”

“Ya!” Taeyong yelled. “Are you-”

“He’s you Taeyong, don’t be so upset. As for the others, don’t worry about them, I’ll handle it, so, are you with me?”

Taemin stepped off the other, holding out his hand. It took a moment, but the copy reached up and took it.

“Glad we’re on the same page.”

“What do we do about the original?”

“That’s easy, we just need to keep him quiet and out of the way. From now on, you’re the real Taeyong, got it.”

“Yeah.”

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pleaseleavemetowrite · 3 years

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All my troubles on the burning pile | Tomas Shelby

warning! I don’t know all that much about the show, I’ve seen a total of 1 season so if anything is wrong please just ignore it for the sake of the fic

this also takes place before the events of the show, like significantly before. Also Tommy is probably ooc but idk i like it

Also if (Y/n) is annoying at some points just please keep in mind that during some parts she’s literally a six year old

———————————————————————

Small Heath remembered the day the men got sent away for war vividly. Boys were swept away from their families arms far too young, Fathers were dragged away from their children, and lovers were ripped away from each other some old and some young. It's hard to forget a day like that. But that is only increased when a roaring fire illuminated for what seemed to be miles from the old field where it originated. Some would tell you it seemed like hellfire, nothing but retaliation from a stupid teenager who felt too much and didn't have enough discipline. Others would tell you it was a heartbreaking scene, a pitiful display of how everyone felt to some capacity. But only (Y/n) would be able to tell you how it really was, an explosion of too much yet not enough. Like being in a limbo where nothing feels real but the consequences do.

She remembered her friends telling her to go as it looked dreadful but she told them to simply get lost if they didn't like it, then telling her youngest brother to just go home and tell mum that she'll be back soon. Then as pitch black settled in the sky, she remembers Ada Shelby approaching her, the fire building in intensity and height, and simply pulling her close. Hugging her. And (Y/n) broke. All the rage bubbling up became still and transformed to immense despair, tying her insides into knots and clouding everything. She felt cold despite the building heat of the flames that danced in the air.

Ada rubbed circles in the older girls skin, soothing her slightly. Ada already missed her brothers dearly and couldn't imagine how (Y/n) was feeling. With the idea of marriage going from a realistic event to something that couldn't even be guaranteed, (Y/n) was going to have a few rough years ahead of her if she carried on the way she was.

"Always the firebug, eh?" The nickname easily slipped out the younger girl's mouth. (Y/n)'s mouth slightly uplifted at the familiar nickname. (Y/n) had known the Shelby family ever since she was young with her being the same age as Tommy and seemingly clinging to the boy like glue it was inevitable she would grow attached to the rest of the family like they did to her in return. However, that doesn't mean that they were exempt from the surprise that was her impromptu fire starting but after knowing (Y/n) for a while to became easy for them to guess when a fire was upon them. And because of this, the nickname of firebug seemed to be obvious.

The Shelby family remembers the day that (Y/n) started her first fire in the abandoned field. She was no older 6. Having grabbed a hold of a lighter from god knows where and gathering as many sticks as she could and setting them aflame. However, it also turns out that children don't know a lot about how lighters or how fast a fire can spread. So, (Y/n) accidently sprung the lighter to life again and burned her hand, dropping the lighter and setting the dead grass alight a long with it. And while (Y/n) couldn't stop the screams that escaped her she also couldn't stop the excitement she felt from seeing the flames lick at the ground. And coincidently, Tommy had gone looking for the girl as she had been gone for around an hour which wouldn't have been strange for other people their age, but (Y/n) wasn't normal. She practically wouldn't leave him be until the sunset and they were called to their respective houses, so her sudden absence was a little worrying for the young boy. And he ran as fast he could once he heard the familiar shriek he had grown to know in the short time he had known her.

There she was, the lighter on the burning floor as she backed away from the flames that seemed to follow her until she bumped into someone. She was startled and feared being in trouble so she quickly turned around and seemed relived to find Tommy, her new best friend. She quickly hugged the shorter boy, "My hero! It's too bad I'm taller then you." Tommy rolled his eyes, "What is that!?" He nodded at the fire.

Despite her previous comment, (Y/n) suddenly felt quite small. The fear of losing her new friend gripped at her, making her small limbs lock up. "It doesn't matter ok! It's alwayyys rainy so it will be gone soon anyway, so stop being stupid." (Y/n) suddenly became defensive, gripping her burned hand but stopping once she remembered how much it hurt. And suddenly, (Y/n) began to cry as she realized it may not rain and she will in fact get in trouble and damn did her hand hurt. Tommy became alarmed at her sudden tears, and noticed her hand. "You don't need to cry! Can't your mum just help your hand." "But Tommy! What if it doesn't rain." Tommy was now confused he didn't see what the rain had to do with the burn on her hand.

But that didn't matter either, as with seeming perfect timing, it began to rain. Heavily. This relieved the girl, seeming to not care about her injury anymore. Tommy however, did still care and insisted on walking her to her house despite his house being on the other end of the street. This then lead to (Y/n) having a bandage on her hand and Tommy having a cold for a week. It was then that the Shelby's and (L/n)'s knew it wouldn't be the last time something like that happened.

One incident that not everyone knew about was yet another fire that was caused by (Y/n) at around 15. She had once again decided she wanted fire but this time Tommy was by her side, holding a box of broken items. Some of them belonging to the pair some it being something neither of them seemed to fully recognize. "You can't keep at this you know, someone will catch you one day and doubt they will forgive you so easily." Tommy said, his voice even, he wasn't mad at her. He just knew of what may happen if she is caught by someone other then him or his brothers. (Y/n) nodded as the fire sprung to life, and gestured for Tommy to throw the box in. Wordlessly, Tommy threw it in.

However, due to the density of some of the times, not everything in the box was catching fire. So carefully, Tommy began to kick the box trying to make it catch. But he didn't seem to see that it worked and that the flames were growing. (Y/n) panicking, pulled Tommy back and watched as the fire grew right where he was previously. Tommy looked down at her in gratitude as she looked away, as although she would never say it aloud she had been harboring feelings for Tommy for some time now. And before she could say anything, Tommy said, "My hero! too bad I'm taller then you." A grin tugging at his lips as he saw (Y/n) begin to laugh in disbelief at the vaguely familiar statement. "Thomas Shelby! you tosser." She gently pushed him, laughing lightly.

"Well there goes all my troubles on the burning pile." (Y/n) said smiling, as Tommy wrapped his arm around her shoulder, tugging her body towards his. "And if you catch fire?" Tommy asked, despite the statement being extremely hypocritical from him because of what had just had happened. "Then I'll change my aim and throw my woes at the world instead." (Y/n) said gazing into the flames in front of her. "I wouldn't expect anything less." Silence followed Tommy's statement. It was comforting, as the cool summers evening began to start its slow conclusion, the warmth of the fire fought any possible cold breeze and the two teenagers stayed close and unaware the other was trying to ignore their feelings.

However, it seems that their feelings were too much to simply move aside as that very night the pair confessed, much to their friends and families' relief.

(Y/n) was pulled out of her reminiscent daze when Ada asked, "What are you burning?" "My troubles." Ada seemed to understand the vague statement. "I assume soon you'll be burning letters that "aren't quite right" soon?" Ada asked a light teasing tone in her voice in a hope to lighten the mood. It seemed to work as (Y/n) replied, "And you expected anything less?" Ada lightly shook her head as she smiled at the woman she'd grown to see as a sister. "He'll be back one day (Y/n)" "Well I sure hope so the tosser still has to make me his wife."

The two young women laughed, still worried for the future but feeling better then they did before.

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders x reader #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader

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jcmorrigan · 3 years

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What movie or tv show scared you the most?

OH HEEHEEHEEEEEE MY TIME HAS COME

I think this was probably the sign I was meant to be a horror fan, because I'm gonna talk about two movies here and neither one is a standard horror film. Now, I avoided horror films like the plague, but I now realize that's because of my aversion to jumpscares and gore, which have very little to do with actual scary stuff. I feared actual horror imagery as a small child, but basically once I read Coraline it all just turned around because that book gave me nightmares but I actually WANTED those nightmares and kept going back to the book. So what are the movies I just COULD NOT contend with?

First up, I have found that a lot of people have said this one, but really and truly, fuck Chicken Run.

I was...maybe ten when I watched it. Signed up for a goofy claymation adventure. What did I get? First of all, a whole lot of bleak color palette that warned me that this was not going to be a happy story. We are then shown the stakes right away: our entire main cast lives in a dystopian prison and if they do not find a way to escape, they will die. One DOES die. This is where a lot of people say they noped out right away, but actually, the execution of the dinner chicken in the first scene was tame for me compared to what would come next.

The pie machine. It's assembled, it's talked about, and eventually our two leads fall into it in a way that is designed to be fatal. Look, there are a ton of horror tropes in this scene alone. I haven't seen it SINCE THE ONE AIRING and I can still vividly tell you a lot of this. And if I walked into a horror film and asked for this, I'd come out super satisfied, but I was not expecting horror from this. First of all, I remember vividly the shot where you're looking from Ginger's POV falling down the shaft and the divider comes up to shunt her into the "meat" line. It's incredibly claustrophobic and you just get this almost jumpscare reminder that the character through whose eyes you see is regarded as nothing more than meat to be consumed. There is then an array of blades designed for close calls, and dough that essentially glues the lead characters down to a conveyor belt so they have to helplessly watch the death machines that are coming. Sticky stuff that roots you to one spot; that's another thing that just REALLY unnerves me and I love it if I'm reading CreepyPasta but I was not reading CreepyPasta; I was watching a children's film. The leads escape certain death by jamming the gravy system, causing the machine to overload on pressure, and here I feel like I should've been relieved that they escaped but instead I was the most unsettled of all when the pressure meter started climbing. I don't know if this film *gave* me a phobia of industrial accidents or if it just awakened what was already in my OCD little brain, but suffice to say that after this movie, I was hyper-aware of my own fear of things like hissing steam, rising pressure meters, and being in a room where large metal things were clanking. (I'm since over it; I've been exposed to it in enough things.)

Now, I was no quitter. I should have just noped out. But I didn't. I continued to traumatize myself. The next part of the film until the climax I don't remember so well - it wasn't as traumatizing - EXCEPT for the part where Ginger finds and rebuilds Rocky's circus poster. And now, as an adult, I can see how that was kinda supposed to be funny, like, "The goddamn chicken padded his résumé and the way they found this out was a circus poster." But little me was invested in these chickens, I wanted them to be happy, and what I saw was basically their death notice being signed with that scrap of paper with a cannon on it. I FELT that in my bones.

STILL NOT HAVING THE GOOD SENSE TO JUST EJECT THE TAPE ALREADY, I proceeded to the climax, in which what happens to Tweedy might be one of the most fucking awful things I've seen ever? Pinned upside-down in a superheated, confined space with rising liquid from below as the pressure meter starts climbing again. And her husband arrives just in time to see her like this but not in time to actually stop the explosion. Thank God it didn't actually kill her because even though I was already traumatized, that would've absolutely made it worse.

Thing is, ever since this movie scared the absolute shit out of me - and was probably the cause of the weird stomachaches I had for A WEEK after - I've kinda had this thing about reclaiming the scary parts and stomping on them while laughing maniacally. I feel like every time I've done a crossover project, there's been a temptation to write in an arc where the mains go up against THE PIE MACHINE and fucking win. And also there's whump with tons of comfort in my version to mitigate it all. I haven't done any such thing for TBTC...YET. But I know what I must do. I know who must destroy the machine and the Tweedys along with it. Buckle your seatbelts.

My final word before I move on is that as I ascend into adulthood, I think that for the most part, a rewatch of this film wouldn't traumatize me so badly. It'd still be gross and creepy in a way I think shouldn't be sent to children without warning, but I could deal with the imagery, maybe enjoy using it as whump fuel even more, maybe my horror side would really get into the peril this time. But the one thing I've realized is that this premise is fucked EVEN MORE if you're a grown-up, because as a child, you're sympathizing with the chickens. You want them to get free of this death camp environment. But as an adult, you start to realize that all Tweedy wanted to do was be a chicken farmer who sold pie, and her supposedly nonsentient animals ganged up on her in a display of unheard-of intellect among farm stock. This would then lead to her undergoing at least one near-death fate. Think about being a farmer in our world and the animals you keep GANG UP ON YOU LIKE PEOPLE because you're killing them for food. No thank you, no THANK you.

But surely this was a one-of-a-kind phenomenon. Surely, after this...after so many other people agreed with me; "Fuck Chicken Run"...no animation studio would ever pull shit like this again.

I had hoped that was the case until Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs.

This is one I don't actually see lambasted as often. Maybe because the Chicken Run trauma crew grew thicker skins before this movie. I only sort of did. Maybe because no one ever actually invested in this film, having already predicted how much it would be garbage from the dumb humor in the trailers. Oh, but not me. I was a fool. Also my family picked it for a movie night so my fate was sealed anyway.

The original book is actually pretty frightening on its own. Food falls from the sky in such great numbers that it starts to destroy the world. Okay, that's terrifying. But kind of in the alluring way. I would keep coming back to the one page about the giant pancake on the school because the way it was drawn unsettled me so, with something huge and immovable blocking off the way to a building that usually has hundreds of innocent children inside. The film built on this and made it a thousand times worse.

Let's start with the goddamn Spray-On Shoe. Our main character is a mad scientist (but the good kind, apparently) whose list of bumbling failed experiments dates back to when he was a child and invented a spray you could put on your feet to coat them in shoes. He then gets laughed at because he didn't engineer a way to get the shoes off, and runs home in humiliation. Guys, the teasing/bullying factor is...not the most worrying thing about this story. There's a throwaway line about how Flint wears THE SAME SHOES into adulthood because to that day they simply cannot be removed. This seems like an incredibly urgent medical problem? Having your feet encased in the same rubber for years? The same rubber as when you're a kid? I just found myself thinking "What if my shoes never came off one day" and that terrifies me, okay? It's stupid and it's silly and it scares me. Even more than that, though, is the canonization of a polymer in this universe that can be sprayed on sticky and will literally never break no matter what you do to it, because that goes back to the pie machine dough principle. Being glued to a surface permanently is inherently terrifying and we'll go over this later because this is not the last fuckin time the glue shoes get brought up.

Flint invents a food-spewing machine. It ends up in the sky. He rides his popularity as it rains larger and larger food down upon the town and also the world. Most of this film up until the climax is unsettling but not AWFUL. Where it starts to go to shit is when Flint realizes his machine is too dangerous and shuts it off, only for the town's local greedy politician to switch it back on into an apocalyptic mode. So can we start with "Local town finds out its elected official is willing to sabotage their well-being in order to capitalize on the fame of a disaster-causing object?". Like, the whole film would've been solved so much sooner if there hadn't been a saboteur in the works - not a fun campy villain, mind you, but a saboteur who exists to drive the plot to the scary place. But I guess we need that narrative tension to justify having a film in the first place, so fine, I'll ride it out.

The main crew saddles up to fly out to the machine, which is now encased in a FLESH LABYRINTH of food, and...I'm just gonna rapid-fire the shit that happens at this part:

-The food turns sentient in order to defend itself. The cute animal sidekick brutally dismembers an army of gummy bears that is fully sentient and rips them apart to devour them.

-We enter the flesh labyrinth and it's exactly as much a horror RPG setting as you think it is.

-Now sentient cooked chickens besiege the party. The comic relief character is consumed by one, only to kill it from the inside and decide to WEAR ITS SKIN in what is seen as his defining character arc's conclusion. Wearing the skin of a dead monster allows him to forge his new identity.

-One of our party has to go back because of a tight passage lined with her deadly allergen, causing her to undergo anaphylaxis after an accidental mild nick. In the flesh labyrinth.

-The entire horrific journey is instantly INVALIDATED when it turns out that instead of the kill code for the machine, all Flint has is a file of a cat video. Which he finds out as the town is about to be obliterated off the face of the earth.

-So he solves it by jamming the works with the spray-on shoe and DID I NOT JUST GO OVER HOW HORRIFIC INDUSTRIAL EXPLOSIONS ARE IN KIDS' MOVIES? DID I NOT? ARE WE REALLY DOING THIS AGAIN? Anyway it's canonical proof that NOTHING can break the shoe glue and I should be happy for the town and happy that there's no more flesh labyrinth of living meat but instead I'm just terrified because of the door we have opened. We have imparted the existence of an indestructible sticky polymer upon the world.

-It's later seen used in a credits sequence to repair damaged houses. Which, first of all, given its flexible nature, is fuckin stupid. It won't serve as an actual wall. Second, that got me thinking about construction accidents involving the fuckin shoe glue. If that stuff gets dripped on a person's face -

-So then cue me sitting awake in bed later thinking wide-eyed about Cloudy with a Chance of Fucking Meatballs and realizing that this compound that is essentially a chemical weapon in the making is now in the hands of the mayor who deliberately caused an apocalyptic event over the town because he wanted the food rain. And THAT'S not going to lead to pretty circumstances.

I think you'll see that a lot of my fears with these two movies is "THINK OF THE IMPLICATIONS!" and I think that just shows how my mind works and why I'm drawn to fanfic so much. I'm all about diving into a universe, exploring its corners, analyzing it to death.

And with the industrial horror stuff, I kinda wanna bring it around to two other films that actually really subverted my expectations and made it fun. 102 Dalmatians was a fave of mine through middle school, but I remember when the climax took us to a big ol' factory and I got plumb nervous. After the usual blades and ovens of horror, the fact that it concludes with Cruella basically wearing a cake and a lengthy montage of the dogs kicking toppings onto her is just one of the most wholesome imageries. She survived the thing and now you get to watch her be decorated Lisa Frank style by her victims who are more interested in humiliation than murder, and I love that.

But maybe more prevalent is that I'm well aware that if certain filmography or plot points had been handled in different ways, The Boxtrolls might've actually frightened the ever-loving fuck out of me what with all the industrial stuff and medical horror, but I just...felt like that film was holding my hand the whole way through going "It's okay." The industrial stuff was framed in a way that was just campy enough and yet also taken seriously. Putting a really charismatic villain - ACTUAL VILLAIN, NOT CHICKEN FARMER OR CORRUPT POLITICIAN SABOTEUR - at the wheel was just such a mitigating factor that it gelled the whole thing together and I ended up LOVING what was done with giant machines and garbage crushers and explosions. And as for the medical body horror, I really appreciate how it was so baked in that Snatcher did that to himself - that everyone, EVERYONE warned him "Do not do this, you will probably die, I'm serious, bad fucking idea" up to the point of Eggs trying to plead him during an anaphylaxis attack, one last time, DO NOT continue down this path, we can find a way to heal you psychologically and get you some self-fulfillment. And Snatcher fully chooses hubris over the many, many opportunities offered him to be able to step down onto a safer path and that removes the fear and pulls it more into a tragedy for the villain. Not at all the same thing as "Sam the reporter is trying to save the world and doing her best until a fixture of the landscape accidentally sends her into anaphylaxis."

(Oh, and by the way, can I just - when I do see CWACOM brought up these days, it's always in the context of "This is the one movie where the guy tells the girl it's okay to look nerdy!". Well, no, not the way I remember it. The way I remember it, Sam basically tells Flint "I used to have really tacky style but have since changed it up of my own volition" and Flint is just like "NOOOOO YOU NEED TO WEAR GLASSES AND A SCRUNCHIE. I WANT A HOT NERD GIRL." This could've been pulled off right with some more introspection into female beauty standards, even in a tongue-in-cheek way, but right now it really looks like Sam just wanted to make herself more glam for a new image and Flint bullied her into regressing her style. Which I've also realized meant he bullied her into dressing more like she did as a teenager and normally I think that kind of shit is just "You're overthinking it" but since it's CWACOM and I spelled it out on paper like that, I'm just now realizing how that can be seen as pretty...icky.)

The one saving grace of CWACOM is that I was older by that time, and so it didn't affect me as hard as Chicken Run. But I still hold it dearly to my heart as one of the MOST DISTURBING movies I know, and by "dearly" I mean "fuck this movie, really and truly." I want to extend my thanks to 102D and Boxtrolls for giving me industrial-horror-based climaxes that were actually really comfortable, and again, probably what drove both of these was the fact that we had a campy diva villain in the lead for the potential scary stuff to surround and radiate off. Not a fuckin...ordinary chicken farmer who is just trying to make bank but is somehow passed as a Nazi allegory for trying to live her life as a farmer? I dunno, maybe if I rewatched that film I'd see she has a thirst for human blood too, and if I could fix fic Chicken Run my first order of business would be to give her a thirst for human blood instead of/in addition to chickens.

Anyway. Fuck both these films, EXCEPT for the fact that traumatizing scenarios can always be recast as whump material, and the next time I wanna do some crossover aftercare from a physically and psychologically damaging mission, I have a pie machine and a flesh labyrinth to exploit. REALLY HEAVY ON THAT AFTERCARE COMFORT THOUGH!

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just-jordie-things · 6 years

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It’s Two in the Morning and I Need to Know You’re Okay - Allison Argent

word count: 1168 warnings: nightmares? also this is a allison x bestfriend!reader btw request: @jurrasicpork : 50 with Allison Argent but not in a pairing way, but a friendship kind of way, please? #50 - “I call you at two o’clock in the morning just to hear your voice, and you answer ‘whos this?’!”

“Alli- Allison no no no please-”

Your whole body was trembling as you watched Oni pierce it’s blade through your best friend, her face quickly changing from it’s smile of pride to complete shock and horror. You tried to scream, tried to call for her. You willed your feet to move, to run to her, but you were completely frozen, and the only words coming out were incoherent mumbles.

Trapped, you watched as the sword seemed to retract from her body in slow motion, a red stain beginning to spread on the front of Allison’s abdomen. Her hands reached for the wound instantly, shaking, and staining her fingers in her own blood.

“N-no, no” You whimpered, but it was as if she couldn’t hear you. Raising her hands to her line of sight, before her eyes rolled back and she collapsed to the ground. You felt your jaw open as you screamed, but couldn’t hear an of the words coming out, your ears surrounded by white noise.

You sprung up in bed, chest heaving and you could feel a cold sweat on your back as you tried to catch your breath. Fumbling over the sheets you searched for your phone as rapidly as you could, your vision blurred with tears from your nightmare. You opened your contacts, clicking the name at the very top and praying to God she’d answer.

“Pick up pick up pick up” You mumbled to yourself, breaths still shaky as you tapped your fingers over your covers anxiously. “Please”

“Hello?” A sleepy girl’s voice answered halfway through the second ring. “Who’s this?”

“I call you at two o’clock in the morning just to hear your voice, and you answer ‘whos this?’!” You demand.

“I’m tired, (y/n), it’s two in the morning” Allison mumbled back. “You okay? I only get middle of the night phone calls for emergencies”

“Yeah I just…”

“You had that nightmare again, didn’t you?” She asked softly. You could practically see her face falling as she spoke to you.

“Yes” You whispered back.

This wasn’t the first time you’ve had these horrible visions in your dreams, seeing your friends get hurt, or worse. Not being able to do anything about it, and always waking up in a panic. In fact, this was the fourth time you’ve had to call Allison just to be sure that what you dreamt wasn’t true.

“It’s okay” She murmured in that sweet voice of hers. “It wasn’t real, (y/n/n), that didn’t happen. I blocked it, remember?”

“Yes” Your voice was shaky.

“You told me I was a badass, remember?”

“Yes” You answered again. Shutting your eyes, you let out a long sigh. “Look Allison I know that it’s irrational and I know you’re fully capable of protecting yourself” You started.

“I know hon” She said sweetly. She knew that you just needed her to stay on the line for a little bit, calm you down enough so you feel okay enough to go back to sleep.

“But I’m just so scared to lose you” You said sincerely. “You’re my best friend, without you I… I’m just alone. Yeah there’s the pack but I only ever became friends with them through you… and without you…”

Allison nodded on the other end, though you couldn’t see her.

“You’re like the glue, you know?” She chuckled softly about that.

“I wouldn’t say that but, I know what you mean” Allison said. “I’m not leaving you (y/n), I promise”

“I know” You sighed. “That’s the worst part. I know all of this. I know you aren’t going anywhere, I know you’re fine and I know you can take care of yourself. And yet… I still get scared”

“Fear’s what makes you human” She whispered.

“I thought that was pain?” You questioned, having recalled Scott say it repeatedly.

“Maybe. But fear is what keeps your humanity” The huntress emphasized. “Out there, when we’re fighting the bad guys?” She continued. “If you’re afraid, you’re grounded”

“Oh” You nodded, understanding what she meant.

“That’s how I almost… how I almost killed Erica and Boyd that night. I wasn’t afraid, I was just angry. I’d completely lost my humanity. I was no better than… well than the nogitsune”

“Don’t say that-”

“But it’s true, that’s what I’m telling you. For that night, I was everything we’ve been fighting against”

“You’re more selfless now” You told her. She giggled, and you could see her smile in your mind, putting you at ease. “Thanks for picking up the phone”

“I’m a light sleeper now because of all these calls” She told you. “As long as you’re telling me you want to hear my voice, and not that our lives are being threatened”

You giggled with her at her response, laying back in bed and wrapping the blankets around yourself.

“Don’t jinx it for us please” Allison laughed again.

“Sorry, I really shouldn’t say stuff like that” She replied. “You feeling any better?”

“Lots, thanks” You answered.

“Good, I don’t want you having these nightmares forever. I hope this helps”

“It really does” You told her. “Sorry I keep waking you up”

“Don’t be” Allison replied sweetly. “I don’t mind at all. It’s like a sleepover, but over the phone”

“I like thinking of it that way” You whispered. “Maybe we should spend the night together soon, it’s been a while”

“Sounds good, we can make a whole day out of it” She agreed. “Shopping, baking, manicures, it’ll be fun”

“Okay” You said quietly.

“You ready to go back to bed?” She asked you gently, not wanting to push you into hanging up if you weren’t ready to.

“Yeah, I am” You told her. “Thanks so much Allison, you’re the best I swear” She giggled sleepily.

“You’re the best too. Get a lot of rest, okay? Happy thoughts”

“You too”

“Love you hon, call if you need anything, alright?”

“Love you too Alli, goodnight”

“Goodnight”

And with that you put your phone next to you on your bed, shutting your eyes and smiling to yourself. Allison had to be the bestest friend that ever existed. You truly didn’t deserve her, but you’ve appreciated every second that she’s been in your life. Since you met, she’s always looked out for you, even in her hardest times she’s made sure you were okay, and safe.

Just as you were about to drift off, your tone made a soft ping, indicating a text that had come in. Seeing Allison’s contact name show up (Alli A💛), you unlocked your phone to see what she’d sent you.

A selfie of her wrapped up in her blankets, smiling widely with her eyes closed, holding onto a teddy bear you’d gotten her years ago when she took off a sick day for her mom’s death. You remembered it vividly.

Underneath the photo she’d texted : wishing you spent the night tonight, but this will do. sleep well, ily❤️

You sent back a heart, smiling again to yourself before finally falling asleep.

prompt list

taglist: @the-crime-fighting-spider @socially-awkward-nerd @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @lovelynerdytraveler @writings-and-stuff @abookworm247

a/n: sorry this was a lil short

xoxo ~ jordie

#jordie'sprompts #teen wolf #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf scenario #teen wolf fanfiction #allison argent #allison argent x reader #allison argent imagine #allison argent scenario #allison argent fanfiction #crystal reed #crystal reed x reader #crystal reed imagine #crystal reed scenario #crystal reed fanfiction

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huntertales · 6 years

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Let’s Write a Different Ending.

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Prophet!Reader

Word Count: 4,343. // Episode Setting: The Monster at the End of This Book.

Summary: What if the “Supernatural” book series wasn’t written by Chuck Shurley? Instead, by a young woman named Y/N Y/L/N? She finds herself living out her most recent story—about the end of the world, an archangel whose sworn to protect her is moonlighting as a trickster and two fictional characters by the name of Sam and Dean are about to drag her straight into it. (Semi-rewrite from episode 4.18 The Monster at the End of This Book to—?)

Full Masterlist | My Other SPN Rewrite

Note: Is this a possible semi-rewrite of the show for my Sam girls???? Yes, it is! And no...This is not like my regular rewrite where I do it episode by episode, this is more like I’m taking Chuck’s entire plot line and writing it as the reader up until the season five finale. Along the way I’m gonna try to focus on a Sam/Reader element ‘cause my boy needs some love.

And before you fret...this is a side project. My original rewrite will always come first. Plus I’m still figuring out the details of what I want to do, but updates for this are gonna be really scarce. I don't know how many parts this will be or how many episodes I will cover, but it'll be part by part. Updates are probably gonna be scarce until I finish season six. More importantly, if you guys like this and want to see more, please let me know. I hope you guys enjoy possibly a new series!

Chapter One: It Started With a Knock.

Carver Edlund: it was a name nobody would be probably familiar with if you asked a stranger on the street who he was. To Sam and Dean, he was a man who knew too much. A thief who made a buck and gained an underground cult following from a book series he wrote called "Supernatural." Twenty four books detailing the lives of two hunters who traveled across the country in their 1967 Chevy Impala, saving people from monsters and seeking revenge on the yellowed eyed demon who killed their parents. Each action, every little personal aspect of their lives—from their upbringing, to every internal thought—was all in paperback for the world to read.

The brothers made the horrifying discovering when they were working a case in town, the first stop on the list of places to check out was some run-down looking comic store. The guy behind the counter mistook their questioning as a game of "LARPing" and failed miserably in attempting to remember the main character's names, only for the younger Winchester to correct him after the third time. That's when they discovered the first book in the bargain bin, a hidden gem abandoned with other comics no one bothered to read. The cover alone looked like a seedy romance novel someone might find on their middle middle-aged mother's nightstand. Sam and Dean found every copy they could find and examine each word.

Sam tried to figure out who this Carver Edlund was, but he was shady as the characters he wrote about. There wasn't a single paper trail or photograph of him in an attempt for either of the boys to recognize his face to figure out who he was. Best guess the guy was using a pen name to keep his identity. All they knew that the books started rolling out in early of'05, the year Sam left a life behind after tragedy hit. His girlfriend Jess, the only woman he was weeks away from asking to marry him, was killed in the same gruesome manner as his mother. The finale of the "Supernatural" series ended in of Dean being torn to bits by Lilith and Sam alone, just like reality they were forced to live in.

Sam and Dean doubted it ended here. There was someone behind this name, a person the boys were itching to have a “formal” chat with to figure out how he knew so much about them. The boys decided to start with the most obvious place to track down the author’s real name, the publishing company that printed the crap. A lovely young woman held the possible trail to finding out who it was, only it came with a test when Sam and Dean claimed to be journalists wanting to write an article about the books.

The publisher wouldn’t give up any sort of information so easily. She grilled them with all sorts of questions each of the boys got correct, but only seemed satisfied they were the real deal as she sat in her office chair, watching with a close eye as Sam unbuttoned his flannel and under shirt slightly to reveal the anti-possession tattoo on his chest. She had one of her own, right on her bare ass to show the boys. But the view that made Dean’s day wasn’t the only parting gift she gave the boys. She might not have known the true identity of the person who wrote the books, she had a current address the boys could visit. All though she warned them—authors were temperamental people.

“He’s very private.” She warned them. “Like Salinger.”

You lifted your hands away from the keyboard when you attempted the second draft of the newest edition to a series that ended months ago. But it didn’t mean the adventures that ran through your head would stop. It flowed vividly as it did after the first dream you had them and sat down to write the first page of the "Supernatural" series. You read the words back to yourself as another part of the newest story printed, waiting for your approval to join the rest of the story you were working on.

Writing was a tedious process. Some people could whip out a beginning line to sink the reader in, others thought to start in the middle and figure out the rest later. Your process was a jumbled mess. You wrote down fragments until everything connected itself together into a perfect story you were happy with. However, the newest story you were working on was a bit...different.

You sat in your office, a small room containing a desk pushed up against the window to enjoy a spacious backyard and the rainy days when you felt the most inspired. Behind was you as book shelf taller than you, crammed with novels your family collected over the years along with bound and unpublished books that haven’t seen the light of day. You reached out to grab the second cup of coffee you made for yourself and the still warm papers from the printer. Skimming the words, you snickered into the ceramic mug at what the hell you were attempting to write late last night.

You took pride in being a creative person since early childhood. Maybe it came with having both of your parents being successful writers and having a hunger for all sorts of adventures you tried to seek in reading endless books. Ever since you could hold a pen and form proper sentences you were writing down all your crazy stories. You were a daydreamer, with a wild imagination to match. Never did you think any of it would be good enough material to be published.

It was the summer before you were supposed to start your freshman year of college when you had a dream that felt so real. Normally you forgot the dream you had the night before the second you woke up. But this one stuck like glue. All day your mind wouldn’t stop replaying what you dreamed about, thinking about these characters you named Sam and Dean. For a week you had dreams that felt so vivid about them, the first adventure of many to come. Over the years you had some that were pleasant and quite enjoyable to form into words. Other ones made you wake up in a cold sweat, terrified from the horrendous things your brain could think of all on your own. You showed the first fifteen pages you had wrote nonstop in the span of three days to your parents—who suggested you to go for it. Write a novel and see where it took you.

It took you farther than you ever expected. You made the decision to publish the name under a pen name of Carver Edlund, You were afraid nobody would take an eighteen year old with no prior experience seriously. You sent the books off to every publishing company you could think of and waited for nothing but rejection letters. Almost all of them were a fail, until you got your lucky break with an Indie company that loved your work. She gushed over the first "Supernatural" book and how good it was, so good that she was reading for the second time after finishing it all in just a day. The work was so good, she desperately pleaded for more. You agreed to work on more stories, if you were granted complete and total privacy. She agreed.

You placed the cup back down on your desk in favor for a pen, deciding to edit the part you were working on last night. You felt a tinge of embarrassment from what the kind of nonsense your mind was able to come up with. It was always the day after you decided to edit. A fresh perspective to edit the mistakes you might have made and correct words that might flow better. However, it didn’t take much effort to slip back into the fictional world you thought you created.

“Sam and Dean exited the Impala and stepped onto the sidewalk. Dean took out the ripped piece of paper with the address scribbled down and read it one more time, wanting to make sure it was correct. All though he wasn’t sure what kind of house a man who wrote the lives was to look like, what they saw wasn’t what they...perceived. A small two-story house laid in front of them didn’t look like it belonged to a person they never met. It looked like every other one on this street, a white picket fence and a flourishing garden blooming this early spring. The boys knew looks could be deceiving. They wanted to make sure this was the residence of the man who knew personal details about themselves, things nobody should know.

The boys waited not a second longer. They approached the front door with trepidation. Did they really want to learn the secrets that lay beyond that door? The brothers traded soulful looks, answering the question without speaking a word. With determination, Dean pushed the doorbell with forceful...determination."

You furrowed your brow when you noticed you accidentally repeated the same word twice. You clicked on your pen and scratched out the word for something better. Before the tip of the pen could even touch the paper, you found yourself looking over your shoulder when the doorbell rang. Your dog, who had been peacefully resting at your feet, raised his head in curiosity. You rolled your eyes when he followed the behavior by a series of loud barks. You shushed the German Shepherd, mumbling for Winchester to calm down as rubbed a hand across his fur. You weren’t expecting any visitors today. And it’d been ages since you ordered any packages. You pushed yourself up to your feet, deciding to answer it anyway.

You heard a set of nail tap across the wooden floors, Winchester followed behind you to join you in the adventure of who was bugging you this early afternoon. You lived in a safe neighborhood, it was the reason why you moved here in the first place. Plus the rent was cheap. You unlocked the dead bolt and opened the door a crack to see who stood on your porch, two men you’d never seen before.

You noticed their hands were empty—no bible, no useless products to sell you. It meant the “No soliciting” sign worked. But the “Beware of Dog” didn’t ward off strangers who weren't’ here with a good explanation. You were a single woman living on your own and two men that looked to be twice your size were visiting you. Nobody could be too cautious these days with all those sickos running around. Winchester peeked his head out from behind you to see who it was.

“Excuse me, we don’t mean to bother you, but…” The man standing closest to you greets you with an expression that makes it look like he’s having a bad day. He trailed off momentarily when he saw Winchester peek his head out, the dog staring at him. The stranger continued on by asking you a question that made your welcoming smile drop slightly. “We’re looking for a Carver Edlund.”

“Never heard of the guy.” You lied straight through your teeth, shrugging your shoulders. You gave the two strangers another smile, this time, more sympathetic. “You got the wrong house.” “We’re looking for the man who wrote the ‘Supernatural’ books.” You turned your head to the second man, who’s taller, but much more nicer looking. “We know he wrote them under a fake name. But we didn’t get his real one, just his address. We were told he lives here.”

“We really need to talk to him.” The man standing next to you said, urgency in his voice. You could tell he was trying to be polite. Your swallowed slightly as you wrapped your fingers around the door frame. It seemed he could read your hesitance. “Let me guess, he’s your boyfriend. He probably likes his privacy. But this is important. Is he home, by chance? It’ll just take five minutes. That’s all.”

“Why do you want to meet him so badly?” You questioned the both of them.

“We’re...We’re really big fans.” The taller one said. You narrowed your eyes slightly when both of them share a look before directing their attention back to you. “You see, my brother and I are journalists and we were hoping to have an interview with him, see who the real man is behind these books. Shed some light on the series to gain more attention. That’s all.”

You looked at the two of them for a moment, wondering if what you were hearing was true. You had never had something like this happen before. Most journalists, all three of them, contacted you through email to try and get a personal interview with you. You never had someone show up on your front door, trying to figure out the true identity behind a book series that paid your way through college, something that started out from a vivid dream. Your body relaxed as you let out a sigh, deciding if they were big fans, you’d let him in on a secret.

“Well, since you guys went all this trouble...Hi,” You opened the door slightly wider and leaned yourself against it, your lips stretching into a smile when you spoke the truth you had been trying to hide for over four years. “The name’s Y/N Y/L/N. I’m the author of the ‘Supernatural’ books.”

"Wait, you? You’re the sucker who wrote all those books?” Your face scrunched up slightly when the man standing closest to you changed his attitude. He suddenly broke out into a smile, acting as if you told him a funny joke. You slowly nodded your head and gave him a dirty look. If he was here to make fun of your work, you’d be more than happy to tell him to shove his arrogance where the sun didn’t shine. It seemed that wasn’t the case. He sobered up when he realized you were telling the truth, he was in the right place, and he was speaking to the author. “Well, nice to meet you. Let me tell you who we are. I’m Dean. This is Sam.” He pointed a finger to the taller man stan is next to him. “The Dean and Sam you've been writing about.”

You stared at the two men standing on your porch, trying to process what they just said as the ends of your lips slowly stretched into a smile. You didn't know what you should laugh first at. The fact that these two men went through all the trouble of tracking down your publisher that you hadn't talked to in almost five months for an address to figure out who the real writer of a barely popular book series. Or they were crazy, pretending to be fictional characters you made up. You didn’t even bother wasting your breath to give a response. You stepped back and slammed the door right on their face. You reached up a hand to lock the door, but before you could, you heard the doorbell go off again.

You contemplated for a moment if you wanted to do the right thing and ignore them. Worst case scenario if they got rowdy you'd call the cops and get their asses hauled off. However, you found yourself suddenly overcome with anger when you heard them switch from the doorbell to furiously pounding on your front door. You rolled your eyes, you decided to confront the two very delusional men who needed a dose of reality.

“Look, uh... I appreciate your enthusiasm. Really, I do. It's, uh, it's always nice to hear from the fans. But how about you be like everyone else and drop me an email or something. Not show up on my doorstep like a bunch of freaks. The reason why I wrote under a fake name was so I could keep my privacy. And I’d like to keep it that way.” You spoke in a serious tone, informing them they needed to get out of here. “For your own good, I strongly suggest you get a life.”

Your left the two men with the words of advice they should take as you swung the door shut to end this conversation once and for all. Instead the one who called himself Dean thought it was a good idea to reach out a hand and slam it against the door, using his strength to keep it open.

“See, here's the thing, sweetheart. We have a life.” He said. You scoffed loudly at his words that sounded like a lie from how they were acting. You attempted once more to shut the door and lock it, but he was quicker than you. He inched himself closer so his fingers wrapped around the edge of the wood. “You've been using it to write your books.”

“Right.” You mumbled, chuckling at the tough guy act this idiot was putting on. You didn’t try and make Winchester calm down when he prowled closer to the two strangers. He let out a low, threatening growl when he sensed a changed in the atmosphere. “You have five seconds to get your hand off my door and off my property before I call the cops.”

It seemed “Dean” would take his chances with your threat. He pushed his way into your house, making you stumble slightly into the place as Winchester jumped in between the both of you, making the men suddenly stop dead in their tracks before they could do anything else. The dog began to bark incessantly and growl at the strangers when he thought one of them might try and do something stupid.

“Look, we’re not here to hurt you.” The one who thought he was Sam reassured you. Your face scrunched up from his words that sounded the least bit comforting. Their actions spoke louder, and it screamed they were a bunch of lunatics. “We just want to know how you’re doing it.”

“Doing what?” You asked them. “I’m not doing anything.”

“Are you a hunter?” The other man questioned you.

“What? Are you high or something? Get out of my house. Now” You ordered, as if you had any sort of authority to do such a thing. It took all of your control to keep your voice steady as your heart pounded roughly against your ribcage. The two men didn’t listen, they just stared at you, waiting for an answer. "I'm a writer. That's it."

“Then how do you know so much about demons and tulpas and changelings?” Dean threw out a few fictional monsters you wrote about in your series. You backed away slowly, wondering how to stop this situation before it could escalate to the nightmares a single woman had while living on her own. Murdered, robbery...other things that made a shiver run down your spine just form the thought.

“I read a lot of science fiction and horror books. H.P. Lovecraft, Stephen King all that stuff. That’s where most it came from. And I did research, too. I wanted it to be realistic as possible.” You admitted. You thought the answers would be enough, but the one who thought of himself as Dean wouldn’t back down so easily. “Look, is this some kind of weird ‘Misery’ thing because I killed off Dean?”

“It’s not a ‘Misery’ thing. Believe me, we are not fans.” He said, shaking his head at the accusation. You didn’t believe one word he spoke. The man looked down at your dog when he heard it stop barking but showing no signs of backing down. Because it thought his owner was in danger. He quickly realized barging in like this made a wrong impression. They didn’t think a twenty something year old woman wrote their lives. The man changed his tone of voice, into more of a calm one. “Look, we aren’t here to break your legs. We just wanna talk. That’s it. Five minutes. And then we’ll be out of your hair for good.”

You didn’t feel the least bit reassured by his promise, but as a sign of good faith, or stupidity on your part, you stepped forward and shushed Winchester to keep quiet. You ushered him to back down and reassured that everything was fine. You stared at the two men in front of you, wondering if they were going to keep to their word.

“Fine. Who are you?” You asked them. “Really?”

“I’m Sam. This is Dean.” The taller man must have thought you were stupid when they tried to keep pulling this little act.

You rolled your eyes and pushed yourself back up to your feet, trying your hardest not to lose your patience with them. “For the last time, Sam and Dean are fictional characters.” You told them in a quiet, strained voice from what was going on. “I made them up! They're not real!”

The two men thought they could change your mind with some proof. You didn’t know why, but you found yourself following outside to their car—which was a 1967 Chevy Impala, color black and in mint condition, kept a single scratch on it. You’d never seen one in person, but she was a sight for sore eyes. Winchester trailed behind you to the outside and sat himself down on the sidewalk after you told him to. He was quiet, but he remained diligent, waiting for one of them men to try something.

The one who called himself Dean wanted you to take a look at the inside of their trunk, the words were a bit more creepier than he expected. You crossed your arms over your chest, expecting it to be empty and for one of them to shove you inside before locking you in there. When the trunk opened up, it wasn’t empty and you remained where you stood, but what you saw was even more horrifying. You inhaled a deep breath as you felt your eyes jumping around at all the stuff they had in there, an arsenal for a mad man.

“Are those real guns?” You asked in a meek tone.

“Yup.” The one who thought of himself as Dean said. You swallowed when he pointed out all the things you mentioned in the book. “This is real rock salt, these are real fake IDs.”

“Well, I got to hand it to you guys. You really are my number one fans. That’s,” You scratched the back of your neck as you felt yourself choosing the flight option in this situation. You nervously chuckled and began to slowly back away, hoping you might be able to dash inside the house and call the cops before things got too far. They were crazy, you thought. Obsessed. “That’s awesome. So, I-I think I've got some posters in the house.” You turned so fast on the back of your heels, you had a shot at running for your life. But before you could take a single step to safety, you heard the one who was pretending to be Dean spoke up. “Y/N, stop.” He called out to you, and for some reason, you listened to him.

“You lay one finger on me and I’ll start screaming.” You warned them as you turned back around to face the two men. You gave them a deadly glare as Winchester pushed himself back up on all four legs and came back over to you. "What the hell do you want?"

“How much do you know?” The taller one, Sam, questioned you with all sorts of things that you had written about in the secrecy of your own office. “Do you know about the angels? Or Lilith breaking seals?”

“Wait a minute. Wait a minute.” You mumbled, shaking your head from what he was asking you. You looked at the two men in front of you with a confused expression from what was going on, all of a sudden you had a few questions of your own. “How do you know about that?”

“The question is,” This supposed Dean asked, “how do you?”

You furrowed your brow slightly, "'Cause I wrote it."

“You kept writing?” Sam, or so he called himself, wondered.

“Yeah, even after the publisher went bankrupt, but those books never came out. Nobody's ever seen them except for me.” You said, telling them as you pointed a thumb over your shoulder and to your house. You suddenly felt a nudge against your leg, the dog was growing funny all of a sudden when he let out a low whine. You rolled your eyes and gave him a command, speaking his name for the first time in front of the boys. “Winchester, sit.”

"You named your dog Winchester?" You nodded your head, knowing this was the conversation that you would make up the lie that it was about how your dad was a big fan of guns and you named the dog after him. The man decided to formally introduce himself. "Well, nice that's a mighty fine coincidence. Cause you see, like I said...I'm Dean Winchester, and this is my brother, Sam."

You looked up from your dog after you began to subconsciously ran a hand through his fur to try and calm him down. You felt your face fall in surprise from what they told you. "Last names were never in the books. I never told anybody that. I never even wrote it down. Nobody knows I even wrote those books. People only think I named my dog after a freaking gun. You mumbled. You suddenly felt yourself hit with a dizzy spell from the things that were slowly connecting in your head. You stared at the two men in front of you, the ones you had wrote God knows how many books on and years of dreams about. Alive and in the flesh. “Sam and Dean Winchester...Well, nice to meet you.”

[Next Part]

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silverwindsblog · 6 years

Text

The Fallen Kingdom

Summary: “Aknamkanon's death shocked Atem and the kingdom, leaving little time for Atem to grief. He must take the throne and the responsibilities with it.Will he able to handle them and his grief? Or will grief and despair lead to his downfall? Oneshot.”

Rated T for mid violence and cynical themes.

“Atem. It’s time to go. I know that your father’s death have hit you hard, but as future king, you must keep your head high for the sake of people. Remember that you represent the virtues that people strive for. Even in hardships, it is important to be resilient.

“Yes Siamun.”

Atem looked at his father’s tomb. The chamber was cold, but Atem hardly noticed the goosebumps in his skin.

It’s too soon. Far too soon for his father to leave the world. Death simply does not stop after the burial of an important figure.The mourning of the dead lingered in Egypt, the sorrow consumed people’s hearts, leaving the kingdom paralyzed.

Whispers roamed among the streets. What will become of Egypt? Will his son be ready? Will his son will be strong as his father?

Remember son, your duty and more importantly, you are above the people. You are blessed by the powers of Ra. Your actions are example to the people you will govern.

“My prince?”

A familiar strong voice boomed within the chamber. Atem didn’t noticed the man with his trademark staff and magician robe.

“My apologies for startling you pharaoh, I have not grow accustomed to your new title. I noticed your long face. Do you need a lending ear?”

“Thank you Mahaad, but I do not wish to burden my troubles to you.”

“As your friend and guardian, it is my obligation to help ease your mind. Not just for the sake of the kingdom, but for your well being. Even a king has his own limits. He cannot hold all of his burden by himself or else his burdens will overwhelm him.”

“Thank you for your concern, Mahaad.” His heart grew lighter at Mahaad’s concern. “Yes, I would love nothing more than to chat. Unfortunately, I must attend these meetings. How about we meet at our usual spot? By the garden?”

Maahad nodded. “I shall see you then. Do your best to not yawn at Seto’s cropping reports.”

Atem couldn’t help but gave an impish grin at Mahaad. “Well it’s not my fault that Seto talks with that dull voice of his. No guarantee.”

He stood and “But I can guarantee this Mahaad, I always make time with you and Mana no matter how busy I am.”

---

The scent of lychnis and jasmine flowers soothed his mind. For a moment, the world felt still. The smell of the fresh earth brought the memories of tiny vases, dirty feet, and magic tricks.

Moments when once upon a time, his worries were consist of hide and go seek with the guards, surviving Seto’s dull lectures, and keeping a straight face as Mana apologized for her latest magic mishaps. “Well, at least the purple hair suits you. Beside, you need more color in your wardrobe. Atem couldn’t help but giggled with Mana as Mahaad’s stern face broke into laughter.

The three of them stuck together like glue. Days were filled with juicy mango, sunsets on their secret spot, and shirking reports. Before their lives are separated by their occupation, they explored the palace as though it’s their playground. When they grew tired, Mana would always climbed up the tree to get the oranges.

The orange tree was planted when Atem learned to walked. He vividly remembered his father’s worried face as Atem eagerly climbed to the tree for the first time. Atem’s young face soften his father’s expression as he happily gave one of the orange to his father. The tree marked the day when he met Mana and Mahaad for the first time.

Ever since, they were inseparable. They bonded over their thirst for adventure, before the complex rules that defines their identities. Time was irrelevant to finding the rarest treasure, combat against their imaginary foes, and discovering new exotic items at the market. The orange tree no longer lies in the garden, as Mahaad explained to Mana why she can’t glomp him in public. Even the dirt that doesn’t shifts sprouted new plants as the old plants dropped its seeds before it withered away, vanished without a trace.

Just like plants, people will eventually died and will disappeared into the earth. Unlike plants, memories never fade away. His people remembered his father for his kind words, tactics, his strong voice, and his dedication to defeat evil. What kind of legacy will I leave? Will my legacy mirrored my father’s? Will it be a legacy that I can make my father proud?

“My pharaoh.”

Atem looked up and find Mahaad staring at him.

“My apologies to startle you with your thoughts.”

Atem gave a small smile to Mahaad. “No need for the formality. It’s just the two of us.” Mahaad quietly sat at the bench next to Atem.

They shared a moment of silence. He appreciated Mahaad for his presence. Perhaps it’s Mahaad’s magic or their extended time together, Mahaad have an incisive sense when Atem wanted to be alone with his thoughts and when Atem wanted to confide his troubling thoughts. Mana has her own way to ease Atem’s worries with a wink and a smile as she cast her often disastrous spells. Few people, let alone some of her closest friends knew that Mana has an attentive side. Her keen sense however, cannot compare with Mahaad’s intuition and his vast knowledge of magic.

“Atem. Are you okay? I know it’s difficult for you to deal with his death because you have admire him for his courage and selflessness. I have to admit, I admired him for these qualities.”

“Mahaad, I have to admit, with the amount of work to prepare for coronation, I have little time to dwell on my feelings. When the advisors depend on you, you have to set aside your worries for the sake of the kingdom.” Atem looked wistfully at the stars.

Mahaad could not see his face. He spoke quietly to him.

“Atem, I appreciate you for everything you done for the kingdom.”

“As well I appreciate for you, to be by my side.”

“Atem, you are always working hard which is one of the qualities I admired about you. But I’m worried that you focused on the state of the kingdom and neglected your own health. I see shadows in your eyes.”

“There’s little time to grief when there’s so much to do.”

“Your feelings are important. Even if you have to fulfil your duties as the future king, remember to not push yourself too hard.”

Mahaad continued to coaxed Atem. “I know you for so long and I know when you use the voice to mask your feelings. Please tell me on what’s on your mind.”

Atem finally turned to face him. Mahaad could see his eyes were slightly moist.

“It’s been difficult for me to get through his death. My father, he was one of my anchors in my life. Not only did he guided me through court life, he nurtured me and I… miss him. Never did I felt alone in my life with all the responsibilities thrust before me.”

“Atem.” He assured Atem with a small smile. “Remembered that you’re not alone. You have me, Mana, and the court to help you and share the burdens. We will be by your side.”

“Thank you Mahaad. I can always count on you to ease my mind.” Atem smiled warmly back at him. “You’re a valuable comrade in battle and court. You’re always at my side and that is something I can say without any doubt.”

Mahaad took a solemn look at Atem. He knew the very words he uttered. Those words he etched in his mind and the promise that bind them together. He remembered the oath he did when Atem’s father announced that he will be Atem’s guardian. No doubt that Atem remembered that important day as well.

He kneeled down in front of Atem.

“I swore to protect you with my life, so long as I live. I will remain by your side as my duty to serve the future king.”

These words never fail to bring comfort for Atem.

“No matter what, you will be always my king and friend.”

No words needed as Atem hugged Mahaad.

In the world where uncertainty threatens with life, death and calamity, his only solace is Mahaad’s words, along with his strong arms brought him peace. He knew that there is one thing that will never change.

He will never have to worry about fighting alone again.

---

One night, alone in his private garden, Atem felt his mind lulled to the moon. The moon never looks brighter as the crickets chirped with the wind.

A shadow creeped by the rock. Atem was taken back and stood, preparing to draw out his sword.

“Who are you?” The woman before him wore a long, silky, white dress. Her green eyes were the prominent focus. They were deep as the Nile river. No doubt that her eyes held wisdom. Her dress while it blends in with the nobles, her luminous white skin made her stand out.

“My pharaoh, I am Kamilah. Caretaker of your late father. I had been close to your father. Because of my importance and power, few people knew me. I have to kept in secret so enemies don’t use me.” Her voice, powerful and full of pride. It reminded Atem of Isis the way she enchanted the court with the guidance of her vision.

“I am here to guide you, fulfilling your father’s request. His dying words to me was to watch his son.”

Atem shifted his eyes in his surrounding, checking to see if there’s false serenity. “I see. If you claim to be my father’s caretaker, then why did my father and the advisors never mention your name to me?”

“Your father ordered me to never appear in the public’s eyes, nor in the advisor’s eyes. I was served to follow orders after your father’s death. My role is to guide you in order to continue Egypt's prosperity. Your father and I decided that I work in the shadows, to avoid potential enemies finding me and using me for destroying Egypt. My knowledge is vast beyond the seas, beyond the skies. Your father trusted me for my wisdom and I have guided him for Egypt to thrive.”

Atem’s eyes narrowed. “How do I know that you are not lying to me?” It’s unusual for his father to not mention about her to him and his advisors if she provided a vital role for Egypt’s success. What if she’s a spy?

She reached for her pocket and pulled out a scroll. “These are the records that your father wrote for our private meetings. I think you will recognize your father’s plan on the millennium items.”

Atem’s eyes widen open as he read the scroll.

Be discreet about the spells. Continue to seek for the the method to defeat Zorc. Assure the advisors that the spells will strengthen the people. Let Kamilah keep Atem safe until he is ready to shoulder the responsibilities by himself.

No doubt that this was his father’s words.

Father… I will make you proud.

“Kamilah?”

“Yes my pharaoh?”

Atem hesitated. What were his father’s dying words on Atem?

“Did my father talked about me before his death?”

“Yes.”

“What did my father thought of me?”

“Your father is very proud of you and have no doubt that you will be a great king.” Her eyes reflected in the moon with affirmation.

Atem’s eyes widen. Father… he was proud of me. His face filled with newfound determination. “I’ll make sure that I continue Egypt’s legacy for my father’s last wish. And for the people.”

Kamilah gave an encouraging smile. “I’ll make sure that I fulfill my role to serve you and Egypt.” She gave a respectful bow before Atem.

---

Mahaad met Kamilah once. She has a motherly and benevolent appearance that no doubt reminded him of the late king. Despite the introduction, Mahaad felt uneasy around her. It was not her manners for they were professional, it was rather something… off about her. As a magician, he is an expert on reading people’s aura. Her words, kind and supportive despite she spoke very little around him. Yet, he couldn’t depict her mind. Her face while soft and has warm eyes, Mahaad noticed her face remained guarded around him.

“Be on your way, magician.”

“As well as you.” Mahaad bowed respectfully as he watched her leave to Atem’s room.

Atem spent most of his time at the library. Rarely does Atem get sleep. His advisors became concerned on Atem for his nightly reading. Rumors spread about the mysterious woman. Perhaps it’s Atem’s mistress? Atem confirmed that the woman knew his father and was advised to protect her identity. No one heard, let alone able to spoke a word with the woman. Some attempted to follow the woman in the hallways. However, whenever they turned to a corner, she disappeared.

---

“I beg to differ. Mahaad is my valuable guardian. He have been with me since we were little. He is humble, kind, and dependent.”

“Are you doubting my trust on Mahaad?”

Kamilah couldn’t help but find it mildly surprising at Atem’s outburst.

“I did not mean to offend you my pharaoh. I wish to offer a suggestion to better serve you and the kingdom. I thought that it would be more suitable if the king does not fully trust someone close to him. It can lead to conflict of interest, should there is a traitor among the advisors.”

“I am thankful for your guided words Kamilah, but I believe that I have good judgement of who I can trust.”

“Very well then.” She stormed off into the hallway.

Atem was rather amused that this was the first time Kamilah have an annoyed expression.

---

“My father would show him mercy.” Atem struggled to steadied his voice from the shock of the murder of the villagers and Kamilah’s punishment. Frustration etched in his face as Kamilah cooly attempt to calm him.

“Your father wouldn’t let the thief’s crime go unpunished. I know your father’s mind. Instead of letting this thief go, he would have killed him. By killing him, perhaps you would have save from more bloodshed among the villagers.”

“My father taught me kindness and to show forgiveness for those who are wrong. He would never punish someone out of ruthlessness. In all the years I spent with my father and the training with him, he taught me to be strong.”

“Your father was a kind man indeed, one of the qualities I admired about him. However, even you held the power of Ra himself, you cannot deny the fact that humans are fallible. Do you think humans are capable to not perform wicked acts? They are not capable to see their errors. Look at this thief you forgive. In return of your weakness, he killed five villagers and injured one of the guards.”

She circled around Atem, her eyes twinkled with amusement.

“As the future king, kindness will get you so far. If you want to rule over Egypt with efficiency, you have to be strict,” her voice suddenly turned stern. “Wouldn’t you like a world without crime? Without anyone get hurt over someone taking another person’s life? Don’t waste time and resource correcting people’s crime if they are not going to learn from them. If they can’t be useful for Egypt, then they should be put to death. Or at least become slaves for the rest of their lives.”

“Let me teach you lesson. I’ll show how to run Egypt with everyone obeying you. You shall learn that people will be loyal to you if you give them fear. People can betray you. If they know that they receive punishment if they betray you, then it’s the only way to know that people will remain loyal to you.”

“Hold out your arm.”

Atem yelped in pain as she cast a spell, leaving a red mark.

“You’re too naive. You must not let your guard down. There are enemies lurking that will take advantage the moment you show your weakness. Let’s try again.”

“Please follow me.”

Atem’s eyes furrow. A shot of purple magic went near his left leg. Atem quickly jump aside to the right as he pull out his sword. He glared at her as she gave a satisfied smirk.

“Much better.” Her voice has a hint of mischief. She gave him a satisfied smile, as though she finally got her child to understand his potential. “I’ll see you tomorrow night alone.”

---

“Atem, my king are you alright? You… learned about your father and the creation of the millennium items? It must have been devastating to learn about your father.”

Why…” Atem stunned and astounded he stared at Kamilah, absorbing all the information from the advisors. “Didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you weren’t ready for it.”

“My father… Why did hid this from me?” Stunned and fury seeped into his very core. Betrayal and doubt invaded to his mind. “How… Why…” Silence tighten the room, his breath grew more pronounced.

“Forgive me my king from withholding the information, your father and I thought that the truth is too much for you.”

“Don’t patronize me! I’m not some fragile person.”

“I did not wish to offend you, my king. There has to be the right time to open up the truth. One must reveal the truth at the right time, revealing too soon or too late can lead to misunderstanding and resentment.” she bow at Atem.

“He wanted to wait until you are older to understand the reasons he did. He felt remorse for his actions and he hoped that you’ll understand him why he had to do it.”

“He had to do what he did to protect the kingdom.” Her solemn words echoed in Atem’s mind as he pondered over his bed.”

You will understand why you must do what your father did when the time is right. If you want Egypt to thrive, you must be willing to spill some blood.

Few rulers led a clean life after all.

The words haunted Atem, weighting him down. As he is drifted to sleep, he shivered from the cold. Oddly enough, the recent heat wave cause the crops to die out. The last thing he heard before he fell into deep sleep was a cackling voice.

---

“How do I know that you are not lying to me? Kamilah, I have no doubt that you are knowledgeable about human relations, but I have to raise my doubts on your cynical attitude towards other people. Seth is one of my loyal advisors and I entrust him to assist carry my duties.” Atem insisted.

“With all due respect my pharaoh, I have been in many situations where my life was compromised due to my trust on the wrong people. I was kidnapped for my ability to see the past.”

“Let me show you my vision. Actions can speak louder than words. He may have swore his loyalty to you, but did he meant it?”

“So son, my brother was a rather a rotten king. The throne should belong to me, not him! Your cousin is also like his father, taking something that he doesn’t deserve and getting all the credit! We shall kill him. Tonight we will bring the pharaoh to check out the village that has the source of magic we seek to strengthen our powers. The village is filled with curses, strengthen by the villagers’ despair. There’s a cavern near the village and that’s where we kill him with the Blue Eyes White Dragon.

Atem and Kamilah couldn’t see Seto’s expression as the vision was obstructed. Seto pulled out the scroll and gave it to Aknadin. Seto shouted at Aknadin before the vision faded away.

Atem’s eyes widen in horror as he stood back at their room. He was shaken with anger and felt a wave of disbelief.

“Forgive me my pharaoh, for showing you this vision. I was reluctant to reveal this to you because your close relation with Seto. But my conscious tells me that I must show for your sake and the kingdom.”

Now, do you see why you can’t place your trust on anyone but me? Putting your full trust on one person can cost your life, as well the kingdom. We can’t risk losing your legacy because of betrayal. ”

“You’ll right. I’ll do whatever I take to make my father proud of me. He wouldn’t want the kingdom be run by corrupt advisors. All of the advisors must show dedication and loyalty to the kingdom.”

“If you wish to have loyalty among your advisors and people, you must teach them the consequences for betrayal and treason against Egypt. Execute both of them and show it to the public. You will guarantee loyalty and prevent potential rebels for carrying their plans. It is essential to teach people with kindness, but show them no mercy for those who commit treason.

Her smile widen. She gave a small, hearty laugh. “Come here, I have a perfect plan to do this. Give me the sharpest knife you got. I’ll deal with the traitors while you formulate the speech.”

The next morning, the advisors arrived at the throne room, confused at the pharaoh's sudden request. Everyone is concerned on the absence of priest Seto and Aknadin.

“My advisors, I have an announcement to make. I discovered that here are traitors among us. The proof is in this very scroll. One of our advisors was plotting an assassination. As a result, they are punished for treason. They are denied to the Afterlife.”

Atem pay no heed to the loud gasps and disapproving eyes before him.

“It is forbidden to speak the name of these traitors. Their names shall be erased in the texts. Anyone who dare uttered their name before my presence shall be punished. Due to the recent events and threats in our kingdom, every advisor and worker are subjected to be questioned. That is all.”

Beneath his stoic eyes, Mahaad’s body shook with rage. What cause for his pharaoh’s sudden demeanor? What happen to his king? What will become of Egypt?

---

“Onward to the palace!”

“March!”

“Mahaad, you are the only one who can stop the king’s madness. We’ll counting on you. Give us the command when you’ll ready to ambush them.”

“My fellow warriors, we shall fight back against the tyrant who submit the people through fear and cruelty. I was once his guardian, served to protect him and the kingdom. When he started to suddenly distrust the people and slaughtered innocents through shadow magic, I cannot let this injustice slide by.

Atem stood in the throne, awaiting for his duel. He watched Mahaad marched to the empty room.

“Well look who decided to show up. The man who betrayed my trust. The man who refused to face the truth that the kingdom cannot thrive without wars and sacrifices. No matter how good your intentions are, a ruler cannot provide peace without spilling blood. The blood of the thieves, traitors, and prostitutes are spilled for the sake of maintaining the purity of the kingdom. A successful kingdom keeps the people safe by controlling the crime.”

"You have many people who are willing to throw their lives away, even betraying their friends to protect you. But I will never die for you." His voice seethed with resentment and anger.

For a blink of the moment, he swore that the king’s eyes flickered to his defiant words. Perhaps it’s the flames from the torches surrounding the throne that gave the illusion that the king’s eyes has life in it.

“Why is that? Aren’t you my loyal servant?”

No, that cold hearted voice didn’t fit him at all. The red, harsh eyes pierced to his soul. His body stiffed.

He gripped his staff, taken aback from his eyes as he steadied his voice. He stood still, yet he was shaken with fear.

Mahaad never thought that he would uttered those words to him.

“I’m not you loyal servant.”

“You are not the king I know. You are the son of Aknamkanon, blessed by Ra. I have been loyal to you even when you unjustly killed thieves, even your severe punishments cowered you enemies with dread. You once believe in justice and kindness, but now you are no longer the king I know. Greed has filled your heart as you strive for ruling the kingdom with an iron fist. That’s not what your father wants!”

His voice which was firm, echoed loudly in the throne. No longer can he hide his irate tone, his displeased and disgust against him.

“It pains me seeing you turn against your fellow people and I cannot stand by your side any longer while you continued to harm others with injustice and cruelty!”

“This is not the Atem I know!” His voice boomed across the throne room.

“I know that somewhere, deep in your heart that you feel regret for everything you did to your people.”

He bow as his voice cracked, “I’m sorry Atem.”

He raised his magic staff for the last time and aimed at his former king and best friend.

---

It never felt as lonely to be at top. Servants bid to every his command, yet their comfort meant nothing to him. Their serene smile and gestures are empty. Cold. Just like her eyes. Egypt has thrived. Crops are abundant, trading is booming, everyone pledged their loyalty to him.

Everything he did, he did it for the sake of his people. For the sake of his father.

The kingdom flourished that generations of his people would tell their children how their nation thrived. Never before Atem felt so much pride in his heart.

He does not need anyone. His power, his resources is all he needs. To rely on anyone is a sign of weakness. Why waste his time and energy? Humans make mistakes, the moment that they found opportunities that benefit them, they turn against him, and in the end, it hurts.

Those purple, defiant eyes suddenly flashed upon him. The flame in his eyes.

How. Just how that the spark in his eyes never extinguish?

He’s dead. He defies me and that’s his punishment.

It wouldn’t matter because he fulfilled his duty as a king.

Anyone who dare betray him, or attempt a treason against his country shall die.

Yet that throbbing pain in his heart wouldn’t go away.

The spark that is filled with fierce determination. Was it fuel with hatred?

Atem suddenly turned to his right, expecting for the familiar face to be by his side.

He cursed himself for the tears that drenched his face.

I’m… so sorry Mahaad.

Have I done well as a king? Would father be proud of me? Would my father will be happy for the legacy I left behind?

His muses left him empty in the throne. Walls smeared with blood and remnants of bones decorated this once lively room. Flowers, which were once brought the room with joy and life now were replaced with rodents who seek for the remaining flesh.

The sun rises every morning and rays of light reaches him, yet the warmth of the sun failed to fill in the void.

The sunny skies mocked him everyday. His speech to punish any wrongdoers and the daily interrogations blurred in his mind. Every night, he returned for the servants who bowed in fear before heading back to his quarters.

He never knew how painful it is to be lonely.

Perhaps death would spare him from the agony of living in an empty shell.

Darkness fall as he drifted to sleep. A figure crackled as it consumed him, poisoning his words, twisted it into a spiral of nightmare. Smokes of purple and black entered into his dreams. He knew this type of magic. This was the same magic his father used to sacrificed the villagers. The same magic that killed his uncle and Seto.

He heard a familiar voice, the voice that guided him to his coronation. He saw her cold, sharp eyes, the eyes that were once warm and motherly, now froze him on the spot. Twitching in pain, his screams echoed in the hallways, yet no one heard.

She smiled wickedly as her enchantments of the servants vanished into thin air. She gave her farewell words to Atem as she mockingly bowed before him.

Long live the king.

---

Sands shifted over the ruined kingdom. The wind grew harshly as a lone figure stood over the cliff. Her skin, light as a milky flower smirked, satisfied with her work.

Humans are easy to fool. Place doubt on their minds and they turn against each other. When trust among other humans fail, civilization crumbles.

Isolation makes it easy to bring a powerful god into despair.

Like light, darkness does not last forever. Time is eternal. It does not matter how long the next civilization will arise, so long I can take my next victim to my despair.

Her ghostly words echoed in the endless sea of sand. Her body disintegrated into the darkness, leaving nothing but fragments of sorrow.

---

A/N: While there are parts I wish I expand such as Atem and Mahaad’s relationship, I enjoyed my attempt to write a cynical fanfic and exploring the dark side of human nature. Atem faced many emotions after his father’s death, which made me wonder what would happen if Atem became depressed and delusional from the death and the failures? That’s where Kamilah comes in. To me, I don’t see her as a character, but as a personification. I‘ll let the readers decide on what Kamilah represents.In the meantime, the next oneshot will be either revolutionshipping or sealshipping with a happier story.

#silverwindsblog writes #oneshot #ygo fanfic #I already published it in fanfiction

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domestic-chriseva · 7 years

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Ok so I wrote this before the Chris clip was published and I was hesitant to post it and now I’m rolling fuck! please enjoy!

I know this might sound crazy, but I’ve been thinking about you lately, I’m not tryna sound basic, But I think you’d be proud of the man that you made me. I don’t want your forgiveness. I just want you to know that you changed me.

song here x

He couldn’t stay away.

Eva thought that he was actually stalking this time but it did seem strange that he’d shown up to the third party of hers staring like he was lost in the 5th dimension of her eyes. She still remembers vividly the first time they hooked up.

Her legs interlaced and locked tight around his waist. Her hair in a jumbo mess and her mind in a sense of pure arouse but the scratches grazing his back didn’t stop him from finally getting Eva in his grasp.

He didn’t protest when she asked him to stay the morning after. He didn’t even try. He watched her snooze right after and watch her plump swollen lips fall and rise along with her chest. It was the moment he felt like he owed her something. Like he owed her forgiveness for blowing her off the first time she asked him out. Like he owed her his time for every moment she spent thinking about him at night when he’d be fucking around with the penetrators or screwing another girl.

Chris wasn’t sappy and he wasn’t a beggar the guy literally got everything he wanted which came down to this moment where he had his doubts. Was Eva actually going to give this boy a second chance.

You’d think after all the shit she’s heard of him would halt her own opinions but it didn’t.

Eva genuinely cared about his life and she’d get scared when she’d hear fights that happened between him and some other guy. She’d flinch in the halls when she heard him coming and looked to the ground when she didn’t have the courage to look him in the face.

Chris noticed it all. He wondered what would happen if he did actually let a girl in, Eva was problematic most of the time and he was just as worse.

This times the rolls were reversed. Eva was over him and doing her own thing while Chris couldn’t keep his light clouded thoughts of her away. He’d catch himself singing cheesy songs or looking out of his window at the moon that kept him up.

‘Why am I like this’ 'I haven’t had a crush on a girl since middle school’

Why are you even keeping yourself up about this? Get yourself together and contact her. He knew she’d be weirded out by him of all people confessing his feelings but he didn’t care he just wanted a conversation with her. Just one that wasn’t short or abrupt that led to kissing or sex.

There were secrets and problems they both had that weren’t addressed or fixed or talked about upon others. And they’d probably never get out, it was just a matter of time.

Time will tell if those problems will go away. The sky will tell the stars will the clouds will the smile on both of their faces seen each day will tell. That’s exactly when you see the change.

A Cheshire’s grin couldn’t help but to appear on the on third years face when he spotted her across the living room with a wine glass in her hand and a pack of cigarettes in the other. He didn’t hesitate to make his way over without stopping to greet anyone.

“Halla” He greeted.

Eva and Sana both looked towards him with neutral facial expressions. Eva’s foot twitched and her friend saw the frozen look she gave him before rolling her eyes and dismissing herself. She knew Eva would end up hooking up with him by the end of the night but that wasn’t the case at the moment.

He’d shown up at her place unexpectedly again when any other time it would be her showing up at his joint. Chris Schistad, the same Chris who told her he didn’t want to have any strings attached to anyone when they first met. The same Chris that hung out with her only because he had no one else to get drunk with and let sleep on his bed when she was too wasted to go home. The same Chris she got attached too when he simply told her not too.

She wasn’t scared though she was skeptical.

“Halla..” She replied and Chris spotted the pack of cigarettes in her hand raising an eyebrow. “You’re a smoker now?” He asked nonchalantly.

You by The 1975 played on the radio and the whole house got riled up and started singing loudly word from word.

“Nei these aren’t mine I was holding it for someone,” She says setting it down and wiping her hand repulsed.

“Let’s go outside it’s loud in here,” Chris said readily grabbing her hand and pulling her onto the back porch and Eva frowned wondering why he was so pushy with her or even talking to her.

The other times she’s seen him in the halls he’d smile and say hello and it would make her smile on her way home from school but why was he being like this. Eva had so many theories as to why he was so happy all the time but she’d end up calling herself stupid because they weren’t about her so she thought.

Eva unwillingly lets go of his hand and he looked back at her knowing he had to make this quick. Eva felt a little creeped out and even had to think back at the talk she had with herself in her bathroom mirror.

She wanted no more hookups or 'what could be’s’ holding onto a string. She wanted her self-respect to be intact and if that meant cutting off everything that brought her self-esteem or judgments from other down then so be it.

“Your acting weird really what do you want” Right after those words were shed Chris immediately went up to Eva kissing her with every bit of confidence rising. Eva pushed him away confused as to why he had a smug grin on his face. “Why are you- what are you doing!”

“I don’t know I honestly don’t know and I don’t wanna know why I’m doing this I just want to and I wanna do it a thousand times more if I could” Eva covered her lips while he paced around the yard excited from the rush of her presence.

“Chris-”

“You know me so good Eva! Like no one else I’ve ever met before me talking like this-this isn’t me this is you talking through me” Eva squinted at him not getting what he was throwing out of his mouth.

“What are you talking about?” She said turning her head to the side and sitting down on the bench next to her. With a sympathetic look, Eva patted the seat next to her and Chris chuckled, crossing his arms and sitting as close as he could next to her.

“I’ve been thinking about you for 2 straight weeks Eva what the hell have you done to me” Chris’s voice cracked for some reason and Eva’s pupils dilated. He didn’t know how to say it any other way.

Eva felt her stomach sink and her ears heat up. She took a deep breath trying to contain herself before she spat out something she didn’t mean to say.

“Why?” She asked and he simply just shrugged.

Eva mocked his movements. “Just that?…you don’t know why you’ve been thinking about me and coming to my house just to stare at me with your friends?” Chris bit his lip knowing that’s not what he wanted to say.

He had words he wanted to say but he didn’t want to overwhelm her with them.

“Nei I mean..I thought back on a night we were together and the morning after and I couldn’t help but to wonder about you. Why did you still kiss me after I told you I wanted nothing more even equivalent than a relationship….you sat and understood and didn’t push my request…what did you understand about me, Eva?”

Eva kept eye contact with him and pursed her lips. She looked down in her lap and Chris followed her eyes wondering what she was thinking. She probably thought he was talking out of his brain and he didn’t mean that.

“It’s common sense Chris when someone isn’t comfortable with a commitment there’s a reason why behind it all…I know your not just a fuckboy with dumb choices that stick to your head like glue… you have a big head on your shoulders and in the back of your mind there is good in you..which is probably my problem..I see good in everyone and I always end up helping them even when they don’t deserve it or treat me the same”

Chris made sure to listen to every single word she was saying not because it benefited him but because when she spoke It’s like he’s never heard her talk before.

“It wasn’t just the sexual attraction or arouse that pulled me in when we talked before sex, I wanted to know more because you do seem so smart Chris…you just don’t show it enough. I was always ready to be prepared for you to come to me with your problems because I wanted to fix them…the way you joked about your life is a living hell I remember that and I was worried..” Her words transcended on top of one another making Chris’s stomach turn.

He was so lost in reality not noticing the one bit of life that carried him through his day.

One pure brain other than William’s that actually cared for him.

It was his turn to talk and the third year’s eyes glistened by the damn bright moon. “I thought you would never notice..you stayed and listened…that’s something my mother wouldn’t even do” Chris finally exhaled taking a second to think about his future choices and how he’d handled them.

How would things be different if he’d have Eva there to help. Where would he be at in his life if he’d never met her or any girl like her.

“I’m sorry Eva” He bit his lip so much that it started to sting and Eva poked her lips out nodding slowly. “I think you owe me an apology too” He smiled. Eva looked confused for a moment before staring at his crescent lips.

“Your fucking changing me and I don’t know what to do…I’ve never felt like this”

A bliss that felt like it lasted for eternity.

Her smile grew and Chris turned his head hiding his blushing. “Isn’t that a good thing?” Eva asked and Chris chuckled throwing his arm on the back of the bench behind her.

“I have to get used to it…but thank you” The both laughed as if it was a queue that soon after held a tense silence between them. The brown picket fence and the freshly cut grass being as still as possible while they stared at the scenery in front of them.

“If I were to always come to you with my problems…will you always listen” Chris blurted out in a low tone and Eva gazed at his shoulder then to his jawline lovingly.

This wasn’t the first time someone spilled their heart out to her and months later they’d act like they’ve never seen her before. She told herself she was done with it but not with him. She felt like she needed him and he needed her but was it all real to last a lifetime.

“As long as you always stick to your word…then of course

#chriseva #eva x chris #penetrator chris #mohnstad #chris x eva #eva mohn #fic

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egle0702 · 7 years

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[TRANS] Bazaar June 2017 Park Hyungsik Interview

BORN TO BE WILD

Park Hyungsik calmly walked into the Hawaiian nature where sun, wind, fog, and sudden showers changed one another in unparalleled fashion like special effects. A full-fledged 26-year-old actor, who is slowly discovering the taste of acting, without a touch of fear or hesitation explored the unfamiliar world. The diverse Park Hyungsik’s prism that radiates between an innocent boyish face and a wild manly appearance. ----By Editor Kim Areum

When we met Park Hyungsik for the first time at the Honolulu Airport in Hawaii, he was completely covered in black, hiding behind a hat and a mask. The Hawaiian daylight was sweltering hot after spending a sleepless night aboard the plane. After some time of driving over the sauna-like asphalt, right when we got closer to the ocean, it felt like the cool breeze has finally shown its true colors and greeted us with a warm “welcome.” It was perhaps two hours after landing. When we met Park Hyungsik again at the Waikiki Beach, he wore red shorts and a white t-shirt with flaming red flowers on it. With his cap backwards, he defended his seat at the very front of a 15-seat mini bus with a certain boyish expression on his face. The person who likes ramyeon, enjoys computer games, and definitely adds spicy jalapenos into his spaghetti.

After having watched him closely for three days, we could say that actor Park Hyungsik is somewhat similar to a kitten that magically appears out of nowhere once someone starts shaking something fluttery. Shall we say he has a talent to arouse his surroundings by concentrating on the most trivial matters even when he is contemplating somewhere far away, out of his territory? This 26-year-old actor, with the eyes full of life and curiosity, would literally glue his face to the car window and stare for a while whenever unfamiliar yet recognizable aspects of nature would unfold in front of us. I can still see vividly clear his cute and innocent gestures when sea water gushed out like a mist in between rough rocks where they say you can see the humpback whales, or when we met the so-called Fire bird* that, according to the local legend, brought fire to Hawaii. His voice full of awe and admiration is still there in the recording when during the interview a small bird flew in the terrace and he was so enthusiastically curious about it. The improvised brilliant moments before arranged directing, when he simply reacted to the Hawaiian nature around him the way his body and mind instinctively told him to, are caught on camera, too.

As we gradually moved towards the east side of the Waikiki Beach in a small bus; sun, fog, wind, and sudden showers quickly changed one another. Park Hyungsik was naturally committed to anything, as he gladly went into whatever was to come next. When he ignored the huge waves coming from afar, boldly dashed forward splashing around, and comfortably lied down on crunchy sand, I suddenly thought that this was in line with the way of life and the general attitude of this person, who has recently displayed a lot of commendable acting on TV. It was unstoppable and natural. That evening Park Hyungsik, dressed in an azure blue Hawaiian shirt with red flamingos, downed three or four lean champagne glasses full of wine. As he usually doesn’t eat anything before the shoot, that night he quickly emptied a large plate full of a mountain of pasta. With his cheeks moderately flushed, we were able to have an unintentional interview with drinks.

The flight from Seoul to Hawaii takes over 10 hours, how did you spend it? I watched all the movies I haven’t seen before. I almost had no chance to watch anything for a year because I filmed Hwarang for 6 months and Strong Woman Do Bong-Soon for 5 months. There were a lot of movies I missed in the cinema, so I watched three or four titles on the plane. I really like Jo Jung-suk’s sly acting so I watched My Annoying Brother, and also La La Land. Don’t you get goose bumps when you hear the melody of the OST that Ryan Gosling played on a piano? It’s not anything flashy, but it somehow brings a lump to your throat. I regretted I quit learning piano when I was younger. My mother is a piano teacher, and she would hit my hands whenever I made a mistake. Now when I think about it, there was not much to it, if I had swallowed it down, I would be able now to at least play chords on a keyboard (laughs).

I think you should be rather lighthearted lately. Didn’t the recently completed Strong Woman Do Bong-Soon smash all the previous JTBC dramas and break the viewership rating record? I heard you started out on this one with quite a lot of pressure and apprehension. At the first script reading, the director and the writer sat right next to me, and Park Boyoung sat at the table across from me, so I couldn’t just stay nervous. I think that not only the writer, but everyone must’ve been somewhat doubtful about me at first. No matter how you look at it, it was my first lead role, and there was no way they could’ve inspected me beforehand, so it is only natural if they felt that way. It first started with “You’ll do okay,” or ��I think you’ll do fine.” But after the drama wrap-up party, we went to Bali all together and I was really touched when the writer told me “thank you.” It felt like she wrote the script knowing me very well, and it was a drama where I could bring out a lot of things hidden within me. “Ah, so this is acting! Up until now I’ve been only imitating things,” was what I thought. I was really happy going to the filming site, it was always exciting. “How much fun would it be today?” I felt like this. (laugh) Especially when we were lying on a sofa with Bongsoon (Park Boyoung), and I confessed with “Please look at me, please love me,” that moment it was just “me.”

When we check out the behind the scenes videos, the laughter is never ending. The chemistry between the actors was so good it was hard to say where ad-libs ended. And also, didn’t the main couple eventually realize their happiness in love? It spurred a mass of sweet hashtags like #PuppyCouple, #CherryBlossomKiss, #KissingMaster, and so on. It seems that for this drama, you’ve walked down the petal road, so are there any hardships that you could recall? There was a scene on the rooftop where I had to get in the right mood, imagining there was a bomb left next to the person I love. We had had filmed many other scenes by that time and my body was tired, so as I tried acting I could feel I was short of strength. We did the first take, but I was so angry with myself, I couldn’t catch the genuine emotion we wanted so bad. But director Lee Hyungmin understood how I felt. “You don’t like it? If you still feel like it’s not it, let’s keep on shooting,” he said and I answered “I think I have felt my limits. I apologize for lacking so much.” But the next day the director suggested we try shooting that scene from yesterday again. I was really surprised because we had such a packed schedule. The director really trusted me and cared for me. I am very thankful.

Actually, it feels like you have not been affected by the acting skills dispute that constantly follows idol actors. Didn’t favorable comments like “the discovery of Park Hyungsik” stack one by one after each drama from Nine, What Happens to My Family?, Heirs, to High Society and Hwarang? Thankfully, my personal character does not really know such concepts as “embarrassment” or “shame.” The same applies to the instances when I stand on stage or act. At first my roles were really short and fleeting cameos, and in 2012 I had small roles in dramas I Remember You and Dummy Mommy. I was really excited just to have several lines. I had my share of poor acting in the series you didn’t mention in your question, but not that many people have seen my performance there, so they don’t know. When you think of it, it’s a relief. (laugh)

I’ve heard that you usually diligently check malicious comments online, is there a reason to it? Sometimes really sharp comments appear in between the malicious ones. When I read a comment where someone realistically points out some negative aspect I have noticed myself, I get a reassurance that people also think like that. Then I try to fix that negative aspect. I think that one day I can also turn towards a road downhill. So I’m the type who whips himself on purpose. Because I want to be calm and composed even if I have to go through bad times.

I found a rare video on YouTube. Someone collected Park Hyungsik’s videos from the Baby Soldier days up until now and made a 6-minute edit of the evolution of your appearance. Even though you debuted when you were 19, it’s like your face has changed since then. When I started filming for High Society in 2015, I began to look at what I eat. Before that, I had always been on a TV with a bloated face (laugh). I ate only chicken breast and salad, and as I exercised my baby fat and the swelling disappeared at once. With a sharper jaw line and the absence of thick cheeks even my eyes seemed to have grown bigger. I was surprised, too. When I looked at what my faced used to be like, I couldn’t drop the maintenance myself ever since (laugh).

You have just recently nested in a new agency, UAA. I think there is a lot of interest and expectation regarding your next work. Is there a role you would like to try out? Lately it’s been my biggest concern. After having entered a new company, I think I’m at the crossroads, where I am wondering what should be my first choice for the next filming. What should I display? Shall I show what I am good at? Or shall I take a risk in a completely new challenge? I have always chosen the challenge before, but now there is fear and worry. However, I want to try out another challenge again. Eventually, wouldn’t I meet a character I would love? I want to try out a psychopath role or a bully character with an overflowing sense of macho. I always express a human being as “cosmos.” You don’t know what might come out of that person. There is a general frame, but there are a lot of different sides within one person, and I think that each them has a different category. Since it’s important how you snatch and draw it all out, I want to work with the people who can recognize my potential.

“I really yearn for such art and people who have different emotions and expressiveness, and use that to move, touch, and inspire others.”

I heard your blood type is AB. Don’t people have some sort of expectation (?) about this blood type? What kind of person is Park Hyungsik? Ahn Minhyuk’s character from Strong Woman Do Bong-Soon is somewhat similar to me in a way that we’re both simple human beings who don’t hold grudges and don’t take everything too seriously. I’m a bit odd of a person. I also have a lot of completely different sides. You might think I would be quiet, but if I go to some unfamiliar place, I will like even dangerous things, and I might have fun like crazy. (laugh) When we went to Bali this time, I enjoyed jet skiing, fly boarding and other sea sports to the point my entire body was aching. And I usually tend to imagine the most trivial things. I like fantasy and sc-fi, and if there’s a new game released, I don’t get satisfied until I download it all and try it out. I’m a game “otaku.” (laugh) I also enjoy reading webtoons, and there’s this webtoon “Rebirth Man” (부활��) among the pieces that I read. It’s an action noir manga with the premise where the main character definitely dies, but after three days he comes back to life over and over again. Wouldn’t it be interesting to make a TV series or a movie out of it? If that happens, I would love to play the lead. I also like the webtoon “Lookism,” but the writer Park Taejun has already mentioned in variety shows Park Bogum or Ahn Jaehong as the actors he would pick for the lead characters. So I gave up on that (laugh). The main character’s name is similar to mine, so I had a little hope. The name of that webtoon character is Park Hyungseok. (laugh)

How do you fill in the “occupation” box in the immigration card when you go abroad or when you register on a website? I just write down “artist.” Actually, if you say “artist,” you can’t know exactly what kind of work that person is doing. You don’t know if the person is drawing something or making music or anything else. I really yearn for such art and people who have different emotions and expressiveness, and use that to move, touch, and inspire others. Admiring a painting for a long while just looking at it, getting goose bumps by watching a musical, crying while watching a movie or listening to some music – I really like all these kinds of things, so I think that’s why I keep on pursing art.

Last winter, when Park Seojoon did an interview with Bazaar, he said this: “Hyungsik quite innocently says things like “Hyung! I love you!” I think he expresses his gratitude this way, but I was somewhat baffled at first. If he would say “I love you,” I would answer awkwardly “Eh? Uh-huh, me too.” How do you use the word “love?” My motto is that we should live loving each other. Ever since I was little I found it odd if people were curt and didn’t express their feelings well. Why don’t people say “I love you” often? I always say “I love you” to the people I like. I sometimes leave “I love you” messages in the Hwarang team’s chat room. And then the “Me too” replies start coming. The words “I love you” are contagious. If I start using this expression, the others also assimilate it little by little. Perhaps it’s because I grew in a home that was overflowing with love, but even up till now I can naturally say things like “Father, I love you. Hyung, I love you.”

Does that power of expression activate when you’re dating, too? Of course. I say it to the person I love a lot, too. If you don’t say it, no one can know what’s inside. (laugh)

What’s your ideal type like? Someone who gets along with me well. Someone who looks lovely no matter what they do, someone with whom a sweet conversation always continues. However, lately with the ideals growing bit by bit, my standards also needlessly keep on getting higher. I find people like Amanda Seyfried or Emma Stone very charming (laugh). Either way, I can also find my person if I go outside and meet other people, but I think it has come down to this because I only think and don’t do anything.

*Hawaiian gallinule

Scans: SIKARISMA

Kor-Eng: Egle0702

MAY BE TAKEN OUT WITH PROPER CREDITS!

#Park Hyungsik #Bazaar #Park Hyungsik Bazaar #Bazaar magazine #park hyungsik interview #translation #박형식

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aliceslantern · 7 years

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Nocturnal Memory, a Kingdom Hearts fanfiction, chapter 6

[Summary: Dying takes a lot out of you, it's true, but when Demyx wakes up for the first time since his fight with Sora nothing's right. His memories are fragmented and he's missing his true name. And he's not the only one. An incomprehensible mystery and an inevitable war make him question what, exactly, he would do to become whole, and reclaim the music lost to him.]

On FF.net/on AO3]

Demyx was tired of making them take care of him. Lea didn't tell Ienzo or Even that he was sick, and he preferred to keep it that way. Especially since he knew he wasn't actually sick.

He wasn't sure how to feel or what to think. His thoughts jumbled together. Why was this coming so vividly now? The fight wasn't all of it, either; something else lingered underneath that he couldn't quite grasp. All he could see in his mind's eye was darkness.

He went to bed early, worn out and mixed up, and fell asleep soon after.

Darkness and rain. The water fell directly into his eyes but he couldn't blink or even turn his head. The only think he could see were thick tendrils of darkness, wrapping over his head in smooth arcs.

There was no pain, which was odd, all things considering; just a heavy cold numbness. He couldn't breathe, even though he desperately needed to. He heard the air passing into his mouth in big ragged gasps, but it didn't reach his lungs. Did he even have lungs right now? Maybe they were somewhere on the ground next to him. He didn't know. He didn't think fading would take this long.

The sky started to move and there was the itchy sensation of being dragged. Thump thump thump. Thump thump thump. His body scraped against the ground.

A black hood looked down at him.

Darkness again.

Early-morning sunlight glinted directly into Demyx's eyes. The light and a tense achy pain in his chest woke him up, and for a long while he lay on his side with the hard mattress pressing into his bony hips.

What was that? Who was that? And should he say anything? Maybe… maybe it had just been an Organization member watching him go down… one who had arrived too late to do anything… or maybe they hadn't wanted to save him at all and were just checking that he was out of the picture.

He got out of bed. Showered. Got dressed. Went to the kitchen to eat something. His head was full of static. Demyx found Ienzo sitting at the small cracked table with a cup of tea.

"Good morning," he said. "You're up early."

"I slept early," he replied dazedly.

"Where did you go yesterday?"

Demyx spread peanut butter onto some bread without toasting it. "Aerith told me I could visit and I wanted to get out of here."

A pause. "It would be good for you to make some friends."

He remembered the interaction with Yuffie and shook his head. "Yeah. Sure."

"Is everything all right, Nine?"

He sat and pushed the bread around and around the plate. He knew he should eat but had no appetite. "Who found me?" He asked without making eye contact. "When I reformed?"

Ienzo traced the rim of his mug. "Why is it you ask?"

"I want to know." Demyx started to systematically rip the crusts off of the half-stale bread. The peanut butter tasted like glue in his mouth. "Someone had to have done it, or I wouldn't be here."

Ienzo gave him an inquisitive look. "It was Aeleus, on one of our first days back," he said. "He found you in the courtyard and brought you back. You had almost bled out; you were so pale your skin was yellow like wax. Had he found you even ten minutes later, we might have lost you for good."

"…And was he…" he tried to swallow down the bread but his mouth was too dry. Demyx got up and poured himself a glass of water, and then he drank it all down. His hands shook. "When he was out scouting, was he wearing an Organization coat?"

A long, long minute passed. Demyx could hear the little clock on the wall ticking and, below that, his own heart racing.

"Nine," Ienzo said slowly. "What are you talking about?"

"On my way back from visiting Aerith, I think I remembered something," he said. His voice trembled. "Um, I remembered when I fought Sora, and then… I think I remembered when I reformed. I saw someone standing over me. Someone in a black coat."

Ienzo's expression went from curious to blank. "Are you positive it was an Organization cloak?"

"Well… yes," he said. "I saw the beading, the zippers."

"Do you think it might be possible that you were hallucinating?"

Demyx spread his hands. "You don't believe me," he said.

"I think you were in a compromised state. I think that, between the physical and mental trauma, you may have corroborated a few things."

He slammed his hands on the table, causing the plates to jump. Ienzo didn't even flinch. A sticky anger filled his throat. "You were the one who told me that something tampered with my reformation! Maybe that was me remembering who did it!"

"You may be right," he said with a maddening calm. "But we have to acknowledge that your memory isn't exactly reliable."

"So what, do you think I made it up?" He couldn't believe this. He felt sick to his core.

"That's not what I'm saying." Ienzo took a drink. "Do you know who did it? Did you see their face?"

"No. I just saw the hood."

"Did you recognize their gait?" he leveled. "Do you remember anything distinguishable?"

Demyx tried to think. His head was aching already. He pored through the dim memories, but all he saw was the gaping cave of the hood. "…Not right now," he said.

"There was never any doubt that it had something to do with Xehanort," Ienzo said. "We weren't sure why he would have struck you, or why he would have done so in this manner. We still need to figure out why, and how, so we can prevent it from happening again."

"He was always trying to get rid of me," Demyx said. "Especially at the very end."

"But it's good for you that you were not obedient," Ienzo said. He had the balls to smile. "Or else you would have been one of the true vessels."

"Why did you save me?" He asked.

"Did you expect us to let you die?"

Demyx didn't know what to say about that. "I don't know. Maybe. You all hated me."

Ienzo said nothing for a long moment. He adjusted his ascot. "That's not true," he said at last.

"Isn't it?" He felt like he was falling even though his butt was firmly in his chair. "I mean… I've been… nothing but a burden since day one. And, like... I don't know. I don't know." He looked down at the chipped plate in front of him.

Another long minute of silence. Ienzo kept staring at him, which made it worse. "Do you feel that way now?"

The sense of mollification only worsened. How was he supposed to answer that? Yes, that he hated being treated like a child? That he didn't understand why they were deliberately keeping things from him? He shrugged, trying hard not to cry.

Ienzo nodded once. "Things are complicated now, Nine. None of us hold any ill will towards you." A pause. "I'm sorry you might feel that way."

"Look… I just…" The blood was rushing in his ears. "I just want to know what's going on? And nobody will tell me? Like. How much do you really know about what's happening to me?"

He pursed his lips. "Nine—"

"My name is Demyx." He'd meant for the words to have some bite, but as he was on the verge of tears they withered. He picked up his plate and put it in the sink. "I'll see you at the meeting later."

He made his way down to the labyrinthine corridors to the library. He didn't want to stay there for too long—there was too much chance of someone else showing up—but he figured this was the best place to try and find what he wanted.

Except that the library had no sense of organization whatsoever. There was a card catalog, but nothing was in its right place. Demyx searched blindly, frustration mounting, until the titles on the spines of his books were nothing more than shimmering spiraling words.

"Looking for something?"

The voice startled him so badly that he yelped in surprise. He clutched his chest.

"I do apologize," Dilan said silkily. "You seemed so very… focused."

Demyx turned to face him. Dilan had one of his lances slung over his shoulder. The sudden adrenaline made him a little shaky. "I can't find anything," he said haltingly.

"Yes, that restoration committee really did a number on the collection, looking for the reports." He shifted the lance from one shoulder to the other. "And we have far too much going on to spend the time rearranging."

"What do you guys do?" Demyx asked.

"Damage control," Dilan said. "Somebody's got to try and make this castle habitable. Who do you think keeps the power running, the walls upright? This place is utterly decrepit." He smirked. "I suppose that will be your next assignment, eh? Now that you're feeling well?"

"I… guess." He wasn't sure whether to feel anxious or relieved about his impending work.

"So what is it you're looking for? Perhaps I might be of assistance. I seem to be in here often enough."

"Well…" he bit his lip. "I was hoping that I might find something that would teach me about music. Even like an encyclopedia or something."

Dilan raised an eyebrow. "I had heard," he said. "I'm… sorry. I know this must be quite difficult for you."

Like you care. They'd roomed close to one another in the Organization, so naturally there had been a bit of tension when he'd wanted to practice and when Xaldin had wanted to sleep. "Yeah, well, at least I won't keep you up anymore," he said lamely.

Dilan shrugged. "There is always a price, is there not?"

This meeting went about as well as the last one, though thankfully this time Demyx did not have a panic attack. He tried to listen attentively, but he did not want to think about people dying in gruesome ways.

Maybe it was because she was sitting across from him (glaring daggers all the while), but Demyx thought back to his conversation with Yuffie. All this talk about death, about people becoming Heartless… how much was he really responsible for? How much could he be excused from? Thinking about it put a bitter seed of shame in his stomach which was almost unbearable.

The topic moved from endless discussions about the inevitable battle with the vessels to current issues with the town. Demyx did think it was strange that they were all working together now for the common good. He didn't say anything, just nodded his head when expected, until their leader, Leon, gestured to him.

"The sooner we can get you started, the better," he said. "Especially with the summer drought coming."

"Okay," Demyx said. He could say no, but then he would look like an even bigger jerk. They all needed water to drink.

"We should like a few days to prepare," Ienzo said. "Bluntly, we're not even sure that Nine can use his powers. I would hate to push it and cause more damage."

"I'm sure we can get things in order," Even cut in. "I will work with the boy. Our abilities are most similar in nature."

That was the last thing he expected to hear. Training with Aeleus might have been peaceful, but training with Even would probably be just short of torture. His displeasure must have showed on his face because Even added,

"Nine, I must politely ask you to grow up. Or do you still have an unfortunate aversion to hard work?"

Yuffie laughed out loud. Aerith nudged her. "Don't be rude," she whispered.

"…Then it's settled," Leon said slowly. "That's a relief, at least."

The conversation drifted to other subjects, but Demyx didn't process much, too busy dreading what would happen next.

He was woken brutally early the next morning. It fucking begins.

"Get dressed and come on," Even barked, and slammed the door behind him.

Demyx sat up blearily. It was still dark out; the clock on his bedside table indicated that it was 4:30 in the morning. He groaned.

Even popped his head in. "I do mean now," he said. "We have a lot to do."

Once he was dressed they set off at a brisk pace. Demyx expected Even to take him to the makeshift gym, but they proceeded right out of the castle without eating or even drinking.

"Where are we going?" He might have been stronger than before but he found it difficult to keep up with Even's pace.

"You will see," Even said. "I should like to get there before it's light."

They walked right into town through the massive hole in the Bailey. The light was getting gray now, so it was a little easier to see. Demyx's throat was dry and his early-morning hunger was becoming real hunger, but he had a feeling that none of these needs would be satisfied any time soon. He sighed.

They followed the rocky path deep into the crystal fissures. Without the light to make them shine, the crystals were massive dull monoliths. It was in this small cavern that Even sat and gestured for Demyx to do the same. He shut the small lantern he'd carried, leaving them in pitch darkness. Wasn't he concerned about Heartless?

"What do you hear?" Even asked in a low voice.

"Well…" not much. Their combined breathing, still slightly elevated from the brisk walk. His own stomach, growling quietly but insistently. A weak burst of wind whistling through the cavern.

"Listen closer," he suggested.

Demyx tried, feeling a little silly as he did so. He held his breath. At the very edge of his hearing, so low he thought he might be making it up, he heard a rumbling.

"Thousands upon thousands of years ago, all of this rock was covered by the ocean," Even said. "There is still fresh water deep below the surface. The minerals that ocean left behind formed these crystals."

"So… why did you bring me here?" By that point the sun had started to creep into the cavern. The crystals lit up, reflecting the orange and pink rays, in a way that was so beautiful he forgot everything else for just a moment. Until Even spoke.

"Because, by the end of today, you'll bring that water to the surface. We'll leave then and only then. Not before."

#demyx #nocturnal memory #kingdom hearts #kingdom hearts 3d #fanfiction

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the-real-midnight-society-blog · 7 years

Text

The Leather Cape

Early in the summer a few years ago, I started dating this girl whose mother worked at the local flea market. The girl – let’s call her Tiffany – and I had been dating for a few months when she asked me if I would like to come help her work with her mom. I certainly didn’t want to sacrifice one of my precious Saturday mornings to go work all day at a dusty flea market, but I really liked this girl and, to be perfectly honest, wanted to get into her pants, so I decided to go.

That’s how I found myself on my way to the craphole flea market at seven thirty in the morning on a Saturday morning that I really wish I had slept in on. We opened her mom’s store at eight, waited around for customers for a while, but when it got close to ten and only one woman had shown a passing interest in the handmade ashtrays her mom was trying to sell, she told Tiffany and I we could go take a look around the rest of the place.

Tiffany and I walked around for a while, but we didn’t find anything of interest. There was a movie store that had pretty much every movie you could think of, but so did I at home, so no help there. Both of the book stores were a bust, finding nothing interesting but some old Stephen King novels that I already owned and a crotchety old man who watched us like a hawk – probably because we were some “damn teenagers” who, of course, would go out of our way to steal an old dusty book barely held together with spit and glue. We had meandered our way through most of the building when we happened upon a small shop that was selling EXCLUSIVE! RARE! HARD-TO-FIND TV PROPS! according to the very loud banner stretched across the top. “Want to go in?” I asked Tiffany.

“Nah, I have to go use the bathroom. You can go in though.”

“Oh, fine, make me go into the shady store by myself!” I joked.

“You’ll be fine. Go!”

“Do I have to?”

“Yes. You have to go inside. I’ll be right back.” She gave me a playful slap and walked away.

As I walked into the dingy booth, the owner gave me a grim nod without a smile. I didn’t really see anything of interest at first. They really did have some obscure stuff, such as old plush dolls from Rocko’s Modern Life and Ren & Stimpy. There were also some old Pokémon playing cards – not sure if that counted as “rare TV props” but it was still cool – and even some of the old Nickelodeon themed board games. I had several nice hits of nostalgia, but nothing really stuck out at me enough to make me want to buy it. I was about to walk out when the owner said “got some more stuff here behind the counter.”

He pulled out a box of assorted dolls and junk and dropped it carelessly on the counter. “Ain’t had a chance to put them away yet, but you can look.” I half heartedly picked through the box out of politeness, but I really just wanted to get out of there. I pulled out a couple of old Rugrats dolls and a Squidward doll that had an odd red stain on its head, and was about to just say “no thanks” and put them back and get out of there when I saw something that hit me with such an intense blast of nostalgia that I almost fell over. A dirty white skull stared at me from the bottom of the box, his huge, black glass eyes that were entirely too large for his head – just as I remembered. I reached down and picked him up, almost forgetting the entire world around me as I looked over the thing I had completely forgotten about until this moment. The tan top hat and cape, made of some of the roughest leather I’ve ever felt, was sewn up in the same crazy patterns I remembered so vividly from my childhood. As I rubbed some of the dirt off of his body, noting the feeling of a rough little bump on his hat and the leathery stitches holding together his clothing, I noticed that his jaw didn’t open all the way. Instead, it barely opened just a bit and slid sideways, from left to right, making an almost unpleasant grinding noise. Every detail was exactly as I remembered.

“Well?”

I jerked out of my stupor with a start. Looking stupidly at the owner, I used every ounce of intelligence I possess to come up with a brilliant reply. “Uh. What?”

“I said, are you gonna buy it or just stand there all day molesting it? Come on kid, I wanna go on lunch.”

“Uh… yeah. I’ll take it.” There was no way I was letting this go. “Would you happen to know if this is… like, actually from the show?”

“Kid,” (I really wished he would stop calling me kid. Just because he was probably in his late fifties doesn’t mean he can address me, at 26 years of age, as a kid) “I don’t even know what show that’s from. All this crap is my brother’s. He would tell you that it’s all the real deal. But I just wanna get rid of it.”

“Well, I hate to be a bother, but is there anyway I could get in contact with him? This show doesn’t even… well, I just need to know if this is actually from the show.”

“Can’t. Dead. Three months now. And the doll is ten bucks. Take it or leave it.”

I handed the rude owner the cash and left the shop with the doll, deep in thought. There was no way this doll should even exist. That show didn’t exist. There was no way it did. I had dreamt it all, hadn’t I? All that screaming…

I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn’t even see Tiffany until she was almost right in my face. “Oh, hi.”

“Hi! Did you actually find something in the shady store?”

“Uh… yeah.” I told her about the doll. She didn’t recognize it, but I didn’t really expect her to. Our conversation quickly turned to other things, such as the creepy old lady she had encountered in the bathroom who had taken up fifteen minutes of her time asking too many personal questions.

We finished out the day, her mom thanked us for our help, and we spent the day together. For those who are curious, I did not succeed in getting in her pants, but that’s inconsequential to the story.

Anyway, that night when I got back to my apartment, I pulled out the doll, something I’d been dying to do all day but had avoided so I didn’t seem like a freak, and gave it a closer look. I couldn’t get over how genuine the cape felt. I loved the feeling of running my fingers over it, enjoying the smooth, yet rough, texture of the stitches. The top hat was removable, and the glass eyes were indeed made of really thick glass. It was all as I had remembered. I was in utter shock, even still. How did this exist?

I sat on my couch and began thinking about the show. Candle Cove. God, I hadn’t thought about that show in easily fifteen, maybe even twenty years. I couldn’t have been older than six or seven when it ran. I only remember it being on for a couple of months before it got cancelled. I remember greatly enjoying it at the time. I would come home from school, always so excited and always making my mom turn the TV channel 58 to watch it. I remembered sitting on the floor, way too close to the TV, watching her turn the dial with the finger that had a mole on it, always the same way every time. Yeah, I’m old enough that the TVs of my childhood still had manual dials instead of a remote, so sue me. I chuckled to myself. I hadn’t thought about any of that for so long. I missed my mom, thinking back on it now. She had passed away about five years ago from skin cancer, and it had hit me hard. She had always been such a big influence in my life. She would always tell me about what an imagination I had, and how she just knew it would take me far. I wish she had lived long enough to see me graduate college and land a job at a small, independent film company where I edited movies. It certainly didn’t make me famous or anything, but it paid very well and I was responsible for some of the better editing in many different films. Some of which I knew she would have loved to watch. I missed her terribly. I missed how when I was sad she would pretend to draw on my face, and I would always watch the mole on her finger as it traced my face because I thought her “freckle mountain,” as I called it, was pretty cool. I missed the way she would chuckle and shake her head at me as I watched the show, remarking on what a big imagination I had “with my little pirate show.” I had always wondered exactly what she meant, but the older I got, the more I realized it must have all been my imagination. The whole thing. The entire show must have been me just thinking too much or something because there was no way that they could have aired that episode. The one with all the screaming… All the characters, screaming bloody murder and jumping and flailing. I remembered vividly the horrible feelings I got from that episode, and even as a child I thought it was strange. Things like that don’t even get aired today, much less all the way back in ‘71.

I must have been rubbing my finger over the doll’s face again, and hadn’t noticed what I was doing until I felt a strong pinch. I gasped and looked down, and quickly pulled my finger out of the doll’s mouth. What the fuck? Why did that hurt so bad? The teeth weren’t sharp or anything. I hadn’t even realized I had put my finger in there. I must have bumped his jaw or something and pinched myself. I sighed and shook my head at my own foolishness, and went back to looking at the doll that was responsible for so many of my childhood nightmares.

As I examined the doll’s mouth, I found myself wondering why it only moved side to side. In fact, the more I thought about it, the more the memories came flooding back. The Laughingstock… Jesus. That old piece of shit pirate ship that was always so close to falling apart. The Ed Wynn voice it had, telling the pirates they had to go inside some place and face the danger – usually the Skin-Taker, whose image I held in my very hand. I remember Janice, the little girl from the show, asking the Skin-Taker why his mouth moved like that. God… What was it he had said? I strained the muscles of my memory until I suddenly got goosebumps when the phrase drifted through my mind, leaving icy trails of fear running down my back.

“To grind your skin…”

It was such a cheesy thing to say, but there was nothing cheesy about the way he had glared so silently into the camera with his evil, black eyes, almost challenging someone to defy him.

Shaking off my childish fears, I tossed the doll on my coffee table and went to go take a shower. I needed to clear my head, but the entire time in the shower my thoughts only wandered more and more. I started remembering more about the final episode that had aired, and the way all the puppets and Janice had screamed and thrashed and shook so violently… there hadn’t even been a plot or anything. The entire episode had consisted of nothing but all the characters screaming and crying and it was all so chaotic and traumatic. I remembered how I had started to cry and my mom had run in from the other room, asking me what was wrong, and I had told her through my tears how Janice was crying and no one was helping her and my mom had turned off the TV and picked me up and made me feel better. Then she went and put me to bed, tracing my face with the finger until I fell asleep and had terrible nightmares all night long about the Skin-Taker chasing me and screaming incessantly… all these thoughts ran through my mind and even though my shower water was pretty hot, I still had chills all over my body.

It didn’t help that when I turned off the water, I could hear my TV was on.

I froze. I knew I hadn’t left my TV on. I hadn’t even turned it on since I got home. I had simply walked through the door and sat on my couch and looked at the doll, and I knew I had never even touched the remote to the TV. I slowly got out of the shower and dried off, listening carefully to the sounds coming from my living room. I couldn’t believe my ears.

Calliope music.

The last set of memories came with a refreshing course of nostalgia. My mother’s finger, the one with the mole that had always comforted me so, turning the dial to the station with all the static. The station always had static, I remembered that. Until 4:00, when Candle Cove came on, there was never anything but static, but when Candle Cove came on the calliope music, ridiculously happy, would start to bleed through the static, slow and distorted at first but speeding up and being more bouncy as the picture cleared and Pirate Percy and his friends greeted Janice to a new day full of adventures. Now I suspected that it had always been static even when the show was on… maybe that was why my mother had shaken her head and laughed at me. But, if it had always been static, where did the doll come from? How did it even exist if the show did not? I was so confused, and the stupid, catchy music coming from my living room was not only making me more confused but was creeping me out a bit too. Shaking off my thoughts, I opened the door and heard the tail end of a sentence spoken in a voice that sounded remarkably like Ed Wynn…

“…GO INSIDE!” it was saying.

I stepped out and slowly walked into the living room. My hallway was ridiculously long and it only served to increase my tension, but just as I rounded the corner, the TV turned to static.

As the only light in the room was the whiteness from the static on the TV, I got really creeped out. I rushed to the lamp and flicked it on, and saw that the doll was exactly where I had left it – right on top of the remote.

I sighed in relief and shook my head in embarrassment. It all made sense now. I had simply thrown the doll on the remote and the force of his impact had turned on the TV. I simply hadn’t noticed because my TV takes forever to turn on and by the time it had, I was in the bathroom. It had been static-y the entire time, and it was simply my confused, slightly disturbed thoughts and emotions that had projected the noises I heard into my brain. I really needed to get some sleep. I knew it wasn’t a good idea to wake up at the crack of dawn to go to the flea market. I could have slept in all day and avoided this whole mess. There would be no questions about where the doll came from or if the stupid fucking show even existed or what all my disjointed, confused memories were trying to tell me… everything would have been alright if I had just slept in. Sound advice for life. Always sleep in. This is all stuff I tried to tell myself to relieve the creepy feelings I had. And it almost worked. It had almost worked, and my heartbeat had finally slowed, and my blood pressure was normal, and the goosebumpbs had finally gone away, and all the things I told myself had made me feel better. My justifications and explanations had almost… ALMOST made me feel better. Until I picked up the doll and started absentmindedly started running my fingers over it again. I started playing with the funny little bump that was on the top hat again and I remember being extremely comforted. All the bad feelings suddenly went away and I felt so much better. All was well. The show probably had simply existed in another format, and since I was so young my confused mind had simply combined my memories with something else and projected them over the show, giving me all theses confused feelings. I would simply get dressed, get on my computer, look up the show, and put all this crap to rest. Maybe I would even throw away the doll. It would be for the best. I shouldn’t have even bought it, but now that I had, $10 was not too much of a price to pay for some peace of mind. I got up to put the doll in the trash, but the towel wrapped around my waist started to unravel so I reached to grab it and dropped the doll. Tonight was just not my night.

I bent down to pick up the doll and his top hat, which had fallen off. It was then that I got a good look at the hat, when it was separate from the menacing black eyes that demanded all my attention before. I had been playing with the funny little bump on the hat, and I had felt an intense sense of comfort as I did so. When I looked at the top hat, I realized, with a sudden blast of recognition and fear, what my memories had been trying to tell me. I realized what it was about the funny little bump that had given me comfort. It was the same bump that I had stared at for endless hours as a child, in times of happiness, sadness, pain and fear.

The funny little bump… was my mother’s mole.

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#Creepypasta #Candle Cove #Channel Zero #Scary Stories #Creepy #The Midnight Society

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