#after i get to All The Other Web Weaves. or maybe before. no one is less sure than i am.

[plusultraetc]

you know the drill, I'm still thinking about this post and it's been awhile since I had an emotion about this, but seriously what's the deal with Aizawa being narratively surrounded by characters who were "born bad" because of their powers. Eri is the most obvious example (again!! this post!!), but then there's Shigaraki as her parallel character who, omg, has respect for one (1) hero and it's Eraserhead. look further, and there's Shinsou, whose entire motivation is proving that he can be a hero in spite of what people call a villainous quirk. if you want to reach for the stars, Present Mic was born with his quirk and immediately deafened not only his parents but the doctor who was present, probably some nurses too. objectively this is a bad thing. something something inherently "bad" powers surrounding Aizawa whose power it is to take other people's quirks away. I'm taking it, I'm running with it, I'm like a Swedish cow put out to pasture after a long winter in the barn

[tarydarrington]

There is one upside to the spiderwebs: Dorian can usually tell that he’s dreaming.

“Tell me,” he says, examining his lute, refusing to make eye contact with the presence looming behind him, “is this actually you? Or am I imagining you all by myself, these days?”

There comes a wet clicking as though of pincers or long, sharp legs. He forces his shudder into a sigh.

That’s the thing: the Spider Queen, her royal creepy highness, never whispers to him anymore when he’s awake. Two beds over, she’s doubtless playing in Opal’s head instead, trying and failing to spin her into a trap.

A sticky tangle of webs weaves itself between his lute strings. His skin crawls with dozens of tiny, invisible legs.

“Is there really a difference?” whispers that familiar voice. “What makes you think I couldn’t hear you if you called for me in that pretty little head?”

Her rumble of laughter comes from every direction at once. Dorian fights the urge to dig into his ear, where the tickle probes deeper and deeper. The itch feels too real for comfort.

It’s not out of the realm of possibility that this nightmare is her making. Opal herself says that things have been quieter lately, and that the voice in her head is more often than not afraid.

And after all, what does a frightened spider do but seek out a new place to hide?

“This is your fault, you know.”

Dorian whirls, finding nothing but empty black laced with spiderwebs. His brother’s voice is unmistakable, but Cyrus is nowhere in sight. Something thick and wet drips down walls he can’t see.

“If you had just stayed where you were supposed to, we would both be safe at home right now.”

“Well, that’s not very nice,” Dorian says lightly. “I hardly think I’m responsible for your decisions.”

There comes a sound of derision that is somehow at once his brother, his mother, and his father. Dorian rolls his neck and hopes it doesn’t look like the squirming it is. The clicking of spider legs grows louder, closer, more insistent. He blinks, leaving his eyes squeezed shut just a heartbeat too long.

“Dorian?”

His eyes fly open. Was there a stone in his hand before? It rests there now glowing faintly blue, warm to the touch.

“Why’d you go?”

Orym’s voice, layered strangely over itself, rings in his ears. Dorian’s fingertips feel numb. He forces a breath of laughter.

“Oh, things to do,” he says. “You know how it is. Something always comes up, doesn’t it?”

With a tight, mirthless smile, Dorian tucks the stone into his web-lined pocket. It will take more than that to fool him. Even neck-deep in nightmares, the memory of headache after headache reminds him that Sending hasn’t worked in weeks.

“Wouldn’t it be so funny if you were doing this to yourself?” Fearne’s voice whispers directly into his ear. He manages to only jump a little, composing himself again as her voice dissolves into breathy laughter all around him.

“Maybe it’s funnier if the Spider Bitch got to you after all that fighting,” says Opal’s voice, just over his shoulder. “You really thought you won, huh? And you didn’t even get anything good out of it.”

Her voice multiplies until it sounds as though a thousand copies stand in a circle all around him.

“You didn’t protect your friends.”

Opal’s voice, Fearne’s voice, Cyrus’s, Orym’s, and a dozen others repeat it one after the other, running together into one continuous whisper. From a thin line of web, a tiny spider drops down onto his shoulder.

He takes a slow breath, deliberate and steady. A dream. It’s only a dream. A few more moments and he’ll be startled awake, and all of this will fade from memory.

Unless the Spider Queen is really here and burrows into his mind too deeply to pull back, of course, but that isn’t a very useful thought.

“Dorian.”

The whispering stops. As though a curtain has fallen around him, muffling an unseen audience, all is suddenly silent. Dorian turns in all directions, finding everything still and black.

The stone is back in his hand.

“We’re alive,” Orym says. “Been to the moon. Going back.”

Behind his voice, the whispers begin to build again. Dorian strains to hear Orym over them. Something about this feels different.

“Find the Tempest.”

Tempest, Tempest, Tempest echoes in the dark, melding with the murmuring.

“If I don’t get the chance again…”

“Enough.”

This is too far. This is knocking on a door Dorian has kept carefully shut—a door through which the Spider Queen is most certainly not invited. He takes a step forward into nothingness, a liquid that might be water splashing underfoot.

“I’ve really missed you.”

The ground gives way, and Dorian falls headlong into waking.

Catha hangs brightly in a sky that stretches as far as the eye can see. Around him lie his friends, and around them a sprawling field rolls with the wind. Dorian’s heart pounds as he braces both hands on the ground, sitting up to feel the wind on his face.

His fingertips dig into the dirt. The dew-soft ground is clear of spiderwebs. Just an ordinary, everyday nightmare. The gods are far too preoccupied to whisper in his ears.

He shouldn’t have needed the spiderwebs to know it was a dream. His brother would never blame him for any of this, and neither would Orym.

There are a lot of things that Orym—grieving, heartsick, married-at-heart Orym—wouldn’t do.

Dorian takes a breath, running a thumb over the Sending Stone in his pocket. It feels warm to the touch despite the weather, the way it might if a message had truly come through. Dorian stuffs it into his bag with a knot in his chest.

Morning comes after very little sleep, and Dorian crawls out of his bedroll to find the others already gathered around the remains of their campfire, breakfast in hand. He waves off Dariax’s offer of a stale pastry with what he hopes resembles a carefree smile. The Stone weighs heavy in his bag.

He finds an excuse: they’re running low on water, and there’s a stream nearby. It’s easy enough to slip away from the group and find a quiet clearing out of earshot. He sits cross-legged beside the rushing water, spends a moment debating exactly how foolish he’s being, then fishes the stone from his bag.

He clears his throat. Takes a breath. Lets it out, clears his throat again, and takes another.

“Orym.”

The stone buzzes with magic. Dorian’s heart hammers in his ears.

“I hope you’re out there somewhere. Silly to think this time would be any different. I miss hearing your voice.” He grimaces. “Opal and Dariax say hello!”

The message cuts out before the last word is out of his mouth, his head crowding with static. Dorian winces and rides it out, wiping a thin trail of blood from his nose.

Well. That settles that.

Probably for the best—what was he thinking with a line like that? ‘I miss your voice?’

He tucks the stone away, dipping his waterskin into the stream. Only a dream. He will call the awful feeling in his chest resignation and examine it no further.

It had been a silly thought, he reminds himself as he returns to the group with a smile and a wave. He ought to have known by the spiderwebs.

[written-in-flowers]

The Drifter: The Weaved Web (1.01)

Pairing: Chan x Demon!fem!Reader (future)

Genre: adventure, fantasy, romance, fluff

AU: western!au, fantasy!au, bounty hunter!au,

Word Count: 20k

Overall Summary: A demonic bounty hunter drifts into the sleepy seaside town of Levanter Bay, and there is where she finally finds a real home.

Tags: western!au, demon!reader, fantasy!au, high fantasy, kidnapping, child kidnapping, demon summoning, mentions of death, mentions of trauma/PTSD, arachnophobia, descriptions of violence,

Disclaimer: These works are completely fictious and for entertainment purposes only. They are not meant to reflect or label the members of Stray Kids. The events within never took place.

Please do not repost/translate!

****

Episode 1: Sacrifices.

Episode Summary: A rash of child kidnappings has unsettled the quaint town of Levanter Bay, Sheriff Bahng and his deputies are at a loss until a strange demon comes riding into town.

***

‘Welcome to Levanter Bay, The Sunny Side.”

Levanter Bay appeared anything but sunny. An overcast sky blocked any sunlight that might’ve shone on the open bay. The water washing up on the docks appeared gray and dark, small waves lapping at the wooden stilts holding up the port. From the top of the hill, the small town resembled a semi-circle of small buildings leading out to the docks far off. It did not seem any different than any other country town, and after a week of riding and camping, a warm bed and a hot meal sounded good. Giving gentle kicks to Summer's sides, the black mare started to walk down from the hills. 

“What do you think, girl?” You asked your mount with a soft pat. “How does a warm night in a stable of hay sound?” When Summer huffed, you said, “I know we're low on money. With a bit of luck, this place will have a bounty board and we can get some coin. It'll all work out, I promise.” 

Summer gave another snort, and you furrowed your brow. “Don't be bitter. That thing with the snakes turned out okay in the end. We got the reptile guy's amulet and returned it to the villagers. Everything was fine like all the other times. Whatever job we find next will be just as easy, and we can end the day with a good pint of ale and some hay….” You then scratched her neck, “And maybe an apple? A sugarcube?”

You smiled when Summer whinnied softly. Reaching the bottom of the hill, you saw the quiet town up ahead of the dirt road. People riding their own horses and driving wagons passed you on their way into town, likely on their way to the ships at the end of the main road. You considered taking one of them when you finish up business in town. The destination itself never mattered to you. Each location offered up more chances at new experiences and new lessons. The Shadowlands provided nothing but melancholy and pain. The mortal world teemed with life, and you wanted to feel it all. 

Once you entered town, you saw the scope of the townspeople. People of all races, human and magic, lived side by side in harmony. You spotted a werewolf in human form, his ears and nose a dead giveaway, talking to an elderly man through a post office window. Out of the local bank came a blond man, counting bills before sticking them in his bill fold. Two women, one a feline werecat and the other a reptilian walked together to a market stall run by a young human. Back home, the only people around were other demons like yourself. Those who passed through The Mar already departed the mortal realm, therefore could not be considered “alive”. They’d been shadows who could do nothing but wail in their misery. You made eye contact with a skinny elf walking out of a barbershop, and grinned.

“Morning, sir,” you nodded at him as you rode past. 

Townspeople in such a tight knit community tended to eye strangers closely, but they appeared extra suspicious of you. A young mother walking past with her children spotted you, and held them closer to her sides, rushing away from you. It's your horn stumps, no doubt. No amount of hair or hats could hide the two stumps on the front of your head. The first tell-tale sign of a demon was their horns, their markings being the second. You covered yours with your jacket and gloves, but if anyone did see them, they'd see the ancient fire runes inked onto your shoulders and wrists in adolescence. It’d been your markings that drew Him to you in the first place. 

‘Children of the flames are mighty and strong. I can make you stronger.’ 

Summer gruffed when a reptilian woman crossed her path, but you calmed her down immediately. Clearly, your dreadsteed hadn't gotten over her last encounter with reptiles. You apologized to the woman, then asked:

“Excuse me, can you tell me where your inn or hotel is around here?”

“In the market square,” she said a tad affronted, closing her coat over her chest with folded arms. “The White Pearl, is the name. Ask for Changbin, he'll get you a room, Miss.”

“Thank you, and sorry again about my horse,” you patted Summer's neck, “She's…skittish.”

The woman gave a contemptuous huff, then walked away. Riding into the large town square, you pass vendors selling their wares until you find an inn nestled into a corner. You guessed it by the hanging sign that read “The White Pearl” with an open clam shell underneath. Through saloon doors and large windows, you saw patrons already enjoying a drink and a meal inside. The thought of a hot breakfast crossed your mind, and your stomach growled. Dismounting Summer, you tied her up to a pole next to other horses, and walked inside. 

Nobody noticed you walk in, since everyone appeared focused on their own conversations. Good. You didn't want anyone seeing you. Crowded places tended to have too many eyes, and too many eyes also meant too many mouths. You've run out of enough taverns to know to keep a low profile until you've taken a good look around. 

‘Mortals are weak and simple. They are meant to be beneath our feet.’ 

“Howdy there,” a voice caught your attention.

He stood behind the bar cleaning pint glasses. Seeing his muscled arms and short stature, you guessed a dwarf but he appeared a bit too tall. A forest dwarf, then. He wore a flannel shirt rolled up his forearms and a white apron around his waist. You gave a small smile and head nod as you approached. 

“Welcome to The White Pearl,” he glanced up at your horn stumps, but did not linger long, “What can I get you? We have our daily lunch special, a hot sandwich with a drink of choice.”

It sounded good, but your light purse felt heavier than ever. “I'll take a bit of water for now, thanks.”

The innkeep went to work pouring water into a glass. “Just passing through, ma'am?”

“For the moment,” you answered, taking a drink from the cold mug. “I was wondering if your sheriff’s office had a bounty board? My horse and I  came from Newport a few miles west, and we've gotten cleaned out since then.”

“A bounty hunter, hm?” The man nodded, taking you in for a moment. “Yeah, Chan has a hero's board outside the station. You won't find anything that pays well there though.”

“Poor town? I thought with the port nearby you'd be off better than some other places.”

“You'd think that right?” He noted, “But since our docks were invaded by pirates a few months ago, our mayor has been working on rebuilding it. You'll be doing quite a few jobs I expe-Hey, you!” He snapped from his friendly tone to a harsh one. You looked to see a child walking secretly out of the tavern, guilt on his face. “What did I tell you about pickpocketing, Eunwoo? Come here, empty them out.”

The young moon elf, detected by his high pointed ears and soft lavender skin, came over to the bar. From his pockets he withdrew a leather bill fold, two gold coins, a single dice and a silver spoon. 

“A spoon?” The innkeep questioned, lifting the utensil. “Eunwoo, who could you have sold the spoon to?”

“People always need spoons, Changbin,” the boy shrugged. “There can be somebody eating soup and not have a spoon.”

“I've told you before,” Changbin slid the contents into a wooden box behind the counter, “If you're hungry, I'll give you a free plate and a drink. You don't have to steal.” 

“Sorry, Changbin,” he pouted apologetically. 

“Now, go on into the kitchen and tell Wooyoung to give you a lunch plate. You can feed Honey too, if you want.” 

The elf child smiled brightly, then rushed through a door behind the bar. He turned back to you, “Seo Changbin, I own this place. You are?”

“YN,” you answered, “Just YN.”

“You're a demon? I thought demons had strange names? I met one during the war named Tarhez.”

You giggled, taking a drink, “I changed it when I decided to live in the mortal world.”

“Oh yeah? What is it?”

“Multak,” you said, your true name sounding rough and deep. You laughed at his stunned expression, “Told you it's hard on mortal ears. In my language it means ‘shield of fire’.”

“Interesting,” he replied sincerely. “If you couldn't tell from the patrons eyeballing you right now, we don't get many demons around here.”

“Not many of us decided to stay when the war ended.” 

You almost could not go home when the war against Nor'goth ended. The evil, primordial demon lord escaped from your realm into the mortal one, claiming that all humankind deserved punishment and enslavement. While most demons joined him, a fair few of you went against him. The Blind One, Sakmarth, led a force to defeat Nor'goth once and for all. You might have not known mortals at the time, but you knew nobody deserved enslavement. It simply went against your code. The image of the mighty, dark demon sent a sickly chill over your body. Glowing orange eyes that saw into your soul and tentacles that tore down several men at a time came to the forefront. He’d been monstrous. Even now, so many years later, you still heard his guttural voice in your head. 

‘You are mighty, shield of fire. Join me, and together we can bring this world to its knees.’ 

You’d told him ‘no’ before sending him back into the abyss. 

“What about you? If I'm correct, you're a dwarf, no?”

“Woodland Dwarf,” he smiled, “And proud of it. I came down from the Blue Mountains far west, with nothing but a dream, my axe, and my bear.”

“Bear?” Your eyes widened. 

“Yeah, my bear Honey. She's right there,” he nodded over to an open window where you saw a massive grizzly bear walk past. “I've had her since she was a cub. She's dangerous and looks like it, but if you give her some food and a head scratch, she’ll love you until the day you die.”

“Like my Summer,” you pointed out your own horse outside, “She's a dreadsteed. That's like a demon horse to mortals.”

“A dreadsteed? I think I saw those on the battlefield. Some demons I knew had them.”

“They're faster than lightning, stronger than oxes, and make good war horses,” you added. “She's gotten me out of a few jams in the past. I bet your Honey did the same.”

“She did. I took her into battle myself…Seems we both have war stories to tell,” he drawled, gazing over you again. “Listen, if you want a good paying gig, Sheriff Bahng always has open bounties in the station documents. If he thinks you're up to snuff, he'll pass on something to you. He should be there now.”

You finished your water, then nodded appreciatively. “Thanks, I'll go check out the board, then I can come back for that special.” 

He gave you a nod, and you left the inn. Summer shifted her feet when you untied her. “The place seems alright,” you told her. “They got a pet bear, but I'm sure it's not in the stables.”

Changbin said you’d find a listing outside the sheriff’s office. Feeling your light coin purse and hearing your rumbling stomach again, you knew you’d need to find a job soon. Walking through the busy market square towards the sheriff’s station, you spotted the wooden bulletin board covered in different colored papers. Reading some of them, you realized most involved hunting down excess wildlife in the forests beyond the town, finding lost items or relatives, or helping settle disputes. Nothing particular stuck out to you, but mindless work was better than no work at all.

“What do you think, Summer?” you turned to the black horse you’d guided by the reins to the board. “Want to go hunt down some feral boars with me?” The black stead huffed and shook her long black mane, almost as if declining the offer. You chuckled, “Alright, that’s a no.” You looked at the board again, “Well, we gotta pick something. I might be demonkin and you might be a dreadsteed, but we have to eat too.” 

You continued looking for a proper posting when someone came out of the office. He wore a beige button down and denim jeans with black boots. The badge on his breast glinted in the morning light, the word ‘sheriff’ across the top with the town sigil on it. Black curls kept back from his face, even with his big nose he was handsome. At least, other women might think so. You turned to him right as he stretched and basked in the warm sun. 

“Excuse me, Sheriff?” 

“Oh, good morning,” he smiled, noticing you standing there, “I've never seen your face around here before. You're new in town?”

“Just stopping here,” you explained. “I was checking out your listings board.”

He sized you up for a moment. You caught him looking over your black jacket, plain shirt and boots, getting a sense of you before his eyes landed on the crown of your head. Your horns were the price you paid to live amongst humans. His eyes stayed on them a moment, then he looked back at your face. 

“What’s a demonkin doing so far from home?” he asked curiously. 

The usage of your peoples’ true name surprised you. “Living.”

“Clearly, you’re not keen on doing it for long if you’re looking at our board,” he said, almost amused. “Do you have a speciality?”

“Warlock,” you answered, “Sort of goes hand-in-hand with my kind.”

He nodded again, “How long have you been drifting?”

“Since the war ended.”

“You fought?”

“Yes, sir. I fought with the Mortal Armies.” 

“Against your own people?”

“Not all of us see other races as beneath us. I like to think of myself as one of the good ones. Now,” you stepped closer, “Does your office have any private work or do I help Mrs. Young with her feral boars? The innkeep at the White Pearl said you might.”

The sheriff gave you another once over, then said, “Tie your horse up there and come in. I think I have something up your alley.”

You tied Summer to a post outside the door, and followed the sheriff inside. “I’m Chan, by the way,” he introduced himself in the main hall, offering his hand. 

“YN,” you replied, shaking it firmly. 

“A demonkin named YN,” he mused, “Never thought I'd see one of your type around here.”

You looked around the small office to see two other men already in the room. One of them was short with cheeks expanded by the donut he’d stuffed into his mouth. By the long fluffy tail sticking from behind the chair and his black nose, you saw the squirrel hybrid immediately. The man jotting down notes in a book had two slits in his shirt that revealed the dark purple wings close to his body. When he looked up at you, his eyes matched his wings. A shadow fairy. The squirrel hybrid only nodded, but the dark fae sat stock still. You registered the stunned expression and realized he recognized you. Not many mortals knew you by sight, mostly by name and your demon name at that. 

“YN, these are my deputies: Han Jisung and Lee Minho,” he pointed to the hybrid first, then the fae, “Boys, this is YN. She’s come looking for work. I thought she could help us with the Hook Clan.”

Both men also sized you up like their sheriff. Han spoke up first, “Speciality?”

“Warlock,” you answered again. To prove it, you flicked your wrist to make the donut in his hand disappear and reappear. “That’s nothing compared to what I can really do.”

“Hm,” Han stuffed the other half into his mouth before you could do it again. 

“As I live and breathe…” Minho said softly, “Multak.”

“You know her, Minho?” Jisung questioned in surprise. 

“Have we met before, sir?” you asked him next. 

“Not personally,” he answered, “But every shadow fairy who was at the Battle of Incheon knows the fire demon Multak.”

Incheon, home of the dark fae race. You recalled it fondly: tall dark trees with their canopies of leaves hiding the light-sensitive species, and wooden houses sitting on stilts or floating on boats throughout the wide rivers and lakes. Shadow fae came in all shapes and sizes, but they proved to be fierce and formidable allies. Nor’goth’s forces kidnapped and drained the fairies of their powers to weaken them, even breaking their bodies to do it. Your heart had gone out to the wisps, the smallest and most gentle of them all. All they do is tell fortunes and guide people to their fates. 

“Wait…” Chan stood still, examining you once again, “You’re the fire demon?”

“I’m a fire demon,” you said, not wanting to go into the differences between the demon clans in The Mar. 

“She stopped Nor’goth almost single handedly-”

“-Almost-” you emphasized, “It was a group effort.” 

If the Orcs had not distracted his people with their fiery catapults and if the elves had not shielded you, you wouldn’t have been able to strike. Your sword, a runic blade of fire, struck Nor’goth right in his heart. 

“I don’t know,” Minho said in a sing-song tone, “It was your flaming sword that vanquished him in the first place.”

“You have a flaming sword?” Jisung’s eyes widened with wonder. 

“It’s a runic blade,” you turned to Chan, “So, who is this Hook Clan?”

Minho sensed the change in subject, but you knew he wasn’t done. Nor’goth and the war are the last things you wished to discuss in detail. You did not agree with the Shadow Lords about Nor’goth’s sentence; banishing him to the underworld prison, The Abyss, will not hold him forever. You didn't care how weak they'd made him. 

“They’re outlaws at the edge of town,” Chan answered, going over to a desk where he kept a stack of folders. He brought it over to you, withdrawing reports and documents for you to see. “They started off with stealing cattle or crops from the farmers, but they’ve escalated in recent weeks.”

“Escalated how?”

You noticed the three men appeared apprehensive, a tension starting to stiffen between them.

“They started kidnapping children,” said Minho. “The last kidnapping was Wang's little girl, Hyeyoung. Before that was Seo Dobin, and before that was Lee Sanghee. The only connections we’ve been able to make,” he flipped through his notebook and found a page. He walked over to you and showed you the page, “All three were between eight and ten, taken from farmlands, and in broad daylight. We don’t know where they are, why the clan is taking them, or what they plan to do with them.”

“What makes you think it was them?”

“The clan always paints a red hook somewhere when they’ve struck. It’s been found at each scene.”

“That’d be foolish of them to do,” you noted, reading more of his notes. “That’s basically telling you that it was them.” 

“They’re not the brightest bunch, if I’m being honest,” Minho replied. 

“Which means they’re least likely to have done it,” Chan told him. “Kidnappings like this require a thought process and planning. The Hooks have always operated loosely: pick a target, slaughter anyone who gets in the way, and take what they want. If they are kidnapping these children, they would’ve slipped up at some point.” 

“They could be hired by somebody else,” Han chimed in from his desk. “Red Hook will work for whoever pays him enough. If they’re taking kids, it’s likely someone is paying them to do it.”

“Then who?” Chan looked over to ask him. 

One person came to mind, but you’d sound foolish. Nor’goth is currently imprisoned in the Abyss, an island floating in a dark void, powerless and useless to anyone. You read Chan’s reports and cross-checked them with Minho’s notes. You hated to think it, but some dark warlocks and shadow magic practitioners use children in their rituals. Just because a ritual lists ‘innocent blood’ or ‘innocent souls’ does not mean the caster needed a child. Even demonkin preferred using animals over defenseless children. 

“-I think it’s just too easy to scapegoat a group because of their reputation,” Chan’s voice caught your ear. “I want to catch Red Hook and his band of outlaws, but I want to arrest them for crimes they actually committed.”

“His mark’s has been found at each scene-”

The outlaws must be hired to help. They reminded you of a band of thieves back in the capital city who were stealing resources from a nearby mine. It turned out they stole them for greedy goblins. 

“Do you know anything about this clan aside from their crimes?” you interrupted them. “Their leader? Anything significant?”

“We don’t have a name, but he calls himself the Red Hook,” Chan told you. “According to people who’ve seen him, they say he’s a magic user.”

“Human?” you directed this at Minho. 

“Can’t say for sure, since the clan is a mixed bag,” he replied, “But the people we interviewed said they didn’t see any magical distinctions.” 

“Where do they hide out?” 

“Around,” Chan shrugged. “Last location was an abandoned farmhouse northwest of here. We checked it out already, and they’re no longer there. They tend to drift around to keep us a step behind them all the time.”

“My friends in the forest tell me when they see them,” Jisung said, “But they’re pretty well hidden a lot of the time. It’s likely Red Hook is concealing them somehow.” 

“Friends?” 

“The animals,” he explained. “The rabbits, squirrels, gophers, moles, and the like. I can talk to birds sometimes, but not always. It helps to have eyes in the trees,” he grinned mischievously, picking up a bag of trail mix. 

“I’d like to talk to the families,” you said, seeing the children’s names once more. 

You didn’t see anything peculiar other than they’d taken two girls and a boy so far. Some rituals called for a certain number of souls, but never spoke about sexes. It can certainly be a coincidence. Although, you rarely came across those in your line of work. 

“We already did,” Minho told you, “They don’t know anything.”

“I’d still like to talk to them myself. Their children might have something in common that you missed.” 

“Does this mean you’ll take the job?” Chan asked, and you detected a glimmer of hope in his voice. 

“For a fee.”

“Naturally,” he nodded. 

“With a demon on our team,” Minho said, “We’ll have this case wrapped up by supper.” 

“I don’t know about all that, but I’ll do my best,” you insisted. 

Chan moved to his nearby office when the door opened. In walked a rotund, dark-skinned man in a blue suit, wearing a bowler hat and checking his pocket watch. He didn’t look at the men at first, but when he looked up, his eyes settled on you. Shock took over his broad, square face and brown eyes widened with realization. 

“Good afternoon, Mayor,” Chan intervened before the man could speak, “What can I do for ya?”

“Chan, there is a demon in our station,” he said, voice quivering slightly. 

“She’s a bounty hunter,” he assured him. “She’s come to help with the missing children.”

“Demons don’t like children.”

“We do, actually,” you retorted, arms crossed. “And no, not to eat them,” you added disdainfully. 

“YN's a bounty hunter, Gerald,” Chan said. “She's just agreed to help us with the missing children. I think it'd be beneficial to have someone like her helping us. YN, this is our Mayor, Gerald Wallace.”

“Nice to meet you, sir,” you tried keeping the annoyance from your voice. 

“I don't know, Chan,” the mayor said, “You know folks around here. They won't take kindly to a…demon being in town right now.”

“I only want to help,” you fixed your jacket, “But if you don't want me here and want your children to keep being snatched up, then I'll be on my way.”

“Wait, wait,” Minho came to your side and faced the mayor, “Mayor Wallace, this demon isn't a normal demon. She's the demon who ended the war.”

Did he really have to keep telling people that?

“Impossible,” the mayor scoffed, “There's no way that demon stuck around after the war.”

“I did,” you said. “Do you want my help or not?”

“We do,” Chan answered quickly. “We do.”

“Chan,” Mayor Wallace turned to him stiffly, “May I speak to you in private, please?”

“Of course,” he gestured to let him pass, “This way.”

He shot you an apologetic glance, then followed the mayor into an office. 

“Sorry about that,” Minho said, “I promise our townspeople normally aren't this prejudiced. Things have been uneasy around here, so you can imagine a newcomer strolling into town concerning people.”

“Explains everyone's apprehension,” you replied, seeing Chan and Mayor Wallace through a window. You can see both men starting to heat up during the conversation. “It doesn't bother me as much as it used to,” you said, “I understand my people did heinous things when they came here. Not everyone is so quick to forgive.” 

“But not everyone is like that here,” Han reassured you. “They'll warm up to you soon enough.”

You didn't particularly care if the little people liked you. You didn't plan on staying too long anyways. 

“Where are you staying in town?” asked Minho, walking over to a small bookshelf behind his own desk. “The White Pearl?”

“I need money for a room and a stable first,” you told him, feeling that rumble in your stomach again. “I hoped I might get at least an advance. We've rode a long way.”

“We can talk about that when Chan finally finishes with Gerald,” he casted a glance over to the window. Chan appeared to have quieted the mayor down, but the man remained unconvinced. “You can go on ahead and tell Changbin I sent you. He'll give you a room, and some feed for your horse.”

“Appreciated,” you nodded, “Tell Chan he can find me there.”

“-Chan, I'm telling you this isn't a good idea!” Mayor Wallace said, coming out of Chan’s office. “We already got the docks to rebuild, the town council is on my behind about the merfolk situation and now we have our children going missing! Then, you got Han over there who'll tell anybody that'd listen that we got a demon and cause a damn hysteria!”

Chan appeared more amused than upset by now, and asked, “Han, you planning on causing a hysteria?”

“Not today, Chan.”

“See? Gerald, you put me in charge of the safety of this town,” he patted his shoulder, “Trust me.”

Wallace's shoulders sagged, and he gave you an uncertain glance, “Alright. I trust you. You never let us down before.”

“There you go,” Chan concluded, steering Mayor Wallace to the door. “You tell the council we have our best people on this…”

“He really knows how to de-escalate a situation, huh?” you asked, impressed.

“That's why he is the sheriff,” Han nodded. “Come on, I'll take you back to the inn. You can get settled before the work begins.”

Han led you out the door, and you untied Summer. “Looks like we got a job after all,” you grinned, petting her side. She huffed and you said, “No, no snakes this time…I think.”

“Wow,” Han marveled at Summer, taking in her fiery eyes and black mane. “A real dreadsteed.” He wiggled his nose at Summer, who nodded her head. When he gave a grin, cheeks puffing out, he said, “She's a tough cookie, huh? She says you guys just came from Newport.”

“You can talk to her?” You guided Summer back to the inn. 

“Animal hybrid,” he pointed at his own chest. “I can talk to all kinds of animals, even demonic ones.” He glanced at her again, “Summer is an interesting name for a dreadsteed. Is that her real name or a new one?”

“It's her name,” you said. “I gave it to her when we came back to the mortal realm. I named her that because summer is my favorite season. We don't have seasons where I'm from.”

“How dreadful,“ Han frowned, “I can't imagine living anywhere that is so desolate. I used to live in the forest before Chan found me and brought me here.”

“Found you?”

He scrunched up his nose guiltily, “I might not have been the most law-abiding squirrel at the time. I'd been caught stealing food from different farms, and rather than send me up the road, he gave me a place to stay and a job.”

“During or after the war?”

“After,” you both reached the steps of the inn, “A group of demons attacked my village and destroyed everything. I didn't have anywhere to go, so I ended up outside town. Chan found me hiding in someone's boat and took me in.”

“That's awfully kind of him.”

“That's the kind of guy he is,” he shrugged. “He really cares about everyone.” 

Han and Changbin helped you and Summer settle into The White Pearl. By the time Chan arrived, you'd devoured a hot sandwich and given Summer hay and an apple for her patience. 

“Everything squared then?” You asked him. “Your mayor seems…”

“He's only being cautious,” Chan insisted, “But with a bit of convincing, he's willing to pay the 50 gold price.”

Fifty sounded more than fair to you. After that, he insisted on taking you to the childrens’ families himself. You both mounted your horses and headed towards the first farm. 

“What can you tell me about their families?” you asked him, riding Summer alongside him on his own horse. 

“Seo Dobin, the first kid taken, lives at the Seo vineyard not too far out of town,” he began. “His parents grow grapes and berries and are part of the Seo pack.”

“Pack? He's a werewolf?”

“Yes, but don't worry. Junhwan and Eunji are good people. Dobin's dad can be a bit of a hothead; I’ve had to put him in holding once or twice, but he’s usually a nice man. His mother, Eunji, does some work at the bakery here from time to time.” He noticed your pensive stare, and said, “They’re all good people. Each and every one of them.”

“Good people can have enemies too,” you replied. “Enemies that they don’t know about, even. What do the other families do for work? Minho said the children were taken around farms?”

“The farms are the least guarded parts of Levanter,” he said, “Since they’re owned by the families and not the town. The Seo family mainly deals in grapes and berries to make into wine; The Wang family grows wheat, and the Lee family grows corn.”

“All crops where the stalks can grow high,” you added to your mental list of notes. 

“Where the children can be snatched without anyone seeing them,” Chan added, nodding to himself. “I thought the same thing. It’d be harder to take them from a pig, horse or cattle farm because there’s always people patrolling those types of places. A crop of plants? Easier to walk through them and wait for the kid to go right by them instead.” 

“Are there any other farm-”

“-I already told them not to let their kids go running off into their fields or in the woods,” he answered ahead of your question. “I told the kids at the schoolhouse to go straight home after school, and don’t talk to any strangers they meet on the road.”

“Did you instill a curfew?”

“I’ve considered it, but I don’t think it’ll help much. These kids are taken during the day off their families’ own land. I’ve asked a few of our local hunters and mountain men to keep an eye and an ear out for anything suspicious too.” He hesitated, and you worried what question would follow it. “Minho’s convinced it’s the gang, but it’s not them.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“And I think you already have an idea who it is.”

“The idea that magic casters use children in their rituals was a myth perpetuated by religious zealots who fear magic and everything it can do,” you said, keeping the bite out of your voice. “While innocent blood or souls are called for in a good chunk of blood magic rituals, anyone who truly knows magic and reads magic texts will know that it means an animal. Whoever this person is either is a magic user who doesn’t care about translations, or a magic user who doesn’t understand the magic they are trying to wield.” 

“You say ‘magic user’. Do you mean, like, a human using magic?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Fae, demons, merfolk, some species of hybrids are all born with magic already inside of us. It’s in our bones, and in our blood. Our specialty, if we have one, is just a choice we make in using our magic. Humans…No offense, Sheriff, but humans were not meant to have magic.” 

“Really?”

“That’s not a jab at humankind. I’ve met plenty of human mages and warlocks who use their gifts rightly,” you said quickly. “I mean, physically. Their bodies are not meant to hold it. Yes, they can perform little rituals and incantations and make potions, but real magic? No. It'd kill them, so they likely wear trinkets or charms that harness their power. I think whoever is taking these children plans to use them for something, otherwise you would’ve found their bodies by now.”

“Perhaps they're using them to gain more power?” He suggested. 

You considered the idea. “It's a possibility.”

You both arrived at the Seo farm, where you saw a farmhouse, barn, and a chicken coop. Beyond the house, you saw rows upon rows of vineyard bushes. The barn door wide open, you saw two young men pouring fermented grapes into a barrel. Briefly you pictured a young wolf pup running around the front yard area, maybe with a toy plane or a kite while his mother watched over him from a window. The same woman who happened to be outside the house with a tub and washing board. 

“Sheriff!” She gasped, dropping the board in the water and coming his way. “Sheriff, have you found him? Have you found Dobin?”

“I'm sorry, Eunji,” Chan frowned, getting off his horse and removing his hat. “But, I have someone here who'd like to speak with you about that day.”

“Who?” she looked at you. Even with the crinkles on the sides of her eyes, Mrs. Seo looked younger than you expected. Her wolf ears perked at the sight of you, and you saw her nose twitch slightly. Her claws long and black, led to furry arms underneath her linen dress. “A demon? What's a demon doing here?”

“I'm here to help, ma'am,” you answered, dismounting Summer and standing in front of her. “Sheriff Chan told me about the children in the area, and I want to help you.”

You expected her to question you like so many others, but instead she breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness! We need all the help we can get. Dobin has been missing for three weeks now, and nobody can find him.”

Worry filled her eyes and you spotted the shaking hands she wrung together. You pitied her and said, “Where was the last place you saw him?”

“Back here. Come with me.”

She led you both around the house to a backyard. You saw the typical horse and wagon tied up outside the barn in a stall, calmly eating hay. The vineyard started behind a wooden fence that bordered the entire crop, and seeing the uniform rows stretching for acres made it the perfect kidnapping spot. You imagined a small boy being snatched without anyone seeing him or his kidnapper. 

“He was down there,” she brought you both behind the fence to point down a middle row, “Helping one of our pickers gather grapes. He always loves helping pick the grapes,” she smiled fondly, “We know he sneaks some, but we let him. Our picker, Taeyong, said he turned his back to put some buckets in a wagon, and when he looked back, Dobin was gone. At first,” she wrung her apron in her hands nervously, “At first, we thought the little rascal was hiding from us. You know, the way children play hide and seek? He does that from time to time and it worries me something awful,” you heard the panic in her voice even speaking about it, ��But when it…it started to grow dark,” her eyes began watering and her lip trembled, “We…Oh, why did I let him go?! Something told me not to, but he was with Taeyong! He was safe! I should've been more careful! Why?! Why didn't I pay more attention?!” 

Chan embraced her as she started to sob. She reminded you of the women in the villages during the war. Women who grieved for their fallen children, who begged you to find their lost sons and daughters. Their pain radiated onto yours, stinging your eyes and bringing a bout of helplessness. This warlock, whoever they were, needed to be stopped. 

You nodded at Chan, then proceeded into the vineyard. Cautiously, you walked outside of the trodden path where you saw dozens of footprints having worn down the grass into the dirt. Wheel marks told you they'd just finished collecting ripe grapes for the day, and it's unlikely you will find any child size footprints here. Taking a whiff of the air, you only smelled freshly toiled earth and ripening grapes, not flesh. If you concentrated, you caught wisps of human sweat but nothing of a child. Time would’ve drowned out any proper scent. You envisioned a small boy, eight-years-old and greedily munching on grapes he'd picked off the vines. He'd have walked away from Taeyong. What could make him walk away from the safety of an adult? Standing in the middle of the row, you scanned over the vines to only see more grapes. He had plenty to pick from here, so why did he walk away? 

“Taeyong,” you sensed Chan walking up behind him, “Did you ever interview him?”

“We did.”

“What's his story?”

“Exactly what Mrs. Seo just told you,” he said, “He was picking, turned around, and the boy was gone.” 

That sounded too convenient. “Any idea why the boy would walk away?” 

“More grapes? Berries, maybe?” 

You started walking alongside the path again.  Turning to face one of the hedges, you noticed breakages in the foliage. 

“He went through here,” you said, seeing a break between two stalks. You then spotted small footprints still in the dirt. “Yes, yes, he went through here. Otherwise Taeyong would've seen him walking away.” 

You pushed through the vines to the other side without another word. Dobin didn't stop here. He kept going. You inhaled deeply, trying to mesh through the various earthy scents for something human. Scanning the floor in the second to last row, you saw them. Embedded in the hard packed dirt were small paw prints. Four toes with a palm, they went one in front of the other through the dirt. You crouched to touch one, and realized they were cat prints. 

“Do The Seos have any pets?” You asked Chan, who just broke through a brush behind you. 

“A dog, some chickens and two horses.”

“No cats?”

“No cats.”

Slowly, you followed the cat prints until they went out past the fence. “He followed a cat,” you concluded, “Into the forest.”

“How did we miss these?” Chan wondered, following the prints with his eyes. 

“Because they were hidden,” you answered simply. You took a few sniffs, then said, “A cat. Yeah, definitely a cat.” 

“So, our kidnapper can turn into a cat,” Chan said, standing beside you at the threshold of the forest. “Clever. Most children like animals, especially children who live around them. Dobin likely saw the cat and followed it.”

The image of Dobin, innocent and cheerful, following a cat before being snatched gave you shivers. Stepping further, you let your sense of smell guide you, but sadly it wasn't as strong. 

“Deputy Han,” you looked at Chan, “He's an animal hybrid.”

“Yeah, obviously.” 

“How good is his sense of smell?”

“Pretty damn good.”

“Have him come here. He can help me track down this cat.”

“I'll have Eunji call the station.”

You saw a rush of adrenaline pump through him. He finally had a lead. According to his notes, Dobin, a werewolf, went missing three weeks ago; Sanghee, a garden fairy,  disappeared two weeks ago, and Hyeyong, a werecat, was a week ago.  Two girls. One boy. All from farm families outside of town. All of them are magical. The connections seemed too close to be a coincidence. Thinking of the timeline again, you realized they'd taken a child each week. They'd need a fourth, if they follow their pattern. Problem? You had no idea which farm they'd strike next. 

****

“Alright, children, remember what Sheriff Bahng said. You're all to go home straight after school, and don't talk to strangers.”

A rustle of books and papers sounded at dismissal. Slyvia followed the other children outside of the schoolhouse, her lunch box swinging from her clawed hand and books to her other side. She saw classmates rushing ahead of her to the general goods store for sweets, while others waited for their parents to retrieve them. Her own mother had taken to coming for her since the disappearances began, but not today. She had too much work. Slyvia immediately thought of all the chores waiting for her back at the ranch. Her mother will need help with the washing, and then she has to muck out the stables. She hated cleaning the stables, but with her brother and father away in the big city, there is nobody else to do it. Walking past The White Pearl, her sensitive nose already smelled the manure. 

“Hey Slyvia! Wait up!”

The reptilian child turned around to see a boy running to catch up to her. Barney Pebbles was a lumpy elf halfling boy who lived on the farm next to her family's ranch. Sandy blond hair fell behind his pointy ears, and she saw the run bring pink into his cheeks. Slyvia smiled a toothy grin at him regardless. 

“Want to…Want to walk home together?” He huffed, catching his breath as he came up beside her. “My Ma says it's safer if there's two…two of us.”

“Sure!” Slyvia beamed. “Sheriff Bahng says we need to look out for one another.”

The pair continued walking together. “Did you hear about the demon?” he asked, pushing blond hair from his forehead. 

“Demon? What demon?” She wouldn't deny the pang of fear that struck her. “Where?”

“My Pa was leaving the bank when he saw a demon on a big horse riding past him,” he explained as they reached the end of town, “He says she had these stumps on her head, and her horse had flaming eyes!”

“But don't they have wings? My Uncle Sithlin says some have wings.”

“I didn't think to ask,” he grew quiet, then said, “Do you think they're behind the other kids?”

“But that started happening before they came.” 

Slyvia thought about her missing classmates. Dobin, a boy slimmer than a tree branch, once offered to split blueberries they found near the school. Sanghee, a garden fairy, always radiated kindness and befriended her on her first day. Hyeyoung, a werecat kitten, helped her find her bonnet when it flew off her head. Their disappearances worried everyone. Slyvia hoped her friends were okay, and that Sheriff Bahng would find them in time. Her father told her Sheriff Bahng was really smart and made of tough stuff. 

The other kids said he could talk to sea creatures. 

Slyvia and Barney walked down the dirt road leading out of town. They passed by merchants going in and out of town, and greeted neighbors they saw along the way. They continued talking about the newcomer, and she couldn't stop the bundle of nerves in her stomach. She remembered the stories her Pa and uncles told her about demons. They're supposed to be evil made into flesh. Thinking about a winged monster gave her jitters. 

“-Mr. Edwards says that the demons he saw were super tall! As tall as trees, and they could breathe fire.”

Slyvia listened to his story while she looked up the forest lined path ahead. She saw the crossroads where it split between the town, another village and the capital city. The tall directory signs were her first milestone back home. 

“Maybe they're helping whoever is taking the other kids,” she suspected. “My Nana says they use babies in their rituals, and feast on newborns.”

“You think?”

‘Meow!’

The two children stopped in their tracks at the sound. When it sounded again, they realized it came from the forest bushes nearby. Slyvia's nerves stood on end. Barney stepped closer to the threshold, bending to peek into the bushes. 

“Barney…”

“It's a cat,” he said, “I think it's hurt.”

“Barney, don't go in there.”

She could smell it the closer she came. Barney, ever the animal lover, ignored her warning and walked further into the forest. 

“Slyvia, come quick,” he said worriedly. “It's hurt.”

Slyvia came up behind him, and sniffed the air. Most cats smelled according to their environment. Barn cats smelled like horses and pigs; house cats smelled like coffee and linens. A wild cat carried the scent of leaves and trees. This cat didn't have any of those. She walked behind Barney, her heart starting to race. 

“Barney Pebbles, you come back here,” she said, panic building in her voice. “We're not supposed to wander off.”

“It might be really hurt, Slyvia,” he replied over his shoulder. 

Feet crunching the forest floor, Slyvia tried peeking into the shrubs from behind him, but couldn't see anything. 

“Come here, kitty,” Barney crouched in front of it, “It's okay. I won't hurt you. Hey! Wait!” 

The sound of rustled leaves told her the cat scurried from the bushes. Barney went after it, and Slyvia followed. A downward wind brought a scent to her flat nostrils. Not a cat. Not a dog. Not a bird, rabbit or wolf. She gasped. It was human. She saw a flash of black and white dart behind one of the trees, Barney only a few paces behind. 

“Barney Pebbles! Come back here now!”

“Calm down, Slyvia. It's only a-AH!” 

“Gotcha!”

“Barney!”

Slyvia cried out his name as an arm grabbed him from behind a tree. She froze in place, her breath becoming haggard and drying her throat. She could hear Barney struggling, and a man’s voice drowning him out. The sound of snapping twigs came from her right, and she spotted them. Three men wearing red armbands stepped out from behind the trees, malice on their faces. Slyvia ran. Her heart pounded in her chest with each foot step. Panic put them right on her heels, and she beat the ground harder. 

“Get her!” She heard the silvery voice say from the distance. “Don't let her get away!”

The young chameleon ran through dense shrubbery, the tiny branches snagging on her dress and scratching her colorful scales. She'd do what her Papa taught her. With a quick glance back, Slyvia dove into a nearby bush and closed her eyes. She envisioned herself turning from her usual pale green and yellow to a dark brown. She brought her knees to her chest and tucked her head and tail inwards. The footsteps charging after her came right beside her bush, and she stuffed her face into her dress to muffle her breathing. 

“Where'd she go?” One of the men asked. “She can't have gone far!”

“If Maurice hears we lost her he'll burn us alive!”

“Ah shoot, Suho, does it really matter? That was a girl, and Maurice only needed a boy.”

“She can go blabbing to the sheriff and his deputies,” the other man retorted. “We're so close, Baekhyun. I can taste it now. If we help that old man with his ritual, he'll give us whatever we want. That means gold and women!” 

“I…I don't know, Suho,” a higher voice said uncertainly. “They're kids. I thought we didn't harm youngins.”

“We're not harming them. Maurice says they'll be fine. It'll only hurt for a little bit.”

“You believe that?”

“Of course, I do. Now, you go that way; Chanyeol, you go that way and I'll check down here. She can't have gone too far.”

Slyvia heard the men split up. The last image of Barney being lifted off the ground came to her, and she shivered. The men, whoever they were, also kidnapped the other children. She needed to tell someone quickly. When the coast was clear, Slyvia gingerly climbed up the tree behind her. Her fingers sticking to the branches, the child moved from one tree to another with ease. The Seo family lived not too far from this spot; she can go to them to call the law. She needed to find Sheriff Bahng. He needed to know that Barney is in trouble. 

****

Han and Minho appeared some time later, the pair having appeared through a portal. 

“I thought it'd be faster than horses,” Minho explained, closing it with a wave of his hand. “What have you found?”

“There's paw prints,” you told Han as you both walked to the blocked off spot in the dirt, “But no animal scent.”

“You think it might be a hybrid?” 

“It doesn't smell like an animal or hybrid,” you said. “It's…I don't know. Chan said you have the best nose, so I thought you could track what I can't.” You stopped right by the forest entrance, “They go about three or four yards into the woods, then it goes cold.”

Han nodded, “It shouldn't be that hard. If we can't track the cat,” he pulled out a small handkerchief from his pocket, “We can track Dobin.”

“What's that?” You eyed the blue and white cloth in his hand, seeing grape vines stitched into the border. 

“Dobin's head scarf,” he answered. “He wears it when he goes into the field. His mother thought it might help.” 

You watched him take a deep inhale of the scarf, closing his eyes in concentration. Soft black nose wiggling, tail twitching at the new scent, Han immediately glanced up to the tree ahead. He started walking without saying anything to anyone, sniffing occasionally as he went. 

“You think it's a human shifted into a cat then, huh?” Minho asked, coming up beside you. 

“I can't pick up anything to the contrary,” you told him. “My sense of smell isn't very strong here. He might find out what I can't.”

Minho grew quiet while Han stuck himself into a bush. “I was looking through my library at the station. I keep it there for research purposes and all that, you know? I thought while you and Chan checked out the different locations, Han and I could try finding any magic rituals that require sacrifices.”

“Psh, that's a lot. What did you find?”

“That the shadow casters of yesteryear really enjoyed sacrificing things to ancient gods,” he snorted. “But I did come across a few rituals of interest. One in particular intrigued me.”

“What was it?”

“The Secrets of the Mystics by Arnold B. Miller described this group of ancient mystics who called upon gods to sustain their power,” he began. “They regularly sacrificed people to a god named Yuth’ik. I couldn’t find anything that gave any background on Yuth’ik other than that he was defeated by a warlock named Vivian Moon and several others centuries ago. They banished him into another realm, where he’s likely laid dormant for thousands of years. If the Hook clan are really working for someone, it’s someone who wants to release Yuth’ik.” 

“For what purpose? More power?”

“Most likely.” He gave a slight scoff and shook his head, “If they’d gone to an actual magical being, we’d tell them what a stupid idea that is. I will say this: I pity whoever this person is.”

“Why?”

“The ancient gods weren’t known for their kindness,” he said. “A lot of the stories in the book mentioned the summoner having to give something in return.”

“Four souls isn’t enough?”

“That’s just to open the cage. If Yuth’ik really is a god, they'll expect gifts. The person behind this doesn’t understand that once you summon a god or a demon or any powerful being, you’re their servant for life,” he looked over at you, dark eyes serious and stern, “For life.” 

You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing. Shaking your head, you said, “Will they ever learn?”

A part of you expected Minho to take your words offensively; he does live amongst humans, and is close to them. Yet, you heard him snort and say, “Never.” 

The three of you traveled further into the forest. Han sniffed every bush, tree and flower patch that carried a wisp of Dobin’s scent. You admitted his sense of smell must be incredible if he can follow a trace three weeks old. His bushy trail flicked and wiggled whenever he caught a particularly strong scent. Both you and Minho kept your eyes on the trees around you, searching for the slightest change or movement. 

Underneath the canopy of leaves and sunlight, you took in the vibrancy of the world around you. Nothing grew in The Mar. No trees, flowers or grass thrived there; the only animals around were the vicious beasts lurking around the mountain ranges and rocky canyons. A cool breeze wafted through the trees, brushing your cheeks and hair, and you inhaled deeply. Why would anyone wish to destroy such a glorious place? Nor’goth’s armies tore down trees, burned wheat fields, and polluted rivers to keep the mortals from feeding themselves. He believed cutting off their supplies left them powerless, but the people you’d met proved the opposite. 

“Did you guys hear that?” Han sprung up from the newest bush, whipping his head side to side in a panic. 

“Hear what?” Minho asked, irritably. “Jisung, we’ve been walking for ages. Have you found anything yet-”

“-Shush!” he interrupted him, putting a hand up for silence. 

The two of you watched the hybrid carefully walk sideways, his head pointed up into the trees. A feeling of apprehension came over you when he stopped underneath one of the thicker trees. The smooth motion of an arrow being notched caught your attention, and you turned to see Minho’s bow armed and ready to loosen. Han braced his hands up against the rough bark, and sniffed. The immediate image of an enemy dropping onto him had you withdrawing your sword from your back. 

“Jisung…” Minho whispered harshly, but Han ignored him. 

 “Slyvia?” Han said, confused. “Honey, what are you doing up there?”

Both you and Minho shook when a figure jumped down from the tree onto their feet. Minho unleashed his arrow, but thankfully it stuck into the tree inches above the child’s head. Skin the color of the trees, the chameleon-hybrid’s scales gradually changed to light green and yellow in seconds. Bulbous, beady eyes were on either side of her nose, full of fear and worry. 

“Deputy Han!” she cried, immediately wrapping herself around his middle, “Deputy Han, you have to help me!”

Han bent down to her level right as you and Minho reached her. Her heavy breaths making her chest rise and fall, you saw tears spilling from her black eyes and shoulders shuddering in every sob. 

“It’s Barney!” she sobbed, voice cracking at the end. “They took him! The bad people took him! You have to help him! Sheriff Bahng has to get him!”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Han said, hands rubbing her shaking shoulders, “Just take a deep breath, honey. You mean Barney Pebbles? Fred’s little boy?”

“Yes! We were walking home together, and he-and he saw this cat in the bushes and I told him, sir, I told him to not wander off but he did! Then, we chased it-it- in-into th-the woods and this bad man picked him up and these other men started chasing me! We have to save him! We have to!” she fell back into Han’s arms, sobbing into his shoulder as his eyes met Minho’s. 

“Where did this happen, Slyvia?” Minho asked next, bending down to look into her face. “How far?”

“That way,” she pointed behind him. “I don-don’t know where!”

“Alright, alright, you go with Deputy Han and talk to the sheriff,” he said to her gently. “My friend and I will go look for Barney.” 

Slyvia took one glance at you, then buried her face in Han’s neck. You expected that reaction. Crouching beside Minho, you said, “We’re going to find your friend, and bring him back, okay?” She flinched when you met her eyes again. 

“You’re a demon…” she said, voice muffled by Han’s shirt collar. 

“I am,” you nodded, standing with Han and Minho, “And you want to know what that means?”

“You’ll eat my friends!”

“No,” you giggled, “It means bad guys are scared of me. The bad people who took your friend will hand him right back to me if they know what’s good for them.”

This seemed to calm her slightly, though not enough for her to look at you. “I’ll take her to Chan,” Han said. “We can get in contact with her folks, and Barney’s parents.”  

“I’ll give him a heads up.” 

Minho reached into a pouch on his belt and withdrew dark blue dust. Putting a pinch between his fingers, he blew it out into the air. Rather than disappear or fall to the ground, the glowing swirl of dust stayed in the air. 

“Chan, we found Slyvia Eleon. She says Barney Pebbles was just grabbed. Han’s bringing her to you; YN and I are going to scout the area.” With another puff of air, the dust cloud quickly darted away from you and down back to the farm. “We should go to where he was taken,” he said to you, “We could check it out while their footprints and scent are fresh.” 

“Good idea.”

“Slyvia,” he addressed the little girl again, “Sweetie, do you remember any details about where he’d been taken? A tree or flower or a specific place?”

Slyvia turned her head, sniffling, and thought for a moment. “It was near the direction sign. I remember because I live past it.”

“On which side?”

“The…left. The left side of the road.”

“Alright, thank you, Slyvia,” he petted her head, “Don’t worry. My friend and I are going to find Barney.” 

“They’re going to kill him,” she broke back into a sob. “They’re going to kill him and eat him!”

“Nobody is killing and eating anyone,” Han assured her, rubbing her back as he began walking away. “Mrs. Seo just came back from the bakery too. She can give you a snack and you can tell Sheriff Bahng…” 

Watching Han take the girl away, you looked to Minho, “Do you know the sign she’s talking about?”

“I do. It’s far though. Take my hand.”

You didn’t question it. Taking his hand, you watched the dark fae aim his outstretched palm to the ground. Glowing and sparkling a bright purple, you recognized the spiraling and crisp winds of a teleportation circle. In a flash of light, you and Minho left your spot in the forest. You could feel yourself being thrown into a tornado, spinning and spinning through gushes of wind, before landing on soft grass.

“Here we are,” Minho said, removing the circle with a closed fist. 

You found yourself on the dirt road a mile from town. On the crossroad corner stood a tall post with different directions on it. ‘Levanter Bay 1 mile’ ‘Gold Rush 5 miles’ ‘Sunwind 10 miles’ went in various directions. 

“Slyvia said they saw the men down towards town,” Minho started walking in that direction. “Their footprints will still be in the dirt; we can follow those.” 

“This Barney kid,” you caught up with his quick strides, “What do you know about him?”

“A bit simple-minded, but a really nice kid,” he answered. “His family owns a pig farm. He loves animals, so it’s no surprise he followed a cat into the woods despite all sense.”

“They took him from off the road instead of a farm,” you noted. “They’re getting desperate. This ritual of theirs must be happening soon.”

“Yuth’ik’s ritual can happen at any time. They just need the four souls and the right words,” he said. “They need all four in order to open the portal to let him through.”

“That explains the rush. It’s risky to be snatching kids from the side of a somewhat busy road,” you nodded at a passing wagon, “Someone might’ve seen the two of them going off the path.” 

“Perhaps, but if they went deep enough, nobody would’ve heard them.” 

You both stopped when you reached two sets of clear footprints going off into the grass. Minho and you walked along them, and that’s where you picked up a scent. Barney Pebbles must sweat pretty heavily if you could pick it up so quickly. It started by one of the trees at the edge, then carried off through a large bush. When you looked inside, you saw tiny prints in the dirt and a breakage in the leaves. 

“The cat hid in here,” you told Minho, “And he followed it.” 

“There are more prints over here,” Minho called from nearby. You saw him standing between two large trees, looking at spots behind them. “The shapeshifter had accomplices. Two or three by the looks of the sets.” 

“What were they planning to do? Ambush the kid?” 

“To make sure he didn’t escape,” he examined one of the trunks with his hand. 

Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew a small piece of blue chalk. Well, at least you thought it was chalk. Minho started rubbing the blue stick onto the thick brown bark as one might a piece of paper. You came up to him, and saw the blue chalk having outlined handprints along the edge of the trunk. You counted two large hands on one side, then two more on the other. 

“Two over here,” Minho went and did the same to the other tree, “And one more over here. Three culprits.”

“What is this?” you asked him, wiping some of the chalk with your finger. 

“It’s a little invention of mine,” he said, putting the chalk away. “I enchanted a few pieces of chalk so I can lift prints. It’s damn helpful when investigating scenes. I got a fingerprint off one of them,” he said, putting a thin piece of film into the pouch, “I can cross check it back at the station. If it’s one of the Hook Clan, we’ll know who.” 

“Intriguing,” you nodded, “I never heard of an enchantment that can do that.”

“I like to experiment with magic,” he shrugged. You both walked back to the scene of the kidnapping, “Magic is so versatile and fluid. It can be used for anything, if one puts their mind to it.”

“That bit of powder you used to contact Chan,” you said, “You invented that too?”

“I wish,” he said, “It’s one of the ways fairies communicate away from home. Fairy dust,” he petted the leather pouch. “Can transport messages or people from one place to another.” 

“Just think happy thoughts?” you joked, remembering the stories.

Minho laughed, “No, no happy thoughts required. Just a deep breath before you teleport.” He stopped at the spot where you smelled Barney and his kidnapper the strongest. “What can you smell?”

“Male,” you sniffed the air, and let the aroma linger in your nose, “At least 30-years-old. He’d been standing right here,” you pressed yourself against the tree. You put your nose to the trunk, catching a bit of his sweat on the skin. Something then threw you off, “Coal.”

“What?”

“Coal,” you sniffed the spot again, “Or something like it. He had some sort of dust on him.”

“The clan sometimes hang out in abandoned mines or lumber yards,” Minho said, putting his fingerprint dust on the bark next to you. “That might be where it comes from.” 

“We should tell Chan and Han,” you advised, “Then we can see what they learned from the little girl.” 

“Alright.”

He took your hand a second time, and opened up a transport circle once more. In another howling winds, you left the wilderness for the hustle and bustle of Levanter Bay. Stumbling forward a moment, you caught yourself in a deep breath. Hardly anyone appeared bothered by the demon and fairy who’d just popped up in the middle of the town square. 

“Minho,” Changbin came down the steps of the inn, wiping his hands with his apron, “Is it true? Was Barney taken?”

“News travels fast, huh?” he quipped. 

“His dad is in here,” he nodded to the inn behind him, “Hollering about someone taking his boy and that he was gonna hunt the bastard himself.”

“Oh god, no,” Minho groaned. “Don’t tell me he went into the woods?”

“No, no, I talked him down, but he’s more pissed off than Honey when she can’t catch any fish,” he said. “You didn’t find him, did you?”

“We didn’t, but we have leads,” he answered. “Just…make sure they don’t do anything stupid.”

“People know the clan is involved,” Changbin said seriously. “Fred was talking about going to the Brandstone Mine south of here.”

“The mine?” Minho looked over at you, then back at Changbin, “Why there?”

“Rumor has it that Red Hook and his boys are up there,” he answered, looking between the both of you. “It’s only a matter of time before someone takes it upon themselves to take them out.”

“That’s a dumb idea,” you snapped. “It can cause them, or whoever they’re working for, to do something rash.” 

Like kill their captives and dispose of their corpses. Minho was about to give Changbin instructions when a voice called out from behind him, “Lee! Hey, Lee!”

A big burly man with a thick blond beard and short blond hair came storming down the steps towards him. From his red face, you could tell he’d been ranting for a good while now. Minho sighed irritably, “You go to Chan. I’ll handle Fred.” 

You nodded, and watched Minho reach Fred first. Fred, standing several inches above Minho, started shouting right away. You thought Minho might flinch at the sudden rush of anger, but the deputy remained cool. Deciding Minho and Changbin could handle the distressed parent, you walked ahead back to the station. Inside, you found a group of people sitting in the middle of the room. Slyvia sat on the lap of a woman who could only be her mother, and another chameleon hybrid who must be her father. A slender woman with blond hair was beside them, anxiously listening to everything they were saying. Barney’s mother, no doubt. Chan and Han sat in front of the girl, talking to her softly and gently.  

“-Did you see what they looked like?” Chan asked her. “Anything particularly different or noticeable about them?”

“No,” she shook her head. “I was hiding.”

“Could you hear what they were talking about?”

“They said that they’d get burned alive for not getting me,” she said. “But the other man said they didn’t need me.”

Slowly, you approached and put the pieces of her story together. “Did they say any names?”

“Suho, Baekhyun and Maurice.”

“Kim Junmyeon,” Chan grunted, “How’d I know he’d be involved?”

“And Baekhyun too,” added Han. 

“Who are they?” Slyvia’s mother asked. 

“Part of the Red Hook clan,” Chan told her. “We think they’ve been taking the kids. But, Maurice…I don’t know any Maurice around here. Jisung?”

Han thought for a moment, then shook his head. “Nope, nobody comes to mind. Does that name mean anything to you?” he asked the parents, and they shook their heads. 

The moment Slyvia’s parents spotted you, they gasped. Her mother clutched her tightly, while the male stood in front of them. You didn’t make any move towards them, instead deciding to keep your distance. 

“That must be who they’re working for,” you finally spoke up. “Minho and I found four sets of prints on the trees near where he was taken.” 

“That’s a demon!” the man said, “Sheriff, you got a demon in here!”

“She’s a friend, Salazar,” Chan insisted, standing up to put himself between you and the father. “A friend.” 

“That’s a damn demon! There ain’t no demon that's friendly! I’ve seen what those things can do! I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s the one taking all the children!”

“I’m only here to help, sir,” you said from your spot. 

‘Their kind will never accept us! They know nothing of respect or obedience! They must be subdued!’

You shut out Nor’goth’s voice from your head. “Minho and I found some information that backs your daughter’s story,” you said. 

“She’s his niece,” Barney’s mother said, stepping in front of him to address you. When she tucked hair behind her ear, you saw a point at the curve. A Sunwind Elf. “You’re here to…to help us?” you heard the disbelief in her voice. She looked at your horn stumps, then back to your face. “With Barney?”

“Yes, ma’am. I take it you’re his mother?”

“I am,” she nodded. You noticed her puffy eyes, and trembling lips. “Slyvia says he was taken by a shapeshifter.” 

“We believe so,” Chan answered. 

“Your husband is a human, isn’t he? I saw him outside,” you asked her, coming closer. 

“He is,” she nodded. “I’m from Sunwind. What does that have to do with anything?”

“So, your son is a halfling,” you looked to Chan, “Dobin is a wolf pup. Sanghee is a garden fairy, and Hyeyoung is a werecat. They’re all children with magic inside of them.” You turned to Minho’s desk where you found a book left open. When you turned a page, you saw a chapter titled: ‘Yuth’ik: God of the Trees’. Rather than tell Chan that these magical children are likely being used for their magic, you said, “There has to be a connection, right?”

Chan glanced at the open book, then at you, “Yes, there might be.”

“It was those damn bandits in the woods,” Mrs. Pebbles snapped. “They did this. They must have. Who else is vile enough to kidnap innocent children? On a count of them being magical, no less!” 

“Them, and someone they’re working for,” Chan told her, putting up a hand to calm her. “Wilma, go find Fred. Lord knows he’s bound to do something crazy.”

“Too late, Sheriff,” Han said with a deadpan voice as he looked out the window. 

“What?”

Everyone converged by the window where a group of people on horses started kicking up dirt. Their calls and cries mixed together, and you knew what happened by their angry faces. 

They started a damn mob. 

“Damnit!” Chan cursed, grabbing a rifle from beside the door and rushing outside. With all of you behind him, he called out to the crowd, “Hey, hey, hey! What the hell's going on here?! Minho!”

Minho and Changbin tried closing off the horsemen, but there were too many. Fred Pebbles, sat upon a white palomino, glared down at Chan. 

“They got my boy, Sheriff!” he said, voice hoarse and deep. “Those bastards have my boy!”

“We know, but there’s a way to go about this!” Chan shouted over the ruckus, “Hey now! Hey!” 

“Pebbles, damnit man!” Mayor Wallace appeared from the mercantile with a few other customers, “What are you doing?!”

“I'm gonna make this all right!”

“Like hell you are!” the mayor blustered. “We are civilized people! Not animals!”

“So what are we supposed to do?! Let those filthy sons of bitches take our children?!”

“Of course not, but Fred, riling people up and going out there like this can make stuff worse!” Mayor Wallace wiped his brow and said, “Let's all go into the town hall and discuss this-”

“-I'm tired of listening to y'all. You ain't don't nothing-”

Chan cocked his rifle and fired it into the air. The loud gunblast caught everyone’s attention, some of the people ducking and others whipping around angrily. The crowd focused on him, Chan walked up the steps of The White Pearl, and he glared down at them. 

“What the hell’s gotten into all of you? I thought we were people, not animals!”

“They keep taking our children, Chan!” one woman shouted from her horse. “Somebody’s gotta do something!”

“I understand that, but if we went around hanging every single person we thought was guilty, we’d be no better than them,” he remarked. “I know you’re all worried. I know you’re all hurting, but we need to be smart about how we handle this. Red Hook might have his morals-”

“-Horse shit!-

“-But the person he’s working for doesn’t,” he continued. “Now, thanks to Slyvia and our bounty hunter, we’ve discovered some new information.”

“Such as?” Mayor Wallace asked. 

“They’re operating in a coal mine,” Minho said, getting up onto the porch beside Chan. “Anybody know any abandoned mines around here?” 

“There’s the Willfire mine up north,” the woman on the horse called out. “My husband used to work there before the war.”

“The old Brandstone mine too,” said Mayor Wallace. “But, that was gold, not coal.”

“The coal could be dirt,” suggested Changbin, the woodland dwarf. “If they’re living in there, they likely got the dirt on their clothes and hands.” 

“It’s a long shot,” an elderly man said from atop his horse, “But they could also be at my family’s mine. It’s gotten run over by spiders, but if they could’ve exterminated them before moving in.” 

You shuddered thinking about the large arachnids. 

“Alright,” Chan nodded at their answers, “I say we split into groups and search these mines while they’re off guard. Deputy Han will lead a group to the Brandstone mine; Deputy Lee will lead one to the Willfire mine, and I’ll take a group up to Mr. Choi’s mine. If you find them, do not engage,” he said these words firmly, “We need to catch them off guard. Whoever is helping them will not hesitate to kill anyone who opposes them. We need to be vigilant and patient.” 

“And I will stay with the rest of the town here,” Mayor Wallace said to Chan. “Changbin and I will organize something for the children and the families. You know, keep everybody calm during this whole thing.”

“Sounds good…”

“They’re going after magical children,” you whispered to Minho and Han. “They plan to use their magic to open the gates.”

“Makes sense,” Minho nodded. 

“Those poor babies,” Han frowned worriedly. 

“We need to find them quickly,” you told them. “Now that they have four children, they can start their ritual.” 

“Seungmin! Seungmin, where are you?” Chan’s words interrupted you, as he looked through the crowd. 

“Right here, Sheriff.” 

Dressed in a pin-striped shirt with an apron around his waist, Seungmin fixed his glasses on his nose and looked up at Chan. Just by the golden eyes, black wolf’s nose, and furry pointed ears, you realized Seungmin was a werewolf. 

“Where’s your pack at?” Chan addressed him. 

“Likely back home at the den,” he answered. “We’ve been looking ever since little Dobin was taken. He’s one of us, you know. I’ll get word to my father about your search parties.”

“I’ll call on the wisps!” 

A young fairy came floating up to the steps. Black hair in front of his face, the garden fairy’s bright green wings batted as he landed on the floor. You noticed he held onto the medical bag across his body. “They can fly faster than light and move between the different parties if they find something. The trees may have information too.” 

“The trees?” the words left your mouth before you could stop them. 

“They don’t say much,” he said, “But they will speak to me.” 

“Jeongin,” Han said to you, “Garden fairy. He’s also our doctor, believe it or not.” 

“And who the hell is she?!” another woman in the crowd asked. 

“That’s a demon!” the elderly miner gasped, taking a few steps back. A couple others did the same, but you did not react to their shock. “Sheriff, Sheriff, did you know you got a demon next to you?”

“I do, and she’s been extremely helpful since she arrived this morning,” Chan said. 

“I told you,” Mayor Wallace hissed at him. “I said they wouldn't take kindly to her.”

“How do you know she ain’t got anything to do with this?” asked Fred, taking a few steps back on his horse. “Their kind eat children!”

“We don’t eat human flesh,” you rolled your eyes, annoyed. “I don’t know what human started that rumor, but demons who still hold up to our code never harm the young.” You briefly recalled the children who’d get lost in the afterlife, and end up in the terrifying Mar. “I’m only here to help,” you said. 

“For some gold, I expect!” 

“And because whoever is doing this is harming children, and children are sacred to my kind,” you replied sharply. “Their souls are pure and precious.” Whenever a lost soul passed through your gates, a demon always took them back over to the heavenly cloud world of Divinity. 

“Get your heads out of the sand,” Changbin said to the group, “She’s good people.”

“How would you know?” the old man asked. 

“Because I've met dangerous people before, and she's dangerous in a different kind of way.”

“That's just her demon magic working on you!”

“Alright, if you don't believe me then let's get someone else's opinion.”

Changbin whistled through two fingers, and from behind the inn came an enormous grizzly bear. Far too big to be a normal bear, you suspected. Honey came right up to Changbin’s feet, sniffing for a scrap of food. It was when she smelled your scent that she moved over to you. Yes, it was silly of you to reach out to a bear, but you put the back of your hand to her wet nose. She gruffed once, nudging your hand with her nose, and then putting her head underneath it for a few scratches. 

“Honey’s never been wrong about anyone before,” Changbin gave them a satisfied smile. 

“Plus, she’s a war hero,” Minho said, “She killed Nor’goth.” 

The name sent a ripple of uneasiness through the crowd. Even you, who defeated him, couldn't help shifting at the words. Skin hard as rocks and dark purple Nor'goth towered several feet above anyone else. Burning orange eyes stared at you with hate as you challenged him. If it weren't for your allies, you may have died trying to defend your people and the mortal world. 

‘I will not suffer your insolence anymore, Multak! Prepare to meet your doom!”

“Is that true?” One man said with wide eyes. 

“It is,” he answered for you. “I don't know about you all,” he said, going down the steps, “But I think it's pretty handy having a demon around.”

An agreement mumbled amongst the townspeople, but you didn't care. “Chan, we're running out of time,” you hissed at him. “The longer we wait, the closer they get to completing their ritual.”

“To do what?”

“What else? Summon a being they have no business summoning,” you said. “It is going to blow up in their faces, and a lot of people can get hurt if we don't get a move on.”

“Alright,” he nodded. 

All the groups split evenly, everyone mounted their horses and began riding out of town. You looked around for Summer, realizing you'd left her at the Seo farm. No matter. You whistled a three note tune, and a burst of fire came from across the square. Summer dashed through the portal, charging past other people and horses to get right in front of you. She kicked the ground, head swishing as the commotion riled her up. Taking her reins, you held her still before mounting her. 

“YN!” Chan rode up to you on a white horse, “You’re with me. We’re checking the Choi mine.”

You gulped thickly, “Isn’t that the, um, spider one?”

“It is…” he then smirked and your cheeks burned, “Is our strong fire demon afraid of itty bitty spiders?”

“They are not ‘itty bitty’ and they’re gross!” 

His laugh made you grumble, and you charged ahead of him. Summer snorted, making you kick her sides lightly. “Hey, I didn’t pick on you about the snakes.” 

Running behind the group headed to the last old mine, you already pictured the eight-legged creatures likely waiting at the end. The old man mentioned that they’ve likely been driven out by the gang, so you clung onto that. Your skin crawled at the idea of having to fight ginormous spiders when a flash of white caught your attention. Chan’s horse, snowy white, came up to you once again. You got a good look at the animal, seeing the shimmer in its white coat and strands of silver streaked through its mane. Rather than fully black, the beast’s eyes glimmered a dark green color. 

How did Chan get his hands on a sea steed? 

“Where’d you get it?” you asked over the clopping feet. 

“What?”

“Your horse! It’s a sea steed! How’d you get it?”

He gave you a proud smile, “My Ma gave it to me!”

“Your Ma?!”

“She's a mermaid! You should meet her sometime!” He added.

“Your mother is a mermaid?!”

“Yeah, from the Southern Sea,” he said. “My Pa worked as a fisherman, and that's how they met.”

“You're a halfling then?”

“That's usually what people call me.” He then turned to you with a grin, “Not all of us halflings are so obvious.”

“What can you do then? Besides gathering search parties and solving crimes,” you smirked at him. For once, you're not the one under scrutiny. 

“Nothing extraordinary really,” he shrugged. “I used to sing whenever I worked on my dad's boat, since the fish would always come to me. But then I felt bad about luring them to their deaths so I stopped. I can breathe underwater…I could live in Hydrus if I wanted.”

“Hydrus?”

“It's the merfolk capital of the world,” he said. “My Ma sits on the city council. She's a healer there and has her own apothecary. She told me I could always come live with her, but I prefer being on land.”

“How come?”

“My Pa mostly,” he answered honestly. “He needs me more than her. She has her family down there; he's only got me and our dog. My sister lives with her, but she and my cousin come to visit sometimes.”

“Your sister?” 

“Hannah. She's got more mermaid than human, so she struggles living on land. Do you…Do demons have families?”

You gave it a thought. “In a way?” You decided, “We have our clan, which is a family. The Keepers are our parents, and everyone your age is a brother or sister; anyone older is an aunt or uncle.”

“Are you allowed to visit home or are you banished or something like that?”

You shook your head, “I can go if I wish. My horns…” you hesitated, “They're what I traded to live here, but I'm not exiled like some of my kin.”

“So, in a way, you fought against your family.”

“I did. I wasn't happy about it, but I did what I had to do.”

You pictured the demons you fought against during your ride. Brothers and sisters, standing on the other side of the field, severed their ties with the Shadowlands and became Nor’goth’s servants. It hurt you to fight them; you'd grown alongside most of them, and saw them as family. But, Sakmarth said those who break their vows are no longer part of the demon realm. You found that easy to understand but hard to carry out. 

The Choi mines happened to be several miles outside of town. Dusk began to set by the time you reached the outskirts of the mine. The trees around gave almost no sunlight. Whatever light did come through broke through the dark leaves in the canopies. The same canopy where you saw the thin, silver strands of webs. Cobwebs hung from the dark branches and stuck to the tree roots at the bottom. Apprehension settled into your stomach seeing them so high. Already, you felt their pincers snapping close to you and their furry legs skittering when they rushed around. However, seeing Chan and the other townspeople getting off their horses, you knew showing fear would disappoint them. You are Multak, fire demon and vanquisher of Nor'goth. You can't be afraid of anything. 

“Mr. Choi,” Chan looked at the wizened old man coming over to him, “What direction do we take from here?”

“Down this dirt path to the end,” he pointed at the path leading further inside. “My family sold the land when those damned tentaculars started nesting there. If the gang's anywhere, it is right here.”

Chan nodded and let him take the lead. He and several others kept their pistols and rifles ready as you carefully moved through the dead forest. One false step or loud twig might send a signal to any beasts in the area. You kept your hands firmly wrapped around the sword handle, doing your best to not tremble. You peered between thick patches of webbing; tricks of light and shadows created long legs and thick bodies creeping behind the silvery webs. There’d be no way for the gang to survive in arachnid infested woods; they’d be cocooned and devoured in minutes. Their warlock must have cleared them out; you might run into nothing along the way. At least, that’s how you comforted yourself. 

“I thought demons weren't scared of anything,” Chan teased. 

“I'm not scared.”

“Then why are you shaking?”

“Am not.”

“Don't worry, YN. If a spider comes, I'll kill it for you.”

You rolled your eyes, but the image left you feeling nauseous. Going deeper into the dense forest, you began hearing small cracks of twigs or rustling of leaves on the ground. The clicking and clacking of the tentacular species pinched your ears; you thought you might throw up right there. There used to be dozens back home, and you always avoided their nests. This forest is their ideal environment. 

“Wait,” Mr. Choi whispered, putting up a hand, “I see lights. Yeah, they're right there.”

A glowing orange light broke the darkness of the forest on your left. Everyone turned to see it hiding behind dense bushes and trees. Anxiousness stiffened your bones when you saw thicker webs in the trees above you. They must have scared them off not long ago if the webbing appeared so fresh.

“Fred,” Chan called the burly man, “You take Ryu, Harold and Donny and flank them on the right. Mr. Choi, Samantha, and Jenny will take them from the left.”

“And you, Sheriff?” the woman, Samantha, asked.

“YN and I will draw their attention.”

You hardly heard Chan’s orders. You didn’t keep your eyes off the trees for a moment. Phantom hissing and clicking sent shivers up your spine, leaving you in a cold sweat that wet your palms. Back home, clearing out spider nests or infestations was left to the newest soldiers. Shadowland spiders looked nothing like mortal ones. Their venom burned through flesh and bone, and their pinchers stabbed like sharp knives. You hated them. You pushed them from your memory as Chan encouraged you forward. Steeling yourself, you tried keeping your fears deep in your gut instead of on your face. You’re supposed to be a big, scary demon. You are a demon of the fire clan, a warrior forged from rock and flame; not a baby afraid of a few pests.

Very large pests

Carefully, you both walked towards the firelight. Chan kept his rifle pointed ahead and you kept your sword at the ready. The sounds of chatter and laughter caught your ears first. When you and Chan reached a small bundle of bushes, you crouched down to peek through the foliage.

Around a campfire sat four men. One of them, broad and wide, turned sausages in a skillet over the fire while another, slender and narrow, poured more ale from a barrel nearby. One lounged back against large sacks, his hat over his face and a fourth sat on the floor arranging coins into small piles.

“I got twenty gold here, Suho,” the one with the gold said. “That’s five pieces each. I thought you said Maurice would make us rich! This ain’t rich!”

“The real money’s coming soon,” Suho, turning sausages, said. “After he’s done with those kids, he’ll hand over the rest.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Idiots…” you whispered to yourself. The realization came to you right away, and you shook your head. “They’re the gifts.”

“Gifts?”

“In order to appease Yuth’ik, the summoner has to offer gifts to the god. This warlock did not really need lackeys to kidnap children; they could have done it themselves. They hired these bandits to then hand them over to Yuth’ik.”

“A double-cross…Suho wouldn’t like that.” He thought for a moment, then said, “Follow my lead.”

Chan stepped out through the bushes first, casually walking into the light. You went right after him, eyes sticking to your surroundings. From the rocky face behind them, you guessed they must not be far from the mine entrance.

“Evening, y’all,” Chan said in a friendly tone, “How’re you doing tonight?”

The four men scrambled to their feet. They each reached for a nearby weapon to hold up, but you noticed the shock in their eyes. Only Suho appeared calm and easy.

“Evening, Sheriff,” he replied in a casual tone, “We were just enjoying a nice campfire, some ale and the night time breeze. Care for some?”

“I’m afraid I’ll have to pass. I’m here on sheriff’s business tonight.”

“Is that so?” Suho glanced at his members, who sneered back at him. “That’s a shame,” he cocked his pistol, “Because I’m in the mood for bandit’s business tonight.”

“Do you happen to know anyone named ‘Maurice’, Suho?” Chan took a step forward, unafraid of the gun pointed at him.

“Nah, don't ring a bell, I’m afraid,” Suho shook his head.

“Hm, that’s strange. A little reptile hybrid said you might, and a few friends of mine have been looking high and low for him.” You heard his friendly, polite tone turn serious. “I thought The Hook clan didn’t harm children.”

“We don’t,” he said.

“But the person you’re working for does, and that’s okay by you?”

“I don’t work for anybody but myself,” Suho said.

“Stop with the games, Junmyeon,” Chan cut across him. “I know you and your gang have been kidnapping children from the town. You might be a thieving, no-good outlaw, but I never thought you’d be the type to hurt kids.”

“We don’t have anything to do with that.”

“We have your fingerprints on the trees where Barney Pebbles was taken,” he said. “Who’s Maurice and what is he doing with the kids?”

“I don’t know a ‘Maurice’.”

“Junmyeon…these children could be in serious danger. They’re innocent, and I know you wouldn’t let some psychotic warlock kill them.”

“Again, Sheriff, sorry to disappoint you, but we don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Do you even know the man you're working for, Junmyeon?” 

“I only work for myself, so yeah, I do know the man I work for.”

“Whoever he's summoning tonight is going to expect human sacrifices…and it's not the kids.”

“What'd you mean?” Asked the shortest one, wide eyed and worried. 

“He needs the kids to open the portal, but he has to have gifts to offer the tree god thing. I'm guessing that's you and your boys. Now,” he took another step, “You can tell us where he is and we stop him or you become an ancient being's dinner.”

You heard a small twig snap from somewhere behind you, and every nerve in your body stood on edge. It could either be a friend or a foe. A big, furry, hungry foe. Up in the sky, you saw the russet colors slowly fading to black. You’re running out of time.

“I still don't know what you're talking about,” Suho declared, but not as strongly. 

“-Junmyeon,” Chan came closer, “Don’t make this harder on yourself. Tell me where Maurice is, and you'll be free to move on.”

“Ha, I doubt that. You’ll have me cuffed before I even talk.”

“You're telling me you want to get eaten then?!”

You grunted and walked past Chan into the light. Eyes glaring at him, you let the fire light wash over you to give them a better view. All four men froze in place at the demon standing on the other side of their campfire. The cracking, burning wood crunched under your boots when you kicked their skillet aside and stood in the fire. The burning flames licked up your legs to your thighs, but you hardly felt them. You might as well have stepped into a warm bath. 

“Listen, scumbag,” you growled, making sure he heard it, “Tell us what you know about the warlock and where he is before I pull you into this fire with me.”

Suho, clearly not one to back down easily, pointed his pistol right at you. “Stay away, demon,” he said stiffly, though you could smell the sweat coming through his pores. Fear. Your demonic roots savored the fragrance, “Or I’ll shoot!”

In a swift motion, you reached out and brought the heavy man right to the edge of the fire. High pitched screams followed his panic kicking as flames danced close to his ankles. Suho tried uncurling your fingers from his shirt collar, but to no avail. You bore your eyes into his as you spoke.

“Where is Maurice, human?”

Too afraid of being burned, Suho did not answer you right away. You quickly looked to the men around him, seeing how they’d backed up and away from you. “I asked you a question,” you grunted, lowering him closer to the fire, “Where is he? Where?!”

“Pl-please!”

“Innocent children will have their lives sucked out of their bodies, and you’re standing there refusing to help them?!” You dragged him into the fire at last, though kept him above the lowest of the flames. The sound of running feet told you his members left him behind to be tortured. “Do you know what we do to people who harm children in the Shadowlands? Hm?” You brought him in closer, “We burn them!”

You dropped him into the fire, and Suho screamed hysterically. Rolling away, he rustled around on the ground to put out the tiny flickers on his back. Panting and sweating, the gang leader stared up at you in horror. Most likely because the fires burning inside you had finally reached your eyes. Their mortal hue turned into burning coals, and your fingers itched to set him aflame.

“In the mines!” he screamed, cowering under your fiery gaze. “He’s in the mines! He has his little pets helping him! Please, don’t eat me! Please!”

“Where’s the entrance?”

Suho whimpered, not answering.

“Where’s the entrance?!” you demanded. 

“Tha-th-that-t- wa-ay!”

He pointed to his left, and you nodded. Storming off into the nearby path, you already saw the sky gradually becoming darker and darker. The warlock could start their ritual at any moment.

“Hey!” you heard several pairs of feet coming up behind you, “Hey, what was that?”

Chan came up beside you, but you kept on moving. “Intimidation,” you said, “You weren’t getting answers, and we’re running out of time, so I stepped in.” You smirked over your shoulder, “Nothing makes a man talk more than under the threat of eternal flames.”

“You weren’t going to actually kill him though, right? That…That isn’t how we do things here.”

“Of course not,” you scoffed. “Yes, people like Suho deserve whatever fate they have coming, but when that happens is not up to me.”

“Oh…”

You knew why he asked that. “I’m not that kind of demon, Chan,” you told him, “I might be a demon, but I’m not a thrill killer. I only do it when-”

You stopped at the sight of metal tracks some yards away. The mine entrance was on the other side of them, dimly lit and foreboding. Empty cargo carts sat on the tracks, and you saw crates stacked on top of one another. Whoever worked this mine abandoned it long ago, and several residents had taken it up. All the fire from before extinguished when you saw the gargantuan spiders roaming the area. The stinging sensation of bile crept up your throat, and your skin started crawling again. Big and hairy, most of them varied in colors of white, gray and black. You almost turned back, but knew to do so now would be abandoning the children and also negating any perceived toughness. 

“Kind of hard to intimidate a wild beast, huh?” Chan asked, humored by your weak attempts. “Especially big ones with several pairs of eyes-”

“-Nothing needs that many eyes or that many legs!” you harshly whispered. “How can we get past them?”

“Fire,” Mr. Choi croaked from behind, pulling out a large matchbox. “It’s how my grandfather used to do it back in the day.”

“Works for me,” Chan shrugged, turning back to you, “YN? Would our fire demon like to handle the big nasty spiders?”

You stuck out your tongue at his smug smile. “I’d love to,” you responded pointedly. “Let me show you how it’s done.”

“Please, be my guest.”

He then made a hissing sound that made you punch his shoulder. You knew he was only teasing. Any other time, you’d tease him back but the sight of a spider coming down from the mountain with a bundle between two legs caught your attention. Fire. Warmth and light always scared off nocturnal beasts. 

Taking a step out of the treeline, a prickling sensation went up your legs, most likely the formation of goosebumps all over your body. You searched for a starting point for the flames, which happened to be the light shedding of webs along the tracks. In a single thrust of your hand, a bolt of red-hot fire shot from your palm and onto the metal tracks. 

Like a spark to gunpowder, the fire quickly began spreading. The beasts sensed the fire right away, and scurried away from the light. When one of them spotted you, it screeched loudly and scuttled over to you. With a high scream, your entire body went into a panic and you shot both hands out. Shrieking screams pierced your ears as the flames engulfed the creature, whose cries died out along with a few others. Your comrades, not wanting to miss out, started shooting. Gun blasts added to the fires scaring off the spiders; some of them took several shots while the proper marksmen got them between the eyes. 

“Come on,” Chan took one of your wrists, “Let’s get inside.”

“Inside?!”

You imagined more spiders awaited you in there, “This is no time to be a baby! Let’s go!”

Guiding you through the scorched earth, you kept your eyes peeled for any more spiders, but they’d appeared to have been killed or scared off. You’d gotten right into the entrance when your party came up behind you. 

“There’s more where they came from,” said Mr. Choi, “But don’t you worry. I grew up in this mine. I know it in and out.”

“Yuth’ik is an earth god,” you deduced from research, “He’s likely far underground where there’s roots.”

“I know the right place,” he nodded. 

Chan and Mr. Choi led the group, and you did your best to keep your shaking legs moving normally. Someone came up beside you. 

“You really showed Suho.” It was Fred, carrying his rifle across his chest. “I ain’t ever seen a man scared out of his wits like that before.”

“Being the good cop wasn’t working,” you shrugged, “So I played the bad one.”

“We could have used someone like you when this all started.” Once he realized how that sounded, he recovered, “I mean, the sheriff and his deputies are great at their jobs. It's…Things weren't being done quick enough.”

“I understand,” you said. The amount of webs did not match the spiders outside. There are more of them. “He was doing the best he could with what he had. I'm glad to be of some use here.”

Fred moved to talk again, but the group then stopped. In the spacious coal mine, you saw them right when everyone else did. High above the floor, cocoons hung from the ceiling and stuck to the walls. Bundles long and short were covered in several lengths of sticky webbing. You gulped back the fear burning in your throat, and stepped over to a nearby cocoon. About the average size of an adult, you poked it with your sword. When it didn't move, you looked at Chan with a worried stare. Your suspicions proved true when you cut a hole in the head to see the corpse of a young elf maiden inside. Sickly pale and blue, her paper thin skin and hollowed cheeks suggested she'd died ages ago. 

“How horrible…” Samantha frowned, opening another to find an old man. 

“Donny,” Chan looked at Fred’s farmhand, “Stay here with Samantha and start cutting the bodies down.”

“Harold and I'll keep watch,” Fred said, pulling out a flint to light a nearby stick. 

“Good idea,” he nodded his approval. 

As the other four started removing bodies, the rest of you went further into the mine. It didn't take much longer to reach the heart of the mine, and it was there that you thought you might scream. Dozens of spiders small and large covered the walls, and stood on the ground around a platform of rocks. None of them caught your scent yet, but one false move will have you setting the place on fire in a panic. You flinched when a warm hand grabbed yours. 

“Stay with me,” Chan whispered, his fingers gently taking your wrist this time. “We need to stick together.”

“The kids!” Mr. Choi gasped, pointing at the platform. 

Wrapped from the neck down in white webs, four children wriggled around an archway carved into the stone wall. You heard their sobbing pleas through the unrest amongst the beasts, and you forced out your fears. They needed you. It was then that you finally saw the warlock named Maurice. The top half of his body was a human torso, aged but strong with white hair braided back from his face. The bottom half was a spider's form, eight legs keeping him standing high above the children. That explained why the creatures hadn't killed any of the clan members. 

“My children!” He said, his voice a delicate hiss, “Tonight we bring forth the power of the old magic! We bring forth our salvation! We bring forth our victory!” 

The beasts approved, clicking and clacking in their language. 

“For centuries, mortals have feared our presence! They run from us! They hunt us down and kill us!” He continued, “But tonight, sweet children, the old god Yuth’ik will give us our redemption. We will have our revenge!”

“Ugh, disgusting creature,” Mr. Choi scoffed. “Let's get him-”

“-Not yet,” Chan stilled him with a hand. He scanned the area and shook his head, “There are too many of them. They'll overpower us. We have to be smart about this.”

“Or extremely dumb,” you said, a thought coming to you. “You stay hidden and wait for my signal.”

“YN!” 

Your knees wobbled walking towards the entryway into the main area. A human would be of no concern to the spider hybrid, but a demon from The Mar might keep him distracted. 

“-No more will you cower in your nests, feeding off scraps! You will have fresh meat!-”

“I wouldn't say my meat is fresh!” You shouted over the chatter of the room, “But demons are an acquired taste, I've been told.”

Maurice paused in surprise at the sight of you. Black eyes held you in their gaze. He had four of them. Nobody needed that many eyes.

“Ah,” he grinned, teeth sharp and white, “Here's the demon I've heard so much about. Was it you who harmed my children outside?”

“They were in my way.” 

Confidently, you walked through the horde, which parted to make way for you. Glittering black eyes stayed on you as you moved. Having them all in one place suffocated any fresh winds coming through the tunnel passages. Your skin prickled having them so close to you. You kept a tight grip on your sword at your hip, gripping so tight the pummel dug into your palm. No fear. Show no fear. 

“You know summoning an imprisoned god is against the celestial laws, Maurice,” you continued. “The Blind One doesn't take kindly to people who disobey him. I suggest you release those children and take your spider friends back where they came from.”

Maurice gave a mocking laugh, “As if you could do anything to stop me. Once my ritual is complete, no mortal alive could stop me.” 

He turned away from you to face the archway. “You'll have to give him something in return,” you said, “And be in servitude to him for life. I don't think you want to be someone's puppet, do you?”

“I will do anything I must,” he said. “I shall be the ultimate supreme lord. Everyone will bow down to me or suffer the wrath. The weak mortals you so eagerly helped will be scum beneath my feet.”

“Please, help us!” A red-haired girl with leaves in her hair cried. Sanghee, no doubt. “Help us!”

“Please!” said the werecat Hyeyoung. 

“He's going to kill us, please help!” pleaded a blond boy with concurved ears. “Help! I want to go home!”

“Silence!” Maurice shouted angrily over his shoulder. 

He lifted his head towards the arch and began muttering the incantation. It brought forth a vortex of black and blue, and gradually a white light broke through. You gasped at the recognizable swirls of The Abyss. Unrest rippled throughout the horde, who'd begun moving away as the portal opened. 

“Children,” the warlock called out to the spiders, “Dinner.”

You screamed as several spiders hurried towards you, some clawing over others to reach you. Fear and panic set inside you again, and erupted on its own. Bursts of fire cracked and burned the ground around your feet, keeping a protective circle as you started launching fireballs at any beast in sight. 

‘Bulgakgan!’

Flames shot out continuously from your hands, and as you moved in a clockwise circle, spiders were incinerated. One minute there, the next a stumbling ball of fire. Sensing a greater foe, the rest of the spiders began crawling away. This boosted your confidence significantly, and you switched to your sword. With another command, the dragonfire runes on your sword burned red and heated up the steel blade. Swinging and slashing the air, the spiders burned from the flaming steel alone. You hardly noticed the grunting and struggling occuring on the platform above you. 

Chan was locked in a struggle with Maurice. He blocked the hybrid's long legs with his arms, then gave a swift kick to the steady legs on one side. Maurice shot bolts of gray and black shadow magic at him. One barely grazed his bicep, and you heard his loud painful cry. Maurice, believing him finished, sent more shadow bolts at him just as Chan rolled away. Getting onto his feet, you watched through your own fight as Chan turned around. Mr. Choi, holding his own against his own foes, tossed him a rifle. Maurice chuckled right as Chan raised his weapon. 

“For Levanter Bay!” 

You heard the war cry from behind you. Fred, Samantha and Donny appeared, sweating and fueled with adrenaline as they covered the front entrance. A gunshot bounced off the walls, though the thick webs kept the sound suppressed. Chan's bullet missed, which amused Maurice, who curved his hands until more dark matter materialized between his palms. Chan quickly reloaded, but Maurice rushed at him. With another shadow bolt, he knocked Chan squared in the chest and launched him back several feet. 

You hurled a fireball at his legs, causing him to fall against the wall. This split second diversion was all Chan needed to shoot a bullet into Maurice's forehead from the ground. Their leader defeated, propped up by his legs, the other spiders disappeared from battle up through ceiling tunnels leading further into the mountain. You took deep breaths, heart pounding in your chest as you rushed over to Chan's side. 

“Chan, are you alright?” you asked, looking him over. 

The shadow bolt singed his shirt, the black mark vibrant against his chest, but otherwise no blood. It hadn't gone through completely. 

“Thick skin,” Chan winced through a laugh. “Merfolk side, they say.”

You both stood up on shaking legs, “Still, shadow magic is nothing to sniff at. You need to get that checked out.”

“Yes, ma'am,” he saluted halfheartedly. 

The thought of Chan being mortally wounded by shadow magic came to you. You'd grown to like Chan. You felt glad for his merfolk blood. His eyes glimmered even in the dim torch light, and his soft smile warmed your cheeks. You turned from him to see Mr. Choi cut the children out of their cocoons. To avoid more butterflies, you started helping him. 

“Papa!” 

Barney Pebbles ran to his father the second you freed him, weeping and reaching out before the man embraced him tightly. The other children took comfort in the adults who'd saved them. 

“Sheriff Bahng!” Dobin, furry with a black snout, ran over to him, “I knew you'd come! I told everyone you'd come for us!”

“Of course I did.” Chan hugged him and patted his back. “Your parents have been worried to all hell about you. Let's not keep them waiting.”

“Or stick around for more of those things!” You added, shuddering and sheathing your blade. 

The rest agreed and walked with you out of the mine. You took in deep breaths of fresh air, feeling the breeze cool down your body. Heat never bothered you, but it still felt nice to fan your flames. You watched Barney and Fred riding back on his horse, the young boy protected by his arms. Being raised in The Mar by the warrior fire clan, people thought your clan were cruel. In fact, it'd been the opposite. You sat on your horse, remembering the time an air demon healer soothed your cries after a particularly nasty spar in the yard. 

“Ma'am?” Hyeyoung sat on Samantha's horse, tearful and shivering. “Are you a real demon?”

“Yes, I am.”

“But demons are supposed to be mean.”

“I'm only mean to the bad guys.”

She grinned at this, but said nothing else as she leaned into Samantha's embrace. When you reached the main road, you caught up with Minho and Han towards town. Minho found nothing at his mine, and Han only ran into vagrants with nowhere to live. What you really anticipated was the missing children with their parents. Word spread about your mission while you'd been gone, and as you rode to the town square, all four children rushed to their parents. Cries of joy and smooching kisses reached your ears, and it brought warmth into your chest. 

“Oh, thank god!” Mayor Wallace appeared from the school house building, which doubled as a meeting hall apparently. He hustled over to Chan, “Chan, Chan, thank goodness you came back safely! And you got the children back too!”

“It wasn't all my doing, Gerald,” Chan insisted, dismounting his horse. “I had help.”

Mayor Wallace looked at you once more. You expected words of suspicion or caution, but instead he held out his hand, “Thank you, YN. We wouldn't have our children back if you'd not stepped in on time.”

“I was only doing my job, sir.”

“And a fantastic one you did.” 

Someone called him from afar, and he excused himself. The weight of the battle, using your own magic, and the adrenaline wore you down. The hazy feeling of exhaustion came over you  within minutes. You looked on the townspeople being reunited with friends and loved ones fondly, similar to scenes you'd come across during the war. The fear of the past few weeks lifted at the return of the four children. Taking a seat outside The White Pearl, you continued observing them. 

Nor’goth used to claim that humans were selfish beings that knew nothing of loyalty. They were animals that killed each other needlessly. The people of Levanter Bay proved him wrong. The mortal world proved him wrong. When the tides grew high and the odds stacked against them, mortals banded together under one flag. They created The Allies, and stood as one against a common enemy. The Shadowland cities did no such thing until the war, and Sakmarth liked to say mortals had much to teach them. You couldn't help being in awe of them at that moment. 

“Hey there, Honey,” you said kindly as the bear waddled up the steps towards you. She sniffed your palm once more, then licked it. “You should've mentioned you liked spiders. I would've brought back some legs.”

“They're too boney and don't have enough meat for her.”

With the pet came its tamer. Changbin stood at the door a foot away, leaning on the frame. 

“She usually eats salmon or roots and berries I pick up on my hunts,” he took a seat beside you to watch the community. “You really pulled it off, huh?”

“You doubted I would?”

“Not for a minute,” he shook his head, “But it's amazing. The kids are saying you had a flaming sword?”

“It's a rune blade.”

“Interesting,” he nodded thoughtfully. “You'll make big money off of this. Saving children from a spider hybrid must be-Haha, what's with the shudder?”

“I hate spiders,” you grumbled. “Why did it have to be spiders?”

He laughed and patted your back, “Come inside, hero. We cooked up a feast to celebrate. You look like you could use a drink or two too.”

“Good, I'm starving!” 

You went inside with him to find tables of food laid out. You went in right away, sneaking apples to give to Summer later on. As you tore into a chicken leg, Han and Minho appeared in front of you with their own plates.

“Spider hybrid, huh?” Minho sniffed, “I suppose we were wrong about the human warlock theory.”

“Very,” you nodded, taking a huge bite of your chicken leg before turning it over. “He hardly got a chance to summon Yuth’ik.”

“Chan said you got there in the nick of time,” Han said, forking mashed potatoes into his mouth. “He said he might have gotten killed if you hadn't come along.”

“And that he inherited his mother's skin,” Minho sipped an ale cup before saying, “Well done, Multak. I told you we'd have this thing finished by supper.”

You both grinned at one another before digging into your supper.

****

The festivities carried on through the night into morning. You crashed into your bed upstairs and passed out instantly. When you left your room for the common area downstairs the next morning, you were met with applause. This reaction startled you, But not as much as the praise. 

“Thank you, YN!” Fred Pebbles came over from the bar and lifted you into a bear hug. “From me and mine, thank you!”

“Woah, okay!” You laughed out your surprise. 

“We mean it,” Wilma walked up from behind him, holding out something to you. “Here, take this as a thank you.”

Made of pure tiger's eye, someone engraved the blazing sun into the small charm. It hung from a thick string that glistened in the sunlight.

“It's a tiger's eye,” she explained. “My people wear certain stones for different things. This charm will protect you on future quests.”

“Appreciated, Matriarch.”

She smiled at the elvish title. “No, thank you. Barney is our only son. When we heard he'd been taken, we thought he'd be dead for sure. It was by the light's grace that you showed up when you did.” You saw her watery eyes and hugged her tightly.

It then occurred to you that The Pebbles' weren't the only ones with tokens of gratitude. When Wilma and Fred left, the other parents met you outside. Sanghee’s grandmother gifted you a valerian plant, meant to bring strength and knowledge to you. Dobin's father and mother gave you a wolf tooth, a special gift given to allies of specific werewolf packs; Hyeyoung's werecat parents did something similar with a cat claw. But, it was the children who warmed you the most. 

“There's the demon lady!” Dobin said from across the square. 

They'd all been standing in the middle of the market with Han, who smiled at you. “Well, go on,” he encouraged, “Jump her.”

You flinched at the gaggle of children coming your way. They didn't jump on you, but they surrounded you. 

“Do you really have a flaming sword?”

“Can you make people turn into dust?”

“Hyeyoung said you set the spider man on fire!”

“Ms. Demon Lady, did you die?!”

You didn't know which one to answer first. However, their barrage of questions ended when Chan appeared. 

“Come on now,” he said, shepherding them away, “Don't crowd YN. You got school.”

The children groaned in disappointment, but still walked away. You fixed your jacket on your shoulders, watching them going towards the schoolhouse. Most people you helped handed you the money, and then sent you on your way. The people in those towns usually didn't know you'd helped them at all; they only cared when their own people rushed into danger. Yet, the cold reception you received when you arrived turned warm and friendly. 

“You've become pretty popular around here,” Chan told you. “You're all the kids have been talking about.”

“And clearly their opinion is the only one that matters,” you smiled in amusement. “How are the kids doing?”

“They're still shaken up, since, you know, a spider hybrid kidnapped them and planned on sacrificing them to a tree god,” he answered, “But they're happy to be back home. Thanks to you.”

“And you,” you added. “How's your chest? That bolt hit you pretty bad.”

“Minho took care of it for me,” he shrugged, though you noticed the slight wince when he did. “It just stings. Nothing to worry about.” He then fished in his pocket to withdraw a leather pouch, “The mayor wanted me to pass this onto you. Your payment.”

You opened the pouch to see dozens gold and silver coins in the bottom of the bag. With an approving nod, you already budgeted what amount went to what expense. 

“So, um, where do you plan to go now?” Chan asked you, hands in his pockets as he walked with you to the stables behind the White Pearl. “You can always pick up other jobs around here. Someone always needs help. Mrs. Young still has a boar problem; she says they keep eating her cabbages. I didn't know they even ate cabbage,” he added with a soft laugh. 

You chuckled, coming up to Summer's stable. Your horse kicked the ground gently, a greeting. “As tempting as Mrs. Young's boars sound, Summer and I were planning on heading to the capital.” You pet Summer's snout, smiling softly as she huffed. “Don't worry. We'll take a ferry there.”

Chan stayed silent, then said, “Um, that might be a problem.”

“How come?”

“The ferry isn't running right now,” he said, thumbs hooked in his pockets. “Our local sea serpent has been seen close to the bay, and the King declared the ferry closed to keep people safe. You know these sea monsters. They like knocking boats over and eating people.”

“The King said this?” You faced him, arms crossed in disbelief. “I didn't hear anything about that.”

“It came in an hour ago,” he said. “Private government papers and other boring stuff. The damn thing nearly swallowed a whole navy ship, so imagine a little transport ferry. Psh, they'd stand no chance.”

Not once did you ever hear a royal decree not being posted or spoken about anywhere. Looking over Chan, you noticed the slight curls in his black hair, pushed back from his face and left to grow out. Brown eyes looked at you with a twinkle of hope inside them. You supposed you could stay a little bit longer. It isn't as if you had important business anywhere else. Levanter Bay did not seem to be a terrible place; the sunshine is something to be desired, but the people were actually nice. You touched the tiger's eye necklace you'd been given, as if rubbing it might produce an answer. 

“I guess we can hang around here,” you said casually. “What do you think, Summer?” You asked your horse, “Want to hang around here for a bit?” You laughed when she grazed on the hay inside a feed bag. “I guess that's a ‘yes’.” 

“Great,” Chan grinned. “That's really great.”

“Looks like you're in luck then,” you walked up to him, casually, “You'll have someone help your station get out from under the bounties up on that board.”

“I'm not proudful. We could use a demon in this town. Except, maybe one that doesn't burn down a whole cave because of a few spiders.”

“There were more than ‘a few’,” you punched his shoulder, but he only laughed. “There were hundreds, and I took out a good amount before everyone else joined in. I noticed you, Sheriff, didn't fight any spiders.”

“I was fighting the biggest one!”

The two of you talked about Maurice and his disgusting army on the way back to the inn. You had enough gold to buy you food and board at the inn, and you actually liked Changbin and Honey didn't scare Summer. 

It's not such a bad place after all. 

***

A/N: Wow, my first Stray Kids fic (well, a real one. The last one doesn't count too much to me). I hope you guys really enjoyed this one! I have one for each of the members coming up soon! Like, comment, and reblog! it keeps posts alive <3

Episode 2 >

[flowersandbigteeth]

Your drider boyfriend takes you to your new home

General Plot: After having a bad dream about your death, your drider mate finds a new home.

Word Count: 1K

Drider (Vass) x GN reader

Masterpost

W: sfw monster fluff

Pyldris was a beautiful drider city. You bobbed on Vass’s back as he carried you past the massive stone doors that led to the endless network of drider caves built into the mountain. 

You’d thought it would be dark, but it was more an eerie light show. A jungle of bioluminescent fungus and mosses lined the caves giving it a soft glow. The variety they came in was staggering and somehow seemed to make up for the lack of a forest. Glow worms wriggled on the ceiling making it seem like there were stars above and the sky was endless. 

Vass had chosen it because here, nests were short and wide caves that driders filled with their silk to be comfortable. There was still city infrastructure so it was modern and as a tailor Vass could find work anywhere. He was notably talented with weaving and sewing. 

The streets were a bit tighter than you were used to, with driders crawling up and around the walls and ceilings on threads of web stretched between stones, but the air smelled sweet and somehow there was a slight breeze running through the caverns. 

You saw a few other humans on leashes, but what surprised you the most were the couple of humans you saw walking around alone wearing little blinking collars and backpacks. You tapped Vass’s shoulder and pointed to one, confused. You hadn’t seen a lone human in a long time. 

“I chose Pyldris for a reason, Dumpling,” he said, pulling you to his front so he could see you and giving you a knowing smile, “this is one of the most human friendly cities in the kingdom. Humans are allowed off leash here and there’s no silencing law as long as your human is trained to be quiet. Sometimes their owners let them run little errands for them, those collars are so someone can return them in case they get lost.” 

Your eyes got wide and Vass looked as if he wished he hadn't said that. 

“I mean…when they are very experienced…I don’t know if you…” he trailed off and you stifled a smile. He was afraid you would get lost. That was okay. You weren’t sure you wanted to go running off in this strange colony of twisting caverns alone, just yet, but the idea that you could someday was a little exciting.  

Your eyes stayed big as you took in your new home in Vass’s arms. There were lots of caves with glowing signs you couldn’t read and even soft music drifted from a few of them which surprised you. The city you’d been in before had been almost silent except for the scurrying of drider feet. 

This place seemed much more bohemian and eclectic with stands displaying lit posters dotting the streets. If you had asked Vass he would have told you they were advertisements, but to you it looked like the whole city was decorated with fancy art of smiling driders. 

Vass turned down a relatively more quiet and dark corridor lined with mostly purple glowing fungus and stepped up about four feet into a large round hole big enough to fit his body. 

“Welcome home, Dumpling,” he said, setting you down so you could walk around. The ground under your feet was a bit spongey, not rough stone like you would expect.

You couldn’t see much, because it was very dark except for the glow worms and dangling fungus on the ceiling. It appeared to be a round cave, maybe, it was too dark to see the boundaries, but the ceiling was lower than your previous home. It was maybe twenty feet high to give the drider’s larger form some more vertical space. 

Your things had already been delivered and were all arranged in crates in the middle of the floor. The rest of the space was empty except the occasional left over web from the previous tenant. 

“Let me show you the best part!” Vass whispered at you, his red eyes glowing in the darkness like a beacon to guide you behind him. You heard the tinkle of water as you followed him into the very large bathroom.

It was brighter than the other rooms due to a unique flower that bloomed on the walls. They looked a bit like delicate azaleas but they glowed bright blue and were dusted with glittering pollen. Motes of sparkling dust hovered in the air near their blooms. 

“This is a hot spring,” he said, pointing to the pink glowing pool of water in the middle of the room, “the heat nourishes the flowers and they provide light, which help the algae in the pool grow and make it glow. The water is very good for your skin. It makes it soft.” 

He pinched your cheek playfully and you giggled. It was different, but you liked this cave a lot more than the scary nest you’d lived in before. For one, you could walk around instead of dangling precariously all the time and two it had pretty things to look at instead of just darkness. 

Vass looked at you more seriously. 

“Do you think you will be happy here, Dumpling?” he asked.

You looked up to him and nodded, lifting your arms to be picked up. He grabbed you with the smaller arms on his front and passed you up to the bigger ones. 

“Do you want to go shopping for decorations tomorrow?” he asked, “Pyldris has lots more shops than where we were before. Tonight I have to weave a hatch for the front door, but then we can explore!” 

You nodded and yawned ready for a nap, so Vass wrapped you up and stuck you to a fresh bit of webbing to sleep, a very safe five feet off of the floor over the special soft flooring he'd paid extra to have it lined with, while he worked on preparing his nest for the two of you. 

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Holy crap I’m loving your writing! Im especially obsessed with Ken and the ranch owner

I’m wondering if you’d be willing to do an fem human reader x Ken where the reader gets a bit sick, nothing too serious but Ken absolutely freaks out and thinks the reader is dying or sum (he learned about death from Stero Barbie. Also spiders. He’s terrified of both) and the reader thinks it’s a bit funny so she’s like “yeah I’m dying” but then he gives her the most terrified and sad kicked puppy look and she has to explain that it’s just a cold lol

Awh thank you!! Im glad that ppl still love my barbie movie stuff even though barbie summer has come and gone 💔

........

There were only two things that Ken feared after beginning his new life in the Real World:

One is the mortality of humans, as Barbie told him all about how fragile their lives were and the two paths they were given: either growing old and dying peacefully in their beds, or some terrible occurrence cutting it short long before their time on this earth was up.

The second was spiders.

He especially hated the spiders.

You only recently discovered he had that fear after finding one of those 8-legged critters in your house--or more specifically in his room, where he came barreling out from as though he accidentally set something on fire.

At first, you thought he really did start a fire until he dragged you back into there, begging you to get rid of the "strange beast".

You had no clue what he could possibly be referring to....and then he pointed to the corner, where a little cellar spider sat completely unbothered, weaving its web.

In that moment, you realized you may have turned him arachnophobic, considering you did show him one insect-themed horror movie this past Halloween. He kept freaking out over it potentially growing horse-sized or injecting venom into his bloodstream when he was asleep.

But despite you assuring him neither of those things could happen (and insisting that the spider was more afraid of him), Ken refused to go into the room until it was gone.

You find it hard to fathom that this same doll who led an entire revolt, came to terms with his own identity crisis, and bravely made the transition to humanity....was totally inconsolable in the presence of a tiny bug.

Then again, maybe showing him that movie--and allowing Barbie to explain why arachnophobia was among the top fears humans had--was a huge mistake.

Regardless, you made it your mission to get rid of the critter.

Oddly enough Ken insisted that you didn't actually kill it, but you found you it sweet that he valued its life despite it scaring the shit out of him. So you contained it in a cup, putting a napkin underneath it before releasing it outside.

After that, you mentioned how most people usually killed spiders and other pests that invaded their home.

He looked wildly uncomfortable at that fact, before he began talking about some rather... concerning things: like if the spider knew how short its lifespan was, how easily it could have been crushed, if it feared death or if it was even aware of it at all-

Before he could derail and start rambling about death itself too much, you stopped him, asking if he was feeling alright.

And he went quiet for a moment, before smiling and giving you a kiss, reassuring you he felt better.

Yet even as he left the room, he still appeared awful tense.

It was that day where you worried that it's more than just spiders he feared..

.......

"Babe, what's wrong? Are you sick??"

"...unfortunately, but it's nothing serious. Just a stupid cold I caught at work." Sighing tiredly, you sat up in bed, seeing Ken walk into the room.

He looked nothing short of horrified at how drained and exhausted you sounded this morning. "A-Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I don't want you to catch anything, so I'm sorry...but no kisses today."

"Then..what about tomorrow?"

You just rolled your eyes, drinking some tea you made for yourself. "Maybe, but we'll see if I wake up."

Although it was meant to be a little joke, your foggy brain forgot how seriously the blond often took jokes, and he rushed to your bedside, kneeling down.

His eyes were wide as he took your hand. "If you wake up??? Are you dying??"

Putting down your mug, you sighed once more, trying to figure out a way to remedy this situation before you upset him too much. "No....I mean I just feel like I'm dying, but.." You paused, noticing the tears coming to his eyes. "Ken?"

Now that he was a lot closer, you could see the utterly terrified look on his face--as though you kicked a puppy right in front of him.

Yep, it was already much too late. He was upset.

"I-I know tomorrow is not guaranteed for anyone, but you have to get through this, [y/n]! Please..I can't lose you, too...not when you've done so much to help me." He was extremely close to crying, his lips trembling.

Your heart sunk as you placed a hand ober his own. "Oh honey, I was only kidding around when I say-"

"Why do humans joke about death so much? Don't they know y-you...you can't come back? That they have such short lives?? O-Or sure, some believe you can be reincarnated but that doesn't make it any-"

At this point, he was just blubbering nonsense, so you took him into your arms. And for a moment he fell silent, before burying his face into your chest, trying to calm himself down. "I-I'm sorry.."

"No, no..I'm sorry. You're right..I shouldn't be joking about death around you." Frowning slightly, you stroked his hair. "I promise I'm not dying. Not today, or tomorrow..not for a long, long time. This cold will pass and I'll feel better soon enough."

".....a-are these the irrepressible thoughts of death Barbie had?"

'Oh.'

It finally hit you.

He was going through the same thing she once did.

"Ken.." You had him sit up so you could see his face. Aside from it being a little red and his eyes puffy and watery, there were tear marks trailing down to the stubble that had formed along his jaw and chin. "Why didn't you tell me you were having those thoughts?"

Sniffling, he just shrugged. "I don't know. And... I don't know why I'm thinking them. Barbie could blame it on somebody who was playing with her, but...I can't. Because I'm not a doll anymore, I'm human....a-and...those were my thoughts alone." He shuddered, terrified at that realization. "I guess I just..didn't wanna scare you, b-but obviously it's too late for that..."

A small chuckle came from him, although it dissolved into a small sob as he wiped his eyes. "S-Sorry, I....I want these thoughts to just pass already."

"And they will." You nodded, squeezing his free hand reassuringly. "It looks like you're just experiencing them for the first time, and that's okay. They won't be all you think about. And you don't have to apologize for how you're feeling, as long as you're honest with me."

"Th-Thank you.." He sniffled. "I should be taking care of you, not the other way around. Do you need you anything? More tea? Meds? Anything at all?"

You smiled fondly, leaning forward to kiss him on the forehead. "You're all I need right now, sweetheart."

That response seemed to bring Ken's giddy old self back, as he smiled bashfully in return. He melted back into your arms when you wrapped them around him, and he listened to your heartbeat: the only assurance he needed that you were still living.

Eventually...those thoughts of death did pass him by, and he felt okay again.

[deatthmatch]

CLOUD NINE - CHRIS S.

summary - y/n gets invited to nate’s party when chris spots her and invites her out for a smoke. what happens when chris asks to ditch the party and go back to his?

requested - no

warnings - smut smut smut !

note - this is the first smut (and any type of fanfic in general) that i’ve written in like 8 years, please go easy on me lmfao!!

———————————————————————

as i pulled up to the party i gave myself one last moment to breathe, before opening the door to chaos.

nate was throwing a party, and if there was one thing you need to know about nate, it’s that he knows how to throw a damn party.

i flatten out the bottom of my dress in a weak attempt to make yourself feel more confident- then i braced all and twist the door to enter.

holy fuck was it loud. and holy fuck was there about 9000 people here. maybe a tad exaggerated, but you get the point.

i began to try and weave myself through the aimless bodies dancing and grinding, hoping to either find a friendly face or a bottle of vodka. as i made my way through the crowd, i spotted a boy stood in the kitchen.

christopher owen sturniolo.

possibly the finest man i have ever laid my eyes on.

i staggered my way through the last bunch of people to make it to the kitchen and grab a drink.

i poured yourself a heavy amount of vodka and grabbed whatever mixer i could find, downing it as fast as i physically could. i did NOT want to be sober and bored at this party.

i looked up, as chris eyes fell on me, a look of intrigue and impressed painted his face. a blunt fell from his slightly parted, pink lips.

“damn, ma. you good?” he chuckled, and i smiled back as a light giggle escaped my lips.

“yes, chris. i’m fine. i just don’t want to be sober for a second longer.” i replied, giving the boy a faint smile and he laughed in agreement.

“come out with me, help me smoke this? i would smoke it with matt or nick but they’ve literally disappeared to fuck knows where.” he rolled his eyes.

“oh yeah for sure, i’m down.” i looked at the boy timidly, as i waited for him to lead the way.

chris began to walk us both through the crowd of people to get to the garden, hopelessly i grabbed his arm in order not to lose him within the web of drunken and high people. without me even noticing, a small blush etched onto his cheeks.

after what felt like forever, the two of us finally made our way through the abundance of bodies, into the garden. the night was almost black but the moon lit up the garden effortlessly. stars littered the sky, almost twinkling at us.

chris took seat on the grass, and i followed suit, sitting next to him as he lit up the blunt. he inhaled deeply, eyes closing at the feeling of the smoke filling his lungs. he exhaled and passed it to me, and i’d be lying if i said my heart didn’t practically skip a hundred beats when our fingers skimmed each other. i repeated, as i looked up at him with a smile plastered on my face.

“so chris, besides you losing matt and nick, why’d you bring me out here and not…like nate or something? we barely speak.” y/n questioned the boy, taking another hit before passing the blunt back to chris.

he brought the blunt back to his lips, and as he was inhaled i just couldn’t help but admire how pretty they looked.

“well, you were alone, i was alone, i thought it was the perfect opportunity.” he responded, puffing on the blunt and passing it back to me.

“oh, perfect opportunity? is that right?” i smirked, blowing out some smoke into his face.

he shook his head with a small chuckle, “i mean i didn’t….i didn’t mean it like that, i just thought you were chill.” he continued.

“yeah, yeah.” i giggled, teasing him. i went to pass the blunt back to chris but he shakes his head- i stomped it out as it’s pretty much done with now. a silence falls between the two of us for a few minutes as i stared into the night sky.

i leaned my head onto chris’ shoulder in an attempt to make myself more warm.

“sup ma, are you cold? you wanna go somewhere else?” he inquired, and i lazily nodded my head back as a yes.

the taller boy stood up, and held out his hand for me; i happily obliged by taking it softly. “i was thinking, do you wanna maybe uh get out of here? go chill at mine instead?” he asked, looking at me intently. a rose colour tinted my cheeks as i looked back at the boy, “umm, yeah, yes sure why not!” i answered, a nervous pit in my stomach. was it anxiety or butterflies? i literally couldn’t tell the difference at all. a grin was etched on his face as we began to make our way to the front gate of the garden.

“my house is literally like, round the corner so we’ll be there in no time.” chris informed me, as we both began walking the short journey to his house.

he wasn’t joking because as we were making goofy jokes for what felt like 30 seconds, we already arrived at his front door. he opened it, making sure it’s still open for when his brothers returned and lead me to his bedroom.

“you want a drink or anythin’? food?” he quizzed, and i shook my head no. “i’m okay, but thank you.”

he strutted towards his wardrobe and found a large tshirt, chucking it at me. “here, you’ll be comfier in this.” he said sweetly. “thanks chris!” i replied, as i began taking my shoes off. chris turned around to give me privacy, while i unzipped your dress and slid it down my body.

underneath my dress i only wore a thong, i mean the cups in the dress did the job so as i was getting ready for the party i figured i wouldn’t need one.

all of a sudden, i felt myself walk towards chris, i patted him on the shoulder. he turned around, not expecting to see what he was looking at. he scanned my body up and down, licking his lips ever so slightly. his eyes lingered on my lips for a few seconds as they came back up to meet my eyes. “y/n…” he started, before wrapping his calloused hands around my waist. “is this okay?” he questioned, i looked at him, almost afraid to breathe as i nodded my head slowly. i wrapped my arms around his neck and all of a sudden our lips met.

the kiss began slow but ever so quickly it became rough and desperate. i tangled my fingers in chris’ hair, pulling ever so slightly. the boy let out a small groan from the back of his throat, and i took the opportunity to slip my tongue in his mouth at the cue. he began walking us both back towards the bed, and as i fell into the mattress chris’ body was on top of mine.

i broke away for air, as chris kicks his shoes off not caring where they land. i tugged at the bottom of his shirt signalling for him to take it off. “use your words, pretty girl.” he smirked, bringing his grip to my waist. “off, please chris.” i whined, furrowing your brows. he chuckled lowly as he complied, removing his hands from my waist to take off his top. “is that better, baby?” i nodded sheepishly.

“what did i say? use your words.” he repeated, looking at me in a demanding tone. i whimpered, “yes!” he shook his head. “yes what?” he encouraged, “yes daddy.” i whined, as a satisfied grin spreads across his face. “hm, good girl. now what am i gonna do with you?” he said rhetorically, as he trailed his long fingers over my stomach. my breathing became laboured and began to speed up as i felt myself getting wetter by the second. “please, anything, just touch me!” i cried, wanting nothing more than to be feeling chris’ hands touching me in every place i was imagining.

an almost sadist smirk spread across his face, as he brought his hands up to my chest, tracing his fingers down my sternum at an agonising pace. he trailed further and further and stopped at the line of my underwear. “please stop teasing, it’s so unfair i need you.” i whimpered, drawing a laugh from chris’ throat. “awe, is that so baby?” chris said in response, as he lightly dragged his fingers down my underwear, emitting a shiver from me. “i can already feel that you’re so wet for me baby. i got you all worked up, huh?” he said, as he began to pull my thong down- i lifted my hips almost instantly to help get them off quicker. “such a good girl for me, helping daddy. aren’t you?” he praised, eliciting a light moan from me. “yes, daddy. ‘m only your good girl.”

chris’ fingers dances around my thighs, but before deciding to tease me for too long, he dipped them between my folds to feel the wetness coat his fingers. “mmm, so fucking wet for daddy.” he begun, “suck.” he demanded, as he brought his fingers to my mouth. i took both his fingers in my mouth with ease, sucking and licking whatever was left on them. chris took his bottom lip between his teeth watching me, almost letting out a moan. “bet you taste so good. you gonna let me taste you, pretty girl? gonna let me use my tongue to make you fall apart?” he spoke, his words alone making me lose my mind. “god, yes, yes please. do whatever you want to me.” i spluttered out, not caring how pathetic i sounded. chris leaned in to kiss me again, tasting me from my own mouth. this garnered a moan from the boy, deepening this kiss. he began trailing the kisses down my jaw and neck, sucking purple bruises into the skin. he made his way down to my boobs, taking my left nipple into his mouth, licking it and sucking it causing whimpers to escape my lips. he moved to the right side to give it the same amount of attention before coming off and blowing on them slightly- causing a shiver to go up my spine. the kisses continued down my stomach and to my thighs, continuing to leave purple marks on them and nibbling at the skin. it was becoming harder and harder to keep quieter when he was becoming closer to the place i need him most.

“you ready, princess?” chris asked from between my thighs. almost as fast as lighting i began nodding.

without wasting a second chris licked a stripe between my folds gathering the wetness on his tongue. “taste so fucking good, baby.” chris moaned into you, as he placed a kiss to your clit. without warning he began sucking on it, bringing his left hand up to your pussy and shoving two fingers in. you threw your head back, a loud moan falling from your mouth. “oh, fuck! oh my god.” the profanities were spilling from your mouth as chris sucked and licked at your clit, pumping and curling his two fingers inside you at an ungodly place. “gonna be a good girl and cum on daddy’s face?” the boy asked, though it sounded like more of a demand. “yes, yes fuck keep going.” you managed to whimper out, feeling the heat spread and the knot build up in your stomach. chris sucked on your clit harshly as your thighs tightened around his head, your eyes rolled back as your orgasm washed over you. “o-oh my god, fuck, i’m cumming!” you screamed, legs becoming weak and shaking. chris let you ride out your high, removing his fingers and mouth from your pussy. he sat back up, unbuckling his jeans and pulling them down along with his boxers. his cock slapped against his stomach, precum leaking out the tip. your eyes widened slightly at the size. “be a good girl and spit on daddy’s cock.” he instructed, and you obliged quickly, moving towards the boys cock and spitting on the tip. chris jerked himself off slightly to coat his cock in your spit. “face down, ass up princess.” he ordered, and you complied. you felt his presence behind you as he placed a hand on your hip, one on his cock to help line himself up with your hole. he pushed his whole length into you, giving you a second to adjust. “move, please.” you whined pathetically, and without giving you a second to prepare chris began thrusting into you at a rapid pace. “so tight around my cock, baby. feels so fucking good taking you like this.” he moaned out, bringing his right hand down to slap your ass, leaving a red mark. “fill me up so well, daddy.” you cried out, as chris grabbed a first full of your hair and pulled your head backwards. “yeah you like taking daddy’s cock, huh? like being my little slut?” he groaned in your ear. “fuck, yes! love being your slut!” you whimpered in response. “rub your clit for me, princess. wanna cum with you at the same time.” he directed. you brought your hand to your clit, rubbing it in circles as chris pounded you from the back, occasionally spanking you and leaving handprints on your cheeks. “getting close, fuck.” you moaned. “me too baby, be a good girl and cum with daddy.” he commanded, as you felt your legs begin to shake for the second time that night. your orgasm quickly built up as you let out a string of moans and whimpers, gripping the sheet as you rubbed your clit. “fuck, ‘m cumming again daddy!” you whined, as you felt chris’ hips stutter. “gonna fill you up with my cum, baby.” chris grunted, his jaw going slack as he released his load into you, fucking you both through your highs. he slowly pulled out of you, his cum dripping out of your hole.

“come on, let’s get you cleaned up. bet you’re glad you left that party with me.” chris laughed as you rolled your eyes.

tag list ; @abbie13sworld @christinarowie332 @mangosrar @soursturniolo @s1urnioloslvr @strniohoeee

[sasster]

Walking on Glass

And I do solemnly swear that this is the last set of new trolls I make for a long while.

So what’s the Colmea guy’s deal, anyway? [doc]

-- “Now you’ve really done it.” The child, and she can’t be more than five sweeps old, smiles around a juicebox from her perch. “He’s not going to be happy about this one little bit.” Her warning fills you with just enough dread that it roots you in place.

The he in question is, for the short time that you’ve known each other, very particular of the fungal colonies that throng throughout the lab like a great big web. Some of them in larger terrariums cobbled together and the others in their much smaller quarantines. He was more protective of these small quarantined batches than he was of anything else, even the aquarium that sits nearly ceiling to floor and across the back wall of the lab, housing a handful of species of jellyfish, with the largest, and need for such ample volume, being his overgrown lusus. Nemopilema nomurai, he once whispered into your ear when he caught you staring at her.

She is quite the daunting thing, with what must be a ten or fifteen-foot diameter and countless feet of long sprawling tentacles, tendrils, and tangles of some sort of marine fungus weaving around and within them. He never offered a scientific name or approximate for it, and to be fair, you never asked.

Conversations with the man always centered around his research, his precious colonies, that you’d been helping him with. The science he always mumbled, mostly to himself, was difficult to parse on a good day, on a bad day he stopped pretending to try altogether.

Your role, as far as he was concerned, as far as you understood, was only a very small part.

A collective consciousness. The only colony that survived the interaction with your mutation to the point that you started to become one. Once again, the science of it all was lost on you, something about parasitic symbiosis or some other, but the piece of it he’d gotten into you somehow took root and you’d found yourself actually talking to it.

Making decisions with it.

It was only natural you’d want to get a closer and better look at it, right? 

“It was a mistake.” Is all you can manage, staring at the ground that almost glitters with the way the ambient lights of the tanks shine off of the glass of one of the smaller, now shattered, terrariums that litters the floor. Many of the stray shards lance through the colony in places that look fatal even to the untrained eye.

“It was a mistake.” She mimics, not quite getting the cadence right, but the road work is there, so there’s maybe a future in ventriloquism for the kid. “I think he’s gonna feed you to Big Mama.” She indicates the tank with the massive jellyfish in it, punctuating the thought with the insufferable sound a straw makes when it reaches the end of a drink.

Colmea couldn’t be that unreasonable, could he?

As if summoned, and you don’t think she sent for him, the door opens as soon as the fear creeps up on you.

There is a severe way that the doctor has about carrying himself, a stern expression attached to whatever it is he lets his gaze fall on. Right now that is solidly on you. The gravity of the situation and the weight of the girl’s words leave you incapable of removing yourself from the scene of the crime, after all. You’d only reached a harmless hand in to touch it, how could you predict this outcome?

“It was a mistake.” You whisper desperately as he fully enters the room, the picture of serenity, taking in the scene before him. He does not regard you or what you’ve had to say for yourself.

Even if the colony was not sliced through as it was, the abrupt displacement from its aquatic habitat would have done enough on its own to paint a grim scene, splattered across the floor like an abstract painting. He surveys the damage quietly, a ponderous god, visage poisoned by the blue and pink glow of the lights within neighboring tanks. Now his gaze flits about from shard of glass to shard of glass, as though looking for answers in the mosaic they make up on the floor.

Everything in the lab has become remarkably still, even the girl in the corner has ceased vacuuming the bottom of the juice box in favor of savoring the silence that smothers the room, deafening even over the bubbling of the surrounding tanks.

Colmea does not rush in, ready to collapse to the floor and mourn the loss of his experiment, instead he is carried further into the room by slow and deliberate steps, each one a soft tap against linoleum that crushes the glass beneath it. The answers to questions that he does not bother voicing slotting into his mind as he advances, and if those answers change any part of his expression, which you suspect it doesn’t, it goes unnoticed when his contemplative steps take him into the shadow of his colossal lusus.

Far too long passes before he is standing directly in front of you. Very briefly, a crack in his veneer provides a view into the ever-feared high blood rage bubbling beneath the surface.

“Myriad,” he addresses the girl, still up on her perch by the edge of the jellyfish enclosure. “The colony?”

Myriad makes a face like she is seriously concentrating, an expression you’ve come to understand means she is reaching into her mind to find her natural connection to the fungal colonies that surround her. Not as a member of the collective, but as an eavesdropper. Her game goes on for too long and it is clear that she is only playing up the dramatics, reveling in your dread, when the pensive god clears his throat.

“Dead as a doornail!” She reports, cheery as she was when she delivered her taunts moments before his arrival. It should hurt, but you already knew. You felt it, a part of you, die the second the tank hit the floor. “No survivors, wiped out!”

The ghost of something horrific crosses behind his eyes.

He nods.

His demeanor does not betray him and there is no warning when he strikes, just the stinging feeling left behind by a backhand that causes you to lose your balance. With a hideous crunch, your knees fall into the ruin below, the salty remnants from the enclosure mingles with the fresh wounds and sends a significant shock through your system. So significant in fact, that you make neither a move nor a sound. 

Colmea shakes his hand loose, the anger that boils just beneath but never quite breaking the surface places a dangerous dose of malice behind his eyes.

“Myriad, find me a broom.” He commands, and as soon as it leaves his mouth, her feet hit the ground right behind you with a crunch that makes you wince. A stifled giggle followed by her plodding along tells you it was an intentional assault on her part.

His hand is wrapped up in your hair before the door closes behind her and he lifts you up to meet his eye line, all the while winding more and more of it up until he finds scalp, as though he is handling something that weighs about the same as a stuffed animal. 

There is no growling, no deep orange eyes signaling danger, just a furrowed brow and a deep sigh. “I had such high hopes for you.”

“I,” you start to plead your case, tears welling at the corners of your eyes at the realization that your mutation did not make you special enough, but he does not give you the opportunity to continue. Instead, your face is acquainted with the glass of the aquarium with such force that it rattles the base of the enclosure and causes some of the smaller species of jellies inside to send off bright sparks of light, in hopes of startling whatever predator they assume has invaded.

All they really succeed in is disorienting you all the more, your face making contact a second and third time before stars start to decorate your vision and the edges begin to blur. Something cracks, and it is not the glass.

Still, the angered god does not growl or snarl. Nor does his reflection, warped by a myriad of things between the forming concussion and the glass of the aquarium, broadcast anything beyond his mild indifference.

Your face hits the glass a few more times before the girl returns from her quest and he finally relents, dropping you to the floor with a sigh. In the same moment, the stars in your vision become angry black splotches, eagerly rushing out to meet those blurred edges.

[cult-of-the-placeholder]

shamura post-narinder betrayal headcanons? a disability headcanon or two if you feel comfortable maybe. i may or may not have been projecting my own traumatic brain injury onto them oops

Oooh absolutely anon! I've had sooo many angsty thoughts about Shamura. If you have any thoughts of your own about them, I'd love to hear!!

- Their memory is very inconsistent. Some days they seem almost perfectly fine, the way they were before: clear headed and focused. Those days get more and more uncommon as time passes, and their condition varies wildly. Sometimes the brain fog gets so bad, they forget that Narinder was banished: imagine them wandering around aimlessly, calling his name, confused on why they can't find him. Going to each of their siblings, asking where in the world Nari has gotten off to

- At one point they let themselves into the underworld to search for him, thinking that perhaps Narinder had gotten himself wrapped up into another depthless research project and had simply lost track of time. It had happened before. So they went to see him and were horrified to find him in chains: rushing up to see him and asking, "Brother, what is this?! Who did this to you?! Are you alright?!" Already trying to break the chains but of course, they can't, as the chains are tied to the Bishops' life force.

- Kallamar had to cast a seal around the Temple of the Dead so Shamura couldn't get in anymore, after that. They essentially have to relive Narinder’s betrayal all over again as the younger ones told them the truth, and the sheer devastation wasn't something any of them wanted to go through again

- For awhile after their head injury, Shamura was mute. They used telepathy to communicate and preach their sermons. Speaking again took a good amount of practice, and they usually did so with Kallamar (because he's hard of hearing without his crown, it was the perfect set up to practice projection and volume)

- Shamura gets horrific splitting migraines, especially when it's time to change their bandages. Their eyes are sooo sensitive to light and the slightest sound causes awful tinnitus that they can't escape no matter how hard they try. The pain is so bad it's dizzying and disorienting, at which point they delegate the High Priest or Witness or someone else to conduct the daily sermons until they've recovered

- Their sense of taste is all messed up, and though they don't need to eat they used to really enjoy a nice hot cup of sweet camellia tea or sipping mortal blood from sacrifices, but now they just taste so wrong and different and gross. Leshy spent a few decades experimenting with growing new tea leaves to find one that tasted right to Shamura, and they're very grateful for it

- Shamura is a clairvoyant seer, but after their injury the visions slowed down, and became more fragmented. Or maybe they just can't recall all the details? It remains a mystery. They used to weave their prophecies into webs and tapestries, but now it all ends up recorded in broken riddles in blank books in their library

- They still love to read, but because of their issues with memory, they'll read the same book "for the first time" more than once, and if it's something they particularly enjoy, you can bet your ass that their siblings get to hear about it multiple times. They always nod along and ask questions and are very supportive--it's nice that, even as awful as things are now, Shamura can still find joy somewhere

- Switching gears for a second, a couple hcs that don't focus specifically on their struggles with health: the siblings don't see each other as much anymore, as with one member of their family missing nothing feels quite right. They don't get together as a group as much anymore, but Shamura makes it a point to visit their younger sibs. Their visits are usually quiet, peaceful: sometimes, they'll go sit in the gardens with Leshy or enjoy some hot stew with Heket, or help Kallamar sort through his medical library. They visit all of them at least once a year, which doesn't seem like a lot but to a god it's pretty frequently

- Narinder’s banishment really broke Shamura's heart. I hc that they had a vision of it on the day Nari was born, but refused to strike him down because they loved him so much. They still have a portrait of the two of them, hung up in their library: Leshy painted it, the two of them leaning against one another with a shared book abandoned in their laps, peacefully asleep. It's a perfect recreation of that moment, and the warmth and peace they get looking at it almost overshadows the grief of Narinder's loss

- Shamura makes offerings to an old shrine dedicated to their brother, every year on the anniversary of his banishment. Flowers, a sculpture, even the blood of a sacrifice: anything, so that Narinder knows he's still loved even if they can never be together again

- Y'know that old quote? "May these thousand winters swiftly pass I pray, I love you, I miss you, all these miles away."? That's literally Shamura and Narinder. They aren't angry with Nari, they don't hate him, they bear him no ill will: even after everything, all they feel toward their little brother is love, and a great, looming melancholy at his absence

[bright-and-burning]

thank you k @mecachrome i LOVE to yap and i love to see other ppl yapping!!! f1 tag game time!!!

Who is your favorite driver?: lando's grip on my brain should be studied in a lab tbh

Do you have other favorite drivers?: i am fond of many many drivers... oscar obviously is #2 to me. just the tiniest bit below lando, sorry oscar <3 and then there's a medium sized gap to anyone else but i am extremely fond of the williams guys. and i am studying alpine and aston martin like bugs. and i have a lot of blorbo-in-laws that i feel very fond of...

Who is your least favorite driver?: it depends on the day whether i even dislike anyone or not. today i feel neutral and up about everyone!! sometimes i distinctly do Not feel neutral... (usually during races)

Do you pull for drivers or do you like teams as well?: i am very driver oriented but obviously my like . internal ideas about drivers are heavily influenced by who their teammate is/what team they're on. and since i've been into f1 the driver lineups have. not changed. so in my head the teams n the driver pairings are pretty immutable (obviously that will Change djfldsakjfa)

If you like teams, what team do you pull for?: i am so deeply attached to the orange bitches 😔 i just watched the season 6 mclaren dts episode and when claire williams went “the likelihood of a team being able to turn around their performance to any kind of significant degree during a season? i can’t tell you how difficult it is. it’s pretty much unheard of” i just smiled SOOOO evil. sooooo evil. i believe in andrea stella's hot nerd vibes bless that man

How long have you been into F1?: since uhhhh approximately one week after qatar 2023. made this account right around cota 2023

What got you into F1?: twitter algorithm put some tweets about the shitshow that was qatar on my timeline (literally one of them was just. a little of names and like . blank threw up. blank was hospitalized. blank couldnt get off the ground.) and i was like:

(why is that picture SOOO large) and also i had been admiring the f1 web weaves for a while bc i would look at the 'web weave' tag and half of them would be f1 and i was like wow. these guys have a collective shit ton of daddy issues. fascinating... tbf!!! i have always been sports brain lol. just never quite rpf sports brained? so the stars aligned for this fr (recommended tweets, f1 web weaves, and me being unemployed, geographically isolated from all my friends, and severely depressed)

Do you enjoy Fanfic/RPF?: yes . i am constantly cooking . everyone here is soooo smart and cool and the writing is genuinely so incredible. and 8104 specifically has just like. a really dope bunch of ppl ive become friends with that i am constantly like. wow i cant believe these ppl want to talk to me!!! (k you are included in that <3)

How do you view new fans?: by looking in the mirror... djfladsj jk. i am a new fan! i am not a ""dts fan"" (have literally watched two episodes Ever and one of them was today) but none of it matters and i don't really find those kind of lines to be helpful. i have disagreed with ""dts fans"" and i have disagreed w ppl who started watching before i was born and i'd do it all again (this probably says more abt how opinionated i am than anything else)

If you could take over as team principal for any team, who would it be and why?: personally i am delusionally confident enough to believe i could run that bitch like the MARINES. at the very least i would not be running my mouth like toto lol. vibes wise idk if i could do it at Any Team (like. imagine mercedes being run by a punchy american woman. LMFAO. imagine FERRARI) (i'd say mclaren for papaya reasons but a) andrea stella i could never replace you and b) i think i would set zak brown's fuckin sports car on fire day 1.) but based on location only alpine!!

Are your friends and family into F1 as well?: uhhhh no. my dad went to exactly one motorsports event when he was like my age maybe a year or two younger and saw a really horrific deadly crash so that ended any family interest. my friends are mega sports ppl but they're into like. american popular sports. and running. i do have a tifosi coworker and a couple friends from high school who are into it but that's it

Are you open to talking to other fans/making friends?: yes!!!!! i am so horrifically extroverted i love to chat i love to make friends!!! i am in so many ppl's dms on the Daily just sayin shit to the point where im like maybe i should cool it. lol.

tagginggggg @monacotrophywife @freeuselandonorris @liamlawsonlesbian andddd @red-flagging if you want !!!! this was fun n i love hearing how ppl got into f1 bc i feel like i might've taken an odd route

[hydropyro]

I’ve been seeing a lot about Gale lately so I have been thinking about how Gale and Abdirak may interact.

And I wrote this. I might do one for each of the companions. Maybe not.

Based in “Webs of Fate” story, but is a separate excerpt/ficlet

The wizard was forlorn after the older man had left. Despite everyone seeming cheary enough, something must have gone awry with their meeting. Abdirak had gone for a walk to forage for some mushrooms and alchemical herbs, which he now brought to Gale as an excuse to talk to him.

“Who was that — wizened fellow?” Abdirak asked. Of course he knew who Elminster was. Who didn’t? If anyone could see through his ignorant facade, it would be the wizard.

Gale was not amused, and he did see through Abdirak. He accepted the mushrooms, muttering thanks, though he was still broody.

“You look like you’ve received unfortunate tidings, child.” The Paingiver said, searching the tautness of the wizard’s expression. “Does it pertain to the orb in your chest?”

Gale gave a sigh and nodded, not looking at the Loviatan.

“I can lend an ear.”

The wizard had not been fond of the Paingiver in their journey, but he was a pleasant and cordial man all around so they weren’t at odds. Gale still did not trust Abdirak’s motivations — which hardly made sense because he’d been very open as to his reason for being there, and a ‘desire to help’ was not quite it.

“We believe the center of the Absolute Cult will be at Moonrise towers when we get there,” the wizard said. “Mystra wants me to destroy it when we find it.”

“By suicide?” That surprised the Loviatan. Gale had been a Chosen of the Goddess of Magic. Whatever his mistakes, he was no doubt valuable.

The wizard nodded, his expression grim. “Can I ask for your opinion?”

Two surprises in one day. Abdirak considered it probably prudent for them to rest for the remainder of the day, despite the sun still being high in the sky, lest that count become three. “You want to know what I would do?”

“Few in this group understand the relationship one has with their god. There’s Shadowheart of course but—”

“I would do it.” Abdirak said without thought. “But,” he added, holding up a finger, “that does not mean that I believe you should.

“Much of what I have heard regarding your — condition — has been second hand. Would you be comfortable telling me the tale?”

The wizard frowned. “If you would, why shouldn’t I?”

The Paingiver only hummed. “You make some tea and meet me at my tent.”

He started away before the wizard could respond, but heard the other man say, “I am not going to let you hit me.”

Abdirak only laughed.

•••

Despite his reservations, Gale appeared at the Paingiver’s tent a short time later, two mugs of tea in hand. He passed one to Abdirak, saying, “It’s mint. And some other things. Rosemary, etcetera.”

“Perfect.” Abdirak gestured for him to enter and indicated a cushion he had sitting on the far side of his small tent where the wizard should sit. He himself knelt on the ground, resting back on his heels. He waited for Gale to situate himself, sipping the steeped tea quietly.

“It’s very tidy in here,” the wizard said, making awkward conversation. The Loviatan knew that he meant nothing by the comment, but he had enjoyed the way the intelligent man could stumble over his own words.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?”

The wizard gulped hard on his tea and cleared his throat, shaking his head. “No, just an observation.”

Abdirak hummed. “Tell be about your condition, Gale.”

The Paingiver listened attentively while Gale explained how he had obtained the orb. Child prodigy who had caught the attention of the Goddess of Magic from a very young — prepubescent — age. Devout worshiper. As a young adult he had become the goddess’s lover and Chosen. He had begged for more from the goddess — not power, but access to the Weave — to experience, study, and further his devotion. When being denied, Gale sought to prove himself by returning a piece lost to the goddess. She scorned him and denounced him. Should he detonate the orb at the time of confronting whatever controlled the growing Absolute Cult, Mystra would forgive him for his greed.

Abdirak sat quietly and digested the wizard’s tale a long while after. “What is Mystra going to forgive you for?”

“For disobeying her. For trying to go around her.”

“Is that what you were doing?”

The wizard frowned. “Not exactly. I wanted to — please her. I wanted to show her that I was worthy by finding and delivering that part of her that she lost so long ago. She's been through so much.”

“It wasn’t a part of her, though.” Abdirak said.

“Well, I didn’t know that. By the time I realized it was already burrowing into my chest.”

The Paingiver nodded. “I can see it causes you a great deal of physical pain.”

“It does. It feels like it is gnawing away at me.”

“And so you were removed from being her Chosen. How do you serve her now?”

Gale shook his head. “I was removed entirely.”

“You aren’t a devout?”

“Well,” Gale paused. “I am — but she won’t have me.”

Abdirak nodded. “One would think she does not care for you. It must be difficult to have gone from her lover to — nothing. It seems she did not love you.”

“I understand pain is your — forte — but I would thank you not to prod that particular wound.” Gale said, making the Loviatan chuckle.

“Force of habit,” the Paingiver explained, taking another long drink of his tea. “But — avoiding a festering wound does not make it heal faster, nor alleviate its pain.”

“How do you know that Loviatar loves you?” The wizard asked defensively. “You said you would do what I’m being asked.”

“Oh, she doesn’t.”

The wizard balked. “You would kill yourself for someone who doesn’t even care about you?”

The Loviatan considered how best to explain it to the man. “The gods — they are not like us. They do not care for us in the way we may care for one another. Indeed, in the way we care for them.

“I suppose you could equate it to — a business partnership. Loviatar does not love me, Abdirak, the man. But she loves my utility as her Pain.” His hand fell to the scourge ever coiled at his hip. “When broken down to its parts, my love and devotion to her comes down to her utility to me, too.”

“You can indulge in pain without Loviatar,” the wizard argued.

“And you can use magic without Mystra. But it wouldn’t be quite as satisfying, would it?”

“You are useful, Gale Dekarios. You would not have been made Mystra’s Chosen and her lover had you not been.

“Yes, you are wayward, but even your mistakes were driven by your desire to serve her.

“While you may not ever be invited to — warm,” he frowned, “do gods have beds to warm?”

“I’d rather not discuss that with you,” Gale said quickly.

The Pain eyed him carefully, enjoying the wizard’s discomfort under his stare. “Another time, perhaps. I am so curious.”

“Aren’t you with Alakvyr?” The man tried to deflect the conversation.

The Pain laughed, “I wasn’t asking for a demonstration.”

The flustered wizard waved an agitated, dismissive hand. “Can we get back to the conversation? Why would you do it?”

“If my Goddess asked me to end my own life, I have every belief that it is because the benefits of doing so outweighed my utility to her.”

“And why can’t Mystra feel the same?”

“Because she has shown that you have no value. Your utility to her is nonexistent.

“I am not familiar with Mystra, Gale, and I do not seek to blaspheme your goddess.

“In asking this of you she is not asking the acclaimed Arch Wizard, Gale Dekarios.“ The wizard’s eyes flicked away but Abdirak continued. “Mystra is not asking for the life of a follower who gravely wronged her nor a hero who will save the world.

“She is asking a little boy who was told how special he was, a young man who she took into her arms — not because gods need it, but no doubt to control him further —until he didn’t do exactly as she liked.

“She’s offering you ‘forgiveness’ for your efforts to be a worthy follower — following the punishment you’ve already long suffered of stripping you of your power and title and leaving you in the cold with a painful condition that threatens to destroy you and anything near you.

“She believes that only you can stop the Absolute Cult, and yet offered no information as to what it is that you will face?

“She can send her who is considered the most powerful wizard in the realms to give you a message, but not aid you in this?” Abdirak snorted quietly. “Your life has value.”

Gale raised his eyes to Abdirak again, his eyebrows up as if he was surprised to hear it.

“There are many gods who would welcome your talents with open arms—” Abdirak held up a hand before the man could protest, “I am not proselytizing.

“There is no guarantee this course of action will save anyone. Truly, if the blast is as devastating as you suggest, it will undoubtedly harm many.

“So who all will benefit? Not you, you’ll be dead. Not anyone nearby who helped you get to that point. They will, also, be dead — all of your companions, because it’s not going to be easy to access whatever it is — you’ll have to fight your way in, no doubt.

“Only she does. Her wayward pet brought to heel and an artifact she fears destroyed.

“My advice is that you lean on those around you who see your worth and treat you accordingly.”

The men stared at one another for a long while, neither speaking. He could almost see the gears working in the intelligent man’s head.

“Besides,” Abdirak said, smiling at the man, “You can’t suffer the sweet agonies of life if you’re dead — what a waste that would be.”

“That was proselytizing,” The wizard said, though he had a small smile.

“Force of habit.”

Gale groaned as he started to pull himself to his feet. Others may have thought him older than he was by the way he moved, by the little sounds of discomfort he made throughout his day — but Abdirak knew pain. This was a young man living with an incredible pain and hiding it away.

“Thank you, Abdirak.” The wizard was upright now, so the Pain also stood. Gale held out a hand to accept Abdirak’s nearly empty mug. “You’re — a bit different—”

Abdirak laughed. It was not the first, nor would it be the last, time he’d heard that. Despite the tone, he knew it was not necessarily a compliment.

“But,” Gale was saying, “I appreciate you. And I’m glad you joined us.”

“It has been interesting.” Abdirak put a gentle hand on the wizard’s shoulder and lifted the tent flap so he could leave. “Should you ever wish to learn about the delicate intricacies of pain, I am always eager for a willing student.”

“I doubt I will take you up on that.” The wizard said, his tone pleasant nonetheless. He gave the Pain a quick nod in farewell, his hands full, before turning to go back to his own tent.

[royjamielibrary]

RoyJamie Recomendations — Hurt/Comfort (Part 1)

All the Angry Men by PGHumfort (Rating: Teen and Up | Chapters: 1/1 | Words: 12,232 | Setting: Season 3 Canon Divergence | POV: Alternating | Other Tropes: Angst with a Happy Ending, Getting Together | Warnings: Abuse/Domestic Violence)

When they finally get together, Jamie keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Roy to lose his temper with him. Jamie's father and some angry exes have laid the groundwork for disaster, but Roy is nothing like the other angry men Jamie has known before.

don't you forget about me by andrealyn (Rating: Teen and Up | Chapters: 3/3 | Words: 20,283 | Setting: Post-Season 3 | POV: Roy | Other Tropes: Amnesia, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship | Warnings: N/A)

Roy wakes up with a splitting headache and a few years of memories missing, which is bad enough. Worse is that everyone is withholding information from him because they're all loyal to Future Roy. All that means is that Present Roy is getting fed up not knowing who it is that he's dating and why it is no one will just tell him.

i watched the world without knowing what to look for by buckstiel (Rating: Teen and Up | Chapters: 1/1 | Words: 6,140 | Setting: Post-Season 3 | POV: Roy | Other Tropes: Getting Together | Warnings: N/A)

It's snowing in Newcastle, and Jamie's Man City ankle injury already hurts before he hits the pitch. Or: all things must come to an end, eventually.

kip by fleeceframe (Rating: Teen and Up | Chapters: 1/1 | Words: 10,433 | Setting: Season 3 Canon Divergence | POV: Roy | Other Tropes: Pre-Relationship | Warnings: Abuse/Domestic Violence)

The energy of the room shifts suddenly as Jamie’s eyes widen. It’s as though he’s just waking up, looking around quickly to get his bearings straight- as if he doesn’t remember coming to Roy’s house at all. Maybe he doesn’t. When his startled expression finally lands on Roy just off to the side, Jamie’s eyebrows raise even though his shoulders relax. He looks down at the bath again. “What’s this?” Jamie asks as he combs a hand through the beer head of bubbles on top of the water. “A bubble bath,” Roy says gruffly. He stares straight forward at the open-faced cabinet in front of him that has piles of fresh black towels on each shelf. A pause. “You put me in a bubble bath?” or the one where roy and jamie have a run in with tarrt senior and roy has no idea what he's doing even though he's trying really hard

weave your little webs by floweredhalo (Rating: Not Rated | Chapters: 2/2 | Words: 25,703 | Setting: AU | POV: Alternating | Other Tropes: 5 + 1 Things, Getting Together, Magic/Supernatural | Warnings: N/A)

“Sorry,” Sounds more like sorreh, “can you uh, stitch me back up again?” Roy can now see the large gash across his stomach and the cut on his jaw. He hisses through his teeth and winces in solidarity with the man. Roy just stares at him. Spiderman cocks his head and puts a hand on his hip as if to say well? “Yeah yeah, come on then.” Spiderman trails after him, thankfully not dripping blood on the wood floors. Though Roy thinks he wouldn’t mind cleaning up the mess. “Spidertwat.” Spiderman laughs at that. another 5+1: 5 times Roy patches up Spiderman and the 1 time he patches up Jamie (Or the one where Jamie is Spiderman and he keeps showing up hurt.)

[yourlastbraincell-kiwi]

Cat and Mouse

A/N: Hey! This is a Peter Parker x Fem!reader this one is based on the 2018 video game version of SpiderMan, cause I had finished the game not too long ago, and I decided to make this. Also I’m not really good at writing out fighting scenes! Hopefully, you still like it! ❤️💙

Pairing: Peter Parker x fem!villain!reader

Imagine: (Y/N) is working alone, but like the other villains in the New York, desperately wanting Devils Breath for herself.

~~~~~~~~

“Hey, Pete.”

“Oh, hey (Y/N). I’m kind of in the middle of something..”

“Looking for this?” (Y/N) asked holding up the red vial of GR-27 or commonly known as ‘Devils Breath.’

“Uh, maybe? Can you hand it over then I’ll tell you?” Peter asked nervously, as she tiptoed towards the edge of the building.

“Come on, you know I’m not going to give it up that easily.” She laughed, as she kept backing up. “You’re gonna have to…”

“Don’t do it..” Peter said almost like a parent scolding their child.

“..Catch me first.” She grins securing the vial on my suit then fall backwards off the edge.

“Aaand she did it.” Peter sighs quickly web-slinging after her. “Come on, (Y/N)! Let’s talk about this!”

“Less talking more swinging, Spider.” She exclaimed, and flew higher up in the sky.

“I need the Devil’s Breath, (Y/N)! That can infect so many people! Just hand it over!”

“You talk way too much.” She says blasting holes in the sides of a couple building, causing chunks of rubble and glass to fall atop of the people below.

Peter quickly swooped in to get move the people out of the way, and it caused him to almost lost sight of (Y/N).

He quickly catches up to her, “This is your final chance! Hand it over or I’m gonna have to get physical!”

“Oh please, you won’t do a thing, but lull someone to sleep with those lame ass one-liners.”

“Hey! Some people really like my one-liners.”

She groans and tries throwing something Pete’s way, but misses and Peter finds an opening. He tackles (Y/N) to the roof of a building and the Devils Breath falls a little ways away, from the both of them.

“Y’know you never were one to play nice.” He says and she rolled her eyes. She pushed Peter off her before bolting for the vial. Peter being quicker shot his web at it and brought it to his hand.

“It’s over, give it up (Y/N).”

“It’s not over, till I say it’s over.” She kicks him in the stomach, causing Peter to drop the vial. She started punching, but Peter swiftly dodges her oncoming punches.

“Come on, you know I can’t hit a lady.” Peter states, “Perfect, then you’ll make sure perfect punching bag.” Peter bobs and weaves, dodging a couple of the hits, but some of the hits to his face and stomach area do land and leave marks and bruises.

Peter then begins to shoot webs at (Y/N)’s hands to hold them down, but she manages to blast through it and stand back up.

They continue to fight, before Pete’s being forced away with a blast from (Y/N). His back hits the railing on the rooftop, causing pain to shoot from his lower back to all different parts of his back.

“Okay, time out. Time out. Maybe we can call a truce, yeah?” Pete says as he slowly gets up. “Maybe we can discuss this over dinner, I make a mean chicken curry..” He says, before realizing that (Y/N) and the Devils Breath are no where to be seen.

‘Damn it.’ Peter holds onto his back as he sits on the edge with his chest against the railing, and his phone started to ring.

‘Yuri..’

“Hey, Yuri.” He said trying not to let Yuri hear that he was clearly in pain. “Did you obtain the GR-27?”

“Spider-Cop has had many, many difficult missions over the years, and this one was no diff-.”

“You could just say, that you lost it.”

“I was getting to that, but when you put it that way. It’s not very fun, is it, Yuri?” Pete replies, before hearing Yuri groan and hang up on him, leaving him badly bruised and dateless.

‘That wasn’t so bad right? At least, I know who has it just gotta find out where she went in one of the most busiest cities. Ever.’

‘No pressure right?’

[pain-is-too-tired]

Revived Moth!Jon au info!

OK kinda based off my rambling in a discord I'm in. And art I recently posted.

But au where Jon doesn't make it out of his kidnapping by Nikola and ends up "dieing" some shape or form.

Even with everything of course the ritual doesn't work.

Jon however is taken and somewhat brought back by the web, he's got not much of a memory but what he does remember is

1. Not trusting the web in general

2. Dislike to hatred for avatars of the stranger.

3. Martin and Tim even if not much

Due to him so being distrusting of The Web they end up keeping him in one place until they can get him tamed.

He's made to be very moth like, especially as parts of him still are built back.

His rebuilt skin does seem to be still flesh, but you can notice it looks as if weaved about him.

His haired even longer, like a mane laid over his shoulders no longer tied up.

Since he had been touched by The eye pretty strongly (probably still technically an avatar) his eyes glow green, though the web shields him from being known by Elias.

His moth like wings covered in eye looking marks.

The place he's kept in is covered in webs, living him trapped like a spiders prey. Though stranger avatars/not!them have come by since its close to their headquarters of function. Often they end up being attacked if they cross into his threshold at all.

Thinking of as a way to try tame him in some way the web kidnaps Martin and gets him close to the threshold Jon's bonded in.

Jon's immediate reaction it to protect Martin.

Of course the others come to save Martin, unable to recognize Jon due to how different he looks.

Also think it's important the not that after Jon's "death" there is a lot of chaos in the archives.

1. They lose what little cooperation they have with Elias, especially since it was well over a month before they learned Jon had been kidnapped and later killed.

2. Martin just freaking looses it on everyone, he's no longer putting up his harmless facade anymore. He matches the tone everyone else had given Jon and if that isn't a wake up call idk what is.

3. It's much easier to put blame onto Jon for their situation when you can argue he's having it easier in your mind. Being skinned to death however is a problem you can't just brush off. Elias no longer has someone to take on the blame of his actions in the view of the others.

You can't distrust anymore someone who is dead, especially when the one you know is all seeing had refused to act on it.

All in all Elias might try make a new Archivist (most likely Martin since getting a new new Archivist in that climate would not be wise)

But since he underestimated Martin it's a lot harder to try set him up then with Jon.

So already before they go into trying to save Martin tensions are high. Basira, Melanie and Daisy are bit thrown off by the sudden change, especially given Martin's change in attitude towards all of them.

Tim however becomes very protective of Martin, trying his best to keep their sanity. Afterall, all they have left is eachother.

So he's of course the one to lead on the plan to get Martin back.

Think only Basira and Melanie maybe come with him, Daisy probably still be made to run errands for Elias just to keep her from trying to strangle him frxrf

Jon's gonna only recognize Tim however, immediately trying to protect him. He'll precieve the others as a threat especially when a gun's aimed at him.

Tim will be jumpy with Jon at first, but when he makes a move that's a bit too simular to Jon I think it might click for him.

Also another side note that Melanie must likely is gonna have to break Jon's "death" to Georgie which could make their relationship rocky for a bit or just draw them closer depending on Georgie's reaction(Jon still was her friend even if no romantic feelings were left)

I just think that's important to note in the idea of Jon being precieved dead early on.

[catsafarithewriter]

A/N: PART 25 of the Bedlam au! Lmao sorry for the late update, I thought I had queued this... turns out I had not!

X

The Bedlam tilts his head to better appraise the Creation. He notes all the ways he improved upon the original design – from the sharper cut of the suit, to the softened stripes beneath the eyes – perfect, save for the eyes.

Maybe if he'd gone with green buttons, his prey might have taken his offer.

"Do you want to know why your smart, sensible Haru fell for my world," he asks, "even with button-eyed doppelgangers? Why she couldn't see the web, until it was too late?" He meets the cat Creation's gaze head on, and marvels how easy he is to read with those eyes. "She was blind, Baron, because she wanted to be. Because she desperately wanted the lie I offered to be true." He smirks. "Because even an alternative version of you was better than nothing."

There — he sees it: the rage weakens, and grief flickers in the Baron's eyes.

"You made it easy, Baron," the Bedlam purrs. "Practically threw her into my arms."

"Not too easy though," the crow Creation adds. He doesn't bristle with rage, like the mortal cat, nor burn with the same intensity as the Baron. Part of that is surely from his longer stay in the Bedlam's cage, his anger spread out thinner, but there is still something pointedly calculated in his eyes. "She didn't seem so eager to throw away her soul for a chance to stay with you, even after all the time you've spent winning her over."

"A miscalculation," the Bedlam replies. "I let my temper get the better of me." Perhaps he should have played his part for longer, kept up his charade – but his attention had been divided by his intruders, and when he had come back to the matter at hand, his meal had been halfway to the archway, led by none other than one of his own puppets.

That's another dilemma...

He looks on his captives, two out of the three the baseline for his marionettes. For weeks, he had watched them, refining their doppelgangers – a little less of the arguing, a little more teamwork – and now, as he considers their blind rush into his world to save their friends, he sees his mistake.

He had made them too true to the originals. They care too much for Haru, enough that they would rebel against him, if it meant saving her.

It's a mistake he won't make again, but the damage is done for this trap. He doesn't have the time to weave them anew; the best he can do is make sure their strings are good and tight.

Before Haru returns, he will be sure to bind all his puppets with more web. Even if they don't want to play along, he can make sure they dance to his tune.

One problem down...

[forcebookish]

ok so just some thoughts i need to get off my chest...but does anyone else find the "mew is secretly an evil manipulator" theories kind of cartoonish? 😭 like i just bust out laughing whenever i picture it bc i can't take it seriously. and call me boring but i would much prefer mew to be the "constant" of the friend group (bc let's face it in a show like this you need one) and it's gonna be earth shatteringly heartbreaking when he falls in love with top, has sex with him, and then realizes he just experienced the ultimate betrayal. idk that to me is way more interesting than "haha i was playing you all along." not saying he's not a flawed character (and i hope we see more of his flaws as the series goes on) but i really don't think it's in the way people think. but with that being said i will still be hoping for him to m*rder boston 🙏 (anyway thank you for allowing me to vent in here. i really appreciate all your theories/takes on the series so far!)

(thank u and ur welcome!!🥰 I'M GONNA WRITE A LOT AGAIN)

oh it's totally cartoonish! every time i see it i'm like, "...you guys know that they're, like, good writers, right?"😅😂

the whole point of mew as a character is his not being the stereotypical, wilting flower virgin but someone who is sexy and knows his worth. (and i'm not going to rehash everything else that tells us mew is definitely a virgin.) i agree, that is so much more interesting and smarter than 'actually, everyone's lying except boston, the character we've established is a pathological liar' lmao. the fact that BOSTON "confirms" their suspicion makes it even funnier that they're sticking to their guns.

i mean,

"or maybe?" he's just making stuff up as he goes along. this isn't just an obvious lie, we see boston earlier tell ray to go after mew because they haven't been sleeping together, to make top jealous:

and if they insist it's just to "secure" or "play" top for whatever reason, then what the heckadoodle-do is this about?

side-note: notice how boston rarely speaks in absolutes when he's weaving his web? "maybe," "might," "probably," etc. he preys on everyone's preestablished doubts and insecurities, making his lies even more believable to them. little pokes and prods, like he's just helping them work through a problem - a problem he's creating. he can say, 'hey, i'm just saying it could be true.' fucking diabolical. he also has this smug, devious smile on his face - something that true deceivers who revel in the lie do. (and people have the audacity to say that top is smug? please.)

why would mew go out of his way to vet top after he was already his boyfriend? and then dump him? (which could have easily backfired. top could have said no; mew knew that.) why would he care if top is his "type" and checks off his checklist? he wants to make sure that top is boyfriend material before he sleeps with him so he doesn't get his heart broken, which is NORMAL. even if he weren't a virgin that's a perfectly normal way to navigate a relationship with someone you don't know very well yet, especially after what boston said. all the "implications" and "foreshadowing" that i've seen the fandom bring up are literally just him... flirting lol

re: mew's flaws, mew's definitely got more going on than we've seen, especially since we know how perceptive and intuitive he is (and that, by his admission, he gets snoopy and obsessive when he's really into someone). of the boys, i think mew's the character we know the least about because most of what we see of him, he's reacting to other characters and he doesn't always say a lot. besides the "interview" shots and maybe one or two other fleeting, superficial moments, i can only think of one scene where he's actually left alone with his thoughts:

and it's him feeling bad about making top sleep on the couch and deciding to get up to check on him/invite him to bed - not something a "manipulator" would do when no one is looking.

it is really ominous that production has hinted at nick and mew being "helpers." i could see mew going off the deep end and join in nick's, uh, colorful approach to relationships fjdlskjgjm but i just think he's going to snap or something, that won't have been his master plan all along lol (maybe they have to hide the body together) (haha jk... unless?)

yikes, i really did write a lot. thank you for enabling me, anon!💕

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Psycho Analysis: Walter White

(WARNING! This analysis contains SPOILERS!)

I went back and forth on whether or not to just review the entire series or just do a Psycho Analysis, but the more I thought about it, the more the answer was clear to me: It has to be a Psycho Analysis. Much like American Psycho, any discussion of Breaking Bad is inevitably going to center around Walter White. It is his story, after all.

And what a story it is! Walter White is one of the single greatest villains in all of modern media, and Breaking Bad is a masterclass character study of just the sort of man he is. He’s egotistical, he’s fragile, he’s toxic, he’s monstrous, he’s sympathetic, he’s irredeemable, he’s still got a spark of humanity left even to the very end… Walter is an incredibly complex character, and maybe I can’t do him justice with this analysis, but by God am I gonna try.

Motivation/Goals: From the very start of the series, Walter makes the claim that his transformation from school teacher to drug kingpin was motivated by a desire to provide for his family once he inevitably dies from cancer. And I think on some level this is true; Walter does care about his family in a very twisted, possessive way. He wants their respect and adoration, he wants to be their sole provider, their knight in shining armor who gives them the life he thinks they deserve. But even early on you can see the cracks in this claim, and as the series progresses other characters like Jesse question this motivation. I mean, if his goal really was to provide for his family, he could have stopped with what he had at many, many points before getting entangled with Gus.

Ultimately, the final season really cements what Walt did everything for: Himself. As Walt himself says to Skyler in the finale, “I did it for me. I liked it. I was good at it. And... I was... really... I was alive.” After  five seasons of weaving the most impressive web of lies ever seen, this impressive moment of honesty in his final meeting with his ex-wife really shows that everything we saw was Walt living through some epic power fantasy to comfort himself in what he presumed were his dying days. He was trying to reclaim a life he felt was stolen to him, a life his ego demanded was owed to him.

Performance: Bryan Cranston would have been seen as the a very unlikely pick back in the day, seeing as his most famous role was as the charming bumbling father Hal on Malcolm in the Middle. But Vince Gilligan had worked with him on The X-Files episode “Drive,” and he knew better than the rest of us I’d say. I think the true brilliance of Walt comes from Cranston subverting what we expect because of Hal; Walt is similar to Hal in a lot of ways, and it is ultimately these similarities that make how Walt darkly subverts what we know Cranston best for all the more shocking. Of course, Walt still gets plenty of goofy moments, from his slapstick moments in “Fly” to the ridiculous faces Walt ends up making thanks to Cranston’s mouth acting. It’s just a stellar performance all around, and one that rightfully catapulted Cranston to the A-list.

Final Fate: From episode 1, it is pretty much a given that Walt is going to die. So the question really isn’t ever, “Will Walt make it out of the series in one piece?” The real question is, “How will Walt die?”

The answer ends up being “Going out in a final blaze of glory and trying to write some of his wrongs.” In the finale, Walt manages to set his family up for life (without them ever realizing the truth), be honest with his wife for once, say farewell to his infant daughter, give the location of Hank and Gomez’s bodies so there can be some closure and so Skyler can be safe from prosecution, free Jesse from his enslavement to the Nazis and kill them all in the process, and oh yeah he also slipped the paranoid bitch Lydia ricin while she wasn’t looking. He’s fatally wounded in the process and then is rejected when he asks Jesse to kill him, but he manages to spend his final moments surrounded by the tools needed to make his special brand of meth.

Ultimately, Walt died surrounded by the things he truly loved most in the world, even if he also died alone and alienated from everyone he ever cared about. And yet, he never truly faces consequences for his actions, dying and leaving Jesse and Saul to deal with the aftermath in their spin-off movie and show respectively. As the script says when the police finally arrive in the final moments:

They're too late. He got away.

Best Episode: “Ozymandias,” and it’s not even close. The following two episodes are incredible and the catharsis of “Felina” is incredible, but the sheer brutal misery of “Ozymandias” and Cranston’s performance therein is the stuff legends are made of. Walt begging for Hanks life and his memetic reaction when Hank is killed,  the monstrously cruel taunting of Jesse before letting him be enslaved by Nazis, his fight with Skyler… But the most powerful and heartwrenching moment, at least for me, is when he has kidnapped his infant daughter Holly and is trying to comfort her, only for her to begin saying “Mama” over and over. In this instance, Walt truly realizes how deeply he has destroyed everything he claimed to be working for and, in one of the few good decisions in the series, returns Holly. There’s a reason this is the most acclaimed episode of the series.

Best Quote: Walt’s two best known quotes are his “I am the danger” speech and his “Say my name” demand, and on the surface both of these are incredibly badass quotes from our villain protagonist. But when you look below the surface, they reveal a lot about Walt as a character.

The former quote shows just how fragile and deluded Walt is. In it, he claims he’s the one who knocks, that he’s the one who people should fear… and yet, he’s taking credit for something he forced Jesse to do. Jesse is the one who killed Gale on Walt’s orders, and yet here Walt is acting like he’s the ultimate badass force of nature. Keep in mind this is the same man who has a silent hissy fit and essentially screws himself out of getting away with his crimes scot free because someone else might have gotten credit for said crimes.

The latter quote is simpler, in that it simply showcases the real reason Walt does what he does plainly: To inflate his ego. He demands to be called by his cool gangster persona nickname during a drug deal and responds with a “You’re goddamn right” when said name is validated because Walt is essentially an immature manchild who seeks constant validation for his criminal activities despite being one of the dumbest fucking criminals in the world, one who only ever succeeds because he is so lethally stupid as to be unpredictable to the seasoned criminals around him.

There is one quote, however, that is legitimately badass and chilling: The short, simple “I won.” Because in that moment, having killed both Gus and Hector and obliterated one of the most massive drug enterprises in New Mexico out of fear, anger, and spite, Walt actually is every bit the badass mastermind he believes himself to be.

Final Thoughts & Score: Walt is, in a word, incredible.

As the protagonist of the show, we get to see his descent into villainy and all that entails, and it is quite a ride. Now, I do believe that his Heisenberg persona didn’t come from nowhere, and that Walt always had these urges buried away in the darkest part of himself; early episodes show his toxic masculinity slipping through the cracks on several occasions, and even before he commits his truly evil deeds he has moments of unrelenting cruelty, such as forcing his son to continue to drink. But with that being said, I kind of reject the notion that he entirely jumps off the slippery slope so soon.

The first few seasons, most of his evil actions come from a place you can understand. Oh, he kills Krazy 8? The man was a violent drug dealer who was going to murder him in retaliation, hard to fault him there. He let Jane choke to death? She was trying to blackmail him, it’s a dick move but it’s understandable. He sends Jesse to assassinate Gale? I mean, it’s kind of extra but it saved their asses from Gus for a bit… But even then, watching through this, it becomes harder and harder to accept Walt’s rationales and let him slide. Walt’s constant abuse and gaslighting of Jesse really loses him sympathy, as does his treatment of Skyler, but then you get to him doing things like killing Mike just because the man wounded his pride and then teaming up with Neo Nazis to assassinate people in prison, and it’s hard to feel to sorry when the guy is stuck in a cabin with nothing but two copies of Mr. Magorium’s Wonder Emporium for several months.

Going back to Walt’s toxic masculinity, I think he might even be more impressive than Gaston at showcasing this negative trait. Literally everything Walt does is motivated by some sort of latent machismo. There’s the obvious one, the fact he has to provide for his family, only he can do it, but there’s also more subtle things like how he clearly feels emasculated by his son’s respect for his brother-in-law Hank. Then of course there’s his creepy emotional manipulation and abuse of Skyler in the aftermath of her finding out the truth about him, and his numerous childish outbursts when she rejects him due to his lies and schemes (remember the roof pizza?) and Walt really is the embodiment of fragile egos and toxic masculinity.

Then there’s his relationship with Jesse. Dear god. It is one of the most twisted forms of love ever put to film. There is no doubt in my mind Walt loves Jesse as the son he wishes Flynn could be, because while Flynn is undyingly loyal up until he learns the truth, he’s not nearly as malleable as Jesse is. Walt loves Jesse because he can undermine and control him, manipulate and mold him as he sees fit. But deep under the evil surface, I think there is some genuine care for the boy. There are moments, especially before he allows Jane to die, where Walt seems to genuinely value his relationship with Jesse, and in the end Walt does save him (though he was perfectly willing to let Jesse die before he saw the state he was in). It really is one of the most disturbing relationships you could conceive of.

I could carry on for hours about Walt, but long story short: He is one of the single greatest villains of all time. His complex relationships with other characters that inevitably drag all those characters down with him are endlessly fascinating to watch, and Walt himself is incredibly compelling even as the actions he commits become more cruel and heinous. He is a modern masterpiece, and deserves no less than an 11/10. Every TV villain protagonist desperately wants to be Walter White, but it’ll be a long time before any can even come close to accomplishing half of what Breaking Bad did (the only thing that rivals it is its own spin-off after all, but that’s a story for another time). Walter White truly is one of the greatest villains ever conceived, and what’s more, one of the greatest characters ever made.

Bravo, Vince. You did a good job with this one.