#and if you wonder yes the main theme of the drama is sacrifice... trial and tribulation... yada yada you get it

[what-breaks-my-heart]

He Na, The Demon King in White.

[hoseas-angry-ghost]

YES YES YES I WOULD LOVE TO HEAR UR THEORIES

Hello anon! I am very surprised anyone wants to hear my chutney but here's my Strange Man Hot Take with some hopefully interesting info for curious parties:

To be honest, R* included so much misdirection around the Strange Man's identity (especially in RDR1) that I'm not *totally* convinced they're married to any one idea. RDR2 also complicated things by introducing new religions into Red Dead's world (Voodoo, Old Norse, etc.): he's no longer limited to just Christian / Western interpretations, as in RDR1, and it's possible R* might try to syncretise him with figures from other faiths (they did place Bayall Edge in Bayou Nwa, where most of the Voodoo stuff is).

At the same time, though, I think RDR2 actually narrowed things down somewhat in terms of the direction R* chose to take his character, and what we were shown of that. There's still a level of misdirection in RDR2, but IMO, it almost comes off as half-hearted in comparison to what was basically trolling in RDR1 -- it seems like they were a lot more focused on playing the "bad news" angle the second time round.

Based on what we know, and on the balance of things, I'm not convinced that the Strange Man is necessarily meant to be any one thing or figure, but I do think he's meant to fulfil some type of Satanic role within Red Dead's world, either in main or in part.

I won't compare and dissect other theories or anything, I just thought I'd list off some things that people might find interesting:

Armadillo. The deal between the Strange Man and Herbert Moon seems to be a pretty textbook Faustian bargain: Moon is offered earthly rewards ("happiness or two generations"), and although the price was (tellingly?) never specified, it seems like the recent Blood Money update for RDO all but confirmed that the cost was probably his soul. Although it's left ambiguous what Moon actually chose, the Armadillo curse was possibly an unforeseen (for Moon) consequence of the deal's terms, which would fit with similar tales of the devil or demon in question taking liberties with their end of the bargain.

In the files, there's some great audio of Moon off the shits and straight-up saying "I've made a deal with the devil, and I will never truly die!" It's possible this was cut for its own reasons (too overt?), but as a lot of stuff was apparently cut from Armadillo, I'm guessing it was either cut when Arthur in New Austin got cut, or it was part of something that R* didn't have time to implement in the epilogue. Either way, if it's not actually in the game then it's not technically canon, but it is an indication of what R* was thinking during development.

There's a lot of audio from the Armadillo townsfolk in general about devils and "devil curses," but the only thing I know of that definitely made it into the game is a line from the town crier ("Devil has the town in his hand").

There's audio of the Armadillo bartender saying "I heard the Tillworths made a deal with the devil to keep from gettin' sick! I don't wanna die any more than the next man, but ain't no safety worth a man's soul." Possibly idle gossip, but given Moon, possibly not.

RDO seemed to flirt with the idea of soul-selling a little bit with Old Man Jones' line "Well, this is America, so anything can be bought -- even souls," but then RDO pretty much just came right out and said it with Bluewater John in the Blood Money update. Bluewater John also apparently made a deal, almost definitely with the Strange Man (given the Moon deal and how close Bayall Edge is to all the drama); he was based on blues musician Robert Johnson and the myth that he sold his soul to the devil for mastery of the guitar. It's basically a rehash of the Moon deal, except it's... not subtle in its dialogue about deals, devils and souls.

"I GAVE EVERYTHING FOR ART, AND I LEARNED TOO MUCH AND NOTHING AT ALL" written on the wall at Bayall Edge also sounds like a reference to another one of these deals to me ("everything" being their soul, and "I learned too much and nothing at all" the foolishness of accepting eternal damnation for temporary knowledge). I think Bayall Edge might have originally belonged to a painter who struck a deal with the Strange Man for artistic skill, but then the Strange Man slowly possessed him or something -- which could be why some of the landscapes depict RDR1's I Know You locations, and why the writings on the wall kind of look like they deteriorate in quality. The puddle of blood at the foot of the portrait might also be linked to this somehow (whose is it?).

It's the deal-making for souls that really pushed the "devil" theory over the edge for me, because I can't think of whose wheelhouse that would be in except a devil's, or someone similarly malevolent.

Alternative name. The Strange Man's character model is called cs_mysteriousstranger in RDR2, and he's referred to as "the mysterious stranger" at least once in RDR1's in-game text. This could be a reference to The Mysterious Stranger, written by Mark Twain between 1897-1908, in which the stranger is a supernatural being called Satan. (At the end of the last version written, he tells the protagonist that nothing really exists and their lives are just a dream.)

Bayall Edge. Bayall Edge was possibly based on a Louisiana urban myth called the Devil's Toy Box, which is "described as a shack. From the outside, it is unappealing and average. ...The inside of the shack consists of floor-to-ceiling mirrors, including the walls. No one can last more than five minutes in this room. ...According to the legend, if you stood inside this mirror-room alone for too long, supposedly the devil would show up and steal your soul." The Strange Man does show up in the mirror eventually, and it's kind of curious that the paintings that change depending on your Honour act as metaphorical mirrors. This was also cut, but in the files, Arthur's drawing of the interior of Bayall Edge is unusually sloppy, like his faculties were impaired or something.

"Awful, fascinating and seductive". John writes this about Bayall Edge after the portrait is finished, and I think that's as good a description of something like the / a devil as any, but "seductive" is a big red flag for me, because it's such an odd choice of word and, from a Christian perspective, it's so loaded with connotations of evil and sin and temptation.

I Know You. Some have pointed out that I Know You in RDR1 resembles the Temptation of Christ, as it also takes place in three separate locations in the desert, and John is given moral tests in which he must choose between higher virtue or worldly vice. John is also, in a weird way, a kind of Christ-like figure in that he ultimately sacrifices his life for others. I do think the "temptation" in these encounters is very surreptitious but very much there ("Or rob her yourself" -- excuse me??), but they may also be operating on a Biblical definition of the word, i.e. a test or trial with the free choice of committing sin.

RDR1 dialogue. I don't want to get *too* much into this because I feel like we're all just getting punked in RDR1, but I think the Strange Man's dialogue broadly fits with something like a "devil" interpretation, or at least doesn't contradict it.

I'm thinking particularly of lines like "Damn you!" / "Yes, many have" (which would work metaphorically but also literally, given that the devil was thrown from heaven by God and his angels), and "I hope my boy turns out just like you" (of all the leading theories, I think Satan is the only figure who's popularly conceptualised as having a son, or prophesied to have a son -- God obviously had a son, but that ship kinda sailed).

I think the "accountant" line refers to Honour (which even uses an invisible numerical system), and how John's fate depends on the number of both good and bad acts he's committed throughout his life, and how these weigh against each other. If the Strange Man likes to collect souls, then he would have a vested interest in auditing you and seeing if your accounts are in the black or the red, as it were (and providing you with opportunities to push yourself further into the latter...), because if you're bankrupt, you're his.

Blind Man Cassidy. Interestingly, Cassidy seems to distinguish between "Death" and the Strange Man, implying that he's something else beyond his understanding: in one of Arthur's fortunes, after his TB diagnosis, he says "the man with no nose [Death] is coming for you," but in one of John's fortunes, he says "Two strangers seek thee: one from this world, perhaps one from another. One brings hatred; I'm not so sure what the other brings."

Arthur's cut dialogue. In the files, there's audio of Arthur having the exact same conversation with Herbert Moon as John in the epilogue, asking about the Strange Man picture because he "just seemed familiar". I think it's interesting that, like John, Arthur also would have apparently recognised the Strange Man despite (presumably) never seeing him before. Given how strong a theme morality is in Red Dead -- and how much both John and Arthur struggle with it -- my theory is that they find the Strange Man vaguely familiar because they're both familiar with the evil within themselves, or the potential for evil; and likewise, the Strange Man "knows" John because he embodies evil in some sense, so is aware of John's worst sins (like his involvement at Blackwater), or possibly even all of his sins (which would be, like, a lot).

Honourable mention: There's such a greater emphasis on conspiracies, myths, etc. in RDR2 that I half-wonder if the Strange Man's RDR2 incarnation was partly inspired by Hat Man (~excuse the link~ but often it's hard to find good sources for the kind of weird shit R* includes in their games).

ANYWAY, this got a little long but I hope someone found all this at least passably interesting. Thanks again for letting me ramble about the video game man, anon!

[leggomylino]

Dark Rising☽✮☾Act Two

☽✮☾ Dark Rising Masterlist ☽✮☾

Genre: Horror/Thriller, Drama, Romance, Comedy

Pairing: NCT’s Johnny Suh x fem!reader (x ???)

Word count: 9.3k (we’re covering a lot of ground in this one! :D)

Warning(s): mentions of blood, yandere-esqe themes, cuts/injuries, soul stealing and kidnapping. Possibly more in the future depending on what the original authors decide. They write for ot9 and so do I.

A/N: Main Masterlist in BIO! | This is a spinoff series to the SKZ fanfiction Twisted Karnival, by @gaiyofanfiction​. It can be read alone, but you are encouraged to read the original story first. At the authors’ request, I will take this down if asked to do so. I do not own Twisted Karnival or Stray Kids, or Johnny Suh, or any characters used in this. All credit goes where credit is due. The events that happen in this story are not canon in the original story, this is simply a work of fandom and appreciation, and thus will tie into canon events as closely as possible in respect to the original works. All that being said… Thank you. <3

~  ☽✮☾ ~

It was two in the afternoon. After complaining to Johnny that there was no way you were staying overnight in some spooky, definitely-haunted, no-fun funhouse little-shop-of-horrors, he ended up grumbling about how useless you were already proving to be and walking you all the way home. You, useless! When he was the one that came to you for help!! The nerve of that guy!!!

“I have an order for...y/n?” a waiter asked, stopping just at the corner of your table. You smiled gleefully while bobbing your head, smacking the already dish-packed tablespace, pastry crumbs and croissant flakes flitting about the area. “Yeah! Set ‘er right here, please!”

“Hn.” Johnny scoffed, watching disdainfully as you shoveled a double order of German chocolate cake down your throat and washed it down with a caramel milkshake. “Do you ever stop eating? I swear you’ve inhaled the entire dessert menu in less than an hour.”

You kept onto that milkshake until the last drop was gone, eyes peering up boldly to meet his. “...I thought you didn’t swear,” you asked, setting the glass down and going for the cherry that awaited you in its cream-stained contents. C’mere, you! <3

Johnny looked away, albeit for just a moment. He began crunching commands into his phone. “I don’t, but—”

“Then buttout.”

He gave an annoyed sigh. Outside the Urban Grind Cafe, life went on as normal, despite the fact that hundreds of people had gone missing just last night. Whispers filled the streets and alleyways, about sons and daughters who never came home, mothers and fathers and aunts and uncles that never called, never left a message of any possible sudden work meetings or last-minute plans; but no one had the gall to actually say anything out loud. It was as if they were afraid to, defaulting to cling onto false hope: Oh, it’s okay. They probably stayed out so late they decided to crash at a nearby inn. Maybe there was an all-nighter event. ...Who, so-and-so? (S)he’s a party animal, probably went to (friend name)’s house.

“...ou listening to me? Hello? Johnny?”

You’d pushed yourself up to wave the blank cherry stem in his face, lightly poking his nose with it. Johnny flinched a bit, swatting your hand away while you chuckled and fell back into your booth seat.

He groaned. “Y’know, most guys don’t care much for girls that--”

“What? Eat a lot? Talk back? Interrupt your call to the Mothership?” 

“...Yes. All of those.”

It was your turn to scoff. “Bite me.” ...Then you had to smirk, pausing a moment as you crossed a spoonful of pudding from bowl to blissful heaven. “...Are you by chance trying to say that--”

“No. Definitely not.” He gave you a serious glare that stopped any giggling rising in your throat. “Enough chit-chat. You can keep stuffing your face if you want, but I need you to listen to me.”

You wanted to throw your spoon at him, but the risk was greater than the reward of seeing him with vanilla pudding all over his face and a black eye. So instead you grunted, shoveling another spoonful of whip cream. “Yeah, alright, I’m listening. But I still have questions for you too. Like, how come—”

“Please don’t talk with your mouth full. No one wants to see that.”

“...”

Now you really were going to throw that spoon. Or you would have, if the same waiter from before hadn't shown up with a helping of creme brulee. Yum! 😍

“......” Johnny folded his hands before his face, leaning in with elbows on the table. “...I’ll start from the beginning. As I told you before, I’m—”

“An angel, yes, I know.”

“...Right. And it’s my mission, along with the other messengers, to combat the evils of this world and defend mankind. However, we can’t always act alone, because we’re not allowed to corrupt freewill...and that’s where matters can get really complicated.”

You continued inhaling creme brulee, eyes flitting back and forth between Johnny and the dessert before you.

“A long time ago...a long time ago, there was a period of peace on this earth. It didn’t last long, but time flows differently in the realm above this one.” He steadily exhaled, and abruptly his face scrunched up in distaste, seeming to decide on something. “...I lied, this is going to take too long, and you don’t need to know everything; at least, not yet. All you need to know is that there was a short period of prosperity, and then...something serious happened, and one of our own was cast out to be…” 

He cleared his throat. You paused again, setting your spoon down to listen more intently.

“...She was…” He swallowed. “...She was sent down to earth. But only because of the sacrifice that many of us made on her behalf.”

Your head tilted, drawing a blank. “...Sacrifice?”

“Yes. She was tricked by demons and did some things she shouldn’t have. Her punishment was to be cast out to the other side, but many of the others stood up for her and offered to take her punishment in her stead.”

“Wow...she must have been a true saint.”

The look in Johnny’s eyes was soft and distant. “...She was. She was beautiful, and had the purest heart imaginable. But she failed to guard that heart, and she was deceived into a great sin.”

“So...sort of like, Eve and the Tree of Knowledge?”

He nodded. “In a sense, that’s an accurate comparison. It’s not the same per say, but loosely speaking, yes. That day…” ...His voice grew quiet. “That day, everything changed. The sky grew dark, and everything sort of lost its color, if not just for a single moment. There was a cackle of laughter that echoed from down below, but we could all feel it, with our own intuition. We knew she was gone.” A painful sadness filled his eyes. “And there was nothing we could do. There was nothing...I could do…”

“But...wait,” you said. “I thought you said you all made a great sacrifice for her? And then something about her being on earth?”

He rested his arms down on the table. “We did, and there was. After many trials and God’s grace, she was still stripped of her wings, but rather than being sent to the underworld, she was reborn a human.”

“...That’s...a punishment?”

Johnny scowled. “Think about it. Use that big head of yours.”

“Hey! ...Urk, well, okay…” You frowned, steadily losing your appetite as you shuffled the remaining three bites of creme brulee around. “I guess that makes sense. Life does kinda suck from time to time, and heaven is supposed to be pure bliss.”

“It is,” Johnny assured, the corners of his mouth raising just slightly. “It’s wonderful. And life on earth is no picnic, but it’s much better than an eternity below. Trust me.”

You nodded. “Yeah, I get it…” Paused again. “...Hey, so, what was her name? Can you tell me?”

“Yeah…” He of course, paused for effect. The suspense was practically suffocating, the way his features seemed to sharpen, the hollow silence that filled the small space around the booth the two of you shared.

What if...What if it’s… —Am I…? Could I be—

“Her name is Evangeline.”

...Oof. You mentally shunned yourself for being so conceited as to have thought it could possibly have been you. But then...

An image of a girl with silky smooth hair and bright, passionate eyes filled a blank space in the center of your mind. Quickly, you swallowed down your most recent mouthful you’d forced in too soon, coughing a minute before leaning over a tower of empty dishes, a cup of tea nearly spilling over given how hard you slammed the table. “That...That girl from before.” There’s anxiety rising in your chest, though you’re not sure why. “Was it her?”

Johnny’s eyes widened in slight surprise, almost seeming to have trouble focusing on your own. “Yeah. Good guess.” 

Not really. Somehow, you just...knew.

“Whoa...so then…” You slowly descended back into your seat...then jumped back up with more fervor than before, startling a few nearby customers. This time, you did end up spilling that cup of tea. “Those demons have her! They have your one true love! We have to save her!!” 

“Uuuu—“ Johnny was leaning back, glaring at you again with even wider eyes. “Whoa, okay, I never said we were in love. And if you can find it in that pea-sized brain of yours to settle and keep your voice down, I’ll agree that you’re right and it is a main aspect of the mission.”

“Wha?!” You did glue your bum to your seat, but as for lowering your voice? Quite the opposite. “Just a second ago you were saying I have a big head, and now I have a small brain?!”

He huffed, crossing his arms. “Isn’t that how it always goes with brazen girls?”

“Brazen?!” You rolled up your sleeves. “Oh, I’ll show you brazen—!”

“E-Excuse me…” Your waiter had partially hidden himself behind an empty tray he was holding. “I’m sorry but, I’ve been getting a few complaints about the volume of noise over here and um...we don’t allow violence in our cafe. If you don’t calm down, I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

Oop— well, it certainly wasn’t your fault!

“Tell that to him!” You roared, pointing an accusatory finger at...no one.

Johnny was gone, a closing door and the faint scent of aftershave the only trace that he’d ever been.

Something heavy and full of numbers was set down timidly beside you. It carried a hefty burden on your nearly-empty coin purse, causing it (and any excitement you’d had left) to shrivel up and die.

“Your bill, miss. You can pay at the register over there.”

………… 

The wails of a heartbroken young woman filled the chattering silence.

~ ☽✮☾ ~

“I can’t believe you just LEFT me!! What kind of a gentleman does that?! Huh?!?”

The two of you were wandering the back alleys of town, taking some sort of shortcut somewhere, you had to assume. All you knew was that you were lucky you had a decent sense of direction when it came to navigating the city and not many people were incredibly tall and wore an old trench coat in the middle of Spring.

Johnny glanced back at you from over his shoulder, at the angry expression on your face where puffs of animated smoke arose, and your hands rubbed raw from having to wash dishes. He smirked. “I never said I was a gentleman.”

You faltered, feeling like a ton of bricks had fallen on your head. 

AAARGH! You seriously wanted to pound him into a poundcake for this! You’d only know him for like, what, a day? Maybe two? And he was already unbearable to be with! Did you seriously have to work with this guy…?

“You were supposed to treat me! That was your apology for scaring me half to death and getting me involved in all this! Y’know, a real man would have— oof!”

You bumped right into his frozen backside. After quickly retreating two steps and rubbing your nose, you placed aggravated hands on your hips like some sassy middle school student.

“Oh, what is it now?! Wait, don’t tell me…” You turned one palm to gesture upward. “There’s a demon! Oh NOOOO, what will we— mmph!”

Johnny secured one hand over your mouth, the other balled and ready for action. His voice was tight and laced with concern. “Be quiet, and start walking back, slowly. Get to a populated area as soon as possible. Don’t make a sound you can help, understand?”

What-

“I just don’t understand,” a gruff voice said. “I’m always careful about counting tickets. Jeongin and I sealed the chamber after everyone was accounted for. I know.”

“Well obviously, you miscounted this time.” a second said. The hairs on your neck were beginning to stand. “It’s fine, it’s just one human. That’s nothing compared to the hull we got this time; and anyway, it’s not like they were special or anything. You were probably too distracted by my new sub— I mean, our new plaything, to be paying very good attention.”

The first voice let out an ominous growl.

They were talking about you; you didn’t need the proof of seeing them with your own eyes. Seeing wasn’t always believing. Their voices alone dripped with malice lying secret beneath succulent temptation, the most dangerous of siren songs. 

A song...didn’t Johnny mention something about that before?

...Hey, wait a sec. Did those guys just say you weren’t special? 💢 How rude!!

Something pushed you scant but roughly away, towards the faint rays of sunshine feebly reaching out from the nearest shopping district. “Get going. Move.”

You furrowed your brow at the man separating you and danger lurking up ahead. “Okay, okay!” you hissed. “No need to be so rough…”

You’d taken about three nimble steps back the way you came at a cat burglars’ waltz before the mutters up ahead once more caught your attention. When you turned around to look, Johnny had vanished, and you found yourself whipping in every direction before nervously taking shelter behind some pipes jutting out the back of the nearest building.

“Sigh. This is stupid. I could be spending time with our precious doll but instead I’m stuck out here looking for a heap of rubbish.”

The second devil’s eyes grew menacing and serious, a soft purple hue sweeping over the surface. You shuddered at the sudden temperature drop. “My creations are not rubbish. It was just a misfiring of signals caused by the pressure of the oncoming storm. I can ensure that it doesn’t happen again when we get back, now quit whining about your screwup and help me look.”

“...A…” The first demon paused, frowning concern at his partner. “...Not to sound like Jisung, but is that even possible?”

The other snorted, bending down to shuffle through a pile of old broken pipes and other junk. “Han wouldn’t have even known what I’m talking about. But yes, it is possible...ah! Here she is~” 

He smiled while pulling out a small toy robot, the hair and paint job looking...rather real. The first demonic being, who you could now see had hair the color of a Halloween sunset and a face full of stars, made a slightly grotesque expression, being sure to hide it stoically the moment his comrade looked back. “Great for you, now can we get back?”

“......” The latter looked sideways, almost seeming to be looking right at you. Your breath hitched, squeezing the pipe in front of you so hard it may well have burst. He closed his eyes with a smile. “...Yeah, sure. But first, there’s something I wanted to get off my chest as well.”

Freckles looked puzzled. “Wha? Right now? To me?” He furrowed his brow with a slightly annoyed pout. “Why? What is it?”

“Well…”

His voice dropped slightly. You leaned forward in a feeble attempt to listen. 

“...Do you remember what Chan was saying? About the concern for lack of performers?”

“Huh? When did Chan say— OW! Why did you step on me?!”

The robot man frowned, glaring. “Do you remember what he said now?”

“...Ah…” Freckles glanced around. He suddenly seemed to catch wind of something, smirking the next moment. “...Yes, I do recall hearing something about that. I was, uh...busy...before.”

Mr. Robot rolled his eyes. “...Right...you were at that...thing. Anyway,” he announced loudly, “I don’t know what I’m going to do! He asked me to hire more performers, so I’ve decided to hold tryouts for new talent tonight at 8 pm.”

“Oh? Tonight at 8 pm??”

“Yes,” he repeated rather...automatedly. “Tonight at 8 pm sharp.”

“...” 

Freckles abruptly leaned forward, whispering something. Robo-boy heaved a sigh, muttering back, then announced once more, “Oh, fine! We can hold it at 9 pm if that’s what you really want.”

“Hey, I’m just trying to— mm?!” A piece of duct tape was slapped over his mouth from the other’s toolbelt. He began pulling him promptly farther down into the alley, toy doll secured in the other arm.

“Great, so 9 pm sharp then! We better hurry or we won’t be ready for all the star talent!” ...And then they were gone.

You wasted no time scrambling around to find Johnny, wheezing out his name into the dim-lit area: “Johnny! Johnny?! Johnny!! Where are you?”

A flourish of feathers rushed past you from an offbeat breeze, fading into silver dust that vanished in the dank air. Something landed beside you, a bored expression on its face.

“...Don’t tell me you actually believed all that.”

You blinked at him. “What?”

He nodded to where the demons had once been gossiping. “That. Over there. If you couldn’t tell that was a trick to lure you back there, then we have a lot more work to do than I was hoping for.”

Your cheeks inflated to represent a pouting Jigglypuff. “It’s not like that! Don’t be so suspicious, they don’t even know I’m a Sailor Guardian chosen by the Moon!”

“A...A what?”

You grabbed both his hands. “We’ll never know unless we try! This could be our chance to save your one and only true love!!”

“Urk—“ He winced. “...I told you, she’s not my true anything! Quit putting words in my mouth!”

You took a step back. “But—!”

“No.” He groaned. “...I thought you hated being involved in this whole spectacle, anyway. Since when do you want to march into a demon-infested funhouse and pick a fight?”

...You had to think about that a moment. He did have you there; but being a hypocrite was sort of your thing. And what about Evangeline?! “...Since...Since…!” Urgh! “Since I have this! And this!!”

You held up the necklace and whistle proudly, both of which had been resting in your pocket. For some reason, Johnny stared at them in contempt and rising anger. “I told you, these are not toys! And do you mean to tell me you weren’t wearing the necklace this whole time?!”

You’d been cackling proudly until...this point. “...Uh...y-yeah—“

“Idiot!”

“Whaa!” You fell on your bum, the weight of his words sending you flying. Johnny just glared like he had every right to throw you into the nearby dumpsters and trash piles where that toy robot had been. “You’re so naive and dense! I told you, you need to be wearing that necklace at all times! DO NOT take it off, ever, for anything!” 

He snatched the whistle out of your hand, leaving marks of anger in his wake. A small hiss of pain left your lips, and you held your breath, gripping the injury in pain. When you let go a second later, a stain of blood greeted your eyes. 

You’d opened your mouth to say something back, but he silenced you real quick, waving the silver whistle inches away from your face. “And this is not a toy! You can’t use it whenever you feel like it, or put your full reliance on it! It’s only for a serious emergency when I’m not around, or you get separated from me and need immediate help! It’s strictly for dangerous situations only, as a backup plan! It can’t be your only means of fighting, because I can’t fight all your battles for you! I TOLD you this, I’m not allowed to intervene in the laws of freewill! Why can’t you open your ears and listen to me?!”

“...I-”

“What? You what?” He tsked. “Are you just too stupid and incompetent to do that too? Good grief, you really are useless…hey, wait…” His eyes shifted down, to your hand now nestled in the sleeve of your trendy store-bought Letterman jacket. You were shaking and breaking out in goosebumps all over. “...What’s wrong with your hand?”

You refused to answer him, the silence blaring far and wide. The heated haze gently lifted from over his eyes, awakening him from his rampage; but it was too late.

“...Y/n…” He kneeled down. You let out a hiccup, followed by a sniffle. Guilt quickly took him over. “...Y/n, I’m—“

Your head shot up like a volcano erupting, red-faced and teary-eyed. The atmosphere was yours to command, anger rising over everything. “SAVE IT!” You roared, snatching the whistle back. You ran with all your might down the alley, made a swift turn into civilization, and kept running until you were exhausted and could run no farther, and had to result to power-walking, even after Johnny had called for you to stop, to slow down, to wait, to come back.

You ran all the way home, glaring heatedly at the dumb slender whistle in your hands before tossing it into the blender, and slamming the on button. But for some reason, it refused to start. When you took it out and tested the power, it worked just fine. When you tossed the whistle back in, it wouldn’t start at all.

Letting out another frustrated scream, you instead marched upstairs, throwing open the balcony doors and tossing it as hard as you could into the forest behind your house. You hoped a rabid squirrel or a bobcat would find it and carry it far, far away...maybe swallow it or something.

With a defeated huff you collapsed to your knees, resting your arms and head on the balcony railing. Seriously, why did Johnny have to be like that?! It wasn’t your fault this was all happening so quickly, and there was a lot to take in— forty eight hours ago, you’d been a normal girl just doing your job, minding your own business, living your life. And now you’d been scouted out of nowhere by some tall wack-job claiming to be an angel, when you hadn’t even seen his wings...just a few feathers, and an impulse to believe…

Why? Why were you so gullible? Why would you just believe him without knowing for sure? Even if he did have the strange power to calm you… well, now he’d also hurt you.

Your cellphone buzzed, but you ignored it. The home phone rang, but you let it go to voicemail.

“Y/n, it’s me. Pick up. We need to talk.”

What the heck...how did he get your phone number? How did he…?

Hng. You were starting to learn not to question Johnny, save for the matter of his true identity, in the scheme of how fast things were going. He may be an angel, and he may not be. But he was basically out of your league in terms of being crafty and resourceful.

A notification bell chimed from your computer, the screen coming to life. You could have sworn you turned it off before leaving the house, though…

You sat down at your desk and searched for a notification to respond to, but there was nothing. Strange. Wait...what was this?

There was a window minimized on standby. You opened it, finding a digital flyer for the Twisted Karnival. 

The words spoken by the two demons before resonated in your mind: tryouts for new talent. 9 pm sharp.

Your fingers tightened around the necklace still in one hand, and as much as you wanted to hurl it off the balcony as well, you threw it over your head instead, burying the pendant beneath your shirt. You were still mad, but if you were going to do this, you weren’t going to be stupid about it. You’d march right over there and blend in perfectly; you’d put on a disguise so good, no one would be able to recognize you, not demons, not even Johnny! And this necklace would provide you with protection, just like he said! ...That was what he said, right…? ...Whatever. You’d make this work no matter what! Even if it was a trap! You’d just have to turn it around and bust that trap! Then he’d really see who was useless!!

“Who’s resourceful now?” You’d say. “Huh?!”

A sharp sting pierced your right hand, and you winced, shutting down your computer and running across the hall to wash the wound. It really wasn’t that bad of a scratch, so you had no idea why it was stinging so much…

Sigh. There were a lot of things you didn’t know as of late. Instead, glaring back at your reflection in the bathroom mirror, you decided to focus on things that you did know.

And one of those things was that you were about to prove Johnny very wrong.

~ ☽✮☾ ~

After taking a nap to be in tip-top shape for kicking demon ass, fueled by rage and determination to prove a point, you awoke just shy of eight to find you’d gained a bit of common sense...in other words, you were starting to have doubts. 

According to plan, you were to march into uncharted enemy territory that had a 50% chance of being (...okay, 99.9%...) a trap, without Johnny, without anyone, to fight supernatural beings that possessed freaky powers you likely didn’t stand a chance against. You had no strategy, no combat experience, and no weapon save for the silver cross that was supposed to keep you safe somehow; but you couldn’t even remember exactly what it did. Something about making you invisible, maybe…? ...There was just so much information… 

Perhaps you needed to think this through a bit more carefully, now that the previous flames of anger had died down to a subtle wisp of ember. With the smoke clearing, you were now able to see the real danger that lied up ahead; it was like you were standing there all over again, on carnival grounds, watching that girl’s life being sucked away…

No, not sucked away. It’d been corrupted. She’d been put under some sort of spell, and supposedly, you were the only one...or at least, the one chosen...to stop it. Johnny has chosen you for this. There was something he said...there was a reason you were chosen for this. Again, too much information in too little time… 

...What if that was you? What if you rushed in there, full of spirit but no power to back it up, and ended up just like her?

...Even if that were to be the case, and you were wrong, and Johnny did turn out to be crazy, you couldn’t just abandon the thought of someone in need. Not when you’d seen her suffering with your own eyes, waiting to be saved.

You still didn’t know why it had to be you, but time was running out, your alarm clock reading 8:15. You’d made up your mind. You’d just have to find out along the way. If you died trying, well, hey— at least you died trying. You wouldn’t turn your back on someone in danger. 

And even if I did call the police,what are they gonna do? Heck, the demons would probably brainwash them and have ME arrested instead. 🗿💧 There’s no way I’d be able to afford a bail fee on my school salary!!

Okay, y/n, it was time to get ready! Game on!! —Hey, hold on.

After jumping out of bed with a fiery new spirit, you looked down to your hand before you. The injury Johnny had given you…

...was completely gone.

~ ~ ~

Standing outside the carnival gates was like standing at the gates of a cemetery. As creepy and unfavorable as one could imagine, it was ten times worse. 

You hadn’t known what to wear exactly in regards to the demon-slaying-attire department, but you also needed a good disguise, so you’d opted for your one-piece swimsuit from middle school that you miraculously found lying in your closet and just as miraculously still fit your matured body. A solid navy blue, you paired it with some stretchy ballet flats and a trench coat similar to Johnny’s belonging to your roommate, Jisung...more on him later. Basically you’d probably be owing him a new one after this, which may or may not have been more expensive than a brainwashed-officer’s bail fee...since it was…

Givenchy?! 😱 S-Son of a—

“Oh! There you are!”

AHH!

The appearance of Cherry Boy nearly made you jump out of your skin. He was so close, his face smiling sweetly to you from the other side of the twisted black fence, the thickening fog washing out his pale features (other than that blindingly bright red mop on his head). You pulled your Jisung’s jacket like a hug.

“Uhm...y-yes! Hahah, heeere I am~”

A strangely excited glint filled the young boy’s eye. Oddly enough, he didn’t move to unlock the gate for you or anything; in fact, he did the opposite, stepping back into the dense miasma as the gate just...opened itself… “You almost didn’t make it! Good thing you got here on time! Auditions are about to start!”

Your jaw was about to drop, but you did good to snap it shut, not wanting to show any forward emotion that may tip him off. You were an unsuspecting young girl, just trying her luck at auditioning to perform in the risingly-famous Twisted Karnival. No big— ...

Hold on. Cherry Boy had seen you. He’d gotten dangerously close to you and looked right in your eyes and spoken directly to you. But…

Weakly, but with fever, you patted your chest. Checked your pockets.

Johnny’s necklace was gone.

“Are you coming~? No need to be shy! Come on in! Oh, what’s your name?”

You stared horrifically into the blank atmosphere filled with mist. You couldn’t see Cherry Boy anywhere. “...Y/n...I mean!” Shit. “That’s what I wish my name would have been! But it’s really, uh...uh...S-Samantha!”

You could no longer see the demonic redhead anymore, but you could feel his presence twice as strong. His voice sounded as if he were right in front of you. “Samantha…? Hm. You sure don’t look like that name suits you at all. No offense or anything, it’s still such a lovely name for a lovely young lady~”

And then he was right behind you. His breath tickling your ear.

“Say, since you like the name y/n so much, how about we call you that instead? What do you think about that?”

...You thought you were this close to whopping this guy in his cute face and making a break for the shelter you passed two left turns ago. But alas, he was gently walking you forward, escorting you to your doom awaiting you in one of the many striped tents hidden in the mist. No turning back now. 

The moment you crossed the gate’s threshold, something instantly didn’t feel right.

“So what will you be auditioning for today?” he asked in a bright, cheerful voice. It stood out like a sore thumb given the dank depressing carnival air. “Oh, I’m not one of the judges or anything, I’m simply curious to know.”

Okay, this was it. You’d decided on the way over that you would be auditioning in some form of acrobatics, since you’d also had minor experience in gymnastics as a kid and well...that’s really all you had to go on… 

You sunk your head farther down into Jisung’s thousand-dollar jacket. Man. This plan is already proving to have way too many holes. What should I do?

You had to give him some kind of answer. “Um...yeah, sure! I’m...auditioning for…” You gulped. Felt his eyes glued to you, like a bullet to the back of the head. “...Uh, it’s a surprise! No spoilers!”

You’d jumped forward and spun around, making an X with your hands. Cherry Boy blinked. 

“...Oh, I see! Yes, of course...wouldn’t want to ruin the fun!”

“Right?!” Phew.

“Yes, of course~” He stepped around you, pulling open the side-flap of a smaller tent to your left. “Well, here we are!”

“Oh, but…” You examined the size of the tent. No we ain’t. “This isn’t the main tent?”

“...No, it isn’t.” Cherry Boy confessed. He pointed somewhere North, maybe toward the center of the carnival. It was too hard to tell with all this blasted fog in the way. “The Main Tent is that way. I’ll be escorting you there once you finish getting ready! We have a professional makeup artist on standby, so hurry and get changed, and we may be able to make it on time!”

A wha??

“H-Hold on— I already have a costume—!” …

There was no holding on. He’d already pushed and closed you inside. 

The tent was small and dim-lit by candlelight, barely big enough for four people. It held a trunk, a narrow wardrobe, and a compact vanity with a box of tissues and makeup supplies. A smiling young woman was waiting for you, one leg crossed over the other in her tight pencil skirt and bright pink lipstick. She looked...a little pale and...out of place. Like she didn’t belong in a circus, or a carnival, or whatever.

The woman didn’t say anything, not even when you slightly waved and muttered a less-than-confident hello. She stood up, gestured for you to sit down, and started mechanically slapping random compacts of powders and shadows to your face. The oddest scent of burnt rubber filled the air the more she awkwardly jerked and moved… 

“Um...are you okay…?” You frowned. “Ma’am, you’re kind of...well, your movements are—”

She dropped the blush she was holding and paced over to the other side of the tent, jerkily, where the wardrobe was. Something snapped as she took a step halfway there, and she suddenly dipped, but before you could finish gasping at her expense and leap across the space to steady her she’d righted herself like nothing happened. Uncomfortable with all of it, you stared strangely at the blush that simply rested on the floor. 

“Hey, Miss? Are you sure you should be working right now? I think that maybe you oughta go home...also, I’m sorry but, I don’t know the policy here...is makeup supposed to be left on the floor?”

She, again, didn’t answer. Something clicked and sparked while she rummaged the closet, though, and next thing you knew she was wrestling you into a new outfit.

“Hey, hold on, stop it! I don’t need a costume, I brought my own! I’m wearing it! Please— ack!”

Your face smacked into plastic, floor-abandoned foundation shoved up your nose.

After managing to shove her off and sneezing/coughing a few times, you were yanked before a mirror that...definitely wasn’t there before. Spooky…oh, but…!

The girl that greeted you back actually wasn’t that bad. Her makeup was kind of sloppy, but the idea behind it was pretty classy and kinda sexy. The outfit you now wore— a pure white leotard with an open back and a flashy, glittering pink trail (y’know, those skirts that are open in the front, like a cape for your waist), and pristine, matching white gloves— altogether, the ensemble was...dare you admit...actually pretty dang cute. 

This woman may have had too much caffeine or been drunk off her ass, but she knew what she was doing in the scheme of things. “Say, this is actually really cute! Thanks!”

She bowed. Very unnaturally. It was way too low, like you were royalty or something, and you could have sworn there was a spark next to her hip. Weird. When she didn’t get back up and you could hear Cherry Boy calling, asking if you were ready, you snatched your Jisung’s coat and skipped out of there, muttering another awkward thanks.

Outside the tent Cherry Boy was grinning at you from ear to ear, a disgustingly adorable rosy tone to his cheeks that counteracted to your false one. Curse him. “Wow, look at you!” He padded closer to stroke your cheek, an action you didn’t call for to occur. It left you stiff and frozen solid, color fleeing where his skin met yours. “...That outfit certainly is stunning...to make a last debut in.”

Those last words didn’t quite make sense to you, but you were more concerned with the way he was examining you, scanning his eyes up and down the length of your body like you were an exhibit on display, and he was an aspiring artist, trying to take in everything that he could…and the fact that he still had his hand on you…

You felt like a corpse. But also, for some unnamed reason, you felt almost angry...

“Jeongin! Hurry up— oh!”

Both you and Cherry Boy— Jeongin, you guessed— pivoted your heads in the direction a new player called from the main stage. After only seeing a silhouette for the longest two seconds of your life, at last, Mr. Robot himself came into view. 

Nervously, you gripped the sides of your sparkly half-skirt, shivering from both the chill of settling mist and the heavy negative vibes ascending in the air. When Jeongin released you, you stumbled back a step and a half, gripping the gaping hole swelling in your gut. Your mind clouded with backlash thicker than this impenetrable fog: how stupid this was, how dumb you were, that you should have never come— 

You came to a death trap empty handed with no survival skills or redeeming known qualities except that you were somehow “the one.” ...Were you insane?!

Just like Johnny’s outburst, it was too late to escape. You were already too far in. Two of them now knew you were here, and you couldn’t even run if you’d wanted to; fear held you down like a magnet, and the hole in your stomach was beginning to fester.

Yet, beneath that, in the pit of your stomach, in the center of that swirling vortex, there was also something...stirring…

...Maybe you just need to throw up again. “You must be the last audition we’ve been waiting for! Everyone else has already gone, we’re just waiting for you!” Robo-boy smiled like a kid that knew he’d won before the game was over. “Are you ready?”

You dragged your foot a step back, then another, clinging to your coat for dear life. It was a miracle you even found your voice at all. “H-How did you know I was going to audition? How did you know I’d come here?” 

...What? The jig was basically up anyway.

“Hmm…” He thought. Or pretended to. “I suppose you could say we had...a hunch.”

And then you aren’t sure what happened, because the next second his eyes were glowing that purple hue you saw in the alleyway, only it was stronger now...brighter...and you were left with nothing but a will to follow him. 

Though you could no longer control your movements, you still had an awareness that was all your own. Jeongin and Robot Guy snickered the whole way they led you to the Main Tent, joking about how they wished they’d had more time to play and experiment before it was time for you “to go.” They laughed at the expense of how smoothly you’d just waltzed right into their plan, and Robo Boy in particular stated something along the lines of hoping one “Chan” would allow him to use your body as a spare part (or spare parts) for some side project he was working on...whatever the heck that was supposed to be. It didn’t sound good.

You jerked and jimmied on the inside, pulling back with all your might, but it proved fruitless on the out. Like you weren’t even struggling at all.

Dang it, dammit all! I can’t move!! 

Struggle and pull as you might, it was completely useless...just like Johnny had called you. Useless. You really were useless…

The two demons (well one, really) marched you through the back entrance of the mothership, down a dark passageway, and directly to the stage...only to make an unannounced sharper-than-a-knife right turn and up a tall ladder hidden behind some dull velvet curtains. Every step and reach was intensified, like your senses had become twice as strong; you were more than aware of what was happening, being forced to lock in on the current moment. 

When you reached the top, you were standing on a thin white platform...with nothing but a thin, fraying rope that led to the other side. To a matching platform some three hundred, four hundred feet away.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Robot Boy called from below. “But I riffled through your brain and found a coherent thought about wanting to try your luck at a game of balance? It should prove to be quite...interesting.”

He let you look downward, only for a moment. If allowed to show expression, your jaw would have hit the floor...er, platform. The main tent was HUGE— way more massive within that it looked outside. It was like a freakin’ coliseum made to look more festive and carnival-istic, though gothic-ly so. There had to be at least a thousand seats, probably more...and all sorts of strange equipment and contraptions littered the stage. Canons, various raised platforms, hoops, some large...vacuum...thing?

The demonic population had grown. Instead of two, there were now seven of them...and after you’d closed and opened your eyes, a whole room full. Every seat had been filled: with a demonic creature, a shadowy blob, or some kind of horrific mortification of the two…

You wanted to scream, but you couldn’t. Tilting your head to face forward again, two of the seven original monsters had teleported themselves to be waiting on the platform opposite to you, one sitting, the other standing. The standing one flashed you a smile that would have been priceless were it not tainted by brutality and fear; the other one, a short but muscular man sitting down, was holding a ball of fire in one hand. He rolled it gently onto the twine connecting the distance between, and the whole thing engulfed in a line of fire. You whimpered, but still couldn’t move.

The Givenchy coat caught onto the flames, or perhaps the flames caught onto it— regardless, it burned away and crumbled to ash, but amazingly the fire didn’t touch your body...or at least, you didn’t feel anything. You were now standing vacantly in the borrowed outfit that was most likely your funeral gown. Nothing but a hollowed version of your former self.

The standing demon that had a killer smile to boot flashed you his pearly whites in the most graceful way possible, and carefully but with little effort he walked into the flames, though he remained completely unscathed. He padded and strolled across the wire with the gracefulness of a swan, pausing when he reached the center. He did not waver, didn’t lose his balance or second guess himself, for an instant, never taking his eyes off of you rather than where he was walking. He extended a graceful hand out to you.

“Come to me...my angel.”

His eyes glowed green, the color of emeralds in a sea of fire. It was beautiful, mesmerizing…

Slowly, you raised you right slipper, taking a placid step forward—

“Y/N!!!”

Huh…? Who—

A blindingly white light pierced the skies, washing out everything around it.

“Release!!!” Someone yelled.

One of the demons cursed, and whatever spell that had been holding you vanished, your heart turning you towards the source. Could it be…? Was it really…?

It was. You smiled.

“Johnny!”

...And then feeling something hot and burning dangerously close, stared into the pits of hell you’d almost walked and fell into. “AAAAAH!!”

Something swooped by and grabbed you, like an eagle catching and carrying off its prey. Fearfully, you tilted your head back to see…

“Johnny!!” :D

“Yes, you already announced that,” he smirked. But wait…

Curiously, you focused blurry eyes on what had been supporting the weight of you both behind him. It was soft and feathery, a mix of brown and white, glowing faintly with a yellow-golden aura…

It was Johnny’s wings. He really was an angel...for real this time.

“Don’t worry,” he said, zigzagging slightly to avoid incoming fireballs and flying daggers. “You’re safe now, I promise. But you have to—“

“WHAAAAAA!!!”

“W-Why are you still crying?! I just told you you were safe!”

“That’s not iiiiiit!” You sobbed. “I...I thought bad of you before. I still didn’t believe what you were saying, but...you were telling the truth all along. ...And…” You looked up to him with teary eyes. “J-Jisung’s jacket...I’ll never be able to pay it off! I’m gonna be poor forever!! Whaaaa…!!!”

“What—?” 💧

“Grrr…” one of the demons growled. “Quit MOVING!!”

A flaming kunai came hurling after the two of you at blinding speed compared to the previous attacks, and at last your luck had run out...or maybe not. Fortunately, though Johnny went down with a hurt wing, the two of you managed to crashland on the nearest platform, and he flicked the knife away like it’d only barely punctured him.

“Goodbye, BLTs…” you sobbed, still too hung up on broke-life. “Goodbye, kpop album collection—“

Johnny gave you the 🗿💧 face. “You can cry about being broke later! Right now, I need you to focus on becoming Sailor Moon and stopping these guys!”

“What?! But why can’t you— aah!”

You both ducked for cover as a flaming frisbee-contraption nearly cut both your heads clean off, slicing through the pole behind you. Gulp.

Johnny scowled, his temper rising again. “I TOLD you already! Don’t make me have this argument with you again, I— ...hnn,” he groaned. “I’m sorry...for the way I treated you before. I should have found a better way of introducing all this to you. I should have known better and I shouldn’t have lost my temper…” His eyes sparked with a fire as he turned to you, determination leaking from every part of him. “But right now I need you to set all that aside and focus on the mission! Please! You can do it, Sailor Y/n!”

“B-But…” You faltered still. “I-I don’t know how! What am I supposed to do?!”

“For starters,” he squinted his eyes, tossing something over your head. “Wear this. And don’t lose it next time!”

“Ahh!” You smiled gleefully, relief washing over your nervous system. “The necklace! You found it!”

“Enough talk!” A new demon you had yet to meet, with smooth parted hair and a tiger at each side of him, smiled up at you from the center stage. “I have orders from Chan. We are to eliminate this girl and the angel immediately.”

Uh-oh. You worriedly took a few steps back, as his eyes glowed a yellow hue that only got brighter. The beast beside him growled and hissed, positioning themselves to pounce and attack.

“All of you stand back. I’ll finish her myself.”

“What? No fair, you and Felix and Seungmin always have all the fun, with your dumb tinkering and running around selling tickets.”

“...That’s Felix and Jeongin, Han.” Robot Demon said.

Han rolled his eyes. “Yeah, whatever. Minho and everyone else gets to have just as much fun. I haven’t even gotten to do anything yet!”

“Would you shut up?!” Green-eyes yelled from above. “All you do is ride that dumb bike of yours all over camp! It’s annoying and you’re constantly running into stuff and scaring away potential victims!”

Han’s eyes glowed pink. “Oh-ho! Looks like someone remembered to take his bitchy pill this morning, huh Hyunjin~? PMS still got you down?”

Green-eyes...threw his shoe at him.

Freckles— Felix— sighed, scowling almost as much as Robot Guy (Seungmin?) and the others were. He placed his hands on his hips in a familiar sassy-middle school student pose. “Can we maybe not fight right now? If you haven’t noticed, we have company.”

Hyunjin blinked, shifting his attention to the star-faced boy. “Woah, hey, was Felix actually sensible just now?”

“ENOUGH!” Minho barked. Everyone else snapped to attention. He sighed. “All of you stay out of this and go strengthen the barrier or something. Let me handle these two, I’m more than enough of a match.”

“For a little girl and an old man?” Han scoffed. “I’d hope so.”

“Go.”

“Hmph.” Han swung around over a bike behind him, probably the one Hyunjin had been complaining about. “Fine. I’m out of here.” He smirked. “I’m gonna go cut in line to play with my doll~”

Hyunjin stared at the retreating dust incredulously as he zoomed away. “WHAT?! Oh no you’re not! I have her next!”

He flipped off the tightrope with ease, landing just as gracefully as before and retrieving his missing shoe. He then hightailed it after him.

“......” The man who’d quietly been sitting on the platform (besides trying to kill you with flaming balls of fire) sighed once they left, jumping down the long distance and landing like it was nothing as well. “I better go make sure they don’t kill each other again. You got this, Minho?”

Minho growled. “I told you, I did. Get out of here.”

He held his hands up, rolling his eyes a bit. “Okay, okay. See you later.” 

He met your eyes before vanishing, the orbs glowing orange. You “eep”-ed and covered yours, and you heard a distant chuckling as he vanished from sight.

When you opened them, a small fire burned at your feet.

“AHHH! Hot, hot, HOT!!”

You danced and jumped into Johnny’s arms, the remaining demons chuckling at your expense.

“Awww, did Changbin’s fire burn you? It’ll be okay, if you come down here and let my babies eat you, I’ll make sure it’s a swift and painless death.”

“Hey, wait,” Seungmin frowned. “Leave her body in one piece. I may be able to use it for my latest side project.”

Minho frowned more. “You sure as hell didn’t say anything when Changbin and Felix were throwing flaming daggers.”

“That’s because I knew they’d miss. You actually have a chance of mauling her.”

In the background, Felix twitched. “Hey! I did so land a hit!”

“Yeah, one. That did little to no damage.”

“Shut up!!”

They just kept going back and forth like this. Back and forth, back and forth. As they bickered, you followed Johnny’s gaze to one of the far side entrances, where the ones called Han and Hyunjin had disappeared through. 

You thought. And pondered. And puzzled. Until…

“Oh!” You declared, landing a fist in your palm. “That must be where they’re keeping your one true love!”

“Huh?!”

The remaining three demons all turned to look at you. Wait, you could have sworn there’d been four, though…? “Hm? Coming up with a strategy to escape?” Minho chuckled, crouching down. “I can’t allow that.”

Now it was your turn to scowl, a new confidence suddenly swirling within you like a vortex. Really, you were just tired of being here, and getting kind of hungry. 

You pointed an accusatory finger at Minho, mimicking your best Sailor Moon pose. “Augh, enough already! I’m sick of being here and I wanna go home!” You flashed a few more poses, giving your best fighting stance. “Alright demons, listen up! In the name of the Moon™, I’m shutting this carnival down! Get ready!”

“U-Uh…” Behind you, Johnny began to sweat.

Minho laughed again, the other two standing their ground with a smirk. “Are you now?” He ran a hand down the back of one of his beasts, the creature both purring and growling lowly. “And just how do you plan on doing that? Hm?”

…Well once again, the supernatural had gotten you there. “Uh...I’ll…” You wracked your brain for an suitable answer that wouldn’t make you sound too dumb or inexperienced. “...report you to the BBB! I’ll make sure to leave a bad review, too! No stars!”

Johnny facepalmed.

“......” Minho turned over his shoulder. “...What is she talking about? What’s a BBB?”

Felix shrugged, appearing just as lost. “No idea. Let’s just take her soul and give it to this guy. It’s gonna be my turn to play with our doll soon. ♥ ”

Like beetle juice, Hyunjin reappeared in the doorway, arms stretched wide in prehistoric rage like a certain popular internet meme. His hair and clothes were a mess from the previous battle with Han. “Wha?! No way, Chan said I could have her next!”

Minho began groaning and growling all over again. “Quit fooling around! We have to fight already!”

Felix gave him a skeptical glare. “What? But you told us to—“

“Be quiet!” His eyes shone brighter. “Go get her!”

“Grrrrwar!”

The tigers both pounced in unison, landing halfway up the pole and making an unnaturally powerful climb toward you. You shrieked, latching back onto Johnny and demanding he take you as far and high into the clouds as he could go.

But he didn’t. Instead, he pushed you off (gently...ish), squaring your shoulders to face him as death quickly crawled up from below. “Listen! I’m only going to say this once! You can and will do this! Believe in yourself!”

“WHAT?!” It was an understatement to say you were panicking; you were downright having a nervous breakdown. “WHAT THE HECK AM I SUPPOSED TO DO?! I LIED, I CAN’T SHUT ANYTHING DOWN!! HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO—“

And then he just...floated away from you.

Your jaw dropped. “JOHNNY!!!”

“Grwar!!”

“AAAA!!!”

You braced yourself as one of the tigers pounced, knocking you back. When someone (Johnny) broke your fall but you still managed to land with a thud, you wasted no time hopping to your feet and making a beeline for the exit, tossing as many obstacles as you could behind you in an attempt to give yourself time.

“Stay away! Leave me alone!! EEP!!!”

You tripped as the other tiger came out of nowhere, tackling you down. Because Johnny intervened and held it back for a fraction of a second, you instead skidded forward, faceplanting a far wall.

“Ow…! Dang it…” You looked back over your shoulder, as Minho and the two beasts were closing in, twistedly stalking closer. Spinning and pressing yourself as hard against the wall as you could, your eyes frantically scanned the area for Johnny, but he was too busy distracting the other two...really three...from ganging up on you, even if Minho had insisted for them not to.

“It’s over…” He mused, splaying an open hand toward you. “Finish her.”

“GrwaAAAAR!!”

“AAAA—!!!”

...This was it. You held your breath. Shielded your face. Closed your eyes. Waited for it to be over…

…But, then…

Time came to a stop. Your stomach churned, swirling, the vortex growing stronger. Stronger, stronger, and stronger, until…

You heard Johnny gasp, the chaos of battle coming to a halt. “Y/n…!!”

“Ahhh...aAAAAAAH!!!”

Something dark and vibrant exploded throughout the room, the source coming from your stomach. The fabric over the area burned away, leaving a sizzling hole, rays of ultraviolet light beaming forth. It sent the creatures fixing to murder you flying the other way, soaring past Minho, who cringed and squinted his eyes, shielding them with one arm. The sudden windstorm caused his hair and clothes to whip around him, all of it like a scene out of a movie… 

“What...What the hell…?! ...Nngh, ahh!”

Then he went flying as well. But not from the wind as you’d momentarily thought. When the light faded and the air settled down, a dark shadow landed before you, having attacked Minho. The shadows dripped and slithered into a pool beneath it’s center, revealing…

A boy. A man with purple hair.

From somewhere far off, you heard Johnny say something, remaining as still as the waters of a cysteine chapel: 

“...Oh, shit…”

...Guess he did swear after all.

~ ☽✮☾ ~ 

A/N: Hi, everyone! c: Thank you for reading the Dark Rising series thus far, it’s been a blast to write! If you liked this story, please do me favor and give it a like and reblog! And be sure to leave me your thoughts in the tags or my inbox, it means a lot and I’d greatly appreciate it! Thank you so much for reading; I’ll see you in Act Three!! <3

[mittensmorgul]

What do you think about Samwena now? Do you think they can still be endgame?

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

The TNT loop has brought me up through 12.21 today, and it’s wild what new canon can do to recontextualize the past.

I’m putting this under a cut, so that saileen shippers won’t have to subject themselves to my rambling about Eileen and Sam in a way I know they’ll dislike... but I’m tired of feeling like I can’t talk about canon how I see it on my own blog.

Back when these episodes originally aired, with the week to week meta cycle in between, a lot of context was left up to us and never explicitly clarified in canon. Many of us were just thrilled at the notion that Sam had made one (1) friend that he seemed as close with as Dean did, if not closer. We were all ready to read way more into their interactions than was actually there, because Sam just gets so few of these sorts of personal relationships, at all, with anyone.

Things have been provided with clarification now in s15-- like the previous nature of Sam’s relationship with Eileen, and Sam’s repeated insistence to Dean’s teasing that they’re “not like that.” Which seems to be urging me to go back and reexamine everything from the past connected to her without the erroneous assumption that they already had a romantic relationship going offscreen. And let me tell you, that puts an entirely different spin on Eileen’s prior purpose in the narrative. As a parallel for Mary. Which is why I suppose I’ve been finding so many weird Mary parallels for her since her resurrection (starting with the fact that the spell that brought her back was designed to resurrect Mary instead and going right on through all the BMoL Free Will Erasure brainwashing plot literally in the episode where Eileen was murdered by Hellhound).

Lady Bevell: Well, not about this illusion of you that you hold on to. The perfect life. Loving husband and kids. But it never really was perfect, was it? All those secrets you kept from your beloved John – that you were a hunter. That you invited Azazel to visit when he spared John's life.Mary: How do you-Lady Bevell: I have sources, Mary. Everywhere. After you died, your beloved John was a man slowly going mad, searching for revenge. What? Your boys didn't tell you? The drunken rages? The weeks of abandonment? Child abuse, really. It's no wonder they're... damaged. So... enough with the fairy tale. We are returning you to a more pure version of yourself – Mary Campbell, natural born killer.

The “illusion” of the perfect life, the illusion of Free Will, in essence (especially now that we know Chuck was also behind the whole BMoL narrative). Not to mention that in this episode, Toni will later heavily imply that Mary was in fact the one who killed Eileen (even if it wasn’t true... Sam and Dean STILL don’t know who actually killed Eileen). I mean, the fact they found Mary in the process of attempting to murder Jody Mills probably sealed the belief that at the very least, it COULD’VE been Mary who’d done the deed. Even Mary wouldn’t know for sure if she had, because brainwashed:

SAM: Why you spying on us? Oh, and what do you know about Eileen Leahy?TONI: Who?DEAN: Did you – did – did your people, did they kill her?TONI: Probably. Rule of thumb – if you think we killed someone, then we probably did. Speaking of, you do realize that by attacking me, you invite the retribution of the entire British Men of Letters? Investigation, no trial. Just punishment and ruin. Possibly at the hands of Mary Winchester.DEAN: The hell is that supposed to mean?TONI: Your mother – she's our permanent guest.SAM: She's your prisoner? Why?TONI: Prisoner? Who said anything about prisoner? No, Mary's joined the team. Even has her own super secret decoder ring.SAM: You're lying.TONI: You're right. There is no ring. Oh, boys and their mums. See, you see her as Mummy. We see her as one of our best killers.

Sam’s main drive during s12 was doing whatever he could to desperately create any sort of relationship with Mary that he could (even willingly working with people who’d TORTURED him), and this is what haunted him into s13, as well, after destroying the BMoL to save Mary, and then almost immediately losing her again to the AU.

Do I think that Sam is considering the possibility of a real relationship with Eileen? Probably, yeah, after Dean’s prodding, especially. But Dean was fundamentally misunderstanding the nature of Sam’s “agreement” with Eileen there. It wasn’t about a romantic arrangement.

Because they aren’t like that.

Eileen propositioned Sam in 15.07 (in the name of doing something “fun”), yes, but I still can’t see Sam’s reaction there as anything but surprise and consternation. He seems almost relieved that Cas showed up when he did to interrupt what would otherwise have been an uncomfortable and probably embarrassing talk.

When Dean asked about Eileen in 15.08, it felt to me like Sam’s comment about them having an agreement was directly about the opening scene... where Sam had secretly followed her out on a hunt, and then nearly getting himself killed both by Eileen AND the vampire, all because he didn’t trust her to handle it or ask for help if she needed it.

Their agreement gets further contextualization via Sue’s comment to Eileen, taunting her about having to “get permission” to come out and help her on a hunt. Because that’s exactly what she had to do. That was the nature of her agreement with Sam-- that she wouldn’t just leave without at least leaving a note (Sam’s exact words to her in that opening scene... “You could’ve left a note.”)

DEAN: Yeah. Eileen did good, right? Getting us back from hell. She doing okay?SAM: Yeah. I guess.DEAN: You guess?SAM: If she needs something from me, she'll tell me. We have an agreement.

It felt like Sam was telling Dean that he didn’t know how Eileen was, because part of their agreement was that Sam... not pester her over this sort of thing. Sam seemed... disappointed over the whole situation. Dean immediately turned this into a relationship thing, though, leaving Sam slightly confused, but probably considering the option, at least.

DEAN: You have an agreement? That's adorable. Look, man, I didn't want to say anything, okay, 'cause I was kind of in... in a bad place, and, uh, yeah, I didn't want to jinx it or whatever, but, you know, I tried the family thing, right?SAM: Yeah, me too. And that's not for us.DEAN: No, not really. But I'm just saying if it was to work, Eileen, you know, she gets it. She gets us. She gets the life. She's hot.SAM: Dean. I mean, I'm not even...DEAN: Look, all I'm saying is you... you could do worse, okay? And she could certainly do better. Like, so much better. I'm happy for you, Sammy.

If only Dean hadn’t framed it as essentially “settling” for someone just because they conveniently ticked off the most basic “someone in the life” box.

And if only this hadn’t come two scenes after Sam found Rowena, dead, in Hell. And literally flinching at the change that he saw in her. Almost as if Dean was trying to give Sam the “it’s not so bad. You couldn’t save Rowena, but at least you have a backup romantic interest, since you can’t resurrect Rowena and make everything okay with her, because you already used Rowena’s own spell to resurrect Eileen...” It felt like a weirdly hearty consolation speech in that context.

And if this hadn’t felt like more of a comment on DEAN’S recent mental turnaround after his experiences in 15.07, and his tentative hope that things between him and Cas aren’t completely kaput, that Cas hadn’t completely written him off, after Rowena’s little Marriage Counselling session with them (again, two scenes earlier).

Now is this to say that Sam’s emotional investment in a relationship with Eileen can’t change going forward? Absolutely not! He might really, truly invest himself in a relationship with her!

I’m extremely interested to see what happens in 15.09, because I think that episode will hopefully give us so many of the answers we’ve been waiting for. Not necessarily about endgame love interests, but about Chuck’s involvement in the first half of the season’s unfolding drama. And I think Rowena will have a continuing part to play after that point.

Does that mean I think Sam’s emotional investment in a potential relationship with Rowena can’t be rekindled? We’ll have to wait and see, but as it stood after 15.08, Sam, at least, seemed to be shaken by the change that had come over her after her sacrifice.

SAM: Rowena, I...ROWENA: Samuel, please. You killing me was one of the best things that ever happened. Yes, there are things I miss about being alive. Flesh-on-flesh sex. Amazon doesn't deliver here... yet. But, lads, I'm queen. My subjects revere me. Well, fear me, which is better. I should have died a long time ago. Samuel, be a dear.SAM: Yeah.

This has to be like a knife to him, you know? He’d been so invested in her redemption, as the Fated Agent of her final demise. And for Sam, who knows what she feared and who she loved (but Sam doesn’t know he’s on that list, she told him flat out he wasn’t right before she told him to kill her), she represents his current biggest failure, you know? He capitulated to Destiny, because he had no other choice. And that is still the worst thing anyone on the show can possibly say.

THIS was the final straw that drove Dean to anger with Cas, too. Rowena’s death was the direct result of Cas’s choice to kill Belphegor rather than let him complete his spell. It’s all interconnected, and it’s all painful, and it’s all a direct result of Chuck’s breaking the story the way he did in 14.20.

So make of this what you will, but I’m tired of not talking about these far bigger themes to avoid upsetting shippers who want saileen to be endgame. We’re not there yet, and until we are, I want to talk about all of this in a nonjudgmental way, because I think it’s all interesting, not because I have some shipping agenda.

I know I have more to say about all of this, but this is a good start, at least.

[btsybrkr]

Please Come Dine With Me

In today’s world of Netflix originals, glossy reality series and big budget drama, it’s easy to forget about TV’s old reliables. You know, the programmes with nothing to say, but so much to give. They’re the television equivalent of an ex that you can’t help but miss, despite having brought absolutely nothing to each other’s lives. The absolute king of this brand of TV can only be Come Dine With Me, the dinner party contest that began broadcasting in 1892 and has been playing simultaneously, on all 26 branches of Channel 4, at every hour of every day ever since. Seriously, flick through the channels, I can almost guarantee it’s on right now.

Come Dine With Me, now in its 37th series (I’m actually not making that bit up), must unironically be one of the best things to ever air in this country. During a casual viewing, it seems that nothing much happens, but a quick Google search unearths an absolute goldmine of unforgettable moments. Some have already been cemented into pop culture history, destined to be repeated on ‘100 Greatest...’ clip shows until the sun swallows the Earth whole - like the man who decided to sample a sauce he was making by nonchalantly shoving the whole whisk into his mouth, or sore loser Peter Marsh’s ‘you won, Jane’ speech, which is, in my opinion, a hundred times more brutal than anything Ricky Gervais could or would ever come out with whilst presenting an awards ceremony. Others are unfortunately never spoken about, but remain a vivid memory in the consciousness of the lucky viewers who caught them, such as the moment a particularly eccentric contestant, known only as DJ Dom, drafted in indie musician Badly Drawn Boy to help him cook for his ‘Madchester’ themed dinner party, before telling the viewers “All done, just got to go and change me kecks!” and coming back downstairs in the exact same outfit, right down to the bucket hat. Or the iconic Preston week from series 7, in which we were introduced to so-posh-it-hurts Valerie Holliday, whose pronunciation of the word ‘pheasant’ (or fezzaaaunt, as she might say) is superglued to the insides of my brain, where it will stay for the rest of my days. I wouldn’t have it any other way. 

I’m sure we’ve all, at some point, had the ‘who would be invited to your dream dinner party?’ conversation with our friends or family, but what we should really be asking each other is “who would be on your dream episode of Come Dine With Me?”. If you think about it, they’re two very different questions, with very different answers. Of course, I’d love the chance to sit and speak with Tom Hanks, Mac Demarco and Phoebe Waller-Bridge over a glass of wine and a really good burger, but do I think it would make entertaining TV? Well, yeah, probably. But not on Come Dine With Me. That’s a horse of a very different colour.

Anyway, here’s what my dream episode of Come Dine With Me might look like. Narrated in your brain by Dave Lamb, probably.

Today, we’re in Blackpool, where our first contestant, 23-year-old chronic timewaster Betsy (that’s me!), is gearing up to host the opening night of the week, and we’re sure it’s going to be an absolute belter. Let’s see what her fellow dinner party guests make of the menu.

“A cheeseboard? As a starter? What’s that about?”, asks living soundbite and reality TV icon, Gemma Collins. She’s unimpressed with the menu, largely on the basis that it pales in comparison to the sort of luxury she’s used to, such as the gourmet camel penis she could have been tucking into on I’m A Celebrity, Get Me Out Of Here! In 2014, had she not packed it in after three days. Actually, I think the celebrity version of Come Dine With Me might be the only reality programme that Gemma Collins is yet to appear in. Maybe we should be writing to the powers-that-be at Channel 4 and getting them to sort that out, since I’ll surely be making a strong case for her appearance here. Anyway, who’s next?

Our third contestant is equally disappointed with the offerings. “I don’t fuck with stilton”, states the self-proclaimed second coming of Jesus, Kanye West. Yes, he’s an odd choice for a daytime cookery/popularity contest, especially since I’m almost 100% sure he doesn’t cook for himself under any circumstances, and is probably only popular among people who’ve never had to try and sit through an actual conversation with him, but who cares? Kanye does what Kanye wants. And if Kanye wants to appear on Come Dine With Me, then that’s his business, and he’ll shit in the Yeezys of anybody who disagrees. Or pay someone else to do it for him, obviously. Anyway, onto contestant number four, who can surely only be disappointing after that… can’t they?

Of course not!! Contestant number four is TV’s shouty queen-of-clean Kim Woodburn, who is really excited to get her teeth into some red hot beef. Not the food kind, either. The kind of beef she dished out to Philip Schofield, while he was asking her questions about the beef she dished out in her fondly-remembered ‘chicken-livered bunch’ rant from Celebrity Big Brother. She’ll be glad to know I’m not serving any chicken livers at my dinner party, I’m sure. Not that she’ll be particularly enamoured with my cooking skills overall.

“It all looks terribly common, darling”, she says, as she holds the menu in one Marigold-wearing hand, and a glass of an expensive gin in the other. Suit yourself, then, Kim.

Contestant number five hasn’t bothered to read the menu yet, but that’s because he’s been busy begging the Channel 4 producers on set for another series of Deal Or No Deal now that his hefty I’m A Celebrity paycheck is all but gone. Yes, it’s Noel Edmonds, TV’s favourite bearded arsehole. After Alan Sugar, of course, but I’ve already written a bit about him on here, so there’d be no point in putting him in this one as well. You know, someone I knew a few years back once told me that Noel Edmonds did a guest lecture at his university, in which he offered some lucky students the chance to spend their summer doing a couple of months unpaid work experience on his radio show. Imagine that! Spending day-in-day-out with Noel Edmonds, without even a penny in compensation. I know they say ‘life’s not fair’, but that really would be pushing it. 

Anyway, that’s everyone, and as I anxiously pour boiling water into five chicken and mushroom Pot Noodles, my all-star dinner guests begin to arrive. First at the doorstep is Kim, who I greet with open arms. 

“Wonderful to meet you, luvvie”, she says. The worried glance she gives the camera afterwards tells me otherwise. Perhaps she’s unimpressed by my unshiny door handle. That’s not a euphemism. 

Gemma and Noel arrive soon afterwards, both carrying bottles of champagne that I couldn’t possibly ever afford myself. They’re not to share, of course, they were bought in anticipation that the wine I’m providing wouldn’t be up to standard, which it is, because I’m serving all my courses with a glass of Summer Berries Echo Falls. It’s £5.99 a bottle and gets you absolutely Bankered. 

We mingle in the living room, eagerly anticipating the arrival of my final guest. Just as Gemma, Kim and Noel begin bonding over the trials of being paid many thousands of pounds to sit around and simply exist for the viewing pleasures of mere mortals like myself, Kanye West teleports himself into the room, in a futuristic flash of lightning and to the tune of his 2010 hit Power, blowing a massive hole into the entire left side of my house in the process. It’s true what he says, you know - the man really is a genius.

We take our seats at the dinner table, as soon as the rest of my guests are done with the obligatory search through my knicker drawer (cue a comeback for Kim’s famous How Clean Is Your House? catchphrase, “Oh, you dirty devil!”) that happens on every edition of Come Dine With Me. You know, despite everything else on the programme, that’s the one bit of it that I’ve never really understood. Every single one of the show’s 1,647 episodes includes a bizarre sequence in which the contestants go running around the host’s home, rifling through their personal belongings and mocking them for the cameras. I’m sure the point of it is supposed to be to give the guests a chance to ‘get to know’ the host, but then I’d have thought that spending five nights eating and chatting with them would be a fairly effective way of doing that. Besides, can you imagine catching your guests doing that in real life? I wouldn’t be sitting them down for a meal and rating them for a chance to win £1,000, I’d be throwing them out, maybe even calling the police, depending on what exactly they were doing with the belongings in question. Not that I have time to think about that right now, I’ve got a cheeseboard to prepare!

First topic of conversation is, of course, TV, and as we tuck into our Ritz biscuits and Tesco Value mature cheddar, Noel gives us his opinion.

“My main issue with television these days is that I’m just not on it enough.” A valid viewpoint. We take a moment to collectively long for the days of Noel’s HQ, a drunken nightmare that was somehow harnessed and broadcast to the masses by Sky1, way back in 2008. Noel’s HQ has been mostly lost to time, except for the presence of a video on YouTube entitled ‘Noel Edmonds speaks with passion’, which is well worth a watch if, like me, you enjoy four minute long videos of TV presenters struggling to stifle their own belief that they might just be The Best Person Ever. There’s a great bit in it where he angrily declares to his delighted audience, “I don’t get paid a penny for doing this show”. Noel, I think I speak for everyone when I say thank you for your sacrifice. 

Speaking of The Best Person Ever, Kanye is noticeably quiet. But then, Kanye isn’t here to share his views. Kanye isn’t particularly here to do anything. Kanye is simply here to observe - to greet his subjects, and work out what makes them tick. Kanye can sense our excitement to be sat in his presence, and Kanye enjoys this. It feeds Kanye. Far more than my meager dinner offerings ever could.

I press Gemma for her own opinions on TV, as someone who is literally always on it. Gemma Collins gets where Domestos can’t. It may sound like I’m being flippant, but in all honesty, I love Gemma Collins. I’m not even sure why, I just know I do. She’s famous for the sake of being famous, and she’s bloody good at it. She’s also quite possibly the most quotable public figure since Shakespeare himself. Maybe even more than Shakespeare. Think about it. What inspires you more? “To be or not to be?”, like anyone knows what that actually means, or “Nah, fuck this, I’m out of here. Get that fire exit door. Am off.”, a poetic sentiment, which conveys an emotion we’ve surely all felt at some point in our lives? I know who gets my vote.

Kim misunderstands the question “what do you think of television today?” as “how clean do you think my television is?”, and responds by pulling out a five pack of dusters and a can of Mr Sheen, and getting to work on the flatscreen in the corner of my living room. Oh well, at least all that cleaning will make her hungry in time for the main course. Speaking of which, maybe it’s time I got on with that.

Despite their disappointment with the starters, the main course - Super Noodle sandwiches, with a generous side-helping of curly fries - appears to delight all my guests, except Kim, who mutters under her breath that it all seems very tacky. I won’t let it get me down. It’s my heartfelt belief that anything can be a sandwich filling if you’re brave enough, and my other three guests agree with me. Kanye lets out a satisfied ‘hm’. Excellent. 

We sit down to dessert, and another glass of Echo Falls. The wine is going down surprisingly well, especially with Kim, who has started subtly rolling her eyes at the conversation between myself and Gemma Collins, who are bonding over how much we love Gemma Collins. Kim purses her lips. Her Spidey-senses are tingling. There’s conflict afoot. 

I quiz Noel about an article that I saw in 2015 and have never forgotten. It was featured on The Independent, and was headlined ‘Noel Edmonds says that ‘death doesn’t exist’ and that ‘Electrosmog’ is more deadly than Ebola’. I know that this sounds like something I just came up with, but I regret to tell you that is absolutely something he said. In real life. I’ll give you a minute to take that in.

Noel Edmonds reaffirms this view to me, speaking with the same unnerving passion he did in the YouTube clip I mentioned earlier. I nod politely. I begin to wonder if everyone’s had a little too much Echo Falls, and if I can really handle another four nights with these people. It’s at this moment that, for the first time all night, His Almighty Westness speaks. 

“I really feel what you’re saying right now”, he tells Noel. We wait together for the next part of the statement, but it never comes. Kanye West outstretches his arm to Noel Edmonds. They shake hands. None of us can quite believe it. And for a moment, Noel and Kanye are right. It does feel as though death doesn’t exist. Nothing exists outside of this dinner party. Everything that matters is happening around my dining table at this very second. 

The silence is broken by Kim Woodburn tutting into a wine glass. 

“Oh, for Heaven’s sake,” she drawls, rolling her eyes, “What a load of nonsensical tosh.”

“Excuse me?”, asks Noel, still hand-in-hand with Kanye West, an alliance he is clearly eager to keep going for as long as possible, on the off chance that he fancies funding another series of Noel’s House Party, “I don’t see you bringing anything to the table here, Kim.”

She widens her eyes, taking another generous gulp of Echo Falls - and I know exactly what she’s about to bring to the table. A big old fight. 

Gemma Collins throws in her two cents. 

“I think we should all calm down a little bit, d’ya know what I mean? I’m having a lovely meal at a fan’s house, I can’t be arsed with an argument.” Wise words, as always, Gemma. Wise words.

It all kicks off.

“You can be quiet, you talentless, orange foghorn!”, sneers Kim, “You’ve contributed nothing to the conversation this evening, other than talking about yourself.”

Gemma’s eyes seem to cloud over with anger, as her complexion quickly transitions from Dulux shade Tangerine Twist to Cranberry Crunch. She knocks the rest of her wine back. Everything goes quiet again for a moment, as Noel, Kanye and I watch the two TV divas stare at each other. It’s like a scene from an old Western, but with diamonds and veneers.

With a violent roar, she launches herself across the table, grabbing Kim by her fake ponytail. I jump up to hold her back, as Kanye leaps from his seat to hold Kim from Gemma. There’s a mad blur of acrylic nails and tufts of bleach blonde hair flying between them, some of it landing into the banoffee pie I had worked so hard on. Noel stands back, arms folded, watching the action in dismay. If you could see the whole picture, it might resemble a renaissance painting, the sort that could be hung in a gallery anywhere in the world and analysed for it’s artistic importance. ‘Nous aimons le boeuf’, it might be called. French for ‘we love the beef’. Doesn’t really matter it means, though, to be fair, as long as it sounds clever and artsy.

Noel shakes his head. 

“What the hell am I doing here?”, he asks, frustrated, “I’m a huge TV star.”

Security eventually intervene, somewhat reluctantly, given the fact this is the most action they’ve seen on a shoot for Come Dine With Me, possibly ever. Producers watch back the footage of the fight on an iPad, sat on my sofa, attempting to mask their delight at what they’d caught on camera.

Kanye eventually stands up, soberly taking in the scene in front of him. Is this how Jay-Z felt as he left the elavator?, he wonders.

“I’m gonna take off”, he informs everyone, breaking the silence that had fallen over the room in the aftermath. But before he can teleport out of the room again, possibly blowing a hole in the other side of my house, the producer speaks up.

“Same time tomorrow? It’s Gemma’s night.”

Four more nights of this… four more nights, all for the chance to win £1,000… is it worth it? 

Of course it is. It was a blast. Same time tomorrow, indeed.

To see some highlights from the iconic Preston week of Come Dine With Me, click here. To see Noel Edmonds speak with passion, click here. To follow me on twitter, click here, or here for instagram :)