I CAN'T GET OVER THIS - Tumblr Posts
~I treat every camera like it's recording and every gun like it's loaded, but even with my precautious nature, I forgot that some snakes are hard to identify. And oh baby, does that venom burn.~
-a poem of a new kind
Everyone lives AU my beloved
Reblogs over likes! :3
One of the best freaking supe series I've read in a while. I was hooked, I read this and the entirely of the sequel in one go. Blows my mind how such an amazing work is so underrated
Uninvited. (a series ft. Felix Lee, Bang Chan, & Hyunjin)
you know if its an AU, its probably ya gurl. lets ride.
---------- Uninvited. a short series ft. Felix, Chan and Hyunjin
cw: 100% AU, afab reader, supernatural creature themes/tropes, vampire theme/tropes, hybrid theme/tropes, blood, ritual self bloodletting, a little angst, eventual smut. word count: 6.0k -
Part II - click here
Part III (explicit content) - click here
Part IV - click here
Part V (explicit content) - click here
Part VI - click here
Part VII - click here
Part VIII - click here Part IX - click here
Part X - click here
The Finale Part One - click here
The Finale Part Two - click here
The Sequel - Unhinged (click here)
PART I.
Thick rubber soles underneath black combat boots create muddled footsteps along the wet, cracked pavement of the backstreets you made your way down after work. It was a long night at the bar, and after closing it was 3:18am, the witching hour.
A full moon in the sky above shone her face bright and bold, providing a little extra guidance aside from the dimly flickering streetlights. The warm night air caresses your cheeks and exposed neck as you emerge from the alley and quicken to a jog to get across the desolate street to the cemetery. You bypass the locked gate, as it's never deterred you before, and make your way along the fence to the end where the land stretches into the trees for unmarked graves. You circle around a tree to enter the cemetery from the back, and make your way to the mausoleum where your ancestors were entombed.
Your fingers slowly rub against the rusty lock as you seem to break away from your auto-pilot tunnel vision and begin to have a hesitant, second thought. Physically shaking your head hoping it would mentally dump your thoughts onto the ground, you exhale sharply and pull the tiny brass key on your neck chain forward from out of your shirt. You lean down, releasing the lock with a small ‘click’ before you slide the lock off into your pocket and open the iron gate to make your way inside of the pitch dark small space.
You make quick work of sliding your backpack off of your shoulders and dropping it to the ground as you kneel beside it to dig for your ritual supplies. You pull out a red pillar candle and two smaller white pillar candles. Mother moon’s glow is so powerful, she shines through the tree branches and into the tiny, dusty glass window of the mausoleum. She graciously provides you with enough light to strike a match and light your candles. You place them on a stone platform, about the height of your waist, in the center of the room where an old bible lay, forgotten from visits long ago.
Feeling a little more comfortable with more adequate lighting, you walk across the room, running your fingers along the marble etched with the name of your great grandmother. You take your time, then go to the next etched name of your great grandfather, your grandfather, and more recently…your grandmother. Stepping back, your eyes fall over the rest of your ancestors that were laid to rest within these walls.
“I need a miracle.” You whisper aloud, feeling tears brimming within your lids.
Your grandmother passed away two weeks ago. She was the last living family you knew of in the city and she left you only one final wish as she took her last breaths with you at the hospital– she wanted a precious family heirloom to be protected so that it wouldn’t fall into the hands of the damned. Your family had deep roots in traditional hoodoo folk magick, and your grandmother had taught you everything you knew. You had stopped using it years ago, however, when tragedy began striking your family down one by one. In today’s times, you kept what you knew of your family’s precious knowledge as confidential as you could. Trouble seemed to follow all of your family members that pursued witchcraft, so you only relied on it in emergencies, and didn’t consider yourself very highly skilled in it at all. Witchcraft got your parents killed in dealings with the supernatural world. Witchcraft separated you from your two siblings that could be anywhere, but were likely dead.
However, you would never forgive yourself if you didn’t follow through with her last wishes, especially after all she had done to raise you on her own.
So here you stood; in the dark, musty mausoleum during the late hours when the potential for success and most importantly, the potential for not being discovered were the highest.
You open your backpack and pull out a ceramic bowl with a unique pattern painted into the center. Next, you divulge a sharp athame from the leather holster that kept it protected. You set everything up on the stone surface within the middle of the room, finally pulling out a jar of pre-mixed herbs you had collected prior to the ritual.
Carefully, you slide the golden peacock hair beret out of your curls and run your fingertips along the rubies and sapphires within the vintage piece. It was thick, and had quite a surprising amount of weight to it. Real, true gold. Your grandmother said it was passed down over fifty generations and was hand created by a blacksmith nearly 2500 years ago.
Each woman who came of age for magic in the family would be gifted the heirloom. It was said to hold unfathomable amounts of mysterious ancestral energy that would boost one’s ability to perform magic. The reasons as to how this heirloom gained its seemingly infinite well of power became a game of telephone played throughout the centuries as it was passed along by elder tongue to eager descendant ears and so on, and so forth.
‘Some good it did them’ you thought to yourself, but did not dare speak aloud in the presence of your ancestors. You open the front pocket of your backpack and pull out a small piece of folded parchment. Unfolding it and placing the top of the paper underneath the bowl to hold it steady, you proceed with the ritual as well as you could remember it from your youth.
Herbs are cast into the bowl first and set ablaze. The fire reaches high above, almost to the stone ceiling and you step back, shielding your eyes and face from the heat, squinting until the flames simmer back down into the bowl.
You’re already uncomfortable.
Looking at the paper beneath you, you lean over the bowel with the athame and your open palm. You close your eyes, curling your fingers around the blade, feeling its sharpness pressing into your palm. Your heart races as you speak the incantation on the paper aloud and slice your palm, harshly inhaling through your teeth in pain as the inexperience of your novice cut burns and throbs. You grip your wrist, squeezing and wincing as you squeeze your fist, forcing blood to pour into the bowl.
Another flame licks up to the ceiling and you yank your hand back. The fire, this time a brilliant ice blue, is so hot that you stumble backwards before you can even place the peacock heirloom in the bowl to finish the ritual.
A loud, sharp howl echoes outside in the cemetery and you are frozen in fear as the flames yet again disappear back into the bowl.
Another piercing howl breaks through the silence of the night and your senses return to you as you scramble to your feet. You can feel the adrenaline building in your veins as you hear the crunching of quick paws on fallen leaves and twigs as you’re being approached quickly by a wild beast of the night.
Someone else may have thought it one of the wild coyotes but you knew better, you were taught better. As soon as you clamor over to the gate of the mausoleum, you can see a onyx black wolf, yellow eyes glowing as its pace slows, noticing you hurriedly securing the lock on the gate with shaky hands. You can hear ominous, throaty growls tumble from the wolf as it bears its teeth, saliva dripping down into the wet grass. It licks its lips and stalks off out of your view into the night. Your chest heaves, your heart ready to break forth from your ribcage.
You take a few steps back before you remember the task at hand and turn around on your heels to make your way back to the–
Clack.
You whip back around to the gate to see the lock you had secured, now in pieces upon the ground. The slow creak of the iron gate opening you back up the danger sends a chill up your spine as you face around quickly to finish your ritual before anything else keeps you here longer than you intended.
“Looking for this?”
Resting himself seated against the central platform there was a white haired, pale skinned gentleman. His eyes were dark, narrowed and fox-like and shone with a troublesome glint that warned you against any retaliation you may have been preparing. Within his slender fingers was your family’s precious heirloom, and your eyes danced between the beret and the gentleman’s deep amber eyes. He was cleanly dressed, a white button down, just a few open at the top to show some kind of strange traditional looking ink that decorated the bottom of his visible collarbone. He wore a dark jacket and dark pants.
“Ah?” his plump lower lip drops his mouth open in faux shock, “Cat got your tongue, little witch?” His accent is thick, and isn’t American.
“W-who are you…” You finally manage to stutter with a hard swallow.
The corner of his lips turned up into a grin, “Seeing as how you’re trying to cloak my father’s wedding gift to my mother in elementary magic, shouldn’t I be asking you that?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Oh don’t tell me your family told you some fairytale about this belonging to you?” He approaches you slowly, relishing in your fear and kicking his feet up with each step in your direction until he’s right in front of you. Stray freckles peppered his smooth, milky skin. He takes your bloodied hand, palm up into his own, inhaling the metallic scent with closed eyes.
“You know, the only thing more arrogant than a human?” he asks, his eyes opening and almost more brilliant than they had appeared before. He watches your open mouthed, terrified expression as he brings your palm to his lips, thin tongue gliding along the long wound, blood staining his mouth red as he hums a soft, deep groan through his closed lips, feeling a wild surge from your sweet flavor.
You remain silent, head spinning as if you were going to pass out any moment from the rush of terror that was constantly cycling through your body. The palm of your hand burns as if there’s venom in his cold saliva.
“I’ll tell you,”
He begins to walk around to your back and you feel ice cold fingers pulling your hair off of your shoulder, exposing your neck.
“A witch.” he breathes against your skin, hands gripping the sides of your arms to prevent you from moving as your fight or flight reflex kicks in. It wouldn't be that easy, no. He could hear the spike in your pulse, the whoosh of your blood as your pressure rose. The few seconds it took for your body to react seemed to stir your blood in his system to a wild hunger. He knew the blood of a witch was delicious; but it had never altered his senses in such a magnificent way as it did right now. He was going to regret his lack of control once he had filled himself with you, for there would be no leftovers to enjoy the experience again at a later time….
“God, Felix, has it always got to be so theatrical with you, brother?”
A hiss blows against your skin and you’re released to face the iron gates of the entrance where there was another gentleman emerging forth. He wore dark jeans, the top button still undone as he pulled a black v-neck over his dirt-streaked athletic body before running his fingers through his dark turquoise hair, shaking out pieces of earth.
He smiles at you warmly as he approaches you, buttoning up his fly, “Sorry about my brother, sometimes he forgets that it isn’t the 1500s anymore.”
His accent matches the fair haired gentleman he referred to as Felix.
He places a thick, muscular arm around your shoulders, pulling you in close as if you two had been friends forever as he gestures to his glowering aforementioned brother.
“He also lets his hunger get the best of him and forgets that we need our witch alive to be able to help us with our little…problem.” he looks down at you again, “So what do you say, little witch? Hear us out?”
You blink several times before you finally stammer, “I…I guess I have no choice?”
“That’s the spirit!” the dark haired man slaps your back with a grin before he sinks sharp teeth you didn’t formerly notice into the side of your neck, the excruciating pain causing you to blackout.
--------------------
The room is spinning in a haze and your head is throbbing. You try to swallow but your mouth is dry and you begin coughing instead as you slowly sit up to gain awareness of your surroundings. You blink the world back into focus, noticing what felt like a hotel room. You were on a large, clean bed with all white sheets and blankets. In front of you, a floor to ceiling window giving you the entire view of downtown, lit up like Christmas lights in the dark of night. There was a dim glow from the lamp on the nightstand nearest you and a clear glass of water. Instinct taking over, you reach for the glass and down it completely in minimal gulps, feeling it refresh your thirsty organs. Shortly, the memories before you passed out began to make their way back into your consciousness.
Your hand instinctively flies up to your neck where you had been bitten, but alas, there is nothing. You look down to your hands, wondering if the deep slice from the ritual still remained.
Again, nothing.
Eyes dart around the room as you rub your neck, and your gaze lands on a door that’s cracked, a bright light on inside. You can hear running water, a shower perhaps? Disoriented, and trying to figure out if you were in a fever dream, you stand up and begin to stumble towards the bathroom, your legs feeling weaker than normal, which came as a surprise to you.
You stop, holding yourself up against the wall before taking a few breaths to regain your composure, and then slowly push the door open, your head poking in. The bathroom was all-white, with marble floors and counters. The shower was on, steam filling the entire room.
You notice a brightly lit LED mirror above the sink and hurry over to it, stretching your neck to see any signs of a wound. You rub your fingers across dried blood that crumbles on your skin, but no bite. The shower water stops and you quietly slip back out of the bathroom, returning to sit on the side of your bed as your heart begins to thump again with anticipatory anxiety.
The door opens and you’re not sure whether to be relieved or terrified that it’s the dark blue haired man from earlier. He shakes what’s left of wetness out of his hair as he squints, tilting his head to the side and rubbing his ear with his hand towel quite vigorously before finally laying his eyes on you, beaming with a big sigh.
“Finally awake, little witch?” he asks. Though terrified, you can’t help your eyes traveling down his defined torso before redirecting your attention back up into his chocolate eyes.
“My name is Y/N.” You say firmly, white knuckle gripping the side of the bed and waiting to be attacked again.
“Y/N, huh?” He nods slowly before shrugging, “Yeah, I’m gonna go with little witch.” He tosses the hand towel over his shoulder as he comes over and sits down next to you on the bed.
“Oh, where are my manners? I’m Christopher, Christopher Bang, but please-” he places a hand on your knee, “Call me Chan.”
You take a deep breath before you decide to say what’s on your mind. “Why did you attack me earlier?”
“Come now, you seem like a smart girl, you know you would’ve made a fuss and been difficult had I not taken a bit of a shortcut back there.” Chan positions himself to better face you on the bed as his expression grows serious.
“That beret belonged to my mother, it was a gift from my father, as you heard my brother Felix explain. You see…that’s not a normal beret, as I’m sure you know, since you were attempting to cloak it.” he lifts an amused brow and you break eye contact with him, still unsure of his motives.
“It was created by a close friend of my father for a very special purpose. It can hold souls to be brought back again or channeled for infinite power. Immortality was a fascinating thing to my parents. Unfortunately, it soon became the ill begotten spoils of war after my village was destroyed and fell into the black market, soon landing in the hands of the witches.”
You studied Chan’s face as he continued, wary of his kind, cheerful disposition when you still weren’t quite sure exactly what he was what he wanted from you.
“And that’s where your family comes in. You see, little witch, I’m not sure what you’ve been told about that little ‘family trinket’, but eight hundred years ago, a coven in this very city started a war that resulted in a lot of death for your kind.”
“I don’t think you brought me here for a history lesson on my ancestors.” You dubiously say aloud. “You said you couldn’t kill me, because you needed me.”
“Straight to the point then, yeah?” Chan’s smile begins to disappear as he stares at the city out the window. “Felix and I, our brother, he was taken from us by a very powerful witch in your bloodline. The coven wanted to teach our family, ‘a lesson’. To show us that despite being made immortal by nefarious means, we were able to be destroyed just like anyone else.”
“Made immortal by nefarious means? Are you…a vampire?”
Chan cocks his head at you and his smile returns, “You don’t know what I am?”
You blink, wide eyed, “Am I supposed to?”
It begins to ‘click’ for Chan and he opens his mouth in a wide ‘o’ with a nod before chuckling. “You must be a baby witch.”
“Can we keep little witch? Baby is a bit much, I do know a little bit…”
This draws forth an even heartier laugh from Chan. “An experienced witch would recognize me right away. I’m a hybrid. I’m both wolf and vampire, but my brothers, they’re vampires.”
“Your brother isn’t a hybrid?”
Chan shakes his head, “That’s why I had to be the bad guy and knock you out. Witch blood is dangerously powerful to pureblooded vampires, especially in a bloodline like yours. It's addictive and they lose control far quicker than they would with the average human. If I let Felix take a nibble out of you, well, we wouldn't be able to bring back Hyunjin!”
“H-Hyunjin?” the information overload was becoming uncomfortably overwhelming.
“He’s our brother. The one I mentioned earlier. He became so overwhelmingly bloodthirsty on witch blood that he almost devoured the entire coven by himself, starting a war. Before Felix or I could get to him, the witch had already harnessed his immortal soul and they became too much for us to take on alone…so we ran. We searched for centuries but never thought we would find Hyunjin again…”
“That is, until the last owner of the hairpin died, leaving it as a shiny uncloaked beacon we could track down as soon as we sensed it.” A low, third voice drifted into the room and your head snapped up to see Felix standing in the doorway, his arms crossed.
You look between both of the men. “You can’t expect me to be able to do anything about your brother? I-I have no knowledge of that kind of magic, I barely know the things my grandmother knew. I don’t practice magic, I’m not even a real witch!”
“You’re a witch by blood and that’s all that matters.” Felix replies sharply. He turns and leaves the room before you can protest. Felix was quiet and terrifying, and when he spoke, his voice was deep and threatening.
“I can understand if you’re overwhelmed right now. Maybe try to get some rest and we can talk more about our plans come next moonfall?” Chan asked, as if you had a choice to decline.
In fact, before you could even have a chance to reply, he stood up, dimples pronounced with his smile as his towel hung dangerously low around his hips.
“Sweet dreams, little witch.” And as soon as you blinked, Chan was gone from the room, only his woodsy scent left to linger on the bed with you.
---------------------------------------
Felix was seated at the long, glass table of the living room, poring over parchments and books spanning over hundreds of years. Scattered on the table were various curios of high value, bones, trinkets, an elaborate dagger. He spread out a scroll atop the table, hands sliding across the thick, old paper to unravel it as flat as he could manage. His eyes scan the ancient symbols through his half-rimmed eyeglasses.
Felix was his mother’s favorite, were he to tell it. He could recall growing up, when he was still human, and watching his mother perform rituals and work with blood to make the impossible happen right in front of his eyes. He would sit on her lap in the candlelit living area of their family home, far past his bedtime, and with the innocence only a child could possess, he would stare up at his mother, doe eyed as she read incantations to him in ancient tongues. Chan had little interest in magick, and grew up closer to his father. Chan’s father was also a hybrid, and a hardy man, who preferred physical defense as opposed to magick. He would teach Chan combat growing up in the woods where they lived. Hyunjin was the youngest, and mother had nearly died giving birth to him; but his mother had made a mistake…falling for a former flame, and Hyunjin’s father ended up being Felix’s. Despite the entanglement and the mess and arguments it brought, eventually the father of the two youngest boys ran off, and was presumably killed.
Chan’s father, not wanting his son, or any other child to go fatherless, and being hopelessly in love, took their mother back, and tried to rebuild their family once more. Truly, were it not for Chan’s father turning her, she wouldn’t have survived and they would’ve been raised motherless too. Felix was eternally grateful to him for saving his mother’s life, and loyally referred to him as his father for the rest of his existence. When Hyunjin was born, mother was a newborn vampire and couldn’t be alone with her child for too long…father feared her instincts would become overwhelming; so Felix took it upon himself to show Hyunjin everything mother had shown him whenever she couldn’t be around, and Hyunjin became attached to Felix like glue.
He sits down, feeling the stiffness in his back as he sighs, sitting back in the wingback chair. He and Chan had spent hundreds of years trying to find the remaining descendents of the coven, tracking the heirloom this entire time, only for it to be in the hands of the least capable witch they could’ve stumbled upon.
He leans forward, picking up the beret, turning it over in his hands. “We’ll figure something out brother, I swear it.” he whispers, before placing it inside of the small wooden box atop the table, carved with their family insignia. Felix nestles the beret onto the blue velvet cloth and covers it before closing the box altogether.
His heightened senses foretold his elder brother’s entrance before he had even made it into the room, and the scent of savoury, fresh blood wafted directly to his nostrils, causing him to begin salivating involuntarily. He was quite hungry, and hadn’t realized it until he felt the discomfort in his stomach.
“Evening brother, were you able to get any rest?” Chan propped himself up against the table in front of his younger half-sibling, offering him a chalice filled to the brim with thick blood. He sipped from his own as Felix accepted, sitting back into the chair yet again, fingers decorated with metal rings clinking against the textured glass.
“I haven’t slept at all Chan. I can’t, not during a time like this. For the first time in eight hundred years, we may finally be able to get our brother back; and you’ve got us shacked up with a witch you don’t know anything about.” Felix finally presses the glass to his lips, the smooth, warm liquid life coating his tongue and spilling down his throat, immediately soothing the ache he felt in the pits of his stomach. “I don’t know how you’ve managed to sleep a wink.”
“Full moon took a lot out of me, I had to recharge; besides, she’s a baby witch, what harm could she possibly do? I’d have her heart out of her chest before she has a chance to say ‘wingardium leviosa’” Chan laughs as he waves his fingers through the air, as if to cast a spell. He finishes polishing off the rest of the blood within his chalice and sets it on the table, tongue running over his lips to relish in the last drops.
“Underestimating the enemy is what got Hyunjin sealed for nearly a millenia, brother.” Felix's eyes narrowed over the top of his glass as he leaned forward to place it on the table. “I still don’t think it was a good idea to keep her in our home.”
“C’mon Felix, shouldn’t you be celebrating the fact that we’ve retrieved him at all? We thought he would be sealed forever, and now…” Chan softly traces his fingertips along the insignia atop the wooden box, he looks back up at his brother with a mischievous glimmer in his brown orbs. “Now we’re closer than we could ever be. He’s here with us, and you fail to see the golden opportunity in this–”
“Enlighten me then, brother.” Felix crosses his legs, waiting for his brother to make sense of the mess they had seemingly found themselves in. Chan walks alongside the glass table, dragging the side of his index finger along the cool, smooth surface as he makes his way down to the end opposite of the youngest sibling.
“She knows nearly nothing about magic. Imagine the things we can teach her, the ways we could mold her…she could become a powerful weapon for us if we plan this out carefully.” The eldest brother places both hands on the end of the table, leaning forward and lifting a brow for his sibling to raise a challenge, his locks falling into his face.
Felix locks eyes with his dark-indigo haired brother, ever the cunning wordsmith. “In theory, that sounds fantastic Chan, however, in practice, she doesn’t seem as pliable as you’re describing.” He gestures to the papers scattered across the table, “These are spells and ritual workings from mother. I can’t make sense of any useful parts yet, and even if I could, I don’t have the ability to cast. We should just find another, stronger, more experienced witch and not waste our time–”
“Waste time?” Chan erupts in raucous laughter before looking at his brother yet again, “Are you serious Felix? As if we’re not damned to eternity on this fucking planet? Now you’re suddenly in a rush?”
“Are you not in a rush? Isn’t this Hyunjin we’re talking about? Our brother?! Trapped in a cold, dark limbo, being tormented every second of his existence by dead witches?!” Felix grows tired of his brother’s apathetic, careless nature almost instantaneously, standing to his feet as his volume rises in anger.
“He may not be your full blooded brother, but he is mine, and I will die trying to bring him back–”
“Don’t bring our bloodlines into this Felix–”
“You have no idea what it's like for us!” Felix’s temper finally cracks as he slams his fist down, sending a crack hurtling through the glass table. He looks down at the product of his anger and shakes his hand out, turning and walking a few paces away, harshly running his hands through the sides of his short, white hair in frustration.
Chan remains silent. He knows Felix blames him for Hyunjin’s capture.. That’s why he put forth a serious effort in tracking down the beret but it was no use; the spell used to cloak it was entirely too powerful for beings that could wield no magic. Those final moments could have played out in a way that would’ve never separated the three; but Chan and his godforsaken humanity that still lingered had him swept up in a romantic entanglement with a witch from the very coven they had raided.
When things began to go terribly wrong, and they started to become overpowered by the influence of witchcraft, Chan begged, he pleaded with tears in his eyes. His voice cracked in a way that broke what was left of Felix’s soul. He never wanted to hear such pain in his elder brother’s tone. Chan held his lover, dying in his arms, desperately pressing his bleeding wrist to her lips, coaxing her to drink his hybrid blood.
Felix had stumbled upon them by accident, seeking out his brother for his immense strength to finish off the battle they were steadily losing.
“Felix, I love her so much, I can’t lose her…please–”
Hybrid blood could not heal a dying witch; and she was so far gone, Felix doubted his pure vampiric blood would serve as much of a difference.
“Chan, Hyunjin is still out there, we need to find him and retreat…forget the beret, forget this dead witch and lets go before we’re killed.” Felix knelt down beside his brother, brows knotted in worry and frustration. “Her family will lay her to rest and consecrate her body, we have to go–now.”
“I can’t leave her, not like this…” Chan buried his face into her wild mane of dark ebony curls. He loved her scent, the natural elixirs she would concoct for her haircare. His chest heaved as sobs broke forth and he cradled her closer to his chest.
“Felix, please try, just for me brother.”
Loud screams and crashes were heard outside of the little shop as they remained hidden behind the counter. Felix was stained with smudged blood, some of it his own, and some of it belonging to the attackers he had vanquished. He kept glancing over his shoulder at the cacophony of war only a few feet away from them outside of the shop. He knew any minute, hell, any second, they would be discovered at their most vulnerable.
“She would have to be turned, we can’t sire a newborn vampire right now…I don’t think I can heal her either, Chan…she’s gone, brother…” Felix pressed his index and middle fingers against her carotid artery, trying to feel a pulse his supernatural senses couldn’t detect. He pressed his lips together in a thin line, looking up at his brother. Chan’s head lay back against the wall, tears and blood stained on his cheeks.
“Then let them kill me. I’m tired of living like this anyway–”
Bang.
A loud shot echoed from outside, followed by blood curdling screams.
Felix grew a little more concerned for the lack of time they had to be dealing with this issue right now. “You are centuries old and want to die over a rogue witch?”
“I don’t want to be this monster anymore, Felix. All that follows us is death and pain. I just want it to end.”
Another bang and the door flung open. There was a brief pause before something was cast into the room, rattling on the floor. Felix raised his head above the counter, but his eyes widened as he ducked back down and yelled,
“Silver grenade!”
—
The memories seemed to replay before Chan’s eyes as well, Felix’s words ringing between his ears. He nods with a pained half-grin, his brother’s words cutting him like a knife, “You’re right.”
Felix’s common sense begins to rise again as his emotions bubble back down from nearly crawling over his calm, cool and collected exterior. “Chan, I didn’t mean it like that–”
Chan lifts a single finger, muting his brother’s apology symbolically from across the room. “The witch is awake.”
Those were his last words spoken, before he disappeared from the room and within seconds, stood in your doorway as you rubbed your eyes, trying to orient yourself to the time and location again.
“Good morning.” Chan’s voice is softer than you had heard thus far; yet it still startles you back into your dissonant reality as he stands there in the bedroom doorway. “How are you feeling?”
You glance over to the window, confirming that it was most certainly not morning before your eyes settle back on the handsome creature whose gentle gaze awaited your reply.
“How am I supposed to feel? I’m afraid everytime I’m awake, and last night I had a horrible nightmare. I can’t even relax in my sleep now.” Your tone is strained and exasperated as the stress begins bubbling up inside of you again. You open your mouth several times, trying to find the words before you drop your hands at your side in defeat; curling your fingers into the sheets as you feel the heat rising in your face. Your throat hurts as you try to hold back tears so you don’t appear weak to your captor.
“Don’t cry, please, little witch?” Chan approaches you slowly, so as to not frighten you further. You look up at him and can feel the complexity of your situation growing more intolerable to hold back. “I haven’t seen it yet, but I’m sure I won’t like it if you cry.”
You feel the muscles in your neck and eyelids twitch with your reactive flinch as his fingers rest underneath your chin, raising your face to look into his brown eyes.
“Just please show me how to help you so that I can go.” You brokenly whisper, pleading with the empathy in him that you were beginning to feel.
“You’ve been here a day, and you already want to escape. Am I that frightening?”
You move your face away from his touch, looking away, at the view outside of the window, the only thing that remained normal and beautiful about this situation. Of course this was how your entire family was stolen from you, and now they had come to finish the job with you. Why couldn’t they just get it over with? Surely someone who had existed as long as he had couldn’t be moved by mortal tears? He was trying to get inside of your mind and you remained two steps ahead of him, as difficult as it was for you to do.
“Little witch…” his voice is lower now, almost a whisper. Your eyes stay focused on the skyline, but you can feel the former heat in your face clawing its way to your waterline, as hot, salty tears begin welling in frustration and confusion.
“Do you think I’m a monster?”
You sniff, feeling your sinuses blocking with your effort to not break as you rub your lips together between your teeth, your brow furrowed; and then, it happened.
The first tear.
It rolls down your cheek and lands on your hand and you realize your fingertips were going numb from how tightly you were holding onto the sheets. You see Chan out of your peripheral take a few steps backwards.
You blink a few times, scattering more tears down your cheeks as you finally look over at him.
“Get cleaned up and meet Felix downstairs in his study to begin your lessons.” his tone was void of any decipherable emotion. He did not look you in the eye, he turned away and walked off, at a normal, human pace. He stops at the doorway, his hand on the frame as he looks down over his shoulder.
“Be prompt, my brother wants this over with as quickly as you do, and is not happy when he’s been made to wait.”
With only a gust of air in his wake; Chan made his exit.
——
next part -> click here
Courtesy of our floundering space administration, "Using observations from NASA's Chandra X-ray Observatory, researchers have obtained the first X-ray evidence of a supernova shock wave breaking through a cocoon of gas surrounding the star that exploded. This discovery may help astronomers understand why some supernovas are much more powerful than others."
guys, come on. there is cool shit in space
ringo enrichment
based on this thought i had while i had a fever lol
the prettiest boy 🤧
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA ST AR IT’S MY BOY IT’S HIM HE LOOKS SO GREAT
HHHHhHHH I LOVE THE COLORS AND HOW YOU INTERPRETED HIM, THE GEARS ON HIS HAT AND THE CANE AND GRANDFATHER CLOCK TIE
This handsome clock-fellow belongs to the fabulous @junebird24. He is called the Timekeeper, and I love him and you will love him too.