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capt-spooki3 · 3 years

Text

By The Witch's Grace

Chapter Two

A Sbi "choose your own story" fanfiction

Click here for story description

Warning: cursing, mention of knives

4.5k words

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The morning came faster than Y/n anticipated. Waking up to the early morning sun in their eyes and the soft chirping or singing of birds was normal. But what they didn’t expect, after years upon years of being alone and fearing any other human contact, was to hear soft voices coming from the direction of their kitchen. They got up slowly from bed, the anxiety building up in their chest even more as Poppy wasn’t lying on the bed as she was very morning. A knife laid on a dresser on the far end of their room that they snatchd quickly before creeping out their already open door and moving as quiet as they could down the hall. They took a good look at the spare rooms with the doors wide open when they usually are always closed.

They stopped at the end of the hall that led to the kitchen and dining room area to listen to whatever voices were speaking. Their brows furrowed, foggy recognition swirling in their half asleep and anxiety wired brain.

“Phiiillll I’m cold! Can’t you just, you know, make Wil go mess with the fireplace?”

“Tommy- shush! You’re gonna wake Y/n up. And no, we can wait until they are up. I don’t want to get into their things.”

“Hi Poppy, oh you are so cute, is your owner up too? Oh you’re cute.”

“...meow.”

Finally, it clicked in their brain and connected it to the people they let stay last night. Relief flooded through them in a wave causing them to let out an audible sigh, the voices in the kitchen immediately going quiet. Barley audible muttering followed before soft footsteps approached the hall and they felt their body tense up at this.

Suddenly a tusked face filled their vision and had them pinned to the wall before they could even think, his expression had them too terrified to move anyway. The grimace on his face was intense, pink eyes filled with concentration and they could swear there was a growl from deep in his chest. From this close though, they were able to see a bit of scruff growing along his face, it really was pink too like the hair on his head. He was off of them in an instant though as he recognized them as anything other than a threat. His features softened fast into something almost friendly. Almost.

“Ah- sorry, didn’t know that was you why do you have a dagger?” His sentences merged as his eyes settled to the knife they held at their chest. The hardened look beginning to return to his features, shifting ever closer to intimidate them.

“I- h-hold on, no no, it’s not. I’M not-” They panicked and pressed themself farther against the wall, breath growing faster and eyes darting around to find and escape. They knew they were no match for a man as large as him and would have no chance trying to fight.

Maybe choosing to trust the bunch so fast really was a bad idea.

Out of the corner of their eye, they could see Phil slide into view. His hair tied back and a spatula in hand with the the top of his robes off his top and showing the casual short sleeved shirt underneath.

“Techno, let them go, it's fine! I’m sure we just startled them, we're new here.” He said in a scolding voice to his son who looked at him in concern. Phil sighed and walked up to Y/n, guiding them past Techno and into the kitchen with a kind look and smile.

“Besides, remember they said that they haven’t had people home in a long time. I don't blame you one bit Y/n, I’m sorry for him. A bit protective, that one.”

They gave a soft laugh to accompany Phil’s laughter and walked to the kitchen counter to put the knife down. Looking over, Tommy was turned around in his chair to watch Phil in the kitchen and Wilbur who was across from him, wearing round thin rimmed glasses, waved at Y/n with a smile to which he easily received a wave back.

“Good morning, hope you slept well.”

“Gooood morning!” Tommy said with a raised hand to be a gesture of hello.

They nodded and looked over the food Phil had put together to cook, the thought of it being poisoned hung in their mind for a bit before they turned back to the boys.

“I did sleep well, thank you. I hope the four of you did as well, the snow storm must have left you all cold last nig- OH! It’s cold in here! I'm so sorry, let me go throw some wood in the fireplace.” They rushed out and started to hurry toward the main living area before Wilbur shot up, making them stop to look at him.

“Hey no no, just tell me where the wood is. I can do it.” He offered, briskly walking over to them and putting his hand on their shoulder. The tension in their body must have caught his eye because he retracted his hand.

“Oh um, it’s downstairs. The room you all came in through last night. It’s stacked against the wall.”

“Great, I’ll be quick.” Wilbur smiled and raced off, he must have been cold with how eagerly he ran off to get the fireplace up and running.

“Thank you uh- Wilbur!” They called out after him, not even knowing if he heard them. Shaking away the worry, they turned back to Phil who was busy cooking.

“And Phil, you didn’t have to cook. I can take over for you-”

“Absolutely not!” He raised up the spatula to emphasize his point, wings puffing up a little where they were smaller feathers next to where it connected to his body. That’s when they noticed how the shirt he wore was made specifically to accommodate his wings. The back was almost entirely cut out of it but connected around to appear like a normal shirt from the front.

They sighed and walked over to the counter, holding onto it as they leaned forward a tad.

“Can I help then?” They pressed but Phil wasn't able to retort before Tommy was breaking his little bit of silence.

“Or you could come talk to me, I’m bored as fuck over here. Come! Come, sit. I have questions.” He said in an intrigued tone, making both Y/n and Phil laugh a bit. They gave in and left Phil to cooking reluctantly and sat across from Tommy. He spun around to face them and his hands in front of him with elbows on the table.

Direcrecting their attention past Tommy, they watched Techno walk to Phil and lean on the counter to talk with him. Tommy was quick to get their attention again though.

"So what do you think of women?”

“Excuse me?” Y/n said with a laugh, not expecting the question. He just leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he let out a big breath.

“Hah… you’re pretty cool. So far. But! You see, a lot of people find me rather annoying when they first meet me. You don’t think so, do you?” He pressed and looked them square in the eyes.

“I mean- no. No you seem alright, pretty nice I’d say.” They were genuine. They wanted to be friendly with these people if possible, maybe make a friend, but their guard was way up still. There was still the small possibility the bunch was out to hurt them.

“Really!? Hell yes- oh I knew you were one fantastic individual.” Tommy exclaimed, getting up out of his seat, movements being very lively and animated. Wilbur walked up behind him to push him back down into his seat by his shoulder.

“Don’t worry you’ll find him annoying soon enough.” Wilbur shoved his younger brother a bit and looked at Y/n. They laughed and met his gaze, finding it odd just how much of his undivided attention he was giving them. He cleared his throat and looked away quickly and turned to speak in Phil’s direction.

“Um, so I checked outside to see how the snow was fairing. It’s still a blizzard out there and the snow is thick.” Wilbur looked back to Y/n with a sympathetic look. “Y/n I think we may have to overstay our welcome until the snow dies down and melts off a bit.”

“It’s no issue, you all are welcome to stay until you’re fit to leave, besides,” They stood up, looking at the family, “Maybe this will give me some good karma or something for the future.” Tommy scoffed and made a quiet retort they couldn't make out but didn’t waste time asking him about it. Y/n passed by Wilbur, giving him a friendly tap on the shoulder in return for his action earlier, and grabbed a loaf of bread from the counter.

“Phil, thank you for cooking, but that is all for you four okay? I have to go feed my livestock.”

“Y/n it’s freezing-” Phil tried to stop them but Y/n stubbornly butted in.

“I know, I’ll be fine though. Wouldn’t be the first time.” They took a chunk out of the bread and bit into it before setting off to get feed for the animals.

It took no time for them to get a large bucket filled with feed, they recently stocked up so there wasn’t any worry of running out. Quickly, they ran down to the basement where Poppy had run off to much earlier to give her food. Once they came back upstairs, they grabbed and carried the rather heavy bucket to the door so they could put on their cloak, hoping it would be enough to keep them warm.

With a deep breath to prepare themself, they lifted the bucket and went to open the door.

“Wait. Don’t go running off just yet.” Looking back, Technoblade was walking down the stairs and pulling on a thick shirt that seemed like it was one worn under his armor. He shook out his hair from the shirt and grabbed the bucket from Y/n who in turn looked at him. Surprised and rather confused.

“You didn’t really think Phil was going to let you walk out of here that easy did you?” Techno said with a soft laugh to himself, looking down at the feed thoughtfully as he answered himself, “No, he’s a stubborn man.”

Y/n couldn’t fight a smile, seeing the formerly guarded individual become soft at the thought of his father.

“Mhm clearly.” They added before opening the door up to thickly falling snow. The occasional strong gusts of wind weren’t helping their situation either. “Sure you wanna join though? It’s not gonna be easy.”

Techno pushed past them into the freezing land that was their property, not seeming to care about even helping them and wanted to get this done.

Y/n closed the door, flipping up their hood and trudging out after the large man. The snow was easily covering their ankles already and still growing with no sign of stopping. They bumped into Techno's back when he stopped suddenly and looked up at him, backing up a little as they hadn't been looking out where they were walking.

"I don't know where I'm going." Techno said loudly over the wind in a tone that indicated they should have been in the lead in the first place.

"Oh- right um," They looked around to see where they were before walking closer to the tree line so they could walk along it. "It'll be this way!"

No words were passed between them from that point. Y/n tried to ask him questions on who he and his family were or where they came from when he was close to them, but the man only would grimace before walking on to empty the bucket for the few sheep they owned. The chores were done much faster than usual, not having time to sit and enjoy time with their animals in such weather.

Thankfully, Techno was quick to leave Y/n's presence once they passed through the doorway. No awkward standing around. Though they didn't blame him, he wanted to be back with his family other than a stranger. The feeling was mutual to an extent.

After ridding themself of the wet or dirty clothes and replacing them, they snuck down the hall to see what the group was doing. Phil, Wilbur, and Tommy were sitting at the table. Phil and Wilbur had empty plates in front of them while Tommy was still working on his food. The three of them were chatting quietly and occasionally one of them would wrangle Techno into the conversation who stood against the wall near the table, eating his own breakfast. They all looked so at peace here, like it was the first time they could just sit and chat and enjoy each other's company.

Not wanting to intrude, even though it was their own home, Y/n left back down the hallway that connected the three rooms. Formerly the rooms were used for storage, but it wasn't too much of a mess to clean once it was needed. They didn't have the time to get out two old futons they had last night so, silently they worked on moving the makeshift beds in hopes to make the family's stay a bit more comfortable. With that idea in mind, Y/n spent the rest of the day until the evening with their mind on autopilot as they cleaned and tidied up the two rooms. The only thing making them stop was the deep rumbling of their stomach.

Smoothing out a blanket on the futon, they reluctantly left the room and trudged down the hall. The feeling of hunger and overworking themself was finally kicking in now. Entering the kitchen, they were surprised to only see Phil, sitting at the dining room table and peacefully reading an old book that they had long forgotten on the nearby shelf.

"Hey Phil, where are..the boys?" Y/n hesitated, hoping he wouldn't mind them referring to his sons as such. His smile as he looked at the book spoke all the words of reassurance Y/n needed.

"They are outside playing in the snow since it's not a blizzard anymore. Been a while since they have gotten the chance. What about you mate?" He looked up from the pages to look them over, "You seem tired."

"Ah, a tad. But I was going to make supper. How are you all with goulash?"

"Excuse me?"

"It's a type of soup, one my Oma taught to me. I'll make it for you all tonight, it makes a lot so it's perfect." Y/n said, their tone light. There was a bit of excitement in being able to cook for them. Something new.

Phil closed his book and made his way into the kitchen, watching as Y/n scrambled around to make sure they had all the ingredients and mumbling to themself.

"I can help if you'd like." He offered and they stopped, contemplating it for just a moment before giving a quick reply.

"No, I've got this. You could keep me company though if you'd like. You seemed a little lonely."

He leaned back against the counter as he watched them work with ease. They must have made this recipe enough to have it memorized.

"Well I was thinking actually."

When he stopped, they looked at him to see him looking intently at them.

"How can we repay you?"

"What?"

"I owe you my life, we would have frozen to death. You know that, Y/n. Please, how can we repay you for your kindness." Phil insisted with an intense look in his eyes. It was clear to see he put a lot of thought into the justification of repaying them.

"Well...I think you all will be spending a bit here so how about I get back to you on that, okay?"

He looked unsatisfied with such an answer, almost pouty with feathers fluffing a bit as he huffed.

"I just have to think about it, I promise!" They laughed as they tried to console him. "You clearly don't have anywhere else to go anyway. Not like I'll just kick you out once the snow clears."

Phil didn’t seem like he was expecting to hear such a kind reason as instead of making some retort, he went quiet. A conflicted look on his face, he crossed his arms close to his chest. Staying quiet, but not leaving the kitchen while Y/n cooked. They didn’t try and press him to talk either with the new information of him desperately wanting to repay their kindness. It was a heavy thing to ponder. Do they abuse this? Or would it be smart to give some sort of half hearted and kind offer? Maybe they could ask for them to stay.

An unclear amount of time passed while they cooked, mostly in their mind and so was Phil it seemed, but the loud opening and closing of the door followed by Tommy's voice, as he almost raced to the kitchen, told them the boys were done outside.

“Holy fuck, I’m starving and that smells so good!” He ran over to see what Y/n was cooking, the childlike excitement and happiness was simply sparkling in his eyes. When not receiving a reply, Tommy looked up at Y/n quizzically which snapped them out of their trace.

“It’s goulash.” They told him and offered him the wooden spoon they were using to see if he wanted to taste. He looked at the spoon then them and seemed unsure on if he really was allowed. “It’s good.” is all they said before moving the spoon toward him again.

He took the spoon and tried the amount that was on it for him. His response came rather quick after taking a second to process the new taste.

“That’s really good, is it done?” He asked eagerly and looked at them. Y/n couldn't help but giggle a bit, almost giving in and ruffling his hair, but instead walked around him to grab five bowls and spoons so they could eat.

“Yeah, it is. Where is Wilbur and Technoblade? Did you leave them out there?”

Tommy just rolled his eyes with a little scoff, reaching over to gently take a bowl from Y/n’s hands.

“They got all pissed off at each other and are trying to kill each other in a snowball fight. I TRIED to get them to come inside, but noooo. Finding out who would win was more important.” he mumbled more, something about Wilbur and they heard their own name mentioned. Even though they couldn’t hear what was said, Phil sure did as he piped up quickly and reached over to lightly smack Tommy on the arm.

“Tommy!” He hissed with a displeased expression.

“Ow! What the hell!" Tommy glared back at Phil but after a second of silent communication between the two, he just sighed in defeat, “That was too much I’m sorry. Don't want Wil to beat my ass.” He snickered and Phil couldn’t help but join in a little. He kept a hand on Tommy’s shoulder when he reached over to take a bowl for himself.

“Thank you Y/n, I don’t mean to put the pressure on you to do this, but maybe you could yell at those two that it’s time to eat? I feel like they might listen to you.”

“Oh, of course. I hope you both enjoy it, I’ll be right back.” They set down the bowls, giving the spoons an extra tap on the counter with a glance back at them to tell them that is where the spoons were once they got their food. With that, they made their way to the front door, not really knowing what to expect. Y/n took in a deep breath and swung the door open just to be greeted by a hard snowball in the chest. They staggered back a step out of surprise, their hand on their chest then looked up to see Wilbur with his hands over his mouth and Techno dropping his arm full of snowballs as he doubled over laughing.

“OH MY GOD! Oh god- I am SO sorry!!” Y/n could see his face flushed red with embarrassment from here. They laughed a little at the situation and decided to take a bit of pity on the snow covered boys and not give into the urge to hurl a snowball at him

“Yep that’s- that’s alright. I just wanted to tell you that supper is ready, get your asses inside.” Their tone was light hearted as they brushed off the left over on their shirt.

“Right- right I’m sorry again, we will be right in!”

With that, Y/n closed the door and immediately heard bantering back and forth from the two though it was too muffled tpo make out the words. They made their way back into the kitchen to finally relieve their hunger to immediately be questioned.

“The fuck happened?” Tommy turned himself halfway around the chair, the same one he sat in this morning, to fully soak a possible scene.

“Well I opened up the door and got caught in the crossfire of their little battle out there.” They spoke while fixing their bowl, hearing Tommy wheeze out with laughter, “Needless to say, they are coming in soon.”

As if summoning them, the front door opened up. Y/n hopped up on the counter to eat their food and see the boys walk in. Techno was first, raking a hand through his messy and wet hair with Wilbur right behind him. With the snow rapidly melting on them it was soaking their clothes even more.

Snickering a bit, Y/n turned their attention to their bowl, “I put all the spare clothes I had in both of the rooms. Please go change.” They sounded more like a mother than anything and Tommy sure found that hilarious as he busted out laughing again, leaving them to go change.

Nearly no time passed and they were back to get their food, Y/n being right there to direct them where the utensils and bowl were. The two went and sat at the table and the family began slowly chatting about little unimportant things. To Y/n, the peaceful chatter was pure music to their ears. As much as they hate to admit it, they deeply missed the little joys of a domestic life with others. Just the little daily things and being in the company of other people.

Happily, they ate in silence while the family was enveloped in their happy little bubble of conversation. Even once finished, they stayed on the counter and listened to the conversation until Poppy trotted into the kitchen with a big meow to tell Y/n she was hungry for her dinner. The meow was loud enough to make Wilbur stop talking to "aww" at the cat. Y/n hopped off the counter and washed their bowl before turning back to the cat.

“Alright baby, are you hungry?” Poppy meowed again and impatiently walked around so Y/n would follow her into the basement to eat. “Okay, you all can wash the bowls when you’re done. I’ll be in the basement if you need me. There is a set of stairs in the ground floor that leads to it.” With that, they waved the family off and followed their excited and meowing feline down to eat.

About 30 minutes had passed and they were sitting in the basement where they had their magic things stored and three book cases which were filled. They sat in one of the two plush chairs that sat between the three walls of books, humming a soft song while flipping absentmindedly through a book and trying to find a certain page. Poppy was full and laying on their lap fast asleep

“Um, hey. Y/n?” Came the soft calling of Wilbur as he took a few steps down the stairs and meeting eyes with them. He looked around the room as he was curious to what it looked like but returned his attention to them.

“Hi, do you need something?”

“Well, no, but the others are going to bed and I wanted to know if..” He trailed off, walking down the stairs to nearly the bottom while staring at all their books. "If I could come read with you, actually.”

Y/n was taken aback a little, but frankly the idea sounded nice.

“Of course, I’m sure You will be able to find something here you like.” They watched him walk to the farthest shelf from them and skim over it, trying to find a book.

“You know, I was never given the chance to sit down and read like this. But I’ve always wanted to learn,” He plucked a book off the shelf and turned it around to show them the cover, “About music.”

“Really?”

“Really. It has always been a topic that has enticed me. I used to write little songs in the small bits of free time I was so graciously granted.” He exaggerated as he plopped down in the chair beside them, not so slyly looking them over and smiling before getting comfy and opening the cover.

“I guess you’re in luck then, I have five or six other books on music and I think two that are filled with sheet music.” They said in an offer to him before flipping back through the book to find their desired page.

A few minutes of comfortable silence went on between them, Y/n occasionally seeing him look at them out of the corner of their eye. He took in a deep breath and adjusted his glasses then rested his head on his hand which was propped up on the arm of the chair.

“Do you play?”

“Excuse me?”

“Like, an instrument.”

“Oh, well, I used to. I played guitar though it’s been at least a year or two since I’ve even tried to play anything.” They laughed a little, glancing at Wilbur who was scanning his book.

“Have you been interested in learning anything else?”

“Oh absolutely, though I don't think I have the expenses to buy a new instrument from anywhere. At least not here.”

Wilbur hummed softly in reply, obviously thinking over their reply though the conversation died out after that as he seemed to become engrossed in the pages whilis Y/n found the page they had been searching for.

It would cross their mind a bit how nice this was. despite no talking, they were able to spend time with someone in their most comfortable environment.

Who would have known a snow storm would gift them people who weren’t here to hurt them.

People that wanted to get to know them even.

They could get used to this.

[Chapter Three]

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-tag list-

@can-i-fangirl-yet @spit-rot @sproudi @omgthatonenerd06 @acemt @wahman @m-etr3m8 @pog-sad-muffin @quiche-inoya @lea-the-foxe @sbi-is-my-onlysanity @smol-spoopy @chey-the-simp @p1gst3p @silvemistxe33 @cl0udy-grey @sweetchillipeppers @sharpcheese

(srry for the late mention I'm LITERALLY a boomer when it comes to tumblr-)

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ggyuwwoo · 3 years

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heaven's cloud : Paradise

- in the afterlife where we get to choose our own paradise, two souls unexpectedly meet.

genre: soulmates!au, but also involves idolverse, kinda fantasy whimsical, afterlife-paradise world; fem!reader x lee chan warnings: mentions of death, magical creatures, not really sure what else i guess word count: 2.4k + i generally am not good at making these infos, bear with me sorry! also not really fond of the fic picture, but i also suck and still is learning,,,,

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Lee Chan, for your exemplary journey in life, you are hereby bestowed a place in Paradise.

"I'll take the clouds if I may,"

Then to the clouds you shall ascend, Heaven's Cloud.

Eleven months of (not) living in paradise, Chan had adapted well into his afterlife. The Guides had placed him in his own haven of his choosing, the Clouds. Fluffy white and softer than cashmere, the touch is cooling and healing, peace and quiet were also a given. To Chan, it's his very definition of heaven.

Despite being the only soul - apparently, no one has chosen the Clouds for centuries - Chan has been never alone. He had the little fairies and spirits to keep him company while wandering around the forests. Stars often appear in his nights to cast a light show for the boy. Cancer loves to see Chan's awe-stricken face as the constellation shows him a few tricks.

The Clouds inhabitants and surrounding astronomical beings grew fond of the boy. Hence, Lee Chan never felt alone.

Though it was a blissful experience and a beautiful memory, there was only one month left. One month until the end of his livelihood above the world.

You will be given twelve months of afterlife until your next life begins.

Chan still doesn't understand why they must be sent back to Earth, living another full life that may or may not be 'great'. Though the thought of living on Earth, whatever their life might be, is already a disappointing thought. After having to exist in a paradise of your own, nothing else would come close.

But apparently, the universe believes differently.

The fairies and spirits told him once, 'Universe sought in a cycle, to them it's the perfect way as it does not end, leading to the continuation of life and its purposes.'

"But what exactly do those purposes serve if there is no end to it?"

'There is none silly, if there was to be an end to it, then life itself would cease to exist. It serves to preserve life as we know it, and well - the Universe.'

Chan pondered the thought for a while, "What if, just really hypothetically, someone happens to break the cycle, what happens then?"

The fairies' expression saddened, 'Hopefully it never happens.' Some of them flew to sit on Chan's shoulder, a calming place for them. 'But if it were to happen somehow, life wouldn't perish instantly, but the Universe and everything in it will meet its end, including the afterlife.'

The boy nodded before noticing the frowns on the beautiful faces of the winged creatures, the atmosphere had taken a drop turn. Choosing to lighten the somber mood, Chan raised another question. "Well then, um, what about aliens? Do they exist?”

Throughout the time he was there, Chan spent it listening to the stories of the creatures, exploring the cloud haven that seemingly doesn't end, and conversing every now and then with the astronomical beings -- when they so happened to be passing by.

It didn't get boring for the boy as the stories that the fairies had been plenty and new, never losing the interest of Chan, and the beings were more than happy to talk with him about almost anything.

Of course, all this was okay and fine, revealing the Universe's secrets and whatnot, Chan wouldn't remember this anyway when he enters his next life.

On the first day of his twelfth month, Chan woke up from his sleeping quarters in the usual well-rested sleep. Walking out to do his routine of visiting the forest and later on relaxing by the Serenity Sky Lake. But before he could reach the outlines of White Forest, he saw a figure walking through the field, he couldn't see clearly who it was, but what he registered in his mind was enough to make him gasp.

It was another soul. A human.

As quickly as his feet could take him, Chan sped through the flurry landscape of clouds, wanting to figure out this stranger.

"Hey you! Hey!"

The figure turned to the general direction of where Chan was coming from, revealing its appearance. Upon view, Chan stumbled over nothing, causing him to fall forward into a roll and tumbling on the ground until he laid flat on his back. Luckily, there were clouds under him.

"Oh my God! Are you okay?" He heard the figure shout before rustling and someone appeared by his side. Chan scrunched his eyes trying to block the light coming from above while identifying the person looming over him. The first thing he noticed was long brown hair, the strands were flowing almost magically. As if hypnotized by it, Chan could only stare. Until finally, he saw the stranger's face.

She’s ethereal.

You were quite confused as to why you were where you were. All you could see for miles were… white? Your body was standing on nothing, or at least that was how it looked. A sudden voice interrupted your wonders.

Welcome _____, you are in Paradise.

You turned back to find the source of the voice but all you found was a blinding light that caused you to squint your eyes.

“Wh-what? Where?”

Paradise dear, the afterlife.

Your mind went blank, the afterlife? No way. Your brain tried remembering the last thing before waking up in this weird place.

There’s no use child, your memories are long gone. But I can tell you this, you went in peace. You weren’t in pain.

Were the voices capable of reading minds? And who were they? You were a bit frightened.

To answer your question, yes we can read minds. We are the Guides, here to assist the souls in the afterlife. There’s no need to be afraid.

“Uh, okay, ...thank you?” You voiced out, still a little overwhelmed with whatever was going on.

Well then, perhaps we should take you to your choice. Please, follow the green path.

Just as the voices finished speaking, a sudden green line appeared in front of you. You couldn’t see what was ahead, just the green line until the end. You decided to follow through, whatever this was.

As you walked on the path, you were gradually transported to a different place. When you were finally able to understand your surroundings, there were screens that had different landscapes and writings in different colors under them. The scenes displayed were (what you could only describe as) heavenly. Each of them has its own set of vibe and warmth to it. Unconsciously your hand moved itself to touch one of the screens, but then the voices returned prompting you to pull it back.

What you see in front of you are the places in Paradise, according to how one lives their life on Earth, you have a series of options that you may choose from. I shall provide you a look-through.

The screens suddenly disappeared and now you were standing in what looked like those busy city streets, only not so busy.

First is the Silver City. Its appearance resembles the metropolitan areas down on Earth but without all the pollution, noises, and busy traffic. Many people who had used to live in these areas usually choose them, sensing a familiarity to it, they say.

As the Guides explained its landscapes, you were admiring the tall buildings and skyscrapers around you. The architectural designs were marvelous and even if you didn’t remember if you had studied such things, you can’t help but stare in admiration.

Aside from the buildings, the streets looked beautiful as well. The sidewalks were arranged perfectly as if it was placed with the most proper city planning. But one building stuck out to you most, it was majestic. A silver mansion, with tall gates and filled with all kinds of trees and plants. Before you could step towards it, the Guides were already finished explaining the Silver City and had transported you instead to another location.

Second, the Golden Countryside. As the name states, this place is best likely your ultimate countryside farm paradise. A quaint farmhouse with animal livestock to nurture and many forests to explore and spend time in. Families often choose this place for their resting, it’s quite homey.

True to their words, you couldn’t believe what you were seeing. It was a vast field of grass with a simple two-story house that looked like it could fit six bedrooms. Beside it was a giant farmhouse and animals roaming around it. The view itself was doubled in beauty as the sun (or whatever source of light that existed here) sets from behind, casting a soft orange glow over it. Somehow the silver mansion from earlier was placed way aside in your head. Yet again, before you could ask any questions, you were immediately transported once more.

The third is Cosmic Space. Ever wondered how it is to live in Space child?

You heard the voice give out a sound that was similar to a laugh, but somehow not quite.

More people than you’d expect actually dream of this. It may not be as simple as the City or the Countryside, but it’s nonetheless paradise. To them.

Now you were most definitely floating, though despite floating in the middle of random space, you could breathe easily and see easily as well. You thought that space may be too wild for you but as you were looking around, you saw one of the most magical things you have ever seen.

“A comet shower…”

The Guides seemed to have heard you as they projected the shower closer, now holographic space comets were right above you, shining as they continued the rain of them. Mesmerized was all you could feel, the meteors were almost hypnotizing you.

“Whoa…”

Beautiful isn’t it?

Was the last thing you heard before you felt the sudden pull of transport again, at this point you were no longer fazed with the continuous changing of locations, though you did wish to have been able to watch the shower longer.

Number four, the Pearl Waters. For those who favor the deep sea and vast oceans. Of course, many souls who felt close to the waves chose this. The afterlife here is often intriguing, staying with the many creatures and traveling wherever paradise takes you.

You found yourself standing on a deck of a ship, it was modernized though some parts resemble that of an older version. Heading to the flanks you watched the blue ocean as the waves sloshed around the sides. As if welcoming you, dolphins suddenly jumped above the sea, whalebacks spurting water, and schools of fish could be seen from the clear water. You were most surely amazed. As the sea creatures displayed a water show, you felt something touching your arm on the railing. You looked to find a woman with green-blue hair, her cheeks had features similar to scales, and as you peered further you realized it wasn’t a woman at all.

“A...mermaid?”

Ah yes, indeed. Each paradise also has guardians that help care and maintain the afterlife. Mermaids are the Pearl Waters guardians. As for the Silver City, we have the Elves. Golden Countryside has the Shapeshifters while Cosmic Space has Angels.

“Wait what?” You were pretty much confused all together, mythical creatures? Well, then again, it is the afterlife, who knows what actually exists here. But still, you found yourself in confusion and quite the shock.

Not to worry dear, you’ll have plenty of time to get acquainted. Now for our last destination.

The mermaid who was staring at your side gave you a small smile before disappearing back into the ocean. You continued to stare at her general direction before your view changed into that of...clouds?

Last but not the least, Heaven’s Cloud. It’s truly magical here. Not many people find it appealing though, but of course it always depends on who’s choosing. Essentially, it's the skies. The guardians here are the fairies and spirits. Quite the peculiar and very friendly creatures.

As your eyes set on the landscape, you couldn’t help but let out a gasp. It was breathtaking. It was as if you were standing right in front of the Sun but at the same time, you weren’t. You knew for one you’ve never been in a place like this yet all you could feel from the surroundings was home. You leaned down to touch the fluffy ground and it was the softest thing you’ve ever felt. As quickly as the previous location visits, the surroundings changed again back to their original place with screens.

Now _____, because of the well-lived life that you have gone through. You, _____, are given the choice of one of the five Paradises that you have just seen. Speak now for your choice.

You didn’t know if it was your own voice and mind that spoke, or your conscience, because the sound that erupted from your body sounded firm and almost unbreakable. You didn’t even realize that you had spoken your choice after it was said.

“Heaven’s Cloud if I may,”

The Guides paused for a moment as if they were thinking about something, before continuing.

Very well then, your heart has spoken. To Heaven’s Cloud, you shall go.

One last time, you were again transported to a field with white clouds, similar to the earlier landscape you visited. This time without the voices. Somehow you suddenly felt alone, scared, and unsure of what to do. Wandering aimlessly, you tried looking for the guardians - the fairies and spirits. Then you suddenly heard someone shout.

“Hey you! Hey!”

You turned back to see a man, brown fluffy hair swaying atop his head, running towards you. Well, was running, until he stumbled down and started rolling across the field.

“Oh my god! Are you okay?” you shouted before heading towards the boy. As you reached his side, you saw he was unhurt and fine, just squinting his eyes. You sighed in relief, although it should make sense, after all, it was clouds underneath them. Before you could say anything to the stranger, you caught him staring right at you, and somehow you stared back as well.

The boy looked mesmerizing.

#heaven's cloud #lee chan scenario #dino scenario #seventeen imagines #em;writes #your choice based stories #svt fanfic

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dialovers-translations · 4 years

Text

Diabolik Lovers VANDEAD CARNIVAL ;; Ruki Route ー Chapter 4

ー The scene starts on the Carnival’s venue

Yui: Wait, Ruki-kun! Where are we going?

Ruki: Apparently the Sky Terrace we were informed of earlier has a facility which treats injuries. We’re headed there.

Yui: A facility which treats injuries? At the Sky Terrace...?

Ruki: Don’t ask me about the details, but it says so on this flyer. It’s worth checking out, don’t you think?

Yui: ( Could it be...For the wound on my arm? )

Ruki-kun, the injury on my arm is fine, you know? I only lightly scraped it, and it already stopped bleeding as well, so...

Ruki: It’s not ‘fine’, is it. I’m the one who made you get hurt. I’ll take proper responsibility.

All you need to do is keep quiet and follow behind me.

Yui: ( It really is fine though...Ruki-kun must be really worried about it. )

( I got away with just a light scratch because Ruki-kun saved me...So he definitely shouldn’t blame himself. )

*TIMESKIP*

ー The scene skips to the Sky Terrace

Yui: ‘Refresh at our spa, a space for relaxation’...

So the facility to have your injuries treated is actually a spa...

( It looks like an open air bath. So they have these in the Demon World too... )

Ruki: The hot water in this bath is said to be highly effective for the treatment of injuries. The flyer from earlier made that very clear.

I don’t want to blindly trust those words...But it’s worth the try. Go ahead and take a nice, long bath.

Yui: Huh? You won’t take one too?

Ruki: I’m fine. I’ll wait for you here.

Yui: But...I feel bad for making you wait all by yourself...

Ruki: Haha...What’s that? You’re being rather bold today.

You even want to be together with me in the bath...Where you’d have to take off all your clothes to get inside?

Yui: Together...?

( Don’t tell me, it’s a mixed bath!? )

Ruki: Well, if you insist, I don’t mind considering it...

What do you say?

Yui: S-Sorry! Please wait here after all...!

Ruki: That’s why I told you. ...Besides.

ー He steps closer

*Rustle*

Yui: Eh? ...W-What? Ruki-kun?

Ruki: I’m sure you haven’t picked up on it, but I’ve been sensing a strange aura this whole time.

Yui: A strange aura...?

Ruki: Yes. It seems like there’s someone who is trying to sniff us out.

I can only assume you would be their target. You’re the Queen of the Carnival after all.

If we were to be attacked, I would rather not be completely naked. That’s why I’ll stand guard right here.

Yui: ...Uhm, does that mean...I’d have to run away without any clothes on?

Ruki: Don’t worry. Livestock never needed clothes to begin with.

Yui: No way, how could you say that...!?

Ruki: Hah...Come on, just get going. I said you could take your time, but get out before you get dizzy, okay? (1)

Yui: ( I honestly don’t know if Ruki-kun is kind or not... )

ー The scene shifts to inside the spa

Yui: Hm...

( Ruki-kun said there’s someone tracking us down but...Who could it be? )

( I wonder if the ‘Queen of the Carnival’ thing Ruki-kun mentioned is related to it after all? )

( However, the scent of my blood should be suppressed, so why would they target me...? )

...Ah.

*Splash*

Yui: ( Amazing...! I’ve only been soaking in the water for a few minutes, but the wound is already healing! )

( So it really does have a healing effect. )

( ...I’m glad. Once my injuries are all better, Ruki-kun won’t have to worry about it anymore either. )

*SCENE SHIFT*

Ruki: ...

...So they’ve started moving.

However, this presence...

...

...Seems like things might get a little troublesome.

*SCENE SHIFT*

Yui: ( ...Wow. You can’t even tell I ever hurt myself anymore. )

( As to be expected of the Demon World, it’s almost like magic. In that case, I suppose I can get ouーー )

*Rattle*

Yui: ...Eh?

ー Ruki steps inside

Yui: Wha...Ruki-kun!?

Ruki: Quiet. Your voice echoes.

Yui: I can’t be quiet right now! Why are you here...!?

*Splash*

Yui: ( He’s touching the water...? W-What is he doing...? )

Ruki: ...Haah.

Yui: Uhm, Ruki-kun...?

Ruki: How long do you intend to stay in there? If your wounds have healed, hurry up and get out. Let’s go.

Yui: Eh!? H-Hold up!

ー Yui gets out of the water

*TIMESKIP*

Yui: Wait, Ruki-kun! I haven’t properly put on my clothes yet...!

Ruki: Don’t dawdle. You should at least be able to get dressed swiftly.

Yui: Easy for you to say...

ー She fixes her clothes

Ruki: ...Oi.

*Rustle*

Yui: ( ...His hand is on my hip...! )

Ruki: Behave yourself. ...They’re here.

Yui: Eh...?

???: ーー Blood...

Thirsty Vampire A: The scent of delicious blood...!

Yui: ( W-What? We’re surrounded by Vampires...!? )

Thirsty Vampire B: Give us your blood, human...!

Yui: ( Compared to the Vampires we’ve crossed paths with up till now, there’s clearly something wrong with them...! )

( They’re all after my blood...? )

( However, the bleeding has stopped and the wound is gone too, so why...!? )

Ruki: ...I knew it.

Either way, we have to get past them first. I’ll explain everything laーー

*Thud*

Yui: Ow...!

Ruki: Oi, Yui!

Yui: ( What pushed me just now? It was an incredible force...! )

( ...Oh no! I got separated from Ruki-kun! )

Ruki: Yui, stay here! I’llーー

*Rustle*

ー The screen becomes blurry

Yui: ...What!?

( Next is, some sort of powder...!? )

Ruki: Fuck, they even prepared this...!

ー Yui closes her eyes

Yui: ( What is this powder...!? I can’t keep my eyes open...! )

( At this rate, I’ll only get even further away from Ruki-kun...! )

Ruki: Yui, just stay there! Don’t move carelessly!

Yui: O-Okay...!

*Rustle*

ー Somebody grabs hold of her wrist

Yui: Ah!

Thirsty Vampire C: Hehe...Gotcha...

Thirsty Vampire B: Aah, it’s the scent of delicious blood...Makes me want to suck her dry down to the very last drop.

Yui: No, stop...!

Ruki: Yui!! Don’t move!

Yui: ( Even if he says that, the Vampires are pushing me...! )

Thirsty Vampire A: Well then, human...Let us savor you thoroughly...

Yui: ...Stop...!

ー She continues backing away, accidentally stepping off the edge

*Rustle*

Yui: ...Eh?

( There’s no...ground under my feet...? )

Ruki: Yui!!

( Right...This is a terrace so... )

( ...I’m fallingーー...!! )

ー Yui tumbles off the edge

*Thud*

Yui: ( ...Huh...? )

Ruki: ーー Open your eyes. Everything is okay now.

ー She opens her eyes

Yui: Ruki-kun...!

Ruki: Don’t make such pathetic noises. ...Were you that scared?

Yui: I mean, we got separated and I nearly had my blood sucked as well...I thought I was going to fall.

Ruki: That’s why I told you to keep still.

Good grief, how many times do you intend to give me a near heart attack (2)?

Yui: Sorry...

Ruki: I’ll listen to all your apologies later. For now...Don’t let go. Hold onto me tightly.

Yui: ...Yeah.

( Ruki-kun saved me again... )

...Say, Ruki-kun? How did you know where I was?

There were tons of Vampires flocking around me and you shouldn’t have been able to see because of the white powder they scattered about...

Ruki: Who knows.

I was most definitely blinded and without the scent of your blood to go off of, I couldn’t act on the spot.

But even so...From the second I knew you had tumbled off the terrace, I jumped off without thinking.

Without a single clue and relying only on vague sensations, I desperately reached out my arms.

Anyway, I simply trusted on my instinct and wholehearted intent to save you...Which is how I managed to catch you in my arms like this.

I’m usually not the type of person to rely on something unless I’ve confirmed it with my very own eyes though...Heh...It truly is strange.

Yui: ...Thank you, Ruki-kun. For coming to my rescue.

Ruki: I’m glad you’re safe.

Oi, hang on tight. While we’re up in the air, let’s head straight there.

Yui: Head...To where?

Ruki: To his castle. You are the Queen after all. Or have you forgotten your own duty perhaps?

Yui: Ah...Right. That’s true.

( Once we’re there...I’ll have my duties as the Queen, so I won’t be able to spend time at the Carnival with Ruki-kun like this. )

...

Ruki: Oh? Now this is new. You rarely snuggle up to me like this...

Yui: It’s because I’m scared I’ll fall...

Ruki: ...In that case, I’ll take you to the castle slowly.

We’re running short on time but...Well, I suppose it’s fine. The star of the show always arrives late.

Once we’ve reached the castle...My duty will come to an end.

Until then...Go ahead and enjoy this time to your heart’s content.

Yui: ( This really is the end... )

( I feel like our time together really flew by today. )

( Once we’re at the castle and I’ve fulfilled my duties as this ‘Queen of the Carnival’, I’ll have to say farewell to Ruki-kun, right? )

( ... )

( I want to spend more time with Ruki-kun after all... )

( I’d be sad if things were to end like this... )

*TIMESKIP*

ー The scene shifts to the area in front of the castle

Yui: ( ...We’ve already arrived. )

( This is where ‘that man’, the person Ruki-kun and the others obey, lives... )

Ruki: Yui, I’m putting you down.

Yui: Y-Yeah...

*Rustle*

Ruki: ...This is the venue. Let’s go.

Yui: Y-Yeah...

ー The scene shifts to the living room

Yui: ( There’s nobody here...? )

Ruki: Yui, don’t wander around.

Yui: Ah, yeah.

Say, Ruki-kun? What exactly does the Queen have toーー

Ruki: My sincere apologies for the wait. ーー Karlheinz-sama.

Yui: ( Karlheinz-sama...? )

Karlheinz: Raise your head, Ruki. No need to be so humble.

Ruki: Yes.

Yui, you should greet him too. This is Karlheinz-sama...The owner of this castle, as well as the King of Vampires.

( Then this the infamous ‘that man’ who Ruki-kun and the others follow? )

( They owe their lives to him, right...? )

Karlheinz: Hello, Eve. I suppose it is my first time meeting you looking like this? My apologies for the belated greeting.

Yui: Ah, n-no! Nice to meet you. I’m Komori Yui. Uhm, you see...!

Ruki: Yui, calm down a little.

Karlheinz: Fufu...No need to bow your head to me. You are the star of tonight after all.

How was it, Ruki? Did you enjoy the Carnival?

Ruki: ...I did. Although we ran into a few close calls as well.

Karlheinz: Hooh? That must have been quite misfortunate.

However...You were able to deal with all of it, no?

Ruki: ...You were the one behind it after all, weren’t you? I figured that might be the case.

Yui: Eh? ...Ruki-kun, what do you mean?

Ruki: That everything which happened to us today was part of this man’s plan.

Yui: Everything...To which extent?

Ruki: Everything is everything. The creepy magician and clowns at Saint Nore Park...

I’m sure the Vampires who attacked us on the sky terrace were doing so under his direct order as well.

Yui: ( Then...He put us in danger on purpose...? )

( ...That’s just so... )

Karlheinz: I expected no less from you, Ruki. You are as clever as ever. When did you realize?

Ruki: The surrounding Vampires would target her, despite the fact the wound on her arm had healed.

Afterwards, I touched the bath water...and then my suspicions were confirmed. I could sense your magic in it.

Karlheinz: Inflicting injury upon Eve was not part of my plan. To make it up to you, I healed her wounds.

She is your precious Eve, right? You still have a long way to go Ruki, since you let her blood spill from something other than your fangs.

Ruki: My sincere apologies.

Yui: No way...Why are you apologizing, Ruki-kun...?

Ruki-kun protected me the best he could...!

Ruki-kun...Why would you say sorry?

Ruki: Yui?

Yui: I mean, we’re the ones who were in danger, right...?

Ruki: Cut it out, Yui. I get why you would grow defiant after everything you’ve been through butーー

Yui: No, that’s not what I’m trying to say...!

This person...He tested you, didn’t he?

Toying with a person’s feelings like that...Is simply something I can’t let slide.

( How dare he test Ruki-kun, who was so worried about my injuries, looking at me with a strained look in his eyes...That’s just too cruel! )

Karlheinz: Toy with a person’s feelings...Huh? I can’t deny that.

When you’ve lived as long as I have, you can’t help but develop some questionable tastes.

Yui: ...If you feel bad, then apologize to Ruki-kun, please.

Ruki: ...Don’t be ridiculous! How could you ask him to apologize?

Yui: You were being tested too, you know!? That’s just too mean...!

Ruki: Even if you think that way, you should realize who you are talking to. I’m sure you know that much, no?

Yui: ...However, it isn’t good to hide how you truly feel.

Ruki: What...?

Yui: You’re the one who said I should learn to be confident and walk with pride...Yet you’re hiding your feelings too.

Ruki: ...That’s not true. Iーー

Karlheinz: Hold it, Ruki.

I agree with her.

You are absolutely correct, Eve. I shall express my remorse.

My bad.

Yui: ...

Selection

→ Me too... (☾)

Yui: I’m sorry too. I really ran my mouth...

But...Having you think of my special someone that way makes me sad, I don’t like it...

Especially since I know how important you are to Ruki-kun...

Ruki: ...

Karlheinz: Right. ...Ruki, I’m sorry.

Ruki: No...

→ Please apologize to Ruki-kun

Yui: Please apologize to Ruki-kun instead of to me.

Karlheinz: I see. That is valid too.

Ruki, I’m sorry.

Ruki: N-No...

Ruki: ...Heh.

I never thought you’d get the person who is basically what you would consider this world’s God to bow his head to you. You truly are...

Yui: I-I know I said some rude things! But...!

Ruki: I’m not criticizing you. ...I just thought I could never match you.

No matter how ordinary, foolish or shallow-minded of a woman you may be...You really are Eve after all.

Yui: ( Ruki-kun... )

Ruki: ...Karlheinz-sama. Can I say something?

Karlheinz: Yes, I do not mind.

Ruki: I...am standing here right now because of you.

My loyalty I vowed to you back then...Has not changed one bit to this day.

Therefore, I tried my very hardest to become Adam. To fulfill your wish.

...However, it seems like I am uncapable of becoming Adam after all.

Eve is...This is who she is.

While I would not call her perfect in every sense, she is still too good for me. ...Not suitable for a faulty Vampire such as myself...

My sincere apologies for failing to meet your expectations, even though I was willing to give it my everything.

Karlheinz: Then, Ruki, will you ーー give up on her?

Ruki: ...She should not belong to a person who is unable of becoming Adam.

Karlheinz: You are simply stating the truth. I want to know how you truly feel.

I said I agreed with Eve when she claimed you are hiding your feelings, did I not?

I am sure Eve wants to hear them too. ...Right?

Yui: ...Yes.

Ruki-kun...I want to know how you feel too.

Unrelated to this whole Adam and Eve thing, your raw feelings.

Ruki: ...But.

Karlheinz: Ruki. You should be more free.

You are a capable guy. You did a fine job heeding my words, and did everything within your power to fulfill my wish.

And up till now, you’ve always suppressed your ego and your own desires...

I am aware that you have put in the effort to be a proud Vampire, living your life according to my ideals.

However...Have you realized that this has made you blind to what is actually most important?

Ruki: ...

Karlheinz: ...Ruki. How important is Eve to you?

Is the lady standing next to you right now...Not worth it to toss away those ideals and values for?

Ruki: ...Karlheinz-sama.

Karlheinz: I do not know how you feel about it, but my answer is simple, Ruki.

Ruki: I...

*Ding ding*

Karlheinz: Oh dear. It’s time already.

Eve...No, I suppose I shall call you Queen of the Carnival right now. You are the star of tonight. Go ahead and head to the venue.

The purpose of this Carnival is to celebrate the birth of Adam and Eve. In short, it’s a banquet held for your sake.

Originally, Adam would have been celebrated alongside you as King of the Carnival, however...

Ruki: ...

Karlheinz: I suppose it is fine. I am not that cruel to pick a fruit which has only just begun to ripen.

However...The people are waiting for you to become Adam, Ruki.

Those waiting are...The people who have seen you with Eve throughout today.

Why don’t you try doing the same, and believe in the things they saw with their very own eyes?

Well then Eve, until we meet again.

ー Karlheinz leaves

Yui: ( ...So that’s Karlheinz-san. He’s quite the mysterious person... )

Ruki: ...

Yui: ( ...Ruki-kun couldn’t give him an answer. )

( I wonder what’s on his mind right now? No matter how much time we spend together, I can’t tell unless he directly tells me... )

Ruki: ...There’s a hall in the back.

Yui: Eh...?

Ruki: If there’s people waiting for us there, we can’t run away now, can we?

Yui: ( Does that mean...? )

...You’ll come with me too?

Ruki: I don’t mind staying here if you claim you have the courage to open that door all by yourself?

Yui: I-I can’t do it by myself!

I want to be with you. It has to be you, nobody else.

Ruki: ...

I...still can’t believe that I can become Adam. Regardless of what others may tell me.

...Howeverーー

I suppose it wouldn’t be bad to play the role of Adam just for that...At least that’s what I think.

Standing proudly by your side.

Yui: Ruki-kun...

If I am allowed to prioritize my own feelings...I will grab your hand first thing without hesitation.

Yui: ...Yeah, go ahead. I believe in those feelings of you too.

Ruki: Yes...Yui, your hand please?

*Rustle*

Ruki: ...Even if it’s just for today, will you be mine?

Yui: ...Yes.

Ruki: ...Even if this is nothing but a fleeting dream which will be over in the blink of an eye.

Right now...You are mine, Yui.

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

Translation notes

(1) In Japan, people tend to take baths in really hot water, so it is not uncommon for people to soak for too long and grow dizzy as a result of the heat + the steam surrounding the bath.

(2) In Japanese, the expression literally means ‘to cool down one’s liver’ and it’s used to imply that you give someone a scare.

← RETURN TO CHAPTER 3

→ PROCEED TO FINALE ENDING

→ PROCEED TO NORMAL ENDING

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #ruki mukami #vandead carnival #diabolik lovers translation #vcrukichapter4

66 notes · View notes

be-ace-write-crime · 4 years

Text

Lovely Bride - Second Wedding Night

You wake up after your night with Wamuu and return to your empty village, the last survivor of the Hamon tribe. You struggle with conflicting emotions, anger to the people that made you a sacrificial lamb, grief for the tribe that raised you and the people you grew up with. So much has happened in such a short time and nothing will ever be the same again.

Thankfully Esidisi is there to comfort you.

You and Wamuu made love all night and you suspect a decent portion of the morning as well, after the candles had burned out. He took care to clean the sweat, cum and oil off your skin, probably realizing how badly he had wrecked your body after the fact. He put your wreath aside and let you snuggle up in his bed with some clean pillows, and you fell asleep almost instantly.

The stress and your rendezvous with the first pillarman had thoroughly exhausted you. You woke up alone, a single candle left to light the room for you. It hadn’t been lit for long. Maybe an hour or two? Either way, the room had become stuffy, smelling of sex and burnt out candles, so even if you couldn’t get outside, you weren’t staying in this room.

You picked up your dress, your sandals, and combed your hair with a comb left on the table beside the one remaining light. You were about to leave the room when you thought to put your wreath back on, as your first husband clearly appreciated the look and symbolism of it. You also thought to bring a dagger that was on display as one of Wamuu’s trophies. You knew he wouldn’t mind you taking it and while you were neither scared your betrothed would eat you, nor did you have the hubris to assume you could take them in a fight if you had a dagger, being sent around the lair of vampires and vengeful gods unarmed had been making you nervous since yesterday. With the sheathed dagger tucked into the belt around your waist you venture into the hallway.

The candle light didn’t reach very far, but far enough you can see a faintly shifting silhouette in the shadows leading deeper into the catacombs. Very well, not like you wanted to go there and the squirmy shadows of what had to be vampires only helped to solidify that decision. You looked over your shoulder constantly as you made your way back outside. The hatch had been left open, though the early evening light made it too dangerous for the pillarmen or the vampires to be out.

Every step into the light felt like a wave of relief. You blew out your candle and left it on the steps, almost running outside. It wasn’t until you felt the breeze blowing through the temple that you noticed the trails of tears on your face. You rarely cried, but indeed, you had much to cry about. Tears of relief, happiness and sadness alike.

The sun kissing your face felt heavenly and you could have probably stood there until the sunset, if a warm chuckle hadn’t pulled you out of your thoughts. You wiped your tears away and looked to see Esidisi at the bottom of the stairs, just barely visible in the shade.

“You look beautiful like that,” he said. “I look forward to the day I can embrace the sun by your side,” he added, casting a mournful glance at the shadows edge he couldn’t cross. It seemed so strange that someone as powerful as him was unable to touch you simply because you were standing in the sunlight.

“I wish I could share it with you,” you said, without thinking.

“You do?” he asked, looking up at you again. He seemed surprised.

“I wouldn’t deny anyone the sun… It would be cruel…” you said, shyly running a hand through your hair as he graced you with a warm smile.

“Such a kind heart after all you’ve endured,” he said. “Your village is still there, though you will find it deserted. I assume that’s where you were headed.”

“I just wanted some fresh air, but… now that you mention it, I would like to go there,” you agreed.

“Go ahead. I will catch up to you once the sun has set,” Esidisi said, leaning against the wall and waiting out the daytime.

You nodded and went ahead as we’d told you to do. From what you’d gathered he was the second in command, higher than Wamuu in their hierarchy, but below Kars. He was the one to second your plea for your sister and nieces to be spared. You would have to ask him about them later.

The way down to your village was eerily quiet. Normally you’d hear some noise, see the lights from cooking fires and candles, but the place was abandoned as you’d been warned it would be. The gods had come down from the mountain and wiped out all the people that once resided here, leaving the empty shell of your birthplace behind. In the village square there was a table laid out for a banquet, big enough for the whole village.

Wild animals and some escaped livestock had made their own feast of it in the absence of the humans during the day, but everything looked as if your people just vanished into thin air. Cups and cutlery strewn about, food and wine on the tables, homes untouched. No time to pack up and flee, no time to get the weapons and fight, just a meal, over as soon as it began.

You had been crying since you first stepped outside, but seeing with your own two eyes how the people you called your tribe would be gone forever made you sob hysterically. The ones that had raised you, loved you, and then sent you off to die had all been killed, leaving you alone to mourn them.

“C-Celebrating, were you?!” you spat angrily at the empty table. Wild dogs and other pests had dragged the meat away, while half eaten and picked at fruit, vegetables and pastries were being consumed by flies. A few birds scattered as you approached and dragged a metal tray off the table, leaving it to clatter against the cobblestones of the square. The plates were next, smashed at your feet or hurled like disks to burst into shards of earthenware against the walls of empty homes.

One pitcher full of wine was miraculously untouched on the table, at least until you found it. Booze would either calm you down or be a perfect fuel to your fire. You chugged half the damn vase to quench your thirst either way.

“Was it worth it?! Were all of us you sent to die worth it, you bastards?!” you demanded, climbing on the table and hurling the serving blows around, kicking everything off that was in your way.

“How many idiots does one village need?!” you spat at the empty head chair, picking up the plate and yeeting it with a perfect spin in the direction you came from. It would have gone far if your husband hadn’t caught up to you by then, batting at the dish reflexively, only to have it shatter in his face like shrapnel.

You tried to compose yourself quickly. Surely throwing a plate at his face would warrant killing you, he’d killed for less, you were throwing a tantrum in the evidence of that fact, but you knew he wasn’t going to. For one not to go against Kars, but also because the look on his face was far from the righteous fury that should have been there.

You were standing on a table, leftover food and sauce on the ends of your dress and up to your ankles, ugly crying like a fussy child, but Esidisi merely brushed the stone splinters from his hair and handed you the big carving knife you had somehow stepped over.

“Don’t stop on my account, dear (Y/N). In fact, if I can assist you in any way, do not hesitate to tell me,” he said, smiling calmly.

“I could stab you with this, you know?” you asked, sniffling loudly.

“That dagger would be better for stabbing, but you could,” he agreed, looking up at you. “If it would make you feel better, I would let you. I remember needing to vent for weeks after my own tribe was wiped out. How lord Kars put up with me during that time is beyond me, but I am infinitely grateful he did,” he explained, leaving himself open for an attack.

You contemplated doing it for several long moments, even raising the knife over your head, but ultimately deciding against it. You weren’t scared he would retaliate or punish you, but in the end you saw no point in harming the one person showing you kindness in that moment. You tossed the knife away and kicked some more tableware around like an angry cat.

“‘S no point… just no point in… a-anything I do, is there? W-What am I gonna do now? What need do you have for a human? Just gonna live underground for a… a month and then die like everyone here!!!” you sobbed, hiding your face, which must have been a huge mess by then. Right now he certainly wasn’t sympathising with you because of your good looks.

“You will live, you will grow stronger and wiser and live out the full extent of your life. You alone will carry the legacy of your people. You will be our agent in achieving perfection and when we do we shall forever embrace the light of day beside you,” he answered, holding you against his chest and stroking your back softly.

If you muttered something along the lines of ‘lying bastard’ he kindly ignored it and let you finish crying.

“You were right, you know. The best men and women your village had to offer were the first to die. I believe after your sister and her daughters left, there was hardly any goodness left among them. They took two old horses and a small cart and were practically chased out under threat of being stoned to death. I handed them the box lord Kars said to give them after they had departed, fearing it might be stolen from them. Don’t tell, but I informed them you were alive and what you had done. Your sister cried, as she had done all evening, then brandished a spear at me and said for me to treat you better than your people had treated you,” he said, letting you sob into his shoulder until you ran out of steam. You were probably dehydrated too and seriously hungry.

“Every person worth their salt here seems to think the world of you. Your sister risking her life to threaten me, the tribe’s warriors who died to protect you, lord Kars who saw your shine even in your darkest hour.”

“Everyone else here seemed to think I was fairly expendable,” you huffed bitterly.

“They seemed to think sacrificing you would save all of their lives. They were slaughtered for treating you so cruelly, beloved, but they knew you were the greatest treasure they had to offer,” he corrected, picking you and setting you down now that you had recovered.

Crying like that really did make you feel better. You were never allowed a tantrum of such epic proportions before, just shy of stabbing your husband, while he supported you through every second of it.

“Speaking of treasure,” he said, a sly smile on his face. “This is a small village, but it seems wealthy enough. There is no one left to care for its worldly possessions now,” he said, quirking a brow to emphasize his mischievous intentions. Well, mischief by the standards of a wrathful, mass murdering god. If two days ago someone had told you you’d essentially be pillaging your own home, stealing from the dead, you’d have thought they were crazy.

“You’re not… wrong…” you agreed. His smile was contagious, and you found yourself going along with his idea.

The full moon was high in the sky and the tables and chairs in the square had been repurposed to light a bonfire with his magic. You knew how and where money was hidden and Esidisi caught on to the pattern quickly.

“Go fetch your own treasures, darling. Vampires could do this,” he said, whistling to summon a few and instructing them on how to search.

You could name a few things you wanted, but never dared to ask for. Now you were the sole heir to the hamon tribe and your husband ordered you to fetch whatever treasure you desired, so who were you to disobey?

As such you met him later in the town square, decked out in enough jewelry to sink your body to the bottom of a river, a silk dress in a vibrant wine red color and a stola to match, while your palla, a scarf reserved for upperclass women of Rome, was now a makeshift bag for numerous scrolls you had stolen, detailing the history and craft of your people. Those were all going with you and you’d guard them with your life.

You were still bitter about what your people had done to you. You might always carry some resentment for the rest of your life, but the warriors of your tribe had given their lives to save those selfish creatures and you wouldn’t allow them and their sacrifice to be dismissed by history just because the people they fought to protect were ungrateful bastards.

Your haul made for an odd little collection of treasure. You had also taken to wearing the shiny, gold anklets you found. These were typically reserved for the… courtesans of your village. The women who kept themselves standing by laying on their backs. They were frowned upon by common folk, but were considered desirable nonetheless. There was no one left now to judge you for your dress being too short or the anklets you wore with your wreath and your dagger.

You were the last living member of the Hamon tribe and a bride to gods. Dressed in all gold, or wearing nothing at all would make you no less of a queen.

“Master Esidisi?” you greeted him upon finding him again. He quickly smiled when he saw you, but you could tell something had happened.

“You look beautiful by the light of the fire as you do in the daylight, my dear,” he said, standing up and coming to welcome you.

You noticed at least one of the vampires had… well it had died, but you couldn’t phantom what had happened to it. It looked like it had blown up and then melted. “Don’t worry about that thing. It decided to berate me when it couldn’t find what I had ordered it to search for.”

“What was it supposed to search for?” you asked. It probably wasn’t anything you’d picked up. The scrolls had all been in plain sight and you didn’t need to search hard for fine clothes and jewelry.

“The chief of your village had come into possession of a precious red stone, called the Aja. I ordered the vampires to search his home for it, but they found nothing,” he explained.

“Tsk, as if that cowardly bastard would hide anything you might look for in his own house,” you muttered, jumping when you realized what you had just done. Perhaps you drank a bit too much wine earlier. “Don’t kill me, I just know what a prick he used to be!”

“I wouldn’t kill you for such an infraction, (Y/N). You are my bride and equal. This vermin didn’t know his place,” he assured you. “Where would he hide the Aja if not in his home?”

“I can’t say for sure…” you started. Giving the wrong answer seemed more dangerous than not knowing, but you could hazard a guess in this case. “I imagine he’d hide it where he hid everything he really cared about. His mistress, his bastard children and your stone,” you said, pointing to the little home uphill. It was near the treeline and his sons and mistress were among the first to be devoured by vampires as a result. The elderly chief hadn’t been one of your favorite people to begin with, but losing his sons and the woman he loved made him worse.

You looked around the home you knew well, noticing the loose stones around the fireplace in the kitchen where no one would think anything was hidden.

“I have been by this house before,” Esidisi said.

“I think I found something,” you said, prying the stone loose stones out.

“Your sister was here, gathering your things,” he continued, insisting.\

“It’s stuck, could you please help?” you asked, trying to ignore him.

“You were the chief’s illegitimate daughter, is that right?” he asked, just as the stone came loose and you flopped backwards onto your old kitchen floor, gold and silver accessories jingling as you went.

“Ow…” you huffed, looking up at your husband from where you lay. “I spent enough time crying over that already. I have better things to waste tears on now,” you answered with a long sigh, slowly sitting back up.

There was a box in a little hollowed out space you uncovered. “He loved my mother and my brothers, but not me. I think he felt I should have died before any of them. I figure that was his real reason for sending me as a sacrifice. My sister was in the same boat as me, but she found herself a good husband.”

“Was he killed by the vampires, or one of us?” Esidisi asked, sounding genuinely apologetic.

“Typhoid, almost a year ago. My nieces lived with me during that time. Gods forbid they might have caught it too. I loved them so much… My mother still thought herself my father’s true love, ignoring how she was led on and made to live in poverty, treated like an adultering whore for being with a married man. My brothers were young, though they got it in their heads just like our mother that they would be in charge someday. Our father loved them, though. Had them trained to be warriors since they were children. In the end they didn’t wake up in time to scream, let alone fight… It’s been a few weeks since then...” you explained, crying again, but less frenzied than before. All that wine was definitely keeping you from throwing another tantrum, if only because you’d fall over if you tried.

“My sincerest condolences for your loss and you have my respect for what you did to save your sister and nieces,” your husband whispered. “You will never be disrespected like that, my sweet. We shall treat you as a goddess, as you rightfully deserve to be,” he promised.

You could tell he was serious, despite his ruthlessness in battle. His condolences were sincere, and you were grateful he’d been the one to send your sister on her way.

“You don’t mind that I’m human? Whatever happened to the women of your kind?” you asked.

“Our tribe existed until some eight thousand years ago. I was Lord Kars’ right hand in his endeavor to elevate our immortal kind through the stone masks, but they rejected his views. Kars decided if they wanted to spend eternity cowering underground instead of striving for more, then they might as well be dead,” Esidisi explained. “When he gave the order, I did not hesitate. The only ones spared were Wamuu and Santana, who were only infants at the time. Regardless, I say he chose his companions well. Yourself included,” he said, kissing your forehead.

By now your eyes had to be wide as saucers and you were regretting not bringing more wine, which might have made that story a little easier to unpack.

“I can’t say for sure whether you made the right choices, but wiping out all women of your immortal kind and then choosing me definitely sounds like a decision made by someone stabbed in the head with several stone spikes,” you said, making him laugh again.

“My beautiful (Y/N), what matters is that lord Kars sees the potential of a goddess in you and more than any creature that has ever walked this earth he has been a master of realizing such potential,” your husband assured you, taking the box you had almost forgotten about and flipping it open, revealing the brilliant red stone inside. “And you have just brought us one step closer with the gift you procured.”

It was explained on the way back up the mountain that their aim was to retrieve this stone to complete the stone mask lord Kars had created with the intention of allowing them to endure sunlight. It answered several questions you had and raised a million more, but your first order of business would be to present the stone to your husband and master.

“Lord Kars, we have returned!” Esidisi announced when you entered the temple. Kars was seated on his throne, his expression unreadable. He had let down his hair from under the tight wrap and it flowed down his back in elegant black waves, as dark and infinite as the night sky.

“Did you find it, Esidisi?” he asked, his eagerness betraying his stoic facade.

“I did not,” he said. Kars’ grip on his armrest cracked the solid marble and his red eyes shone furiously in the firelight. You flinched, wanting to smack your husband for teasing like this, but you were too nervous to speak already. “Rest easy, my lord. Our beloved bride did find it,” he said, ushering you forward.

You kneeled at his feet and humbly presented the stone. Kars pulled you into his lap and smiled, a genuinely happy smile as he kissed your cheek.

“Anything in the world shall be yours, my beautiful sunshine, for it is the world you have given us tonight,” he said, kissing your lips before taking the stone to examine it more. You felt an overwhelming joy bubble up in your chest, overpowering the grief and spite that had been festering there.

Esidisi looked almost smug, smiling up at you in his master’s lap. Like he was proud of himself you were getting praised.

All until Kars took a closer look at the stone. His expression turned to an annoyed sneer, and he glared at you so sharply you just about fell off his lap.

“Is it a fake, master Kars?” Wamuu asked while Esidisi approached to help you up and assure you again that you wouldn’t be eaten.

“This stone is genuine, but it is a plain Aja, far too small to serve its purpose,” Kars answered, shutting the box with a loud clack that made you flinch. “This is what we exhausted so much energy on…” he muttered, rubbing his forehead like he was fighting off a headache.

“The night is young, lord Kars. We can renew our search for the super Aja right now if you wish?” Esidisi offered.

Kars looked at Esidisi, then down to you, his expression softening slightly.

“No, that won’t be necessary, Esidisi. In fact, I might have some use for this stone after all. You can spend the night with our bride, seeing as how you’ve dressed her for the occasion,” your master declared, his eyes roaming over your figure, taking obvious note of your ankles. He stood up and grabbed the marble armrest he’d cracked, his muscles bulging as he ripped a slab of marble clean off. He picked up the stone and then plucked your wreath from your head and turned to head back into the catacombs.

“A shame. I thought the wreath matched your anklets rather well,” Esidisi said playfully, running his fingers through your hair. You blushed, but leaned into his touch regardless.

“I put those on cause they’re pretty. Not as an invitation… Kars is scary when he’s mad. What do I do?” you asked, feeling like you might cry again. You’d done your best, and you had no idea how big the stone needed to be! It wasn’t your fault!

“He isn’t mad at you,” Wamuu assured you. “I will head out with the vampires to continue our search. We know that the red stone of Aja traveled the silk road from Asia to Rome. We’ll just have to find it.”

“He knows not to blame you for this. Lord Kars is more sensible than that. He’s frustrated, because our fight with the hamon tribe took a great deal of energy and while consuming the remaining villagers replenished some of it, we have little time before even that runs dry,” Esidisi explained, picking you up and kissing your forehead.

“What happens when it does?” you asked, the pillarmen exchanging a worried glance.

“Either we must consume what might well be an army of humans, or we must go to sleep and hopefully recover,” Esidisi explained.

“What? I-I wouldn’t argue with you consuming humans as you need, but what would be wrong with sleeping?” you asked. You hadn’t caught any of them sleeping, but you assumed they could, just like any other creature.

“When we sleep, we turn to stone and it could well be a thousand years or more before we awaken. You would not be there to greet us when we awaken,” Wamuu explained, looking down at the ground.

“How much time do you have left?” you asked, once again feeling the ring in your chest weigh heavy on your heart, but not because you were excited this time.

“About as much time as is left on your engagement ring, beloved,” Esidisi said.

Wamuu took all vampires with him, scattering them in every direction to search for information on the red stone, leaving Esidisi himself to fetch something you could actually eat while you waited in his room.

“You shouldn’t have,” you said, bashfully accepting the basket of goods he returned with, although the sight of food had your stomach painfully clenching to remind you of just how hungry you were. On your wedding day you had refused to eat, scared senseless and struggling against everything being offered to you. After your evening with Wamuu you had spent almost the entire day asleep, meaning you were going on two days without food at this point. No wonder that wine earlier got you drunk so quickly.

“I wouldn’t make you descend and climb a mountain twice on an empty stomach. It was foolish of me to have let you return without eating in the first place,” Esidisi responded, smiling as you started to dig in. The basket had fruit and bread and cured meats and cheese, and you hurriedly started popping grapes in your mouth.

“Thank you so much,” you said, holding your hand in front of your half full mouth. “Can you eat this?” you asked out of curiosity.

“I could pretend. I can appreciate the flavor, surely, but it wouldn’t sustain me,” he answered. “Your body produces its own life energy. Mine can only draw on the life energy of other living beings.”

You looked at your basket, at the cured meat inside. You thought of how many animals died every year to keep you fed. You wouldn’t eat another human, but you’d come to realize the gods you were married to didn’t kill for their own amusement or even to defend themselves. Only to eat.

And while it may have felt like cruelty, humans were simply not used to being prey. Not used to being the wary herd, stalked by ferocious predators, and knowing that their only hope was that someone either braver or weaker would be killed off first and still their hunger another night.

On the other hand, could you justify yourself standing by as an army worth of humans were turned into food? It was true he said army, but that was an awfully justifiable way of putting it. Army made it sound like a threat. Like it was kill or be killed. In reality even if they only picked off strong men, worthy of being soldiers, that would just leave an army worth of widows and children defenseless and possibly starving.

Would they even give you the antidote? You thought you’d grown closer with Wamuu and now Esidisi and Kars had chosen you himself, but you still wore the poison ring around your heart. If they were going to sleep, they wouldn’t have a reason to keep you alive either. Why would they allow their bride to run off on her own if she was going to die before they woke up again? Maybe that was the point all along. To hold the ring’s curse over your head so you wouldn't run away until they didn’t need your little mortal self anymore.

“You’re worrying about something silly,” Esidisi said, cutting through your line of thought as if he’d been reading your mind. “You have a very expressive face,” he explained.

“It’s not silly,” was the first thing out of your mouth before you thought to deny it. You probably just sounded immature. “I guess to a god being worried about dying would sound like some silly human concern…”

“You won’t die, beloved. We won’t allow it,” Esidisi answered simply.

“What about the wedding ring?” you asked, putting a hand over your heart. your husband nodded, understanding.

“You’re worried we won’t save you if we don’t find the stone in time to escape our thousand year sleep?” he asked. You nodded, putting the basket away on a side table.

Esidisi’s bedroom was larger than Wamuu’s and so was the bed you were seated on. The silk covers and furs from exotic animals in the candle light looked and felt like some kind of dream. It didn’t help the part of your brain that was whispering none of this was meant for you and like a dream it would come to an end long before you wanted it to.

“We’ll do everything we can to secure the stone first. If that fails, we can buy ourselves more time as needed,” he said, taking your hands in his. “It pains me to think you’ll live a mortal life at all. I realize by comparison it is selfish, but I wouldn’t want to wake up in a world without you in it…” he sighed, thumbs stroking over the many rings on your fingers. He didn’t suggest making you a vampire, which you were grateful for. The thought of spending centuries in the dark consuming humans while waiting for them to return made you sick to your stomach.

“I’m sorry…” you whispered. “It’s just so hard to believe when my own people didn’t want me alive… You barely know me…”

“I know enough to have fallen for you and everything I have come to learn has made me love you more,” he responded.

“I-I… Esidisi…” you whined, wanting to bury your face in your hands, but he wouldn’t let go. Your face was red. Had it been so hot in his room the whole time? Every other underground room had been so cool.

“I will have you know the extent of my adoration, my beautiful dancing flame,” he said. “If Kars won’t see reason, I will make him.”

Somehow knowing that he would disagree with Kars for your sake was a greater declaration of love than any words or gifts and you leaned in to kiss his lips.

“I love you too… I don’t want to cry anymore, please,” you said softly, burying your fingers in his soft, white hair.

“But you cried so beautifully for Wamuu last night,” he whispered. You whined and buried your face in his neck.

“You were listening?!” you asked. You thought Esidisi had been out that night.

“How could I not have heard you screaming like that? You sounded so eager. I have lived thousands of years and yet this evening has tested my patience more than centuries spent looking for the stone. Now I finally get you all to myself~” he purred, reaching over to the nightstand and pinching the candle wick between his fingers to snuff out its flame. You heard the soft sizzle of his flesh burning as he hadn’t wet his fingers to do it, but he didn’t even seem to notice. Every light that died let the shadows of the room creep closer, but you weren’t scared or even worried.

In the dark you could still sense him moving while he was so close. The soft, delicate silks of your new clothes slipped off easily and you were about to start on your jewelry, but your master really had run out of patience.

“Keep them on. You look beautiful,” he praised, pulling you in for another heated kiss. You wished you could take some of his clothes, but you had already noticed those were stitched into his skin. You did not expect him to remove his sewn on chest plate just so you could kiss and nuzzle his chest more freely, which was why the loud sound of stitches snapping surprised you.

“Doesn’t that hurt?” you asked finally.

“I hardly feel any pain at all and my body heals quickly. I rather enjoy the thrill when I do feel it. It’s exhilarating,” he explained. You were about to reach out and touch his chest when something hot and slim coiled around your wrists and pulled them back above your head. You couldn’t see what it was and the sharp tug made you help, but you knew it was just your husband, even if you couldn’t quite tell what he’d done.

“I will show you pain if you don’t stop teasing me,” you huffed, making him laugh.

“You are too adorable, trying to threaten me, my little flame,” he said through his laughing, something hot and wet dripping from the coils around your wrists, making you shiver. His hands around your waist moved and still your hands were pinned, immobile, which was frustrating, because not only could you not see your lover without his painful looking armor, you couldn’t touch him either. His fingertips felt hot, as if by remnant of the flames he extinguished between them, but by now you knew better. That heat was all his and glowed fiercely from within and you vaguely suspected he held it back some, just to touch you without hurting you when he explored your naked skin.

There was something sensual about being dressed in nothing but your jewelry before him. The bracelets entwined with the warm twine that held your arms in place. The thin strands of twinkling gold, laden with gems around your neck, resting lightly against the top of your bare breasts. The anklets you still wore, a coquettish little accessory that would have branded you a shameless whore to the humans you knew. Still your husband regarded you as a far greater treasure, stroking your thighs and kissing your neck as if he were mapping out every inch of you with his touch, even though you knew he could see you in the complete darkness.

“Please, Esidisi…” you murmured, wanting to feel his heat deep inside your core. You could already tell this would be nothing like with Wamuu. He’d been all chivalry, slowly testing the waters, infinitely patient until you gave him the all clear to have his way with you.

Esidisi was more in control, using that to his advantage to tease you mercilessly. He was taking things slow to savour you, not because he was holding anything back. His demeanor exuded a confidence and experience that made you feel safe, even if his slow pace had you craving more already.

“Please what, my darling?” he asked, pushing you down against the bed and you could feel the mattress dip where he kneeled over your small, exposed form. In the pitch black darkness you couldn’t see him right in front of you, but you felt the warmth radiating off him like a flame still. “Would you rather I take you like a beast in heat, little one? So eagerly crying for more~”

Heat was a very apt description of your current desire, in every sense of the word and he knew it. Threats and orders would make him laugh and requests would be easily overruled, but Esidisi never once denied you when you begged.

“Please, my master, my lord, my king! I need you to touch me. Make me yours. Burn me up! I need you!” you pleaded, rubbing your thighs together, only to have them roughly pried apart.

“No wonder Wamuu lost control with you so easily. With such a charming spark you possess you should be careful what you wish for,” he warned, and you could feel his breath against your labia, already anticipating what would happen next.

Knowing what would happen and being prepared for just how good it would feel were still two different things and more of the hot tendrils wrapped themselves around your legs, keeping you open and exposed while your god and master indulged in the taste of you. He worked his tongue deliberately, aiming to please in a way that told he took just as much pleasure in the act himself.

“A-Ah, yes! Oh my god… please please please don’t stop!” you pleaded, losing yourself too quickly to even try holding back your orgasm. His thumb worked your clit in slow, deliberate circles, while his tongue dipped hungrily into your wet pussy, as if craving your taste.

You came screaming, arching off the bed as far as your bonds would allow, while Esidisi continued to work you through your climax with his gentle, loving touch.

“You’re incredible, my love. I am so thankful I get to have you all to myself tonight. I can already imagine the fights over who gets to have you in their bed, our most coveted treasure,” he whispered while you caught your breath.

“Hmm… Ah, but all else being equal… won’t I get a say in that?” you asked, panting to catch your breath. The bindings around your wrists loosened and moments later you could feel his fingers pushing into your sensitive opening.

“True, true, very true,” he agreed, as his warm, battle calloused fingers explored your most sensitive spots. His heat inside was making you tremble and you almost desperately wanted more of it, despite having cum once already. “I suppose I’d better give you a reason to choose me when the time comes,” he said, rubbing insistent circles at a spot that made you whimper with need.

With your hands now free, you reached blindly into the darkness, finding his immensely broad shoulders and muscular arms. You carded your fingers through the soft white curls of his hair, pushing the fabric of his headpiece off and feeling the sharp horns he kept concealed under it.

“I-If you want to give me a reason… P-Please fuck me… I can take it already, please~” you begged. You could just make out the way his breath hitched and the sharp intake of breath before the bindings around your legs dragged you hallway into your lover’s lap and you could feel the blunt head of his cock pressing against you to replace his fingers.

“I am going to ruin you…” he growled softly, gripping your hips and slamming in deep.

You arched your back and keened, the edge of pain eased by his warmth and the pleasure of having him inside.

“What a glorious little spark you are, sweet (Y/N). Let me have you like this forever. Let me shower you with affection so that you may always wear such a lovely expression,” he murmured, kissing your lips while his hips rocked steadily with yours, his pace intensifying until the bed under you shook. It was nowhere near the feral pounding you’d enjoyed from Wamuu the previous night, but it was enough to leave you reeling regardless.

You giggled briefly, shaking your head. “I-Imagine… If I made that face at lord Kars? No… just now… just you… Esidisi~...” you responded. He chuckled and lifted you further onto his lap, holding you close while he slowed to grinding deeper inside you than you would have thought possible. It felt so incredible your eyes fluttered shut and you slumped against his rock-hard chest, finally getting to rub your face on it, though your attention was firmly drawn elsewhere.

“I imagine he’ll be inclined to make you show that face for himself soon. He’ll be as enamored with it as I am, beloved,” he said, his heat all around and deep inside you. It felt so comforting and safe in his arms, even wrecked by wave after wave of pleasure. “Still, I will cherish this moment where you are mine and mine alone~”

You were going to cum again. The pleasure like this wasn’t as overwhelming as being pounded like before, but it was constant, inescapable and so intense you could only mewl softly in agreement and try not to drool.

“So small and sensitive. You are far too tempting not to tease,” he said, still rocking into you slow and deep, letting out a deep, guttural moan when he felt you quiver and tighten around his hard cock. He didn’t stop or slow down, keeping his pace and dragging your breathtaking orgasm on into what felt like minutes.

“Ah~ S-So much… t-too much! Esidisi… Too much~!!!” you whined, weak little fingers clutching at his shoulders, digging into his skin as you braced yourself against the tidal waves of climax.

“You can endure more than you think, little one. I will show you the true heights of pleasure,” he purred, the intensity of his movements ramping up and the intensity of your never ending peak with it.

You were spilling all over his lap, crying out nonsensically while Esidisi built back up to the bed rattling rhythm from before. You’d never imagined feeling pleasure like this, dancing on the razor’s edge of pain, but never crossing it. The last part of your brain that still had any sense left wondered what love making like this could be building towards, as you were already cumming, but you could feel something building regardless.

You dimly wondered if some sort of double orgasm was possible and the thought was funny to you.

You wanted to share it, but between gasping and panting for breath and the lust clouding your mind you couldn’t get a word out.

Then you felt Esidisi slamming in hard and deep, flooding you with more of his divine warmth to the point of overflowing, and you had the answer for what could possibly beat ecstacy like you had been feeling before.

The last thing crossing your mind was complete and utter satisfaction before you completely and utterly passed out.

#jjba #esidisi #esidisi x reader #pillarmen #jojo's bizzare adventure x reader #wamuu x reader #kars x reader #not sfw #chapter 2 #reader insert

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tenmillionwhumperflies · 3 years

Text

Cloudwalker Series Part 31

It is drama time! Whump inbound.

Warnings: Blood, attempted murder, animal whump (Enchanted object), missing people/kidnapping.

Masterlist: Here

Approx WC: 3200

Taglist: @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @thegreathowdini

Saying that things calmed down as days passed didn’t feel right coming off Avizon’s tongue. Something was brewing, he knew that much, and between Erix wanting him killed and Borgurk haunting his dreams again… something was going to happen. He just had no idea what or when. All he was able to do was keep himself distracted, mostly by teaching Ihuka and Dyan things while they worked on cleaning the castle. Avizon helped where he was able, but he found helping more often than not made Dyan nervous. Besides, he still had to rest his leg, to make sure that he didn’t damage it.

Orrien’s attempts at getting Dyan to wield magic had gone about as well as Avizon’s if not worse. He was too afraid now, and until they were able to find a solution to his leaking magic, they were unable to teach him anything else. It was dangerous, and Avizon was constantly having to keep some attention on feeling for the magic in the castle increasing, feeling for a fluctuation. It was tiring and it pained him that he couldn’t help Dyan after giving him the problem in the first place.

Blue and Orrien visited more and more. It seemed to help Orrien just as much as it helped Blue, but Avizon also found himself to be more and more eager to see him, even if Orrien didn’t like to go inside unless he had to. Avizon understood that. There were a lot of memories, memories he’d forced himself to face and had been able to ignore when his dark magic had more control over him. He was a prisoner of the past in ways, he was used to it, accepted it. His time here was what everyone would know him for, his legacy. There was no point trying to run for it. At least he was safe here now. Every day, he felt more like himself, but at the same time… troubled. His eye had begun to hurt him more and more, so he trained as much as he could, keeping the darkness flowing, managing it all. Perhaps there was just too much light magic around him.

He knew just how much Orrien hated this castle, so he often took his birds to see them instead. But today, Orrien had wanted to come to him. Avizon had no problem with it. The weather was fine, so he had a table and chairs brought outside so that they could sit. Dyan sat on the stairs of the castle, so eager to see Blue again. Avizon sat waiting at the table, and Ihuka sat with him, learning more words and going over his letters. He was hoping to be able to teach them both to read and write soon, but he was patient, keeping his focus on Ihuka’s speaking for now.

And so they waited. Ihuka finished his lesson, and tried to go and play with Dyan, but Dyan wanted to wait for Blue. He wanted to be there when they arrived. Ihuka frowned, but he was brave enough now to find his own ways of amusing himself. His feathers had mostly grown back, so he’d been practicing his flying, getting the strength back in his wings. Avizon left him be, he trusted him not to fly off, and even if he did, he could catch him again.

And so they waited. And they waited. And waited…

Avizon sighed as the afternoon started to get colder. He gave up, putting the chairs back inside. “He must be busy, Dyan,” he said, seeing him still sitting on the step, waiting. “Let’s go inside. The circle must have contacted him, or a farm animal might have needed help. I’m sure he’ll explain soon.” Dyan shuffled on the stone step, wings wrapped tight around him, picking at his blunted nails. “I… may I wait a little longer, master?” Avizon put the chair down and crouched beside him. “If you like… are you alright, Dyan?” Dyan nodded sadly. “I just… I was excited but… now I’m just really worried. What if Erix...” Avizon rubbed his back, but his words cut deep into his soul. He hadn’t been too worried, he knew Orrien could take care of himself, but now… Erix was a good fighter, that’s why he had taken Avizon’s place in the circle. Orrien was a healer, and against Erix, Avizon doubted he’d win. “Try not to worry yourself. I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation,” he said, hoping to keep Dyan calm. “I will try to send a message. If Orrien does not answer, then I will go and make sure everything is well, alright? Please, go inside. I don’t want you out here on your own.”

He looked up, to see Ihuka flying through the air, chirping happily. Avizon couldn’t hide his beaming smile. “Ihuka! Inside now, it’s getting late.” Ihuka took notice at once and through he frowned at having to stop, he flew towards him and landed at the bottom of the stairs. “Well done. Good bird,” he said softly. “Come now, let’s get you both inside.”

Ihuka hurried up the stairs and pointed at the chair. “I help?” Avizon was pleasantly surprised. “Yes please. Thank you, Ihuka. Good bird.”

Ihuka lifted the chair and waddled inside with it, putting it back where it belonged. Avizon had to smile at him. He’d been doing well over the last few weeks, getting more comfortable with the fact he wasn’t going to be hurt. He was kind and was Avizon’s pride and joy, they both were. He hated seeing either of them looking down and gloomy. He was happier now than he had been for so long…

He hoped Orrien not showing up didn’t signal the end of that. He had to make sure he was alright to ease Dyan’s nerves- and his own.

He fed them both, and while they were eating at the kitchen table, Avizon went to see if he could get in contact with Orrien. He hoped with all his might that he could, that this was something easily explained, but… his instincts told him something was wrong. He patiently tried to get in contact with him. Orrien would be able to feel the attempt, but despite several attempts, there was no answer. Avizon grimaced. “Please, Orrien...”

He sighed deeply, and went back to the two cloudwalkers. Dyan looked up at him quickly, eyes wide, hopeful, but pleading. He was hoping just as much as Avizon had. “There was no reply, but keep cool. I’ll go and see. I know you’re worried, and I won’t lie and say that I’m not, but there could be other reasons other than something’s happened. You two stay here, just in case. Try to finish your dinner. I won’t be long-”

“W.what if something bad has happened? W.what if Erix is still there or you get hurt. Can I come with you, master, please?” Dyan pleaded.

Avizon gently shook his head. “Stay. I should only be a few minutes, but if- if something has happened, and I’m not back within… let’s say three days, you are both free to leave the castle, assume I’m not coming back. You can live here, or fly away, I wouldn’t mind. But I promise you, I will come back. As I said, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

Dyan rose from the table and hugged Avizon tight around the waist. Avizon was surprised. Dyan hadn’t shown such affections towards him for a while, but the worry was so clear in Dyan’s expression. He’d had too much unhindered time to overthink all the possibilities, and clearly few of his ideas had been nice ones. Avizon softly stroked his hair as he held him back. “It’s going to be alright, I’m sure. Good bird… go and eat please. You don’t need to worry, I’ll deal with everything.”

Avizon eased Dyan away from him and stepped back. “Be good, I’ll be right back.”

Avizon teleported to the farm where Orrien lived, deciding to not appear in the farmhouse in case something really had happened. He wanted to be prepared. Clearly something had gone on. The livestock were uneasy. Fox the horse was distressed, stomping and making plenty of noise. Avizon approached carefully and made the attempt to calm the horse before he got himself hurt. “Shhh, easy boy. Easy...”

He didn’t want to spend too long calming him down, but he helped enough, managing to get him to relax a little more in his stall. Avizon stroked his neck softly. This was odd. They should have been able to hear Fox kicking up such a fuss. Avizon kept stroking his neck while he stared at the farmhouse, trying to make out if there was any sign of movement, dangerous or otherwise. It all seemed perfectly still, but the shroud of dread was becoming more and more obvious as the sun faded away behind the trees.

“What happened here, old friend?” he mumbled to Fox. He could not speak to animals like Zena could, he could not listen, but he could feel, even if the dark magic had chewed away at that ability. He could still feel more than Fox’s fear, there was worry, confusion, a need to protect… Something was terribly wrong. He battled with his urge to rush in, his need to protect was battling with his instincts of taking care and proceeding with caution.

Once Avizon was more sure that Fox was going to be alright, he headed towards the farmhouse. He felt his magic in the palm of his hands, keeping it hidden from sight, but oh so ready to fire out at an enemy. Only as he drew nearer to the house, he felt energy. Magic- and no small amount of it. He felt Orrien’s, and for a healer, it was a concerning amount. But there was another, and though he didn’t know the owner’s magic well, he recognised it.

Erix had been here, and Orrien had used a lot of magic because of his presence. That was enough to make him shudder like a rodent had run up his spine.

Avizon tensed his jaw and carefully crept closer, trying to force himself not to rush blindly into danger. However, his worry for his master was too great. He picked up the pace until he was able to silently open the door which would lead straight into the kitchen. Power tingled in his fingertips. He pushed the door open wide and stood for a brief second in shock. It was an absolute mess. Broken plates, cupboards blasted open and the contents all over the floor. The smell of singed hair and cloth filled his nose and he scowled. The sheer amount of energy he could feel was enough to make his cursed eye hurt. He grimaced and stepped inside, trying to ignore the digging pain.

A door suddenly slammed shut. A ball of dark fire came to his hands before he could even register it. He was met with no enemy and hesitated. Had that been the breeze from opening the door or a person? Avizon walked slowly, wincing whenever the wood would creak beneath his light footfalls. He was ready to fight- to the death if need be to protect those he cared about. He needed to find Orrien and Blue, quickly.

The kitchen was unoccupied, but the magic was so heavy on his mind. He tried to understand it, picking it apart. It was clear Orrien and Erix had exchanged blows here, that they’d fought, but it only seemed to be the beginning of it. He saw a big dent in one of the cupboards. He wondered if someone had been thrown back against it. He kept looking around, only to freeze as he approached the door frame.

He crouched in front of it carefully, seeing a dark handprint. When he touched it with his other hand, he found it to still be wet. It was blood, of that he was certain even with the feeble lighting in the building that the sun gave him. He saw a trail on the floor inching towards the very bedroom Avizon had stayed in only weeks earlier. There were footprints too, someone had followed after them. Avizon went inside, but found only more magic- teleportation magic this time, he could tell by the way it flickered and jumped around. It didn’t soothe like healing magic would, it didn’t feel heavy like fighting magic. The spell's jittery nature made it harder to be able to tell if this was the source of someone appearing or leaving, but he felt sure enough. Someone had crawled this way, someone, he guessed Erix, had followed, and he’d whisked them away. It didn’t bode well. He bit back a groan of pain as his eye spiked with pain.

“Orrien! Blue!” he finally dared to call out. He had to find them!

He looked back at the handprint, and decided to see the room where the person had been. There was so much magic here he wasn’t sure if anyone was still here. It was rapidly giving him a headache. He went into the living area, finding just as terrible a mess, and this time, there was a small pool of blood by the chaise. Some had soaked into the material, but most of it was on the floor and had been smeared across the wooden planks. Avizon crouched by it, trying to feel for who it belonged to, who’s magic ran through it, but then he heard a soft scratching noise. He turned quickly, a ball of bright red fire ready to bite, but there was no one. But the light did allow him to see a glint of metal under the chaise. It moved, and with the movements, came the scratching noises. His heart sank.

“Mouse,” he murmured, reaching behind the wooden leg to scoop him up, from where he lay curled up, his back leg was kicking out, as if in pain or discomfort. He hadn’t even thought of him, he’d just fully expected for him to be with Orrien. He needed to be with him! “Come here, little one.” At first Mouse shot around and bit him, before they’d even seen who it was, without even thinking. Avizon battled back the urge to pull away, even when they broke the skin on the side of his palm as they shook their head. He didn’t want to hurt or scare them by yanking his hand away. “Agh, Mouse, it’s me. It’s Avizon. Shhh, don’t bite. Don’t bite.”

Mouse stopped and let go, once they recognised him, they backed away lowering their ears. “It’s okay,” he promised them softly. “Come on.” Mouse carefully climbed onto his hand and Avizon brought them close to his chest. His best guess was that they’d been hit with some magic, but with some patience and care, Avizon was hopeful that they’d recover. Azeera’s enchantment magic was strong, so he had to hope for the best. “You’re safe now,” he promised. But his worry only doubled for the others. He was sure that this blood was Orrien’s now, that Mouse had been there to cling onto the magic that remained. It was probably the only reason the enchantment hadn’t broken. The only reason the one part of Ro left in this world hadn’t gone forever.

Avizon lifted them up and put them on his shoulder, between his neck and the collar of his shirt. “Keep warm, and don’t worry. We’ll find them.”

But now it was back to looking, and desperately at that.

There was no one else downstairs, he was sure of that much. Mouse had been the only one. He hadn’t seen signs of anyone going upstairs, but he had to be sure. Orrien had been here, but there was nothing indicating Blue was around.

The stairs creaked and groaned as he hurried up them. “Blue? Blue, are you here?”

He’d only just gotten onto the landing when he heard a feeble groan. Mouse sat bolt upright, and Avizon saw they were staring straight at Blue’s bedroom. Avizon gulped and made his way towards it, opening the door with the smallest of trembles in his hand. The door opened with a creak, and Avizon’s gaze quickly found the source of the noise.

“Blue!” he cried. He dropped down on his knees in front of the cloudwalker, taking only the briefest second to understand how he’d been tied. Pinned on his front, hands behind his back, and a rope connected from his ankles to a rope around his neck. He raced to get him free from the ropes that bound him, that slowly strangled him as he lost his strength to keep his head up.

Avizon burned through the rope that was digging into his throat. Blue dropped down, almost lifelessly, had it not been for the massive coughing fit that overtook him. Avizon rubbed his back vigorously. “Breathe, Blue, breathe!” He heaved him up into a sitting position and untied his hands while keeping him upright. Blue’s head fell down against his chest, but he groaned again. He was still alive- thank the realms, he was alive!

He kept coughing, but now his hands were free he was able to hold onto his throat as he coughed and mewled. “O.Orrien,” he rasped. “M.master...” “Shhh, deep breaths. Deep breaths. You can tell me what happened later.” Avizon already had a fair guess. Erix had tied him up and left him to die a slow and terrifying death on his own. Avizon held him close, trying to reassure him. Mouse climbed onto his shoulder and slid down into his lap, rubbing his head against him in a bid to comfort him.

“Only nod or shake your head. Did Erix take Orrien?” Avizon asked him.

Blue choked on a sob but nodded, trembling in Avizon’s arms. Avizon swallowed back his anger. “I will find him, Blue. I promise. But first I have to get you two back to the castle where it’s safe.”

Blue whined as Avizon propped him up against the bed. “Breathe. I need to check the other two rooms, just to be absolutely sure no one else is here. I’ll be right back, Blue, I promise you’re safe.”

Avizon stood and feverishly checked the remaining rooms. He was confident that Orrien was certainly gone. He returned to Blue’s side and crouched down beside him. “I’m going to pick you up, alright? We’re getting you out of here-” “E.Erix took Orrien t.to get you. I. I think it’s a trap.” Avizon’s heart sank, seeing how he was forcing himself to speak past the pain.

Avizon scooped him up and waited for Mouse to climb into his hand to make sure he didn’t leave without them. He kissed Blue on the top of the head. “You may be right, but please rest. I will find Orrien once I know you’re safe. I swear on my blood I will find him.”

Avizon closed his eyes and focused on his home, the tower where he could look after both of them. Dyan was going to take this terribly, but there was nothing he could do to avoid it. With home in mind, he teleported away. At least he’d been able to save some. Erix was going to pay when he got his hands on him, that much was sure. The only question was... where was he?

#Cloudwalker Series #whump #whump writing #my writing #Avizon #Dyan #Ihuka #Blue #Mouse #mouse the dragon #tw:blood #tw: attempted murder #tw: animal harm #Mouse will be okay don't worry I could never hurt them really badly

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theloneliestshipper · 4 years

Note

have you ever thought about a rebel bounty Witcher!AU? I just finished the books and like Boba would make a prime Witcher, he definitely gives off grumpy monster hunter vibes

I haven’t read the books myself, but I have seen the Netflix series so in the spirit of that...

AO3 Link

Witcher AU

Ten years ago, the princess was abducted. Taken prisoner by the sorcerer Jabben who wed her by force and kept her bound by enchantment to his cursed stronghold at Mospera. That’s the story they tell, the story Boba was told when he was hired.

“Doesn’t look very cursed, does it?” Fenn Shysa is a bard who sometimes travels with him, spinning songs and tales at taverns to draw in crowds and pay for their lodging. Boba prefers to work alone but he can’t argue with results. Both his ability to find work and his ability to avoid suspicious crowds with pitchforks have increased since the bard joined him.

He can’t argue with Fenn’s assessment either. The village of Mospera is clearly prosperous, the town square is decorated with flowers and banners for a market day that is coming to an end as they arrive. The rich scent of stew is in the air as the people return to their homes for supper. A vendor approaches, proffering meat pies at a discount, and Fenn swiftly charms the directions to Jabben’s keep from him.

“I’ll just stay here and wait for you,” the bard informs Boba, still smiling at the vendor. He’s a handsome man and his cheeks are very rosy when he looks at Fenn.

Boba continues on alone. No one stops him until he reaches the gate. “My name is Boba of Fett. I’m here on business to see Master Jabben.”

The guards exchange a look. They escort him to an audience chamber, where he is presently greeted by a bald man in the dignified robes of an advisor. “Greetings to you, traveler. I am called Bibar and it would be my pleasure to assist you with your business here.”

“I must see Master Jabben.”

“It’s not possible, I’m afraid.”

“It’s about his wife.”

That provokes a response. Bibar stills and then clasps his hands. “One moment, please.” When he returns, he holds the door open. “This way. The lady will speak to you.”

He’s interrupting her dinner. A generous table has been set for Princess Leia of Nabu, who reclines comfortably on cushions with a goblet of wine in her hand. The portrait he was shown gave a good likeness of her beauty, making her easily identifiable even ten years later. Her long brown hair hangs to her waist, loosely bound with ribbons, and large dark eyes watch his entrance.

“So,” she says. “You have some business here which you will not reveal, and it must have something to do with me. Speak, sir.”

“May we speak in private, my lady?”

Her eyes shift to Bibar and she gives a slight nod. “Very well.”

The advisor leaves and Boba steps forward. “My name is Boba of Fett. I was sent here to kill Jabben and break his enchantment.”

“Ahhh. But you are not a sorcerer.” She speaks with confidence, her eyes assessing. “Surely they haven’t sent a witcher.”

“What can you tell me about the curse?”

She pauses to finish the wine in her cup, the gesture unhurried. “Can I offer you a drink? Some food?”

“Are you bound from discussing it?”

“No.” She sits up a little and refills her glass from a gilded pitcher. “There is no point in discussing it. It cannot be broken.”

“All curses can be broken.”

“This one can only be broken by one thing. My maidenhead.” In the silence that follows she sighs and motions to a bench. “Sit, Witcher. I will tell you the tale.”

He does, his hand on his sword hilt. It can only be a matter of time before his purpose here is discovered.

“Jabben was a more clever rapist than most. He cursed me to never leave this keep while I was still a virgin. He knew no one else would dare touch his wife, so he thought it would force me to offer myself up to him. Then one night he was eating crushfruits in bed and choked on a pit. He died with his wish unfulfilled.”

This was a twist he did not anticipate. “Jabben is dead.”

“Dead and buried for many years.”

“But the curse remains.”

“It troubles me very little. I have done my best to be a just and fair ruler in his stead, and the people of Mospera have rewarded me with their loyalty.”

Her lack of self-pity is admirable, but something about the story doesn’t quite seem right to Boba. “You could have broken the curse on your own after Jabben’s death.”

“The only people I see are my subordinates, and how could I ask such a thing of them?” She waves her goblet with too much abandon, wine sloshing over the rim.

“You could have had someone brought to you. Someone from outside of Mospera.”

“I’m afraid the number of volunteers to enter a cursed stronghold is a slim number, present company excluded.” Her eyes drop down to his feet and back up again before she sets down her goblet. “I have had a long day of reviewing accounts and now I have indulged too much with my dinner. Please help yourself if you are so inclined. Bibar will show you out when you are ready to leave.”

She stands abruptly and sways, her hands outstretched for balance. Boba is quickly at her side, steadying her with a hand on her arm. “Perhaps we could also offer you a bath for your trouble,” she says, looking up at him with a soft, teasing smile. “I would see to it myself but I think I must go to bed.”

“Do you need help getting to your chamber, my lady?”

Her full lips part. “If you would be so kind.” He sweeps her up into his arms, and she laughs as she settles her arms around her neck. “I’ve heard so many terrible things about witchers, and yet I find you to be very pleasant company, Boba.”

He doesn’t answer. He’s already retracing his steps, moving as swiftly as he can.

“This is not the way to my chambers.” Even in her inebriated state, she notices. “Where are you taking me?”

“I thought some fresh air might do you good.”

“What? No!” She kicks and struggles, but he has a good grip and will not relinquish it. “I cannot go outside you fool-”

As soon as they’re through the gate she falls silent. Boba sets her down, and she glares at him, plainly furious. “How dare you deceive me!”

“Deceit for deceit. You broke the curse long ago, why have you not returned home?”

“This is my home! But you had to keep sniffing like some starving dog-” She shoves him, which doesn’t have much of an impact. “If you try to make me go with you I swear to you I’ll scream loudly enough to bring every soldier in the barracks.”

She tries to push him again and Boba catches her arms, holding her in place. “You don’t want me to kill your soldiers.”

Her resolve crumples a little at that. “I will not go back to Nabu.”

“Tell me what happened. The truth.”

He releases her arms and she takes a step back, drawing in a shuddering breath. “Nabu has long been under the influence of the sorcerer Palpatine. He sought to use my brother and I as bargaining chips by wedding us to empires as cruel and brutish as he wants Nabu to be. When I saw how my brother was traded off like livestock I ran. And then Jabben found me.”

Her arms fold tight over her chest as she continues. “Everything I told you about the curse was the truth. Every night before he laid down beside me he would tell me that I would give up eventually. That I would beg him to have me. So one night, as he slept, I smothered him with a pillow.”

“By yourself?”

“It was not easy. He fought, but my determination was great and I knew what the consequences would be if I failed. When I was sure his breathing had stilled I cut up the crushfruit and used the handle of a fireplace poker to push the pit down into his throat.”

“Fuck.”

“Jabben was not well liked. The people accepted his death quite readily.” She spread her hands at the walls and buildings around them. “Here I may do as I please with my life and my body. And as long as the myth of the curse prevails, I am free.”

With a heavy sigh, Boba turns away from her, his feet bound for the village.

“Where are you going?”

“To tell my bard that he’d best start writing a new song if he wants to eat tomorrow.”

“Wait.” She hurries after him. “You will leave empty-handed?”

“I came here to kill a monster. You beat me to it.”

She catches his sleeve, forcing him to halt. “Remain here tonight. In the morning I will see you and your bard fed and provisioned.”

“Why would you have me stay here?”

Her hand slides up his arm. “There are no curses to be broken here, Witcher. And no monsters to slay. But I would still welcome the company of someone who is not my subordinate.”

“You’re drunk.”

“And you are in dire need of a bath.” She steps in closer, tilting her head back to look up at him. “By the time you are clean, I will likely be sober.”

#boba fett/princess leia #rebelbounty #witcher au #replete with one obligatory f bomb #dang it Boba makes a really good witcher #boba fett #leia organa #my fic #random au #Anonymous

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wonderlandleighleigh · 4 years

Text

Anidala Week Day 3: Fairy tales

(Turns out writing a fairy tale is tough work. Yeesh). The Children of the Kingdom of Naboo are being taken from their beds, and it’s up to Queen Padme and her allies to untangle the mystery of the dark creature that wanders the night. Under the cut.

There are things that only come out at night. For six years, the six kingdoms have been haunted by what some describe as a ghastly, tall figure draped in the blackest of black robes. The people all say the same thing. It comes at night in its towering black robes, and the only thing you can see of its face are glowing, amber eyes. Some say he is a ghost; haunting the woods in the dead of night. Some say it is a monster, who steals children out past their bedtimes, never to be seen again. Kills livestock. Some say it is just a man. Sad and alone. Lost. To be pitied. Padme Naberrie, queen of the kingdom of Naboo, never thought about these stories before. They were old ghost tales, good for the blood, but not real. Just fairy tales to scare unruly children. Until the children began to disappear from their beds. “Has this happened before?” she asks her advisors as she paces the throne room of her modest castle by the lake. “Any reports in the archives?” “No, Your Majesty,” Kenobi - Captain of the Guard - tells her. “Nothing like this has ever happened here before...but other kingdoms are rumored to have similar instances...Alderaan...Coruscant...Even Corellia with their warrior king supposedly had an issue with missing children in the last few years.” “Were any found alive?” Padme asks worriedly. Kenobi nods. “I can contact Alderaan’s captain, and ask how they managed to find their children.”

She nods. “See that you do, please.”

*****

It turns out that the hero who had found the missing children in the other kingdoms was a sorcerer, named Sheev: An old man with a kindly, droopy face, who offered a simple solution. “I shall hunt down this beast for you,” he says. “I have been tracking it for a long, long time now. In every instance I am able to run it off, but not to catch it. I will at the very least make certain it never comes back to Naboo again...for a small fee.” Padme sighs inwardly. “Of course. Name your price. There is none too high to bring back the children of our kingdom safe and sound.” “I fear...that it may already be too late for some of them,” Sheev tells her with sadness in his eyes. “But I shall do my best.” *****

Weeks pass, and then a month, and children keep disappearing.

“Sorcerer, this is unacceptable,” Queen Padme tells him firmly. “More and more children go missing each night, and still, there are no results.” “Have faith, your Highness,” Sheev says, his voice smooth and calm. “I shall do my duty to you. I swear it. But these things cannot be rushed.” “They must be,” Padme snaps. “I am sending my Captain out with you tonight, to aid you in your search.” “I do not think that is a good idea, your Highness,” Sheev insists. “He will disrupt my process.” “You have two more weeks, Sorcerer,” she warns. He nods dutifully, and she cannot help the chill that runs down her back. “Yes, my Queen.” *****

At the end of the first week, a girl warrior from a far, far away land seeks an audience with the queen. Kenobi is skeptical, but Padme welcomes the girl, as she does all who come to seek her out for peaceful reasons. “Queen Padme,” the girl says, kneeling before the older woman. “I am Ahsoka, of the far kingdom of Tatooine, and I have come to seek an audience.” “Of course, Ahsoka,” Padme says, stepping down from her throne to take the girl’s hand and bring her to her feet. “Please, tell me how I may be of service.” Ahsoka, for all of her strength, seems surprised at the woman’s kindness. “I have searched far and wide for many years, looking for my brother. Our family were slaves, and he was sold to an old wizard.” “That is terrible,” Padme says sympathetically. Slavery has been outlawed in Naboo for centuries, though she knows that Tatooine, the dust kingdom, ruled over by the cruel, powerful Queen Gardula, thrive on it. “I am very sorry, my dear girl. I myself have an older sister. I don’t know what I would do if something so terrible had happened to separate us.” “Thank you,” Ahsoka nods, bowing her head. “I believe that they have come here, and I wish for you to grant me freedom to search for him. I fear a terrible fate has befallen my brother. I must save him.” Padme nods before turning to Captain Kenobi. “Captain, please be certain that young Ahsoka is given lodging, and any aid she requires for her quest.” “Yes, My Queen,” Kenobi says slowly. “Young Ahsoka..your brother. You remember what he looks like?” The girl nods eagerly. “His name is Anakin. He is tall and handsome, with the clearest of blue eyes..” Kenobi nods, thinking these things over. “We will do all we can to help you. For now, I shall have one of the handmaids show you to your room.” “Thank you both for your kindness,” Ahsoka says, bowing again, before stepping away. Padme watches them go, settling back on her throne, troubled seems to be her base emotion these days….

***** Padme has been urged to cease her late night strolls through the town, but she cannot help herself, not when her people suffer. And so, she gathers Captain Kenobi, and his most trusted guard, Cody, and steps into the night. “I still don’t think this is a very good idea,” Kenobi comments. “I know,” Padme nods as they wander around. “But perhaps if the sorcerer cannot catch this creature, we can.” “We are not monster hunters, Your Highness,” Cody reminds her. “We may be ill prepared for what we find.” She grins at them. “I trust the both of you to be prepared for anything.” “While your faith in us is flattering, I am not certain it’s well-placed, if what we’re dealing with is a monster,” Kenobi comments. Padme huffs, unwilling to tell them that the real reason they’re out is to try and catch a glimpse of whatever is prowling their streets at night. If she can just see what they're dealing with then perhaps they will not need to keep paying the sorcerer all the money he has been charging them. She gets her wish. When they round the corner, they find an impossibly tall creature in an alleyway, black robes billowing out like smoke, with the addition of actual black smoke, alone, seemingly…Weeping? He spots them, eyes wide. Impossibly blue eyes. The clearest of blue eyes, the only thing any of them can see beneath the robes’ hood. Before any of them can move, the creature’s eyes shift to a glowing amber, before it disappears with a puff of smoke and a wail. *****

The Queen doesn’t sleep that night, and when the sun rises, Kenobi finds her pacing her throne room, clearly troubled. “Your Highness, if i may,” Kenobi says gently. ‘Is it not strange that whatever we found last night, had eyes the color that the girl from Tatooine described?” Padme huffs and nods. “Strange indeed, Captain. Too strange to overlook, but how do we know for certain that these things are connected?” “Well...there’s always the wise old sorcerer in the mountain.” She takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. The sorcerer in the mountain is a little green goblin who often speaks in riddles and is infuriatingly right much of the time. “I...suppose, we can go ask the Sorcerer Yoda,” the Queen grouses. Kenobi chuckles sympathetically. “I know he is confounding, my Queen. But he may be our one hope of untangling what it is that is going on in our kingdom.” She nods. “Collect Ahsoka and Cody. We leave within the hour.” ***** It takes some time to convince Ahsoka not to hunt down the old Sorcerer who has been hunting the monster, but once she’s informed of what they’d seen the night before, she is certain that the creature - whatever it is - is her brother. “It’s possible he isn’t in there anymore,” Kenobi says sympathetically. “That the creature was once your brother, but is no longer.” “If it is my brother,” Ahsoka snaps back as they walk up the mountain. “Then I will find a way to save him.” “And what of all the missing children?” Cody asks. “If he is the creature who has taken them, he may be guilty of murder.” “The sorcerer forced him to!” Ahsoka cries, turning to them. “Turned him into that...that thing, and I will make him pay.” “If it is revenge you seek,” a jovial voice speaks up from above them. “Then help you, I cannot.” “We -” Padme stops and takes a breath, lifting her head. “I seek your wisdom, Sorcerer.” “Wisdom,” the little green creature chuckles. “What is wisdom, but old words, repeated over and over.” Padme works hard to keep from rolling her eyes. “Children began disappearing from our kingdom some time ago, and another Sorcerer came to aid us in finding the creature responsible. Sheev the Sorcerer, he is called.” Yoda’s face goes serious then, as he thinks on this. “Sheev. Hm. Sheev. Heard of him, I have. Trustworthy many thought him to be, but…something wrong about him, there is. Secrets, he hides. Under his bed...monsters there are.” “Is it possible that he’s behind the disappearances?” Kenobi asks. “Playing at finding the culprit, when it is he, himself, who carries out these horrible deeds?” “Possible, anything is,” Yoda chuckles. “Mysterious are the ways of the magic around us.” “This is not helping,” Ahsoka grouses. “Speak plainly, old man!” “Speak plainly, I do,” Yoda says. “Standing on a plain am I.” He gestures to the flat piece of land he’s perched on with another laugh. “May I kill him?” Ahsoka asks the Queen. Padme takes a deep breath. “What is the best way to stop this man?” Yoda thinks about that for a moment and then gives them a little smile. “Remember you must, to trust your feelings, and have compassion. Only in love will you find the answer you seek.” ***** That night, Padme sneaks out of the castle without her captain or guard. If the Sorcerer Sheev is the one behind this...if that creature really is Ahsoka’s brother, turned into a ghoul of some kind… She wanders the streets, slowly. She recognizes many of her subjects, and they her, smiling and bowing to her. Even the less savory characters she knows show a little respect for their Queen, but everyone looks exhausted, and sad. They still have no answers. No way to stop the children from disappearing. They seem reassured by her presence among them, but Padme knows that soon, that won’t be enough. As she walks, she finds herself in a quieter, darker side of town. Shops are closed, and the sidewalks devoid of life. Or so she thinks. “You will do as I say.” She stops at the sound of Sheev’s voice and slips further into the shadows as she peeks around the corner. There stands the creature, shoulders hunched, amber eyes staring into the man in front of him. Sheev. “You are my slave. I own you, and you will do whatever I wish. If you do not go and find me more children to eat, I will go back to that terrible dustbowl of a planet you are from and your mother will be my next victim.” The creature - Anakin - bows his head, eyes closing behind his hood. When he opens them again, he nods to his master. “Good,” Sheev nods. “I shall be waiting.” Pity bubbles in Padme’s stomach as she watches the old Sorcerer walk in the other direction, while the creature stands still, his robes and the black mist billowing around him. Carefully, she steps out of the shadows and towards him, afraid, but drawn to him somehow. Yoda had spoken of compassion. Of love being the key, and the compassion she feels is nearly overwhelming. “You don’t have to do what he says,” she says gently. The creature whirls around, its eyes blazing as he steps back from her. “You don’t have to be afraid,” she says quickly. “I want to help you. I know who you are.” The creature stands up, its full height towering over her. “Anakin.” It freezes. “You are Anakin. Ahsoka’s brother,” Padme goes on, her voice going back to its gentle tone. “And I want to help you.” The creature’s eyes shift then, from amber to that clear blue, and she can almost make out his face. Handsome, and young, a lock of hair maybe in his face, She reaches out a hand to him. “Come with me.” He seems to gaze at her hand for a long while, before his own hand reaches out for her- all bone, as if there is no skin to cover it, and as black as his robes. “NO!” It’s Sheev, the old sorcerer’s voice, panicked and wild. “Your Highness, do not touch it! It will kill you!” It doesn’t occur to her to pull away, and when their hands meet, the world goes white, as if an explosion hits them both, and when Padme can see again, she is no longer looking at a creature, but at a man. Young and handsome with sandy hair, his eyes blue. He is lean and tall, and he is gazing at her in wonder. “How-” he stops at the sound of his own voice. “How did-” “You foul wench!” It’s Sheev’s voice, but harsher and angrier. When Padme looks over, Sheev is… Transformed. Where once stood a kindly old man, now stands a hideous beast. His skin wrinkled and start white. His eyes as red as blood, and teeth sharp as knives.

Anakin pushes Padme behind him. “Foolish whelp!” Sheev snarls. “Do you think you can defeat me?! Your master?! Your curse may be broken, but that won’t matter once you’re dead!” From under her cloak, the Queen pulls a sword from its sheath on her belt, and presses it into Anakin’s hand. He grips it, glancing back at her and nodding as the old sorcerer rushes at them, teeth bared and claws out, screaming. With a deep breath, and a low count to three, Anakin lifts the sword, and before Sheev can maneuver away, it runs him through. The shriek is deafening, as Sheev the Sorcerer melts around the sword, a puddle of swampy brown liquid pooling at Anakin’s feet. When he turns to Padme, his knees give out from under him, his breathing labored as the weight of his own humanity hits him hard. “Thank you,” he breathes out, dropping the sword, and pressing his face into his hands. “Thank you.” ***** Kenobi and the Queen watch as Ahsoka and Anakin reunite, holding onto each other for dear life. “The rest of the guard has found the missing children,” Kenobi tells her. “Caged in a cabin in the woods, waiting to be eaten.” “Thank god they’re safe,” Padme says softly. “That man kidnapped them,” Kenobi points out. “I know he was cursed, and a slave to boot, but...should he not face some sort of punishment?” “His enslavement and shame are punishment enough,” Padme tells him. “We must be merciful where Anakin likely will not be towards himself.” Kenobi nods. “Yes, Your Highness.” He takes a breath. “Perhaps he can work off that guilt by training to be in the guard.” Padme smiles softly. “I think that is a wonderful idea.” “I can see you’re very fond of him already,” Kenobi comments. “So that’s no surprise.” “Watch your tone, Captain,” Padme lifts an eyebrow with a smirk. “I may be merciful, but I am still your queen.” “Yes, Ma’am.” ***** Within the year, Anakin and Ahsoka fetched their mother from the Dust Kingdom, and moved to Naboo. Both respected members of the Royal Guard under Kenobi’s tutelage. He hadn’t been wrong. Padme felt great affection for Anakin, and with every passing day, that feeling grew, and it was clear that his feelings for her were more than just gratitude. Once Anakin was granted his knighthood, he asked for her hand in marriage, which she gave readily, and soon after, she gave birth to twins: Luke and Leia. And they lived happily ever after.

END

#Anidalaweek2020 #anidala #fic #au #anakin skywalker #padme amidala

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buildingcages · 4 years

Text

Box Boy Enrollment, part 2

whew, this got long! part one is here.

masterpost

(Warnings: dehumanization, objectification, financial coercion, forced nudity (mostly nonsexual), slavery, humans as pets, victim blaming, psychological manipulation, corporal punishment)

The lady behind the desk was plump, comfortably middle aged with little gold glasses on a chain around her neck. She smiled brilliantly at him as he came in, gesturing to the chair across from hers.

"Come on in sweetie, you're here to sign up aren't you?"

"Oh uh. Yeah. Is it that obvious?" He dropped into the chair, feeling embarrassed and transparent. God, but he must look pathetic. "I'm here about the uh, the debt forgiveness program?"

She chuckled. The name plate on her desk read 'Miss Delilah'. "In my line of work you learn to read people, is all. It looks like you've got some paperwork for me hon?"

Nodding, he slid the folder across the desk. The very sympathetic bank manager had given it to him when he suggested he come here. She picked it up and thumbed through the contents with pursed lips. He slid his hands under his thighs to keep himself from fidgeting. 'It's not going to work. She's going to tell you it's too much and you're not worth that much and they can't help you, and you will have humiliated yourself for nothing-'

She snapped the folder shut and smiled at him again. "You're doing the right thing sweetie. I'll just get some forms for you and we'll get you all set up."

He slumped with relief and she chuckled again, reaching across the desk to ruffle his hair.

"Aw were you worried? You're a good boy aren't you? You're gonna do just fine." She set a small stack of forms in front of him and then tapped something on her computer screen. "You just fill those out and I'll let the intake boys know to get a space ready for you ok?"

He closed his eyes for a minute. This was the last moment where he could turn back. He picked up the pen. Name, date of birth, medical history, fingerprints. The questionnaire about his sexual history, identity, and attraction gave him pause, but he decided not to think about it and filled it out as fast as he could. He hesitated for a long moment before signing, then pushed the paper back across the desk. His mouth was as dry as the desert he'd driven through on a road trip once. It was done.

The recruitment lady- no, Miss Delilah- looked up from her computer and smiled at him again. She pulled something out of her desk drawer and came around behind him before he could catch a good look at whatever it was. When he tried to twist and look at her she put a hand on his shoulder and he stilled.

"Easy now sweetie, I'm just putting your collar on you. You understand you're going to have to wear this from now on, right?"

Oh.

"Oh. Of course. Um. Can I ask. What’s next?" The collar was stiff, high enough that it kept pinching him when he slouched.

"Well just this once, since you've been so good for me. Next, someone will come from intake to bring you up to your temporary quarters, then after a little while you'll be taken to the training facility. Once you're there, they'll start teaching you how to be a good little pet. Won't that be nice?"

He kind of doubted it would be. 'It's worth it, whatever happens, if this saves everyone else then it's worth it. Be good and maybe they'll go easy on you. Then when they sell you as a companion to some little old rich lady you can run away if she's mean.' He took a deep shaky breath.

"Ok. Thank you for telling me."

"You can call me Miss, dear. It's important for you to learn how to show respect for your betters, isn't it hon?"

Meek, he reminded himself, you are going to be meek. He made his voice as small as he could.

"Yes, Miss."

While he sat there trying to steady himself, Miss Delilah was bustling around pulling a stack of 3 nested plastic bins out of another drawer. She set them on the desk and smiled again.

"Ok sweetheart go ahead and strip. Clothes in this bin, shoes and belt in this one, personal effects in here."

He looked around the little office, at the glass door with all the people typing away in their cubicles behind it, at the lack of any clothing visible to replace what he was wearing.

"Don't pets get clothes, um. Miss?" The question came out a little choked, and he knew he must be as red as a boiled lobster.

"You're not a pet yet honey, you're a trainee. You've got to earn the ability to call yourself a pet, and you do that by being good and doing what you're told. Come on hon, you've been so good, don't make me punish you already!"

He took another deep breath, the way he’d been taught when he was overwhelmed as a kid. 'Just start with your shoes. You can do this. One thing at a time.'

He slipped off his worn but comfy boots, and put them in the tray. Then belt and socks. His heavy rings, the leather bands he wore around his wrist. His hands shook so badly taking off his shirt that a button came free and pinged off into the corner somewhere. Miss Delilah made a disapproving "tsk" sound but didn't say anything. Finally he stood there in a collar and boxers. Maybe it would be enough. Miss Delilah raised her eyebrows at him and he knew it wouldn't be. He squeezed his eyes shut and slid them down his hips, setting them in the plastic tub.

When his shoulders tried to rise defensively the collar bit into him. Miserably, he wrapped his arms around his middle.

"See? that wasn't so bad was it honey? You just keep doing what you're told like a good boy and you'll be just fine. Now come sit by me--NOT on the chair, good heavens, you can kneel right here, and I'll give you a little something to calm your nerves. I've got a couple other things to set you up with and then you'll be all ready for intake and training."

He knelt. He felt detached and cold, and like some distant part of him might be screaming, but he fought the prickle of tears behind his eyes and accepted the pill and the little paper cup of water. When he looked up again, Miss Delilah was holding something that looked a lot like those piercing guns you saw at the mall. Something on her computer beeped, and she took a little chip out of its slot and plugged it into the thing in her hand. Then she grabbed his ear, hard, and he flinched back on instinct and fell right over on his back.

"Oh, honey, and you were doing so good too."

Her voice was sad, and she was reaching for something on her desk. The next thing he knew, the world whited out with pain. He heard a scream he belatedly recognized as his own, tapering off into pained gasps. A shock collar, of course, he should have known he was so stupid-

"Now are you gonna be good for me? Or are you gonna make me do that again?"

"No, please, I'm sorry," he gasped, trying to coax his limbs to cooperate, "I'll be good Miss I promise."

"Good boy. Up on your knees now, and hold still."

He pushed himself up with arms that felt like overcooked noodles. It was a piercing gun after all, and when he raised a hand furtively to touch his ear he found a flat plastic tag like they used to mark livestock. It hurt, but not as much as the shock collar. He thought maybe the little pill she gave him was starting to work, because he felt kind of soft and floaty.

"There, see how much nicer it is when you do what you're told?" She patted his cheek kindly, "Now remember, the money to pay your debts is coming directly from your sale. If you're really good and we don't have to keep paying for extra training we can pay that debt off free and clear, ok? Just keep reminding yourself that this was your choice. Everything that happens to you now is something you signed up for of your own free will."

It was true, and he thought maybe it would make it easier to deal with, if he reminded himself that he’d had some kind of control. It wasn’t like he didn’t know this would be humiliating. He squeezed his eyes shut, and felt the tears sticking in his eyelashes.

Behind him, he heard the door open. Miss Delilah smiled down at him again, and clipped a lead to one of the rings on his collar.

"Here's intake now, you're going to be a good boy for them and do everything they say, aren't you?"

He nodded miserably. When he looked over his shoulder he saw two men in white with long batons hanging off their belts. He suspected he didn't want to know what those were for, and he also suspected it wasn't going to matter. Delilah handed one of them the end of his leash.

"Up, trainee." His voice was sharp, and there was no warmth in it. He got up. It was dawning on him that he was about to be paraded naked in front of a whole office full of people, and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

Sure enough, the man holding his leash turned and walked back out the open door without so much as a backward glance. He stumbled and walked quickly to keep up, sure that any delay would be punished. As they passed the cubicles he could see that most of the office workers were ignoring him completely, but one had been watching through the glass door intently. He was smiling slyly, one hand rubbing his trousers under the desk.

"Eyes forward trainee," the intake man behind him punctuated this by tapping his baton against his captive's turned cheek. It buzzed against his skin, clearly a warning. He snapped his eyes forward and concentrated on walking, trying to ignore the flush he could feel creeping across his chest.

~*~

Please let me know if I’ve forgotten any warnings! A big thanks to all the folks involved in building this lovely whumptastic sandbox <3

#bbu #box boy multiverse #box boy whump #trans whumpee #fake nice whumper #wru recruitment tactics are dirty #it's all even further downhill from here #box boy 583299

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ships-n-giggles · 4 years

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Futile Souls: Good Omens Platonic Crowley/Reader

Summary: He saves you. And you chase him through several lifetimes trying to thank him. Platonic, no romance, written because Crowley loves kids

____

Author’s Note: This is my first time writing (and publishing!) reader-insert fanfiction, and I got inspiration from a chapter of Little Pet Shop of Horrors, a Good Omen’s AU regarding Crowley sneaking kids onto the Ark (if the author would message me so I can credit, I would appreciate it!) and other reincarnation stories. These are all based on meetings he has with Aziraphale throughout history, and taking into context the problems that went on during this. This is not a condemnation of certain cultures, religions or peoples, but rather an observation of how it could have affected kids.

If anyone thinks the level of effort Crowley goes to in protecting kids is not accurate with the book or show, that that’s up to you. This is a personal view of what I think Crowley would do in situations where innocent kids will get hurt or killed. I also used the closest thing I could think of to the original names of Jesus and others, though I’m certain I may have inaccuracies. If there are any experts who can point them out for me, I’d appreciate knowing my mixups, though I don’t think I’ll be editing. (ie, no beta read, we die like men)

Also please note that I’m not doing romantic shipping because I personally view Crowley and Aziraphale as agender, asexual beings in reference to what Neil Gaiman has come out to say about them, being a demon and an angel and all. If you like romantic shipping, please write your own or support other readers!

I don’t own Good Omens, because if I did there would be real dinosaurs and I would be living in a castle by the sea, so don’t sue please.

The first time, it was raining very hard.

Your father remarked that such a mighty rain in the desert was surely a promise from above that there would be more fertile lands. More water for barely, wheat, to bake bread and brew beer. You wish you knew what your mother would have thought of it all. But she had been dead seven years, and your father had already married a third time. And your stepmother did not bother to tell you anything. More often than not, she pretended you were not there.

“It’s raining too much.” Your friends remarked, the third day in. “We should ask if we can get on that big boat out beyond the village.”

The local madman, your father called him.

A ship of great proportions, but with no sail or rudder. It seemed less a boat and more of a glorified tub to float in the ocean….except the sea was miles and miles away and would not hasten to him, surely. But there had been remarkable things. A week ago, he let out a great shout for all of the beasts and creatures of the world to come unto him. And they had. Two by two, pair by pair. You saw animals you had no name for. Great big cats with stripes that barely licked their chops in your direction, even as you ducked behind your father, but rather padded along patiently towards the ship. Animals bigger than a house, with a tail at both ends! Even mice were scampering to join the ferry.

The rain drowns the crops, and starts billowing over into your house. Your stepmother, irritated, pregnant, and tired of the soggy state of things, chases you out while your father snores in their bed.

“Hurry! Look!” The children shout at you to join them on top of a big rock. The water is flowing more heavily now, and covers your feet and make your sandals heavy. “It’s the ocean!”

Sure enough, it is the ocean. The adults scoff that it was just the nearby river, but strange fish splash out from it. It looks too big to be a river. And too muddy.

The stranger comes.

“Come.” He hushes you all, a group of twelve children, who are curious at his red hair and yellow eyes. You give a last glance at your house. Your stepmother will not mind if you are gone long. And father will not notice. And this stranger is not like the other adults who are impatient and sometimes lash out when a child is too noisy. He hangs back from view, and watches things as they happen. “Hurry up. There’s not much time left.”

The water around the ark is up to your waist, though it only comes to the stranger’s knees as you wade to the base of the boat. Shem has pulled up the gangplank. He shouts angrily at the people of the village, for shunning their God. For sin. For the corruption of their existence.

The stranger casts one frustrated look of desperation to the skies, grabs a plank and pops it open. You’re all in awe and surprise. The planks are made of tough oak, and the stranger didn’t even use a hammer.

“Get in, you lot. Quick, quick, before we’re noticed.”

But you are all very afraid now. The rain comes down harder, the wind whipping it as you all hold your clothes together tightly, cowering in the coming storm. You jump at the sound of crackling thunder, and look up as lightning bursts in the sky.

You know that much more than the ocean has come to greet you.

So you lead the way, and climb aboard.

The other children, hesitantly at first, follow. And finally the stranger climbs in, putting the plank back where it was and banging the nails back in the other way with his own fist.

All thirteen of you huddle together in the dark hull, and begin to hear things. First it was just heavy rushes of water, splashing the ship. Then it gives a great lurch, and you can feel it floating. There is noise and commotion outside, hearing men slosh around and yelling instructions to slow the flow. Then you hear them urging the others to climb the rooftops of their homes. Then the screaming.

The stranger lets the children cling to him as the storm rages outside. You are right under his arm, hugging his waist and trembling. You all were the children who were awake. But there were many other children in the village. And some had not even been born.

You think you hear your father crying out to the heavens before it is swallowed up by a wave of water and let out a gasp. Without hesitation, the stranger moves one of his hands to your head, soothing you. Your father rarely touched you save to express his frustration or to move you aside.

You wonder if this was a man sent by God.

Peeking up, the stranger’s gaze is intently on a shadow in the hull of the ship, what would lead to the animal pens above. It is tense, fearful, waiting. Hoping. Wishing that you all are not caught.

A long time ago, a black snake slipped into your house and scared your first stepmother to bits, and was chased out by your father. It occurs to you that his eyes are precisely that same kind.

The storm rages, and you are all lulled to sleep.

“Here. Look outside.”

All of you have been wafting in and out of sleep, anxious waiting in the dark, and eating whatever the stranger procures when he briefly departs into the darkness to find some food. It is very little, a couple of raw vegetables or a loaf of bread to share, washed down with fresh water. And you have no idea how long you all have been afloat. Sometimes the rocking of the ship makes you sick. Sometimes it just makes you tired.

When the stranger beckons you all to the plank you had crawled in from, you realize the ship is very, very still.

He pops it open, and there is an amazing sight outside.

A bridge in the sky, with every beautiful color you have ever known and some you have only heard about. A bright white bird with a laurel in its toes soars across the sky, and the sun is shining. There is a lot of water still. And a lot of mud. But it is receding.

“That’s a promise.” The stranger says. “That this won’t happen again.”

But clearly he does not trust this sign from God.

The stranger is careful. He waits until the animals disperse and waits even longer for Shem and his family to set forth with their wives, children and livestock, to claim what is left. When there is nothing but fresh new silence, he leads you all along. “The sun won’t set on you here.” He says as he takes you to the edge of a new sea. His long arm points to a mountain far, far away. “Keep walking. When you reach that mountain, you’ll find a new home. Don’t tell them where you came from. Don’t let them know how you got here.” He looks down and you gaze up at him. “And for hell’s sake don’t let this be the end of you.”

You want to ask him to come along, but the other children have begun to walk, and….after a long wait, you hurry to catch up.

The twelve of you never forget his face. But you had no name to recall him by. So the others begin to forget him for real.

Canaan is fertile, fine land. Shem and his family must have roamed elsewhere. But there are good people here, surprised to find so many lost children wandering around. The high priest of Canaan divines that this was the work of God that you came here, and one by one, you are interred into new homes. You do not form real familial relations with your foster family at first. But a shy cousin is taken with you, and in time, you make your own.

You used to remember the stranger with the other lost children. But soon they stop talking about it. And when you ask, they frown, and tell you they were born here.

Your last breath is drawn upon the birth of your second child. When you see the black cloak your heart leaps with joy…the stranger has come back.

But you feel very cold to realize this is another stranger.

“Yes.” He agrees. “Very much a stranger.”

Your mother in law is wailing alongside the baby, but your body is cold and lifeless. There is grief in the air, but the question has been hanging on for some time now. “Who is he?” You ask. “What is his name?”

“You are dead. You will never see him again.”

“I could.” You said in a small voice. “I might. The sun is reborn every day. The moon waxes and wanes. I could come back too.”

“Would you? Would you relive this life? To know his name?”

“…I didn’t even say thank you. I wouldn’t have lived this long if he hadn’t.”

There is a long silence, and you see the world shrouded in darkness…pinpricked with dying lights that flash brightly before fading away. “Exactly this way. Every time.” Death agrees. “You will be born in time to see him. You will marry and have two children. And you will live only thirty two years before you start all over again.” The promise sounds like a dark omen, as if you should be afraid of such an arrangement. “Until you can express your gratitude, that will be your cycle.”

“That is enough for me.” You whisper, and feel your face and name become less familiar. “Until I can say thank you.”

You do not close your eyes. You don’t have the form to do so anymore.

_______

The next time, it is in Palestine. Galilee.

Your father and stepmother are worrying again, over the state of Roman affairs. It should have mattered less to them, being Jews, but their king in Rome had a lot to say about Jews being Jewish. Even as she soothes your future sibling, resting in her tummy, your stepmother says a lot of prayers, urging God to avert the Roman gaze away from you when you go out to play.

Most Roman legionaries don’t care about the multitude of children that run amok in the streets, and you and your friends play with hoops, ball games, and sometimes draw in the dirt or with charcoal on the walls. Sometimes they chuckle and remark on their own children in Rome, being minded by their mothers, sisters, and wives. You wonder why they don’t stay in Rome with their families like they should, but when you think on it, staring at them, they bark in Latin and make you run.

Your friend is a neighbor, who sings brightly. She is singing a hymn about Abraham in the yard, weaving alone, when you hear her stop and her mother screams. Your father tries to keep you from looking, but you climb to your bed in the loft and peer out.

A legionnaire is wiping the blood off his gladius, and your friend is dead, stabbed in the throat and bleeding heavily into the street. Her mother is wailing and screaming in horror, bent over her body and her tears flowing into the street. The legionnaire scolds her for letting her daughter be so crass in public and gives her a hard kick.

Your father grabs a cudgel from the wall. Your stepmother sees and grows pale, shutting the door behind him and fastening it shut.

Many other fathers do the same, and the riot that breaks out is so loud that you have to cover your ears and hide in the pantry with the door locked. You scream when the walls crumble in the kitchen, and your stepmother praying for mercy when a someone cuts her off. The door is forced open and you’re dragged out.

You choke at the sight of a street, wrecked from the fighting, with more Jews lying in pieces and Romans gathering up the inhabitants and shoving them along. They’re taking you to the coliseum.

Some Jews who worship openly, or even privately, get dragged in there and never come out. Your father used to say it was because the Romans wanted to look strong, and thus they put charges on people who had no power and punished them for their innocence. It occurs to you that among the beat up rioters, weeping mothers, and confused elderly, you are the only child in the group. You’re all forced into a dark, dry holding cell, packed together like jars of dried fish. An old woman sees you and hurries to sit you on her lap to prevent you from being crushed by the crowd.

And you’re all forced to wait.

You’re asleep when you’re forced awake by the sound of snarling. Something big. Something hungry.

The cell is half empty when you awaken. The old woman is shivering with fright. You are too. Then, a whisper passes through, and the woman urges you to move to a shadowed corner of the cell. “Come, come quickly.” The urge you, and as you are pushed forth, you see a small opening where a few bricks are removed. It’s too big for the rest, but you squeeze through with a few helpful pushes from the others, and land in the hot sand outside.

A man shaded under black linen with vibrant red hair and yellow eyes is waiting on the other side.

“Go. Run.” He urges, grabbing you by the wrist. Pulled along, the two of you race out of sight, even as cheers erupt from the coliseum. He pushes you up a ladder and over rooftops, and finally through a small door in the walls of the city. He squints into the distance, and sees a group moving forward. “C’mon, it’s not too late.” He points. “That there is a group following a man named Yeshua. That man will keep you safe from harm.” He squares you by the shoulders, bending over to look at you deep in the eye. “Do not let this place be your end. Now run.”

Something inside you tells you that you ought to wait, to say something else. But he gives you a good shove and you start running. By the time you catch up enough to look back, there is no more sight of your rescuer. He has vanished into a dot on the horizon, with the walls of Galilee behind him.

You push forward to find this man the others reverently call the son of God.

At first you hide behind the crowds when he stops by an oasis to drink. He speaks very gently to everyone, yet loud enough for the others in the back to hear as he speaks. You find yourself listening very intently, until he sees you hiding in the crowd and smiles softly.

He looks after you until a husband and wife come forward, admitting they had lost their baby and wished to take you in as their own. They have heard Yeshua’s message. They live by it. You cannot remember a family that loved you more, except perhaps the parents you have lost. You are married in another city to a friend of theirs. He is solemn and quiet, but he has soft hands and a sweet smile he keeps just for you.

After you are married, you grieve to find Yeshua has been murdered.

But when you and your husband make the pilgrimage to his tomb to pay your respects, your eyes are awash in tears to see him standing before you at the inn, smiling softly, with puncture wounds on his wrists. “My child.” He says gently, and you embrace. He has not forgotten you after all this time.

When you return home to give birth to your firstborn, they tell you he has returned to Heaven. He was here long enough to at least say goodbye. When you become pregnant a second time, you feel as though you are watching your life trickle away like grains of sand in an hourglass.

Yellow eyes. Red hair.

You don’t know his name but you want to find him.

You ask all over the town, hobbling even as the weight of your child bears down on you. But the last that was ever seen, even in Galilee, was of that man watching when they put Yeshua to the cross. Still you search, until your husband bodily carries you to an inn in the next town over. You heave and choke on your breath in a spare room at the hostel.

Regret tinges your last moments.

_____

Again you are born. This time as a slave in Rome.

Your mother cooks for Domitus Britannicus Hesperodus. A wealthy Senator with the ear of the Emperor, married twice. Your mother could not say no to him when he forced her to lay with him, and in time you were born. He didn’t seem to care that you were his flesh and blood, and neither did his children who ordered you around, mimicking their patriarch.

You think it extraordinary how slaves can get in trouble so often. As a child you often hung close to your mother, helping her bake bread and grill fish by the hot stove. But you hear stories of slaves who break furniture and pottery, dawdle on their errands, or speak impertinently to the master. You hear this from the children, who warn you that if you act out of line they will run right to your master and tell him to whip you soundly. Maybe you would even lose a hand. There is already one servant missing a hand when he deigned to steal your master’s bread, who clumsily hauls wood for the fireplaces and stokes the hearth.

When you are asked to serve the table, you realize it is the masters who decide if a slave is impertinent, clumsy, spiteful or lazy.

You don’t remember doing anything wrong. You serve the dishes, pour the wine, and remember what your mother says about keeping your eyes to the ground and staying quiet. The master has several friends over, senators dining lazily and debating philosophy. When your gaze is drawn up to a dove cooing in the window, you miss the first call for wine. The second call is a shattering cup that nearly hits you.

“Lazy!” Your master rears up like a lion about to pounce. You’re terrified as he grabs you by the arm. “Are you deaf? Now the cup is broken!” He piles on the blame and pulls back his hand. And in your panic you bite down on his arm.

You hear him yowl as you run away, dropping the wine jar and spilling it all over the floor as you make haste for the garden. You near trample his youngest son, who bawls when he drops his toy into the pond. You squash the flowers in the yard before leaping up to grab the edge of the wall, scrambling to get over and feeling the breeze of a whip at your heel as you climb up and over…making a run into the night. Late night revelers whoop as you run, and a few prostitutes cheer and make inappropriate gestures as you dart through them, running as your pursuers pour from the house and start to make chase.

Domitus has gotten astride his chariot, yelling at the street-goers to get out of his way as he rumbles down the street, catching up.

“Oi! You!”

You scream as you are grabbed and pulled into a narrow alley, vanishing from sight. A hand claps over your mouth and shushes you. “Hush, shshshsh,” The stranger quiets you like a hissing snake, putting a finger to his mouth. “Keep your mouth shut and you might get away.”

His hair is short, curled, and as bright red as burnished copper. You cannot see his eyes for the dark spectacles on his face, but he has dark, dyed toga, and a golden laurel around his head. He looks around and gestures you to follow. “This way, be quick about it.” The idea of your master in his chariot with a cracking whip demolishes any idea of mistrust and you cling to his toga as you follow him along.

You hasten to a different district, where there are more Germans, Greeks, and Britons mulling about than Romans. He speaks in an unfamiliar language to a group of men in wool cloaks, who eye you very curiously. You hide behind the stranger, but he eventually pulls you aside.

“Right. Stay calm now.” He says quietly. “My friends over here are going to a different place called Gaul. You ever been there?” You shake your head. “Speak any Gaulish at all?” Again, you shake your head, and he tuts. “Pity. But you’ll get the hang of it. Ol’ Tiberius here speaks Latin, he’ll teach you.” He jerks his head at a very big fellow with a strange pewter knot that looks like a snake on his cloak. “Now, I want you to go with them and get as far away from here as you can. Your old master’s gotten himself all worked up, and it’s not worth your life if he catches you, believe me.”

You must have looked afraid because he strokes your head and pulls something from his pocket. A gold coin so old it has since lost all of its features. “Here. If you’re worried about them, you can hop off anytime you like and buy yourself a trade. Keep that close and don’t lose it.” He drops it in your hand and closes it shut.

“But you’ve got a lot more life to live than anyone else here, so keep going.”

It’s enough encouragement to nod your head and to climb into a wagon with the Gauls. But as it begins to rattle off, you realize something and stand up, shouting over the edge.

“Wait!” You yell. “What’s your name?!”

But the stranger only waves and turns back into the crowd, swallowed up by a sea of strangers.

You find your new husband in Gaul by the time you arrive. He’s big and burly and laughs out loud, but cradles you like a little bird and awes over your smaller feet and hands. You learn Gaulish, and learn to enjoy the quiet of the moors and the flowers of the new land. You like the village you come to make your home, and cry when your firstborn child enters this world.

Your second child dies, and you sob to see its corpse exit you as you leave this world.

_______

You had an idyllic childhood the next time. Right until you turned thirteen.

With every pound on the door, you wince, unable to eat the meal your nurse has put before you. The household knights look impressive with their armor, tunics and swords, but they shiver as the Red Knight demands your submission outside the castle.

The Red Knight had learned of you after the death of his fifth bride…another fine young lady of another castle. He rode up to your home, demanded your father show himself, and when he did he challenged him to a duel for your hand and killed him before he could accept or object. With his many squires, fellow renegades and cutthroats making camp around the castle, bullying the locals, you had sensibly shut the gates and barred all entry. There was enough food to last a short siege, what you hoped would be a short one anyway as you wrote a letter to the Kingdom of Essex and the Knights of the Table Round. The letter was put on a hawk to be delivered, and shot down before it could reach the castle.

With no more hawks, and food growing short, the Red Knight laughed that he would starve you out sooner or later.

You pick at your pottage and fish and feel very cold at the idea of marrying him. He had eyes for every young maiden in the area, and no sooner did he wed them did he condemn them to sad, lonely deaths in their bedrooms….chained to the wall some said.

“No one can stand against the Red Knight and live.” One of your knights shuddered at the thought. “He will have us, one way or another.” And with no way of requesting a champion it seemed that would be the end of you.

The Black Knight strolled into the village by surprise, and outdid several of the Red Knight’s squires when they tried to beat him out of his armor. You feared he was just another thug until he made a request at the gate, the Red Knight begrudgingly with him.

“Hello!” He shouts, until you appear at the parapet. “Are you the lady of Willshire Castle?”

“I am.” You call back.

“Right.” He gives a short bow. “I am the Black Knight of Wessex, come to represent you in a duel of arms against the Red Knight of Barborough.”

“This time my lady-“ The Red Knight interrupts. “-you will give your solemn vow. To whomever achieves victory over the other, you will dedicate your hand in marriage. Do you swear before God to do this?”

The Black Knight’s expression is impossible to see, but he looks at the Red Knight with what you can guess is a look of exasperation as he throws up his hands in annoyance at the suggestion. “Er. Yeah. Marriage.” He agrees half-heartedly.

You have nothing to lose. Your household knights and servants will be slaughtered wholesale if you do not accept. And no one else has stood up the Red Knight before. “I vow before God and this community.” You swear. “That to the victor of this duel I will dedicate my hand in holy matrimony.”

The Black Knight wriggles in place uncomfortably. And you’re confused. Wasn’t that what he was here for?

The Red Knight draws his sword and bows dramatically. “I shall dedicate his death to you my love!” He swears viciously, making your blood run cold. “And when I win we will be wed at once! You! Squire!” He barks at one of his cronies. “Go and fetch a priest if we’ve still got one, this won’t take long!”

And to the shock and awe of all…it really doesn’t.

The mystery knight struggles to remove his sword from the Red Knight’s back, his opponent’s face still frozen in shock at the rapid end to the duel. By some form of magic, or curse, it was as if the Red Knight’s sword had turned to butter, slipping from his hands, and leaving the Black Knight free to give him a quick thrust to the chest. Finally the Black Knight wrenches the sword from the armor, groaning at the mess. “Urgh.” He fishes out a black handkerchief and wipes it off, sheathing it.

You suppose a promise is a promise, and order the gates to be opened.

Escorted by the household knights, who eye him with suspicion, you are suddenly very self conscious. Your father had plans for you to marry at a better age. Thirteen he said, was far too young to wed. You were still too delicate for marriage, to immature. Was this knight no better than the last?

The squire rushes back with a priest, who yells in shock at the sight of the infamous knight now dead, the prize delivering itself to his enemy. “Y-you! You’re some kind of demon!”

“You’ve got that right.” The Black Knight declared, hopping astride his horse and bringing it around. “I am the Black Knight of Wessex. Lord of the Darklands that will never be claimed!” His horse swung its mane, and he moved to dodge it. “And to meet with me is to meet…your Death!”

You’re scared as he offers you his hand. A promise is a promise. Your word before God and all others.

But you feel safe as you are pulled onto the horse, the knight nearly missing the priest as he speeds away from the castle, racing down the road. You hold on as the horse jounces the both of you until it slows, and you stop for the night.

“Here.” He helps you down, and starts a fire, sitting on a log to take a drink from a wineskin. “Take a rest, we’ll camp for the night before we ride to Wessex.” He passes you the wine, and moreover, shares a hunk of ham, cheese and bread from his saddlebag. You expect him to take what he has won as the Red Knight would, but instead he grumbles over the tent and the fire and struggles out of his armor to rest.

His hair is the devil’s own red, and his eyes are like a viper, yellow and serpentine. But he does not do anything to you without asking, and even then it is only to offer you something to eat, something to drink, and a warm blanket to rest in.

“Don’t you want to marry me?” You asked on the ride to Wessex. It’s very foggy, and the sun is barely making headway through the clouds.

“What am I going to do married?” He asks, a little irritable. He does not seem to like riding by horse, especially in plate armor. “Besides, you’re just a little girl. Don’t have time to babysit little girls, I’ve got fear to ferment and trouble to start elsewhere.”

When you ask why he bothered to help, he claimed there was a fly buzzing in his armor and he couldn’t hear you. He gives you no reason as to why he would bother until a castle comes into view farther away and he helps you off. “See that castle?” He points. “That’s the eastern hold of King Arthur. Rules these parts.” He lifts up his visor to squint. “There’s a knight of the Table Round that lives there, friend of mine. Ask for Sir Aziraphale and he’ll give you a hand.”

“Why?”

“He’s a knight of King Arthur, that’s what he does.” He says, as if it were obvious.

“Who should I say sent me?” You ask.

It looks like he doesn’t want to answer. “You already know. The Black Knight.”

“But what is your name?”

He turns his horse around, and you think you are going to be parting with an answer.

“Crowley.”

And that is how you learn his name, muttered under his breath and with a visor muffling his words before he takes off into the fog, disappearing quickly.

You end up having to wait for Sir Aziraphale, and accept the hospitality of another knight. That knight watches over you from the time you are thirteen to the time you are thirty two….only later he does so as your husband. He leaves to fight the war against King Arthur’s bastard son and never returns.

Your firstborn sobs at your bedside as your second child, both now fatherless, is brought into this world. You want to comfort him but can’t find the strength or the words. And when your breath fails you, you grieve to have left your children orphans in this world.

___

Time marches on. When the plague claims your home, you are forced to leave it after the doctors set it ablaze to prevent the spread of disease. You were supposed to be a part of the conflagration, but you are slippery and snuck out the back window when they thought they had locked you in.

London is an enormous cesspool of rich and poor, with more rats than citizens, and enough hidey-holes and spaces to make do in if you were crafty enough. You’re one of an army of pickpockets, and often you flatter passersby asking for directions sweetly while your hands craftily nick them of their belongings. You privately dream of an apprenticeship somewhere, with a sound roof and a master who was even tempered and would overlook an urchin such as yourself. But you don’t have that kind of wealth. None of the working class really do.

So you fill your pockets with coppers and stolen bread and the occasional raisin pie if you employ the aid of a few friends to badger the baker.

You attempted to pick the wrong pocket one afternoon and got caught.

“Let go!” You cried, wrist snatched by a tall gentlemen with dark hose, a velvet doublet and long red curls. He gives a frown down his long nose and dark spectacles and pulls you along. “Well don’t go pretending you didn’t earn it. You’re a pickpocket, own up to it.” He chides, leading you along. You protest noisily, but his grip does not threaten to snap your arm, but is rather firm and insistent, like when your father caught you sneaking apples from the orchard and urged you to come with him to apologize to the neighbor.

He takes you to a huge theater which stops your shouting if only to look up in amazement. It’s the Globe Theater, of all places. A place you would never be allowed and which you only dreamed of entering to see the plays and maybe even catch the good Queen Bess when she came to pay respects to the great playwright-

“Oi William!”

The gentlemen looses his grip and moves it quickly to your shoulder. The theater is empty, but there is a clear rehearsal on stage, people in flowy robes bickering over the lines while a painted backdrop of a misty forest is being lowered into place. “Sir Crowley-“ He looks a bit harried, and shockingly normal for a man people claimed had God’s inspiration for his great work. “-come to see the rehearsal? We’re still not near ready yet-“

“Oh I understand that.” Sir Crowley responds. “But I just remembered you were looking for a proper person to play the role of Pan, and I think I found them.”

Your jaw drops.

Shakespeare looks you over with insightful gaze and checks your look. “Hmm…whimsically impish even. Do you speak very well?”

“That’s just practice is all.” Sir Crowley insists. “Besides you really don’t have much time before the play is due do you?”

“No I suppose not. Giles!” He shouts, summoning a tired looking assistant. “Get this child washed up and into costume. We’ll go over the lines at once!”

“B-b-but I’ve never b-been on stage before!” You stammer, and Sir Crowley laughs. “Don’t fret. Just say the lines and play your bit. The more you act the more the audience likes it. This is one of the funny ones.”

It occurs to you that you should say thank you. But instead you are whisked off, and Sir Crowley is only ever mentioned in conversation thereafter.

You love the stage. When you dance on as the goat footed Pan and gleefully cause mischief, the audience laughs out loud and cheers when you give your final bow. You love the stage later when you’re old enough to play the dramas. And you love the actor you shared the stage with many, many times, before he carries you off to his family home to make you his wife.

The two of you still watch the plays that come, even after William’s star fades. Your child enjoys it. But when you find out you’re pregnant again, you have a terrible dream.

“I didn’t say thank you.” You sob into your beloved’s arms, feeling full of regret and sorrows. “I should have thanked him.”

In nine months, it will be his turn to cry into your arms. But you will not be alive to hold him.

_________

You were engaged for four months before your betrothed met the guillotine.

You were young, but you were an aristocrat. Engagements at eleven were very normal, and it had been the case for your mother. They assumed that a choice marriage to a duke would fix the issue of safety as their lives were threatened, angry letters from the townsfolk threatening their lives if they did not surrender their wealth and grain to the Republic of France.

Your husband-to-be was thirty and swaggered out to fight them. He instead was betrayed by his men, arrested and executed.

Your parents avoided the spectacle of the guillotine. The duke had been an embodiment of the hated aristocracy and was a symbol to be crushed, over and over with many other dukes and even the king.

But sitting in the Bastille, dressed in white and trying to pray in silence, your prayers were constantly interrupted by the swing of the blade. You would not die today, nor tomorrow. But soon. Your guard promised you that whenever he brought food and water.

In the fortress you heard the sobs and cries of others, older, and younger than you. They said the Dauphin of France was caged here with his siblings, his own mother separated from him. Perhaps a baby boy was too little to execute via guillotine, but you were tall enough and had a pretty, snowy neck, as the executioner told you.

A new guard arrived without food. And strange glasses.

“Put this on. Quick.” He tossed you a parcel. Pulling it apart, it was a peasant dress and bonnet, and he turned from you to permit you some privacy and to peer out through the bars of the door. From under his hat, you see a flash of red hair. “Hurry it up, we haven’t got long.”

You’re nervous, but you change clothes, and fumble with the bonnet. When he notices, he fixes it, tying it securely under your chin and tucking the sparse hairs in. “Alright. This way.”

He slinks through the halls of the fortress like a snake, holding you back when the soldiers march past. Finally, he arrives at a dead end. You fear this is all a trap when he pulls a lever hidden in the candelabra on the wall and reveals a secret door. The passage is full of children in peasant clothes, but with soft hands that suggest they were just like you.

“Hurry. In you go.”

There are thirteen of you when he closes the wall. A small boy whimpers and you pull him to you to comfort him, removing his hat to pet his golden curls. His blue eyes remind you of a portrait in Versailles….the Dauphin?

You all gasp when the guard arrives with another, but the voice that comes from his companion is as British as his own. Unlike the first, this one is decidedly more nervous and softer, adjusting his hat constantly to cover his silvery hair. “The dummies will fool them I’m sure of it.” The second one says quickly, shushing and ushering you all down the dark stairs. “As realistic as I could make them.”

“Sure you won’t get in trouble?” Your hero replies wryly, and there must be a private joke.

“Shush. Not in front of the children.”

The secret stairway exits to the canal, and you wobble as you exit onto a boat. The foppish guard smiles at his charges and sails off in one. But your guard is very solemn as he instructs you all to sit down and be quiet. The sound of the execution above is distant, but you can tell when it happens because a roar erupts every time the blade falls down.

“Don’t listen to it.” He tells you, catching your gaze. “Understand? Don’t try to remember it.” He paddles the oars, keeping an eye out for guards. “You will be shocked how easy it is not to remember.”

You know his name. But it escapes you nonetheless, as if it were someone else’s memory. It occurs to you that you should say something when a loud shout comes from above and the sound of gunfire rains down.

It either a miracle that none of you are shot, or the fact that the boat was forcefully overturned to catch the bullets and dump you all into the Seine. By the time you flop to shore with the others, shivering and wet, the guards are befuddled and without weapons, and your two rescuers are gone.

You have to lie to the husband you meet when you flee to the Pyrenees, even though he begs to know your heritage…and you teach him how to bake cake and watch as he grows more jolly and plump every year. But you have bad dreams more often than not. The joyous welcome of your first child and your own bakery does not stop them. Your husband wakes you with a gentle hand and cradles you to calm you down.

But when you die on the birthing bed, you know deep inside you have failed again.

______

When your life starts again, you are sure you are going to die at only seven years old.

Influenza was hell for the poor. Your father worked for fourteen hours a day at the linen factory, and your mother washed laundry and kept mind of you and the skinny apartment you all shared in the smoggy district of London. Most times you ate sausages that never really tasted like pork or beef, and the sooty boys that sweep chimneys say that sometimes they have to mix in rats or cats when there isn’t enough to fill a sausage. You aren’t sure if that’s what makes you sick.

But you cough weakly as your mother carries you on her back, going from doctor to doctor, asking for help. With not enough to even cover the medicine, all of them close the door in her face. She is brought to tears as she hurries, carrying you along. You wish your father was here. But he was chained to that factory, stuck doing terrible labors all day and likely did not know you were sick yet.

It is very dark when your mother gives up at last, sobbing and holding onto you as she sits on a stoop in front of an empty house. The three of you barely had enough pence to pay rent and buy food. The paltry few coins your mother had for a doctor would not cover the costs. It wouldn’t even cover a funeral.

“Up. Come on.”

You think the person in front of you is death itself, all dark, mysterious and impatiently beckoning you. When you realize he is talking to your mother, and that she is answering, you have a hazy wondering if it wasn’t your time yet. She’s speaking too fast for you to understand, with your head all awhirl with the fever, and he answer simply enough and opens a door to a carriage.

Its very dark inside and you fall asleep.

You feel better by the time you wake up, in a softer bed, with a warm stove lit and the smell of brewed tea leaves. A gentle looking nurse is reading at the foot of your bed and brightens to see you wake up. “There you are dearie. Come now, let’s take your medicine and have a bite to eat, there’s a pet.”

You go through the motions, swallowing down the bitter syrup, but eating a soup far better than your mother can afford, with fresh, soft bread and washing it down with warm milk. Your memory catches up and your hurry to ask what happened.

“Master Crowley instructed us to keep an eye on you.” The nurse simpers. “He’s been talking with some friends and fixed up a nice living arrangement for you, isn’t that lovely?”

When you feel better, you are allowed to ask for him. But when they ask for Crowley to come, he delivers some excuse and apologizes through a letter instead.

“But…” You whimper to the nurse who delivers the message. “I have to. I have to say thank you.”

“Oh there, there-“ She hushes, gathering you in her arms. She is so soft and pillowy, you sink right into the embrace. “-don’t fret. You’ll see him again one day, you just wait and see.”

You do just that. You wait. You ask as often as you can. You study at the hospital and become a nurse and you wait. When the nurse tries for the last time to find him, she learns he has disappeared quite entirely, and you break down into tears.

The years are softened with a change in the environment. You fall in love. And better yet, your husband can love you back. You save him when he is stricken with a putrefied leg wound, and he saves you when your regrets haunt you in your sleep. There is a full bottle of valerian in your dresser to smother your dreams, but they are so intense that it only muffles them like a pillow trying to drown them out.

This was the briefest yet. Your dreams cry out, and your little boy toddles from his room to comfort you when you cry. Why? Why can’t you just tell him?

The depression hits later in life, though your husband bravely tries to keep your spirits up. “I hope you live happy.” You tell him on the birthing bed for your second son. “No regrets.”

“No regrets.” He promises. Of course he doesn’t know.

You do.

_______

When your turn comes again, you think yourself as far less child and more of an adult. At fifteen you were a lot more educated than your younger siblings, though your stepmother protested that you were too young to get involved in the war effort. But you are determinedly single-minded, and in time you are recruited as a spy for the British Government. You supposed that with the state of the war, they were willing to take all sorts of risks.

You looked innocent enough. A young lady, going to classes and attending school was a pretense to go to libraries and smuggle out valuable books. You worked in tandem with the fellow spies, decoding what you can of German wanted lists. Many of them were listed to be destroyed, per the Fuhrer’s intent to eradicate all literature that spat in the face of his dictatorship, but many more were to be stolen for their value. Your proudest moment was when you swapped the Book of Saint Columba from the British Archive…switching it for a well-made fake.

That moment nearly killed you.

The bible was mingled in your book bag, and you made a beeline for your designated safehouse. A group of spies pretending to be your family were waiting, and the book would be hidden until the war ended for its own safety.

When you saw a pair of men stalking you from a corner, you sought to lose then in the broken rubble of the streets. You did not see the second pair, who cornered you with a gun. “Hands up.” One said sharply, his German accent thick and cold. You swallow hard and obey. “Walk.”

You are marched through dark streets, sometimes encouraged along when you realize you are returning to the safehouse. You try to disguise your terror as everyone there is lined up against the wall of the backyard, hands on their heads. “These people, they are familiar to you?”

You shake your head a little too quickly, and a bullet is put through your fake brother. He crumples to the ground, and the gun is moved onto the next. “No? Are you sure?” They shoot your fake mother, and she gasps, clinging to life and bleeding against the wall. But another round of shots and she too falls dead. “Come, come my dear, all you have to do is tell us where the books are.”

One by one you shake your head. Soon there are no more spies against the wall and the gun is up against your chin. You can feel it’s still hot, burning a mark right above your throat. “Last chance kilenes madchen-“ The gunman asks patiently. “-I don’t have to shoot you. I can do far worse things.”

Close your eyes and think of England. It was a joke that had been passed along by your friends when you were little and had to do things you didn’t want to. Taking cod liver oil to prevent the measles, eating your carrots even though you hated carrots, or enduring the dull lectures of history from your dreary teacher. Your mother used to say it when you complained of some unappealing task.

Close your eyes and think of England.

You do just that, and await a gunshot to the brain or being dragged off and defiled as all the nightmare stories from Germany say they do. You close your eyes and think of your real family, your real home.

You are very patient until you realize nothing has happened.

When you open your eyes, a dapper man in black sunglasses is standing around a bunch of unconscious Nazis, wiping off his hands. “You really, really, really ought to be less conspicuous next time.” He scolded. “If word got out that silly bible got into Nazi hands, I can think of someone who might smite you for losing it.”

You panic briefly, scrambling for your bag. But you sigh in relief. The Book of Columba is still there.

“Alright. Bomb’s gonna drop in about five minutes, it’ll take care of this mess.” He gestures you to follow. “Come along, I’ve got another place you can drop that off.”

The shelter he takes her to is full of English children, much younger than you. You’re a little offended when he calls you “little girl” and laughs when you defend you were fifteen, as if that changed anything. But when the bombs started falling, making the ground shake, he gives a reassuring half-hug to a few of the kids before leading you all outside after it subsides.

The safehouse is a bookstore. Hide a tree in a forest indeed.

“Oh! Oh you’ve saved it!” The book clerk is clearly thrilled when you uncover the sacred bible, running his hands over the protective cover. “Bless you dear, you’ve done a real miracle tonight.”

“She’s done? I suppose taking out half a dozen Nazi spies is just a doddle!” The dapper stranger snaps.

“Crowley I didn’t mean that kind of miracle-“ The bookkeeper hushes him. “-come inside quick. I’ll alert the authorities.”

You all sit inside the shop while he accesses a machine hidden behind a shelf, tapping out a message in Morse code. Crowley sits in a chair, lounging and drinking heavily from a bottle of wine and scowls when you look at him too long. It’s time to say it.

But when you try to, he stands up and hushes you. “None of that. It’s been a long night.” He polishes off the bottle and saunters out. “Take care of this one for me, will you angel?”

The door closes and you start crying. There is no time for the clerk to ask what’s wrong before you run out to try and catch him. Circling the block, shouting his name. Knowing you still might have a chance.

There is no answer.

The war eventually ends, and your service to British Intelligence turns into a simple desk job. Sometimes you pass by that old bookshop, remembering that night, remembering how close you were to saying thank you. You have a medal of commendation, congratulating you, and they even let you keep the identical copy of Columba’s book. You meet a man much like you, except his regrets were made on the battlefield, with friends he’d failed to bring back home with him, and people he thought hadn’t needed to die at all. And in a grief that can be explained, it helps you along with the grief that has no name, buried deep within you.

When you are pregnant a second time, you take the copy of the bible to the bookshop. You scribble a note on the cover, but leave no name. The person it is left for after all, may have another name the next time. But urgency tells you that next time might be the last. You’re seven months pregnant, and the clock is ticking down.

You don’t let the bookkeeper see you as you leave it in the mailbox, wrapped in brown paper. Tell him to wait next time. You leave within the book. Tell him I haven’t said thank you yet.

When you feel your water break, you say goodbye to your confused husband and son. You don’t fight it as your second child forces his way into this world. You accept the void and close your eyes…impatient for what you already know is to come.

One more time.

____

At the eve of New Years for 1970, you try to get in trouble.

You’re only thirteen. Your mother dismisses it as rebelliousness and grounds you to your room. But when you find yourself wandering around town after dark, she gets concerned when you can’t give a reason why you’re looking for trouble. You describe it as a deep urge, a built in response. You know something will happen if you’re in danger. You just don’t know what it is.

She puts you through therapy, and the psychiatrist is very understanding.

“More supernatural than cognitive.” She says, writing it down after you’ve talked of your recent lapse. You had run away from home and were doing runs around Soho, scarcely avoiding traffic. “Something that can’t be explained.” She puts her hand on yours and smiles. “But we need to try and slow it down. Make it safe. Your mother loves you and doesn’t want you to get hurt.”

She doesn’t mention your father since you’re not sure he has an opinion about you at all. He’s been gone since before you were born, but you can’t help but view him as a mere facilitation of your existence. He has no real importance. He’s only there to make sure you go through the motions by existing.

Your psychiatrist offers some sleep aids to try and urge an early bedtime rather than running off into the night. Most times it works. But when you turn sixteen, you spit it into the toilet instead and sneak out.

And you can feel something different in the air. It’s almost electric. The lights in Soho are somehow brighter, the cars are faster, and the streets are more empty than usual. Something is trying to happen.

So you encourage it, and try stepping out into the busy street.

Every part of you sings with relief when someone pulls you back.

“Idiot.”

The arm is secure on your shoulders, making sure you’re secure as the car that almost hit you honks angrily and speeds off. But the rest of the world seems to be waiting on its heels for what is to happen next. You have to make sure it’s still what you’re waiting for.

Red hair. Dark glasses.

“Thank you.”

___________

Crowley didn’t freeze time. But it stopped anyway.

At his feet, the girl. She wasn’t run over, but as soon as she said those two words, it was as if she had her strings cut from an invisible puppeteer, and now laid as cold and dead as she would have been if he had not reached out.

“Our arrangement has been concluded.”

It is far more frightening than the Archangels or Satan. It is Death, in his black, withered cloak, a wizened skull staring back at the demon while the world ceased to move.

“What arrangement?” Crowley is barely able to say through a dry mouth. This is worse than the worse omen, and moreover it was completely unexpected. Aziraphale had shown him that peculiar book today…he had seen the message. He didn’t understand.

“Not you. The child.” Death’s back shudders and eight shadows stand behind them. Crowley has to squint to see them, but they all look very familiar. A teen spy. A pickpocket from London, a Jew from Galilee. All of them.

Leading up to the scared, wide eyed child from the Flood.

“They said they would return to this life until they could express their gratitude. Their cycle would not end until they had done so.” Death’s voice sounds very pleased, as if having seen a good crop come to fruition. “They would have thirty-two years to live, and a chance to say it when you inevitably stepped in to aid them. If they failed, they would die upon the birth of their second child and start over.”

“Why? Why would you agree to this?” Crowley sweats heavily. For over 5000 years, a single soul was put through the wringer of existence, forced to relive the same dangers. “Since when do you play games with little girl’s souls like this?”

“I am patient.” Death replies. “I come for all souls eventually. And she knew she would see you again. Deep down.”

One of the shadows looks up and seems to recognize him. A tiny wave from a small hand, before Death stretches his wings and the shades evaporate.

“This is wrong.” Crowley states. “She’s a child. She shouldn’t die this way.”

“This is her choice. And now it is over.”

Your shade stands before Death and whispers something.

“Make it quick.” Death replies. “I am patient. But not for long.”

You are little more than vapor, with no real form. Sometimes it shifts into what you once were, but it’s hazy and only retains the shapes most familiar to you. Crowley before you looks grief-stricken. You can sympathize why. He has just met Death, but found himself beset with regret that it was not himself that was being taken away.

“No tears.” You whisper. “I knew I would meet you again someday.”

“Not like this.” Crowley croaks back. “Not when you’re just a girl.”

“I’m old too you know.” You remind him. “I lived a lot.”

“Those don’t count. You don’t even remember.”

“I remember you helped me.” You tell him. “And if I only got to thank you once for all the times you helped me, then I can let go of this world for the next one.”

“Where will you go?”

There’s a pause, and Death’s wings shift with impatience.

“Where we can meet again.”

______

The accident almost gets Crowley in trouble, time restarting with a dead girl at his feet. He escapes, barely, and Aziraphale holds a private memorial in his bookshop with the fake bible and candles. Crowley doesn’t want to drink or do much of anything. So he relies on the angel for the silent assurance. This was the last time.

Her mother would mourn and grieve terribly. But she would not have to put another mother through that kind of grief again.

“It does say something about humanity.” Aziraphale notes, rereading the passage you had written in another life. “They have longer memories than we give them credit for. Even Death can’t stop that.”

It’s not much of a comfort.

Crowley takes the Bentley and drives. And drives. He stops when the road does, at the end of the country where it meets the sea. “It could’ve ended right then and there.” He remembers when the sea came for the children, when Noah closed the Ark. Tearing open the hull just to save a handful of innocent kids. “But I got involved.”

Tiny hands holding onto him like a lifeline, and nothing he could do but pat their head.

He looks up at the stars he has made. Some had passed on, faded away. Their light would shine on Earth for thousands of years, but they had long since gone.

A different light glimmered, a bright yellow. Still so small, but defiantly glimmering in the sky.

Crowley holds his hand up.

“Alpha Centauri.” He removes his glasses. His eyes peer beyond the ozone, beyond the vacuum of space where a star has forgone Heaven and Hell and begun turning serenely. Unbelievable. She even got the color of his eyes right. “Fine.” He smiles, a half chuckle. “One of these days. See you there.”

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale #crowley/reader #crowley x reader #good omens crowley #good omens aziraphale #good omens reader insert #good omens imagine #fanfiction

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“God God – Whose Hand Was I Holding?”: the Scariest Sentences Ever Written, Selected by Top Horror Authors

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Many people have a very intimate relationship with books. And horror books can get under your skin like no other medium, whether you’re peering at a scary novel under the covers as a youngster or devouring new or classic horror as a grown up. Good horror writing sticks with you.

For Halloween we’ve attempted to round up some of the scariest sentences ever written – and who better to ask for their recommendations than some of the finest horror writers and editors around? We asked some of our favourite experts to tell us the line that scared them most and why. Any suggestions of your own? Let us know in the comments.

To Serve Man by Damon Knight

Scariest sentence: “It’s a cookbook,” he said.

Is there a better whammy of an end line than this? Ten to one you’ll know the story that precedes it: Seemingly benevolent aliens, the Kanamit, arrive on earth, promising peace and prosperity. The aliens are as good as their word, and start whisking “lucky” humans off to their planet for a “ten year exchange programme”. A U.N translator, who (rightly) thinks this is all too good to be true, sets about translating the aliens’ favourite book, which, from its title, “To Serve Man,” is assumed to be an innocent handbook. It ain’t (see the last line). The story and its funny/bleak ending has haunted me since I first read it as a ten-year-old, way too young to consider that it could be read as an allegory about the horrors of colonialism. Back then all I could think about were the people the Kanamit had lured aboard their ships, unaware that they were destined for the table (or the Kanamit version of Masterchef). It still gives me chills. – Sarah Lotz author of Missing Person out now from Hodder.

I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream by Harlan Ellison

Scariest sentence: “I have no mouth. And I must scream.”

If I tell you the name of this Harlan Ellison story, it’ll give away the last line… “I have no mouth. And I must scream.” I remember when I first read that ending, only to find myself caught in a loop where those two sentences kept echoing through my head. Reading it again right now, it’s still hard not to pinch my lips as tightly together as possible and try giving the ol’ lungs a good bellow. Still sends shivers down my spine. – Clay McLeod Chapman, author of The Remaking, out now from Quirk Books

Movies

How Hulu’s Books of Blood Movie Taps The Mind of Clive Barker

By Don Kaye

Cabal by Clive Barker

Scariest Sentence: “She knew what men afraid, and afraid of their fear, were capable of.“

According to some criminologists, the root cause of many violent acts isn’t anger but fear. Fear of rejection, of failure, of abandonment, of loss. In this early novel by Barker, the link between fear and violence is only subtly hinted at–which makes it all the more frightening. He alludes to the heroine’s personal history with violent men, leaving the reader to fill in the blanks. – Andrew Schaffer, author of Secret Santa, out 10 November from Quirk Books

The Sibling by Adam Hall

Scariest sentence: “He’s put the clown in her room,” Lorraine said quietly.

As a species, our goal is to keep clowns out of our bedrooms and living spaces and yet here’s some monster deliberately inserting a clown into someone’s room, ignoring the fact that since at least the dawn of time clowns have been mankind’s natural predator. The resigned tone of that “quietly” really drives home the horror because clearly this is not the first time. – Grady Hendrix.

Squelch, John Halkn

Scariest sentence: “It still doesn’t make sense to me. Moths attack sweaters and fly around light bulbs. They don’t devour humans.”

It doesn’t make sense to me, either, but if moths have stopped attacking our clothing and started attacking our bodies then count me out. I’m done. – Grady Hendrix.

Night of the Crabs by Guy N. Smith

Scariest sentence:“What a beautiful night,” Pat remarked, as they passed alongside the barbed-wire fence which enclosed War Department property. “If only we didn’t have to worry about giant crabs.”

Sometimes you just wish you lived in a simpler world. – Grady Hendrix.

The Farm by Richard Haigh

Scariest sentence: “The pigs,” then her control snapped. “Look, they’re coming out,” she shrieked. “Oh, sweet Christ. The pigs!!”

Every time I leave the safety of New York City I fully expect this to be the last sentence I hear as I am devoured by angry livestock. – Grady Hendrix, author of The Final Girl Support Group out July 2021 from Titan Books

The Girl Next Door by Jack Ketchum

Scariest sentence: “I’m not going to tell you about this. I refuse to.”

That’s half of chapter 42 from Jack Ketchum’s The Girl Next Door. And The Girl Next Door is a novel that, just as Joe R. Lansdale says at the head of his story “The Night They Missed the Horror Show,” doesn’t flinch. So, if the narrator is looking back to having seen something that even he can’t put on the page, then . . . how bad must it be, right? I’ve talked to other readers of this novel and they’ve told me about chapter 42 as if the narrator actually fleshes it all out for us, and they (myself as well) all flinch as if traumatized from having had to read those words. Except they never did read the words of what actually happened. But that’s Jack Ketchum, for you. He doesn’t need to actually say it on the page to get it into our head. Worse, this is a chapter that never leaves you, either. Worse than that, you kind of become complicit just for reading it. – Stephen Graham Jones author of The Only Good Indians, out now.

In the Hills, the Cities by Clive Barker

Scariest sentence: “In Popolac a kind of peace reigned. Instead of a frenzy of panic there was a numbness, a sheep-like acceptance of the world as it was. Locked in their positions, strapped, roped and harnessed to each other in a living system that allowed for no single voice to be louder than any other, nor any back to labour less than its neighbour’s, they let an insane consensus replace the tranquil voice of reason.”

As a much younger person, reading this story for the first time, I was overtaken by awe at the imagery; not unlike Mick who chooses to hitch a ride on the impossible doomed giant made of city denizens. Re-reading it now decades later, the story and these lines fill me with bone-deep dread. Like the referee/car thief and Mick’s lover Judd, I cannot bear to view the inevitable fall. – Paul Tremblay, author of Survivor Song, out now from Titan Books.

Home Burial by Robert Frost

Scariest sentences: ”Don’t – don’t go. Don’t carry it to someone else this time. Tell me about it if it’s something human.”

The line here that I consider scary is ‘Tell me about it if it’s something human.’ Because of the implication that people may carry within them things that are not human. In this case, I imagine the ‘it’ that may not be human to be something so deeply felt and instinctive that it is pre-language – and so pre-human, almost. Something primordial that requires translation or mediation – and perhaps in that, change or diminishment – in order to be sensible to another sentient being. It is the suggestion that maybe our most fundamental aspects or thoughts – our most important feelings – cannot be properly communicated that is terrifying, to me. It makes me think of each person as a dark pool, with their lived experience and true feelings becoming manifest at the bottom, and the communication of these things to others being only what is visible through the surface of the water, from above.

As much as I do believe that all communication is imperfect, and that it is difficult for people to know each other truly, I take comfort from two things – one is love, which is, I think, a kind of deep, fundamental knowing and acceptance of each other. The other is fiction, which (in my opinion) is often an attempt at translating ideas and feelings that, coming from our deepest places, we don’t otherwise have the language for. – Tom Fletcher, author The Witch Bottle, out 12 November from Jo Fletcher Books.

The Talisman by Stephen King and Peter Straub

Scariest sentence: “You’re the herd now, Jacky.”

I read King & Straub’s The Talisman when I was 15, at a time in my life when I’d said goodbye to one bunch of friends and hello to another, and the friendship between Jack Sawyer and his werewolf friend Wolf resonated strongly with me. In Wolf’s culture werewolves are farmers and fiercely protective of their herds who they protect by locking themselves away every month. The problem is that Jack and Wolf are on the run and Wolf’s change is coming upon him, and there’s nowhere to shut Wolf away. So when Wolf turns to Jack with blazing eyes and says this, it’s simultaneously a promise of protection (‘I will die for you’) but also a warning (‘I will tear you to pieces’). The chill with which Jack realises that his best friend loves him but will probably kill him anyway has stayed with me ever since. – James Brogden, author of Bone Harvest, out now from Titan Books

Movies

I Am Legend: Why Can’t Matheson’s Masterpiece be Done Justice on Film?

By Dan Hajducky

I Am Legend by Richard Matheson

Scariest sentence: “The watch had stopped”

I think a lot of us can relate to the feeling of getting caught up in our work and letting the hours pass us by without much thought. In the case of Robert Neville, the central figure in Richard Matheson’s seminal I Am Legend, getting lost in the hours is the most horrific thing he could possibly do. The simple four-word-sentence that has scared me more than any other in all my days of reading is “The watch had stopped.” If you’ve read the story, I’m sure you remember how those words burned into you. – Rachel Autumn Deering, editor of Hex Life, out in paperback from Titan Books on November 10 2020

One for the Road by Stephen King

Scariest sentence: “And I think she’s still waiting for her good-night kiss.”

I’m not easily scared, but occasionally I get a real chill up my spine. Shirley Jackson did that with the last line of The Haunting of Hill House. But if we’re talking about one line that lingers, that still makes me remember the way it felt the very first time I read it, I have to go with the last line in Stephen King’s short story “One for the Road,” from his collection Night Shift. It’s a vampire story, a sequel to ’Salem’s Lot, about a family whose car is trapped in a blizzard on the outskirts of a town plagued by vampires. That last line is “And I think she’s still waiting for her good-night kiss.” There, I just felt it again. That shiver. All these years later, it still works on me. – Christopher Golden, editor of Hex Life, out in paperback from Titan Books on November 10 2020

The New Mother by Lucy Clifford

Scariest sentence: “Now and then, when the darkness has fallen and the night is still, hand in hand Blue-Eyes and the Turkey creep up near to the home in which they once were so happy, and with beating hearts they watch and listen; sometimes a blinding flash comes through the window, and they know it is the light from the new mother’s glass eyes, or they hear a strange muffled noise, and they know it is the sound of her wooden tail as she drags it along the floor.”

The scariest sentence ever is from The New Mother by Lucy Clifford. The strange tone of the writing, the situation in the story and the fact that the new mother is not in any way human… – David Quantick, author of Night Train, out now from Titan Books

The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson

Scariest sentence: “God God! Whose hand was I holding?”

This scene perfectly conjures the feeling of being afraid in the night. Distance, time, sound – all the natural laws of the daylight world grow slippery and loosen. It’s a unique sensation – no other fear has the visceral, unhinged quality of cold terror in the dark. Shirley Jackson puts all of this on the page – she takes Eleanor and the reader into that same heightened, accelerated state, she makes our hearts race, she makes us feel alone, disoriented, lost in the night with only a friend’s hand to cling to. And then she saves us – the lights come on, our heart rate slows, and the rational world seems to settle into its proper channel again. And at last Eleanor sees: the friend whose comforting hand she held in the dark has been on the other side of the room all along. – Catriona Ward is the author of The Last House on Needless Street out 18th March 2021 from Viper Books

The Haunting Of Hill House: How the Extraordinary Episode 6 was Made

By Louisa Mellor

The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson

Scariest sentence: “God god – whose hand was I holding?”

It’s from a scene about two-thirds of the way through the novel. Eleanor and Theodora go to sleep in their adjacent beds in one of the many bedrooms in Hill House. They sleep with the lights on because of previous frightening incidents. But Eleanor wakes in the night to find the room plunged in darkness, and hears an eerie voice muttering from the next room. The darkness and the frightening sounds go on endlessly, and Eleanor is filled with a mounting sense of dread. She reaches out blindly for Theodora’s hand and holds on tight.

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But when the lights finally come back on, Theodora is several feet away, sitting up in her own bed, too far away for Eleanor to have touched her. So the hand she was holding belonged to someone or something else. It’s a brilliantly oblique bit of horror – the realisation that the monster was right alongside you, inside your guard – and every adaptation of the novel references it in some form or other. But I don’t think you can beat Jackson’s chilling, deadpan prose. – Mike Carey author of The Trials of Koli, out now from Orbit Books

Books

Who Was The Haunting of Hill House Author Shirley Jackson?

By Don Kaye

The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson

Scariest sentence: “No live organism can continue for long to exist sanely under conditions of absolute reality; even larks and katydids are supposed, by some, to dream. Hill House, not sane, stood by itself against its hills, holding darkness within; it had stood for eighty years and might stand for eighty more. Within, walls continued upright, bricks met neatly, floors were firm, and doors were sensibly shut; silence lay steadily against the wood and stone of Hill House, and whatever walked there, walked alone.”

I’ll be surprised if no one else has picked these sentences, although maybe not, because I’m blatantly cheating for choosing the entire first paragraph of The Haunting of Hill House. It is a classic of looming dread, and it’s probably generated more commentary and criticism than any other first paragraph in a horror novel. I love it. – Ellen Datlow, editor of the Best Horror of the Year annual series.

A Head Full of Ghosts by Paul Tremblay

Scariest sentence: “It was so dark it was like nothing was there in the room but us. Only the nothing was actually something because it filled my eyes and lungs and it sat on my shoulders.”

Paul Tremblay perfectly captures our universal fear of the dark in these two lines from A Head Full of Ghosts. That made the flesh on my skull crawl when I read it. The wording is simple but so effective: in one, two, three increasingly creepy instances Paul transforms what’s simply darkness into the tangible, the intimately dangerous… as darkness tends to do. – Thomas Olde Heuvalt, author Hex and Echo, forthcoming from Nightfire in 2021

Naked Lunch by William S. Burroughs

Scariest sentence: The Black Meat is like a tainted cheese, overpoweringly delicious and nauseating so that the eaters eat and vomit and eat again until they fall exhausted.

I read Naked Lunch in high school and it was a mind-destroyer. Thankfully, it is also a mind rebuilder. You can turn to any page and find sentences that bewildered, disoriented, horrified, and excited me. So that’s exactly what I just did: I opened the book randomly to page 55 and found one. Disgusting, delightful decadence! – Daniel Kraus, coauthor with George A. Romero of The Living Dead, out now from Tor Books.

The Masque of the Red Death by Edgar Allan Poe

Scariest sentence: “And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all.“

It’s ‘illimitable’ that does it for me, though the capitalisations and the against-the-advice-of-grammarians superfluous first and second usages of ‘and’ add quite a bit. That first ‘And’ – the one your teacher told you not to start a sentence with – is a pointed touch and does a lot of work, indicating that all the bad stuff in the rest of the sentence is a consequence of what’s gone before in the story … which, this season, seems like the most pointed tale of mystery and imagination ever written. – Kim Newman author Anno Dracula 1999 Daikaiju out now from Titan Books.

The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson

Scariest sentence: “In the unending, crashing second before the car hurled into the tree she thought clearly, Why am I doing this? Why am I doing this? Why don’t they stop me?”

Discussions of the prose of Shirley Jackson’s monumental The Haunting of Hill House tend to focus on its famous opening paragraph. Certainly the beginnings of both the novel’s first and second chapters offer a wealth of riches for scholarly consideration, rhetorical analysis. Yet it’s this long sentence from the novel’s second-to-last paragraph that comes to mind if I’m asked to name the most frightening line in the book. Indeed, it seems to me one of the most frightening sentences of any novel or story I’ve read. Obviously, there are lines whose immediate impact is greater, which have a more substantial visceral effect (Clive Barker’s fiction is rife with these). But I’m not sure any echo in quite the same way. At this moment in Jackson’s narrative, Eleanor Vance is being made to leave Hill House, the dwelling with whose structure her personality has become entangled and confused. Seemingly unwilling to be separated from the place, she steers her car straight toward an enormous tree at a curve in the driveway and steps on the gas. “I am really doing it,” she thinks, “I am doing this all by myself, now, at last.” This would be an awful enough end for Jackson’s protagonist, but with the sentence that follows and finishes the paragraph, she gives the screw a final, diabolical turn. Eleanor experiences a moment of clarity, which tells us that her thoughts of just a line before were not clear. She is not accelerating toward the tree of her own volition—or, not only of her own volition. Something else is at play here, some other factor. Is it the “whatever” Jackson has described walking in Hill House, the unspecified, (possibly) supernatural force (which might be any one of a number of ghosts, or an aggregate of those ghosts, or the house itself, brought to occult life by the peculiarities of its design)? Or is it some submerged part of Eleanor—guilt at her role in her mother’s death, or anger at her expulsion from the group brought to Hill House to study it? She doesn’t know, and she is trapped in her unknowing, as the final instant of her life stretches on and on, “unending.” Her ultimate motivation obscure to her, all she can do is wonder why no one is stopping her. With hideous irony, the power, the control Eleanor was celebrating a moment prior turns on her, her freedom becoming the freedom of death. The line passes as quickly as the crash it describes, and in its speed, it’s easy to miss everything going on it. To say it’s another example of Jackson’s skill as a writer feels somehow inadequate, as it doesn’t get at the way the sentence braids claustrophobia, terror, and confusion. It’s the kind of writing that haunts you in quiet moments, long after flashier, louder lines have faded into silence. It’s the kind of writing that reminds you of the horror story’s particular power, its reach and its resonance. – John Langan, author of The Fisherman, out now.

Pet Sematary by Stephen King

Scariest sentence: “Sometimes dead is better.”

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Nobody says this line better than that guy in the first Pet Sematary movie who used to play Herman Munster. Although John Lithgow did his best. King struck on an age-old wisdom when he showed us the folly of trying to bring people back once they’re gone. Just as WW. Jacobs did in The Monkey’s Paw and Shelley demonstrated (albeit piecemeal) in Frankenstein. You’ve got to be careful what you wish for. Sometimes, dead really is better, and far less likely to come back and stab you to death with a scalpel. C.S. O’Cinneide is the author of Petra’s Ghost, out now from Titan Books.

Pet Sematary by Stephen King

Scariest sentence: “Darling,” it said

This line has to be read in the context of an entire, brilliant novel that went before. It’s really not something I want to give away, because of spoilers, but if you’ve read this one, even hearing the final line again should send a shiver through you. The writer was at the top of his game – and that’s saying something – and it remains his most terrifying novel. Here’s the line: “Darling,” it said. – Tim Lebbon, author of Eden, out now from Titan Books

The post “God God – Whose Hand Was I Holding?”: the Scariest Sentences Ever Written, Selected by Top Horror Authors appeared first on Den of Geek.

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raindrenchedstories · 4 years

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Star Runners. 1

Here’s that new story I was working on. I hope you enjoy.

Two women sat across from one another. One tall, toned, and scarred all over. The other, short, bubbly and smudged in grease. The tall one tapped her finger on the table. “I don’t know. Runnin’ supplies is one thing. Tagging planets? That’s a whole new ball game.”

“I get that. And that’s exactly why we’re doing it.” The other sighed. “Think about it Holly. How much does our crew actually do? We show up, unload a ton of stuff, then head back to port for another pick up.” She ran a hand through her long hair, smudging it’s copper tones to black.

“Give me one good reason for me to have a weapons expert, communications officer, medic, and battle harden mercenary on a job like that. But if we start exploring new planets. Finding new worlds for people to settle, and set up relays, everybody gets a shot!” The short one shot up. Smiling like a mad woman.

Holly leaned back, thinking her words over. Eventually she sighed. “Well. I mean. PAM has perfect reason to be here no matter the job. A medic is never useless.” She grumbled. It killed her to admit her employer was right. Then again, it was a comfort to work for someone with a clear head on their shoulders.

That said... “But there’s an issue with that line of thinking.” She waited for her employer to acknowledge her concern before continuing. “You’re going to need at least one more employee.” She sighed.

“Oh. You didn’t think I knew that? Hell no. I’m not walking a full crew onto an uncharted planet blind.” She insisted. “I wouldn’t even HAVE this ship if I didn’t think shit through before hand. I’ve got a few interviews lined up next week. While we refuel and restock. I was hoping to leave the hiring process between you and Sleat.”

“Wait. You want me working with the salamander? I’m not against it but... Why?” Holly cocked her head to the side. The other woman tapped her finger on the table, thinking of how to word her next sentence. Which put Holly off on all ends. “Roxy. Why Sleat and I?”

Roxy huffed. “Well. You’re pretty strict on what sets the standard. Which means you’re not going to just fumble on the interviews. But your people skills are...”

“Woefully lacking?” Holly suggested.

“That. Yes. Meanwhile Sleat is basically a ball of sunshine that talks. He’s great with most people. And well, there’s that language thing of his. So we can broaden our hiring pool. But he’s a bit er...” Roxy hated saying anything ill of her crew. Especially because the ship was so small you could hear damn near anyone at a regular level.

“He’s soft?” Holly had no such qualms. And somewhere down the hallway, a scoff of protest could be heard. Both women were pretty sure they’d find the other three members of the crew standing in the hallway.

“Well. That’s just it. So I’m hoping your high standard will be counter balanced with Sleats kind nature.” Making for the best mix. Roxy gave a weak smile. Almost pleading. At the end of the day, Holly couldn’t refuse. This was the woman who signed her paycheck after all.

“Okay. Fine. Anything absolutes that we should know about?” Holly sat forward, folding her hands under her chin, brow raised. Here, Roxy had a few requirements. Must be physically capable, have good credentials, and absolutely must be flexible in their relations. She couldn’t have someone flake out because they were working with aliens.

It’d take them three days to arrive in port. And by the time they got there, Holly planned to have a list of requirements written out by Roxy, and drilled into Sleats head. The new employee also had a size limit on them. No one who couldn't fit on the ship. So... Compact was preferable. The biggest concern wasn’t so much working with aliens, but the kinds of aliens this person would have to accommodate.

The crew was nearly half alien, with only two humans on board. Holly and Roxy themselves. The others were a Gordylide. A kind of brute species, usually only accredited with the brains of a dog. But occasionally one of human intelligence was born and raised among Orug peoples from that planet. Majority male, looked human but had a retractable muscle mass and spiked back. As far as Holly was concerned, Shanadoh was a fun rival and over all amiable guy. But she could see someone being more likely to act condescending towards him.

A Lutillian female. Basically a werewolf if it had scales and a case of the skinnies. Known for being violent vagabonds that travelled on old slags of abandoned ships. Carrying reputations for being space pirates. The females were especially known for being quick to anger. And yet. Pam was a doctor and a damn good one if Holly did say so her self. Well known for just not giving a damn. Holly was half sure she could saw an arm off, and Pam would not care. Actually, given the fact that it’d just grow back. She probably could.

Sleat was the least concerning. The only problem with his people was that no one really knew them. Oh, they knew what a Szuhine was. But for the most part, their people were reclusive. They were pretty things, with slender bodies, and delicate fins. A large, tadpole like tail. Though they could also morph their bodies to look different, for some unknown reason. Either bulkier or softer. But no one could say anything about their culture, habits, overall reputation. For all Holly knew, everybody behaved like Sleat. Sunny, and personable.

Holly considered hiring another human to round things out. But in her discussions with Sleat, he brought up an excellent point. “Honestly, I’d say let’s look at credentials and personality first and foremost. If we hired by species, we wouldn’t have Pam.” Best advice the tangerine terror ever gave in her opinion.

---

So when they arrived at port. The two scouts departed. Setting up a small booth with information on what they were hiring for. So many applicants arrived that it overwhelmed them. Running was an interesting job. It allowed you to travel from planet to planet, experiencing the wonders of a new world while delivering supplies to colonizers. Or scouting potential planets free if intelligent life.

This sort of idea was usually well above most folk’s pay grade. It was a chore to get off planet. And most people could only do for a short trip within their own solar system. Even then, there was the risk of pirates. And undiscovered planets? Good luck. Usually people needed a degree in at least two different fields of work in order to be valuable. Usually science and medicine.

Even then, that was just to get on a colonizing ship. Which would also take years to get where it was going. Sometimes an actual life time. Anyone low skilled on those ships were usually only allowed on board if they brought their families. Or significant other that they were definitely going to have children with. Then it was into cryosleep and off you go to who knows where. To live it rough until the planet was settled. And even that took decades.

The smaller, runner ships only took a few days to reach these planets however, and were essential for colonization as a whole. Bringing supplies and livestock that couldn’t survive cryo. Or skipping across the stars to locate potential colonies. Making the idea of working on one appealing to say the least.

So in some mid space port, orbiting some moon Holly forgot the name of, she was forced to socialize with hundreds of humans, aliens, synthetic people, and even a few gaseous forms. Eventually they had to take a break. Promising potential hires that they’d receive a communication one way or the other.

Holly grumbled. “I don’t think I have it in me Sleat. I can’t be nice to people for this long!” She moaned. Sleat just gave her a sympathetic smile.

“Well. On the bright side. We do have a fair amount of help available. It’s sad we had to turn away so many labourers though.” He sighed. Deliberately trying to make his voice calming, in human inflections. They had chosen to sit not too far from their booth near the food court. Both had already shared a light meal. But Holly still seamed distraught.

“You mean ninety percent of our applicants?” Holly snapped.

“Yes.” He winced. “I wish we didn’t have to be so specific. But! We’re never going to find the right match if we just sit here moping about it. Now are we?” He shot to his feet and reached a supportive hand to his crew mate. Trying to be the epidomy of encouragement.

Reluctantly, the human took his hand and made their way back into the thick of it. The process took at least as many days as the travel. In which Sleat had to do a lot of letting people down. Sometimes well received. Sometimes he’d pass the communicator to Holly and let her get her snark out.

Eventually, over many stressful days, they found a match. Well, for the first part of hiring. The second was touring around the ship, and meeting the crew. If any of the crew felt anything was off, the process would start all over again.

---

Roxy stood steadfast at the doorway. For once, not covered in engine grease and god knows what else from the mechanical heart of her darling ship. Cleaned up in proper attire. Sleat and Holly stood on either side of her, still dressed formally, or in Sleats case, prettied up a bit. A little jewellery for the day. Behind them, Shanadoh, in his best white t-shirt and jeans. And Pam. Scales polished to an ebony sheen.

The main door chimed, and Roxy pressed the button to open it. Standing before them was a mousy young man. Bright red hair shone in the artificial light of the port outside. He’d already had several clearly heavy bags that were buckling his thin limbs beneath. However, the moment Shanadoh offered to take them he held his items closer.

“No no! I can carry my own weight. Um. Hello. Captain Roxanne. My name is Chester. Uh. Chester Mainland.” He dropped several of his bags to shake Roxy’s hands. A few making concerning clattering noises. “Biologist, anthropologist, ecologist-” He rambled.

Pam cut in, speaking up for the stunned engineer deemed captain. “I think we get the gist of it.” She grinned. Her voice broke the cloud over Roxy’s mind and the dam broke.

“What is all this stuff?” She blurted out, bemused.

“Oh, just some equipment for the trip. Ah, that is, if I end up being your man. I thought it’d be better if I brought my own gear. Did I overstep?” He suddenly paled, which was an impressive feat considering he was already a few shades brighter than standard parchment.

“Not at all, just... surprising. How about you pass those over to Shan, and we can give you the tour.” She suggested gently. Chester attempted to gather is items, letting gravity catch the rest of his bags. Making for more falling and concerning clunks. The gordylide just patiently gathered them off the floor, offering to hang a few of the lighter ones from the long spikes on his back.

According to Chester, there were no lighter ones. “At least, none that wouldn’t pull or cause you some discomfort. But thank you!” He beamed. Before turning the rest of the crew. “I hate to ask, but who is the doctor on staff?”

Pam perked up. “Are you injured?” She glanced over his person, concern etched into her features.

“Ah! Must be you then! No, not injured. I just have a general exam I need to pass. But the time frame I was given for take off might make me miss it. I was hoping I could reschedule with you?” He gave her a nervous smile. Pam was a little taken aback. As was the rest of the crew. Even her closest friend, no, even SLEAT questioned her credentials initially.

Never the less, she gave a nod. “Won’t be an issue. If you clear the bar today, we’ll set you up day after tomorrow.” She nodded. Though, she left her jaws open just a smidgen. Scenting this newcomer properly. She could catch the salty taste of nerves in the air. Just flooding the room. She shut her mouth.

As Sleat made a point to show off every room of the ship, Pam held Roxy back. “I don’t think Holly would let a creep on board. But that guy is freaking out. Bad. He’s two steps from terrified.” Bright yellow eyes caught up in Roxy’s brown. The two shared a nod, before Pam fell back in step with the rest of the group.

“Sadly you’ll have to share an office space with Pamela, we’re a little tight here. Pam honey, you don’t mind, do you?” Sleat beamed toward her. She gave a shake of her head.

“So long as you keep your samples away from my medical equipment. We’re good. No offence just-” She began, but was cut off by the young man.

“It makes perfect sense! You can’t use contaminated tools to save a life.” He nodded fervently. Making note of where he could store his machines. Glancing back and forth then pointing out a tiny, unused space. Particularly cramped, but if fitted with a pair of tables, it would hold his equipment. He’d just have to stand while he worked. “How about right here? It should be right out of your way!”

Holly bristled a little, before glancing to Pam. Double checking her bullshit detector. The Lutillian gave a subtle nod in agreement. This guy was almost too accommodating. Still, Pam agreed to the idea under one condition. “For the love of god, give yourself enough room to sit. Not all day obviously, but it’s better for your spine if you take the occasional break.” She huffed.

Both women pulled Roxy aside that time. One argued he was too nice. The other argued he was hiding something. Trying to delegate, the redheaded mechanic waved a single hand between them. Hissing to wait until the end of the tour, and she’d sit everyone down and discuss his flaky behaviour.

Eventually, the main rooms were shown off, as well as a sizable cargo bay carrying a surprising amount of nothing for once. It always felt wrong seeing it so empty. It was usually full of livestock, adult or incubating. Or seeds. Now it was just thoroughly scrubbed and disinfected. Courtesy of her kick ass crew.

She followed her team back up the stairs and into what passed for a galley. Really it was a cramped kitchen, and a single, medium table. Enough to sit six people, if everyone minded their elbows. What wasn’t used for cooking or eating was stuffed to the brim with preserved foods, and some luxuries like fresh vegetables and fruits.

All six of them finally took their spots at the table, and Roxy took a deep breath. “So there’s been a concern.” She folded her hands. Sleat pressed his lips in a thin line. A few bitter clicks left him without his consent. He’d been rooting for this lad to make it. Perhaps he misjudged the humans demeanour?

Shanadoh just tilted his head obliviously. He wasn’t an unintelligent man, by Gordylide standards he was fucking brilliant. But he did tend to miss cues. Like three women whispering harshly behind him. Still, these people never led him astray before. If they were discomforted by the man, he’d stand behind them.

“You’re coming off as rather... Twitchy, to my team. Well, the ladies anyways. What do you guys think? Roxy turned her attention to both men at hand. Shanadoh spoke first, leaning back in his chair, as best he could, and folding his arms over his broad chest.

“Honestly so many humans are freaked out by folks like me, or treat us like... I think they’re called dogs? I didn’t notice the difference.” He shrugged.

Sleat on the other hand, started reflecting, on the tour, before coming to a conclusion. “I should point out. We’re a majority alien crew. That can be a little intimidating at first. Especially between two brutes like Shanadoh and Pam. However, thinking back, things are a bit tense. Perhaps it’s just nerves?” He smiled encouragingly at Chester.

He’d begun shaking, hard. “Well... I do admit, they are a little intimidating. Nothing I can’t handle mind you! But... I can’t afford NOT to get this job.” He blurted out. Fisting his trousers tightly.

Holly leaned her chin on her fist. Honestly bored with the whole situation at this point. She’d been getting all kinds of red flags, and this was just one more. “And why not? You’ve got a hell of a resume. You’ve got your pick of Colony ships.”

Pams jaws popped open again, obviously this time. Tasting the air for lies. It was a wonderful habit of her people. So long as you were a friend. No one could slip past the jaws of a living lie detector. Chester ignored this. “W-well. They’d pay my family in a lump sum. But... It’s not really enough to look after them, you know? My mother put everything she could into my college. So I could pursue my interests.” He began.

“She thought there was enough for her and my sister too. But apparently not. Not after a recent raid.” He dropped his head into his hands. “They lost everything in one night.” Those who had lived in the solar system for any amount of time shifted uncomfortably. Everyone but Sleat. Who was oblivious.

With the advent of space travel came the raiders. Folks who didn’t play by the rest of the solar systems rules. Usually mixed species like their own crew. They had a habit of attacking small planets in the system as they tended to be less guarded. Ravaging the sphere of supplies.

No one in any position of power really seamed to give a damn. On a galactic scale, it just wasn’t worth caring about. But on an interpersonal scale, it was always devastating. Sometimes people were taken as well. On those massive warships. Usually women. It was no wonder what that was for. Sometimes they broke free. But it was so rare... “That’s a fucking miracle they got out.” Holly spat. Pam shook her head, folding her arms. Ebony scales made a soft hissing as they rubbed along one another.

“And yet. He’s not lying.” She leaned her head back, gently thumping it on the wall behind her. The table was silent, until Roxy gave a nod.

“So you’re hoping to take a cut of your salary, and send it to your mother. How old is your sister?” She glanced at Chester. He held up his right hand. And then one more finger. Six. Chester had to be at least eighteen, early twenties at the latest. So he’d have to have had his schooling downloaded into his brain. Faster, but not cheap.

“Right. You know there’s a risk you’ll die. Right?” Roxy leaned back, blunt honesty was probably the best she could give him in this situation.

“I’ve already taken out a life insurance policy. So if I do die, they’ll have enough to at least get off that planet.” He sighed. “I get you guys might not be able to give me much of a cut. But aside from the basic necessities, I don’t need anything. So the majority is going to my family.” He glanced up, waiting for the final call.

The captain shared looks with her crew. Most of which nodding. One making a sound of hesitance as she did so. With that, Roxy pulled a few papers from below the table, and signed them. “Welcome aboard Chester Mainland. I expect you here early tomorrow to get your equipment and personal belongings moved in.” She passed her papers with a smile. Chester signed almost instantly, wrinkling them in his excitement.

With all that said and done, Roxy contacted old employers, and contracted a few easy runs to start the lad out with an actual pay check. Though runner work was high paying, the brand she was reaching into was infrequent. Finding a new planet then selling it off to a bidder was a high risk, reward job. Then there were the space pirates and raiders.

It didn’t take long for her to fill the hull with all sorts of live plants, and incubating eggs from all planets. On route to a colony three weeks away. Well, for the small ship. Not an ideal first job, but what had to be, had to be. When her crew was done loading, Roxy took it upon herself to do the supplies count for the trip. Making sure they had enough to feed the extra mouth.

---

Chester returned promptly early the next day. And found the crew... Less than lively. They were a mess of bedhead. Pyjamas and in the case of Shanadoh, very much going back to bed. Any professionalism they’d established the day before shattered the moment the door opened.

The majority of the team shuffled Chester in, shut the door, and collectively staggered to the galley once more. Roxy mentioned something about unpacking later as she slumped into her chair. There was an almost frog like flapping of Sleat feet on the tiled floor of the kitchen.

Chesters bags slipped from his shoulders once more. Though as opposed to equipment probably being damaged, there was simply a soft sound. The sound wadded up laundry makes. He’d been expecting a much more exiting welcome. Though he supposed he was the new fellow.

Instead of causing the main collective any annoyance before they’d had their morning coffee, he headed for the mens dorm. Doing his level best to remain quiet as he slipped in. Chester found a corner and set his belongings silently on the ground. From a bottom bunk, Shanadoh could be heard snoring loudly.

Gently, he rifled through his belongings until he found the small gifts he’d meant to give the crew. A small token of thanks for their acceptance of him. He placed a small bag of strawberry sweets on the Sleeping Gordylide’s pillow, then left.

Once he returned to the Galley there was a spread of easy, fast foods on the table. Piles of fried eggs and bacon, hot cakes and a nearly empty carafe of coffee was being picked at slowly by the four awake members of the crew. Holly gave him one glance, motioned to the coffee, and returned to her eating.

Pam had a hand fully wrapped around a specially designed mug, and was slowly lapping the bitter black liquid. Sleat was absently chewing on some kind of crab cake. Roxy was more or less asleep at the table. Now was as good a time as any for good things. “So... I brought... things.”

“That’s kind of the point of moving day.” Sleat deadpanned. Chester was about to open his mouth to try again when the szuhine pointed to a sign beside the table. It read: Morning people will either be relegated to making breakfast, or shot. He decided that gifts were probably a thing for after coffee. Maybe after a week or two of living on the ship.

It wasn’t long until he found himself sitting among the small collective, munching on bacon. A treat he’d actually not had since he first visited earth. It was a bit too salty for his taste. He engaged in idle chat with the more awake member of the table. And waited for the rest of the group t o catch up.

Soon after he was unpacked in the lab, setting up his table and chairs, and ushered to pick a cot. He was given time to settle any lingering affairs he had. Go through his exam, and be cleared for extended travel. Shanadoh appreciated his gift and before they left, Chester managed to hand out the rest.

For the most part it was foods that applied to everyone. Candies or preserved meats. It turned into a feast of sweets before long. Further contributed to by an overzealous pair of aliens who had passions for cooking. This seamed to be a good first impression. As the crew started involving him their activities before the end of the week while squaring away their own affairs.

Then it was right to take off. For the third time in his life, Chester found himself staring at a planet fading away. He found it strange that only a few hours ago, he was standing on it’s surface. A few hours before that, exiting his hotel room.

He’d expected space travel to be like air or sea travel at first, with turbulence. But past breaking atmosphere, everything was oddly still. Like he were just standing on a planet’s surface. There was a brief moment of weightlessness before the gravity kicked in, but that was it.

Idly, he wondered if that feeling ever left. Eventually he gathered the nerve to ask Pam about it. The way she explained it, it never left. There was always a kind of lonesome realization that they’d left something behind. But it was paired with an eager thirst for new discoveries ahead. Even if you’d been there before.

By her definition, you had to have good humour about it. Otherwise, you’d drive yourself mad from the sheer sense of insignificance the void would give you. That’s why a compatible crew was so important. She also encouraged him to take up a hobby. As there would be a lot of free time on their hands.

So, he took up yet another study. Botany. This time downloading textbooks onto his personal device, and leaning back to listen to their lessons. He’d have to talk to the captain about getting materials so he could gain practical experience. Perhaps he’d make a mini biosphere. He’d wait and see.

#Sci-fi #Aliens #slice-of-life #space adventure

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fuwafuwamedb · 5 years

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Raised By A Fou Pt 5 (Hakuno, Arthur, Merlin, Fou, Guinevere)

Previous Parts: One, Two, Three, Four

_____

“I didn’t know she had such inclinations, my king,” Merlin teased, turning away with a broad smile on his lips.

“There’s more lies than ever with you. You absolutely knew!”

What on earth were they talking about?

“I can’t-“

Hakuno looked away from them, noting the woman down the hall. The woman was looking between them all, nodding a moment before she came walking their way.

“You would like to see my husband then?”

“Ah- Are you the queen then?”

Hakuno hurried forward, letting Fou bounce to her shoulder.

“GUIN!”

“I am.”

The woman bolstered herself up a bit, staring down her nose as Hakuno stood before her. The woman’s brown eyes were narrowed, her lips pressed in a hard line. If she hadn’t known better, she would have said that the woman looked about ready to attack her.

That would be ridiculous though. Clearly she’d heard what she’d said before.

“I’m very sorry for intruding. I need my home back and Merlin said that I would never have it back without the king so I need the king’s hand.”

“Is your home far from here?”

Considering that she didn’t know where here was?

Hakuno nodded.

“Guinevere-“

The queen held up a hand, moving a little closer.

“Do you care for the king?”

“Do I… Does that matter?”

The woman nodded, her gaze focused so much that Hakuno could feel the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. Fou nipped at her ankles a bit.

“I… I guess I do.”

“Do you think he’s handsome?”

“Am I allowed to even say yes if he is?”

The woman laughed a little, nodding. “Come here. Come here.”

There was no helping it. She was beckoned and the woman kept her grip firm as she turned her around and walked her back to Arthur. Her hand reached up, grabbing the poor man’s face.

“Look at him. Take a very good look. Can you imagine being able to kiss this man?”

“Ah-“

Oh boy.

Hakuno could feel both her own face blushing and see that Arthur was blushing. The woman between them was turning his face this way and that.

“He has a warm embrace too. He is very loyal. Very kind.”

“I-I don’t think we’re permitted to do that to him, not unless he permits it first!” Hakuno pulled the woman’s hand away from him. “Arthur’s a kind person. Don’t do that.”

“Why not?”

Why?

“Didn’t I just say?” Hakuno shook her head, explaining this clearly then; “Arthur is not some toy for you to play games with. He’s a grown man with his own thoughts and feelings. We can’t just be selling him like some poultry or livestock. Show him respect and don’t ask such questions!”

“What if I told you that you could have him?”

“I think Arthur can say for himself whom he wishes to be had by. I’m just here for the king.”

The woman glanced to Arthur, her eyes gleaming.

“I do believe our guest has told the queen where her place is,” Merlin observed.

Ah-

That probably had been a bad plan. Hakuno ran a hand over her face, groaning a little.

“I-“

“Arthur.” Guinevere moved before the poor blond again, her hands on her hips. “I must tell you once more that I cannot be loyal to you.”

“Guin-“

She held up a hand, pressing her fingers to his lips. “Don’t. What Merlin has done is brought us an opportunity. We can all be happy.”

“Merlin?” Hakuno tried to keep her voice down, but the woman grabbed her as she was catching the magician’s attention.

“My lady.” The queen smiled to her. “You said that Arthur was his own person.”

She nodded.

“And you wish to see the king. Not Arthur.”

Again, correct.

Guinevere smiled at Arthur. “She can take my place.”

“You know it’s not that simple,” Arthur argued.

“Why not?”

“There are handmaidens, customs and practices that this lovely and sweet girl would not know-“

“I can stay for a few weeks. People will note that we look too much alike and I can teach her enough and then be ‘fired’ after falling for one of the knights. No one will suspect a thing.”

“Except Lancelot and my Round Table.”

What-

“What are you offering?” Hakuno asked, moving a bit closer.

Guinevere smiled. “My dear majesty, I’m giving you the king’s hand. You may have King Arthur, the king of Camelot, as your husband and free us from our marriage of convenience.”

#drabble #drabbles #he's yours my friend

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kitten1618x · 5 years

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GoT Afterthoughts ep. 08x01 ‘Winterfell’(Part 3)

Annnnd I’m back again! So where were we? Oh yes, back in Cersei’s boudoir...

The first thing I noticed is Cersei is drinking wine again. I’m still not 100% sure she was pregnant to begin with, guys. They were very secretive and ambiguous about the whole thing if you think back on it — and those leaks about her miscarrying turned out to be a wash.

Cersei is still salty about those damn elephants.

Same girl, saaaaame.

Euron wants to know how he compares to her past lovers. She strokes his massive ego a bit until he brings up Jaime—still a tender wound, she warns him to tread lightly, then simultaneously insults and compliments him as he lays a possessive hand on her stomach and declares he’s going to put a prince in her belly. She promptly dismisses him.

What’s striking here is that Cersei appears to be fighting off tears. Clearly, she didn’t want to sleep with Euron, but did so to keep him loyal to her. Love her or hate her, it’s sad to see her at such a desperate and low point where she’s basically whoring herself to keep an ally. Especially when Euron is such a wildcard, and now that he basically got exactly what he wanted—who’s to say he’ll stick around?

But, if you believe in political!jon, this is quite the parallel to Jon essentially doing the same to hold onto a wildcard ally in Dany.

I’m still not sold on a Cersei pregnancy/miscarriage guys...

While Euron is distracted, Theon and what remains of the Iron Born loyal to them, free Yara. She promptly headbutts him for leaving her ass, then helps him up. Now they’re even. 10/10 realistic sibling behavior. lol

Yara wants to head back to the Iron Islands, but senses Theon’s need to make amends to the Starks. She sends him to Winterfell with her blessing. I truly love these two as a strong family unit!! Gahhhhhh

We drop back into Winterfell where Lord Royce greets Alys Karstark and her people. And why this is necessary got me like 👀. Almost as much as why Alys was cast as a tall, red-headed girl... perhaps to fake a death scene of another important tall red-headed girl with the battle of Winterfell right around the corner?

Davos schools Tyrion and Varys on Northern stubbornness and loyalty. Then he proposes a marriage alliance between Jon and Dany if the world should survive. And fucken gag me, Dadvos... I expected better of you! lol I believe the words he uses are “a just woman and an honorable man.” And I’m sorry, it’s just hard for me to reconcile this statement with the same Davos who was extremely skeptical of the things Missandei was saying about Dany last season. Or the same Davos who looked extremely uncomfortable with Dany’s tantrum on the beach when she accused her hand Tyrion, of not wanting to murder his family... but, I digress.

We end this scene on Varys’ ominous words, sure to leave a bitter taste in your mouth: NOTHING LASTS. Drop those truth bombs, Varys.

A marriage alliance between a truly just woman and an honorable man is probably still in the cards... just sayin’.

We drop down from the battlements where Dany and Jon are strolling amongst the battle preparations. Of all the things they could be talking about: the wall falling, the issue of food shortages, etc. Dany brings up Sansa, of course. (no love triangle brewing here folks, none at all).

Dany licks her lips and looks around coyly, as if annoyed. “Your sister doesn’t like me.” — well neither did Bran really, or any of the northern lords, but it’s only Sansa’s name on Dany’s tongue—how curious. (Not really).

Jon’s eyes shift nervously before he turns to face her and sighs (because I’m telling you, he knew this was coming and it’s no coincidence that he’s kept his mouth shut and stayed out of the conflict). “She doesn’t know you.” Truth. He attempts a joke at how Sansa didn’t like him much either when they were growing up, but Dany isn’t amused.

“She doesn’t have to be my friend, but I am her queen. If she can’t respect me…” Dany leaves the threat and it’s implications hang in the air between them, her eyes narrowing dangerously.

Dark!dany is here, y’all.

I’m sure Dany stans and the jonerii are twisting themselves into pretzels to explain this away.

I mean, it’s not like Emilia herself didn’t warn us all that her character would be doing some ‘weird shit’ and we’d know when we saw it...

But Jon’s face here is strikingly similar to these various scenes...

And...

Same. Ass. Energy. You do the math friends, but he’s certainly not looking upon her lovingly.

Luckily for Sansa and Jon, the Dothraki steal Dany’s attention to inform her of the livestock count of the dragons’ current dinner menu: 18 goats and 11 sheep. Dany looks alarmed—the dragons are barely eating. Barely. Do you have any idea how many people that amount of livestock could feed?

That’s why it’s really hard for me to not be critical of Dany’s character here. I realize she loves her dragons and they are her ‘children’, but in this moment she shows more empathy for the dragons lack of food (who truly can fly off and hunt) than that of the actual people who quite possibly could starve—and was irritated with Sansa for bringing it up.

And I will show this fucken gif as many times as I want because it’s so important!!

Food is so important. Don’t let the antis try and tell you otherwise.

Jon and Dany go to check on the dragons, and we have the scene we were treated to from the early released stills.

Jon asks what’s wrong with the dragons and Dany replies “they don’t like the North.” — and there is definitely a double meaning behind her words, as I don’t think Dany much likes the North, either. She climbs atop Drogon while Rhaegal expresses a curious interest in Jon.

“Go on.” Dany encourages Jon. Not the brightest move to give your bf of 10 minutes the keys to one of your WMD’s, and especially since there are surely much more important things to be done since being made aware that the wall is down and your other child is now a flying ice demon, but hey, joy ride time you crazy Targ kids!

So this must be the comedic scene the D’s talked about. I know everyone had mixed feelings about Jon riding a dragon, but I must say, I rather enjoyed this scene—except for the music, which for awhile seemed like a very jarring variation of the Truth theme. The music is very important in this show, so I’ll be curious to know when this pops up again, and where. Perhaps a dragon face off in another dance of dragons? Hmmm?

Drogon takes the lead, and Dany seems rather amused at scaring the pants off of Jon when she nose dives Drogon into a ravine and Rhaegal follows. Oh, but what’s this? Jon has realized he can control Rhaegal on his own, and brings the dragon in for a landing. Dany—a bit surprised at this—follows suit. Girl, you should be worried.

But she’s not, of course—at least not for long, because she’s busy being ‘twitterpated’ a’la a typical Disney flick, at the impressive place Jon chose to land—right beside an amazing waterfall. Props to loverboy, this is 10/10 primo scenery on the romance scale.

I would like to take a moment here to be petty af and point out that it is Daenerys that says the “we could stay here a thousand years” line—not Jon. And who could forget his super-romantic and witty come-back; complete in his Northern drawl: “we’d be pretty old.”

and Dany’s expression says everything! lol This from Mr. ‘I’d like to see you in a silk dress so I can tear it off you’. Pretty weak, Jon. You’re losing romance points for that!

Okay, but all joking aside, because I know a lot of my fellow Jonsas were probably a little put off by this scene; let’s break it down. After Jon’s crappy comeback, Dany moves closer to him, and he says something kind of flirtatious and sweet: “It’s cold up here for a southern girl.”

This is actually a very Jon-like thing to say, and I could even see this kind of banter between him and Ygritte. It’s also a very ‘equal’ thing to say—here, where no one is around, and formalities aren’t necessary. After all, had he said, “it’s cold up here for a southern queen,” it wouldn’t have had the same punch, now would it?

However, Dany has no interest in being Jon’s equal — even here, alone, her first instinct is to remind Jon she’s the queen: “then keep your queen warm” — not, “then this northern boy better keep her warm”, or “then keep your southern girl warm.” Perhaps I’m reading too much into it, but that’s what hopped out at me.

Now the kiss. Sigh. Yes, I’m not gonna lie, it definitely looks like Jon’s into it. But my darling Jonsas, before you’re ready to throw Jon under the bus (as I imagine quite a few of you did while I took an entire week to write up my recap) the parent reveal hasn’t happened yet! Simmer down and find your zen, Jon is not a northern fool!

And for you antis lurking around: NO. This doesn’t negate political!jon. Not even a little bit. If political!jon is true, then he’s doing exactly what he committed to do—keeping Dany happy and keeping her North. The unfortunate trade-off is, she’s now their queen.

But what do we have here? Drogon seems a little restless, and Jon immediately breaks the kiss, and casts nervous eyes in the dragons direction. (Gods yes, this is so romantic). Dany laughs it off and tells Jon not to be afraid, pulling him back into the kiss. But while she’s all oblivious and lost in the kiss, Jon leans her body sideways and opens his eyes to eyeball Drogon, who’s giving him a look like ‘bitch, I know who you are, and I know what you’re doing. Watch your back.’

Is it a wonder why every single Jonerys love scene has been interrupted by weirdness? Bloody birth flashbacks, creepy brother voice-overs, no first kiss, growling stink-eyed Drogon... it’s almost like they’re trying to tell us that this isn’t really a romance.

And this is where I leave you, for now. The last part will follow shortly, and NO, I won’t break my future recaps into parts. I only did it this way because myself and half my house are sick.

#got afterthoughts #part 3 #got recap #jonsa #political!jon #dark!dany #anti jonerys #anti targaryen restoration #anti daenerys #(not really but just being safe)#melissa rants #long post

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wheremytwinwatches · 5 years

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[Where My Twin Watches]: Puella Magi Madoka Magica Episode 11

We open in her magical apartment, shining white walls, CG gears floating like some sort of modern-art chandelier, and images of old scrolls hovering around, old manuscripts or what looks like a tapestry with the word ‘Walpurgis-’ on it. Seems Homura’s working on her (latest) plan to defeat the super-Witch and protect Madoka. One thing that struck me between these episodes is that the last time was probably the closest she’s ever gotten to saving Madoka from Contracting, until the Incubator made a last-minute offer while Homura was distracted fighting Walpurgisnacht. But maybe, just maybe, this time it could work? I mean, Madoka hasn’t Contracted, she knows how much of a dick the Incubator is, and has seen all her other friends die as Magical Girls. Maybe this will be enough to keep her away?

...oh who am I kidding. Madoka’s a Protagonist. She may be meek and scared, especially compared to Alpha Madoka, but when it comes down to it she overrules her fears and does what needs to be done, like when she threw away the chemicals in the warehouse. If she thinks that there’s something that she can do, she’s going to try her best to do it. Ugh. Admirable, but doomed to failure. “Time-traveler, Homura Akemi…” Well, look who it is, barging into Homura’s home at the eleventh-hour. What, are you going to brag about how your ‘perfect logic’ is going to prevail, that you still have claim to be the right side? Come on, Incubator, just try to convince me. “Your existence has answered at least one great mystery: Why is Madoka Kaname’s potential as a magical girl so abnormally vast?” ...wut? “You see, a magical girl’s potential is based on the weight of the karmic destiny she bears.” Oh. Oh, fuck. Homura was the cause. Alpha Madoka was a strong Magical Girl, but still lost to Walpurgisnacht. But each of the other timelines we saw, she survived up until she Witchified, didn’t she? I just put it down to Homura’s help, but if she was growing stronger and stronger… If each time Homura rewound time, all for the sake of one single person, reality after reality based around the lone girl Madoka Kaname… Multiple timelines, converging on one point, one person. All the ‘karmic destiny’ of the prior Madokas, concentrated into the next. In trying to save Madoka, Homura turned her into The One. “Excellent work, Homura. You’ve made Madoka into the most powerful witch we’ve ever seen.” Intro sequence. Well. That’s a thing. For what it’s worth, I paused to really read the lyrics of the intro song this time, and goddamn is it obvious now that it’s really Homura’s song. All the references to time, being stuck on a bad path? The songwriter must have been giggling like crazy when they played this in the early episodes. (Oh hey, it ended with the updated RADIO TOWER OF LIES with all five of the girls hanging out on top.) Ep 11: The Only Thing I Have Left to Guide Me A rainy day in Mitakihara City. Oh. “Sayaka Miki Funeral Service.” I guess the cops finally found her body. The school’s turned out for the service, and Madoka’s there with shaded eyes. She knows the truth, but can’t tell anyone. “Up next, the weather forecast.” Geez, show a little tact radioman! Sayaka makes it home, puts away her umbrella as her mother… uh oh. “About Sayaka’s case… Are you sure you don’t know anything about it?” Madoka claims ignorance and walks away. And the camera makes damn sure that we know Mother ain't buying any of it. Gulp. And now Madoka’s just sprawled on her bed, a blank look on her face. Her best friend and Kyoko are dead (what, no mention of Mami?). All because of- YOU. “It wasn’t exactly an unexpected outcome.” For crying out loud Incubator, give her some space, she just came back from the funeral of her best friend! Although knowing the Incubator, it’s taking this opportunity of a damaged emotional state to try and fill its quota sooner rather than later. Wait. Wait wait wait. What did you just say, Incubator? What the FUCK did you just say? “Then, for example, do you feel responsible for the deaths of livestock? Do you ever think about the process by which they become foodstuffs for you?” … “Because they are slated to become food for humans, livestock are fed and provided for all their lives, and given equal chance to reproduce free from natural selection. Cows, pigs, and even chickens have an overwhelmingly higher rate of survival in captivity than in the wild. So isn’t it actually a rather ideal, mutually beneficial relationship for you both?” Alright. Ok. *deep breath* First I’ll try to address the “eating other lifeforms” thing, then I’ll address why this analogy does not even come close to this situation. I’m an omnivore. I eat both meat and plant matter. I eat meat for several reasons, nutritional and ethical. It's not a perfect system, but it works and I consider it good. If it wasn't for the core flaw, I might even admit that the Incubator has a point in them being similar. But all of that is based on one single, fundamental fact: these creatures are not sapient. You can’t talk to them. Incubator, I’m going to bring something up called the Hierarchy of Foreignness (a system created in the Orson Scott Card “Ender’s Game” series). A general description is that it classifies groups or species based on both their species and ability to communicate, ranging from Utlanning (same species, easy communication) to Djur (different species, non-sapient). Note the communication aspect, that’s crucial. Sapience is a divisive subject, but I think we can all agree that if communication was possible between us and another species, if we could talk to them and they could rationally answer in kind then there’s no way in hell they would be on the menu. And yet, even though the Incubators can clearly communicate with us, even though they know that we are capable of reasoning, of storing and transmitting ideas, of generalization and abstract ideas… they still treat us as a resource. “Are you saying it’s the same between you and us?” “On the contrary, our treatment of humankind is much more respectful than your treatment of livestock. Perhaps it isn’t perfect, but we do acknowledge your species as sentient and try to deal fairly with you.” And there we go! Sentient, not sapient. Awareness, not reasoning. We raise cattle as livestock because it is the best solution and they are not sapient beings. You assholes stumbled across a rock full of sapient, rationalizing beings that you could communicate with and turned them into batteries. But wait, there’s more! The Incubator proceeds to show a horrified Madoka images of humanity’s history, from caves to castles. “We have intervened in your civilization’s development since prehistoric times. Countless girls throughout time have made Contracts with Incubators, had their wishes granted, and then ultimately succumbed to despair (images of woman I assume to be Cleopatra, based on pyramids and snakebite). Beginning in hope and then ending in a curse; that is the cycle that countless magical girls have repeated to this day. There are some who have wrought revolutions that changed history (Joan of Arc?), or elevated human society to new stages of development.” And so that gives you the right to harvest a thinking species, then? You set these girls on the path to destruction, get your precious emergy, and think we should be grateful for the privilege? Madoka breaks down into tears, cries about how they all trusted the Incubators. Who just claims that it wasn’t the Incubators who betrayed them, but their own prayers. That is the equivalent of saying “I gave them a box of matches, it’s not my fault they ended up burning down the house.” It goes on to argue that all hopes are Wishes for something other than the current reality, and anything that doesn’t match reality is bound to cause change. And of course, Change is Bad, so… “If they considered such a natural outcome to be a ‘betrayal’, they were wrong to have made wishes at all.” Really? Really, Incubator? So you’re saying that since change inevitably results in at least some negative outcomes, it’s wrong to try and enact change? Say, trying to prevent the natural heat-death of the universe? “Not that I’m calling them foolish.” Oh no, you’re just calling them acceptable, unintentional sacrifices. “If you understand now, why are you still holding the fates of a few individuals to be so precious?” Because they are individuals. Because the ending of a rational life, one that is denied a future of experiences and progress and chances to help other lives… Civilizations that exist based on the suffering of others are not worthy of the term. And the Incubators passed that line long ago. Madoka numbly looks up to the Incubator and asks if after all the time they spent watching over those girls they really feel nothing for them at all. The Incubator blithely retorts that if they could “understand suffering”, they wouldn’t need humanity in the first place. A society that treats emotion as a mental disease, to whom the concept of empathy for one another is foreign. Incubator, as surprised as you are that a world of individuals could move beyond the basest of conflicts, I am just as surprised that a species of a single mind could… no, I can’t say that I am surprised that a single focused mind could progress so far. But it is not a society that I would want to be a part of. The Incubator claims that if they had never come to Earth, then humanity would still be living naked in caves. I think you underestimate us. But even if that were true, it would be preferable to your schemes. ...I’m sorry, I can’t take anymore tonight.

*once again, needed an angry sleep to calm down* *calls for one final show prediction*

Well, my guessing has been so spot on so far, why stop now? This is the scenario we have, the elements leading into this finale: -Madoka has not Contracted -Homura knows her time travel has resulted in Madoka’s Protagonist Potential -Walpurgisnacht is inbound, which means bad times for Muggles -All the other MGs besides Homura are dead -Madoka’s Mom suspects that she’s hiding something about Sayaka -Homura is going to try and fight Wally on her own like last timeline, hoping that Madoka won’t Contract From this, I can see three possibilities: (Good Ending) Homura attempts to fight Walpurgisnacht on her own (because that worked so well last time). Brave, heroic, foolish Madoka intervenes, Wishes Mami (or best-case scenario Sayaka and Kyoko as well) back to life, and all the girls work together to destroy Wally. Homura is upset that Madoka still became a MG, but Madoka says that it’s her choice. All the girls will have to be careful, but knowing the risks of despair on their Soul Gems (and the other two/four keeping an eye on Mami so she doesn’t go all Spark-Hunter on them) they work to protect their city and prevent other girls from Contracting. Eventually all the Witches are exterminated, so no need to use up their Soul Gems anymore, they are locked away. Show ends with all three/five girls walking to class, another chance at normal lives. (Was just about to post this when I got the unpleasant realization that this is impossible. "Lock away the Soul Gems"? Wouldn't work. Damn. Ok, so best-case scenario the girls actively avoid using magic, but they still have to carry around this reminder. Still leagues better than where they are now, but... damn, even when I try to come up with a Good ending Urobuchi blocks me. ) (Feels Ending) Homura attempts to fight Walpurgisnacht on her own. Madoka intervenes, makes a Wish that Homura doesn’t hear, and destroys Walpurgisnacht. With her last words before she turns into a Witch, she asks Homura to not give into despair, and keep trying. Homura travels to another timeline, but when she gets there her shield shatters and her Soul Gem disappears. And when she gets to school, Madoka is nowhere to be found. (Urobutcher Ending) Madoka is about to go and try to help Homura, when her mother stops her with several men in uniform. Madoka is taken away for questioning about Sayaka, while the police car is stuck in traffic Walpurgisnacht attacks and destroys the car in passing. Homura tries to fight Walpurgisnacht, but loses like last time. Knowing that if she goes back again Madoka will be further tied up with Protagonist Potential, Homura gives up and her Soul Gem turns black. ...yep. So, so much fun coming up with these predictions. And even though for the last one I tried thinking of what could make me punch my screen, I wouldn’t bet that Urobuchi will find some way to top it. Ugh.

Still raining, scene change to a bar?

“It really does hurt, losing one of my own students this way…”

Oh. Ouch. Looks like the girl’s teacher is trying to cope. And she still doesn’t know what really happened to Sayaka, and we know that she never will. Add in a missing third-year student…

All they’ve got to go on is the fact that Sayaka was ‘quarreling’ with a friend over a boy. Aw jeez, Hitomi’s got to be in a bad spot right now, huh? Probably thinks that she drove Sayaka off? Kinda true, but not the whole story. Ten-to-one that the Incubator plans on paying a brown-haired girl a visit later.

So the cops are calling it “an accidental death, exacerbated by mental stress after running away from home.” So in other words, they’ve got no clue how she actually died. I suppose one’s soul turning into a Witch wouldn’t leave any real signs.

Oh, so Teach is talking with Mrs. Kaname! Should have realized when this convo took place in a bar. Heh, remember back when it was just jokes about Madoka’s Mom having to drink with her brotastic colleagues, and planning a coup of her department? Those were good times.

Uh oh. Mrs. Kaname’s admitting that she thinks Madoka knows something. But she also doesn’t seem like she’s lying… I think Mrs. Kaname’s thinking over that late-night advice on making a mistake for a friend. Madoka did say that a friend was getting into trouble. So much guilt being felt by all these secondary characters: Hitomi thinks she drove Sayaka away over Kamijo, Teach is worried about students going missing from school, Mrs. Kaname knew ‘a friend’ of Madoka’s was in a bad spot. Can’t say the blame falls fully on any of them, but I bet they feel like it does.

Mrs. Kaname bemoaning that for the first time, she can’t tell what Madoka is thinking. With things seeming off lately, she can tell something’s weighing on her but Madoka hasn’t talked about it. Understandable given the subject matter, but from Mother’s perspective Madoka doesn’t trust her anymore. And all she can do is trust Madoka.

Back at Homura’s place, doorbell? Oh, Madoka’s going to talk to Homura! She asks if all the floating diagrams are about Wally, says that Kyoko told her about the super-witch. Been a while since we last saw Kyoko, I can’t remember if that was onscreen on this is just establishing how Madoka could know about it.

Ah, seems Madoka’s here because she was told Wally is such a strong witch one person can’t beat it on their own. Homura was planning to team up with Kyoko… but then stuff happened. Madoka asks if Homura’s been planning on fighting it all this time, which gets an odd look from the time-traveler. Madoka rallies and asks if the city will be in danger.

Homura’s explaining that Walpurgisnacht is so powerful it doesn’t need to hide in a Labyrinth. If it manifests, thousands die. Muggles can’t see it, so they just think it’s caused by some natural disaster.

Madoka asks, or rather says that it absolutely has to be defeated… yup, Protagonist. Sorry, Homura, but I look at Madoka now and see someone who knows that there is a problem, and a way that she can help against it. With all the other girls gone, Homura will need help, so Madoka suggests that-

Homura cuts her off, insisting that she can do it on her own, claims that she never even needed Kyoko’s help. Yyyyeah, even Madoka knows that you’re bluffing. Then… oh! “I don’t know why, but I really want to believe in you, Homura. I don’t want to think that you’d lie to me.” Aw now you’ve done it Homura, you made Madoka cry. Feel the guilt. Feeeel it!

Urg, so many feels right now. Madoka’s crying because Homura is lying to her, and Homura’s clenching her fists and teeth because-

“I’m not even living in the same time that you are, Madoka!”

OUCH. Homura has broken down, rushed over and grabbed Madoka in a hug, our Protagonist is standing there very much off-guard. Cold, distant Homura is finally telling Madoka her story, that she’s from the future. That she’s met Madoka over and over, and each time had to watch her die.

“What do I have to do to save you? What do I have to do to change your fate?” She’s been redoing this month trying to find an answer. Yeah, not blaming you for your confusion Madoka, this is a big change from the Homura that you knew.

“I’m sorry… I’m not making any sense, right? I must seem horribly creepy, right?” Madoka’s known this Mysterious Transfer Student for barely a month, while Homura’s known Madoka for who knows how long. And for all Madoka is a kind and compassionate Protagonist, she really doesn’t know what do with this weepy girl.

“But to me… To me, you are…”

...well.

“The more times I redo all this, the further in time we drift from one another. Our feelings drift further apart, and my words don’t even reach you anymore. The truth is, I think I’ve been lost for a very long time now.”

“I will save you. That was the feeling that I started all of this with. And now, it is the only thing I have left to guide me.” Title drop! “It’s ok if you don’t understand. It’s ok if my words don’t reach you. But, please… Please… just let me protect you.”

...yup. That was one heck of a gut punch. I can say I understand the MadoHomu shippers now, that “To me, you are…” is all but a confession to me. However, I will still stand by my friendship interpretation because damnit my Ship of Death has killed off half the cast already, and I wanna see this girls live.

Cut to a dark and stormy sky, thunder and lightning. Some dudes are remarking that the thunderclouds are spreading at unbelievable speeds, call for an evacuation of the city. All the residents are getting ordered to their nearest shelters, and now the streets are empty.

Except for one person. A dark-haired girl in a school uniform, overlooking the water.

“It’s here.”

(For the record, as soon as I typed that the internet decided that “Eh, that’s a good place to crash”. Thankfully fixed it, but for a while there I was yelling at Wally for breaking my computer.)

Now we’re at a fancy building with lots of glass (as per the norm in this city), apparently it’s a gym of sorts that’s serving as a shelter, lots of families on green mats around the court. Not sure how much of a ‘shelter’ the building is with all the giant windows, let alone how it’s probably not Witch-proof, but better than everyone being at home I guess. Madoka’s family are at their own mat. Daw, been ages since I last saw the little brother and the Dad, Brother’s cute asking if they’re camping tonight and Dad saying it’s a great big group campout. But Madoka’s turned away from the rest of the family, clutching her knees. Taking bets on how long she lasts until she runs off to try and help, I’m giving it five minutes.

Back at Homura, colors are going monochrome, and a fog is spreading across the river. Once it reaches Homura she gives one last MST hair-flip, and starts walking. Wait, hold up, wasn’t she just behind a railing, facing the river? Is the fog a sign of warped reality so that the railing isn’t there anymore, or what?

Ah. Some sort of crayon rabbit-thing (not an Incubator, just has ears like a rabbit) just ran by Homura. Reality warping it is. And it just got stomped on by an elephant? Ok, looks like while Wally doesn’t have/need a labyrinth it does project a cirusy-vibe.

A lace curtain rises, and the music kicks in. A countdown begins. 5. 4. Buildings rise behind Homura. 2. The pastel circus passes by her. 1. Shattered buildings rise up and Walpurgisnacht looms from the clouds, an upside-down mannequin in a flowy dress with giant gears above.

The Future has arrived. Walpurgisnacht is here.

Homura launches into a quick transformation sequence (is this the first time we’ve seen her transform?), clicks her shield… and whoa that’s a lot of rocket launchers. No seriously, I am seeing dozens of RPGs and bazookas set up around her, how long did it take her to gather all of these?

So yeah, Homura’s starting off by freezing time and blasting dozens of explosives at Wally. Who just laughs a creepy echoey laugh and floats off breathing technicolor flames as Homura now runs about triggering mortars. That likewise seem to do no damage. Dang, even Homura’s early pipe bombs could destroy a Witch quickly, what’s Walpurgisnacht made of? Alright, will collapsing some metal towers on the Witch work? Nope. Now… do I hear a truck?

Abridged!Dio: “Look what I’ve got!”

Ok, the explosions keep coming as Homura drives a freaking tanker up the bridge into Wally’s face. And then ok what the hell, is that a sub? Did Homura just launch a freaking missile into this Witch? Half a dozen missiles? And then two that ram Wally into the industrial area? Sorry Mami, but as impressive as it was to see you summon a company-worth of muskets, I think Homura has you beat in firepower here.

Argh, but even after getting hit by friggin missiles Walpurgisnacht is still inta- oh, that’s a bomb. Oh, that’s a lot of bombs. OH, that’s a shitton of bombs!

But the music’s not stopping. It sounds like it’s building up, even. Aw crap, are you telling me that THAT wasn’t enough? Homura just blasted this thing into a building practically made of bombs, what more do you want?!

Crap, yeah. Homura just got struck by some sort of starry-whip, and Walpurgisnacht appears no worse for wear. Homura, I really hope you’ve got some more firepower stashed away.

All these explosions are shaking the shelter, Madoka’s parents are looking up at the ceiling worriedly and not saying anything. Madoka’s still off to the side, clutching her- wait, she just stood up. And said that she’s going to the bathroom. *Checks time, just under 3 minutes* Damn, even faster than I guessed.

Madoka’s looking out the (probably not storm-proof) giant glass windows at the pouring rain, and for crying out loud the Incubator is perched on the railing. She asks it if Homura was telling the truth about being able to face Wally on her own, the Incubator asks if she’d believe it anyways if it told her no. “At this point, explanations are pointless. You should go and see for yourself. See how well Homura Akemi is faring against Walpurgisnacht.” Manipulative to the end, aren’t you you little jerk.

It then proceeds to frankly say that Homura hasn’t given up hope yet. If she loses, then she can still turn back time, restart this ‘meaningless’ chain of events over and over. Because it’s no longer possible for her to stop or give up.

“The moment she acknowledges that everything she has done is pointless, and your fate is impossible to change, Homura Akemi will fall into despair and turn into a Grief Seed.”

Aw hell. The Urobuchi’s setting up Ending #3, isn’t he? Come on Homura, don’t fall to despair! You can’t give up on Madoka, even if you fail again this time you could still save the Madoka in the next timeline!

“So you’re saying that as long as she continues to hope, she can’t be saved?”

...no. No no NO. Do NOT do this to me, Urobuchi! I am begging you, do NOT make Ending #2 happen either! It doesn’t matter if Madoka Wishing for Homura to not be trapped in her quest to save Madoka would end the problem, if we end with either both girls dying or Madoka Wishing Homura free from the time loops, I am going to scream. Damn it, cut these girls a break!

Damn it. Madoka has dried her tears and is walking away. Either to lichdom to save another or to her death, I do not know. But away she goes.

Holy crap, Mom out of nowhere! She just grabbed Madoka’s hand.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Aw shoot, she’s confronting Madoka. If I see people in uniform show up I am going to break something.

Madoka says that she has to go save a friend, but Mother cuts her off and says to leave it to the firefighters. You know, the guys with rescue training that a middle-school girl doesn’t have.

Our Protagonist insists that it has to be her- oh! Mother just slapped her. “You don’t live your life just for yourself, understand?!”

But Madoka understands. She knows how much her mother and father care, because she loves her family too. And in order to protect them and her friend, she has to go somewhere else now.

Damn, props to Mother. Even not knowing everything that’s going on, even with such a terrible ‘storm’ outside, she says that she’s going with Madoka if she’s leaving. But Madoka says no, that she needs to stay and makes sure Father and Tatsuya stay safe.

“Mom, you told me you had raised me well. I don’t tell lies (*beyond not explaining Magical Girls*). I don’t do bad things. Will you believe in me now? Will you trust that I’ll do what’s right?”

Mother raises a hand. And then lowers it. And then launches Madoka forward with a pat on the back. Got to admit, for a second I thought that Madoka was going to fall down the stairs. What a way to end the show, right? But no, it’s a heartwarming moment between mother and daughter.

Back to Terrible Things! Walpurgisnacht is heading deeper into the city, Homura chasing while being surrounded by laughing starry MG-silhouettes. And of course Wally is heading for the shelter, as if this wasn’t bad enough already. If you’ve got anything left Homura, now’s the time to use it!

Um. Ouch. A building to the face has got to smart.

Aw crud, Homura’s foot is trapped. Is she…? Yup, she’s grabbing her shield, preparing to reset again. But if she goes back again, Madoka will get more tied up in MG potential.

No. No no no nope uh-uh NO. You do not get to give up now, Homura. You are not going to go Ending #3 and make Madoka have to fight two friggin Witches. Do NOT give up! No no NO

Madoka’s here.

“That’s enough. You’ve done enough, Homura.”

The music from the Future Dream/secondary credits has just started. The Incubator walks up beside Madoka.

“Madoka… you didn’t…!”

“Homura… I’m sorry.”

And credits.

After-credits picture of all five magical girls.

“If someone says it’s wrong to have hope, then I’ll tell them they’re wrong, every single time. And I know I’ll always tell them so.”

Final Episode: My Very Best Friend

*phew* Ok, we got way too close to Ending #3 there for me. And it’s clear that Madoka is going to make a Contract and become a MG to fight Walpurgisnacht. The only question now is what she’s going to Wish for.

I have to re-evaluate #2 now, given the after-credits line about Madoka always saying it’s wrong to give up hope. I can’t see someone who says that ending Homura’s quest, even with good intentions. So it’s more likely that Madoka will make the Wish about this timeline and just give Homura the inspiring speech, that just because this timeline didn’t work out that doesn’t mean she should give up on the future. So maybe a Wish like “I Wish I had the power to save this city from Walpurgisnacht”, or best-case “I Wish for my friends back to help me fight Walpurgisnacht”, and when Madoka runs out Homura leaves for the next timeline. And so we end with another failure, but hope that someday Homura will succeed.

*Sigh* Well, whatever happens next, bittersweet or just bitter, it’s been a trip. Thank you all for joining me in this WMTW, I will hope beyond hope that Homura will find peace someday.

#wmtw #where my twin watches #ranubis #pmmm #puella magi madoka magica #pmmm 11

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