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jq37 · 3 years

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The Case File – Mice and Murder Ep 4

The Case of the Puzzling Painting

Welcome back to Loam Hall where our Sylvan Sleuths are still hanging out in a room with a dead body. When we left off, Gangie had been snooping into Sly’s conversation about Fletcher Cottonbottom and now, he uses his Criminal Contacts feature to see what he knows, if anything, about a recent return. With a 26 he knows that his family used to be well respected but after the whole business with the insurance fraud and Sly busting it, the family kind of fell out of favor. So Fletcher was in a weird position where he was rich and a part of high society and had enough dirt on everyone to get them to do things for him but couldn’t actually show his face because he was disgraced. Gangie also knows that it’s rumored that Fletcher’s weapons running scheme was actually a front for moving art.

With regard to more recent news about Fletcher, Gangie was never in direct contact with him but he knows that 3-4 years ago, his most trusted henchmen started going missing--people attributed it to some kind of “Cottonbottom Curse” and that rumor is part of why Gangie decided to get out of dodge in the first place.

Buck does an insight check on the rest of the PCs and, with an 18, doesn’t clock anyone there as especially suspicious (Lars isn’t there but like..it’s Lars). Ian tries to give Squire Badger his last rites but ends up pulling the knife out, putting it back in, flapping blood everywhere with his feathers, and sending Constance into a badger rage. Buck tries to help smooth over things, claiming his big screw up was a new style of avant garde church ritual (Ian appreciates the support--who ministers to the ministers, you know?) and in the process sees his knife for the first time. Which, you know. He obviously suspected before but never nice to see.

While this is going on, Daisy sneaks off to try and check on the secret door and everyone sees her do it/eventually follows her but we’ll get back to her once we check in with Lars who is en route to the kitchen. Once in the hallway, they do a perception check and, on a 15, there are 3 doors and Ally gets to pick one. There’s a kitchen where Gilfoyle is talking to a group, a door where someone is crying behind it, and a door where they can hear nothing. Ally, the galaxy brained genius, goes for the quiet door. That’s the money door and with their ears pressed against the door, they can hear Edwina and Carolyn--the two mice maids that overheard Buck’s conversation with the Badger--whispering about what happened there and wondering if they should pay back the money they were paid to by Buck.

Gilfoyle walks out and sees Lars snooping but on a Nat 20 deception check, Lars is able to play dumb and skate by suspiciousness. Also, with a dirty 20 perception check, when the mice maids leave, Lars sees that they’ve been stealing silverware.

OK, back to Daisy who is getting to the séance room as quickly as possible. She has two rounds before people catch up to her so she’s trying to make the most of it by Investigating the painting she noticed was bolted to the wall earlier. She first rolls an 11, getting no new information. This is so frustrating to her. She’s good at this dammit! But being around Sly is rattling her terribly. She has feelings for him--strong ones. But she isn’t herself around him. How can she be with him if he makes her so unlike herself? Her introspection is enough to earn her advantage from Brennan on her second roll and boom! 25! Daisy is back.

With that roll, she notices that the eyes in the painting actually move and can be used as a spying post on the other side. Then Sly runs in and they start bickering immediately. Daisy throws a crystal ball at him and absolutely brains him on a nat 20--the first combat roll of this very RP oriented season.

Buck and Ian are still in the room with the body for the moment and Buck asks Ian about the first few names on the list Gangie gave him. There were a bunch of members of the Burrows family--a working class family that all died of a consumptive illness. And then the Diggories who died in a carriage accident. The connecting thread? All badgers. Buck then zooms away to follow Daisy, Ian follows, and Lars, seeing them as they leave the kitchens, also follows.

So all the PCs are in the séance room now and they kinda have the sense of, “OK y’all, we’re all screwed but we’re al screwed together so we better throw our lot in with each other and start working together so we don’t die because no one else here is on our side.” Buck proposes an alliance and they all agree to share info. Sly asks about Buck’s knife and Buck admits it’s his but says he didn’t do it. Sly believes him--not because he wouldn’t do it but because he has no motive (that he knows about anyway. Buck doesn’t spill about the contract).

Gangie shares the list of names from before with the whole group.It’s like half badgers and then some other critters (full list here). Sly doesn’t share any of his secret info Grant got texted. Daisy and Buck don’t share about the key (though Sly you’ll remember sat her steal it). Buck does however mention his suspicion about the fact that Gilfoyle wasn’t around when Squire Badger gave his speech and Daisy does the same about the fact that he said he would call the cops but the cops haven’t arrived yet. Lar’s remembers that Jez’s husband is gunning for at seat in parliament and wonders if this is related somehow. Daisy mentions the eyes in the painting and everyone is like way to bury the lede dude! Especially when they’ve just all spilled their secrets. Everyone checks on the painting and with a 25 Gangie can intuit that this is probably used to spy on rich people when they’re mid-séance and vulnerable and spilling secrets (which he doesn’t share but Daisy comes to a similar conclusion on her own). Buck on a 23 can smell ledgers (idk how but the DM said so and I’m reporting it) and guesses that that’s where the Squire’s real office is which means that’s probably where the contract he needs to find and destroy is too.

The group makes a list of their loose ends which are what’s on the other side of the painting, what’s up with Fletcher, and the smell of ozone. Plus Ian remembers that the date on the bust in the study is wrong and shares with the class.

Lars tries to get to the other side of the room by ripping the painting off the hinges with a very impressive 26 but there is fully a wall behind it and the noise brings Gilfoyle, Harding, and the Badger kids running. Lars notes that in the stone behind the painting it says “⅓” and then hurriedly puts the painting back. Daisy thinks that might refer to a secret third floor or basement accessible by the elevator (but my first thought was that there were 2 other spying paintings in the house somewhere).

Everyone in the room hears the Gilfoyle and co. coming and try to act natural. There is a group stealth check that they all tank so heavily that all the suspicious staff and kids need to do to suss them out is roll above a 5.

AND THEY ROLL A TWO.

With that, Lucretia appears, totally buys that they’re doing very important spiritual work in there, and in fact guards the door for them. They use the privacy bought by their very vigilant sentry to plan their next steps. Sly, Daisy, and Ian will check out the study while they rest of them check out the elevator. As they exit, Lucretia asks if they got the answers they needed out of the spirits.

Oh yes, says Daisy, echoing Lucretia’s nonsense prediction from last episode. Either something good or bad might happen. Either way, I’m excited!

Case Notes

How baller of a player move is it to say a line so poignant that the DM is forced to let you roll with advantage? I have been on the other side of that as the DM and it’s so great. MAD respect to Rekha for that. AND THEN THE DICE COOPERATED. You simply love to see it.

The other best Rekha line is Daisy to Sly upon being called out about stealing the key in his normal, coy, quippy way: You saw me bitch.

Shout out to Grant also for being constantly on as Sly. The guy is on point always. Impeccable.

I am SO SO SO happy Daisy and Sly are on the same mission team. If I was friends with either of them I’d be like, “This is a toxic relationship, they make you too crazy.” But as an outside viewer I want them to be within crystal ball throwing distance always.

The question I’m sure we’re all asking: Is Brennan enough of a minx to invoke the butler did it trope? I know everyone at the table is thinking it even if none of them have said it outright. I figured the reason the cops haven’t showed up yet was the storm but who knows?

Two pieces of housekeeping, only Buck and Gangie know what the room behind the painting is with their high rolls and, after the bit of passing it back and forth with Buck, Daisy has the key.

I really can’t do the bit about Gangie’s mom justice. I wish there was a comedy Emmy for actual play DnD shows so D20 could get the accolades it deserves just for that bit.

Brennan indicated that the conversation between the mice maids was the most interesting info (Gilfoyle convo to staff was too public to be juicy/they could get the info from one of the many gathered staff people and crying is info on its own--though I am curious about who the crying person was) but I’m wondering what he meant by that. Because the fact that Buck paid them might be interesting if Buck did it. But we know he didn’t. Is it the fact that they were in the room at all? Again, info that the party knows if not Lars specifically. The fact that they were stealing silverware? What’s Brennan’s game here?

#dimension 20 #dimension 20 spoilers #mice and murder #mice and murder spoilers #the case file

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hypnoticwinter · 3 years

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Down the Rabbit Hole part 34

“Roan?” Elena repeats. “I thought I heard – Roan? Are you - ?”

I’ve dropped the radio. I kneel and fumble at it with my nervous hands. My breath is coming too quickly and my nose is plugging and hot tears are welling in my eyes. I reach up and slap the quick-release on the helmet and it clatters to the ground, leaving a wet thud ringing in my ears as it squashes into a fatty outcropping of flesh pooling on the third step down.

“El-Elena,” I mumble. My fingers are sweating so badly inside the suit gloves that I can’t push down the transmit button.

“Roan?” Elena asks again. All of the sudden cheer that had burst in her voice like a newborn sun when she had heard me calling her name is rapidly draining out of it. “Roan, is that – is that you?”

I can’t bear to listen to the agony in her voice, I have to, I have to push this fucking button…

I rip the glove off with my teeth and squeeze the radio tight enough that the hard plastic cuts into the soft flesh of my thumb. “Elena,” I say. I swallow hard and then try again. “Elena, I’m here. It’s me. I came down to get you.”

For a moment I hear nothing, just the crackling hiss of static and, a little muffled but still audible, the wailing of the siren down in the baths. “Elena?” I ask, trying not to let terror creep into my voice. What if something happened and right now she’s –

The radio squawks and inside it I can hear a sob. “Roan,” she manages to get out, “Roan, y-you came back?”

“To get you, yes,” I tell her. I can’t stop smiling or crying. I want terribly to hold her. “I’m coming to get you, don’t worry.”

“You should have stayed –“

“I wasn’t going to leave you,” I tell her softly. “I’m never going to leave you. I promise. I’m going to get you out. But Elena, where –“

“I’m at DUSA,” she says.

“At DUSA?” I ask, stupidly.

The autodoctor unit. Of course.

“Yeah,” she says. I hear her sniff. “It’s a – well, it’s sort of a secret installation down here where they –“

“I know what it is, I was there just seven or eight hours ago.”

“You were here?”

“Yeah, Makado came down to get me so I could take the fall for her, but I was pretty fucked up so she had to get me to DUSA so she could use the autodoc to heal me and set my leg and –“

I hear Elena splutter for a moment. “You used all the ballast? That was you?”

“Yes, Makado threw me in it, I was poisoned and I’d been breathing spores and it was – it was a lot. Listen to me, I remember seeing it when she took me out, I know there was ballast left in it, are you okay? Was it able to fix that gunshot wound?”

“It got the bullet out,” she says, “but there wasn’t enough left to heal it fully. It’s –“

“Are you okay?” I blurt, feeling a sudden clench of desperation in my gut. “Elena, are you - ?”

“I’m okay,” she tells me, “I’m okay, but I need to see a real doctor. Soon. I was down in the pleasure domes, or what’s left of them, for a while, but there are a lot of fucking critters down there and I needed to get the bullet out and I couldn’t – I couldn’t make myself do it with a knife. So I –“

“Okay,” I tell her. “Okay, I’ll come get you and we can haul ass all the way back up and get you to a doctor.”

“Roan, you –“ I hear a note of steel return to her voice. “No, I’m okay. I need to just rest a little and then I can try to make my way back up. If you got hurt or if you died –“

“No!” I bark. I wipe my eyes and sniff hard. “No,” I say, a little calmer. “I came this far to get you, I am not going to turn around now.”

“What do I do if you die?” she says. For the first time, I can hear fear in her voice. “What do I do, huh? If I know that you died down here, got eaten by a triocanth or a shamble or something, because of me?”

“What do I do if you do?” I murmur, and for a long while, long enough that I check to make sure my radio hasn’t died, Elena is silent.

“I thought you were going to be safe,” Elena says finally. “When I said goodbye to you two days ago I thought you would be safe. I got to a call box as soon as I could and told Makado what was going on and she said she would send a team down and get you out. I thought –“

“That bitch,” I spit. “She came straight down here and –“

“Hang on, what did she set you up with? What do you mean –“

I blow out my breath. “Look,” I tell her. “It’s a long story and we don’t have any time. I’ll tell you everything on the way up. I’ll be down to get you, I don’t – I don’t know if I can make it today but I’m going to try. I’ll be there.”

“I’m okay here for now,” she reminds me. “You don’t have to rush, I’m okay. If you want to go back up to the surface and –“

“That just – that isn’t an option right now. Just trust me. Please?”

“Okay. Do you even know how to get down here?”

“I have a map, I can figure it out,” I bluster. I’m tapping at the map trying to orient myself but the three-dimensional model is just giving me a headache.

“Are you sure? The map can be a little tricky –“

“I think I’ve got it. I’m at the ballast bulbs right now so –“

“You’re at the bulbs? Roan, be careful, there’s a fucking enormous siren down there.”

I laugh a little wryly. “Already found it, thanks.”

“Okay. Just – be careful, you know? They can be really nasty.”

“Don’t worry, I made it all this way, I’m not going to let myself get eaten.”

“Okay, but –“

“Elena,” I tell her. “It’ll be okay. I promise.”

“I – okay.”

“I’m going to head out. Call me if you need anything, alright?”

“Alright, Roan. I – “

I glance down at the radio and then set my helmet back down again. “Yeah?”

“Nothing. I’ll tell you when you get here.”

“If it’s something important –“

“It is important,” she says. Somehow, through the static, I get the sense that she’s smiling. “But I’ll tell you when you get here. Out,” she adds, before I can reply, and then the line collapses into a crackly hiss of interference. I get to my feet, snap my helmet back on, and start to climb.

* * *

I don’t make it very far before I have to stop and sit down and spend a solid twenty minutes poring over the map to try and actually figure out how the hell I’m going to get down to DUSA from here. I’m no slouch when it comes to maps, I never had trouble reading an interstate map or one of those horrible little area maps you pay out the nose for when you go camping – really camping, that is – but something in my brain just isn’t clicking with the loopy, curvy 3-D model of the Pit displayed on the screen embedded in the arm of the suit.

Part of the issue is that I have no sense of scale. With a little fumbling I can pull up a scale, and then with more fumbling I can use a tool that tells me the distance between two points and will construct a route between them, but trying to use it takes forever, and whenever the line crosses one of the hazy sections on the map where the coverage is either spotty or nonexistent, it screams flashing red warnings at me and won’t let me path my way through those areas. The jargon it uses is intense and multisyllabic. That area there is blocked due to an ambulatory hematomid cluster, whatever that is, this giant hazy spot that looks like an octopus is extremely dangerous due to an outbreak of seven-legged mortuary mites, that spot there is blocked off by a bile geyser eruption (ongoing)…everywhere I look there are errors and warnings and tags and it’s all a bit overwhelming.

If I find DUSA and try to path my way there directly it kicks up about a dozen errors relating to dangerous zones that it’s trying to go through. Begs the question why it can’t just path around them, but there can’t be that much computing power in the thing – maybe it’s easier to have it just kick up an error and make the ranger in the suit figure out how to go around it.

I’m sweating in this horrible suit, even with the climate control kicked up all the way. It’s probably because I’m still breathing outside air. The suit has air tanks so you can turn it into a closed-circuit if you really need to but the tanks are small and I don’t want to waste them. The air intakes go through a filter but even so you can still smell and taste and feel the Pit on it. It’s easy to imagine it coating your throat as you breathe, sending little fruiting blossoms up in the bronchial jungle of your lungs. Something about the image makes me shudder and I shake my head, frown at the map, bring my two fingers together and send it whizzing past the point I wanted to examine. I let out a muffled curse and drag it back to where I wanted to look – the thing is so damn sensitive that even the slightest motion will make the viewpoint do a 360, and then getting control back from there is an exercise in patience.

I wipe my sweaty fingers on the thick orange rubber of my thigh and then resume tapping. I think I’ve almost got it, if I path here first to avoid this annoying blob labeled [signal lost, presumed total muscular infarction] and then down to here, I can –

There is a quiet, subtle noise behind me and I freeze. All of a sudden I can hear my very, very loud heartbeat throbbing heavily in my ears, and it occurs to me just how quiet it is. Sure there are drips and drops and, someplace far off, the groan of stretched, anguished muscle, but right here at the upper landing of the stairs, it’s absolutely still.

I turn slowly and scan the red, inflamed-looking passage leading back the way Fumi and I had came. Nothing is immediately apparent; no big scary monster sneaking up on me, no Leechman peeking his throbbing, writhing head around the corner like Mike Myers.

“Huh,” I mutter. The sound had been almost too quiet to hear but something about its tone had made me prick my ears up – a sort of subtle, wet slipping sound. It was a guilty sound, a sound that immediately made me think whatever had made it hadn’t wanted me to hear it.

Or perhaps my already frayed nerves are giving way a little further. God, it’ll be a miracle if I come out of this without PTSD or something similar. The last time I managed to get some sleep, back in DUSA, I had woken with the fading aftershock of a nameless dream still stamped into my mind, but it had departed quickly and I hadn’t remembered much of it until now. Even now I don’t, but I remember that it had to do with leeches. And Peter – god, poor Peter…

It hadn’t even felt real, when we had happened upon him, down there in the dark, I hadn’t felt like I was there, I felt like I was watching it all happen from a great distance away. When Erica had shone her flashlight on Peter’s face and I had seen the – I had seen the wreckage the leeches had left of it, I felt as though I were going to go –

There’s the sound again.

I whip around, rising into a low crouch, my hand darting down to the holster slung low along my thigh, and when I remember that I had lost the pistol down in the ballast bulbs I try to ignore the icy stab of fear piercing upwards into my throat like a fishhook. Part of me wants to freeze, part of me wants to scream, out of terror and frustration and exhaustion, but I push them both back down and force myself to reach down the other side of my belt and grab the long savage bowie knife from its streamlined scabbard. The edge catches the light as I draw it and it makes an exaggerated swish, the air parting across the blade as I transfer it to my right hand.

I still don’t see anything unusual down the passage. It’s returned to the same level of stillness as before, the same utter, eerie silence. All the way up here I can’t hear the ballast siren any more, its screams are smothered by the overwhelming weight of flesh above us. I shine my flashlight carefully along the ceiling, along the walls, along the floor. There isn’t –

Something I had initially thought was a weird little polypous growth about head-height up on the left wall opens a set of six faceted eyes and looks at me, and my mouth drops open because I know what this is, I know what is about to happen, but the knowledge isn’t enough to save me. The triocanth bursts from its bored-out hide in the wall, trailing ichor and slime behind it and slams like a football straight into my chest. I think I feel a rib creak under the sudden pressure, and I stumble and fall flat on my ass, the air whooshing out of my lungs and leaving me gasping.

It fixes one tentacle like a whip around my left wrist and crunches the other one inward around my neck, but before it can do more than tug itself forward against me I slam the knife six inches deep into its abdomen, the force knocking it sideways and tugging me after it. It vomits a frothy purple bile all down my front, its tentacles writhing in shock, and then slowly its dull eyes turn even duller and the rhythmic slap of the tentacles slows to a writhing stop.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” I murmur to myself. I try to haul the thing off of me but its blood has made it slippery and I end up completely covered in it before I can finally toss its weighty carcass off of me and get to my feet. I look down at myself, down at the thing, the hilt of my knife sticking straight upwards like a morbid Excalibur, and then pop the helmet’s quick release and vomit.

“God damn,” I murmur when I’m done. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and watch it tremble. Even when I make a fist there’s still a little shudder there, a little shakiness. A week ago I was fine, I was rock-solid.

Fuck.

I move on. There are arteries and canals and veins and chutes. Some of them have stuff inside, gunk and blood and lymph and other nameless substances that I can do little more than wrinkle my nose at and wade through, while others are crinkled and lifeless and dry.

My leg hurts. It’s a dull, bone-deep ache and just the harbinger of something worse, but its throbbing reminds me that I really only have a limited window to go down and get Elena and get her out. If I stay too long I’ll end up as something’s dinner, I’m sure of it.

Sometimes I see things, down here in the dark, in the tubes and tunnels and vast fleshy protuberances I travel through. The marker on the HUD in the helmet will blink right on top of a wiry, long-limbed copepod (the lesser variety, thankfully), staring at me with a baleful look, but nothing has been brave enough to try me, everything so far has sized me up and then turned and scuttled or crawled or slithered the other way.

It’s an environment that reminds me a lot of the nature documentary I watched that one time over at Thor’s place about the very bottom of the ocean. Something something Abyss. Enter the Abyss? I forget. It had a British man with a soothing voice narrating, but not David Attenborough, because I know his voice and it was someone else.

Everything down there is an optimization monster because there’s such little resources available. Something like a shark wouldn’t be able to survive at that depth, even if you ignore the pressure that would squish it, there isn’t enough energy for a big alpha predator like that. Everything is waiting in ambush, black and midnighted and serrated. It made me shiver a little, watching the crabs clustering over a whale carcass that had fallen all the way down, watching the black, invisible fish that are ninety percent teeth, floating and floating until they happen to spot something or something happens to spot them.

Here is the same, just the same, everything is so – so desperate here. Or perhaps that’s just how I perceive it; I’m sure to one of these overgrown lice there’s no desperation, just calculation and analysis and arithmetic. Can I eat this or will it eat me? Do I have enough energy to just sit here motionless and wait for something stupid enough to walk beneath me or do I have to actually hunt?

It seems like a very clean sort of life but not one I have the stomach for.

I make it to the ranger station I had waypointed at nine at night. At least that’s what the suit tells me; as far as I know it could be three in the afternoon and I’d never be able to tell. The only thing that matters to me is that I’m dog tired. I’ve dodged three (fairly halfhearted) copepod attacks, noticed and avoided two more triocanths, stopped and hit to let a bumble of macrobacteria pass by, and once stood stock-still and trembling as a massive shadow, lit by the pale red glow of – of something, I don’t know what – slipped past, projected on the wall before me, all many-legged and sinuous and nameless. I didn’t know what it was, only that it was big and that it awoke some kind of primal fear within me that I desperately, desperately wanted not to confront.

But it passed me by. And who knows, I reason, thinking of the enormous slimy lizards, lurking down at the bottom of the Pit, feasting on the toxic mushrooms, perhaps it was some sort of bottom-feeder, some kind of thing that just lives off the Pit itself.

I’d seen things like that, here and there, not quite as common as I might have otherwise expected, considering I’m inside an enormous edible environment. There are things like ticks, bloated and heaving, suckered onto one of the pale blue veins that crisscross the Pit’s innards in wavy spiderwebbed patterns, great clusters of them like bunches of hideous grapes, swaying gently with the motion of, I discovered to my horror, their lapping suction at the Pit’s veins. I would occasionally see one or two of them, sated, unhook themselves and scuttle downwards on chitinous legs, their bulbous abdomens bobbing like balloons in the wind, and scurry off to some hidden cranny to hide and digest.

Maybe the Pit’s flesh is just poisonous, or gamy, or…or whatever. Otherwise you’d think this place would be an Eden, or at least a kind of Eden. Eden for the copepods. If they could just pluck a handful of flesh out of the wall and chow down, why bother being that big? Why bother being so cantankerous? Why bother being intelligent? No, it makes sense that the Pit’s flesh isn’t edible except for a couple of these strange little bottomfeeders. And then things eat the bottomfeeders, and things eat the things, and bigger things eat the other things, and…

The ranger station looms ahead of me and I cast my flashlight warily over it. It looks as though it hasn’t seen human habitation since way before 2007. Maybe it hasn’t; maybe it’s just been abandoned, ditched for being too out of the way and hard to get to and so on. There’s grime on the thick safety windows and an enamel-like coating of hardened slime on the sterile grey surfaces. The exposed metal of the beams is rusted to shit, and it looks as though it’s about to collapse if I breathe on it wrong.

I shove the door open, crumpling a horrible crinkly film of ichor behind it, pivoting on squealing, rusted hinges, and move through two dusty, disheveled rooms before I find a serviceable cot waiting for me. I had been expecting that I’d have to sleep on the grimy, moldy floor, but if there’s a bed I can use instead I’m all for it. I’m dog tired, bone tired, and though I had initially planned to just power through it and make it down to DUSA today without having to take any breaks, the deeper down I went the more obvious it became that that was just not going to happen.

I peel out of the suit, down to my panties and my tank top, and then I fiddle with the radio, squawk it on and off. “Elena,” I say. “Elena, come in.”

I wait. Five, ten, fifteen seconds. There’s a little pinprick of fear down deep in my gut but I smother it. “Elena?” I ask again. The radio blares static back at me.

“It’s okay,” I murmur, staring at the radio. “It’s okay,” I tell myself. “She’s asleep, or there’s no signal, or…”

I look away from the three full bars of signal displaying in the upper right corner of the LCD screen on the radio’s front. “Fuck,” I murmur.

I call her name two more times before I give up. She just isn’t there, I reason.

Nothing to panic about.

I fall into the cot and sneeze as it kicks up a cloud of dust. I lay there for a while, trying to get the worry out of my system, before I flick my eyes down to the door and get up again, wedge a chair underneath the doorknob. I look around at my things, holding the flashlight loosely in my left hand, and then settle with leaving the knife underneath the pillow and the flashlight on the floor right by the bed, right where I can reach it. I crawl again into the cot. I think briefly about masturbating so I can get to sleep more quickly but after a few experimental gropes at my breasts I conclude that turning myself on would be more effort than it’s worth.

I shut my eyes and try to think of nothing, but I keep worrying about Elena. It’s pitch-black in here without the flashlight and so I can barely tell the difference between shutting my eyelids and leaving them open. I wonder briefly if I could sleep with them open but then I realize my eyes would dry out and shut them again. Plus, of course, it takes too much energy to just hold them open…

Elena.

God, if I get down there tomorrow and she’s – she’s gone, I’m going to –

In the dark I let my lips curl back in a silent snarl of laughter. I’m going to what? What’s the end of the sentence? I’d kill myself? Pathetic. Even when I thought I had HIV and I…well, I guess I still have HIV. I’d just sort of pushed it out of my mind. Ironic.

I’d toyed with the thought, of course, back when I got the letter. That same sort of weighty finality shifting heavily, like a center of gravity too far over an edge. But ultimately I’d realized I was too much of a coward to ever go through with something like that, or that if I did work up the nerve to give it a shot I’d just take a bottle of Advil, wash it down with a glass of wine and fall asleep in the bathtub after giving myself a small scratch on the wrist with a dull knife. Or would the Advil actually kill me? I don’t know. Somehow I doubt it but I don’t know. It’d be ineffectual and pathetic and a cry for help and attention, that’s all, and I’d hate myself when I woke up the next morning.

I can’t tie myself to Elena, even if I want to. Whenever I love someone my impulse is to offer everything up to them to make them better while asking nothing in return but I can’t keep doing that. If she dies I have to live, out of – out of sheer bloody-mindedness, I guess.

I yawn.

It’s all so ridiculous. Get a grip, Roan. Either she’s dead or she isn’t. If she isn’t, great. If she is, have a cry and then drag yourself out of here. It’s so callous but it’s what you’d end up doing. Even if you really do love her you’re not going to play Juliet to her Romeo and dagger yourself at the end of the play. Or does Juliet poison herself? I don’t remember.

I shift in the bed, roll over onto my side. My leg twinges warningly and I freeze, holding it still, and then carefully maneuver it away so it has space to itself.

I want to burst into tears at the very thought of her even possibly being dead, despite my hard-edged nitrogen queen pep-talk. Instead I fall asleep.

* * *

In the dream I’m falling into a very deep pit. I can’t see the sides of it and the light at the mouth is far too dim for me to really make out anything at all, but I know I’m falling, I can feel the lurch of it in my gut, the way I reflexively seize up. I get the sense that I’m falling toward something, there’s a sense of impendingness hurtling at me like a brick wall across a highway. I want to try and twist over onto my back so I can at least see it coming but halfway through the motion I stop myself, wondering if it might be worse if I can see it coming.

I’m in that weird sort of half-state where some part of me is aware that I’m dreaming but it isn’t a significant enough part to override the animal inside of me that thinks that it’s really truly falling to its death.

I slowly force myself to turn, and there below me is a vast plain of slowly writhing leeches, black and inky and horrible, leaving castings of slime on each other as they slop endlessly across the hidden ground. There is a crack of thunder and I scream, and for a moment I think that that is what brings me crashing awake, the sound boiling up out of my throat, but as my brain hurriedly clears the cobwebs from its sleep-dulled senses, I realize very quickly that what I had thought was thunder was really the crash of the chair being knocked to the floor and the creak of the door slipping open. My heart leaps up into my throat instantly but I resist the urge to freeze. Instead I grab the knife from beneath my pillow and dart downwards to the floor next to the bed. My hands sweep over empty space for a moment before after what feels like ages I brush the flashlight with the tips of my fingers and finally gather it up and snap it on.

The beam flashes over the rugose, squamous head of a venous shamble, shoved through the gap in the door and regarding me curiously, and I scream again, getting to my feet on top of the cot. I stumble and nearly pitch sideways but I reach out and steady myself against the wall.

The shamble presses a little more of its bulk into the room, its swaying, delicate tendrils extending stealthily towards me.

This is the point where I freeze. I can feel my eyes bugging out and my voice catching in my throat as it comes even closer, the tendrils slipping up onto the bed and reaching for my foot before I manage to take a faltering step backwards. My back is against the far wall now, and I have to hunch a little to not hit my head on the bulky, crenelated ceiling. I just can’t – force myself to move, I’m absolutely terrified. It’s a miracle I haven’t wet myself like a baby. Something about the thing’s eyes is – is eating at me, there’s a tremendous depth to them, like a fifty-foot-deep vat of red gelatin, with little sparks and currents and intricacies hovering inside it. I can feel my hands shaking, I can see the cone of the flashlight shuddering as I struggle to force my traitorous muscles to move –

The tendrils wrap around my ankle and something about their shuddering, slimy touch wakes me from whatever trance I had fallen into. I can feel my lip curl in disgust. I tug my foot back once again but the shamble holds on tight. More tendrils are slithering towards my arms and legs and neck and torso and from a tiny, plated orifice something like a horrible, sucking proboscis is emerging from the middle of the shamble’s head. Its eyes are still boring into mine but something is different, something about the, about the tone of them is different, and I realize that I can -

I bring the knife sweeping up in a long, wide arc, with as much force behind it as I can muster, and slam it into the underside of the shamble’s head. The light leaves the thing’s eyes as quickly as if it were switched off, and the tendrils around my ankle and my waist fall off of me like coils of rope. There is a horrible sort of jelly leaking from the wound in its head, a great string of it shot outward and splattered onto the ceiling from the force I had used to shove the knife in.

I stand there on the cot, staring, as the thing shudders and writhes and shrivels, and then, ten minutes later, I get down and put my suit back on and retrieve my knife and I leave.

* * *

DUSA is easier to get to than I thought it would be. Although the route the suit computer plotted for me looks torturously circuitous, it turned out to be a wide, clean, spiraling ramp of sorts at a very agreeable grade, the flesh beneath seemingly encased in some kind of resin or enamel. I can feel a wide tread evenly spread in two spots all the way down, so I conclude this must have been some sort of route used to construct DUSA to begin with. The reinforcements are wide and clean and strong-looking, evenly spaced every twenty feet or so.

Once again I boggle at the sheer scale of this place. It must have taken so much effort and resources to put all of this in place, and then to lose it just because of a titanic hiccough, because of pure chance…

Two hours of walking and the suit guides me to a branching offshoot of the main route that leads me across a wide bridge over a vein, full with pounding carmine liquid, thick and sticky and glutinous, and then down a steep ramp and into the sordid, fleshy grotto that holds the cylindrical lozenge of DUSA. I’d tried to call Elena two more times on the way down, but the timbre of the static I get back is thicker. A few times I think I hear something between it, some attempt at a reply, but I can’t make it out. I abandon that after a few attempts and try to keep myself cheery by imagining how good it’ll be to see her again, to hold her again, how good her lips will feel against mine.

When my weary flashlight beam finally rakes over the stained, pitted metal of the outpost, I can feel tears coming to my eyes and for a moment, just a moment, I let myself wallow in hopelessness.

Something has stomped into the organ and torn a massive chunk out of DUSA’s side like it were nothing, left the curved blunt metal bury itself halfway into the Pit’s flesh like a knife dropped point-down. DUSA’s innards are ominously dark, but I can see lights flickering inside and for a moment, just a moment, I think I can see something moving within.

I call out for Elena at least a dozen times but nobody comes to the vast rent made in DUSA’s side to see what all the racket is. Eventually, my hands trembling with a horrible, horrible anticipation of what I might find, I force myself to go in.

Inside, DUSA is a mess. It looks as though a tornado has swept through, leaving shelves knocked onto the floor with their papery guts spilling out like crime scenes, leaving dents in the foot-thick metal walls, leaving scattered debris and mess everywhere. The crater I had climbed in through was worrying enough but seeing the trail of destruction leading down to the stairwell in the back, which itself is crushed and mangled beyond recognition, leaves me practically quivering with trepidation. I clamber down the stairs, making a hell of a racket with the clunky boot banging off the crumpled metal steps.

In the floor below me, the room with the autodoctor unit, a trail of rubble leads over to the autodoc, which itself is crushed to hard-shelled plasticky smithereens. There is someone in an orange ranger suit, standing there in the middle of the room, examining a small chunk of something. As I watch they drop it and start towards the autodoc. “Elena!” I call out, my heart leaping, and the person spins, their hand darting down to their pistol and drawing it on me. “Hey, it’s me,” I tell her, my smile losing a couple of molars. I clamber out of the staircase and come fully into the room, my hands held wide, palms out, empty. “Elena, it’s me,” I repeat.

My heart is beating very quickly. I can feel a bead of sweat trickle down the back of my neck and nestle under the lip of my tank top.

I am only just now realizing that the person ahead of me is much, much shorter than Elena.

“Yes,” Makado agrees, slipping her helmet off, revealing a set of hard, hard eyes and a mouth twisted into an ugly scowl, keeping the pistol trained on me with her other hand. “It’s you.”

Continue with Part 35

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#mystery flesh pit #writeblr #writing #alt lit #spilled ink #Michael Crichton #horror #mystery #thriller

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imnotwolverine · 4 years

Text

The Monster’s Lair - Where Wolves Cry

Vampire!Henry x Belle - multi-chapter

< Chap 10 | Chapter 11 - Where Wolves Cry | Chap 12 >

Disclaimer: Dark adult fairytale - depictions of hunting and killing, bloodlust, smut, bloody oral (f), but also fluff

Author’s note: This chapter is not Disney approved mkay? *cough* smut *cough*. May you enjoy..the hunt, fair maidens of mine! 👀Also, I totally fell in love with this absolutely gorgeous Hebrew love song ‘Evening of Roses / Erev Shel Shoshanim’ (based on a like-named poem). I’ve added a few versions of it in my playlist, listen to them if you find the time ❤️

Thank you again sweet @thelastsock, for beta’ing for me! 🌹

Word count: 5.261

Reading music: Sheku Kanneh-Mason - Evening of Roses

(Link to my Masterlist)

Late afternoon rays of sun trickled through the darkening trees. They were casting a rather pretty myriad of tiny lights on the snowy forest floor, bringing with them rich hues of orange and gold. Pretty, but not important as of right now. In this small time frame of dusk, the evening provided him a perfect moment to hunt. And today he wasn’t hunting alone. Looking over his shoulder his azule eyes found the young maiden, her large brown eyes fixed on him, unsure of how to proceed if not for his clear instructions. Good. He’d never forgive himself if anything was to happen to her. This forest was, after all, not a safe place for young maidens like her.

Gesturing her to halt, he looked left and right, his eyes and ears picking up small tremors and movements in the icy landscape. As winter had fallen, most animals were hibernating in their homes. But not all. A herd of deer was not far, and from the sound of it one of them was ripe for the taking; an inflamed hoove stood nervously on the icy ground.

*Tic-tic..tic-tic*

The poor thing wouldn’t make it through the harsh winter anyways.

The Master silenced his breathing and looked back at Belle, her breath quieting as well. On their way here the Master had explained his tactics. You see, the hunt required finesse. Knowledge. And Belle was more than curious to learn about it, her body folded snugly into his arms as he used his beastly powers to move nearly unnoticed through the snowy grove.

He had explained the way he mapped out all the animals and critters that were around. The way he studied the weather and wind. How he made sure he wouldn’t hurt an animal that would live, if not for him. And Belle listened in awe. It was both frightening and a relief to hear how well-thought out such a hunt was. How the Master tried his best to keep nature balanced. Where humans would probably hunt down all, he only took what he needed, leaving the rest of the forest to its own devices. And those devices were deadly too. On their way here he had pointed out some frost-bitten cadavers.

Nature was cruelly beautiful like that. Life and death circled around each other in an eternal dance. Old bones would bloom. And blooms would fade. Year in year out, until the end of time.

‘There is one.’ The Master whispered, gesturing Belle to get close so he could pick her up again. At first this picking up had been at best awkward. Belle had insisted on walking now she could. But the Master wouldn’t have any of that. For one, because she would probably alarm the animals - her dainty feet not as quiet as his. And for seconds. Well. He would never admit to it, but he did enjoy carrying her. Through the cold winter air he could smell the soap in her braided hair, the stiffening starch in her blouse collar and the sweetness of her warm blood.

She smelled like heaven in his arms and he wouldn’t deny himself the pleasure of having her close.

Especially not after so many centuries of loneliness.

He could remember the first time he had been truly alone. His staff gone, his wife deceased, the castle quiet..and the hunger great. It took him more than a week before he dared to admit that the food in his larder didn’t quench his thirst or hunger. With long teeth - quite literally - he would eat the cured meats, washing them away with wine. But none of these fine foods would taste, their substance ashen on his tongue and gravel in his stomach. No, he required different nourishment. And such nourishment was not found in any larder.

He had to hunt.

‘What are you thinking of?’ Belle whispered ever so quietly, her warm breath puffing in the cold air. The Master shot her a warning look to be quiet, his eyes tracking the bushes as the target was now close-by. From here he could hear the restless buzz of its heartbeat, the animal having noticed something was amiss - though thankfully not making a run for it yet. With ever-most carefulness the Master placed Belle back on her feet, making sure she wouldn’t make another sound, feet landing on already trampled snow. Gesturing she had to stay, Belle nodded, eyes glimmering with wonder as the Master sneaked away.

Oh yes, he remembered the first time he went on a hunt. It had been a mess. The animal had managed to get away, blood springing from its torn arteries. The Master had been too young during the hunts with his father, so up to that point he had never seen the death of an animal up close. He had never seen the lights die out, eyes glossing over. And never had he seen the blood spout from a struggling, convulsing heap of limbs.

The first hunt as a monster..well..it had been catastrophically bad. Yes. He had drank but a few drops of blood before he had retched it all out again, the onslaught of blood and agonizing ..lust, confusing the young Master terribly.

Lust. Fuck. He had forgotten all about it. Walking past some snow heavy branches, he could see both now. Like two worlds separated by but a thick wall of white, on his left he could see the stinted deer, her wounded leg lifted awkwardly from the cold ground. And on the right Belle, her arms wrapped around her chest, eyes not quite managing to see him through the dimness of dusk. Both knew something was there. Both couldn’t see him.

And one he would eat. One he would love. How cruelly beautiful nature was indeed.

Forgive me, he thought, before he leapt like an owl in flight onto the deer, the animal not standing a chance against the surprise of his teeth.

*snap*

With an unpitying twist of his hands he broke the animal’s neck, her eyes washing over with death’s glare. A last breath escaped her slightly agape jaw, heartbeat silencing. And apparently the sound had been enough of an indication for Belle to come, her feet crushing the fresh snow as she manoeuvred through the bushes. From the clumsy drop of her feet it was clear that her sight was waning quickly, pupils large as she noticed him.

Had it been a mistake to bring her? Probably. But there was no way back now. Clicking his nervous fangs he looked back at her, curiosity sparking on her features as she slowly crouched down, hand reaching for the deer’s soft fur.

‘She’s beautiful.’ Belle whispered, fingertips gliding down her neck before reaching the small two holes that bled a deep crimson. Hesitantly she dipped a finger in the red, tongue darting out to taste. ‘Oh.’ Belle scrunched her nose as the taste washed onto her taste buds. Tangy and tasting like old coins. Well, this proved that she wasn’t a monster just yet.

Waking from her dreamy haze, she looked back at the Master, his silhouette all she could see. But even then it was clear he was nervous; the snapping of his teeth was clearly heard. ‘You must..’ Belle swallowed harshly and pointed at the deer. The Master agreed, head dipping down to sink his teeth back in the warm neck. So succulent, soft, warm..so...hmmmm…

Fuck. He was getting aroused already. Contain yourself! Contain yourself! Not now! Just a few drops, just a few...HMMM...so tasty.

Grunting and moaning the Master feasted on his victim’s blood, hands moving out to card through the soft fur, only halting when he found her. Long cold fingers interlacing with his. Belle.

OH fuck. He couldn’t do this. With her so close. He couldn’t...GRRR...he couldn’t contain himself. Why had he been so foolish to bring her along? Why was he so weak for her? Why..?!

*cr-rack*

Shooting up, eyes and ears alert, the Master looked around. His whole body throbbed as the fresh blood washed down his throat, warming his cold veins. Supernatural strength was quickly building in his muscles and the throbbing length in his breeches was heavy against his leg. He was glad that the darkness veiled him, so Belle could not see his..condition. Then again, she could also not see what was around them. And from the sound of it..someone was here. Or better yet. Something. Oh..merde! Shit! What had he done?! Could he even protect her here, out in the open? He should have never..never..

*FLUNK*

With a loud thud he was smashed against a tree, snow falling down on his marble face, blocking his view.

What the..?

Quickly jumping on his feet he clawed at the strange intruder, loud howls screeching when he hit target. Shaking off the snow he now noticed what it was; a young new predator indeed.

Meanwhile Belle had lowered herself close to the deer. It was difficult to make out any details in the half-dark, but she had noticed the Master’s silhouette stiffen, a gentle crack heard just outside of reach. Was something there? She couldn’t be sure, and being completely out of her element and in the dusk of night, she had to trust in the Master to keep her safe.

*wooshhh*

And just like that he was gone, leaving her here, out in the open with a bleeding animal beneath her fingertips. Immediate panic started to course through her veins, heartbeat racing and fingers clutching. Darn..what was happening? Loud snaps and scratches echoed through the forest, snow falling from weighted branches before someone howled a loud cry just a few feet away from her. Belle could not make up her mind fast enough, the sounds moving further away before she could flee, her body trembling on the cold ground as she pricked her ears. But it seemed to come from everywhere. A fight. Fast and furious, two voices groaned and cried as trees staggered when their bodies crashed into them.

Wait..was that another monster? It sounded like it. What was happening? Oh, she should have never..never..never begged to come with. She…

Another bone shuddering cry reverberated through the air, covering the sound of soft footfalls until a long strong arm wrapped around her. Suffocating she started to protest, her trembling fingers pushing away a face as it breathed sharply.

‘Shhh..’

The Master’s voice. Oh thank God. He was slightly panting from the exertion as he clutched her close to his chest, strong legs making them both rise up to a standing position. Belle trembled like a leaf, terrified tears blinking in her eyes. She could not see him. But it must be him, right? Reaching out her hand again - with him flinching away slightly - she traced his jaw, nose, eyebrows. Yes, it must be him.

In the meantime the Master nervously eyed their surroundings, the eerie quiet feeling like a storm was about to burst.

‘We must go.’ He whispered, hands fumbling with her skirts so he could lift her up again. And Belle, for the first time ever, let him do so without complaints, head quick to lean into his chest as he started running, snow barely crisping beneath his speedy feet.

‘Say mama. What do you think?’ The teacup looked with expecting eyes out through the window, the night engulfing the garden in a blanket of darkness.

‘What is it, son?’ The teapot sighed, her gaze turned towards the fireplace, the flames on their way of dying out slowly. For a few hours now her son had been babbling on, launching a million questions and monologues at her exhausted ears. As children do. But she couldn’t help but see evil foreboding in the dying fire. The hour was growing late and as of yet the Master and Belle had not returned. Had something happened?

‘Well. Tis dark, you see. He said he’d return before dark.’ Her son broke through her thoughts.

The teapot sighed again. ‘I know son. I know.’ Apathetic melancholy was painting the teapot’s voice. She didn’t wish to think of what may have happened. Nothing here seemed to ever have a happy ending..so it would not be a surprise if today would be yet another dark chapter in the long history of this haunted castle.

‘OH OH! MOM MOM MOM-MOMMY-MOMMA--M-O-M! -’ The teacup bounced up from its saucer, his little arm reaching out to poke his mother in the side. ‘What?’ She grumbled. Her son’s squeaky voice lowered to a whisper;

‘I think that’s them!’

They returned?!

With a swift twirl the teapot turned on the windowsill, her eyes needing a moment to recognise the darkened silhouette of the Master, Belle in his arms. ‘Tis, indeed!’ The teapot chimed with a relieved squeal, her large body awkwardly hopping down on a tray table before landing on the floor.

‘OPEN THE DOOR!’ She exclaimed, hopping as fast as she could, awakening her fellow enchanted souls. Clocks, wardrobes, spoons and plates, they all blinked up as the teapot rushed past, her teacup son not far behind.

In the long centuries they had lived between these castle walls, there had been but few interesting events worth mentioning. In fact most of these events happened during the first months of their enchanted lives. First it had been their Master as he started turning into his monstrous self - pale skinned and agitated to a painful degree. But then it had been them who started turning. Night after night more would disappear, only to wake up the next morning in a new skin, made of wood, copper or porcelain.

It had been terrifying. Gruesome. Miserable. No longer could they fulfill their wishes of escaping from these castle grounds. No longer could they live a life of their own. And for many days, weeks, months their howling wails were heard at night, causing the Master and his wife to lose the last of their cool-headedness. They were all cursed, they were!

But then, after all had come to pass, the Master and his staff remaining.. the world quieted again. This was their new reality, their new life. And though quite boring and still somewhat frustrating, they grew accustomed to their new husks, their new traits. No longer could they do what humans can. But can you tell the time by shaking your head? Can you live without ever eating? Can you love without a heart? You probably can’t. But they could, even though their love and care was not quite so appreciated. For many long years the Master had been unwilling to be helped - resulting in his pig’s nest of a room and worn, thread-bare outfits.

With Belle’s sudden arrival, everything had changed. Days were colourful again. And the Master’s heart seemed to have warmed as well. He had not scolded Belle for entering his room. In fact, he had invited her inside. Like he was now inviting her into his heart, his soul - Psyche.

They all knew what was happening, and it excited everyone to a terribly delightful degree.

Love! Oh LOVE!

How hope bubbled with little sparks in their weary souls. How sweet - though painful - it was to reminisce about the beauty of what life could be..had been... OH...Love..Oh…

‘HMMppff.’ The Master stalked in without offering his staff a glance, brows furrowed as he stormed up the staircase, a trail of wet snow and icy wind left behind his speedy feet. In his arms he held a trembling Belle, her eyes widening with his every step as the low candle light finally revealed what damage had been done in the forest. The Master’s face was laced with a number of small scratches and bruises, his eyes wild and jaw tight.

Was he in pain? Was he worried? Angry? Belle couldn’t be sure and as of right now she didn’t dare to ask, her breath choking in her throat and her fingers wrapping around the lapels of his coat, holding on tight. What had happened? Were they safe? Questions whirled behind her cautious eyes as the Master walked into her room, careful to settle her down with restrained strength.

Belle nervously eyed the Master as he turned on his heel, his shoulders stiff and face turned towards the door. And then he just stood there for a moment. His nose sniffed in deeply before he warily turned around again, meeting Belle’s gaze before his eyes dropped lower. A confused frown puzzled his beautiful face.

‘You are hurt.’ In two large strides he was back by her side, Belle’s legs stepping back until she was met with the edge of the mattress, her frame tumbling back onto the bed. ‘W-what? No. I’m..’

Without hesitation the Master squatted down before her, hands and eyes roaming over her skirts, looking for gashes and tears. But there were none. Strange.

Belle closed her legs a little more, unsure of what to make of this. She wasn’t hurt at all. Maybe uncomfortable since, from the feeling of it, her period was about to start, but…

Wait.

Her eyes blinked back up into the cerulean gaze of the Master, his expression worried, beckoning her to tell her where she was hurting. And then it clicked. Of course. He could smell her. Before she had even noticed that her monthly bleeding had started, he had. And at what inconvenient a moment!

‘Tis nothing.’ Belle blurted out, a sudden heat rising to her winter cold cheeks. She was very acutely aware of how the Master had carefully placed his hands at either side of her skirts, caging her in the trap of his arms. A tremor ran through her legs, making her squeeze her thighs even closer together.

‘Said the trembling maiden.’ The Master spoke in a silky hush - both menacing and alluring. Did he realise what was happening to her?

With slow meandering eyes he trailed down her slender frame again, though this time not to find nips or naps. No, with her legs writhing against one another it had become quite clear WHERE the scent of blood was coming from. A little light danced in his cold eyes, nostrils flaring. So sweet and intoxicating was the smell, mmm! He couldn’t even walk away even if he wished. With the deer’s blood still on the edges of his lips he licked. First his bottom lip, than his top, savouring the bittersweet remnants of a life that was now no more.

No, he should leave.

Using the last of his restraint he raised back on his feet, but Belle did the same, her hand once more snaking quickly around his wrist. Just like she had done a few hours before. What was it with this peculiar woman? Had they not just escaped a wild chase? Did she not see the remnants of a fight on his skin? Did she not fear his strength? Speed? Ability to kill?! Was she mad?

Then again..was he? He couldn’t really blame her for trying to come to terms with their weird relationship. He was a bloodthirsty monster and she was like a pet. No, no. Not a pet. More like a..like a.. More obscenely arousing scents drifted through the air, the Master finally finding what he was looking for. She was..a treat.

Belle took hesitant, shallow breaths as she watched the Master’s eyes meander over her form. Lower and lower..and..yes, it was obvious that he knew what was happening between her thighs. That little light in his eyes grew stronger. And unlike most men, he didn’t seem appalled by the knowledge of what was happening between her thighs. In fact, it only seemed to stir arousal in his clawed-at and marked face - the little cuts and bruises already seemingly far less angry than they had been just minutes ago.

‘I’d better..clean up.’ Belle whispered, keeping her hand wrapped around his wrist, eyes piercing into his. Lust brooded deeply and she couldn’t help but feel aroused for it too. She had never felt like this for a man and it was an intoxicating feeling to have. Something worth nourishing. Feeding. Latching your hands around. It hadn’t been her who had gripped his wrist, it had been another Belle, a Belle she did not know. A Belle that was eager for touch. For those big blue eyes, silky soft lips and….

More heat flushed up her cheeks.

Slowly sitting back on the bed she kept her eyes and hand locked with his, her free hand slowly starting to hike up her skirts, silky stockings appearing from beneath the many layers. She had read about this in a book once. This was what happened, right? Between men and women? The Master’s eyes finally tore away from hers, finding it hard to pass up on this new display of dainty ankles that melted into shapely legs.

Like a deer’s.

No, he couldn’t even escape if he wanted to. Glued to the visage of Belle’s fraying modesty, he sank back down through his knees, eyes gazing up those long pale legs, hands placed back beside her slender frame. Nothing could have prepared him for what followed. Not the many well-read erotic books he had gathered. Not the greatest poems he had memorised. No, nothing could hold a candle to the way his heart jumped in his chest, blood tingling in his loins. Had she gone mad truly?

Where the deer in the forest would flee from him, this one stalked him back. With a delicate brush of both hands Belle encapsulated his wrists, eyes burning into his. In one way she seemed small and scared, unsure of what to do. In the other there was curiosity. And curiosity always got the better of Belle, the Master knew that now. He saw it glimmering in her eyes, the small fire in the fireplace reflecting in her large doe brown eyes. They reflected the fire in her heart, soul, mind...

Oh this was bad! What vile a monster he was! He had tainted the girl! No matter how clever the pretty thing was, he had tainted her! Look at how her bosom swelled with anticipation, her lips parted with forced little breaths. Look at what he made her do! He was vile, so vile..! OH. -

‘What was there in the forest?’ Belle asked, legs still squeezed together, skirts gathered up to her upper legs, eyes boring into the Master’s. The Master flicked his eyes back up at her, finding that curious glimmer undiminished. She wished to talk about that? Right now? Then why was she..why..?

Licking his lips the Master inched forward, Belle not backing away, though her mouth tightened as she swallowed back a lump.

‘Monsters hide in these parts. You know that Belle.’ He said, not once looking away from her large awestruck eyes.

‘Was he like you?’

The Master quirked his head slightly. ‘Not anymore. He is gone now.’

‘Did you kill him?’

A coldness washed over his cerulean gaze - he really didn’t wish to speak of this now. Not after...ARGH..

‘Do you fear death, Belle?’

Belle blinked, unsure of what he was going at. ‘Not.. yet.’

She couldn’t really get a hold of what he thought, felt, wanted. From the way his breeches strained, he was probably very aroused. But then there was this coldness in his eye. There was this predatory gaze that promised how easily he could overtake her. Snap her neck. Drink her freely. Make her fear death for real.

Belle knew how strong, agile and fast he was. But it didn’t stir fear as much as it created anticipation, the thought making Belle’s legs rub together even more. The looming of death struck a chord in her. It kissed her untouched skin with sin. She couldn’t deny the poison in her lonely heart as it crept deeper and deeper.

It was difficult to explain. After a life of being mocked and misunderstood, this tar black loneliness was less heavy with him near. In fact. She couldn’t quite remember how much the loneliness had stung, now she looked into these undead eyes. The Master was different from the people she had known. He was like her. Misunderstood. And it was enticing.

The Master sniffed the air, tongue flaking back over his silky lips, the piercing tips of his fangs shining just between his semi-opened mouth.

Misunderstood, that’s what he was, she mused quietly. He could have killed her a long time ago, if he wanted. But he hadn’t. Like in a story of great fantastical love, they seemed a perfect fit. The naive maiden and the menacing master. Unlikely in pairing, but balancing just right. Sweet versus sharp. Hard versus soft.

‘Will you kill me?’ She asked, that curiosity still winning it from the mixture of reason and fear that roared in her tight chest.

‘Never.’ He breathed, confirming her assumptions. His nostrils flared dangerously as Belle’s intoxicating smell drifted further and further into his muddled brain. The hunt, the fight, the flight..it had all triggered excitement in his beastly bones and as he now sat here, like a beggar before the altar, it all came washing over him. He could no longer stop himself. He would take just..a little…

His strong palms gripped Belle’s legs, steadying her softly yelping body.

..a little..

With silvery tongue he licked a searing path into the inside of her thigh, her hands gripping the sheets in a white-knuckled grip, lips opened in a silent gasp - nothing hid her greatest secret from him now.

..a little..

He reached the apex of her legs, the sweet rose of her essence hitting his nostrils hard, his anguished veins throbbing with need.

.. sip..

‘Ha....’ Belle breathed, eyes faltering to keep their full focus on the Master. Like little pricks of a hundred roses she felt her skin caressed from within, the touch of his tongue sparking an euphoria that not even her own curious fingers could elicit from her thighs. There was something about the way he danced on her skin, the way his strong fingers delved into the plush of her thighs, the way he beckoned more entrance as low rumbles tore from his large chest.

Beastly in spirit, but surprisingly tender in touch.

For a man who had just near-threatened her with death, he was terribly tender. In fact, for just a split-second, Belle couldn’t help but think of Psyche’s first night with her monsterly husband. He had denied her to look upon his face, his visitations only at night - For he was a monster! And a dangerous one at that! - the room dark and her eyes closed. Belle remembered the intrigue she had felt when she read that passage, though now it received a wholly new meaning, her very own monster doing what only a few words in the book had mentioned;

“When night approached Psyche went to bed: and when she was laid, she greatly feared her virginity, because she was alone. Then came her unknown husband and lay with her: and after that he made a perfect consummation of the marriage.”

As a young girl she had mocked these words. ‘Consuming a marriage’ - HA! What a strange way to call it, right?

But as she now lay here, eyes fluttering closed and her thighs trembling with the brush of sweet rose in her veins, she understood. She understood how Psyche grew to love her husband. Grew less pained by the loneliness of her existence. Eyes still shut Belle reached a hand down to the monster’s mane, more grumbles and moans eliciting from his consuming mouth. It was like he was eating her truly! Soft teeth that nibbled, a sweet tongue that lashed, strong fingers that braced, appreciating rumbles that loved. Loved! Oh that is what she felt.

Nothing could stop the touch of Cupid’s arrows. Not even a monsterly disguise. Love, that is what she felt! Like Psyche, she had learned to love the monster. And with that realisation a soft tinkling laughter escaped Belle’s quivering frame, the Master instantly stopping his administrations to ask if something was amiss.

‘No..good Master.’ Belle chimed, more laughter sprinkling from her rosy lips. ‘I beg you kiss me more. For I feel Cupid’s touch has bereft me.’

Slowly the Master crawled atop her frame, mild confusion glimmering in his blue eyes as he caged her with his limbs, looming over her dark as thunderclouds. Belle’s eyes fluttered open and it was not pain or fear he saw - like he expected after his previous experiences in the bedroom. No. She laughed merrily and it struck him like Cupid had indeed shot an arrow in his heart, the cold muscle straining as it fluttered and ached. Where the Master had only known cries of pain, not pleasure, in his bed, it was strange to see the smile on Belle’s cheeks.

‘Please.’ She whispered.

But if he had not hurt her.. Had he..? He quirked his head slightly. Had he pleased her?

The once nervous energy that coursed through his veins whenever he got aroused turned into something else. Like on much lighter, merrier clouds, he drifted above her. Licking her blood from his lips he watched her for just a moment longer as another fit of giggles escaped her lips. She was merry! She was..

His lips pulled awkwardly at the seams, a tight curl stretching them wider and wider until he could feel his cheeks dimple like hers did. And as he did, his cold heart beated warm, little wings flapping in the undead muscle.

She was ..HAH!..The Master couldn’t help but mimic her infectious laughter, his lips pulling uneasily with this unfamiliar movement. But Belle didn’t seem to care. Her tender fingers wrapped around his dimpling cheeks, begging him to join her down here on her earthly bed. For he was her Cupid and she was his Psyche. Love and Soul entwined.

For a short moment the Master forgot about all that had come to pass that day. In fact everything became a bit of a blur. The past days. Weeks. Months. Years. Centuries. All the pain, death and suffering was but a hazy memory that was washed away with the touch of her lips to his. All the want, desire and arousal that had tortured him was now a gift. A gift he could pour onto her. Groaning with need he let her pull him closer and closer still, his weight grounding her to the feather mattress as their lips danced and hands caressed.

For a moment he forgot about all that would still come to pass. More pain, more fear, more death.

He could hear a lone wolf cry into the cold night outside, reminding him of what he had left behind. Was he wrong to not tell Belle of what happened in that forest? The unfinished business that remained? The danger that lurked there still? Was he wrong for wishing to keep the truth from her? Keep her blind?

‘Please.’ Belle begged again, hands pulling him back through the forest of his thoughts. ‘Please.’

Oh, how he wished to please her.

But the truth was not a pleasing thing. It never had been. As more wolves howled and cried, the truth felt like the ice that was biting on the window panes. Begging to be let in. The matter had to be settled, he knew that. But not now. Right now the hunt for vengeance was temporarily forfeited, as he first wished to drink merilly from the sweetness..that was Belle.

Chap 12 >

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#henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill smut #henry cavill fluff #fluff #smut #beauty and the beast au #vampire!henry #angst #hunt #adult fairytale #dark fairytale

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zabrak-show · 4 years

Text

Blood of the Sith

Chapter 5: Maul takes Kudra to his camp

Read chapter 1 here

Read chapter 2 here

Read chapter 3 here

Read chapter 4 here

Kudra and Maul exited the mining colony together and if Kudra thought Mustafar was hot before, this was next level. How could they sustain this for any amount of time to get to Maul’s camp? The wind carried fire with it. Kudra followed closely behind Maul. He at least provided a bit of a shield for her as they traversed the treacherous paths between lava beds. They didn’t talk much for the hours they trekked. Kudra’s entire body started to feel like lead, but she made no complaint and trudged on after Maul.

At last, they came to a series of caves. A few of the bug critters scampered away as they entered through the labyrinth of caves. They were only there to rest for a short while, but it was much needed.

“How much further until we get to your camp?” she asked quietly.

“There’s nothing for you at my camp. I have decided it would make more sense to take you to the mining colony where you can find your point of contact. They can help you with your missing ship parts.” Maul said nonchalantly, while Kudra nearly choked on the water she just tried drinking.

“Excuse me? Absolutely not. I have not agreed to this. You can’t just make decisions on my life without even consulting me.” she exasperated.

“You are not my problem, Lady Deschain. You were here to meet the mining colony. Why are you upset that I'm taking you where you need to be?”

“Because you can’t just decide to take me somewhere against my will and act like there is nothing wrong with that!” she pleaded with him.

“You will figure something out, I’m sure.” he responded flatly.

“Please Maul. I know I said I was to go there, but without my ship and droid I’d be useless to them. They would enslave me. You know this, I know you do. Please don’t do this.”

He was silent and she was panicked.

“I um I could help you out I bet. I know I could. I am a great mechanic, you saw I fixed that ship..mostly. I can pilot and I can negotiate. I know I could help you out.” she might as well have been on her knees begging.

“Hmm. A pilot and mechanic who crashed her ship, let her droid die, and a negotiator who can’t negotiate for herself even. Yes, I see these are great attributes of yours.” his mouth turned up in a half smile as the words oozed out like tar drowning her soul. A rage so intense filled her entire being until it fully possessed her. She stared deep into his yellow eyes hating him for existing, hating for wanting to trust him, hating this awful planet. He represented every bad thing about this planet in that moment.

Maul crept towards her until their faces were almost touching,

“Now, that, I can use, Lady Deschain. Yes, I see your purpose with me now clearly.” his hot breath hit her unmoving face and she wanted nothing more than to kick him in the groin and punch his face in. She held herself back and he slowly backed away into the shadows of the cave. She sat and stewed in her anger until she passed out from exhaustion.

She woke up before Maul and quietly prepared to get back out in the heat. She had no idea what to expect from today, but prepared herself for the worst case if he did end up trying to pawn her off on the miners. She imagined unlikely schemes of getting out of it if he did try something. In some of them, she ended up selling him to the miners. She laughed aloud at that idea and suddenly she felt Maul’s breath on her neck.

“What could possibly be amusing to you already?” he practically whispered it into her ear. She shivered and shoulder checked him off her. He shoved past her out of the cave and she followed closely behind.

The heat storm wasn’t nearly as bad today and they were able to move faster. Every time Kudra was out walking on Mustafar, the more it made her want to go home. They walked all day again until Kudra’s body felt like lead and her lungs and throat burned with every breath from inhaling fire for the past two days.

At last, Maul stopped at a small outcropping of rock pillars all about 3 meters high. There were a dozen of them at least and she followed him through them to the edge of a dark stone building as high as a twenty story building on Coruscant. She soon realized there were ancient carvings all over the building and pillars. Maul opened a hidden door using some type of magic where it looked like he didn’t even touch the door.

Is he a Jedi?

She walked through the now open door. It was cool and dark inside, but not pitch black. The halls were dimly lit with floating lights at the top of the six meter high walls. The air felt ancient and darker than anything Kudra had ever experienced. Strangely, she felt comforted by the dark energy, like it was a black velvet cloak she could wear and disappear in forever.

Voices whispered and it sounded like they were calling to her from somewhere deep and far away.

“How many people live here, Maul?”

“Thousands over the years. Many have left parts of them here forever. The voices will trick you. I would advise learning to ignore them.”

“What is this place?” she asked while circling around looking up at the walls and lanterns around them.

“An ancient temple.” he replied, “This is where I live and train. Where you will do the same now. Unless I decide to take you to the mines. So don’t make me change my mind, Lady Deschain.” he threatened her with an outstretched finger in her face. She grabbed his finger to pull it away and leaned into his face,

“I think we will get along fine, Maul.”

He grumbled and pushed past her.

“I’ll take you to your quarters.” his voice sounded clinical and she followed without protest.

Her room was modest, but comfortable. The bed was hard, but there were clothes in her size. Almost identical to what Maul was wearing; an all black tunic, belt, pants, boots, gloves and a hooded cloak. It felt like she had been expected here. She changed and decided to explore the temple a little. Making careful note of each turn she made so as to not get lost. Most rooms were blocked off until she arrived at a large circular open room. She could hear the voices again in there and felt herself being pulled in by them.

The room was empty save for a large pillar in the center with a small object on top about two meters up. The voices sang out like a mournful choir and her inner voice was overtaken by someone in a foreign language telling her to to grab the object. She didn’t understand how she understood the voice or where it was coming from, she was more interested in the object. It looked almost exactly like the objects Krass had given her. The ones that she had carefully tied to her belt every day since she had been trusted with them. The symbols on the sides of the object on the pillar shimmered in a glowing orange light, as if it were spelling something out to her.

She reached up to touch it and could see a vision of Maul in a panic trying to hold her back, but it was too late. Her hand closed in around the object. She felt hypnotized like she couldn’t control herself or her mind. The object began to float above her flat outstretched hand. She stared intently at it and felt her mind moving some of the faces. The box shifted with her mind, until it decided on a final resting position and beamed out a bright orange light and dropped back into her hand. As soon as it made contact with her skin again, it sent an electrocuting shock through her as she experienced a thousand different moments from a thousand different people at once. All in torment and chaos, all gaining power from the pain. She screamed out, but no sound escaped her. She felt hands on her shoulders and in an instant woke up back in her quarters drenched in sweat.

What a nightmare. She looked around and soon discovered Maul was in her quarters with her.

“What are you doing in here?” she demanded. Her head was killing her.

“Do you remember anything from last night?” he calmly asked her.

“Yesterday? Ah I’m not sure, I thought that was just a bad dream. Why are you in here with me?” she asked, yawning.

“Last night, you unlocked an ancient sith holocron. It is one that is used in our training.”

“Sith? Our? You’re sith?” Now her head really hurt.

“Yes and now you are too. You are to be my apprentice.” He stepped towards her with his hand outstretched.

“Apprentice? Listen, I don't even know anything about any of this. What are you even asking of me?” she was still sitting in bed staring at him with a confused look on her face.

“I have sensed the dark energy in you from the moment we met. Now, you were able to unlock the sith holocron. You are ready to begin your training.”

“Can I have a moment, Maul?” she asked as she got out of bed. He left the room and she started pacing.

What just happened? What is sith? I thought that was a made up story to scare kids. Am I better off finding the mines? What happened last night? I should just pack up and leave now.

Suddenly, a flashback from the holocron hit her like a trance of a young female twi’lek being tortured. Kudra could feel every branding and lashing of whips the twi’lek endured. Kudra screamed in pain and fell to her knees. Maul had entered the room again and helped her back up to her feet.

“This will continue to happen until you let me teach you how to control and use these emotions and memories.”

“You set me up?” she asked, but realized it wasn’t a question.

“We met for a reason. I no more set you up, than you passed a test that was presented to you. You have nothing without me. I have read that from you. This is your future. This is your purpose.”

“You say that and yet I have no idea what you do or what being a Sith means. From what I can tell you have trapped me here for some ulterior motive that I haven’t figured out, yet you want me to think we are to be teammates or master and apprentice. What can I even say or do?” she felt utterly defeated by him.

“What do you feel you must do?” he pressed her.

“I feel like I want to learn more about what you’re asking me. Can you give me some time to learn about all of this and decide if it’s right for me? I’ll volunteer myself to the mines if I decide it’s not for me.” She looked so deep into his eyes to try and see what he had planned, but his intense yellow eyes protected his secrets like a nexu’s den.

“We shall see.” Maul said as he walked out of the room. He didn’t let her see the smile creep across his face. She would not say no, this much he knew.

Next Chapter

#maul #darth maul #darth maul x oc #mustafar #lava #star wars #fan fic author #fanfic #fan fic newbie #simp for sith #sith love story #sith

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tfw-no-tennis · 4 years

Text

hxh RESUME

back at it again w/the hxh, heres my recap of the last few eps

ok so i totally forgot to recap that one ep at the end of the hunter exam arc lets see what i remember from like 3 wks ago lollll

i thiiiiink i left off in the middle of ep 21 lol. i really dont remember much tbh so im gonna skim the ep to refresh

exposition time! its so wild that if you lose ur hunter card That It like u cant get another or retake the exam hgabjdfuhasjf Ls

also the fact that you can sell it is rlly interesting

leorio & kurapika backing up gon as he confronts illumi again :’) good lil family

illumi u fool. gon is a shounen protag. he can do anything he sets his mind to

the fact that gon thanks illumi for telling him where killua is....hes literally THAT polite like...what a perfect boy

hisoka just fuckgin stepping out of the shadows....ok bitch

the fact that gon fucked up illumis arm that bad with one hand....boi is STRONK

AUGH AUGH AUGHHHH HISOKA IS SO CREEPY AUGHHH I HATE THIS BIIIITCH

ok but like is illumi implying that hisoka is a fr p*do bc uhhhhh thats so nasty oh lord. pls stay away from gon, and killua, and like everyone as a matter of fact

EWWWWWWWWWW I HATE HISOKA HES SO NASTY. PLS STOP MAKING P*RNO FACES IN RELATION TO 12 YR OLD BOYS.

no but rlly what IS hisoka gonna do now. im assuming he’ll show up p soon (tho probs not in the zoldyc arc like i thought bc its shorter than i thought)

ok the fact that they have the internet is hilariously wild to me for some reason....it just seems like this would be one of those fantasy shounen worlds with very little tech (a la one piece) but lol nope we can just google shit hvbhjdhjdfks

gon: it was fun when you beat me up for 3 hours and broke my arm! seeya dude!

i love gon he is so chill and doesnt seem to hold grudges except when it really matters (like hisoka and illumi)

hanzo has.....ninja business cards....thats amazing hvbhsdjkujfnd

dont worry pokkle, leorio was basically carried thru the hunter exam by various people and also won by default. he still deserves his license tho

an exotic game hunter sounds pretty cool! i wonder if we’ll see pokkle again. kinda doubt it? that sounds pretty firmly non-combat based, and therefore probably pretty far from any plot lol

so gons dad is a bigshot huh.....whatever hed be a bigger deal if he didnt abandon his son tbh

gon swinging his feet on the bench....sooo cute

so ging could restore a bunch of ruins but he couldnt raise his son...ok

im just gonna be bitter at this guy for abandoning the most perfect boy vhbhjfbsjhdhbfsk sorry dude but being a good hunter doesnt make up for being a shit father

gon is so precious ;_;

WHAT WAS SATOTZ GONNA SAY TO GON???

why does it look like theyre googling things on MS paint

ah yes, padokea, on the continent of Africa But Sideways

idk if i talked abt it before but the world map is WILD lmao i love how its all the continents/landmasses scrambled around.....im super curious abt that weird island in the top center of the map, thats the only thing that immediately sticks out as not having a real life equivalent

the music in this show is so charming :’) i love the main theme sm

gon is sooo precious i literally cant get over it. and his hurry to rescue killua is so sweet....and i love how naturally charming/charismatic gon is....pretty much everyone he meets likes him, especially leorio and kurapika, who basically adopted him after knowing him for like a day, and continue to be completely taken by him

ok wtf is satotz & co talking abt......do they know something abt ging that they arent allowed to tell gon???? shouldnt gon have access to the same info now that hes a hunter? i need ANSWERS

i bet this whole thing abt the hunter exam not rlly being over is a metaphor abt the hunter exam NEVER truly ending bc youre always being tested, or st

ok the ED continues to be So Much like especially the last shot where the 4 main characters look like theyre posing for a JC Penny catalog while the singer goes FULL metal-screamo

ok ruth and i just rewatched the next two eps woohoo

i love that there are tourist busses that take people to the front gates so they can like pose for pics and stuff vhbhjafdsfkj and its like ‘ah yes here are where the local assassins live!’ thats so funny yet it makes so much sense

i love that leorio passed tf out during the bus ride. big big mood

gon is so cute...hes like ok yes i understand that we’re not supposed to go in but i think they can make an exception for me bc im very polite.

those 2 dudes r so ugly and so dead god bless

that bigass buster sword....sir please

ruth and i rlly thot that the old guard guy was gonna turn out to be grandpa zoldyk or st lol

the fact that the dog managed to eat All their flesh but left some clothes....skill

also the dog is named mike but it sounds like the guy is calling him miku hvbjdfssk

this cant be the first time some morons have been killed here likeeee

i cant believe nobody has visited the zoldyk estate in 20 years damn they all rlly b havin no friends. depressing

the whole gates thing is wild. also that part where gon gets the math wrong on the weight.....BIG mood kiddo

ok the part where gons on the phone w/the butler is soooo good oh man. i love how gon just calmly dials the phone again after hes hung up on the first time and then YELLS....and leorio and kurapikas faces r so good

also the butler guy unfortunately has a point, it isnt foolproof that gon is here Legit....but he IS let him see his tiny bf :(

as ruth pointed out, the butler guy is reminiscent of kuro from one piece. same vibes

maybe if leorio was jacked like he is in the manga/1999 anime he couldve opened the gate that first time around....Ls

god i love this shows approach to Everything so far,....as ruth put it, half the time its like ‘oh wow they should do [x]/i wish theyd do [x] but ofc they wont cause its a shounen’ but then they DO do [x] and its like damn thats dope

anyways i love how gon is increasingly approaching situations with his Plucky Shounen Protag Attitude in full swing, and he pretty much gets shot down every time. BUT his general determination to see killua bc killuas his FRIEND and hes gonna RESCUE HIM is still a good and pure motivating force

like here, when hes climbing over the wall and hes like whatever i dont wanna have to deal w/being tested thats bullshit, i wanna see killua, my intentions are pure, im gonna try my luck with the dog....i was like ok yeah he’ll get over and like tame or defeat the dog and the guard will be suitably impressed bc nobodys ever done That before, and then gon will continue on to get killua

but NOPE instead the guard calls him down and explains that gon Will Die if he tries that, and then the guard will die too for letting that happen. and gon is like oh shit my actions have consequences for people other than me, wow.

and THEN the guard takes them in to meet the dog. and hot DAMN that is a scary creature. not even really a dog tbh. they did an excellent job making the dog Legit Scary and not just like, big and flashy looking....those eyes are so soulless, and the proportions are freaky

and the guard says exactly what i was thinking - that gon would use his Country Boy Woodland Creature Skills to workaround the dog....but then the subversion - this creature is NOTHING like the woodland critters gon is probably used to dealing with. theres no way gon stood a chance here. the guard just saved him from a really unfortunate death

i love all the Super Heavy Stuff in the servant house that seems so inconvenient vbhjdkfasjfld. also forgot to mention earlier but the guard guy being Absolutely Ripped was wild and kinda funny

training montage! gon continues to be so cute. and i love so much how leorio and kurapika are like no, you rest, we’ll take care of this. good parents!!!!

and then!!!! they sync up and use the power of gay love to almost open the gate. but then gon uses the power of Improbable Shounen Protag Healing Speed to toss that arm sling off and help out

i feel like leorio was side-eyeing gon like w8 a sec u broke that arm like a few days ago that aint right.....

oh man i almost forgot abt that scene with the zoldyks torturing killua :( :( this poor kid he doesnt deserve that

also mom zoldyck seems truly awful but i must say her aesthetic does fuck. the victorian-lookin outfit paired with the futuristic cyclops visor thing....excellent. also im betting this face bandages are from killua cutting her face

this family is so fucked up hvbsjdhjfbakdfn

killua telling his mom that gon is definitely gonna make it there :’) hes got such unshakable faith in his bf thats so good.....

back w/the gang, and immediately they run into more trouble in the form of the young girl butler, whose name i dont know, but i love her....her design is SO good oh man. a non-caricature black person? who also isnt sexualized? in MY anime??????

i love how gons approach to conflict is currently ‘let more powerful person beat me up for hours straight in hopes that they get tired or something idk bro’ like....i love him lol, is it in an effort to show how determined he is? he doesnt even try to dodge her blows or get around her....id be tryin to hop that fence lol

oh shit the tiny zoldyk kid from earlier is spying on them....she was w/the mom so im sure thats not good

when he punches the rock part and it breaks....strong boiiii

oh man that little flashback from when killua first came back and told her that he made a friend ;_; bruh

i love butler girl :( she wants to let gon but knows it isnt allowed....and as soon as she starts to waver BAM here comes mom zoldyck JFC that was so sudden and jarring....im assuming butler girl isnt dead cause that would be lame and anticlimactic

also IS THAT NEN??? NEN>>>??? NEN??? HM? NEN?????????

im so annoying abt nen i need to make one of those ‘is this a pigeon?’ memes w/’is this nen?’ bc thats me anytime anything remotely weird happens lmao

i do think its rlly nen this time tho

anyways shit is wild, cant wait to meet the full zoldyck family

PREDICTION CORNER:

as i said above i doubt hisoka will show up now bc this arc is a lot shorter than i anticipated. also im doubting that illumis even gonna show up honestly

i think we’re gonna have this OP for a while, as the part just at the end shows gon and hisoka fighting in what looks to be an arena, and ik the next arc is the heavens arena arc, which im assuming is the tournament arc....

also i have no idea what that weird building in the OP is but my guess is that its the building w/the heavens arena in it bc its tall and,,,,heaven

i predict there wont be much fighting in this little arc bc how tf else is it so short. at this point i rlly think gon is just gonna grab killua and go lmao. im super curious abt how thats gonna go down, considering that killua is currently strung up just bc he wont apologize...so i cant imagine his family would just let him leave w/gon. i wonder if killua will fight them, or if gons determination will impress them and then theyll let killua go (doubt it)

thats basically it....we’ll see abt the next few eps holla

#lj watches hxh #hxh #woohoo continuation

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lisatheoysterlady · 5 years

Text

Flow

Mind your Gap... it is your sacred Metamorphosis... right here.

My best friend's name is FLOW

My visit to the breath-taking paradise island of Bali just off Indonesia a few years ago left a deep impression on my psyche and my soul. I came away with one profound word... FLOW. I experienced flow in their culture like nowhere else on the globe since. Everything flows there, and by that I mean it just works.

Their roads are crammed with vehicles, and hardly any road rules, but they navigate with little horns beeping and no upsets, all just flowing in from side-roads, no entitlements, no ego flairs and NO road rages or any drama. It's like magic, and I managed to drive their roads and join in the flow perfectly fine. I've carried "flow" with me ever since. Maybe after recognising and meeting it so profoundly in their culture and beauty,flow has been carrying me?

FLOW is the magical ingredient every human being should experience for themselves, but yikes... next it might turn into a man-made religion and that's not where I'm going with this. It's a paradox, when you want flow in your life, it evades you. When you have flow with ease, you almost don't realise you're in THE perfect zone. The sweet spot. Your happy place. Because everything is going right, right? And life is easy and breezy, and beautiful. Effortless. Synchronicity. Calm. Sorted. Tranquil.

"When you want flow in your life, it evades you. When you have flow with ease, you don't realize it."

FLOW is encountered in every conceivable sphere of daily nitty-gritty life around us....

It's the air swirling around us, it's the water coming out of a tap when you turn it on, it's the electricity that activates whenever you choose to switch it "on"... it's the money coming into our hands and bank accounts and flows out again, as it should, because it's part of the flow, it comes back in again, and out again.... it's in the language we use habitually... the chats and conversations we have.. the roads we drive to take us to our home or destinations... busses, planes, taxi's, Uber....It's the same blood coursing through all our human veins that carry oxygen and vital processes to have us be alive and thriving... It's the variety of emotions we feel when we experience inner and outer stimuli through visual, touch, smell, hearing, memories, nostalgia, missings, musings, mad attacks of the funny-bone, the necessary deep healings required, old hurts, feelings of compassion, heroic actions in the moment... and so much more in this rich tapestry we experience as life. Flow is how we live in every moment in the great Ether, while picking up intuitive messages, knowings and guidance... and there's so much more we know absolutely nothing about.... yet.

Flow is my spur-of-the-moment impulse driven nature, spontaneous like a child and sheeewwww.... I love it!! Flow says "Let's rest, let's play, let's do, let's go, let's be, let's find, let's make, let's give, let's allow, let's receive, let's care, let's love, let's show...."

Looking at an oyster, one sees an unattractive pre-historic hard oddly shaped behemoth knowing that inside there abides a very yummy morsel, just waiting for the contents of it's ocean tasting treasures to be savoured. Little known to some of us humans, the oyster is a mollusk, it is also called a bi-valve, this being it's best function, apart from having been the top item on the coastal hunter-gatherer's food-yummyness list many many moons ago. The bi-valve is literally that. The average sized oyster's two valves pump the equivalent of 200 liters of water per HOUR of it's life. It literally filters the water and ingests plankton and minerals at the same time. Yes, oysters work with a lot of FLOW it would seem.

When an oyster is out of the water (they are also inter-tidal), they keep themselves tightly closed. While they are happy at a nicely chilled temperature, they will stay happy and contented until they are submerged back in the sea again. These delicious critters know how to go with the flow!

Knowing the next points about oysters, you really know they go with the flow...!!!! These mollusks are able to adapt themselves to be male or female at any time as is needed. Yup... and kudos to these guys and girls, their orientation choices will ensure that numbers for optimum fertilization and continuance of their species is always paramount and sorted, in the bag so to speak.

Even when threatened by red tide, oysters are impervious to the toxins (DSP and / or PSP) they are filtering through their systems from the water. Once the blooming plankton dies off and the sea's temperatures return to normal again, the oysters simply purge the toxins out of their tissues until they are clear of it, and we get to safely indulge in these delicate and delicious morsels of pure living Chi. Flow is life-giving nectar. It exists in every sphere of life, it is the circle of life, after endings there are new beginnings, and those circle round to their endings, and all aspects of living has a chance to birth, die and re-birth again. Flow is what makes the world go round. Therefore, the saying that money makes the world go round, is true! Money flows! Does stagnant water flow? No. Does stagnant money grow? No. Therefore love makes the world go round, together with kindness and generosity. Abundance of life and goodwill exists everywhere in and around us, in nature, and we just need to look in the mirror and see it before us, we have it in us. Each and every one of us IS FLOW. We are one.

Now go and observe, and enjoy your flow :-)

#flow oysters travel bali chi money

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somewhereapart · 7 years

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Strays (Baker’s Dozen verse)

For OQ Prompt Party Day 7: 118. Roland finds two kittens, they love Regina the most.

They’ve been trying to wear her down for weeks – months, even. Ever since Lydia turned two, Henry and Roland have been lobbying for a pet.

She’d forbidden a puppy point-blank. She doesn’t have the time, or the energy, to deal with an apartment full of chewed shoes and puddles of pee. Lydia is enough of a destroyer as it is, she doesn’t need an accomplice.

And kittens, well… She’s never really been a fan. They just seem too… prissy, too aloof. Self-sufficient, yes, that’s great, but… She’s just not a pet person.

In the end, though, the decision is made for her, on a muggy night in late August. They’ve left the baby to the capable hands of Belle and August, opting to take the boys to a dinner that doesn’t involve high chairs or Cheerios. Something more grown up as a final send-off to summer before school starts.

It was Henry’s turn to choose, and there hadn’t been a moment of hesitation: he wanted “Chinatown dumplings” – what he calls the pork soup dumplings that he and Emma often go stuff themselves with on their regular playdates. She always takes him to the same place—a little cash-only hole-in-the-wall down below Canal Street—and it’s apparently serious business.

They sit around a communal table, and Henry instructs them very carefully in the right way to eat their dumplings without spilling the soup or burning their tongues (Roland does both, but he doesn’t seem to mind), and by the time they leave, they’re all happy and packed to the gills with dumplings, and rice, and beef with string beans, and orange shrimp, and chicken lo mein.

They stroll down darkened streets together, Robin’s arm slung over her shoulder, the boys several paces ahead chattering away – close enough that it doesn’t feel unsafe but far enough that they feel like they have their freedom.

It’s been a good night. A wonderful night.

So when the boys stop near a small mountain of trash piled up by the curb, she doesn’t think much of it. She notices, sure, and grimaces, and says a prayer of thanks that she’d thrown a fresh bottle of hand sanitizer in her purse just yesterday. But she doesn’t call out to them until they’re bending down and reaching toward the pile.

Even then, it’s only a stern (but mild), “Stay out of the trash!”

Henry glances up and waves a hand fervently at them, beckoning them forward, but Roland’s attention is rapt.

When she and Robin catch up, it becomes immediately clear why.

One of the garbage bags has a hole in it, little bits of fish and sour liquid spilled out on the sidewalk, and there, making a meal of it, is a pair of calico kittens.

“Daddy, look!” Roland exclaims, reaching out and scooping up one of the mangy little things before Regina can stop him. It meows loudly, twisting in his grasp, and all Regina can think about is fleas. Fleas, and maybe rabies.

“I see, my boy,” Robin says, crouching down near the piles and saying, “But we should probably put him back where we found him, so his mummy and daddy can find him.”

“He doesn’t have a mummy and daddy,” Roland insists. “They’re all alone, and they’re hungry!” Regina is entirely unsurprised that he turns those big, dark eyes on her and pleads, “Can we take them home, Regina?”

She’s loath to break his tender heart, but still, “Absolutely not.”

She says it kindly, but she says it all the same.

“Mom, please.” It’s Henry this time. It’s not-so-little boy’s pleading eyes, and he’s scooping up the other kitten as she winces, cupping his scrawny body carefully, and saying, “Look how skinny they are! They’re starving, they’re eating garbage.”

“They’re covered in fleas,” Regina reasons gently. “And we don’t have anything for them – no food, no litter box, no—”

“We can get them!” Roland argues, cradling his yowling little dirtball against his shirt, and now he’s got fleas, too, hasn’t he?

“Yeah, Mom, it’s not that late,” Henry encourages. “We could get all that stuff. And we could give them a bath to get rid of any bugs. I don’t think they even have any!”

Regina narrows her eyes, bending close to get a good look at the little critters. They’re grubby, their white patches grayed with dirt; she can’t tell if the little black flecks she sees are more dirt or the dreaded fleas.

She glances toward Robin, and points out, “You’ve been suspiciously quiet over there.”

He just shrugs, stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jeans, and says, “I’m hearing out their arguments.”

“We can’t leave them,” Roland insists, petting the top of one little head. “What if they die out here? They wouldn’t die at our house, please, Regina? We need to save them. They’re only babies!”

He’s starting to get worked up, holding that squirming ball of fluff closer as his eyes start to well up with tears.

She’s going to regret it, she’s certain of it, but she knows that Roland is right. The kittens seem to be abandoned, they’re all skin and bones and dingy fur, and they’ll certainly suffer out here on their own. Suffer, and maybe die.

So she sighs, deeply, and relents, “Okay, we can bring them home,” earning a twin chorus of Yes! from the boys, and a dimpled grin from her husband.

And just like that, their family is two kittens larger.

They just barely make it to the pet store before closing, and make quick work of stocking up on “the essentials.” Which apparently include not only a bed (she insists on just one, it’s large enough for both kittens), a flea dip, a litter box, some kitten food, but also a pair of itty bitty collars with jingling bells, two packets of felt mice, a handful of catnip treats, a dangling feather…

They leave laden, the boys cradling the most precious cargo, Robin and Regina hefting all the rest, and as they make their way home, she asks, “So what will we name them?”

“I suppose we need to find out if they’re boy kittens or girl kittens first,” Robin reasons, but the boys heartily disagree.

“We can give them names that work for both!” Henry insists, and it’s decided that he and Roland get to name a kitten each.

Henry decides to give his kitten the apt moniker of Dumpling, in honor of when and where they were found.

“I’m gonna name mine after our dinner, too!” Roland insists, and Regina wonders if they’re going to end up with Shrimpy, or Orange. But in the end, kitten number two is christened Noodles.

“Not Noodle?” Regina asks, but Roland is adamant.

“Nope. Noodles.”

And so they are, Dumpling and Noodles.

Their first bath reveals that, yes, they most definitely have fleas, and a strong aversion to water. But they manage to get them cleaned up, and flea-dipped, and get their little bellies full of soggy kibble.

And Regina has to admit that they’re actually pretty cute. Those white patches are properly white, and their scrubbed fur is soft and surprisingly fluffy when it dries. They sleep curled up in that little bed together, purring happily, and Roland watches them adoringly, telling Regina again and again how happy they look, how they saved them, isn’t she glad they saved them.

And yes, she has to admit, she is.

She’s not thrilled at the prospect of their furniture (or their toddler) getting scratched all to hell, but she thinks that she’d have had a hard time not thinking about those little, purring bundles wandering the streets eating trash.

Lydia, as it turns out, loves the kittens. Loves them. Adores them – in an Elmira from Tiny Toons sort of way. Robin and Regina are constantly reminding her Gentle, gentle… We pet, we don’t squeeze…

They’re also constantly reminding the kittens (they’re a boy and a girl, it turns out) to scratch on their new post and not the kitchen chairs. To gnaw on, well, anything but Henry’s fingers or Regina’s hair. To not frolic all over Regina’s legs as she naps on the couch after dinner. They’re lively – damn near manic – when they descend upon their catnip toys.

But Regina has to admit, it’s nice to have company in the wee hours of the morning when she drags herself out of bed to shower and dress. She finds their insistent little mews as she fills their food bowls a cheerful welcome to the world of the waking, enjoys the soft brush of their furry bodies around her ankles as she readies herself for the day post-shower.

And okay, yes, they do make lovely, warm space heaters when they curl themselves into the bend of her knee at night, or crawl up and settle down on her chest, their steady rumbling echoing against her heart.

She catches Robin smiling at her one night, while she scratches Noodles behind his ears, Dumpling’s fluffy form stretched over her thigh.

“What?” she asks him, and Robin’s grin just widens.

“Not a pet person,” he mutters, a hint of mocking in his voice, and she realizes she’s somehow become a veritable cat lady, despite her hesitance to take in these silly little ruffians.

Regina just rolls her eyes, gives Noodles’ ears a little tug, and tells Robin through her grin, “Shut up.”

(FFnet/Ao3)

#outlaw queen #hood mills family #oq prompt party #verse: baker's dozen #somewhereapart writes

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thegarbagechute · 7 years

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Regret was slowly starting to sink in.

The sky was vast, empty and the brightest blue you could possibly imagine. A sea of sand stretched out before her, though it lacked the characteristic dunes of the infamous Dune Sea on Tatooine. It was smooth beyond belief and it almost called out to be touched, looking every bit as promising as caressing velvet. The subtle orange colour it had would have been soothing if it weren't for the slightly alarming fact that there was sand as far as the naked eye could see. The landscape was broken up in places by various, jagged rock formations and lost boulders. They were almost blemishes with how they ruined the otherwise perfect, sleek terrain.

The outpost she had been dropped off at in the early hours of the morning was many a ways behind her. It was only because she knew where to look on the horizon that she could spot it in the distance whenever she turned her head over her shoulder to measure her progress and to make sure she would still be able to find it back.

Tel'nara had not the faintest clue for how long she had been walking for: by her reckoning, night had come at least twice by now, but she had no recollection of the sky ever growing darker or the sun dipping below the horizon.

Though, to be fair, she was starting to wonder if she even had the faintest clue what she had been walking for... Why...

The Twi'lek dared a quick glance at the sun on her left-hand side and saw it wouldn't be long until it would touch the horizon and sunset would come around. She let out a heavy sigh at this realization and deviated from the path she had laid out for herself and turned directly to her right, heading for the rocks starkly jutting out of the sand nearby to find some shade.

Within five minutes walking she was there and climbed up the side of the formation and walked a short way around it so the it would fully block out and protect her from the sun. The second she stepped into the shadows she smiled, a sense of relief washing over her as she was greeted by the cooler temperature.

She leaned forward, hands on her knees and allowed herself a moment to catch her breath. A quiet chuckle escaped her cracked lips before she could stop it. Upon feeling just how cracked her lips were, she reached for one of the many flasks hanging from her belts and struggled a little to open it. When she set off this morning she worried that carrying the weight of so much water around her waist and back would weigh her down and exhaust her all the sooner. However, as she downed the remainder of the one flask, she was reminded of just how light her burden had become at this point and that in itself posed a serious issue.

Sitting down and resting against the cool, rocky surface had never been more of a blessing than it was in that moment. Tel'nara closed her eyes and weakly lifted up a hand to push back the makeshift shawl she had fashioned together to shield her bald head from the piercing sun.

Humans would have had to do the same... Everybody would have to do the same here... she thought to herself, as she found herself wondering if any species with hair would be faced with the same issue. Of course they would be. No way they are superior, like they often make themselves out to be...

Her lekku had also been carefully wrapped by several layers of fabric. Beautiful things, surely, but sensitive like all hell and needed all the more protection.

Some time later, her eyes finally opened, feeling fatigued and exhausted to the point she felt like it was best to just sit here and merge with the rock outcrop and become one with the landscape and let that be the end of it.

While staring ahead of herself with no fixed gaze, there appeared to be something moving out of the corner of her eye. In no rush, she eventually turned her head to look but saw nothing there. Apart from some loose rocks, pebbles and a lot of sand. She shrugged to herself and started to wonder how she had come to end up here again in the first place...

Ah, right. Her contact, the Togruta smuggler Vareza, had come to pick her up from whatever planet she had been roaming around on at the time. She still couldn't remember what it was called and if she had even heard or read it somewhere in the first place. But it was there Tel'nara felt it was time to return home soon, at last, after having been away for nearly five years now...

Though she had asked Vareza to get her back to Republic space, to familiar territory, Vareza herself urged Tel'nara to really check out this one last planet before heading back home. Should be interesting for a Jedi, Vareza had told her, because a lot of Jedi had travelled here because of some "Force mumbo-jumbo". Or so the smuggler had said. Before landing, Tel had peaked out of a window of the small freighter the smuggler had taken her aboard on and had spotted, amongst the bright orange of the sand covering the entire globe, blotches of green and blue strewn across its surface in an irregular pattern. Oases? Seemed to be so. The thought intrigued her, at least. Unusual flora, some interesting critters possibly... See what this "Force mumbo-jumbo" was about too.

Sure enough, as soon as the Twi'lek had been dropped off at possibly the only outpost on the planet, she walked through the shifty marketplace some figures had set up and she found quite a few of them were selling not just lightsaber parts, but complete, functioning lightsaber hilts as well. The snappy Jawas operating the booth assured her they had struck a deal with a couple of Jedi that regularly pass through. Weird thing to be saying out of the blue, Tel thought to herself now.

Even so, she showed no interest in actually purchasing any of it. She simple wanted to know in which direction she had to head if she wanted to see nearest oasis. Despite not being able to offer any compensation for their help, the Jawas were keen to give directions and told her it wouldn't take long to get there. So much for that...

She shut her eyes for a moment and considered her options: assume she was actually close to an oasis and keep on walking and drink from the waters there, or turn back and hope that whatever water she had left on her person she could make do with until she got back to the outpost the following day. Neither option was really tempting.

But she sure as hell was not going to die. Not here. Not today.

Suddenly, an idea occurred to her. She leaned forward to be able to look past the little stone ledge above her to measure up the rock formation as a whole and to determine its highest point. Three, maybe four meters, roughly? By no means a mountain, but here, on this planet, it might as well be.

With some grunting the Twi'lek managed to pick herself up from her semi-comfy but very cool spot. Her exhaustion felt like it had taken on the physical form of a sack of bricks she now had to lug around as well. It made the fantasy of merging with the landscape all the more compelling, to be honest.

She tilted her head back and gazed at the top of the rock formation. Her gaze was fixed as she emptied her mind, focused and... made an attempt to jump up using the Force, but nothing happened.

It's just the fatigue, that's all.

She tried again and again for several minutes more, but finally admitted defeat and with a soft groan started the climb. Though it wasn't high up, the effort to get there was taxing and cost her a lot of precious energy of which she had very little left. When she reached the top, she was greeted by a spectacular sight. The sun had picked the best colours to paint the sky with as it continued its descent. With a few clouds serving as colour-sponges it undoubtedly would have looked all the more beautiful.

She took a moment to appreciate the view before she turned her gaze into the direction she had been walking this entire time. And what she saw startled her to her very core.

There, in the far distance though clearly visible, a structure that demanded respect and awe from any who stood at the foot of it and she would know as she had seen it many times before... The Senate Tower of Coruscant.

Tel'nara's jaw dropped a little and her brows hitched into a confused frown as she stared at the building in the distance that she had grown quite fond of. The sudden shock this sighting had sent rippling through her body left her a little more light-headed than she already had been and she nearly lost her footing. Quickly finding her balance again, she continued to gawk at what was clearly on the horizon there.

A mirage, of some kind...? Of a building that did not even belong on this planet... Dehydration playing tricks on her? Most likely.

She could look and watch for hours... But finally she managed to avert her gaze and ran a hand over her face and covered her own eyes for a moment, thinking that when she would open her eyes next, this obvious vision would be gone. If only that were true.

The Jedi gasped loudly when her eyes opened again and scanned the horizon. The Senate Tower was no longer there, no. But in its stead stood now the building that truly was her home and she longed to see the most; the Jedi Academy of Tython, but which now stood there defiantly between the rock outcrops and the sand in the distance.

This was trickery, absolutely... But perhaps it was actually meant as a sign...? Maybe there were people there that were counting on her and were beckoning her over...? They needed help... Or maybe they could help her! Yes!

It was all as clear as day now - despite the sun having already dipped halfway below the horizon, mind you - and there was no time to waste. With renewed energy, fuelled with purpose and hope, she moved to step towards the edge of the rock formation when a sudden dizzy spell hit her like never before and caught her off-guard. She swayed on her feet and brought her hands to her head to carefully rub her temples, hoping to subdue it.

Then, all of a sudden, the ground at the foot of the rock formation on which she stood cracked up violently and was ripped apart with a thunderous noise. Columns of sand shot up high into the air and from them emerged a giant snake-like creature that towered above her, its armoured body so large and close that it obscured the sun behind it almost entirely. Its mouth was agape, showing off its entirely too many teeth, not quite unlike a Nexu.

Her dizzy spell forgotten, Tel'nara stumbled backwards while feeling for her lightsaber when the beast let out an excruciatingly high screech which not only pierced the ears, but the very soul as well. She regained her composure quick enough to unhook her lightasber from her belt before the beast had a chance to strike at her.

The beast drew its head back and made ready to strike when an impulse compelled her to lift up her left hand and feel for the nearest loose rock nearby through the Force. The second she locked onto something - anything - she gave it a yank, putting all of her body weight behind it and chucked it rapidly at the side of the creature's head as it dove right at her. It let out another terrifying screech as it got hit and directly thereafter struck the flat surface about a meter from where Tel had been standing.

Her every limb trembling at this point from the adrenaline, she got up as quickly as she could while the beast slowly pulled itself back off the rocks with blood dripping down the side of its head. She stared right up at it while she continued to back away. It looked very, very pissed...

It shook its head, hissed sharply and made ready to strike again. And it was at that point her foot slipped off the edge of the rock and she fell down and everything went black.

#tel'nara #writings #english sucks sometimes

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annittavalence · 5 years

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Fallout OC Interview

Rules:

1. Choose an OC.

2. Answer them as that OC.

3. Tag 5 people to do the same.

If you want to do this! this is your sign!

What is your name?

Annitta Valence shortened to V or Vee.

How old are you?

What do you look like?

Human, Caucasian/Italian, slightly mutated. Hair, shaved on the sides, long on the top with a mowhawk, often worn down (not styled). Eyes are crazy, green, orange glow, due to mutation. Scars and markings facial Vitiligo around her left eye, scars on her right temple and under eye, above lip on the left. Neck tattoo that comes up onto her chin. Heavy facial piercings. Medium, sunkissed skin tone.

Where are you from? Where do you live now?

My family was from Italy, a small village Stilo, Calabria but they moved to America before I was born, eventually they ended up in Boston since my Father settled into a job at Corvega and my mother raised me at home. I ended up buying a house with Nate in Sanctuary hills once we married and I was pregnant with Shaun. Now though? I prefer to spend my free time in Goodneighbor, Hancock organised an apartment for me in one of the buildings, it’s quite nice.

What was your childhood like?

It was..like most I suppose? rough at times but we had what we needed and we did alright. I didn’t enjoy school and I’m not very academic, so I pushed and begged and nagged until my Father let me learn from him. I became a Mechanic since I found I had the mind for it. I persuaded the place my Father worked at to let me do some volunteer work around their workshop. I guess I did well because they offered me a solid job after just under a year. Never seen my Father so proud of me, it’s a memory I cherish.

What groups are you friendly with? Are you allied with any factions?

The Railroad, The Minutemen and Goodneighbor.

Tell me about your best friend.

Hancock is my closest friend, if it weren’t for him..I’d probably be dead. I would do anything for him, without question. I made a lot of deep friendships in The Railroad and that’s all I’ll say about them. Sturges is an absolute delight and is the first person I bonded with, about mechanics and tinkering of course! Many nights were spent sitting around Sanctuary exchanging knowledge, I always stop by with him whenever I stay in Sanctuary. And of course, MacCready, much more than a lover, so much more.

Do you have a family? Tell me about them!

Well, there’s Shaun of course, even if I don’t know whether he’s alive.. there was Nate..my parents..Family in Italy.. My parents, I’m sure died when the bombs dropped, I’ve not found them at least.. and my family in Italy? I have no idea, I have no way of contacting them.

But really, I have my new family, here in the Commonwealth. So many of them, MacCready and hopefully Duncan, Nick, Piper, Nat, Ellie, Hancock, Daisy, Irma, Ham, The Railroad, The minutemen, Preston, Sturges, The Longs, Mama, Cait, Longfellow, Gage, Danse..gosh..

What about a partner or partners?

MacCready, my sweet soul. We are quite open and polyamorous, so often Hancock, Deacon, sometimes Cait, Ham, Gage and Mags.

Who are your enemies, and why?

The Institute..they probably have Shaun and god knows what they’re doing to him! They ruin lives, orphaning children and taking spouses, sometimes replacing them with a replica to feed back information for whatever reason. They are constantly shitting on the underdog and I can’t stand it.

The Gunners, I hadn’t even heard of them until I overheard them yelling at Mac in The Third Rail. Didn’t even know Mac back then, let alone thought we would be where we are today..but..the way they spoke to him, the things they said..it just got my back up and that was enough for me to hate them. Then I ended up hiring Mac, getting to know him, he told me more about them, we had several run ins with them until eventually, we formulated a plan to take down Winlock and Barnes, driving them back. No one fucks with anyone I care about.

The Disciples, a raider gang in Nuka world. NOTHING I did or said would convince them to live in peace with the traders and settlers of Nuka world. I gave them their own section, I fixed up the fucking park but no, they were just too far gone, cannibals and psychopaths. I managed to save a couple of them, who were just going along with them so they didn’t die, but eventually we had to wipe them out. It took MONTHS to clean their base up, burn all the bodies of the people they’d killed, and theirs of course. Now it looks quite nice and we’ve turned it into a big housing hub for the traders. The pack and The Operators are actually doing really well together, Mason and Mags agreed to weeding out the more barbaric of the members, the ones who didn’t want to live in relative peace. Now they have a couple settlements each in the commonwealth where they’ve actually been hunting game and running jobs for my other settlements, they get a cut of the caps and loot and we always call on them for big jobs like institute attacks and mutant takeovers etc.

Have you ever heard of The Brotherhood of Steel? What do you think about them?

I despise the way they speak to Hancock and Nick and when they’re in my presence, they tend to hold their tongue but I have smacked a few of them for their comments. Maxson is...a problem, he’s way too extreme but I do feel like there’s a reasonable and genuine person under that mantle, which honestly must be quite heavy. A lot of the members I’ve met are actually really pleasant and helpful, Knight Rhys is an asshole but there’s always one.

From what Mac tells me, the Brotherhood inhabiting the Capitol Wastes are a bit crazy, but they DID do a lot for the wasteland, clean water was returned, which sounds amazing. I’ve been to DC a few times, pre war of course but I’d like to see it now..as morbid as that sounds, plus Duncan is there and I can’t wait to meet that tiny man!

Some people have told me stories about outcasts from the Brotherhood who were truly insane, just killing indiscriminately and stealing from settlers...which kinda sounds like the ones here....a little.. and then I met a trader from the Mojave and they told me about the presence there...the less said about that one the better.

I like Danse though!

What about The Enclave?

I’ve only heard stories, Mac has experienced them first hand and he doesn’t really talk about them too much. Everything I’ve heard has been bad though.

How do you feel about Super Mutants?

Strongs cool, funniest one I’ve ever met but LORD he never shuts up! I built him his own place, got him a couple of dogs and taught him how to farm. He’s doing alright, travels around with his dogs and visits the settlements....much to the settlers dismay. I’ve had him start wearing a specific hat so that the guards don’t just shoot at him when he’s on his travels. Most of them have grown to like him and a lot of the children love him. For some reason he’s very protective of Mac...none of us know why.

I met another friendly Mutant in Far Harbor, he takes in dogs and trains them, sells them onto people. I’ve given him a lot of business since I found him. Cant persuade him to come to one of my settlements though.

As for the hostile ones.. most of them aren’t too hard for us to take down anymore, it’s when there’s a swarm of the fuckers. Mac and I tend to travel just the two of us and we’re both snipers, we can use shorter range weapons of course but we are way more deadly with our rifles, so it’s always a bit awkward when they close the distance. Suiciders will always send me into a panic though.

What’s the craziest fight you’ve ever been in?

Nisha...Mac and I must have given her 5 shots each..and she still kept coming, screaming and bleeding, waving her blade around. She finally stopped inches from my face, Mac got her in the face through the space for her eyes. I was just frozen, never seen anything like it. Mac had to walk me over to a bench by the shoulders and sit me down.

Have you ever fought a Deathclaw?

A few, we try to avoid them though.

Do you like fighting?

Yes and no, neither of us likes to have to do it, it’s a means to live but sometimes the adrenaline is amazing.

What’s your weapon of choice?

50cal Sniper rifle, NV recon scope, recoil compensating stock with a suppressor.

How do you survive? Your wits, your charm, your skills, brute force, some combination? (a.k.a. what’s your S.P.E.C.I.A.L?)

Depends on the situation, I’m pretty good at talking us out of a bad situation, I’m pretty strong for my size and fairly agile. ( S:7 P:8 E:5 C:9 I:7 A:6 L:5)

Have you ever been in a vault? What do you think about them?

Yes..not a big fan.

How do you beat all the radiation around here? Has it affected you?

I have a few mutations now, my eyes are all messed up, I get nausea which makes it difficult to remember to eat. I visit a Dr regularly to get my rads cleared and get some fluids. We thoroughly cook our meat and veg and maintain the water filters regularly to try and reduce the exposure.

What’s your favorite wasteland critter?

RAD CHICKEN! I love them!

What’s your least favorite wasteland critter?

Cave Crickets...fuck those.

How do you feel about robots?

They’re cool! you gotta make sure your coding is solid though, or you might have some issues.

How many caps do you have on you right now?

Uhhh, like 2k? I tend to store the rest.

Nuka Cola or Sunset Sarsaparilla?

Nuka Cola, never had a Sunset though.

Do you do chems?

Stimpaks, Med-ex, Rad-x and Radaway, not so much the others.

Do you ever think about the Pre-War world?

Every day..

What’s your deepest regret? What would you do differently?

It’s hard to say because anything could mean I would never have met Mac and even though this world is...terrifying and awful..I have never loved someone the way I love Mac.. I...have no idea.

What’s your biggest achievement? Or what do you hope to achieve?

So far my biggest achievement is earning the pride of my Father. Something I hope to achieve? destroy the Institute, save my son and become a family with Mac and Duncan.

What do you want for the future? For yourself? Your friends? The world?

For the future, I want everyone to get to experience peace, I want the world to heal and for us to rebuild. It’s unrealistic..but I want everyone to be safe.

For me? I just want to be with Mac, be safe, both of us, Duncan and Shaun, safe and happy, always full and never wanting. I want the same for my friends and loved one. I want the same for the world.

#fallout OC #fallout 4 #fallout fanfiction prompts #annitta valence #myoc #fallout #fanfiction #fallout 4 fanfiction

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incensus-nix · 5 years

Text

.: tree house :.

❝ Hey Bethany. ❞

❝ Hey what? ❞

❝ Have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight? ❞

❝ Have you ever been punched so hard you had to stop talking for a week? ❞

He whines, leaning into his fist and pushing up his sunglasses with his other hand. ❝ Sheesh, what’s gotten into you? ❞

❝ Nothing, until you started talking nonsense. ❞

❝ I was being poetic — ❞

❝ Stick to spying, kid. ❞

There was a moment, then he laughed, picking his chin off his hand and setting them behind his head. ❝ Did you hear about that chef? ❞

❝ Huh? No? Wha — ❞

❝ He pasta away. ❞

She grumbled. ❝ I hope you pasta away. ❞

Shocked, he puts his hand over his chest, mouth agape. ❝ You are just fresh today. ❞

Rubbing her eyes, Bethany sighs, the stretches her arms across her legs, falling forwards almost comically. ❝ I have a headache. ❞

❝ Try some tea or something. ❞

❝ Not that kind of headache. ❞

❝ Ah — well, ❞ he wasn’t sure what to say for that. He’d been spending an extra amount of time with her as she cut herself off of chems. Usually she used booze and an excuse to ward any urges but lately she’d been cut off from that. Purified water and hubflower tea had become the norm. ❝ Just take a nap. ❞

❝ We just woke up. ❞

❝ Sometimes we need a nap after waking up? ❞

She looks up at him with a small grin, then just shrugs it off. ❝ Maybe later, c’mon. ❞ Standing up from where they were sitting, Bethany opens and closes her hands repeatedly for him to follow her and take her hand into his own so she could lean on.

He does as silently instructed with no protest, pushing himself up and slipping his hand into hers, then adjusting it so that their palms together turned to being fingers lacing and intertwining against the other’s.

❝ Where we off to? ❞ he asked, moving along with her nearing shoulder to shoulder now, looking over his own to make sure no one was creeping on them either. Not that they weren’t obviously an item at this point, but he didn’t want to invite the idea that people could snoop either. He wanted privacy, whereas Bethany didn’t seem to care if all of a sudden up was down.

❝ Treehouse, ❞ she answered back, her voice slightly aloof now. Though she was cut off from chems, sometimes she still had a distant air about her that he couldn’t quite pinpoint. What was going on up there? She promised to talk about certain topics, but they hadn’t exactly picked up on that yet. He figured for now they’d get on with figuring out the physical stuff but it was all still directly related in the end. The chems helped get her away from the chaos, but then created a whole new one. Off of them, she had a more clear sense of her surroundings, however, her mind would never really recover from the mental damage over the years.

Giving some of the cats pats on their heads, two of the many furry critters followed Bethany and Deacon up the winding stairway up into the house fixed upon branches. It was cozy, though slightly barren of furniture. Still of a bit of a work in progress, at least it was fixed with lighting and some decent seating. Empty bottles from someone else’s gathering still remained from the night before, Bethany separating herself from him to clean up the little mess left behind for them.

Assuming now this was their project for the time being, Deacon arranged some of the furniture and things, like books and magazines, back in order until the area seemed presentable enough for the two of them to hangout in.

Plopping himself on the couch, he grabbed a Grognak the Barbarian comic to flip through, still have amused by the content that he must’ve read over a hundred times at this point. Those prewar writers surely had the sense of imagination…

Leaving the bottles at the edge of the stairwell to take back down with them when they leave, Bethany turned her attention to Deacon relaxing on the sofa, tiptoeing her way over to him and kneeling down at his side.

Sensing she had joined his bubble, he slid his glasses down a bit, folding the comic back up and tossing it back onto the pile on the table, then placing his arms behind his head with a light smirk. ❝ What’s up? ❞ Pursing her lips forward, Bethany held back a girlish smile, then leaned in over the side of the couch to give him a soft peck on the lips. ❝ Oh, I see — ❞ He couldn’t help but let himself go with a grin.

With all the arguments and frustrations surrounding them both, it was undeniable that they had a magnetic attraction. Why he allowed himself to give into her charm was beyond him, but she had a way of pulling people in that wanted to business with dealing with her. The piercing steel eyes that almost looked like reflections of polished silver in the light would make anyone a believer of what she was preaching.

They both shrouded themselves in a type of mystery that neither one of them had completely uncracked. While somethings had played themselves to the surface, it was merely a tip of the iceberg of everything that happened between them. So when they bumped heads on methods and madness, there was an underlying respect they shared for the other. Beginning as a smoke and mirrors game, the truth eventually revealed itself. Sometimes they find themselves both still playing but they both have learned to believe in the lies and question the truth.

Rolling a loose hair from her ear, Bethany hugs her knees as she remains on the floor next to him. ❝ You leave tomorrow, right? ❞

He pushes his sunglasses up, turning from her to lean his head back into his hands. ❝ Yeah — ❞ he drags a bit on that note. ❝ Doc’s got lead on a synth that needs to be picked up. Figured I give Mina a helping hand on this one. Navigating those subways is a real pain in the ass. ❞

A light nod, she looks away onto the floorboard, then back up at him. ❝ Don’t die out there or I’m gunna kill you. ❞

He turns his head at her, pulling down his shades by the bridge and squints at her, smirking a few then letting out a small laugh. ❝ You’re gunna kill me if I die? ❞

Poking at his rib, she answers. ❝ Absolutely. ❞

❝ Yikes, this is a lose/lose scenario for me, huh? ❞

❝ Not unless you come back alive. ❞

❝ Woof, guess I’ve only got one choice. ❞

Affirming his answer, Bethany feels a sense of pride getting her message across and somehow not starting some type of bickering contest between them. It’s been calmer, at least, with her being able to slow down and rationally form some thoughts and not immediately jumping the gun.

Another bit of silence, Bethany couldn’t stand it, the deafening sounds of her own thoughts once again filling. A new level of anxiety now filled her, when Deacon left on Railroad business, instead of worrying about her own demise, she was thinking of two.

It was a quick moment, Deacon saw, the switch between calm and fear, himself quickly reaching a hand out towards her jaw and using it to pull her into a kiss, shifting more to his side to deepen it. The harsh breathes in they both took, holding into their breath as long as one could before parting lips to take in oxygen again.

❝ It’s alright. They never see me, ❞ he whispered in reassurance, Bethany now touching her forehead to his. ❝ Don’t worry about me. ❞

❝ Hard not to… ❞

He keeps her mind at ease, though, kissing her again and sitting up on the sofa and pulling her up onto his lap. He’d have to try and keep her focused on something else — something better.

Taking off his sunglasses, he tossed them onto the table with the comics, then pushed her closer into his torso, locking her into a fury of kisses now, giving her a distraction away from the thoughts that had crossed her mind earlier.

Her own hands crawled up underneath the fabric of his shirt, touching the ripples of his abdomen hidden beneath. She was aware of his attempts to calm her down, but it wasn’t exactly working. At least, it was turning into a different energy in the room now.

As soon as her fingertips reached his skin, Deacon reached around the sides of his shirt and pulled it from the bottom up over his head. In turn, he now had his hands over the buttons of her blouse, opening the closures quickly from top to bottom, revealing Bethany’s pale toned skin and bare chest.

Unlike the first time they had attempted fate, they found themselves awkward and unknowing of what the other wanted. Now, it was a different tune. Where they once had to brace themselves for glance or touch, they craved it from one another.

As each piece of clothing was tossed and fallen to the treehouse floor, the two loved now lay across the couch, barely enough space to fit the two of them horizontally. There were moments to which one of them nearly fell off the edge, unleashing a roar of giggles between them, then interrupted by gasps of air and quiet pleas.

With a trembling cry from her, Deacon placed his fingers softly over her lips, insisting she try to keep it quiet in a somewhat public place. Biting her bottom lip, she whined a bit more as he lasted only moments longer and doing his best to not completely collapse overtop of her.

Tiny beads of sweat pooled on them both, Deacon pushing hers off her forehead and pressing his lips against it, then forcing himself next to her and sharing the sofa space as best as possible.

Only a few quick comments, unrelated to even the passing actions, one on how the cats managed to flee the scene in time. Sharing more soft moments, a shiver was felt over Bethany’s skin and yet no blanket to fix the problem.

❝ Alright, time for clothes. Up, up — ❞ he popped up and leaned on one arm, waiting for her to try and make the next move, but she instead turned into him and buried herself into his bare skin.

❝ I’m not ready for you to leave, ❞ she said in protest, pressing herself more into him, in turn forcing him into the cushions.

Sighing, he played with a few stands of loose hair that had fallen into her face, then rested a hand on the crook between her neck and shoulder. ❝ I’m going to come back. ❞

She squeezed her eyes closed. ❝ You don’t know that. ❞

❝ Yes I do. ❞

❝ How? ❞

❝ I wanna do that again. ❞ She threw her head up at him, then glared, but he was without any sort of shame on the comment. ❝ What? I do. That was awesome. I’m totally legit coming back for some of that again. ❞

❝ I legitimate can’t stand you sometimes. ❞

A laugh, then he moved his hand down to her backside to give it a slight squeeze. ❝ Get dressed, and I’ll be back before you know it. ❞

With the lighter mood, she still groaned and rolled off the couch and lazily started putting on her clothes and tossing his back at him.

Once standing up and ready to go, the two faced each other checking to see if the other was on the same page. But hesitation followed, neither one of them taking the first steps. Rather, Deacon making the motion to her and wrapping his arms around her shoulders and speaking low into her ear. ❝ There’s a million more things in this world I want to do, and I want to do them with you. ❞

She pulls always for a second to get a better look on his face, Sneaking up a finger to pull down his sunglasses, Bethany finds a pair of smiling blue eyes staring back down at her, her own welling up slightly.

❝ I want to do them with you, too. ❞

Strangely enough, her headache had disappeared.

#*my writing #ch: bethany #ch: deacon

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