#but they don’t give off dark gothic castle :(
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some off favourite parts in my room, I’m going for gothic castlevania vampire-hunter vibes
#castlevania#goth#gothic#gothic style#vampire#vampire aesthetic#gothic bedroom#not pictured is all the pride flags and anime figures#but they don’t give off dark gothic castle :(
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[Ⅷ] ne puero gladium
do not give a sword to a boy.
If you had to crane your head anymore to look up at the expansive tower, you might just crack your neck.
It’s not like you can voice your real feelings on Tartarus. How its protruding staircases and walls remind you of a mangled body. How it shined like a castle, a beacon for the Dark Hour. How Tatsumi Port Island suddenly felt like a macabre kingdom. So instead, you echo the most obvious and mention how you can’t even see the top of the tower where you stand. Iori responds to you with a drawn-out groan, already beginning a rant about how long it will take to reach the end until Kirijo cuts him off.
“Like always, I will be staying in the lobby to communicate with you all,” She turns to you, “You have your Evoker, yes?”
You lift it from its place in the holster Sanada had given you when you first tried to shove it into your blazer pocket stupidly. The metal is cold against your hand, and it’s heavier than you expected it to be, considering it’s just a fake gun. You wonder how much trouble you will have with using it. Kirijo nods approvingly once you confirm the presence of your Evoker, now turning her attention to Arisato. You had done your best to conceal your surprise when it was explained that he was the (however temporary) leader of SEES. He must have been part of it before his moving here, you rationalised. Now, standing there while everyone looks at him expectantly, you feel the air of dependency that surrounds him. You will later learn it is not idolisation, far from it. It’s just the security that follows having Minato by their side, knowing the sheer grandiose of his power cannot fail them.
He turns to you, azure eyes meeting yours before they quickly dart in the direction of Takeba and Iori. A silent confirmation that it was time, they met him with practised nods. Your eyes follow a disk situated offside the grand staircase, a juxtaposition of steel and thick wires. The odd gimmick looks as if it could belong in sci-fi movies, you note with round-eyed fascination. Takeba gently points out it is a teleporter upon your curious stare and you watch with a gaped mouth when Arisato casually steps onto the metal platform and disappears. Your initial apprehension melted at the sight of technology that felt a hundred years too early to be introduced. You wonder what the limit is for the likes of the Kijiro group.
You feel a pang of despondency when you instinctively reach for a camera that no longer exists. With so much of your focus being hogged by such world-changing developments, you barely had time to mourn for your beloved camera. All you can do is hope the interior of Tarturus is boring enough that you feel no interest in snapping photographs. The call of your name interrupts you, just as you are about to follow Takeba’s dispersed figure. Kirijo stands still, and you feel the insides of your stomach shift when you realise you can’t decipher the look on Kirijo’s expression. You hated it when you couldn’t tell what people were thinking.
“Best of luck. It’s your first time here, so make sure not to stray from Arisato’s side,” She hesitates for the briefest of seconds before continuing, “... If you need anything, just say so.”
You respond with a noncommittal ‘thanks’, and you don’t think you did a good job hiding your unease because Kirijo turns around without another word, busying herself with the clunky-looking radio on her bike. You leave without a word, disappearing after your other teammates. Looking back on this moment from the future, you wish you had been a little more observant of the tremor in Mitsuru’s hands.
You are sourly let down once you lay eyes on the inside of Tartarus. Shrouded in melancholy shades of royal purple, and walls carved in gothic architecture, you feel lightheaded as you take in the design of the interior. For once, you ignore the nonplussed look Takeba directs your way as you go to poke at the walls, surprised to find it made from regular bricks and stones.
“Are you…” Iori’s voice dies at his throat, unsure of whether this situation calls for judgment or concern. Amongst your dazed admiration, you fail to notice Arisato’s eyes following your movements closely, mild amusement lingering on his otherwise indifferent expression.
“This place is so eerie,” You comment, and you are lucky that Takeba and Iori miss the tone of awe in your voice.
“Oh, definitely. I keep getting the chills,” Takeba rubs her hand on her arm, her attention falling back on the leader who's been quietly watching you. “So, should we start?”
Traversing around the floor was more blind work than you expected. You assumed it shouldn’t be too difficult to wander around to look for a supposed staircase up, but you were proven wrong when Kirijo’s audio crackled out at some point and there was obvious desperation in the eyes of Takeba, and disappointment in Arisato’s. Until Kirijo can fix the issues on her end, it was deemed you will all have to guess your way up to the next staircase, and with no way to identify oncoming shadows. It fills you with nerves and grotesque curiosity if the shadows here were any different than the ones on the monorail. Were they smaller? Larger? What kind of mutant bodies will they inhabit, ones that will make you gasp as it's grandiose or cause a shiver down your spine? However, your desire to not be struck down by one again outweighed your morbid idiosyncrasy and so you obediently followed the back of your silent leader. The term still feels strange to utter out loud.
Iori’s curse rings loudly in the echo chamber of a place, and it immediately grabs the group's vigilance by turning heads. It’s a shadow, a blob on the floor and it resembles spilled ink to you. Its hollow socket for eyes still manages to send you into a cold sweat, but your teammates’ nerves do not show on their faces. They immediately latch onto their Evokers, as if it were second and instinctive nature. You grab yours with trembling, unsure hands. It seems the shadow quickly caught on to their intent at resistance, as it immediately melts into a more forbidding-looking creature. It takes a more human appearance, and it is more ghastly than the blob it once was before. A tattered cloak and ominous mask cover its monstrous features, standing on two stilts for legs. Now knowing that death does not await putting an Evoker to your head, you watch with fascination as Arisato pins the barrel to his temple, followed by the distinct sound of shattering glass. A familiar beast of a creature emerges, metallic and shining. The call of its name, Orpheus , escapes Arisato’s lips and you think this is the loudest you’ve ever heard him be. Orpheus strikes immediately, flames enwrapping the dense space as the shadow shrieks in warning. However, it’s not enough to kill it and matters worsen when backup arrives upon a shrieking call. Takeba’s bow is aimed and Iori stands on the defensive. You are unable to pay notice to how Arisato’s usually placid expression hardens at the sudden ambush, your throat constricting as one shadow suddenly makes rapid advancement towards you. You know there is only one way to protect yourself, none of your teammates can assist you while being attacked themselves. Your grip is shaky as you point your Evoker to your forehead, your fingers hesitantly resting on the trigger. The act of mimicking suicide, you think, and you feel detest pool in your gut. A coward’s escape, something you despise and now are ironically imitating. Your mother and father flash in your mind and a whirlwind of emotions settle in. Rage, that you still think of them in a moment like this. Two fuck ups who had no business raising a child, who don’t deserve beautiful things like memory and mourning. Then comes the fear, that you aren’t worried for your safety even with a gun pointed to your head. Were you always going to dangle off this cliff, at risk of becoming like them?
You pull the trigger and it feels as if the world cracks around your feet, all before shattering. You feel yourself jerk back, even without any impact. There was no bullet to your skull, just grating ringing in your ears before the earth goes still. No thoughts go through your mind at the moment, and you feel nothing. No fear, no exhilaration, no anger. For those few seconds, you feel above living and above even death. Then, you hear something. A whisper in your ears, and it mutters a name that you mindlessly repeat.
“Electra!”
It’s a sensation of falling back down to earth, not a crash but as if you were floating. Every emotion and every sensation invades you all at once. The call of your name, the ground beneath your feet, the wind on your back. Yet, your focus is completely and utterly absorbed by the shadow in front of you. Electra stands tall, with glass eyes and her skeleton figure. A spell leaves your lips, one you’ve never uttered before but it feels like you’ve known of it your whole life. Aqua , and the shadow is immediately assaulted by springs of blue. The water attacks with vigour and lightning speed, and it’s not long before it vanquishes under the ferocity of Electra . You hadn’t realised you were holding your breath until a long exhale leaves you and your chest feels lighter. When you turn around, the crowd of shadows have been dispersed and Arisato strikes the final blow on the remaining one. With the immediate threat to their life gone, your teammates were quick to surround you. Takeba is asking how you are feeling, while Iori is already making quips, but also asserts how he totally doesn’t mind picking up your slack. Arisato keeps a comfortable distance, but when your eyes trail to him he surprises you once again.
“Good work,” It’s simple words of encouragement, but for someone who speaks only out of necessity it manages to hold some weight. You feel your face heat up, shifting your weight onto one foot at the unexpected attention from the trio. However, it is interrupted by a loud crackle from the radio, indicating that Kirijo managed to somehow fix the faulty connection. She expresses her relief when you all confirm your status, and reinstates that she can hold the connection until the end of the Dark Hour. Without further ado, you continue your exploration with the guidance of the senior student.
You didn’t expect how sudden exhaustion would hit you, like a bullet train to an unassuming person. You always believed your stamina was a little better than this, your long walks around Port Island at condemnable hours being your testament. However, in each step, you felt as if you were straggling. Your teammates move with much more dexterity and you envy the lack of sweat that shined from their brows. Takeba is the first one to notice your lagging and something in the hazel hues of her eyes told you she expected this much.
“It takes a lot out of you when you summon your Persona for the first time,” She explains to you as she takes a place by your side. You feel warm and a little ashamed under the glow of her concern, but she’s already turned to the leader with furrowed brows. “I think it’d be a good idea to head back today since she’s exhausted.”
Arisato nods in agreement, and strides towards you with something in hand. He waits expectantly and you hesitantly open up your palm for him. You blink at the packeted snack he places in your hand and you look up to catch a trace of humour in his expression before he continues.
“It’ll help give you some energy,” He states simply and you aren’t completely sure if store-bought bread is enough to help you with your severe fatigue, but you are never one to deny a kind act from another. You chew on the rather stretchy loaf as Kirijo brings awareness to the teleporter in the room. The walk is rather uneventful, with shadows cleared and Iori’s chatter and Takeba’s retorts being the only sign of life within the floor. You don’t take note of her squared shoulders and her brief glances to the side of your head until she speaks, tone filled with uncertainty.
“Hey, so…” She begins and pauses, and it sounds unnatural for her to sound so awkward. That’s how you speak. “How do you feel about…”
You look at her patiently, and you wonder if you made the wrong move because she already begins to backtrack with a strained sigh. She sounds frail, and it’s only when the two of you become closer do you learn of the weight that’s burdened her shoulders since she was a little girl. You will learn to understand her pain, but hold yourself back because you are an envious and greedy thing who will always wish for a closeness only she and Mitsuru can have. But for now, you both are just two teenage girls who have nothing in common and are too tired to keep up a pretence of a conversation. So, you fall into step with the two boys and wish for the safety of your covers. You don’t even notice how your fingertips gently trace the engravings of your Evoker.
Memento Mori .
#persona 3 x reader#persona 3#p3#p3 x reader#makoto yuki#makoto yuki x reader#minato arisato#minato arisato x reader#persona 3 protagonist x reader#persona 3 protagonist#reader insert#x reader#memento vivere#webxgal writes
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So for Shining Smooch Week last year, I actually planned a full fic to correspond with each of the themes, but I never got around to writing it and I'm not sure if I'm going to find time to do it so uhhh... Here's the outline I had prepared for One Big Happy Family.
Day 1: Yesterday
Dwight and Gretta reminisce on the adventures that everyone forgot, and the adventures that they got to remember.
In the end, Dwight proposes to Gretta
“We are the adventure I want for tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, and forever.”
Day 2: Marigold
The day after their engagement, Dwight and Gretta leave marigold flowers on the base of the Queen Tree.
When they return later, marigolds have sprouted and have a subtle glow.
Day 3: Crown
Dwight and Gretta get married! During the ceremony, Queen Britta walks in and congratulates them both
Queen Britta crowns Queen Gretta and Prince Consort Dwight with marigold wreaths.
Day 4: Gothic
Dwight and Gretta move into a different house down the road, leaving the old castle in the capable hands of Baldric and Hexcela.
The house has gotten quite crowded after Baldric and Hexcela had twins [Cordelia & Cassandra].
They quickly find out that the house is haunted
The ghost is a very nice old woman who died of tuberculosis in the 1800s
Dwight gets Gretta to agree that the ghost is welcome to stay and even arrange a room for her.
Day 5: Heart
Baldric and Hexcela have told Chlodwig that he has to move out.
He asks Gretta to stay in her hermit hut, but she informs him that they don’t have a hermit hut and a ghost is sleeping in their guest room.
Chlodwig wanders into the Swine & Slosh Tavern
He tells Jacopo about his plight and Jacopo suggests he rent a room in the upstairs apartment.
Chlodwig takes him up on his offer and moves in the next day.
He doesn’t have a bed to start so he and Jacopo have to share.
Chlodwig’s heart beats like crazy all night.
Day 6: Wanderlust
Chlodwig wanders to the forest the next day to gather the materials to stuff his bed.
He ends up walking aimlessly for awhile.
As night approaches, Jacopo crashes through the forest and drags Chlodwig back home, grumbling the whole time.
“I know that you have nothing between the ears but at least you should have the sense to be home ah-before dark.”
Chlodwig is touched that he came looking at all
Gretta would have left him to his own devices.
Day 7: Hero
While Hexcela is at work, Baldric is watching the twins.
Cassandra has a minor meltdown and while he is dealing with the temper tantrum, Cordelia wanders out of the house, follow Cordelia POV
Cordelia walks down the road and watches Dwight and Gretta as they are hanging lights on their house. Dwight falls off the ladder and Gretta catches him. They start laughing.
Cordy giggles and waddles away. She runs into Jacopo a few blocks away and he picks her up and brings her to the tavern.
Jacopo presents the toddler to Chlodwig and tells him to find the “witchy woman” so that he might return her.
Chlodwig takes Cordy and balances her on his hip with practiced ease and she gives him a big hug.
Chlodwig pretends to choke and laughs good-naturedly.
Jacopo is staring at the exchange like Chlodwig grew two heads.
When Chlodwig asks what’s wrong, Jacopo turns red and runs away.
Chlodwig carries Cordy home. They meet Baldric halfway and Baldric is so thankful that she was found by someone safe.
Baldric and Chlodwig take the girls home.
That evening, Hexcela returns home and asks Cordy about her adventure.
While Baldric is blanched in the background and asks how she found out.
“Jacopo and I have tea after work twice a week, darling.”
#dwight in shining armor#disa#fanfic#fanfiction#abandoned premise#i might revisit some of these ideas later but idk
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Celebrating Women of Horror
To celebrate Women's History Month I thought I'd highlight some authors who specialize in creeping us out, scaring us, and writing amazing thrillers that have us biting our fingernails as we quickly turn page after page to find out "who done it". Let's raise a glass to the YA Authors of Horror!
First off, in my humble opinion, is the queen Tiffany D. Jackson. She is known for plot twists that absolutely break our hearts while giving us all sorts of literary thrills. I always say I'm going to take my time with one of her books, but we all know that's a lie. I'm way to into the story to put the book down and usually end up reading well past my bedtime. Her latest, The Weight of Blood is an excellent homage to Stephen King's Carrie in the only way a Jackson novel can.
The Weight of Blood by Tiffany D. Jackson
When Springville residents—at least the ones still alive—are questioned about what happened on prom night, they all have the same explanation... Maddy did it.
An outcast at her small-town Georgia high school, Madison Washington has always been a teasing target for bullies. And she's dealt with it because she has more pressing problems to manage. Until the morning a surprise rainstorm reveals her most closely kept secret: Maddy is biracial. She has been passing for white her entire life at the behest of her fanatical white father, Thomas Washington.
After a viral bullying video pulls back the curtain on Springville High's racist roots, student leaders come up with a plan to change their image: host the school's first integrated prom as a show of unity. The popular white class president convinces her Black superstar quarterback boyfriend to ask Maddy to be his date, leaving Maddy wondering if it's possible to have a normal life.
But some of her classmates aren't done with her just yet. And what they don't know is that Maddy still has another secret... one that will cost them all their lives.
Next is Within These Wicked Walls by Lauren Blackwood which I absolutely loved. Who would have thought turning a romance novel into a YA horror novel would work so well? Blackwood's novel is creepy and gothic and full of steamy romantic moments that make it a wonderful thriller that you can't put down.
Within These Wicked Walls" by Lauren Blackwood
What the heart desires, the house destroys...
Andromeda is a debtera—an exorcist hired to cleanse households of the Evil Eye. When a handsome young heir named Magnus Rochester reaches out to hire her, Andromeda quickly realizes this is a job like no other, with horrifying manifestations at every turn, and that Magnus is hiding far more than she has been trained for. Death is the most likely outcome if she stays, but leaving Magnus to live out his curse alone isn’t an option. Evil may roam the castle’s halls, but so does a burning desire.
The next few books are on my TBR list and I can't wait to be scared by these awesome authors.
Burn Down, Rise Up by Vincent Tirado
Mysterious disappearances.
An urban legend rumored to be responsible.
And one group of teens determined to save their city at any cost.
For over a year, the Bronx has been plagued by sudden disappearances that no one can explain. Sixteen-year-old Raquel does her best to ignore it. After all, the police only look for the white kids. But when her crush Charlize's cousin goes missing, Raquel starts to pay attention—especially when her own mom comes down with a mysterious illness that seems linked to the disappearances.
Raquel and Charlize team up to investigate, but they soon discover that everything is tied to a terrifying urban legend called the Echo Game. The game is rumored to trap people in a sinister world underneath the city, and the rules are based on a particularly dark chapter in New York's past. And if the friends want to save their home and everyone they love, they will have to play the game and destroy the evil at its heart—or die trying.
She Is a Haunting by Trang Thanh Tran
A house with a terrifying appetite haunts a broken family in this atmospheric horror, perfect for fans of Mexican Gothic.
When Jade Nguyen arrives in Vietnam for a visit with her estranged father, she has one goal: survive five weeks pretending to be a happy family in the French colonial house Ba is restoring. She’s always lied to fit in, so if she’s straight enough, Vietnamese enough, American enough, she can get out with the college money he promised.
But the house has other plans. Night after night, Jade wakes up paralyzed. The walls exude a thrumming sound, while bugs leave their legs and feelers in places they don’t belong. She finds curious traces of her ancestors in the gardens they once tended. And at night Jade can’t ignore the ghost of the beautiful bride who leaves her cryptic warnings: Don’t eat.
Neither Ba nor her sweet sister Lily believe that there is anything strange happening. With help from a delinquent girl, Jade will prove this house—the home her family has always wanted—will not rest until it destroys them. Maybe, this time, she can keep her family together. As she roots out the house’s rot, she must also face the truth of who she is and who she must become to save them all.
Read Audrey's Review
Man Made Monsters by Andrea L. Rogers
Tsalagi should never have to live on human blood, but sometimes things just happen to sixteen-year-old girls.
Making her YA debut, Cherokee writer Andrea L. Rogers takes her place as one of the most striking voices of the horror renaissance that has swept the last decade.
Horror fans will get their thrills in this collection – from werewolves to vampires to zombies – all the time-worn horror baddies are there. But so are predators of a distinctly American variety – the horrors of empire, of intimate partner violence, of dispossession. And so too the monsters of Rogers’ imagination, that draw upon long-told Cherokee stories – of Deer Woman, fantastical sea creatures, and more.
Following one extended Cherokee family across the centuries, from the tribe’s homelands in Georgia in the 1830s to World War I, the Vietnam War, our own present, and well into the future, each story delivers a slice of a particular time period that will leave readers longing for more.
Man Made Monsters is a masterful, heartfelt, haunting collection ripe for crossover appeal – just don’t blame us if you start hearing things that go bump in the night.
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Let's Do the Time Warp Again!
Team Chaos and the eldritch gays find themselves stuck in a time loop! That's it.
**Hopefully by now, you've noticed that S.G. uses all pronouns, but I wrote this before I realized it and I do not have the time to go back through and fix that. I will at some point, but today is not that day.
Team Chaos is a Queer-Platonic Polycule and Callisto/Prophis (17586 words)
~~~
Glib
"Gang, I don't feel too hot about this one," Goodbid says as they stare up at the imposing gothic architecture of the castle. Well, castle isn't exactly the right word. It's closer to a mansion in design, but it has tall, imposing protective-walls that surround the garden they are stood in with several spires piercing the sky with their sharp peaks. The brick walls are dark and cracked, covered by overgrown vines, and the windows are covered by heavy sun-bleached drapes, adding to the unsettling aura of the place.
Glib had to agree with Goodbid; nothing felt right about this. The castle belonged to an insanely powerful sorceress that suddenly vanished several years ago, and the town's mayor wants them to get through the castle and make sure that the lady is actually gone. Mayor Blackbell had convinced them (by them, Glib means mostly S.G.) to take the job because he said that they could take any of the magical items they found inside as well as 1000 gold if they started looking through the castle tonight.
"Stop being such cowards!" S.G. laughs. "The lady's been dead for years! What are you afraid of?"
"Death. Violent death," Glib deadpans.
"Well, you are already dead, so really there is nothing to be afraid of," Canyon says as he strides forward.
Goodbid and Glib look at each other. They nod at each other in a silent understanding that there is no way this will not go horribly. Canyon and S.G. walk up first, throwing open the doors, showering everyone in a huge cloud of dust, while revealing a grand foyer.
The ceilings are high with tall marble pillars holding it up. The walls are some sort of dark wood, and a chandelier hangs in the center of the room, unlit and covered in cobwebs. The floor is an old dark stone making Glib's bare feet chilly as it offers no insulation against the cold. There is a grand staircase on either side of the room that arches up and connects in the center of the wall. The stairs lead to a set of closed oak doors.
"Great, now I'm dusty," Glib says as he tries, in vain, to get the dust off of his sticky skin. Goodbid gives him a sympathetic look as he brushes the dust off of his top hat. He takes his jacket off and shakes the dust off of it before putting it back on.
"I can try to brush it off of ya," Goodbid offers as they advance towards one of the large grand staircases.
"Nah, I'm pretty sure this shit isn't coming off without me jumping into a river," Glib says sourly as they ascend the dirty stairs. They throw open the doors at the top of the stairs, revealing an unlit hallway. The hallway is done in a similar style as the foyer. Tall ceilings, dark walls, and dark stone floors. The hall is sparsely decorated with only a few paintings and creepy busts along the walls, and a deep red carpet that runs along the center of the floor.
"Hey, Glib," S.G. says already holding out her hand. "Give me Stick."
"What? Why?" Glib says as he hesitantly holds out Stick.
"Because its dark," S.G. says bluntly. She casts a spell on Stick making it glow before giving it back to Glib. "There now Goodbid and I won't walk into walls."
They wander around the building, checking every room they come across and pocketing everything they can.
"Five gold says that this is another empty bedroom," Canyon says as he walks up to the doors.
"No, I'm pretty sure this one's an office," Goodbid says with a distant tone.
Glib glances at him but he seems to be absorbed in his thoughts. Canyon throws open the door revealing an office.
"Wow, Goodbid, nice call!" S.G. says clapping him on the shoulder as she brushes past him into the office. Canyon grumbles something about cheating businessmen and puts the five gold into Goodbid's unresponsive hand.
"Y'all, I'm pretty sure I've been here before," Goodbid says as he glances around the office. "She wanted a hit on someone."
"You remember who?" Glib asks sticking close to him.
"No, I've probably done more than five hundred since I've been here. I can't remember them all," Goodbid says as he walks over to the desk. They find an enchanted quill and several research papers on things that seem less than ethical. Goodbid takes the papers while S.G. puts the quill in her bag of holding.
Glib takes one of the papers off the desk before Goodbid can get to it. He scans it over, his eyes widening as a realization slowly dawns on him.
"Hey, I think she was a warlock," Glib says as he holds up the piece of paper.
"Why ya say that?" Goodbid asks.
"Because this-" he holds up the piece of paper for the businessman to read, "looks like a written form of the contract I have with my God."
Goodbid takes the contract and skims it over. "Any clue who their patron is?" Goodbid asks.
"No more than you do," Glib says with a sigh. A word in an ancient language keeps coming up in the paper, presumably the patron's name, but Glib can't identify who it belongs to.
"Damn," Goodbid says as he sticks the paper in his briefcase. "Maybe you could ask your God."
"I will once we are out of here," Glib says dismissively. He doesn't want to risk angering the patron of this place. His patron has few friends and a number of enemies.
Once the room is devoid of anything even remotely valuable, they leave and set back down the hall.
A flash of white catches Glib's eye and he comes to a dead stop.
"Anyone else see that?" Glib says as he clutches stick closer to himself.
"See what?" Goodbid asks, already stepping closer to Glib and looking around for a threat.
"I saw something white move around down there." Glib points into the darkness where he saw the flash of white.
"It's probably nothing," S.G., gaslighter extraordinaire, says with confidence.
"Uh, Glib, I can't see past the light ring. Is something there?" Goodbid says, pointedly ignoring S.G. much to her chagrin, as he squints at the darkness.
"Oh, right, uh." Glib walks forward and can see the clear outline of a door at the hallway's end. "There's a door?" He looks a little closer at it. "But it's barred off."
"Well, are ya sure ya saw somethin'?" Goodbid asks, his accent coming in more heavily the more anxious he becomes.
"No, not really," Glib admits.
"Well obviously we should go through that door," Canyon says smugly. "That's obviously where the ghost wants us to go."
"Mm, yes, I agree. Besides we were told to check all of the rooms. Ghost or no, we would've gone in there," S.G. says, rolling her shoulders and straightening her hood. She's clearly putting on a confident front to disguise her discomfort.
Goodbid stiffens at the mention of a ghost. He's been very skittish about spirits ever since they were attacked at the bottom of Rift Reach.
"I doubt it was a ghost," Glib says in an attempt to calm Goodbid. "I just saw the door glint in the light."
Goodbid nods stiffly, side stepping closer to the Glow Stick and, by proxy, Glib. The frog just nods slightly and silently passes Goodbid Glow Stick so he can at least see where they are going. Goodbid mouths a silent thank you as he takes the light and holds it in one hand and his brief case in the other.
When they get to the door, Canyon tries to remove the bar. He struggles with it for a moment before huffing and taking a step back.
"Welp, that's a sign, y'all, I say we-"
"Hold on, I can help you," S.G. says stepping up to the door.
"Damn witch," Goodbid swears, clutching his briefcase to his chest.
Together, they dislodge the bar and throw the door open.
"Y'all I've a real bad feelin' 'bout this," Goodbid says.
"I mean, you can always stay out here," S.G. says with mock sympathy. "Alone. In the dark."
Goodbid looks visibly distressed, but he slowly nods. He hooks his briefcase to his belt and grabs the back of Glib's hood. Glib flashes him a look, but he can see how upset Goodbid is, so he lets it go. If Goodbid holding onto Glib's hood keeps him from freaking out, he can keep holding on.
They'd barely stepped through the door's threshold when it swings shut, locking behind them, and the enchantment on Stick suddenly stops working.
Goodbid shrieks and turns on his heels. He grabs the door handle and tries desperately to open it, chanting "come on ya damn door!" before devolving into an impressive combination of prayers and swears.
"Bid! Bid!" Glib says, trying to get his attention but very quickly coming to the realization that Goodbid's in hysterics. He grabs Goodbid's arm and pulls himself onto his back. He latches onto him like a living backpack and starts talking. "Goodbid, you've got to listen to me. It's alright, you are going to have to calm down. We can find another way out, this is a really old castle, there are other entrances."
Goodbid doesn't seem to understand what Glib is saying, but he slowly starts to calm down.
"I told y'all!" He yells, turning to face the group. S.G. is looking in the other direction, but Canyon is looking at them with a strange expression, much harder for Glib to understand in the dark. "Somethin' bad was gonna happen! Now look where we are!"
"Goodbid! Stop overreacting! Everything is fine!" S.G. says while looking at Canyon. Glib realizes that while he can see about as well as he can see normally and Canyon can probably see like it's a moonless night, S.G. and Goodbid are completely blind.
"Fine? Fine?!" Goodbid shouts. Glib swears he can feel Goodbid getting hotter through his shirt. "Is this what you call fine, you crazy witch?! We are in a pitch-black room in a random haunted godforsaken castle!" He howls in a fury. He waves his hands wildly in the air even though he can't see them and S.G. is non the wiser. Glib holds on for dear life as the man jostles him around. "We are not fine!"
"Yes, well, shut up and stop whining!" S.G. counters. "I'm working on it!" She turns and is yelling at the wall.
At this point, Canyon and Glib are barely holding their laughter.
"Hey, S.G. I don't know what that wall did to you, but Goodbid's over here," Glib says trying desperately to not laugh, only to start rolling with laughter as she does a full 180 and starts yelling at Canyon again.
"Well unlike some people, I can't see in the dark!" S.G. snaps.
"Well, sucks to suck," Canyon says bluntly before holding his hand out. "Glib throw me Stick."
"Stick go to Canyon." It pulls out of Goodbid's hand and goes to the giant cat-man.
"Cool. S.G." He turns back to S.G. "Relight this." He grabs S.G.'s hand and puts Stick in it.
S.G. grumbles something about Canyon being stupid before trying to 'relight' Stick. She tries a few times before throwing the stick at Canyon. It smacks him square in the face.
"It's not working!" She snaps. "There must be something with this room."
"Alright, well, we have two people who can see jack shit and two who can see well enough in the dark. I guess we'll just have to continue wandering around until we find a way out," Glib says. He shifts to get off of Goodbid's back, but the mustached man grabs his hand.
"If you sit on my shoulder's you'll be able to direct me around better," Goodbid says with the underlying message, "please don't leave me in the dark."
"Okay," Glib says. He crawls further up Goodbid's back until he's perched on his shoulder. "Stick!" He yells and catches it before it can hit Goodbid, who flinches. In front of them, S.G. latches onto Canyon's arm in the image of modern chivalry, or at least it would be if S.G. wasn't complaining about not needing to be guided around.
"Can you see?" Canyon says leaning over her.
"No," S.G. says hotly.
"Then shut up and hold on."
With that they start down the hall, checking every door they come across, all of them being locked.
"We should start pick locking," Canyon suggests, already getting his picks out.
"We will later, Canyon, but first we need to get them outside," Glib says tiredly. "They are kinda sitting ducks."
Canyon thinks about it for a moment before nodding and pocketing the picks again.
After about ten minutes of trying all the doors -and S.G. and Goodbid getting increasingly more uncomfortable- one at the hall's end opens. Past the door is a stone spiral staircase.
"Oh great," Glib grumbles. "Canyon, you and S.G. go first."
"Go first?" Goodbid asks, stiffening under Glib.
"Oh, right, you can't see what just happened," Glib says apologetically and Goodbid shakes his head. "A door actually opened and there's a spiral staircase on the other side."
Goodbid just makes a noise that sounds like a whine and a groan at once. "Why did I ever agree to stay with y'all after my contract was up?"
"Because we are the best for 'biddness'," Glib says as he watches S.G., and Canyon slowly climb the stairs. Once they were out of eye line, Glib nudges Goodbid forward. Slowly they start up the stairs. It's precarious and Glib feels like he's about to die of a stress induced heart attack, but they are managing.
About halfway up, S.G. yells, "wait! I can see light!"
"You can?!" Goodbid yells back up, sounding relieved.
"Yeah, there's torch light!" Canyon calls.
Goodbid starts climbing the stairs a little quicker, and sure enough, there is the slow orange flicker of torch light. It illuminates Canyon and S.G. at the top of the stairs, who are waiting patiently for Goodbid to arrive.
"What's the hold up?" Goodbid asks when Canyon looks antsy.
"Why are there torches here? This place has been abandoned for years," Canyon says. His ears are pinned slightly, and he keeps looking through the doorway.
"Magic torches," Glib says dismissively. "We've seen them before."
"Yeah, but I just think that its weird that they are only in that room." He points through the door where Glib can barely see anything but can clearly make out a long bridge reaching across a dark room.
"I don't know, but right now this is the only way forward," Glib says pointedly.
Canyon makes a clicking noise and shakes his head. He turns around and gestures S.G. through. "Ladies first."
"Gee, thanks," S.G. says sarcastically. She looks around the room before cautiously stepping through. Canyon goes next, and Goodbid brings up the rear.
"What was that?!" Goodbid yelps, jumping to look at the door.
"What? What?" Glib yells, holding onto Goodbid before he can throw him off.
"You didn't see that?!"
"No!"
Goodbid pants for a second before slowly turning back. "Must've been the wind."
Glib stares at him, but Goodbid says nothing else, gesturing for the others to continue walking. They slowly cross the bridge with S.G. in the lead.
"Woah! Look at that!" Canyon says in amazement as he leans over the ledge.
"What?" Glib asks. He turns and looks over into the dark room and is awestruck by what he sees.
Gears take up the far walls and large portions of the floor, leaving only small pathways to and from the clock with bells and chimes covering the roof. The wall across from the bridge is the only one not covered in (or seemingly made of) gears. Instead, it seems to be made of dark, thick glass which, despite being in the center of a wall, is facing the sky. In the center of the glass wall sits a large clockface, the only indication of what this massive machine is.
The clock face is the most impressive of them all. The detail is hard to pick out in the shadowed room, but he can see the raised details dancing in the fire's light. The grass of the flower field sways like the breeze is blowing and the stars shine in the low light. A tree sits off to the edge of the painting with an elf boy laying under it. He has a thin straw hat over his face and his hands crossed over his chest. His long golden-white hair tumbles past his shoulders and splays into the tall grass like white vines.
"That's impressive. Can you guys see that?"
"See what- oh my god," Goodbid says, coming to a dead stop. He walks over to the sturdy wood railing, and, knowing better than to put his weight on something like this, he places his palms on it to get a better look.
S.G. whistles as she joins the boys at admiring the hauntingly beautiful clock.
"Think we can fit that in your bag?" Canyon jokes.
"I'm willing to try it," S.G. counters, a mischievous look on her face.
Before anyone can say anything else, a white streak lunges from the wall behind them. With a terrifying shriek, it picks up Goodbid and Glib and hurls them at the clock's face. They slam into it with a sick crunch before falling to the ground. They miraculously land on one of the gearless patches.
Glib slowly gets off the ground. Everything is spinning and he can faintly taste blood, but he knows he needs to get up. He looks up and can see the fuzzy image of Canyon and S.G. fighting the white ghoul. White things keep whipping around its face, and it keeps making these loud sobbing noises.
"Banshee," Glib says through the link. "That's a banshee." He shakily raises his hand and fires off as many eldritch blasts as he can before he collapses back in exhaustion, half landing on Goodbid, who has not gotten up. Glib feels for his pulse. It's faint, but it's there. Suddenly, the bells and chimes start ringing loudly, shaking the entire castle.
The last thing Glib hears before everything fades to black is S.G. and Canyon through the mental link screaming their names, telling them to get up and get out.
*
Glib shoots straight up. He's in his room, sleeping in his fur-lined bed (thank you magical loopholes) and he's completely unhurt.
"Just a nightmare," Glib mutters, running a hand down his face. "Just a stupid, stupid nightmare." Before he can go back to sleep, his door swings open with enough force that he's worried its going to come off its hinges.
"It was not just a nightmare!" S.G. yells, marching into Glib's room, Canyon and a traumatized-looking Goodbid in tow. "We remember it too!"
"And today's the same day!" Canyon says as if that makes any sense.
"What?" Glib asks, still half asleep.
"What day did we go to the castle?" Canyon asks.
"Uh, it was the twenty sixth?" Glib says, trying very hard to remember everything from the not-dream.
"Yeah! And today is also the twenty sixth!"
"What are you talking about?" Glib asks, not particularly wanting to deal with Canyon's nonsense.
"We're repeating the day," Goodbid says in a distant tone. Glib looks at him and Goodbid is just staring at the wall above Glib's head with a thousand-yard stare.
"Is he okay?" Glib asks, slightly worried that Goodbid, while he is still smiling, is smiling in a very manic way.
"No, he thinks he took a contract there, and you know how he gets when we have to deal with the undead," S.G. says, only a little sympathetic, as if she isn't also terrified of most ghosts and Glib was not an actual vampire.
"I would just need to find that contract. I keep my contracts, it'll be easy," Goodbid says, mostly to himself. The room falls into silence while everyone thinks over what just happened.
"Oh shit," Glib says. "Mystery man is going to kill us if we don't figure this out."
***
Prophis
"I don't know what you did, but you are going to undo it," Callisto says, throwing open the door to the home of the adventuring party he unintentionally created. Prophis wants to chide his boyfriend for being so rude to their friends, but he is certain that doing that will result in an argument so instead he sighs deeply. Besides, Callisto has a reason to be upset. This is the third time they have woken up to this day.
"Why do you think they did it?" Prophis counters as he enters the house behind him.
"Because look at them!" Callisto snaps, his chest puffing up. Prophis cocks an unamused eyebrow at him, and Callisto deflates, unable to withstand his boyfriend's silent scolding.
"No, Mystery Man's right," Canyon says from his seat on the couch. His feet are thrown over the couch's arm and he is laying across half of the couch with his arms crossed over his stomach. His head is directly next to Goodbid's leg, who does not look to care. The afore mentioned businessman's entire torso is inside his briefcase. Prophis can faintly hear him muttering, but he's either too far away or Goodbid is just whispering gibberish because Prophis cannot make out what is being said.
"Canyon!" Glib snaps. "Why would you tell them?!"
"Because they obviously knew and now, they can help us undo it," Canyon says nonchalantly.
"He's got a point, Glib," S.G. says. She is at the dinner table looking over old records that Prophis is pretty sure they stole from somewhere. Glib is sat across from her and is reading an ancient tome that looks to be heavier than he is.
"Fine, whatever, just help us," Glib grumbles. He gestures to the stacks of scrolls, books, and papers all around the house.
"We'll help once you tell us what happened," Prophis says walking over to Glib. "And is he okay?" He points to Goodbid.
"Oh yeah, he's just looking for a specific paper. He says he's worked with the lady that caused this. He keeps all of his contracts so if he can find it, it will slim down the amount of reading we have to do," Glib says, not even looking away from the massive book.
Callisto walks to Goodbid and touches his back. Goodbid doesn't even flinch as he continues his frantic search.
"And you're sure he's okay?" Prophis says, his brow pinched in concern.
"Like 80 percent sure- anyway!" S.G. says. "Do one of you want to explain this to them because I would like to stay on good terms with them," S.G. says bluntly and Prophis is slightly more worried now.
"Yeah, I'll do it since I don't have to read," Canyon volunteers.
"Yes, why aren't you helping?" Callisto asks crossing his arms.
"I am helping," Canyon says. "I'm keeping Goodbid from losing it." As if cued in by Canyon's words Goodbid suddenly starts freaking out.
"Where is it?! Where is it?! I ain't ever lost a contract!" He says in an accent so thick that Prophis barely understands him.
"Hey, hey, Goodbid, relax," Canyon says calmly. He pulls Goodbid out of the briefcase and pushes himself into his lap. He gently headbutts Goodbid's face in the same way a house cat would. Goodbid seems to recognize what Canyon wants him to do and starts to pet him until he looks slightly more rational. Canyon eases himself off of Goodbid and returns to his laying position next to his thigh while Goodbid returns to his briefcase, not nearly as deep or panicked. "See, helping," Canyon says smugly.
"I see," Callisto says, casting Prophis a confused look. Prophis shakes his head, knowing that Callisto is asking him if the cat man and Goodbid are dating. The team hasn't told Prophis if they are, so he just has to assume they aren't, but he can see where Callisto is coming from. Prophis is certain that the four of them are in a queer-platonic polycule, it's certainly obvious in the way they behave, but whether or not they know that they are in a queer-platonic polycule is a different question entirely.
Prophis clears his throat. "You were going to explain what happened," he prods, stepping over to the couch.
"Oh, yeah," Canyon says. He shifts into a more comfortable position before he continues. "So, we were exploring this castle that belonged to a really powerful magic lady-"
"She was a warlock!" Glib corrects.
"Yeah, that. She worked with some sort of powerful god, it might also have been a trickster of some sort, we don't know. Point being she made some strong stuff. And one of these things happened to be a really big clock, for some reason. Now, we didn't exactly break the clock -we weren't even going to touch it at first- but then this thing came out of nowhere and threw Glib and Goodbid into the clock. It chimed a couple of times and then stopped ticking. This day has just been repeating and it seems like the only ones who are 'awake' are us and- well- you guys I guess."
Prophis nods slowly, processing all the information that was just thrown at him.
"So, let me get this straight," Callisto says, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You went into an old castle that belonged to an extremely powerful warlock, Glib and Goodbid were thrown by something-"
"It was a banshee," Glib says tiredly. "It was a fucking banshee."
"And that thing was a son of a bitch to get rid of!" S.G. adds spitefully.
"Okay, a banshee threw Glib and Goodbid into a giant clock and now we are stuck in a time loop?" Callisto finishes.
"Pretty much, yeah," Canyon says, the perfect picture of an uncaring cat.
"I found it!" Goodbid yells holding up a fairly yellow and fragile piece of paper up. "Sweet mercy, I found it!"
"You found it?!" Glib says. He launches out of his seat and slides to a stop next to Goodbid.
"Yes! It was one of my first contracts, it's a miracle that I had this," Goodbid says giddily. S.G. misty steps over to the boys and gets on the other side of Glib. "Her name was Zinrie Olvito and she was an elf woman with an extremely powerful time patron. She contacted me to take out her brother."
"Why?" S.G. asks.
"Dunno, I never ask why, I just do what I'm told," Goodbid says as he puts the scroll down. "That bein' said she made sure that I knew to kill him cleanly and with as little pain as I could."
"So, she was a time warlock," Prophis begins slowly, making sure he's properly understanding, "and you broke the giant clock?"
Goodbid startles, jumping a foot in the air before staring wide-eyed at the newcomers. "When the hell did y'all get here?" he asks causing the others to laugh.
"We've been here for the last five minutes," Prophis says lightly.
Goodbid nods slowly, seemingly taking in his surroundings for the first time in a while.
"Hey," Glib says suddenly. "Do you think that the crazy time-lady was the banshee?" The others stare at him, obviously waiting for him to continue. "Banshees can only be made from heart-broken or grieving elf women."
"I suppose so," Callisto says rubbing his chin. Prophis nods his head along. It would make sense that she was twisted by one of her experiments or spells and became a banshee as a result. Or maybe it was the grief of having ordered Goodbid to kill her brother.
"Wait, hold on," Prophis says looking between Goodbid and Glib. "How exactly were the two of you thrown?"
"We paired up the two of us that could see in the dark and the two of us that couldn't," Goodbid explains. "S.G. hung onto Canyon, and Glib was on my shoulders. The banshee came out of nowhere and picked me up and hurled us at the big clock that was on the wall."
"Do you think that the banshee was just trying to attack Goodbid because he killed her brother?" Prophis ponders.
"She hired me to do it!" Goodbid snaps defensively.
"I'm not blaming you for doing your job, Goodbid," Prophis says in a motherly tone, shutting him up. "I'm just suggesting that maybe that's why she attacked the two of you and not the others."
"She might have tried to resurrect him," Callisto says, running a hand through his hair. "If she had a powerful time patron, maybe the final test was resurrecting a loved one."
"And she failed, causing her to die of grief from the brother that she had killed and couldn't save, turning her into a banshee," Prophis finishes.
"Okay, but she's the one that failed, why attack Mustache?" Canyon asks, pointing out the obvious.
"Because technically I killed him, she just couldn't save him," Goodbid says tiredly, taking off his hat and scratching his head. "It happens sometimes with contracts. They get mad at me for killing their family or spouses or whatever even though that's what I was hired to do."
"People get buyers regret in your line of work?" Canyon says with a laugh.
"You'd be surprised," Goodbid says sourly. "Some people just can't stomach murder."
The others laugh before S.G. clears her throat.
"Yes, well, that's good and all, now that we know the Banshee is the crazy time warlock or whatever, and she feels bad for having her brother killed or what not, but we are still in a time loop!" S.G. says, drawing attention back to the main focus.
"S.G.'s got a point, got any ideas?" Glib asks, pulling his cloak sleeves up and rolling them slightly.
Prophis thinks for a moment. This is definitely out of his department of expertise. He can control -or mutate depending on how you choose to look at it- most things, but time is not one of them. He has opened portals into different realms, but messing with time? Even he's not stupid enough to do that. Its one of the several reasons he doesn't understand Doc. Doc can talk for days about how they have manipulated the timeline and have effectively created a really big time-loop, but just thinking about that makes Prophis' blood run cold. This is definitely not his forte.
"No, I don't have a clue how to fix this. I work chaos, but I don't touch time. Callisto?" He turns to look at his boyfriend who is stroking his chin, deep in thought.
"I have to agree with Prophis that time is one of the few things I try not to mess with," Callisto says after a long moment. "I might be able to find a solution if we go to the castle."
The others nod. Canyon and Goodbid get to their feet, popping and stretching as they do.
"What day is looping?" Prophis asks suddenly. "Is it the day you hit the clock or the day after?"
They look at each other for a moment before Glib turns back to them. "The day of?" he says like it's a question. "Why does that matter?"
Callisto looks at Prophis and shares a long-suffering look. "Because if it's the day of, you haven't killed the banshee," Callisto says in a way that shows just how old he really is.
"Damn," Goodbid says, and the others just nod their agreement.
"I should have just killed you all in that cabin," Callisto groans into his palms.
*
They keep close as they enter the castle. Prophis is casting an orb of chaos light as they walk around. Goodbid, seemingly traumatized, walks as physically close to Prophis as he will let him- well as close as Callisto lets him before glaring daggers at him. Every creak of a board, or rat scurrying across the stones has Goodbid jumping out of his skin. He's holding his briefcase to his chest like a safety blanket and is clutching it so tight that his knuckles are bone white.
The other members of Team Chaos keep rotating "Goodbid Duty" where they walk close to him and calm him down. Prophis thinks the way they handle him is unique and oddly endearing.
Canyon will half drape himself across Goodbid and demands pets. He does not get up until Goodbid laments and pets Canyon's head; at which point, Canyon begins to purr like a house cat until Goodbid doesn't look like he's about to pass out from fear.
S.G. will minor illusion small comforting things for Goodbid to hold or fidget with. His favorite seems to be the weighted quill that he can just swing between his fingers, or when she creates the smell of home just after Goodbid's made breakfast.
Glib does the most normal thing, but probably what helps Goodbid the most. He gets him talking. He asks about old contracts or friends. He got Goodbid going on a rant about an old tailor shop that made him a suit that was wrong in just about every aspect ("They got all of my proportions wrong and used the cheapest fabric I have ever seen!") and he didn't notice that they had walked across the bridge where they were previously attacked. He didn't notice where he was until they were stood in front of the clock.
"Honestly! The audacity! And I had paid them good money for that! It was not good biddness!" Goodbid complains.
"Hey, monopoly man," Glib says with a grin. "Look around." Goodbid pauses and stares dumbly at the little frog man before slowly looking around.
"Oh, when 'id we get here?" Goodbid says scratching his head.
"About a minute ago," Glib says patting his arm.
Prophis chuckles to himself as he watches this interaction unfold. It's such a far cry from how they originally interacted. If Prophis would have told all of them a year ago that they would be helping keep Goodbid out of a panic attack, he is very certain that none of them would believe him. Callisto "I wouldn't know a heartfelt moment if it slapped me across the face" Mystery-Man shoves past them and struts up to the clock. He levitates off the ground and begins to inspect the massive machine.
"And it was ticking like this when you originally came here?" Callisto says as he hovers in front of the clock's face.
Prophis can't help but admire the intricate craftmanship of the clock. Everything is so impressively detailed. The clock is painted with a flower field at night, and it almost looks alive. Like the flora would sway in the wind and the stars twinkle idly. There's a tree close to the edge of the painting and in the tree's branches is a bird's nest with sleeping birds. Under the tree a young elf boy sits sleeping, with his hat thrown over his face and his arms crossed lazily over his stomach. His hair is messily braided and thrown over his shoulder. In one hand he holds some sort of half-eaten fruit. Prophis feels like he could lose himself staring at it for too long.
"Yeah, it's what drew my attention to it in the first place," Canyon says. He is watching Callisto the same way a housecat watches a bird and Prophis is a little worried that he's going to try and pounce on him.
Before anyone can respond, a mournful sob rings through the room. Everyone except for Glib flinches or yells as pain rips through their head. Goodbid screams the loudest and the color drains from his face. He rocks on his feet for a moment before fully passing out.
"Shit!" Glib yelps and jumps forward to catch him. A white figure comes charging at them from the wall. "Not again!" Glib cries and tries to jump out of the way with Goodbid, but he's not a strong frog. He gets about five feet away, but the Banshee is undeterred.
Prophis, thinking on his feet charges a chaos bolt and throws it. It just barely connects with her. The hair surrounding her face whips wildly, tangling in the air and pulling away from her face.
Callisto, having a similar idea hits her with a bolt of magic. She wails and the hair flies away from her face revealing a rotting elf woman. The face turns to dust and flies off in the wind while the white cloth and hair fade away.
"Well, then," Callisto says, dusting off his hands, "that fixes that."
"Hey guys?!" Glib yells. Goodbid is laying on the ground and Glib is kneeling next to him. "I don't think he's breathing!"
"Oh, that's not good!" Prophis yelps running toward the pair. He drops to his knees and shoves Glib out of the way. He puts his hands on Goodbid's chest, and with a silent prayer that this doesn't go horrendously, he mutters a very powerful healing incantation. Goodbid's eyes fly open, and he shoots up, chaos magic crackling around his pupil.
"Damn demon!" He screams as he tries to fight Prophis and Glib off him. His head whips around frantically looking for, presumably, the banshee.
"Woah, woah, Bid, relax," Glib says, putting his hands on Goodbid's shoulders. "It's okay. We came here with the cavalry, remember? They killed her in two hits." Goodbid visibly relaxes as he nods.
"Love," Prophis says turning to Callisto. "How do we fix this?"
"Honestly? I don't have a clue-" a groan rises from the group. "-yet. I don't have a clue yet! Give me a few days to study the clock and then maybe I'll have an answer."
"Yeah, except we don't have a few days," Prophis reminds him. "The day will loop, and we will wake up in bed again."
Callisto sighs deeply as he floats back to the bridge. "I'm aware. I suppose that every morning I will simply have to come back here." Prophis nods, understanding Callisto's annoyance. It's not like they can blame the party for being thrown over the ledge in what was supposed to be an abandoned castle.
"Maybe we should-"
Suddenly the clock starts chiming an old rickety rhythm.
"That's probably not good," Callisto says. Instinctually he puts himself in between Prophis and the clock.
"Uh, guys? What time is it?" Prophis asks as the clock starts ringing louder.
Goodbid fishes a pocket watch out and flips it open. "It's five minutes until midnight!"
The clock continues to grow louder, and the castle starts to come down around them.
"We should run!" Prophis says backing away. "We need to run, right now!" He grabs Callisto's hand and turns on his heels, sprinting down the stone staircase and out into the halls. Large chunks of the ceilings and walls crash to the floor around them, sending dust and debris into their faces. They careen into the foyer and Prophis throws a shield up over their heads to keep the pillars from crushing everyone. Callisto doubles the shield, taking some of the strain off of Prophis as he runs forward and throws open the doors. Everyone dives into the grass as the castle collapses behind them.
Glib lays face down in the grass, S.G. kneels next to him, Canyon and Goodbid stand behind both of them as they all pant heavily. Prophis and Callisto stand a few feet away, leaning on each other.
Distantly from under the rumble Prophis swears he can hear one last knell of the bells in the clock before his world fades to black and he wakes up in his warm bed again.
***
S.G.
S.G. throws herself out of bed and runs down the stairs, Goodbid hot on her heels.
"Alright, so what now?" Goodbid asks as Canyon gets off the couch -where he apparently had the misfortune of falling asleep the night before the loop began.
"I don't know," S.G. says as she starts pacing up and down the living area.
"What is there to do other than wait for Mystery Man and his Chaos God boyfriend to fix this mess?" Glib asks with a yawn from the top of the stairs before he slowly saunters down. It is well understood that if someone out sleeps Glib, they are probably sick or hurt, but if Glib wakes up before everyone else, he is probably sick.
"We could always go to the mansion and help them," S.G. suggests.
"Now, I don't think that's a good idea," Goodbid says anxiously.
"I agree with Goodbid," Glib says. "We'd just-" he stops to yawn into his hand. "We'd just get in the way." S.G. wants to yawn with him. She's so tired that she feels dead on her feet, but she shouldn't be tired. She just woke up, right?
"Yes, but we aren't helping by staying here!" S.G. counters sharply.
"But down there, we'd slow everything down. And anyways I think Goodbid is going to go catatonic if we take him back there again," Canyon says with a lazy flick of his tail.
S.G. glares but says nothing, returning to pacing up and down. She paces and tries to figure out how to fix this, to come up with a plan.
As she walks a hole in the ground, she watches as the boys begin to dog pile on the couch. Goodbid sits on the left side of the couch, kicking his legs up, and taking up the entire couch. Canyon, instead of having Goodbid move his legs like a sensible person would do, lays face down on Goodbid's chest. The mustached man just sighs and excepts Canyon's antics.
"Cat, sit up, I wanna be in the middle," Glib demands. Canyon huffs a laugh, but props himself up on his elbows, nonetheless. Glib, being just a little frog, crawls in between them and plops down. Canyon lays back down and Goodbid just chuckles tiredly. They settle down and start dozing off.
S.G. thinks about joining them, but then she has a thought.
"What if we ask Doc?" S.G. asks.
Goodbid cracks open an eye. "Yeah, maybe, but can we wait until after we nap? I feel like I haven't slept in three days."
"We probably haven't," Glib says, although his voice is muffled from being under Canyon. "We keep waking up, but we haven't been sleeping."
"Shut up, both of you," Canyon gripes without opening his eyes.
"Wanna join us?" Goodbid asks with a yawn.
"The couch is too small for that many people," S.G. says, "I vote we have a cuddle pile on my bed," she suggests with a smile.
S.G. has the best room with the largest, softest bed in the whole house, payment for being the only girl. It had cost a decent amount of coin to get it, but S.G. adores her bed. And so does Canyon. Canyon's head perks up at the mention of her bed. He's always looking for a reason to cat nap there -pun intended.
He gets off the others and motions S.G. up the stairs. S.G. swallows a laugh at Goodbid following them up, carrying Glib like the world's angriest teddy bear. Said teddy bear is half-awake which somehow makes Glib docile. Goodbid collapses just left of the center of the bed, Glib laying on his chest. S.G. crawls up and lays down heavily next to him, letting out an oomph sound as she hits the pillows. She throws one leg over Goodbid's and one arm over Glib. Canyon is the last to join because he lays across all of them, carefully minding his chaos arm, and curls up tightly. S.G. buries her other hand in his fur before using her mage hand to pull a blanket over all of them. Her curtains are still drawn so the room is completely dark, except for the lazy pulsing of Canyon's magic arm.
"Night, y'all," Goodbid says with a yawn.
"Night," Canyon says with a slight purr.
S.G. just nods her head in acknowledgement while Glib is out cold.
*
By the time everyone woke up and ate something, it was 10 in the evening, leaving them two hours until everything will repeat.
They're all sat at the dining room table. Canyon and Goodbid are on one side with S.G. and Glib across from them. Canyon is sharpening blades, Goodbid's mending clothes -with the spell, although he is not above using a needle and thread- S.G.'s trying to polish and clean the armor she still hasn't figured out how to get off, and Glib is simply trying to wake up.
The house is calmly quiet, except for the rhythmic sound of Canyon's wet stone against his dagger, and smells of coffee, and the breakfast the Goodbid quickly through together to avoid the wrath of a hangry S.G.
The aforementioned changeling adores quiet morning moments like this. It gives her the feeling of having a normal little family, something she never really got to experience when she was young.
S.G. had just finished cleaning the blood out of her right gauntlet when Glib breaks the comfortable silence.
"Are we still going to try and ask Doc about this?" Glib asks while he sips his blood-coffee which is coffee made with blood instead of water.
"This loop or in general?" Canyon asks, he holds his dagger up to the light to inspect his work before returning to sharpening it.
"Both, I guess," Glib says as he downs the rest of the coffee.
"I can get in contact with Doc," S.G. says while she works on her left gauntlet. "But honestly, I want to take a day to relax and sleep. All of that reading wiped me out."
The others hum or nod their agreement.
"I'm not sure I'd be able to follow a Doc explanation right now, anyway," Glib says as he stands up to put his mug up.
"I've never understood a Doc explanation," Canyon says, completely honestly, but the rest of them laugh at the relatability of it.
"So, tomorrow then?" Goodbid says as he finally finishes mending the last of the clothes.
"Bid, you know you'll just have to do that again, right?" Glib says as he pads back into the room.
Goodbid opens his mouth before looking disgruntled and clicking it back shut.
"Well, if we aren't doing anything today, I want to go back to sleep," Canyon says as bluntly as ever as he sets down his blades once he also realizes he'll just have to do it over again.
"I'm down with that," Glib says already heading for the stairs. S.G. starts to put everything up before realizing that it won't matter anyway. She follows them upstairs where they reform the cuddle pile in the same way they had it before.
Everyone falls asleep slowly, not nearly as tired as they were the first time they fell asleep, but still tired. S.G.'s asleep for what she knows must've been two hours because she thinks she hears distant bells ringing before she wakes up alone in her bed, the birds singing the same stupid tune they've been singing. She groans and throws herself out of bed. Time to find Doc and get back to business.
***
Canyon
"If I ever try to sleep on the couch, someone smack me."
Canyon is absolutely, positively, without a singular doubt sick of waking up on the couch. It isn't comfortable and it makes his back hurt.
"Its not our fault that you were too lazy to move to your room after dinner," Goodbid says as he passes Canyon his breakfast. Toast, eggs, and bacon. Simple but good, and it doesn't hurt that its Canyon's favorite meal.
"Thanks," Canyon says as he starts inhaling his food. "How'd you become the cook, anyway?"
"I was the only one that could do it," Goodbid says simply as he sits down with his own breakfast. S.G. is in a different room talking to the other psychics trying to locate Doc.
"What do you mean the only one? I can cook!" Canyon says hotly.
"But they don't want you in the kitchen," Goodbid explains. "Something about how you constantly shed fur."
Canyon bristles but says nothing about it, instead he asks, "okay but what about S.G. and Glib?"
"Glib's too short to see onto the stove and he also has toxic skin." Goodbid stops to take a bite of his food. "And S.G. nearly burnt down the kitchen while trying to cook the pasta I had pre-made." Canyon barks out a laugh at that. He remembers that and how genuinely distraught Goodbid had been when he came home to no dinner and a scorched kitchen.
"Is she allowed in the kitchen?" Canyon asks with a teasing grin.
"Not without supervision," Goodbid says bluntly, crunching into his toast.
"What are we talking about?" Glib asks as he meanders into the kitchen.
"I asked why Goodbid does the cooking and he told me that I shed too much, you are too short, and S.G. nearly burnt down the kitchen," Canyon says. He stands up and takes his plate back to the kitchen for seconds.
Glib laughs tiredly. "Yeah, to be fair I'm not sure I actually remember how to cook normal food anymore anyway," Glib says as he gets the jug of blood out of the cold cabinet. He takes a long drink from it before putting the stopper back in it. He sets in on the counter. "I drank all of that so if we break the cycle this time, we'll need to get more."
"Alright I'll put it on the list," Goodbid says. Canyon can hear him click open his briefcase, write something down, and then the click of it shutting again.
"I have good news and bad news!" S.G. announces as she joins everyone. "Well, it's actually good news, bad news, and slightly worse news."
"Of course, it is," Glib grumbles as he and Canyon walk back into the dining room, the cat man carrying more food than should be physically possible to eat but the others know better than to doubt him. His stomach is a bottomless pit, and he has proved that fact time and time again. "Alright what's the good news?"
"Good news, I have located Doc."
"Alright, bad news?"
"Bad news, he's at Franklin Castle because of rumors of a psychic living there," S.G. says with a shrug. The others groan.
"Okay, great," Glib says in a "God-kill-me-now" way.
"On the bright side, we don't have to listen to a Doc rant," Canyon says in his normal nonchalant tone, even though he wants to bash his head into a wall.
"Canyon's got a point," Goodbid says as he plays with his mustache. "We probably wouldn't have gleaned any information from it anyway."
"Yeah, yeah, alright," Glib says waving his hands around, "what's the slightly worse news?"
"Callisto and Prophis were at the castle all of yester-loop and they can't figure out how to end this," S.G. explains, crossing her arms as she does.
They sit in silence and stare at each other. If their God friends couldn't figure it out, what were they good for? Wait, God friends.
"Hey, Glib," Canyon exclaims, "have you asked your God?"
Glib stares at him for a moment before slowly shaking his head. The room goes dark, his eyes glaze over in a bright blood red.
"Hey man, we got a problem!" Glib says. A deep, watery grumble answers him. "Yeah, okay so obviously you aren't apart of it, I was just hoping you would know how to fix it!" Another grumble answers. "I'm getting there!"
The others look between each other. No one can understand the elder god except for Glib so these conversations are a little stressful.
"So, we are stuck in a time loop." There's silence for a moment before an outraged roar. "It's not like we did it on purpose, get off my ass!" There's a huff before Glib continues. "We were walking around a castle that belonged to- uh- Goodbid! What was her name?"
"Zinrie Olvito," Goodbid tells him after checking his briefcase.
"Yeah, that! She was some sort of time warlock and we got thrown at this giant clock and-" The God cuts him off, apparently asking a question. "Uh, yeah actually. Why does that matter?" The God tells him something and Glib pales, or at least he kind of pales. It's hard to tell with his skin being black and blue. "You've got to be kidding me." The God responds by laughing before cutting the call, returning the room to its normal light levels.
"So?" S.G. asks hopefully.
"We are so fucked," Glib says exasperatedly. "We are so fucked! Okay, so you know that clock that we hit?"
"Yeah, is it important?" Canyon asks.
"Oh, yeah it's just one of the three Celestial Clocks on Vontral," Glib says with a slightly deranged laugh.
"I thought there were two Celestial Clocks?" Goodbid says, scratching his head.
"Yeah, the one here and the one in Parian," S.G. chips in.
"Apparently this Zinrie lady also built one," Glib explains. "And when we crashed into it, I think we broke it."
"We broke a Celestial Clock?" Goodbid asks, his smile looking increasingly more manic.
"Yep." Glib drags a hand down his face. "Hey, S.G. could you get Mystery-Bitch and his boy toy down here? They probably need to know about this."
S.G. sighs. "Yes, give me like five minutes."
*
"You what?!" Callisto roars once they finish explaining what the God had told them.
"Love, calm down, it's not like they meant to do it," Prophis says, placing a hand on Mystery Man's shoulder.
"I don't care whether or not they meant to! They still did it!" Callisto roars. Canyon just stares at him with a blank expression.
"If you want to throw a tantrum, do it outside," Canyon says bluntly with an air of amusement. "I don't want to listen to it."
"I'm not-" Callisto says getting even angrier.
"I don't know, that kinda looks like a tantrum," S.G. says coyly. Canyon watches Prophis bite back a laugh while Callisto gets increasingly redder as he sputters indignantly. He suddenly stands up, his chair screeching awfully against the floor, and walks through a wall. The entire house shakes with the force of Callisto screams, but Canyon can only laugh at the grown man who is throwing a tantrum. He walks back through the wall, noticeably calmer, and retakes his seat.
"There, now I won't kill you," Callisto says.
"How come you didn't know it was a Celestial Clock?" Canyon asks. "I thought you were like all knowing or something."
"I'm not 'all knowing' I'm just extremely powerful," Callisto says tiredly. "And what part of 'I don't fuck with time' didn't you understand?" Callisto snaps hotly.
"Yeah, but shouldn't you have recognized it?" Canyon says tail flicking playfully.
"Shouldn't you have recognized it if they're so famous?" Callisto counters.
"No, I've never seen them," Canyon says boredly.
"Neither have I," Callisto states bluntly.
"What but your like thousands of years old!"
"Yeah, and the founders of Symmetras has been dead for most of those! Those clocks are extremely well guarded to keep things like this from happening!" Callisto exclaims.
Canyon makes a quiet 'o' noise before shutting up. Callisto really might nuke him if he keeps talking.
"So, I think it's fair to assume not a fucking one of us has a clue how to fix these Celestial Clocks?" Glib asks.
Prophis and Callisto shake their heads.
"Great, fucking great," Glib grumbles.
"Alright, well, someone has to know something about these clocks," Canyon points out before they fall into a pit of despair. "Isn't there some sort of clock master thing, right?"
Callisto thinks for a moment before nodding slowly. "I think there are researchers who study the clocks."
"Maybe one of them knows something," Prophis suggests.
"Alright, but how do we get in?" Goodbid asks.
Prophis and Callisto look at him for a moment before they share a secret smile.
"What?" Glib asks, taking the word right out of Canyon's mouth.
"You are looking at the two living founders of Symmetras," Callisto says with an air of confidence that he wasn't using before.
"They'll have to let us in," Prophis finishes with eloquence and squares his shoulders.
Team Chaos looks at each other before grinning mischievously.
"Well, lets go see some clocks!" Goodbid exclaims happily.
"I already regret this," Callisto sighs as he stands up and heads for the door.
*
It took the six of them a while to actually get to the clocks. Finding the building should have been easy except the clock is apparently one of the few things underground in Rift Reach. Next came the hassle of finding someone who could explain anything to them. More than once Callisto nearly shot someone; S.G. was told to stop gaslighting; Glib considered drinking a scholar or two; Goodbid had to explain that, yes, he is a hit man, no, he is not going to kill anyone here; Canyon was told to put his weapons away; and Prophis sent the Team outside before they caused a fight.
All in all, Canyon was having a blast.
"So, you are saying there is a third Celestial Clock near Wainua?" Mr. Yewheart, a kind centaur man who is willing to help them out, asks.
"Yes, and these idiots stumbled upon it while searching the castle for the previous owner," Callisto reiterates for the thousandth time.
"I see, and how exactly was it broken?" Mr. Yewheart asks as he walks towards the library of documents about the Celestial Clocks.
"Glib -the frog man- and I were picked up by the banshee that lives there and thrown at it," Goodbid explains, taking over for Callisto who looks like he will send the centaur to a glue factory if he is asked to repeat himself again.
"I see, and you just hit it?"
"Yes, sir," Goodbid says with his best businessman smile.
"Was anything cracked or otherwise broken?" Mr. Yewheart asks. He grabs two scrolls off a stack and starts skimming over them. He readjusts his glasses and pinches his eyebrows.
"No, well, uh," Goodbid scratches his head before looking at Glib. "I was knocked out about as soon as we hit the clock, so Glib?"
"Uh, there was a crack when we hit, but I think that was just Goodbid's bones shattering," Glib says bluntly.
"My bones?!" Goodbid yelps.
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure that hitting the clock killed you."
Canyon cackles at the alarmed look on Goodbid's face.
"Well, you look quite alright for someone whose been so recently... harmed," Mr. Yewheart says kindly to Goodbid with a questioning look.
"Oh yeah, we are in a time loop," Canyon chimes in.
Mr. Yewheart stops reading and snaps his eyes to him. "Did you just say time loop?'
"Uh, yeah?" Canyon says kind of alarmed by the sudden change in the centaur's demeanor.
"Next time, lead with that tidbit of information!" the centaur scolds. "How long has this been looping?" he asks seriously.
"Uh, this is day like five?" Canyon says confused.
"Mm, that is good, much longer and things could have been much worse," Yewheart, says nodding.
"What do you mean much worse?!" Glib shouts, clutching Stick to his chest.
"The longer you live in this loop, the worse the world will react to you when you leave the loop," Yewheart says as he puts his scrolls up and turns to a different stack of papers.
"Oh great! Why the fuck do you know that?!" Glib shrieks.
"This has happened a few times before," Yewheart explains.
"Okay, that's good! Now how do we undo this?!" Callisto roars, completely done with this.
Yewheart looks unamused at Callisto's outbreak before saying, "I am not sure. This has not happened in my lifetime, nor is it the area I am educated in."
"Of course not," Callisto groans.
"I'm sorry, but you are welcomed to look through our scrolls," Mr. Yewheart says, gesturing around him. Canyon immediately thinks of all the ways he could get out of reading. He hates reading, always has always will.
"Thank you," Prophis says, placing a hand on Callisto's shoulder to silence the rude remark Callisto was clearly about to say. "Goodbid, what time is it?"
Goodbid fishes out his pocket watch and flips it open. "We have four hours until midnight."
"It's 8 already?!" Callisto says confused.
"Yeah, it took all day to find someone who will take us seriously," Canyon says as he walks over to the table of scrolls. "So, we better get started before we have to do it all over again."
"That is a good point," S.G. says as she starts picking up scrolls and books, reading their titles in order to see if they would be any use to them.
The next four hours are spent in agonizing silence while everyone reads their texts.
A faint bell startles Canyon. His head snaps up at the same time most of the other's also raise.
"Five minutes 'til midnight?" S.G. asks Goodbid who pulls out his watch and nods. Glib hasn't looked up, seeming to be absorbed in his reading.
"So, we all heard the bells?" Goodbid asks relieved.
"Huh?" Glib asks his eyes still glued to the book.
"Did you hear those bells?" Goodbid asks again.
"Yeah, they've rang every night at the same time," Glib says dismissively, still reading. Canyon's got to give it to him, he is very determined to finish that book despite having only five minutes left.
"Anyone find anything helpful?" Canyon asks, pushing his book away from himself. Prophis and Callisto read the most, going through several books and scrolls in the short time while S.G., Goodbid, and Glib have made it through a handful of scrolls and half a book in Glib's case.
Canyon has only made it about a fourth of a way through his own small book, but it's not his fault! These books are for magic users! He's a rogue! None of this makes any sense to him!
"No, I only found information about how they were made and how they work," Prophis says, rubbing his temples.
"I couldn't find anything pertaining to time loops," Callisto says as he floats all of his scrolls back to where they belong.
They look at S.G. who shakes her head.
"Goodbid?"
"Only thing that I found is that they work on the blessing of a God," Goodbid says tiredly. "So maybe we upset a God by hitting it?"
"Shit, maybe, but my God would have said something if another God was beefing with me," Glib says, flipping a page of his book.
"You find anything, Glib?" Canyon asks hopefully.
"Maybe?" Glib says. "Hey, Mystery Man."
"Yeah?" Callisto responds. Canyon wants to point out that he has accepted the fact that they only call him Mystery Man, but he decides that now is probably not the best time for that.
"You went to the castle and studied it for a day, right?" Glib asks, flipping another page.
"That would be correct, yes," Callisto says in his trademark "get on with it" way.
"Were the clock hands moving correctly? Like were they timed out correctly?" Glib asks.
Callisto is silent for a moment and then slowly nods his head.
"Did you just nod?" Glib asks, still nose deep in the tome.
"Yes," Callisto says hotly.
"Okay, Jesus, man, relax! Since the hands were moving it means we didn't break the clock, there's something we need to do to end the cycle," Glib explains. "And from what I'm reading, it could be literally anything though, so we are kinda fucked."
"Where are you getting that information?" Callisto asks, although its closer to demands and if it were Canyon, he would've made Mystery Man ask nicely before he told him jack shit.
Glib holds up his book. "This. It's a collection of accounts from the people who have been stuck in loops. Next loop you should probably read it." Glib for the first time looks up. He sits up and pops his shoulders.
The bells suddenly get much louder, still sounding faint and distant, but now a clearer noise.
"Here we go again!" Canyon says with a smile that immediately fades when he wakes up with back pain on the couch.
***
Callisto
Waking up to look at his beautiful boyfriend is a sight that Callisto is certain he can never nor will ever get sick of. Especially not after being deprived of the gorgeous sight for a couple millennia.
He is, however, getting extremely sick of the circumstances in which he wakes up looking at his boyfriend.
"Should we go to the library by ourselves or get the idiots first?" Callisto asks, his voice gravelly from just waking up.
"Be nice to them!" Prophis scolds with no heat. "And we should get them first in case we have any questions."
Callisto nods and sighs deeply. He holds onto his boyfriend for a moment longer before getting out of bed. With the snap of his fingers, Callisto is dressed in a sleek-white button-down shirt (the top two buttons being left undone of course. He is a manwhore after all), dark grey dress pants, loose-fitting black overcoat, and his signature black gloves. He summons a mirror and makes sure the rest of him is presentable.
He fixes his hair while Prophis gets out of bed and stretches. Callisto drinks in the pale expanse of his chest while Prophis rolls his shoulders and neck. Callisto knows Prophis is hot, and so does Prophis, so he has no issue with openly staring at his handsome boyfriend. All too soon, Prophis' chest is covered again, as he does the same spell that Callisto did moments ago.
The dark-haired man sighs and begrudgingly opens a portal to the front of Team Chaos' door.
"After you, my love," Callisto says with a broad gesture.
"Such a gentleman," Prophis says sweetly as he steps through the portal onto the calm and empty street.
"Only for you, Prophis, only for you," Callisto says with a smile, following behind.
Callisto had actually bought them the house, a goodwill gesture he had called it. Really it was just a way to keep them close enough for the destruction and chaos they caused to be easily counteracted which had worked until now. In fairness to himself, Callisto is also certain that there really wasn't anyway to predict that they would find a Celestial Clock and then accidentally break it.
Callisto is many things, but a miracle worker is not one of them. That's a lie, he frequently does things that qualifies as miracles but not in this instance! Celestial Clock! Time Loops! How could he have known?!
"Deep breaths, Cal," Prophis says, putting his hand gently on Callisto's cheek. "We aren't even inside yet."
"I know, my love, I know," Callisto says while trying to reign in his anger before he throws open the door and strides in.
"Jesus!" Glib screams, spilling his strangely colored coffee everywhere.
"We are going back to the library so we can read that book the frog-"
"My name is Glib! You know that you dick!"
"-had yesterday. We are bringing you with us in case either of us has any questions," Callisto explains bluntly while Prophis magically undoes the coffee splatters, always so kind to the idiots.
"Yeah, okay, Jesus!" Glib says frustratedly. "Just let me finish this and we'll go."
Callisto wants to tell him to take it with him, but Prophis silences him with a side-eye glare.
"Y'all want some breakfast? I made plenty of pancakes!" Goodbid says as he brings two large plates of pancakes out of the kitchen and sits one down in the center of the table, and the other directly in front of Canyon.
"No-" Callisto tries to say but Prophis is already walking forward with an excited look in his eye.
"Yes please! I've heard wonderful things about your cooking, Mr. Goodbid!" Prophis says as he politely takes a seat next to Canyon.
"Aw, shucks! You're gonna make me blush, Mr. Prophis!" Goodbid says with an over-the-top southern gentleman's smile.
Callisto sighs tiredly.
"Do you have any more coffee?" Callisto asks as he takes the spare seat next to his blonde boyfriend.
"We do, assumin' you don't want any blood coffee," Goodbid jokes as he walks back to the kitchen.
"Blood what now?!" Callisto exclaims, appalled by the idea alone.
"It's what Glib drinks," Canyon supplies as he begins to eat the stack of pancakes in front of him. The stack is easily the size of his head, but he is eating it as if it was nothing. Callisto just watches in amazement as the overgrown cat scoffs down his food with impressive -and slightly terrifying- speed.
"And why is it blood-coffee and not regular coffee? I've seen you consume regular food and drinks," Prophis asks with genuine curiosity, but Callisto is still watching in horror as Canyon eats his last pancake.
"Here ya go, Canyon," Goodbid says as he re-emerges from the kitchen, again carrying a large plate of pancakes that he sits down in front of Canyon. "Remember to taste it!" He sets a massive plate of bacon down at the center of the table and a few smaller bowls of fruit.
"Two birds, one stone," S.G. says simply while she and Glib pile their plates with breakfast. "Glib gets his blood and caffeine in one drink."
"Here's your coffee, sirs," Goodbid says as he puts down two giant cups of coffee in front of the lovers.
"Goodbid, sit and eat some of your own damn food," Glib says, tapping the seat next to him. "You don't need to wait on us."
"I will, I'm just gonna get S.G.'s water," Goodbid says, already walking back into the kitchen before coming back with a glass of water for S.G., a glass of milk for Canyon, a second cup of blood-coffee for Glib, and an ice-tea for himself.
"Okay, we have food and drinks, now sit your ass down and eat," Canyon says around a mouth full of food, pointing his fork at the empty seat next to Glib. At this point everyone except for Goodbid and Callisto are eating.
"Alright, hold your horses-!"
"Friday?!" S.G. asks excitedly, but Goodbid just keeps talking over her.
"I'm sittin' down!" Goodbid says with no heat as he plops down next to the frog man. He takes a heaping portion of the food and eats it down quickly, but not really as quick as Canyon.
Callisto gives in and tries a pancake, and he has to admit that they are insanely good.
"They're my Mama's recipe!" Goodbid laughs when he sees Callisto's shocked face. "She's one hell of a cook!"
The rest of breakfast passes with the occasional small talk while they all eat Goodbid's amazing food. Impressively, he made just enough for all of them with no leftovers. Canyon, S.G., and Glib pick up the plates and take them to the kitchen. They form an efficient team as they wash, dry, and put up all of the dishes while Goodbid drinks the rest of his tea.
"I take it this happens often? You cook and they clean up?" Callisto asks.
"Oh, yeah. I do all the cookin', but they do the dishes in return," Goodbid says as he fixes his mustache. "We all do a good bit of cleanin' around the house though."
"You guys work really well together," Prophis says as he leans onto Callisto, mostly out of habit.
"Yeah, we formed some really quick habits after the first month of living together," Goodbid laughs, "I really think it's the only reason we haven't killed each other yet!"
Callisto laughs, remembering the first few months that he and Prophis lived together and how often they fought because of it.
"It only took a month for you to work everything out?" Callisto asks, drinking the last of his coffee.
"Yeah, we basically sat in the living room and divided chores," Goodbid says with a softer smile. "Here, let me take that to the kitchen." He holds out his hand and takes the coffee cups from Prophis and Callisto before taking them to the kitchen. Callisto watches him press against S.G. so he can place the mugs into the water without her having to move. Callisto waits for S.G. to hit him, but it doesn't come.
"And your certain that they aren't dating?" Callisto asks lowly, his eyes not leaving Goodbid who is still in the kitchen, helping S.G. dry a different cup. Her gauntlets are apparently making it difficult, and Callisto is curious why she isn't just using a mage hand to do it.
"My love, I believe they are," Prophis says lightly, his voice also low so the others can't eavesdrop, "but I'm unsure if they know that's what they are doing." He leans back and straightens his vest, brushing away invisible crumbs.
"Hmph," Callisto huffs as Goodbid starts back to the dining room.
"And its not romantic in any case," Prophis says quietly so Goodbid can't overhear.
"I suppose," Callisto says as he strokes his beard.
"Once they're done, we'll head on down," Goodbid says, fixing his suit sleeves.
Callisto nods. He's willing to sit in silence while they wait, but Prophis seems to be allergic to silence.
"You said those pancakes where your Mother's recipe?" Prophis asks politely.
"Yes, sir! She is the sweetest little lady," Goodbid says with a reminiscing smile. "But you hurt her family and she'll have ya on your knees beggin' for mercy." He chuckles as he fixes his mustache, leaning on the table.
"Do you have a big family?" Prophis asks kindly.
"Oh, like you wouldn't imagine! I've got six siblings and twenty-five cousins! Includin' marriage of course," Goodbid says with a broad smile. "Oh, and six second cousins -all of them are little right now so none of 'em are married- and one niece!"
"Oh my!" Prophis says, shocked.
"Jesus!" Callisto says, already imagining what that many Goodbids could possibly be like and getting a headache from it.
"Family dinners must be packed!" Prophis laughs.
"Y'all should come ta one! Ma would love to have ya!" Goodbid says good-naturedly.
Callisto shoots a pleading look to Prophis, who completely ignores him.
"We'd love to!" Prophis says with a malicious smile thrown at Callisto.
"Alright, the kitchen is clean!" S.G. says as she walks out, flanked by the other two.
"Great! Let's get going then," Callisto says, standing up and walking to the door. With a silent incantation, Callisto opens a portal directly next to Mr. Yewheart, who jumps and backs away from the portal looking petrified.
"Hello, Mr. Yewheart!" Prophis says sweetly as he steps through. "You probably do not remember us, but we are stuck in a time loop because the businessman and the frog-" he points at Goodbid and Glib, "-were thrown at the third Celestial Clock which is located near Wainua," Prophis explains quickly and efficiently.
"Now, if you would please give us access to the library so we can find a way to undo this," Callisto says in a similar "we aren't here to cause trouble" tone.
"O-oh, yes of course," Yewheart says as he straightens his glasses and rights his clothes that gotten wrinkled and twisted in his panic. "Follow me." He starts walking down a hall and the others are swift to follow. "If you don't mind me asking, how exactly do you know my name?" He asks nervously.
"Oh, no need to worry, you met us last loop and you were the only one in this place that was not an asshole to us," S.G. says, telling the truth for once.
Yewheart visibly relaxes. "That's good to know," he says, his shoulders dropping from their tight position.
He stops in front of the doors to the library. He opens them slowly and steps to the side. "I'm sure I've already told you this, but please be gentle with those books. They are quite old," he says quietly as everyone files in.
"Yes, yes, thank you," Callisto says as he shuts the door with a magical flick of his wrist. Glib walks down one of the library aisles before coming back with the book he had last loop.
"Here ya go," he says as he hands the book the Prophis.
"If you need us, we'll be over there, napping," Canyon says as all of them walk to an open space on the floor. Callisto watches in amazement as they form a well-practiced cuddle pile on the floor.
"Either they are playing us for complete fools, or they really are the most oblivious adventurers I could have possibly found," Callisto whispers to the elf with less malice than he intended and a startling amount of awe.
"Well, I can't argue with that," Prophis whispers back with a silent laugh. "They let Palnaros out without thinking of the repercussions and did the same thing with Aldor not even a week later!"
Callisto tilts his head to the side before shaking it.
"In my defense I really did think they would die before finding that portal," Callisto says playfully as he takes a seat at the ancient wooden table. Prophis gently places the book between them, and they read through it in silence.
They finish it in about ten minutes thanks to a speed-reading spell Callisto perfected years ago.
"So," Prophis says slowly, as if he is still trying to wrap his head around everything he just read. "The easiest way to undo this is for the same thing to happen again?"
"It seems that way," Callisto agrees, relieved that this nightmare of a day can be over with.
"But that would mean Goodbid and Glib would have to be thrown at the clock by the banshee again," the blonde elf points out, playing with his hair out of nervous habit.
"That is correct," Callisto says, trying to get Prophis to spit it out.
"Well, Goodbid is terrified of that Banshee, remember?" Prophis says worriedly, his eyes flicking to the pile of Team Chaos. "There's no way he'll agree with this!"
"It's not like we have any other options," Callisto says rationally. Leave it to his boyfriend to want to baby full grown people. "He'll get over it."
"Cal! Stop being so cruel to them!" Prophis scolds. "They are your friends!"
"Hardly," Callisto says bluntly.
"Callisto!" Prophis hisses.
"Fine, fine, we have the rest of the day to look for alternatives, but we are telling them the plan when they wake up," Callisto concedes as he stands up to gather more books.
"Thank you," Prophis says in such a way that makes Callisto wonder how he could possibly ever tell his lover no.
*
It takes several hours for the others to wake up. By the time they have extracted themselves from the floor, Callisto has read most of the material in the library using the same reading spell.
"Welcome to the world of the awake," Callisto says sarcastically as he floats the books back to their places. "I was beginning to think you'd never wake up."
"How are the two of you not sleeping? Glib asks with a yawn.
"What do you mean?" Prophis says as he finishes his book.
"I mean, we're tired unless we nap," Glib says.
"What the frog means is how are you not tired?" Canyon asks as he brushes his fur back into place. "Are you- like- napping when we aren't around?"
Callisto looks at Prophis to translate what the hell they are going on about.
Prophis looks just as lost a Callisto feels until something seemingly clicks in his head. "Oh, I'm a Chaos God, I don't need to sleep, I just do, and Callisto does a spell every morning to dispel any sleepiness that he has. I suppose we just aren't tired," Prophis says, not sounding completely confident in what he says.
"Lucky," Goodbid yawns, looking the worst out of all of them which makes sense seeing as he was on the bottom of everyone. His mustache is skewed, his suit is wrinkled, and his hair is sticking up in odd ways under his top hat.
"Callisto, help him," Prophis tells him mentally.
"Fine, but only because you asked me too," Callisto huffs before using the same spell he uses on himself on Goodbid.
Goodbid is startled for a moment before looking down at himself.
"Well, gee! Thanks, Mr. Callisto!" Goodbid says cheerily, smoothing his palms down the front of his shirt.
"Yes, please hold on to that good attitude, you're going to need it for this plan to work," Callisto says only a little regretfully.
"What Callisto is trying to say is, we have a plan, but you might not like it," Prophis says with enough sympathy for both of them.
"Well, what's the plan?" Goodbid asks, noticeably more nervous.
"The only way we have found to undo this loop is the same way it got started. Which means you need to get repicked up by the banshee and slammed into the clock," Callisto says quickly, trying to rip the bandage off.
Goodbid's eyes go wide, and his smile becomes manic. "What?" He laughs, looking like he is a hair's breadth away from going insane.
"It's the only way we've found, Goodbid," Prophis says. He rounds the table and gently places a hand on Goodbid's shoulder. "I am truly sorry." He wears a sad smile, a starch contrast to the thousand-yard stare Goodbid is sporting.
"However, we do need to wait until tomorrow- er- the next loop to do it," Callisto explains, trying to ease the thick tension. "So, you have the rest of the day to mentally prepare."
"With all do respect, Mystery Man, there is not much I can do to prepare for this," Goodbid says through gritted teeth.
"Let's get you home, okay?" Prophis says taking his arm. Prophis opens a portal and gently guides Goodbid through. The others follow quietly behind.
Callisto catches S.G.'s arm. "Make sure he is okay enough for us to go through with this tomorrow," he says sternly. "I don't want to traumatize him."
"Will do," she says as Callisto lets go of her. She and the other boys go upstairs, Goodbid following like a zombie.
"Are we sure this is the best course of action?" Prophis asks gently as Callisto opens a portal to their house.
"No, not really, but it's the best we've got," Callisto says honestly, knowing better than to lie to his boyfriend, even if it would be a white lie.
They spend the rest of the day relaxing together before turning into bed early. They are both startled awake by the bells.
"God, I hope this works," Callisto murmurs into the back of Prophis' neck.
***
Goodbid
Goodbid is not having a good morning. He wakes up sick to his stomach with anxiety and doesn't want to get out from under his blanket.
He knows he needs to get up and make the others some breakfast or the house might get burnt down, but he can't bring himself to do it.
He has to go back to that mansion with a banshee in it, and he has to let it pick him up. He has to let it touch him. His stomach rolls and he leans over his bed and dry heaves into a trashcan he has near his bed.
He's sick. He can't do it. That's what he'll tell them. They'll have to believe him.
The knock at his door causes him to scream as he presses himself against the back wall.
"It's just me, Goodbid," S.G. says through the door. "Can I come in?"
Goodbid sighs in relief. "Yes," he says shakily.
S.G. cracks the door open before slowly stepping inside. In one hand she has a cup of coffee and in the other she carries a bowl of what looks like oatmeal but smells decidedly different.
"It's a simple food made in my village for the sick," S.G. explains when she sees where his eyes go. "It's so plain that not even I could mess it up."
Goodbid chuckles lightly and relaxes slightly. S.G. hands him the bowl and sets the coffee on his nightstand.
"It's a cold dish, so I didn't risk burning everything down," S.G. says as she sits on the edge of the bed.
Goodbid cautiously takes a bite. Its texture is similar to oatmeal, but it is smoother and tastes sweeter. It tastes like thick cream with faint hints of cinnamon and fruit.
"This is really good!" Goodbid says appraisingly.
"Thank you," S.G. says with the cocky confidence you can only find in S.G. before she skittishly adds, "its normally served with fresh soft bread, but we didn't have any, and I didn't want to risk setting fire to the kitchen while you were asleep."
"It's okay S.G., I like it just as it is," Goodbid says with a genuine, soft smile. "You'll have to teach me how to make it."
S.G. looks at him and nods. Goodbid is under the impression that if she could smile, she would.
"But first we have to break this loop," S.G. says as lightly as she can, but Goodbid still feels his anxiety come crashing back down onto him.
"I don't think I can do it, S.G.," Goodbid says as he starts picking at the fur of his blanket.
"We don't really have any other option, Goodbid," S.G. says honestly. "If there were, we would, believe me I don't particularly enjoy this plan either, but we still have to go through with it."
Goodbid looks at her and shakes his head. "Glib said that my bones cracked when I hit it last time, what if this time it really kills me?"
"You were unprepared last time. This time you'll have time to use protection spells," S.G. reasons. "Besides this time, I'll have Callisto and Prophis on standby, if you get hurt, they'll be there to help you."
"But what if Glib get's hurt?" Goodbid says, changing tactics.
"He's a squishy frog, he'll be fine. Last time he was alright enough to fire off three eldritch blasts at the banshee before he fell back," S.G. counters, completely unphased.
Goodbid sighs into his hands. "You're not taking a 'no' are you?"
"Nope, we need to end this cycle," S.G. says, lightly placing her hand on his shoulder.
Goodbid tsks before he slowly nods. "Let me finish this and my coffee and I'll meet you downstairs," Goodbid says, stroking his mustache.
"Okay, Prophis and Callisto are already here, so try not to stall for too long," S.G. jokes as she stands and leaves the room.
Goodbid watches her leave before drawing a shaky breath.
He can do this. He has to do this.
With shaky hands he drinks down his coffee and eats the rest of the not-oatmeal S.G. had made him.
"You can do this Mr. Goodbid!" He tells himself as he gets to his feet, pointedly ignoring how his legs shake like a newborn deer's. "Your friends are countin' on ya!" With very false confidence he carries his mug and bowl downstairs. It takes more effort than normal to put on his signature smile, but he's not Mr. Goodbid without it, is he?
In the living area Callisto and Prophis stand near the door while Canyon lays on the floor, and Glib and S.G. sit on the couch.
Prophis flashes him a kind smile, one which makes his heart yearn for his mother and her warm hugs.
"Are you up for it?" Prophis asks, crossing the room to take the bowl and mug from him. With a wave of his hand the dishes are cleaned before disappearing, assumably into the cabinet where they belong.
"I think so," Goodbid says, scratching his arm. "I don't have any other option so I might as well man up and get it over with."
Prophis nods before pulling him into a hug. "I can wipe your memory of it after if you want," Prophis whispers. "Or at least I can make Callisto do it. I don't know if you want me messing around with your memories," he jokes, nudging his side.
"I think I'll be okay," Goodbid says, pulling out of Prophis' hug to straighten his suit jacket. "Thank ya for the offer though." Prophis studies his face before nodding. He pats his shoulder before dropping his hands and turning back to the door. He opens a portal to the front door of the castle and motions the others through. Goodbid is in the back because it takes a lot of effort to get his quaking legs through the portal without collapsing.
"Monopoly, you are shaking like a leaf, you sure you're gonna make it?" Glib asks walking over to him.
"I'll be better once this is over with," Goodbid says, swallowing thickly. He runs his hands down his suit, not trying to straighten it, but trying to remove the thick layer of sweat that has settled on his hands.
"Yeah, that tracks," Glib says jokingly before looking towards Prophis and Callisto. "Does it need to happen at the same time of day, or...?"
"No, it can be anytime, the only thing that has to happen is you two have to be picked up and thrown at the clock by the angry banshee," Prophis says as he pulls his hair into a low ponytail. Goodbid almost outright laughs at Callisto practically drooling over Prophis and his hair. Goodbid has to give it to Callisto, he really does worship his Eldritch Chaos Monster boyfriend. "Which also means in order to make sure everything goes to plan, we are going to stay out here, isn't that right Callisto?"
Callisto stares for a whole second longer before slowly nodding.
"Do you have any idea what you just agreed to?" Prophis laughs.
"Huh, what?" Callisto says, shaking himself out of his stupor. "Uh, yeah we have to stay out here." His face is a little redder when he turns back to the rest of them, but Callisto is never one to admit when he's been caught. "Which means all of us. S.G. and Canyon included."
"What?!" S.G. demands. "Why can't we go in?!"
"Because we can't risk the banshee targeting you instead of them," Prophis explains, having the decency to look apologetic.
"With that being said, should anything bad happen, we will be one portal and a mental link away," Callisto says tapping his head. Prophis nods before flashing them a smile and gesturing for them to go to the doors.
"You'll make sure we don't die, right?" Goodbid asks as they approach the doors. He rings his hands one more time before placing them flat on the doors, mentally preparing to open them.
"Yes, I have a number of healing items on standby should anything bad happen." Callisto shows them an array of magic items before they disappear again.
"Alright, alright," Goodbid says. He laughs a little manically before throwing the doors open in a burst of bravery. "Let's get this fucking over with."
Glib sputters a cough as Goodbid picks him up and puts him on his shoulder, confidently strutting to the stairs.
"Woah, man! Chill! It's not like we're on a time crunch!" Glib yelps, throwing his arms around Goodbid's head.
"Yep, but if I stop movin', I don't think these ol' legs will get goin' again," Goodbid says, still walking up the stairs as he pries Glib's arms off his eyes.
Glib huffs a sigh but doesn't protest anymore. He rearranges himself on the mustached man's shoulders and holds on tightly.
Goodbid doesn't slow down until he is stood in front of the thick oak doors.
"Goodbid?" Glib prompts.
"I'm trying," Goodbid says before slowly pushing open the door. The hall is pitch black, he can only make out faint outlines of doors and paintings. "It's the door at the end of the hall, right?"
"Yep, just walk dead ahead," Glib says, settling on his shoulders. "I'll tell you if you're about to walk into anything, I promise."
Goodbid squeaks out an affirmative before stumbling ahead. He walks blindly forward, the only sounds being the sound of his breathing and the thump of his footsteps.
"Hold out your hands your about to be right in front of it," Glib says suddenly, digging his heel into Goodbid's shoulder like he was trying to steer a horse. Goodbid nods and sticks his hands out, only for them to brush against the hard wood of the door. He lowers his fingers to the nob, only to find a bar.
"Shit, right, this thing's locked up tighter than a drum," Goodbid says as he grabs a hold of it. "Give me a second. It took two people to open this last time." He fights and struggles against the bar for several minutes before it gives way with an awful screech of the metal.
"You doin' okay?" Glib asks.
"Managin'," Goodbid says honestly as he shakily steps through the door. Just like the last two times, the door slams behind them, still causing Goodbid to jump a foot in the air. "Al-alright," he sputters. "Walk forward?"
"Yeah, this hallway's longer than the last one," Glib says. They settle back into a comfortable silence as Goodbid slowly walks forward.
Every slight noise makes his skin crawl. He hates being blind. He would go as far as to say that he despises being left to wander in the dark more than he hates ghosts. He shakes his head slightly. Now is not the time to start thinking about ghosts. In order to keep his mind from wandering too far off track, he starts counting his steps.
He gets to two hundred-thirty-six steps before Glib stops him.
"The door is in front of you, remember this one leads into a staircase," Glib warns. Goodbid nods slowly as he reaches down and grabs the nob.
He can do this.
He twists the nob.
His grip begins to quake and shake as fear starts to settle in his bones again.
"Glib, I can't-" he says, tears welling up in his eyes. "I don't think I can do it."
"Goodbid, you'll have to do it eventually. Why prolong the inevitable?" Glib says rationally.
"Because it'll kill me!" Goodbid snaps. His hands are shaking worse, and he can feel hot tears streak down his face.
"No, it won't," Glib says dismissively. "Everyone is right outside, relying on us to get this over with."
Damn Glib and him using Goodbid's weaknesses against him.
"Damn you, frog man!" Goodbid hisses as he opens the door. And so what if he cries as he climbs the stairs? Or if by the time he reaches the top, where he can see the bridge and the dancing flames of the torches, he's shaking worse than a leaf in the wind? Glib's the only one there to see him, and he's not above blackmailing Glib into silence.
"Bid, we are almost there, just go out onto the bridge and stop in the middle," Glib says comfortingly.
"Uh huh," Goodbid nods as he takes slow steps across the creaking metal. It feels like it takes him a thousand years to get to the center of the bridge. "Now what?" he asks around his thick tears.
"We wait, I guess," Glib says, his hand fisting the fabric of Goodbid's shirt. "Last time we were looking at the clock for a few minutes before the- before it came," Glib says, censoring himself for Goodbid's sake.
Goodbid nods and forces his eyes to focus on the clock's face because something about it seems new, but he can't place what feels so different.
The picture is the same as it was before. A flower field with a tree in the corner. The flowers are in a beautiful bloom and the elf boy sits under the tree braiding flowers together into a crown as he hides from the hot sun. The birds almost look like they are flying across the sky as the fire's light dances across it. The glass behind the wall shows the sky but provides no light. The sky is bright and dotted with very few clouds, making the day bright and beautiful, perfect for a day at the park.
Goodbid had almost calmed himself completely when a screech sounds from behind him.
"Shit!" He screams when both he and Glib are picked up and slammed into the clock for the second time. He was better prepared, but it still hurts. He crashes to the floor. His vision dances with black dots as he tries and fails to get off the ground. He can see Glib fighting the banshee, blood dripping down his face, but he can't help him. He weakly reaches for him before collapsing into the darkness.
Suddenly he is standing in a flower field, the warm sun bearing down on him. The flowers and grass dance and sway under his feet and over head he hears birds singing.
"Hi there," a boy's voice calls from behind him. Goodbid spins on his heels, readying a spell only to stop when he sees a familiar face sitting under an old tree, making a flower crown. "Remember me?" He asks lightly.
"What the hell is goin' on?" Goodbid demands as he cautiously approaches the elf.
"You are knocked out and the frog man is fighting my sister. I saw my opportunity, so I took it and brought you in here so we could chat for a minute," he explains calmly.
"What do you mean you brought me here?" Goodbid asks, stopping in front of the young man- no kid.
"My sister accidentally trapped me in here," he says, tightening the knots on his crown before setting it on his head. "So, I've been here a few years."
"Are you the one keeping us in this loop?" Goodbid asks, crouching down in front of him.
"Kind of? I'm not doing it on purpose anyway," the kid explains. "Want one?" He offers his crown to Goodbid.
"Uh, sure? And what do you mean you aren't doing it on purpose?" Goodbid asks. He sits down in front of the kid who starts gathering more flowers.
"I mean I'm not supposed to be in here, but I am. You weren't supposed to cause a loop, but you did. So, I can help you if you help me," he says calmly. "Oh, I'm Sayrn, by the way. I never got an adult name."
Goodbid feels his heart break at the simple statement. "I'm sorry," Goodbid says, feeling guilty for cutting this kid's life so short. He rarely takes contracts that have anything to do with kids. That rule probably wasn't in place when he took this hit.
Sayrn gives him a genuine smile. "It's fine, my crazy sister hired you to do it."
"Did you two not get a long?" Goodbid asks, picking at the grass absentmindedly.
"She loved me, but I was always afraid of her, especially after she became a warlock," Sayrn says as he tucks his hair behind his ear again. "That's why she hired you to kill me. She couldn't do it herself."
"Oh, I see," Goodbid says. He watches the kid make him a flower crown for a moment before slowly asking, "so how do I help you, so you'll help me?"
"Easy, in the middle of the room, there is a fancy looking rock," he says looking up at Goodbid for the first time. "Break it and kill my sister's ghost. The loop should end then. Here," he puts the crown around Goodbid's hat. "Now you'll wake up, you'll be in pain but remember this: break the rock, kill the banshee."
Before Goodbid can respond pain flares through his body and he opens his eyes to a dark room. He is laying on the ground, bleeding sluggishly. Gritting his teeth, he pulls himself to his feet and stumbles forward.
"You're alive?!" he hears someone, probably Canyon, shout, but he doesn't have time to respond. He has to find that rock.
An obvious battle rages over his head as he navigates the maze of cogs and gears before stumbling into a clearing under the bridge. In the center is a glistening crystal on a marble pedestal.
"Fancy indeed, kid," Goodbid mumbles. He coughs into his hand, bits of blood splattering onto his sleeve. He lifts his briefcase over his head before smashing it down onto the crystal with all his force. It shatters like fragile glass.
He hears the banshee shriek mournfully, but the pain washes numbly over him.
"Kill her! It'll break the loop! Kill her!" He yells, praying someone is still there to hear him. His vision dances with spots of color and he sways on his feet. The banshee shrieks in pain swiftly followed by cheers. With a smirk he lets the pain knock him back out.
The last thing he sees before everything fades to black is the clock's face. A beautiful flower field, swaying in the wind, and a tree with birds on the branches. But under the tree, there is no elf boy.
*
When Goodbid comes to in his bed, he almost throws a righteous fit. Like hell was he going to do that to himself a second time! But before he can work up his temper, he feels bandages wrapping his torso.
"Oh, good! You're awake!" Prophis says, sitting down the book he was reading. "We were starting to get worried."
"Did it work?" Goodbid asks hoarsely.
"Yes, it is the twenty-seventh," Prophis says as he brings Goodbid a glass of water. "Drink."
Goodbid takes it with a grateful smile and downs it in two gulps.
"How did you know that would work?" Prophis asks as he takes the glasses back. "Breaking that rock."
"The kid in the clock told me."
"What?"
Goodbid laughs at Prophis' confused expression. "Yeah, the lady's brother's soul, whose name was Sayrn by the way, got trapped in the clock. He told me if I broke the rock under the bridge and killed the banshee the loop would end. Oh, and he made me a flower crown," Goodbid says with a weak smile.
"Oh, that explains the weird flower pattern on your hat," Prophis says as he picks up the hat and gives it to him. Goodbid inspects his hat and sure enough around the hat is a faint flower pattern, like it was painted on.
"Well, I'll be damned," Goodbid laughs.
"Indeed," Prophis says with a soft smile. "Oh, I should probably tell the others you are awake." Prophis leaves the room, and a few moments later there are several thumping feet before his door is thrown open and S.G. launches through the door, followed by an equally enthusiastic Canyon, and a much calmer Glib.
"You did it!" S.G. shouts, throwing her arms around Goodbid and pulling him into a death grip hug.
"S.G. don't rebreak his ribs!" Glib snaps at her, but her hold only loosens slightly.
"Well, you know what would be great for his ribs?" Canyon asks.
"I swear to God if you say a cuddle pile," Glib threatens only for Canyon to smile even wider.
"A cuddle pile on S.G.'s bed," he says smugly.
"He's been demanding a cuddle pile ever since we got back," S.G. explains while Canyon and Glib light into an argument.
"I'm willin' to do a cuddle pile," Goodbid says as he slowly gets out of bed. "As long as y'all mind my injuries."
"Deal!" Canyon says before running to S.G.'s room. Goodbid and the others follow behind, much slower.
They had just got settled on the bed when Prophis sticks his head in the door.
"Callisto and I are headed home, if you need us, you know how to contact us," he says quietly before disappearing back down the hall.
Goodbid smiles and lets his head fall back against the pillows. "Night, y'all."
"Night," Canyon purrs.
"Good night," S.G. says quietly.
Glib grunts, already mostly asleep.
It doesn't take long for sleep to take Goodbid, he is still extremely exhausted, after all. In his dream he is in a field with two other elves sitting in the distance. One is a woman, who looks vaguely familiar, having her hair braided with flowers, and the other is a young boy with a flower crown sitting on top of his long white-blonde hair.
He wakes up happy and calm but thinking one thing clearly.
Never fucking again.
#d&dorks#sir superhero#pandaredd#momoiscariot#naethan apollo#nikhilclayton#glib#mr.goodbid#s.g. iguess#mystery of the canyon#callisto#prophis#time loop#fanfic#repost#This is hella long but only because on my Ao3 its divided into chapters
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Little Pet P2
Media: IRL
Character: Thomas Brodie Sangster
Couple: TBS X Reader
Rating: Sexy
Concept: A Princesses Pet
I followed without resistance, I didn't know where I was going but it had to be better the some dungeon to die. Even if it meant o was some princesses pet. We climbed this long spiral staircase and all the while I was getting more and more nervous. At times she glanced back to me that sweet bubbly innocent smile seeming to have vanished. Once we reached the top of the stairs there was a door she opened it and for a moment I was unsure what to expect. I imagined a large suite with white lace and pink frills the perfect princess bedroom that little girls dream off.
But she grabbed my chain an forced me inside so hard I landed and scuffed up my knees across the floor, and I looked around the room.
It was a large impressive suite with a walk in wardrobe, full bathroom, mini library and a bedroom all together on one open space. With three tall arched windows with huge black wooden shutters. Everything in the room was black and purple with dark wooden gothic styling, the large wooden canopies bed with sheer and opaque purpose curtains, the black clawfoot bathtub, the metal spiral staircase to the mini library, purple wallpaper with a pattern of flying bats. I turned back to look at her and she smirked evily shutting the door behind us.
And I yulped.
Maybe I would been better in the dungeon.
She moved tugging me with her and I put up a little more resistance but she was strong, strong enough to pull me to the other side of the bed without much thought. She sat on the edge of the bed and smiled at me playing with my hair.
"Hello pet"
"Hello" I answered back
"Aww he does talk" she smiled "does my pet come with a name?"
"Thomas"
"Hummmm. I think we shall call you puppy" she smiled "are you going to be a good puppy?' she asks and I didn't answer "perhaps you should know what happened to my last pets" she smiled tugging my chain taking me out one of the windows was infact a door that lead to a balcony and she forced me by my hair to look down immediately getting vertigo from the height, as we looked down to the castle gardens where a graveyard sat with many headstones one in fact a groundsman was still filling in with earth
"This is... just your pets?"
"Ummm my little puppies kittens and other little pets who didn't behave themselves" she smiled "so? Is my puppy going to be a good boy?"
"Yes." I nodded mostly from fear
"Yes what?" She asks pulling my hair harder
"Yes princess"
"Good. Now come come pup. You need a bath" she says tugging me back inside. And heading to the bathroom where she began to run a bath "ERICA!" she screams at the top of her lungs making me admittedly jump and second's later a woman ran in dressed in a maids uniform
"Yes my lady"
"I want an indoor and outdoor bed, a blanket made for my new pet. And being him some new tubs I don't want to reuse my last puppies things, he made such a mess of them" she told her
"Yes my lady" she nods coming over to me getting a tale measure from her pocket and measuring me before scurrying off again, but now the bath was ready
"Take it off"
"What?"
"You can take a bath with your clothes on"
"But i-"
"Already causing trouble?" She glared
"No princess. I- I'll be good" I sighed Taking off what like shards of clothes I still had leaving me naked much to her amusement
"Come on puppy" she cooes
I did as she asked climbing into the almost boiling bath, it hurt to sit in but at the very least I'd be clean, she was vicious with her scrubs caring little for my whines and complains of pain caring Not for my bruises and cuts simply scrubbing me with soap
"Awww look how pretty he is under all that dirt" she smiled
Once done she forced me to climb out not giving me a towel or anything to cover myself with, I did try and use my chained hands to give myself a little dignity but she slapped my hands away circling me like a vulture
"Cute" she smiled slapping my butt
"Hey!" I complain "can I atleast have some clothes?"
"Pets don't wear clothes that would be silly" she smiled
Immediately the door opened to the same woman, with many items in hand one of them she immediately put outside the other she offered to the princess, she told the woman to the corner of the room beside her bed and began setting things up, what I wasn't sure and quickly the maid left
"Here we are pet" she smiled tugging on the chain bringing me to the corner where now sat on the floor a large cushioned bed in the corner of the walls, a blanket draped over it, a silver tray with two bowls one full of water the other had bread and cheese, she smiled and clipped the end of the chain into a ring above the bed leaving me with little choice but to sit on it like a dog.
I hated it. It was degrading! Being forced to sleep on a literal dog bed and eat out of bowls like an animal.
But on the other side, I was starving.
So I took the bread quickly eating most of it
"Good boy" she cooes playing with my hair "such a good little puppy" she smiled "now you be a good boy and stay right here while I go see daddy" she smiled giving my head a kiss before she hurried of out locking the door behind her.
And I sighed "well. I guess this is my life now." I sighed wrapping my blanket around me.
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Could you do a Bench Trio vore story? its fine if you can't, just wondering <3
I wrote this all in one afternoon, god help me
First actual story for the Bet on the Crown au and it’s gonna be vore, woo!
I swear I’ll get around to doing something involving Phil, y’know, the most important character in this au, but for now I wanna write bench trio.
Also I’ve had this idea in my head for a while so this gives me an excuse to write it.
tw: vore, hard vore mention (none happens), very long cause I’m an incompetent writer who can’t cut unimportant shit out, general angst, this qualifies as hurt->comfort I think?
Tommy sucked in a breath nervously as his fist hovered just in front of the carved and (in his humble opinion) overly fancy silver-embellished door. What was he doing. It was four in the morning.
Truth be told, he had never wanted to be in this situation in the first place. But here he was, up and about in the middle of the fucking night, a few seconds away from knocking on the two princes’ door.
Techno had said that it would be a good idea for Tommy to spend some time in Enderia with the two princes after they all had kind of hit it off. Honestly, he was pretty sure that Techno was just trying to get him out of the palace for a bit so he could get some alone time. But that didn’t matter at the moment. He had only met Ranboo and Tubbo twice (and may he say for business reasons only, not just to hang out as pals or whatever normal kids do) when Techno arranged what he called a “sleepover” and dropped him off at the front steps of the Ender prince’s palace and told him he’d be back in a week to pick him up. Supposedly, this had all been approved and shit, and Tommy knew that it would be a good influence on his citizens and their views towards magic folk, but it was still nerve wracking.
Firstly, nobody here spoke English as a first language. Sure, Ranboo did, and many other Endermen did, too, but he couldn’t put into words how strange and frankly disturbing it was to walk down the rows of a bustling marketplace and hear inhuman warbles and hissing instead of speaking. Not that Tommy wanted to be offensive, but the native language here sounded like a cat screeching mixed with the melting vocal chords of a human being burned alive (ok that may be a bit offensive). Not pleasant at all, don’t ask him how Tubbo could stand it.
Secondly, Tubbo, who he could not understand by no fault of his own. Their species just…weren’t meant to communicate. Not that the smaller prince didn’t seem nice. In fact, weirdly enough, it was usually easier to be around him than Ranboo. Not that Ranboo wasn’t a good guy, he was just really awkward and, frankly, sucked at talking to people, Tommy included. So Tommy wasn’t looking forward to spending a week alone with a someone who he couldn’t understand and someone he didn’t know how to talk to. And it’s not like the palace workers were much more talkative.
Thirdly, the palace was too damn big. Which led to Tommy’s current predicament: trying to find his god damn guest room in the seemingly endless sea of hallways that made up the castle. He had got out of bed to use the bathroom (which he thankfully remembered the location of) and hadn’t paid much attention getting there, and had been wandering around looking for his room for close to a half hour at this point. It also didn’t help that the castle was a bit unsettling when the sun was still up, so at night, it was terrifying.
The ornate and gothic architecture and carvings lined the too-tall walls (specifically constructed for Endermen), all painted dark purples and black, made it near impossible to see, save for the little bit of moonlight reflecting off of the silver accents in the walls. The only solice he got was that he wouldn’t run into anything in the dark, since the furniture in the palace was almost double the size of what he had at home, therefore big enough for him to see despite the lack of light. Again, don’t ask him how Tubbo dealt with any of this. And he thought Phil had it rough with his small stature in a normal human sized home. How Tubbo, who was a good bit shorter than Phil, put up with living in a palace this big without having an anxious breakdown was beyond him.
As he walked further, he could hear the nauseating hisses of other high ranking Endermen in other rooms through the walls, talking about who knows and who cares what. He thought about interrupting them and asking for directions for all of two seconds before realizing that 1: they’re probably doing important shit and don’t want some human kid interrupting it and 2: they probably didn’t speak much English anyway. He was close to calling it a night and sleeping on the ground for the rest of the night, royal status be damned, he was exhausted.
Until finally, finally, he noticed a familiar door, only sticking out to him because earlier that day when he’d been given the tour of the castle (that in hindsight he should have paid more attention too), he’d noted internally that the door was ridiculously rich and stuffy looking, even by his royal standards. Ranboo had said it was his and Tubbo’s bedroom, and that if he needed to find them past dusk, they’d be here. So technically, Tommy had full permission to wake them up, since he really needed them to help him. On the other hand, nobody likes being woken up at ungodly hours, especially not by a guest he wasn’t even sure they wanted. But his tired frazzled mind was quickly favoring the idea of a bed over the embarrassment of waking up the two most powerful people of this country just for directions.
So, he finally made a decision, and knocked.
Nothing.
He knocked again, louder.
…
Damn, shouldn’t at least one of them have woken up? He’d at least expected Tubbo. He’s tiny, he’s got little ears, pounding on a door would be like hearing a battering ram to him, what gives?
At this point, Tommy made a serious lapse in judgment, not thinking for a second that it’d be rude, and just took it upon himself to open the door. He was too tired to deal with this shit, maybe he could just shake one of them awake. They wouldn’t need to be up for long, just long enough to point him in the right direction. Hell, just long enough to tell him where the servants quarters was so he could get one of them to lead him back, anything-
Why was the bed empty?
Tommy didn’t know what he expected to find when he opened the door. Actually, fuck that, he knew exactly what he expected, and that was for the princes to be asleep, hence why they didn’t open the door for him. But…no. There was only one bed, and no one was in it. In fact, it was perfectly made, as if no one had been in it. Something in the back of Tommy’s mind urged him to just lay in it so he could get some rest. The forefront of his mind was focused on the fact that oh shit oh fuck the door was unlocked and the princes are missing.
Oh fuck. Fuck. We’re they kidnapped? Was kidnapping normal for Enderia? Tommy was the newcomer here, if the princes disappeared, he’d be to blame. Him being human didn’t help. His kind had never been good to magic folk like Endermen, and were arguably worse to faes like Tubbo. He’d be blamed. He’d be thrown in jail and tortured for information on something he had nothing to do wi-
Hissing. That’s what snapped him out of his panic; the light, quiet sound of hissing.
He looked around the room, but didn’t know where the sound could be coming from, until he realized that there were doors around the room, and saw a sliver of light coming out from under one.
Well, now he just felt like an idiot.
He walked towards the door, the hissing getting louder with each step, and knocked again. No response, but at least this time he could be sure that one of the princes was sleeping. He was still lucid enough to realize that the hissing was some form of snoring for Endermen, meaning that Ranboo was in here. He couldn’t be sure where Tubbo was, but screw it. He was probably asleep, and he was small, he’d be harder to find than Ranboo. So Tommy swung open the door, immediately spotting Ranboo, laying horizontally on a plush armchair with a calm smile on his face, hissing lightly, hand draped over his middle which was-
Tommy froze.
His breath felt like lead in his chest, he felt the blood drain from his face, he knees started to shake and his hand almost slipped off the door knob with how much they had started sweating. Oh gods.
The room, which had seemed like a normal study upon first opening the door, now looked like a scene from a nightmare. A tall skinny lamp was illuminating the room from a corner, showing the desk that took up most of the room in more detail than Tommy had seen anything in since the sun went down. The bookshelf next to the lamp remained undisturbed, along with a small soft looking hammock-chair thing that hung from the ceiling next to the desk, probably meant for Tubbo to sit in so he could be with Ranboo without being in his way. The desk itself was what made Tommy’s blood turn to ice.
What he had at first glance assumed was just a messy desk now appeared much more sinister. Upon closer inspection, the papers weren’t just a bit disorderly. They were everywhere. Some slightly torn, wrinkled, on the ground, shoved everywhere, all only having one thing in common; they were shoved away from where Tubbo’s chair hung. The closer the papers were to the chair, the more tattered they looked, and Tommy knew that there was no way that was a coincidence.
This wasn’t a mess from Ranboo being disorganized…
This was a fight.
Something happened. Something must have happened. Ranboo and Tubbo got along so well when he’d met them less than a week ago. At least, he assumed they did. Despite not being able to understand the fae, whatever he said to Ranboo had always brought a smile to his face or a blush to his cheeks when Tommy had seen them. The Enderman had never once handled Tubbo roughly, pushed him aside, or talked down to him. He seemed to love his husband.
Whether that was an act or not didn’t matter anymore. There Ranboo was, lying on the chair, a smile spread across his lips, hand over his stomach, with Tubbo trapped inside.
Tommy couldn’t breathe. He watched with horror as the skin of Ranboo’s gut glowed from the inside: a light, muted green that he had seen in person enough to identify, even if it was dimmed by the inches of muscle, skin, and fur that surrounded it. He could see a silhouette inside the prince, sourcing the light. The outline of transparent wings, the mid length fluffy hair that now seemed to be pulled up in a messy bun revealing the shape of one normal pointed ear and one half gone and mangled one, there was no way this wasn’t Tubbo.
From inside he could see Tubbo flittering about in the small space of the organ, slamming his body against the roof of his fleshy prison and shoving and kicking at the walls to no avail. He ricocheted his body against any surface he could manage, desperately slamming into the floor and walls now, too. And nothing worked. Ranboo remained asleep, that calm smile still on his face despite Tubbo’s struggles. Tommy had half a mind to be furious that Ranboo feel so calm while Tubbo was clearly so scared.
Tommy slapped a hand over his mouth to quiet his heavy panicked breathing, despite fully knowing that if pounding on a door wouldn’t wake Ranboo, his breathing sure as hell wouldn’t. But he couldn’t think any better than he could breathe at the moment. His mind just kept replaying what must have happened. He looked back towards the desk.
He could picture it clear as day: Ranboo, doing simple mindless paperwork, a dull chore Tommy had found himself doing countless times as a royal responsibility, when Tubbo flew up to his seat next to his husband. Who knows how long the two sat there, Tubbo being completely unaware of what was about to happen to him. Being completely unaware that the man who he had sworn himself to in matrimony would soon decide to end his life. Maybe it had started in an argument, where Ranboo got fed up and grabbed Tubbo out of his seat, shoving his papers out of his way and swallowing the fae whole. Maybe it had been peaceful, with no clear indication or build up that anything was wrong; maybe Ranboo had been planning to kill him for a while, and acted too quickly for Tubbo to defend himself. He felt like one of those crime shows that told the story of how and why a person was murdered. He wondered if he would be interviewed for one of those shows when the news got out: after digestion finally kicked in and Tubbo stopped struggling, stopped everything, and faded away within the man who had once loved him. Would Ranboo even be caught? Was there evidence, besides Tommy himself as a witness?
Wait, what was he doing? There wouldn’t be an interview, there wouldn’t even be a murder, because it was right there happening in front of him, and he could stop it. He could see Tubbo, still trying to fight his way out of the body of his now almost murderer, still alive and kicking. And Tommy was gonna make sure it stayed that way.
He slowly crept towards the chair, kneeling down in front of it and leaning close to Ranboo’s midsection, as awkward as it made him feel. From this close he made two morbid realizations.
One was that Tubbo was screaming. From inside the stomach he could hear a rapid yet muffled bell-like ringing. He remembered Ranboo once telling him how impressed he was at how easily Tommy could tell Tubbo’s tone despite not being able to hear his actual voice. Tommy had never heard Tubbo that distressed before.
The second was that every time Tubbo hit the stomach, there was a low vibrating gurgle. Shit. Did that mean that digestion was starting? No way in hell it meant Ranboo was hungry, Tommy could clearly tell that he should be feeling very full at the moment. He’d better make this quick.
“Tubbo?” Tommy whispered. Tommy saw the silhouette of Tubbo’s head whip towards him. ‘Good, that means he can hear me.’ he thought. “It’s gonna be alright, big man, I’m gonna get you out of there, you’re gonna be alright…” Tommy continued to mutter soft reassurances to Tubbo as he tried to reason what to do. Meanwhile, Tubbo had stared to throw himself at the side of the organ he had realized Tommy was standing by, and the human realized that it had become just a bit easier to hear the ringing. Was Tubbo screaming louder? Probably. Maybe he was concerned Tommy couldn’t hear him well enough.
Eventually Tommy settled on just trying to push up on Ranboo’s stomach. With a few words of warning to Tubbo, Tommy placed his hands just under where he could see Tubbo and started to push up, not seeing the fae holding his hands out and shaking his head.
Almost immediately, the stomach let out a loud and painful sounding gurgle. Tommy quickly retreats his hands back, holding them up in surrender until the noise stops. Tommy looks up. Ranboo’s smile is gone, but he’s asleep.
Tommy doesn’t stop.
He puts his hands back where they were, pushing up again, and notes how Ranboo’s legs shift a little to pull them closer to himself. Notes how the hand over Tubbo tightens, fingers latching onto the thin layer of fur. Tommy grits his teeth and pushes more.
Eventually Tommy looks back at Ranboo’s midsection. Tubbo is seemingly squished up into the fetal position, since Tommy has been compressing the already limited space he had. He’s stopped screaming but is violently shaking his head back and forth, trying to tell the human to stop. Tommy drops the pressure immediately before leaning back over him. “Ok, that, uh…I’m gonna be honest, that didn’t really work.” Tommy’s hears a high, seemingly pissed off, sounding ring in response. “But! Don’t worry! I have another plan, something has to work!” Tommy said, hoping Tubbo didnt hear the desperation in his voice.
…He got an idea.
Ok, if this didn’t work, he didn’t know what would. As gross as this was. He leaned Ranboo’s chin down and looked into his open mouth. Shit. Fuck, this was so gross. He looked back to Tubbo, who was now just sitting still, probably trying to figure out what was going on from audio ques only. Alive still, but probably not for much longer. Tommy didn’t care how gross this was, he wasn’t going to let Tubbo die because he was squeamish. With that last though, Tommy stuck two of his fingers down Ranboo’s throat.
Tommy watched as Ranboo’s body thrashed, and Tubbo was unceremoniously thrown around in the convulsing stomach as it seemed to shrink in on itself and push him upwards. Yes! Finally, something was working! Tubbo was gonna survive!
Any momentary feelings of success were cut off as Tommy felt a hand clamp around his wrist.
Had he not been so concerned with Tubbo getting out of this whole situation alive, Tommy may have realized that if he wanted Ranboo to stay asleep, it probably would have been smart to remove his fingers from the prince’s mouth. He felt the hand draw his fingers out of the throat and when Tommy turned, dichromatic eyes met his.
“What are y-“ Ranboo tried to get out before suddenly stopping and letting go of Tommy’s hand only to press his hands to his throat. Tommy was confused for a second before he saw the green glow come up from between Ranboo’s collarbone and continued traveling painfully slow up the throat. It worked! Tommy’s stupid risky plan had worked, Tubbo would survive-
Wait shit Ranboo was choking-
He watched the taller prince start to panic as he threw himself off the chair and onto the floor, sitting on his knees and hunching over so he could let gravity do the work in spitting out the fae. He desperately clawed against his throat, shoulders heaving as he attempted to cough out Tubbo so air could be sucked back into his lungs, before realizing that it wasn’t working and resorting to leaning back and swallowing shallowly over and over in a last ditch effort to get him anywhere that would let Ranboo breathe again.
Tommy, despite not being happy with Ranboo at all at the moment, did not want to watch one prince die just to save another. He ran behind Ranboo and linked his hands together just below the Enderman’s rib cage and started trying to perform the Heimlich, praying to any god listening that Ranboo’s anatomy was similar enough to a human’s that it would work.
Thankfully it did, and moments later a very slimy and wet fae was unceremoniously spat out and quickly caught in Tommy’s waiting hand, and Ranboo was left to fall to the ground and cough, his lungs forcing in as much air as possible. Tommy took the time to hold Tubbo tighter against him and run. He ran and slammed the study door behind him, dragging over a way too heavy chair and pushing it in front of the door. He frantically looked around the room for something to defend himself and Tubbo with, but the best he could find was a heavy paperweight. Speaking of Tubbo, he subconsciously realized that the screaming had returned and the fae was pounding on his chest where Tommy was holding him.
He opened his palm further and Tubbo shook the spit off his wings before hovering to reach Tommy at face level and continued screaming, sounding…angry? Why would he be angry?
“The fuck are you mad at me for?? I just saved your fucking life, you’re welcome by the way!” Tommy said, exasperated. Tubbo stopped, stared him in the eyes with the most blatant “I’m done with your bullshit” look he’d ever seen (which means a lot given that he lives with Technoblade), and turned and flew towards the door to the study. Tommy tried to run over and stop him but before he could get there, a small yet very shocking explosion went off near his feet, causing him to jump backwards and fall over. He looked up to see Tubbo using the same type of explosion to knock the chair over and entered the study, where Tommy could see that Ranboo was still on the ground, breathing heavily.
Tommy was scared for his life when he saw Tubbo fly in front of Ranboo’s face. He got up and fully braced himself to have to knock the Enderman in the head with the paperweight when he saw Ranboo’s hands gingerly come up from underneath Tubbo. The fae’s wings stopped immediately, fully trusting the hands underneath him to catch him. He was brought up closer to Ranboo’s face, which only displayed worry and pain at the moment, and Tubbo responded by placing his hands and forehead on Ranboo’s nose and saying something, the light calm jingling barely audible to Tommy from so far away. “Are you sure?” Ranboo responded. “He could’ve hurt you-“
Tommy’s confusion was replaced with anger. “I could have hurt him?!” Tommy yelled, making both Ranboo and Tubbo snap their heads in his direction. He walked closer. “Im not the one who trapped someone inside them! I didn’t try to eat anyone! How did I hurt him? I wasn’t the one who was sleeping peacefully while someone they love was trying to rip them open from the inside out!!” At the last remark, Ranboo turned to Tubbo with a confused look on his face. Tubbo shrugged, and responded with what Tommy could only guess was “I’ll tell you later.” They both looked back up to Tommy.
“Look, I don’t know why you’re in here in the first place, but I’m going to assume you did all of…that with the best intentions in mind.” Ranboo started, standing and inching closer to Tommy, Tubbo now cupped in only one hand as Ranboo reached the other out towards Tommy, like someone reaching a hand out to a feral animal to see if it would bite. “But I need you to understand something: I would never willingly put my husband in a situation where he could die. I love him, and that won’t change. I was never going to hurt him!” He seemed desperate to make sure Tommy believed him. Like that was going to work.
“Bullshit!” Tommy yelled. “If he was safe, what’s up with the mess at the desk? Your stomach growling every time he moved? Him pounding on the walls and screaming at the top of his lungs to get you to wake up? You can’t just eat things safely, that’s not how it works-“ “I can, though!” Ranboo interrupted, sounding more desperate than before. “I literally can! Endermen can do that!!” That halted Tommy’s next comment. He looked to Tubbo, who nodded. “Explain? And explain the rest of that shit I mentioned, too, you’re not off the hook yet. The only reason I’m even giving you a chance to explain this is because Tubbo seems to believe you about the whole ‘safe cannibalism’ thing.”
Ranboo sighed, the tension in his shoulders dropping a bit. “Ok, firstly, it’s not cannibalism. Tubbo and I aren’t even the same species. Secondly, Endermen have storage stomachs. When we’re born we’re really tiny, and the pouches are how our parents carry us around. So it’s safe for living things, like Tubbo.” “You realize that if it’s purpose is to store other Endermen it is a safe cannibalism thing, right?” “Tommy do you want an explanation to the rest of this or not?” Tommy shut up.
“Anyway, the papers were Tubbo’s fault. I was at my desk doing work, and he asked if I had eaten yet today, because I have a bit of a problem with forgetting to eat. After I said no, he decided that I was done doing work and needed to go eat. He messed up all my stuff and got papers everywhere, and it took him like a half an hour to mess everything up bad enough that I gave up on paperwork.” Tommy noticed that Tubbo looked absolutely smug with victory as Ranboo said this. “But at that point it was too late to go and get actual food, and I didn’t want to walk to the kitchen cause it was far away, so Tubbo suggested that I just…eat him? Not actually eat! But having something in my brood pouch would soothe the hunger pains until morning. But since there wasn’t and still isn’t food in my actual stomach, I’m assuming that’s why you, uh…heard it…..gurgling.” Ranboo winced and his face darkened with embarrassment over having to talk about that.
“Plus, we..uh...kinda usually sleep like this. We figured out pretty early on that if we sleep in the same bed I usually end up on top of him, and neither of us want that, so this just…works better.” Ranboo’s face was dark before, but now the lighter side almost matched the other with embarrassment by the end of that explanation, but Tubbo just nodded along, as if he didn’t find a single thing Ranboo said strange at all. “But the ‘pounding on the walls and screaming?’ I have no idea.” Ranboo said, looking down at Tubbo. Tubbo huffed and stood up, flying up to sit on Ranboo’s shoulder to explain himself. After about five minutes of Tommy listening to bell noises Ranboo spoke back up. “Ok so,” he turned to Tubbo, “and let me know if I’m getting anything wrong here, cause you just gave me the quick re-cap,” he turned back to Tommy. “Apparently Tubbo had been asleep, but woke up when he heard you pounding on the door and panicked, since no one knows we do this. He was trying to wake me up so I could hide the fact that he was in there, or spit him out, or something so we wouldn’t get caught. Unfortunately, I’m a really sound sleeper, and it didn’t work. Double unfortunately, you might’ve been able to see Tubbo, but he couldn’t see you. He didn’t know you could see him struggling to wake me up until you actually announced yourself, and at that point you were too far into your rescue plan to think about what he was trying to mime to you. By the end of it he knew that you were gonna end up doing something, so he just sat and waited for you to either wake me up or shove him back up my throat. And I think we’ve realized it was the latter.” Tommy processed it for a moment, and vividly remembered Tubbo shaking his head at him when he first attempted to get him out of the stomach. He thought he meant that it wouldn’t work, not to just stop trying all together. But then again, why would he have? He couldn’t have known.
“Oh.” Was all Tommy could say. Ranboo came up and put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, it’s ok, man. You had no reason to think this was normal, especially as a human, I’m sure you don’t see stuff like this often. Hell, we don’t either. We might be the only people why do this. Honestly, it just shows how good of a guy you are, trying to save Tubbo’s life, even if he wasn’t in any actual danger.” Tommy looked up, and saw Ranboo smiling down at him. He also saw Tubbo lean and whisper something into his husband’s ear, which made Ranboo laugh. “Tubbo also wants you to know, for future reference, he can handle himself, and that if he was ever in any real danger of being eaten that he could very easily survive. Don’t ask how, he didn’t specify and I don’t want to know.” Tommy laughed.
“I’m sorry-“ “Hey, now, none of that. This never happened, you have nothing to be sorry for, just forget about it. Also if any of the council people ask, me and Tubbo sleep like normal people. Now, if you don’t mind me asking, why did you come in here in the first place?” “Oh, right!” Tommy perked up, suddenly remembering what had started all of this. “I, uh, got lost, I didn’t know which way my room was. I just needed directions. Well, need, I still don’t know my way back.” He had almost completely forgot why he even came in the room. It sounded so stupid after everything that had just happened.
“I get it, this place is a maze. Took me like six months to figure it out. And I still don’t think Tubbo knows how to get around, that’s why he clings to me.” Tubbo angrily jingled from Ranboo’s shoulder. “No you don’t.” He responded before looking back to Tommy. “You want to get breakfast on the way back to your room?” “Su- wait, breakfast??” “I mean, look outside the window.” Tommy turned towards the window behind the still neatly folded bed, and saw the sun starting to rise in the sky. “Holy shit, how long have I been in here?” Tubbo whispered to Ranboo again. “Tubbo says it’s been like, around and hour and a half give or take since you knocked. So there should be some food in the kitchen, even if it’s not a huge royal banquet thing. Then you can go back to sleep at the guest room.” “That sounds good, I’m not the fancy type of king to get a huge breakfast buffet every morning, but are you sure? Isn’t there, like, shit to do that I shouldn’t be asleep for?”
Ranboo shrugged and looped an arm around Tommy’s shoulders, leading him out of the bedroom and down the hall. “Don’t worry about it. Honestly, I kind of need more sleep, too. I hadn’t been asleep for long before you woke me up, and I’m sure Tubbo got even less sleep. Whatever the council wants us to do can wait till tomorrow.” Tubbo nodded in agreement before using Ranboo’s arm as a slide to slip down from his shoulder to Tommy’s, leaning against his neck. Tommy looked down at him and smiled, knowing that the small gesture showed Tubbo forgave him for the whole incident, too.
And if some random servant looked into Tommy’s guest room later and saw all three boys asleep in a pile on the bed, surrounded by empty snack bags and the remains of random fruits, they simply closed the door and let them sleep.
#cyncerity#cynwrites#mcyt g/t#mcyt gt#tw vore#bet on the crown au#it’s been a while since I’ve written something hasn’t it?#huh#anyway I’m proud of this#also there’s one anon that asked for bet on the crown vore hcs and I hope you like this#I’ll probably get around to that but I feel bad cause they said they were sick and I completely forgot to answer that ask#so if that anon is reading this I hope you’re feeling better <3#ya have no idea how long this has been in my head#*i meant y’all but ya works to ig#soft vore#safe vore
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ok so i finished reading ‘the powers of darkness’ (eg the swedish translation of dracula that basically threw out the plot and wrote fanfic instead) and even tho from a technical aspect it IS a superior book with consistent characterisation, exciting pacing, paves over all the plot holes, and is at least 80% scarier...i still prefer the original version with it’s Weird Choices (tm) and frankly bizarre dialogue.
let this be a message to all creatives out there, you don’t have a write a perfect book for it to be iconic!!! genre-blind-and-deaf jonny harker REFUSING to believe he’s in a gothic horror until it literally bites him on the nose is ENDEARING to me. the unintentional comedy of Dracula running a one-man maid cafe in his castle is PEAK LITERATURE.
also TPOD kind of cuts off abruptly and glosses over Drac’s Adventures in London making the ending seem unsatisfying and rushed. the diary entries and newspaper clippings is what gives it the cool detective vibe!!! that was the whole point!!! I want my weird old (german?) uncle calling me “friend [insert name here]” while he gives me a medically unsound blood transfusion!!!!
but most importantly, TPOD cut out mina and lucy’s bromance which is an unforgivable sin. 0/10. worst book ever.
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i’ll see you in the village -- 1
Chris Redfield last saw you before he went rogue from the BSAA. You were tasked with infiltrating a suspicious European village and investigating their female leader. The secret communication between the two of you goes dark and Chris finds himself along with Ethan Winters in the neck of the woods that your list ping came from. Redfield has to deal with his task of aiding Ethan, his job, and his personal quest to find you. (chris redfield x f!reader)
✧.* ✧.*
Your cellphone dings in your hand:
CHRIS : How’s it going?
ME: Oh, you know. Same shit, different day. Nervous, I guess.
ME: How about you?
…
ME: Chris?
CHRIS: Yeah, same. Are you on a secured network?
ME: Duh. This is a burner phone, I’ll toss it once I arrive.
CHRIS: Good luck, I miss seeing you.
ME: Buy me a drink when we meet up next.
You end the conversation there and take the cellphone in both of your hands. You use force to pull it apart from the center and it breaks with a loud snap. It would be the last time that you would talk to Redfield until your task was finished. Hopefully sooner than later, if things go well that is.
✧.*
The rusted van that was taking you to your mission location shook wildly as it hit rugged terrain. “Sorry, sorry! We’re just about there.” the driver apologizes as you bounce around the backseat. You huff in frustration as all your contents in your lap spilled onto the floor. You wanted nothing more to get out of this metal trash can and stretch your legs. But it wasn’t much longer until the winding roads up into the mountains stopped and there was just one long stretch of snow covered dirt. Suddenly, the vehicle came to a grinding halt just as a massive gothic like castle came into the horizon. “This is where we stop.”
“I don’t see a village?” you say as you leaned forward to squint through the windshield. “This is where we stop. I don’t go any further.” the man turned to look at you with stern eyes. After the silence in the air dropped, he nearly rushed you out of his van. You didn’t have much with you besides your localized clothing and an inconspicuous bag full of the gear you’d need. Once you stepped out, he rolls down the window to give you a word of advice, “The village is up ahead,” then the tires of the van squealed as he peeled out backward, and you were left in the cold alone.
“Well, onward we go--,” you sigh and take off on foot toward the castle and most likely the village as well. The sun began to tuck itself behind the pointed white peaks just as you arrived at a large wooden gate with two odd symbols decorating it. Behind this barrier is where your journey would begin. Where your mission that the BSAA tasked you with would begin.
✧.*
Your boss tossed two photographs onto the table that was in front of you. Your fingers spread the images apart as you inspect what they were. One photo was of a blonde woman who was dressed in a type of ceremonial garb and the other was of Chris Redfield. “You haven’t been in the field in quite sometime, [Y/N].” the man that stood before you took a seat in the chair across the way. “Locals in a remote European village refer to this woman as a religious icon. Known to them as Mother Miranda,” his index finger pointed to the woman, “She has some connections to the mold, similar - if not exact to the type from the Dulvey Incident.” He stops for a moment before he tapped the image of Chris, “Redfield took control over the Hound Wolf Squad without permission and we believe he might be investigating Miranda and the mold. And we’re aware of your … association with one another.”
Your eyebrows knit with a head shake and you pushed the photographs away, “What do you want with me?” He leaned forward and laced his fingers together, “We want you to infiltrate Miranda’s village and collect as much information as possible until we pull you out.” That’s it? Sounds simple. “What about Chris?” Your boss sighed heavily, “This is where it might be a little more difficult. We don’t know where he or his team are. Due to your relationship, we believe he will contact you.” The message was clear and you were not interested in what he had to say about Chris any longer. “If he contacts you in anyway, I think you’ll know what to do...”
Little did your employer know that you’ve been contacted by him several times now. “Of course,” you lie. “But back to the main objective, [Y/N], do you accept this mission in Europe?” He was right, it had been quite sometime since you’ve been apart of any missions or even going to a work meeting. Spying and collecting information seemed tame compared to other things that you’ve done before. “Yeah,” you gave a nod and your eyes met his, “Yeah, I accept.”
✧.* LATER ON ---
“You did what?!” Chris raised his voice on the other end of the phone. “It shouldn’t be that big of a deal, Chris.” He scoffed, obviously not happy at your decision. “It is more than what you realize, [Y/N]. You’re being reckless.” this offended you, “Oh, sorry that I can’t punch a giant rock like it’s nothing, Chris. You’re underestimating me.” The man sighed, “I-I didn’t mean it like that. But if it involves Miranda and the mold. It’s big -- bigger than me and bigger than you.” You listened to him as you paced around your bedroom and contemplated his reasoning.
“I already said I’d do it. There’s no going back on it, you know that.” you quickly changed the subject, you didn’t want to continue with the argument, “They want me to let them know if you ever contact me,” Chris let out a chuckle, “You didn’t compromise me, did you?” You hummed, “Of course I did. I folded immediately, duh.” your response was heavy with your typical sarcasm.
There was silence before you spoke again, “I miss you,” and Chris responded that he missed you too. You sat down on the edge of your bed and looked over to the spot that had been empty for several months now while you listened to him breathe on the phone. “I really want to see you. Let’s spend a night together before I go to Europe.” He sighed, “You know we can’t do that right now.” Redfield was right and you dropped the subject.
“I’ll see you soon, I promise. Give me a call on the phone you have now before you’re on the plane, I’ll have the same one with me. I love you.” His goodbye made you smile, “I love you too, Chris.” The phone air rang dead but you didn’t hang up right away as you pictured what Chris was possibly doing. Your heart ached since the last time the two had seen each other, you missed the now middle aged man dearly. But you knew that his job was important to him and although he didn’t reveal his complete reasoning... he promised he eventually would.
✧.*
You pushed the gates open with some effort and stumbled upon a mostly empty village. The silence was unsettling and as you walked down the dirt path, you could sense someone was watching from somewhere within the pitch black buildings. Sounds of snarling and inhuman cries echoed from all directions. You turned in a circle several times as the horrifying noises closed in.
#resident evil#resident evil x reader#chris redfield x reader#reader x chris redfield#chris redfield/reader#chris redfield#resident evil 8#resident evil village
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a proposal
Let me start with a question.
What do you think of when you see the words “Gothic novel”? Do you think of Edgar Allen Poe and your run of the mill damsel in distress? Do you think of zombies and vampires, ghosts and creepy human beings, the stuff that gives you the heebie jeebies? Of course. But what else do you think of when you see those words? The setting.
The typical settings for a Gothic novel are the deep South, the Northeast United States, or England—or they're a fictional kitschy suburbia like in Edward Scissor hands, or a castle like in Frankenstein.
But you don't think of the West Coast of the United States and Canada.
Heavens, no. The West Coast is where the yuppies hail from. It’s Hollywood. It’s nothing but gold (except when it’s on fire). It’s grunge. It’s the dream of the 90s.
But hear me out: the West Coast, from San Diego to Juneau, from the Pacific Coast Highway to the Rocky Mountains—and we can even extend this across the water over to Hawai'i and the entire rim really—is actually a good setting for a Gothic novel.
Just one example: California. Rotten horrible Hollywood, especially coming off the heels of #MeToo and a collective malaise of the films emerging from it. You have the coastline—which, I should mention, is nothing like in the movies. The beaches you think of in California are only a small fraction of such, mostly in San Diego or wherever a place has “beach” in the name near the L.A and Santa Barbara areas. But then again, there is a subgenre known as “ocean punk”, or speculative steampunk influenced fiction set within the Pacific waters.
There's the fog all over California, with the wispy fog in San Francisco and the dense tule fog in the Central Valley.
The vast barren high desert in the Eastern Sierra that seems to extend off in the distance forever as well as the cold alpine region that seems to be all in a world of its own. The thousand year old scraggly trees in the ancient bristlecone pine forest in the White Mountains. The vast, remote northern section of the state north of Sacramento.
The fact the state always seems to be on fire, unless it's getting slammed with a bomb cyclone courtesy of the mother ocean. The winds in the south are the Santa Ana winds; to the north, they're known as Diablo winds. Bone dry, ferocious, and bitingly cold from the east.
The intense, unpredictable monsoon flow in the summer that will either give you rain or will spark a fire in the worst way possible. The quiet, strangely underrated but no doubt present Pacific hurricanes.
The fact we literally have a place called DEATH VALLEY.
Then there's the characters. You have the overly rich people in the southland and near the coast. The neglected farmers in the Central Valley. The eccentrics in the Bay Area. The ultra conservative hicks in the Eastern Sierra. Much like your characters in your typical Gothic novel, they all seem to be hiding something. There's a deep fear here.
There is in fact some folklore, as well:
you have the Dark Watchers (or Los Vigilantes Oscuros) that haunt the Santa Lucia Mountains north of San Luis Obispo, giant dark shadowy creatures with brimmed hats and walking sticks who watch travelers from the horizon.
The Winchester House in San Francisco. And also anything with “Sutro” in the name (Sutro Baths, Sutro Tower; the Sutro Tunnel in Virginia City in Nevada).
Grizzly Adams, the mountain man who captured animals and gave them to circuses (namely P.T. Barnum), befriended mainly grizzly bears.
Tahoe Tessie, which is our version of the Loch Ness Monster only with far less elephants.
The whole history behind the Gold Rush and the Spanish Mission. Need I say more.
This is just California, too. I'm not even touching on Nevada—which had the Silver Rush around the same time as the Gold Rush and became a state on Halloween no less—Oregon, known for its lumber, aquariums, and wild horses; Washington, as we all know and love, and going into British Columbia, known for its incessant rain and lush forests. The Northwest also has the volcanoes, beginning with Mount Shasta and going all the way up to Denali and the Aleutian Islands.
I also want to include Arizona, Nevada, and Idaho in as well, given Arizona has the remote, desolate deserts and shares the Colorado River with California; Nevada shares the Colorado and Lake Mead with Arizona as well, plus Lake Tahoe, the Black Rock Desert, and the White Mountains with California; and Idaho has its proximity to the Northwest corridor and a place known as “Craters of the Moon National Park.”
Indeed, I find the entire Pacific Rim to be a good setting for Gothic tales. 7000 miles of rich blue waters that foretell unknown tales—the eastern side of which literally decides the fate of the planet's weather (the Eastern Pacific will tell us whether a place will have a drought or be slammed with snow!), and each place that surrounds it has its own darkness—while respecting their cultures in the case of Japan, China, Oceania, South America, and also Hawai'i.
Let me give a couple of examples so far, my fanfictions The Artist, Burning Sacramento, The Boy Who Destroyed the World (alternate title: Thalassophobia), Gray Ghost, Cold Embrace, and currently, Xenon Dreams.
The Artist (June 2020) is about a girl who had grown up in the worst part of the pandemic and during a rather huge return wave of the virus, she found herself stranded with a bunch of boys and they’re basically just trying to survive. Set in Seattle as well as Portland and there are plenty of nods to solarpunk as well as erotica. Also a coming of age story!
Burning Sacramento (October 2020) is a short story where the villain is a 200 year old woman who wants to sustain her life with flesh and blood of the living, a continuation of the robot canon in my other fic amped and wired (making robots out of recycled humans, dead or alive); inspired by Elizabeth Bathory and is set in Sacramento.
Thalassophobia (October 2020) is another short following that same canon, except Frank’s murder ballad contains lyrics about an actual murder: the victim of whom comes back for his blood. Set on a boat off the coast of L.A.
Gray Ghost (June 2021) is the third in my “dead trilogy” (the other two entries being Six Feet Under and Buried Alive), showing Kristina all the way to the moment in which she hanged herself. Even though it’s mostly set in Boston, NorCal plays a huge role, including mentions of the Diablo winds as well as Day of the Dead.
Cold Embrace (August 2021) is my vampire tale, which began life as a drabble and I thought it was awesome. Incredibly violent and I took a great deal of influence from movies like Ginger Snaps, Jennifer’s Body, Hannibal, the Saw franchise, Blade, and of course, Interview with the Vampire. Set firmly in San Francisco and the Bay Area.
And last but not least is Xenon Dreams (October 2021), a post-apocalyptic comedic country that would make Ursula K. Le Guin proud (I hope). Set in my beloved Oregon.
I can arguably put Painted in a Corner (May 2019) here, given it’s about a pervading fear I have: I become famous and incredibly isolated as a result. It’s set between San Diego and Albuquerque, with a scene in the Bay Area.
Wherever a place has secrets, wherever a place has souls that have come to pass in abhorrent, frightening ways, therein lays that element of morbidity (hey, what do you want with a place referred to as “the Ring of Fire”?).
Not to mention, the ocean seems to have a mind of its own. It’s hiding a whole world underneath those blue waters. Everyone seems to take it for granted, as well.
Dearest Mother Ocean. Mommy Dearest.
Any place that has “Pacific” in the name of it is an ode to her blue waters.
Thus, I propose “Pacific Gothic.” It comes in all shapes and forms, all flavors and textures, given the diversity of the West Coast states, Western Canada, East Asia, the Hawaiian Islands, Australia, Oceania, Chile, Ecuador, Peru, Mexico, and Central America, while remaining faithful to the Gothic literature tropes of decades past.
A genre that is not for the faint of heart or the feeble of mind.
A genre that tells a story first and an aesthetic last.
A genre that says “Welcome to Fabulous Las Vegas—you just might run into a hooker ready to steal your money when you're passed out so tread with care”; “Vive La Mexico!” while throwing you into the land of the dead; “Now Entering the Scenic Cascade Volcanoes—pray one doesn't erupt”; “that man stole my silver and is now headed for Seattle to trade in for emeralds!” all at the same time.
#regional gothic#pacific ocean#pacific gothic#gothic lit#gothic literature#california#oregon#washington#nevada#arizona#idaho#british columbia#yukon territory#alaska#hawaii#japan#china#oceania#australia#literature#gothic novel#south america#central america#writblr#writeblr#writing#text
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🦇𝒯he 𝒱isitor (Alucard Tepes x BlackReader)
PART 1 SUMMARY:
While trying to escape the clutches of criminals and cutthroats, you stumble across a castle beyond imagination. The corpses staked at the front aren’t enough to keep you out. But after entering, you begin to wonder what you got yourself into, and what the castle is hiding within its walls...
─── Alucard x black female reader
─── imagery + fiction
─── explicit smut
─── TW// slight gore, general mentions of rapists// Fantasy, vampires, hurt/comfort, enemies-to-friends-to-lovers, magic user, cute bats, gardening, cooking, cottagecore MC, castlecore Alucard.
☾ next.
┌───────────━┿──┿━──────────┐
└───────────━┿──┿━──────────┘
You fight through the underbrush of the woods, hurrying as quickly as your feet will allow.
They’re on your trail.
You’ve been evading these criminals from the last town you’d passed through, but they just keep stalking after you. They’d been all too eager to see a lone, beautiful woman traveling with no companions, no guides, and no guardians.
They had tried and failed to corner you alone several times in the town and on the roads, but you haven’t made it this far on your own without some learned skills. A finger-bolt of lightning at one’s eye, a fire-heated palm tight on another’s wrist, swings of sharp dagger at all of their torsos, their throats.
Anything and everything to escape. It’s not your first sticky situation, and it probably won’t be your last.
You know how to be quiet. How to hide. And when it comes down to it, you know how to swindle and how to fight, if need be. You try not to resort to that, not out of compassion or concern for the heathens that try to best you...no. You just know that you’re not as skilled as some of the rigorously trained ex-militia and rogue bandits that prey on loners in towns and off the roads.
You don’t know exactly what they want. A woman to toss around between themselves and torture before they descend on you like wolves? A new girl to sell on the black market? A pretty decoy to get carts and wagons to stop on the roads, allowing them to abush, raid, rape and kill as they please?
Whatever it is that they want, you’re not giving it to them.
‘They’ll have to catch me, first.’
You duck and dodge branches, bobbing and weaving through the trees before the forest finally begins to clear. You keep your hand on your dagger’s hilt, just in case.
Who knows what hides in the woods?
Finally, you come to a clearing run through by a small creek. The dense woods have seemed to disperse here, and now all that you can spy are peaceful glens and swaying flowers. Deer jump away through the grass, hares run into their holes, and fish shine from the stream.
It feels…safe.
But you’re not one to be foolish, and so you continue on. Hoisting your basket closer, you can’t help but spy a garden as you pass through the glen.
Fat tomatoes hang on vine, bright orange carrot tops sprout from the soil, green onions, zucchini, berries and fruits….
…Someone has made a garden here. Hopefully if they’re the gardening sort, then they’re the safe sort. You quickly fill your basket with a few items, tuck some coins hidden near the stalks in apology for your ransacking, and carry on.
Finally, the glen ends, the forest stops entirely, and you stumble upon something entirely unexpected.
'A castle...? Out here in the middle of nowhere...?’
A grand, gothic castle of castles, spirals up towards the clouds in the sky. You gaze up at it in awe, sure that there is nothing else in the world quite so large or so spectacular. You’re certain that had the woods not been so oppressive and thick on the way in here, so wide and strenuous, that you would’ve spotted the castle for what it was miles and miles and miles ago.
You whistle low, impressed as you step forward. You take only a few steps before you stop.
A ripple in the wind draws your eye.
Two barely clothed bodies impaled on stakes tower before you, death etched onto their faces. The spikes go through them, hidden by the soiled shifts they wear and rising high up and out through their mouths. It is a grisly sight indeed. Unfortunately, you’re no stranger to ‘grisly’ in these lands.
You move slower, more carefully than before.
Assessing the bodies, the blood is long dried on the stakes and the petrified flesh. Most of the meat is gone, pecked away by crows most likely, and the flesh that remains is hard and dried out.
You have dealt with your fair share of monsters, but you’re not too sure you want to risk running into the one who did this. It was done with malice, strength, and a raw fury. A nonchalance for human life, it seems. Much like the same nonchalance shared by the evil men you run from.
You hear faint voices call from the trees.
They’ve tracked you. And they’re coming closer.
“We can’t come here. It’s cursed ground. Don’t you know who this castle used to belong to?”
“Yeah, and they’re dead. No one’s seen em’ for ages. But I see little footsteps. Have a feeling the lass went this way.”
You freeze, glancing between the bodies, the huge castle door before you, and the mouth of the forest.
It’s the castle and its possible hidden horrors, or the men on your trail.
“Skin like ebony, that one. Pretty mouth, doe eyes. She’d sell for a pretty penny.. We wouldn’t have to raid for months.”
“…Or we could keep her to warm the cold nights.”
Your mind races, trying to choose.
You could fight the men, still. But there are many of them, and just one of you. Your magic is somewhat abysmal without knowledge to guide you, and your dagger won’t measure up to prove the little sword skills you do possess. Your words will probably not get you out of this one, either. Not this time.
“I’d rather make her scream.”
“You would like that, wouldn’t you Macon? But you did that to the last one, and now we’re out here hunting a new lass instead of enjoying the old one.”
‘That’s it,’ you decide.
The castle it is.
You sprint away from the woods as fast as your billowing cloak and dress will allow, ignoring the foul smell of decay and passing between the bodies. You feel as though you’ve irrevocably crossed a line that shouldn’t be crossed, a decision made that can’t be taken back.
You will live with it, you decide. Better that, than capture.
Racing to the front of the grand doors, larger than the largest buildings you’ve witnessed in life before this day, you bang raptly against the wood and stone.
For a moment, nothing happens and you feel as though you will be caught right at the footsteps of this castle.
Then, you hear a doldrum, a creak and whirring of machinery and mass movement. The door shifts open just slight enough for you to slide through, making a gigantic noise in it’s wake.
Quick as wind, you push through and fall to the floor, turning to see the grand door begin to shut closed behind you.
The men stand before the staked bodies, unwilling to pass them and watching you as the doors close you out of their sight.
“You’d be better off with us murderers and thieves, woman!” One shouts futilely. “For even our hearts aren’t as black as the monster’s in those walls!”
The door shuts him and the rest out. You harrumph and stand, wiping the dust off your dress and looking away.
Fuck him. And fuck his threats, and fuck his horrible little friends. Any black-hearted beasts you come across, you could handle well enough.
At least…that’s what you tell yourself to keep a brave face. Better that than nothing.
You look around.
The inside of the castle is larger than life, grand, and dark. Everything is clean and without dust as you would’ve expected from such a structure…an army couldn’t keep this clean…yet it feels unlived in.
For a moment, there is nothing but heavy, oppressive silence. You listen for a breath, a sound, but can hear nothing outside of your own increasing heartbeat.
You turn, looking to the top of the staircase.
Your eyes tell you there is nothing there, but your instincts tell you something else.
Suddenly, the lights of a thousand candles sweep on throughout the grand hall, illuminating a massive stone staircase and a figure standing at the top of it. You have very good sight, but the room is so large that you can barely make out the figure, even with the candlelight.
Nothing is said, the figure is motionless, and you begin to tremble. This must be the one who lives in this place…not an intruder or a vagrant. You don’t know how you know, but the figure is too large, too looming, and too confident even in its vagueness of detail for you to assume it to be anything other than the owner.
The one who likely staked those unfortunate souls outside the walls.
You feel as if the mysterious figure is waiting for something, and you don’t know what to say. But something must be said.
Your voice is as steady as your fear will allow.
“My name is ———. I come from afar. I am…I am seeking refuge…if you will have me.”
“Refuge from the men outside.”
The voice carries through the empty hall, lilting, low, and deadly. You hear hints of refinement in the speech but they are not enough to hide the white hot lethalness you sense underneath. A rage that you cannot even begin to place or name.
“Y-yes,” you stumble embarrassingly, affected, “from the men outside. They followed me here. I have nowhere to go.”
“And so you feel entitled to my protection.”
“No!’ You exclaim, shaking your head. You stopped expecting assistance from people long ago. The life of a lonely wanderer is just that...lonely. “I inconvenience you, and for that I apologize sincerely. Just…just refuge. I can be on my way after they depart.”
“To where...?” The disembodied voice says as calm as a pond at night, yet you feel the ripples that lie beneath.
“Nowhere,” you breathe.
“…And you come from?” The figure disappears like a mist, yet the voice remains.
“I…nowhere,” you gasp honestly, truly afraid now.
“Lies.” The voice spits viciously, sounding closer then far away, as if it’s bouncing around the space of the great hall.
“It’s t-true!” You insist, your trembling hands reeling in towards your chest in a futile attempt of protection from the unseen danger. “I hail from nowhere! I belong to nowhere! I have little. Just refuge, sir. A night, even!”
“I could grant you refuge,” the voice assumes, “or I could send you back out to those men and be bothered with none of you.”
“You wouldn’t,” you breathe, daring a chance to hope.
The voice chuckles humorlessly, dry as dead leaves.
“Perhaps,” it toys. “But I also wouldn’t allow a mysterious woman of mysterious origins to stay in my castle, learn of my ways, only to run back to the outside world and send a horde of farmhands sprinting over to slay me. Wouldn’t be the first time. No, I think I’ll keep you instead. Are you willing to make that bargain with the Devil?”
You pause, your mind blank. You search for an answer to reason with this...this...your thoughts race.
“Look, I know I’ve come into your abode unannounced and rather…rather rudely, making demands, but I must implore you—“
“—Answer me!” the voice barks, making you nearly jump out of your skin.
'That’s it.’
“You’re a prick, you know that?!” You blurt.
“…” You can hear the confusion in the empty air. “…Pardon?”
You push on, figuring that if you’re going to be staked by the unseen castle-owner or given up to the men outside, or toyed with any longer by any of this nonsense, that you may as well speak your mind one last time.
“You know good and goddamn well that I am not running into a fantastical, creepy castle of myth decorated by corpses on the front porch for the fun of it! As if I care or even believe some farmhands could handle much less defeat you when you can clearly impale full grown adults and work such a place as this—!”
“...”
“—And how dare you tease a woman scared out of her wits, can you even pretend to try to put yourself in my place?! Do you know how long I’ve been running from those idiots? If I had your strength I’d’ve staked them myself and added them to your lovely, little welcome collection as a visiting gift, because believe me, I’m sick of running from morons and monsters! I’m not above spilling blood! But as I said before, I possess little, and come from nothing, and journey towards nothing. From that, you can figure I can’t do much in terms of protecting myself besides running into large, spooky places and begging their arrogant owners for some rest—”
“.....”
“—So, I’d very much appreciate if you stopped toying with me and make your decision on whether you’re going to kill me, kick me out, or keep me, because I’m tired of trying to figure this all out by myself and I’m tired of the anticipation. So what’ll it be Mr. I-Like-to-Leave-Corpses-Outside-My-Castle-and-Harrass-Visitors?”
You huff after your rant, waiting.
The voice is silent for a long, long moment, before an accusing tone reverbs back to you.
“You’re the one who barged in—“
“—You’re the one who opened the door!” You return, throwing your hands out in frustration.
“I didn’t, the castle did.”
“Oh, well fuck me, then. I suppose I ought to thank the ‘castle’ and head back out to let those hoodlums try their worst. So long, strange sir! It was interesting, arguing with you.”
You turn on your heel, over this entire day, and knock at the door raptly. You tap your foot as you wait on the castle, arms crossed and dagger in your hand to strike the nearest hoodlum that likely awaited outside. What a day, you couldn’t believe this shit.
The machinery whirs once more and the door barely opens before a large, leather gloved hand reaches past your head and slams the towering door back, closing it shut. The strength the act takes is incomprehensible, you think.
Inhuman, you realize.
The hairs at the back of your neck raise long after the presence behind you appears. You feel no breath on your neck, yet you know someone stands behind you. You can’t look away from the large, gloved hand on the door. You’re afraid to see exactly who stands behind you.
A man...? Or something else entirely….?
You try to speak but gasp instead, short and shocked.
Silence reigns before you get a hold of yourself and choke something out.
“Y-y-you’ve made your decision then…I presume...?” You stammer into a squeaking volume, your anger long gone and replaced by fear once again.
“Don’t make me regret it…” The voice sneers, close enough for the breath of it to shift your hair and the baritone to reverb over your skin. A chill runs up your back and you can do little to hide it. You feel as though the figure behind you is impossibly tall, imperceptibly assessing, and spying every single thing you do.
You feel the presence lean in over your shoulder, a mouth right next to your ear.
“…or you will regret it, visitor. That, I can promise.”
You gulp loudly, nodding your assent without turning around. You feel frozen to the spot. The hand withdraws and your shoulders unclench only a fraction. You feel as if a predator had been standing behind you, and has decided not to destroy you...for the moment.
You wonder if you are right, and why your cheeks suddenly feel so hot when your heart is beating so fast in terror...?
“I’m going to clean the trash off of my porch,” the voice states eerily. “Don’t touch anything until I return.”
As quick as a blink, the presence disappears entirely.
You finally turn around, alone and confused.
There is nothing but the large castle hall, looking back at you.
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AN: Do not under any circumstances copy, repost, or edit any of my work. If you see someone do so, please let me know.
☾ next.
☾ check my blog for more imagines.
#castlevania#castlevania x reader#castlevania y/n#castlevania x y/n#castlevania black reader#castlevania x blackreader#castlevania black y/n#castlevania x black y/n#x reader#x blackreader#black!reader#x black!y/n#alucard imagine#alucard#alucard tepes#alucard tepes imagine#alucard x blackreader#alucard x black!reader#alucard x black y/n#imagine
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Could you do hc's for the brothers where Mc is on a call and they overhear the convo that's like
Mc: Him and I-
Friend: Are getting married?
Mc: What? No, that-
Friend: Shhh, no I have this entire thing planned out
Then the friend just starts going off about different themes and color schemes while Mc is like ????
Loved the idea! Hope you enjoy my hc!
“Go and get MC right now, it’s not acceptable to be late for dinner like that”, Lucifer frowned at Mammon and the second-born quickly jumped on his feet.
“What am I, a delivery boy?” He murmured but deep in his heart, he was happy Lucifer asked him to do so. After all, he is MC’s FIRST, so this is his and only his responsibility to…
He stopped because he heard something… something like laughter? Giggles? Intrigued, he pressed his ear to the door.
“So, what I wanted to say…” He recognized MC’s tender and lovely voice and he also recognized that the voice was a bit nervous. Huh? Why would that be?
“JUST SAY IT!” The second voice was far more demanding and impatient. Wasn’t it MC’s best friend that they mentioned all the time? Ah, right. It’s evening in the human world too, and usually, around this time humans tend to call each other and talk…
“So um… Him and I…”
“Are getting married?!?!” The second voice burst happily.
Mammon could not believe his ears. Did… did MC really just say that? Did they probably… Wanted The Great Mammon as their husband?
“Hey scumbag, what takes you…”
“Shhhh you IDIOT!” Mammon whispered, grabbing Levi by his hoodie and pulling him close. “Listen to this!”
“What? No, I…” MC sounded frustrated.
“Ohhh let me guess! It is the hot tanned boy? The one with white hair? He looks so cool on the photos!”
Mammon melted inside. So he is cool huh? Take that, Lucifer!
In his arms, Levi chuckled silently. “LMAO, what a piece of crap” he whispered and suddenly gasped. “Satan? What the hell are you doing here?”
“Lucifer sent me to check you two. What are…”
“Shhh!!”
Meanwhile, the second voice was going on and on. “If it’s him, then it would be gold and black! Royal colors, you know! What is he like? What does he like? You know he looks a bit crazy so I think we can include some activities at the wedding, right? Like a gambling area! What do you say?”
MC paused for a moment and said “Oh, Mammon would love that. But… but I wasn’t talking about him…”
“How unfortunate” Satan grinned in the darkness of the corridor. “Ouch, Asmo, stop grabbing me from behind like that! What are you even doing here?”
“And what are you all hiding from me? Secrets? Exciting!” Asmo got really delighted and pressed his ear to the door too. “Hmhm, so what is our lovely MC talking about? Me, of course, but I had to ask out of politeness!”
The second voice said “Oh, it’s not him? So did you mean the blond guy? The one who loves cats and books? To be honest, I always believed you fell for him. Like, who wouldn’t? Still water runs deep! Ohhh, wedding in emerald colors! Emerald but make it kawaii! Maybe deserts shaped like cat paws? And omg we can gift everyone with books as a souvenir from you too!”
In Satan’s head, a puzzle clicked and got completed. His favorite human, his favorite color, and his favorite animal - everything was just perfect. And did… did they say MC always loved him? For real?
“Hey don’t get too carried away!” Mammon pushed him but gasped upon finding Belphie standing on his foot. “Da hell?!”
“What’s going on…” Lucifer was about to scold them but several hands from different directions sealed his mouth shut. Lucifer was in shock and was about to turn them all into ash when he heard…
‘Uhhh don’t make me guess! Maybe it’s the nerd guy? The one who made you that lovely yukata? Do you know how popular geek weddings are? Like, you can put the rings in a styled wooden box, and you can put gaming figurines on top of the cake, and you can also make so many quests for the guests!”
“No no, I didn’t mean”... MC sounded helpless but her friend was not ready to give up just yet.
“Oh I know! The angelic-looking one? Who dresses better than both of us together? Uhh that would be tough! I’m not sure he’d approve of my ideas because I bet his sense of style is much better… Oh, it’s not him? MC, I hate you! Okay, whom do we have left? Noooooo!”
The second voice sounded so excited that all brothers froze.
“This huge and incredibly hot redhead? Oh man I totally get you - like, look at that body, right?”
Beel got red when hearing that. At the same time, he had this weird tingling sensation deep in his chest - did MC also consider him hot? Did they really like the way he looks so much?
“Beel is not only muscles - he is amazing!” MC jumped to Beel’s defense, offended that her friend noticed his body first. Beel melted again while Mammon whined, “Ah man, unfair!” to Belphie. Belphie yawned.
“So no wonder you chose… wait, not him? Huh? His twin brother? The one with messy hair and a mischievous look in his eyes? He is a hottie too, though he also looks like a troublemaker… Though his palette is pretty obvious so it won’t be too difficult. Just leave enough pillows here and there for the guests.”
“I’m telling you, it’s not…” MC tried to say something but her friend just wouldn’t have it.
“I KNEW IT” the second voice sounded so content and loud that everyone, including Lucifer, stood in surprise and shock. “You took the number one prize, MC, you chose the eldest brother!”
Lucifer felt blood rushing to his cheeks. His brothers were piercing him with their eyes and Asmo said in a sweet voice “Lucifer, my dear brother, would you mind explaining a few things to us?”
But before Lucifer could open his mouth, they heard the second voice again: excited and happy:
“An incredibly stylish, black wedding! Gothic, mysterious, unique! Red wine for the guests, classic music, probably happening in a castle or something. Oh my, I am getting goosebumps just thinking of it!”
“Odette!” MC finally managed to interrupt. “What I wanted to say is…”
Everyone held their breath. Satan was holding a hand on Mammon’s mouth, just to make sure. Asmo grabbed Beel’s arm tightly as if grabbing a safety belt. Lucifer did not frown but all his face expressed anticipation.
“What I wanted to say is that he and I are very good friends! Luke and I are friends! Luke is a boy from my class but he lives in a different dorm. He is a bit younger but is just adorable”.
“Oh”, Odette sounded disappointed. “But what about the brothers?”
“About the brothers?” MC”s eyes lit with a scary light. “Why don’t you ask them?”
Before anyone could move, MC leaped to the door and swiftly opened it. Mammon could not hold his balance and fell right on the floor, dragging Levi behind. Satan tripped over Levi and accidentally knocked down Asmo. Lucifer sighed.
“NOW I see why you can’t make your mind”, MC’s friend sounded both excited and amazed. “Well, I’ll leave you for now. But remember - everything is planned! Just let me know which palette you wanna go with”.
And with a chuckle, the screen went black.
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best places to summon a demon, ranked
your basement - are you fucking kidding me right now? no. absolutely not. it doesn’t matter if you live in a one-room studio flat or an enormous spooky castle. have some originality. a fucking basement. i’d be insulted.
rating - 1/10. there are worse places, but i can’t think of many.
a fast food place - while there’s something to be said for the energy of whipping out a ouija board in a subway or making a pentagram out of mcdonald’s bbq sauce, you’d hardly be the first person to try, and i’ve found that most places have ways of dealing with this sort of thing that usually involve your speedy removal from the establishment. not the coolest friday night you’ll ever have.
rating - 4/10. it’s all fun and games until you get thrown out on your ass, and making life harder for people in retail is never a good look.
a fancy restaurant - slightly more dignified than your local burger king, and most upscale places have candles, which are better for summoning. you might find that the setting gives off mixed signals, though. after all, if i found myself in a nice place surrounded by candles, i might just think it was a date. unless that’s exactly the vibe you’re going for, of course ;)
rating - 6/10. you might think you’re willing to risk it all, but will that change when the hordes of hell answer your call?
gothic victorian mansion - oh, fuck yes. this place has excellent demon-summoning vibes. try it on a dark, stormy night in your living room with the enormous fireplace and windows so that lightning flashes across your face as you chant the verses from the likely cursed ancient tome of forbidden arcane knowledge you found in the secret passageway behind the bookcase in the library.
rating - 9/10, it’s practically perfect but it ain’t cheap, and renting a mansion just doesn’t have the same style as owning it
the woods - like the spooky mansion, it has the vibes going for it. you might also summon a few large predatory woodland creatures with your bloody sacrificial offering though. good thing you brought that ceremonial dagger.
rating - 8/10 would risk getting mauled by a wild animal again
waffle house parking lot - i don’t know what to call the Energy that comes with squatting in an empty lot at midnight setting up a fiery pentagram on the asphalt, but it’s definitely something powerful. just watch out - what you think is a successfully summoned and bound demon may turn out to be an angry feral raccoon.
rating - 10/10. even if you don’t manage to summon a demon, you’re bound to have an Experience. after all, it’s not about the eldritch horrors you unleash upon the world, it’s about the memories you make.
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nothing new under the sun
Night Vale, New Mexico. Population of about six thousand according to the last census. When was the last census? Who knows, apparently the file was fairly corrupted, so they peg the population at about six thousand and call it a day. Driving in with the moving van, Night Vale looks to be something between American Gothic in the desert and every little town marked by rising fast-food chain signs that pops up around highway exits. Pretty, but. A little unnerving.
“...there is no word yet if this will affect voting at all on Election Day, so until further notice expect polling stations to be open. As always, voting is mandatory, and secret police officers will arrive to escort you when it is time for you to cast your ballot…”
And now, Desmond supposes, it’s home. He already talked with the homeowners’ association president while his stuff was unloaded, and by the time he got back all of his stuff was in the room it was marked for. They were careful, too. Desmond is kind of impressed, and kind of really wishes he’d been back in time to thank them for their effort. The radio stays on while Desmond starts to unpack, in accordance with the homeowners’ association’s rules.
“Just every other Saturday,” they said. “Just for the community updates.”
“... We welcome a new resident today. Now, Listeners, I don’t know about you, but one of the things about Night Vale that I take pride in is our sense of community. I expect our new resident to receive as warm a welcome as we can manage. And in celebration, Big Rico’s is doing a promotional buy one get one free on any slice of their house special. Remember: no one does a slice like Big Rico. No one…”
Well. At least the radio host has a wonderful voice. Melodic, almost. And definitely calming. It almost puts Desmond in a trance as he starts to go through the boxes in the kitchen, putting away food and making a list of what he will need to pick up from the store to start making this place livable. Shaun really picked out a nice place for him. A two-story townhouse, right off the square, otherwise small, but with a surprisingly expansive kitchen. All modern appliances, but dark wood flooring and wallpaper that makes Desmond think of grandmothers and apple pie. Not that he’s ever experienced those two things together himself, but…
The phantom of Ezio kneels down beside the window that faces the street, and Desmond can tell just from his expression that he’s kneeling down in front of Maria, trying to get her attention. Maybe to talk to her. Maybe to get her to eat something. Maybe to just make sure she’s still alive. Desmond averts his eyes and blinks away the burning threat of tears.
“... and now, dear Listeners, the weather…”
Yeah, no, kitchen is a bust with Ezio in there. Desmond wanders into the living room, picking around boxes to throw himself on the couch. He should set up the T.V. Or some of the shelves. Or maybe even go upstairs and set up the bed, so he’s not sleeping on a mattress on the floor. He should be doing anything, but.
Connor passes from one room to another, talking to someone, and when he turns around a corner and out of sight the distant ghost of his laughter echoes in Desmond’s ears. And in the window there’s Altaïr, head pillowed on his arms as he stares out into the street-- over Masyaf, in his eyes, Desmond supposes, recognizing the easy lines of that boneless slump. Or over Jerusalem, because the only two places Altaïr ever felt safe enough to relax like that were Masyaf castle and Malik’s bureau.
Ezio drops onto the couch, dragging a hand down his own face with a heavy, inaudible sigh. Some days Maria responds, but most days she doesn’t. But as much as it hurts, just seeing her alive is a balm on Ezio’s soul.
Desmond tips his head back and closes his eyes, and lets the gentle melody of today’s weather wash over him.
Happiness, and safety, however bittersweet. Desmond’s… never really had that before. He might have, for a short while in Monteriggioni, in the Sanctuary, but even that is poisoned by the weight of the world, and like Atlas he can’t quite bring himself to shrug it off, not quite yet.
But as fingerstyle guitar gives way to violin, Desmond thinks that, maybe, here, that weight is a little easier to bear.
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Spoils Of War P3
REAL LIFE
COUPLE TBS X READER
RATING: FLIRTY + DARK
It was an awfully long road to travel from the place to widows peak. I used to adore the place it was our summer home we would go every year once the weather turned cold in the kingdom and warm at widows peak looking out it was just as I remembered it, tall gothic and striking to the eye standing tall along the cliffs the tall sharp drop where many widows had walked to there deaths hence its name of widows peak. I had spent so many happy years in this place and to think now it was to be my prison. I was removed forcefully from the carriage and taken inside with the army men I knew not where there commander was I hadn't seen him the castle was changed weapons shoved into family portraits, tables in the parlor for poker and other such games, scantily clad women stood awaiting the men it felt no longer like my ancestors summer home it felt like a pirate ship or a rebellion barracks. I was thrown on the floor amongst these men all of them looking at me with evil eyes I tried to get up and run away from there evil looks but I was cornered
"Hey!" A voice spoke up they all turned and there commander lord sangster stood there as I had seen him last with a sword in his hand "what did I say about the queen?"
"I know but come on" one snickered
"No! You can have any woman this side of the ocean anyone you want I don't give a shit. But she is mine. And I see any of you lay so much as a finger on her I'll cut your cock off. We clear?"
"Fine" he grunted before going off elsewhere
"Come along princess. I have somewhere special for you" he smirked offering his hand I took his hand and he wrapped the other around my waist sitting his hand on my butt
I walked along with him as I had little choice going up to the master tower. Once arriving at the master tower suite of red and black furniture with a large balcony, a elegant bathroom, large full room wardrobe he threw me aggressively on the bed I was so fearful already as he smirked at me laid on the bed he crawled close to me and grabbed my neck he kissed my lips harshly caring little that I didn't kiss back till he pulled back biting his lip "ummmm you taste good princess" he growled before tugging my hair till it flowed down loose "keep your hair down. I think it looks better" he smirked before moving back and undoing my chains and getting off the bed
"What are you going to do with me?" I asked
"I'm pretty sure I've mentioned it enough times princess" he chuckled going to a table and doing himself a drink I staied quiet sheepishly "I'm going to fuck you."
"And then what?"
"Well. I'm going to need a nice fancy experienced lady to help me out keeping this castle as it should be" he smirked "you can be my queen. I'd you want"
"This is only widows peak castle and keep. You can't... Be a King here"
"Yet."
"Yet?"
"Ohh please you think I'm leaving that dickhole in charge. I need time. Regroup get organized." He smirked "till then you'll just be my lady I suppose" he winked "remove your clothes" he says sitting on the chair putting his feet on the able
"What?"
"Remove your clothes all of them" he smirked "now"
I nodded getting up and taking off my clothes
"Slower. And stop hiding so much I'm gonna see it princess" he smirked I nodded continuing till I was left naked infront of him he leant forward and smiled an evil grin at me before pulling my waist close to stand between his legs he slapped my ass hard before licking from just above my belly button to the edge of my breasts before he stood towering over me "your mine. To so with as I wish. You defy me I'll make you wish for death. Understand me?"
"Yes" I nodded
"Good." He stepped back going to the wardrobe and grabbing one long purple scarf "this will do nicely" he cooed he folded it Making it thinner wrapping it around my breasts so it pulled them close and kept only really my nipples concealed and little else, he then knotted and wrapped it so it went around my waist with one end dangling down to cover my ass and the other dangling down to over my pussy "this is what I want you to wear from now on, unless I dress you otherwise. Understand?"
"Yes" I nodded
"Yes what?" He growled in my ear
"Yes my lord"
"Good girl" he smirked slapping my ass again before sitting down again laying back some more sitting his feet on the table again I hovered a moment trying to avoid his eyes he licked his lip glancing to the table and then to me, he smirked evily holding his hand up a little and clicking making eye contact with me he knew I saw him and heard him but I didn't move, he only glared clicking again pointing infront of him I didn't move he clicked again now a little annoyed "now. Don't make me ask you again" he growled so I went over standing beside him "don't make me wrap a chain around your pretty neck princess." He smirked grabbing a vine of grapes from the table handing them to me as he leant back relaxing he opened his mouth so I sighed and fed him as much as I hated it every so often he would catch my annoyed expression and he'd make kissy faces at me "your cute when your angry" he winked
I sat on the bed nervously, I had been here now almost a week and it was getting more and more difficult. He treated me like a slave girl, like his personal little maid and servant. But the worse of it was when he would finish his commanding business for that day come into the suite and attempt to convince me to have sex. I always denied him, said no a thousand times, not return his advances or his kisses, never allow him to remove my clothes and if he tried fight him all the way eventually he'd give up and go sleep somewhere else. I heard his steps up the stairs slow but with a harsh authority as they grew loud and louder meaning he drew ever closer the door opened and quickly closed he went standing by the table as he slipped off a few elements of his clothes leaving him in only his shirt and pants he did himself a drink then looked up at me as he took a sip an evil look in his eyes
"Hello princess"
"Hello" I answered back not wanting to make eye contact with him he came and sat on the bed beside me smirking as he looked over me
"How's my little princess today?" He smirked moving my chin forcing me to look at him
"Fine" I answered back
"Good. Come here" he smirked pulling me to kiss him sitting his drink on the side and wrapping both his arms around me, I didn't kiss back and any chance I got I tried to wiggle out his grip "come on princess kiss me"
"No"
"Why not? Your my little princess. And I'm getting tried of waiting and fucking the little whore girls downstairs when my little princess leaves me unsatisfied"
I didn't reply simply looking away from him
"What's the matter? Come on what have I got to do to make my little princess open her legs?" He smirked stroking my thigh but I pushed his hands away "is my little princess shy? Well it's only me who's gonna see you and I'm sure if you just let me see I would shower my little princess in compliments" he smirked
"No"
"Aww you can get under the covers if your really that shy" he smirked
"No!"
"What If I kept my eyes shut would that make my little princess less shy?" He smirked kissing my neck wrapping his arms around me trying to kiss me harder grabbing my clothes trying to get it off me almost agressively
"Noo I'm not shy-"
"Liar. Come on. I wanna see my pretty little princess without her little dress" he smirked grabbing my leg forcing my leg to the other side of him and he smirked at me Intensely as he hovered between my legs "or better yet" he smirked grabbing my butt and forcing me down to lay on my back on the bed "you look much more beautiful this way princess" he growled kissing down my neck
"Please... Just leave me be"
"Aww come on don't you want a little attention? Are you all lonely in this big bed without your master? Wouldn't you rather me to cuddle with?"
"I'm fine alone"
"Don't you want me? Come on princess I see how you look at me. Or do I have to put my hand down that slutty little skirt myself and feel how wet you are and how bad you crave your masters touch" he growled trying to take my dress off but I kicked him away he grabbed my ankles and forced them apart "I'm getting impatient princess." He warns glaring harshly into my eyes "your mine. And I want you. I've wanted you since the moment I saw you. Why won't you let me do what... I've wanted to for so long?" He pouts
"You kidnapped me! Destroyed my house! My kingdom! In not sleeping with you!"
"I could have killed you!"
"What?"
"You think he was happy handing you over? Last in the blood line of a dynasty that's ruled the kingdom the last six hundred years, the young, beautiful princess perfectly capable of ... breeding. You think anyone in the south wanted you alive?" He smirked "they wanted to kill you. In fact I think the actual plan was to invade the castle chain you up have all his armies, his commanders, his men and his horses fuck you on the kingdoms bloody cobblestones then gut you like a fish and leave your head apon the gate next to arthur's." He explained "all of the south commaders wanted you long dead. The only reason they didn't... Is because I had already claimed you" he smirked holding my chin "I wanted you as my prize or I wouldn't go to war. That stupid like fuckface knew he'd never stand a chance against the north without me and my men, he wasn't happy about it assumed I was kidding but anytime he mentioned your gate I reminded him and anyone else for that matter that I had climbed you and that you where mine."
"Why would they allow it if they hated me?"
"Because they're afraid of me." He smirked "you'd be long dead. Abused, torched, mutilated and dead if it wasn't for me. Now... Take your dress off and let me fuck you or maybe I'll change my mind about keeping you"
"I'd rather die"
"Fine" he smirked kicking me off the bed not the harsh cold floor "until you want to share the bed with your master. You sleep on the floor. And don't even think about trying anything while I'm sleeping" he smirked getting a chain attaching it to his bedpost and then the other end to a collar which he then locked around mt neck "until you learn to behave you stay in chains" he smirked slapping my ass "feel free to come to bed little princess" he smirked climbing into bed to get comfy and go to sleep.
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For🌙 - Before me stood the Malleus Draconia himself. He guided me into the more thorny parts of the woods where his castle stood, once inside we had some tea and spent the night talking and cuddling by the fireplace
Aromatherapy
A/N: Not that you need to know, but this fic was inspired by black chamomile bergamot hand soap. It had such a calming effect on me that somehow transferred into my writing. It smells really good I’m ♡♡♡
A/N²: This was a little self indulgent as I wanted to establish some lore of the event into this fic. Also, my writing might be a little rusty after my semi-hiatus so I’m sorry if it’s not up to par as my other works. Thank you for being so patient. I should be able to write more frequently now <3
A flurry of delicate crystals fell from the sky, nipping the tip of your nose with a slight sting. You held back a sneeze as you quickened your pace. The creatures of the night howled with the wind. You spun your heel, meeting with dozens of glowering eyes that illuminated the forest. They crawled towards you. Each step forward unearthed more grotesque features ranging from more than one set of jaws to foaming mouths. Your breath hitched and you turned around, picking up your pace. Your legs were light as a kilogram of feathers. As the snow fell more vehemently, you prayed that the sun would rise soon.
When the White Rabbit led you into the woodlands, she had stated that you were invited for a tea party, one where you could eat anything you desired– if those things fit weren’t mustard and could fit into the Hatter’s hat that is. Yet here you were, ready to become a night creature’s late night snack. Apparently, slightly crumbled cookies from your basket did not suffice. They discarded the goodies the moment they received the basket. Granted, you did throw it at them as a distraction.
Your foot collided with something underneath the thin sheet of snow. You yelped as you fell to the ground. The snow crunched under your weight as you shifted onto your knees. It was warm, like an embrace. Since when was snow warm?
The beasts’ growls were in earshot. Rising to your feet was a struggle. You scrambled across the snow, but to no avail. At this rate, you were going to be devoured. It was so cold. You were so tired. Perhaps it would be alright to give into a kiss of death. You were alone and lost in the woods, searching for an exit aimlessly. The night creatures inched towards you with precise steps. There were three of them– three ghastly beasts fueled by hunger. One of them appeared to be the alpha, leading the others towards you. You closed your eyes as it pounced onto you, sinking its jaws onto your calves. The snow was terribly warm. It was almost cozy. You cried into it like a child would into a mother’s sleeve.
Thunder clapped and the night wailed. A flash of green flames illuminated the sky and disappeared as fast as it came. Your legs felt less heavy. Then, the numbness in your leg faded. You groaned. Was that it? Had you perished so soon?
“Are you lost, little lamb?” a voice cooed.
From the corner of your eye, you saw a figure painted in black from head to toe crouch before you. You felt cold, but it quickly faded as you felt them scoop you up into their arms. You gazed at the ground. They were quite tall or so it would seem. Their warmth differed greatly from the snow’s.
You opened your eyes drowsily, meeting your gaze with your savior. Your senses were hazy, but you were certain that snow was not an ethereal being with long ebony locks, brilliant viridian eyes or sleek horns. Perhaps this being was your guardian angel. Or the devil? Angels didn’t don black cloaks, but he resembled one in every way. Divine. Absolutely divine,
You mewled and hugged him a little tighter, darkness engulfing your consciousness.
There was a bright light. You blinked twice. This was not the afterlife at. Or at least not what you imagined it would be. You thought it would be more extravagant than the interior of a gothic castle. It seemed dull– gray, somber. The candelabras were lit with viridescent flames, adding an eerie and unsettling aura to the bedroom. You sat up, wincing. You felt a small prick against your calves.
You lifted the covers to reveal your leg. It was bandaged neatly and elevated on a small throw pillow. Your eyes drifted to your clothing. In exchange for your cloak and travelling ensemble, you wore an oversized silk dress shirt. The hem barely covered your knees while its sleeves extended to your thighs. It was comfortable nonetheless.
“You’re awake.”
You were alive.
You hugged your legs and nodded sheepishly. There he was, an angel. Your savior set down a tray at the nightstand.
You stared into his eyes. Though you were certain that this was not in the afterlife, this man was an angel. No doubt about it. His presence said it all. It radiated power. He was ethereal. He had long ebony locks and porcelain skin. His eyes were akin to emeralds. He stood tall, towering over you with his arms crossed and a faint pout evident on his lips.
“Well, Child of Man?”
You broke eye contact.
“Child of Man,” he said.
“Hmm?”
“Perhaps you would regain your focus if you help yourself to some hazelnut soup,” he gestured to the tray.
You peered over his figure to examine the foodstuff. He saved you, treated your wounds, and now he offers to feed you. Truly, he was a seraph.
What could you possibly do to repay him? Did he desire compensation? Although you were hungry, guilt swelled in the back of your mind.
“It’s edible. The fair folk have a reputation for being terrible cooks, but I assure you that the fire fairies in my castle are well immersed in human cuisine,” he said.
“Fae?”
“My, you /are/ a lost little lamb, aren’t you?”
“I don’t follow.”
“Do you know where you are?”
“Wonderland. A forest.”
“Anything else?”
“The White Rabbit said something about a tea party,” you said.
He straightened his posture and bowed.
“So you are the Hatter’s guest. Pleasure to make your acquaintance. One moment please. I won’t be long. Help yourself to the soup in the meantime. I know the fire pixies won’t be pleased if you let it grow cold,” he said, walking out of the room.
Hatter? Fire pixies?
His footsteps echoed throughout the hall. You stared at the tray. Alongside the ceramic bowl, there was a small dinner roll, a side salad, and a cup of tea. You clutched your stomach as it growled.
You swung your legs over the mattress and let them dangle off the bed. Your eyes trailed down to the ornate carpet. You were famished. The man did tell you to eat. It would be rude not to comply with his request after he nursed you back to health.
You bit your lip as you reached for the tray, setting the cool metal surface onto your lap. You took the spoon and raised it to your lips, blowing the ribbons of smoke away as if you were making a dandelion wish. You wrapped your lips around the utensil, taking in the soup’s warmth. It was rich, sweet, and creamy with an earthy undertone. A sigh escaped your lips.
“Not bad, I presume?” your savior chuckled.
You flinched. He had returned.
He received a hum of affirmation in response. With that, he pulled a wooden chair from the bedroom’s study area and placed it beside the bed, directly in front of you. He sat down, crossing his legs. He opened up a leatherbound book, raising an eyebrow at you. You nervously grinned and fiddled with your thumbs. It was a decent sized book, not too large, but not too small to be a novella either. It was worn and torn around the edges though its gold detailing on the spine was still prevalent.
He met your gaze then snapped his fingers. Your eyes widened as the tea cup on your tray multiplied into two and the contents changed from a murky green to a cozy brown. They then lifted themselves off the tray and waltzed in the air for a few moments before stopping on their own saucers at the nightstand.
“I heard chamomile tea calms the nerves… for humans, anyway. I do love the flavor of it as well. Would you like one lump or two?”
“Are you not human? And two please.”
He blinked. The sugar cubes sunk to the bottom of your cup.
“I am affiliated with the fair folk,” he said.
He waved his hand around, dismissing the fact that he had summoned another teacup along with matching saucers and sugar jar and changed the teas with the snap of his fingers. Having been in this wonderland for a while now, you were familiar with magic. The possibility of fair folk couldn’t be ruled out, but you had never considered much about their existence until now. Then again, you didn’t know what night creatures were either until recently.
“Who are you?”
“A fae who happens to live in these parts and nothing more,” he said.
“And nothing more… then do you have a name?”
“You may call me anything you’d like. I do not have a preference. Names are merely labels no?”
“I suppose so.”
“There once was a little beastie that called me Tsunotaro. You may call me that if you’d like.”
“Tsunotaro?”
“Yes, I’m quite fond of that name too. You remind me of them therefore I shall allow it.”
“Alright then.. Tsunotaro.”
The light in his eyes faltered. He turned past the title page.
“And what do I call you, lost little lamb?”
“(y/n),” you said curtly.
“(y/n)... I like that,” he whispered softly, “Well, then (y/n), welcome to the Tugley Woods. We are in the northern part of Wonderland. It’s a hub for mana which draws in a plethora of characters such as merfolk and beastmen. Are you familiar with mana? It’s essentially a life force used as a catalyst for magic.”
You hummed along to the inflections of his voice.
He continued: “Perhaps you encountered some paragons of mana on the way here. Or wherever your destination was. They’re troublesome bunches, really. They have their own territories. Anything that trespasses those borders is beyond my control, even as the Prince of Thorns, I—”
You fidgeted with the sheets, a minute action and yet the fae’s eyes peeled up from the book.
“Does the origin of the woods bore you?”
You shook your head, “Not at all. I’m just having difficulty visualizing the entire forest and the factions. It must be vast.”
The fae grinned. With a flick of his hand, he conjured green flames within a furnace, illuminating the side of your bed with a faint yet welcoming warmth.
He rose from his seat, edging the covers, ushering you aside as he climbed into the comforters. He shifted around. Once he was satisfied, he propped open the book, continuing on with your history lesson. There was a large map sprawled across the thin pages. The words were racked from Tsunotaro’s memories.
You leaned on his shoulder. He was oddly warm despite his pale, lifeless complexion. Tsunotaro’s voice soothed your soul, spelling away all your fears— no matter how grand or horrible they may be.
“The West is guarded by the beastmen. They aren’t aggressive when you cross borders, only when you mess with their prey. They congregate here due to their affinity towards the mana here.”
Malleus pointed at the map. His fingernail made the book sound hollow.
“This allows them to use their magic easily as the area’s terrain is filled with sand and earth magic despite being surrounded by trees. You could say the same for the merfolk in the East as well. Except that area consists of woodlands with a large loch in the middle. The loch is deeper than it seems. It leads to the Coral Sea, I believe. The ‘monsters’ —”
“Why must they be monsters?”
“Aside from their appearances, the beastmen and the merfolk are experiencing a mana drought as of now as a majority of the magical energy here has ceased over the years. The ley lines have been exhausted due to constant irrigation and migration of the forests’ inhabitants. Nowadays, they attack travelers, driven by their hunger and thirst for mana to strengthen their magic and sustain their own livelihoods. Aside from them, there’s also night creatures. Those were the wolves that attacked you on the first day. ”
“And what does that make you?”
“Certainly not a monster if that is what you were implying. The fae generate their own mana. In fact, this castle is fortified with mana spun on a single spinning wheel. This prevents attacks from the other night creatures,” he said.
“That does not make the others monsters if they were merely trying to survive.”
“Did they not attack you on your journey?”
“They did, but it was the wrong timing. Besides those were wolves, I’m sure the factions have their own reasons.”
“Touché, Beastie,” he said.
Tsunotaro glanced upward.
“Oho?”
“I suppose they all have their reasons. As you said, they might just be doing so for their survival. Though the fair folk could never empathize with them, we are typically not shackled by the limits of age nor are we familiar with death. We create our own mana and we seldom consume food for survival, only pleasure.”
“I see…”
You yawned. He placed a slender ribbon in between the worn pages of the book. It clapped into place as he set it on the nightstand.
“Perhaps I’ve said more than a beastie could handle. Nevermind that. The chamomile must finally be settling in on you.”
For a mere moment, his eyes flashed into silts and glowed. Your lids were heavy.
“Rest well, Beastie— for you have a long journey ahead of you.”
He rose from his seat, striding towards the door. The candles’s flames extinguished as he walked past them.
“You too, Tsunotaro.”
The fae halted.
“Yes… thank you, Yu—,” he paused, “(y/n).”
He sighed.
“Thank you, (y/n)” he said.
#twisted wonderland#twst#twisted wonderland imagines#twst imagines#twisted wonderland oneshot#twst oneshot#twisted wonderland x reader#twst x reader#malleus draconia x reader#event fic#lost in the woods event
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