#those gifs are my roman empire | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

elbiotipo · 2 months

Text

Worldbuilding: Galactic Empires

My only complaint about the Prequels is that they needed MORE politics

If you've watched Dune recently, you must have noticed the whole Emperor and space noble families thing. And yes, it's likely you heard that in WH40k too… and I HOPE you know that's where the God Emperor came from, since WH40k took "inspiration" from everywhere from Dune to Star Wars. Which also has a Galactic Empire. Like so many other science fiction franchises.

In fact, if you're a science fiction fan, it's very likely that you're familiar with space or galactic empires, they seem to be common as dragons in fantasy. Despite the fact that an empire doesn't sound very futuristic, does it?

Where did all these Galactic Empires come from? Are they just a narrative tool or are they an actual possibility? How would states and societies work in space? Let's find out, and maybe I can give you some ideas on how to write fun galactic "empires" from both a narrative and plausibility perspective.

This is going be a long post. Perhaps my longest yet. But I hope you have as much fun reading it as I did writing it. Click down to continue.

First of all, where did these space emperors come from? In another post, I've talked about the influence of the idea of the rise and fall of the Roman Empire in English-language fiction. However, in science fiction, I would say the influence is more direct. The Foundation trilogy of Isaac Asimov, one of the foundational (lol) works of science fiction, was intended by the author, very explicitly, as a retelling of The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire by Edward Gibbon in a science fiction setting. He probably wasn't the first to think about a space empire, I'm very sure the term is older, but he certainly popularized it as a staple of science fiction. Now, if your contact with science fiction comes from movies, when you hear Galactic Empire you're of course thinking about Star Wars. But yes, Star Wars is also the same retelling, because Lucas was inspired in both Asimov AND Gibbon, even though I think we should appreciate Lucas' ability to bring it to life in the screen. Certainly, Isaac Asimov wasn't the first or the last to take inspiration in history to tell stories about the future.

The most influential science fiction work of all time.

At this point you're probably telling me (or not, I don't know you) about all other sorts of science fiction works that DON'T have galactic empires, or better yet, those that don't just transpose historical societies into the far future and imagine something entirely new (my personal recommendations on this area are Banks and LeGuin). And you'd be right. But the concept of a space empire seems popular and long-lived, much like feudalism in the fantasy genre, everyone has a picture of a sorts when a videogame or a book talks about a "galactic empire" or "galactic republic" or a "federation", an "empire" much like a shorthand name for "a country In Space", regardless of the presence of an actual Emperor or not. And so, it's worth exploring how this trope could, or not, work, so we can see the possible alternatives or more fun ways to approach it.

Besides, that's the title of the post. Galactic Empires.

So, let's approach this from the perspectives of Space, Time (or to keep with the theme, Spacetime) and Technology, and lastly, the most fun part, we'll explore some fun variations on this idea of galactic empires and societies.

Space:

Space is big, and I won't quote the Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy here, it would be groanworthy at this point. Let's do a quick exercise instead. Let's image a "modest" space empire, not even galactic, 2000 light-years across. Sounds quite big, it encompasses most of the visible stars we can see from Earth… however, if you project it into a galactic map, it's actually a very small piece of sky, actually 2% of the entire galaxy which is about 100.000 ly across. Now, according to the Atlas of the Universe, there are 600 million stars in a 5000 ly radius from the Sun. Jesus Christ. This is actually hard to estimate accurately as the true number of red dwarfs and brown dwarfs, the dimmest stars, are hard to count, but we already know those have planetary systems as complex as our own Solar System, even planets that could bear life. Let's scale back to our 2000 ly across space empire, again, just a small cozy corner of the Milky Way Galaxy, something that would look like a small, even tiny, nation in any setting of a galactic scale. This gives us 240 million stars (from the estimated 200 billion stars of the galaxy) in this space, which is still completely insane but let's work with that.

From Atlas of the Universe, so you can compare and contrast, the stars 2000 ly from the sun (ONLY the brightest ones), and the entire Milky Way. Notice how small 2000 light years truly are at that scale.

Even if I just told you that all of those systems might be as complex and rich as the Solar System, let's rather arbitrarily say only 5% of those 240 million are worth of note. Not necessarily having life (no way I'm getting into that yet), just worth visiting or living in for the resources or the views or the cantinas… whatever. That's 12 million star systems. Okay, let's refine this further. Let's say of those 12 million, most of them are the equivalent of gas stations or farmsteads, a couple thousand people at most. The REAL places where the action happens are the systems or worlds where millions of people live, and those are few and far between (this makes both common and narrative sense, as people tend to cluster in population centers where trade, resources, etc. are). Let's say, and let's refine this further so I don't get outrageous numbers, the average population of those systems is 100 million (about the size of Mexico, Vietnam or Japan. Many sci-fi works throw worlds of billions like Earth like nothing). And those systems are… uh, like 2% of THOSE 5% 'systems of note' (a flimsly concept already but play along). That's 2% of 12 million. We got 240.000 systems or worlds the population size of entire countries, with all that implies (economy, culture, politics). Of course, 240.000 multiplied 100 million gives this speculative fictional empire a total population of… (Jesus Christ, not the scientific notations), 2.4e+13, or TWENTY FOUR TRILLION PEOPLE.

Let's wind back and remember I tried my best to make a "small" empire for a galactic-sized setting, 2000 light-years across, that's just from here to Orion's Nebula for Gagarin's sake! A trillion people is just outside the realm of my imagination, or pretty much anyone's. Can you imagine any kind of goverment system that would be enough to provide any kind of meaningful governance to 24 trillion people? In the case of a space empire, can you imagine a single space emperor, a single person, deciding over them? Keep in mind that emperors don't rule on their own (we'll talk about that), they need bureacrats to make their will done, and vassals to govern their territories in their stead. This would apply even in democratic systems, you need representatives and civil servants and more.

Let's scale back a bit before I go insane. Instead of assuming territory, let's go with population. Assume a spherical cow space empire of… 40 billion people, that's reasonable right? You can picture that in your head? Five times the population of current Earth, no biggie, we can work with that, it's all cool. Now, how big would a goverment for such a population would have to be? We actually have reasonable answers. China has about 10 million civil servants for a population of 1.4 billion people, but that's only the administrators, not including all the teachers, healthcare workers, security forces, laborers, etc. employed by the state. India has 6.4 million for about the same population. Okay, so easy math, let's say that this space empire has 6 million bureacrats for 1 billion people, for our empire of 40 billion people, that gives us a total of 240 million… just bureacrats, nothing else. Yes, you could reduce that with technology by say, half. It still means an entire Mexico-sized country of bureacrats. Imagine.

Entire worlds of this.

NOW I WILL STOP THROWING NUMBERS AT YOU, and let's just think about what this means. If we assume a space empire like the ones common in science fiction, or just any kind of… goverment at all, we're talking about, at the lowest estimates, entire countries worth of state employees, if not whole EARTHS of bureacrats. You can guess how things can get really weird fast. Current goverments as we know them just won't work at all it even if technology gets more powerful. Leaving aside, for now, things like god-like AI adminstration (yeah, have you seen what they are like now?)… to exhert ANY kind of control, FTL or not (more on that below) you would need a very, very autonomous empire, to the point it might as well not exist at all. Why take orders from A Guy who is not only far away but also has no hope at all of actually enforcing them in any meaningful sense? Why call yourself part of his "empire" that not only cannot enforce anything upon you, but also cannot benefit you in any way? Big question, of course, the benefit of a galactic or even smaller empire, but we'll discuss that later.

What could work, however, is that instead of a centralized state like we concieve it today, or even a loose confederation, even loose alliances, even pretty much anything… 'empires' (as in 'countries') In Space could be "united" by common ideas and culture instead of any institution. Perhaps not even a written delcration or constitution, but shared ideas: a culture, a religion, an ideology. Lots of different strong mini-states (that might mean billions of people…) that all claim to be part of the same "civilization", but share no goverment at all at all, just the same 'idea', in a looser way that even the most decentralized goverments you can think of. You can say "well all countries are made up" but these would barely qualify as even that. Not even the Holy Roman Empire was this fake.

Perhaps even a single person as a symbolic focus point of unity? Which would be actually a score for the proponents of galactic empires in the most literal sense. But at the same time, such an Emperor would be completely powerless to interact with the entire galaxy. His plans for, I don't fucking know, education reform or tax breaks, would have to be filtered by literal millions of bureaucrats and vassals that at that point might do whatever the hell on his name. Military-wise, his armies would count as nations of their own. However, the overall guidance of a single person (or constitution…) as a symbol might make otherwise disparate worlds to collaborate on the same causes, being part of the same greater whole no matter the distance. So maybe, instead of a Galactic Emperor, a Space Pope?

OH MY GOD-EMPEROR WAS THE IMPERIUM REALISTIC ALL ALONG? Probably not, but also yes, let's keep talking.

By the way, I'm sure you're tired of big numbers now, but I did one possible calculation for the whole galaxy, a true Galactic Empire. Asuming just 0.2% (400 million) of the 200 billion stars are populated, with an average population of one million, the size of the smallest countries that aren't micronations. The total galactic population would be 40 trillion, or 40,000,000,000,000. Five thousand Earth populations.

Time:

Or rather, space-time. We'll talk about both, because what concern us is the speed of information and trade, and that also limits the size of our empires.

I'm sure you know by now faster-than-light travel is impossible. Most of space based science fiction has it, of course, for narrative purposes. We don't want Our Heroes to spend two thousand years to get to the lair of the Evil Space Tyrant, I don't either, and I'll discuss FTL soon. But let's start with no-FTL here, just like in real life, and a smaller "empire", much, much smaller than my previous examples. A mere 250 light years across. Let's not even calculate population now.

This, quite logically, means that the fastest your communications would flow is at light speed. So if your emperor issues orders to a nearby world, say, 5 ly away, you will get an answer 5 years later. For a more reasonable distance of 60 ly, you would know the results 60 years from the descendants of those who recieved the order (now, assume however they keep in constant conversation, just with a 60 year delay), and by then, things there would have changed 60 years from the capital. You get the idea, Einstein sucks, don't need to elaborate more. At first glance, this might be another point for old-style feudal star empires, though. What better way to guarantee your empire is working well over centuries than by having an hereditary class of nobles loyal to you, no matter how much time passes (results may vary). Of course, how would you even enforce that? Rebels might overthrow them and you'll learn about it a century later, and you'll have to send ships to quash the rebellion… or would you?

Is there a point to send ships to conquer other worlds in such a situation? What kind of resources (ah, the lifeblood of empires) could you control with such an empire where transport takes decades and industry is so developed you could, theoretically, make manufactured goods yourself? I'm assuming you can, because you can build spaceships to get there in the first place (not unreasonable), but what would justify creating an interstellar goverment controlling people, trade, resources, over light-decades? Normally, it's at this point where sci-fi authors make up Something (what Atomic Rockets calls "McGuffinite") to justify interstellar trade. In Dune, for example, it's Spice, which is kind of like, to steal a joke, petroleum mixed with cocaine. But otherwise, in a no-FTL setting (so, real life as far as we know) there isn't really the incentive to conquer or even form a goverment of any but the looser kind with other worlds. Trade, maybe, but those are long-term investments, it's difficult to think what kind of good or service would be so in demand would justify it. Especially when you consider that light-speed is your upper limit, and ships might be actually way slower than that. And I'm not even gonna begin to touch relativistic effects.

I was going to make a joke about blowing a quarter of your GDP in Star Destroyers, but have you heard of the South American Dreadnought Race? One of our dumbest moments down here, surely.

Add FTL, and things change, of course. Even very slow ships, that would take months to transverse a dozen light years, would be able to justify trade in luxury goods and passengers, for instance. This is not too far from real-life either, after all, European colonial empires had travel times in the months, and they had to install local administrations such as viceroys because of this, yet rhose places they were considered part of the same empire (most European empires could be rather considered a collection of "countries" and colonies, look at all the divisions of the Spanish Empire for instance). Faster and cheaper ships would of course, mean even more trade (here, I'm using 'trade' as 'communication between worlds', not necessarily implying capitalism, it could be mercantilism or even a command economy) between worlds, even perhaps the classic trope of agrarian and mining worlds feeding the rich core worlds. The Open Veins of Latin America In Space. Fun.

The speed of your ships and communications not only determines trade, but the power projection of your state (we can discuss 'stateless' societies too, there's plenty of fun to be had). If, again, your Galactic Emperor makes a Galactic Proclamation from the Galactic Palace near the Galactic Core (let's roll with that) and he has no FTL communications of any kind, it means that his commanding voice would reach the outer edges of the galaxy 100.000 years after, that is, almost ten times the history of agriculture on Earth. If he, however, has access to ships that can cross the galaxy in say, months, yes, perhaps he can have a series of vassals all over the stars (perhaps, we'll see…), and the faster things are, the closer they resemble our current fast-paced society, but not quite, given the available resources and space in… SPACE and the possible population, as we discussed above. As you can see, the speed of your FTL or lack of it determines everything.

There is another, more *realistic* option. Instead of individual FTL ships, you could have wormhole portals connecting worlds. This is more realistic in the sense that it's theoretically possible (though we have no idea on how to make one), but it also has some interesting implications. First of all, there is an implication that such a wormhole network would be expensive to build and maintain, requiring highly complex technology, material (I'm not sure what the hell exotic matter really is) and production methods, well, more high than what you'd expect from the usual. Second, it would be something preferably fixed, with hubs, planned routes and regular transit (and for writers, it easily allows you to map your universe). Such networks would be vital pieces of infrastructure, built and maintained by central authorities, drawing routes and transport hubs in space. Yes, indeed, almost like… space railroads.

OH MY ASTRAL EXPRESS WAS HONKAI STAR RAIL REALISTIC ALL ALONG? (last joke I promise)

There is also a very strange effect about wormhole networks. Time is relative, as you know, and this is not a metaphor, it literally "flows" differently on how fast you're moving. The "universal" "speed" of "time" "seems" to be the speed at which matter moves in an expanding universe (red-shift and blue shift) as I understand it, but as you approach light-speed, time flows differently in your frame of reference. Wormholes are strange in the sense that they connect space AND time, the observable time in both sides of a wormhole would be the same, and as such, places connected by a wormhole network will "be" at the same "time". This has been talked about by some authors who have considered about wormholes in the context of space civilizations, and it's called (STOP!) Empire Time. So a space empire might not only imply a state ruling over a population and a territory, but also over a time. I have no idea how this works and it frankly makes my head hurt, but here is an analysis of transversable wormholes if you want to indulge or hit your head against a wall.

Technology:

As an extension from the previous section: Of course there is no working FTL method known in real life, as far as we know, light-speed is the upper limit for everything. Instead of constraining you as a writer, this can be one of your biggest assets.

Because if you're doing a space setting, the existence of faster-than-light travel and its speed is the most important decision you can take about it.

Got that? Did I emphasize that enough? You don't need to actually explain HOW your FTL system works, you can do some research and invent something, but you need to be clear, in your head, what it can DO: How far and how fast it can take you. A FTL system that takes months to go from star to star will be very different to one that takes hours to span the Galaxy like the hyperdrive of the Millenium Falcon. A FTL system that is cheap and can be installed in any tiny ship like in the Elite videogame would be different from the ones in Dune where interstellar travel requires enormous motherships and lots of drugs, or a wormhole network that needs massive infrastructure maintainment and probably a railway starway worker's union, or the case of no FTL at all. This is, again, the most important decision you could make for your setting, bar none. Got that? Let's continue.

FTL is perhaps the only place in science fiction where I don't care about how it works, only about how fast it goes

Now, technology. Space empires, are of course, not possible without space travel being cheap enough (not talking about FTL, just regular space travel): shipping stuff to space should be about the same as shipping stuff by airliner or, well, ships. This is not unreasonable. Efforts are being made right now to lower the cost to access space, and while space agencies like NASA might look expensive, they are not NEARLY as expensive as the money wasted in say, stealth jet fighters or fucking advertising (people who say 'why spend so much money in space when we could fix our problems on Earth' seem to forget about that all the time. But I digress.). A technologically advanced, wealthy (as in production, not literal dollars) society could easily afford as much space exploration as they wish with no real effect at all in their quality of life, indeed, it would improve it. Space isn't as expensive as it seems. At its very, very core, a spaceship is just steel and propellant.

And steel and propellant are very, very easy (once you got the technical research to do it) to get in space. Asteroids are MADE of iron and metals, a single asteroid is richer than all of Earth's mines combined. Hydrogen is literally the most abundant element in the universe, and water is on plentiful supply (no need to steal planets for water) on comets and icy asteroids and moons. Carbon is apparently widely available in carbonaceous asteroids, and in our own Solar System, Titan, the moon of Saturn, is basically covered in hydrocarbons (yes, OIL IN SPACE). All those resources could be very much in demand for manufacturing on a planet like for example, a future Earth that has taken its industry up to space. What's more, it's only bringing stuff up from Earth/an Earth-like or more massive planet (fun sci-fi term for you: "down the gravity well") that's really expensive. Once you get there, you can get anywhere with enough acceleration and propellant. Once there is space infrastructure and industry (and I get a feeling that it might get up fast, given that space technology would need to be very autonomous and reliable), it can sustain itself without a mother planet. In fact, if there's something I imagine would be considered a luxury in spacer life, it would be truly organic things; plants, wood, meat, wool, and so much more.

i am average astronaut man i work 15 hours in the asteroid mines to buy one burger

Which brings us to the big question; what kind of life would be out there? After all, I gave you numbers of millions and millions of worlds, it's hard to imagine at least a few of those don't have alien life. This is the biggest outstanding question in astrobiology currently and so I won't pretend to even try to answer it (my personal opinion, if you must, is that complex Earth life is extremely rare, but by sheer number of planets, it might exist by hundreds of thousands in our galaxy alone). Instead, let's try to see how science fiction looks at it.

Heinlein, another of the foundational writers of science fiction as a genre, saw alien worlds as just another frontier to be settled. Rich alien fruit, fertile arable lands, and huntable or tameable creatures just waiting to be exploited, and alien species to trade exotic goods with (or conquer). While Heinlein was not the only and probably not the first to write this subgenre, he certainly got it popular, and lots of works on his same vein follow this "frontier spirit" kind of writing, where space is seen as the last frontier to be tamed by hardy colonists in a very yeehaw cowboy western setting, and you can actually see this replicated in many modern science fiction like Firefly and the more cowboy-ish parts of Star Wars. And yes, this is balantly an expression of the 'manifest destiny' Usamerican imperialist worldview.

lots of Politics all over this Science Fiction Adventure

And yes, this idea of 'habitable' planets ready to be colonized like in a 4X videogame is also not very realistic either. We haven't found any alien ecosystems yet, but as a biologist I can tell you they would be very different from us in ways you probably won't expect. We can discuss how convergent evolution could be, a world with oceans would probably have equivalents of 'fish', 'algae' and 'worms' (I can GUARANTEE there will be A LOT of worms), we could even find very, very similar life to our own down to the body plan. However, we most probably could not eat them at all (which might sound silly at first glance but is needed to have you know. agriculture.), or perhaps even live in the same planet as them. We live in a society planet where most of the plants and animals which evolved with us can't be eaten, and many of them are toxic. It's possible, entirely likely, that the alien equivalents of carbohydrates (ever heard of L- and D-Glucose?), proteins and other substances would be indigestible to us, allergenics, or outright toxic, probably in ways we can't even think off. It's likely we won't catch alien diseases, but that's because our cells (if they even have cells) are completely incompatible with their diseases, just look at how different animal, plant and fungi cells are, now imagine whatever the fuck might evolve in a completely different biochemistry from us. There would be no farmsteads and cowboys like Heinlein wrote, living in Mars would probably be more pleasant that living in a world where everything might be toxic, not because life evolved to be toxic, just because it didn't evolve with you. If anything, these' habitable' worlds would be treated like giant nature preserves instead, you can look but don't touch.

(In one of my own settings, I sidestep this by proposing panspermia, that is, the idea that life spreads across the universe by means such as comets (or aliens) and thus shares similaritites and can eat the same stuff. A bit of a cop-out, but it does allow one to get with similar kinds of life.)

NOOO ANAKIN DON'T EAT THAT PEAR IT EVOLVED HIGHLY TOXIC ALKALOIDS IN A DIFFERENT EVOLUTIONARY CONTEXT NOOOO

But humans, if the biophilia hypothesis is right, will need nature in their lives. This is where orbital habitats come in. You know, like the ones in Gundam? Orbitals such as O'Neill Cylinders, Standford Torii (yeah, that's the plural for Torus) as well as bigger and more complex thingmajings I will write their own post about someday, have been proposed since the 1970s with technology available then, and there is no reason why a civilization with an advanced space infrastructure wouldn't try building them and even be better at it. What's very nifty about orbitals is that you can really make them your own personal custom miniworlds. Designs like the O'Neill cylinder are big, able to house hundreds of thousands, even millions of people if build to the top, but why do that? Mess with the lightining, the rotation, or the interior to make them a winter wonderland or a tropical paradise. I expect that they would be built to feed space communities at first with food that isn't imported from Earth or grown in hydroponics, and later as places to live and customize however you wish; perhaps a community would pool resources together and say, hey, we want to make an habitat that looks like a Colombian cloud forest, or the Okinawan Islands. Once they get cheap enough, and given how abundant resources are in space they might be not even as expensive as most engineering projects here on Earth, I expect actually many, many people would want to live in them, and it could be probably be very affordable, and just natural for the people who are born and raised and live and die in them. Another thing about habitats is that they are mobile. Like I said, as long as you got enough propellant and propulsion, you can move anything anywhere in space. Even whole habitats could move and cluster together depending on the local politics. Perhaps, much like city-states were the basic building block for countries in antiquity, in the future, the basic organization bloc would be the Orbital. You could have alliances of orbitals forming complex political intrigue inside a single solar system (yes, like in Gundam).

OH MY PLASTIC MODELS WAS GUNDAM REALISTIC ALL ALONG? (I lied)

This all might make space empires pretty much an unnecessary anachronism. Habitats can grow their own food and resources are plentiful once you have the right technology. They can also be mobile, so they could act like migrating cities at will, choosing to stay with like-minded "constellations" or strike out on their own without the dictates of a central state. It almost looks like an ideal anarchist society.

Or does it?

There is something very important to keep in mind about life in space. The technology, that is, habitats needed for life in space will require lots of maintainance and resource management, which implies there must be strong coordinating bodies with very, very strict rules so that shit doesn't blow up and you lose all your air into space, or the resources of an habitat are mismanaged and you end up with a food or water or even oxygen crisis. There is a reason why space exploration is done by state agencies or corporations with huge state backing. Another of Heinleins's favorite tropes, Libertarians in Space, would be impossible in such a situation. Actually, in ANY space situation, and this is why this section is in technology. Living in space requires you to be able to maintain complex technology and manage resources. None of this can be done ad-hoc or be left to individualism, you have to have Rules and follow them to the letter. And also, the effect of living in your 'own little world' would probably mean people have a strong indentity sense towards their home habitat. This will mean a more communitarian attitude. But before you think I'm waxing poetic about utopian habitat cultures, keep in mind that this also can mean an authoritarian mindset. After all, cults and authoritarian regimes do have "strong communities" too. An habitat could be everything from a well-managed place with responsible citizens who look for the welfare of all, to a closed society where everybody does as they're told as long as the tech works. On the other hand, I doubt habitats in a single star system would stay isolated. They'll probably trade and communicate with other habitats, forming constellations and power groups, that would prevent this 'closed system'. However, I doubt they would be too amenable to interstellar authority. Who the hell do those people from another freaking star think they are to tell us what to do in our habitat?

To be serious for a moment, habitats can be really cool places in science fiction. Especially if you imagine they could host all sorts of enviroments, from the tropical to the polar.

As an addenum… what if you really want to live in a planet? In places such as Mars or the Moon, things would be… pretty similar to orbitals actually. Habitats separated by vast expanses of barren nothingness, only now a planet instead of space (better for maps, at least). But that isn't what you're thinking, right? What if you wanted to feel the open wind and sky instead of a canned world? Well, this is where terraforming comes in. Transforming whole planets is something theoretically possible, but that would require massive investments of resources, more massive than anything we can imagine, and time, centuries at the very, very least. So stupid ideas like "terraform Mars to escape Earth", which as far as I know is only held by dumbasses like Musk, just don't make sense. It doesn't mean that terraforming itself is a worthless idea, it is a very appealing one. No matter how cool you can make your habitat, it won't ever be Earth. It won't ever be a self-sustaining biosphere with its own ecosystem that could last millions of years. For that reason, terraforming is attractive, it's something way more than an artificial "can" orbital, it's a new living world. There is a certain mystique into bringing lifeless worlds to life, but I expect that instead of the dumb Musk "ESCAPE EARTH" idea, the motivation for terraforming would be to recreate Earth, perhaps for conservation reasons (you could have whole planets as natural reserves), perhaps for tourist reasons, perhaps for spiritual reasons or even artistic reasons. On the other hand, the methods you can use to terraform a lifeless planet can also be used to 'terraform' living planets, as we've long seen in our own world… this could be done with hostile purposes. I would expect us to be better than that, but we simply don't know.

To close this section and give this post an conclusion, I think that, since there are no real borders in space, then empires, countries, polities, whatever you wish to call them, will be formed by stacking building blocs in loose alliances or confederations. The most basic would be habitats, then constellations of habitats, then inhabited planets (though I doubt any but the most populated ones would qualify), and then star systems, but little above that, and I expect up to a certain, difficult to calculate limit of population and area (though way, way below even a fraction of a speculated galaxy), things would be just impossible to manage. The effort in bureacracy, infrastructure and state control needed to project power out of a star system and the sheer scale of space probably won't ever justify empires, much less galactic empires, but you could have very interesting variations on the theme.

Fun Stuff!

So, let's play a little with what I've told you. I'm going to write a few short scenarios that might be fun takes on the "Galactic Empire" or "Space Empires" you might be familiar with already:

The Poleis Model

When the Greeks established their colonies around the Mediterranean, they didn't do it with the expectation they would be part of the same state or empire. They founded new poleis, new city-states, based on the constitution of the mother city (hence metropolis) but fully independent. The Phoenicians were much the same, with some of the daughter cities (Carthage means literally "new city") eventually becoming new cultures far from their home cities. Similarily, why should interstellar exploration mean the spread of a united state with a capital and all? Imagine that when interstellar ships depart, they do with the idea that they are going to create a completely new home, a new poleis, not an extension of the nations or organizations that sponsored them but rather more of a 'child' culture light years away from their motherland. As they develop in mostly isolation from each other, they will become new cultures on their own, while retaining ties to the ones most similar to them. This is, in my opinion, the most realistic scenario without FTL. With FTL, however, things get more interesting, as of course, Greek and Phoenician and other poleis didn't remain isolated light-years from each other, they had permanent contact. With FTL they could organize in leagues, perhaps even alliances for the ocassional military campaigns, trade and exchange of ideas, tourism and industry, and of course the Olympics.

The Wormholes Always Run In Time Model

As I've said, wormholes are pretty much like space railroads. Railroads, like other big infrastructure projects, need a centralized authority to be built and maintained. And once you are the central authority that does so, you're already in charge of the biggest arteries of trade and communication. Which makes you basically an empire, officially or not. In fact, this is the closest I imagine a space society would resemble the states we're familiar with here on Earth. If you have control over transport and the hubs of trade and politics, and that transport and communication network allows you to implent your policies, your rule might go very far indeed, and indeed, your main hub might be a great capital, the main station of known space. Now, perhaps you might be imagining a literal space empire with nobles and all that. Why not instead something else? The Socialist Interstellar, connecting the many worlds of the galaxy through a five hundred year plan of railroad wormhole construction in the path to communism... However, this would mean that people outside of the wormhole network might develop in different ways, perhaps the equivalent of nomads to the great settled empires of antiquity. And given what I've briefly touched on Empire Time (*breakdances*), the expression "the portals always run in time" might imply even more than just an aphorism.

The Civilization Cluster Model

I'll admit this is taken from Poul Anderson, as quoted in Atomic Rockets, to which I owe an inmense debt for this post and so much more. The idea is this; space is big, as is well established. Even with FTL to shorten the distances, even if you could cross the galaxy in a few weeks, the sheer number of stars is still insanely massive. Why should any civilization 'colonize' those stars dot by dot, what value is there in invading or colonizing planets with incompatible biochemistries? And how could even begin to think how to administer a thousand different worlds, each one as complex as Earth itself, let alone an entire galaxy? In this case, civilizations, instead of spreading across the galaxy, would mostly remain in their own 'civilization clusters'; even with FTL, there are so many issues closer to home that the idea of projecting power outside is ridiculous. There would be trade, exchange of ideas, and so much more between these clusters, but never constant enough and never with the authority necessary to create a "Galactic Empire"… the worlds are too many, too diverse, too populated and too far away for that. An interstellar traveller could roam the Galaxy for years exploring these clusters spread away from each other, with their own unique idiosyncracies and civilizations inside, and then a vast expanse of mostly nothing outside them. Basically, space is too big. I like to see them as constellations among the dark sky, hence the artwork.

The No Man's Sky Model

To live in space, you need complex technology, but also resilient and durable technology ready for any kind of situation, easy to repair and replace. So eventually, I believe designs would be standarized so much that every astronaut will carry or own a collection of standarized tools (somehow this reminds me of prehistoric tool cultures). Now, even with FTL, there's perhaps little material incentive for people to leave their comfortable homeworld or habitat to live in cold space. But some will, perhaps because of the sheer thrill of it, perhaps very small bands of families or friends. With a standarized tool kit for any ocassion, these small bands would spread across space, much like ancient humans spread across the world. But instead of creating space empires, without a fixed industrial base, they would be nomads. Which doesn't mean they would roam aimlessly, they would be seeking new biospheres, new resources and new cultures, and gathering in temporary or permanent market places, festivals and pilgrimages. Perhaps they could even be the majority of humans in space, while most others stay cozy on Earth.

...

This was a very long post and it took a lot work to make, so I hope you had as much fun reading it as it was for me to write it. If you did, and if you would like to see more, I would be very, very grateful if you donated to my Ko-Fi below. Anything helps a lot especially since my country is not doing great at this time governed by a libertarian idiot (not even the fun space kind), and even a little tip encourages me to post more, I'm always working on your suggestions! You can also contact me by DM or asks if you need any help with your worldbuilding or just want to rant with me a bit! See you next time, and thanks for reading.

#worldbuilding #science fiction #sci-fi #writing #writing advice #space #history #cosas mias

273 notes · View notes

queers-gambit · 6 months

Text

Save Me From Myself

prompt: ( requested ) in a moment of unparalleled anger, you learn what Joel really thinks of you.

pairing: Joel Miller x female!reader

fandom masterlist: The Last of Us

word count: (short as hell at) 1.9k+

warnings: very mild spoilers, there's probably cursing, oneshot (no part two), hurt no comfort, mild angst, shorty shorty short short shorty! author is disappointed in this one, she wanted to give much more.

browse Clingy Baby collection masterlist here

"Gimme that," you grunted at Ellie, picking her backpack from her shoulder with ease as the shorter young lady protested with a small growl.

"I got it - "

"Take a break," you smiled at the kid, shouldering her pack. "Tell me another one of those shitty jokes you love so much."

Ellie smirked and whipped out her book, flipping through a few pages, scanning the pages, then deciding on one. "What... Is Beethoven's favorite fruit?"

You shrugged, "No idea."

"Ba-na-na-naaaaa!"

You laughed, you couldn't help it. "Goddamnit. That's a good one," you praised, eyeing her for a moment as she silently read down the page. You wondered, "You know, I meant to ask, but why that book in particular?"

"My friend gave it to me... It was a present," she explained softly, seeing your head nod of understanding. "What did one ocean say to the other?"

"Nothing, they just waved," you smirked.

"You shithead," she tisked. "Okay, okay, here's a good one. What's brown... And sticky?"

"Oh, Ellie, don't be gross - "

"A stick."

There was a long pause.

"Oh, you know what? Fuck you," You laughed heartily. "I gotta remember that, I like that one."

"You'll like this one, too. Why should you never trust stairs?"

You knew the answer, but humored her, "Why?"

"Because they're always up to something."

You chuckled, "Good one, kid, yeah. Okay, okay, wait, I got one."

"Lay it on me."

"How do you cut a Roman Emperors hair?"

"How?" She grinned, ready for the punchline.

"With Caesars."

Ellie paused, offering a confused look, "I don't get that one."

You both stared at one another for a long moment, still walking through the cold, dead field.

"You don't know Julius Caesar?"

"No? Who the hell is that?"

You chuckled, "You know what? Just as well, who fucking cares about the Roman Empire when we're living in the end-of-days?"

"It's a decent joke," Joel spoke for the first time in hours; holding his rifle protectively as he lead you both through the wilderness, "for what it's worth."

You smirked at Ellie and teased, "Told you I was funny."

"You used the term punny."

"Both are accurate."

"I think you're just an idiot."

"I think you've got a helluva mouth on you."

Ellie grinned and flipped through her book, your gaze trailing to Joel and eyeing him for a long moment. You've known him since you were 19 and hired to babysit his daughter, Sarah. Joel was everything you could've asked for - loyal, sweet, protective, respectful. You had been at their house, doing coursework for your university program when the Outbreak happened. You did what you could to help protect Sarah, but in the end, nobody was safe, nobody was immune, and Death stretch His hand unto all of mankind alike.

He left only select few, you, Joel, and Tommy being amongst the survivors.

The past twenty years had been anything but easy, and while you had gone into this pandemic together, you and Joel didn't actually stick together the whole time. When you settled in Boston with Tommy, Tess, and a few other nomads, you were exhausted from the brutality you were forced to survive in, and so, first chance you had, you broke away.

Technically, you and Tommy broke away. But still.

Joel turned to a life of shadiness with Tess at his right hand (and on his cock). The two of you becoming estranged, until he saved your ass from a pair of FEDRA agents harassing citizens.

He didn't just distract your assailants, but put them in the dirt, helped pick you up, dust off, check for injury, then escort you home. Once at your apartment, he ensured you weren't hurt and was truly okay, and after that, he was back in your life - like the snap of fingers.

You hated to admit it, but it felt nice having a constant back in your life. Joel was your tether to reality, and without him, you felt akin to a kite with the string cut - useless and drifting away.

After that, you came around a little more to see how much your old neighbor had changed in your time apart. Joel was familiar, he was family; had always been something of a source of peace for you. He was usually protective of your wellbeing - even if he had a strange (and borderline unhealthy) way of showing it - creating a bubble of safety.

You eventually left the Fireflies and met Bill and Frank, venturing out and about with Joel and Tess; the latter of who simply despised you for just existing. She was never fond of you, more so now that Joel was obviously attached to you.

Joel never let her argue about you; he never cared for her opinion nor what assumptions she had. He kept you close, he liked your close; and if she sneered any hateful slander, Joel was swift to push her away in favor of you.

One time, he even literally locked her out of the apartment because she was rude to you and told you to "get lost!".

How could you not feel safe? Comfortable? Secure?

When you made it to Jackson and found Tommy once more, you were overjoyed by his familiar face and scent, but quickly pulled him aside to voice your concern for Joel.

"He's been clutching his chest, walking slower than I've seen before," you whispered to Tommy. "I don't think he's havin' a heart episode, but somethin' ain't right, Tommy. He's not doing the best."

"I'll talk to him," he assured.

You believed him, there was no reason not to. You (willfully blindly) believed Tommy would go about this subject with sensitivity and wouldn't mention your words of concern, but you were wrong. Very wrong. Joel had a known temper and if he caught wind that you spoke his name, even in passing, he would lash out, so, truly, you thought Tommy wouldn't tip Joel off.

The moment you returned "home" (to the house you, Ellie, and Joel were offered), you were met with a fuming Joel and an awkward looking Ellie. "What's going on?" You felt worried, fearing for the worst, asking, "What's wrong?"

"You," Joel snapped. "You're what's wrong."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Joel," Ellie tried with a frown, "she just walked in 0 "

"You had a word with Tommy now, did'yah?" He demanded, ignoring Ellie to focus his glare fully on you.

"Well - yeah - I mean - "

"No," he seethed with narrowed eyes and furrowed brow, "where the hell you get off talkin' to my brother like that? Huh? You worried 'bout me, you say somethin' to me - otherwise, the hell you talkin' for?"

"Joel - "

"You overstepped," he shook his head and pointed a scolding finger at you, "and my health ain't your concern - "

"Of course, it is! Fuck's sake, how can you even say that? I get you're mad, fine, okay, you know what? I get it, I'm sorry if I overstepped by telling Tommy how worried I am, but for the love of God, Joel, I am worried about you because you're not the same man you once were!"

"Are any of us?" He huffed.

"You don't think we've noticed the way you've slowed? How you clutch your chest? I'm allowed to be worried - "

"You know, if you weren't so Goddamn clingy all the time, you wouldn't feel whatever compulsion this is to concern yourself with something that ain't got shit to do with you."

You blinked in shock, feeling disarmed by the harsh tone and bruising words he offered. "Joel, we're both worried about you,," Ellie stepped in again. "Don't be such a dick, she's just looking out for you."

"By involving those that don't need to be involved?" He sneered, glaring at the girl before rounding on you. "From now on, you stay in your place - enough with this - this fucking - this protector bullshit you think of me as. You cling any fucking tighter and I'll suffocate, so back the hell off."

You nodded slowly, watching him storm off; door slamming after him hard enough to make both you and Ellie flinch. "I, uh..." You cleared your throat, "I should... Um, uh, you know what, I'll jusy - uh, yeah, no, I can just... Yeah, I should - yeah."

"I'm sorry," she mumbled.

"You didn't do anything."

"No, but that wasn't very nice of him to say."

"No, I suppose not," you smiled ruefully, giving a hearty, heavy sniffle. "I should, you know, go and find somewhere to crash - "

"Why wouldn't you stay here?"

"I don't exactly like to linger where I'm not wanted," you mused, keeping your tears at bay. "I just need to clear my head for a bit. Go for a walk or something. Maybe he just needs some space, I don't want to be here and upset him more... You two have a mission at hand," you tried to smile, "that's bigger than us all, and whether I see the end of it or not doesn't matter now - what matters is you, Ellie. This petty squabble will pass," you lied, "because you're all that matters. I won't risk further upsetting Joel, gambling with this already sketchy-ass plan and put everything we've worked towards so far at jeopardy."

You both smiled ruefully.

"I know when to walk away," you ended softly.

She nodded, opening her mouth but closing it instantly; knowing you were stubborn enough that she didn't even attempt to stop you. So, she did the only thing she knew she could do: offered her joke book.

"Oh, Ellie, no," you breathed, "no, no, I can't take that, it was a gift."

"And now I'm gifting it to you," she shrugged, holding the book out. "C'mon, just take it, it'll make me feel good knowing you're cracking shitty jokes to yourself - or whoever will listen."

"I can't take this," you whispered.

"Just make sure you stay alive to give it back," Ellie compromised.

"Deal," you smirked, opening your arms and embracing the girl the moment she rushed into your chest. "I'll miss you," you whispered. You promised to see her as soon as you could (so you could return the joke, of course), kissed her forehead, then grabbed your bag, which had yet to be unpacked, and left the house.

You managed to find lodging in the old cantina, and you'd never know that when Joel got back that evening and saw your items gone, he breathed a sigh of relief. In his head, with you gone, it was one less painful reminder of Sarah, the life he had before; and while his mind played tricks into thinking he saw Sarah in town today, he realized you were the constant trigger.

The single strand that kept him in the past.

Constant reminder of who he was, who he wanted to be.

Prevented him from truly moving on.

Though not done in the best or most respectful way, in his heart, Joel knew he needed to shove you into the mud to get you to let go; you saw too much "good" in him. You saw him in the same light as Sarah, and he couldn't handle that; could not fathom that there was anyone left in this world who saw anything remotely humane in him.

So, Joel did what he did best: made his own life infinitely harder by pushing away those who loved him.

requesting rules and masterlist

TLOU masterlist

Clingy Baby masterlist

594 notes · View notes

storiesforallfandoms · 11 months

Text

i don’t ever wanna see you with him ~ roman godfrey;hemlock grove

word count: 2551

request?: no

description: after he gets jealous of her best male friend, she decides to put him in his place

pairing: roman godfrey x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist (one, two, three)

Roman Godfrey was spoiled and entitled. Everyone in Hemlock Grove knew that. He was the heir to the massive empire in their small town, so it wasn’t a surprise that he had a sense of entitlement. That entitlement tended to extend to his romantic relationships, too. Roman was often very possessive and jealous over his girlfriends. Most of them liked that, most of them viewed it as hot and endearing.

(Y/N) was not one of those girls.

She and Roman had met through (Y/N)’s best friend, Peter. He was enamored with her the minute he laid his eyes on her, and, secretly, (Y/N) had felt the same way. Not that she would ever tell him that. She had been warned about Roman before she met him. She wasn’t about to give into him so easily; she made him work for it - for her. And he really did put in the work until (Y/N) trusted his commitment to her and agreed to date him.

There was one issue about Roman, though, and that was his jealousy towards (Y/N) and Peter’s friendship. He thought he kept it lowkey, but both Peter and (Y/N) knew. They both knew Roman better than he thought they did. They could see when his eyes darkened whenever he looked at them. They could see his jaw tighten whenever (Y/N) laughed at something Peter said. They could see the way Roman always needed to be touching (Y/N) whenever the three of them were hanging out.

It wasn’t that Roman didn’t like Peter. When it was just the two of them, they were the best of friends. It was Peter with (Y/N) that Roman didn’t like. And that was what pissed (Y/N) off. Peter had been her friend long before he was Roman’s, and long before Roman and (Y/N) started dating. And that’s all they were - friends. There had never been any sort of romantic feelings between them, and there never would be.

That’s why (Y/N) was walking up to Peter’s trailer on her own on a sunny afternoon. He was laying in a hammock, his eyes closed as he soaked up the sun. Upon hearing her footsteps, he opened one eye and peered over at her.

“Where’s your shadow?” he asked.

(Y/N) rolled her eyes. “He’s not that attached to me.”

“He may as well be a wart on your ass, (Y/N). Especially when it comes to me.”

“He’s certainly a pain in my ass,” (Y/N) muttered. “Move over, I want some hammock.”

Peter chuckled and shuffled over slightly. (Y/N) got into the hammock, laying with her feet towards Peter’s head and her head towards his feet. The hammock swayed with the motions before it settled again.

“He doesn’t know I’m here,” (Y/N) said as her body relaxed into the swaying fabric.

“What?” Peter asked.

“Roman. I didn’t tell him I was coming.”

“Is that healthy? Like, for your relationship.”

“I didn’t lie to him or anything. He’s busy with some family shit, so I haven’t even heard from him yet today. If he were to ask, I’d tell him I’m here.”

“And then he’d show up and kick my ass.”

(Y/N) sighed and rested her head back against the hammock. “Do you think he’ll ever stop being so...”

“So Roman?” Peter finished. (Y/N) nodded. “It’s hard to tell. His entire life he’s been surrounded by enablers, or he’s been under the control of his insane mother. I think we’re the first people to treat him like an actual person and not like he owns the world. So either we could help him, or he’ll annoy us both to a point where we can’t deal with him anymore.”

The latter option was what worried (Y/N) the most. She loved Roman, other than his jealousy he was an amazing boyfriend who loved and cared for her so deeply. She didn’t want to lose him, but she knew Peter had a point about if Roman couldn’t control that jealousy. She couldn’t live the rest of her life wondering how Roman was going to react to every guy she interacted with, whether it was friends, co-workers, or just random guys she ran into on the street. And she definitely was not going to be made to choose between Roman and Peter when she had known and been friends with Peter the longest.

She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t have to. Peter knew what she was thinking. It wasn’t the first time they had this conversation.

They fell into a comfortable silence. There really didn’t need to be any conversation. This was the first time in quite some time that the two were able to spend time together and actually enjoy it. So that’s what they were doing: enjoying their time.

The enjoyment didn’t last too long, though, as they heard a car pulling up in front of Peter’s place. Peter’s mom’s car was already in the driveway, so there was only one person it could be. That suspicion was confirmed by a car door slamming and Peter rolling his eyes when he saw whoever it was approaching. (Y/N) huffed out a sigh as she prepared herself for the argument that was undoubtably coming.

“You two look comfy,” Roman commented.

“We are,” Peter responded. “Wanna join? you can lay across us.”

Roman glared at him before turning to (Y/N). “I was trying to call you. Why haven’t you been answering your phone?”

She looked down at her purse where her phone was, which she had left on the ground when she climbed into the hammock. She gestured to it. “It’s too far away for me to reach. And my phone is on vibrate, as it always is, and you know that.”

His jaw clenched. (Y/N) felt her frustration reaching its peak.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming here?” Roman asked.

“Well, for one, you haven’t responded to my texts at all today, so it’s not like I’ve even been talking to you today,” (Y/N) retorted. “And two, you don’t own me, Roman. I’m not required to tell you every single thing I’m doing or where I’m going.”

“You do if you’re hanging out with other guys by yourself.”

(Y/N) swung her legs over the side of the hammock and stood up so quickly that Peter nearly flipped out of it. She approached Roman with such ferocity that Roman took a step back before she reached him.

“Let me tell you one thing, Roman Godfrey: I’m done with this jealousy bullshit. I am not your property, I am your girlfriend. You do not control where I go or who I’m friends with. Especially when the person in question is my best friend who I’ve known way before I met you. This dark, entitled rich boy bullshit might work on other girls in this town, but it’s not working on me. If you want someone to put up with that, then you may as well find someone else to be your girlfriend, cause I can’t do this anymore.”

She picked up her purse and put it over her shoulder.

“Where are you going?” Roman asked as she started walking away.

“Anywhere that’s away from you!” she hissed. Over her shoulder she added, “I’ll talk to you later, Peter.”

~~~~~~

(Y/N) was home by herself that night. Her parents had gone out to some kind of function, and had asked if she wanted to tag along, but she told them to go on without her. She felt like she needed some time alone to come to terms with what had happened that day.

Peter had texted her asking if she was okay, but she hadn’t responded. She wasn’t upset with him by any means, as he didn’t even do anything wrong, but she just felt like she didn’t want to talk just yet. When she did respond, it was going to be to tell him she wanted to forget everything that had happened that day and to move on as if everything was normal, minus the fact that she and Roman were no longer together.

Roman hadn’t texted or called at all. She wasn’t sure if it hurt more that he hadn’t, or if it had hurt less.

She was sat in the living room, half paying attention to some movie that was playing on TV, when a knock came at the door. The sudden sound startled (Y/N). She wasn’t expecting anyone, and she knew her parents weren’t either as they weren’t even home. She figured it might be a door to door salesman, or someone trying to talk to her about the Lord, although it seemed too late at night for any of that. Either way, she stood from the couch and went to answer the door.

Standing there, leaning against her doorway, was Roman Godfrey.

“What are you doing here?” she asked him.

“Can I come in?” he asked in return.

“Not until you answer my question.”

“I came to talk to you.”

“You have a phone, which I know you know how to use because you were blowing mine up before you came to attack me and Peter.”

“I wanted to come talk to you in person. You’d be more likely to answer the door if you didn’t know I was coming than to answer your phone if you knew it was me calling.”

Okay, he has a point.

(Y/N) reluctantly stepped aside and gestured for Roman to come in. She closed the door behind him and led him towards the living room. She had been sat with all the lights off before Roman knocked and hadn’t realized just how dark the room had become. She switched on a small table lamp and muted the movie before sitting back in her spot on the couch.

“Your parents aren’t home?” Roman asked.

“No, they’re gone to some gala for dad’s work,” she responded. “Don’t get any funny ideas. We’re not together anymore, remember?”

Roman winced, as if her words had physically harmed him. “Yeah, I know. That’s what I came to talk about.”

He sat down next to her on the couch, but left a respectable distance between them. She appreciated that it seemed like he wasn’t trying to be too pushy towards her or anything, at least not yet.

“Go on then,” she said, waving her hand at him. “Start talking. What was so important that you had to come down from your castle to speak to the commoner?”

Roman scowled at her. “You know you’re not a commoner.”

“Compared to you and your wealth I am. But that’s not the conversation we’re having right now. Whatever it is you wanted to say, say it, and then I’ll decide whether or not I want you to leave immediately.”

Roman sighed and ran his hands through his hair. (Y/N) quickly glanced at the dark brown strands that were between his fingers. His hair was always incredibly soft. (Y/N) always loved to run her hands through his hair and seized every opportunity to do so. She had to look away just as quickly and shove down those painful memories. She couldn’t let herself break and go back to him just because of something so trivial.

“I’m sorry.”

The words shocked (Y/N) so much that she almost physically jumped when he said them. They were words she had very rarely ever heard said with such sincerity coming from Roman’s mouth. She had heard it in sarcastic mutters under his breath whenever his mother chastised him for something stupid, or said to defuse a situation that was getting a little too heated, but this wasn’t in either of those ways. This time, he actually meant it.

“Can you say that again?” (Y/N) asked.

Roman chuckled and rolled his eyes. “I said I’m sorry.”

“One more time.”

“(Y/N), I do have more to say.”

“Yeah, but this is what I want to hear.”

Roman shook his head at her, a smile threatening to break out across his face. “Look, what you said earlier, at Peter’s, you were right. You are my girlfriend, not my property. I shouldn’t have been so possessive and attempting to control your friendship with Peter. I just...every time you two are together, I’m reminded about the fact that you and Peter are close, and that you’ve been close for a very long time. I know that Peter isn’t as much of a prick as I am, some would say he’s an actual nice guy I guess. I know there’s nothing between the two of you, but there’s always been this fear in the back of my mind that maybe...maybe that could change. That you would want Peter more than you want me.”

There was hurt in his big green eyes. His confession surprised her because Roman always seemed so confident in himself. It was one of the first things she had ever heard about him, about how cocky he was.

“Why did you never tell me before?” she asked.

Roman shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t want to seem like a crazy, possessive boyfriend. I didn’t realize I had already been acting like that. I actually thought I was hiding it well.”

“Yeah, because showing up to Peter’s place because I didn’t answer my phone is totally not a crazy, jealous boyfriend move.”

He chuckled. “Okay, touché. That was not one of my better moments.”

“None of how you were acting was one of your better moments,” (Y/N) said. “I would’ve much preferred you to have told me how you were feeling instead of bottling them up and allowing yourself to treat your best friend like garbage whenever we were hanging out.”

Roman cringed. “I did treat Peter pretty terribly, didn’t I? God, he probably hates me.”

“You’re definitely not his favorite person right now, but I’m sure you can get back in his good graces by acting like an actual person and not like a jealous piece of shit.”

“What about your good graces?”

(Y/N) thought to herself for a moment. He had come to apologize in person. He knew the way he had acted was wrong, he actually apologized for it, and it seemed like he was willing to make a change. That’s what she wanted, wasn’t it? For him to work on the jealousy and actually change it.

“I think you can get back there,” she said. “You’ll just have to work for it again.”

“I’ll do whatever it takes.”

(Y/N) smiled. She moved closer towards him and unmuted the movie. “You can start by cuddling me and finishing this bullshit movie with me.”

He smiled back at her and put his arm around her shoulder. “I can do that. But why are we finishing the movie if it’s bullshit?”

“Because I’m invested in the bullshit.”

Roman chuckled and pulled (Y/N) towards him. She rested her head against his shoulder and he put his head on hers. He tested the waters by placing a kiss on the top of her head. (Y/N) didn’t argue. Instead, she turned her head to kiss his cheek before settling against him again.

#Roman Godfrey #roman godfrey imagine #roman godfrey x reader #bill skarsgard #bill skarsgard imagine #bill skarsgard x reader #hemlock grove #hemlock grove imagine #imagine #one shot #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

940 notes · View notes

izombie-ao3 · 2 months

Text

❝ Following the disappearance of your paternal figures in 1995, you- the offspring- receive a letter in the mail detailing of their possible whereabouts. The prospect of them being alive after going missing for ten years grasps at you. Waisting no time, you take hold on the letter and rush out the door with keys in hand. Your destination is as clear as day: Playtime Co. ❞ (x)

Word count: 27,051

Tags: Reader’s pronouns are YOU/YOUR & THEY/THEM, Reader is gender neutral, Reader is an adult aged 25, Platonic Relationships, Platonic Love, Strong friendships, strong feelings, Reader IS DogDay’s angel (not literally), DogDay would die for Reader, DogDay is NOT a child, DogDay is an ADULT, occasional flirting (?), Dark Humor, Blood and Gore, Swearing, Hurt/Comfort, Trauma, Angst, Fluff, DogDay lives, This is my Roman Empire and I will die for it, Cannon Typical Violence, Freeform writing, No beta we die like Mommy Long Legs, Possible romance between DogDay and Reader, Friends to Lovers, I kissed canon in the mouth and abandoned it on the side of the highway, Cannon Divergent, CATNAP DIES, (Updated tags)Reader and DogDay are MOST DEFINITELY in love, All characters are written as ADULTS, there are no children in this fic, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

Chapters: 17/?

Status: Temporary Hiatus

You were shaking from head to toe in a mixture of excitement, anticipation and worry. It was all far too much for your brain to comprehend at once; ten years- it has been ten WHOLE YEARS since your parents disappeared in 1995, and only now you get a letter basically telling you to come find them? That there’s hope that they could maybe still be alive?

“It’s... it’s insane, really, it truly is... but-“ you sigh, steeling yourself, hands tightening on the steering wheel of the car. “-It’s all I have to go off of...”

And just like that, you stick your key in the ignition and turn it, listening as the engine roars to life.

As you drive to the destination with the help of your phone’s GPS, you can’t help but wonder what you’ll say when you see them- your parents- after so long.

You half wonder if they’ll even remember you... Surely they will?

They have to.

By the time you arrive at the destination of Playtime Co.’s now seemingly abandoned building, the sun has slowly begun to set, dusting the sky a beautiful iridescent orange-pink, you wager that there’s likely only two hours left of sunlight before the whole world goes dark.

With one last glance at your car, you turn your attention to the large ominous building and feel a strange feeling wash over you and though you can’t find the right words to explain it, you can tell that a certain thickness hangs in the air.

Somethings not right with this place and you’re starting to doubt yourself and that letter. What if the sender has less than pure intentions?

What if your parents really are gone for good?

Would coming here have been nothing but a waste?

Will you find the answers to your questions?

You shake your head and sigh through your nose, clenching your fists together you brace yourself for the arduous journey ahead.

You’re here now and there’s no going back.

You need answers.

As you wandered around the halls of the deserted building, you found VHS tapes that when played back on the VCR gave you small tidbits of information about the people employed there and the place itself. It’s all very interesting information that helps you slowly understand what occurred here...

But, there is ONE glaring issue that you would’ve never thought about when first walking through those doors; being chased by an oversized toy!

You could feel as your heart pumped at an alarming pace in your chest, it was beginning to feel like at any moment it would jump out of your throat just like in those Sunday morning cartoons you used to watch as a kid.

And the cramp ness of the conveyer belt’s segments didn’t make things easier for you as you weaved from one corner to the next, desperately trying to escape your pursuer who was hot on your heels.

By the time you finally manage your escape out of the conveyer belt, you find yourself on a metal walkway with a colorful box hanging precariously nearby. Quickly, you use the mechanical hands from your grabpack suit to hold onto the box and just as you bring it slamming down, the walkway snaps in two beneath your feet.

The gigantic blue toy that had been chasing you falls through the void of darkness below, making contact with the pipes on its way down and in doing so you see... blood...?

You can’t help but blink, bewildered at the sight of blood, especially from a...toy.

But, no matter, you now that it’s too dangerous now to continue to linger, you need to trudge on.

“FIND THE FLOWER” you remember the words on the note, the mental image of the poppy flower etched into your mind, you have to find it, for it’ll lead you to the answers you seek.

The sight that greets you is a concerning one, in front of you is the door that you’ve been looking for, it is surrounded by an enormous painting of the same flower that was drawn in the note mailed to you and near it are various toys strung up with word of warning written around the door;

NO RUN

GO BACK

STOP

TURN AROUND

You don’t know what to make of it and it worries you, you’ve come so far and evaded death only to be met with...this? With... warnings? Warnings to turn back and stop?

You hesitate for a moment, but reach for the door job regardless. Opening it leads you down an impossibly long hallway decorated with yellow floral wallpaper and wall lamps, yet you relentlessly follow it.

The answer to what you seek lies at the end of... Surely...?

When you finally make it, you enter a small room where red light floods the room, the soft distinct sounds of a music box playing in the distance. And in the center of the room lies a glass display case that in it holds a... doll?

She sports blood red hair that is held up by two blue hair ties and a blue and white dress. Her eyes are closed.

You swallow hard and open the case....

ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Chapter 2: You meet Mommy Long Legs and find yourself in quite the predicament; play her games or face death. What choice do you have, but to obey?

You venture out of the small room that you were just in alongside with a now missing doll and out into the adjacent hallway that leads you out and back into the rest of the facility.

“Man...” you say, eyeing the place from ceiling to floor tile, “...this place is larger than I thought...” you can’t help but mumble to yourself. Sure the building looked absolutely massive on the outside but, being inside of it now? Man, this place felt like it didn’t have an end to it.

“...This way...” you hear a voice whisper to you, breaking you from your silence, snapping back into reality you decide to follow it. Surely the owner of the voice could tell you what happened here?

Eventually you find yourself entering an office of what could only be the owner of the company, Eliot Ludwig, reads a piece of paper resting atop his desk. Allowing curiosity to take ahold of you, you decide to pick it up and read it and find that it contains information about an experiment... ‘814’.

Huh...

You don’t know what to make of the information but decide to pocket the paper nevertheless, It seems like it could be important.

Following outside of this area, you walk into a more mechanical looking room that seems to need power.

Suddenly the loud sound of one of vents latch coming lose frightens you, causing your attention to shift. Your body tensing up, awaiting for the horrors of this place to attack you.

But, you’re greeted by the same doll from before;

“Oh! Uh...” she seemingly stumbles over her words, a clear air of awkwardness hanging from her, “...I didn’t mean to scare you! I was just- trying to get the power back on!” She explains.

You watch her, astonished that the doll is talking and moving, could... you be seeing things? No, you doubt it, especially after your encounter with that massive blue toy- Huggy Wuggy, was it?

You silently stare at her, curious to see what’ll happen next;

“Here-!” She says, and awkwardly motions for you to do the honors.

With no other option available, you use the electric hands on your grabpack, you help solve the issue by re-routing the power supply from one pilon to the next and then onto the glowing red interface that sits just beside the red headed doll.

Upon your accomplishment, you watch as she applauds you, to which you can’t help but smile slightly and nod.

“I wanted to thank you for freeing me-“ she begins, “-I was stuck in there for so long! Thank you, I’ll have to pay you back!” She adds, to which you nod, seeing as it’s only fair.

“There’s a train station near by-“ she adds and you quirk up an eyebrow, a... train station?! In this place?! Jesus! Just how big really was this building that they needed to install a whole train system!

“-It needs a code! And I have it.”

Ah, well that makes things easier, it seems that all you’ll have to do is find it and move on to the next area.

“We’re going to get out of here...!” She explains and you nod, “As soon as you get on up here!” She exclaims, chuckling awkwardly.

Unable to find a way up to where the doll is, you decide to head back the way you came and are more than surprised when you hear her speak to you again;

“I’m over here!” She exclaims, your head turns to see her, she’s in the vents! “I can follow you from here!” You watch as she scampers off before shouting for you on the other side, “This way!”

You follow the sound of her voice, you judge that she has to be on the other side and so you walk into the hallway and into a small corner where two flashing red sensors display the red and blue grabpack hands. You place them on the sensor and watch as the system green lights your entry, allowing you further access to traverse yet another hallway.

Eventually you find yourself in a rather large room that is surrounded by five closed off gates, each one has a large title overhead indicating to which area it leads to. In the center if this room lies a massive crater whose end you cannot see as it is shrouded in darkness. The doll from earlier sits just in front of the mouth of the crater, as soon as she sees you she turns around;

“Listen, I’m going to need you to trust me-“ but before she can even finish whatever she was saying, a hand from down below reaches out and pulls her in screaming.

You’re left standing there, alone, and unsure of what to do next.

“...Fuck...” you curse, “What the hell do I do now...?” You bite your lower lip in irritation and look around, there’s no way for you to proceed aside from going down the same way that your temporary companion had been abducted.

You sigh and look down at the hole before bracing yourself, “Here goes nothing!” You shout as you descend.

Coming down you find yourself to have had- thankfully- safely landed in one of the lower sections of the facility. Next to you are three locked archways that indicate the following areas that you can go into, one of which seems to spark an innate interest within you, GAME STATION.

You deduce that the door needs power to operate and are quick to find the area that needs re-routing.

By the time you finish that task, you hear the metallic door open and you waltz on over to the connecting hallway.

Right as you use the red metallic grabpack hand on the sensor that rests above the door that impedes your journey, a voice echoes from somewhere above you;

“A new playmate!!” Squeals a feminine voice, and you watch as the hand is snatched from you, leaving you with only the blue one intact.

“It’s been... SO LONG...” the female voice explains and you watch as from above the dark ceiling a long and spindly pink figure descends. She looks no different from just another toy!

“Right, Poppy?” She asks the ��doll’ that she holds on her hand.

“Poppy!” You can’t help but belt out in response, so that’s your companions name!

The figure ignores you and using Poppy like the doll she is, mocks her voice in response, “Very exciting, Mommy!”

“LET HER GO!” You shout, demanding the... thing, this creature called “Mommy” listen to you.

Alas, your cries fall upon deaf ears as the smile on Mommy’s face stretches farther than humanly possible. Stretching her neck, you watch as her face descends further down onto yours until she is no more than a few inches away from you.

You can’t help but cringe away in disgust, yet she isn’t deterred by your actions and only follows you closely.

“Mommy heard that miss Poppy was going to just give you the train code to escape! Now how is THAT fun?” She grins, “Instead- let’s say we make a game out of it! The game station is still working! It’ll be just like old times~” she explains.

“And-“ she uses Poppy mockingly, “-If you you win all three games, I’ll give you the train code!”

Mommy gasps a sound of mock delight, “That sounds like a wonderful idea, Poppy!”

Just before she slinks away, her head beginning to follow in the motions of the rest of her body, she says one final word to you, “Oh~! You’re going to have SO much fun~! Head to Musical Memory and Mommy will get things started!”

Before you have time to react, her head shoots down towards you at an alarming rate and she stops just in front of you;

“OBEY THE RULES OR ILL TARE YOU APART AND EAT YOUR INSIDES WHILE YOURE STILL ALIVE!”

A shiver runs down your back as finally the monstrous beast known as Mommy finally slinks away into the dark recesses of the facility.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Chapter 3: You play Mommy’s games...

Arriving at the Game Station you find yourself in a colorful large open space, with- as the name entails- a large variety of games to play. Remembering the information that you’ve gathered so far of the place from the stray files, notes and fliers littered about, you piece together that this had to have been one of the major areas that the orphans of Playtime Co. would spend a large amount of their time in.

Still though, none of it makes that much sense to you- why would they even have such a place erected inside of the facility?

“I mean-“ you cut yourself off, “-I guess it makes sense..? After all, how’re you going to keep possibly hundreds of orphans entertained?” You asked no one in particular.

“You can’t just keep them locked away in their rooms...” you muttered under your breath, your eyes wandered to and fro. There was so much to look at, from the decoration that littered around, to the cardboard cutouts of what is likely to be the toys and mascots of Playtime, but what catches your eye the most were the drawings left by the orphans.

You looked at the colorful drawings, all made with crayons and markers, it depicted the kids playing alongside three key figures that you’ve now seen and gotten to know thus far;

Kissy Missy, Huggy Wuggy and ‘Mommy’.

You get a sense of... happiness from them? It seems that the children had fun with them...

Fun... huh... that’s, arguably hard to imagine when you’ve had your life threatened by two out of three of these creatures.

Sighing, you hope that at least Kissy Missy won’t slaughter you the moment you meet her.

Shaking your head, you remember what you’re here for; the train code. “Best not to keep Mommy waiting...” you mumble to yourself.

Exploring the area some more, you eventually find the room where the hands for the grab packs are made!

“Oh! Sweet!” Excitement fills you as you realize that you can get a replacement for the one that you lost.

Fiddling here and there with the strange machinery, at long last you’re given your replacement green hand!

Sometime later, you finally make you way into Musical Memory, you’re greeted by a rather strange set up; the room is roughly circular in shape, with a large open space around you that is obviously inaccessible to you. But the center of this room has a circular platform that is surrounded on both sides by round buttons

roughly the size of beach balls.

Atop the circular platform is a cylindrical protrusion that extends far beyond from the ceiling and sits just above the center arena.

You can’t help but whistle in amazement at the sight;

“And to think that kids actually played in here? Geez, you’ve got to be kidding me-“ you mumbled, “- this place would’ve terrified me as a kid...” you add.

Upon stepping inside of the centerpiece, you watch as massive screens all around you suddenly burst to life, surprising you as a result.

The sounds of odd music begins to play and the logo of Playtime Co. appears on screen;

“WELCOME TO MUSICAL MEMORY!” Voices an automated mechanical male voice.

“THIS ADVANCED MEMORY AND RECOGNITION TEST IS DESIGNED TO STIMULATE SEVERAL SEGMENTS OF THE BRAIN! ALLOWING US TO SEE HOW QUICKLY AND EFFICIENTLY YOUR BRAIN WORKS! A SEQUENCE OF COLORS WILL BE SHOWN, AND YOU MUST RECREATE THE EXACT SEQUENCE USING THE BUTTONS AROUND YOU. BUNZO WILL SLOWLY LOWER TOWARDS YOU-“

“Bunzo?” You croak, “Who the hell’s Bu-?” A nagging sensation in the background of your mind urges you to look up, and as you do you are greeted by the sight of a yellow rabbit with bright green overalls, holding two large cymbals in each hand.

It’s eerie dead smile focused on you.

“Ah!” You say, looking away, “Right...!”

“-WHEN YOU COMPLETE A COLOR PATTERN CORRECTLY, BUNZO WILL SLOWLY RISE BACK UP! WHEN YOU IMPUT A PATTERN INCORRECTLY, BUNZO WILL LOWER TOWARDS YOU FASTER. IF BUNZO REACHES YOU, YOUR TEST IS OVER. YOUR TEST WILL BECOME MORE DIFFICULT AS IT CONTINUES WITH LONGER PATTERNS AND QUICKER SUCCESSIONS. THATS IS ALL, GOOD LUCK!”

You swallow hard and sigh through your nose, shrugging your shoulders in a rolling motion you ready yourself for what’s to come.

However, before the game itself can start, suddenly the light die out, except for one, drawing your attention.

You are greeted by the sight of ‘Mommy’ who sits inside of what looks to be an observation room that sits way above the room, out of sight from those made unaware of its existence.

“Oh~! Isn’t it amazing~?! Mommy hasn’t seen the place up and running in YEARS!! Mommy can only imagine how excited Bunzo must be! It’s been such a long time since he’s been able to play, to cheer, to eat...”

At her last words, the rabbit above you seemingly ‘comes to life’ and clangs its cymbals together producing a rather loud sound. You snap you attention to glare at it, the creature seems unperturbed by your expression.

You hear Mommy sigh, “Ah well, that’s the dinner bell~! Good luck~!” And just like that the room floods back with light and the game begins...!

As you play the game, you suddenly watch as the machine begins to freak out, the mechanical male voice calling out an array of unintelligible colors. The buttons move around in an odd manner; twitching, spinning and even flipping!

You don’t know what to do, so you stand there dumbfounded for a moment until your eye catches sight of a hidden white button. Pressing it causes the machine to momentarily flutter, its mechanical parts visibly stuttering as they move in ways that they should not until it finally ceases all movements.

The lights shut off once again;

“Ah... it broke...”, you can hear the clear disappointment in Mommy’s voice, “...that’s no fun! For doing such a splendid job, Mommy has decided to give you PART- of the code for the train...!”

Above you, in the same place where Bunzo had previously been, comes Mommy’s hand, and in it a piece of paper. You take it with no hesitation.

“Mommy was hoping the game could last a little longer~! It’s okay though... Mommy knows OTHER ways to play with you~”

You bite your bottom lip out of nervousness and choose not to linger any longer, quickly making your leave, lest you overstay your welcome.

Arriving at the following game, you enter yet another odd location; it’s an open concept room with LOTS of space in the center for you to seemingly run or walk around as you please. Around you however is a wall that is painted in a rather whimsical manner, akin to that of Sunday morning cartoons, and inside of said

walls are an assortment of... tunnels? At least you think that they’re tunnels, since looking in them yields no more than expansive darkness.

The same sound as before of TV static catches you attention and you turn to face a lone TV screen;

“WELCOME TO WACK-A-WUGGY! THIS ADVANCED TEST IS DESIGNED TO ASSESS THE EXTENT OF YOUR REACTIONARY ABILITIES. A DUAL PALM GRABPACK WILL BE PROVIDED TO YOU FOR THIS TEST. AROUND YOU ARE 18 SIZABLE HOLES, AN ADORABLE HUGGY WUGGY TOY COULD APPEAR OUT OF ANY OF THESE HOLES! IF ONE COMES OUT, HIT IT WITH YOUR GRABPACK! THATS ALL, GOOD LUCK!”

To say that you’re surprised when the lights don’t die out is an understatement, you almost reflectively call out to Mommy, half wondering if she’d left you.

“The toys in this game, used to have strings attached to them, so they could be pulled back when they got too close to the children...” she explains.

You watch her with a cocked brow, not understanding where she’s going with this, and it’s not until you finally note what she’s holding that it finally hits you.

“Have fun~”

As you finish the game, hitting the last Huggy Wuggy on the head, you hear Mommy chime in once more;

“Oh...” she sounds incredibly disappointed at the results, “...you did it...” there’s a beat of silence before she speaks again, “HORRAY!! Mommy is SO proud of you! Here, mommy has another hint for you-“

A vent in the room opens, Mommy’s hand sticks through it, and on her hand is yet another piece of paper.

You gingerly take it.

“Only one last game left to play...” Mommy reminisces, “Hmm... sad! Mommy was hoping you’d stay here forever! Though~ it’s never TOO LATE to change your mind~” she chuckles eerily.

You can’t help but cringe away in disgust as you quickly make your way out.

As you leave the area, you find yourself in what looks to be long winding hallways that are powered by what looks to be some sort of... train tracks? You wonder if maybe the train passed through here or perhaps- some other sort of mode of transportation.

Given with how long this portion of the facility is, you’d wager that some sort of transportation did in fact pass through here.

As you make your away about you eventually come across a door that is also locked and conveniently, behind it is the lever needed to unlock it.

Sighing and thinking that you’ve struck a dead end, you make your leave, but just as you do so, you’re stopped by the sounds of a door in the distance of the locked metal frame open up. As it rises you feel dread settle deep inside of you, the sight of what greets you causing you to freeze in place.

A toy, much the same size and design as the blue one from faaar earlier in your journey appears before you and it’s making its way TO you.

Kissy Missy.

You watch as she calmly approaches, she stands there for a moment and eyes you curiously, then eyes the lever next to her, then back at you and back at the lever once more.

As if a lightbulb lit up atop your head you nod at her, “Y-Yes-!” Your voice finally finds its courage, “-I-I need to open that! Pl-Please! Please Kissy Missy!” You plead.

Though she doesn’t reply to you, you watch as she fumbles with the lever, her soft plush and somewhat weightless hands struggling to pull it down, until eventually succeeding.

As the gate slowly rises in-front of you, you watch as Kissy Missy gives you one last lingering look before turning around, as she does so, she stops again and seems to give you another once-over.

Seemingly satisfied, she makes her leave, the door at the far end of the hallway shutting behind her.

You enter what seems to be the final game area, the room appears to be dimly lit, with just enough light to see what’s around you. This room is quite unlike all the others, it seems more colorful and as you try to jump over the block-styled plush blocks, you can roughly make out other designs of the area. It seems that this one has more activities than the one before it...

The all too familiar TV static sound behind you catches you attention and you turn to face the only TV present;

“WELCOME TO ‘STATUES’! THIS ADVANCED OBSTACLE COURSE IS DESIGNED TO TEST YOUR PHYSICAL ENDURANCE AND STRENGTH! THE RULES ARE SIMPLE: THE LIGHTS WILL TURN OFF, YOU CAN MOVE THROUGH THE OBSTACLE COURSE DURING THIS TIME. HOWEVER, WHEN THE LIGHT TURNS ON; YOU CAN LOOK AROUND BUT CANNOT MOVE. YOU MAY MOVE AGAIN, ONCE THE LIGHTS TURN BACK OFF. THE LOVABLE PJ PUGGAPILLAR WILL FOLLOW YOU, IF HE REACHES YOU, YOUR TEST IS OVER. THAT IS ALL, GOOD LUCK!”

That’s when you notice the face of the odd looking dog just beside the TV screen! Compared to the other toys, his presence is not all that unnerving- well, only partly- and is more... endearing, to a fault.

“Right, okay-“ you nod, “Sounds easy enough...”

You take notice of Mommy in the distance;

“It was always SO sad to see the kids go, they called me ‘Mommy’ because I was the closest thing they ever had to one... They came for the games and then never came back...! They LEFT Mommy to DIE alone! Mommy didn’t deserve THAT~... But you...” she pauses briefly, “...you’re here, so if anyone deserves to DIE ALONE... it’s YOU.”

And just as she finishes speaking, the music begins and PJ Puggapilar makes his way towards you, slowly and lumber some, you waste no time playing the game as you’re told to.

Playing this game was the hardest one by far, but you somehow managed it anyways! As you escaped up into the same room where Mommy was mere moments ago, you find a hole in that little room and descend into it. As you walk out, the sounds of walking are heard above you;

“Where did you go?!”

It’s Mommy

“Shit, shit, shit, shit-!!” You hiss at yourself, you HAVE to get going.

“The game is over~! Come back and Mommy will give you the code! Pinkie Promise!” Mommy exclaims, but her words fall in deaf ears, you know BETTER than to trust these toys.

“Playing those games must’ve been hard! But Mommy decided you won~!” An eerie laugh fills the halls as you make your escape.

“Come baaack~!”

“Mommy doesn’t like cheaters!! The rules were so simple!”

“COME BACK HERE!”

“HOW DARE YOU DISOBEY ME!! IM GOUNG TO FIND YOU-! IM GOING TO FIND YOU-!! AND WHEN I DO-“ she cuts herself off only to laugh maniacally.

“WHERE ARE YOU?!”

Eventually as you meander and maneuver the expansive facility you come at a dead end, there’s a closed fence door that you cannot open and you don’t know where to go. Mommy’s hot on your heels and the only where else to go is back the way you came...

“Fuck no...” you shake your head, “I’ll die if I do-“

As if answering to some unholy prayer, Mommy decends from where you’d come from, screaming as she does so. She lands right in front of you with a look of bewildered rage;

“I ASKED YOU TO PLAY FAIR!! AND YOU CHEATED!! I HATE CHEATERS!!” She shouts at you, “Now~ we’re going to play ONE LAST GAME, it’s called... HIDE...AND S E E K!!”

Suddenly!! As if by done divine or unholy magic the one locked gate opens and just as it does, Mommy begins to count down from 10.

RUN RABBIT, RUN!

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Chapter 4: You escape, or do you?

With your heart pounding inside your chest like never before, you scamper through the facilities seemingly never ending passage ways. The pitter-patter of your feet being echoed and overshadowed by the massive ones just down the hall.

Mommy’s coming to get you and you’d better NOT stop running.

You hear the facility’s weaker points crumble around you under the pressure of your much larger pursuer, causing a cave in behind you at just the right moment. Giving you much opportune time to swing above the maw of yet another bottom less cavern beneath your feet.

As you escape, you enter the same familiar hallway from before, this was the same place where you had

lost one of the grabpack’s hands!

Freedom was just within your fingertips!!

You rush down the hall and place the blue hand against the scanner and watch as slowly the machine ID’s you in.

When a chime rings, indicating a roaring success you rush into the room and barely notice the machinery next to you, your eyes are only fixated on a lever that’s next to it.

On impulse you grab for the lever and pull it down JUST in time for Mommy to rush into the room, her hand lodging itself inside of the machine’s mechanical teeth.

She tries desperately to free herself as she eyes you with wild animalistic eyes, there’s a hunger to them unlike any living creature you’ve ever seen, rivaling that of a starved tiger.

Fearing for your safety, you throw yourself backwards just as she tries to reach for you with her other hand.

Just then, the machine roars to life and begins to grind Mommy’s hand down to a pulp, she screams in agony as she tries hopelessly to free herself from the clutches of death.

“WHAT’VE YOU DONE?!” She screams, “HE’LL MAKE ME PART OF HIM!!”

You watch as Mommy’s arm is taken by the machine, followed by her leg as she tries to wriggle away in vain from its grasps.

“YOU CANT DO THIS TO ME!!”

It’s not until Mommy’s torso gets crushed by the machine that she finally gives one final wail of despair that she dies.

Silence befalls the room as you stare in silent shock, your hands are shaking, your heart and head are pounding.

You’ve just managed to escape death, TWICE now.

What remains of Mommy’s body falls limply to the ground, a lifeless smile still decorating her features.

As you stand there, you watch as slowly, from underneath a blocked off door, a long spindly arm reaches out with elongated mechanical fingers.

The creature behind the limb says nothing to you, only reaching forth for Mommy’s remnants and dragging it away into the abyss.

When it finally leaves, do you find yourself sliding down the wall that your back was pressed up against.

You let out a whimper as a cry finally croaks out from your throat.

You cry pathetically, perhaps out of stress, and you allow yourself this grace.

Eventually, when you find your courage to continue, you wipe away your tears and stand back up on shaky legs and make your way back to where your original goal was; the location of the train.

And it doesn’t take long for you to reach it, when you finally find it, you discover that Poppy and the final piece of the code alongside her.

You feel her from the... web she seemed to have been entangled in, no doubt the works of Mommy.

“Let’s go...” is all Poppy offers you, and you can’t help but agree, you want to leave this hell hole and NEVER come back.

As you board the train, you input the code and watch as the buttons light up green.

You can’t help but sigh in relief as you feel that you’re one step closer to finding your freedom.

“I was so scared she’d put me back in that case...” you heard Poppy speaking to you from the train’s overhead announcer.

Wait.... Why hadn’t she gone inside with you?

“What the hell? Poppy?” You called out, but you knew you wouldn’t get a response back.

“But you saved me! You’re PERFECT! You’re too perfect to loose! I’m sorry, but I can’t let you leave-“

You watch as the train is re-routed in front of you, the escape passes you by and the vehicle turns to the right, sending you deeper within the bowls of the facility.

“I’ve never met anyone like you!” She chuckles, “Do you know how LONG I’ve been stuck in that case?! Well~ too long~! I had so much time to think and reflect- to figure out what I’d do when I was freed...” there’s a pause as she speaks, “We have to set things right, terrible things have happened, but I know that whatever I need you to do, you’re capable. We will- what’re-?!”

You watch with great alarm as the train picks up speed, far too much speed for what you think is appropriate.

“Shit! We’re going to crash!!” You exclaim, and you grab onto the red lever with your grabpack hands, pulling it down with all your might.

But it’s hopeless as the train derails, crashing down against the confines of the tunnel, debris and broken rubble surround you and as your consciousness fades, you can just barely make out the words of your new location;

PLAYCARE.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Chapter 5: You arrive at PLAYCARE and as fate would have it, a new horror awaits to make its acquaintance with you.

As consciousness slowly returns to you, you find that your body aches all over, a stinging sensation fills you throughout. When you finally do crack your eyes open, you find that your vision is unsteady, your head lolling from side to side.

That’s when you finally realize that you’re being carried... by... something?

Large purple paws adorned with equally sharp claws come into view on a casino as your would-be rescuer walks.

But before you’re given the opportunity to thank them, you’re thrown down a hatch by the same thing that ‘rescued’ you.

The last thing you see is an impossibly large smile and two white beady eyes staring back.

A pathetic yelp leaves your lips, as a malicious laugh echoes throughout the pipe.

You free fall for a short while before falling limply on metal flooring, a red flood lamp circles around

you in this new area along with an alarm that blares loudly indicating something is about to happen.

You rise to your feet and hold your side, you cringe in pain as you stand stupidly eyeing where in god’s

green earth you’ve landed now.

It’s not until the walls begin to close in that it finally dawns on you where you are; a trash compactor!! You must get out.

You scramble towards a pile of precariously placed trash and scamper through a small opening behind

the walls of the compactor.

You find that you’re free- for now- and must find a way out of where you are and go... somewhere that

isn’t here.

It’s too dangerous to stay where you are, and thus begins yet another long and arduous journey.

As you meander about, traveling to and fro inside of the guts of the facility, you find yourself using the

pistons that likely control the trash compactor as leverage to reach newer areas that would otherwise remain out of bounds for you.

You traverse a broken down metal catwalk and use the pistons near it as means for transportation, timing your jumps just right to get over to the other side.

Doing so, you catch glimpse of the same purple figure from before, although this time you now have a slightly better look at their lower half before it slinks away.

A long emaciated body with large paws to boot and a lengthy purple tail to match. A cat.

You shudder as you come to the realization that a game of cat and mouse has most likely begun, and you- my friend- are being stalked from within the shadows.

As you continue on, you eventually find yourself crawling through a ventilation shaft until eventually entering in the same room as just a few moments before. To your far and immediate right is the same hatch you were thrown into, and to your immediate left is an office door locked behind yet another grabpack scanner.

Scanning in the hands, you walk into the new area, the sounds of ringing fills the still air.

It’s a phone...! A phone is ringing!

But, who could be calling? Your pursuer? Or... someone else?

To say that you want to ignore the phone and pursue on is an understatement but, something inside you

wills you to comply otherwise and so you do, rushing off in the direction of the noise.

You find yourself inside of a small office, the distinct ringing of a phone ring much louder now, you’re

close to the source. It doesn’t take long for you to search around the room and find it, you take it with shakey hands and answer it.

“H...Hello?” Your weary voice calls out.

“Hey... Hey! Can you hear me?” A childish voice responds.

A child?

“O-Oh! Um! Y-Yes! Yes! I can!”

“You look kinda lost!” They reply

You pause, dumbfounded, “Wh-...what did you just say?”

“I can see you through the camera’s dummy!”

Cameras? When did-?

As you turn around, you spot one and sigh, oh... right. What better way to make sure that you’re

employees are working than to monitor their every move?

You smile and wave hello at the camera and listen as the voice on the other end laughs in response. “I’m Ollie by the way! What’s your name?”

“I’m Y/N, Y/N L/N...” you correct

“Oh! Well it’s nice to meet you Y/N! Look-“ they pause momentarily, “I don’t want you to die, so I’m

going to help you! Check this out! Look at the tube thing in the back wall!”

You follow Ollie’s words and turn to face the back of the room, spotting a large oddly shaped metallic

tube that slides open following some noise. And out from within it pops a large battery!

“You can use that battery to open the door!”

You grab it and place it inside of a battery socked that’s embedded within the wall. The door beside you

opens as a result. “Thank you Ollie”

“Don’t mention it!”

As you go to leave, you’re greeted by the sight of the now broken train, your eyes go wide as you stare at the carnage left behind from the crash.

“Woah!! Did you do that?!” Ollie asks

You nod, “Yeah...” there’s a distinct sadness within your voice, just when you thought you were free you were once again seemingly betrayed by the only toy you thought you could trust.

“I know you’re probably mad at Poppy for not letting you escape, but she needs you! WE need you! You are our mission! Together we can save a lot of people, including YOU!”

You walk along the path, quietly listening to Ollie speak to you from the phone as you traverse the confines of the facility.

“PLAYCARE is straight ahead, it’s the home of CatNap! One of the ‘Smiling Critters’... there used to be...” a pause, “eight of them? I think? Now it’s just him...”

“PLAYCARE is his church- his hunting ground. Whatever he wants it to be! You’d better get moving

quickly. We’ll keep in touch!”

The line goes dead and you’re plunged into silence, an eerie ness settles inside of you as you realize just

how dead and desolate this whole place is. What with the only last remnants of life being the few murderous toys and... seemingly a, child?

You don’t know what’s to make of it, nothing makes sense to you, and the more you explore the place, the more you come across fragmented pieces of information you begin to wonder just what the hell did your parents get themselves into when they came to work at such an establishment.

“Did they even know about the toys?” You ask the empty air, eyeing a poster of ‘Mommy’ who you now knew as Mommy Long Legs advertising a sweet cold drink for children.

You shake your head, you have to find PLAYCARE, it’s likely where your next goal awaits you.

You traverse the rather small area in-front of you fairly easily, having spotted what looked like a tram up ahead you deduced that it needed power and sought out to find a power source. Once founded, its power was re-routed and a chime rang throughout some speakers in the walls, the small child sized gates opened up, allowing you further passage up ahead.

You climbed the short staircase and opened the door to the tram, stepping inside you found a small seating area.

Sighing heavily, you thought that some much needed rest would do your sore body some good.

And just as the doors shut behind you, the lone TV screen inside of the tram came to life;

“Hello! My name is Elliot Ludwig, when you look around at the world today, what’s one thing it needs

more of? I asked around once; ‘Money! I can never have enough!’, ‘Understanding, I can never get any!’, the common man has lost it, each answer was different and I could perhaps see some little truth in each. But I think each was missing something, something simple! You see, not one of them could muster a smile! A smile, is hope! A smile, is love! A smile is understanding! And there is nothing more gratifying to my soul than being the reason for a child’s smile! To be the spark that ignites their hopes and dreams! For it is only through hopes and dreams that we may create a better world! One where our children need not be afraid! One where they are protected! After all, this company and its toys are nothing without them. These children deserve to smile, they deserve to love! And they deserve a safe home...-“

As you listen to the founder’s speech, you can’t help but gawk in awe at what the hell you’re looking at;

A gargantuan dome suspended on equally large metallic cables that hold it seemingly afloat in the middle of an enormous cavern, situated DEEP within the bowels of the facility.

“...that is why, it is with enormous pleasure that as the founder of Playtime Co., I announce P L A Y C A R E !! Our very own on site orphanage, but it’s not only that!! It’s a school! A playhouse! A place to belong! Our very own ecosystem beneath the surface! Dedicated in every inch and detail to ensuring a child’s smile! It’s teachers and counselors, mother and fathers until such a time they have all of that in youth! May PLAYCARE bring; joy! Inspiration! And smiles to all who enter these doors! For what gives live its meaning if not a SMILE! ”

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Chapter 6: The game of cat and mouse truly begins.

As you step out of the tram, your phone rings once more;

“Cool place, huh? Kids used to live here... now look at it...”

You look around and notice just how lifeless the place looks despite being one of the nicer looking areas

in the whole of Playtime Co.

“Anyways, do you see that statue in the middle of the room? Take the stairs that go under it! There’s a really cool room that can power all of PLAYCARE! I can give you a key when you get down there!”

Sparing no time to enjoy the sights around you, you make your way towards the large statue in the middle and find the door that sits at its base, opening it reveals a short staircase that leads downwards.

When you descend the stairs you find yourself in a medium sized room filled with electronic machines, a small desk and a few other nicknacks thrown about. However, the biggest point of interest is a funny looking colorful machine that- to the side of it- displays all of the areas within PLAYCARE that have power.

To the side of this machine you note that there’s a cylindrical vessel much like the one you saw in that first office room when you first encountered Ollie, although this time it was far smaller.

A small sound emits and before you know it, a key has appeared inside of it. It’s miniscule latch opens itself up automatically.

You reach in and fetch the key, only for your phone to ring in response, you take the call;

“Great!! You have the key! Now the question you’re probably asking yourself is, ‘where does it go?’ Well, head back out and you should find a door just to the left of the cable car you took down here.”

You had noticed that door earlier upon your arrival, you jog on over to said destination and use the key to open the door. You’re greeted with a rather dark and somber looking area, perhaps that’s due to the poor lighting and metal framework of the facility coming into view once more as opposed to the faux sky and grass from earlier.

As you turn the corner you’re greeted by a massive room and in its center is a large machine with three cylindrical barrels, the one on the far right is currently filled with a gaseous red cloud. The display on the center console for the machine reads;

‘NO POWER - GENERATOR STATUS: {OFFLINE}’

“Welcome to the Gas Production Zone, the beating heart of the whole evil PLAYCARE system! All that has you see coming from the machine is made right here in the factory. It’s called ‘The Red Smoke’. Right now, it’s all headed off to the right. We need to make that Red Smoke go to the left instead. That’s how we can get to him- to CatNap. The machine will probably have a few dumb safeguards for you to work around, but I think you can do it! I’ll call you once it’s done!”

You fiddle about with the machine, trying to see if there’s anything you can do from this end to power it. You’re no engineer, but you wager you can get it going!

After a while, you find a way into the area next door, powering on the locked door with the help of a battery and its wall socket.

This new area is just as massive as the one with the machine, though this time it has an odd looking protrusion in its center. You’re unsure of what it could possibly be, so you decide to ignore it for now and focus on following the wires from the ceiling. They’ll lead you to another power source that needs re-routing.

And it doesn’t take long to spot it and fix the issue, you hear the distant sounds of machinery whirring to life and go back the way you came. When you arrive back at the same room with the gargantuan machine, you press a few buttons to get the process going of re-routing the gas’ location from one onto another when the power abruptly cuts off.

Your phone rings once more and you answer it;

“Oh no! Someone killed the power! Okay, I’ve sent you another key. It’s under the statue, use it to get into ‘Home Sweet Home’. Then once you’re inside, find the building’s back up generator. Good luck!”

You sigh, rolling your eyes, “Of course nothing’s going to be easy, not with that goddamn cat hiding around...” you groan in frustration. You pinch at the bridge of your nose and pursue onwards.

“Fine, a vendetta it is.” You state, fists clenched in annoyance.

With key in hand, you open the doors of Home Sweet Home and walk forth into by far one of the most beautiful and equally terrifying places you’ll ever be in.

Matching green wallpaper and curtains depict both Huggy Wuggy and Poppy in such a way that you wouldn’t have even noticed at first place.

The whole style of the area is reminiscent of vintage mixed with Victorian home decor. You feel like you’ve stepped into a time capsule.

You open the only door leading you further down and it’s ‘blocked off’ by a thick wall of red mist. The same one you saw earlier in the vat of that machine.

“That... can’t be good...” you mutter

You’re hesitant to proceed but there’s no other way forward, so you have no choice but to proceed. Attempting to hold your breath and using your shirt to hopefully mask your nose and mouth you descend

down a large and winding staircase case that seems to go on for a while. Your attempts at holding your breath fail as you hack and cough for air, breathing in lungfuls of the red mist alongside it.

When you finally reach the end, you’re met with an impossibly long hallway. You stand quietly for a moment to stare in awe;

“I’m starting to think that the gas had a negative effect on me...” you speak, keeping your voice low, “... that or they hired the worst contractor in this state...” you can’t help but chuckle at your own joke.

You explore the odd layout of ‘Home Sweet Home’ and find yourself in a never ending loop of hallways, each one just as identical to the last.

Suddenly, the crackle of radio static come on and you hear the radio begin to speak;

“{TRAGIC NEWS THIS MORNING. AS OF 9:45AM, LOCAL AUTHORIES CONFIRM THAT THE BODY OF A YOUNG BOY HAS BEEN FOUND ON THE ESTATE OF THE LATE ELLIOT LUDWIG, AN ESTEEMED TOY MAKER AND ORIGINATOR OF THE PLAYTIME COMPANY. AT THIS TIME, AN IDENTITY FOR THE CHILD AWAITS OFFICIAL CONFIRMATION. FOUND UPSTAIRS IN A LARGE DUFFLE BAG, OFFICERS ON-SCENE REPORT THAT THE REMAINS APPEARED TO HAVE BEEN DISTURBED. ORGANS AS WELL AS KEY BINES FROM THE SKELETAL STRUCTURE WERE REPORTED MISSING FROM THE BODY. IT IS UNKNOWN AT THIS TIME WHETHER THIS EXTRACTION WAS, IN FACT, THE CAUSE OF DEATH}”

The radio announcement fades into static and you feel a spine tingling chill rush down your back.

“I’m hearing things, I’m hearing things, I’m hearing things-“ you try to assure yourself, you hold your head with one hand and bolt down a random direction down one of the winding halls.

“-all those notes I collected are getting to me, n-nothing’s happening here, I’m just imagining things-“ you slap your cheeks, trying to get yourself to think.

“-Y-Yeah! That’s right! It’s just auditory hallucinations due to that red mist, that HAS to be it!”

As you round yet another hallway, another radio speaks;

“{FOLLOWING RECENT EVENTS, PLAYTIME CO. WAS ASKED FOR ANY COMMENT REGARDING THE DISCOVERY. THIS IS WHAT THEY HAD TO SAY, QUOTE: ‘ITS SICKENING. ELLIOT LUDWIG WAS A GREAT MAN, AND THOSE WHO KNEW HIM UNDERSTOOD THAT HE

WAS NOT CAPABLE OF VIOLENCE, LET ALONE WHAT OTHERS NOW CLAIM. HE HAD A DEEP LOVE IN HIS HEART FOR CHILDREN LIKE THIS ONE, MAKING THE ACTIONS IF WHOEVER PLANTED THIS BODY ALL THE MORE SICKENING. WE LOOK FORWARD TO CLEANING HIS GOOD NAME, BOTH IN THE PUBLIC EYE AND IN THE EYES OF THE LAW.’ STAY TUNED FOR MORE.}”

The voice at the end of the broadcast sent a vile chill down your spine that only urged you to run away in fear.

As you continued to run, the sound of a distant phone caught your ear, and so, you decided to cautiously follow its source.

When you reach it, as you go to pick it up, on the other end you’re met with... Ollie? “YOU NEED TO RUN!!” He urges you.

You feel yourself freeze in place as a sense of dread washes over you, slowly you turn to face what could possibly be behind you, only to be met with the face of CatNap, poking his head out from the corner of the door frame leading into the room.

As soon as you see him, you watch him slink away and a frightened yelp leaves your lips, your hands fly to your mouth in an attempt at further silencing you.

Cautiously you step into the same spot where you saw CatNap but thankfully are met with nothing. You trudge onwards, now on high alert for the feline’s whereabouts...

As you descend down further into the never ending hallway you feel yourself seep further into madness. As you hear the wails of children crying in your ears, the sound only progressively getting louder as you approach a room lit by a dim red light.

And all at once, the wails silence themselves, as though they were never there.

You feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes when you finally step foot inside of the area. You’re terrified and you don’t know what to do anymore...

You eye the large VCR TV and it’s VHS player, just next to it is a red VHS. Confused you decide to grab it and slide it in, standing in front of the TV and watching whatever it is that appears next;

You’re greeted by the sight of no less than Huggy Wuggy who stares at you with enlarged pupils, an eerie dead smile decorating his features.

The sight makes you gasp softly and recoil in shock.

A recorded male voice chimes in;

“Greetings, Employees, and welcome to your first day here in Playtime! We’re certain that in the days to

come you’ll find your new family here every but as loving and supportive as your own. Feel free to wander the halls! Sit in the mess for lunch! Or watch our children play and learn to their little heart’s content. Join the Innovationists, where the bounds of science are continuously pushed. Or join the Counselors of Playcare, whose diligence and care for our children will help shape a brighter future, just you see. Now, every one of you has your part in that future, so should you come back tomorrow feeling unhappy for where you are... worry not! For your supervisor is here and happy to listen! And...”

Just as the man gives a brief pause to what he’s saying, you watch as the image of Huggy changes to one of pure unadulterated horror. Huggy’s mouth has stretched to an unfathomable degree, sharp rows of teeth make their appearance, and his eyes are now black empty voids.

You feel sick to your stomach at the sight, your insides threaten to spill as you continue to watch in terror.

“...Should you come back... may you descend into the dark and the dust, finding all that awaits you are

incomprehensible horrors... each hungry for you, each eager that they might find you. Perhaps they’d smile at you from a shadow, their smiling mouths full of teeth and meat and plastic, watching and waiting for their turn...”

Just as those final words are uttered you watch as the image of Huggy Wuggy gets closer and closer to the screen until finally and seemingly out of nowhere, coming OUT of the screen, a giant yellow hand reaches out for you and before you’re able to yelp out pathetically, you’re engulfed in the maw of the beast.

The world fades to black as you feel your body finally give up on you...

The sounds of soft thuds encroaching on your unconscious form close in.

A curious paw nudges you, seeing no sign of resistance nor movement, a low chuckle is heard.

“A HERETIC CAN BE TOLERATED. BUT HERESY CANNOT.” They whisper in your ear.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Chapter 7: Remember kids! You can spell “School” without ‘cool’!

By the time you wake up, you find yourself in a completely different room and area than before. You’re no longer in the same maze of hallways as before, this time it looks like you’re deeper inside of Home Sweet Home. And though you KNOW you have no recollection of getting here, you know just who placed you here;

“CatNap”

You can’t help but cringe when you hear yourself say that name, that... creature, that THING, it’s toying with you. Trying to break you down until you’re nothing so it can devour you just like the others.

You know better than to let that beast win and let it get the best of you. You HAVE to keep going, and you WILL.

As you walk through the rest of Home Sweet Home, you solve an endless array of puzzles here and there and with the help of the newly acquired gas mask you can ensure yourself of further harm from the red mist.

All these puzzles serve only to help further you in your journey, granting you access to previously locked and blocked off areas. The grabpack continues to serve its purpose in aiding you to reach objects that are too far out of your grasp.

As you traverse the rooms, exploring the once abandoned bedrooms of the children you open a door that takes you to one of the hallways.

You watch in fear as CatNap himself walks right beside you, the only thing separating the two of you is some haphazardly placed furniture that blocks the path.

You swallow the scream that builds in your throat and quickly rush back into the room you were just in. In the distance you hear a mocking laugh alongside fading footsteps.

“Motherfucker...” you curse under your breath.

Continuing alongside the puzzles for a while longer, you ultimately find yourself at a dead end. As you go to turn around from the hallway, something tells you to look into the barricaded room behind you.

And so you do, cautiously peering in only to see none other than Kissy Missy! She’s sitting atop a bed, quiet as can be with what appears to be a picture frame in hand. Her eyes are glued to it... perhaps she’s... reminiscing memories of a friend? A past life full of peace?

It’s a sad sight and you say nothing, quietly turning around you bid farewell, it seems it’s be better to give them space.

You continue in Home Sweet Home, solving the last remaining puzzles until the main gate finally opens, granting you the ability to leave.

You sigh happily and as you open the door, stepping outside and away from that nightmare a large ‘hand’ grabs you from behind. You let out a frightened scream as you’re thrown down to the ground, you’re met face to face with Kissy Missy who eyes you with silent rage.

A low growl begins to emanate from her mouth and you brace yourself for death. “NO, NO! LET GO!”

Poppy! It’s Poppy! She’s alive!

“THEY DIDNT DO ANYTHING WRONG!!”

You turn your head over to look at her with a bewildered look, “Poppy! You’re... alive. Where... where have you been?”

Poppy shakes her head, “It’s... it’s a long story” is all she offers you, “We’re actually here to help-“ she says, gesturing towards Kissy Missy.

You watch as Kissy Missy finally lets you go and you sit up, “This place makes her tense...” Poppy comments, “I’m glad that Ollie could help you get this far. He’s the reason we found you at all! And it looks like the train crash hurt us both...”

You nod, finally standing to your feet.

“You’ve been through so much... you deserve an explanation. Come on.”

You follow the duo to a control panel nearby that Kissy Missy helps Poppy pry open and flip a red switch. Which in turn, turns on a nearby lift.

You three get on the lift.

“Look, I’m not your enemy but I can’t just let you leave. What’s happening down here is bigger than all of us. And I NEED you... so we can get REVENGE on those monsters whose tortured you... who’ve tortured US. They didn’t act alone, they’re disciples of the original, ‘The Prototype’.”

Suddenly you’re reminded of various pieces of information and hidden tapes you saw mentioning the thing, you shudder at the thought.

When you reach the top, the little elevator gives pause, Poppy motions for you to press a button nearby and you do, hopping back on, the elevator descends.

“The Prototype knows were coming by now, you try to escape, he’ll kill you before you ever reach that front door. He’s the reason I was trapped in that...” Poppy stops speaking for a moment, you watch as she visibly shudders.

It seems that you’re not the only one traumatized here.

“... god awful case for so long! You have... no idea the things he’s done! Let me help you kill him. Let

me help you save everyone. We’ve ALL seen how capable you are. You killed Huggy, you killed Mommy, you saved me. You are PERFECT for this. CatNap is coming, he’s a final obstacle that The Prototype has placed against us. We can’t stay here. Keep yourself safe... Ollie will call you.”

As you step off the elevator and watch it ascend one last time, you nod at Poppy and watch as she smiles back.

“Be safe...!” You call out. Poppy chuckles, “You too!”

And just as Poppy told you, your phone rings, with Ollie on the other end;

“Hey, hey! It's me! It seems like Poppy explained everything now. And she turned on the dome’s back up power! Now the plan from here is pretty simple- we need to restore power to the gas production zone. First, go back to the home Sweet Home building you were just in. You should be able to find a big power cord somewhere around the porch. Grab it and plug it in underneath the statue.”

You do as you're told and descend the statue’s staircase to connect the power to the machine below.

“Awesome! Look at that! Remember that generator you turned on inside of Home Sweet Home? Well, that was the backup generator for just that building. And every building should have one. Now you’ve just taken home. Sweet home backup power and routed it here. We’re already halfway done! Hmmmm, but where to go next... everywhere is pretty dangerous around here. That Playhouse especially! So... your best bet is probably the school. CatNap usually leaves that area alone. I’ll send you the key now!”

With the key in hand, you make your way over to the building labeled “School”. Upon walking in you take note of the dank and rank odor filling the air, which makes you wretch.

“Okay! Let’s make this quick! Turn on the generator, leave, and plug the school’s power cord into the center. Be careful in there, I don’t think I can connect to you on that side of the dome. And you won’t be alone. There’s someone else in there too. They’re not your-“

The rest of Ollie’s warning fades into static, it seems that the connection has been lost. Now, you truly are alone.

What new horrors await you in this hell?

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Chapter 8: Red light, Green light.

You hear static come from the speakers located inside of the room you’re currently in and turn to face them;

“This is Miss Delight speaking. Please excuse the interruption! Students- remain in your seats until the bell has rung. And no going in the halls without a hall pass!!

You speculate that what you just heard is most likely nothing more than an automated system that must’ve broken down some time above and has likely been playing the same message.

When the static cuts off, you give a soft sigh and continue meandering about the school, going from classroom to classroom, exploring the abandoned areas.

A part of you hopes that you’ll find something of value hidden within but so far, you’ve come up empty handed. Save for one class rol. That catches your attention, it seems that one corner was seemingly sectioned off with the use of furniture.

“...Odd...” you comment, “who the hell would possibly want to camp out here...?”

Approaching the area you notice a bed covered in dried blood and viscera, and all around you are broken and bloodied toys, all very clearly deceased, it’s quite a sight for sore eyes.

You honestly don’t want to keep looking at it for any longer as you feel more nauseous the longer you do.

Moving on, you hope that you’ll find something else to look at.

You unlock an electric door using the green grabpack hand and continue in the new unlocked direction.

Exploring the rooms a bit, you discover that one of them contains a power source, it currently requires two batteries- one of which is out of reach.

With some minor searching you find one battery which you plug in and leaves you to search in the opposite side of the School.

Crawling under the debris of a blocked off area you witness the sight of something- toy? Human? You can’t quite tell- passing by just down the hallway.

You clasp a hand over your mouth in an attempt to stifle a gasp from escaping.

You stay still for a moment, waiting to see if you hear any more movement but when none greet your ears, you decide that it must be safe to continue.

As you open the next door, the same PA system comes back on with feedback static;

“Wait...” it’s that voice again, “I don’t recognize you...”

You swallow and stop in your tracks, your eyes are fixated on the camera hidden just barely out of sight

in the corner of the room.

“You don’t work here. How are you-... alive?” She asks

And honestly? You don’t have the slightest clue.

“Dumb luck, probably...” you mumble, eyeing the room, it looks to be no different from a computer lab

that you’d see back in highschool.

“Hm? Barb? Oh... Barb says you’re probably just trespassing...! CatNap wouldn’t like that you’re

here... you should consider leaving... for your own safety.”

The PA cuts off into static and you nod, “Yeah, that’s uh, that’s exactly what I’ve been TRYING to

do...!” You complain to no one but yourself.

As you look around the room, you take note of a ventilation shaft, it seems that this one connects to that previous room where the battery had been lodged. You use the grabpack to hold onto a bar that’s’ situated above you with one hand as leverage to go down.

As soon as you get down, you use the other hand of the grabpack to hold onto the battery and make your way back up and through the vent system. Only to end up on the other side, in the same room where the power system was in and place the final batter.

Doing so, allows you to electrically charge the green grabpack hand and make your way into the next area.

In one of the new rooms you entered, there appears to be a note left on the floor, you take it and read it;

{“Just a few weeks ago now was THE HOUR OF JOY. today, there’s only silence in the school. I don’t think any of us here know what to do with it. The hallways without the children carry even the smallest sounds as if they were shouts. The other teachers and I started each other constantly we have to get used to it. Something locked the front door this morning and we haven’t been able to open it.”

You hum softly to yourself as you finish reading the note;

“Seems like something big went down- ‘The Hour of Joy’- whatever that means, I’ve been seeing it everywhere...” you squint and re-read the last part over again.

“CatNap?” You snort, rolling your eyes, “Who else? Knowing him and how much he likes to play with his food, I don’t doubt it.”

As you go to pocket the note, you notice another one nearby that you likely missed when first walking in.

{“The put in me howls for FOOD. I CAN’’T THINK About anything other than how HUNGRY I AM. HARDLY HAVE THE STRENGTH TO PICK MYSELF OFF THE FLOOR. Barb speaks to me though. SHE GIVES ME STRENGTH. i’ve found that if I stand still, COMPLETELY STILL, Everyone thinks I’m DEAD. BARB Says I need to EAT, AND THAT THE OTHER TEACHERS would never see me coming. ANYTHING TO STOP THE HOWLING.”}

The bloody note gives you reason for concern and you can’t help but stop and look up, turning around slowly to see if anyone’s watching you.

You shouldn’t be here.

You should leave.

You pocket the note and move on.

You walk into another room and traverse another ventilation shaft as the area ahead of you is blocked off.

As you move through the small cramped space, you notice- through a hole below you- that THING walking by again and catch a glimpse of red and white polka dot dress and blonde hair.

You drop down into the following room, past that thing you just saw.

The PA turns on once again;

“You’re not a good listener, are you? You’re a lot like the other humans in that way. I wonder your

screams will sound like theirs too...!” There’s a chuckle, “Mmmmm... I look forward to finding out~!”

You feel a chill run down your back but shake it off, trudging on forwards regardless of the threat made against your life.

You enter an adjacent room and explore some more, only to find yet another note and this one- at first glance- looks two be much shorter than the first two you found;

{“I’M SO SORRY, I HAD TO EAT. I HAD TO SURVIVE. I ATE THEM. I HAD TO I HAD TO I HAD TO I HAD TO”}

You don’t say anything after reading that, I mean... how can you? WHAT can you? You simply pocket the note and move on.

“This place has made monsters out of all of you, hasn’t it...?”

The following area in nothing more than another class room, you walk past the cardboard cut out of what looks to be the figure you’ve been seeing walking about the place.

“Miss Delight... huh...”

You don’t give it any more attention and open the final door, and there it is! The backup generator! Completing one final puzzle causes what little light was left inside the school to die out momentarily and

in doing so, emerges Miss Delight.

A wicked toothful grin sports her face, with half her ‘skin’ peeled off you can see the flesh and sinew that holds her together. And in one hand is what appears to be a makeshift mace, under the orange emergency lights it’s hard to tell just WHAT they’re made out of but you swear you can just barely make out what appears to be pencils.

White beady eyes stare back at you.

She is unmoving, simply staring, frozen like a statue before your gaze.

What follows next is nothing short of a game of “Red light, Green Light”. Look at her and she stops dead in her tracks, look away? And she’s free to move.

You can’t let her out of your sight, even for a moment as you retrace your steps back the way you came.

Her ragged breaths and mocking laughter fill the air, always telling you of where she is at all times, and due to her innate lack of ‘lips’ you’re thankful for that fact.

Every twist and turn, every time you’re forced to look away at her to face a battery wall socket or obstacle to maneuver around, sends you blood pressure skyrocketing.

That is until you’re given a brief moment of respite, but you don’t DARE to dilly dally, you KNOW death lingers just beyond the corner. And so you pursue onwards, despite the drumming in your chest.

You fiddle with this odd battery puzzle in front of you, it’s infuriating and confusing at times, but you manage.

Finally unlocking the main gate you sprint at full speed down the hallway, not caring to watch Miss Delight anymore. And something tells you that she’s not going to give you up and allow you to escape that easily.

With her footsteps quickly approaching you from behind, you rush into the small room and yank the lever down as hard as you can and watch as Miss Delight tries to slide down to catch up to you but the door was faster, crushing her skull in the process.

You stand there in quiet shock, catching your breath as you stare at her corpse, WAITING for her to move again.

You stare.

And you stare.

But she doesn’t move, breathing a sigh of relief you turn to leave but stop yourself midway.

A sudden and curious thought crosses your mind, ‘when was the last time that you were clean and not covered in blood and viscera?’

You stop and look down at yourself, you examine your shirt, and just as you go to grab it, you stop, noting the fresh coat of blood that now permeates and has soaked itself through the fabric of your one’s favorite shirt.

You click your tongue in and sigh through your nose, “It’s all right-“ you groan, “-when I get out of here, I’ll-“

Wait a moment.

WHEN you get out of here?

You turned to look back down at Miss Delight, for all you know, a month could’ve passed by since you

first got in here. That much time has already passed, it’s going to be a while until you finally get to leave, let alone find a clean pair of clothing.

You bend down to the corpse of Miss Delight and begin to pull off her red and white polkadot skirt. “ I’m so sorry” is all you whisper.

As a respect to her, you advert your eyes, and turn away. The skirt of Miss Delight is luckily, not soaked in blood that you find yourself that it may be useful to use to perhaps fashion a shirt for yourself.

“I guess you teaching me sewing all those years back, finally did come in handy, huh mom?” You mumbled to no one but yourself.

You leave the school, triumphant, and with a smile on your lips.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Chapter 9: Tired of the senseless slaughter, you save his life. And in return, HE saves YOURS.

—

IMPORTANT: For the best experience during the chase scene, please listen to the following song: “Ride to Glory by Epic Score”

As you leave the school, humming a tune to yourself, you notice something fall out from the red- and-white polka dot skirt. You give pause pause and bend down to reach for it with one hand, it’s a piece of paper.

“Another note?”

You read it;

{“The door opened today, and I heard something enter my hall. Together, Barb and I found CatNap

waiting. AL THIS TIME, ALL THIS AGONY. It was he WHO LOCKED THE DOOR, and I know it. I wanted to KILL HIM, but I knew better than to believe I could. he seemed oddly glad to see I was all that remained. We made a deal to take care of each other from now on what we see to the other, and to HIM.”}

You folded the piece of paper and pocketed it in your back pocket, “I guess I was right” you paused briefly, “I’m so sorry this happened to you...” you spoke solemnly, your gaze was cast downwards onto the fabric, you thumbed it gently before ultimately sighing and moving forward.

You can mourn later, not now.

As you left the hall and entered what looked to be a dead end, you took notice of the new apparatus that sat behind the Hoppy Hopscotch cardboard cut out. A red grabpack hand! How odd..

You attached the new hand and looked at it curiously; the hand had taken the pose of a ‘gun’ with the ring and pinkie finger curled inwards towards the palm and the middle and pointer finger serving as the ‘barrel’.

You took notice of the hole that lay in the middle finger and thought to yourself for a moment, there’s no way that they actually gave ‘guns’ to kids... right?

Cautiously you take a step back and turn back around to the dark hallway you just back back from and fired a shot down range.

What came out from the red hand was a bright shimmering light that you swore was hot for a brief moment as it whizzed beyond you and down the hall.

As it made contact with the ground, it lit up the surrounding area in a blood red light.

“Ah! A flare gun!” You smiled, excited at the new discovery. “This’ll come in handy.” Nodding and feeling satisfied with your new discovery, you made the rest of the way out of the

immediate area only to pause after you cross the threshold of the doorframe behind you.

You’re stunned into silence as you realize that you’re inside of a cavern. The area is MASSIVE and as you bend slightly, looking over the daunting edge of the cliff side you stand on, you can see a that there’s a lot of jumping platforms that require you to use the purple hand.

It’s... not your favorite mode of transportation, given that you’re situated over the maw of an endless cavern but, beggars can't be choosers.

You steel your nerves and cross the entire area, swinging up in the air and feeling the cool damp air of the cavern against your skin as you breeze by.

Eventually you reach an area that requires you to solve a large puzzle using a combination of the purple and blue hand to unlock an elevator that allows you to traverse to the next area. Of which, by the time you’re done solving it, you now have to traverse a very precarious catwalk, where parts of it have fallen into disarray and broken down.

As you walk in by, something in the darkness catches your eye and so you turn to face and look at it, due to the darkness, it’s quite hard to see and make out. Just as you attempt to fire a flare in the direction of the mass obscured by shadows, you’re stopped from doing so when you hear the catwalk beneath your feet creak and begin to give way.

In a panic you print the rest if the way and make a leap of faith, just barely avoiding death as the catwalk collapses behind you.

You’re much farther away now than before and whatever it was that you were looking at, would be near impossible to see from this angle so you pursue onwards.

As you cross the rest of the catwalk, in front of you is a metallic door with the logo ‘PLAYHOUSE’ above it. As soon as you enter, you find that the entire place has been shrouded in darkness with only some light sources working- barely- and giving you some brightness to work with.

It looks like the flare gun will be your safest bet to traverse this expanse.

As you move around, you find that you’re being stalked by toys that look just like that of the ‘smiling critters’, the same ones that you’ve been seeing on posters around Playtime Co.

Their weird little laughs and cries cause goosebumps to rise all over your arms, they're incredibly off putting and relentless in their chase.

You maneuver and meander around, going through tubes and a plush maze, firing flares as you go to frighten away the little beasts from you. It’s incredibly claustrophobic and you find that you want to leave this area as soon as you can, so you move quickly.

Keeping an eye out for their glowing beady eyes and an ear for their little sounds that key you in on their locations.

You thank your stars when you finally leave that room, sighing in relief as you go down a winding staircase and into a... pool room!

“Weird place to have pool parties...” you comment, before moving on.

As you open the door following the pool area, you’re met with what looks to be a room filled with cellars, each one adorned with hanging chains. Most likely used on the toys that would’ve inhabited this area.

Just as you’re about to ask yourself just WHAT toy could possibly warrant being chained up in a cellar,

your ears are greeted by the sound of a ragged cough nearby.

The sound nearly makes you jump out of your skin, but you steel yourself, preparing for the worst as you

follow the source.

And as you wind the corner, you find your answer to your questions.

A large canine, colored in orange and yellow ochre fur is hanged in his cellar by chains that are connected to the wall, they’re restricting both of his arms. He’s missing his lower half, the bottom of his cell is coated in dried blood, and on his waist is a belt buckle that is secured tightly so as to prevent him from dying of blood loss.

With the pose that he’s in, he looks akin to that of Jesus Christ when he was being crucified by the Romans on the cross.

You gasp in shock at the sight, reeling away slightly in horror at the sight.

“What... what happened to you?” You ask it, half wondering if you’ll get a response.

You watch as the dog lifts its head and as it does so, on its neck you notice its collar and on it is a plastic

tag of a large bright sun.

it finally clicks to you who this is.

“DogDay?” You tentatively call out.

You watch as he silently stares at you for a moment, and though you don’t see any pupils beneath that

darkness, you still feel the weight on his gaze on you.

“You... you’re Poppy’s angel...” he croaks out, voice tired and hoarse. “Come to save us-!” He pauses,

his head hanging low for a moment as he turns to look away from you. He shakes his head solemnly, “Nothing left to save, not here...”

He turns to look at you once more, “You’re in CatNap’s home, angel. THEIR home. A million pairs of eyes are on you now. Watching, waiting, hungry. They want nothing more than to crawl beneath your skin and eat away you bit by little bit-“

You watch him groan in pain as he attempts to shift, the shackles holding him in place are likely digging into his wrists.

“-fill what feels empty inside themselves. That... thing...CatNap. The Prototype is his God, and this is what he does to heretics. These little toys follow CatNap to avoid that very fate- and in return, they are fed.” Another painted groan escapes his lips, but that doesn’t stop him from explaining to you what has been

going in in the facility.

“ we tried to fight it, The Prototype’s control. I’m... the last of the Smiling Critters.”

There’s a brief moment of silence where the sadness within his voice becomes palpable to you, it makes

your heart ache that he’s suffered so much at the hands of that wretched beast- CatNap.

“Listen to me-“ he pleads, lifting his head up all the way now, trying to make as best eye contact as he

can with you, “-you NEED to get out of this place. You NEED to LIVE! You and Poppy can fix this, end this madness, the torment, the- Oh no... OH NO!”

You take a step back, shocked at the sudden change and turn to look just where his head is facing, from the bottom of his cell block, you watch as little beady white eyes begin to emerge from the large holes within the walls.

Instinctively, you fire a shot at it and manage to frighten the miniature critters.

You watch as DogDay turns to face you, “Leave me, please! Just go!... RUN!!” He urges you.

“You have to survive, Angel, you HAVE to. GO! GET OUT OF HERE!!”

You shake your head, “No, not again, I’m done with this-“ you tell him, firing yet another shot at the

little holes, frighting more of the critters away. “-I’ve had enough of seeing such senseless slaughter-“ You use the grabpack hands and grab simultaneously at both his chains and PULL!!

The chains SNAP with a loud crack, metal breaks and clangs, falling onto the floor loudly.

Just as DogDay is about to fall and hit the ground, you catch him as best you can with your arms.

“-HOLD ON!!”

You spare no second glance behind you as you run with DogDay, the poor canine clings onto you with what little strength remains within him.

The two of you fall through broken floor boards and rush through a large system of tunnels, with every twist and turn you hear the beasts behind you gaining ground.

The critters climb atop one another, moving together like a wave of water, a mass of cloth and fabric ready to pry and tare away at flesh.

But you won't let them win. Not this time.

As you traverse the tunnels, running with all your strength, behind you, DogDay turns his head to see if your pursuers have made any ground and feel his grip tighten.

“ITS OKAY-“ you try to comfort him, “-JUST HOLD ON!” “THEYRE GAINING ON US, ANGEL. WE WONT MAKE IT-“ “-YES WE WILL!!”

“SLIDE!!” You announce, “DUCK!!”

DogDay ducks with you, avoiding the lip of the ceiling.

You two slide down with such speed that it nearly launches you in such a way that you almost trip over

your own two feet but manage you catch yourself just in time.

You run down a small hall and towards a room that has a purple hand platform at its end.

“ANGEL, THE HAND!! SWAP HANDS!!”

“GOT IT!!”

You press a button and watch as the grabpack switches it’s green hand with the purple hand, and just in

time too.

As the wave of mini critters closes in.

You take the leap of faith.

And for a moment, time slows down to a crawl.

You’re both airborne for what seems forever, until you finally make contact with the ground.

And when you do, frantically get on the elevator and mash the button for it to lift you up. “COME ON, COME ON, COME ON, COME ON-!!”

You’re desperate, your hands are trembling.

As the machine slowly takes you to the platform above, from bellow you you watch as the critters

desperately climb atop one another to get at the two of you.

Once at the top, you feel DogDay tap your shoulder, “LEFT SIDE, SLIDE!! NOW!!”

You run, making a mad dash and duck, throwing your body into the slide, DogDay ducks with your

movements and holds on for dear life as you two slide down the enormous slide.

As you descend, you hear the slide creak, bend and shake under the weight of both of you. “Of fuck-!!” You shout as the slide gives way under your combined weight.

And so, the two of you fall..

And fall...

Eventually you two land somewhere entirely new, but you’re not able to make out just where you are just yet, because when you finally descend, you two are flung with such great force that you both make contact with the wall. Leaving a small crater in its wake to the sheer force of the impact.

Thankfully though, your blow is cushioned by DogDay who, by some holy miracle, manages to place himself between you and the wall when you two were free falling.

You’re cradled by his arms as the two you fall harshly to the ground.

Groans are heard from both of you as you watch the tunnel that was created from the collapsed slide, come crumbling down on itself and create a massive cave in. Rubble descends down the hole following the two of you, eventually covering the entire tunnel itself.

Silence fills the air as the two of you lay there, you feel your consciousness slip from you, your vision going dark. Perhaps you had hit yourself a bit harder than anticipated on your way down.

“Angel? ANGEL!” DogDay shouts, desperation clings to his every word, “Stay with me, angel, stay with me!!”

Your vision goes black as darkness embraces you with open arms...

Chapter 10 (http://archiveofourown.org/works/53562580/chapters/135645178) : Respite Summary:

You and DogDay find some much needed respite after all the chaos you two had to endure.

{You find yourself sitting comfortably on the porch of your cottage home, a cool strawberry drink sits snugly in the palm of your hands. A cool summer breeze blows by, caressing your face, and with it brings promises of a better and brighter future...

Or so you thought...

“Mom?” You looked over to the beautiful female figure sat next to you, her face was crystal clear in your mind, even now. After all this time, you could still picture her, she looked the same as she did all those years ago.

“Do you really have to go? Can’t you call in sick?” You asked her, leaning into her touch as her hand caressed your cheek gently, “Please, mom-“ you whined, begging her to stay.

The woman looked down upon you with a gentle and loving smile that only a mother could bestow upon her child.

You felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

“-don’t go...” you whined pitifully.

you watched as she leaned down close to you, gently she pressed her lips to your forehead before smiling

at you once more. “My sweet little Angel, don’t worry, I promise your father and I won’t be gone long. It’s only a work trip!”

You felt tears fall down your cheeks. Every night, it was always the same. The same dream.

Each.

And every.

Night.

No matter how much you begged and cried, she always left you.

“I’ll be back before you know it~!” She spoke, gently booping your nose with her finger.}

“M-...Mo..m...n-..no...” you groaned quietly.

As you slowly came to your senses you could hear a familiar male voice.

“Angel?! Oh-!” A gasp left his lips, “-Angel,darling- wake up... please, wake up...”

You felt yourself slowly being stirred back into reality, gentle hands shaking you and rubbing at your back in an attempt at rousing you awake.

Slowly, you blinked away the fog in your eyes and watched as the world around you slowly came into focus.

Your eyes finally focused onto the figure in front of you, DogDay.

The poor canine had been worried sick, he was curled up as close as he could- given the state of his body- to be next to you. Gentle hands wiped at your cheeks that were damp with tears.

“You were crying, Angel...” he explained, he kept his voice low so as to not startle you after you’d awaken.

“Are you alright? You were crying out for your mother...”

You stare at him dumbfounded and open your mouth to reply but bite back your response, only offering a look of concern in return to his own.

DogDay nods, seemingly understanding what you’re conveying, “Apologies, Angel. I... may have been too forward, I shouldn’t have asked. It’s not my right to know something so intimate.”

You shake your head, “I-It’s alright, you were only curious... it’s natural...”

As you two continue to lay there, you share a moment of silence between the two of you, where one of his lands lies comfortably atop your own.

“Angel?”

Suddenly, he breaks the silence.

“May I-“ there’s a pause, “Am I allowed a question?”

You nod, “of course.”

“Why did you save me?”

You pause and allow silence to fill the void for a moment, your eyes wandering as you think, until you

meet his gaze once more.

“I think EVERYONE deserves to live-“ you answer him, “- I’m tired of seeing all this death around

me...” you pause briefly, taking in a deep breathe. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

He can’t help but chuckle at your response. “What?” You ask, “what’s so funny?”

He sighs, “You really are an angel sent from above to save us, huh...?”

You smile, cracking the first genuine laugh you’ve had in a long while, “Yeah, I guess so...”

You watch as DogDay slowly pulls away from you for a minute and aids you as best he can from his current position on the ground with one hand to help you get up from the floor.

You take his hand and slowly bring yourself up from the floor and stand up, you examine the grabpack and notice some minor damages to the equipment. Thankfully it appears to be nothing serious, just a few loose parts that need to be screwed on tighter.

“I think we should probably get some rest...” you add, examining your new surroundings. You’re in what appears to be the offices of Playtime Co.

“This place looks safe enough...” you watch as DogDay tries to do the same and examine his

surroundings, he too notes that the offices look relatively safe compared to the rest of PLAYCARE. Suddenly, a ringing catches you both by surprise and makes you jump nearly out of your skin. “What was that?!” DogDay asks, confused at the new noise.

“Ollie!”

“Who-?”

Before you could answer DogDay’s question, you reach for your phone which somehow managed to

survive the fall.

“Hey, are you alright?! No ouchies or lost body parts?”

On the other side of the Playtime Co. cellphone is what sounds to be a young boy’s voice, aged roughly

that of a child’s. It catches DogDay by surprise when he hears it.

At Ollie’s last comment, you look towards DogDay and frown slightly, “I’m alright-“ you speak into the

receiver, “-But... I can’t say the same for my friend.”

“Friend? Who's your new friend?”

“It’s DogDay” you reply, “here-“ you hand the phone to DogDay.

“Hello? Whose this?”

“Hey DogDay! My names Ollie! I’ve been helping Poppy, Y/N and Kissy Missy escape PLAYCARE.

I’m glad you’re getting along well with Y/N!” You hear Ollie speak to DogDay, seemingly getting him up to speed on the situation.

You watch as DogDay hums in response, “Thank you Ollie, for guiding angel along, you’ve done well in helping them...”

“Angel? Whose angel?”

You watch as DogDay seemingly stumbles over himself and his words for a moment, you can’t help but smile. If he could, you’d suspect he’d be blushing right about now from embarrassment.

“Y/N-! I-I’m referring to Y/N...!”

You hear Ollie laugh on the other end, “Oh! That makes sense!”

“Anyways-“ Ollie continues, “I’m really glad you’re both okay... I don’t wanna lose any more friends to

this place. We’re really close to the end! By the way, where are you two now?”

“In what appears to be a room full of offices...” DogDay adds, with some of your help, he finds himself

resting in your arms. Your surprised by how much he weighs and how you’re able to carry him with just enough effort, despite his size.

You’ve helped him see further into the halls of the area you’re in, down the hall, as far as the eye can see are nothing more than offices.

“Ah! I see. You two must be in the Counselor’s Office. Hmmm... it’s not ideal, but, If you two can manage to find that generator and get it going, it should have enough juice to power the Gas Production Zone and finally re-route that red smoke! Good luck you two, stay safe out there!”

And with that, the line goes dead.

You sigh and look to DogDay, he nods at you and the two of you move forward.

“Angel?” He asks

“Yes?”

“I’ll take you up on that offer to rest...” he comments, “That fall... it did a number on me and likely on

yourself as well. It’s paramount we get some much needed respite, gather your energy for what’s yet to come.”

You nod, he does have a point.

And so, you walk a little bit longer until you spot an office room that looks relatively clean in comparison to the others, save for all the scattered papers, it’s better than nothing.

You set DogDay down on the office chair and turn to step out of the room momentarily. “Wait, where are you going?” He asks you.

“I spotted a blanket on one of the offices, don’t worry, I’ll be right back!”

You didn’t go too far to find the blanket and when you did, true to your word, you returned.

You placed the oversized blanket down on the ground and picked up DogDay once more, before setting him down on the blanket.

“There... that should be better than being on the cold floor...” you paused, “Well... not really but-“ DogDay can’t help but laugh, “It’s alright, Angel, it’s the sentiment that counts...”

You smile and nod, joining your companion’s side as you sit next to him. You take off the grabpack and

begin trying to fix it as DogDay watches on.

“Angel? Do you mind me asking you something?”

You shake your head, “No, I don’t mind, what is it?”

“I... don’t think I recall seeing you work here... were you an employee?”

You shake your head, “No, not me, but my mom and dad were...” you explain, “They went missing in

08/08/1998... roughly ten years ago.”

“The hour of Joy...” you hear him mutter softly to himself.

There it is again, that phrase again.

What could it mean...?

“So, I take it you’re here searching for them, no?” He asks

You nod, “I am... why? Does that make me crazy?”

He shakes his head, “No... I don’t think it does... but-“ he pauses.

“But?” You egg on.

“But you ARE crazy for making it this far, Angel.” He watches for your expression carefully. “My

apologies”

You snort, “for what? You’re right.”

Silence hangs for a moment as the conversation dies down for a moment, you’re quick at work on the grabpack, finding yourself almost finished with the much needed repairs.

“You’re a mechanic?” He asks

“Hardly-“ you add, “-I only know what I know about machines thanks to my dad...”

“Who was your father? I-If you don’t mind me asking?”

“No worries- He was a technician for Playtime Co., he spent most of his time fixing electrical issues and

doing tech support for the machines and computers that broke down.”

“And what of your mother?”

“Mom?” You pause, “Mom told me she helped take care of the orphans in Playtime, the most she would

ever tell me was that she was directly responsible for making sure that they were always happy and healthy.” DogDay nods, soaking in the information as you speak to him.

“They sound like good people”

“And they were...” you pause, “...I miss them...”

DogDay cringes inwardly slightly, “I-I’m sorry Angel, I didn’t mean to upset you.” You shake your head, sighing deeply, “It’s okay, don’t worry about it.”

There’s another beat of silence before this time, YOU break it.

“And what about you?” You ask him

“Pardon?”

“We’re you always known as ‘DogDay’? Or were you someone else...?” You ask, taking notice of his

hesitance you add in, “I read about this thing called the “Bigger Bodies Initiative” and- from what I’ve gathered- it seems that... somehow... they used people and turned them into... toys.”

You hardly believed your own words, but the evidence was all there in the scraps of important documents you had collected, and that sort of evidence is hard to deny.

You watch as DogDay nods, “I was- am.” He corrects, “My real name is Oskar, Oskar Sonnen.”

You pause, your hands stilling for a moment at the mention of his name.

“That’s German” you add, surprised. “You’re German?”

He chuckles, “No, but I am descended from Germans, I’m American, born and raised. Why do you ask

Angel?”

“Well, your name literally means ‘dear sunny friend’ or ‘dear friend of sunshine’-“ you chuckle, your

smile widening, “-incredibly fitting for someone whose named ‘DogDay’”

You watch as he nods and chuckles alongside you, “You’re quite the keen observer, Angel.”

You nod, and you’re finally compete with the grabpack, finally setting it down on the ground beside you. You watch as DogDay stretches and yawns, he tries to make himself as comfortable as he can.

“Am I still allowed to call you DogDay, though? Or do you prefer Oskar?”

You watch as he seems to take a moment to consider your proposal before replying, “I’ll answer

regardless of whatever you decide to call me by, Angel.”

You nod, “DogDay it is then-“ you smile warmly at the canid, “-it suits you the most, after all...” you

gently boop his nose with your finger and watch as he chuckled, his whole body shaking in response to the wave of happiness.

“Thank you, my dear” You smile.

“Oh!” You jump up, suddenly remembering what else you wanted to ask him, “One last question?” “Anything for you, Angel, you deserve as much.”

“Where you an employee of Playtime Co. like my parents? A technician? A doctor?”

He shook his head, “No, not quite, I was... a low-level researcher during my time here...” he recalls,

“Pardon my memory, Angel, but I can hardly recall that era of my life. All I can offer you in response was that I helped the children in the Play area... that’s as far as my memory goes. Again, my deepest apologies.”

You shake your head, “It’s okay, I don’t expect you to recall everything that happened to you...”

You yawn and stretch, and watch as DogDay does the same.

“It appears that rest is in order...” he states, “Come now, Angel. You must regain your energy-“ he says, patting the space in front of him.

You nod, making your way over to him, you decide to give him ample space to himself , but watch as his arm lazily droops over your waist, holding you there.

“-I sense that we’ll need all the energy we can muster for what’s to come next.”

You hum in agreement and sigh, grateful for this moment of respite to finally gather your energy and your bearings.

Despite laying down with DogDay on the hard wooden floor over a less than comfortable blanket, you find that you’re not as tired as you imagined.

No amount of counting sheep and thinking of stories within your head help to lull you into the warm embrace of sleep.

Your eyes pan over to DogDay and watch him, he’s still as can be safe for the slow rising and falling of

his chest.

He’s sound asleep.

Good, you know he needs it more than anyone.

Suddenly! An idea crosses your mind;If you’re GOING to defeat CatNap and put an end to this once and for all, you know deep down inside that with the current state that he’s in, DogDay won’t survive not even one minute next to the feline.

You HAVE to do something about it.

That’s when your brain reminds you of the red-and-white polka dot skirt you took from Miss Delight’s corpse.

You wager that if you can scour the remnants of these offices, you’ll probably find just enough fabric scraps to not only patch up DogDay, but hopefully gift him with new legs.

Determined to have this happen, you slowly and carefully pry yourself from DogDay’s warm embrace, you don’t want to rouse him awake. He NEEDS to rest.

Once freed, you slowly make your way out of the room, creeping along just quietly enough to not make as much noise as you can.

As you leave, you close the door behind you and slink off...

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Chapter 11: DogDay awakens to you missing.

Something feels wrong.

DogDay finds himself being roused by sleep’s warm embrace by none other than his own body.

He blinks a few times, removing the haze from his eyes. When they finally adjusts he notices the empty

space in front of him.

He feels his heart sink.

“Angel?” He half whispers, begging the stars above that you’re just behind him, distracted by the clutter

of papers.

With great effort, he gets himself to turn over and when he doesn’t see your form, a pang of terror

overwhelms him.

All he can think of is CatNap.

CatNap.

That FUCKER.

Rage bubbles inside of him.

Did he take you away from him when the two of you were resting? Did he stalk the two of you and

waited to strike when a moment of weakness- of calmness, had finally befallen the two of you? How very typical of him.

That fucking cat.

Nay- that DEMON.

That THING wasn’t CatNap, it wasn’t his friend anymore, whatever that thing was, it needed to be

defeated. And to be rid of this world.

Feeling the fear rise inside of him, DogDay couldn’t control himself anymore and began calling out for you, desperately praying that you weren’t that far from him.

“ANGEL?!”

That you were still alive. “ANGEL!!”

DogDay began crawling for the door, pulling himself forward with the use of his arms with what little strength he had left inside of him.

Just as he reached the door, extending an arm for the door knob, the door swung open.

And there you stood. You were safe.

“Oh thank God” DogDay sighed, as a wave of relief washed over him. “DogDay-“ you start, “Are you okay, I-“

You watch as his demeanor shifts from that of relief to anger.

“Where the HELL did you go, Angel?!”

“I-“

Wait, no... it wasn’t anger.

“Do you have ANY IDEA how dangerous what you just did?!” He was afraid.

Afraid of losing YOU.

You bite your lower lip and turn to look away from his gaze, your eyes are cast downward. He’s right, you know.

What you did WAS- no, IS incredibly dangerous.

CatNap could’ve found you and taken you, and DogDay would’ve been none the wiser.

You step inside the room and close the door behind you, making sure to lock it as you do so for safety’s sake.

As you step inside, DogDay is finally able to take note of what you’re doing; on your hands are what appear to be various scraps of fabric and cloth, all in various colors and varying in the materials that they were made from.

It finally clicks for him what you were doing.

You were searching for materials to repair him with.

“I’m sorry”

You turn your head to face him.

“I-I’m sorry, Angel, I-I shouldn’t have- I-“

You set the materials aside and kneel down to hug DogDay, pulling him into your embrace.

“No, I’M sorry...” you correct him, “I should’ve told you before you went to sleep.”

DogDay gives you a loving squeeze as you hug him, “Still, that doesn’t warrant me, yelling at you. I’m

so sorry. Truly.”

You chuckle slightly but shake your head, “No, I think it’s warranted.”

You carefully pull away and help DogDay back on the blanket and move towards the desk where you’d set the materials down before sitting besides him.

“This was the best I could do-“ you explained, displaying to him all of the fabric and cloth pieces you found in a neatly arranged pile before him: most were scraps you’d manage to tear off from the covers of the desk chairs with the help of a knife, the rest were just an array of cloth from curtains used for the faux windows or extra company clothes that were in storage.

“Oh! And I also managed to get this too-“ you pulled towards you the red-and-white polka dot fabric that had now taken on the shape of a sack, it was holding something inside it.

Upon opening it, out spilled a hefty sized pile of cotton and pieces of foam.

“I got it from the office chairs, it’ll help me reconstruct your legs.”

DogDay nodded, eyeing the wide array of fabric closely before turning to you. “But... you don’t have any twine or or even string, how do you-?”

“-funny that you mentioned that-“ you stopped him, pulling out a small basket of sewing supplies, “-it looks like one of the employees here was a hobbyist sewer.”

Opening the container you showcased all of the supplies available to you; measuring take, seam ripper, tailors chalk, hand sewing needles, pins and pincushion as well as multiple spools of thread.

DogDay hums and nods, “I suppose you were quite lucky, Angel.” “Absolutely” you agreed.

“Now, let’s get this started-“ you began, “-let’s make sure you’re comfortable before I start-“ as you say that, you finally slip off the sweater that you had tied onto your waist. It was a miracle that the thing was still intact after going through so much.

Folding it, you placed it under his head as a makeshift pillow. “Better?” You asked him.

“Oh, Angel-“ he gasped slightly, surprised. “-you don’t have t-“ “Better?” You echoed.

He nodded, “Better”

“Good” you smiled warmly and moved back into position, sitting in front of his open lower half.

It was incredibly jarring to you that you could just see inside of him like that, especially being able to see

what you assumed to be the sack that was likely holding his insides together.

Shaking off the worry that crept into you, you willed yourself to continue. You got this.

DogDay remained quiet as you worked on sewing him up, his eyes were focused mainly on how your nimble and graceful fingers gilded about.

You grabbed the fabric that was harvested from the office chairs since the material was the strongest and used that to reinforce the now sewn shut lower half. This piece of fabric was placed atop that area and sewn over.

As you worked, you found yourself humming the same song that your mother would sing to you since you were a baby: “♩♩♩ ♭♭♩♩♩♭♭...”

“You are my Sunshine” DogDay commented.

You laughed, blushing slightly, “Thanks, you too” you joked, knowing fully well he was just talking about the title.

DogDay, though incapable of blushing, audibly made a strangled noise which only made you laugh. “What? Cat got your tongue?”

“Angel”

“Sorry, sorry! I’m just messing with you!”

He laughs, and the sound makes you smile.

It’s been a while since you had any semblance of normalcy, it was nice. You wanted more of this.

Yes, you wanted more moments just like this one.

But with HIM alongside you.

It took a LONG while, but by the time you were done, you managed to sew DogDay a brand new pair of legs, made of mismatched fabric and cloth.

DogDay helped himself to sit up with his hands and eyed his new lower half.

“How does it feel?” You asked, “Are you able to move?”

DogDay attempted to move his foot but found that nothing occurred, worried he tried again and again. You stopped him with a gentle hand placed over his stomach, “It’s okay, don’t worry, it might take some

time for your body to realize that you now have a lower half.” You commented, “The same happens to humans who undergo surgeries where they reattach limbs after accidents or for people who wake up from comas. It takes the body some time to catch up and work.”

“Don’t overwork yourself and just take it slow, okay?”

DogDay nodded, “Thank you, Angel. I’m eternally indebted to you.” He proclaimed, gently he took your hand in his own hand and gave it a loving squeeze.

You couldn’t but smile and return the squeeze, “Anything for you, pumpkin.” You don’t even take notice of the term of endearment that escapes your lips.

But he does, and in response his hold on your hand doesn’t let up.

Not that you’d complain about it.

A thought crosses your mind and you turn to look behind you, there’s enough fabric and foam left over that you could probably use it for...

you turn back to him.

“Hey-“

“Yes, my dear?”

“-how do you feel about getting a new tail?”

DogDay blinks for a moment, oh... right! Yeah, he realizes that doesn’t have one. “That would be a great addition, Angel.”

You let go of his hand and DogDay finds himself quite upset at the sudden lack of physical contact. He watches you move back over to where your supplies are and pick them up, resuming your work at sewing.

DogDay lets out a satisfied sigh as he observes.

In comparison to repairing his body and reconstructing his legs, making a tail takes significantly less time to build.

“Considering that you’re roughly the same size of an American doorway, 6ft 7in, I have enough to make your tail-“ you pause, taking out your measuring tape and taking the length of the now fully assembled tail.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Want to continue reading? Click Me!

#poppy playtime #dogday poppy playtime #poppy playtime x reader #poppy playtime chapter 3 #x reader #dogday x reader #poppy playtime DogDay #dogday

209 notes · View notes

wayfayrr · 2 months

Text

My love mine all mine

Continuation of I bet on losing dogs

It's my birthday so that means I get to treat myself by writing a continuation of my Roman Empire fic <3

It's a reverse Isekai but this time it's post the event that caused him to isekai, and he's got a bit more to deal with now - but he'll be fine because he's by your side, and he won't let anything change that there is so much lore going into this fic, so there might be more to come in this saga yet :3c

[masterlist]

I’m still here?

No - no I’m not in Hyrule now, something feels different enough that I know that. If I was still in Hyrule then that ‘sky’ would be here if I wasn’t hallucinating him. Besides that though, something feels different, I’m not in as much pain although everything feels heavier. Almost - no don’t get your hopes up yet link.

Moving still takes a painful amount of effort, like my wounds are still there but now everything suddenly weighs triple on top of those. It was the shift from feeling floaty and detached to suddenly being forced back into a body, one that doesn’t feel like my own, that makes everything feel so undeniably real. Now it’s just a matter of opening my eyes to see what’s actually happened to me.

The room I’m in looks so similar to [name’s] when we ended up here one time chasing the shadow, from what I can see lying down like this anyway. Don’t get your hopes up until you see them link. There’s a blanket over me too, the very same that they lent to me the first time I was here; the feeling of it over me makes it the fact that I can’t barely move somewhat more bearable as I let out a low groan. Which seemed to almost summon the person who’s probably responsible for taking me in.

“[Na]-”

“link what the FUCK did you do?”

Wait, what do they me-

“how the HELL do I have memories of you being my best friend growing up now - I know I met you for the first time in hyrule. you aren't supposed to exist as a person here and yet.”

“[name] I don't -”

“I have the most vivid memory of everything. including having to pick you and sky up passed out on the street because apparently the two of you decided to go out on a bender or something - I don't know but I can remember it somehow.”

That rant seems to have cooled them off for now, not that they're mad just concerned… not that I'm not also. Those memories they mentioned too, I know what they're talking about; it's trippy. I have two sets of my life, one that I know is true and this other one that feels like a learned lie. A cover up. It feels similar to a backstory I learned to lie during espionage, but it's information about [name’s] world. Memories of a whole life lived here, like it's preparing me… or trying to adjust something new being forced into it that shouldn't be here.

“I don't - I think it's cause… I. You said sky is here too?”

“Yeah, he's the reason I'm so certain these memories aren't real, he only got included when I found him when I went out to buy supplies for you. Something feels off about all of this, and I think you two have the answers I need.”

Did sky..? No he wouldn't have. Would he?

“I think so too.”

“Can you tell me what you think it was?”

My voice is dead in my throat, I can't tell them what I did. They'll lose any respect they had for me won't they? I don't even know for certain if sky did the same… but I could have sworn he was there when I - I…He wouldn't have done that to himself, surely not. Even though I could've said the same for myself before everything.

“I… would prefer not to, if that's alright.”

“Okay link, I won't push you. Either way, it's nice to be back at your side even if it's slightly different than what I'm used to.”

That's all it takes to finally break my guard and for the tears to start flowing. I can finally rest, there isn’t any expectation of me here, no pressure to be the picture-perfect hero, no nothing. I can just exist here with my lover for the rest of our lives.

“Can you tell me why everything feels so different now though?”

“Link, haven’t you been able to tell? You aren’t a Hylian anymore. Whatever you did, you’re a human now and you've got a whole recorded history here on earth. You and sky both. Speaking of him, he’s downstairs helping himself to stuff; been awake a lot longer than you have, should probably go check on him really. You feeling alright enough to come with me?”

Moving my limbs still feels different but now it isn’t impossible to move them and seeing the smile on [name’s] face from me just sitting up to move is more than worth the slight discomfort. Falling into their open arms is just another perk of it, being helped to my feet whilst being allowed to cling to them? It’s a dream come true. But despite this there’s something that doesn’t feel right, why is sky here… I’ll have to ask him myself.

“S- why are you drinking all of my milk straight from the bottle sky?”

“...Wanna get drunk.”

“It's milk. You’re never going to get drunk off of drinking milk.”

With the two of them distracted by each other, [name] still letting me cling to their arm thankfully, I get a proper look at him. It’s sky, it’s really sky, but he’s human. All of his scars are the same asides from a new one on his neck and a few burns on his hands ones that look like they come from holding a sword. Fi must have tried to stop him. The strangest thing is seeing him with short rounded ears though - I can’t imagine what I look like to him. This has to be the first time I’ve seen him trying so desperately to get drunk though, he saw you do it. He’s drinking to forget, like you have so many times in the past.

“What do you mean of course I will. Why do you think milk bars were so popular in hyrule?”

“But you aren’t hylian now sky. You’re a human now, and we don’t get drunk from milk.”

“You - we… don’t? Ah. Well. That explains a lot of things then.”

“Did everyone think that I was an addict? Oh my, that explains the ‘interventions’ each of you had with me. Even my boyfriends thought I was an alcoholic.”

The sigh they let out before resting their head against me could make me an addict, as ironic as that is. Although that does bring up the question of how everything is going to be so different now, we’re going to have to relearn a lot of what we’ve always known as fact. But it’ll be by [name’s] side. And I’ll do anything to keep it this way.

#I'm another year older now <3 #and holy shit I've been writing lu for nearly a year #WOW #anyway #yan wars my beloved #yandere linked universe x reader #yandere linked universe #link x reader #linked universe x reader #yandere link #lu warriors x reader #lu sky x reader #moss✦writes

113 notes · View notes

jacevelaryonswife · 1 year

Text

Kneel to the Empire or die with the Republic

A woman cannot be left alone to her own fate. After the fall of what you used to know, your only option was to kneel to him.

pairing: Young!Gaius Julius (Augustus Imperator) x Fem!reader

warnings and a note: angst, grief. This story is based on Domina (tv show), I don't have so much knowledge about the historical facts that involve Augustus, so, for those who have more baggage I'm sorry if something sounds wrong from what happened, please be kind, or just don’t read. English is not my first language. 3,8k

In addition to grief, other factors tightened your chest after your father's death. A good man, a faithful supporter of the Roman Republic and power of the Senate, a patrician descended from an important aristocratic lineage, and the most aggravating: one of those responsible for orchestrating the assassination of Gaius Iulius Caesar.

When the military forces of Gaius Julius, born Gaius Octavius, great-nephew of Julius Caesar, began to act in Rome, you knew you had few certainties and much to fear. Perhaps you were executed with your family, dying in an honorable way and with your head held high against a dictator (in the words of your older brother), or just having your traitorous blood eliminated by the defended cause of the heir of the most important man in Rome. They said he was different, a restorer of the Republic, a supporter of power in the hands of the people and the Senate, a middle ground between Caesar and the most avid Republicans. In those days, nothing was clearer to you than your death, however, Gaius Julius' stroke of mercy in sparing women and children from those considered enemies was at the same time a breath of relief and a punch in the lung.

Relief to the fact that you would have a chance to live, since the fear occurred when your brothers did not have the same luck when they were sentenced to death.

"What are we going to do?" You asked scared.

The two looked at each other for a considerable time, with Nero lowering his head before answering: "you will stay here and we are going to fight.”

“What? I can't stay here! There must be somewhere where his men don't find us."

"And how would you live? Running away forever? It's not the fate our father wanted for you." Claudius said.

"That's exactly what he would do instead of kneeling to a dictator, what do you expect me to do?"

“We are trying to protect you! There is no gentle future beyond these walls and I’m sure that Julius' men will still be less kind if they capture you," Nero said, exalting himself before holding your hands: "we cannot risk your life beyond ours, our father is not here, our allies are almost all dead, there is no hope for the three of us, but there may be for you."

The fall of tears marked your face until they flowed into the union of your hands. “I don't want to be alone,” you whined.

"You won’t”

It wasn't known at the time, but that was the last time you were with your brothers. The soldiers of Gaius Julius broke into your house the same night, looking closely for any fresh trail of male presence. The soldiers responsible for your safety were murdered without any chance of defense, with the exception of those who submitted quickly, fearful for their lives. You didn't judge them, how could you, after all?

When a man pressed you incisively on the whereabouts of your blood, shaking your shoulders rudely, an authoritarian voice interrupted him with a short message:

"Not her."

With wide eyes and irregular breathing, you were released immediately. The violence on the inside was mirrored on the outside, being the clearest reminder of those destined to die with the Republic. Your inert body remained in the sights of the man who guaranteed your release, the same facing you a few seconds after his order.

“My men will do your protection tonight,” he said.

The confusion in your frightened face was clear on the tip of your tongue when you asked a simple question:

"Why?" That didn't happen to other women.

"You'll know at the right time."

That's all the man said.

You remained static for long minutes after the departure of those who vandalized your home, with your father's servants — ordered by them — to remove the corpses from the house and sanitize the rooms to their original. Impossible. Doesn’t matter if the blood is removed, the death will be marked forever in each piece of furniture and corridor. One of the soldiers responsible for "your protection" approached with fear and touched your arm with delicacy, hitherto unknown to you, to get you out of the trance.

“We will assume from here, go back to rest,” he said.

"What's going to happen?" Your question was weak, almost like a meow.

"The house will be cleaned and the perimeter protected."

"From who? Why do you want to protect me?"

He remained silent for a few minutes before answering: "I'm not allowed to say."

Permission? What was going on? What was being planned for you? And by whom? Gaius Julius himself or one of his trusted men? Would you be held hostage? Would you marry any of them? Would it be sold as a slave or prostitute?

The rest of the night was spent in torment, with you pushing the internal lock of your door hard and putting on a clot to try to hide some jewels and coins with you in case you needed it and managed to escape. Sleeping was not an option, but a part of you wished that sleep would erase the horrors experienced and the departure of his brothers, so nervousness and fear partially succumbed to sleep. You allowed yourself to stay in the room a little longer that morning, ashamed of facing your servants and guards (no longer yours, but of the men of Gaius), only to receive a knock on the door of the same man you spoke to for the last time.

“I would like to sleep a little more,” you said through the door, afraid enough to open it.

His breathing was perfectly audible, followed by a moment of silence. "You will have some time, but you will need to leave soon to feed yourself and receive the lady Octavia's visit."

Octavia? Octavia Minor? Brother of Gaius Julius Caesar Octavianus? What the fuck was going on?

If there was any pretension of tiredness in you it was in a distant past, your mind had just been set on fire with what was going to happen, with what that woman might want with you. She was no stranger, visually speaking, since the glimpse of her red hair and elegant posture were seen by you at the wedding of Livia Drusila and Tiberius Claudius Nero. She, Scribonia, Marcus Vipsanius Agrippa and him, the reason for everything that is happening, with his hair and eyes dark as the night, with cheap charm and indecent actions.

You didn’t forget how you caught him having inadequate relations with Cicero's wife during the celebration, how he didn’t seem intimidated or embarrassed by his wide eyes, or how he went to you discreetly after your escape, so calm and carefree that it seemed unreal.

It's too unreal to have him by your side. Too unreal that he approached the daughter of one of the men responsible for the death of his great-uncle.

“I'm sorry you saw that, I should have chosen a place with a door,” he said when he settled comfortably standing next to him.

Your breath froze when you heard such a lack of respect, was he making fun of you?

"Don't worry, the time will come when you will do that for your husband," he provoked again, not receiving silence in response.

"Have you finished yet?" Your question was irritated, although low, without looking him in the eye.

"Yes, I did."

You didn't notice his pertinent choice of words, keeping yourself in the same place while waiting for him to leave.

“A beautiful thing like you deserve a better husband than Livia's,”

And so, he left your side.

Everything that preceded your departure from the room to the bath and to the food resulted in a constant tension in every room of your house. You felt eyes accompanied by you at all times, both from the soldiers of Gaius and from your father's slaves. It seemed that another series of murders would happen and was only prevented, for the time being, by the visit of the dictator's sister, which happened in the early afternoon.

A comforting smile directed to you was present before and after the hug given. "I'm sorry for what happened yesterday, the war usually gets the best of us."

That couldn't be said to her, you thought.

“Thank you.”

One of the guards guided the way to his father's conversation room, where there was some fruit and wine waiting. Quick flashes of happy memories made you walk slower before sitting next to her, it seemed like an eternity from full happiness, and maybe you would never fully recover it.

“Your house is quite beautiful,” Octavia began, looking around, “I always imagined it was, but it's different when being inside.”

“Has had better days,” you said apathetic, looking down.

Holding your hands, she held your chin to face her. “Again, I'm sorry for what happened. It has been a difficult period for all of us, on both sides, and I imagine that being alone in a world of men is more aggravating. That's why I'm here." Your silence made her continue, although she did not mention of stopping. "I believe you follow your father's ideas, perhaps not because you understand what a republic means, but because you accept what your blood believed-"

"I know what the republic means, just as I know what your brother is doing, but I don't think he came here to ask for my opinion," you interrupted her.

“Not an opinion, but a decision,” she rectified.

“And what decision is that?"

She looked down, displaying a strange smile as she took a deep breath. Her response took a while, as Octavia calmly took a bunch of grape in her hands and picked up a berry before resuming the subject.

"Your father's decision to delay choosing a suitor for you was quite risky for your reputation, rumors could have been made about your purity instead. I like to think he was kind, to the same extent as a fool. But maybe, all this time serves a greater purpose,” she took another break, waiting for you to guess, but everything seemed too absurd to unravel.

"What purpose?"

"A woman cannot be alone in the world, especially one with your birth. When the news that your brothers are gone is spread, men of all regions and ages have prowled your carcass and will force a marriage to get your dowry. Maybe some of your uncles or cousins, or any of them. I come here today to offer a better proposal than any of them: Gaius."

The self-control over your expressions was not well executed, since your eyes frowned and your mouth opened. No, it couldn't be. It was a fucking joke. How... how dare she?

"What?" You asked out loud. “Gaius? Your brother Gaius?"

"Yes, he in person." Octavia answered.

“Why? Why do you want me to marry him? Why me?"

“Although many claim that Gaius intends to end the Senate and Republic, this has already proved to be a fallacy. In his trajectory, he showed that he did not conquer power alone. In fact, the Senate is on its way to deliver this power to him, because it recognizes his virtues. He is a merciful man, who wishes to restore the Republics to their glory days.”

“Merciful?” You asked. “Where is the pity in sentencing my brothers to death? How nice would it be to marry the heir of the man my father helped kill? How good would it be to marry the man who is the reason why all this is happening?” Your voice came out exalted again.

Octavia, in turn, restricted herself to looking down. “All the men who remain in Rome will be supporters of Gaius, maybe yes, some dissatisfied rebel can remain, but in the end, their opinion will be worth nothing, so any husband they arrange for you will be loyal to my brother, it’s no less worse.”

“Gaius decreed the death of my brothers, that’s bad enough,” you answered.

“But what will be worse for you: to be unhappy with a bad stranger or to be the wife of a young sovereign leader? My brother was not very favorable to your family, but he would not do the atrocities that could happen to you being alone and vulnerable at this time.”

No answer was formulated by you, maybe a punch in the stomach would be preferable when facing your reality.

“Gaius himself suggested this idea,” she added.

Before or after declaring your brothers as enemies? How could he think of something like that? The memory of your family and your dignity was insulting! You would become what you wouldn’t like to say and that your father would vehemently deny.

“It’s a lot to assimilate, I know, so you have until the rest of the day to think about, tomorrow one of the soldiers will take your answer in writing,” Octavia said.

“No,” you said. “I’ll come to you. Papers can be tampered with, not my word. But I ask you to order your brother’s men not to touch any woman in this house during my absence.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

It was a deal. A marriage proposal by Gaius Julius Caesar. Not a request, an agreement, that’s what it was, an arrangement to improve his image. That was your function, to improve the lives of men, and unfortunately, even if you don’t choose it, there is no way to get out of this situation unscathed, because Octavia didn’t lie when she referred to the fate that awaited you. But that was worse, he was to blame for the chaos and violence that Rome witnessed, the reason why your home was destroyed. You were truly scared between choosing such options. They were all bad in many ways, but Gaius’s was disrespectful and humiliating. And yet you were still considering it. Was surviving so important?

Or was it that you were too cowardly to face your destiny. Between running away and getting married, you preferred death, but you were too cowardly to cut your throat. Maybe one of Gaius’ men could do this after you rejected the proposal, or Octavia herself could meet someone who messed with poisons. By the Gods, you were desperate.

“I don’t know what to do,” you told a personal servant while bathing.

You still didn’t know what to do when you went to sleep, when you woke up the next day, when you ate nothing more than a few grape berries, when you were taken to where Octavia was and when you faced her. You believed that years could pass and you would not yet have a concrete answer to that situation, but even so, the known evil (Gaius) seemed less worse than what could happen if you rejected it.

Even though it is a simple word, it has never been so difficult to make a statement before.

“Yes.”

You accepted him as yours.

Gaius’ sister’s smile was warm, wrapping your body in a hug while saying that from now on you would be sisters. Your dresses and goods would be sent to your new home, and a few maids could be taken too — at your insistence.

“We have our trusted servants, no need to worry,” Octavia said.

And then it became clear that the evaluation of his company was not only for capacity, but for loyalty and security.

“Gaius will be back soon, I’m sure he will be pleased with your presence here,” she said next. “You couldn’t have chosen better.”

Choices. No, you didn’t want to keep torturing yourself by thinking about the other options.

However, a curious fact was noticed by you in the days that followed in Gaius’ house, under the company of Octavia and other ladies: they would die to be in your position. Or rather, they would kill to be the wife of the next leader of Rome. It was one of the certainties you came to believe, Gaius Julius would not lose the war and those women would do anything to be in youe place. The feeling of danger that filled you on the other days was terrifying, restless and too tense to remain surrounded by other people. Turning to Octavia about the possibility of being poisoned, she eased your fears by saying that everything that arrived on your plate was tasted by others noticed. It wasn’t so comforting when you realized that people could die for you. No, that was insanity. Everything related to what you were living was insanity.

Long days and long nights were bathed in fear in your new home, but nothing compared when the news of his return echoed through the walls. Next to your faithful friends, men, family and servants, there you were, in the center, next to your new sister. The smile that stamped his front was raised when he saw your serious and nervous figure waiting for him. The son of a bitch looked like he had won the biggest of the prizes. And in fact, he did it, after all, his image was built for that.

For the reconstruction of the Republic.

No word of his speech was heard by you, just waiting for such torment to end. But the celebrations were just beginning. At first, he did not go directly to meet you, but in the middle of the night, when you were away for too long in a distant room, he approached surreptitiously with gentle steps.

“Even though it was a generous proposal, a large part of me thought you would refuse it,” he said, calm with a breeze.

A sigh was your first reaction.

“A large part of me thought about refusing.”

He stood next to you, or in front of you (depending on the perspective) in the hallway.

“And what made you change your mind?”

“I don’t know,” you replied.

“Don’t you know?”

“No, I don’t know.”

“So why are you here?”

“I was afraid of being alone, not that I’m not at the moment. Not that the other option was less worse, in fact, both were bad enough.”

“And what was the other option?” He asked with a mixture of humor, surprise and curiosity with his sincere answer.

“Your sister can answer that.”

He didn’t hold his smile this time, even if weak and nasal. After that, he was silent for a while, posture changing up before speaking even lower:

“I’m sorry for your brothers.” Perhaps it would have been better to have been silent since your only reaction was to walk in the same direction that he came, leaving him behind, or trying. “Wait, wait! I’m sorry, it was something stupid to say.” He held your arm firmly, but without being rude, as he got even closer.

“Yes, it was,” you agreed and showed the frown you fought so hard to disguise.

“There was nothing to do about them,” he confessed.

“No? Did your supporters say that or was it your idea to declare them as enemies?” You asked (accused) him.

“Would they accept to be loyal to me?”

Of course not.

“I thought you was doing this for the people and the Senate, to restore the Republic,”

“And I am, but would they accept this if it was done by me?”

You smiled with mockery, looking the other way and leaving him unanswered.

“I know you have enough reasons not to trust me, or hate me, but I don’t intend to fail as a husband, and I don’t intend to disrespect you,” he said, trying to soften.

“Just like you disrespected Cicero?” You remembered the incident at Livia’s wedding.

It was his turn to sigh, releasing your arm to hold your hand.

“Cívero married her because her family is rich. That’s why everyone gets married: money, power and family. That the only thing that’s matter.”

“That’s why we’re getting married. Money, power and family,” you said bitterly.

“Yes, it’s. But I know it wasn’t an easy decision fot you to make.”

If your conscience wasn’t trying to push him away, you could have noticed a certain compassion in his beautiful eyes.

“No, you don’t know. You don’t.” That was too much, no, it was an excess of what you could handle. “You have no idea what it’s been like to live with this burden. The people I loved are dead and I feel that at any moment I will be next, and I will still marry you. No, you don’t know how I feel. My father would bitterly deny me if I were alive, my brothers too, because I’m going to marry you, because I’m a fucking traitor!” Tears collapsed violently from your eyes. “Because I have nothing else, there’s nothing left.”

Oh no. He advanced on you with a tight hug, holding your head against his chest. “It’s ok, it’s ok, you’ll be fine, I promise, I’m sorry, I’m sorry for all this. I promise I won’t betray you, I promise, I’m sorry.”

You didn’t know how many tears you had saved for that moment, for him. Because of him. You couldn’t imagine leaning over to seek comfort in him, squeezing him so hard to prevent him from running away. But he wouldn’t go anywhere, no, he wouldn’t. He wrapped you in a cocoon while holding the back of your head. The inconvenient thought that incriminated him for your situation was unpleasant to deal with, for him, and unconsciously, for you, a small relief was present in the back of your mind because no one was around.

“I promise you, nothing less than respect. I can’t get back what was lost, but I can guarantee new things,” he said when you calmed down.

“I don’t need jewelry, Gaius, or dresses, or maids. I already have that, I’ve always had it,” you countered it.

“I’m not talking about material goods. Some things need interference to be solved, others can be remedied by time, or mitigated. I don’t intend to put pressure or do little of you, I know it wouldn’t work, and that’s not how I want to solve things between us. I hope one day you can forgive me, I’ll be waiting for that.”

Taking a risk by kissing your forehead with affection was dangerous, but touching your lips was off limits. He has waited so long for you, since he saw your wide eyes and beautiful face at Livia Drusilla’s wedding. A beautiful girl from an important family, the same family involved in the size of her great-uncle, yet a beautiful girl to have by his side. He knows it was cruel to have made such a proposal, but it would be even more cruel to leave you for your luck. He could not allow this, not when your fragility was exposed to him in a more frighteningly palpable way, not when even in suffering you confronted him. Call him a fool or hopeful, but he believed that eventually, taking time or not, you would be totally his.

The confusion was evident in your eyes when he felt for the first time the slight landing of soft and gentle lips against your own. His lips... kissing you. Your eyes closed in the final seconds, before a whispered statement was sworn to you in a serious and masculine tone:

“Everything will be fine.”

————————

I didn’t like this as much as I imagined.

general taglist: @chompchompluke

tag for this fic: @lovelykhaleesiii @arcielee

#gaius julius x reader #young!gaius julius x reader #domina hbo #tom glynn carney #gaius octavius x reader #gaius julius caesar #emperor augustus #fanfiction #tom glynn

420 notes · View notes

waltricia · 1 month

Text

Happy Polin Day!! 💛 I accidentally wrote an essay about the lighting in this two second clip. I guess I found my Roman Empire.

Nicola said in an interview that the theme of the first season was passion, the second was longing, and the third is romance, and I fully agree and believe her because everything about this clip SCREAMS romance.

As perfect as they are, I have to put aside costume, hair, and makeup, and just praise the lighting right now bc it really deserves to be discussed.

Anyone who has ever read a romance novel knows that when the leading man looks at the leading lady ~lustily~, his expression darkens and he has a devilish glint in his eye, while she has a soft, open expression and stars in her eyes. That is EXACTLY what they achieved by angling a single soft fill light on Luke from below, while having him kinda backlit/ side lit by the key light (the moonlight), and angling that harder accent light on Nicola from above and back, while having the full key light on her from the front.

In classic horror cinematography, characters are lit from below because it casts sinister shadows on their faces. Hell scenes often have characters lit by fire from below (because obviously). This kind of lighting is also great for portraying lust (see Kanthony in the library, season 2 ep 4, both scenes). Lustiness and the devil go hand in hand (because religion lol), and that’s why this slightly sinister lighting looks so good here.

Colin is every bit the romantic hero, and the way the lighting portrays that is subtle, but intentional. His eyes are shadowed and he has that glint. No doubt he’s about to do something bold and scandalous. Just the way Colin is approaching Pen pretty clearly indicates his intentions, but I really like that you can also derive those intentions from the lighting because it evokes such freakin classic romantic imagery.

And in the same perfectly subtle way, she is also classically lit, but representing the other side of the coin. As he’s lit from hell, she’s lit from heaven. The yellow (😉) light on her has an angelic effect. It’s also a soft spotlight, like how they would light Old Hollywood starlets.

When you combine that light with the key light (the moonlight) that fills her face and makes her eyes sparkle, you really see her, and she is meant to be worshipped. That’s what Colin is seeing. And, obviously, being seen terrifies our wallflower. Which just adds another layer to the significance of Colin’s lighting because not only does the lighting tell us what’s he’s about to do (😘), it also makes sense to have him in the devilish lighting because she’s scared. But it’s the good kind of scary of course.

And what’s so god damn beautiful about the whole thing, is that the opposition that I’m seeing between the lighting of Colin and Pen in this moment exists so harmoniously with the equivalence that I also see between the characters. The feeling of connection between them is stronger than it’s ever been. And I’m guessing she’s literally on some kind of platform, like a doorstep or something, because their lines of sight are more level with each other. So the contrast between Colin and Pen itself contrasts with the closeness between them.

I just love how wonderfully complex that is. I am so impressed.

And that’s just the lighting y’all.

THAT’S JUST THE LIGHTING

💡🤯👏🙌😍🐝🌼🪞💛🩵💚✨

#thanks for coming to my ted talk i guess #this scene will be my oppenheimer #i would ace a bridgerton-specific film studies course #polin #penelope featherington #colin bridgerton #nicola coughlan #luke newton #bridgerton #bridgerton season 3 #bridgerton s3 #lighting #romance #colin x penelope #penelope x colin #love #lust #netflix

90 notes · View notes

inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 11 months

Text

Now I’m Covered In You [Chapter 10: Chronology] [Series Finale]

A/N: This is a fic that was never supposed to exist. It yanked me out of my (ridiculously short) retirement and I was SO NERVOUS about diving into another series so unexpectedly! Thank you for giving NICIY a chance. I go back and re-read old messages, comments, and reblogs ALL the time when I’m feeling doubtful about writing, and my fics are only made possible by the support of awesome people like you. 💜

Series summary: Aemond is a prince of England. You are married to his brother. The Wars of the Roses are about to begin, and you have failed to fulfill your one crucial responsibility: to give the Greens a line of legitimate heirs. Will you survive the demands of your family back in Navarre, the schemes of the Duke of Hightower, the scandals of your dissolute husband, the growing animosity of Daemon Targaryen…and your own realization of a forbidden love?

Series title is a lyric from: Ivy by Taylor Swift.

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+), dubious consent, miscarriage, pregnancy, childbirth, violence, warfare, murder, alcoholism, sexism, infidelity, illness, death, only vaguely historically accurate, lots of horses!

Word count: 6k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: @borikenlove @myspotofcraziness @teenagecriminalmastermind @quartzs-posts @tclegane @poohxlove @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @chainsawsangel @itsabby15 @padfooteyes @arcielee @travelingmypassion @what-is-originality @burningcoffeetimetravel @randomdragonfires @aemcndtargaryen @jvpit3rs @sarcastic-halfling-princess @flowerpotmage @ladylannisterxo @thelittleswanao3 @libroparaiso @tinykryptonitewerewolf @girlwith-thepearlearring @minttea07 @trifoliumviridi @deltamoon666 @mariahossain @darkenchantress @doingfondue @atherverybest @namelesslosers @skythighs @moonlightfoxx @partypoison00 @bellameshipper @coffedraven @greenowlfactif

Rain from the sky, blood from the earth: skulls and femurs crush beneath Vhagar’s hooves. Daeron and Tessarion stride alongside Aemond, always on his left where he was blinded. Daeron is different now. He’s not broken, no—and Aemond would recognize it if he was—but there’s something older about him, something severe and world-weary. One of Aemond’s hands holds the reins while the other swings his sword, though his attackers grow few and penitent. The Greens and their allies have beaten back the usurpers. The field is strewn with dead Scots and Northern Englishmen. Behind Aemond are soldiers—from the South, Milan, Castile, the Holy Roman Empire, Navarre—bellowing triumphant howls that meld with the thunder. They strip enemy bodies of rings, necklaces, coins, swords and daggers. They slice off fingers and scraps of skin to bring home with them as keepsakes. Look, wife, here is a piece of a man who fought for Daemon and Rhaenyra. Look, son, see what becomes of those who align themselves with kinslayers.

Behind the Blacks’ forces, on horseback and shouting to each other in frantic words that Aemond cannot hear over the cannons and the storm, are Rhaenyra and King Corlys of Scotland. Corlys is shaking his head and pointing back towards the direction they came from. He is advising Rhaenyra to retreat, Aemond knows. He is impelling the stark realities upon her: that her soldiers are fleeing in great numbers, that her cause is lost, that she has nothing to gain by remaining here except more deaths. Jace and Vermax—a bay Marwari who has always been dutiful yet placid by nature—are galloping at a dizzying speed towards his mother to join her in the now inevitable withdraw from the field of battle. As the would-be prince evades sword-wielders and axmen, an arrow loosed by a Navarran archer pierces him through the throat. He sways drunkenly in the saddle and then tumbles to the mud where he is immediately descended upon by Green soldiers like vultures on carrion.

“No!” Aemond can hear Rhaenyra wail, a sound like the shattering of glass. She is stopped by Black loyalists when she attempts to ride to her eldest son’s body, an instinct that in the haze of her grief she cannot understand is suicidal. They eventually resort to dragging her off Syrax, throwing her into the back of a supply wagon, and ferrying her away from the battlefield as Corlys directs their remaining forces to fall back.

Aemond spies Luke—untalented and doomed, yet brave—on Arrax and stabbing Milanese men who are clawing at him like a cat guts mice. Aemond sheathes his sword, wheels Vhagar around, and races for Luke, calling for the soldiers to disperse. They run from Vhagar’s immense, drumming hooves. Too swift for Luke to resist, Aemond grabs him by one arm and wrenches him out of the saddle; he can hear the bone pop from its socket. Luke drops to the drenched earth and lies there muddy, condemned, his sword knocked from his grasp.

“Go, Arrax!” Luke commands his horse. Tears stream down his face, indistinguishable from the rain. Lightning flashes. But Arrax does not obey. The small dun Marwari stands over Luke, his head shielding his fallen rider, until Daeron and Tessarion—who easily outweighs Arrax by a thousand pounds—force him back.

Aemond dismounts from Vhagar, his boots sinking into deep mud. He walks to where Luke lies helplessly in a sea of rain and earth and blood.

“Mercy!” Luke cries, shielding his eyes from the torrents of rain that blow into him. His hair hangs in dark, sodden curls against his boyish face. “Please, Aemond! I’m sorry for what happened when we were children. I was wrong. I was trying to protect Jace and I struck out without thinking. I did not intend to maim you. But then it was too late to take it back. It’s not too late to stop this bloodshed now. I was wrong. I beg you to have mercy upon me, mercy that the Blacks never showed you. I want to live. I want to see my mother again. I want to marry Rhaena someday, as I have sworn to. As I have dreamt of more times than I could number. I beg you for mercy.”

Aemond looks to Daeron. And it takes several long, slow seconds for Daeron to understand why. He is being given the choice. He is the man who lost Nico. Daeron says softly: “He’s not the one who murdered her. I have no use for his blood.”

Aemond nods. And then, as the wind tears dripping, silver strands from his long braid, he offers his hand to Luke. Luke seizes it with his good arm, sobbing openly with relief.

“You were in London when the princesses were slain,” Aemond says.

“Yes,” Luke replies. “But I did not know it would happen, nor did I desire it. I swear to God, Aemond, I swear on every god men have ever believed in. None of us knew, my mother had forbidden harm to come to them—”

“And Jace was there too.”

“Yes,” Luke admits, weeping for his dead brother.

“You and Jace were in London with Daemon, and now you’re here on the battlefield. But that beast isn’t. Not that I’ve seen. So where’s Daemon?” Aemond asks Luke. “Where’s Daemon?”

“Aren’t you going to ask me to spare you?” Daemon doesn’t move like a man. He stalks like a wolf, like a phantom, off-kilter, inhuman. He grins, white teeth and violent eyes. “Aren’t you going to beg for mercy?”

And for a moment, the words fill up in your mouth like blood in a wound: Please don’t hurt me. I’ll do anything you want. I’ll go back to Navarre and never return, you’ll never hear soldiers cheer for me, you’ll never see me again. Please, please, just let me go so the baby can live.

But Daemon would not be moved by your pleas. They would only give him wicked, ghastly pleasure, a high like the knowing touch of a lover. You cannot stomach the thought of it. You can only bring yourself to twist the allegorical knife deeper. “If you had taught Baela mercy, she would still be alive. If you had any within yourself, Rhaenyra would be winning this war.”

“Too proud,” Daemon says, but he doesn’t sound furious anymore. He sounds awed. And you realize that all along underneath that hatred had been something else too: a venomous admiration, a hunger that corrupts and burns. He lays the point of his sword against your throat. Rain flows down the length of the blade in cold, crystalline rivulets. You sob, unable to help it. Your mind is a tapestry of all the things you’ll never live to see. “Aegon is a nonentity. But you were different. I saw that from the start. Just a girl from a minor kingdom offered like a sacrifice to be neglected and violated by some drunken, ambitionless, catastrophically weak prince. Yet you didn’t seem to know it. You had that intractable, defiant ruthlessness. So much like Rhaenyra’s when she was younger. So much like Aemond’s. So much like mine. And I knew I could never call myself worthy of the throne without breaking you. Rhaenyra comforts herself with the notion that none of this is personal. That I would have had the same contempt for the Milanese girl or the Holy Roman Emperor’s daughter if either of them had been the one to marry Aegon. Rhaenyra feels sorry for you, I believe. She has a mother’s compassion. But this has always been personal for me. And now it’s finally over.”

There is a sound above you at the top of the gorge, huffing and stomping. Reflected in Daemon’s blade, you see Midnight, her legs and chest painted with blood from kicking through the walls of her stall and then the stable door. She takes a few tentative steps down the slope and then is forced to retreat. If she falls, she’ll shatter her legs or snap her neck and drown in the current of mud and rainwater. She can’t come to you. But if you can get to her…

Caraxes is dead. Daemon wouldn’t be able to catch me.

Time ticks by slowly, impossibly slowly; and you are reminded of all those nights you spent under Aegon waiting for him to finish, a long-clawed eternity lurking in the doorway between seconds. You are reminded of how each hour you spent pregnant felt like forever as the possibility of having a child of your own receded like a ship dropping over the edge of the horizon, and then farther, and then farther. You are reminded of how you counted the days until Kunigunde would marry Aemond and possess him in ways that you still have only dreamt of. Since your arrival in England almost two years ago, you have been a prisoner of time. Now—as you scavenge for a chance at a future almost too bright to imagine—you are grateful for it.

Too late, you think, but it’s not a statement. It’s a question. Too late?

“Do you know what, Navarre?” Daemon asks. He traces the point of his blade around the curve of your throat, drawing a half-moon of crimson as thin as a spider’s thread. Then he hooks his left hand into the white velvet of your gown—drenched with rain, stained with blood and earth—and wrenches you upright, devouring you with wild, wolfish eyes. You strike at him to no avail. “I think before I gut you, I’ll enjoy you in the way Aemond never could. That would hurt him best, wouldn’t it? He was always covered in it. That pitiful, dire hunger for you. Written on his ruined face as stark as ink. Now he can have whatever pieces of you are left when I’m done. Scraps, butcher’s cuts, your child, your eyes, your heart. If he’s still alive.”

Too late??

You don’t have a sword, you don’t have a dagger or a bow, you don’t have the physical strength to fight Daemon. You never have, even before your hand was crushed and shredded by his Scottish deerhound. At the crest of the gorge, Midnight paces and whinnies.

What DO I have? What the hell do I still have?

Suddenly you feel it, cool and unyielding against your chest: the ivy leaf necklace made of gold.

With your mangled hand, you rip it off you—destroying the clasp, drawing blood at the back of your neck—and stab at Daemon. He rocks his head back swiftly enough to save his eyes, but not his mouth; you shove your fist in as far as you can, pushing the jagged charm of the necklace down his throat to choke him. With your free hand, you cling to him like a lover so he cannot create enough space between you to swing his sword. He screams, and you do too, as the gashes in your hand are split wider and deeper by his teeth, as his jaws close around your wrist and he tries to bite through the flesh and into your veins; but you do not relent. The pain is dreadful but not disorienting. You’ve had time to learn how to think through it.

Daemon flings you away and—choking, retching, doubled over—tries to claw the necklace out of his throat. You bolt for the embankment and begin climbing up towards Midnight. You have to move quickly; each time you hesitate, the saturated earth begins to disintegrate beneath your palms and bare feet. Rain falls in stinging sheets. Rods of lightning break the sky in two. Midnight is stomping and snorting at the apex of the gorge, waiting for you. You are halfway to her when you realize you can hear Daemon behind you.

He’s wheezing and weighted down by his armor; when you glance back at him, there are tendrils of blood spilling from his mouth. Still, the insanity in his eyes is alight and glittering. You claw for the summit desperately. When you get close enough to reach out to her, Midnight lowers her head; you throw your arms around her vast neck and she drags you over the top of the gorge and onto flat, muddy ground. But there’s no time to catch your breath. You clamber to your feet and try to pull yourself onto Midnight’s back. It’s no use; she’s too tall, you’re too weak. She looks at you with her attentive volcanic-glass eyes and upright ears, and then she understands. With ungainly effort, she drops down to her knees so you can climb onto her back. When Midnight stands again, you steady yourself and twist your fingers into her mane, and then she charges towards the stone bridge—

There’s a shrill, glass-sharp roar and a hand on your gown. Daemon is yanking you off of her. Midnight is whirling and shrieking, trying to shake him. There’s not enough for you to hold onto, no reins, no saddle. Daemon drags you down to the earth. You hit hard, the breath knocked from your lungs, your vision stunned black. You can feel that Daemon is on top of you with his sword at your jugular; you scratch and shove blindly at him. And then Midnight is stomping and kicking and there is a new sound: a crack muffled by gelatinous flesh like the sheet around a corpse, a great fracturing like the world splitting in half. And Daemon is gone.

Your sight materializes: black to grey to color, shadows to shapes. When you haul yourself upright, the rain is slowing and Midnight is nudging your head with her velvet-soft muzzle. Daemon is ten feet away. He has propped himself up against the entranceway of the bridge, his legs splayed out in front of him. When you go to him and kneel down in the mud—thunder growling distantly, moving into the west—you see that his jaw has been broken from the impact of Midnight’s hoof. It hangs disjointedly, ruinously from his face. A moon-white dagger of bone juts from the torn flesh. His teeth are a garden of ivory shards and excavated pits. Blood pours down his throat and chest like a river, like a sea. He cannot speak. He can only gaze at you with glassy, vacant eyes, the knowledge dripping in slowly, piece by piece, like waking up from a dream: he’s dying. And it occurs to you that sometimes dying is the end, and sometimes it’s just killing the version of yourself that existed before, sacrifice, spring after frost, a blade born from a forge, resurrection.

You press your hands to the blood that hemorrhages from Daemon and then drag them down your face, palms and fingertips, coppery-tasting scarlet like wine, like rubies. “You once told me that I’d look better covered in red,” you say to him as the last vestiges of consciousness flicker in his eyes. “That was on Christmas, just before you murdered my son in the womb and I spent weeks bleeding fragments of him out of me. How do I look now, Prince Daemon? Now you’re the one who’s bleeding. Now you’re the one who will never grow old.”

He hears you. You can see that he hears you: horror, agony, disbelief, mourning.

“I want you to think about that as you lie here dying alone. I want you to think about all those things you wanted—those glorious, ruthless things—and how you stole them from yourself.”

You stagger to your feet. Daemon’s hand, weak like a whisper, juts out and grabs your muddied ankle. You rip free of him without looking back. You are the last person to ever see him alive.

Midnight follows you back to the palace. Your damaged hand hangs limply by your side; the other cups your belly. You wait for the cramping to begin, the razorlike severing, the blood. It seems unthinkable that your child could have survived, that Daemon could have departed this earth without stealing one last life from you. But for all the places where you hurt terribly, that isn’t one of them. When you reach the well, you brace yourself for what you’ll discover there. You grip the cool grey circle of stones and peer over the edge.

“Your Majesty?!” Criston exclaims, gaping at you. He’s wading in water up to his chest. “Oh, thank God! I heard the footsteps and thought it was Daemon!”

“He’s dead,” you reply in a voice that sounds very little like yours: cold like winter, hard like steel. The rain has faded to a misty drizzle.

Criston shakes his head, not understanding. “How did you…? What did you…?”

“I’ll find a way to get you out,” you say, and leave him.

You procure a length of rope from the stable and—with considerable difficulty, your wounded hand trembling and nearly useless—tie one end around Midnight like the harness of a plow. You toss the other end down to Criston. He emerges from the well with a broken leg but otherwise relatively unscathed. He limps, leaning against Midnight (an only semi-willing ally), to where Daemon’s body lies by the bridge.

“Oh my God,” Criston marvels, staring down at him: ruined face, empty hands. “He’s gone. He’s really gone. He was the greatest weapon the Blacks had, and he’s gone. What the hell will Rhaenyra do now?”

You pry your sword from Caraxes’ corpse and then return to Criston. “I need you to help me. My blade is too small, and even if it wasn’t, my sword hand is practically unusable. I can probably do the first part, but I’ll need you to chop through the spine.”

Criston is horrified. “What are you talking about? The spine…?!”

And then you tell him.

You have just finished when you hear the rumble of hooves approaching. Vhagar and Aemond are at the front of a detachment of cavalry. The cannon fire in the distance has stopped; Daeron and Alonzo are doubtlessly overseeing the clearing of the battlefield. Aemond leaps down from the saddle and rushes to where you stand to meet him on the bridge, his gaze flying from your ragged hand to the streaks of red on your gown and your face. Your other hand is hidden behind your back.

“Are you—?!”

“I’m alright,” you say. “The blood isn’t all mine.”

And then you throw Daemon’s head—clutching it by his long, white, Targaryen hair—out onto the grey stones for everyone to witness. It rolls several times before coming to rest face-up, the last raindrops falling into Daemon’s vacuous eyes as the sky begins to clear. Aemond grins, a fiercely proud, wonderous grin; and the soldiers’ cheers are carried on the calm, cool breeze: “The Queen from Navarre! The Queen from Navarre! The Queen from Navarre!”

A physician is fetched to set Sir Criston’s leg and to tend to your hand. It is scrubbed with boiling wine (excruciating) and then the deepest gashes are stitched closed with a needle and thread (even worse). The process takes several hours. You are offered strong wine for the pain, but you don’t want to risk harming the baby. Aemond stays with you. He knows exactly what this feels like: the serrated agony now, the scar tissue that will grow through the rubble like roots. It will pain you all your life. You will never be free of it.

Aemond cleans Daemon’s blood from your face and allows you to squeeze his hand until your fingernails leave crescent-moon indents in his palm. And then he begins to distract you. He brings his lips to the curve of your jaw as one arm hugs your waist, and as he dusts your skin with tantalizingly slow kisses and teasing nips, you are reminded of the February night when he touched you beneath your nightgown for the first time, when he showed you how hot desire could burn and how kindly it could treat you. As your flesh is mended like a torn tapestry—the physician’s head bent low over his work—Aemond nuzzles you and murmurs to you and traces his fingertips lightly over your throat, your collarbones, the nape of your neck.

Miraculously, after a while you barely notice the pain at all. After a while, you are covered in nothing but weightless, glimmering desire for him.

In the room of Castle Rising that has become your bedchamber: back to the wall, hands in his hair, loose and wild and silver. In the starlight that streams in through the open windows, it has an opalescent sheen like moonstone. He’s kissing you like fire consumes forests; he’s breathing you in like smoke. You can feel him growing through you, flames licking, ivy climbing the trellis of your ribs and vertebrae. He’s tearing off your gown—once white, now red, impure and unrepentant—as you undress him and litter the floor with all the leather and fabric that once separated you. As Aemond’s hands skate up your bare thighs, you remember other moments with him: in the royal stables on a July afternoon, your miscarriage after the Christmas feast, on the bearskin rug in February, his wedding night at the end of April, here in the bathtub before the battle.

“Please, Aemond,” you beg as his fingers slip between slick warm folds of needful flesh, circle the place that raises euphoria in you like the moon pulls the tides. “I need all of you.”

“No,” he pants between fevered kisses. The ruby of his missing eye glints hungrily. “You first. I’m not going to last, I know it. You have to go first.”

Your unbandaged hand knots in his hair, tugging him ever-closer; his tongue darts into your mouth; his bare chest and hips press insistently to yours. You can feel his hardness, his length against your inner thigh, and this time there is no trepidation that roils in your mind like the waves of the sea. You want him with everything you’re built of, every minute and mineral and memory. You could not silence your moans if you tried. You can feel your shoulder blades bruising against the wall, heavenly pressure, delicious bites of pain, trapped blood that tomorrow will be swimming with recollection.

“Aemond, it’s happening—”

“Good, good,” he purrs through your disheveled hair. He slides one finger into you, and then another, kissing the slope of your cheekbone as your hips rock with his rhythm. “Come for me, Ivy. You wanted me to be the one to have you and now I’m here, I’ll be here forever, I’ll be here until the world ends. Let me show you how good it will always feel.”

You cry out against him, shuddering and rapturous. You can feel the past slipping away like a dream you can’t recall in the morning, a flash here, a phrase there, but otherwise indistinct, shadowy, the jagged parts sanded down until they no longer sting.

“I love you,” Aemond whispers, his fingers still inside you, buried to the knuckles in your pulsing warmth, your wetness, relics of the pleasure only he showed you was possible.

And you reply with his own words, cradling his face in your palms, half-scarred and yet entirely beautiful: “I would love you anywhere and at any cost.”

He draws you to the bed. He’s on top of you, he’s touching you, he’s tasting you, he’s stroking you until you plead for him to give you everything. But Aemond wants to be sure you’re ready. When he finally eases himself into you, it is a smooth and gliding action, overwhelming and unfamiliar but in no way painful. You hear his promise—I won’t hurt you, I’ll never hurt you—and you know that he has kept it. The intense fullness is a sensation you’ve never known before, never even imagined. When he moves, very carefully at first, it hits at an angle that rekindles your lust, somehow deeper, less pointed, more total than the peaks you knew before. You can’t catch your breath; you feel like if the wave doesn’t break, it will kill you.

“Again?” Aemond murmurs, stunned yet ecstatic.

“Again,” you gasp helplessly. He threads his fingers through yours on your good hand and pins it above your head, thrusting more powerfully as he kisses you, bodies and souls alike tangled up together, inseparable, irrevocable. When you come, it is an indescribable high; it is a force that feels like it could snap ropes of muscle and break bones. Aemond, unable to wait a second longer, empties himself with a trembling, reverent moan of the name he gave you: Ivy, Ivy, Ivy. And he holds you—tightly, to his chest, to his heart—for a long time before he pulls himself away, as if he is afraid that the moment he lifts his hands from you you’ll vanish.

Gently, he pushes your thighs apart when you move to close them. “Let me look at you,” he says. And he sighs, transfixed, as he watches his seed spill out. He takes a corner of the sheet that you’ve torn from the mattress and whisks the pearl-white river away. Then he smiles, his gaze flicking playfully to yours. “One day this won’t go to waste.”

You bathe together in water murky with steam and herbs and rose petals, washing away the past, cleaning the slate for the future. And when you return exhausted to the bed remade with fresh linens, neither of you stare up at the ceiling and wonder at the cruelties of time. You fold into Aemond—your head on his chest, rounded belly pressed against him, an arm slung across his waist—and you are asleep before you can begin to count the beats of his heart.

As soon as you arrive back in London, you and Aemond marry in the small private chapel, not illuminated by candlelight but by the sun, radiant afternoon beams refracted by stained glass scenes of kings and saints, colors on your skin like gemstones: ruby, sapphire, amethyst, emerald, amber, ruby again, treasures from the earth born only from suffocating pressure and the passing of time.

Two years to the day after you first set foot on English soil, Aemond is officially invested as regent pending either your deliverance of a daughter or your son’s coming of age in eighteen years. During the feast that follows, Alicent tends fretfully to Sir Criston: feeding him morsels of bread and meat, asking after the pain in his still-mending leg, forbidding him from rising unnecessarily from his chair. She finds excuses to touch his hair and his hands, and you observe them—furtively, from behind sips of honeyed mead, trying not to intrude—with warm blood blossoming in your cheeks. You are happy for them. You know exactly what it feels like to taste passion after a lifetime without it. It is better than a paradise, an oasis, a port in the storm. It is magic. It is a spell.

You and Aemond traverse the Great Hall of Westminster Palace to thank the Southern nobles for their loyalty, their sacrifices, their dead sons and widowed daughters. You collect wary apologies from Northerners who must now somehow be rewoven into the fabric of English society. You are offered praise for your heroism, condolences for your dead husband, well wishes for your unborn child who might one day be the king. And when, suddenly, you gasp and grab at your belly with your scarred hand, Aemond reaches fearfully for you.

“What—?”

“He’s moving,” you say, incredulous, beaming. And then you lay Aemond’s palms on your bump so he can feel it too. “He’s alright. He’s alive.”

“Of course he’s alive,” Aemond says; but you can see on his face that only now does he truly believe it, and that all along he was so adamant only because he knew it was what you needed.

The nobility—Greens and reformed Blacks alike—try not to raise their eyebrows too much when you and Aemond announce that you wed immediately upon your return to London. Yet they accept it, and so do the kingdoms of the Continent, and—after some adept persuading by your father and Alonzo—so does the Pope in Rome. There are far greater sins still fresh in everyone’s memory. And no one can deny that Aemond was built for ruling. He is the best thing for England, for all of Europe. So are you. You are beloved by the people. The name they call you—the Queen from Navarre—lives in the same breath as martyrs and saints.

Daeron is rarely left alone. Even the Duke of Hightower has compassion for him. Aemond takes him hunting and sparring, you walk with him in the gardens where Nico once sat and wept as she read his letters. He does not forget her—not at all, not even a little bit, not ever—but he does learn to remember her with more affection than bitterness. Bitterness does not come naturally to Daeron; he sheds it more swiftly than other men could. Someday he will have to marry, of course, but he is allowed time to mourn. The promise of the child you carry grants him that. And Aemond asks you to sew a new banner for the Greens: two roses, one red and the other emerald, entangled on a field of golden yellow like the flags of Milan and the Holy Roman Empire. Yellow for Nico, yellow for Kunigunde. Yellow for the dawning future they helped pay for in blood.

As retribution for his daughter’s murder, the Holy Roman Emperor demands that Rhaenyra’s three children with Daemon be sent to him as wards…including her only girl. And so Aegon III, Viserys II, and Visenya—still young enough for the memories of their true parents to be essentially obliterated—are shipped off to the Continent, never to raise armies or enlist poisoners, never to marry into the illustrious families of Northern England, chess pieces removed from the board. Luke and Rhaena relocate permanently to Scotland where they will one day inherit the throne; Aemond corresponds with them regularly, seeking to establish a rapport that will spare both kingdoms from further bloodshed. Joffrey is raised by King Corlys and Queen Rhaenys. Rhaenyra is banished to an abbey on the irrelevant, dreary, windswept island of Iona off the west coast of Scotland. As long as she commits no treachery, she is permitted to have visitors there. But she may never leave without forfeiting the lives of her children held as perpetual hostages by the Holy Roman Empire.

In the bleak depths of November, your labor pains begin as you are visiting the royal stables, feeding Midnight and Vhagar and Tessarion knobby carrots from the gardens and handfuls of oats. The midwives and physicians are baffled by Aemond’s insistence upon staying with you during the birth. He is similarly baffled by their assumption that he would rather be off somewhere else: hunting, sparring, writing, politicking, gifts he possesses in equal measure. And mercifully, for all that you have suffered in pursuit of motherhood, this particular trial passes as unremarkably as possible. Your labor begins one afternoon and ends the next with the birth of a small yet healthy, living, white-haired son. The midwives let Aemond catch him, cut the umbilical cord, and place him on your chest, a weight you have waited nearly two and a half years to feel.

“You did it, Ivy,” Aemond whispers, kissing your temple with tears in his eye, as if he had no part in it at all. And the rest of your life suddenly lines up in front of you like stars in a constellation: teaching your children to walk, to read, to ride horses, to fight for themselves and their country if the fragile peace the Greens have brokered ever crumbles.

When Daeron comes to see you, you tell him as he cradles the baby in tentative arms: “We’ve named him after Nico.”

“Nicoloso?” Daeron replies, pleased yet rather amused. It is a ludicrous name for an English monarch.

“Nicholas.”

“Ah. Yes. Grandsire won’t hate that quite so much.”

Daeron studies the infant king, his tiny flailing hands, his drowsy yawns, and when Nicholas grips his thumb Daeron laughs for the first time that you can remember since Nico was alive. And you think as you watch them that maybe time is less like a wheel—something that crushes and repeats—and more like a vine that climbs ever-higher. Maybe chronology is less like a prison than an open door.

Tonight, Aemond is cross-legged on the bearskin rug and holding Nicholas, smoothing his downy silver hair in the amber firelight, telling him the same stories he once told you: King Arthur, Beowulf, Robin Hood, the Rollright Stones, Saint George and the slaying of dragons. On the wall hangs the tapestry that Aemond moved from his rooms to the bedchamber you now share. In the trunk at the foot of your bed are his poems, your sword, the letters that Aegon sends from Navarre. You are reading the most recent one now. It is—peculiarly—written in Spanish.

Wife,

I have endeavored to compose this letter in the language of your homeland. (I’ve begun taking lessons with Alonzo. Am I any good yet?)

No, he’s not; he’s made at least six grammatical errors and has confused the word patria (homeland) with patear (to kick).

I offer you my most heartfelt congratulations upon your safe deliverance of a son. I am sure it has brought you and Aemond immeasurable relief. The court here has celebrated with a feast of traditional English food (a crime! have I crossed the sea only to still be tormented by black pudding and salmon pie?) and plenty of dancing. But don’t grow too proud. They still gossip about your hasty second marriage to a man whose own wife was barely cold in the grave. You should be thankful for Rhaenyra’s brazen mating with her loathsome, deranged uncle. Your supposed transgressions seem mild in comparison. No one mourns me much. I suppose that is the mark of a life not properly lived. I’m hoping to remedy that. I really am.

You wrote that the baby looks a lot like me. That made me smile, although I’m not sure why. I’d like to meet him someday, once you have fully recovered and he is old enough to travel. Summers are beautiful here, as you well know. You and Aemond should visit in June. It will be the anniversary of my death. We can celebrate with rosado and lamb.

I had this thought recently that I can’t seem to shake. It feels too insightful to be mine. Sometimes endings are more like beginnings…don’t you think?

Whatever the color of his hair and eyes, I hope Nicholas is more like you than me.

I’ll be dreaming of you. Both of you.

With great affection,

The King in Navarre (and Sunfyre)

You re-fold the letter and place it in your trunk. Then you look to Aemond and the child he considers his own. “Navarre in June?” you say hopefully.

Aemond smiles, warm like embers. He ruby eye reflects the firelight: crimson comets, red stars. “Navarre in June,” he agrees. “It’s been too long already.” And then he touches his lips to Nicholas’ tiny, flawless forehead before laying him in the cradle.

Once, as golden afternoon light poured into the royal stables, Aemond had asked you what brought you happiness here in England. Everything, you would answer now if he asked you again.

Everything.

#aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen x you

333 notes · View notes