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imjunebitch · 1 month ago

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channelers chapter one: feeling small and as though creation is fucked

im June, bitch! and this is Channelers, a dumb series about wizards, God, and things that call themselves gods.

tw: gratuitous body horror, asshole queerphobe protagonist (just in this chapter), gratuitous dick jokes, scary elements kinda, existential dread, and nodens.

reblogs and feedback always appreciated :D

Fear greatly, for though GOD knows no equality, that Supreme Being does know equity. You who hold His power, know that while you live, all Creation must then groan, and the darkness that predates time will also know your name-

"You were nine years old when it happened, and you would tell them you didn't remember it, but you did, you do. You let yourself internally categorize the question as another, simpler question, 'did you see anything helpful, anything that makes sense.' And no, you didn't, so you felt justified lying then, as a child, and lying now, even to the doctor you pay actual money, under the pretense of having someone who you could be fully honest with. You don't even admit it to yourself.

You went out to the road at night at your grandparents house with your older cousin, and he pointed where the long, narrow road stretched out between two seemingly endless walls of trees, and the thin dusky light emanating lazily from the porch dissolved into utter darkness, blacker than black, and grinned, and said whoever walked the furthest without turning and running would win.

And you'd whined, but then he called you a baby, and you weren't a fucking baby, you were nine years old, and he laughed, and said you were too a baby, listen to yourself, saying the word fuck like you had never said it before, you were bad at it. That made you angry, and you walked quickly down the road. He followed you, mocking you initially, and then falling silent.

The darkness was big. It was so big that it was like slipping out of light entirely, floating into space, no energy, no sound, nothing, nothing. Your cousin spoke quietly, said you could turn around, and you knew he was trying to trick you, so you kept going.

And then it was so dark that you could not see your arms or legs, and you heard your cousin scream, and you ran. You ran. You left him.

You moved as quickly as you could, and heard screams cut short, and saw that you could not see any part of your body, and you felt that your feet were no longer touch any ground at all. You knew you were moving forward, but as you wiggled your fingers and toes and realized that you could not do that, as you no longer had toes or fingers to wiggle, you realized you were not running. You could not.

You were alone, of course, truly alone, and nothing seemed to exist but blackness. But in the mind of a human, especially a child, anthropomorphizing anything and everything is unavoidable, so you imagined the malicious or uncaring void that had taken your cousin as a great, monstrous black goat. This brought you a little comfort. You imagined that your cousin had not simply vanished, that perhaps he had been eaten. This, too, was comforting. You spoke, and heard your own voice, either aloud or in your head. You giggled hysterically in relief, and began to speak.

Sometimes when you were young you would whisper terrible things to yourself in bed and feel the dark joy, shame, and terror of transgression. You would say things like I love Satan and then laugh and weep in terror, in your bed, late at night. In that moment, you didn't pay attention to what you were saying, because you knew it would terrify you, petrify you, make you scream and weep. You spoke words you would never say.

And when they found your curled up on the side of the road and asked you where your cousin was you lied and said you didn't k-"

Eddie liked to feel important. It was truly among his favorite things. So although the job paid chickenshit, although the people he worked with filled him with a mild sense of loathing, although seeing the fucking scene kids and teenage skater assholes made him feel older than he was, and sapped him of hope for the future, the simple fact that being a mall security guard let him wear a uniform, and carry a baton, even if he wasn't really allowed to use it, was enough of a thrill to keep him more than happy.

Eddie's life was not interesting, but he was not an interesting man. He had light brown hair, which he cut short. His face looked a little bit like it had been broken apart and then mended, almost, almost perfectly. Proportions and composition just a little off.

He would wake up in the morning and walk to work. Sometimes he would allow himself breakfast, usually from the food court, and then he would walk to his locker, put on his uniform, and grab his baton. Occasionally the blue dyed-hair, pimply fucker he worked with would remark on how he seemed to enjoy holding the baton just a smidgen too much, and ask if he felt the object was phallic in any sense. He wouldn't respond to them.

Today they were nowhere to be found, God be blessed, and so he slipped his uniform on in silence. It was crisp. Nobody else kept their uniform crisp. Eddie liked to think he would have made a good police officer. Or perhaps a military officer. But no, it was the mall, the mall for him. He reminded himself as he looked around the dingy locker room (green, almost brown walls, metal benches, gray and somehow almost preternatural levels of grime and stickiness coating the metal of the lockers themselves) that you only had what you were given. He held this power, at least, over his tiny slice of creation. He tried not to be ungrateful, but it was difficult. 28 fucking years old, and this was all he had?

A bad line of thought. He inhaled through his nose and exhaled through his mouth. Were you meant to do that the other way? He wasn't sure. Whatever, breathing didn't do shit anyway.

He grasped his baton firmly, cursing the barely adult shit-stain for making him think of it as a penis intermittently, and walked out to do his job.

His job consisted of walking the mall, which he often did like a man in a trance, and listening to his radio, from which he would periodically be told that there was an issue. When there was an issue, he would go to the person or people causing it and speak in low, friendly tones, and clutch his baton, firmly and suggestively. No- Not "firmly and suggestively," fuck, fuck that blue-haired cumstain. He would grasp it... No... Grip it, grip it with authority- FUCK.

He would hold it and tacitly threaten the troublemaker. There. Goddamnit. But that rarely happened. When it did, it utterly delighted him. It was a moment of brightness in an otherwise dull and overly repetitive life. A brief respite from his irritatingly routine existence. As he clutched the blunt, firm, thick rod-

God fucking damnit, he couldn't stop thinking about penises now.

Nothing much was happening today. Mall goths were congregating in their quiet, pale-faced circles. Old men and women were walking with apparent determination and enthusiasm. Stanley, who sold T-shirts and was easily ten years his senior, waved at him.

"Hey, Stanley," Eddie murmured quietly, looking at the wrinkly, large-headed man. Stanley smiled disingenuously and spoke in whatever accent he spoke in. "Hello Edward. Where is the kid?" Eddie groaned "Sick, probably? Hell if I know. Not here, that's enough for me." Stanley smiled. "Not your friend, then." Eddie sighed. "Not my friend. Obviously not my friend. I doubt that I have ever said anything about them to you that wasn't derisive."

Stanley shrugged. "Edward, all day I talk to people. Customers, coworkers, bastards who walk the mall and purchase nothing. My skull contains no room for your petty squabbles." Eddie paused. Hm. That was fair. It still upset him vaguely that Stanley didn't seem to care that much about him, so he spun in his heel and walked down the hall.

It was a quiet day, because it was almost always a quiet day. There were no fights to break up, no customers aggressive enough to warrant being called in for a warning. Even the joy he took in verbally degrading his coworkers was unattainable, as he was alone that day. Hell, no teenagers seemed interested in harassing him. It was a cold day in hell, then. Although quiet days were common, today went above and beyond, he thought.

Lunch was a fucking cup of pretzel bites from the goddamn pretzel star, because he hadn't packed a lunch. It tasted like butter and nothing else, because he'd forgotten to ask for salt. Why the fuck didn't they just assume salt? Who the hell asks for pretzel bites and doesn't want salt? He didn't mention this to the older woman, because he was a coward, and also an asshole who assumed that she wasn't fluent in English. He drank a diet pepsi.

The first screams came from the hallway adjacent to the Belk, where he sat in a bench eating his fucking butter bread nuggets. The first were screams of panic, then of pain. And Eddie was not a scream expert, but he could tell the difference. The sound was followed by the noise a human hand might make in a blender. It sounded amplified, distorted, crunching and sucking noises looping and overlapping. The hot topic was on the other end of the mall, so it wasn't music...

Eddie was not a brave man, really. He was the opposite. So what he did made no sense. Well, initially he sat perfectly still, rigid and unthinking in his fear, staring blankly at the off-white and shiny black tiles that covered the ground of the hall, grime-encrusted, cracked, and listened to the auditory equivalent of gore, and then he looked up at the older Asian woman working at the pretzel star. Her eyes were wide with fear and she suddenly bolted for the Belk.

Eddie did not bolt for the Belk.

He should have.

He was not a brave man, but neither was he a smart man, not particularly. But that neither explains nor justifies precisely how stupid he was in that moment. Running towards a sound like that. He crossed a corner and looked blankly at an older man walking around the corner.

The man was old, sticky, short. Bald, with a crown of thin white hair around his head, poking around his ears. His skin was a strange, almost red tint, like he was sunburned or very, very cold. When he saw Eddie, he stared blankly, and smiled lifelessly, with wide, watery black eyes.

"I'm a security guard," Eddie said. "I'm here to help." The man smiled wider, and then collapsed onto the ground with a wet slap. Judging by the fluid trickling from his body, Eddie realized that he was probably lacking, at least, the very outermost layer of his skin.

The blood was flowing like a small stream, down the hallway, towards where a thin curtain seemed to have been stretched in the middle, forming a wall. The hall, what he could see of it, was eerily empty.

He began to turn and walk, but then the body began to twitch and move. His back began to shift, and almost roll.

And then his spine left his body.

The curtain down the hallway began to stretch and tear, with a thick, leathery noise, and a strange scent emanated from the other side. Eddie asked himself what that scent might be, but he asked this with the fullness of knowledge of what it was. It felt best, to wonder. Easier.

the spine dragged the man's limp body forward, and the body reached out, clawing at him almost absentmindedly, crawling like a slug. Eddie squealed in a high voice, and

Pain, then, exploding through his leg as the body's teeth sank into his thigh, with a hoarse, harsh scream, thrashing, scream from him, not the body, pain so great that separating things felt impossible. Brain on fire.

He slammed the baton into the head of the body, and let out a quiet gasp as it's head exploded, bursting like a water balloon. He leapt out of the way, tightly clinging to himself and falling in the floor.

UP.

BOY. GET UP.

"Who? Who the fuck said that?"

The voice was booming, deep, paternal, and it had no apparent origin.

THE CONSTRUCT IS NOT YET DESTROYED, NUMBNUTS. GET UP. GET UP, COWARD. YOU HAVE ALWAYS WANTED TO BE SPECIAL. STOP BEING A COWARD. FUCKING. STOP IT.

"Who the fuck are you? What is going on-?"

The voice sighed loudly, and Eddie shook his head rapidly. The voice was coming from inside his head, he could tell. It wasn't making any sense.

BOY. THIS DOES NOT MATTER. WHAT MATTERS IS THAT YOU DESTROY THE CONSTRUCT. IT HAS A TASTE FOR YOU NOW. DO THIS. OR DIE. TAKE YOUR METAL PHALLUS...

"It's a FUCKING baton!!!"

TAKE YOUR METAL PHALLUS. USE IT TO DESTROY THE CONSTRUCT, JUST BE CERTAIN TO GET AS LITTLE OF IT ON OR IN YOU AS POSSIBLE. DO THIS.

Eddie looked down at the body. It had no head now, but it was still moving, somehow. The spine was splintered into three long strands, the center working to hold the body together, and the other two moving... The ribcage. Like a mouth. Jesus fucking Christ.

It staggered to its feet... well, not exactly, not ex-fucking-actly, but it forced itself into an upright position and began to crawl forward. Eddie shrieked, slamming his baton into the bone-jaw, watching in terror and vague, adrenalin-fueled excitement as the rib-teeth shattered. The baton was fucking... Glowing? Blue, it seemed blue. Less so on further examination, but his head was saying"blue," even if his eyes didn't agree.

The body's arm seemed to almost cannibalize itself for resources, disintegrating, reforming as a fleshy tendril, and whipping towards him.

Pain, but that was clearly a given.

FUCKING HOPELESS the voice said quietly, and Eddie felt an unreasonable urge to prove it wrong. He took his metal baton, which still has the strange blue glimmer, and raised it over his head, slamming it into the body over and over again, letting red mist spray, until the body collapsed, seemingly unable to hold itself together.

Eddie laughed. He slumped to the ground. "Fuck you, voice. I killed it. I killed the goddamn zombie."

YEAH, CONGRATULATIONS, BIG MAN. YOU DESTROYED A SINGLE CONSTRUCT. EXCELLENT. THE VERY GOD-DAMNED EXTREMITY OF AN OLD ONE WAS, INDEED, DAMAGED.

"Fuck you. Who are you, anyway?"

NEVER HALLUCINATED BEFORE? KIDDING. I AM NODENS. I AM AN ELDER GOD.

"Ah. Of course. Fucking answers, snappy."

NO. I HAVE EXPLAINED THINGS FAR TOO MANY TIMES TO GO OVER THE BASICS WITH ANOTHER LITTLE BITCH. THE ANSWERS YOU SEEK CAN ONLY COME FROM ANOTHER CHANNELER. NO, DON'T FUCKING ASK ME WHAT A CHANNELER IS. THERE IS ANOTHER ONE OF YOUR KIND BEHIND THE SKIN CURTAIN

"Oh, that's what that is? That's disgusting." Eddy shuddered and walked towards the skin curtain. It seemed to be muffling all sound behind it. Because he wasn't thinking right, at all, (he was fairly certain that... Nodens, or whatever was influencing him) he walked up to the curtain and pressed his hand against the layer of skin.

His hand slipped right through. He let out a strangled cry and fell forward, through the skin, and onto the other side.

Holy fuck.

Holy, fuck, a goddamn sphere of body parts was in the center. Writhing, connecting, attaching and detaching. Eddie staggered back, and the skin didn't let him slip through that way. He let out a high, shallow noise, and looked at the walls of skin coating the... Well, the walls.

The sphere was so big, so detailed and variant in form, like a fucking viscera mandala, that even describing it felt like a waste of time. Too much to analyze, and his brain blocked out.

SEE, NOW THAT'S A RESPECTABLE CONSTRUCT, the voice said, it's tone low and almost bored. YOU TOOK THAT DOWN? THAT'D BE SOMETHING TO BRAG ABOUT. BUT I THINK SHE HAS IT COVERED.

Eddie looked up, and saw her. Well, he assumed it was a "her..." Her features were a little androgynous. She was pale, with long, brown hair tied in a loose ponytail, with a long face that reminded him of a bird, or less politely, a rodent. She was wearing a blue-colored suit, the top of which was far too big for her, the tie hanging loosely and the jacket billowing around her, and she was holding a long rifle.

And then things got a little insane: there was the floating head of a hairless cat beside her. A cat's head, clear as fucking day, floating in the air. It was fucking talking too. It's voice was high and shrieky, like nails on a damned chalkboard board and it was saying

THE ONE THING THAT IS TRUE OF ALL THAT DRAWS BREATH IS THAT IT CAN CEASE TO DO SO! ALL WITH BLOOD INSIDE IT CAN BLEED. ALL THAT LIVES CAN DIE! THE PURPOSE OF ALL THAT LIVES IS THUS: TO KILL OR DIE. ALL ELSE IS DISTRACTION!

"Yep," the woman in the suit muttered wearily. "Any new talking points?"

ONLY THIS: I LIKE YOU VERY MUCH. PLEASE DO NOT DIE YET.

The woman giggled, aiming her rifle at the meat sphere. "Aww, are we being sweet, Bastet? How unlike you." Having taken aim, she fired, and Eddie essentially gave up on his life ever making sense again.

The bullets broke open in mid air, like a corn kernel popping. The things bursting forth from the bullets seemed to be far, far too big for those bullets to contain.

They were cats, metal cats, capable of movement, apparently, despite their forms being uniform, and lacking in joints or anything like that.

"What the fuck?" Eddie whispered, and the voice laughed. THAT IMPRESSES YOU? HOLY SHIT, YOU BABY. SIMPLE FUCKING CONSTRUCT, MORON. SURE, VERY IMPRESSIVE IN FORM, BUT SIMPLE FUCKING THING IN FUNCTION. ESPECIALLY WITH THE ELDER GOD HELPING. Eddie blinked, twice. "But... how does the cat fit inside the...?" IT ABSORBS MINERALS IN THE AIR AROUND IT AND RECONFIGURES THE ATOMS- WAIT, NO, FUCK YOU, I JUST SAID I'M NOT EXPLAINING SHIT.

Eddie sighed and shook his head. The metal cat things were tearing into the meat orb now, and it appeared to be screaming, which was... Utterly terrifying. The woman(?) was smiling vaguely at the sight, and the cat head was grinning insanely. And then the meat sphere started crawling. It moved like a huge amoeba, pseudopodia and all, gliding on the floor. The metal cats yelped as mouths with teeth of bone formed, fangs tearing into them.

FUCK! MY PRECIOUS BABIES! AVENGE ME, SLAVE!

"Please stop calling me a slave..." the woman in the suit muttered quietly. "This is a consensual partnership."

The meat orb clearly hadn't focused it's efforts on creating a set of vocal chords also the screams were haphazard and raw. It was doing it's best to rebuild the parts it broke, meat slithering over. The purpose of the skin cocoon was apparent now.

The skin was growing, thickening. Hastily made limbs glided towards it, tearing off chunks and bringing it over towards the mass.

FASCINATING. LOOK BOY! A SIMPLE ORGANIC WARD, AND IT HAS AUTOMATIC, FAST GROWING REPLENISHMENT! WHY, ONE MUST ALMOST ADMIRE THE CREATURE, VILE THOUGH IT IS. AN OLD ONE IS WISE INDEED!

"No, one mustn't admire it, particularly if one has NO FUCKING CLUE WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT!" Eddie hissed angrily.

MY DEAR MAN. I DON'T GIVE A JOHN JACOB JINGLEHEIMER SHIT.

"You stole that, you fucking stole that joke from the internet!"

YOU CLEARLY HAVE ZERO INTEREST IN DOING ANYTHING HELPFUL IN THIS SITUATION

"Yeah, I'm not an idiot-"

THUS, AS EVER, IT FALLS TO ME. KEEL OVER, BITCH.

Eddie fell to his knees, his grip on the cudgel loosening, and with his eyes and jaw slack, and open, he keeled over and lost consciousness.

Nodens had forgotten what flesh felt like, so initially he was hit by the crushing pressure of the violent flowing of blood in his body, smothered under the weight of meat, fat and muscle, piled on fragile and impermanent bone. He remembered to breathe, and some of the crushing weight lifted. He curled his lip. Breathing was such a miserable chore, god damn the evolutionary process for failing to make that reflexive.

Moving, too, was a chore. The weight of meat, of red flesh on flimsy bone. A precarious, tiring, awful chore. Arms, fingers, toes, legs... walking was supposed to be just like riding a bike, he thought. And then he realized, of course, that he could not ride a bike at all, and he shook his head fiercely and angrily.

He looked forward, clutching the large metal phallus that the boy had chosen to be his conduit. The Old one was hiding inside a large, and, he grudgingly admitted to himself, fairly impressive construct, with growth wards providing an endless supply of skin. He bared his teeth, grinning. The thrill of the chase!

Bastet glimpsed over towards him.

INTERLOPER she screamed, and her assistant/worshipper/lover/however they chose to define the relationship between God and Channeler looked forward too.

Nodens smiled "Hello, ancient enemy. The Old One is mine to slay, using this puppet. Step off, my dear BITCH."

ALL THAT LIVES IS MY DOMAIN, HUNTER!!!!

The woman in the suit cleared her throat. "Bastet, my crepuscular queen, the more flesh turned against this beast, the happier I am, in all honesty." Nodens snorted. "Your opinion means less than nothing, insect."

SHE'S MY FAVORITE INSECT, AND THUS SHE IS INFINITELY MORE IMPORTANT THAN YOU!!!! YOU SHOULD SURRENDER TO THE GREAT DARKNESS NOW!!!!

"Do not make such insults so casually, my friend," Nodens snarled. "Remember your goddamn place." The woman in the suit rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath.

"if this shit turns into one of those elder god rap battles, im gonna be sooo pissed."

A FLYTING? NO, I HAVE DOUBT IN THE NECESSITY OF SUCH A THING.

"i do feel the need to point out that the flesh construct remains intact and the old one hidden from view."

Nodens bared his teeth. Yes, perhaps that was a more important concern than MILLENNIUM OLD BEEF with another Elder God. He grabbed the metallic phallus, and raising it high, ran forward. So much forward motion so early might have been a bad idea, but it felt the honorable thing to do.

He heard the bang-bang-bang of the suited priestess and her gun, and scoffed, guns were for cowards, rolling his eyes at the metal cat constructs joining the fray. He tore into the walls of meat with the metal phallus, glowing blue with unnatural light. The meat slipped apart wetly, with little effort. Piss-poor composition, not that it mattered, since the skin wards let it just grow the fuck back.

"Um... I think that we should focus on getting to the actual Old One and not waste time on the construct, because we could fight the construct for-frikkin-ever," the suit wearing priestess opined. Nodens gritted his teeth. The mortal was right, an ever embarrassing thing to admit. He brought the phallus down on a wall of flesh again, and set about tearing an entryway into it.

Hard work, fortunately the construct was not built for offensive purposes. Those minor constructs like the one the boy had felled filled that purpose. This one was a dumb animal, a literal living shield, built around the real threat. It ate, shat, and contained blood, and it did little else, as was it's design.

Metal cats were worming their way in now too, like, well, worms, burrowing into an apple. Eddie's body was giving in already. Nodens snorted. Channeler the boy may be, but he was still human flesh and bone. Weak. He was approaching the Old One now, a fraction of nothingness in a universe that otherwise, for all it's faults, existed. He could feel the sound of it's real silence, in his teeth and jawbone. The body he wore was shaking.

He tried to ignore the way it moved and looked. The way his brain struggled in vain to recognize anything in the pure nothingness ahead of him, and the way his brain filled that empty space with a hundred thousand swirling nightmare visions, none of them real but all of them preferable to the tableau of incomprehensible nonexistence ahead of him. Thank god it was a small one, not capable of thought, not capable of seeing him. His body was reacting in utter terror and though a Channeler was something stronger than a human, he knew that the body would fail in time. Its divinity granted it about five minutes of prolonged exposure of this sort.

This was hard, one of the hardest possible things to do. Nodens allowed about half of his spirit to slip from Eddie's body, so he could work in tandem as God and Priest. Every God could do something that looked like it, but actual creation was impossibly draining. Blood flowed from Eddie's nose, mouth, ears, and eyes, but he wasn't going to die, anyway, and this was what Channelers were for. Batteries.

It wasn't very much. Just a couple of hydrogen molecules in the middle of the Old One, where nothing--literally, truly nothing--had existed before. The Old One was forced for the first time to acknowledge itself, to exist, and where it had not existed before, there was now a patch of air, mingling molecules and gasses.

Nodens let out a loud, agonized cry as he was torn back into the dreamlands, and Eddie crumpled to the floor like a fallen house of cards. And the construct around him collapsed.

WE ARE GOING TO HAVE TO BURN THIS ENTIRE MALL DOWN

"I know that, Bastet."

IT'S LIKE A FUCKING BOSCH PAINTING IN THERE. AND YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE TAKEN THE SECURITY GUARD, HE SEEMS LIKE A CUNT. SHOULD HAVE LET ME EAT HIM WHEN I OFFERED.

"You think everyone is bad, B."

IF HE'S MEAN TO YOU, I'LL EAT HIM

"I told you to stop babying me about the trans thing. I'm a grown ass woman-"

NOT ABOUT THAT. IF ANYONE IS MEAN TO YOU FOR ANY REASON I'LL FUCKING CUT THEM. YOU'RE NICE AND COOL.

"I love you too, B."

...

Quiet grumbling followed, and Eddie wondered why his head hurt so goddamn much, and where he was. Dark, cramped, and... Judging by the sounds... And the feeling of motion... Was... Was he in the trunk of a car? He sniffed heavily. He smelled like shit and raw meat. This was, he realized, probably because of all of the blood he was soaked in. He let out a high, shrill scream.

"Shit. I think he's broken."

WELL, HARD AS IT IS TO SAY, I THINK HE'S LOST ALL USE TO US. YOU DON'T HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT HIM. I'LL MAKE THE SACRIFICE AND EAT HIM.

"Yeah, well, that's real good of you, B."

MY KINDNESS KNOWS NO BOUNDS.

"Don't you remember when I first realized I was a Channeler? I was confused, scared, panicked.... You helped me, and look where we are now!"

I HELPED YOU BECAUSE YOU'RE HOT, THAT'S LITERALLY IT. HE LOOKS LIKE SHIT.

Eddie took the time and energy to be offended, despite his current state. The car hit a pothole and he almost vomited.

TAKE SOME ADVICE, L. THIS GUY IS AN ASSHOLE. I THINK HE HAS PISSED HIMSELF BACK THERE. HE'S A DUMBASS. DON'T TRAIN HIM. LET ME EAT HIM INSTEAD. I'LL BROIL HIM, CUT HIM UP, SHIT, WE CAN SHARE! I'LL GIVE YOU THE VERY BEST PIECES.

"I still don't eat people. Nor will I, ever. And I'm not training this guy anyway. Our mutual friend K will probably help him out."

OOH, K IS A FUCKING ASSHOLE. GOOD. THIS'LL BE REALLY FUNNY. MAYBE THEY'LL FUCKING KILL HIM AND LET ME EAT H-

"Are you really that fucking hungry, B? So fucking hungry that eating people is the sole thing you can think of?"

I CAN THINK OF A FEW THINGS I'D LIKE TO EAT, YEAH.

The suited woman laughed, affectionately.

"You're fucking disgusting."

The two then settled into a supremely comfortable silence. Well, it was comfortable for them. The blood-drenched man huddled in the trunk of the car, shuddering from his cold wetness, jolted by every bump of the car, too scared to speak or even breathe too loud, was perhaps a little less comfortable in comparison. He closed his eyes tight and waited to wake up from this nightmare.

The trunk opened, and Eddie rolled out onto the concrete driveway, sobbing and stucky with blood. From what, he couldn't even fucking remember. The woman in the suit looked down at him with a sympathetic half-smile. He got a better look at her. She was skinny and pale, with facial features reminiscent of a rodent. He couldn't decide if she was pretty or not, but he was leaning towards not. She had big eyes and thin lips slick with black lipstick, and something wrong with her facial expression. She also had an adams apple, which he felt a tiny bit bad about noticing. She was leaning down to look at him.

"Hey," she said, and her voice was soft. "You're scared, huh? Well, it's okay, okay? My friend Kai is a Channeler, like you are, and they're going to help you learn how this works. Bastet and I are going to go burn down the mall, and then I'll come back around and check on you, okay?"

Kai... where the hell had he heard that name? He couldn't think of it. The woman in the suit was helping him walk to the door now, and she rang the doorbell.

The door opened.

"Fuck my life," Eddie whispered.

He remembered where he knew the name Kai from now. The sole occupant of the house, with their pale skin, and blue hair, and pimply fucking rat face, smiled broadly. "Hi, Luci. Hey Ed."

"Don't fucking call me Ed."

"Nice to see you brought your special metal dildo, Ed. Come on in."

#my writing :3 #original story #june writes #elder godposting #elder gods #lovecraft #queer #authors #long post #dumbassery #body horrow cw #fantasy #horror #ocs #oc writing #channelers series

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imjunebitch · 19 days ago

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Channelers Chapter Two: Here then, are your gods

Yep, chapter two! Hell yeah fuck yeah, uh chapter one is here: https://www.tumblr.com/imjunebitch/773128157820813312/channelers-chapter-one-feeling-small-and-as

tw for: violence, existential dread, God, lesbians, abusive parenting, drug running, wizards, cannibalism references, kidnapping a homophobe, cuddling, and Michael

Any man who worships a god he cannot see, and could not restrain, is a damned fool.

GOD, the Supreme Being, walked quietly into the town of Rosenburh from the cold, rocky beach at the northernmost end of the small, cold island off the coast of England. He was followed by a single figure. In days when He was younger, He traveled with a party of human worshippers, but He had long since lost the appetite for worship.

The one figure that did follow Him wore a pale, tattered robe. It had skin as white as mayonnaise, long hair, and no tongue. It had a ponderous, slow manner, like it would have rather been anywhere else. Nonetheless, it followed obediently. GOD did not speak to it. It moved like a beaten dog.

The people left their houses, drawn to the presence of GOD. He smiled, looking at them one at a time. He put them at ease. His white eyes, his calm, old face, and easy smile. Hello, all of you, he said quietly. I would like to apologize for what I am about to do.

For an average Channeler, the ward that God cast would have taken decades to prepare. Let alone cast. For God, it took seconds. He raised his hand, and half of the living organisms in Rosenburh were gone.

It wasn't difficult for him. He destroyed them, body and soul, in an instant, and in the same instant gained a level of potential energy equal to their existence. Simple enough, for him. Not one atom left, spick and span, soon the things left over wouldn't remember them, He thought, they'd just know something had been taken. People, dogs, even insects, half of their number well and truly gone.

The remaining gathered townspeople were silent, rigid with terror. Who could hope to face something like this?

God smiled.

Allow me to explain, he began.

When I created the heavens and earth... Well, before I did, nothing existed. And after... pieces of that "nothing" remained. And they were... angry at the changes they saw. Since the beginning of time, these Old Ones, these pieces of nothingness have pursued me.

He shrugged easily, smiling faintly.

Suffice to say, I have enemies. And they're not "Satan," whatever the hell that would even be. They flock like moths to a flame, trying to extinguish all light. And I am the greatest supplier of light. They are inexorably drawn to me.

The figure that followed God sat lightly on the ground, extending a long, thin finger, and writing absentmindedly in the sand. God rubbed the bridge of His nose, and looked out at the crowd wearily.

You have read, perhaps, that the light shined in the darkness, but the darkness did not understand it, He murmured pleasantly. Well. Very true. I had the idea, oh, ages ago, to simply... Imbue portions of my power inside random humans. Figured they'd work as great distractions for the Old Ones. They're called Channelers or something like that... Whatever, that's not important at all. He laughed, shaking His head. I do get sidetracked, I apologize.

It worked fantastically, at distracting the smaller ones. But it was a disappointment, all-in-all. Imagine you have been chased by a horde of ravenous wolves and a swarm of wasps your entire life, and you think you have found a way to divert them all... only to learn that you've only stopped the wasps. So... I do big things like this, to distract them, while I keep moving. He said, smiling sadly, shaking his head. I've lived on the run as long as I've lived. This will be terrible for you, I know, I'm sorry. But in time... you will have never existed. I almost envy you.

He looked at them with a sad, sympathetic face, and then turned, leaving, pulling the hooded figure to its feet. The crowd stood in agonized, bleak silence, and God stepped out onto the water and walked away.

And the sky began to go bla-

Imani genuinely wondered why all the Channeler shit happened in places like this. Never in a fucking city, never in the fucking country. Suburbs. Suburbs suburbs suburbs forever. Whatever. Never nice ones either.

She knew why. Magic or whatever was statistically more likely to be active the more people who might be Channelers were around. But get too many people in one place... 50 people to a fucking block like it was down in Miami... Well, the jig would be up in short order. So while shit happened in Miami, and shit probably happened in isolated, rural areas (the old adage about trees in the woods with nobody around) it paled in comparison to what happened in places like Tallahassee.

Or places like this, to an even greater degree.

Damascus was a large town only in the sense that it was sprawling and stretched out. It was out of reach of the beach, a couple hours away, in fact. There were, however, swamps. And warehouses. It was not a wealthy area, but there were a few wealthy people. One of them would hopefully be employing Imani soon.

It was hard as hell to get a job as a Channeler. She had special skills, yeah, but there weren't enough Channelers in the world to have some stupid separatist wizard society with special slurs for ordinary humans. Jobs were scarce, hell, Channelers were scarce, and beside, there were countless sword wizards with more talent than her. Statistically speaking, she was going to get eaten by an Old One on a protection job before she turned thirty. Hopefully not this one.

Imani had not slept in two days. She had dark skin and light, dyed blond hair, tightly curled against her head. She was muscular and currently wearing a loose, flowy dress with shorts and a t shirt under. She also had a sword. Her conduit. She hadn't slept because she'd been staying with a friend. Hopefully she'd get this job. A long term protection job came with room and board, usually.

Her eyes had bags and shit, but some makeup fixed that anyway. And besides, the good thing about how few Channelers there were was that, although there were less jobs, there were also less applicants.

The house she was meant to drive to was larger than most of the moulding yuppie houses down in the town, leading her to assume that the owner of the house was wealthy for the area. The man... Michael, the man hiring her or whatever was probably rich, and that boded well, she thought. For her pockets. She loved her pockets.

She parked the car in the driveway and a man who looked like his flesh was rock walked out the front door. To call him gnarled would not have been an apt description. "Gnarled" implied the appearance of distortion on an otherwise pure form. This man was that distortion, like he had been carved of ragged rock by a someone who didn't see much appeal in consistency or realistic proportions. His skin was almost gray, and his hair was grey too. He was a slab of muscle and tendon. Imani could tell that he was exuding some level of Channeling, but she was just a sword wizard, she didn't know how much. Channeler, construct, possessed... He could be God Himself for all she knew.

Imani stepped out of the car and waved vaguely. "Hi there. I'm Imani." The man nodded, and spoke in a soft, low voice that was almost comedic in contrast to his appearance. "Michael wants to see you, ma'am." She nodded, and he led her inside.

The house was as personal and homely as the interior of an IKEA. Fluorescent lighting, almost sterile conditions. The house had no pervading scent at all, a statement that sounded completely insane but was nonetheless true. That shouldn't be possible, everywhere smells like something, she thought. Maybe there was a Ward in place. Imani was the stereotypical sort of sword wizard who didn't know a single thing about Wards and didn't really give a shit either. Sorcerer type Channelers always felt a little bit stuck up to her, in all honesty. She knew that was a stereotype, and felt bad for it. Combat wizards were dumbasses, sorcerers were smug elitists, and priests were horny bastards who couldn't stop fucking Elder Gods. That was the stereotype, and she did her best not to agree with it.

She was taken by rock-man to a door at the top of a narrow stairway. The man stood silently beside her, forcing her to wait nervously for a little while before knocking.

She knocked. "Come in," a quiet voice with an indeterminate accent said. She opened the door, and a tall, thin man was sitting at a desk. There was a chair in front of him and he nodded to Imani to sit.

Imani sat.

The man... Michael? Nodded to the rough figure behind her, and the big man left, closing the door.

The man smiled. He was thin, and pale in the ghastly way sorcerers often were. He looked almost malnourished. He was Asian, she decided, but it was hard to tell. His features were vague and indeterminate. His gums were black, she noted uneasily.

"You're here to interview for the protection job," he said, a statement rather than a question. She nodded. "And you showed up. In person."

Imani settled nervously in her seat. "Wasn't I supposed to?"

He laughed. "Yes, yes, but my daughter told me nobody would come. That my reputation, the fear I garner, is so great that there would be no applicants. Indeed, you are the only one. You must be very brave."

Imani, who had not researched, had not even heard of Michael before the previous week, hell, didn't know his surname or what the job actually entailed, smiled broadly. "Well, I don't like to brag," she said. This was untrue.

"My... chosen career is drug running, of course. As such, it is very important that i have protection with me. Colm, the man you met... My brother, he provides that for me. But those who are close to me are often in danger as well, unfortunately."

He rubs his temple in exhaustion.

"My daughter has been frequently put into danger by my enemies. This is unfortunate. She's the only one of my children to have the gift, even if she is just a priestess. She's needed. For my lineage, my business, etc. And Colm cannot be in two places at once. Thus..."

"Thus, you need me to nanny your daughter. But you pay well. So I'm not in a position to refuse."

Michael sighed, and conceded, tilting his head to the side.

"My daughter is likely around your age, but 'nanny' is perhaps an appropriate term. She is a willful, but damned needy girl. Really, your services are only required when she's 'out with her friends,' which is, admittedly, quite often."

Imani nodded. So her job would essentially be living in cohabitation with a woman her age, traveling with her everywhere she went, defending her with her life... There were probably quarters for her here too...

"Of course, we have quarters for you here, although your services won't be required past eleven-"

Yep, someone give her a fucking brain genius certificate, (wait, did this adult woman have a curfew? fucked up, jeez, Imani resolved to take her to a strip club or something,) so she'd be living in the same damn house as this woman who would essentially become her entire life, in return for a paycheck...

In short, this would be codependent as all hell. But that's how protection jobs usually were. That was the job. She would forever know, for example, the exact food allergies of an older Dutch man who lived in Tampa. And his favorite music, and what fabrics he liked. And that was the job.

Anyway maybe this girl would be pretty or something.

Michael was still talking, shit, she needed to pay attention.

"- your most recent jobs, you're more used to short-term jobs. Guarding someone for a specific amount of time, backup during meetings, helping a paid party take out an Old One... Yes?"

Imani cleared her throat. "I have a versatile set of skills, all of which involves slicing shit up magicstyle." Michael nodded.

"I have no questions about your skills. It's just a different sort of experience. Are you prepared for the commitment? This is an indefinitely long job. You'll be living here, dealing with the girl..."

Imani shrugged.

"Pays well, sir."

Michael smiled. "Wonderful."

It was a bit of a drive to her friend's house, but Imani had, in short order, picked up her bags, hugged her friend and thanked her, and driven back to the house. The gray man, Colm, stood outside the door, lumbering over to grab her bags. He led her silently into the house, and towards a barely furnished room with light, yellowish walls, shag carpeting, and a rather large bed, which was nice, and a flimsy looking wardrobe. Imani hurled her bags onto the bed. Colm stood silently, looking at her flatly.

Imani looked at him. He was completely still, almost unmoving, face blank. "Could you take me to see my, uh, client?"

She smiled at him, friendly as she could, and he nodded, barely, and turned around, silently leading her out of the room and into the hallway. He led her just a meager thirty or so paces down and left,and to a wooden door with a round, golden doorknob before nodding curtly and walking off. Imani turned the doorknob and opened it.

The room was almost entirely dark, with blackout curtains drawn over the window, and three candles lit on the hardwood floor. A slight, small,,shadowed figure perked up almost instantly, and a harsh, bright, brittle voice rang out.

"There's a light switch to your left!"

Imani flipped it.

A young woman was sitting on a bed with sonic the hedgehog sheets. The young woman was darker than Michael, but presumably at least half Asian, like him. Which she felt strange thinking. Racial profiling, jeez, not her intent. Whatever, she was a little dark, okay, whatever.

She was wearing a baggy pair of gray jeans, and a large, long black T-shirt. She had stringy, unkempt black hair, eyebags, and wide eyes. Her nose was long and sharp. She sort of looked like a wasp. She stood up rigidly, and tightened her jaw.

"Hello. You're my bodyguard."

Imani nodded nervously. The woman smiled, although her eyes didn't move. She sighed quietly. "Okay. Hi. My name is Sunny."

Imani waved. "Imani. Your bodyguard, yeah. Hi." Sunny nodded. She laid down on her bed and folded her arms over her chest. "Okay, hi Imani. Thank you for taking this job. I hope my dad was nice to you?" Imani nodded. "He was polite."

Sunny shrugged. "That's good, I wasn't sure. I'm glad he hired someone around my age. Maybe we can be friends?" Imani felt a rush of deep sympathy for the shaky, painfully skinny girl in front of her. Imani nodded. "Well, things have to be professional, but we can be friendly, for sure." Sunny nodded seriously, a deeply solemn expression on her face. "Okay." She grabbed Imani's hand, and shook, gripping her hand tightly, like it was her lifeline. Imani felt another deep rush of sympathy for the girl.

"I understand that you're a priestess?" Imani asked lightly, standing rigidly and reflexively moving her sword in and out of her sheath. Sunny nodded. "Yig, the, um, the snake goddess. Or god. She says it's complicated, I don't know. But she has my body and keeps me safe at night, so I don't have to sleep. I-" She paused, frowning slightly and then continuing a little hesitantly.

"I dislike sleeping. It's scary to have your body completely unprotected, to lose all control. I used to just not sleep for very, very long periods of time... to stay safe," she added, as if that would help dispell the surge of protective horror that was encompassing Imani. "We worked it out. My goddess and I. It's all good now."

Imani nodded. "I am just a sword wizard. You know. I dunno about all that stuff." Sunny shrugged.

"Um," Sunny began, after a long pause, "I'm sorry to bug you so soon, but... can we go drive and see my friends? I just... I can go out any time I want now, as long as you come with me, and I want to see my, my friends."

Imani nodded. Holy fuck, this kid was like a wet cat, she thought. "Of course. I work for you. You don't have to ask." Sunny smiled faintly. "I think you mostly work for my dad."

"Maybe, but I'm your friend, right? I do get to drive though."

Sunny grinned, genuinely. "Okay! I'll navigate! We're heading to the stone house."

The stone house was what it sounded like. It was a house, a very, very big house, made of... stone. A huge, slumbering, dead-looking building. When Imani parked the car, Sunny grinned. "I can go here without Colm hunting me down and beating the shit out of me now!"

Imani paused. She looked around, half expecting to see a camera hidden in the car. She wondered what Sunny was wearing under her hoodie. Maybe a graphic T-shirt with "I am an abused child" printed on it, holy fuck. The girl was about her age, but something deep within Imani felt a deep, strong need to swaddle her and hold her close and safe.

Instead she turned off the car.

Sunny sprung out of the car, scurrying up to the front door and opening it. It creaked open. Imani walked past the two other cars already parked in the front of the stone house and walked in.

It was cold and dark inside the stone house, and Imani felt a little off put by the ambiance. "Why are we here, ma'am?" She asked quietly.

Sunny seemed to shoot upwards, her whole body turning rigid in that moment. "Ma'am?" She squeaked, seemingly embarrassed.

Imani nodded nervously. "I... Work for you." Sunny nodded, wiping sweat from her brow or some shit, holy fuck. "Um. My friends hang out here sometimes because... It's a really weird place! We used to come here with our buddy Jeffery before he, uh, died."

"Oh. Sorry."

Sunny shrugged. "I wasn't terribly close to him, and he sort of creeped me out. It was during high school anyway. So a while ago. And he was really weird to my friend Kai. We used to joke that he was gonna turn out as a school shooter."

She paused.

"Well, not really joking, he probably would have." Sunny shrugged and walked quickly down a quiet, empty hallway, towards a distant noise. Imani followed obediently, and then stopped as Sunny paused in front of the door, peeking through.

Sunny smiled and whispered, "Making sure that it isn't just noise constructs!" Imani, who had no fucking clue what a noise construct even was, nodded sagely, and waited.

Sunny opened the door and Imani looked in.

It was a weirdly cozy room, with electric lamps set up, and blankets piled on the floor. The floor was wooden, rather than the smooth stone it was elsewhere. The room was bathed in warm light, and a skinny, tall, androgynous woman sat on the floor, wearing a loose polo shirt and baggy jeans. Her long brown hair was put in a ponytail, but the most interesting thing about her was probably the sphinx cat heat floating beside her, grinning manically. The woman waved, smiling faintly.

"Hey, hi Sunny. Who is this?"

Sunny flushed slightly. "Um. My dad got me a bodyguard. Meet Imani. She seems cool." Imani smiled slightly and waved. "Pretend I'm not here. Just hang out like normal."

I LIKE HER. GOOD MEAT ON HER BONES.

The cat head said that.

"What the fuck," Imani said. The woman rolled her eyes. "Bastet, shut up. Leave the poor girl alone, please."

DEAR GOD, I GUESS YOU CAN'T FUCKING DO ANYTHING ANYMORE. SORRY IMANI. I GUESS I NEED TO "APOLOGIZE."

Imani shrugged. "That's... fine." She didn't really have the heart to argue with a flying cat head, and it didn't seem like it was much of a threat to Sunny. She leaned up against the wall, and looked as the window slowly creaked open.

Shit. A skinny, pale arm slowly slipped through the window, and Imani grabbed her sword, about to lash out.

"Wait!" Sunny squeaked in a high pitched voice. "It's Kai! It's our friend Kai, don't kill them!" Imani paused, and looked at the figure crawling through the window. They were short and skinny, and pale, with light blue hair down over their ears, and a weird, pimply, almost rodent-like face. They were wearing baggy black pants and an oversized white T-shirt, and they grinned widely as they entered.

"What's up, sword girl?"

Imani coughed awkwardly. "I apologize for trying to attack you, but in my defense, you could probably do well to avoid entering a room like a murderer." Kai nodded affably. They shrugged. "Yeah, you're right. Didn't know someone new would be in here though." Sunny smiled shakily and cleared her throat. "This is Imani, my new bodyguard."

Kai gave a thumbs up. The woman in the suit cleared her throat. "Not bringing Eddie, Kai?" Kai laughed. "Nah. He tried to strangle me last night, so he's handcuffed to the sink in my kitchen. Bitch is getting jumpy. I hid the baton he uses as a conduit, just to see if he can do active Channeling, or just passive."

Imani nodded, thanking the Supreme Being that she knew what all those words meant. A conduit was something you processed magic through, be it your own body, a fuckin' honest-to-god wand, or a sword like in her case. As far as she knew, an active Channeler could create constructs and cast wards and shit, while a passive Channeler, like her, could just kinda buff their own skills to abnormal levels. DND ass world to live in, but whatever, at least she kinda knew what they were talking about.

"But the asshole was going crazy without it, and he tried to fucking choke me out! Fortunately my wards broke his wrist and it wasn't too hard to chain him up! It felt weird handcuffing someone without being paid first, but y'know."

The FUCKING flying cat head construct sighed heavily.

WHAT A SHAME. I SUPPOSE HE IS OF LITTLE USE TO US? WELL, IF WE NEED TO HIDE THE EVIDENCE, I AM WILLING TO EAT HI-

The suited woman laughed and rolled her eyes, flipping the cat head off. "Oh, piss off, Basty." This seemed to set the construct off, and it let out a loud, wordless scream of rage, followed by an enraged tirade that Imani only half listened to.

WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST FUCKING SAY TO ME, YOU LITTLE BITCH?!!! I'LL HAVE YOU KNOW THAT I AM AN AVATAR OF A FUCKING ELDER GOD, AND I HAVE BEEN INVOLVED IN VARIOUS SECRET WARS, WITH A PERSONAL KILL RATE OF OVER THREE MILLION! I HAVE BEEN TRAINED IN HOLY WARFARE, AND I AM THE MOST POWERFUL GODDESS CURRENTLY ACTIVE ON EARTH. YOU ARE NOTHING TO ME BUT JUST ANOTHER TARGET. I WILL WIPE YOU THE FUCK OUT WITH PRECISION THE LIKES OF WHICH HAS NEVER BEFORE BEEN SEEN ON THIS EARTH, MARK MY FUCKING WORDS. YOU THINK YOU CAN GET AWAY WITH SAYING THAT SHIT JUST BECAUSE YOU CONTROL THE CONSTRUCT I INHABIT? THINK AGAIN, FUCKER. AS WE SPEAK-

The suited woman silenced the construct by tenderly petting behind it's ears, which, surprisingly, seemed to work perfectly. It purred serenely, and cuddled up next to her. She giggled sweetly.

Sunny stood awkwardly. She looked like a little kid who didn't know how to say something important, and was desperately waiting for someone to happen to answer her question. Kai, who had pulled their phone out while the cat head was bitching about it's omnipotence, mercifully happened to glance up, and seeing the vaguely miserable expression on Sunny's face, smiled softly and sympathetically. Imani decided to revise her opinion about them. With the right expression, they were really quite cute.

"Sunny, what's the haps, cutie? You called this little shindig. What do you need to know?" Sunny perked up brightly, apparently consoled by the invitation to share. "Um... My dad is a jerk. And he didn't let me go on your last adventure, or the one before, or the last few, because he says I'm a weak-ass priestess who can't take care of herself... And I just really don't know what's going on. I don't know who Eddie is, or what happened to you guys, or why we couldn't hang out at the mall like I wanted-"

The suited woman shifted guiltily on her feet.

"... or anything really! I'm out of the loop, and I really really hate being out of the loop. What's happening? I have a bodyguard now, I can go on adventures with you! I wanna get caught up!"

The woman in the suit smiled gently, and took Sunny's hand. "You're right. We haven't been fair. Kai's done fuck-all recently-" (at this Kai stuck their tongue out) "-but they're well informed. I apologize, Sunny. Here. Let me catch you up."

Imani only half-listened, in honesty. Regardless, a few things jumped out. Apparently Old Ones were popping out like crazy, in populus spaces too now, and nobody was quite sure why. They'd wasted a few, but the last one had been taken down by a possessed homophobic mall cop, this was Eddie, and the mall cop in question had been consequently abducted by Kai in the hopes of training him. They'd had to burn down the mall, which nobody seemed to suspect them of, and the bodies the Old One had taken were presumed dead in the fire by the media.

"We don't know what the cause of all these Old One incidents is," the suited woman said darkly, "but you need to be careful. And so does Yig, you tell her that, okay?"

Sunny nodded fiercely, and she whispered "Yes, Luci," in a tight, affrighted voice. The suited woman's... Luci's... face softened to almost soppy levels, and she drew Sunny in for a hug. "I'm sorry we cut you out of the loop, cutie. That won't happen again. We're in this as a team, right?"

Sunny nodded, and Luci noogied her, almost maternally. The cat head yowled madly, and Luci rolled her eyes. "Needs to be fed. See you guys. Eyes peeled, okay?" Sunny nodded, and Luci squeezed her again, and left.

Kai and Sunny sat awkwardly on the floor. Kai was whistling to themself, and Imani, desperately wanting respite from their atonal noises, quietly asked Sunny, quite unprofessionally, "Was that your girlfriend?"

Sunny colored heavily, and Kai laughed sharply. "No, miss," Kai snorted, shaking their head. "Ms. Luci is quite firmly devoted to her goddess."

Imani felt her eyes widen, just slightly. An Elder God Fucker. Huh, she'd heard stories, and read them, and written a few as a young girl, but it was interesting to see that it wasn't just cheap smut fodder. "I see," she said tactfully.

Kai did a repulsive gesture then, and giggled. "She doesn't do shit with the cat head construct, I think she relinquishes motor controls to her goddess and just kinda-"

Sunny tilted forward onto the floor, wheezing with what might have been laughter, and might have been an attempt to drown out Kai's voice. Kai snorted and patted her back. Sunny rolled on her back and groaned. "I don't want to think about sexytimes between them. It makes me feel ill."

Kai nodded sagely. "Well, I sort of have a dude chained up at home. Why don't we go get lunch and hang out sometime when I'm not thinking about something else? I want to give you my full attention, bestie." Sunny smiled and nodded. "That sounds nice."

The car drive passed in strange, awkward silence. It was getting dark out, and Sunny was hungry so they stopped at a cookout and Sunny bought Imani food, despite her insistence otherwise. Imani, of course, was grateful, but it felt wrong, in a way.

When the car reached the gates, Imani immediately knew something was wrong. There was something out there. A construct. Probably.

It had gray, wet skin and blackish eyes. It's body looked lazily put together. There were runes or some shit... Wait, Imani knew this, they were wards, cool. It looked like it was made of various animal body parts. It was gross as fuck.

And it was looking directly at Sunny.

"Friend of yours?" Imani asked quietly. Sunny looked forward with wide, terrified eyes. "N-no. It might be here to kill me, or-" Imani's jaw tightened. "Well, I'm not letting that happen, obviously." She paused, deep in thought. "Is it okay if I run it over?" she asked, and Sunny gasped in shock. "What? I don't -?"

It was too late to ram forward now. The construct was lunging forward, with wild, crazed steps. In moments, it had smashed it's overly long arm through the window, and it was tearing it's fingernails into Sunny's arm. Sunny was screaming and crying, panicking, terrified.

Imani sighed. "Okay."

She grabbed her sword and crawled into the back of the car, and impaled the construct, stopping just short of Sunny. Imani grabbed it, yanking it back. She slammed it into the door. It wouldn't open, she realized, it wouldn't fucking open.

"Crawl to the front and unlock the door, ma'am."

Sunny nodded, leaping forward into the front. The construct turned it's head... clearly it was programmed to get her, or some shit? Whatever, Imani didn't care. The door was unlocked. Imani fumbled with the handle, fuck it, Jesus. She opened the door and shoved it out.

Imani grabbed her sword. Fuck, it was like her arm. Channeling was almost orgasmic, seriously. Stabbing this piece of shit was like wiggling a finger. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you! Piece of shit. Hurting her master, her boss, her fucking-

The construct was full of holes. Smashed to pieces because fuck it. It was mending itself slowly, so she cut it vertically, three times, tearing into the wards. It's body was rotting, no longer preserved by the wards. Imani stooped down, shoving a hand into it's eyes, ripping them out. She could hear her own voice aloud.

"Fuck you," she was whispering. "You don't fucking touch her. She's mine."

What the fuck? No she wasn't. Why did she say that? Why? She stood up. Why did she do that? She must have been lost in the moment. Sunny was looking at her. Fuck. She felt awful now, she'd scared her.

Imani took a shower. She dried off and dressed in a baggy shirt and sweatpants. Pajamas. As she stood next to her bed, considering whether to go to bed at fucking ten at night, a knock came on her door. "Come on in."

Sunny poked her head in. "Can you come in my room?" she asked quietly. Imani nodded and followed her.

Sunny sat down on her bed, and patted beside her. Imani sat awkwardly. Sunny smiled, and lunged forward, hugging her tightly. What the fuck? She was warm, holy shit. Imani felt herself tensing up, shaking slightly. Sunny nuzzled her head into her neck.

"What the fu-" Imani began quietly, and then Sunny whispered "Thank you, thank you for saving me. You, um, saved my life, probably. Thanks."

Imani coughed. "Well, it's my job?"

Sunny nuzzled closer, holding her tightly, silently rocking next to her. It stayed like that for a long, long while. "I'm glad you're my friend, Imani," Sunny whispered sleepily, which Imani replied to with "Okay?!" in a high, panicked, and very unbodyguardlike way.

And then Sunny fell asleep. What the fuck. What the fuck. This had never fucking happened to Imani before. Yeah, shit like this kinda made sense, being a bodyguard was always kind of codependent, but her clients NEVER fucking CUDDLED her. She was practically being pinned to her mattress by the limp body of Sunny, and lifting the tiny girl wouldn't be hard, but she was just... Baffled.

And then Sunny sat up suddenly. There was something different in her posture, Imani noted, almost clinically. Her eyes too. They looked almost... reptilian. When Sunny spoke, it clearly wasn't her. The voice had a lower register, and it was smooth, and lacked the manic, high-pitched quality.

"Hey. You're the bodyguard?" Not-Sunny said quietly. "Thanks for taking care of my girl. She's asleep, I got her now. You can go."

Imani went.

She didn't sleep much.

#elder godposting #channelers series #elder gods #lovecraft #queer #june writes #my writing :3 #original story #hell yeah fuck yeah #sorry it's late #long post

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