#so she just had an infinite blood glitch | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nikkzwrites · 4 years ago

Text

(They Long to Be) Close to You | Dark Fix-It Fic Series Part 2 | Chapter 4

A/N: This fic is one that I started with my OC because honestly, I personally didn’t like how season 3 ended. So I am rewriting all of Dark with my OC Annalise Dahlheim. I hope you all like it. Some things will be expanded more on just for more depth to Dark that season 3 kinda skipped over so…. yeah. This is part two of the series! You can start the full series here!

CW: Canon Typical Triggers: Smoking, Sex, Language, Drugs, Drinking, Death, Violence.

Word Count: 7.9k

[First Chapter] [Previous Chapter] [Next Chapter]

“From then on, I knew that nothing changes,” the man explained to his son as their carriage went through the Winden woods, “That all things remain. The spinning wheel turns, round and round, in a circle. One fate tied to the next. A thread, red like blood, that connects all our deeds.” The man closed the book and explained to his son, “Ariadae. That was your mother’s favorite play. She surely would have liked to come with us tonight, in the company of such a distinguished young man.” He opened up his watch to see an engraving, “For Charlotte” inside.

His blind son spoke, “Why do we die?”

“The dead are never truly dead,” his father explained, “Maybe they’re not here, now. But everything that once lived, lives on forever. In the eternity of time.”

The old man sat remembering this memory of his father when his carriage stopped. He panicked as he heard his coachmen start to speak to someone. He hid his money away as he held close his mother’s favorite play. As the footsteps approached he asked, “Who is there? Who are you?”

“He who has eyes to see,” The Unknown spoke, “and ears to hear may convince himself that no mortal can keep a secret, because if his lips are silent,he chatters with his fingertips. Betrayal oozes out of him at every pore.”

“I…” The old man spoke, “I don’t understand.”

The middle part of the Unknown nodded, “Oh, but you do. You’re going into town to draft a telegram. Because you want to tell the world about us. Are you not?”

The man started to panic, “You’re one of them. A traveler. All those years.” As the man rambled, the Unknown started to take out his wire, “they said my father was insane. But now they are here. The travelers from the future. The world must know that they exist.”

The Unknown shook his head, “What we know… is a drop. What we don’t know is an ocean.” He slowly leaned forward to eand the man’s life.

Eve spoke to Jonas, “The mistake in all of our thinking is that we each believe ourselves to be an independent entity. One self… besides countless other selves.” When Jonas turned to her, she continued, “While, in reality, we’re all just fractions of an infinite whole.”

“What is this place,” Jonas asked Eve, “A copy of my world?”

Eve strolled over to him and asked, “Do you remember what you said to me? Under the bridge? The light. The forest. You. Me.”

“A glitch in the matrix,” Jonas responded. He stared to glare at her and asked, “Why am I here?”

Eve studied him then looked up at the painting, “You and I. Adam and Eve. That’s what we are. A glitch in the matrix. You want to know why you’re here? To save them. Your world and mine.”

“Last night, Kilian Obendorf, Bartosz Tiedemann, Annalise Dahlheim also known as Annalise Kahnwald, and Franziska Doppler, along with Magnus and Martha Nielsen, found an as-yet-unidentified boy’s body on the Doppler property by the forest road. His clothes and the Walkman are from the 1980s,” Ulrich explained with tears in his eyes, “We also found… an ID card on the body.” His eyes shifted to look at the evidence box. Ulrich started to sob and Charlotte walked over to him to give him a hug.

Charlotte turned to Woller and asked, “Woller, may you continue?” She turned to Ulrich and whispered, “Can I talk to you for a second?” Ulrich looked up and followed the woman into the file room. She turned to the defeated man and said, “You don’t have to do this. Woller can do the briefings. I can go to forensics. Go home.”

“I’ve spent 33 years looking for my brother,” Ulrich spoke up against the woman, “Those are his belongings. Those are Mads’ belongings.” He took a deep breath and said, “Someone… Someone kept them all. And then put them on the boy in the bunker. Thirty-three years later.”

Charlotte’s brow furrowed. She asked, “You think it was the same killer? That it’s all connected. Mads, Erik, the boy in the bunker?”

Ulrich looked at her and asked, “Do you know why I joined the police? When my brother disappeared… they made pretty much every mistake you could imagine. The detective was a drunken moron. And me? I swore I’d do it all differently. That I’d do everything right. That was 33 years ago. And what do I do? My marriage is ruined and now I’m cheating on the woman I cheated on my wife with.” Ulrich sighed as Charlotte touched his face, “I can’t do this anymore.” He allowed her to remove her hand and he walked out of the office.

Jonas looked up to see Bartosz strutting in with Martha slowly approaching behind him. Jonas stormed to Bartosz and demanded, “Where were you?” His eyes turned towards Martha and turned back to Bartosz to ask, “What did she tell you?”

“We’ve been stuck here for weeks,” Bartosz responded to the man, “The fucking device is empty. You have no idea how any of this works. All you did was lie! You knew what would happen, and you told us NOTHING!”

Jonas growled, “Don’t you realize she’s just using you?” He motioned towards the girl and spoke, “That isn’t Martha. She’s dead.” His heart ached at his memories, “No one returns from the dead.”

Magnus spoke up and said, “Whoever she is… she may be our only chance to get out of here.”

Bartosz grit his teeth then asked Jonas, “Why don’t you tell us the truth?” When Jonas didn’t say anything, Bartosz stepped closer and growled, “Tell them who really killed Annalise and Martha.”

Jonas’s eyes flinted to Martha then down after hearing Bartosz. He sidestepped and started his way out of the warehouse. Bartosz growled and waited for a moment before going and chasing him outside.

“Bartosz! Wait,” Magnus called as he and Franziska chased after him.

The rain fell as Jonas walked outside. He silently thanked the God forsaken town for complying with his emotions before he heard Bartosz screaming behind him.

“Tell them,” Bartosz demanded. He growled as he pushed the man over, “Tell them who Adam really is!” The two rolled around fighting just as they did 34 years ago before Magnus and Franziska pulled them apart. Magnus held Bartosz back as he screamed at everyone, “I told you all along! Jonas is to blame for everything!” He fought Magnus off and stood away from everyone as he cried, “It’s him. He’s Adam!” When Magnus looked at him in disbelief, Bartosz screamed through his tears once more, “He’s Adam! Adam wasn’t even the one who killed Annalise! It was just him proper! He killed both of them!” He stormed away from the group after asking Jonas, “Couldn’t have both so killed them both? Huh?”

Jonas and Magnus tried to catch their breaths and exchanged a look.

Eve, at the same time in another universe, told Jonas, “In all of that, didn’t you ever wonder, why you can’t let go of them, of her? You knew, you know it’s impossible. Yet still, you can’t let it go.” When Jonas turned to her with tear filled eyes, she continued, “An invisible bond that binds you for eternity. Adam tried to sever it. But that’s impossible.” She took out a silver tree of life necklace and showed it to him, “You gave this to me.”

Jonas took out his Annalise’s necklace and rubbed his dirt covered fingers over it, cleaning the blood off of it.

“You and I,” Eve continued, “Black and white. Light and shadow. We are bound together for eternity in this eternally repeating deja vu.”

Jonas whispered, “What is all this? What do you want?” His voice started to get louder, “Why don’t you just tell me why I’m actually here?”

“You’ve seen what you’ll do,” Eve tried to reason with him, “What Adam will do. If you want to save your Annalise, you have to choose the side of light. And you have to make me what I am today.”

Jonas slowly approached her, “I have to? I don’t have to do anything anymore. I’m sick to death of always having to do things!”

“Then ask yourself,” Eve responded, “what you want.” Watching his face change she asked, “Do you want her to live?”

Annalise awoke, yet she was still face to face with Mads. She screamed and started to cry again. She kicked the small enclosure entrapping her with the dead boy. She heard a very familiar voice call her name. Then Mads slowly turned to Mikkel then to her father. After that, Annalise found herself listening to her father’s voice message and words flowed out of her mouth without consent, “I just called to let you know I had my first kiss today.” Her tears choked her as her voice continued against her will, “I wish you could have met him Dad. His name is Adam and he reminds me so much of you and mom. You would love him just as much as I’ve fallen for him.” As she looked out the window, her vision faded to black. Her throat feeling like it was being filled with water again. When Annalise tried to scream, she found herself in something like a mirror of Martha’s room. Annalise turned and saw a blond boy there laying next to her, fast asleep. He seemed so familiar. Her hand shakely reached out and his name spilled from her lips without knowing, “Jonas?”

Right when the boy was about to turn, Annalise shot up in her bed in Ulrich’s house. Her breath shaking from terror and crying. She turned towards her phone to see Bartosz had tried to call her. There was a text there saying, ‘If you need to talk, let me know.’

Hannah burst into the room, “Annalise!” She quickly waddled to the girl and held her closely as the teenager started to scream, “Shhhh… It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m here.” Hannah kissed the girl’s head as she rocked with her, “I’m here.” As she rocked the girl, her eyes started to trace the electrical burn scars on the teenager, yet she said nothing.

Martha stared up at the ceiling in her room. After finding the body last night, it was the last straw and Katharina forced her to come back home to be with her family instead of staying the night with Annalise. When Ulrich was finally able to come home that night, he drove his daughter back to his ex-wife. She sighed remembering that argument and the one before it where Hannah, her, and her mother argued about where Martha should be with as Annalise stood there just zoning out repeatedly and mumbling to herself some physics equations. Katharina had only conceded from seeing Annalise and knowing that the girl probably needed someone. So she made the condition that once Ulrich was back home, he was to bring Martha back. She heard the doorbell ring and sighed as she got out of bed. When she answered the door, there in front of her was Ulrich. “Dad,” she asked in disbelief.

“Can I come inside,” he asked his daughter.

Martha sighed and begrudgingly allowed the man inside. They stood in front of the staircase.

Ulrich asked, “Is Magnus here too?”

Martha studied her father trying to get a read on him, “I think he’s still sleeping.”

Ulrich nodded and told the girl, “You have to tell me the truth. What really happened in the bunker?” When his daughter looked at him again in disbelief, he continued, “What did you see?”

“I did tell the truth,” Martha said, “we went in and the bunker was empty. There was nobody there! Then there was a light. And then this...this body fell down. Annalise fainted at the sight of it.”

“Had you taken anything,” Ulrich asked accusingly.

“What,” Martha questioned him.

As Magnus walked down the stairs, Ulrich asked again, “Did that Kilian kid give you anything?” Magnus just finished walking down the stairs when Ulrich turned to him and asked, “Come on, what did you take?”

“What is this shit,” Magnus sneered at this father, “Are you playing worried father now? Why don’t you ask your precious new daughter?” Martha looked at her brother and shook her head, yet he continued, “You usually don’t give a shit about us!”

Martha crossed her arms and shrugged, “It’s just as we told you. There was this noise...It came from the caves...or the ground,...or… I don’t know. We went to the bunker. At first there was nothing there, then...he...he was just lying there.”

Ulrich turned away and stared out into the dining room calculating what was going on.

“Is that all,” Magnus growled at his father. When his father turned to look at him again, Magnus replied, “Mom will be back any moment. You’d better go. But it was nice of you to drop by to see how we’re doing.” When Ulrich reached up to caress him, Magnus took a step back.

Hannah walked through the halls of the police station with a tray of brownies. When she was greeted by Woller and Charlotte, she asked, “Is Ulrich here? I’ve been trying to reach him all morning. Annalise is having nightmares and just woke up finally.”

Charlotte shook her head and said, “I thought he went home.”

Hannah studied the woman for a second. Her mind started to wonder. “You look so different,” commented the woman, “Did you get a haircut?”

Charlotte shook her head, “No.”

Hannah looked her up and down. She laughed, then hugged the woman. She took her smell in deeply. She pulled away and waited a moment before saying, “It’s nice to see you. I’ll just put this in his office.”

Charlotte turned and watched her go.

Hannah closed the door behind her and walked to place the container on his desk. She looked up as she realized who it was that Ulrich was cheating on her with. She left as the pictures of his children, Annalise with Martha, and herself with him burned their place on his desk.

Annalise sat there staring at the wall. Her brain running six different directions just trying to figure everything out. She ran her fingers through her hair as she screamed. She yelled and closed her eyes. Everything that happened kept running in her head. Her dreams danced in her head. She felt empty. There was a pulling inside of her. She ran out to the woods and screamed again. It felt as if someone was tugging at a string within her. Plucking at it, like a chord of a guitar.

“Can we talk,” Martha asked her brother as she walked in.

Magnus rolled his eyes, “Get lost.” He assumed she was going to scold him about what he said about Annalise.

Martha, instead, walked in and sat next to Magnus, “Last night…in the forest... Did you see anything else?”

“No,” Magnus told her, “Like what?”

Martha turned away from her brother and asked, “Do you sometimes feel like you’re losing your mind? That nothing makes sense anymore?” She sighed and commented, “Maybe… Dad is right.” When Magnus looked at her confused, she said, “Maybe he was already lying there.” She shrugged and said, “And...we…”

Magnus stared at her and stated, “I know what I saw.” Martha and he sat quietly for a minute before she stood up and walked to his window. “Where are you going,” he asked.

“Don’t tell Mom,” Martha replied, “I’ll be back for dinner.” She opened the window and left.

“Everything repeats itself,” Eve told Jonas, “Again and again for all eternity. Because none of us is prepared to let go.” She lifted up a light and walked over to Jonas, “It took me a long time to understand that. That you can’t let go of your past. That you will always choose her, always choose your Annalise.” She nodded and told him, “And just as you can’t let go of your past, I’ve spent my life clinging to mine.” She made a face then told him, “You trusted Adam. But where did that lead you?” She walked to Jonas and said, “You have to show her, Martha, how everything is connected. You don’t have much time left. She has to see her future in order to understand what must be done.” She handed him the lantern and spoke, “She will follow you. She is bound to your fate, just as you are to hers.”

Jonas grabbed it from her and turned away. He looked at Eve and wondered if she knew what he was thinking. He walked out of the office determined to find Annalise before trying to go forward with Eve’s plan.

In Adam’s world, Martha looked down at the necklace in her hand. She quickly hid it after hearing a knock on the door. She pushed herself closer towards the window as she looked to see who was coming in.

Jonas opened the door and closed it behind him. He stood in the middle of the room and said, “You said I was in your world. With you. Why can’t I remember it?”

“I don’t know,” Martha told the man, “That letter… I didn’t write it.” She slowly approached him and said, “You have to believe me.” As he turned away, she spoke again, “Sic Mundus, what is it?”

Jonas sighed, “Old Tannhaus’ father… tried to bring someone back from the dead. His wife. He was convinced that the ability to time-travel would be the world’s salvation. Every mistake could be prevented before it even occurs. But it doesn’t bring salvation. Only Damnation.”

Martha took a deep breath and growled, “They’re all dead. In my world. I can’t help hoping I can change that.” He glared at her as he tried to walk away, but the girl grabbed him, “I know you think you can’t trust me. I want to prove to you that you can.” She brought him out into the woods and unburied her ball to show him the device she used to get there.”

“This is what you used to travel,” He asked.

Martha nodded at him. She undid a dial and took out a small dark ball, “this is the last one I have.” She held it out to him, “It’s the only way I can go back again.”

Jonas sighed as he took it from her.

Eve sat in her office waiting for her son and Mary. The Unknown walked in with all materials he had grabbed for her.

The Unknown told his birth mother, “You could have told him which path you’re sending him down. How it will end.”

Eve shrugged as she explained, “He will never stop trying to break this cycle. He’ll never understand that we must preserve the knot. That his Annalise must die. So all the others can live.”

She stared at her son as she opened the leather planner, “The beginning and the end.”

Jonas walked out of the cave and through the woods. He heard sobbing and screaming he only knew as Annalise and ran towards it.

Charlotte walked to the bunker and called Ulrich. She asked him to call her back as she approached the door. She opened it up and walked inside. She stared at the chalk outline and started to investigate. When she knelt down, under a bench she found a penny with a red string around it as if like a necklace.

On the other side of town, Helge sat repeating to himself, “Tick tock. Tick tock.” He looked up and started to walk out of the house to try to stop it.

Bartosz exited Mary’s car. He sighed and looked towards the power plant. As his eyes scanned, he noticed a figure stumbling across the street. Normally he wouldn’t think anything of it, but it looked very familiar. The beating of his heart echoed in his ears when he realized just who it was. He jogged across the street and called, “Anna.”

Jonas was just about to interrupt the girl’s drinking when he heard Bartosz’s voice. The boy had been following her for a while, but he didn’t know how to approach her, so instead he just decided to watch her from afar. He slunked back into the shadows right out of sight of the two. His heart raced. He knew what was going to happen.

Annalise took another large drink of her mixed drink a very kind older man had given her. She smiled gently. It reminded her of the drinks she heard about back home. Fruit punch, Red Bull, vodka mixed in the right fashion still only seemed like fruit punch. He had given her a large bottle just with a few bucks and for “looking cute.” She drank as she made her way to the bus stop out of Winden. The burning sensation masking her brain being torn apart at the seams.

Bartosz easily caught up to the girl and grabbed her arm, “Anna! What are you doing, idiot?!” He kept a firm grip on her. Frustration rose into his chest. Where did she even get what she was drinking? Where was she going? Shouldn’t she be with Martha or nearly anyone else? She never went anywhere alone.

“I’m going home,” she answered simply, “Now please let me go.” She tried to jerk away.

He shook his head, “What are you drinking? Your place is that way.” He gestured with his shoulder towards where she lived with Ulrich and Hannah. He stared at the girl floundering to get away from him. His heart started to ache. More than that. He was angry. Furious even. Filled to the brim with an anger he had never known before.

Annalise started to cry as she tried to tear away from his grip, “Let me go!” She started to yell at him. Tears built up pressure behind her eyes as she remembered back to what had driven her to this point. How she wished for the rain to finally start in this God abandoned town. The wind howled as it shook the trees awake. At least, she reasoned, that was on her side. “Let me go Bartosz,” she repeated screaming at him with the full force she wanted to let out at everyone.

Jonas felt powerless. Here he was watching a mirror of what happened that night. His throat dried up. His heart started to ache. It was being tugged in so many directions. Jonas wanted to interrupt. He wanted to run, yet his feet stayed firmly rooted in the ground. It was as if the Knot wanted him to see this. It was its punishment for him kissing Martha that night. It was punishment for taking Lise for granted.

“No!” Bartosz roared back at her. He pulled her into his arms. His heart raced. He just wanted her to calm down. He knew instantly then that he loved her. All this time was just him lying to himself trying to keep the status quo and hoping things were going to go back to the way they were before his mother died. He wrapped himself around her. Was she always this tiny, he wondered. It was his first time ever fully embracing her. He had to bend down a bit to bury his face into her shoulder and neck. Oh, how it felt nice to finally hold someone, to hold her, in his arms, but he couldn’t dwell on his own happiness. He needed her to be happy. He thirst to see her smiling and laughing again. That happy radiant infectious smile that he loved seeing across her face.

Annalise beat her fists into the taller boy as the tears fell from her eyes. She continued to scream at him to let her go. The girl struggled as he just held her in an embrace. Her breathing was off. The thumping his chest made as she hit it reminded her how her heart felt when they saw the boy just drop in the bunker like that. She just wanted to go back home but she could never tell him that. Annalise hated every moment of this. She hated every moment of Winden. She just wanted to go back in time to right before they saw that moment and never see that poor dead boy just drop...Before she agreed to help that short haired Martha... Before she was trapped with that dead boy...

Bartosz pulled his face away. There was something he had heard Magnus mention before while Mikkel was throwing a tantrum. He needed to distract her from her emotions so that Annalise could actually TELL him what was going on. He sighed knowing he was going to hate himself later for indulging the part of him that loved her without ever telling her that, but he had to do it. With one hand, he trapped her wrists from continuing to beat into his chest. The other he used to grab the back of her head. Bartosz pressed his lips against hers.

The girl froze. His lips were so desperate. She could feel his yearning for her to stop and think about what she was doing. She didn’t pull away. Instead, she allowed herself to kiss him back. There was a saltiness to it, yet tender and warm. Soon, she felt her wrists freed from his grip. She just gently rested her hands against the boy’s chest as his now unoccupied hand found a new home at the small of her back. Annalise’s heart fluttered. She felt as if drunk, longing for love, and finally acquired a bit of that feeling of being wanted.

Bartosz pulled her closer. He clinged to her as they slowly deepened their kiss. They both wanted this for such a long time. He sighed happily as her arms slowly started to snake their way off his chest to around his neck to play with his long hair. He let one of his arms slide under her so that he could scoop her up while they were still making out. He lifted her up into his arms and walked over to the bus stop so that the side of it could be used to stabilize the couple. He pressed her back against it as he could feel the both of them getting weak from the lack of breath and their hearts racing quickly.

The hidden boy’s heart shattered as it fell to the cement. He wondered how much of this was like that night and how much wasn’t. Jonas could see how much heat and longing was between the other two teenagers. They were so desperate for the other one to be close to them that the rest of the world didn’t exist. He didn’t exist. He wasn’t supposed to exist.

Bartosz eventually pulled away gently. Annalise reached up and pressed his forehead against hers. Her eyes closed as the last of her tears drained from her. He calmed himself and asked, “Anna, what’s wrong?” He gently brushed her wild hair from her face, unstuck some strands stuck around her eyes from her tears, and put it in a place not easy to get stuck there again.

Her face contorted in agony. The fountain of sorrow slowly turned back on. Something about this moment felt as if something similar had happened before. It felt as if she, him, the moment, it was all supposed to happen. “I,” she started. She took a breath and then confessed, “I am so scared. What does this all mean Bartosz? There is so much going on in the world now and I’m scared. I don’t know what I’m… I don’t know what role we play in this...” She choked on her words and started to cough.

Bartosz cooed at her and held her close once more, “I know. I know. It’s okay.” He swallowed hard and rocked with her. Bartosz gently kissed her head every so often as he just kept her safe within his arms. The boy just repeated that it was okay, that he was there with her, he wasn’t going to leave her, that everything was going to be okay until he could feel her body start to go limp. She must have been exhausted, he figured. He lifted her up and tried to figure out how to manage her with a bike. In the end, he called his father to come pick them up. He took off the jacket his mother had gifted him and put it on the girl as they waited.

Jonas turned finally unstuck from the Knot. He tracked his way back to where he knew he had to be, with this world’s Martha and to try and fix this world so that his could be fixed and he could go back home to his Lise. Be in her arms once more where she clung to him like that. Where she loved him, when she loved him. Not seeing some stranger with her face loving the boy that shared the same face as his best friend back home.

Martha walked over to Kilian’s trailer and knocked on the door. She stood back for him and spoke, “Hey.”

He responded back, “Hey.”

Martha stood there staring at him.

“What are you doing here,” He asked the girl.

Martha shook her head, “You weren’t at the dorm. I was worried.”

Kilian grabbed her arm and walked with her away from the trailer, “They kicked me out. Your father called. He wanted to know if I slipped you guys something.”

“Did you,” She asked.

“Fuck no,” He gowled, “No, I didn’t.” He shook his head, “But sure, none of you can get it out of your system. I haven’t lived here for two years, but I’m still the trailer park trash everyone points fingers at.” When Martha didn’t respond, he sneered, “I knew it.”

“What did you know,” she asked him.

He shook his head and said, “That you were only with me to rile up your parents. You didn’t give a shit about me or Erik.”

Martha scoffed at him. If she really wanted to do that, she would have just dated Annalise. She turned her head back towards him. She wasn’t really able to fight back though. Maybe she really was and he was just the safe option.

Kilian turned away and told her, “You’d better go.”

Martha fought back her tears as she whispered, “Okay.”

The boy turned and walked away leaving her alone in the park with Jonas there watching.

“About Regina…” Hannah spoke to Aleksader, “I’m sorry. It must be very difficult for you.” She paused, then asked, “How are you? Bartosz?”

Aleksander nodded and told her, “We’re managing.” He turned towards the pictures on his desk and stared at them.

“I…” Hannah spoke, “I hear that Annalise and Bartosz really like each other.”

Aleksander nodded, “My son speaks of her pretty often. Please, tell me why you are here.”

Hannah shifted awkwardly and got to the point, “I’d like to propose a deal.”

“A deal,” he questioned the woman.

Hannah looked down at her purse, “I have something that belongs to you. I’d like to return it.” She carefully pulled out the bag from 1986 and slid it towards him. As his face changed she asked, “Do you recognize it? Don’t worry. The contents are in a safe place.”

Aleksander asked quivering, “What do you want? Do you want money?”

“I don’t want money,” Hannah told him, “I want you to destroy Charlotte. I want her to lose everything. Everything.”

Charlotte drove to the church meeting her husband who was talking to a man inside. When she walked in, Peter stood up.

“Charlotte,” Peter asked, “What are you doing here?”

“Thank you,” The man told the pastor before leaving.

Charlotte slowly approached the man and said, “I tried to get a hold of you. I went to the bunker. Why aren’t you home with Franziska?”

Peter shrugged, “I…”

Charlotte shrugged it off and asked, “Last night, where was Helge? You said you ate dinner with him. Where was he afterwards?”

“What is this,” Peter asked her.

“In 1987, when you came to Winden, did your father still live in the cabin,” she asked the man.

Peter shook his head, “I don’t understand.”

“Did he or didn’t he,” Charlotte pressed on.

“No,” Peter shook his head, “After the accident he was moved into the nursing home.”

“And the summer before, in 86,” she asked.

Peter nodded, “I think so. Why do you want to know?”

“Did he use the bunker for anything?”

“Charlotte,” Peter approached her, “What do you want from me?”

She pulled the penny from out her jacket and showed it to him, “This is Helge’s. I found it in the bunker.”

Peter huffed and shook his head, “That...That can’t be. He was with us all night.” He answered his phone to hear that Helge had left the nursing home. He turned to her and said, “Helge’s at the police station and he made a confession.”

Annalise started to stir as she felt the atmosphere around her change. She was warm and cuddling something soft. This was very pleasant compared to last night and how horribly she slept then. She hummed happily, slowly waking up. She could hear a man and a very familiar boy’s voice talking.

Aleksander looked at his son in the rear view mirror with the girl snuggled up to him. “So,” he started to ask, “Is this the girl?”

Bartosz’s face flushed, “What do you mean?” He asked nervously. He started to awkwardly chuckle, “I mean, it’s just Annalise, Dad. You two have met before.”

“Have I,” Aleksander teased, “I don’t remember you telling me you liked her this much.” He chuckled, “You know I was around your age when I met your mom right?”

Bartosz thanked God that Annalise was asleep and couldn’t hear his father embarrassing him, or so he thought. Bartosz groaned, “You don’t have to embarrass me in front of her do you?”

Aleksander chuckled, “I thought she was asleep.”

“Still,” Bartosz complained. He looked over to the girl cuddled up to his side once more. A small smile graced his lips as he moved some of the hair from her face again. He couldn’t complain too much. The thought of her being like this with any other person ate him inside. So somewhere deep inside he knew that if they were together forever, that he would be happy.

When Peter and Charlotte reached the station, Peter asked his father, “Dad, why are you saying this? It makes no sense at all.” He turned to Woller and explained, “He didn’t leave the house. I was with him all night. Elisabeth was there too.”

Helge spoke again, “I killed the boy.”

“Dad,” Peter scolded the man, “Cut it out!”

Charlotte spoke up, “His things… The walkman. The clothes. Those are Mads Nielsen’s things, the boy who disappeared in 1986. Do you remember that?”

“I killed him,” Helge repeated.

“Who,” she asked, “Mads?”

Ulrich stormed into the station. He turned towards Helge and asked, “Where did you get his stuff?” The man rushed forward and grabbed onto the man despite Peter’s yells in protest, “What did you do to Mads?” He yelled at the older man, “What did you do to him?!”

“You’re alive,” Helge asked, staring at the man.

“What,” Ulrich asked.

Helge spoke, “It was you.”

“What was me,” Ulrich asked, pulling the man out of the chair as the other officers tried to pull Ulrich away from Helge.

“It was him,” Helge spoke, “It was him.” Helge held up the penny in his own things.

Charlotte looked down and unfolded her napkin to see the penny she had was still in her possession. It was the same coin, yet… two places at the same time.

Martha walked in the woods alone. She was determined to try and get to Annalise to talk to her when she heard a rustle in the bushes. When Jonas revealed himself from the shadows, she asked him, “What is this? Are you following me? Why won’t you tell me how we know each other? How you know Annalise?”

“Actually,” Jonas spoke, “You and I, we’ve always known each other.” When Martha swallowed, Jonas approached her, “When Magnus knocked your tooth out in kindergarten… I was there. When Mikkel put spiders in your shoes while camping in the yard… On the third grade class trip… when you were so homesick that Katharina had to come get you. You met Annalise and she told you how your father scared her because she didn’t know German really well to cheer you up on your first day back to school.” He whispered, “Where I come from, you and I share a past.”

Martha shook her head, “You’re nuts.” She turned to walk away from him.

“Last night,” Jonas told her, “in the forest. You saw yourself.” He shook his head and said, “I know how completely insane this all sounds. For the longest time, I too thought it was all totally crazy. That I was crazy.”

“Who are you really,” She asked the boy.

“I can show you,” Jonas explained, “How it’s all connected.”

It wasn’t long before they reached the Tiedemann abode. Annalise knew it was wrong to still pretend she was fully asleep, but when Bartosz scooped her up into his arms to carry her, she didn’t want it to stop. She listened as he mumbled to himself.

Bartosz debated on where to put Annalise, “I could put her in the guest bedroom. But that’s halfway across the house and what if she needs me? I am not going to put her on the couch. I know that much. But… My bedroom… would she be weirded out by that? Would-” He felt her move. He nearly dropped her from surprise. He panicked pulling her closer to him once more. He asked the girl, “Annalise?”

Annalise’s smile couldn’t contain itself any longer hearing his verbal debate. She let out a small giggle surprising the boy. She squealed as she felt herself drop for a moment before he grabbed her once again. The girl clung onto him. She turned to face him once more, “Yes?”

“How long have you been awake,” He asked, walking her into his room and gently placing her on his bed.

Annalise smiled and sat up. Still a little buzzed, she asked, “Do you really want to know?” She looked around his room. It was different. His room was full of dark colors and scattered books, diagrams, and hastily scribbled notes. There was an attached bathroom that seemed nice and light though. Yet still it felt like an empty shell. She yawned and turned to him as he helped remove his coat from her. Her voice strained as she looked at him beggingly, “Stay?”

In the other world, Jonas placed the ball into a large bowl. He walked to the control panel and started up the machine. He stared intently at it as the liquid slowly arose up and formed a ball. Sadly it was not enough energy to hold it.

After it dropped, the group converged on the bowl to investigate. Sensing someone was missing, Franziska looked up and around. After accounting for who was there, she asked, “Where’s Martha?”

The group all looked up to find the girl missing. Jonas, then, knew, she had lied to him.

Martha rushed back to her room and placed a new ball into her sphere and set it to go to her new objective.

The group walked into the bedroom just as she disappeared. Jonas turned to Bartosz and glared at him as if to say, ‘I told you.’

In the other world, Bartosz blushed and took a step back. He blinked wondering if he really heard what she had asked. He dropped the coat in his hands. He shook his head and bent down to pick it up. While he wasn’t staring at her, he asked, “Stay?” He slowly looked up to try and gauge her reaction.

Annalise nodded, “Please?” She grabbed one of his hands and pulled him towards the bed.

Breathless, Bartosz struggled out, “Wait. Just…” He held up the coat once more and slid his hand away so that he could go and put up his coat. His heart raced. He tried to calm himself as his back was turned to her. The boy knew his father wouldn’t care so he couldn’t use that as an excuse. He was shaking with nervousness. He really wished his mom was here so that she could help him with this. Annalise’s small voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“Bartosz,” Annalise asked. When he turned his head, she blushed and asked, “Can I have some water?”

Bartosz nodded quickly and rushed out of the room closing the door behind him.

Martha followed Jonas to the cave. Right before she walked into it, she got a text from Annalise and Bartosz. The one from Annalise was her asking if Martha was okay and that Kilian had texted her to tell her what had happened. The text from Bartosz consisted of, ‘Annalise is staying over. Help?’ She shook her head and stared at Jonas.

Jonas looked at her and asked, “Is everything okay?”

Martha nodded, “Yeah.” She hid her heart breaking from the boy and started to follow behind him into the cave.

Helge stared at his hands as he sat in a cell.

Martha and Jonas continued through the caves as Charlotte turned away from Ulrich sitting sadly at his desk staring at the picture of him and Hannah.

Hannah walked into her and Ulrich’s bedroom to see the bed perfectly made up and her husband not there. She turned and walked out the door just as Jonas and Martha approached their door.

Eve looked down in her hand to look at Jonas’s Annalise’s necklace and then looked up at the pictures of Adam and Eve.

Bartosz walked to the kitchen and grabbed her bottled water. On his way back, he saw his dad.

Aleksander could read Bartosz’s hesitation all over his face. He chuckled and sat on one of the bar stools. “Something the matter,” He teased.

Bartosz jumped, “No. No. Nothing’s wrong. Everything’s good.” He blushed and tried to stand up taller to seem more confident. He ran his fingers through his hair, “What would be wrong? Everything is perfect.”

Aleksander chuckled, “Maybe the girl in your room?”

“What,” Bartosz unconvincingly laughed, “Annalise?” He shook his head with a giant uneasy smile, “No. There’s nothing…”

Aleksander laughed, “She woke up, didn’t she?”

“She wants me to stay,” Bartosz admitted, “I mean it’s not like it's the first time with someone, but like...What if she doesn’t just want to sleep? In my bed?”

Aleksander leaned on his elbow with his chin in his hand. He chuckled, “Well, it's just a question of if you’d want to, yeah?”

Bartosz’s face glowed, “It’s not just that simple. She’s… I…”

“So you don’t want to,” Aleksander asked.

Bartosz shook his head, “No! I mean… I’d like to, but she’s drunk…” He looked towards his room.

Aleksander nodded, "Well, have you tried talking to her about this?"

Bartosz blushed, "What? No. I… I mean I guess I can. I should."

Aleksander stood up and patted his son's shoulder, "I'm heading to sleep. Stay safe. Pleasant dreams." He walked back to his bedroom.

In the other world, Martha walked through the halls of the decrypted nuclear power plant on September 20, 2053, she walked into a room to be greeted by a gravely voice, “Did you give it to him?”

When Martha nodded, Adam turned to tell her, “I was always too gullible.” He turned back to look at the machine and said, “You did the right thing.”

Back in Eve’s World, Bartosz walked back into his bedroom to find Annalise not there. He heard the shower running and sighed in contentment. He blinked as he realized she didn't have a change of clothes. He knocked on the door and called, "do you need some clean clothes?"

The water stopped and he heard walking towards the door. She peeked her head out the door, "I'm sorry. I stole some of your pyjamas." She walked away to go grab it. Bartosz blushed seeing her naked form from the display of mirrors. He turned away with closed eyes. When she came back, she showed him what she stole. They were his soft plaid flannel ones that he loved. Not that he would admit that he loved them to his friends due to them being part of a matching set for his family and normally worn for celebrating holidays.

"Oh," Bartosz nodded, "okay." He turned away and told her, “You can let me know if you need anything else.”

The girl was very quick to walk out. His pants were extremely baggy on her due to his height over her. She was still buttoning the shirt and seemed to be having a bit of issues. She grumbled at the shirt, “Stupid ass buttons.” Eventually, she got it and smiled up at him, “Thank you.” Her face became a little bit more serious, “You know, you don’t have to stay if you don’t want to… I just thought… You know…”

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” He said hurriedly. His breath caught in his throat trying to explain, “I just didn’t want to make you feel like I’m taking advantage…”

Annalise smiled gently. She closed the distance between them and kissed him gently. She pulled away and shook her head, “You wouldn’t be. I’ve been wanting this.” She pressed her lips against his once more.

Bartosz smiled against the kiss then kissed her back. He wrapped his arms around her once again. He scooped her up once again. The boy walked them to his bed and gently sat down keeping her in his lap for the moment.

Annalise giggled against his lips and pulled them down so that they were laying down staring at each other. She smiled and asked, “Do you think that people are meant to meet?”

Bartosz nodded, “Yeah. I mean statistically it would be impossible for us to meet any other way.” He pulled them towards the head of the bed when he saw her yawn again. He chuckled, “You’re exhausted. Please allow yourself sleep. I will be right here in the morning.”

She yawned and nodded, “Promise?”

“Promise,” he kissed her head and tucked her in before going to get changed and showered himself.

Jonas walked with Martha into her 2052. He stumbled out seeing it so bright and more like a desert.

“What is this place,” Martha asked the boy as they walked through the blistering heat under the blazing sun. They looked around to see the debris of trees before just seeing a sandpit, “Where are we?” She turned to him and asked, “Did you do this? How did you do that?”

Jonas simply told the girl, “She told me to bring you here. That she’d explain it to you.”

“Who,” She asked. They turned to see a lone woman walking towards them. Martha asked, “Who is that?”

The woman stopped in front of them and took off her wraps to reveal herself, “Welcome to the future.”

#dark fanfic #dark netflix #dark fanfiction #yesterday once more fanfic #(they long to be) close to you fanfic #close to you fanfic #dark (netflix)#dark (2017)#dark (netflix) fanfic #dark (2017) fanfic #fix it fic

8 notes · View notes

masquerade-story · 3 years ago

Text

Chapter 5 - Commencing Plan

"Earth has magic too. Alchemy and enchantments. Chemistry and technology. Same things, different names." Crystal spoke slowly as she examined the cloth material in her hands, checking for tears or weak points in the weave.

Grey pumped his fist, a triumphant look on his face. "I knew it! No way that backflipping robot was natural science."

"Science is the study of the world around you. It doesn't cancel out the existence of magic, it just helps to understand its rules better."

"Listen here, little miss know-it-all."

"I don't know it all, just more than you."

"Hey!"

Crystal grinned, finishing her examination without sparing an extra glance for the outraged Grey stomping his foot at her side.

"That's a low bar some days," Rayne said with an exaggerated sigh, then promptly ducked as Grey chucked a pillow at her face.

"Lils!" Grey whined, draping dramatically over his sister's lap, interrupting her own costume examination. "They're bullying me!"

"The truth hurts sometimes dearest," Lillian muttered, much to her twin's dismay. He recoiled away as though she'd flung him, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead in distress.

"Betrayal! Mine own blood doth betray!"

"My point," Crystal continued, using a needle and thread to tighten up a bit of beaded tape on a hem that came loose. "Was that when I said magic exists on this world, I mean I don't know what form this world's magic is going to take, so we should be careful until we understand more. It may be familiar, like chemistry and technology, or it could be something more fantastical, like what that Eater pulled on us. Until we know the rules, we shouldn't be reckless."

"What if being reckless is part of the rules?"

"Then we'll find out soon enough and adjust our course of action."

"I hate that you have an answer for everything."

"Then stop asking questions."

Crystal and Grey stuck out their tongues at each other while Lillian giggled, and Rayne shook her head at the foolishness of it all. "Children, please."

"You're the youngest one here!"

"Hard to tell by looking, huh?" Rayne shrugged. She wasn't nearly as useful with sewing, so she'd taken to tying on little chimes and ribbons to decorate her bodhrán since her large acoustic kit was much too large and bulky for their purposes. The small frame drum, just a bit over a foot in diameter and only four inches deep, was much easier to carry and play.

When they brought their main instruments for the music video, they brought along a few supplementary instruments to use for the mixing as well. Actual recording was going to happen in a proper studio, but sometimes having them around and playing them when practicing could spark more natural inspiration than trying to force it during a recording session.

So in addition to Crystal's small harp, Grey's bouzouki, Lillian's electric keyboard and Rayne's acoustic drum kit, they also brought along macho bongos, a bodhrán, a tambourine, a fiddle, a bombard, an ocarina, a zither, enough bell bangles for the four of them, and a kalimba which Lillian was unnaturally proficient with. None of the instruments were particularly large, so it was easy to fit them in alongside everything else in the hand cart. Especially the kalimba - a hand-sized wooden board with attached staggered metal tines, which made an ethereally charming resonating sound when played despite its minuscule size.

"Rayne's got her drum, I'm taking my bouzouki, Lils is bringing..."

"Kalimba."

"Right, right. Coco, which instrument are you grabbing?"

Crystal snipped the thread with her teeth after tying a tight knot. "Since Lils is bringing the kalimba, I'll go with the fiddle."

"Ooh, are we gonna do a jig?"

"Maybe. We have to see what the climate's like in town."

"Climate is cold, Coco. There's snow."

"Emotional climate, Goofus! If something terrible happened recently, if there's an illness going around or a famine or what have you, it'd be inappropriate to run in with a nice cheerful Stick Across the Hob."

"Ah, Morrison's Jig. A classic."

"We can play it if people are friendly to us. Who knows, maybe they hate folk music. There was a time in our own history where the only socially appropriate music was religious hymns, you know."

"Gross."

"Right? So again, we just have to be careful."

"And then once they like us we can do fun songs, right?"

"Maybe slow tempo drinking songs or instrumental sea shanties to uh, test the waters."

"Har de har. Lyrics?"

"I really, really, extremely thoroughly and tragically doubt they'll speak English or any of the other languages we can sing in, and they might be alarmed by foreign languages. Classic orchestral music might be our best bet, honestly."

A potentially insurmountable language barrier was part of the reason their little group hemmed and hawed about heading to town. On the one hand they definitely needed more information about the world, but on the other hand, walking in without any knowledge or method of communication was a terrifying prospect.

So they did what they all did best, and procrastinated productively. The costumes were a good start, but they weren't sturdy enough to withstand frigid winter winds since the things were entirely cosmetic. Lillian proposed they somehow create thicker linings for their clothes, and Grey suggested they make use of the house's ability to restore items in order to do just that. But for that to work, they'd have to understand how it worked.

That night they waited with bated breath after destroying a single pillow, shredding it to bits as a sacrifice to the experimental gods of magic science. As soon as midnight ticked over on the household clocks, a new pillow appeared in its original place on its appropriate bed, and the shredded remains of the sacrificed pillow were still laying sad and limp on the floor.

"Infinite pillow glitch," Grey had whispered with delight, setting the other three to helpless giggling at his dumb joke.

The next day was spent ruining disposable objects around the house to various degrees and moving them around in order to determine the magic house's threshold of accounting damage and item 'respawning' limits. Some items were completely replaced, some were merely repaired, items from outside the property didn't count, and everything else had different thresholds for what counted as damage and what didn't.

While everyone was running around wrecking their house and generally having a good time doing magic science, Crystal put an empty jar outside of the fence to sit overnight. After the reset that night, it was fully replaced complete with its original contents, while the original empty jar remained outside of the property wedged into the snow.

Crystal smiled to herself with this new discovery, and put several small jars of preserves outside the fence in one of the small wooden crates she found in the cellar, covered with a thick towel to help insulate the glass.

"What were you getting up to?" Grey asked, as she stomped back into the house rubbing her arms to fight off the winter chill.

"Wishing we had warmer clothes," Crystal sighed, the mischievous glint in her eyes telling Grey he wouldn't get any answers yet. "Or at least pajamas with sleeves."

"Plotting something sinister?"

"Maybe."

"Rock on. Lemme know if I can help."

"Of course."

With their new knowledge regarding item respawn rules, they set about tearing more pillows and sheets into raw materials for upgrading their silly stage costumes into something functional, and copied the costumes into several spare sets for each of them just in case.

The costumes were inspired by fantasy medieval fashion and Renaissance faire finery, all four virtually identical in styling. Surcoats with silver bead tape and embroidery, high collar tunics with voluminous bishop sleeves, canvas cloaks with deep hoods, leather bracers, leather boots, leather belts with ring clasps, assorted leather bags, gloves, and leggings. Aside from the white tunic, everything was black with silver embellishments such as bead tape and braided fabric trims, or embroidery that shimmered in the light. The cloaks also sported little silver jingling bells attached along the hem, matching decorative bells on the boots and bags.

Most importantly, each of them had a unique Venetian masquerade mask with an attached beaded black face veil. The intricate, ornate masks had little bells dangling from loops on the sides, and were decorated with gemstone accents around and above the eyes; each member of Aos Sí Echtrae used a different gemstone for their stage name to capitalize on all the 'Fairy Rock' jokes they could make.

Plus, Crystal was already named after a shiny rock, so it was convenient all around.

"How are we gonna make these clothes warmer?" Grey asked, holding up his surcoat and raising an eyebrow in Lillian's direction.

"Quilting." Lillian said, gesturing with her hands to try and pantomime what she meant. "Gonna create pocket insulation layers using sheets, fill them with cotton and feather down and foam and whatever else we have to use. Then sew the pocket insulation layer in the middle of the original costume layer and an inner lining, to make the clothes warm without sacrificing their aesthetic!"

"The cloaks too?"

"The cloaks especially. They're already a strong sturdy material and have been water sealed, insulating them will basically turn them into actual quilts to shield us from the wind. In fact, I'll probably use cloak copies to make waterproof pants, since insulating leggings is a bit hard thanks to their thin material..."

"Too bad we can't make better boots too," Crystal sighed, glancing out the window. It hadn't stopped snowing since they arrived, and though most of the layers didn't completely stick, there was still a foot of snow outside they'd have to slog through to reach town. If the weather continued, they would have to put off the visit until some of that snow melted off.

"I'll break the path for you guys," Rayne said, flexing a powerful bicep. "No worries. We should still wait until it stops snowing, though. Walking through bad weather always sucks, even more so if it's over a big distance."

"Remembering high school?"

"God, that hill was brutal."

"Hey, everyone gets to help out with this!" Lillian said, pointing at the other three who were subtly edging toward the door during their conversation.

"I can't sew," Rayne quickly protested, and Lillian held up a finger to shush her.

"The lining doesn't have to be sewn pretty, the stitches just have to be strong. We need to make several copies of the belts, I want to repurpose them into something else... And I wanna keep an original copy of the costumes as well as have several sets of each so this is gonna take a few days worth of resetting to complete. Oh! Rayne, you can find big branches to make into walking sticks, the ground will be uneven under the snow and we don't wanna trip."

"Yes ma'am..."

Under Lillian's watchful eye, everyone got to work on different tasks in order to prepare for their first visit to another world's town, feeling a combination of trepidation and excitement in their hearts.

------

"Hey guys? There's uh. There's something weird." Rayne's voice echoed down the hall, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps as she hurried toward the living room where the others were gathered around the finished costumes and enjoying the last of their breakfast.

"What in the... Is that... Is that a telescope?!" Grey asked incredulously as Rayne rounded the corner with something large and heavy in her arms.

"I was checking out the study and found it in one of the cabinets. So, the study has that windowed alcove bit that sticks out from the side of the house, right?"

"Yeah, like a breakfast nook but for books. Book nook!" Grey grinned, switching his attention from the costumes to the big brass telescope that Rayne was hurriedly setting up in front of the largest living room window. "This thing is ancient! There's no way this isn't some priceless antique or something!"

"Yes yes it's very cool and belonged to a former trade ship navigator about a hundred years ago don't ask how I know that I'm not sure either I understand why this weirds Coco out now, but that's not important!" Rayne wheezed, peering through the eyepiece and adjusting the focus before stepping away. "Look at the town."

Grey peeked through first, too excited about the telescope itself to wait much longer. He stared in silence for a good long moment, then frowned and stepped away to give Lillian room. "That's... You're right, that is weird. But I can't quite put my finger on why... I mean, aside from the architecture itself? But something else is bugging me..."

"It's hard to see detail from here even with the telescope, but I think some of them had glowing symbols decorating them?" Lillian said with a shrug after she had her turn. "They're pretty, and unusual for sure. Either magic or electricity, but I hope it's magic. That'd be cool!"

Crystal took her turn last, automatically touching her face to lift up the glasses that she no longer had to wear. She gave a soft laugh at finding her face naked, shook her head, and peered through the eyepiece.

The buildings were indeed strangely pretty, smooth white or silver constructs with colorful glass roofs, in sleek appealing shapes that more suited a science fiction setting rather than fantasy. Some had glowing symbols etched under arched windows or in rows along walls, but the light was dim and flickering, and it was impossible to tell from afar what shape the symbols had.

"The town has a uniform layout," Crystal said quietly, furrowing her brow. "It's a planned city. Wide roads on a grid, a perfectly arched wall surrounding the whole thing except where the harbor is. The tallest building is in the middle, might be a palace or castle? But... There's no people."

"Wait, what?!" Lillian exclaimed while Grey snapped his fingers in realization.

"That's it! Even though it's winter, there'd still be people moving around and working and stuff, right? But those roads are totally empty! No cars or wagons or pedestrians or nothing."

Crystal swung the telescope around, peering into the empty harbor, then past that toward the horizon where puffy white sails broke the barrier between sea and sky. "Ah, the ships... The city is really sleek and almost futuristic, but those ships are..."

Grey nudged Crystal aside to steal the eyepiece again, bouncing his leg with excitement. "Yo! Those are some real nice maritime vessels, my friends! Four-masted wooden masterpieces, and is that mizzenmast lateen-rigged? Squared raised stern, that's a nice prominent booty on those ships for sure. Those big boys are either carracks or galleons, or whatever they're called in this world. Whew, they're real beauties!"

"Was it an evacuation?" Lillian asked, concern coloring her voice, but Grey shook his head.

"Doubt it. The sails are torn and mended all over the place, and I think I see minor hull damage on the ones up close, but those lads are definitely pointed toward the town, and resting in a recognizable formation at that. They've been through a long journey to get here specifically, I think. In fact..." Grey swung the telescope, adjusting the focus as he went, searching to and fro until he spotted what he was looking for.

"They were further away when we first got here," Rayne said, holding up her fingers in a little pinching gesture. "The sails were like, this big on the horizon."

Grey nodded, then exclaimed aloud. "Aha! Found a pinnace! I dunno why it took them so long to approach, but they're moored in the deeps now, not sheltering in the harbor. And there, by the town wall! There's a little camp. Looks like... Ten people? They used a small pinnace boat to approach so it's probably a landing party scouting the area to see if it's safe to approach."

"I didn't see people! Let me see!" Rayne bumped Grey aside with her hip, stealing the telescope back. "There they are! Oh, they're still unloading the boat."

"It was still snowing pretty hard until like, today. They probably only just sent the team out." Grey said, and Rayne nodded in agreement.

"Looks like it. Hmm... Their clothes do look a little like our costumes, I think? They're tiny colorful blurs, but I think I see a couple people in cloaks, and possibly armor? Using our costumes is probably the best idea after all."

"But now things have gotten a bit more complicated," Crystal muttered, drumming her fingers on her bottom lip as thoughts tumbled around in her mind. "There's no permanent settlement yet. For some reason that city is empty, and we don't know why. The city looks more advanced than anything the people in wooden ships would be capable of making, no matter how nice the ships are, so they probably aren't the same civilization. If they have that many ships, are they colonizers? Are there natives to this land we need to worry about? How would they see us if we, as strangers who don't even speak their language, suddenly walked up while they're trying to settle an apparently empty foreign city?"

Grey and Lillian exchanged glances, while Rayne turned from the telescope and placed a hand on her hip. "Coco. Relax."

"How can I relax? If they're not friendly we're probably boned! They'll definitely come explore the forest for resources and they'll find us and-"

"Crystal!"

Crystal flinched as Rayne grabbed her by the shoulders and gave a gentle shake, bringing her back to her senses. She hadn't even realized she'd hunched over and started scratching at the delicate pale flesh of her arms, bright red tracks screaming their distress under her fingernails. She shivered, forcing her clawed hands to relax, and took a deep breath. "Ah... S-sorry, I... I just..."

"Does it feel dangerous?" Lillian asked, her voice calming Crystal's nerves with its serenity.

She thought a moment, then pressed her lips together and shook her head. "No. It doesn't feel dangerous. I'm just... Worried, I think. Anxious. There's so many unknowns..."

"If they're gonna find us anyway, let's go to them on our own terms," Grey said, giving Crystal's face a gentle tap with his knuckles. "Right? We readied the costumes anyway, and Rayne whittled us some fine walking sticks."

"I even polished them."

"See? She polished them, Coco."

"There was wood lacquer in the maintenance closet."

"Wood lacquer, Coco!"

"Alright, alright!" Crystal threw up her hands in defeat, struggling in vain to hide the growing smile on her face. "You win. Let's get dressed and go make first contact."

"The masks are mandatory!" Grey said, grabbing his off the living room table. "If we're gonna be a minstrel group we gotta look the part!"

"I finished the slings for your instruments, so you can carry the cases on your back under the cloaks. Should make it less of a strain to lug them through the snow." Lillian looked proud as she showed off the repurposed leather belts, carefully measured to fit each of them and evenly distribute the weight of the heavy cases across their torsos. "My kalimba is small enough to fit in a bag so I felt like this is the least I could do to help."

"You're so great Lils," Grey sighed, giving his twin a grateful hug.

"I'll go get the sticks," Rayne said, running upstairs.

Meanwhile, Crystal rolled her eyes and heaved a despondent sigh. "Man... I have to wear actual clothes again..."

"It's too cold to be a nudist, Coco."

"I'm not a nudist, I'm just texture sensitive!"

"You'd be a nudist if it was socially acceptable."

"Eh... Debatable. I'm kinda lumpy."

"No you're just soft and huggable."

"Which makes me lumpy. Oh well, at least the costume materials feel nice." Crystal sighed once more, grabbing her outfit off the living room table. "Alright, everyone turn off their vision for a second."

"We have all seen you naked, Crystal."

"We all took turns washing your back when you went through physical therapy, Crystal."

"Also this is the living room."

"Nudist."

"Exhibitionist."

"Can't hear you guys I'm already naked!" Crystal stuck out her tongue as, contrary to her statement, she headed down the hallway toward the bathroom in order to change in privacy.

"Who's naked?" Rayne called down the stairs, accompanied by the thumping sound of four walking sticks repeatedly hitting the banister as she descended.

"Everyone except you!" Grey called back, his voice muffled as he pulled the blouse over his head.

"I had to get the sticks, no one told me we were having a nudey party!"

"Nudey parties are better fun with guests that aren't basically your relatives," Lillian grumbled, and Rayne nodded as she dumped the walking sticks on the nearest sofa.

"Eh, true. No offense, you guys are our unofficial adopted siblings."

"No no, it's mutual. You both are our sisters, seeing you lot naked does not rustle my jimmies in the slightest."

"Completely unrustled?"

"Not even a jostle."

"Damn."

"Wait, why are we unofficially adopted? There's no birth records in this world for us. We can just be siblings and no one will ever be able to prove otherwise."

"Shit, you're right! Okay, you're all adopted by me now. You can call me Mama."

"Like hell we will, you're the youngest!"

"Respect your elders, young man!"

Crystal laughed to herself as their voices echoed faintly through the closed bathroom door, then focused on getting dressed. Her costume was modified further thanks to a personal request she'd made, adding a long black wrap skirt that went to her ankles to be worn over the leggings. She also added a silver sash around the waist and under the belt, made using one of the spare bedsheets.

She didn't mind pants so long as the material was nice, but she preferred the swish of long skirts and dresses because it felt more fun, and if she had to wear clothes anyway they might as well be layered and interesting. Just so long as the inner layer actually touching her body was a nice comfortable fabric!

Lillian made the skirt match the rest of the outfit using bead tape and braided fabric, and liked the resulting skirt so much she added a shorter skirt and some frilly modifications to her own outfit. Then Grey wanted some fancy embellishments and dangling cloth bits to look more dramatic, so in the end only Rayne kept the original design.

"We look amazing," Grey said with a delighted sigh as everyone gathered together in the living room once more to don their masks.

"Are the masks really necessary?" Lillian mumbled as she tugged on the gossamer veil, causing the beaded decorations woven into the fine material to jingle and shimmer. "I mean... What if not being able to see our faces scares them, or makes them suspicious?"

"Then we can take them off?" Grey said with a shrug, slinging the shoulder strap of his instrument case over his arm before settling his cloak. "But I think it adds to our mystique as wandering minstrels, and we look fantastic rather than threatening. Plus, they're the ones landing near our house, right? We're the ones living here. For all they could know, it's culturally inappropriate to walk around with naked faces!"

"We'll have to get pretty close to know for sure," Crystal said. After a moment's thought, she took out her hairclip and left it on the coffee table, allowing her long blonde hair to tumble free in the brief moment before she put up her hood. She'd spent enough time in cold climates to know long hair was best left protecting one's neck from cold air. "We'll watch their body language as we approach. If they seem hostile, we'll back off. In the meantime, we should bring some food. It's a long hike."

Everyone agreed, filing into the kitchen to pack snacks and sandwiches into their bags. Crystal tucked a few jars of preserves into hers, bringing only those and a couple sandwiches instead of cramming the space with small packs of miniature cookies and potato chips like everyone else. Her choice of foodstuff went unnoticed, since everyone else was busy playing Tetris trying to fit their chosen assortment of snacks into relatively small bags.

Once everyone felt prepared enough for their journey, they took a moment to brace themselves, each grabbing a homemade walking stick, then stepped out of the house into the snow.

#writing #chapter #original #original story #masquerade #fantasy #isekai

1 note · View note

smokeybrand · 3 years ago

Text

Endless Love

With another season of Love, Death + Robots in the books, i wanted to revisit the entire series one more time. I spent the last two days, running through the entirety of the franchise, all eighteen from the first season and all eight from the second, twice, because i absolutely love this series. From the bottom to the top, these are my absolute favorite entries into the franchise so far.

10. Ice

Ice was a real surprise for me. It’s the only entry in season two that is classically animated so it already got bonus points from me but, as an entire short, it was amazing! The second we got outside of that apartment and into the wider world, i wanted to live there. So much content could be embellished from that all-too-short time spent in that world. More than that, i loved he relation ship between Sedgewick and Fletcher. I’m not saying an entire show abut those two is necessary but i wouldn’t scoff at them being supporting characters in a more anthology or ensemble show about that world.

9. All Through the House

This one is just cute. It’s a genuine short and i i don’t think there is a ton of legs in exploring that world but i had a fantastic time with what we got. The animation was gorgeous and the premise was outstanding. Of course, I'm curious about the “Naughty” but we don’t necessarily need confirmation about that I think that little glimpse into the world was more than enough.

8. Three Robots

Three Robots is in the same boat as All Through the House. i loved the time spent in this world but i don’t think we need to to revisit it in any capacity. What we got was the perfect amount of time there. It was beautifully animated, ingenuously written, and executed perfectly. This was a surprise for me to be honest because, in my order, it came right after Sonnie’s Edge and The Witness so shifting thematic gears like that was a little jarring. Jarring and welcome.

7. Helping Hand

Helping Hand is everything i wanted Gravity to be. This one won me over with the sheer panic of it’s narrative. The storytelling was incredibly intimate but that tension was f*cking palpable! It was able to really instill the utter despair and unbridled dead Alexadria felt as she began to spiral off into the infinite nothingness. I was absolutely enthralled with the humanity and sacrifice she made in an effort to straight up survive. Like, how many of us could do what Alex did in that situation? How many of us would have the absolute balls to make that call? Absolutely brilliant storytelling.

6. Pop Squad

Pop Squad makes this list on the sheer potential of that world. Aside from the fact that the entire narrative revolves around straight up murdering children, something that rarely ever flies in the greater entertainment world, and i f*cking love it! Outside of the fact that this entry is easily one of the most beautiful submitted for season two, i absolutely fell in love with the scope of that world. There is a ton of stories that can be told there, so many characters we can follow. Hell, i wouldn’t mind a limited series just following Briggs up to his fateful demise. I’d watch the hell out of that!

5. The Witness

The Witness makes this list based strictly on the strength of it’s aesthetic. For me, the art design in this short was the strongest of the first season and i say that knowing it’s only the fifth entry on this list. As a narrative, it’s a closed looped so there is a ton of lacking substance but the way it’s executed is too f*cking dazzling to ignore. This thing smacks of that Spiderverse animation style but does it in a way that sends you into a surreal trip of colors, glitches, and nudity. I as completely in awe of what i witnessed in that entry.

4. Snow in the Desert

Snow’s adventure was my absolute number one of season two. It’s f*cking incredible. The animation, the character work, the plots, the world building; All of it is an absolute marvel of execution. It presented a complete universe in a matter of minutes and i found myself not wanting to leave. Indeed, of the eight new entries, Snow’s wold is one that i absolute need more of. I need to see his life before Hirald, before his balls got a bounty. I want to explore his very human life with his wife and why she did what she did. I want to see what that world looked like two hundred years before we got our fleeting glimpse, and what Earth looks like in present day. Snow in the Desert was so goddamn great, i was upset it was so short. That’s only happened to me with one other entry on this list and at the very top.

3. Beyond the Aquila Rift

Now, i just gushed, full tilt, about how much i loved Snow in the Desert so why is Aquila ahead of it on this list? Why are there three more ahead of it on this list? Because the remaining three left me with a complete feeling in their narrative while leaving the door open for deeper exploration in to their worlds. Plus, i mean, Aquila’s presentation was f*cking chef’s kiss. Watching that short felt like watching The Fifth Element. Between the space setting and the killer music, it definitely gave me Luc Besson vibes and we all know how much i enjoy Besson’s movie movie making. Aquila is rife for anthology storytelling, just the world Greta could fabricate in her mercy killing duties as a giant spider nest is prime for infinite narratives. Think Tales from the Crypt but sexy and full of Alien Spider Mistress.

2. Sonnie’s Edge

Sonnies Edge was my first glimpse of what would become the utter brilliance of Love, Death + Robots. I Was absolutely enthralled by the character designs and the overall world because, if you don’t know this about my, cyberpunk dystopias are kind of my thing and the world of Sonnie’s Edge it my neon drenched wet dreams perfectly. Watching this felt like watching those old, excessively violent, gratuitously sexy, Eighties anime entries i grew up on. I missed all of the blood and f*cking and gore and violence. Sonnie brought that all back for me, leaving me satisfied but with a nagging hunger for more.

1. Good Hunting

Of all the shorts submitted between these two season, Good Hunting is my absolute favorite. I absolute love every second of this entry. The animation is fluid and top tier, giving justice t the gorgeous art direction and character design. The mix of computer and classic animation mixed perfectly, never outshining one over the other. I’m not he biggest fan of Steampunk but this is the rare entry that really grabbed my attention with how intricate, how absolutely stunning, all of the the iron work is in that world. As i gush about every aspect chosen to present this magnificent world to us, the crux of my adoration lies with the relationship between Liang and Yan. That sh*t was a real pleasure to see and, even after the tragedy, their love for each other really resonated through to the end. I want more of this world than any other we’ve seen so far and i hate that all we got was this one short.

Look, this is just the top ten of my list and, in all honesty, this thing stays in flux. With the exception of the front three, any of these shorts can make my list on any day of the week. I really like Automates Customer Service, Zima Blue, The Tall Grass, Suits, and Shape-Shifters. I’m sucker for classic animation so Blindspot has a shot, even if it’s the weakest of the first season, and The Secret War is just a feast for the eyes. The is a lot of good to great in this show and i can’t wait for the third season. Love, Death + Robots is a bastion for pure creativity, something that mainstream Hollywood lacks. That, i think, is why i adore this series so much. I miss when cats took risks and created unique masterpieces. You see that with smaller studios like Neon and A24 but that spirit has long since vacated the major studios. Thank the stars for Netflix because without them, we’d never have wonderful little nuggets of pure inspiration like this show.

5 notes · View notes

thegoldenreport · 3 years ago

Text

MIND BENT

Pretending to be someone else is easy, especially when you’ve been doing it your whole life. Amber-Eye 098 is an top tier imitation artist from the Southern Moon district, who has almost twelve years of experience under her belt in deceiving the general public for fun.

She recently sat down with Golden Report executives to share one such experience - how she managed to infiltrate Jatty’s Candy Cave and impersonate the titular owner, while remaining undetected for three months.

If the name of “Jatty’s Candy Cave” doesn’t ring a bell for you or stir up a primordial urge to vomit, we highly recommend an appointment with your local re-education services to rectify the issue. But in the mean time, we’ll ask you a very simple question, what’s really in their candy?

Or to put it in a different way...

Are you meant to be seeing the buzzing, glitching, oozing shadow that stands in the corner of your room at all times?

…

AE098: Whenever I approach a new character, I choose to look first at their environment. Their people. You can tell a lot about how a person is supposed to act just by looking at their people.

Jatty’s Candy Cave, for example, is housed in a very elaborate sewer system underneath the inner city of West Logos. Jatty doesn’t voluntarily share this information, but somehow makes sure her customers spread it like the plague. She wants to be known far and wide, yet continues to stay hidden. Chosen isolation perhaps as a method of retaining control? A walking contradiction nonetheless.

Sending several camera flies into the underground system confirmed she didn’t work alone. A personal assistant named Rael followed her every beck and call. Visuals showed him to be a funny little man who changed his aesthetic and vocal inflection on the daily. Though tended to favor anything revolving around a space or astronaut theme. It was a good thing I wasn’t stealing his identity.

Jatty, on the other hand, donned an a-line purple skirt, skin tight black turtle neck, dark green combat boots (which just so happened to be the same shade as her nefarious chemical ingredient, zeroX), and a pair of velvet back gloves that extended her fingers into claws.

Unlike Rael, she wore this suit on the regular and showed no signs of switching it up. Which of course made things ridiculously convenient for my costumes associate. She does such a sublime job at matching garments down to the very fabric and shade. I had nothing but confidence in her work.

I remember spending long evenings in her sewing shop, top floor of the special ops building. Trying on the boots and pacing around the floor. Feeling out the walk of, shall we say...a potential murderer? An ill advised chemistry enthusiast? Mad science extraordinaire? I wouldn’t know for sure until I became her.

Everything is a performance. Everyone has a good side. Everyone loves to act for the camera that isn’t even there. You may be wondering why we even go through the trouble of full body espionage if we already send in a hundred camera flies to wire tap the place. To that I say again, everything is a performance. The name of the game is not just tearing down the curtain, but walking backstage. The one place a camera refuses to go.

Further audiovisual input revealed her voice to be low and musky, like she constantly had to be clearing her throat (of her own toxins, perhaps?). We had vocal modifier pills that could mimic this effect. And her walk was always brisk in comparison to the slower moving factory workers. She was a being in motion, a blur that could not stop for more than a few moments at a time. And it wasn’t just an urgency to it, but a nervousness, a real fear. I was excited to discover more.

In the days leading up to my deployment, special operatives performed what we like to call a body snatch. Methodically extracted in such a way that Jatty would not even think to deny leaving with us. We offered an opportunity, intentionally vague, but sweet enough to seal the deal. Or that’s how it started.

In reality, we slipped a sleeping agent into her water glass, while discussing terms in the late hours of the evening. I’m not entirely sure where they took her, but by that point, I was ready.

MEETINGS

This is the word I would use to describe my first month in character. I remember the night I slipped into her office chair, torn faux leather at a cherry red mahogany desk. I remember the stickiness of said office chair. I remember pouring through her journals, her agenda books, her middle school science books. She was a being on the move, constantly meeting with someone. But for what?

One such meeting that stook out to me was with a blue deer handler, and only in my second week of deployment. I had read about this particular blue deer. And the sweet nectarine like flavor of it’s blood. Our conversation was brief, speaking about his latest harvest for the factory. He had come across a surplus, could give more this month than before. I was immediately suspicious. Could this blood contain the hallucinogenic properties I had heard about?

Unfortunately, the answer was no. Can confirm. I tried it myself.

It was however the main component of almost all their candy’s flavor profile. But I couldn’t have cared less about the flavor.

CHEMICALS

My second month felt the most comfortable. No one had yet raised a suspicious eye towards me, save for a few factory workers who I quickly disposed of, as per my training. I had gotten used to the endless walking. Learning to digest informative material while on the go. Like all those mad scribbles in her middle school science textbook. Keeping all conversations either short or long depending on what the situation called for.

I had internalized every type of candy we made in the Cave. The pipes hissed. The air smelled like swamp water. The work room was a mental prison of blood, sweat, and flickering lights. It was here that I learned the ingredients. That I tasted the fruit for the first time. Although I was pretty good at pretending I had done it many times.

She must have built up a tolerance to the drugs they use if she does this on the regular.

The candy I tried was called Vox. A lime green sucker that slowly turns into goo as it melts in your mouth. The color is deceptive. One might expect it to taste like an apple or even a lime. It tasted like salted butter.

This particular candy among many others contained a key ingredient known as zeroX: an opaque, thick, dark green almost black liquid at room temperature. Meant to be highly addictive. Meant to simulate an adrenaline rush. Meant to make the whole body shiver. The eyes dilate. The palms sweat. You feel like an imposter in your own skin. You believe that the voices on the radio are talking directly to you. The paranoia crawls deep into your brain, filling the space behind your eyes.

But you don’t hallucinate.

Can confirm, as I locked myself in the chief office and rode out it’s side effects on the wave of a panic attack.

SECRETS

In the middle of month 3, we received a mysterious package from a tall man in a black trench coat. My assistant Rael brought it to me at my desk, during one of the few times I had felt comfortable sitting down. He seemed to know exactly what it was. And assumed I also knew.

It was a black box, no seams or openings, no buttons or lights or switches. The only thing of note was a silver etching of an eye marked out with an X. It was a symbol that made me shudder. I had seen it all over the textbook. I had seen it plastered on every police car and above every government building. It’s a symbol you should all know. That was the first secret.

Our own leaders were in on it. Turning a blind eye.

That was the beginning of the crack in my facade. That little pause. That miniscule choke before my answer. I noticed a glimmer of something in Rael’s eyes. Confusion. Doubt. Suspicion. Patrons not trained in this artform might miss a cue like that, but I knew I had to begin my extraction.

A week later, I exposed my taste to zeroC. One of two chemicals they used as zeroX was designated for hard candy and zeroC for soft. Only five percent of their production contained soft candy. They don’t talk about zeroC. They mix it under tables or in dark corners of the room where the light doesn’t touch them. Which leads to the second secret.

The black box was zeroC, ground up like powder to be mixed with the syrup.

I had been reading about this less popular ingredient written upside down between the lines of Jatty’s incredibly weathered textbook. Similar to the effects of LSD or DMT, but extremely more potent and infinitely more long lasting. Made with the same blood of that fantastical blue deer.

I was fearing the inevitable. My weekly tasting of the newest batch. I could not fake it. All the workers lined up to stare at me at I sat before their production table and consumed their poison. There are some things you simply cannot fake before that many eyes.

I felt the sweet juice explode in my mouth as the candy’s skin broke between my teeth. I swallowed with all the confidence of returning to my office to take a shot of my emergency counteractive medicine.

I immediately started to cry. A side effect I was not expecting. The emotion swallowed me as they all stared. Some perplexed. Some, dare I say, satisfied? I stumbled through the hallways. Rael chasing after me with a clipboard. I didn’t turn to look at him. Escaped to my office, shut the door, and locked it. Which brings me to the third and final secret.

I had been fooling no one. They knew.

Sitting behind the cherry stained mahogany desk was the real Jatty, holding the shattered remains of the syringe, which contained my antidote. Ice blue eyes magnified by the chemicals coursing through my body. Her glare pierced through my skull. I don’t know if she escaped, if I was set up, or if my extraction was on short notice. My supervisors have neglected to tell me.

But as I was there with knees buckled and tunnel vision, I saw the black shadow of a hand appear on her shoulder and she whispered.

Don’t forget this. You people have no control.

I blacked out after that. My supervisors came to collect me after some time. I felt their arms wrapped around me as they dragged me out, slipping in and out of consciousness. Unable to process the shocking and also very strange things I was hearing.

Something about not keeping the deal. Something about craving orange juice. Another thing about an early return. And another thing about wombats in space.

I was in recovery for three weeks afterwards while our physicians on hand constructed an antidote. The hallucinations have stopped, but the paranoia is still palpable. They offered me a mind wipe pill, asked me if I wanted to forget.

I told them it was impossible.

#the golden report #issue two #unreality #paranoia #drugs #original #storytelling #hallucination #delusion #let me ask you this #is this the kind of exposure you wanted?#jatty's candy cave

1 note · View note

blushnote · 5 years ago

Note

I loved that Jeonghan CEO smut could you please do a part 2 💕😭

↳ requested | 1.6k words

↳ ceo!jeonghan smut | pt 1 here

a/n: thank you! i hope you enjoy!

you have to admit, it’s awfully cramped beneath jeonghan’s desk, a bit dark and dusty too, but you aren’t so obliged to complain when his hand tightens unforgivingly through your hair and suddenly his cock is easing into your mouth. there’s a pleased moan that hums in your throat. you’ve been thinking about this unholy moment for an eternity, and now it’s blossoming into fruition.

your hand wraps around the area that you can’t quite reach with your mouth, squeezing him lightly while your tongue laves along his hard underside, coating him with sticky, wet saliva. jeonghan’s hand relaxes only marginally in your hair, though it never falls away. he’d been signing documents inside his office before he beckoned you, claiming he had some files that needed organizing.

but you learned astonishingly quickly that it was a rouse. not that you cared. the sound of his pen scribbling across the paperwork glitched abruptly after you attempted to take him deeper. inhaling through your nose, your shiny lips were just ringed around his engorged head before you sunk down as best you could. a glossy sheen started to glimmer in your eyes at the overwhelming sensation.

his tip was stuffed to the back of your throat. you were so incredibly close to gagging, feeling the spit yearn dribble onto your chin.

“fuck,” you heard jeonghan’s breathless curse. it emboldened you, and with the little composure you had, you attempted to swallow around him.

his grip in your hair immediately tightened, almost keeping you pressed down as the warm, confining pressure of your mouth surrounded his cock.

“a-aren’t you so good at this, sweetheart?” jeonghan chuckled. he then took in a sharp breath. “you want my cum that badly, huh? such a dirty girl you are.”

the sensual nature of his voice persuaded your thighs to squeeze together. it was a painful ache that drummed between your legs, one of lust and utmost neediness. you could only whine around his cock in response. tapping his knee, you signaled that you needed some air. jeonghan lessened his strength on your scalp you and pulled off his length, saliva glinting on your swollen mouth.

there was a glazed, hazy expression painted to your face as you started to stroke him, smearing your own spit with the cum that was beading at jeonghan’s tip. it was a distinct sound, so undeniably wet and immoral as your wrist worked fervently along his cock. you leaned forward, darting out your tongue and licking slowly at the flushed, purple head, your hand still pumping.

suddenly - there was a knock at the door. a hot blade of fear cut through your flesh and you froze beneath his desk.

“just relax, honey.” jeonghan coaxed you. “don’t move too much.”

then, you heard jeonghan clear his throat and shout, “come in!”

the door swung open and then clicked shut quietly. your heart was beating in your throat as the footsteps stopped a few feet from jeonghan’s desk.

“i don’t mean to bother you, sir. but, has your assistant been around? we were supposed to take notes for the board meeting this afternoon.”

it was soonyoung. he was new to the office and didn’t really have a good grasp on everyone’s name yet. you had completely forgot about that stupid meeting too. jeonghan tapped his pen against the desk, probably putting on a show of pretending to intensely think and ponder. you were starting to calm down a bit.

“she left my office after organizing some files. haven’t seen her since.”

“o-oh,” soonyoung stumbled, “okay– it’s just that, we have this meeting and–”

“i know about the meeting, soonyoung.” jeonghan stated firmly. “i’m sure she’ll turn up beforehand. if she doesn’t, i’ll page her. alright?”

you weren’t really sure why you did it, but you were intrigued to poke out your tongue and collect the little pearl of cum that was going to drip down jeonghan’s cock. as quietly as possible, you etched forward and wrapped your soft lips around his head, beginning to suckle gently. he was clearly impacted by your ministrations, as he jolted slightly in his chair.

“are you alright, sir?” soonyoung questioned, taking another step toward the desk.

you smirked and decided to graze the top of your teeth up his sensitive cock. jeonghan seemed to shiver, and you couldn’t have been more pleased at the reaction. his grip grew exponentially taunt against your scalp, a fierce sting plucking the tears forth from your eyes; however, you were too consumed by your little game to stop. you rubbed your tongue against his slit and he barked.

“i-i’m fine! i’m fine, soonyoung. i just got a cramp in my leg… is that everything you wanted to ask me?”

soonyoung piped up shyly. “well, actually, i have a question about tab–”

“that’s great,” jeonghan interrupted him, clearly not interested in his question even though he was responsible for prompting it. “thank you for stopping by. i’ll see you around later.”

“oh… okay… see ya.” soonyoung mumbled awkwardly before shuffling toward the door.

once the room was just shared between the two of you, jeonghan rolled back his chair slightly to gauge you under his desk. your palm had returned to the base of his cock, and you blinked up at him with rounded, innocent eyes, your pink tongue circling sticky strands of spit and his arousal around his head. the contrast between your sweet face and your lewd behaviour made him growl.

jeonghan wanted to be mad at you, but his anger was already diffused.

“will you give me your cum, sir?” you decided to wind him up even tighter. “i want to swallow it, all of it.”

his length twitched at your imploring words. you had never seen such a wild darkness in his eyes. then again, you had never sucked him off beneath his desk before. jeonghan brushed the loose ends of his hair back, a smirk carefully blooming up his mouth. there was a fleeting, fond moment where jeonghan cupped your cheek, stroking his thumb across the warm, soft skin.

“you don’t deserve it after what you pulled back there with soonyoung.” he attempted to reason. you pumped him with a miserable frown.

“i’m sorry, sir. i just… i thought–”

“shut your mouth, sweetheart.” jeonghan ordered. “just because i can’t completely deny you, i will give you some satisfaction. get out from under the desk.”

it wasn’t long before you realized jeonghan’s malicious plan. after removing your tight work pants, you were bent over his desk, underwear pooled down to your ankles, legs spread widely apart. a silent gasp twisted your entire face as jeonghan settled the tip of his cock between your wet, slippery folds. then, he began to rub himself up and down your pussy, coating himself in your slick.

you chomped down on your fist to stop the moan that threatened to burst from your chest. he pushed his swollen head into your clit, using the hand wrapped around his cock to guide himself in languid, torturous circles. every so often, jeonghan would just brush the head against your slit, pushing in only by a tiny sliver before dragging himself back out. you whined out pitifully.

“sir, p-please, m’sorry–”

“be quiet, honey.” jeonghan warned you while getting lost in the filthy sight of his cock rubbing between your thighs. “this is your own wrongdoing.”

there was another knock at door. your head flew up from the desk and complete terror scorched your blood.

“not a good time!” jeonghan shouted.

a voice sounded muffled from the opposite side, “mr. choi is here to see you!”

“fuck.” jeonghan cursed under his breath. “tell him i’ll be out in five!”

lucky for jeonghan, he was already extremely close to his climax. one hand tautly gripped your hip while he continued rubbing the flustered head of his cock between your infinite slick. the pleasure jolted through you like electric currents. it wasn’t long until he allowed himself to let go, his length pulsing as he came just at the opening of your slit. not enough to enter you, but to leave his release dripping thickly down your legs.

“i’ve made a mess of you, sweetheart.” he sounded delighted. “your pussy looks so pretty like this, covered in my cum.”

you mewled sharply as jeonghan got down on his knee behind you, his tongue then swirling into your clit and prodding along the edge of your opening, concocting a taste of your arousals mixed together. he must have decided to toss you a bone, because he licked passionately at you until you came, your chest heaving against the desk and a dim, fuzzy glow in your eyes.

pushing yourself up from the uncomfortable wood, you watched jeonghan secure his pants back on and attempt to straighten out his hair.

“you can use the bathroom in my office to clean yourself.” he stated as he walked briskly toward the door.

“thank you, sir.” you replied, nodding meekly.

jeonghan gave you a particularly fond smile, one that you had never seen before, especially not when he was at work, acting cold and staid. it made something deep within your chest begin to shake.

“when i’m not fucking you against the window or eating you out on my desk, you can just call me jeonghan.”

a dense heat flooded your entire face. your lips parted in embarrassment and slight surprise. jeonghan had already left the room, though his head poked in shortly after to remind you about the board meeting you were to take notes at alongside soonyoung.

that was something you most definitely hated, especially as soonyoung kept shooting you peculiar glances from the corner of his eye.

#jeonghan smut #seventeen smut #seventeen scenarios #jeonghan scenarios #svt smut #svt fanfic #jeonghan imagines

471 notes · View notes

bluebirdwrites · 5 years ago

Text

falcon; dg

> story of her i*

warnings; language? i think that’s it. fem!reader too, if that's a warning

authors note; had to rewrite this after tumblr glitched out lol, hopefully you enjoy (; btw, check my prompt lists, and maybe send some requests if you’d be so kind haha <3 — birdie

Life was a knife’s edge. A precarious tittering balancing act of ‘will we, wont we’ for the little people that could. Life was invigorating and maddening all in one. Your life was sprawling. Distant memories from a past life like a constant pull on your brain, whilst others consumed you wholly and solely until you knew of nothing else but flight.

Life and Flight were much the same in the sense of the feeling of exhilaration whilst there were no barriers, no social constructs. Nothing and everything all at once. It anchored you to consciousness and it anchored you to awareness. But flight was, after all, finite.

The incessance of nagging however, seemed to be beyond the comprehension of infinite, in your household anyway. With or without your agreement it only seemed to get worse with every new person, death, close call or injury. As the oldest it was your job to worry about everyone, sometimes it just didn't occur to you how much that they worried in return.

“Falcon, do you have eyes on the shipment?” She took a deep breath, sucking the air between clenched teeth.

“Affirmative Agent A,” she shifted from foot to foot, readying herself “Ill see you on the other side. Before you even say it, yes I know my chances. I know this is fuckin’ suicidal, but it needs to be done. Don’t tell anyone until I give the signal. Please. I’d like to keep the injuries to just me on this one. Falcon out.”

A reluctant confirmation was heard before the commlink was muted.

She was a wild thing, she knew that. She was overprotective too, that she would also gladly admit. With reluctance, she would also admit that she was reckless at times. Stubborn and self-sacrificing. She was an angry creature too. It constantly licked at her conscience, it powered her wilful and it made her strong.

She shimmied through the hole that she’d created in the top of the shipping container, landing silently on the shoulders of a guard below. He struggled for a minute before he dropped to the ground, unconscious.

“Hell, maybe take me out for dinner first before putting your head between my thighs, it would have worked better,” she rolled her eyes, sucking in her cheeks. Now that one was knocked out she’d have to work quickly. She had her work cut out for her.

She soon found herself surrounded by swarms of thugs with knives, fists, guns and tasers; anything that they could get their hands on really. She considered calling her family, she really did. But where was the fun in that.

She took them down in droves, but they kept on coming. For every one she knocked down, two more seemed to come in their place. By the time she called for backup, she had a gash down her side that was bleeding pretty heavy, and she had many more holes in her skin that weren’t supposed to be there.

“I wonder if he’ll try and ground me this time,” she kicked a thugs gun away and slammed him into a wall. “What the fuck possesses me to be such a basket case?”

When her side decided that it would make her dizzy, she retreated to the high ground. Pulling out her comm and pressing the button three times, she wrapped her side and prepared to jump back into the fray.

After another ten minutes there were around five thugs left, they managed to finally incapacitate her. Two guys held her up whilst the other three questioned her.

“You look pretty bloodied up there sweetheart. I hear you’re quite the looker, shame we had to mess up that pretty face of yours.” The thug stuck his finger into her wounded side.

“Wow, nice to know I have your approval,” she spat in the thugs face, smirking as blood and spit splattered on his cheeks and dripped down her chin. “Do your worst buddy, I’m a big girl I can take it.”

One minute, she was getting kicked on the ground, the next she was seeing flashes of bats, birds and gunslingers. The last guy to go down went down with a thud, hitting the ground probably harder than he should have. It hurt to breathe but she couldn't let them see how hurt she really was, although the gash in her side said otherwise.

Forcing herself upwards she looked toward the bat with a wince. She was in so much trouble.

“Good job guys,” She took a deep breath holding her side. “You really helped me out there. Now, if it’s no trouble, I’m just going to head back to my apartment. Okay? Okay.”

She was immediately stopped by a flash of green grabbing her arm as she attempted to stand. With a glare identical to his fathers, Damien tugged her arm over his shoulder immediately tugging her to stand.

“Grayson, I am aware that you have a death wish, but this is not the time. You are coming back to the cave, stop being idiotic.” He motioned to Jason and Dick to take his place whilst himself and Tim dealt with the clean-up job. Jason sauntered over, slinging her arm over his shoulder whilst Dick jerkily did the same on the other side.

They were both worried, how she hadn't bled out and died they were shocked. But neither questioned it as they hurried to get their sister safely back to the cave, alive preferably.

Now that she was back at the cave she let Alfred take care of her whilst Dick hovered. The gash in her side required many stitches, so did the two bullet holes. She was off duty for a few months, and everyone knew she would only keep going this way.

“Don’t glare at me Richard. And before you start getting all mushy on me, go upstairs and distract Jason before he comes down here to frog march me,” she scowled meaningfully puffing our a breath of air. “I love you too and I’m just wound up, I’ll be up soon okay?”

He nodded and began walking upstairs, knowing he and their brothers would tag team her later. That- and Tim was waiting to speak to her, so he’d leave them alone sibling to sibling. And they’d have their own conversation when they’d both calmed later.

“You keep making us think that we’ll lose you. God, you’re reckless,” he tugged at the roots of his hair before marching towards her and squeezing her tight. “Please don’t be so reckless, we kind of need you. All of us.”

“Sure thing Timmy,” she pulled back from the hug when he was ready. “It’s weird seeing you all so worried about me. Go on upstairs, I’ll be up soon. Do me a favour and tell Dick not to worry so much either, I get the whole ‘you’re my only biological family left’ thing, but it gets smothering.”

After a reluctant nod he too left to wait for her upstairs. She ran her hand through her hair before squinting in the darkness. She frowned, before letting out a low chuckle.

“Come out Bruce,” she licked her lips, cracked and itchy. “I know you, always hiding in the shadows. Pessimistic shit you are.”

He emerged from the darkness with a grimace, words burning on the tip of his tongue. He paused, staring at her for a moment. He looked older, seemingly having aged years in a few hours. He walked closer, sinking down close beside her, uncharacteristically open.

“You could have died,” he stared at her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder in a rare moment of fatherly affection. “Tell me one thing, why didn't you call for back-up?”

“Because,” she said leaning her head on his shoulder, and listening to Jason scream he was coming down to her. “I don't want he others to get hurt. God knows you’re worse than I am Dad. I do it because in my own way, I’m keeping you safe by putting myself through hell. If that's all you wanted to know, can you help me upstairs before Jason comes down to carry me up?”

They made their was upstairs, towards the rest of the family. She was the anchor, but like all anchors, she still needed a ship to guide her.

109 notes · View notes

antihero-writings · 4 years ago

Text

Jack of All Trade, in This Masquerade (Ch2)

Fandom: Pandora Hearts

Fic Summary: Jack's stream of consciousness describes how society is like a masquerade, while his dreams show his own hypocrisy

I'll put the link to ch1 in a reblog, as well as do a reblog-version of this chapter that includes both chapters!

Notes:

Nope, I didn't forget about this fic, haha! Actually this fic has been sitting on my computer taunting me for WAY too long. This is probably the fic I open and try to work on, and then close again, unable to work on it, more than any other...

Lately I've been going through old fics that I left unfinished on my computer and trying to post them by whatever means necessary. For a number of them, those means are simply cutting it earlier than I planned to. I desperately wanted this fic to be included in the mix. First I only wanted this fic to be one chapter, then I wanted it to be two...now it's gonna be three or more XD I've just been super unsure about how to write the next part for a very long time, but I have had this part done for too long...and the dissonance between the two made it hard to go anywhere with it. I hope posting this will help me be able to figure out the next part, haha!

Another reason I was hoping to write the next part too is because I wanted to use the second chapter of this for the "Lock" prompt of Phmonth19... but this chapter doesn't really work for it. So just know that was my goal, haha!

I mentioned this in the other chapter, but the song "Masks" by Aviators is absolutely perfect for this fic, and I highly recommend listening to it during or after you read it, haha!

If you enjoyed this, I'd really really appreciate if you could leave me a comment to let me know!! They truly do motivate me to continue, and make my week!! If you want to read more of this fic, I can assure you I'll be faster at writing the next chapter, if I know people are actually going to read it!!

Chapter 2: The Color of Tragedy

The scene shifted, paint on a canvas smearing, and Glen became a black satin stain beneath layers of paint, the crimson and commanding presence disappearing as the world rearranged itself.

The many Jacks faded into the background too, until he couldn’t tell if they remained mirrors—(mirrors hidden within the many halls and rooms, built within the walls of his heart)—or if they were strangers and friends again; other people, not himself.

The pillars to the ballroom slowly dissolved, as if in water, changing into a courtyard green sprouting up all around.

The music had always been an unfamiliar tune he was expected to inherently know the moves to. And no matter how much he listened to it, it never became innate. Now, after all this time, it morphed into something familiar. But familiar did not mean un-painful or un-maddening.

The soft tune of a pocket watch tiptoed on his brain, each footfall a syringe in his thoughts, dripping cold beautiful insanity slowly into his soul, one drop at a time, infecting it until it blocked out every other melody, and his feet forgot the moves he had so ruthlessly sewn in.

When he turned, the source was behind him; a man standing in the courtyard. All black now; black hair, black cloak. No crimson. Like he never spilt her blood. Like she never existed in the first place. All black…except for the eyes. Gaze fluctuating between daggers…and some emotion he was struggling to keep from escaping; the leader, and the broken boy, crying on the ground. Soot with sparks buried within; glints of violet, glints of gold. Glitches of empathy in the perfect program. His eyes focused on the pocket watch—(a glint in the dark itself)—until they flicked to him, and Jack felt those eyes as a sword at his throat.

At the shift in his gaze, the scene itself turned over again, wind blowing by him, a single spark of violet glowing in the blurred tapestry, and ever, ever that melody, slowly corroding him.

Glen sat in the grass on a sunny day, those violet blades sheathed as he bathed in the afternoon sunlight.

The first respite from the dance in all these years. A rest in the measure.

Glen, sitting in the sunlight. Glen, playing the piano—always that single, haunting melody, laced with a name, filling up Jack’s mind with the harmony until he was drowning in its sound, and could think no other word.

That melody, that word, and her voice—(A memory of her voice, soon given to him by a bloodstained black rabbit)—pulling him through the blurred universe to a balcony, drawn there like he was ink on a canvas, subject to the whims of the artist.

Brown hair, like hers.

Violet eyes, like his.

White dress.

Black dress.

Her existence was not tied down. As if it was a part of the smear itself, and not the concrete picture beneath it. She was a part of all these mistakes the artist tried to smudge out.

Jack pulled a white rose from his pocket.

He offered her a red rose.

“Would you care to dance, Alice?”

******

A little girl held the keys to those chains—held them, held by them all the same; that is to say her world would fall into the dark too, if the bounds were to break. A little girl chose the music, the steps. A little girl ruled the world.

Is that why they call it insanity?

Her daughter.

Gods may be fixed in the sky, watching all our misdeeds, and we believe in them, not they us, but children can be made to believe anything. Such as: men who come down the chimney do so to give them presents, that putting their teeth beneath pillows is anything more than gross. One can make them believe the world isn’t made of malice. You can make them believe you haven’t sewn your mask—and the things you stole to get those jewels, things like lives—into the skin. You can make them think you’re a hero coming to save them, make them more than a blur, a mistake, a prisoner of their own creation, but a part of something real and concrete, when you’re just using them, like everyone else will. Naiveté is powerful and dangerous in that way.

I heard her voice one day. Lacie’s. Not just in my memories. This was real, one piece of her reaching out to me from the black.

She had this toy rabbit. A toy, yes, but to a god, a toy can be a thinking, living, breathing, thing, with nothing more than a thought to animate it. Dolls and figures can be princesses and princes, and their knights and soldiers. Children dream. And lonely children dream the most. And a lonely god is a dangerous thing indeed. Especially a child god, surrounded by lifeless toys. Dangerous, because of the stories they tell themselves in the silence can become real indeed.

It was this toy that brought her voice to me, like a gift, physical thing. Packaged up a memory and sent it off to me.

So it was back to the dance. But this time it was different. Because even if there were other melodies out there somewhere, other moves to know, my ears only heard one twinkling pocket watch, my feet would only obey one conductor.

And this melody was not bound by little girls, and lonely gods, and broken, blood struck leaders. This one I could make up my own moves to, intertwine them with the motions and melodies of the rest of the world, so no one would know I was dancing to my own song.

This rabbit, the one who brought her voice to me had a name. Oz—(like Oswald…but not like him at all)—was to be my chain. A chain different from the rest. A chain that was not friendship, or love, or hate, or malice. A chain that was not sanity or insanity. A chain that was not keeping the world upright. A chain to break all other chains. Bringing her to me. Tying me to her. My chain, to destroy all the chains keeping me from hearing her voice again, and her from the world she loved.

A god who creates something that can destroy their world is dangerous indeed.

Little girls and their dolls, toy rabbits and puppet kings, a tear or two, and some spilled blood couldn’t stop me now.

******

The world blurred in black and white, gold and red, violet and green.

Which color was real?

Was it the black and white; just the game of chess?

Was it the endless violet in the king’s eyes?

The gold of shimmering lights, and the eyes of scared little boys just trying to help?

Was it the green, the vibrant, envious green of his clothes, his eyes?

Or was it all the red they spilled?

And there was. So much red. One could have painted with it. He did. The floors. The walls. The roses he once promised she’d see. The world.

But even within those colors… nothing was quite solid, quite sure.

Because the gold didn’t shimmer anymore. Those golden eyes were full of fear, determination. They didn’t gleam with false riches, but with real poverty; a poverty that comes not from losing your money, but losing your friends, or your sanity.

Because that green wasn’t the vibrant bloom of a garden. It was not envy or eternity or ephemerality and it—he—too was dyed with red.

Because when Oswald truly put a sword to Jack’s throat his eyes held no sting. Those violet blades held nothing more than infinite sorrow. He called him his friend. But he saw him at the end of a sword, at the end of themselves, at the end of the world.

Or at least, that was Jack’s goal.

But the king made sure the only world that ended was their own, cutting off the hand for the sake of the rest of the body. Gouging out the eye for the sake of the face.

And there was another Jack trapped within the reflection on the sword—(mask or real?)—looking like a broken thing determined to hold itself together. And when something gets to that point, is broken enough…it doesn’t care. About much of anything. Not itself. Not the friend on the other end. Just whatever it is holding itself together.

The king’s head is lying on the board.

“Glen?”

Jack is calling his name, cradling his red-stained head in his hands, tears smearing the green of his eyes.

How did he die? Who killed him? How can he make them pay?

But his hands are covered in blood.

What’s the mask? The blood? Or the tears?

And now everything, once too blurred, once just a smear on a canvas, a move in the midst of a dance, is too real, too concrete, too irreversible.

Checkmate. But he doesn’t feel like he’s won the game.

And as he cries, as he screams and demands why, the masks peer out of the corners of the board, stare his way, snickering at him from the hidden passageways deep inside him.

The closer he got to his goal, the more those chains fell apart, finally creating his own moves to the dance…the less he he noticed something wrapping around his arms, his legs.

He rushed to the tower where the god-girl will grant his wishes at last—the bottle for the genie—where he will be free.

And she would have granted him all, if only he would have freed her from her bottle.

She wouldn’t have hesitated to destroy the world for him.

Were it not for her other half, the rabbit’s tears, and a pair of scissors.

At last the machine remembers the wrench; the one that tried to change the patterns, the melody, long ago, all for a single distortion in the system that shouldn’t have been there in the first place. The one whom its gears once kicked to the bottom, the one who clawed his way back up. And it knows kicking him back down there again won’t be enough.

Fine. If he wanted to change the system, the dance, the melody, then the system would exclude him, treat him as an error. The dance will leave him with everything he wanted, everything he was, everything he created.

He opens his eyes.

There is no ballroom. No dance. No dancers. …Maybe there never was.

A cell. Or at least, he thinks it is, but he doesn’t see any walls or floors, just navy darkness, and a crack in the dimension above, like a slit in the prison door, letting in the tiniest bit of light.

He takes a step.

There’s a sloshing noise.

So there’s water in the bottom of this cell. Is the prison’s being flooded? He ought to tell the guards.

One more step.

Something cuts the air. A terrible sound; like somebody took a beautiful thing and melted it down, and melded it into something it was never meant to be.

Laughter. Twisted, reckless, mirthless, soulless laughter. As if he stepped on a malfunctioning Jack-in-the-box, with no need for the song.

There’s no music anymore. And the the absence of it threatens to suffocate him.

Another step, another laugh, different, but no less jagged.

He doesn’t want to look down. Doesn’t want to see. To face it. He knows. He knows what he’ll find there.

But he does it anyways.

Beside his foot is a mask. A fine porcelain one, like from a theater, that would cover the whole face. The slit-eyes are curved down, the mouth curved up, to signify happiness.

It’s the ugliest thing he’s ever seen.

But he knows, if he were to put it on, it would fit his handsome face perfectly.

He puts a hand over his mouth to barricade the sick, to cloister his silver tongue, and takes a step back.

But when he does, another warped sound wrenches open the air. This time it’s crying.

He spins around. His heel is on another mask.

But, as he looks upon it, his eyes are pulled upward as if on strings. There is something far worse behind him. It’s like a snowy mountain.

Masks, endless, empty, lifeless masks. This place is surely built upon them.

All the masks he ever wore.

Does he even have a face anymore?

3 notes · View notes

lethargyspecialist · 4 years ago

Text

Itch.io Bundle Delve, #16: Lenna’s Inception

https://tccoxon.itch.io/lennas-inception

There's... a lot going on here. It starts off a bit too "dark & edgy deconstruction" for me, with the sword-dispensing old man's famous warning written in his own blood and the ~ chosen hero ~ dying right in front of you in the first dungeon. I'm not really sure where it's going with this, since the rest of the game from that point is horror lite at worst. As far as I can tell, at least. Maybe I'm missing something.

On top of its glitch / self-aware / fairytale derailed schtick, there's also a weirdly laboured critique of the finance industry packed in there, with pun-spewing banker skeletons and even a stock tracking slot machine minigame. I don't know how well these fit in with the main premise. I genuinely do appreciate the puns, though.

Meanwhile, there's a side quest where you gather lost books for your local lesbian librarian, ranging from ~ deep lore ~ to skeleton themed filks of popular music to a monster girl romance novel of her own creation. (I actually ended up impressing her so much with my book-finding skills that she joined me as my companion and the rest of the game has become a weird dungeon-crawling date.)

Some of these books, NPC dialogue, and other writing are pretty amusing - I really prefer this light stuff to the attempted glitch horror content. For example, there's flashbacks to the big bad (?) exasperatedly trying to teach their crew of dungeon bosses not to make fatal tropey mistakes. Like opening up their incredibly vulnerable mouth to "eat the mean arrows" when the hero attacks them. It's very reminiscent of the Nightmare Knight in Cucumber Quest.

I even found myself writing down the number for a pizza delivery company based on a jingle sung by a boss in one of these scenes, so that I could call them on the in-game mobile.

Speaking of bosses, their designs are interesting enough, though most fights are a bit short. I'd say all too short, but the most recent boss did at least surprise me with an amusing second phase of sorts, where I had to input the Konami Code on a teleporting joystick while evading minions.

I can't end my review without talking about randomisation. I get why roguelikes are popular, and I know there's even a niche but popular cottage community out there of Link to the Past randomisers. But for a small "couple of hours" indie experience like this, I'd really prefer hand-crafted, curated content. I'd much prefer a solid, short experience than a disjointed one designed to justify itself through ~ infinite replayability ~.

I covered the first four dungeons and exactly half of the world map in my session first session.

The second session was a bit disappointing: the middle bunch of dungeons were an uninspiring slog, because "randomised, but more" is actually even worse than just "randomised".

I then finished it on the third session. The last two dungeons introduce a genuinely interesting glitch mechanic, which I think would have been better off appearing earlier and serving as a greater focus of the gameplay.

#Itch.io #Review #Freya plays #Bundle Delve #Games I actually finished

2 notes · View notes

overwatch-does-stuff · 5 years ago

Text

Overwatch: B R O K E N

Summary: "The same experiment that had opened his mind had also fractured it. . ." TRIGGER WARNINGS: EXPLICIT GORE. HORROR.

"Get out of the way! Get out of the way!" Nurse Rochelle screamed as she took point in rolling the gurney along. Other doctors, nurses, and visitors quickly grouped to the sides of the hospital hallway. Rochelle did not take any notice of the way their faces looked down upon the man she was helping to wheel through to intensive care. She also did not notice the hum in the air and the faint nausea in her stomach, the way that the IV cord hooked up to the man in the gurney seemed to bob in the air in time with his breaths. Rochelle helped to guide the gurney around the many corners of the hospital and into the ICU. The man now in her care she had a name for- Siebren De Kuiper, male, age 50- but exactly what had happened to him she could not place. Nor was she told. All she knew was the news report she saw on the TV, about a space shuttle making an emergency landing from the International Space Station. Rochelle directed the gurney to a room and immediately was overtaken by dozens of other doctors, all with their tools, clamoring to get a look at the mystery subject. Rochelle didn't understand. When the ambulance from the spaceport had arrived, she had checked in with the paramedics. His vitals were normal. His internal organs were all fine, and there was no outward bleeding as well. What was happening? Why all of the fuss? She left the room as her vision became crowded with other medical staff. She had done her job, and that was all she could do. Perhaps later she could get the scoop from one of her coworkers. Perhaps Dr. Minho would spill the beans. He was a close friend of hers. Rochelle was in the break room, getting a coffee, when her manager walked in. "You're up for patient check-up. ICU, room 64." So here she was again, outside of the mystery patient's room. According to everyone she had asked, every doctor that had been in the room prior, nothing was. . . wrong with the man. Not yet, said one. Just wait. Yet his vitals remained normal, reported the machinery hooked up to him. It was her job to check and make sure the machinery was correct. Rochelle took a deep breath and opened the door. It shut automatically behind her as she stepped in. The air was still. It was a same sort of stillness she had encountered before, in a room where a patient was no longer alive. However, the chest of the man on the bed inside still rose and fell softly. His breath was a quiet wheeze, and it was almost drowned out by the static sound of the heartrate monitor. His eyes were closed, but twitching. Dreaming, perhaps. She only hoped for him that it wasn't a nightmare. She felt a vague sense of deja vu as the feeling of nausea entered her stomach once more. It was almost the same feeling as if she was on a rollercoaster, just before a steep drop. She tried to shake it out of her mind as she crossed the room, but the feeling only increased. She stopped and tried to take deep breaths, but they were shaky and partial. What about this man was making her so anxious? It wasn't his condition. He looked perfectly serene, not even in any sort of pain. She swallowed the lump in her throat and approached his bedside. A chill went up her spine as she felt something brush over the top of her head. She ducked instinctively, and brought her eyes upwards. A small metal probe floated in the air above her. She blinked. Imagining things. She must be imagining things. Suddenly, the man gasped. His eyes shot open, and he jolted upright. Rochelle flinched backwards. "Sir?! Sir, are you alright?" She reached out to him as she glanced over to the monitor displaying his vitals. His heartrate had spiked, but nothing else in his system had changed. Maybe he had been having a nightmare- There was a feeling as if her stomach were rising up through her chest. She clutched her body. Her feet left the floor, and she floated upwards. Everything in the room was floating now. The vitals monitor, the IV bag, the bed, the man, everything. The man trembled. He held his hands out like he was trying to hold some sort of ball, or contain something. He desperately squeezed inwards on it. Sounds, noises, that Rochelle eventually realized were screams, came from him yet he did not even move his mouth. And then his head glitched. Parts of it blurred in and out of shadow and realness like it was being ripped apart. In an instant, Rochelle was slammed against the ceiling. The thin plasterboard broke from her weight and she was thrown against the many metal pipes and bundles of wires above. Pain blossomed in her back and legs. She struggled to keep her head up. Down? Up? "HOLD IT TOGETHER!" The ethereal shriek of a thousand voices pierced through the air and directly into her skull. She winced and shut her eyes. The words echoed, echoed through her brain until it was all she could hear, all she could think about. Until her body was torn from its hold against the ceiling and jerked downwards. The air beneath her felt like an invisible wall as she fell, whipping her hair upwards and blowing her eyes open mere moments before the ground came up to meet her. She screamed, only to be cut off by impact. There was shooting pain in every ounce of her body, but then a new sensation took over. Pressure. Unbearable pressure, squeezing her body against the cold floor. She felt bones begin to crack within her chest, and every breath she tried to wheeze felt like liquid fire in her lungs. Tears burned in her eyes. She cried for someone, anyone, to help, but then there was a piercing pain in her chest as something collapsed. Blood came pouring into her mouth, choking her screams. Her vision was almost completely dark now. She could hear no noise other than an aching ring. Her hold on the world ended suddenly and completely. -------------------------- It could not be contained, it could not be contained! The station would be destroyed, the Earth would be consumed! He had to hold on, he had to hold on. . . The infinitely dark orb between his hands slowly started to fade away, along with the room, and the station, and all the world entirely. All that was left was the darkness and him. His heartbeat throbbed, faster and faster, in the infinite eternity. Terror gripped him in its claws and slowly squeezed. He struggled and kicked against its grasp. It dropped him, and he was sling-shotted across the stars. Everything was spinning and the pin-pricks of light were at once blinding and invisible. He could feel their heat and their cold stroke him as he passed them by. He brought his knees to his chest. This was first a comforting motion, a way to tell where his body ended and the outside began, but he continued to bend further inwards into his own body. His limbs were sucked inside of him and he screamed. He was thrown flat against a surface as smooth as glass. He couldn't move. Managing peeks through the glass he could see galaxies, countless galaxies, each with a heart of infinite darkness in its center, slowly swelling larger and larger and eventually consuming all the light in the universe. A sudden grief, not all of it his own, filled him and he burst into tears. Then, something tickled the back of his consciousness. One small flickering light danced in his vision. He began to hear a faint. . . music. At once, his grief lifted, and something hopeful entered his chest. The light began to multiply and the music crescendoed. The melody, the melody! What was that beautiful sound? It trailed across his skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake, before entering his ears and exiting out his mouth. He exhaled equations into the air. Familiar equations of space and time and gravity swirled in front of him, yet they were different somehow. Fixed. Correct. He needed to write these down! Where was a marker? Where was a whiteboard? The universe obliged. On his hand was a liquid, wet and warm, and the walls a sanitary white. He traced the numbers and symbols with a perfectly practiced precision. The walls overflowed and burst with pure starlight. The equations had become windows, the light of the universe pouring in through their lines. This was it! This was the breakthrough he had been looking for! He heard voices muttering behind him. Was that the universe also? He turned to face them. Instead, he found humans. Mere humans! Their delicate faces looked frightened. "Do not worry," he spoke gently to them, "the universe is singing. Can you hear it?" The humans voices became louder. Screaming. They were drowning out the melody. He reached a hand out to signal their silence, but they persisted. Suddenly, the humans ran towards him. They each grabbed one of his limbs, dragging him downwards, away from the stars! "NO!" He shrieked, reaching upwards to the sky. "Don't you understand? The universe is singing to ME!" He felt something being pushed into his arm. The melody began to soften. He cried out to it, begging it to return and help him break free, but it responded only with a short caress on his cheek before fading entirely. The world around him disappeared and the darkness engulfed him once more. -------------------------- Dr. Minho cautiously stepped into the room, or what remained of it. Immediately, the stench of blood hit him like he had walked into a brick wall. Whatever used to be in this room was now strewn about in an indecipherable matter. It was as if a tornado had swept through the place. The doctor shook his head. The most disturbing part of all this laid as his feet. Being in the medical profession, Dr. Minho was used to seeing blood. Being a regular practitioner in the ICU, he was used to seeing horrifying injuries, and he considered himself to be rather tolerant of such things. However, he could not bring his stomach to settle at the sight of this. The corpse was barely even recognizable as Nurse Rochelle anymore. The sides of her chest had exploded outwards, spilling her parts out to open air in a way reminiscent of a something splattering out of a bag filled to the point of bursting. Her head was now concave in shape, her skull shattered, with blood oozing from every crack of bone. Dr. Minho shuddered and tried to look away to a place where there wasn't blood, but it was pooled all over the floor. The blood that wasn't on the walls, anyway. The walls were dripping with it. Blood drawn into lines that looked vaguely like. . . equations. The patient in this room had been a astrophysicist, had he not? Dr. Minho closed his eyes. That patient was being transported with a full armored escort to a top-security mental institution right now. Hopefully somewhere far, far away from any sort of civilization. That man was dangerous: how or why he was did not matter and was not worth risking more lives to find out. That man- no, that murderer, that freak, did not deserve to see the light of day ever again. Dr. Minho took one last look at the remains of Rochelle and prayed in vain that her death had been swift and merciful. He quickly left the room.

#overwatch #sigma #overwatch fanfiction #horror #gore warning #sigma has such potential to be utterly terrifying #and I'm not sure if I like that

48 notes · View notes