threepandas

[threepandas]

Bad End: Broken Things

There was something... off; about his photo. Little things. Petty things. All the sort that just... added up, you know? Made alarm bells sing. All those little hairs stand on end. Just kinda, you know, vibed wrong. Bad. Dangerous.

Like some part of my brain was saying "this one's a freak. Watch him. WATCH HIM! Look OUT! RUN!"

And, you know, it sucks. Cause you can't just give IN to that voice. It's paranoid and hateful. But at the same time? It's just trying to keep you safe! Warn you there are snakes and pit traps in the grass. And you should watch out for those. So like...? What do you do? Do you listen?

Cause maybe... maybe he's just shit at taking photos. Doesn't do that whole "this is my good side. Also I know not to stare straight into the camera" thing. Or maybe the flash was weird! I don't know! Can't know. We don't exactly... talk.

He just... smiles.

A lot.

Like a creep.

But? It's not like he's crossing any lines, is the thing? And I hate it. Cause, like? Is it me? Am I the crazy person?? All he does is say "hello". Polite, carefully worded, gentlemanly "good mornings". Each and every day.

And that would be FINE! Right? Totally normal! If it weren't through a camera.

If somehow, the guy knew which door I was stationed at. At which time I was stationed. Each and every day. Even before I did! Somehow, that freaks me out the most, because it's especially before I did! Cause, see, the assignments? Random. For security reasons.

This is a high stakes, super special, spooky and mysterious Goverment Lab of Doom™. We have to live ON SITE. Get our everything monitored. Sign, bare minimum, ten year contracts! The pay? Amazing. But you get stuck in the middle of NOWHERE.

He should NOT know who is at what terminal. Which guard is monitoring which door. That is a massive security breach. But the problem is?

No one believes me.

"It's a coincidence", you see, and "Dr. Kurohari is nice to everyone"! My ASS he is! Polite!! The word your looking for is POLITE! Fucker isn't nice to people, he's just not actively and openly a dick. He smiles. He nods at the correct moments. Murmurs pleasantly, sounds that could mean he's agreeing with you, but nothing that would get him in trouble later.

A fuckin mirror reflecting back, whatever you want to see, right back at you.

With something ugly and unstable just underneath. I can feel it.

Maybe that's why he's trying to win me over? Cause I realize he's secretly a dick? Can look at his picture; his carefully calculated, pretty boy face, on the monitors and actually see the dead as fuck eyes staring back? Like voids. As though something rotted away, where the soul was supposed to be. And now he's just pretending.

It's like being haunted by a meat suit. A fucked up, really polite, scientist-shaped "oh gosh, who me~?" Meat Suit. That for SOME REASON? Insisted on talking AT me. Not too me! Is the thing. He can't. There is no intercom. We just buzz them through. So, it's just... at. Talking AT.

Finding the door, looking up at the camera, and smiling.

Like some possessed fuckin doll, that had to look up what emotions were.

Why? Just... is he trying to make friends, ooor...? Who raised this guy? It was kinda driving me insane, you know? Creeping me the fuck out. But also! Kinda insane. What the fuck.

Absently tapping through a few different screens, it was kinda weird he hadn't shown up yet. But who knows? Maybe for once the fucker chose the wrong door! Ha! Not so perfect now, are you Mr. Creepy Doll? Ouji board quit on you? Spirits of the damned not feel like ratting out my work schedule?? Get fuuuucked~☆

I giggled. Okay, more like snorted. But no witnesses! You can't prove shit. Me an Mr. Coffee Cup are tight. He would never betray my confidence!

......God, I hate the long shifts. Only... what? Hour and a half? Til freedom? I am gonna crash so hard.

Leaning back, I half swing back and forth. Keeping my eyes on the screens. Buzz in. Nobody.... nobody... nobody... Buzz in. Again, more nobody. A janitor goes by. How exciting. Truely, action packed cinema, at its finest. Normally Amir has music at least, but his shift already ended. So it's quite.

.....should I bring music?

Can't be a book. Gotta keep my eyes on the screens, so not cross words or whatever. But like... maybe and audio book? There's a thought. Maybe one of those podcasts Jeremy is always reco-.......huh. Glancing at the clock it occurs to me.

Actually?

Where is Jeremy?

I stop rocking and turn to face the clock properly. That's...weird. Not like him. The guy is usually pretty punctual. Early, if he can help it. But his shift started over twenty-five minutes ago and he's not here? Did something happen? Come up, maybe? Pulling out my work phone, I decide to text him.

No reply.

Maybe he's sick? I shoot off a text to Amir. He should still be awake. Possibly in the mess hall. Men's dorms, at worst. He might have heard if something. But... no answer. That's not like him. I try again. Nothing. Call? It... rings out. Okay. So I can't reach Amir! I'll try Jess.

Nothing from Jess. Michael? Silence from Michael. Carter? Straight to voice-mail. He's on shift right now. He should literally be all but glued to his phone. How the actual fuck? Are the phones down?

Something bothers me. About the screens. The hallways look... fine. So what IS it? Nothings happening. Nothing amiss! So what's this...weird... I don't know, dread? The vibe. My eyes dance from screen to screen. What is it? What IS it? Finally... I catch the time.

Shift change.

I should be buzzing people in by now. Letting people out. So... so why are the hallways so silent? Empty? Sitting up properly, possibly for the first time in months, my feet brace against the tiles of the floor. I grip the edges of the desk to ground my self. I'm... I'm being silly. Ha ha... this is silly. Some horror movie bullshit. It's probably just some drill I didn't know about, right? Or... or some email thing I missed. There is a reasonable, normal, rational explanation. Don't freak out.

But I still can't find anyone.

And my calls aren't getting through.

Jeremy's late by over an hour. They would have sent a replacement to hold his shift. And that janitor is taking... taking a real long time to clean that hallway. The cameras I'm in charge of dont cover that far. But i know its a dead end, down there. Four rooms and a closet. So, why...?

The silence... is getting to me. Yeah. Thats it. It's the silence. Heavy and muffling, like hands pressed tightly over my ears. Suffocating and pressed too close. As though the world was holding a pillow over my face. But... BUT! I'm probably just freaking myself out, right? It's nothing! I'm... I think I'm gonna bring music from now on. Because this is fine. Everything's fine. I don't need to go check! Everything is FINE.

It doesn't feel fine.

The hallways are completely still. They shouldn't be. I know they shouldn't be. Something is happening. But the alarms are silent. Just another peaceful day! Ha ha... fuck. I- I have to get up. Check. It's my job to check. B-but... but normally we have partners. Backup. I'm... I'm all alone.

Fuck. Fuck! It doesn't matter!

I'm no coward! This is fine. I'm going to go out there, find everybody, and it'll be a conference or some birthday with catering no one told me about. I'll call everyone a bitch! Steal some cake! Tell them the phones are down. Yeah. That's what I'll do. Because this is FINE. (Please. It has to be.)

(I'm scared)

Nodding to myself, muscles tense, I get up. Go to the gun safe. Punch in my code. It'll log that I've taken things out, but... fuck it. Maybe they should have thought of that before going radio silent. I grab the vest too. Armoring up. Start the process of locking down my terminal. It centers me. Nice, soothing, protocol. Just do this, then do that. No need to think.

The door though... that's where I hesitate. It makes it all real. Am... am I really leaving my station? Just cause I feel a little freaked out? Really?

Yes. I decide. I am. If I get in trouble, so be it. Hesitating on last moment on the door handle, I head out. The security room's door swinging open silently. But in the ominous silence? It feels like it should have creaked. There is some... weight, some quality, to the quite here. Different from the Front. The Back is where the labs are. Researchers. Break rooms, machines, guards and scientists of all kinds.

W-why is it so quite?

My first footstep feels thunderous. The next one a thunder clap. Too loud, in this almost ringing silence. But I pushed on. Heading towards the main security office, where all the cameras connect. Everything is coordinated from there, anyway. So John should be able to tell me what the fuck was going on. It's his job too, after all.

Except...

I slowed. Except, the lights were... off? Maybe? No. No, I see some flickering. Broken, maybe? Down one of the hallways. Shards of glass strewn across the floor. Bits of metal, twisted and glinting sharply, in the brief surges of light. Doors all along the hallway were wide open. Security panels unlit dispite their open state. No green of an unlock, no red of security or lock down. Nothing.

Staring at the eerie scene, the flick-flick-flicker of the broken lights? Unease crawles like spiders up my back. That's... concerning. I tried to understate, as I figure things out. Maybe one of the experiments had some sort of energy surge? That could have taken out the phones, though, right? Yeah... Yeah! That sounds kinda right!

A curl of relief. Like light spreading and diffusing through inky waters. Everyone probably evacuated to the panic rooms. We are a high priority military site, after all. There are protocols in place. If it looks like an attack, seems like an attack, or could be an attack? Panic rooms it is. After all, our "brightest minds of their generations" are irreplaceable, etc etc. (That was on the onboarding packet and protocols list. We roasted the shit out of that in the guard rooms.)

The main security office will have lock down info. If we are in lock down. Or there was a power surge or something. I breathe, reassured by my own thought. Part of me knows it might be a lie. But... fuck it! We lie! Let's not panic until we have too, right? Ha ha... everything is normal and everyone is fine!

I pick up the pace. More broken hallways. Sheesh, the place is trashed. And I can't hear any machines. Which? From what I remember? Is bad. Some of those were never supposed to be turned off. So like... Holy Shit is someone in trouble. This is going to be ungodly expensive to fix. Hope their experiments were worth it...

Turning in to hallway B4 I'm struck by a weird smell. Sweet, sour, putrid, salt. And copper. Lots and lots of meaty, metallic, copper. Like an outhouse and a butcher shop smashed into each other, with an under tone of fancy office colognes and perfumes. Sweat, too. But not... good sweat?

Gagging a little, I slow to a stop. Trying to place what my nose is telling me. Not work out stank. Or "your buddy just got laid, ignore it" sweat. It's more... caught someone where they weren't supposed to be, sweat. When they get all nervous and panicking. And you're not buying a single on of their shit excuses. And they KNOW they're in deep trouble no-

Fear! That's fear sweat! That's what that is!

My momentary triumph at figuring it out, immediately gives way to realization. Wait. Metal? Fear? Shit? The stench is thick in the air. The normal air units still and circulating nothing. It hangs like bodies from a tree, just beyond my sight. And I have to swallow, hard, again and again, just to avoid being sick.

O-okay. So. Maybe not a power outage.

Drawing my gun, I move forward. Slowly. The main security office really is my only option, if I want to know what the fuck is going on. But to get to it? I have to get passed... this. Whatever this is. So... so I move.

At first, nothing. Broken glass and twisted metal. Same as the hallways. But then... then I reach a doorway.

Oh God.

I barely turn to keep from being sick down my own front. Stumbling back, like that will make a difference. Those-! Those can't even be called bodies anymore! Tears and terror, etched forever in dead faces. Hell, made a place on earth. Desecration. Suffering. W-who could!? WHY WOULD YOU-!? I heave again. My body rebeling against the butchery.

Making the mistake of looking up, I nearly choke on the noise that rips out of me, as I see through the open doorway, across the hall. A retch, a sob, a wail? I can't tell. Who would do this?!

They... they tried to bar the doors. Oh god. Those are desks. Filing cabinets. Where the fuck was I? How did I not hear this? T-the people I let in! Did I... oh god. I let them right into a trap! I stumble. Straighten. Mind screaming and howling, yet strangely so very far away. Pushing desperately off of the wall I find myself slumped against, I break into a run.

Horror show. Horror show! Every room a new hell.

I start seeing gaurds. People I knew! Mangled like broken dolls. Dropped like trash where they stood. Hana, with the cartoon lanyard her daughters sent. Andrei with the blue streak his girlfriend put in his hair. Hamza, curled over a rookie, because the old hardass cared so damn much. Fuck. FUCK! God DAMN IT!

Tears burn at my eyes. People I knew. Coworkers, in it for the long haul. Stuck out here for years with me. Not friends, not really, but something more then just fellow guards. Gone. Fucking GONE! And to what? To WHO?! What is GOING ON!?

I try to turn a corner, only to slide. Horrified, I realize the traction on my boots isn't catching because there's just too much gore. The blood, too thick on the ground here. At my feet, Jeremy. I recognize him instantly. Or what's left. The blonde curls he was once so damn proud off, stained, limp and ragged. Limbs at angles they should never be. Eyes unseeing.

Both his gun and radio are out. He... oh god he tried to warn me. Trailing up, along splattered rivers of red, I am met with everyone I know. Rotting and forgotten, inconveniences discarded to the floors. Just beyond them, the doorway to the main security office hangs open. Blast doors twisted open like a flower bloomed. It's almost mocking, how pretty the twisted metal is.

No. It is mocking. They took the time to make it pretty. Not just pry it open. Ha... b-bastards... oh god, y-you bastards...

The guards tried to hold the line. I... I should have been here. Died here. This last stand. How could I hear nothing? Be so thoroughly isolated? Beyond the dead, the main office is in pieces. Screens, computers, generators. Everything. They trashed it ALL. The whole site is completely dark. I... I have no idea how my terminal was even functioning.

"Ah, there you are."

I whip around, gun coming up. Too calm. That voice was too calm. Who the hell?Standing just down a converging side hall, is Dr. Kurohari. His pleasant, empty little grin, still firmly in place. Calm and almost polite looking, really. If he weren't splattered with blood. The air around him twisting and moving strangely, in a way I'd never seen before. Like a heat haze or mirage. Some sort of special effects brought into real life.

"I checked your office. You weren't there. I thought we could get lunch."

What.

The incredulity must shout from every part of me, because his pleasant little nothing smile just gets bigger. As though this is all just ever so delightful. And not a sea of death and horror.

"That's what people do, isn't it? When they are interested in each other? I already know your likes and dislikes. Plans for the future. Social, cultural, and political opinions. You're perfect. So, according to my research, now we spend time together."

Ah. Got it. Insane.

I fire.

The bullets stop midair never reaching their target. Lacking anything better to try, I go for overwhelming force. Empty my clip into him. Or, well, at him. Fuck. The smile doesn't change. He's waiting me out. I gotta fall back! Turning to run, I don't make it more then a single step before my feet wholesale leave the ground.

Like weighted blankets made of air, something grabs me. From every direction and all of me at once. It... it could tear me apart. So, so easily. It feels like one of those dogs, gently holding an egg in it's teeth. I am "thrown" against a wall, yet? All I can think? Is how easy it would have been to splatter me against it. I can't move. Oh god, I can't move.

"Ah~" he lilts a laugh, musing as he strolls closer. "Are you mad I didn't bring flowers? I apologize, it's difficult to find them out here. And I'm still new to courtship, you see. We'll get better, with time. And now that I've gotten rid of distractions, we can focus on us."

What US? There is no US! I try to squirm, but I'm utterly pinned. The doctor stands infront of me, looking alarmingly fond. As though my desperation is... is cute. His hand comes up. Cupping my cheek. Sending shudders of fear down my spine. He misreads it, deeply insane and looking for anything to fufill his narrative.

"So shy." He sighs, something twisted into a mockery of love, coating his tone like bile. His thumb brushing gently over my mouth. "It's okay, darling. I'm new to this too. We'll figure it out together. We have the whole compound to ourselves, after all. For as long as we need."

"Just you and me."

"And this? This will be our lovestory."

[threepandas]

Bad End: Comfort

She always came back, in the end.

Of course she did. He was stability. Safety. Comfort, in a world that took and took from her, forever demanding more. A choice she could always count on. The man that would always love her. And compared to that? Really, what could those boys, those rats, offer her?

Excitement? Wealth? "Adventure" or some paltry bits of power?

Ha.

Really, how disgusting and banal. Who did they think they were fooling? Their lustful eyes and covetous hands. Desiring what was not theirs to have. He really should kill them. It would solve so much. But ....ah, the last time he attempted that, she became so panicked. So upset. He could hardly bare it, seeing her tears. That confusion and fear upon her perfect face. He really shouldn't.

Too overt.

Perhaps he'll just frame them? Or pair them off, with those miserable tarts who pant after them like dogs. It could be good, to collect a few favors, here and there. They've proved useful before. Hmmm... What to do, what to do? She'll wake soon. He has to decide.

Every loop, he wakes first. By a few weeks at least. That once with the miserable little rat from the mages tower, non-withstanding. Oh, he thought he was so clever. Killing off his competition. Isolating her. Coveting perfection all to himself. But she showed him, didn't she? His Darling was so clever~! Broke free of those filthy chains and forced the loop to start again.

But, aah, she was so scared. So broken, for so long, after that. Not that he minded, of course! When he swore to love her always, til death do them part. He meant every word!

And they? Oh they will never die.

Can never. Not truely.

This "game" will never end. Not until she finds the "True" Ending. And he? As her beloved husband, her dearest comfort, her REAL one true love? Oh~ He will make SURE that never happens. Not now. Not ever. It's the first thing he does, these days. Each loop. No chances and no mistakes. Certainly no more near misses! Almost catastrophes. The man's already dead, after all. She'll NEVER find him. No matter how long she looks.

He came so close to losing her. Losing everything.

Never again.

She's not allowed to leave him. She can flit and fly, like a nervous bird, between the brutish fools who claim to love her. Loop after loop. Forever looking for something she won't find. Hurting herself, again and again, on their disgusting selfishness and shallow love. But she'll always come back.

Because they can't love her like he can. Don't know her like he does. Shallow, empty vessels. Selfish little boys. They scurry around like they are somehow important. Like their obnoxious braying is something significant. Repeating, again and again. Insipid and blank. Pathetic little props. Toys, who think they're men.

He knows. Knows, he's not her "type". That some part of her clever, clever mind sees him. Recognizes the danger. And truely... he's never been the most... masculine looking gentleman. It was once a source of discomfort. Unease. He was even? Dare he say, self conscious about it.

But... ah~ That was all before Her. Before this. Before the only things that truely mattered.

Now? He relishes his soft appearance. His non-threatening appeal. After all~, he is Comfort now. Safety. The place to lay her weary head. Rest her worn and battered heart. As the loops stretch on and on, out into infinity? Her cute little struggles get more desperate. Weaker. She grows more tired. Craves more comfort.

Isn't it wonderful, then? That I am here?

Perhaps he should pick up her favorite flowers. He could pretend to be lost. Visiting his aunt. She'll wake up soon. There's so much to do! To plan! Ah~♡ they never did go to the coast, last time. Perhaps they could go boating? Walk along the shore?

He's so glad he killed that wretched little duke! The man was getting entirely to comfortable. Putting his hands where the shouldn't be. Pretending to make her happy. Forcing her to smile like she was. His poor, poor Darling. It must have been suffocating! No doubt she'll need him desperately~

But don't worry, darling.

Your Husband is here.

He'll Always Be Here.

[threepandas]

Bad End: Thumbelina

There's a lot of different stories, culture to culture, of tiny people. Born of flowers or sprouts, small as thumbs. Dainty, cute little things; Just trying to get by in a big, Big world. But... they never seem to capture, I don't think, just how helpless those poor souls must feel. How wretched it is.

Small and doll-like. Butterfly bones and easy to tear skin. Prey to everything.

Your very existence is unnatural.

Indeed, it was very, very unnatural. Seeing as I hadn't even been born this way, but made this way. Captured off the streets. Taken somewhere. Injected with things, subjected to machines, and put in some great room size device, to ends unknown. At least... unknown, until the pain hit.

And there had been so, so much pain.

Horror, as my body seems to shift and melt. Implode in on itself. Bubble and steam. I woke up... small. But? The fact that I woke up at all? Is a miracle.

I hear them talk. Over my head, as though being reduced to a lab rat has deprived me of all intelligence. And... and I was on the higher end of stabilizer Two dose testing. Stabilizer three had "adverse reactions" that required a deep clean of the chambers. One, apparently, wasn't strong enough to reach "adequate size reduction" and had a high chance of near immediate liver failure.

Stabilizer four? Apparently caused psychosis in most of the "testers". And five through seven were still in development.

The problem, apparently, is that stabilizer Two is "too expensive". How terribly inconvenient. So very sorry! That the horrifying drug cocktail I never wanted in my body, cost YOU lots of money! But hey... at least I know they won't be getting rid of me? Or doing anything TOO invasive.

I'm EXPENSIVE now.

Kept in head researcher Dr. Blankmen's office. Behind his desk, in a fancy ass lil glorified enclosure slash dollhouse. With no sharp edges in sight of course. Everything bolted in place. Can't have his expensive rat hurting herself!

I think... suspect, really, I may be one of their only successful tests. A proof of concept, to show off. The great shrinking device! Perfect for space travel! Minimizing over crowding! Revolutionize farming! Blah, blah, blah....

Unethical bastards. What? Couldn't get grants like a NORMAL scientist? Gotta kidnap peopl-?

My head throbbed. Memories that both were and weren't mine, violently flashed like strobe lights, behind my eyes. I hissed, nauseous, as I leaned to brace myself against the closest plastic bit of furniture. This... had been happening, more and more. Ever since the machine. The shrinking. Obviously, I refused to TELL anyone about it. But...

I would admit, if only to myself. I'm... I'm scared.

The brain is a tricky thing. And those bastards fucked around with my whole bodies chemistry! Who KNOWS what kind of damage they've done? I could be a ticking time bomb. It could be a tumor. Cancer. W-worse....

Crying won't help. I know that. Yet... yet I still find myself curled up in corners of this god forsaken cage, doing just that. Or trying to distract myself, with the touch screen they installed in my cage. After all, can't let their prize specimen go insane from isolation and understimulation! Ha ha...

It feels surreal and absurd. Reading and playing the day away, in a mad man's office, all the while trying desperately to not think about where I am. How I got here. What's happened to my body.

Distractions can only pull you so deep.

Especially when one wall, of every room in your "house", is transparent. Living a life on display? Even if you are mostly ignored? Fucks with the brain. I... ha ha.. I used to keep hamsters, as a kid. Never again. Not ever, ever again. (I say, as though I'm ever getting out of here. But, hey, if I give up hope? What else do I still have? Right?)

Worst part, though, is that "mostly" of the "mostly ignored". Because sometimes? The good doctor will lean back in his chair. Groan or grimace, tsk or huff, some small sound of annoyance; that always seems to echo, in this stiflingly quite office of his. His chair will creak, expensive leather and hidden joints in need of oil, as he turns from his desk. It's not a loud sound. Neither of them are.

But... I have become so very, very sensitive to them.

Hyper-aware, of the monster that controls my fragile little life.

Some people? Keep fish. Beautiful aquariums, full of life, lovingly tended. They can be works of art. Others? Keep mini-ecosystems. Terrariums they tend gently and with a careful eye. But... the Good Doctor? He keeps a woman in a cage. An air tight encloser, with fake grass and a tiny to-scale little apartment. As sterile as any hotel room but somehow twice as uncanny valley, in its presentation.

He stares.

Slumped back in his expensive chair, leaning to one side with his head propped up on one fist, leaning forward with his elbows braced on his knees...

There are so many different positions he does it. The god forsaken STARING. His face utterly blank, sometimes a cigarette hanging from his mouth. Occasionally lit, occasionally not, he doesn't seem terribly pressed one way or another. He just... takes a break, when ever he feels frustrated, and looks at me. Watchs me.

With eyes that are as dead as the void of space.

About as cold, too.

It's like being a bug under a microscope. I... I refuse to look back. Go out of my way not too. Pretending to take a nap, pretending to be engrossed with my reading, eating with my back to him... something, anything! But it doesn't help, that he deliberately designed every form of enrichment (books, video games, what TV I'm allowed) to only be available to me at a ninty degree angle to him.

Gotta sit there on display, if you wanna play!

Bastard.

My head throbs again, harder. I was.. am... I'm starting to get worried. Are they getting closer together? What if this is like the warning signs for a heart attack? Could anyone even TREAT me at this size? They're so focused on perfecting the shrinking technique, I doubt they've studied the reversal at ALL. Could I even TAKE any medication for my heart, if I needed it?

Another throb. More scattershot thoughts that are and aren't mine. Memories, like the flung shards of glass from a window, after a sledgehammer is put through it. The cut deep and easy, as though they have any right to be there. Are... is...?

Looking at my water lines, which lead somewhere I can't see from my tank... I wonder if they've begun to drug me. Ha ha... why wouldn't they? They've done it before.

My head hurts too much to read. I take a nap. It helps until it doesn't. Waking, crawling to get food, drink something, then back to bed. Slowly, it takes longer and longer to move. Harder and harder to think.

The Doctor has noticed. Checks each day. At first he dismissed it. But... now? Now he stares. Longer and longer. Eyes narrowed, lips pulled down at the edges, fingers tight as he grips his notebook. He writes and writes, as he scans my encloser. Tests this and that.

Finally... it's like something... pops.

A pressure finally giving way. Puzzle pieces coming together in a single, easily manageable, piece. Instead of thousand upon thousands of shards. I feel almost... light headed with the relief it brings. Giddy. The tension pain finally dropping from my shoulders, even as the full picture swims forth.

Otome game, huh? The world had always made sense before. Been reasonable and normal, explainable as just the way things were. But... but I guess not. I guess there really was something to that Multiverse theory, wasn't there? Since I certainly remember dying now. Even though I didn't before. Did they... break through? Force my past life's memories back?

That seems like a dangerous experiment.

One I'm pretty sure Dr. Blankmen is NOT going to be happy about.

And... he ISN'T.

Gunshots. Rapid fire. An explosion big enough to shake everything, causing plaster to rain from the ceiling over head. Emergency lights flip on, bathing everything in red. I hear the office door lock. Then, not just the automatic locks, but the seige locks bolt into place. Thick tungsten bars sliding across the opening.

Like a bear trap, two halves of a dome snap up over my encloser, blocking all light and muffling nearly all sound. The subtle hiss of my air supply, stuttering for a second, as it switches to the secondary built into the reinforced cabinet below. My tablet, which is built into the wall, now provides the only glow in absolute darkness.

Outside, muffled as it may be, I hear death.

I never played the game thats native to this universe. My roommate did. All I saw was the fan art over her shoulder. Heard her talk about fan fics. Knew the vague plot line and heard there was an anime coming out. But...? I knew... KNOW, that "Dr. Blankmen" is a dangerous charater. Was living proof of THAT even before I remembered.

Was he a hidden romance option? Rival? Major villian? I can't remember! He showed up in a lot of fan art. There were a LOT of fanfics. But that just means people thought he was "scary-hot" or a "sad little meow meow". I struggle to remember anything useful as the world shakes with another explosion. Something crashes loudly onto the top of the protective dome and slide off it with a screech.

Little by little, the sounds of fighting and killing fade. I sit, in the darkness, and hug the light from my tablet. Feeling smaller then even my tiny, cursed form. I don't know what's happening. Knowing the "plot" of an otome game? Doesn't HELP if this is unrelated.

Mechanical beeping breaks the silence. Someone is punching in a code, casual and unhurried. Hissing as it pulls back, the dome recedes. The light, blinding after hours in the dark. Half the office is simply... gone. Rubble. The expensive leather chair? Crushed. The sturdy and rare wood desk? Splinters upon the ground. Bookshelves are tipped over, frames are smashed, papers everywhere.

Yet Dr. Blankmen looks unbothered.

Staring down intensely, bracketed by two towering androids, he doesn't so much as glance at the carnage that once was his life's work. There.. there is blood on his cheek. His chin. Archs of it, splattering close, yet clearly not his. The androids at his side are behemoths. Built for slaughter and clearly very, horrifically, nightmarishly good at it. They have a triple digit difference in the number painted on them.

H-how many does he have...?

I am frozen. Eyes watering from both fear and the sudden blinding light. W-what do I do? What do I DO!? For all that I try to avoid his gaze, the few times I do catch it? It is like a black hole. Terrible and sucking. Like you would be the worst sort of fool, if you dared to turn away. Afraid to so much as blink.

"Carrier." He orders one of the android, skilled hands making quick work of the locks keeping the transparent wall in place. A metal reinforced cloth cat carrier is held out, already open. The second the wall is unhooked, he is shoving it at the other android, clearly uncaring where the material ends up.

"Mouse, come here. We're going."

He's looking directly at me. Hand down like he expects me to obediently climb right onto it. D-did he name me "Mouse"? Just... just fucking DECIDE to name me like a pet?! Shaking, I force my legs to support me as I stand up. Stiffly, force myself forward. W-what are my options? Damn it! Quick! Think! W-What are my OPTIONS?

Eyeing the distance to the floor... I know I would never make it. I'd break something. And if the grab at me? One way ticket to possibly ruptured organs. Plus those androids. God only knows how many of THOSE are running around. Fuck... that's not even getting into natural predators! Even a housecat or bird could end me! A determined rat! Shit. SHIT! How would even feed myself...

The concept of freedom dances in front of me, even as it mockingly stays too far to reach. Biting my lip so I won't cry, I get on the fucking hand. Like a good little Mouse.

"Good girl." He murmurs, gently dumping me into the carrier, his hand lingering in its grip around me. Thumb rubbing against my arm and cheek, fingers subtly stroking as they pet my back. "Such a good Mouse..."

No praise has ever burned so much. Like swallowing acid. Is.. is this what I've become? What I've been reduced too? I hate myself. Want to break down and cry. Take it back. Run and run and never look back. Who CARES if I die! But... but I know better. Know I have to be smarter then that, if I want to survive this. It... it doesn't make it easier. I feel so weak. Like a coward.

"You, gather my notes." He ordered the android not holding my carrier, before turning towards the door sharply. "You! By the door. Message the others to begin stripping the laboratories for useful components. I want every bit of research. Every research subject. All chemicals and any supplies listed on that list I gave you. Anything else, dispose of. You are to meet me at our new location."

"Now come along, Mouse. This place is filthy. We never should have tolerated it for as long as we did." He stormed off, the android carrying me smoothly following. Leading the way somewhere. His normally expressionless face broken by a furious sneer.

"Filth get ideas, Mouse, when you tolerate their existence too long. They begin to think they're safe. Start to plot and scheme, as though they shouldn't be grateful you even let them keep their pathetic little lives. They get into things they shouldn't. Touch things, that aren't theirs to touch. You end up having to put them all down, Mouse."

"It's disgusting."

He didn't need to call an elevator. The door was already open, blocked by the corpses of several researchers. One, seeming having been desperately trying to reach the elevator itself. And the others, caught off guard, from inside the elevator itself. Shot and fallen outwards.

The Doctor merely looked annoyed. That "trash" was in his way. Or was it "filth"? With a slightly impatient wave, as though shooing away a fly, he called forward a nearby android to drag the corpses out of the way. And I... I couldn't even feel terribly bad for them. I knew I should. But...

Each and everyone of them died as they lived. Monsters, trapped in this hell they had created, with other monsters. Should I feel bad? That a bigger monster had mowed them down? That there were less sadistic fucks, perverting the scientific method for unethical gain? I hoped their gods looked upon them and were sick.

The elevator reeked of copper, cheap cologne, and the bodily release of the newly dead. My captor seethed, his skin clearly crawling at the disgusting environment.

"I'm going to have to burn these shoes. Of course... of course! They can't even die cleanly!" He hissed under his breathe. "Worthless!"

Reaching the roof, I see sky for the first time in what might be years. I-It's beautiful. Blue. A clear and magnificent blue. I press close to the metal mesh screen. Desperate to huff clean, unfiltered air. To see sunshine. To... to experience what I may never again.

T-The Sky Is So Beautiful...

And then it is gone.

We are in a plane. I am boarded up like luggage, carefully sat aside. Some luxury sky yacht of a thing, all fancy couches and indoor amenities. We take off immediately. The doctor disappearing somewhere to scrub the "filth" from himself. The android that carried me looms. Watching. Monitoring. I wonder... does it even recognize me as human?

"Ah, much better." Dr. Blankmen says, as he returns. Wearing a fine suit instead of his usual scrubs. Wandering past decadent built-in bars and on board snacks with nary a glance, he came to a stop in front of me. Looming, more accurately, over me.

"I really should take better care of you, sweetheart, shouldn't I? None of this would have happened, if I had just thought to check your air pumps. My poor Mouse, you could have died."

There is something terrible in his tone. Bleak and empty, like the moments before a city destroying storm. Considering, in that terrifying way a predator might consider if your worth eating or not. Just a gentle, lilting little muse. A small tone, that carries such horrific depths.

"No." He decides. "No, we can't have that."

"You're my little Mouse. My sweet girl. Clean and pure and safe. All nice and neat, locked away. My perfect little girl~" There is a roll to his words. An undeniable husk. Deeper and almost purring, in a way that matches the terrible spark that has lit up in his eyes. "You're my tiny little angel in a box, aren't you, Mouse?"

I... I think I may have stopped breathing. Fear, cold and seeping, spreads like ice in my veins. No. Please, no. God, no! Go back to looking at me as a lab rat! Don't NOTICE me! Stop LOOKING at me like that! Oh god. Oh God! No no NO!

He kneels casually, to put himself at eye level. All the better to observe me. With eyes that no longer seem so cold. Oh god. No, please, God. Go back to cold! Be uninterested! As boring as a fish! Just like keeping a hamster!

It's no use.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. Master learns from his mistakes." He whispers, face too close and eyes too intense. The smell of mint from his breathe burns my nose like the snap of winter. "I'm going to build you much better encloser, where Master can watch you play. Soft and clean, where no one can ever touch you again. It'll be just you and me. No more icky trash. Isn't that nice?"

"Now, say "thank you", Mouse."

"Be a good girl, for you Master."

[threepandas]

Do you write fics or you do observation posts? I read your yan aizawa post and it’s fascinating! You mentioned something like aizawa acting much like a cat that lets you mess with it and doesn’t scratch you, because it trust you, but also makes weird expressions to encourage you to keep being annoying to him cause he loves the attention given by you. But tell me, how does he cuddle in bed? (Frankly you now put cat aizawa in my head and now i can only imagine him as the kind of cat that likes to lay on their owners face to suffocate them in their sleep lol)

You are not wrong. And the answer? "Yes. I sure do." He is a skrungly ass cat that COULD be show stopping... if it wasn't out fighting at all hours of the day and night, rolling in god knows what, and would SIT STILL LONG ENOUGH TO BE GROOMED.

He cuddles EXACTLY like that. Just? *wanders up to you doing whatever* *flops on top of or against you* *grumbles something that might be a hello, an I Love You, or a Wake Me in Five.* *passes out*

Casually touching, like that's not a Huge Deal for him. Showing up to do the sleeping equivalent of parallel play. You'd find his ass passed our in your passenger seat as you come out from work. Did you unlock your car? No. Why does he know when you get off work? Memorized it weeks ago. He brought you a vending machine snack and a canned coffee. Don't bother him unless somebody explodes.

You'd wake up in the morning to find his skrungly(♡) ass passed out on your couch. Probably still in his hero gear. Because changing and thumping down on you like the dead weight his body feels like? Would wake you up.

And love is letting you sleep safely. Warm. Content.

Protected.

Does he stop into your room FIRST? Of course. Swaying, exhausted and battered on his feet, eyes feeling like they're on fire. Got to stare down at the love of his life while they sleep. Wish he could... could coordinate his limbs enough to sneak quietly into bed. Get something more then a nap.

But his sleep schedule is shit. Yours probably is too. So instead he just haunts you.

Takes what warmth and company he can steal, between the violence.

[threepandas]

Bad End: In The Shadows

Magic is a contest of Wills.

Some? Will say it is a contest of Constitution. Or Breeding. That the stronger bloodline always wins. How convenient, I say, that those same souls? Then sigh and say there is simply nothing to be done! They can not win! So why bother trying?

What's the point of training? Struggling? Digging deep and challenging yourself?

Victory and defeat are decided by birth! So we should all just move along and accept our place! What's with all this fuss! Right? Bullshit. Complete and utter bullshit. It? Is those same, foul, gods forsaken, cretins; That mock and deride me at every turn. Why the fuck? Would I listen to them? In ANYTHING?

They are fools.

Elitist and pandering, if one dares to study anything but the most narrowly acceptable bits of the Proper Fields? You are derided. Mocked. Not a TRUE Mage. Just some silly little thing "playing" at magic. Or a "hobbyist". Or worse... a "heretic".

A "monster" or "freak".

"Demon".

Some? Respond by desperately contortions themselves into "acceptable", palatable, little packages. Breaking themselves down. Bowing and scraping. Eager to belong, to a place that will never accept them. Chasing the pipe dream of "legitimacy" and the gilded, rotten, halls it might bring.

But the rest? We sneer in return. Disgusted by the circle jerk of the powerful, forever pleasing only themselves. Sucking up to kings and courts. Daring to think themselves scholars, when they produce nothing but pandering filth. Their papers are jokes. Their studies? Bloated and skewed. Filled with personal biases, politics, and favors owed.

Slowly, but surely, the Unspoken Divide? That very thing they mock and seem to believe, in their arrogance, their hubris, seperates the Elites from the Rabble? It is tearing the magical world apart.

The Esteemed from the tawdry, simple minded, Base.

It was... systemic. Entrenched. A cultural rot, so deeply festering, it had long since reached the blood and spread; Poisoning everything it touched. As could be easily seen in the slow decline in quality, of magical texts and scholars. Like a body succumbing to disease. Slow, ugly, and with flashes of defiance. As those few brave souls who saw the situation for what it was? Tried to fix things.

One of my Professors had been one such soul. He was disgraced for it. Cast aside and given the "honor" of teaching "tomorrow's great minds". In a department he didn't even specialize in.

I had still been undecided. Grappling with the standard "do I have an obligation to this world, knowing the Future of it?" Angst that, no doubt, all Reincarnators in my sort of situation face. Watching a man I respected? Struggling futily, in vain, to get the willfully blind to just... see. Something. Anything!

To acknowledge basic facts, without twisting them!

One could say Sisyphus himself, had a kinder struggle. I watched my Mentor beat himself against a wall of ignorance. And I watched it slowly break him. We ALL did.

Ultimately? I decided to let this metaphorical Rome BURN.

Sometimes Empires NEED to end. Old institutions NEED to come crumbling down, at the hands of their own foolishness, with brutal and bloodstained price tags, for the much needed lesson to STICK. I hated it. But I hated the corruption more.

Magic could be GREAT. Beautiful.

Utterly and completely FASCINATING!

And this is what they had reduced it too? A bludgeon? Sickly and insipid party tricks? I could gag. Though...? As ugly and perverse a waste I found their courting of favors and whoring of spellwork? Even I had mercy. Limits.

I wanted the institutions to collapse. For us all to fuckin LEAVE and see how great and mighty they were, without nineteen of every twenty, there to support their selfish asses. Unions and strikes. Collective bargaining. Maybe a few polite (but not asking) take overs of some prime farmlands, and slapping up some Wards. Wait the fuckers out.

Not... this.

There was so little left of them, the poor bastards had to be identified by Resters Ritual. Literal death magic! They had to call in a specialist, from two towns over, to perform it. Calling up the echoes of the dead, to ask "Hey! Who's chunk of meat is this?"

Not "body", chunk. Itty, bitty, bits and pieces.

Which had been spread across half the district.

It may? Have been a few decades ago... but I was pretty sure the manwha series I recognized this world from? Did NOT have a Serial Killer arc. Or at least... not one that specifically targeted The Acceptable Arts™. Those dearly beloved, politically acceptable Mages.

Of which, the Protagonist would join. With his super, special, rare (and therefor acceptable, because it was USEFUL to the Temple) Saint's Magic~☆.

(How is it any different from Light magic? Or the less common, but still studied, Holy Magics? Fuck if I know! But apparently it's special~.)

Powerful people were, rather predictably, losing their shit. Murders? Of people they actually CARE about?! It was an "attack on mages!" And suddenly, "an offense against Magic ITSELF!" Because, after all, we were CLEARLY all in this TOGETHER, they insisted. This threat was to ALL of us! Not just them, they cried.

None of my colleagues felt much sympathy. And in the face of it all... I had to wonder...

When... had we all become so cold? So angry? Vicious and mean spirited, in our pain and exhaustion. As we just tried to get by, day by day. Was this what we'd come too? What we'd become?

Tired, I turned away. From yet another crime scene. This one by the bakery. Poor Mrs. Amaretto was beside herself. Her pride and joy, the Lovely Loaf, turned into a gruesome sea of nightmares. All she'd ever wanted to do was bake. Had saved up for so long. This might ruin her. I... I could only hope it didn't.

I really liked her bread.

Shouldering my way out of the hissing, muttering, and generally uneasy crowd that had gathered, I straightened my cloak. Readjusted my robes. Mage wear may look cool, but sometimes? It can be a pain. Too many flowy layers. They get tangled and catch like you wouldn't believe. Or, at least, they used to. As my mastery improved? I either discovered or personally invented spells to fix that shit, as one does.

Gods bless "Women's" magics. Which, I will add? Is a shitty, terrible, and obnoxiously vaguely dismissal of a HUGE swath of the magical field! It's like calling everything everything in the fucking ocean a "fish"! Then refusing to study any of it further because "everyone knows what a fish is! What are you, stupid?"!

Condescending, bigoted, sexist, mother FUCKERS.

(Me? Mad? Filled with anger and spite? What ever gave you THAT idea?! Why would I be FURIOUS that JACKASSES continue to dismiss some of the coolest shit I've ever seen?! The single most CONVENIENT uses of magic ever!? God damned LITERAL "CLEAN YOUR ROOM FOR YOU" SPELLS! Not like we've all been dreaming of that shit since we were kids!)

(My breathe has never been fresher, my house never more beautiful. My clothes are dirt proof and damn near indestructible. I fucking smell like starlight and dreams. You WISH you knew half these spells!!!)

(.....okay.... So I MIGHT be a bit mad. Shut up, maybe?)

According to the whispers? That was the fifth... no, wait, holy shit seventh? One this month. I can't really be certain, though. Haven't gone out much. Since the last year and a half was spent slowly, painfully, translating that old person grimoire. Worth it, obviously, but it did turn me into a bit of a hermit. Ever since I managed to it buy off that estate (idiots, who sells a Matriarch's personal Grimoire? Just because they cant read it!?) it's been slowly but surely paying dividends. Still, good fuck if projects like this don't kind of swallow my life for a bit, you know?

So now? I have no idea what's been happening.

Apparently, (at least according to what I'm hearing) (and what little i've seen) a fuckin' serial killer. Which is just fantastic.

Just... great. Perfect. Absolutely fuckin WONDERFUL. Just what we all needed, really! And how fuckin THOUGHTFUL! To dump their shit right infront of my favorite bakery! Like an ASSHOLE.

Stalking down the streets, in what I will insist is not a huff, I grind my teeth. A terrible habit, but it's better then opening my mouth and accidentally Cursing someone. Or lashing out physically and blasting something to atomic non-existence. You... pick up, certain habits as a Mage. You have too.

Because if you DON'T? You're a threat to not only yourself, but everyone around you.

It is hell on my teeth though. I usually just try to throw pottery, since I have spells that can repair it. Breaking things helps. Except when I'm not at home. Because I decided I needed to go out and be sociable. Like an IDIOT! Fuck this, fuck sociable, I want to go home!!!

Tucking myself to the side of the road and out of the flow of foot traffic, I try to get my agitation under control. Nothing is going right today. Or is it that everything feels... off? I don't know! Something is wrong. Like an itch. A painful little prickle, prickle, poke Poke POKE, that's rubbing my nerve endings raw.

Except... Except nothings there!

My body is fine!

So... is it magical? Am I sensing something? No one ELSE seems to be. But, then again, how many Homestead Mages are even IN this province? Three? At BEST? And Agatha is old. On the other side of Gleamsweep. Her granddaughter is barely started training, wouldn't be able sense shit.

Fuck.

The irritation feels... alien, the longer I try to nail it down. Like it's not coming from me. Simply inside my skin. Seething. Furious. Trying to distract me. Cautiously, I feel along my necklaces. Each of the charms there, all of the medallions, are cool and nonresponding. Which means it's nothing common. Nervous, now, I slowly reach for my waistline; And the dangling protection anchors I keep there.

Nothing... nothing... nothing...

PAIN.

Burning hot. It's a small miracle my hand hasn't brushed it before. The white jade is like touching glowing steel. Only the fact that all my clothes are heavy enchanted, has prevented my upper thigh from being branded by it. My eyes snap down to stare in horror.

I.. I think the cord might be smoking.

That's... one of my strongest protection wards. It... it took a DECADE to finish. Every spare coin I had, since I was a child. My first great masterpiece. Charged, day in and day out, with every drop of magic I could give. For ten years. I-It looks ready to break. Straining against some unseen weight, as it struggles desperately to protect me.

Fear spills like ice water down my spine. Mixing poorly, with the false anger someone is trying to force upon me. Like sour milk. What I know I feel and what's being forced to happen? Create a sickly slurry in my veins. But... I am not a journeyman Mage for nothing. I am no novice, struggling, I nonetheless push past it.

Pushing off the wall, on which I was leaning, I run. Unsteady on my feet at first, my adrenaline helps to steady each step. To hell with propriety. With polite society and how I should act. I am in danger. In broad daylight no less. Someone is attacking me. Someone powerful. Worse? I do not even know who.

People scramble out of my way. Crying out and cursing. Offended. Exclaiming at my back, as though that will make any difference at all. Still I run, scramble, like a fox fleeing the hunt. My lungs burning, legs on fire. Tiring far faster then I should. As... as though someone is quietly siphoning my strength away. No... no, no, NO! Oh god.

Skidding around the corner to the street my house is on? The trees, that line the road, cast unnatural shadows. Darker and deeper then the day should allow. Still, in a way that the shifting branches above should dispell. Sunlight paints a perilously thin path through them. Weaving like a strand of light through the waiting jaws of some great beast.

I freeze. Barely catching myself before I stumble into this obvious trap.

My house... looks so bright and cheerful. As it sits, far, far out of my reach. A bastion of safety and warmth. Should... should I risk it? Looking down. Where my foot almost-but-not-quite landed on those perilous shadows before I could stop myself... I oh so carefully, lift my foot... and move it back.

Like gently and slowly, removing the limb that damn near set off the bear trap, you had not noticed, until almost too late.

No... sudden... movements...

But where do I go? My workshop is IN my house. A friend's house? The closest is three train stops away. I'll never make it. The guild? Ha! They'd have me fill a report and send me on my way! Act shocked when I promptly died on them. Fuck. FUCK!!

My house really IS the only safe place I can go.

I... I have to reach it.

There's no other choice.

Shaking, I try to examine the ground. Where the shadows do and do not touch. It's clearly magic... but what kind? I've never seen the like. At least not in this life. It reminds me...? Of shadow manipulation? Kinda? Is that even a thing? It MUST be. Light magic is. So... so it stands to reason...

I try to remember the candlelight spell. The hearth spark won't work, since that's fire. But the candlelight? That's heatless. Just light. It's a minor application, but it's still, technically Light magic. And what is House Magic, if not the great melting pot of different fields? After all! Light and fire magics save on firewood! So... so I GOT this!

Flickering lights hug my skin, pushing back the shadows... some. Like a narrow high bar, I have to put one foot in front of the other, arms hugged close to my side, to pass along the meandering path of light.

Still... I refuse to let my panic take me. Slow and steady, I move.

But of course, the gods laugh, at the plans of mice and men. At the sheer hubris of any mortal, that thinks they can avoid the inevitable. Halfway down the road? Once I am far, FAR to faraway, to jump to safety or run for my life? My ears catch the distant noise just before it hits. The rustling sigh of trees. Whooshing of branches.

The shadows dance.

It's already too late, the second the wind picks up. The light disappearing under me as the branches overhead move. Before I can so much as shift forward, to perhaps run for my life, ink black limbs shoot from below. My ankles. Shins. Legs, then wrists, dragging me roughly downwards. Pressure at the back of my knees, forcing my legs to buckle. I am brought to my knees.

They have me by the waist. I struggle. Trying desperately to flare any Light magic I know. But it's not bright enough. I am against a master. The shadows are swarming. Alive. Terrified, I wonder if this is it. Is this what they all experienced? Those poor bastards? In there final... no! NO!

I throw as much magic into my few Light spells as I can. Like firecrackers popping against my skin, the overload again and again. It hurts. But... but for brief moments? The shadows push back.

My knees are sinking.

Into the ground.

Where are they taking me!? WHERE ARE YOU TAKING ME!? No! No, no, NO! Get off of me!! Get OFF! I drag at them with my nails. Burn myself with overloading candlelights. But it only seems to slow down the inevitable. Drag it out. I am sinking, even as I struggle. The shadows up to my shoulders. Pinning one of my arms. Grabbing at my remaining limb, as I struggle and bite and scream.

Creeping up my face. I am hip deep in ground that should be solid. Something cracks in my arm, as the shadows non-to-gentlly seize my last remaining limb. Pain lances through me. Still I thrash. Snarl and fight. Biting at the immaterial and trying to summon light bright enough to burn it.

My world goes dark, as it swallows my head.

Quiet.

Empty.

Cold, in a way that burns.

Then? I am dumped on the floor.

I gasp for air, despite full lungs. Feel breathless, despite not feeling the lack of air I know I just experienced. As though I had been dragged through the void of space and made to forget about it. Unmade and made whole once more. My wide, panicked eyes, shoot to the arm I KNOW I felt break...

Only to find it scarless, undamaged, better then before.

The walls are moving.

A near hysterical laugh bubbles out of me. Oh gods. Oh Gods. What is-?

"Sunbae~ long time, no see." Senior? Who in THE GODS would be calling me-‽‽ looking up, I feel all the blood drain from my face. "Did you miss me, sunbae? All alone, for so, so long?"

At the heart of the writhing, brain breaking, rend in the world? Sat my creepy, little underclassmen from the Academy. The kid who stared too much. Awkward and didnt talk much. Studied... magic... the...

My brain tripped violently over the final levers, connecting full picture at last. But... but it couldn't be. The Meta knowledge in my head said on thing. But...! But!! God please let me be reading things-!! Gods, I HAVE too be wrong! We barely even SPOKE!

"Ah, did you figure it out already, sunbae? I bet you have~" he crooned, his hands lazily moving through the air as though conducting an orchestra. The shadow limbs writhing and seething along, like incomprehensible puppets on damnedable stings.

"You always were so incredible like that. So clever and smart~♡" his half lidded gaze had the lazy, predatory energy, of a tiger that's been eyeing you and licking its lips. "I really did have to keep you from noticing til now, you know? I bet you would have been able to stop me."

"Don't worry, that stupid little Saint boy is almost in position. Once he's gone? They'll all eat each other like dogs. And we can finally have that rebirth you wanted! Everyone studing what they want, because they want, when they want! It will be beautiful~♡"

The antagonist. Oh gods. No. It can't be. How had I never recognized him?! Why, of all schools, did his unknown background Academy have to be MINE? Shadows curled around him. So far beyond merely answering him, it was as though he had become their god.

"Best of all? We can finally be together. I can court you properly this time~♡!"

"I can't WAIT to get married sunbae. You'll make a magnificent bride. Then I can give you a proper house. The jewels and gems my love deserves~♡ And isn't that great? Wonderful? Just a few more annoyances, then? I'm done! We finally start our life together~"

Panic started to creep up on me.

"Just you and and me. Forever~♡"

But in this place? No one could hear me scream.

[threepandas]

Know what my favorite Yandere Dynamic Is?

I have captured you, probably even imprisoned you, have LITERALLY all the power here.... so now? NOW? You can't escape. You HAVE to...

Let me serve you.

Cause like? The fucked up power dynamics~! Yandere over here? Wants to be their servant. Their dog! Crawl at, for the HONOR of, messaging their feet. Yet? They also? Have their Darling by the fuckin THROAT.

This is THEIR house now. They get what THEY want. Not you.

Darling? Does NOT get to ignore them anymore. If Yandere wants to brush their hair and make them tea? While being God Death King of the Multiverse? Whose going to stop him? You?

You're in a CAGE.

A pretty one, of course. A soft and lovely one, because he could never subject you to cruelties! But like... the door still locks... from the outside.... on the OTHER SIDE of those iron bars.

But aren't we happy? It's all his dreams come true~! Just you n him. Your most trusted servant. Just the two of you. Alone. Together. Forever.

What's your Fav?

[threepandas]

Bad End: Classic Deals

The answer was still "No", he still can't fuck me.

(But that won't stop him trying to persuade me. How long have we been in this limbo? How long until I give in?)

Overbearing cologne and cigar smoke seeps, like smog, into the room. Just as dirty and cloying as the chuckle that follows. It's a deep sound. Sleazy, masculine, and with a hint of growl. The drawling amusement of a man who knows he's the biggest threat in whatever room he stands in.

And enjoys it.

He's an absolute bastard. I hate him. I'm scared of him. He wasn't even the Demon that was supposed to show up. But? What's done is is done. And now I have to figure out a way to escape... somehow.

Because I Refuse.

Refuse! To let him eat me. In any sense of the word.

When I was... not so much "reincarnated", as that would require my memories be lost, but? I guess, Reborn? I found myself inside a story. It had just come out, before I died. So I never got to finish it. But I had seen play-throughs. Spoilers. Watched the trailers. I recognized everything, and realized what "role" as it were, someone wanted me to play. A frankly? Near psychotic, bully of a girl.

I refused. Utterly.

Not only because the Protagonist was, frankly? Just a child. But because the girl's end was a horrifying one. My character, dragged to hell. Tortured and tormented forever. Granted, they didn't call it hell. No, no, it was the "Shadow Dimensions". You know... where Demons come from. But, come on, it was clearly hell!

Instead? I trained. Ate my veggies. Did my homework. I went to fantasy church each Sunday, and dutifully prayed, to the fantasy Otome Gods. The very picture of a perfect child. Frankly? I aimed for obnoxiously so.

Just so I could get through the plot, then get the hell out of dodge.

But then? THEN? The Protagonist crashed into my life. And made me a horror story. Suddenly I was pushing innocent girls down stairs and into ponds. Spreading rumors I'd never spoken. Taking things I'd never touched. Sending men to do unspeakable things, from which she must be saved. The monster in her fairytale. From which? Her knights must surely protect her.

I'd done none of it.

Had witnesses to prove that.

But what use was the words of my friends? When the sons of powerful houses were forming a mob? For Justice, of course. Because I was Evil, obviously. I deserved it, they howled. Terrified... I ran. My friends helping break out. Smuggling me as far as they could. We split up. Them, running to their parents for help, and me? Simply running.

All the while... wondering. Horrified. Did She? The original? Suffer the same? Was the Story equally so twisted? Distorted truths and inconveniences erased? Had... gods, had she ever even been the villian? I would never know.

None the less, I fled to the one place I knew the Protagonist couldn't enter. Not yet.

Her ancestors cursed Manor. Where the final act would reveal how our families intertwined. History repeating itself, etc etc. I couldn't remember. All I knew? Was that my character met a Demon there. Some secret romance-able. But if I could convince him first? Maybe... just maybe? I could protect myself from that psychopath in pink.

What I didn't count on? What I SHOULD have remembered? Was that spells depend on material, power, and payment. The difference between getting a cup of water and a lake? Can often be how much you sacrifice to get what you need. What chalk or ink you use. How much POWER you pour in to the spell.

I don't know what the Original did. But the materials were likely the same, given I found them there. High grade, if old. However...? However? I was panicked. Foolish. Did the one thing our magic instructors told us never to do. I Cast with emotion, instead of a clear head. Poured bucket of power into the spell, like a hemorrhaging wound. Did not prick my hand for mere drops of blood, no... no I dragged the blade shallow but long.

Spilling FAR to much. Paying FAR more then the Original ever dreamed too.

Would ever DARE.

Fear makes people stupid.

What answered? Was NOT who I expected. Who I expected. It was like the house, and everything in it, was suddenly under the crushing pressure of some great boot. Walls groaned. Pillars creaked ominously. Dust rained from the ceiling as windows popped and cracked. My back, forced to bow, under the mountainous pressure. Face pressed to the blood and ink stained floor. I could barely breathe.

Pressed to the filthy floor, it was like I was being ground into it, for my audacity. Even as space itself warped and imploded, into the shape of a man. A hole in reality. Emptiness, that stepped forward into being, as casually as others go for a strole. I could barely see... but... but...?

W-was...?

Was he wearing a fucking suit‽

Lazily, cigar smoke drifted through the air. Thick cologne commanded the room. A moment, as whatever I summoned considered, whether or not to humor me. Before just like that? The pressure released. Like a bubble popping or a joint, cracking backing into place. I gasped for air. Desperately filling my lungs. Light headed from my still bleeding arm.

Weakly, I dragged my fingers along the edges and muttered a healing spell. It wouldn't be pretty, but... fuck it. I had other concerns right now.

It was only when I looked up, managing to lever my self into a sitting position, that I realized I fucked up. Really, really, fucked up. Even as I watched, classic ram horn whisped away, clouding the demon's head in a mocking halo of smoke. His thick whip of a tail, lazily coiled back and forth, before passing once more behind his back, to seemingly disappear. Leaving only black tipped claws behind. Teeth, far too sharp.

An old school Demon.

One of the Classics, as they called them. Old, strong, and impossible to kill. Notorious. The so called kings of the Shadowlands. The came from the generations before the great Demon Wars. The ones that basically slaughtered the entire existent demonic population for about twenty or so generations. Classic Demons didn't have to rapid evolve to survive like the rest.

They were just too god damned powerful to kill.

Fuck.

The Demon's vaguely bored expression oozed into a deeply amused, wolfish grin. My horrified realization must have shown on my face. And, really, what was more amusing? To a Demon. Then that moment of terror and awe? Seeing them realize that you are the Big Nasty here? Ha ha... apparently, nothing.

"Well aren't you cute, bitty Meat? I could eat you right up." He drawled.

FUCK.

There... there was no way to fix this. I could reverse the summons... but that? That only works if he decides to go quietly. Normally, you can firmly enforce these sort of things, if they refuse to disperse, but... but-! Ha ha... oh fuck. There was no way in hell, my will could possibly win out. That I could force him through a metaphorical doorway. At best, I'd be letting him free as the summoning broke down.

Shit. Okay. S-Seal a Dea...?

No. That's an incredibly fucking stupid idea.

No one has ever, on record, survived making ANY deals with an Elder Demon. The Classics were both fucking vicious and effectively Demonic warlords! Bad idea. Very Bad Idea! But it's not like I can just wait him out. What's a few weeks to is effectively an immortal? Maybe I could...?

"Aaaw, bitty Meat. Are you... panicking? How cute." A claw tipped hand holding his cigar brings it up, to meanly grinning lips. To be trapped, like prey, between predator sharp teeth. Freeing his hand, even as the other never leaves its place, casually, arrogantly, tucked into his pants pocket. "Gotta say, it's not often I get such an adorable little meal."

"Certainly adds a bit of... spice to things~" he chuckled. A deep, curling sound. Like smoke in the lungs and terrible drunken mistakes.

Then? The horrifying. Holding my eyes with his. Smirk growing, wider and wider, as the terror set in and the reality of my situation unfolded, he casually... reached out. As though it was nothing at all. No spellwork, no barriers. No thousands of years of safety measures going up in smoke. As though the breaking of cardinal rules meant nothing, and it was as simple as a breeze.

He reached out. A Demon, before any Deal was struck, past every layer of containment and protections, to ever so lightly? With those lethal, empire ending claws... grip a few strands of hair, that had escaped my careful up-do. Hanging wild, in front of my face. His finger pinched the strands. Deadly. Just in front of my eyes. Close enough to nearly feel the heat of his skin. And..?

Yank!

Sharp points of pain on my scalp. A few stands of hair, plucked free.

I all but stop breathing. It was one thing, to be powerful enough, ancient and experienced enough, to shrug off an inexperienced Mage's restrictions. After all, I was no Demon summoner. Had never studied the dark arts or Forbidden ways. It was entirely possible my restrictions were mediocre. Complete shit. But...? But-! Even I‽ knew there were certain inalienable RULES. Enforced by Reality itself. For all intents and purposes, God.

He shouldn't be able to hurt me. Not directly.

No Deal had been made. I hadn't tried to send him back and failed, thus allowing him to break free during the "you are no longer needed" portion but before completing the "Now go home". The most he should be able to do? Is threaten my environment, mental state, or emotions. Indirect attacks. Not... not direct...

Desperately I look down at my work. Looking for where I fucked up. But... but there's nothing. How? S-So, HOW?! Any harm to me, should-!

Oh.

"Well look at you, itty bitty~! Figure it out so fast, did you? What a clever little Morsel. That's right~..."

He can tank it. Even returned a thousand fold. What mortally wounds a human? Inconveniences a Demon like him. He could be down right atomized and he'd walk it off. That... that's why there's so many warnings. To keep them from ever setting foot in the Human realm. Old school Demons are all but impossible to get rid off and... and the last one that got through? Nearly wiped out two seperate Holy Orders. Took five hundred years to send back.

Finally... I let myself cry.

God damn it. I.. I messed up. This is all so fucking messed up! I just... I just wanted to travel! Visit the coast with my friends. Cute little shops. Those flower fields I'd heard about. How... how the fuck did I-? Why did I have to..? What was the POINT of all this!? If I was just going to end up HERE!? Curling into myself. I sob. Fuck it all. I'm... I'm done. Enough! I can't anymore. E-Enough...

"Hmmm..." the worst mistake of my life says, humming like he's considering something. Grinding my spellwork to smears and ruin, beneath expensive boot leather. As he strolls past me to consider the room at large. Lazily circling me like a shark.

"You know... I think I recognize this wreck. Hmmm, oh yeah. Big tits, terrible attitude. Too many bows. She tried to play the damsel in distress card, like she wasn't just as guilty as the rest. Thought I burned this place down..."

"That bitch was a real arrogant piece of work. Some Saintess. Ha! I've met actual Demons more holy." My tears had faded, dispite myself. Curiosity dragging my attention to hang on every word. The actual, original, Tragedy At The Manor had never really been revealed. As far as I knew.

"So, let me guess," his voice as he circled behind me, was sneering as he spoke of the Protagonist. Like he'd stepped in something that been left to rot. "Greedy little shit, who wants more then she deserves, and was willing to take it from everyone else. No matter the cost. Because she is the victim. The pretty little princess, forever to be saved. And fuck whoever she has to destroy to get it."

I stare up at him with shocked, tear reddened eyes. Face a mess. Uncaring how pathetic I must look by now. Covered in dust, blood, and tears. Was... was the pink horror's behavior... fuckin genetic?! This had happened before!? Oh God.

Glancing down at me, the Demon's face shifts from annoyed disgust to amusement. Something curling through the expression I can not possibly hope read. Deeper. Darker. No longer just the surface flickers of passing fun. As though settling back on his heels, from where he had been balanced on the balls of his toes. Ever ready to move.

"Shit." He breathed out sharply through his nose, a near silent snort. Grin spreading like a beast baring its teeth. Eyes dancing with something I couldn't name. "A cute little snack... no, a sweet lil Treat~ and a fight? Happy fuckin birthday to me, huh? Don't I just get all the fun? Might even decide to keep you, sweet Treat. Make you a lil pet. We could make a Deal~"

"I eat you up, you get all you could ever dream off. It'll be great, itty bitty! Power, prestige. Wealth beyond your wildest dreams. Sex with the hottest fucking demon to ever live~ C'mon, Pet. Let me get a taste~"

"Promise I only bite a little."

[threepandas]

Bad End: Happy Wife

Thirteen servants were dead; Two estates on fire.

I never even made it to the gates.

The smell of smoke lingered in the air. Clung to his hair and skin, even after bathing. Because no amount of scented oils, scrubbing, could erase his sin. The scent of iron and cooking flesh. Cruel scents of ancient houses ablaze. Innocent people being slaughtered. For... for the crime of trying to help me.

It was all my fault.

Last time, I had escaped alone. Or... more laughably, he had let me escape.

So he could hunt me through the forest like a brightly colored deer. Some pretty prey to stalk and torment. Letting me exhaust myself. Run and run until I could no longer, before casually strolling up to come collect me. As though letting me get it out of my system. A man, merely humoring his wife's tantrums and overly dramatic, willful ways.

I never should have accepted help. No matter have lonely I was. How desperate my despair. Because... because-!

"I'll get you new ones. Don't be upset, Love." The monster that was my husband, said idly. His voice a low rumble like thunder, his so called 'sweet' tone. "Servants that can't obey their lord, can't be trusted. Shouldn't be kept. They were scum. I'll get you better ones."

Ha ha... more like, servants that obeyed him. Feared him. Had no shred of mercy or honor, left in their bones. Gods... I... I had condemned thirteen good souls. All for trying to help me. Save me. Just for trying to get me out of this hell and away from this man.

I would never forgive this life's sperm donor, for handing me over. Because... because after a betray like that? After I had begged? Begged and screamed, rioted and tried to run? And STILL he handed me over? He was no kin of mine. I had no family.

Not in this life.

My family may not have been perfect. May have been flawed. But they would never have handed me over to a psychopath. Sold me to the highest bidder, like chattle. And... and honestly? I would take them at their worst, over these bastards at their best.

I never should have read that STUPID book. Yeah, maybe, it had nothing to do with anything. Maybe, all it would have done is left me ignorant on top of being stranded. But? I had to blame something. Or I'd go insane. So it was the fucking book's fault.

Recommend by an internet friend. Historical fiction. Lots of complex characters and some spicy yandere. How FUN. Court intrigues! Poisonings! Bastards and hidden births! Great to read... literal hell to live through. Everyone wanted everyone fucking dead, and all I wanted? Was to marry far, FAR into the countryside. Live a boring ass life.

But apparently I blinked funny. Or was standing in the wrong place at the wrong time. Wore the wrong fucking dress (well, not dress, but you get the idea). Because next thing I knew? Yandere Sr., of Yandere and Yandere, is looking at me! And not in that "oh, what an interesting bug" sort of way! Look looking!

I didn't know shit about him! Yes, his son. But him? Nothing!

Well... aside from the fact he was a VERY convenient Widower. Like... the SECOND he got a kid out of his arranged wife. It was all very "everyone suspected but no one could prove shit" Sort of thing.

And? Said son? Becomes a major antagonist in the book. Until he "embarrasses" his Father by going too far. Implied gruesome end to follow. Plot moves on. Which? Is all well and good FOR THEM. But what about me?! I had nothing to go on! Aside from "Aaah ha ha ha! Run." Which? Didn't fucking help, in the end! Still... s-still ended up married.

Though, my new "son" ended up dead, in relatively short order. Apparently wasn't too pleased to have a step-mom. Tried to do something about it. Disappeared between one day and the next. And now no one is allowed to so much as talk about him. But hey! It's apparently fine! Because at some point? We're gonna make a better one!

"Your thoughts are far away, Love. Should I help you concentrate?" Husband muses, from the edge of the bed. I jerk back as I jolt violently to the present, focusing on the threat. He looks pleased. "Better~, this wife should focus only on her Lord. And yet... once again she's wandered. Tried to run. This lord wonders what he should do, hmm?"

Scrunched up in a ball on the bed, I hoped the answer was fucking "nothing". Or maybe, perhaps, "leave". Inching backwards, like the hunted animal I felt like, I wasn't fast enough to avoid the hand that shot out. Capturing my ankle in shackle strong grip.

It wasn't crushing. Left no bruises. Yet the touch felt scalding, as his hand imprisoned yet cradled my ankle. Dragged my leg free of my curled up little ball of self. I froze, as I felt his other hand gentle running the tips of his fingers up and down my shin. Up and down, up and down. As though just feeling my skin.

"Should he make sure his wife can not run?" This grip tightened, nearly bruising. His other gripping farther up my leg. As though casually preparing to snap bones. "Or perhaps, he should chain you away? Hmm? This Lords wife is a troublesome girl. Causing trouble as she does... ah~, what to do with her..."

Terrified, sat froze. Mind numb. Please. Gods. Please, please, please! D-Don't. I was shaking. Could feel tears starting to build. Watched, helplessly, as he examined me. Something pleased, satisfied even, creeped into his expression. And without breaking eye contact, he lifted my leg towards his face, to gently kiss the skin right above my ankle bone. It could have been tender... if it didn't feel like a threat.

"This wife is so very lucky, that this Lord loves her so. That he would never."

It was almost mocking, in how sweet the words curled. As though suggesting that because this one thing was too far, he was a good man. As though suggesting that he would do far worse to others, in my place. But don't worry. You won't be hurt. See how benevolent he is?

"But come, let us not discuss your punishments tonight, hmm?"

Like a predator, stalking his prey, he crawled up onto the bed. Closer and closer. There was no where to run. Was this it? W-was this the day he... he-? Looming, on his knees, above my curled up ball of fear, he effortlessly worked his arm in and around my waist. Dragging me closer. All but into his lap.

"You are tired. Upset. Have made such messes for this husband to clean." He murmured, face pressed close. Breathe ghosting against my neck, my ear. All I could smell was rich soaps and smoke. "We can deal with this tomorrow. For now, it's time for bed. So go ahead, rest sweetly in my arms, Love.

"It's where you belong."

[threepandas]

Bad End: Wildfire Widow

"My condolences."

A nice thought. Yet here I stood, as cold and empty as the rain. I was a widow, now, and yet I could not... my mind would not... It did not seem real. Not yet. How could it possibly be? So soon? When it seemed only just the other day, I was nervously getting married. A modest but beautiful dress, made together with my in-laws to be. A humble church. Simple celebrations.

Our whole lives ahead of us.

Andrew was... was no one significant. But he was mine, and I was his. And though he couldn't give me a life of dreams and roses? He loved me earnestly. Picked road side flowers to bring me bits of beauty. Sang silly little songs, to wake me each day. Ate every bite of my, frankly, mediocre cooking, as though it were the greatest meal he'd ever had.

I loved him. I... I truely, actually, l-loved him. H..How can he be gone?

Where is my silly little man? My songbird? My best friend? H-how... WHY-‽ I don't understand. For days now. Since that final, terrible, wheezing breathe. I don't... I can't... Nothing feels real. I don't want it to be real. Please.

Please, Andrew. Darling. D-Don't do this.

The grave does not respond. It can not. Because... he is not there. I know he is not. Nothing but meat and soil remains. Empty shells and emptier houses. Like a punishment from God, for not following along politely. Bowing my head sweetly, and accepting my Fate.

It's my fault. Isn't it? Andrew would still be alive. Happy and in love. Married to some other woman, perhaps. Making her the luckiest wife in the world. Chatting over breakfast and giggling together as they joke their wake to work. She would get to admire his beautiful eyes and riot of freckles. He would write her terrible poetry.

They would be in love.

Alive... and in love.

But I ruined it. B-because I'm selfish. Right? That has to be it. Surely. It must be! B-because what else could it BE? He was healthy! It happened so fast! And now... now he is... is...

Sobs rip their way out of me, uncaring of the witnesses. My legs buckling under the weight of my grief. Who cares? Who CARES? So what if I kneel in the mud? He's gone! My best friend is gone! And it's all my fault! I deserve this! It should be ME!

I already lived once before. This was always borrowed time anyway. If it had to be one of us? It should have been me!

Someone kneels behind me, a shawl draped over my shoulders. An umbrella brought forward to shelter me from the rain. As though I don't wish to drown. Almost everyone else has left, now. But I can't. I just... I just can't. Leave me. Leave me to my grief!

This world was a Story to me. I escaped it. Selfishly thought there would never be a price for that. That quitely bowing out of my antagonists role to live quitely, humbly, with a good man, would never... would never...!

"Shhhhh....shhhhh.... It's okay. It's over now."

Over? Ha ha. How can it BE OVER‽ He's GONE! Another sobs wrenchs free. They seem unending. But oh, that voice. That cool, smooth, aristocratic voice. How is he even HERE‽ When I fled, I all but cut ties with my past. Traveled nearly two countries away. I am no longer the wretched, trouble-making daughter of a well to due man. The infamous leech, clinging to the grand-dukes unfavored first born son.

I am a bookstore owner's widow. Nothing more, nothing less. No royal dramas. No court intrigues. No otome game paths or thousand characters to remember. Why would he even look for me? How could he possibly have the time? With his brother the favorite to inherit and his father a cold hearted bastard. I was little more then arm candy. Vicious and childish arm candy at that.

Remebering, the person I was, before I remembered? I was a terrible, lonely child. And I took it out on everyone around me. I coveted the stars, because everything inside me felt empty. Because my family was cruel. Because the coin brought treachery and gilded chains.

Because I was terribly broken and hateful about it. Greedy for what I could not have.

I was indulged. Enabled. By this man, most of all. It only made me worse.

Of course I left. It was the only way to heal. To grow. And in the end? It made all the difference. Yet... he is here. How? Why‽ What part of that terrible brat of a child did he come for? That horribly broken thing? Our shared history is a shame to me. And it's not as though we were lovers. For all that the world certainly assumed as much. Did he actually consider us frien-?

"I always promised, I would marry you. When I became Grand Duke. Now we finally can."

The words seem to hang in the air like nooses. Full of unseen bodies that swing and creak, like silent horrors in the day's mild wind. Around us, the world was filled with a terrible hush. Rain muffling everything to distant, dull grey. And for a long moment... everything was cool, quite, and far away.

All at once, the world crashed back in. Like a wave crashing back in, after the tide receding before disaster. A tsunami of tiny things.

We were the last two here, I noticed. My in-laws, the neighbors, our... my social circle. All had left to give me privacy to grieve. The rain was cold. So much colder then it had seemed. I hadn't noticed. The wind whistling eerily through the near silent grave yard. As we kneeled at the foot of my husband's grave, the dark earth muddy. He... was he wearing cologne?

Kneeling in a wide open field... I suddenly felt cornered.

That expression. That... that was not the expression of a man who's feeling sorrow for an old friend. Not distant memories and what could have been's. That... that was hunger. A predator's patience. Was...? No. No, it could not have always been there. Right? I would have...

"You shouldn't kneel in the dirt, love. Not for him. He wasn't worth it." He murmured, soft and sweet as a lover. Eyes almost kind. "I'm here now. Here to make everything better, all right? No more worries. No more struggles. All the riches your heart desired. I got them for you. Isn't that nice? Let's go get you warm, hmm?"

I.. God, I wasn't an idiot.

What Did You DO?

You bastard. What did you do to my HUSBAND?! Ignoring the hand, softly held out, as though he had any fucking right, I grabbed the bastard by the front of his jacket. To shake him? Slam him down to punch until my fists break and bleed? I couldn't tell which impulse was stronger. It was like all my howling grief had turned to RAGE. As though my blood had filled with fire. My bones ropes made of live wires.

He has the audacity to smile. Fondly. Even as my white knuckled grip drags roughly at the fine fabric of his clothes, threatening to tear stitches. As I bear my teeth, unhinged like a mad dog. Wild around the eyes. I drag him closer. The bouquet, now made cruel mockery, that he brought, goes tumbling into the mud. Filth that he is, he sucks in a shuddering breath. Leans towards me.

"Ah, my love, you were always so magnificent in anger. You wear it like a queen."

Whispered towards me. Each word made obscene by the waver in his voice. The way he dares to roll it off his tounge! Another man's wife. You sick bastard, I was ANOTHER MAN'S WIFE! But you couldn't have that, could you‽ The shriek that howls free of me would put hawks to shame. I lunge. Hands clawing as I try to claw his fucking eyes out.

Shameless, he dares to have a laugh that is charming. How utterly practiced it must be! Effortlessly, he keeps my hands from his face, as I curse him. Holding my wrists as I struggle to maim. To avenge. Killer. MONSTER! I struggle to rip my hands free, so I can wrap them around his fucking throat!

The world spins. No longer am I pinning my husband's killer. The grey sky distant witness as I thrash like an animal. I have nothing left. NOTHING! He took everything from me! Andrew. My songbird. My everything! I won't let him get away with it. I WON'T. If it's the LAST THING I FUCKING DO. Screaming, thrashing, I try to get him off me. Clawing at the mud I can feel seeping into my back.

"Look at you... so broken." He said softly, like a confession. With an unholy reverence. "We always were so beautifully matched, weren't we? Two perfect little monsters."

His grip tighten. Painful at last. Bones grinding and bruises starting to bloom.

"But then you tried to run away, darling. Why would you do that? Were you scared? Afraid of loving me too much?" Furious at his audacity, I bucked and writhed. Get off. Get OFF! I'LL KILL YOU! "Shhh shhh shhh, it's okay, it's okay. I forgive you. I forgive you. My wildfire. My bride."

In the distance, the day's storm, long building, finally arrived. Thunder rolled as the rain picked up. The air biting.

"I'll take responsibility, of course. Who else could handle you? Knows you as I do?"

"Dont worry darling, my wildfire, my monster~ Ours is a lovestory~♡"

[threepandas]

Bad End: Earth Shaker

People call them "Contracts" but few, if any, ever read the fine print.

Maybe it's because of all the media from my first life; the horror stories and tales of deals gone wrong. Yet it seems like I alone, remain cautious. Careful. It feels like I alone, even understand the concept of "a deal with the devil". Though granted... not by that exact wording.

There are no devils here. IS no Christian Heaven or Hell. (As far as I can tell.)

But... but oh, there is so much more. And all of it is dangerous.

There are demons, yes, but they are creature made of malicious Energies. So too, exsist spirits. Minor and major Gods. It is a full and complete fantasy set up. They whole package. A wonderland of world building. And? A horror story to live in.

Those self same demons? Eat people. Attack travelers. Trains. And those Spirits? Fight for dominance in some sort of ever shifting court intrigue, using mortals as power sources and pawns. Are just as, if not more, destructive then the demons!

But, oh. What of the Gods?

What OF them? Do you think they care?

Beneath the glamorous adventures and magical veneer of the Story, this world was a rotten thing. Barely holding together. Yet... yet it was all I had, now. And that terrified me. Because I could not protect... anyone. Could I? Not.. not a single soul.

In the Story, the Protagonist (bless his empty little head) went to a magical academy. Met friends and foes. There was a love story and eventually? He saved the day. Huzzah. Good for him. But... here was the problem. The one which haunted me so.

That Love story? The "girl" he fell in love with? A nice, if proper, young lady from a house far above his station. But, oh! It was a turn of the century magical fantasy! He became famous! Wealthy! Saved her life with his incredible power! Of course her family approved in the end.

I did not want to BE his love story.

He was... a nice young man. Really! But... but it was like talking to, well, a high school student. Which he effectively was. And I? Had already been in college. Damn near graduating! (Not that I was bitter. No. Of course not. Perish the thought!) Only to then? Reincarnate and go on to live over a decade more.

I was at least twice his age.

The day I'd look at him as a romantic prospect? Is the day I'd gouge my own eyes out. That is a CHILD. My whole class is full of children. It's... exhausting. Ha! "Mature one", indeed. "Class mom", indeed! If only they knew.

But now? Now‽ The school wanted us to make Contracts! For a fucking GRADE! It was horrifying. Ill conceived and frankly? A GREAT way to push kids to over reach themselves. Try and Contract with a more powerful Being then they could handle. Get burned up or used.

"Mandatory". Ha! Mandatory my ass. I should refuse. If I was sane, I was refuse. But the problem was?

The school was fronting the Contact materials and safety arrays.

It was the safest chance I'd ever get. Fuck. Damn it.

So I read. I read and I read. Research til my eyes cross. Practice writing until my hands cramp. Splurge on the highest grade calligraphy instruments and inks I can afford. And with my allowance? And years of saving up? I'm literally buying alongside royals.

But it's the CONTRACT that takes the most time. I have to research law. Act under the assumption that I will be faced with some sort of malicious genie. It... gods, it can only end poorly. I know this. Yet? Here I stand.

Doing it anyway.

(I am a fool... aren't I?)

Unlike my fellow students, I don't do a vague Call All. While yes, the odds are higher for a response (due to it being basically an APB), you will have no control over what responds. Better to call for something specific and fail, in my mind. Then at least? You can plan ahead.

Besides, with the sheer quality of the materials I'm using? Someone will answer. They won't be able to resist. It's like leaving a box of diamonds on the sidewalk.

It takes all day, slowly, carefully writing out the hundreds of thousands of sigils and qualifiers. The "if X then Y, except when Z unless AB" of it all. I magically drain myself twice. Have to eat trail mix on the floor then nap in the corner. I rented the hall for the week, but... once begun? Only an IDIOT would open the safety arrays to leave.

Great way for foreign influences to completely fuck up your spell work. Either try to harvest the building Energies or, more likely, sabotage the Contract for a friend or ally, so they get more then they should. Fuckers.

After nearly two days? It's done. Still, I wait. Even as the air nearly burns with power. The scent of Green so over powering it's like someone dumped a cologne aisle on the floor. Wood and moss and old growth. Deep dark, pitch black earth. Petrichor. All humming, Humming, HUMMING like a bow string pulled back as far as it can. Straining, shaking, desperately ready to release the tension and STRIKE.

But I am no fool.

I wait for my energy to refill. Wait for a nap and some food to clear my mind. For all my papers to be nicely in order. I have called upon you, not the other way around. You can wait. (Because, frankly? I haven't even called you yet!)

Contract ready, I step into place. And each step, as it lands, is like the falling of trees and the baying of hounds. Thunderous in the sudden silence. Crashing as they fall. It is not me, whoever does this, the heraldry is both dramatic and not something I've ever even practiced. The scent of Green is thick enough now to choke. I'm genuinely surprised that the scent alone has not inspired plant growth.

My meticulous work surges to life, like it was a beast, only barely holding itself a bay. Like it can no longer. Roots and vines, made of then thousand shades of green-Gold-GREEN light shoot forward and up. Restrictive and choking. I am consumed in seconds.

I have to remind myself not to panic. To keep my feet still. As long as I don't move? I am safe. It is all for show. Like a cat, arching it's back. They can't truely hurt me. Bruise? Yes. But true, actual injury? No. It would hurt THEM too.

"Well, now, what have we here?" Mused a voice beyond comprehension.

It was eons of growth, beneath aliens skies. The cries of animals long lost and longer dead. Things that weren't and have never been, but could have. Growth, growth, GROWTH. Hunting and savagery and Death. Trees so tall the eclipse the heavens. Roots so deep they consume the world. Each leaf a tapestry. Decay. Growth from the rotting.

My... my ears were bleeding.

The vines-roots writhed in agony and pleasure under the weight of those few words. And... and that wasn't right. S-something was wrong. Very, very wrong. A spirit wasn't supposed to be that... that powerful.

I could FEEL the Safety arrays all but screaming under the weight they were trying to hold. Like toothpicks trying to hold up a mountain range. W-what? What was happening? I picked an earth spirit! Statistically, the calmest and mildest out of all available options! So... so why...‽

"Not going to bargain, kid? Plead for power and wealth?" The next sentence was no less agony then the first. Like being slammed by a wall of power. "Or are you here to make demands? Hmmm? I'm curious, honestly, to see where this one goes. It's been a while, after all."

The world had a pink tint. I... I tasted iron. Ha ha... oh god. Shit. I fucked up. I knew I should never have agreed to this stupid fucking-!

Wet dribbled down my face. A wheezing gurgle rattled my lungs. My heart was racing... but... but I could get enough air. I tried to suck in more. But the wet gurgle only got louder, as pink tinted foam worked it's way up my throat. Filled my lungs. I couldn't breathe. Something wet trickled from my ears. I Couldn't Breathe!

"Ah. I forgot about that. Fragile little creatures, aren't you?"

Unhurried steps casually strolled closer. Iron flavored foam clogged my air ways, as muscles spasmed, and creeping tendrils of darkness began to work their way closer, around the edges of my dying eyes. The world was muffled yet I could hear him perfectly. My sense were burning out, yet he imprinted himself beyond that. What had I summoned? Oh god... what had I done? W-what had I-‽

A calloused, treebark colored hand (the shade ever shifting, just ever so slightly) passed through the vines. Rather, the vines parted for it. Sun warm. Glowing as though containing that sunlight itself. Big. It... it was a strong, gardeners hand. A hunter's. Yet at the same time... unmistakable for anyone but that of a powerful man's.

Casual in it's impropriety. Sliding through my hair to grip the top of my head like it was simply his due. His skin... buzzed against me. Was almost too hot. Like standing near a live wire. And...? Then...

Then everything was gone.

My lungs free and clear. My eyes sharper then they'd ever been. Hearing so crisp, the silence of the room around us was nearly vertigo inducing. It was like my body had been reset to factory settings. Upgraded. I shuddered, eyes clenching shut. Because even with the pain gone? The horror was still there. The memory of the taste still lingered in my mouth.

"There we go, good girl. All fixed." There was a condescending lilt to his voice. His hand didn't move. Just tightened lightly and dragged, forcing me to tilt my head up, if I didn't want my hair pulled. Making me look him in the eyes. They were shifting, lazily, between hawk and wolf gold even as I watched. "Now, you were trying to be clever, yes? Had your little plan and every thing. Come on, let's hear it. I'm curious to see where this scheme goes. You always think your so creative, after all. So bold and new."

I wanted to send him back.

Now.

Fuck this. Fuck, grades. To hell with "mandatory". I'd drop out if I had too. Gods damn it, I'd go be puppy boy Protagonist's Love Interest if I had too! This was insane. I... I fucked up so bad. Earth spirits don't glow. Light spirits glow! For obvious reasons. But you know who does‽ Who FUCKING DOES‽‽ Gods.

"Ah, ah~." He chided, all but curling over me as he loomed.

There was laughter threatening to escape his control, hidden in his voice. Mocking amusement in the deliberate non-smile that kept him from baring his teeth in a grin.

"Don't go running now. Not when you've already invited me in." Phrasing. Horrifying phrasing! "You wouldn't want to be rude would you? There are Rules, after all. And you know better. Don't you, little thing?"

I wanted to laugh hysterically. Cry a bit. Fuck. God DAMN IT. FUCK! He's right. Of course he is! He mocking me with it! Shit. Oh god. Fuck, damn it! O-okay... I... I can... I just-!

Fear? Truely is the mind killer. For long moments, I could not move. Could barely bring myself to breathe. My mind, a horrible static. But... like slowly forcing yourself to unclench a white knuckled grip. One finger at a time. I... I made myself focus. Tried to bring my arm up. Miraculously, the vines let me. I held the Contract I had written out.

"Oh? And what's this then? Deman-?"

I could feel the pages leave my hand. Hear the rustle as they were flipped. The ringing silence, as he registered what it was he held. But my eyes were closed. I... I didn't want to see the end coming. Maybe I was a coward for that. But damn it, gods damn it, I was scared!

Ļ̵͎̬̙̲̈̽a̶̡̻͕̐̿̆͜ȕ̵̡̠͕̹̌̎̊̔g̷̡̟̞͓̬̿h̴̦̻̼͌́̚t̶͍̑e̴̹̓̚͠r̶̹̳̺̀̿͊̓

Crashing of horns against horns, the bray of dying beasts. Cracking growing and the fall of mighty trees. Mycelium surging through deep dark soil. Ripping flesh. Hunting cries. Green and grow. GREEN AND DEATH. Green Green Green Green Green Gree-!

"Audacious little pet! Aren't you? Oh, you do think your clever!" Amusement sang like venom and traps yet to be sprung. Dying, dying, DYING-! "Oh dear. Again? My poor thing. Hold still. This 'spiritual partner' will make it all better, hmm?"

The hand was back. Cradling my lolling face. W-when had I? G..Gone limp? I can't feel my legs. Can't feel... can't feel.... c-cant f...feel...

GREEN.

I gasp in air, like a drowning man final breaking the surface. My face is sticky. Blood? Tears? Gore? I am terrified to know. Don't have the strength to lift my own head. My magic is being all but ripped out of me. Faster and faster. Like it's being drained into a bottomless pit.

Something beyond sunlight, beyond growth, is reaching back. The very Concept of nature made manifest. What did I summon? What creature? What GOD?! Did I SUMMON?! Please. Forgive me. I.. I didn't mean too! I swear! Please! P-please!

"You know? It's been far too long, since I've had an excuse. I needed a good vacation. And to think," A second hand comes up to cradle my face, with a terribly deceptive gentleness. Tilting my head this way and that, as though to inspect me. "It comes with a free pet. Oh you're going to be so very amusing, I can already tell."

"But don't worry, pet." He nearly crooned. Clearly warming up to his own idea. "I take care of my things."

"And I can just tell. I am going to adore you."

[threepandas]

You ever go to write a yandere ficlette? Look at the source material? And have the character your gonna use... just like... go?

"Respectfully? :) No™, I would NEVER cheat on my husband. :) "

Like? Viscerally getting a "get the fuck out of my house", pearl clutching, drink thrown in your face GASP from your own brain, when you go to try to visualize the character. He would NEVER. ExCUSE you!?

He'll have you know, he's batshit crazy for exactly ONE(1!) Man! And HE'S managed to somehow trick hi-, I mean, CONVINCE him to marry him! Out of LOVE! You SCOUNDREL

........it's Binghe. I gotta respect the crazy... but for fucks sake Man. I got to WRITE!

[threepandas]

Bad End: Snake Bride

There were pudgy little yellow creatures everywhere, here. As common as squirrels, it seemed. They looked like squishy, somber, ditto-faced Pikachus...sorta? I made a note of it. Stopping to make a few sketches. Not that anyone here would ever get the reference, mind you. And they didn't have the iconic tail. More of a nubby little hamster tail?

I'd have to figure out a better description. For the bestiary. Not to mention a suitably cute name, assuming they weren't deadly, after all...

You never knew, with hidden realms like these.

Throughout my training, the other disciples and I had been beaten over the head with countless tales of "it looked cute/pretty/beautiful/holy/or otherwise harmless AND THEN TRIED TO KILL US. Do NOT make our mistakes! I will pull you from the jaws of death! Just to kill you myself!!" by our Shizun. The man could rant for hours.

He still couldn't let go that a glowing, flower patterned, butterfly tried to rip his throat out. And? Since he technically for them "first"? (As far as anyone can find.) He got to name then poor creatures.

Which is why, there exists a very beautiful species of highly deadly butterfly... called the "flying demon rat bastard spawn".

(God, I love Shizun so much. He is so, SO petty. Hilarious, vengeful, the man's the living manifestation of "target sighted". Man has beef with specific TREES for god sake. I wish I had HALF that kind of energy. Even if it DID get us banned from like... so many places.)

I tried to get a good look at the little guys mouth, seeing one yawn. Hmmm... the teeth suggest venom. Better not startle any of them... but NOT I'm gonna need to catch one to milk it. Great. They seem fast...

A knock out array? No. Need them to want to bite me, so I can get a venom sample...

Crouching, I mulled over the problem. Admiring the little creatures as the clambered up and down the strange flora of this realm. It was fascinating. Humbling, in a way. When, I considered that? No one else had DONE this before. I knew it for a fact. Every single reference to this hidden realm? Was from either the immortal who created it... or four hundred years later, the immortal who sacked the placed.

It was hard to get into, hard to find, didn't boast any supposed ten thousand year treasures or legendary beasts. Just? A humble pocket of life. Started and left to cultivate. Shift and change. Grow!

Who CARES what uses the creatures or plants have?! This place should be STUDIED! All these realms should be studied! They're amazing!!

I spot a moss I haven't collected yet and carefully take a sample. Noting it's location on the map I've started (which is a mess, I fear I definitely have no future there). Of course, as is so often the case? Finding one sample leads to another. Moss leads to "oh hey, a mushroom" to "is that bird or a leaf?" And so on and so on. I nearly forget to make camp.

(It was a bird. It just looked like leaves! Fascinating camouflage!)

Only noticing the light shifting qualities, drags me from my hyperfocus. A nasty (or, I guess, productive? For an immortal.) habit. I had lost days to it, before. Disappearing into the library or some work room, back on the peak, for time blurringly long periods of time. Inedia keeping me from hunger. Younger disciples bringing me tea.

There was a reason, after all, I never made Head Disciple. Even though I got along great with Shizun. I was about as responsible as a goldfish. Entirely too focused on my own studies, to be honest. But to be fair? Let's see YOU focus! When there is so much... I don't know, Xianxia bullshit?

(IS it Xianxia bullshit? Or is it Xuanhuan bullshit? Fuck. It's been a life time. I literally can not not remember. Let's see YOU remember the differences! After literal decades!!)

(God, I miss my books. And the internet. And TV. Honestly? I miss everything.)

Fuck! Side tracked! Again!!

Careful not to step on any of the marshmallow-y not-pikachus, I scramble to collect the last of my samples. Reach out with my Qi, to feel how the ebbs and flows around me shift. I should? Be able to sense any nearby predators. As well as posdibly find a nice qi rich spot to set up camp. Maybe meditate.

Just because I'm exploring hidden realms, doesn't mean I should grow lazy, after all! Whole point of cultivation it to ascend. God hood and all that. And, yeah, I'm still sceptical as fuck. But... count me curious. Why not try?

Oooh! That's a nice ca-! Hmmm?

Something... not-brushes against my senses. As though it should be there. I should sense something. An almost taste and nearly smell of... something? Someone? Kinda like the faintest hint of someone's cologne, lingering in the air, as you move through a crowd that isn't touching you. But... warmer. Like it's still on the skin. Not a lingering remnant from someone who passed through?

It's... weird. I can't sense anybody.

Maybe if I try harder? I pump more qi into my technique. More then is technically polite, honestly. But maybe they are farther out then I think they are? I hadn't exactly expected to be sharing space. This Realm isn't exactly BIG. Just a ring of mountains and the valleys between them. One big, lush valley. Many smaller ones.

Again, it's not a popular realm. Not to mention already looted. And not even particularly Qi rich. So meditating here would be a strange choice. But... maybe they want the relative isolation?

I still can't find them. Dispite knowing they are there. (That technique does not give false positives.) So I risk rudeness. Figure I can always apologize. Maybe they are deep in meditation or something? Pumping more qi, frankly appalling amounts, into the technique, I am damn near half blind as I walk. (For all that I can see better then anyone in this valley at the moment.)

The sensory input is cacophonous. Beautiful. Terrible. Like balancing atop a single hair thin thread. Suspended carefully, above a raging sea, made of wonderous light and churning pains. I use my foot steps to anchor me. Balanced and even. Yet... find nothing. Pull back.

Are they... hiding?

Why?

Up ahead it the qi rich cave (more an over hang, cave is generous) that I sensed. A good, defensible place to set up.

It's only as I'm setting up? That I notice the little Marsh-a-chus? (Is that a good name? I really do need to start thinking of a good name for them.) Have followed along. Crowd the trees and settle thick in various bushes. And... part of me? Wants to go "away, I made friends!" But...

The rest of me? Was drilled in horror story and horror story by my Shizun. And that's so mighty fine "unusual interest" behavior going on there. Might even go so far as to classify it as hunting behavior!

Mmmmhm! Don't like THAT! No sir! Time for some nice and cozy warding talismans! Shall we? The STRONG ones.

Under far too many beady little eyes, I slap down security talismans. Full three sixty. Against the ground, the stone, the mountain behind me. I am taking no chances. Just as I was taught.

Which... as I am settling in for the night? Dinner done and dishes drying. Sleeping mat, out and reading to go. Light and warmth talismans, positioned just where I need them? Turns out to be for the best.

Because there is something in the dark. Big. Predatory. And coming towards me.

It's not so large as to show above the trees. But that is small comfort. They are fairly large trees. And honestly? I know only too well, massive size does NOT indicate lethality. Sun turtles are mountainous after all, and THEY photosynthesize! The problem is? There wasn't supposed to be a predator that big in this realm.

Did someone fucking shove a spirit beast or monster in here!?

What? Out of sight out of mind?! No longer their problem, right!? Why kill it, when you can put it in a hidden real to LET IT GROW BIGGER! Destroy an ecosystem! MOTHER FUCK-!!!

The night is silent.

It should NOT be.

Gripping a sword I am only kinda decent at wielding, I pray to the gods, I don't have to use it. I am a spiritual cultivator! Not a martial one! This is BULLSHIT. I don't have anything on me for "unknow predatory mega-fauna" because there WASN'T SUPPOSED TO BE ANY! Oh, this is the LAST time I-!

Foot steps. Crushing through the underbrush.

Into the circle of light my talismans cast, fades a pale young master. Graceful and pale in the moonlight. Very... very pale in the moonlight, actually. No better in the light of my talismans. Near ghostly, in his white silks. Touches of pale gold and stark black. Curls of ink wash grey. Like a painting brought to life.

Just a touch too perfect. A touch too beautiful.

With a grace to his movements that... that is too smooth.

It's not until he all but stands in the light that I am certain. His hair. Too lovely and well kept, for it to be an accident or some sort of shaming. Those are NOT bangs. That is the entirety of it. Nothing held back, in a crown or subtle styling. No... no it is SHORT.

No Human Wears Their Hair SHORT Here.

Entering the light? His eyes reflect. Grey like blades. Like storms and death. No pretty silver things. No, it is far too deep a color. Far too dangerous. Slits, that contract with the light. Half hidden by a heavy expression, that I can not begin to interpret. I desperately try to identify the creature before. Feline? No. Lacks the savage edge. Too cool... serpentine. Snake!

"Like a panicked little mouse, honored cultivator. This one might begin to suspect you weren't happy to see me~" they...? He? Says; his voice a low, honeyed rasp. "But how can that be? When this humble servant has been hunting for so long?"

"Surely, my dear little mouse, has been anticipating this day~! Dreaming of the day when her lord would catch her?"

There is something... mean, in that tone. Vicious and victorious. The silent echo of a madman laugh, as he burns the world to ruin. Seizes and achieves all that he desires. Strangles all that he can not possess. Covetous and ugly. Dancing, dancing, dancing around the edges. Demonic, indeed.

Yet... I do not recognize this creature. This demon. He certainly recognizes me, as horrifying as that is. What past does he speak of? Hunting? What HUNTING?! I try to find something familiar, in this strange form. Unless, of course, he is simple insane? Not impossible... but...

"Ah~ my poor little mouse." The demon coos, mocking in his indulgence. His eyes still dance with laughter. Mad and unable to feast. "You don't recognize this poor servant, do you? How cruel! To be forgotten. A passing fancy, barely held, in my mouse's fickle heart."

He's laughing me. Knows I could not possibly recognize him, yet plans to punish me anyway. Somehow. Fuck! This seems genuine. But how? Why!? When would I have-!?

Then, he shifts.

Gone is the beautiful young man. In his place? Rising, rising, RISING? A behemoth of a bandy-wolf king snake. Black, white, with occasional bare traces of that pale gold on the under belly. Hundreds of thousands the times it ever should have been. But... but? There. A scar. Oh gods.

I recognize him now.

A snake got into the village I was born. Absurdly poisonous, unthinkably venomous, it should have been left alone. Gathered very, VERY carefully and taken far away from people. But... people panic. Get stupid. The adults didn't fucking listen. And over sixteen people died that didn't have too. I was sick at the sight of it. They captured the poor creature and were going to burn it alive.

For the crime of being afraid. Hungry. Getting attacked and then protecting itself.

I couldn't bear it. So... I stole it. Hid it in a cave, half way across the valley. Didn't my best to nurse the poor, injured, creature back to health. At least... I tried. The injuries were too severe. I was able to close the wounds. But sickness, blood loss...

Shit. That cave was incredibly qi rich. It's why I chose it! To make up for what I couldn't do! If he had already started cultivation and then... or just resented enough...

It was entirely possible to become a snake demon. Easily, even.

"Sss Sss Sss, ah, recognition~" the massive creature laughed "Why so fearful? Little mouse~ It's not you I want dead. Kindness for kindness, a debt for a debt. And aren't we be grown? Look how strong we've become!"

The booming, breathy cackle did not fit snake lungs. Silibant and painful. Hissing and near silent. It was more pressure in the air then anything. A madness long coming. As demons born of resentment energy tended to be. All burned villages and the screams of those who wronged them. Hatreds and obsessions made manifest.

I... I could barely breathe. Oh gods. Oh gods! What do I do? I.. I can't-!! Tears threatened to choke me. Fear, shaking my limbs and fogging my mind. W-what do I DO?! I'm scared. No. No, no, NO! Please! I'm SCARED!

"Ah~ so cute, so cute! My little mouse grew so lovely~"

Like the world sighing, as fluid and graceful as his steps, the snake became a man again. His grey tinted lips curled in a fang bearing smile. Hands up and braced against the barrier, his full weight leaning forward as he leered. He loomed. My talismans casting odd shadows across his face, giving the madness in his eyes a terrible glow.

"This husband truely did pick his trap well, didn't he? My sweet little mouse~" he purred, eyes unblinking, above a terrible smile. "My little wife has no where to run~! No where to hide! Her husband has trapped her quite cleverly, hasn't he~? Poor, poor, little mouse. Your husband is so mean!"

My heart felt like it was going to burst. Cold. T-trapped. Can't breathe! Oh gods. Is this a panic attack? I.. I think this is a panic attack! Can't think! Static. Legs, refusing to hold me. Sink. Crawling backwards. Away. G-got to get away! Trapped! TRAPPED!

I horror, I watch as he sinks his nails in to the barrier. Hands no longer resting, but digging into it. He-! He shouldn't be able to DO that! Oh gods! PLEASE gods! Tell me he's not strong enough to BREAK barrier talismans of this level! Please! PLEASE!!

"Ah~ acting this way, you make this husband want to bully you, little wife~♡ And ah, such big, fearful eyes~ Am I being mean? Is husband being cruel? Poor thing~"

CRACK.

In horror, I watch as his nail push through the barrier. Like driving stakes through stone. Cracks shooting from the holes, as he digs and digs. Hands closing around the shards he has created, ignoring the blood that spills from where it cuts into him. As the barrier itself whines and crackles in protect. Tryinging desperately to maintain its integrity. Slowly... cracking... failing...

"Let me kiss it better, hmm? No use in trying to run~"

"So be a good girl~♡ my little Mouse. Come to husband~♡"

[threepandas]

Bad End: Hoarding Dragons

To have your hair cut is the ultimate insult. Not just a spitting in the face of one's parents; but a defacement of their gift. One they worked so hard, for so long, to give you. Yet... so MUCH can be done. With just a single strand of hair.

Power. The likes of which? Most could not imagine. This is because, it is the sacrifice of "Body". A part of your metaphorical, if not technical, "flesh" as it were. Counted just as valid as any finger or toe. Yes, perhaps, not as POWERFUL as blood and bone, but... then again...

It is only a single hair.

So, what, one must ask? Would happen... Could happen... could one be GIFTED? From... MORE?

Not just one hair. But hand fulls. Chunks. A whole head of long thick locks? Hundreds and hundreds, thousands of strands? So very, very much of your "Body"? What power could you call upon? What sort of gods? Heavenly beasts and world shaking powers? Dragons, perhaps?

Shixiong bent the world to it's knees. Gods bowing, mountains shaking, as heavenly dragons came upon his command. Power so great it burst the spiritual veins of lesser cultivars. Qi thick as molten earth, golden as sunlight through honey. It was... transcendent.

The strands twisted into great and heavenly forms. Night turning to day. His array, a thing of intricate, thousand folding beauty! As a craftsman? A maker of mere talismans and toys? How could I not be... be... breathless? Bewitched? Entranced. Even there, in the midst of battle? It... gods... it was so BEAUTIFUL.

How can I ever hope to match it? Will I ever match it? I was certainly inspired. My mind, filled with visions of white and gold. Dances of fury and light, trapped within me.

I honestly haven't been able to stop.

That... that deadly dance. Righteous gold and light, heavenly dragons and flashing blades... Against the rolling, calamitous, storm of the heavenly demons. Darkly beautiful and delighting in their slaughter. Bloodlust singing as fatal claws clash against righteous blade. Rougish, flamboyant. Cracking along the edges of their masks to reveal the monsters just inside.

Our sect did not fall. But we were lucky... weren't we? And so many were not. Lesser Sects and mortal villages. Traveling cultivators, caught unaware. Temples and holy places. Defended, valiant, but overwhelmed in the end. None were strong enough. None came close.

And so I work.

Work and work and WORK.

I can fix this. I... I know I can! Surely. Maybe. H-hopefully? Or else what is it all FOR? This second chance? This knowledge I got to keep? If I wasn't meant to use it. Take bits and pieces, of stories I had read and watched, and make them real? Rain made of swords and blossoms, vast arrays bend space and time, the blending of science and fiction!

What, is my peak? If not the home of the Artificer? The Crafter? Maker of things? Talismans, yes. But we do so much MORE. I...I can do so much more.

I just need TIME.

Lifting my tool, I let the frustration wash over me. Careful. So very, very careful. Not to let my emotions ruin my work. One moment's tantrum, after all, can lead to months wasted. And... and I can't afford that. Not if I'm to help.

Because, ultimately? I will never be a martial cultivator. My sword is all be decorative. More a focal for meditation then a weapon. I use it more in class then... well... Too be honest? I have only used it in class. At best? I can defend myself. Hopefully.

(It is not something I ever wish to test. That theory.)

My reaction times are too slow. I hesitate. Am far too absorbed in crafting and meditation, then I am training and the physical world. Shizun half expects me to move to a hidden world, once my training is complete. And... well... I am considering it.

Perhaps I am a coward.

Another pinprick letter carved. One more in the endless stream, stretching in a flowing wave around the wooden sword. The REAL pain? Is going to be carving the spiritually rich stones, precious and otherwise, as well as shaping the metals, that will fit in each of these thousand of tiny indents. Making it smooth. Again, not hard, just... tedious.

I imagine that's why no one does it. Dispite the strength it results in. Each letter lending its power. Doing something. It will age well, I think. Grow powerful. Might even become a Treasure. Something worth some famous naming, in a century or so.

They never do see to appreciate that. How long it takes. To make the wonders and treasures they throw around like trash. Keep like trophies. If it does not shine and spit rainbows, with tassels and fire to impress? Can it really be called a sword? Forget what it DOES! How HARD it was to MAKE! The love and skill that went into it!! Is it SHINY? A thousand years and covered in jewels?

I pull my tool back again to sigh, aggravated. I have got to stop doing that. Being slower then my peers is not a failing, I remind myself. My strength is not in waving a sword. It is MAKING them. Treasures and wonders. Creation takes TIME to be done well. Cheap and fast costs lives. Remember your training.

A quite creak of floor boards and the knocking of knuckles against a door frame. Soft but deliberate, to announce a presence. When no one responds to the noise, I glance up in confusion. Huh. The workshop is empty. Going by the light outside? Unsurprising. It's... later then I thought it was. Guess they let me work.

"Shemei? May this one intrude?"

Ah. Shit, right!

Carefully putting my tools to the side, I bid... whomever, enter. I can't see them yet. They have a nice voice though. Low and smooth. I rattle off the standard "don't touch this or that, you'll loose fingers. If you break anything, this peak, collectively, will break you." Shpeal. (Shizun makes us memorize it.)

Glancing up as I put my project back on it's stand, I choke on my tounge. Wut. How?! HI?!!? Shixiong!!!! WHAT!?

"This one hopes he is not intruding upon your valuable working time." He mummers, fan coming up to cover the lower half of his face.

He looks... amused? Charmed? No there's something different there. Fuck, I'm out of practice with the Non-crafters crowd. Brain says "like he saw a cute squeaky animal he wants to bite(maybe suggestive?)" but that's not right. Thanks brain! Very USEFUL! Glad I can count on you, in these trying times! Shit. Uuuuuuuhh.....

"I hope you will forgive this Shixiong, but I asked around to find you." What. "You are that make of this fan, yes?"

From his sleeve, he pulls out a very familiar work. Battered to absolute hell, but unmistakable. Defiance!? My BABY! What have you DONE to them!? The battle fan, MEANT to be a magnificent white and gold, is blood stained and bent. Burned! Nicked! ARE THOSE ACID HOLES!?

The sound I make is unholy. My boy fan! Look at what they've done to my boy fan!

YOU BASTARD!

Thats it! Crush over! Dead man walking! I snatch the fan back so hard I'm surprised I don't snap fingers. Granted, I get the impression he let's me take it from him. But that's probably because he sees the MURDER in my eyes! FUCKER! What did you even DO to this poor fan!? Beat it against ROCK!? Acid, knive covered ROCKS!?

"Ah. No." His voice comes out shaking, just ever so slightly. His shoulders match. From the curve of his eyes? It can only be restrained laughter. "This one is afraid that it was the demons who so disrespect your masterful work."

Oh? OH?! This is FUNNY to you? Is it?! My baby! My beloved, Defiance! Mangled! MAIMED! And you LAUGH!? Bastard! Scoundrel! Fuck you!! How DARE-!!!

He can no longer contain it. Doubling over in a roar of laughter as I curse him out. My hands never leaving the fan I am carefully repairing. Yanking open drawers and slamming them. Stomping past him to get what I need. I should keep it! Never give it back! If you can't take care of-!

"Oh but Shemei, I take excellent can of all my things."

Clearly NOT! Defiance is a MESS and-! I pause. My brain catching up with my ears. Alarm bells ringing in my head as red flags flap. The workroom feels... off, suddenly. What was that tone? Excuse me? What, exactly, was that tone? Glancing down, I see one of Shizun's projects. Freshly completed. The glue is dry under my fingers as I, oh so casually, brush over it.

The little knife fits neatly in my palm. I turn. Not fully, but enough. Do not move back to my workstation. Because you know what? Suddenly I feel a bit more comfortable over here... by the project drying racks. Where all the weapons are. I'm sure you don't minds, do you? Shixiong?

"Oh dear, I've made you nervous." He says, handsome face charming, eye alight with laughter. But that tone. I don't like that tone. "Surely Shemei doesn't think this Shixiong would do anything suspicious or untoward? This one is an honorable man."

It's said so mockingly. Through gently smiling teeth. As though the very concept of an honorable man is absurd. And the shift? From polite to informal language? Cracks in a mask? Or a deliberate peek? The way he pulls himself up from his doubled over state, leaning braced as he had laughed himself sick...

Slow and deliberate. Nearly lazy. As though trying to say "there, there, see? No threat here~! Calm, calm." Yet... all I truely see? Is the spectacular control of his own body. An awareness of how he appears. And the unmistakable grace of a predator pretending they're NOT. He fools no one.

He seems delighted.

"You make such beautiful things, Shemei. Such clever hands. Such a clever mind." His voice is soft, almost obscene in the near silence of the workroom. I don't like how he's looking at me. "I had wondered. Surely not, right? Dreams can only ever disappoint. And yet..."

His eyes flit over me. Like the brush of covetous hands, drinking in something they could not yet have. Hungry. Dangerous. I drew closer to the shelves. Edged towards the door. Those were not the eyes of a righteous cultivator. Demonic influence? Qi deviation? Poisoning? I couldn't tell. Didn't CARE. Something wasn't right and I wanted nothing to do with it.

"Poor Shemei~. Stuck with this big, scary Shixiong. So nervous~ your poor maidens heart!" He laughed, like a cat with a cornered mouse. Half delighted. Half hungry for something I wasn't certain I wanted to name. "Going to run from me? Ah, but what if I chase you, Shemei? What will you do then?"

I was close enough, I decided. Fuck this! Keeping him in sight, I gave up all pretense. And stiffly walked for the door. Prepared to bolt.

"You are!" He didn't move to chase me. Just looked delighted. Grin showing more and more teeth the closer I got to the door. "Good, good~ that's right, Shemei. You're a special girl. Shixiong needs to earn your love. But don't worry~"

Driving for the door, I run. The last thing I hear chilling down my spine.

"I will~♡"

[threepandas]

Bad End: War Bride

I tried everything. EVERYTHING. But in the end... nothing changed.

We were CRUSHED.

My people fought valiantly. Proud and noble, honorable and good to the very end. I was... I AM... so proud.... so very, very proud to be their honored princess. Their King's first born (and only) child. My small kingdom. My precious, precious people.

Forgive me.

Guhwa is falling. The chrysanthemums our small nation is so known for, red with the rivers of citzen blood spilled. I... Gods, I tried to strengthen our armies. Made allies. Agreements hand over fist. Better weapons! Stronger walls! Food and infrastructure! Anything. Everything! To forestall the end.

This end. Our End. (I had prayed. For so, so long. So very hard. That I was wrong.)

(But I wasn't, was I?)

Bloody and terrible, which... gods, I always feared would come.

Reborn into a story. Where the terrible was made insipid and light. Where all could be forgiven in the name of ~Love~! The death, the horrors, the screams that filled the streets. Children dying in their mothers arms and the blood of brothers as they tried to run. Families torn asunder. Lives cut short.

It's OKAY. It was for LOVE! For the Gods little LOVE story! Roses and romance. Intricate silks and palace drama! How FUN. How ROMANTIC! Look at all these Pretty Boys~!

Sickening. Utterly sickening. It was enough to make me vomit.

My friends, my family, my servants and THEIR families. My PEOPLE. They were not SET DRESSING! Bodies to be thrown on the pyre! Fodder for the machine! The servants who snuck me candies as a child. Who stayed up late to rock me through nightmare. The friends who laughed and joined me in lessons, just so I wouldn't have to be alone.

The people who were so proud of me, I might as well be a daughter of their very own.

MY Guhwa.

I grit my teeth as it BURNED.

The story did speak of me. Or at least, a woman with my name. My face. A selfish, bitter, hateful thing. A lesser antagonist. Little power. After all? Why would a princess from such a minor kingdom have any power in his Majesty illustrious court? The Emperor was the son of heaven after all!

Did she go, I wondered, to seek an alliance? To seduce protection for our people? Was she there by choice at all? In my soul, somehow... somehow I always knew. Suspected. My answer.

Guhwa is just a notch in their belts. Another glorious conquest for their festering empire. Bloated and heaving, like an animal spoiled to rotting. They don't need our land. Don't need our resources. It was about power. Control.

My... my people... my beloved people! DIED for their Power and Control!

I scream, wrathful and grieving, as I swing my glaive. Keeping distance as I strike down the vermin that swarm the palace. Let me die here. Please, gods! Let me DIE here! With my people. My Honored Father. With Guhwa!

There! Lazily striking down servants, who are fighting for their lives. I see golden fucking hair. You. That miserable, festering, philandering, PIECE OF SHIT! Come to claim some honors, have you? Glory in FUCKING BATTLE? What GLORY is there in this?!

My rage feels like acid. A roaring of dragons and a hushing of the world. Inside me, it is deafening. Outside? The world is far away. Only anger. Fury. RAGE. Kill him. Kill him! KILL HIM!! And on the ground, still held in the loyal hand of my Father's finest, is my means. A crossbow. One bolt.

Ignoring the battle around me, calm as tranquil waters at the heart of a hurricane, I lift... and fire.

My smile is gruesome, as I watch the fucker SCREAM.

Pity, it wasn't deep enough to kill. He turned. But I certainly took an eye. Kocked him from his pretty little horse. A grieving and bitter chokes free. I drop the bow. Turn to fight on. And... meet the eyes of Death.

I glare. Baring my teeth like an animal. Too furious to care anymore, what behavior I should present. We will not die quietly. We surrender to no one! If they want our land? It will come blood soaked and in ASHES! Guhwa will give them NOTHING!

Dragon eyes consider me, coolly assessing, even in the midst of open conflict. Storm grey hair like a war banner, snapping in the air behind him, crowns a face untouched by the brutality he's unleashes on all I love. A beautiful monster stands, fights, in our midst.

The third prince. Infamous so-called War God of that Golden Empire. Ah... I wonder... Should be honored?

That humble Guhwa, required the Third Prince himself, to destroy. I guess... ha ha, I guess my actions were not so totally, in vain. Just simply... not enough. Insufficient. Like the struggles of an ant, against the boot that sought to crush it. No. NO!

We do not BOW to the likes of YOU. Dogs!

But of course, in the end... the Gods Laugh. We are not Heaven's favored. Their spoiled little pigs. They make mockery, of humble Guhwa and our pride. It's simple people. My Father, Our Lords, the Generals... all dead. The soilders gather us, the defeated, in ropes. On our knees. Kneeling on the blood soaked ground before them. Women, children, and the wounded.

I kneel before all who remain, dragged alone to the front.

Their fear is like a terrible weight at my back. But... but I can not show it. Will not show it. I am Guhwa's crown now. So, on twisted ankle and screaming knees, I sit properly. Befitting my station. My head unbowwed, my shoulders back. Let them take my head before they take my pride.

I AM Guhwa.

The blonde pretty boy fop, stomps out to hiss and lord over me. Sedately his half brother follows, generals in tow. Blonde boy has a new eye patch. I smirk. Oh dear, bite more the you can chew? May the wound fester unto death, you wretch. I spit. Get a backhand for my troubles. (There are screams. Voices howling in outrage and begging on my behalf. Children start to cry. I do not deserve them. I do not deserve them.)

He draws back a foot to kick me. I do not cower. Bare teeth stained in defiance. Dare him.

"Finish that action, brother, and I will take the leg to match that eye."

There is only one person, here, who would dare threaten the crown prince of that wretched land. More importantly? Only one who could and get away with it. I turn, half disbelieving, only to meet a predators gaze. Dragon eyes, picking me apart. The War God stolling forward, like he's come to examine an art piece, not a prisoner.

Dispite my pride... I feel fear.

His reputation precedes him. And it is not kind.

Still, I clench my hands, grit my teeth, and tilt my head up in defiance. You are NOTHING before me, so called War God! Your Empire TRASH! My Guhwa is worth ten THOUSAND of your filthy little cess pits! I sneer. The picture of royal distain.

(I shake, as his mouth curves ever so slightly in amusement. He sees through me. He sees through me!!)

Cool eyes move from me to his brother. I watch as they turn from cool to a cold and flat I have no name for. Dragons and death. All my mind can scream at me, is those eyes are dragons and death. Run. Be afraid. There... there is nothing human there. Not anymore, if there ever was.

Distantly, I hear the "main love interest" stomp his feet like a child. Rage and demand. He wants my death. My suffering. Humiliation and desecration. How DARE I fight back. Pathetic. I can not keep my disgust from my face. Nor do I try.

The third prince looks bored. Like he's waiting for a child to be "done". Get his little tantrum out of the way. Anyone with eyes can tell a decision was already reached, will not be changing, and the Crown prince's spoiled demands will not be met. The price of battle, after all, is the risk of injury. Did he think this a game?

(Yes. He clearly did. It is winning him no favors.)

"You're in a delicate state brother. It's clear the pain has overwhelmed you." The third prince interrupts, clearly done with tolerating his half brother. "I would hate for you to take a turn for the worst. You should go lay down."

The Crown Prince startles, struggles, but is ultimately manhandled away. All but dragged, shouting and cursing, by his brothers loyal towards the medical tent. Oh dear. Politics at play. Sure hope I haven't condemned the fucker, now that he's not "perfect". That would be terrible!

"Enjoy seeing him suffer, do you? Or is it the humiliation of being dragged away?" Caught staring, my gaze snaps back to the third prince. That terrifying little quirk of the lips is back. He's amused. "It's not hard. I'll show you how to do it."

What.

"You'll have to tell me what other sort of things amuse you. So I can gather them. After all, you're not going to be leaving for a while. I imagine you'd cause trouble, wouldn't you?"

The thought of me causing "trouble" is what finally does it. Turning his smirk into a full, predatory, grin. Like he can't decide if we wants to bark out laughter or bite me. Eyes hyperfocused like he's hoping I'll run. Somehow, someway, bolting so he can chase me down.

(Ice slides down my spine. I... I refuse! T-To be AFRAID!)

Keeping my voice imperious, unafraid, I demand to know why, exactly, I would need to tell him ANYTHING. His laugh is the chuffing of a beast. The exhale of air, more then sound. How cute I am. How funny! Don't I know? Haven't I realized yet?

Guhwa's been conquered. And I have a choice, here.

Either Guhwa get a new king, by force, or it gets wiped of the map! And HOW is this to happen? Oh, little princess, you know exactly how. You're a warbride! But hey, at least you'll be his honored FIRST wife. Instead of a concubine. Like the crown prince wanted.

I jerk back. Ready to hiss exactly where he can shove his... HIS-! When I remember my people behind me. A child, trying bravely not to cry too loud. An elder, whispering prayers. Turning my head... I... I can just barely see them. Dirty, battered, bloody. Willing to follow me straight into hell. They would not blame me if I refused.

Only I would.

Gritting my teeth, I close my eyes. Breathe deep. In, hold, release. Again. For... damn it. DAMN IT! For Guhwa. Be it poison or knife. My hands around his filthy throat. I will burn their wretched nation to the ground. Dance on it's ashes and return a QUEEN.

"That's it. Right there." When I open my eyes, he's crouched in front of me, staring intently at my face. "Beautiful~"

"You'd tear my throat out with your teeth if I gave you even half a chance, wouldn't you? Rip out my entrails and choke me with them. You wear hate so well, princess. Rage. I wonder... what other emotions can I drag out of you?"

He seemed almost gleeful, as he mused.

"Ah, what a perfect little bride I've found. A lovely little monster."

"I can't wait to break you and make you mine."

[threepandas]

Bad End: Golden Cassandra

People don't listen. Not when what your saying, scares them. Especially when, what you're saying, scares them. They like to pretend, instead. That if they don't hear you? It's not happening. Can't and WON'T happen. That you're just a liar. Speading fear, for the fun of it.

But oh, when has reality ever been that kind? That agreeable?

Tell me, WHEN has it ever bowed to the tantrums of men?

I can't think of a single instance. Knew it wouldn't now, either. So, really? What was I to do? Keep trying? Beat my head against walls of willful ignorance, until the deigned to give? Hoping, against all reason and evidence, that they MIGHT, just MAYBE, do so in the nick of time? Please. I was hopeful, not a fool. Optimism does not render a soul naive.

Like the fall of Atlantis, the sacking of Rome. Great Alexandria burning. Everything was going to be destroyed. Rather dramatically, too, and rather deservedly. I couldn't and DIDN'T defend it. Try to change it? Yes. Try to SAVE them? Absolutely. But not once, not EVER, would I defend it.

After all, it was a system built upon the backs of slaves.

Death was the only reasonable outcome. Revolution, the Voice, of those unheard and in chains. Their magic, their power, used for the convenience of their so called "betters". It was disgusting. Vile.

Set dressing, for an Otome Game.

As though their VERY LIVES, their SUFFERING and SOULS, were nothing but pretty little plot points in someone else's PLAY! The indignities they faced. The starvation and thirst. Being forced to watch friend and loved ones suffer, Scream, DIE!

But Oh, at least the Protagonist gets her handsome meat to oogle. They'll know their place, as they play along. Broken nicely and so very, VERY greatful for her scraps. She can play at revolutionary. Or perhaps at savior, should she feel the need. Assuming she doesn't leave them in chains.

And I? Oh I am supposed to play dress up and face her, in some sick "duel" of love! Abuse and use to my heart's content! The Gods jest. For I will do no such thing!

I can barely recall the plot. Only that the gloss over the rather significant socioeconomic and political fall out that is sure to follow. The Kingdom is not going to survive. Should it not be one sort of Revolutionary revolt, it will be another. Corruption, stagnation, and willful ignorance are simply too wide spread among the upper echelons. Baked too deeply into the foundations.

Gods... I... I tried.

It hurts. Like ripping out finger nails, one by one, when I finally gather enough. Not even all that I wish I could. But simply... enough. There is not enough time, the rumblings of revolution have grown too loud. I... I HAVE too go. And... and I know they won't come with me. My friends, my family, the neighbors. All those who smile, nod, and listen but don't believe a word I say.

The pain is hollowing. A truely special sort of hell.

Looking back, to little cousins on tiny legs, helping you pack. With their round little cheeks and small little hands. Watching them try to lift bags like a "grown up". Your friends and family, treating it all like a trip to the country side and not the last time you'll ever see them. The... the day being... being so accursedly normal. Mild weather and gentle breeze. Like your world isn't ending. Like everything isn't gone.

Wanting to be wrong. Traveling and traveling. Wanting to be wrong. Everything mild, calm and sweet. A hell of self doubt. Every night and every dawn. Are you insane? Were they right all along? Were you reading signs, portents of Doom, where there were none? But still... you travel. A caravan filled with your life's work.

Every scrap of modern knowledge. A copy of every work and definitive artwork. Every play, treatise, and textbook. Every old Diary I could get my hands on and endless days patrolling the book markets. A lifetime's work. All spent in hand-me-downs and out of fashion clothes, just for this. The preservation of knowledge.

But what if I'm wrong?

Fiddling with the piles of ward stones, as I get farther and farther north. Closer and closer to the land I stashed away. Hidden, within layers upon layers, of ever circling bureaucracy. A magic rich grove of Gold-leaf Ginko. They would have been harvested to oblivion, if I hadn't hidden them, and the species is already endangered.

I have been using a tower I built (in a natural clearing, as I would sooner remove my own limbs, then a single branch upon one of those trees) there as a seed bank. Every endangered magical plant species I came across? I sent as many seed as I could, to my bank. Had even begun the lengthy process of creating automatons, so they could build a green house (carefully!) into the mountain.

Seems I will have nothing but time, now, to dedicate to that project.

As I get closer, passing through the beginning of the valley towns (that lead into the high lands)? My Family Ring breaks. The terrible Crack of it, a sharp knife to the gut, splitting the morning silence. Father is... oh Gods, Father is...

Yet, even before I can come to terms with this terrible new reality? Beneath my travel cloak and jacket, nestled precious like the love it represented, my Clan Mantle begins to snap and crack like popcorn. Enchanted stone beads cracking apart violently, with the lose of the life they were made to represent. Shrapnel tearing at my clothes as I desperately rip at my cloak, my jacket, blood already welling up from various wounds.

Pop, dead. Crack, dead. Snap! Dead.

I manage to rip the heavy necklace from around my shoulders. Already half the bead are gone. More, like lethal firecrackers, shooting off even as I fling the enchanted jewelry into a nearby leather bag. Scramble for a nearby heavy blanket to cover it. Blood stains everything, dripping from shallow nicks and shrapnel wounds alike. I... oh gods, I barely notice I'm crying.

The sounds have startled the horses. One of them even got hurt. It.. it takes hours to fix. I have to stop in the next town. Shaking. Shaking. I.. I think I may be shaking. C-crying. "To remember where you came from." That's... oh god. That's what Clan Mantle's are FOR. A symbolic gift, really. They... they could never have known.

That it would actually serve it's original purpose. It's ancient purpose. The reason they USED to be made. To... to show who was still ALIVE. Oh gods. I... I can't check. Can't bear to look. The sound has stopped. Is it over? Are... is there...? Please, gods, don't make me look. Don't make me KNOW, how few members of my own family are left.

I was right. Gods, damn them.

Gods damn them all.

I was RIGHT.

Bandaged, healed, I travel faster. Time is running out. It doesn't matter, now, which "route" she took. Everything will have fallen apart. I reach my grove and don't even bother to set up a tent. Wards before all. Better to sleep on the floor, then be caught unaware. I work around the clock. Feeling like clawed fingers are ever so gently, wrapping around my throat, one at a time. Tick, tock, tick, tock. And oh, the tighter they squeeze.

Barely... BARELY! Do the wards thrum to life, deep and powerful, before I feel some almost god like crash into them. My hands shake. Still kneeling in the dirt, from where I placed the last stone, I slowly look up. And... and curling above the golden trees? Shades of copper catch the light. Massive and leaning. Stepping on my wards. Looking down in annoyance, as they refuse to part.

(Distantly, I hear the horses scream in terror. I... I wish I could do the same.)

I flee. Scrambling without dignity, back to the seed bank's tower. Trying to keep out of sight. A hopeless endeavor, I know. What other reason could such a power Dragon be out here for? If not to finish what was started? But... but hope has carried me so FAR. Can it not carry me just a bit farther?

No attacks come. No insults or threats. Yet...

The presence does not leave.

I can not hide forever, for all that fear exhausts and bids me too. All my supplies are out side. My wards, at least seem, to have held? But how can I trust it? Knowing just how strong a dragon's magis is. Sure enough, the second I step outside? There he stands. The copper dragon. Just beyond the wards.

Worse still? He is a man I recognize. Which can only invite pain and suffering, as he played no small part in the revolution. Not to mention, his significance to that damnable Game. Was he "supporting character"? A "hidden route"? An antagonist I could not quite recall? I can not place it. He was THERE, but not lead about by the nose, like the others. Not broken, as they were.

Now, here he stands, light catching off his ornaments and nails. As he tap, tap, taps them lightly against my wards. In sequence. Amused. His eyes locked with mine and glowing from within. Fire and magic made manifest. The king was a fool to think he owned this man. A "royal gaurd dog" indeed. Ha! They brought death into their house, then kicked it.

A slow smile, spreading like poison through sleeping veins, creeps across that deceptively youthful face. Sharp, sharp teeth are revealed to the air. I think I may amuse him. Perhaps I have for quite a while. I have made it no secret, after all, that I know he is dangerous. Treated him as the threat he truely IS. Others thought it was funny. Would find excuses to shove me at him, just to see me panic. All the while, he pretended, like a GOOD little dog, to be polite.

His eyes had always been laughing.

And now? He doesn't even bother to hide.

"You ran away." His voice rings out, the barest hint of rasp, like the drawing of a blade. It fills the silence. Demands attention. "Did you think I wouldn't be able to find you?"

To be honest? I had hoped no one would look. That I had given them no reason to even try. Perhaps that had been naive. I was a part of the system too, in the end. Guilt by association. That didn't explain him, however. Had I wronged him? Beyond the obvious. (And the obvious sat between us, like so much rotten filth. How could ANYONE over look that?)

"Their courts burned, just like you always warned they would. You should have seen it."

He stopped to chuckle. Closer to a sneer, then a sound of true amusement. His distain and delight intertwining as he savored the memory. He leaned closer. Letting his forehead press against the barrier. Enjoying, reliving, his moment of triumph, once again.

"Ha, ha~ Oh, but you should have seen their faces. When they realized you were right. That you had warned them and warned them, but they had refused to listen! It was glorious, darling. They howled with such regret and fear. A magnificent symphony~ you made for me."

I backed up against the carts. The wounds from broken beads stinging harshly with every shift, like the screaming of the dead. Scared. Gods, I'm s-so scared. I can't possibly have invited this... r-right? I never flirted or... or suggested anything! So-! So why is-?! Gods, why is he here?!

"You can't run from me, clever girl. Not for long. You saw me and I see you. Too clever by half. They really should have listened~!" He broke off to laugh, a sharp mockery of the dead. Fangs catching the light. "But they didn't, did they? My poor clever girl. We truely were buried by filth, weren't we? How glorious it must be. To finally be free."

"But~! Did you really think you could escape ME, my clever girl?"

"You're not nearly so foolish. Open the barrier, darling."

"Let me in. Our revolution is over, I have won."

"Now you can't escape me~"

[threepandas]

Bad End: Poisoned Cups

I hadn't adjusted well, at first. I don't think anyone could have. Being an elf sound cool, on paper. The better eye sight, the incredible hearing, the stamina. All sorts of perks right? But what they don't tell you, is that when your soul is human? When you get isekai'd by some divine oversight or fucker with a truck?

It doesn't adapt that well, to a new body. Your soul INSISTS you should still be human, with all the trappings, and throws a FIT, when you just.... aren't. So you end up with migraines. Eyes that swim in and out of focus. Wheezing, struggling, breathe. A body at war with itself.

The world was so loud. Too loud. I could hear EVERYTHING and it HURT. Couldn't breathe and THAT hurt. Was nauseated all the time, from my eyes refusing to focus properly. That too, hurt. All of it, pain. Just? Pain. Day after day, pain pain pain.

My poor parents were helpless. The doctors struggled.

But the King? HE could save me.

And he did.

He was younger then. Just barely into his rule. His Father having just stepped down. My parents, desperate, brought me before him. Waited in line for days. They didn't even know if he COULD do anything, were grimly prepared for him to say that sadly, nothing COULD be done. But? Instead? He looked me over, called for several old texts, looked again, then called upon the strength of the Throne.

My parents apparently started weeping the second I stopped.

All I remember is the pain going away. Being exhausted. A REALLY pretty elf man in a crown. Things getting... better, after that.

I was told that story often, as a child. It utterly transformed our household. From merely loyal citizens, to devote Loyalists. Speaking ill of the King in THIS house? Would now get you HURT. My parents had been convinced they were going to LOSE me. The King as far as they were concerned, saved my LIFE.

Which is why I didn't put anything together. Seeing as we were an "all King all the time" Sort of house. We had one(1) team and we were sticking to it. Permanently. His son? Eeeeh, maybe. We'd figure that out later. We didn't care to know. And I was too busy with school work to CHECK.

Which? Meant I didn't NOTICE? He looked? More and more... Otome Capture Target as time went on. Specifically, he looked kinda crown prince from "Dance of the Secret Forest! A True Love For Me?!" sort of Shaped. Which... gee, what ARE the odds? Especially given that so many OTHER things are named suspiciously similar or exactly the same to that game?

.........yeeeeeah. I decided not to take chances.

I looked that shit UP.

And wouldn't you know it? Protagonist-chan? Not there yet. But she SURE COULD BE! All the legends were EXACTLY what they should be. Forests and locations the same! PEOPLE the same! Oh HELL no. Good to know where NOT to be, I guess.

Not my circus, NOT my Otome Drama Monkeys.

I? Would be working for the KING. My family owed him a debt.

And when I graduated? I applied. Top of my class. I studied my ASS off. Could have gone anywhere. But I was aiming for the TOP. A debt to be repayed and frankly? Excellent job security on top of it! So filling busy work in dusty ass backrooms it was. Gotta start from the bottom, after all.

I exhausted them. Was honestly barely trying too at that point. They should see me TRYING to put my nose to the grindstone. Burn the midnight oil! Ha! HA, I say! Long elven lifespans slow you all down! I? Used to live in a capitalist hellscape! This is NOTHING.

I'm not even multi-tasking. It's not even LUNCH YET.

Did I get promoted? Yes. Do I worry my coworkers? Deeply! But shit needs doing and we don't have all day! There is a nation to run! Have some tea. Eat a turnover. Now~! Where are my fuckin documents~☆?

I get promoted again.

Then again.

Aaaaand again.

I'm pretty sure it's cause I scare people. Am FAST. Efficient. Willing to hunt my coworkers for SPORT, like a god damned bloodhound, if it means we get that one extra tax document that makes or breaks us. I have (and will again if necessary) climbed through people's fucking WALLS. Cause, honestly? If they wanted to stop me?

They should have warded the gods damned vents.

Fuckin casuals. Get on my level.

So, now? I am the baby. King's inner circle. And EVERYONE? Is damn near twice my age! And, granted, yes. It IS hilarious I still scare like half the people working under me... but come ON! You are elite government officials! Do BETTER! (Geez. At least my PARENTS couldn't be prouder.)

But... (and God damn it, why is there ALWAYS a "but"?) here's the thing. It? Took me a WHILE to get where I am now. Long enough, in fact, for our... Problem, to arrive. A Problem which is GOING to cast his Majesty's kingdom into chaos and turmoil, in fighting and divides. Religious upheaval. A PROBLEM, which? In the name of luuuuuv~?

Is going to get NEIGHBORING COUNTRIES involved.

And WHO do you think is going to have to deal with that? WHO will have to prevent all out WAR? Religious schisms? Ward off assassins in the night? Certainly not Mr. "But Daddy, I love her!". Oh no, HE gets to sit back and enjoy the fruits of his father's suffering! Make more trouble! (Fucker.)

But, hey! Maybe I should throw in with his SECOND son, right? The supporting character? He seems vastly more reasonable and emotionally more balanced doesn't he? Well educated, cautious, why, thoughtful even! Ha ha... yeah... he DOES seem that way, doesn't he?

SEEMS.

He Is Not. Little fucker is a SPECIAL flavor of batshit. Completely "wake to find him standing over you, in your LOCKED BEDROOM, asking if you want to see his new favorite knife" nutty puffs. Not sure which side of the family it comes from, to be honest. Disturbingly good at getting past my warding.

Or at least he WAS, until I got the King involved. Ha! Royal wards! You can't touch me! I sleep like a BABY now! The only people who can enter my rooms now? Are literally JUST me and the KING HIMSELF! How safe is that~‽

But for real... poor his Majesty, you know? It's not like he didn't TRY to be a good father. Take time he couldn't afford out of each day, to spend time with his sons. Insist on eating meals together so he could ask them about their interests, how each day had gone. Involved them where he safely could.

He's a somber man. A dignified one. But let NO ONE say, he is not a LOVING one.

And HOW do his children fucking reward him? Middle school love dramatics and MURDER ATTEMPTS IN THE NIGHT! Because, YES, I have found the disturbing murder board that the second prince has in his "secret" room. Right along his equally disturbing stalker board of ME.

I, obviously, told the King.

He did not look pleased.

Don't know if my new reality has, like, intensive therapy programs or something? But I hope for ALL our sakes, that the second Prince is at the winter palace getting HELP, instead of just? You know... plotting.

His Highness has a nasty tendency to plot, after all. But hey, his Majesty says not to worry about it? I choose to believe him. Concern myself with more immediate threats. Enjoy, no longer turning around to find some baby faced little creep with a hunter's stare, just... watching me. As I try to work. As I try to eat. Around corners, still as a statue, yet somehow a THREAT, in lonely and too empty corridors.

God fucking DAMN, his little "crush" was creepy!

If it weren't for his Majesty? I would have run and run FAR. But... but I? And you CAN NOT repeat this, okay? It's WILDLY inappropriate! A-And I SWEAR I'm never going to.. to ACT on it! I would NEVER. So...so PROMISE, okay?

....cause.... I may... MAY! Possibly! Just a LITTLE bit! Sorta, kinda, just a BIT? Have a TEENY? Little crush... on... his Majesty? Maybe???

YOU CAN'T TELL!

It's SO fucking inappropriate. Oh my GOD. I hate this so much!? Cause he's my BOSS! And old enough to be my DAD! I SHOULDN'T be so attracted to him, right?! Plus he's the KING! There's definitely a power imbalance there! How would that even WORK?! We would have no future! I don't know the first THING about how to BE royalty. And no one would accept me!

Not that I think I even have a CHANCE! Fuck no! I'm not THAT arrogant.

But, like? A girl can day dream. Fantasize, you know?

Which is why? Having his SON? Be a creepo stalker at me? Kinda the WORST. I've literally JUST discovered I'm into older men! Thanks! BEGONE, zygote! Also, your vibes are RANCID! No thanks! I hated that and am SO glad it's gone. Now? All I have to worry about? Is Protagonist-chan and the political SHIT SHOW she drags after her like trail of destruction.

Why is she involving foreign royalty? PLEASE stop involving foreign royalty! Dukes! Religious leaders! MILITARY LEADERS. Stop "Helen of Troy"-ing your ass through our nice, PEACEFUL, kingdom!!! What the ACTUAL FUCK!? This is NOT A THEME PARK.

I watch, vaguely horrified, as his Majesty finishes reading three (yes, count um! Fucking THREE!) different royal missives demanding three different women of legend, from three DIFFERENT legends, who coincidentally enough? Happen to ALL BE THE SAME PERSON. Fucking Protagonist-chan.

They were from long standing ALLIES.

We could not AFFORD to lose those.

And the FOURTH message? Oh, THAT? That, was from his SON! Mr. "But Daddy! I Love her!" HIMSELF! He wants permission to marry the random woman of unknown province he found in the woods! Could be a foreign spy! Could be a mad woman. Who CARES right? They're SO in love~

Enough to START A WAR OVER IT.

I skip the tasting cups and instead? Bring his Majesty a bottle of the strongest star wine I can find. The sort that could damn near eat through rocks and vaporizes in air if you pour it out. Pain killers too, for what HAS to be a killer headache. Then I hesitate. You know what? Fuck it. I grab a cart. Make a care package.

Paper, ink, the STRONG tea, that special occasions tea (in case he needs a reason to remember his will to live), some snacks, a few shawls in case he decides to work late...

It's worth it, to see the way his stressed face relaxs when I return. Eyes softening, corner of his mouth curling up in that tiny, secret, little smile. We can get through this. We WILL get through this. I may not be able to stand by his side, but? I can support him. Help.

So long as HE sits in this office, burning himself down to keep this nation warm, so too, will I.

Tea or booze, your Majesty?

"A blend, I think. Unfortunately, I fear it is going to be a long night for us both." He replies. His voice smooth and low, effortlessly filling the room. A lifetime of public speaking, ingrained so very deep. "You should pour yourself a cup as well, my dear. Sleep will be a long time coming, we will need both the calm and the clarity."

I rolled my borrowed tea cart to the side and got to work. Strong tea and stronger star wine. Certainly a... flavor. Fairly certain such a thing should be illegal. Pretty sure our healers are going to be appalled. But, oh well. Needs, must. One for me, one for him.

He held out a hand. It was a sweeping gesture of his arm, a gentle turn of his wrist. I could never get used to his casual... elegance. The beauty of him. Like a living art work. A dancer. As though he were an actor, striking a pose, about to consider the soul of the simple tea cup. I handed it over, gently and with as much elegance as I could.

It still felt clumsy in comparison.

Yet he still smiled, just slightly. In that way I had learned to spot. Tension dripping away from his shoulders like thawing ice. Running in little rivers like melt waters, as he sat back in his chair, half turning it to face me. A brief moment to relax. Before work begins again.

"Ah... completely vile. Thank you, dear. It's disgusting." He said dryly, catching me off gaurd, and making me damn near snort into my cup. "If it did not work so well? I would never consume this swill again. What a perfect waste of tea and wine. We should invite Yevault."

I laugh. A snirking, snorting, choked little thing into my cup. God, but I've been TRYING to laugh more elegantly. Hell, I've even practiced. But when he catches me off gaurd? I swear to God, I cackle and pop. Like some sort of deranged witch pig. Ow, my sinuses.

"Oh but that's right, Yevault is a healer, on the occasions he takes time from being an unbearable snob. He might actually make us rest, dear. Then where would we be?" His Majesty muses, taking another sip before grimacing at the taste.

I go to respond. Probably some quip about "preferably in bed" or "asleep". Only... only to find my tounge sluggish. My exhaustion mounting, not slipping away. The world has begun to sway. Just a little at first, then notable. My mouth... fuzzy? Prickly. W...what?

His Majesty has begun to frown. Delicately setting down his cup... cup? Something about... a cup... I have taken too long to respond. He rises. Strides in a few, urgent, steps over to where I lean. Against the edge of my assistants desk. Swaying~ swaying~ w-why is the ground... my tounge feels to big. Think? I've begone to drool?

Warm, big hands cup my face. Was slipping forward, to the side. Gonna fall? Not anymore. Up. Hi! Is the king. Hi King. I... I don't feel so good...

His eyes have gone focused and cold. Pretty. Crown begins to glow. Leaves. Gold and gold, a halo of light. From within and beyond him. Power of the throne. Oh... oh I was here before, wasn't I? My bones remember. Like the roots to his great tree, power seeping deeper and deeper into my body, finding imperfections to consume. So... so much LIGHT.

I can not look away.

"Poison, was it? How terribly banal. Do they think me so simple to kill?" There is scorn in his voice. Utter distain. But deep beneath, like the hidden embers of a forest fire, there is rage. "How dare they drag you into this. Bad enough they throw a FIT over some trouble making tart, now they get the innocent involved? What if I had not been paying attention? Or you had taken that tea where I could not see it? Unacceptable."

Like spreading branches, like antlers, the light spread. The hands on my face gentle even as his Majesty's face might as well have been carved from stone. I tried to protest, swallowing thinking past the still rolling nausea. It was my fault! The tasting cups exsist for a REASON. They're supposed to test for things like this. I got too comfortable.

"No." The word slammed down as about an absolute as any sentence CAN. A declaration from on high. The commandment of a king. "It takes far more then simple poisons or common blades to kill me. The power that flows through the Throne insures it. You do not have that luxury. You could have DIED."

"....might still yet."

The last bit, almost a confession, pressed to my brow as he leaned down to press his lips to my forhead. His grip tighter, as though to stop his hands from shaking. My joints were starting to hurt, like I had a nasty cold, and I was already starting to feel feverish. I was starting to drip sweat. Shit.

I tried to stay calm. But... but I was scared. What do I do? Your Majesty! What do I DO?!

"We are going back to my quarters. Work can be brought to me. You need to lay down." He decided after a long moment of deliberation. Something had shifted in his eyes. I couldn't make heads or tails of it. Clung to the only trustworthy source of comfort I knew, in the chaos of this moment. "I'm going to take care of you. I have you, dear. Just trust me, darling. I will fix this. I swear it. You don't have to worry about a thing. Just put all of your trust in me, all right?

"Just come with me, dear. Everything will be all right."

"You can trust me."

[threepandas]

Bad End: Lost at Star Sea

It was sheer luck I even glanced down. Stopped, longed enough to doubled check, triple check, my next jump. I didn't really need too. Trusted my ship's computers, (quite literally) with my life. Kinda had too, after so long, out in the sea of stars. So the fact that I paused? Checked? Noticed that stuttering little signal at all?

Really, it could only be luck.

Good, bad, a miracle or disaster in the making? Couldn't tell ya.

But I DID notice. And I DID, immediately, hit the override for my cued up jumps to Starline. Because as every pilot worth even a fraction of their soul will tell you? You see an SOS beacon? You fucking ANSWER it.

Yes, pirates pull the "help I'm stuck" trick. And yeah, there are other unscrupulous folks out there. But! That's part of why the bounty hunter's guild and pirate hunter's come down so HARD on those fuckers. If you discourage people from HELPING stranded pilots? People fucking DIE out there.

Cold Void Of Space, remember?

Far as I'm concerned? Old ship rules apply, there are enough horrors, lurking out there. We do NOT need to add to them. All differences are to be kept planet side. THEN you can kill each other.

Thank the stars, I had decided to go the back lanes. Yeah, it added a few extra weeks to my trip, that I couldn't spend on that swanky beach at Starline, but? The "road trip" through the outer edge of the galaxy had been worth it. Plenty of cool sights and fun new foods. And NOW, clearly, the much needed chance to be in the right place at the right time.

Getting my ship in close, I tried to hail the softly free floating wreck. It looked smashed. Like it hit or was struck by something at speed. They had clearly managed to slow themselves, but beyond that? I couldnt see much stabilization. The whole ship sat dark. Not good.

My dash said there was nothing to hail TOO. Fuck. I tried difference frequencies. Maybe they had a hand-held? Earpiece? Something? But I couldn't connect to anything. Find, anything. Shit! Okay. Okay! Plan B. Try to get a registration while I connect us up. Pray to which ever Gods gaurds this one's soul, that they breathe a similar gas mix.

Loading... loading...

Oh, thank FUCK!

Compatible air AND drones, someone up or out there, really DOES want these guys to live! I force myself to be calm. Rushing won't help anybody, but WILL make a mess, after all. Bring up that frustrating drone request program I downloaded on a whim. Watch as, dispite the odds, lights flicker on across the hull of the ship.

Emergency protocols engage. They, obviously, get no counter order. And? Like the beautiful, life saving, little dumbasses they are? Immediately begin to zip and trundle into position to drag the wreckage in towards my ship. Gods bless the collective single IQ point of drones. Good babies. Such good babies!

With a heavy shudder and thunk, we connect.

Already, I am hovering by the latch. Emergency kit in hand. Breather on. The second it's confirmed, I twist the latch and...Oh gods. The air that surges up to greet me is so cold, it BURNS. I hadn't even though I was sweating, hadn't noticed it, until it felt like stabbing flash frozen crystals on my face. Shit! Oh gods, oh SHIT!

I scramble down, ladder burning cold even through my gloves. Red emergency lights and terrible silence greet me. I move quick. Emergencies & Stranding classes echoing in my head. Check the warmest part of the ship first, then work your way out. If they CAN move, they'll know to retreat there.

Registration said the ship had fifteen people. No idea how many survived the impact and cold, but hopefully? All of them. I may not have the room or rations for a comfortable trip. But it'd be warm. And I could get them to a port.

They should be in the central compartment, which is usually critical storage and medbay. Getting there, the door has clearly been forced to slide open by someone with claws and blood on their hands. It couldn't close properly, they bent it getting it open.

Looking down, there... oh gods. There is A LOT of blood on the floor.

Something... someONE? Dragged to storage. Blood trails thick on the floor. There must be a preserver; trying, maybe, to keep their friends from rotting? Might be shock? And they just... couldn't figure out where to put the bodies. I shake my head, tearing my horrified eyes away. Concentrate! Save the living. The dead are already gone. Be sick about it later.

It takes the crowbar I brought, now cold enough to worry me, to force the door to slide again. The room in side is barely warmer then the air outside. But? There, against the far wall? Is just about every clothe and piece of fabric in the ship. Two emergency blankets glinting from withing the chaotic pile.

The only other people in the room are clearly dead. Injuries. He must have tried to treat them but been unable too. Regardless of what happened, I rush forward. Unearthing an unconscious Aqualin from his self made fabric tomb. The colouration might mean he's from the deep water region. But without his eyes or mouth open I can't TELL.

I hope so, his chance of survival would go up tremendously. Dragging the limp, dangerously hypothermic, man onto my shoulders in a fireman's carry, I get us the hell out. His front is stained in blood. His hands coated. Everything that could go wrong? Seems too. But if I have any say, he is NOT dying here.

Dragging us into my now cold ship, I clumsily kick at the latch until I manage to flip it closed. Just for now. I'll have to go back down for those blankets and such, to help get him warm. But first? I get my rescue set up, warming up.

A further few, brutally cold, few trips to loot the ship of what I safely can before I can close that latch for good. Lock away the horrors to be found there. Stacking everything up and off to the side for him. I'm pretty sure I even found his wallet. So at least? He won't be destitute. Then, while the droids transferred the last of the wreck's fuel? I start to bring up the heat back to normal. Slowly.

Once all is said and down, I silence the emergency beacon and send in the mandatory report. Might be a while before a cleaning crew can get out here... but, well... at least those poor bastard's family's would have some closure. Life insurance. That sort if thing.

.....fuck today has been shit.

"Ooooh go on a vacaaaaation~" Everybody said. "You're so overworked!" They had said. "So STRESSED! You definitely won't find a ship full of corpses!" Thanks for that, guys! Having SUCH a great time. No, REALLY.

Detaching from the wreckage is almost... no, IS horrific in how easy it is. It just... float away. Silent, dark, and gentle. A cold bit of nothingness, lost in the void. Sinking into the stars with it's cargo full of dead, like... like nothing happened at all. It looks so small. Just a twisted bit of metal. Drifting... drifting... away....

Even with the heaters bringing the heat back up, I feel cold.

That could have been me.

What the hell happened? I tear my eyes away from the view screen. Back down to the dash board. Standard operating procedure is to grab the black box of a wreck, even if you find no survivors. Helps universal safety innovation and regulatory blah blah blah. Had to drill it into my head to even GET my license. So... so now... there it is. Grabbed.

I... COULD look.

Fiddling with my rescues wallet, I stare at it. It's hella illegal. Breach of privacy. You can't just... just go into someone's ship and poke around. Look up where they've been and who they've been talking too about what. All their data would be on that thing. Soothing MY anxiety is not more important then THEIR boundaries, right? I should leave it.

I flip the wallet open. My rescue's smiling face grins back up at me, like some sort of dork at a photo shoot. He's leaning against an advertisement for, ironically, Starline. Probably the same beach that convinced me to go. All relaxed confidence and swagger, he looks nothing like the half frozen man I dragged from that ship.

My rescue has lost weight. A concerning amount of color. But? Looking at the rich black of the eyes and the point of his teeth? He seem to be either mostly or full blooded Deep Sea Aqualin. Thank FUCK.

There was a celebrity Tropical Region Aqualin a while back that my baby cousin was weirdly obsessed with. Not stalking obsessed, but? The "family is concerned" obsessed, you know? We all ended up learning WAY too much about their entire species. WAY, WAY too much.

Dea Sea Aqualin are apparently just? Built different. Like, "can withstand a degree of pressure and cold and would kill most others" different. The dehydration might still get him, but the cold? Might NOT.

Flipping the wallet closed, I ignore my gut. I don't need to see what's on that black box. Yeah, I'd find out what happened after they lost propulsion. But? Watching doomed men die? That's sick. There's nothing worth finding there. It's just anxiety.

I reset my next jump. The sooner we get to the next port, the sooner my Rescue (X'alus, apparently) can get help. Then? I head back to check on him. I think, he might be stirring. Approaching the mound of blankets, it turns out I'm right.

" 'rm?" He manages to slur, voices crackling like it's a fight to get anything out. "Wh're 'm? Who?"

There is no good way to tell someone a whole ship full of crewmates is... gone. But, fuck, if I don't try. Gently sitting him up, I help him drink from a hydration pouch. Little at a time, so as not to stress his likely starved stomach. He leans, boneless, towards me. Like he wishes he could drag himself into my lap. Staring like I hold the secrets to the universe.

"Pre'ty. Warm. You sav'd me?"

I nod, shooting him a smile as I tuck the blanket more firmly around him. Poor guy is still pretty weak. But he's healing fast. That's good. He smiles back, bright predators teeth glinting in the ship's light. (Bit unhinged looking, but hey, he seems loopy.)

"Y're my hero~ pre'ty, pre'ty hero~!"

"Arn't I lucky? You found me!"