First Round of Halloween Treats
I'm working my way through them, slowly but surely!
Title: Whispers
Fandom: The Handmaid's Tale
Characters/Pairings: OCs
Rating: PG
Summary: Not even the laws of Gilead can stop young girls from whispering.
Whispers
She looks at the face of every Handmaid she sees, searching for one that looks like hers.
Her Mother chastises her for this. “They’re not meant to be looked at,” her Mother says. “That’s why they wear the winged headpieces.”
She wonders why, then, the Handmaids must wear bright, attention-getting red. Some of the other Daughters have whispered about the color of blood, how this has something to do with babies and with changing from the white dresses of Daughters to the blue gowns of Wives, too.
Daughters whisper to each other about other things as well. “The Guardian at the South Checkpoint with the pretty blue eyes is on the Wall.” “My Father touched the chauffer’s cheek, and the look in his eyes made me feel like I shouldn’t be there.” “My Mother begged and cried when my Father wouldn’t read me something called Little Women.”
She has the most valuable whispers of all of them, though. Whenever she speaks, the other girls clutch their fingers in their laps tight and bite their lips, the most excitement they dare show.
She tells them about The Time Before.
She doesn’t know much about it from her own memories. She remembers wearing blue, and yellow, and pink, and a tight, stretchy bathing suit and having a towel with Mickey Mouse on it. She remembers a crystal-clear lake ringed with pines, and strong hands holding her up as she learns to dog paddle. She remembers softer hands drying her with the towel as they sit on the beach, combing her hair back. She remembers curling up in her lap and watching the sun set, then watching the fireflies blink on.
But she doesn’t tell the other Daughters about this. She tells them what she’s learned from her Mother and Father’s loud fights.
“How can you stand it?” her Mother screams at her Father behind the too-thin wall of her bedroom. “The babies they bear now are one thing, but the ones from The Time Before, taken by force? I walk down the street with our Daughter, and I know they’re all accusing me behind their wings. You stole my child. You stole my child.”
Her Father’s voice is too quiet for her to hear, but whatever he says doesn’t assuage her Mother. “Our Daughter hates me. We should have waited for a Handmaid. We never should have adopted. We have no idea what kind filth her father may have been.”
There is soft crying. Her Mother says, “I hope she’s dead. I hope she’s dead and never even made it to the Colonies.”
She supposes she should hope the woman with the soft hands and warm lap is dead, too. If she died (Mamma, her memory whispers)-if Mamma died in the great upheaval between The Time Before and the way the world is now, then her Mother and Father had done the right thing, taking in a little girl with nowhere else to go.
And yet, she can’t stop her heart from leaping with hope every time she looks into a face half-hidden by white wings.
Title: Godfather Death
Fandom: Caprica-BSG crossover
Characters/Pairings: Sam Adama, Felix Gaeta, Larry, Graystones; Sam/Larry, Sam/Gaeta
Rating: R
Summary: Remix/sequel to geekbynight's "Backdrifts." Sam Adama tells a story.
Godfather Death
Felix pulled himself flush with Sam’s side and laid his head on Sam’s chest. He sighed, lazy and sated.
“I can’t sleep yet,” he said.
Sam pulled the covers up around them. “Really? You’re usually half-asleep before I even pull out.” Not that Sam minded. Larry had been the same way, so relaxed by a good orgasm he could barely stay awake long enough to say “I love you” and kiss Sam goodnight.
“I’m homesick tonight, for some reason,” Felix murmured. “Tell me about Tauron again.”
“How will that help homesickness? You never lived on Tauron,” Sam said.
“Doesn’t matter.” Felix’s fingers traced over the tattoos on Sam’s chest. Sam’s hair was gray, and he had wrinkles around his eyes and mouth, but he’d kept this body as fit as he could.
Of course, Felix didn’t-couldn’t-know just how old Sam was, and he was afraid the storytelling was going to give him away, someday. He’d almost screwed it all up last week by talking about Baxter Sarno, who’d been off the air for fifty years.
“Please?” Felix said sweetly, looking up at him.
Sam couldn’t deny those eyes anything. “My mother used to tell me this Tauron folktale, ‘Godfather Death.’ You ever heard it?” Felix shook his head, so Sam continued. “There once was a poor man who loved his wife very much. They were very excited when they learned they were going to have a baby, but the woman died in childbirth.
“The man was so distraught that, as he held his newborn son in his arms, he cried out, ‘It’s not fair, Death! You took away his mother. He deserves something from you in return.'"
“But death isn’t fair,” Felix said.
Sam sighed. “He is in this story. Anyway, then Death made himself visible to the man and said, ‘In recompense, I will be your son’s godfather. Your son will grow up to be a renowned doctor. I will make myself visible to him and him alone at the bedside of each of his patients. If I stand at the sick person’s head, he will cure that person, no matter how ill they appear to be. But if he sees me at the foot of the bed, he cannot save them, for that means I will take a soul with me that day, no matter what.’
“The son grew up and became a great doctor, just as Death had promised. He followed Death’s instructions, curing patients when Death stood at their heads and saying there was nothing to be done but lessen their pain when Death stood at their feet.
“But one day, the king summoned the doctor to treat his beloved daughter. The doctor fell in love with her the moment he saw her. Then he looked up, and he saw Death standing at the foot of her bed.”
“What did he do?” Felix asked.
“Something very stupid,” Sam said. “But he did it out of love.”
Larry has one arm wrapped around Sam and the other on his shoulder, steadying him. Sam knows he should be using his wheelchair, but he refuses to look that weak in front of these people.
“This is crazy,” Sam says. “We can’t do business with them. If I wasn’t dying, the Ha’la’tha would’ve assigned me to kill them.”
“You’re not dying,” Larry says, so determined. He helps Sam sit in one of the two chairs in front of a vidscreen and a table covered with odd equipment. “And I don’t give a frak who they are, or who they’ve pissed off. They’re the only ones who can help.”
Then the Graystones enter through the door on the opposite side of the room, much grayer than the last time Sam had seen them. Life in hiding obviously isn’t treating them too kindly, but Sam doesn’t have much sympathy-they brought it on themselves, trying to outsmart the Ha’la’tha one too many times.
They step to the side, revealing the third person walking behind them. He knows that impossible face.
“Holy frak,” Larry mutters under his breath.
“We’ve met before, but I suppose I should re-introduce myself,” the young woman says, holding out her hand. “I’m Zoe Graystone.”
Sam ran his fingers through Felix’s curls, traced his ear. His skin was so warm. “The doctor gathered the king’s daughter in his arms, lifted her up, and set her down again so her head was at the foot of the bed-so Death was standing at her head.”
Daniel Graystone does most of the talking. He’s always reminded Sam of a very smart used car salesman. “The new body will be identical to the old, except healthy. It’ll be completely biological-no wires or computer chips-and fully functional. You’ll be able to eat, sleep, engage in any normal physical activity, have sex-”
“But you won’t be able to procreate,” Zoe says, and there’s something hollow and bitter about her voice that makes Sam think there’s more to this story.
“That’s really not a big deal,” Larry says, almost laughing in relief and squeezing Sam’s hand.
“What about aging?” Sam asks. He points at Zoe. “She should be-what, thirty? Forty? She doesn’t look a day older than when she died.”
Daniel’s used car salesman smirk is back with a vengeance. “Well, we didn’t think aging would be a feature that people would be interested in.” Both Amanda and Zoe are behind Daniel, out of his range of vision. Their stares could bore holes into the back of his head. They clearly think that’s bullshit.
“The only reason I’m even considering this is that we want to grow old together,” Sam says.
“Exactly,” Amanda says, as much to Daniel as to Sam and Larry. It appears she’s just won an argument. “We think we’ve figured out how to age the body naturally. Obviously, all of this is still in the experimental phase. And the procedure itself is not without risks.”
Daniel cuts her off. “But let’s be honest here. Pancreatic cancer, progressed as far as yours has-what we’re offering may be risky, but you’re staring down what’s essentially a death sentence.”
“I don’t think I can do this,” Sam says to Larry.
Larry’s eyes are wide and pleading. “Can’t we try? I can’t lose you like this-not when there’s a possibility of a cure.”
“Returning my body to the soil, but not my soul? It’s not right. It’s unnatural,” Sam says, and he chokes on the words. His natural body is betraying him, rotting from the inside out. He looks at Zoe’s pink cheeks and bright eyes, and he’s never felt such searing jealousy.
Larry takes Sam’s hand in both of his. “Please, Sam. Please.”
He can’t deny those eyes anything.
“So what happened?” Felix asked. “Did he cure her?”
“Yes,” Sam said. “But Death keeps his promises. Death told the doctor, ‘I said I would let you cure anyone if I stood at their head, so I let you cure her. But you are too clever for your own good. I also said that if I stood at someone’s feet, I would take a soul with me that day, no matter what. You deprived me of the soul I was meant to take. I must take yours in recompense.’”
Sam trips over his own feet as he walks home. Zoe had warned it would take a while to settle into the new body, even though it’s exactly the same as the old one. He tips his face to the sun and smiles at its warmth on his cheeks. He’s gained a little weight, but only because the cancer treatments had robbed him of his appetite, and now everything tastes so good. He burns off most of the extra calories with Larry, anyway. They’ve been frakking like newlyweds.
He whistles as he walks into the apartment complex, his mind occupied with thoughts of dinner and sex. But when he reaches the door and finds the lock forced, he feels all the life drain out of him.
Sam will never know if it really was the Sons of Ares who’d done it, like the police report said. He supposes it’s possible that they found out Larry had made a deal with the devil-literally, in their minds-to save Sam with technology that was an abomination in the eyes of the Gods. Or it could have been the Ha’la’tha, sending a clear warning not to do business with people on their blacklist. At least they’d had the decency to let Sam mourn.
“Sad story,” Felix said. “You said your mom used to tell it to you? Kind of grim for a bedtime story, isn’t it?”
“I guess so,” Sam said. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” Felix said. Then his lips quirked up. “But I’m still not sleepy. I think you may have to frak me again.” Felix’s hand slid under the blanket, down Sam’s stomach, then lower. Sam groaned. Felix grinned. “Yep. You’re definitely going to have to frak me again.”
Sam shook his head and chuckled, though he didn’t feel like laughing at all. Felix’s eyes were dark with desire. “Please,” he breathed.
He lifted himself up and gently positioned Felix on the mattress the way he wanted him: on his back, knees high and legs spread wide, and his head at the foot of the bed.
Title: Whispers
Fandom: The Handmaid's Tale
Characters/Pairings: OCs
Rating: PG
Summary: Not even the laws of Gilead can stop young girls from whispering.
Whispers
She looks at the face of every Handmaid she sees, searching for one that looks like hers.
Her Mother chastises her for this. “They’re not meant to be looked at,” her Mother says. “That’s why they wear the winged headpieces.”
She wonders why, then, the Handmaids must wear bright, attention-getting red. Some of the other Daughters have whispered about the color of blood, how this has something to do with babies and with changing from the white dresses of Daughters to the blue gowns of Wives, too.
Daughters whisper to each other about other things as well. “The Guardian at the South Checkpoint with the pretty blue eyes is on the Wall.” “My Father touched the chauffer’s cheek, and the look in his eyes made me feel like I shouldn’t be there.” “My Mother begged and cried when my Father wouldn’t read me something called Little Women.”
She has the most valuable whispers of all of them, though. Whenever she speaks, the other girls clutch their fingers in their laps tight and bite their lips, the most excitement they dare show.
She tells them about The Time Before.
She doesn’t know much about it from her own memories. She remembers wearing blue, and yellow, and pink, and a tight, stretchy bathing suit and having a towel with Mickey Mouse on it. She remembers a crystal-clear lake ringed with pines, and strong hands holding her up as she learns to dog paddle. She remembers softer hands drying her with the towel as they sit on the beach, combing her hair back. She remembers curling up in her lap and watching the sun set, then watching the fireflies blink on.
But she doesn’t tell the other Daughters about this. She tells them what she’s learned from her Mother and Father’s loud fights.
“How can you stand it?” her Mother screams at her Father behind the too-thin wall of her bedroom. “The babies they bear now are one thing, but the ones from The Time Before, taken by force? I walk down the street with our Daughter, and I know they’re all accusing me behind their wings. You stole my child. You stole my child.”
Her Father’s voice is too quiet for her to hear, but whatever he says doesn’t assuage her Mother. “Our Daughter hates me. We should have waited for a Handmaid. We never should have adopted. We have no idea what kind filth her father may have been.”
There is soft crying. Her Mother says, “I hope she’s dead. I hope she’s dead and never even made it to the Colonies.”
She supposes she should hope the woman with the soft hands and warm lap is dead, too. If she died (Mamma, her memory whispers)-if Mamma died in the great upheaval between The Time Before and the way the world is now, then her Mother and Father had done the right thing, taking in a little girl with nowhere else to go.
And yet, she can’t stop her heart from leaping with hope every time she looks into a face half-hidden by white wings.
Title: Godfather Death
Fandom: Caprica-BSG crossover
Characters/Pairings: Sam Adama, Felix Gaeta, Larry, Graystones; Sam/Larry, Sam/Gaeta
Rating: R
Summary: Remix/sequel to geekbynight's "Backdrifts." Sam Adama tells a story.
Godfather Death
Felix pulled himself flush with Sam’s side and laid his head on Sam’s chest. He sighed, lazy and sated.
“I can’t sleep yet,” he said.
Sam pulled the covers up around them. “Really? You’re usually half-asleep before I even pull out.” Not that Sam minded. Larry had been the same way, so relaxed by a good orgasm he could barely stay awake long enough to say “I love you” and kiss Sam goodnight.
“I’m homesick tonight, for some reason,” Felix murmured. “Tell me about Tauron again.”
“How will that help homesickness? You never lived on Tauron,” Sam said.
“Doesn’t matter.” Felix’s fingers traced over the tattoos on Sam’s chest. Sam’s hair was gray, and he had wrinkles around his eyes and mouth, but he’d kept this body as fit as he could.
Of course, Felix didn’t-couldn’t-know just how old Sam was, and he was afraid the storytelling was going to give him away, someday. He’d almost screwed it all up last week by talking about Baxter Sarno, who’d been off the air for fifty years.
“Please?” Felix said sweetly, looking up at him.
Sam couldn’t deny those eyes anything. “My mother used to tell me this Tauron folktale, ‘Godfather Death.’ You ever heard it?” Felix shook his head, so Sam continued. “There once was a poor man who loved his wife very much. They were very excited when they learned they were going to have a baby, but the woman died in childbirth.
“The man was so distraught that, as he held his newborn son in his arms, he cried out, ‘It’s not fair, Death! You took away his mother. He deserves something from you in return.'"
“But death isn’t fair,” Felix said.
Sam sighed. “He is in this story. Anyway, then Death made himself visible to the man and said, ‘In recompense, I will be your son’s godfather. Your son will grow up to be a renowned doctor. I will make myself visible to him and him alone at the bedside of each of his patients. If I stand at the sick person’s head, he will cure that person, no matter how ill they appear to be. But if he sees me at the foot of the bed, he cannot save them, for that means I will take a soul with me that day, no matter what.’
“The son grew up and became a great doctor, just as Death had promised. He followed Death’s instructions, curing patients when Death stood at their heads and saying there was nothing to be done but lessen their pain when Death stood at their feet.
“But one day, the king summoned the doctor to treat his beloved daughter. The doctor fell in love with her the moment he saw her. Then he looked up, and he saw Death standing at the foot of her bed.”
“What did he do?” Felix asked.
“Something very stupid,” Sam said. “But he did it out of love.”
Larry has one arm wrapped around Sam and the other on his shoulder, steadying him. Sam knows he should be using his wheelchair, but he refuses to look that weak in front of these people.
“This is crazy,” Sam says. “We can’t do business with them. If I wasn’t dying, the Ha’la’tha would’ve assigned me to kill them.”
“You’re not dying,” Larry says, so determined. He helps Sam sit in one of the two chairs in front of a vidscreen and a table covered with odd equipment. “And I don’t give a frak who they are, or who they’ve pissed off. They’re the only ones who can help.”
Then the Graystones enter through the door on the opposite side of the room, much grayer than the last time Sam had seen them. Life in hiding obviously isn’t treating them too kindly, but Sam doesn’t have much sympathy-they brought it on themselves, trying to outsmart the Ha’la’tha one too many times.
They step to the side, revealing the third person walking behind them. He knows that impossible face.
“Holy frak,” Larry mutters under his breath.
“We’ve met before, but I suppose I should re-introduce myself,” the young woman says, holding out her hand. “I’m Zoe Graystone.”
Sam ran his fingers through Felix’s curls, traced his ear. His skin was so warm. “The doctor gathered the king’s daughter in his arms, lifted her up, and set her down again so her head was at the foot of the bed-so Death was standing at her head.”
Daniel Graystone does most of the talking. He’s always reminded Sam of a very smart used car salesman. “The new body will be identical to the old, except healthy. It’ll be completely biological-no wires or computer chips-and fully functional. You’ll be able to eat, sleep, engage in any normal physical activity, have sex-”
“But you won’t be able to procreate,” Zoe says, and there’s something hollow and bitter about her voice that makes Sam think there’s more to this story.
“That’s really not a big deal,” Larry says, almost laughing in relief and squeezing Sam’s hand.
“What about aging?” Sam asks. He points at Zoe. “She should be-what, thirty? Forty? She doesn’t look a day older than when she died.”
Daniel’s used car salesman smirk is back with a vengeance. “Well, we didn’t think aging would be a feature that people would be interested in.” Both Amanda and Zoe are behind Daniel, out of his range of vision. Their stares could bore holes into the back of his head. They clearly think that’s bullshit.
“The only reason I’m even considering this is that we want to grow old together,” Sam says.
“Exactly,” Amanda says, as much to Daniel as to Sam and Larry. It appears she’s just won an argument. “We think we’ve figured out how to age the body naturally. Obviously, all of this is still in the experimental phase. And the procedure itself is not without risks.”
Daniel cuts her off. “But let’s be honest here. Pancreatic cancer, progressed as far as yours has-what we’re offering may be risky, but you’re staring down what’s essentially a death sentence.”
“I don’t think I can do this,” Sam says to Larry.
Larry’s eyes are wide and pleading. “Can’t we try? I can’t lose you like this-not when there’s a possibility of a cure.”
“Returning my body to the soil, but not my soul? It’s not right. It’s unnatural,” Sam says, and he chokes on the words. His natural body is betraying him, rotting from the inside out. He looks at Zoe’s pink cheeks and bright eyes, and he’s never felt such searing jealousy.
Larry takes Sam’s hand in both of his. “Please, Sam. Please.”
He can’t deny those eyes anything.
“So what happened?” Felix asked. “Did he cure her?”
“Yes,” Sam said. “But Death keeps his promises. Death told the doctor, ‘I said I would let you cure anyone if I stood at their head, so I let you cure her. But you are too clever for your own good. I also said that if I stood at someone’s feet, I would take a soul with me that day, no matter what. You deprived me of the soul I was meant to take. I must take yours in recompense.’”
Sam trips over his own feet as he walks home. Zoe had warned it would take a while to settle into the new body, even though it’s exactly the same as the old one. He tips his face to the sun and smiles at its warmth on his cheeks. He’s gained a little weight, but only because the cancer treatments had robbed him of his appetite, and now everything tastes so good. He burns off most of the extra calories with Larry, anyway. They’ve been frakking like newlyweds.
He whistles as he walks into the apartment complex, his mind occupied with thoughts of dinner and sex. But when he reaches the door and finds the lock forced, he feels all the life drain out of him.
Sam will never know if it really was the Sons of Ares who’d done it, like the police report said. He supposes it’s possible that they found out Larry had made a deal with the devil-literally, in their minds-to save Sam with technology that was an abomination in the eyes of the Gods. Or it could have been the Ha’la’tha, sending a clear warning not to do business with people on their blacklist. At least they’d had the decency to let Sam mourn.
“Sad story,” Felix said. “You said your mom used to tell it to you? Kind of grim for a bedtime story, isn’t it?”
“I guess so,” Sam said. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” Felix said. Then his lips quirked up. “But I’m still not sleepy. I think you may have to frak me again.” Felix’s hand slid under the blanket, down Sam’s stomach, then lower. Sam groaned. Felix grinned. “Yep. You’re definitely going to have to frak me again.”
Sam shook his head and chuckled, though he didn’t feel like laughing at all. Felix’s eyes were dark with desire. “Please,” he breathed.
He lifted himself up and gently positioned Felix on the mattress the way he wanted him: on his back, knees high and legs spread wide, and his head at the foot of the bed.