#I’m not tagging him I’m experiencing too much prey fear at the idea | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

2-sleepy-for-this · 11 months ago

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Run, Rabbit

here it is, the first fanfic I’ve ever written of tadc. I did this pretty quick so sorry if it’s not the best. I just love angst (and if you couldn’t tell, also Jax)

Tw ~ fear, panic, mentions of being prey, unintentional fearplay, grabbing, angst

word count ~ 1.5k

Jax was scared. That didn’t happen often, but he was terrified at the moment.

All because of Caine’s ‘newest adventure’ that he had no say in agreeing to. God, he wished he wasn’t in this stupid circus.

It had all started when Caine had run out of ideas for their daily adventures. The ai ringmaster searched for any possible game to play. He wanted to find something ‘new’ and ‘interesting’ for them to do…

Everyone was confused as he started talking excitedly about hide and seek, tag and all those other childhood games they knew as kids… Jax didn’t know how those were anything new, he couldn’t count how many times they played those games already while here.

Despite his reluctance, Jax decided to question Caine about how those were considered inspiring… that was his mistake.

Apparently, uttering a word in the quiet meant that he volunteered himself for the demonstration.

Caine had levitated over to him with an ‘I’m glad you asked!’ and that’s when his fate was sealed. If he could only keep his lips as closed as his teeth.

So now Jax was running. Fast. Though it wasn’t really doing much for him because at the moment…

He was doll sized.

Caine decided to make it ‘easier for him to win’ by shrinking him. According to the ai, he was much too tall to win at hide and seek…

Well… more like a mixture of rules form the multiple games, hide and seek, tag, etc. He didn’t know, and he didn’t care. All Jax knew was that he was being hunted by giants, the others, and he needed to run and hide for his life.

Technically, he wasn’t going to be killed, but… that’s how it felt… some twisted part of his mind told him that if caught, he would die, that he was in danger…

He hated how his digital body was a rabbit. Maybe that was why he was freaking out so much over being the ‘prey’ of this game. Hit too close to home with these new survival instincts he was experiencing for the first time.

Even as the fastest one in the circus, his loss of height made it near impossible to go faster than any normal sized person and he was out in the open at the moment, nothing but the vast area of the tent with nothing to hide inside.

Jax was jolted out of his thoughts by the sound of footsteps… large footsteps that shook the ground beneath him… there were only a few people in the circus who could actually make footsteps…

Well, at least he wasn’t found by the crybaby. That would be humiliating.

The thudding got louder as the giant got closer and Jax was really panicking now. He didn’t like to panic, and he definitely didn’t want whoever found him to see him panicking…

So he continued to run… but he knew he’d have to face a giant eventually, whether that be getting caught or having to be seen by Caine to be grown back after winning.

He wasn’t paying attention to where he was running until he ran right into a giant building block, falling on his back. The blue letter ‘L’ on it mocking him as he rubbed his head.

That’s when he heard it..

“Jax!”

The volume of her voice hurt his ears as he looked up…

And up…

And up at the gigantic rag doll that was a few feet away, looking at him with a terrifying triumphant expression.

Jax immediately began to backtrack, scrambling back on the hard floor away from Ragatha, not able to take his eyes off her.

That didn’t stop her from stepping closer, a smirk on her face as she closed the distance between them in just two normal sized steps.

He watched her kneel down, Ragatha’s hand moving towards his tiny body.

Jax felt his ears press down against his head… well.. that’s embarrassing. He looked pathetic at the moment, but he didn’t care. All he cared about was the instincts buzzing around his head, telling him to run and hide. It wasn’t a game for him now…

The rabbit felt the giant hand wrap around his waist, lifting his feet off the ground like he was an actual toy. He hated that feeling, but he couldn’t speak more than a slight whimper that made it past his lips.

Ragatha was talking to him. He could see her giant mouth moving… but he couldn’t pay any attention… just staring wide eyed as his lips were open in a slack jawed frown, his solid yellow teeth on display.

Jax felt his body trembling, his arms stuck at his sides in the fist and his legs limp, held so high off of the ground.

“H-hey doll face…”

He tried to give his signature grin to save face, but that was much harder than he thought…

“Uh.. Jax?… are you okay? You look a little pale.”

He noticed that she didn’t mention the shaking, or the wide-eyed stare, or his ears firmly down against his head…

“I’m fine… congrats. You won the stupid game.

Now, p-put me down.”

Jax tried to convince Ragatha to put him back on solid ground in an attempt to be snarky… honestly, anything was better than being held by a giant, even if it meant having to look all the way up at her.

“Uh… shouldn’t I take you to Caine?”

Right… he forgot about that, he’d need Caine to unshrink him, but the thought of not being on the ground within the next five seconds made him want to curl up and shake more than he already was… he couldn’t do that in Ragatha’s hand though, he’d never hear the end of it.

Even though Jax knew it was probably easier to just let her carry him to Caine, he still got a feeling of dread about the fact she had turned down his demand… he felt like it wasn’t taken seriously.

“I can walk on my own. "

He grunted while squirming in her fist. She opened up her hand so he was laying on her flat palm. He moved to stand but struggled to balance from the plush fabric surface of her skin.

Ragatha chuckled at his statement.

“Yeah, right, and let you get lost on the ground somewhere? No way. Caine probably wouldn’t even see you down there.”

Jax groaned in irritated acceptance, with a slight undertone of fear from the prospect of being carried for who knows how long since Caine liked to roam around often.

“Fine… take me to him then, and make it quick. I don’t got all day.”

He made a show of sitting cross-legged on her palm and crossing his arms, forcing his ears back up with will power and spite. Jax kept his surprised yelp to a minimum as she started walking with her giant strides again, refusing to look at the floor very far below to him.

Caine was smaller than Ragatha so it wasn’t too hard to look at him, but those giant teeth made him shudder like the first time he arrived here.

Finally… he was set on the ground and with a snap from the ai he was back to his tall self. Jax relished in his size and internally sighed in relief as the nightmare of being a tiny hunted rabbit was over with. He wanted it all to be put behind him, never thinking about that again until… he realized that those instincts didn’t go away.

He was still… jumpier than before, more cautious with noises… and though he didn’t have one, he bet if he did, his nose would twitch like crazy every time he froze at a loud sound.

Don’t get him wrong, he still showed no fear on his face, talked back to the others and NPCs during adventures and frequently screwed with anyone unfortunate enough to be in his vicinity… but now it was slightly different. He was slightly different.

Something about feeling like small prey in a twisted game of chase, even if it was only in a digital reality, stuck with him… and once those weird new survival instincts unlocked over running from the giant characters he was stuck with… they couldn’t be put back in the bottle that easily.

Jax hated this. Why did his digital body have to be a rabbit?

No one seemed to mention it though, whether they even noticed his strange behavior or not. Though Ragatha gave him some odd glances once in a while that he met back with an unamused glare.

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hope you guys enjoyed! Might do more like this later, please send me asks and such! The brain rot for my fandoms is real :’)

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tag list:

@da3dm @i-am-beckyu @lunar-but-little

#giant/tiny #g/t community #g/t #tadc g/t #the amazing digital circus g/t #tiny!jax #giant!ragatha #The rabbit is not having a good time #Turns out being chased by your friends isn’t fun #He might have issues now #<3

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jokertrap-ran · 3 years ago

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(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Evan’s 6✩ Inspiration: Umbrae Secrets [繁荫秘语] Date Translation (END 2 + 3 + 4: Call Out)

“This is such a remote area. Were I to do anything, it would be nothing more than a piece of cake.”

*Light and Night Master-list | Evan’s Personal Masterlist *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Join the Light & Night Discord (＾▽＾)~ ♪ *This 6✩ Inspiration has 8 Endings!! *Reblogs and likes appreciated! *Evan’s tag will be #For Night, For Revolution *T/N: This card takes me out so quick I needed time to recover. Hunter and prey... MC triggered the Hunter...

After pondering for a while, I finally decided to…

✥ Choice: Call Out [呼唤] ⊹Speak⊹

⊹ Ask Evan for his opinion ⊹

MC: Any bright ideas, Evan?

Evan: I'm thinking that maybe we can find a place to set up camp early…

Evan: Because you seem very eager to camp out.

MC: You got me. Let's go with that then!

❖☆———————————★❖

Evan was very experienced when it came to selecting a suitable campsite.

Eventually, we managed to find a fitting flat and cosy patch of grass that was both leeward and shaded, with a source of water nearby.

By the time we finished setting up the tent, the sky had already gradually darkened. The temperature of the forest quietly dropped as the occluding darkness surrounded us. But I had Evan with me, so there was no need to fear.

We lit the camp stove and roasted some food. The flickering firelight became the most dazzling thing in the forest, casting dancing shadows and lights all around. There was a certain romance to it.

For a moment, all I could hear was the crackling of fire and the soft chips and buzz of the insects nearby. It felt as if even time had come to a standstill.

❖☆———————————★❖

I inadvertently raised my head. The night sky above was adorned with stars, like fine scattered gemstones sewn onto an expanse of black velvet. Each and every one of them was equally lustrous, converging into a glimmering band of light and extending into the distance.

I watched the sky in a trance while lying on the grass. Evan sat quietly beside me

After a while, I tugged on his sleeve.

❖☆———————————★❖

MC: Look, the light of the stars only becomes much more apparent once all the lights have been extinguished.

MC: The grass smells good too, so why don’t you try lying down too?

He looked down at me with a smile and contemplated the idea. He finally agreed after a moment of hesitation.

Evan: Alright.

❖☆———————————★❖

He moved closer and laid down beside me. Now, another rhythm sounded in my ears: his gentle and steady breathing.

Evan: It is very beautiful.

MC: I feel like it's been a long time since I last saw a starry sky like this.

MC: No wonder those philosophers always liked looking up at the stars when they think. Now I understand why they would.

MC: The sight of an area this vast can make people forget all trivialities and let their thoughts wander further to the past and even the future.

Evan: So where has your mind flown off to now?

MC: Me? I’m thinking that since the forest is so beautiful, maybe I’ll go live in the forest next time, aha.

Then, a curious thought popped into my head.

MC: Right, Evan. Have you ever thought about where you’d like to live after having fulfilled all your goals?

❖☆———————————★❖

I waited for a long time, but Evan never replied.

Did he fall asleep?

I decided to gently call out to him…

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

⊹ E2: If you fail to call him ⊹

I’d called out to him multiple times in a row before he finally turned his head, looking slightly out of it.

Evan: Are you calling me? Sorry, I spaced out.

MC: Oh, no worries.

Evan smiled at me but didn’t say anything more.

Some people are made of mysteries. Perhaps this was simply a question he didn’t wish to answer now.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

⊹ E3: If you call him EVAN (陆沉) ⊹

Evan instantly snapped back to attention upon hearing me call out to him. He smiled apologetically.

Evan: Sorry. Your question's a little hard to answer. I lost track of myself thinking it through.

MC: Huh? Have you never imagined such things?

Evan: Hmm. That might be because the matters I always have on hand are more important, so I tend to focus all my attention on them.

MC: Right… I've been there and done that too.

MC: Back when I was schooling, I often found studying to be very dry and stressful.

MC: But, whenever I found myself unable to bear it anymore, I would fantasize about Summer Vacation and draw new motivation from it.

MC: Whenever I felt down or life got hard, I’d always dream about how much better life would be after I achieved my goals.

MC: Maybe you could think about it this way too?

Evan: After fulfilling my goal?

Evan: After that… I think nothing matters after that anymore.

His last sentence was so soft that it sounded as if he was mumbling to himself, and I wasn’t too sure if I’d actually heard him.

I turned to him in question, but he never answered, keeping so silent that it was almost as if he was one with the very ground.

I was starting to feel a little inexplicably worried when he then opened his mouth, as if the prior silence had never existed.

Evan: How about you tell me about it first? What’s your ideal life like? Maybe it’ll nudge me in the right direction.

MC: Hmm… Sometimes, I like lively Cities.

MC: But other times, I like someplace quiet; somewhere with mountains and water… I think that’s a pretty good place to live too...

MC: But there's no wifi there and I can’t eat my favourite ice cream… It’s a real pickle.

Evan: Perhaps what you like is change itself.

MC: Yeah… But some things will never change!

MC: Like, how I don't want to be too far from everyone.

MC: Without the people to share interesting things and breathtaking sceneries with, it'll certainly take the fun out of things.

His low chuckle sounded near my ear, close at hand.

Evan: I now know where I'd like to live next time.

MC: Where?

Evan: Somewhere not too far away from you. Would you welcome that?

MC: Of course I do. But, aren't you already here by me?

He turned his head over, watching me with a serious look as the light flickered at the bottom of his eyes.

My arm moved, inadvertently brushing against his cool skin, but also not shying away from it. He flipped his palm and encased my fingers within them.

Evan: You are correct.

Evan: To me, right now, life is perfectly fine as it is.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

⊹ E4: If you call him HUBBY (老公) ⊹

Evan shot me a slightly surprised look. Suddenly, the realization of what I'd just done washed over me.

Then, he shifted closer to me; so close that I didn't even dare turn my head.

Evan: Are you trying to hint at something by suddenly addressing me in this manner?

Evan: This is such a remote area. Were I to do anything, it would be nothing more than a piece of cake.

I inwardly froze. Evan was different from usual today… His warm breath brushed past my ear, inciting a continuous yet faint ticklish sensation.

MC: Hahaha… You wouldn't...

Evan: And why are you so sure that I wouldn't?

MC: You're always mindful and courteous. You aren't… that sort of person.

Evan: "That sort of person"? What sort of person?

He lifted his head in interest, looking down at me in a condescending manner. I was so embarrassed that I couldn't even get a sentence out right as the temperature of my cheeks rapidly shot up.

MC: That… That sort… Evan, stop making fun of me like that…

He narrowed his eyes into a smile, suddenly flipping himself over and balancing himself above me!

Rationally speaking, I knew deep down just what sort of person he was, but my body still ran on instinct: It sensed danger.

His broad form, usually reassuring, looked immeasurably intimidating from this angle. I couldn't help but bite my lip as my heart sped off the charts.

MC: Evan, what are you… doing…?

Evan: I'm thinking about your question.

Evan: You asked me what sort of place I'd like to live at, correct?

MC: Then… what does this have anything to do with that?

Evan: I feel like your eyes might hold the answer I seek.

MC: That's a lie and you know it…

My voice grew softer and softer because Evan was slowly lowering himself down.

Watching those dark red eyes of his that hid a glimpse of a smirk in its depths gradually draw closer, I panicked, stiffening up as my mind went completely blank...

I frantically swiped his glasses from the bridge of his nose, turning over to keep them away from him.

MC: Any more, and no glasses for you!

Evan paused, a little stunned at the sudden loss of his glasses. He then moved away with a smile, lying back down on the grass.

Evan: Did I scare you? I apologize. I just wanted to poke fun at you.

Evan: Sometimes you’ll bite off more than you can handle when you think someone too simple.

I inwardly breathed a sigh of relief before angrily puffing out my cheek.

MC: Okay, okay, you’re not simple! Even more so to keep your glasses away from you!

Evan: Then I’d better stick close to you and let you lead me around. Will that be alright?

Evan: Hm? (Y/n).

I turned my back on him and felt him gently place a hand on my shoulder. The heat swiftly passed through the thin fabric of my clothes, making me unwittingly shudder at the warmth.

I could even feel his eyes digging into me. The area where he burned holes into me with his eyes was hot, the grass underneath me was no different, and neither were the glasses I held in my hands.

I couldn’t form the words to answer him; all I could do was to hope that he couldn’t hear how fast my heart was racing.

❖☆———————————★❖

The next day, early morning. I woke up to the melodious singing of birds.

Evan was already awake, neatly dressed and sitting on the folded chair at the entrance, sipping on a cup of coffee.

Evan: Good morning. Sleep well last night?

MC: Brilliantly! I was so tired from walking so long yesterday that I fell asleep the moment my head met the pillow.

MC: Oh, right. It’ll take quite a long time to go back where we came, so let’s eat something, pack up, and leave as soon as possible!

Evan set his cup of coffee down,

Evan: Aren’t you forgetting something?

MC: Huh?

Evan: I recall you wanting to see bamboo piths, but we have yet to see any.

I froze, awkwardly laughing it off

That had originally been an excuse to get him outside and I’d totally forgotten about it.

MC: Hehe. I’m not that adamant about seeing bamboo piths.

MC: I only said that back then as an excuse to get you out so that you can relax.

MC: I heard that you had things rather rough before that so I was a little worried about you.

He looked slightly surprised. Then, he lowered his eyes, a warm smile catching onto the sides of his mouth.

Evan: So it was because of me.

Evan: Thank you for accompanying me here. I’m certainly much more relaxed now.

MC: But considering how you were previously… Are you really okay?

Evan: Yes. It’s probably not as bad as you’re thinking. I was just thinking about some old people and old things and felt a little glum about it.

Evan: I never thought that I’d end up alarming others.

MC: Why am I “others” now?

MC: Don’t bottle your troubles up to solve them yourself. You need to remember to share them with people close to you as well!

Evan: Okay. I will keep that in mind.

I still didn’t know what he was troubled by, but I suppose this was still within my expectations.

From my impression of him, he has always been strong. It was almost as if he was shouldering a mission that no one knew about, walking down a similarly obscured path.

After finishing breakfast, we packed and prepared to leave the forest.

We idly chatted with each other along the way until suddenly, Evan stopped short while we were passing through an area.

Following his gaze, I saw a unique-looking umbrella-shaped thing growing within the shrubbery’s shade.

Evan: See? We still managed to chance upon it.

MC: Wow, are all of these bamboo piths?

We walked over together, squatting beside the small white fungi.

It had a small black cap and had grown out a long white mesh skirt.

This was the first time I ever saw a bamboo pith growing in the soil. I widened my eyes in surprise, unwilling to blink as I drank in the sight. After observing it for a while, I finally raised a finger, reaching out to touch its “skirt”.

MC: It’s so wet and soft-looking! It’s adorable! Have you seen it before, Evan?

MC: I can’t believe you managed to recognize it at a glance!

Evan: Yes. It was back during the first time I’d been driven into the forest as a child.

Evan: I witnessed the law of the jungle and escaped from the jaws of death of a snake. I felt like the forest was a place filled with danger and wanted nothing but to leave the place the faster, the better.

Evan: Then, just as I was hungry and exhausted, I saw a bamboo pith.

Evan: At that time, I didn’t know what it was and if it was actually poisonous.

Evan: Deep in the throes of despair, I thought “why not just take it, eat it, and see what my fate turns out to be”?

MC: Evan…

Evan: But guess what I saw while I was hesitating?

Evan: I saw it growing its fungus skirt. All it took was a little effort on its part, and its little skirt grew longer and longer.

Evan: I stared at it blankly, in a daze. I didn’t even notice that my legs had gone numb from how long I’d stared at it.

He retracted himself from his memory palace, turning around to face me with a smile.

Evan: It was as simple as a little young lady, capable of encouraging me with its adorability and enchantments.

Evan: It made me understand that forest, in all its gloom and doom, still has its own little interesting spots.

Evan: And that one is only capable of seeing it by living on, don’t you think?

His expression was quiet, but within those calm eyes of his, I could see that little boy who’d struggled his hardest to remain strong. I felt my heart constrict slightly at that and moved to hold his hand tightly in my own.

MC: Evan, that’s all in the past. You’re no longer that helpless little boy.

Evan: No, I’m fine.

Evan: I might have forgotten even this if we hadn’t seen the bamboo piths today.

Evan: It feels a little unbelievable when I think back on it now. It was a memory plagued by darkness, yet it still held its own beautiful moments.

I felt a pang of sorrow creep into my heart. Words of comfort were right at the tip of my tongue, yet I felt like they’d be completely helpless.

This man before me, strong as a warrior; someone who’d been forced to face life-or-death decisions from a very young age… Maybe he wasn’t as complicated as I initially thought he was.

There are many reasons why one would choose death, but to choose life? The reason was simple; just a little spark was required, and Evan was no exception.

MC: I forgot who said it, but someone once said that the meaning of existence that people spend their entire lives seeking out is actually hidden in the simple things.

MC: Evan, won’t you say that you might end up thinking similarly as well one day?

MC: You might not be able to find it immediately, but that’s fine. I will accompany you in your search for it, no matter how long it takes.

Evan fixed me with a profound look before stretching out his hand and reverently crossing it over my own.

Evan: Alright. Together we shall be.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

✥ Choose your Ending:

END 1 | Choice: Do Nothing [都不做]

END 2 +3 + 4 | Choice: Call Out [呼唤] ⊹Speak⊹

END 4 + 6 | Choice: Approach [亲近] ⊹Touch⊹

END 7 + 8 | Choice: Heart-throb [心动] ☆Light & Night★

❖☆————— ⊹ For Night, For Revolution⊹ —————★❖

Previous Part: (Prologue)

#光与夜之恋 #Light and Night #Otome #Translations #Tencent #陆沉 #Evan #For Night For Revolution #繁荫秘语 #Umbrae Secrets

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wingsofhcpe · 3 years ago

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whumptober day 1- barbed wire

fandom: shadow & bone

pairing: fivan [ivan x fedyor kaminsky]

rating: T+

additional warnings: blood & injury

you can also read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34208404/chapters/85114393

[tagging @camilleisback upon request <3]

It’s days before Ivan finally finds Fedyor.

The druskelle, clever bastards that they are, have elected to hide near the borders with Fjerda and wait for reinforcements rather than make a run for it. There’s an abandoned warehouse that must have once been a butcher’s store near a withering Ravkan village; it’s well-camouflaged between the trees, and the vegetation and snowdrifts muffle the sounds of screaming that echo from inside as the witch-hunters torment their prisoners night and day. The location would have been impossible to hide, had it not been for the honed senses of a Heartrender being able to detect the distressed heartbeats from miles away, as well as an experienced Squaller sensing the slightest vibrations in the air that are commonly caused by loud noises such as screams.

Seven Grisha had been taken captive during the druskelle raid at their camp; when Ivan barrels into the warehouse, druskelle dropping left and right with nothing but a flicker of his wrists, he finds two survivors and five rotting corpses. For a moment, he fears the worst- but as his senses clear and the adrenaline of battle fades, he realises one of the two remaining heartbeats echoing in the dark, murky space, belongs to Fedyor. Ivan’s head snaps like a hound catching the scent of blood, and it is mere seconds before his eyes adjust to the distorted light coming from the busted door, and he finally makes out a shape at the far end of the warehouse. Before he can even think about it, he’s running.

Fedyor’s body is suspended by the wrists from a meat hook attached to the ceiling; it’s bad enough to see his lover limp and unmoving like a corpse, but then Ivan takes a closer look and realises with gut-wrenching horror that Fedyor’s hands aren’t bound with rope but with thick coils of barbed wire. The jagged points have dug deep within the skin, leaving sickening gouges across Fedyor’s wrists and forearms. There’s blood everywhere, having dripped down to his elbows, shoulders and even his hair. It has created a small puddle on the rotting floorboards, and Ivan’s boots squelch as he steps on it, trying to get as close to Fedyor as possible. The latter is nearly unconscious, but he makes a low, keening sound when Ivan attempts, in vain, to undo his bindings. It’s no use; the barbs are embedded deep into the flesh, and trying to uncoil them now will only cause more damage, more bleeding, more pain. They have to be cut away, but Ivan isn’t sure whether any of his Grisha is carrying a blade sharp and slender enough for the job. Either way, his first concern should be getting Fedyor down from where he’s still hanging from; this way, he’ll be able to get a better look.

It’s slow work, painstaking for both parties. Fedyor stirs in and out of consciousness as Ivan works, whimpering and begging for mercy. Ivan realises with a pang of unrestrained fury what a devilishly clever idea it had been to bind a Grisha’s hands in such a manner- Fedyor’s hands are close enough, he could twist them if he tried, he could use his powers to do away with his captors. But the barbed edges would shred his skin further if he did, would cause him to suffer and bleed even more. The druskelle had evidently known that; they had risked their own lives for the sake of toying with their prisoners in such a sadistic, inhuman manner.

Fedyor’s weak, pained cry jolts Ivan out of his fury-addled thoughts, and he realises belatedly that he has pulled too roughly at the wires; fresh blood is trickling from somewhere, and Ivan swears colourfully under his breath.

“I’m sorry, moye serdtse, I’m sorry,” he whispers, hoping Fedyor can hear him, hoping he knows Ivan doesn’t want to hurt him, he just has to get him down for his own good “I’m almost done. Just stay strong for me, Fedya.”

Finally, he manages to pry the hook loose from the wire; Fedyor’s body drops lifelessly, but Ivan is there to catch him and gently lower him to the floor, until Fedyor is lying against his chest. Ivan holds him gently, cradling him against his own body and whispering apologies and reassurances. It’s only then that Fedyor’s eyes open just slightly, brown irises glazed with pain and pupils dilated. His cracked, bloodied lips move, and Ivan has to strain to hear him.

“You found me.” The injured man whispers, and Ivan nods seriously.

“Of course I did, my love. I’m here now. You’re safe.” He doesn’t mention how he’s been too late; how he’s allowed the druskelle to torture Fedyor for four long, endless days. How they have lost five of their own, because Ivan had been too incompetent to find them fast enough.

Yet Fedyor’s mouth twitches into a small, relieved smile. “I knew you would… you always… find me…”

“Shh…” Ivan lays a hand on Fedyor’s cheek, flushed with fever. “Don’t talk now.”

They stay still for a little while; Fedyor’s ragged breathing echoing in sync with Ivan’s relieved sighs as he holds his beloved close, peppering gentle, loving kisses across his bloodied cheeks and brow. Eventually, Ivan carefully places a hand over Fedyor’s still bound wrists.

“I need to take these off.” He says softly, and catches the glint of fear in Fedyor’s delirious gaze. “I cannot lie to you, Fedya, it will hurt. But it will only be for a little while. It’ll feel much better after.”

Fedyor whimpers softly. “…so much. They hurt so much, Vanya. My hands… it feels like they’re on fire…”

“I know, I know.” Ivan voice cracks with despair; seeing Fedyor suffer like this, it’s too much to bear. “I will make it better, I promise. Just… Just trust me, dearest.”

Fedyor’s eyes close, but he nods tiredly; even while in so much pain, he must know there’s no other solution. Ivan takes his kefta off, bundles it up into a makeshift pillow and lays Fedyor down on it as carefully as he can. Then he calls out to one of his Grisha, requesting the sharpest and thinnest blade that can be found in their equipment or the druskelle’s. While rummaging, he takes the opportunity to hastily check on the other survivor, a younger Inferni woman- she’s alive and in slightly better condition than Fedyor, although her hands have been bound in a similar manner. By using her powers to heat them up, however, she has made the wires pliant and thus easier to remove. Clever, Ivan thinks to himself. He would have asked her to do the same for Fedyor’s bonds, but she looks so pale, and she can’t even sit up without feeling faint. No, he can’t run her any more ragged. The dagger will have to do.

Finally, Ivan finds a fine, razor-sharp blade within one of the druskelle’s coats. It’s possibly used for gutting fish, and is less than clean, but it’s his only choice, and anyway, Fedyor’s probably already suffering from an infection judging by the rust that covers the wires. Dried fish gore won’t make a big difference at this point.

“Close your eyes and count to fifty, Fedya.” Ivan encourages as he kneels next to his partner. “Focus on the numbers. Don’t think of anything else.”

Fedyor nods feebly and does as he’s told; his eyes close and his lips begin to move in a voiceless mumble as he starts to count. Ivan slips his fingers carefully between the coils of wire, and as gently as he can, he begins to saw at it with the dagger. No matter how gentle he tries to be, however, Fedyor’s body immediately tenses and his breath comes out in short gasps. Ivan shushes him softly, although he knows it’s not much help. The best he can do for Fedyor now, is focus on his task. And so he does- he does his best to shut off the pained gasps that soon turn into whimpers, and saws methodically at the accursed barbed coil until, little by little, it starts to come off.

“…fifty.” Fedyor murmurs shakily at some point, and Ivan doesn’t have to look to know there are tears running down his blood-crusted cheeks.

“Ten more, moye serdtse. I’m almost done. You’re doing so well. You’re so, so brave, my Fedyenka. So brave.”

Fedyor’s chest heaves as he cries quietly, but he doesn’t complain, not even when Ivan finally cuts through the wires and is able to pull them away. There’s a sickening wet sound as the barbs are pulled free from Fedyor’s flesh, where they’d been wedged for days, and Fedyor’s back arches- for once, he can’t keep in the hoarse scream that rips out of his throat. But the next moment his muscles relax as Ivan unbinds him completely, his fingers twitching slightly in relief as blood circulates back to them. Ivan breathes out a sigh, and places his palm on Fedyor’s forehead.

“I’m done, Fedya. It’s alright now.” Fedyor only shakes his head a little, unable to speak. But his heartbeat has eased just slightly- he’s still in pain, but he’s better.

The group makes camp right there, inside the warehouse (after moving the corpses of the druskelle away and dumping them into a snowdrift to be prey for scavenging animals. Serves them right). They hold a funeral pyre for the deceased Grisha, but Ivan only speaks a few words as the squad’s leader and then retreats back into the building; one of the others has lit a fire in the middle, right under an opening in the rotting roof, using old scraps and thin branches. The interior is warm now, and the smell of burning cloth and wood is chasing away the odour of stale blood and dead bodies. Ivan directs two of the Grisha to stand watch as soon as the funeral pyre outside is done, and focuses on the task at hand.

He digs around the ruins until he finds something that resembles an old, cracked wooden bowl- possibly used by the previous owner of the establishment to collect the majority of the blood that poured from freshly slaughtered cattle. It looks cleaner than one would expect, and it smells only vaguely of blood; nothing a good rinse with snow can’t fix. After that’s done, Ivan refills the bowl with snow and holds it over the fire until it’s turned into warm water. He rummages through the squad’s supplies too, and finds clean cloths and bandages.

Fedyor’s eyes flutter behind pale, close lids when Ivan returns to his side, although he seems to weak to open them. Still, Ivan knows he’s still conscious and in pain.

“I’m going to clean your wounds.” He says softly, sitting next to the other man. Fedyor can only hum in agreement- it’s not like he could move away even if he wanted to. Even if he didn’t know his wounds had to be cleaned before infection set in for real. There was no Healer with them, as conflict hadn’t been expected. It had only been a reconnaissance mission. It would be three days of fast riding at the very best, until they made it back to the Little Palace, and Fedyor wouldn’t last for half of it if Ivan didn’t do something to keep the infection at bay.

So with as much care as he can possibly muster, Ivan takes hold of Fedyor’s hand into his own and lifts it up slowly to take a closer look. Even with the dried blood obscuring the worst of it, Ivan can already tell it’s worse than he’s initially assessed; the cuts are deep, the skin around them swollen and hot to the touch, and there’s white liquid concentrated on the edges of the deeper, wider gashes. Fedyor’s hand is trembling in his own, and Ivan can only imagine how much it truly hurts. Fedyor has a high pain tolerance, yet even for him this must be almost unbearable.

In a desperate attempt to comfort his partner, Ivan starts to hum a slow lullaby as he soaks a strip of cloth in the warm water, then wrings it out and starts to slowly, gently clean the blood and grime away from the cuts. Fedyor lets out a quiet sigh of relief, the clean, warm water immediately doing wonders for his mangled hand. Ivan allows himself a small smile; he doesn’t cease his humming while he continues to carefully clean and bandage Fedyor’s left hand, then his right. All the while he keeps a metaphorical eye on Fedyor’s heartbeat, glad to feel it gradually grow slower and more relaxed. The last thing Ivan does after he’s checked Fedyor for other open wounds (he’s satisfied to find nothing, although the dark bruises on his face, chest and ribs are certainly worrisome), is clean the rest of the blood from his husband’s hair, face, and neck. By the end of it, the water in the bowl has turned from clear to a dark, muddy brown colour. Ivan does away with it as soon as he can- he can no longer stand to look at Fedyor’s blood.

Most of the other Grisha have gone to sleep by now, including the other survivor- a good sign all in all, and Ivan can see from where he stands that her own wounds have also been taken care of. The two Grisha he’d ordered to stand watch are doing so in a perfectly straight posture, even after four gruelling days of riding and searching, and Ivan makes a mental note to mention their names and devotion to the General when they go back to the capital. When he’s certain everything is in order, Ivan finally allows himself to lie down next to Fedyor. The wooden floor is uncomfortable at best, but he doesn’t care. Gently, he slings one arm over his husband’s sleeping form and draws him close. He’s never letting Fedyor go, ever again.

Fedyor hums a little in his sleep, cracking one eye open to look at Ivan. Immediately, he smiles tiredly and Ivan smiles back, unable to begrudge him such a simple pleasure.

“How are you feeling, moye serdtse?” He asks.

“Much… much better.” Fedyor whispers in a relaxed manner. Yet Ivan doesn’t harbour any illusions- he knows the pain and fever will come back with a vengeance soon, and he wants Fedyor to get as much rest as possible until then. He’ll need it. So he places a chaste kiss on Fedyor’s lips and starts filing his hand through the latter’s hair. Predictably, Fedyor submits to the affections; Ivan knows how to best make him relax, even under such conditions.

“Sleep.” Ivan whispers tenderly, and Fedyor nods. Before he closes his eyes again, Fedyor offers him another small smile.

“I knew you’d find me.” He mouthed, and Ivan nodded, pride and love and devotion swelling in his chest.

“Of course, my love. I will never leave you. I promise.”

Even if the whole Ravka, the whole world, was against them, they believed in each other. And in the end, that was that really mattered.

#my writing #whumptober 2021 #fivan #heartrender husbands #shadow & bone #fedyor kaminsky #ivan no last name #fedyor x ivan #angst #whump #whumptober

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omgviolette12 · 5 years ago

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After Hours - Chapter 7 A professor Loki fanfiction

Previous Chapter

Summary: Evelyn Monroe has been a TA for professor Laufeyson’s Calculus course for four months now. He was known to be quite strict, but that never deterred her from applying for the position in order to be close to the man she had been secretly pining for. One evening, she returns to his office after opening hours… and with her bountiful luck, she walks in on something not meant to be seen.

Chapters: 7/?

Words: 2800+

Warnings: Explicit sexual content

Tags: @milkymaidme @dangertoozmanykids101@alexakeyloveloki @little-moonbeam-666 @marvel-ous-fics@clovermariear@lynnesm@bitchyikes@moon-child-of-a-poet, @allthecraftandthings@bubblegumspitt @shockwavee @blondekel77 @nerd--nirvana @valdemarismynonbinarylove

If you’d like to be added, let me know. I’ve also posted this on AO3

_______________

Evelyn stared blankly at the man in front of her, as his words and the close proximity between them stunned her into silence.

She attempted to formulate a coherent reply to his filthy admission, but all she could manage was a squeaky whimper.

"Oh…"

Oh? Oh?! This man, my professor, literally just said he wanted to fuck me to high heaven, and all I could say was oh?!!

Despite sensing the woman in his arms had grown increasingly flustered, to the point he feared she would faint again, Loki refused to relent as he continued to bombard her with his fantasies.

"I've watched you for so long, wanted you for so long. To see that beautiful smile of yours, shine just for me. To see you laugh, cry, and scream - Just. For. Me. I will have it no other way, from this day forward. I swear it. No longer will I settle for someone else."

His words were filled with such passion, such overwhelming possessiveness, that Evelyn could not believe that it was directed towards her. Of all the women he could have in this world, he wanted...her? Little ole' Evelyn? A student?

She couldn't believe it. As she began to doubt the sincerity behind his words, Candice’s voice replayed inside her head.

‘He just seems the type to...you know, fuck his students on the regular...have hoes on call, you know the works. Just warning you, I don't want your feelings hurt.’

Because of this, Evelyn gradually began to think that he probably just wanted a quick romp in the hay with a student to satiate whatever fantasies he may have, and then find some way to shut her up later.

She wanted...to be more than that.

“...And what makes you think...that..uh..I want the same thing...? That I want you?”

Evelyn once again blurted out the first thing that came to mind, while attempting to distance herself away from him. She had tried to sound confident, but expectedly, she failed miserably.

Despite that, her words did manage to stun him for a moment - for he did not expect her to utter such nonsense.

He fixed her with a steady glare, daring her to disagree with his next words,

"Just moments before, in front of my door, you were muttering to yourself how much you yearned for my touch, despite my roughness. You expect me to believe otherwise?"

Evelyn was stumped, mouth opening in shock. She didn't want to believe he actually heard her and pushed it to the back of her head, pretending that his reply at the time meant something else. But the dastardly man held no reservations about burying her in embarrassment.

Nevertheless, she continued to play dumb in order to preserve the remaining scraps of dignity she so cherished.

"I could like...um... I don’t know, have a boyfriend..or..something...? I was probably thinking about him at the time."

The room dropped several degrees in that instant.

"...Boyfriend?" The forceful way in which he spat those words made it sound like it was the most repulsive thing in the world, his eyes now cold as ice.

He laughed mirthlessly as he closed the distance she had made between them, stalking towards her like a wolf eyeing his prey. "Now, pray tell, who would this...boyfriend of yours be? I have never seen you with -"

He took a pause before he could finish his sentence. Slowly, his face began to twist in barely concealed anger, as if he realized something.

"...You mean to say…" his eyes slowly narrowed as he spoke through gritted teeth, "It was that daft boy that came to get your things? Andrès, was it? Pardon me for saying this, but I cannot see what has you so smitten -"

She wanted to play along with it. But the idea itself was so preposterous to her brain that she busted out in laughter before she could even think to stop herself.

"Oh fuck no! Andrès? Mr. Chunky Chunks? Phew! You're real funny, you know that?"

If she were any sillier, she would've slapped a knee before rolling on the floor, still laughing at his suggestion.

Evelyn did not look up to see his expression, but she guessed he must've looked pretty aggrieved.

" He's...heh-heh... he's just a friend. Did you really think..."

Evelyn trailed off, slowly recalling her interaction with Andrés earlier that day. His sour demeanor, and anger at failing the course after speaking to Loki on her behalf.

“Uh...wait… is that why,” Evelyn laughed nervously to herself, before looking up at him to gauge his reaction, “...Is that why you failed him? Because you thought he was -“

“- Of course not,” He cut her off a bit too quickly, slowly averting his eyes from her person, “ The boy had missed classes, with today being his third absence. As my TA, surely you must know what that means.”

His words were logical - if Andrès missed that many classes, then his failing had nothing to do with her, thankfully. But if that was the case, why was he avoiding direct eye contact? And why was he getting a bit red in the face?

"In any case," her professor abruptly cleared his throat to change the subject, "We have more important things to discuss."

Suddenly even more nervous than she was before, Evelyn's heart began to thump loudly at the change of his tone.

Well, here goes nothing...

“I...um, I now know that you’re attracted to me. But...I’m not sure what you’re expecting from me,”

Evelyn began quietly, twiddling her thumbs, “ At this point, I can’t deny that I feel the same way. But...I think what we want from each other is a bit...different.”

Loki raised his dark brows at her insinuation, “ And what exactly do you think I want from you, darling?”

Evelyn sighed to herself. It was best to be honest with the man, he could tell a white lie from a mile away.

“...I think you just want me for sex. A quick lil fuck, fling, whatever. Then you’d toss me to the side whenever it’d convenience you.” She took a deep breath, hands across her chest as a source of comfort, “ ...I want more than that. I am more than that.”

His eyes revealed nothing as he looked at her in silence, seemingly unaffected by her words - but the slight tightening of his jaw was extremely telling.

Evelyn worried she might’ve been a bit too blunt about it. But his voice soon echoed within the room, unusually soft and complacent,

“...I understand that due to my actions towards you, and what you have seen of me, that I have left a rather unfavorable impression of myself attributed by a lack of self control,” he began to move a hand to caress her face, but hesitated for a moment.

When she did not flinch away, he rested a large hand against her neck, caressing her cheek idly with his thumb, “ You may doubt my sincerity, but please trust that I want you entirely as my woman, my lover, or whatever title you feel comfortable with. I...I admit my initial intentions towards you were not pure. However, just your body isn’t enough now, as wonderful as it is. I need your heart, your mind. And in return, you shall have mine as well.”

In response to his heartfelt confession, Evelyn could only gape at him with big, googly fish eyes. Why did she feel like she just got proposed to?!

Suddenly dry in the mouth, Evelyn forced herself to choke out whatever insecurities she had...about whatever what was between them now. He was so open with her - the man was usually extremely closed off with his feelings, she could hardly pinpoint his mood most of the time in the past...but now she could see a side of him she never thought she would ever witness. His vulnerability. She could at least show him the same courtesy.

“...I’m just - I’m afraid I won’t be able to make you happy… I’m not as experienced and knowledgeable as you, and other women... and.. uhm..”

She could tell that her babbling had piqued his interest, as he gently prompted her to continue by massaging her neck in an attempt to help her relax a bit.

However, it only made it harder for her to speak, so her next words came out only a tad jumbled since she spoke as fast as possible to get it over with.

“You’rewaytoobigandIhaven’thadmypussypoppedyet!”

Phew, got it out there!

Feeling accomplished but mostly embarrassed, Evelyn turned her head away from his touch to cover her face, hiding behind her small hands.

An uncomfortable amount of silence passed.

“Could… pfft-“

In response to the stifled laughter before her, Evelyn slowly peeked from her hands to look at his face.

“Could you please, repeat what you just said? Just...just once more. I didn’t quite catch that.”

He was grinning from ear to ear, his expression extremely jovial to the point she gaped at him in fascination. When was the last time she had seen this cold, strict professor of hers laugh so openly? Never. With the exception of the little chuckle he graced her with once, his smile was a rarity. So needless to say, she felt herself blushing at the thought of being the source of his happiness, and future happiness to come. Oh, and the sound of his laugh was hot as hell too.

In any case, she righted herself before she decided to change her sentence completely, “Ahem! Mm! Uh...I said that I am extremely inexperienced when it comes to pleasing a man, as you’d technically be my first ever relationship. And first everything.There. I said what I said.”

His grin grew even wider at the change, “If those are your concerns, please rest assured. I’m in no rush to… haha... ‘pop your pussy’ as you so eloquently put it. As I’ve stated previously, I intend for our relationship to be a serious one. Set the pace however you’d like. But when the time comes...”

He leaned in closer, causing her breath to momentarily falter, “ I’d be more than happy to teach you, many many things. Just as I’ve done in the past. You’re a fast learner, darling. You needn’t be so worried. I’ll be slow, and gentle. Your first time will be pleasurable - and like a good girl, you will accept all of me.”

In those icy blue eyes, she could see his barely constrained lust - the tension in his shoulders as he held himself back from giving into his baser desires. He didn’t want to scare her away like last time, she realized.

But those very words that left his lips, awakened something primal within Evelyn herself. Her skin prickled with excitement, and she could swear the wetness from her most intimate parts could rival Niagara Falls right about now.

Since we’re both consenting adults attracted to one another...a kiss to start things off wouldn’t be so bad, right? Yep. A nice little peck. Just to see what it’s like...

Horny Evelyn™ has finally made an appearance. So, spurred on by adrenaline and hormones, she decided to take the plunge and ask for one.

"Then...then to start things off, how about a kiss? I mean - just a peck, I've..oh shit, this is so embarrassing - I mean, I've always imagined what it would be like...with you. So yeah…"

Loki seemed surprised that she even suggested it, his eyes widening by a fraction. “While extremely tempting my dear, I fear I lack the self control at the moment to have it be…’just a kiss’. Unless, you’d be willing to take the risk.”

Evelyn pretended to think about it for a moment, before replying with a sharp nod of her head, “Yep, I’m sure. Since I’m with you now...I kinda want to get used to being intimate with someone. Baby steps. So yeah... let's do it."

The air changed, charging with so much tension it was almost stifling. She watched as he came closer to her, his entire demeanor giving away the excitement he felt at the opportunity to finally kiss her without reproach.

Their breaths picked up when he snaked an arm behind her back to pull her flush against him, while using the other to tip her head up by the chin.

Without breaking eye contact, he inched closer and closer, until their lips finally touched.

As soon as they did, Evelyn felt as if she stepped into an entirely different world. Everything disappeared in that moment, as if he was the only one that existed. His scent, and the softness of his lips were now the only things that mattered. Overwhelmed with this sudden sensation, she grasped at his shirt, desperate for more contact.

Loki had indeed intended for the kiss to be chaste - but the sudden action on her part spurred him to take things just a bit further. It was a bit underhanded, but a little pinch to her hip gave him all the access to her mouth he needed.

Instead of focusing on the sudden pain to her hip, her senses were instead zoned in on the sensation of his tongue that was now inside her mouth. She moaned, reveling at how it felt to have him inside her. She imagined her first kiss to be a sloppy mess, but the man kissed with sensual grace. Aside from the masterful use of his tongue that was about to leave her a panting mess, the subtle movements of his hips against her own left her wanting for more.

Without breaking the kiss, he turned them around so that she was now backed up against his desk. The position reminded her of when he first embraced her in his classroom - her legs open for him to stand between them, and the familiar hardness that pressed against her core.

She let out a small gasp against his lips when he began to grind said erection against her with earnest, the sudden jolt of pleasure catching her off-guard. Delighted at the sounds coming from the young woman before him, he grew even bolder, slowly moving his hands away from her hips to grasp her butt - lifting her unto his desk in one fell swoop.

Heh…”just a peck” my ass. I might actually get fuckidy fucked to the moon and back at this rate. So much for going slow…

Unexpectedly however, her professor soon broke the kiss of his own volition. She was about to protest, but the look in his eyes shut her up immediately. It was filled to the brim with want, and she worried that they now passed the point of no return.

“I would like to touch you...even more. May I?

She was in a bit of a daze, so she was confused as to what he was asking of her. Weren’t they already touching?

Smiling at her confusion, he made it easier for her by showing exactly what he meant.

So, Evelyn nothing short of yelped in surprise when she felt his large hands cup both of her breasts through her dress.

She didn't stop him when he began to massage them - it was as if she were in a trance like state of pleasure. She watched his hands with rapt attention as he played with her breasts, and just the sight of her professor touching her in such an intimate way caused the ache in her sex to worsen.

She jerked against his hardness with a sudden pinch of a nipple, causing him to release a deep groan of pleasure.

Evelyn decided that was the sexiest sound she'd ever heard, and she wanted more of it.

So, she began to move her hips in tandem with his, bringing about a friction that left them moaning unashamedly.

"You feel so good, my dear Evelyn… fuck! - I'd give anything in the world to be deep inside your tight-"

Knock knock!

"- Hey..uh... professor Laufeyson? You in there?"

The jarring voice of Andrès froze the two lovers within the room, effectively breaking the spell of wanton abandon between them.

___________________

A/N: I apologize for the delay! I was busy getting ready for school, doing assignments, etc. That my writing/reading really took a backseat. Also, some exciting news - I’m going to go see betrayal on Oct.13th! I’m so excited...like omg!

Thank you for reading, let me know what you thought, what you

hope to see, etc.

#loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki fic #Loki Laufeyson #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston fic #loki odinson #loki smut #professor loki

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aplaceofstone · 5 years ago

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Twin Peaks Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Dale Cooper & Laura Palmer Characters: Dale Cooper (Twin Peaks), Laura Palmer Additional Tags: character-typical orientalism, Dreamscapes, Post-Canon, Symbolism, Road Trips, Future Fic, but also past fic! what year is this, trick - Freeform Summary:

Windom told Dale about the dugpas. Dale tells Laura about the dugpas. Laura doesn't say much in this one, already knowing that projection is one hell of a drug. And while they don't talk about it, they both remember peeking under the curtains only to find themselves staring at a vast and starless expanse beyond. In the end there is nothing to say.

My Trick or Treat story for @cerealninjakat!

ETA I’m told AO3 is being glitchy, does this work?

It's another all-night drive to nowhere. Town after town, highway after highway until time and distance lose meaning. Their whole world has shrunk to the space within the arcs of a rental car's headlights, all dark asphalt and road paint. The radio is broken. When words flow out of their throat, they come out heavy and full of static. All they fill the air with is ghosts.

"Have I told you of my encounter with the dugpas?" asks Cooper.

"The what?" asks back Laura, eager to break the silence, not quite sure this is the way to do it.

"Dugpas, Laura." He grows bold, there's an echo of an old story molding his words, it's an easy path to follow. "The dark magicians who are otherwise known as red caps, as Madame Helena Blavatsky describes them in her early theosophical writings. They are an old sect of monks who resisted the yellow-cap gelugpa reform of the fourteenth century - a deeply spiritual affair, the details of which, if I am to be completely honest, mostly elude me - and practice their drunken sorceries in the great monastery of Sakia-jong, deep in the heart of Tibet. Or… in Bhutan." He frowns, losing momentum, struggling to chase back that memory, that knowledge, the abstract idea of a geographical map, finding no help in Laura's distant gaze. "...sources differ. It is said... that they can imbue even common objects with their evil magnetism. It is a fearsome power to be sure. To hex pieces of cloth that they place on the mountain paths that lead to their monastery, so that incautious hikers will step upon them and be subject to a tremendous psychic shock, making them fall to their doom. The high path of knowledge and spirituality is indeed a treacherous one..."

"Oh, yes." She nods, slowly. It's a slow day. "I met those. Didn't think they were monks, though."

"What do you mean?"

"I met those. But I didn't think they were monks."

Cooper nods. Certainties like that, they go nowhere. One day he and Laura herself will find out what she meant by those words, if it was her memory, or his, or something they have not experienced yet, or they will not. Happens to the best of them.

Regardless, he has his tale to tell, a tale which, as he recalls, began when he appeared in the mountains, far, far away. "Laura, the mountains…"

In his memory, which is coming back to him as would a dream, one moment he was not there, the next he was, dragged through the ether by invisible forces. Summoned, is, the word, through obscure magic rituals. The mountains! The stone was old and heavy under the melting snow, banded, folded upon itself in so many layers that traced their parallel lines along the sharp cut of the mountainside; the gray horizon stretched farther than he had ever seen. Cooper stood motionless on a flat, dark rock. The pale six o'clock sun was still high in the sky. Amidst that stillness, a crimson line snaked through the valley, slowly marching toward him. It was a procession of monks, chanting in unison as they walked, and they wore red robes and red hats, and he knew what they were, and he could not move, overtaken as he was by fear. One by one, as they came next to him, they grabbed his face and observed it, tracing their fingers along his hairline and down to his jaw as if to find some secret there, a crack, a fault line. He didn't know their faces and they knew his face and they judged him. He knew, as he knows now, that there were good monks far away, in the monastery which lay at the end of the valley, whose golden domes could be seen on the horizon where the two mountains met. He thought, in his terror, that if he could get away, he would be able to take refuge there and the good monks would look after him. He thought they would show him their truths. But he could not get away. One by one, they grabbed his face and observed him, and they let him go. Imperfect moon, they said. Imperfect moon. There was no moon in the sky, but that is what they said, and then they left. The valley was empty again. He wanted to run to the safety of the monastery, but as the last monk passed him by, he was not in the mountains anymore. Whatever mystical force had taken hold of him had loosened its grip, or another power had grown stronger. He found himself back in his bed, relieved by the simple familiarity of the objects around him, and went on to get a good cup of coffee, a fact which is positioned as the moral of the story, and maybe it is, he concludes with an awkward smile.

And then: with the gravity of the plate collision that gave birth to the mountains, this moment shifts, morphs, stretches, grows tighter and more brittle.

They linger in their motel room. The desert fills the horizon outside their window; Laura feels that she has seen this place already, with its vast clouds above and constellations of cacti on the ground, and lived this life already, and heard this story already. So it goes, on and on, swirling in the clouds, already written in secret patterns on the ground. They are tired.

"Have I told you of my encounter with the dugpas?" asks Cooper.

"The what?" asks back Laura.

"Dugpas, Laura. That is a name for the darker parts of the self. There is, you see, a tendency in occultist writings to speak in metaphors for the struggle of the human soul, so a text may describe the depraved dealings of a dark sorcerer, but when push comes to shove, what they mean to show is that all men may fall prey to those fallacies. It has long been proven that symbolic images are a way for the human brain to grasp abstract concepts that would be much too difficult to be absorbed directly. And so the Path of the Shadow, or the Left-Hand Path as it is also known, is a dark discipline for the the so-called black magicians of the Occident, but their archetype applies to us all. In a way, it is said, it stands for the selfish choices made by our ego in every little event in our lives, when we move away from universal unity and toward separation."

"Story of our lives," Laura laughs. There is no answer Cooper could offer that would make them feel better, so he offers none. Story of their lives.

Her laughter fades and he has to keep telling his story, to make sense of it. In this particular story of his life, then, the curtains parted and the mountains appeared before him.

"No, no, no, let me start again: I was standing in a small room, back then," he says, and they both know where that back then is, and that it still looms over them, trembling red in the corner of their eye, chevron reflections in a diner's toilet. It is them. But back then they curtains and the chevron were all around them, they were a place, which usually affords a certain degree of separation from the self. Except all of a sudden the curtains came up to him, sneaking on the floor and rising up against him from all directions. His body was surrounded by heavy red velvet. He tried to fend off the attack, but he saw faces in the fabric's folds, sneering at him. What he had thought to be curtains were rows of men and women dressed in red vests and red caps, some of them old, some of them young, their faces were all harsh and marked by evil, and they were all him.

This sea of red-clad people who were him swarmed to him and parted back, and instead of the room, the mountains laid before him. The mountains! The stone was old and heavy under the melting snow, banded, folded upon itself in so many layers that traced their parallel lines along the sharp cut of the mountainside; the gray horizon stretched farther than he had ever seen. Cooper stood motionless on a flat, dark rock, trembling, feeling naked against the open expanse of the valley. The pale six o'clock sun was still high in the sky. The figures in red had swarmed the ground. A doctor came forward - long face, gray hair, a veterinarian, a distant part of Dale Cooper but a part of him nonetheless - and visited him as he stood there, paralyzed by fear. Cooper knew that this sea of red was not all of him: there was a house far away at the end of the valley, whose roofs could be seen where the two mountains met, where all the good he had done waited for him, wearing different vests and different faces, to look after him and to show him the way.

"Ever had any luck running from yourself?" asks Laura, her interest piqued.

"Oh, they let me go."

The doctor stitched him back up, shaking his head at the end of his exam. Instead of explaining himself, he fell atop him, unfolding like a piece of fabric, leaving behind only the echo of his words: he shall bring others. He was a curtain again, and so were the others, and Cooper was back there, back inside. He spent the rest of that day thinking about those faces, an instant and twenty-five years. But the curtains never showed them again. They were far away.

Once again the moment shifts. It cracks, splinters, gains new mass.

They walk, because a car will not lead them where they need to be. They have been walking for a long time. The day is cold for the season, the snow hasn't fully relented yet, but their jackets are warm and their boots well-worn. The slope is mild and they are not alone on the path, tourists and locals alike enjoying the pleasures of a sunny day.

A row of gaudy little flags planted on the edge of the path catches Dale's attention; he waves at Laura to wait for him and kneels down to check out the closest one. The fabric is smooth under his fingers. The ground is smooth under his knees and he falls off the path, down the cliff. The world goes dark. Eventually, he lands on a different path underneath, one they did not tread on their way up. Laura is following after him, balancing herself with her open arms as she steps on big, flat stones on the mountain's side. With one last hop, she is standing by his side, helping him back up with a steady hand. They look ahead, trying to find their bearings.

The mountains beckon them. The mountains! It comes back to them, as would a dream, or they come back to it, or both at once when seen from an impossible perspective encompassing both ends of the story. The stone is old and heavy under the melting snow, banded, folded upon itself in so many layers that trace their parallel lines along the sharp cut of the mountainside; the gray horizon stretches farther than he has ever seen. Cooper stands motionless on a flat, dark rock, Laura by his side. The pale six o'clock sun is still high in the sky.

There are people walking on the path above; some stop to look at them. There are rows of people on a path higher up still, and yet more on the other side. Wool hats all over, 'tis the season (although which season it is, they could not say); some of them are red. They stare, for a while. Then they walk away, carrying their red hats with them, struck by indifference, keeping their secrets, their vices, their miseries, spreading them into the world. This place does not care. They have fallen into a mirror of itself and see now with razor-sharp clarity the simplicity of it all under the tales and symbols. It is vast and terrifying.

"Have I... told you… about...?" Dale says, and they are among ghosts, and a cold fog covers his words.

"Tell me that story," says Laura with the same urgency in her voice. "How did you get out?"

"I…"

The valley ends somewhere up North, as all valleys do. But there is nothing at the end of the road, where the mountains meet. No-one has summoned them: no-one has the power to let them go. Evil exists. A desolate crossing place leads into the unknown.

"I don't think I ever did."

#twin peaks #dale cooper #laura palmer

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sending-the-message · 6 years ago

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Anglerfish by coffinstuffer

Coyotes will sometimes lure domestic dogs out into the woods by playing with them. A single coyote will approach the dog, ears forward, tail up, acting friendly as can be. It may even roll on its back and expose its belly in a show of submission, to draw the dog into a bout of mock wrestling. Gradually, the games will push farther and farther away from home. Deep into the forest. That’s when the rest of the pack appears. Clusters. The dog’s new friend becomes its executioner as the pack begins to attack.

It’s not uncommon for lonely children to bond with imaginary companions. They invent invisible friends to pass the hours away with. It is considered a typically harmless behavior, as long as the child understands the ultimate difference between fantasy and reality.

I’ve often wondered about the correlation between invisible childhood friends and later mental disturbance. I wonder what the statistics of suicides and disappearances might look like, when juxtaposed against the incidence of imaginary friends and what age someone stopped seeing them.

The first invisible friend I can remember was named Kevin. He was a little boy just like me, if not a few years older. We used to play together on the beaches of Lake Michigan. Building sand castles, collecting rocks and splashing around in the water.

Kevin liked to swim a lot more than I did. He’d dog-paddle out far into the water, giggling and urging me to join him. I tried a few times, but whenever I swam more than ten feet from the shore, my mother would call me back. Kev and I played together almost every week from my early childhood until I was nine and my family moved farther inland.

I didn’t even realize that Kevin wasn’t a corporeal person until years later. I made some offhand comment to my mother about my old lakeside companion. She seemed confused, and said there were never any other children when we went to the lake. I would laugh and talk to myself. But there was no Kevin. At least, not that she ever saw.

Hyenas can mimic human laughter. There is a lot of African folklore about evil spirits that can imitate the voices of loved ones to draw you away from the village.

These stories might have been fairy tales, but they served a very real purpose. The people who survived were the ones who didn’t follow strange sounds in the dark.

I met Polly a few weeks after my family moved into a new house, in an area with dense forests and narrow roads. Rural Michigan might as well be the Canadian tundra. We were farther north than Toronto. Though the summers were pleasant enough, the winters got bitter cold.

I don’t know for a fact that I was the only one who could see Polly, because she only ever came around when I was alone. But once or twice, she seemed to disappear into thin air, which makes me think she wasn’t made of flesh and blood.

Polly was… weird. She made me nervous from the second she walked out of the woods. Maybe it was her bare, dirt-covered feet, or her wide, glassy-eyes. Even at ten years old, I knew that other children weren’t supposed to just appear like that. She shouldn’t have been wandering around in the middle of nowhere without an adult.

She always wore the same thing. A faded, floral dress, with her straw-colored hair in two messy braids. She never offered any explanation of where she came from or where her family lived, beyond just pointing back into the woods. She said they didn’t live far. They had a cabin out there.

I didn’t believe her.

But I was bored. No other children lived within walking distance. So Polly and I would kick a soccer ball around, and climb trees, and play cowboys and pirates. She always wanted me to come to her house. She said she had a lot of fun games there, but I wasn’t allowed to leave the yard.

Polly was predictable, at least. She was always waiting for me after school, regardless of the weather. When it got too cold out, we played up in my attic. I was alarmed by her lack of boots or winter clothing at first. But she always just shrugged and said the temperature didn’t bother her. She did try to get me to come outside with her sometimes. She’d say I didn’t really need a coat either. She said that if you stayed in the snow long enough, you’d stop feeling it.

At the time, I wasn’t certain she was trying to harm me. She was confused, lonely, and desperate for a friend. But at the back of my mind, a nagging voice told me she didn’t have my best interests at heart. So I never did follow her out into the elements without proper protection.

Sirens are an ancient idea. Creatures that take the shape of gorgeous women, or whatever their prey would find most enticing. Creatures that sing so beautifully, they can bewitch any listener. Creatures that are such effective predators, their prey doesn’t notice the trap until their ship has been dashed to bits on the rocky shore and there’s blood in the water.

My family moved just a little outside Detroit when I was about thirteen. I’m sure you’ve heard a lot of stories about what the city is like. What a ghost town it is. I’ve even heard it compared to a post-apocalyptic wasteland. But you have to understand, it was a pretty gradual descent from the 60’s until about 2000. In the early 90’s, it wasn’t in the terrible state it is now.

My parents and I moved into a relatively nice apartment complex. I went to the nearby middle school, and it was fine. I didn’t make friends very fast, but I also wasn’t scared for my life or anything.

Robert introduced himself a few days after we finished unpacking our boxes. He was fifteen. A tall, skinny black kid with a buzzed head and a thousand-watt smile. He said he lived down in one of the basement units, though I never saw it. His father drank a lot, and didn’t like company. We would sometimes hang out at my place, but it was kind of cramped, and my mother was usually home. So Robert and I spent a lot of time on the roof of the building.

It was terribly exciting. I remember the way my heart used to skip and flutter when we stole cigarettes from the corner store, or slipped a forty into our baggy jeans. On cool autumn nights, when Robert and I would lie back on a blanket and look at the stars, my skin would get inexplicably warm. I’d feel strange and fuzzy all over, and it was more than just the watery beer.

He talked to me a lot about how he wanted to be a pilot. He’d always dreamed of joining the Air Force. His dad said it was a stupid idea. They don’t let faggots in the army. I’d never heard that word before. Faggot. It felt heavy, and dirty, and also thrilling in the same way that everything about Robert was. When he cupped my face in his wide hands and pressed our lips together, it was like the hormonal floodgates burst open and I was suddenly hungry in ways I’d never experienced.

I started to suspect Robert was not real when I saw him fall nine stories into a dumpster below, and get up again without so much as a scratch on him. I decided to ignore all better judgment, because I wanted to keep kissing him.

We only lived in that Detroit apartment for about eight months. By the end, I was well and truly in love, and when Robert whispered that there was a way we could stay together–I almost listened. But I didn’t want to step off the roof. I was scared. I knew it would hurt. When I refused, Robert became despondent and disappeared. I didn’t see him at all the last three days I spent in that building.

Versions of skinwalkers and shape shifters appear in most cultures.

It’s a terrifying idea. Being hurt by something that looks like a friend. Danger that seems harmless. Wolves in sheep’s clothing.

I can’t help but wonder if something as old as humanity itself might be the thing these legends sprang from. Perhaps these stories are warnings of some primal memory. A creature that looks like a person, but absolutely isn’t.

After my parents split up, my mother and I went to Ohio. She had a sister there, just a short drive from Columbus. We all lived together in a trailer, along with my five-year-old cousin Becca.

I was sixteen by then, so I was often left to watch Becca after school and on weekends. I didn’t mind it too much. It wasn't like I had other friends. She’d fill in her coloring books while I did homework, then we’d go outside.

There was another little girl next door. Tess. She and Becca loved to run around together, racing up and down the dirt roads, playing tag. Whenever they’d go too far off, too close to the parkway for comfort, I’d call them back. Becca usually listened, but Tess always seemed reluctant. I didn’t think a whole lot of it.

One day, when I was a little too engrossed in reading a comic book and not watching the girls closely, I heard a shriek.

“Tess! Watch out!”

I looked up just in time to see a semi-truck blasting past, not even slowing down as it ran little Tess right over. My jaw dropped. Panic shot through me. Sure, she wasn’t my kid, and I hadn’t even been directly tasked with watching her, but this was still ostensibly my fault.

I was on my feet, ready to run to Mr. Callhun’s house to borrow his phone and call the police.

But Tess was still standing there. Completely unharmed. She skipped off the road, giggling and whispering into Becca’s ear. Becca still looked a bit shell shocked, but smiled and hugged Tess close.

My stomach twisted. It was terrible to see from the outside. One of those things trying to get my baby cousin.

When I got close enough, I grabbed Becca’s wrist and tugged her away. Tess eyed me. Cold and calculating. Unlike any of them had ever looked at me before.

Perhaps I’d gotten too old. The whimsical thinking of childhood had given way to suspicion and fear. Perhaps it could tell that I’d caught onto the game. Perhaps it was angry I could even still see it. Most people my age couldn’t.

“You leave Becca alone,” I said firm as my cracking pubescent voice could muster.

“Or what?” Tess smiled at me. I’d never noticed how sharp her canines were. How mean those overgrown, dirty fingernails looked. I hadn’t taken the time to get a really good look at her until that moment.

“I’ll hurt you.”

“Adam!” Becca began trying to struggle out of my grasp. Obviously embarrassed.

Tess had started to back away, still smiling. She probably knew I couldn’t do anything to her. But maybe I’d get someone who could. A priest or a rabbi or something.

“Becca.” I kneeled down to be at her eye level. “Look at me. Tess isn’t real, OK? Real people can’t get run over by a truck and live.”

“Let me go!” Becca wailed, pushing at my hand ineffectually, trying to squirm free.

“Becca. Please. It’s important. You can’t play by the road with Tess anymore. She wants to hurt you.”

Becca broke down into ugly tears. Face bright red. Windpipes constricting to form unholy shrieks. I sighed, picked her up and carried her back to the trailer. She cried herself out and fell asleep on the couch.

When her mother got home that night, I told her Becca was playing way too close to the road and wouldn’t listen when I said it was dangerous. I hoped that was enough to warrant keeping her inside for a while.

It wasn’t more than a few weeks before Becca stopped talking about Tess. When I asked, she said that Tess had gone away. I took comfort in the fact that I hadn’t seen her around either.

Anglerfish are grotesque creatures. Ugly, with long fangs and dull eyes. But in the depths of oceanic trenches, they can hide in the shadows. The only visible part of them is the glowing ball of light that sprouts from an antenna at the top of their head.

They advertise salvation, the only source of illumination in the pits of despair. But any creature that takes the bait meets a sticky end.

I still see them every now and then. Little old ladies begging for help across a busy street, right when the light is about to change. Pretty strangers at bars who are far too aggressive in urging me to have another drink. Lonely hitchhikers that ask to travel to places the GPS will never find. But don’t worry. They know the way.

I’m not sure what they are. I can’t be the only one who notices them. After all, most of us had the ability at one point. We just grew out of it. Perhaps we shed it as a survival mechanism.

Perhaps I’m one in a million. A kid who got stuck with a genetic allele that should have been bred out generations ago. Perhaps my existence is purposeful, and I’m a new evolution when it comes to defending ourselves against the strange and bitter unknown.

I can only say one thing for sure. Keep a close eye on your children when they start to tell you about their new invisible friend. Chances are, that friend is not friendly at all.

#reddit #nosleep #scary #story

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cursewoodrecap · 5 years ago

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Session 3: Darkness in Your Past

Hello everyone I’m still like. WAY sick. And I will be performing our next session entirely through texting and enthusiastic mime. But I can probably type, even if I’m hacking and wheezing?

In this session: oh no, backstory!

The party finishes their long rest at the bandit camp, universally antsy to get going and prickly with each other after certain ethical disagreements.

As the bandits warned us, the road turns out to be full of traps, and 3/4 of us roll terrible, awful perception checks. Clem, comically, immediately falls into a hole. It’s less comic when we realize there’s sharp spikes at the bottom of that there pit trap, but Valeria Channels Divinity and summons the Chains of Rack, catching Clem before she can tumble into the stabbity stabs. WHOOPSIE.

Traveling onward, we find a huge tree has crashed down across the path. We are all experienced players and thus suspicious bastards, and Shoshana rolls a good enough Nature check to suddenly have a childhood memory. There was once a local woodsman that she and her best friend used to hang around, a lumberjacky fellow and hunter named Mordecai. A good-natured fellow, he would let the local children tag along and show them lots of tips and tricks about the woods. Using the remnants of that remembered knowledge, Shoshana picks up on a few wood shavings and out-of-place bits. This thing has been tampered with.

“Everybody stand back,” she says, “I’m gonna poke it.”

“Wait, I have a crossb-” Gral begins, but Shoshana slaps it with a Mage Hand, which is only a 30 foot range. Two crossbow bolts shoot out of where the log has been hollowed out and the bark has been thinned to a sheet, and one sticks right into somebody’s boob. Good job, folks.

Going forward seems to be all well and good until, suddenly, someone notices we can’t hear Valeria, who’s guarding the back. We turn around and surpriiiise, a wild beast-man is hanging out of a tree and has her by a garrotte! There is a brief debate about whether attempting to free her by swinging an enormous greatsword is really the best?? idea??????? but Valeria puts an end to the discussion by stabbing the guy herself.

We complain at the DM about all the traps, and then get distracted, because OOH, A RAVINE.

Shoshana goes quiet at the familiar sight, but there’s something worrying here. There’s a beast-man of the Hunt and his wolf on watch, but there are dead people and wolves scattered over the blood-stained ground. A clutch Silence spell from Gral allows us to overcome the sentries with no alarm raised; Clem bisects the wolf with Extreme (and mildly panicked) Prejudice.

Inspecting the scattered corpses, they seem to have been pierced by something long and thin - like arrow wounds, except there are no arrows to be seen.

We cautiously move forward, Gral sneakily scouting ahead and messaging back to the clanky folks what’s up. Shoshana tries to sneak, but is too distracted looking at the Hunt-people corpses for - someone recognizable, maybe? - and trips over a dead wolf. CLANG CRASH WHAM, roll for initiative, folks!

We slash our way through a couple of toughs and their wolves, Lookin’ Cool and Kickin’ Butt, but...this is like, two guys. What happened to the terrifying force that had the bandit crew cowering in fear? Why are most of them gone, or dead on the ground with the same arrowless arrow wounds?

Maybe the answer is through that door.

What Shoshana remembers as a bit of a hollow in the wall of the ravine - enough shelter to get a quick snatch of rest, maybe - has been covered over with a crude ceiling and a curtained hide door. No sounds are coming from inside, so we cautiously make our way in.

It’s not much. Some rough skins and blankets to sleep on, a bag hanging on the wall, and a metal chest that we determine is booby-trapped. And loose scraps of paper, scattered across the floor. Shoshana bends down to pick one up, and reads it.

The gasp is audible. She stares at it, struck, as her player reads the text sent to her by the DM. The others begin to investigate the room as she stands there, absolutely floored - and then snatches for the next piece of paper, like lightning. And then the next, and the next, on her knees scrabbling for them, reading each one with mounting frenzy. She’s muttering to herself - “Why would she-? No, how-? The whole time?! And she NEVER??? How could she-”

Valeria cautiously picks up one of the cast-aside notes, reads it, and then caaarefully places it back on the floor, because Hoo Boy This Is Some Personal Stuff, Let’s Give Her Some Space. They seem to be unsent, half-finished letters, addressed to Shoshana.

While spooky lady has a breakdown, Clem ably does a bit of medicine for Gral and Valeria to get everyone in fighting shape for whatever comes next.

Shoshana collects all the letters, and somberly takes the pressed flowers Valeria found on the rudimentary table. Elsewhere in the room we find a key to the big chest, but still stand to the side when we release it - good, because an unsteady Mage Hand isn’t enough to hold the trap wire properly taut. Clem insisted we open the chest last thing before we leave, for fear that the roof would cave in, but a big scythe just swings out of the wall and slices the air where we all Decided Not To Be Standing. We find a bit of money, a Ring of Jumping, Ser Balderich’s sword, and a magic horn that is only heard by the person you choose to hear it.

The horn is apportioned to Shoshana, being the squishiest and the most likely to get targeted by these creeps. Shoshana, emotionally a bit frazzled, accepts it bemusedly. “Why?” she inquires dully. “I mean, it’s not like you’re exactly invested in my survival, past the next hour or two.”

Gral immediately protests. “I gave my word I would protect you, as part of my promise to bring you to Duke Shieldeater’s service. I would not betray that.”

Valeria nods enthusiastically. Shoshana blinks and then gives the universal “get a load of this guy” gesture to Clem.

Gral continues. “If truth must be known, I...am not entirely here on the Duke’s orders. I serve him, but it was my own decision to come find you. I strongly believe we Orcs need better relations with the local civilians. And I have my own aims, as well.” Cryptic behind his mask, he does not elaborate and continues back out into the ravine.

Up ahead is the part that Shoshana knows is waiting for her. A thick blanket of branches and hanging foliage cast a section of the ravine into deep darkness - a canopy impenetrable to light but not, as she remembers, to the falling, flailing body of a young woman.

It’s distantly terrifying that seeing it again feels so much like coming home. A voice curls out of the ravine, welcoming her back at last. It’s impossible for her to tell whether the others can hear it.

“Ser Balderich is in there. The bandits said they were keeping him in the dark place, and...that’s where...”

Valeria firmly places her hand on Shoshana’s shoulder, reaching out in empathy to steady a comrade in a time of clear emotional distress. Shoshana feels a gauntleted hand land on her shoulder, the executioner’s cue to go face her death with dignity. They go forth, into the darkness.

...

So, it’s DARK in there. Valeria lights up the Rune Beetle. It’s still dark, supernaturally so, heavy and sick-tasting in the air. Even those in the party with Darkvision are limited, and they move ahead slowly and carefully. Luckily, Ser Balderich hears them coming, and starts shouting at the FIENDS! who are BACK FOR MORE, ARE YOU? and the party is able to find the pit he has been thrown into, heavy wooden bars embedded over the top.

Seeing the glint of Valeria’s silver scales in the dim light of the beetle, Ser Balderich’s shouting stops short. “...Marius?” he asks, disbelieving. “You survived? D-did any of the others-?”

Valeria recognizes the name of Kyr Marius, a mentor of hers at the monastery where she trained. Another silver dragonborn of the order, with years of combat experience. “I’m not Marius,” she lets him down, “But we’re here to get you out!”

Ser Balderich, beaten and bruised and with at least one broken arm, is still with-it enough to notice that a young female voice does not sound like his presumably middle aged male friend. But he makes a quick recovery: “Oh! Uh, well, Kyr, it is an honor! But beware, the fiends are not far-”

Yeah, they’ve definitely noticed we’re here. A couple of worgs prowl out of the darkness as Valeria and Clem try to pry the bars off the top of the pit and haul Ser Balderich out. With Faerie Fire, Gral manages to illuminate one of the worgs and a mysterious cloaked figure, who simply gestures and we all take 3 Taint. What the what? It’s on.

We have a narrow battle - fleeing seems like the only option at one point, as several of us are boxed into a Hunger of Hadar spell by flanking wargs, but we persevere. In a moment of crisis, Shoshana pulls strength from the darkness and takes Taint in exchange for temporary HP. Finally, Clem and the wounded Ser Balderich break through to the cloaked figure. As Clem’s greatsword pierces the flowing cloak, it collapses to the floor, empty. The figure’s taunting voice drifts out to us one last time, looking forward to the next time we meet. You can try to escape the Hunt, just like your little friend, but this is where you belong in the end...

Limping forward, we investigate the cavern behind where his empty cloak fell. Well, not the part that spirals off forever into the darkness. We’re not that stupid. But there’s a little room, off to the side, and we stop short seeing it. There’s a bloody altar, decorated with animal skulls, facing a hanging painting on an animal skin.

The crude tapestry depicts a figure wearing an antlered helm, tearing his way out of where he is bound by tree roots jutting from the ground. Three less-detailed figures behind him seem to be similarly bound. The edges of the canvas are decorated with grotesque, gory scenes of animals and hunters slaying their prey.

Oh, right. The DM notes he forgot to add the horror part of the scene. We look to the other side of the room and see a human corpse, nailed up on the wall. The word “PREY” has been carved deeply into his chest.

It’s Mordecai.

Shoshana is already so emotionally drained, barely able to register her dull rage at these grotesque atrocities here in HER darkness. She raises her hands, but Ser Balderich speaks up, saying Ser Quentin Morozov, his friend the Cursebreaker Knight, may have use of the tapestry. It might help him in his studies. Meanwhile, Valeria is gently pulling the body off the wall, looking for any sign of the man’s religion and finding not a symbol of the Obereon pantheon but a small pendant with two faces - Baba and Gramps, kindly spirits still respected by some of the more rural woodsfolk. Valeria’s big enough to carry the body, covering the carved words with her cloak and promising him a proper burial.

Shoshana lets them, dully watching. She can feel something magic within the altar, but the only thought she has left about today is the general concept of NO. She raises her hands and a wave of fire overtakes the altar. As it burns, the oppressive feeling of the darkness lessens. It doesn’t disappear, but something vital to this place has been destroyed.

A bit dazed, the party staggers out into the light, Valeria carrying the hunter’s body and Clem supporting a weakened but determined Ser Balderich. Wanting to avoid whatever hunting party was sent out after the escaping huntress, they make it back to the abandoned bandit camp before collapsing to regroup.

Valeria and Ser Balderich get to talking, Valeria asking how Ser Balderich knows her old mentor Kyr Marius. Did Ser Balderich ever speak to anyone who knows what happened at the Crusade?

Knows what happened? Pssh, Ser Balderich was THERE. Though it’s clearly a painful memory, Ser Balderich explains what happened to the members of Valeria’s order:

The Crusade was closing in, about a day’s hard travel from Valdsheart, the Duke’s capital city - the center of the Curse. The Order of the Rose has made it to the old summer palace - the roses were in bloom, the gardens were beautiful, still immaculately maintained by automated Unseen Servants that had continued working even as the city had been abandoned.

The commanders of the various knightly orders gathered together at the Rebel’s Temple. (A History check lets us know that this was the temple that Karena, the leader of the rebellion against Keva and the first Duchess of Valdia, had established to ask the blessing of the gods over the new nation.

If anyone ever had doubts the Curse was intelligent, they were ended by the way it waited until the knights were separated from their commanders. When the attack started, the gardens sprang to life. We were attacked by thorns and deadly spores. Ser Balderich took his horse and rode for the temple, while the knights held the line against the tide. The temple was holy ground - it should have been well-warded. Arriving there, he saw the windows stained with blood - the place was overrun. There were two groups of survivors still fighting: Archcleric Rudolf Klemsk and his knights of Rack fled one way, while the Peacock Knight (founder of the Knights Radiant) held the line alone. There were waves and waves of creatures, all sorts.

(Gral: Ser Balderich, please describe these creatures. DM: Absolutely not, it’s like midnight.)

Ser Balderich, unable to help, fled back to the palace to help the forces there. It was totally overrun. He hopes some got out, but was unable to get close enough to see. The aftermath? Well. Archcleric Klemsk got out, but Something happened there - afterward, he and his followers became the frightening Knights Penitent who violently hunt down all corruption and impiety. He assumes the Peacock Knight was overwhelmed, but he has been sighted since.

...I’m sorry.

Ser Balderich tells us: If anyone is going to solve this, it won’t be a marching army. It will be someone like my friend Quentin, and his Cursebreakers, or the madmen at Sturmhearst. We Beggar Knights will stand watch, and ensure as many people possible live to see the day the Curse ends, if that day ever comes.

We all mull that story, and then begin to get up to go. A quick discussion of options comes to this: we’ll go back to Ovruch and drop Ser Balderich off there, so he can recover and protect the town. In the morning, we’ll travel to the town of Holzog to bring the tapestry to Ser Quentin - perhaps he will be interested in our stories, as well. Gral certainly wants to discuss something with the Cursebreaker.

As everybody’s putting on their backpacks and stuff, Shoshana interjects, confused. Um...aren’t you guys...forgetting something?

Ser Balderich considers. “...yes.” He comes over to her, and she closes her eyes, readying for it.

“...I did not thank you, for rescuing me. You have my gratitude.”

N-no, you guys, don’t you need to...? Y’know? Take care of me, now that the Hunt and the bandits are dealt with?

...Oh.

Ser Balderich scoffs, compassionately. “Shoshana, I saw you reject the power that altar could have given you.” (Player: wait what? DM: yeah, there was a magic item in there”) “You were given your abilities, and what did you do with them? You took care of cats. You are not the monster you believe yourself to be.”

Valeria is nodding. Gral is nodding. Even Clem is nodding. Shoshana’s brain just about fails to compute; you can see the blue screen behind her eyes. We pack up, find a quiet spot in the woods to bury poor Mordecai the woodsman, and make our way back to Shoshana’s place to crash.

---

We roll against the Taint we acquired in the Hunt’s territory. Gral and Clem fully save. Valeria takes a minor corruption. Shoshana is offered a deal by the DM and takes it, gaining a minor corruption as well.

We each draw a card for the next session: The Hunter, The Knight, The Madness, and The Heretic.

#session recap #the ravine #the hunt #shoshana bat chaya #gral omokk'duu #valeria argent #clem haxan #balderich von mornheim

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