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the-clock-of-the-time-dragon · 2 days ago

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You know what, I'm fucking done arguing with a brick wall.

Hon you can just concede, agree to disagree, and be done with it, you don't have to pretend like I'm a "brick wall" who hasn't been making well-wrought points to refute yours. I took the time to respond very exhaustively to you, point-by-point — give me a fucking break, lmao

Send my apologies to your English literature teachers for having to put up with you.

I mean several of them are dead (it's been quite a long while since I was in school), so I'm gonna stop you right there. All I'll say is: people who are really truly into literature on a professional level, such as my mentors, or myself, have a strong appreciation for deep engagement with a text. What you think of as a "brick wall" (debate, exegesis, and fondness for overlooked details), my English lit teachers held in high regard. We had a hell of a lot of fun dissecting material together. It's fine that you don't enjoy this kind of thing, but don't pretend that it's somehow a slight against you, or that my points aren't worth seeing.

And take a good hard look about whether you would feel any different if the story stayed exactly the same except you swapped Fiyero and Glinda's genders.

Right back atcha, hon. Your takes have been pretty consistently sexist.

Let me leave you with one thought though, honey. If this is just "reading from the text" then presumably you think Winnie and Stephen agree with your delusions?

Winnie and Stephen pretty transparently wrote Fiyero to be the Early 2000s Slightly Rebellious Male Heartthrob For the Girls to Fight Over and not much else. He's been improved greatly in the film adaptation by NOT being that, and as I've said many times, I would love if they've ended up canonizing the double agent idea in the second film; albeit, as I've explained, I think that he'd lose something if he were made too straightforwardly "good". It doesn't matter whether Winnie, Stephen, or any of the directors or actors that have interpreted Fiyero over the years, specifically "agree" with me. Theatre of all mediums lends itself especially to a panoply of readings. There is no set-in-stone "canon". I just find certain takes to be ignorant of the details of the text, and I've argued against those takes. I happened, in the process, to do analysis which spawned further discourse. But it isn't like my analysis is Word of God: it's just fun to discuss ultima facie instead of prima facie. Your reading may well be closer to prima facie in certain ways — but that's not somehow an argument in and of itself for being "correct". You and I both made our arguments and apparently mine are now left to stand as ultima facie, as you have run out of counters.

Seems awfully cruel of them to go out of their way to save Elphaba from dying at the end of the story to leave her with an oh so awful fascist soldier?

The fact you seem to believe I think of Fiyero as "oh so awful" just tells me you haven't been engaging seriously with anything I've said.

He's a fascist soldier. That is something that should be reckoned with and examined in any real analysis of his character. He isn't "awful" — I never claimed he was, far from it — and he is certainly not the first or last character to have the narrative gloss over more troubling details and implications about what was written for them. But don't come at me for pointing those details and implications out, just because you personally dislike them, lol. I'm not the one who came up with Fiyero volunteering to become a fascist soldier: take that up with Holzman, lol

Also, if Elphaba was happy to fuck Fiyero in the woods and later leave with him, she clearly thought what he did was justified given the circumstance.

Hon, it's not that deep, lmao. They boned because they're passionate people with unresolved sexual tension suddenly given an opportunity — the only opportunity — to resolve it. Elphaba was not weighing his past several years for their moral soundness whilst riding him, lmfao

And I think the biggest Animal rights activist probably knows better than either of us the about the situation :)

Perhaps she does, perhaps she doesn't. We can only speculate. All we know is that she was frightened of him, and was worried he'd bought into the propaganda against her — which is a fair concern, given how he spent those years. She's relieved to find that he hasn't succumb to the hate against her, and that he isn't trying to harm her, and... that's really all that's stated, and that's all that need be stated. It's probably the first time in years that a human hasn't been her enemy — I don't think she wants to go there and review his choices, for her own sake, and I don't blame her for that one bit. But just because she doesn't go there doesn't mean that we shouldn't. We aren't bound to the POV of any singular character: we get to study them from beyond the fourth wall as much as we want, and there's a TON of interesting stuff there.

[Wicked Act II spoilers]

[edited for tone and clarity of purpose, apologies for initial crudeness and frustration]

Okay, obviously I'm biased, but I'm gonna need the Fiyeraba shippers to please set a lot of your people straight about some things. I've seen way too many people trying to say that Glinda is just a selfish bimbo and that Fiyero is a virtuous and selfless figure more worthy of Elphaba's love. I'll set aside for now the idea of "worthiness" in this context. But let's start off with Fiyero joining the Wizard. Hoo boy...

Yes, he was initially somewhat less tolerant of the propaganda against Elphaba than Glinda was; yes, he was secretly trying to find her so he could run away with her or whatever. But honey: those facts DO NOT fully absolve his actions as the Wizard's top officer, or selfish recklessness throughout Act II. I see so many popular threads and posts romanticizing and whitewashing with "oh but he didn't REALLY join the Wizard, he just pretended so he could try to get to Elphie! It's all for love, and he sacrificed everything for her!" As if the literal captain of the literally fascist forces responsible for the oppression of Animals wasn't equally responsible for said oppression?? Hello? Fiyero really didn't think of seeking out Elphaba in ANY other way that DIDN'T involve becoming *checks notes*... the trusted leader of the troops committing all the abuses she's fighting against in the first place???? Like it's cool and all that he helped with Brrr, and it's all well and good that he planned on betraying the Wizard as soon as he found Elphaba (which took literal years, so I guess we're left to assume he was prepared to just keep doing fascism indefinitely if she didn't show up????), but uh... it's kind of concerning to how eager some of you are to make excuses for this dude volunteering as the head of the Ozian Gestapo??? smdh

He didn't accomplish anything from it either, by the way — like yeah, we get it, he did everything he did whilst silently fantasizing about running away with the Witch he was being paid to hunt. Fine. But I can't be the only one who doesn't buy that as an actual excuse???? Like, guys: nobody forced him to join the fascist army — even with crazy ulterior motives. He wasn't coerced into it; it wasn't his only choice or anything. Searching for Elphaba did not somehow compel him to go and volunteer to follow (or to give!) orders in the name of the dictator who was trying to have her assassinated the entire time. He could have just not done all that. (Genuinely so curious how the second film plans on covering that material tbh)

Glinda made several questionable decisions that can be (and have been) debated, but she is still very unambiguously a victim. Her position in the Wizard's regime was foisted upon her. There are things we can discuss, but I find that many folks need reminding that Glinda would undoubtedly have been disposed of (or worse) if she failed to make herself useful. I mean hell: she wasn't even supposed to meet the Wizard in the first place — she was only there because of Elphie. If she'd tried to resist, it would have immediately gotten her labeled the Witch's accomplice. As soon as she'd chosen not to get on the broom, her fate was out of her hands, and all available options were varying degrees of horrible.

That's not the case with Fiyero. He went to the Wizard all on his own; no one ever cornered or forced him into it. Thinking Animals are people, and having a crush on Elphaba, simply did not stop him from carrying out the regime's orders — for years. It's not clear exactly how long he's been captain at the start of Act II, but the clear implication is that he's been a soldier for most of the time skip. I've seen Fiyeraba accounts with headcanons about him acting as a double agent, secretly doing stuff to help Animals — and that's a great idea, it would indeed serve to make a lot of his actions way more palatable — but until we actually get to SEE some of that (maybe they'll add it for the movie version of Act II; we'll have to see), there is nothing in the story to suggest that. He certainly didn't do a damn thing for all those Animals who were enslaved and caged in the Wizard's palace — and we don't see a single other Animal outside of there in Act II, so as far as we know Fiyero has participated over those years in the near-total removal of Animals from Ozian society. In the name of "finding Elphaba". Not fighting for her cause. Just finding HER. For HIMSELF.

It's fine to have a ship you like, obviously — and there is genuinely a lot to like about Fiyeraba, I don't dislike the idea of them as a couple or as friends — but come on guys: please stop those out there idealizing Fiyero as somehow a clear "morally-superior" alternative to Glinda, lol. The dude had power, access, and opportunities, for years, that he could have wielded in any number of really selfless, revolutionary ways. He didn't. And I propose (apparently controversially): he simply didn't want to. And that — at the end of the day — is (much as some would like to deny it) true to his character. He always WANTED to be self-absorbed and shallow, and all his actions are consistent with that. Elphaba saw depth and discontentment in him, yes: but (and I cannot stress this enough) when given the chance, he channeled that in the wrong direction. He didn't confront that and become a better person — for the most part he just displaced and projected it onto Elphaba as an object of obsession, and put on an even thicker pretense than before.

All his actions — regardless of the complexity he has deep down — are those of a man who never gives one fuck about anything or anyone, except (kinda sorta) Elphaba. But even then: at no time does the care he has for her seem to extend to caring about any of her wants or needs outside of sexual validation from him, or how she might feel about his actions, or indeed the impacts of those actions upon her, her cause, or anyone or anything else. I don't think it should be all that controversial to say: he doesn't think through the wider repercussions of anything he does — thoughtlessness is just one of his core character traits. He doesn't think ahead or see meaning in anything outside of what can temporarily excite him, in the moment. I think people place a little too much weight on Elphaba clocking him with regard to his internal pain, and seem to expect (understandably of course) that she is not only right, but moreover that he will grow from that in a positive direction, based on her influence.

But he doesn't. If anything, we get a surprising inverse: he pretty much proves her wrong. Not to say he didn't have hidden depth and all that, like she said: but his hypothetical heart of gold proves not to really amount to much in practice. He doesn't grow out of his shallowness and his self-centeredness: he grows into it in a way that he hadn't quite yet in school. Where once he was only masking an internal listlessness, after he's been cracked open by Elphaba he decides to be genuinely self-absorbed and deeply shallow, not just coasting by. He performs in new ways — as a soldier, eventually as a "fiancé", etc. — but by Act II we meet a Fiyero who has staked the last remaining shred of humanity in him on the vain pursuit of the only object of his desire that has ever been unavailable to him, and firmly chosen to say to hell with everyone and everything else.

When put to the test, Fiyero sacrifices Glinda, the Animals, and all else that Elphaba actually cared about, to pursue his own unresolved crush from college. Mostly to get in her pants, really — as harsh as I'm sure that sounds. But let me be frank: that is literally all he ever accomplishes in the show. He gives her dick one time, and one of his castles, and that's it. That's the culmination of his years trying to find her — years in which he actively worked as one of the stormtroopers (or even the one commanding them) committing untold crimes against Animalkind (who, again, it seems have been all but erased from Oz by Act II): y'know, the very crimes Elphaba sacrificed her life to try and stop????? He spent the most important time of his life — of his own free will — being a fascist soldier, but he "did it for her" somehow, so according to some, it's perfectly fine. Heroic, even. Yikes??

But let's make something very clear (since my original version of this post caught a lot of flak, including slurs and other rudeness):

I like Fiyero. I find his role extremely interesting (I could do a whole dissertation on him, but I'm especially a fan of the way his proving Elphaba's assessment of him wrong presents a fascinating parallel and contrast with Glinda, which I think is lost on a lot of people). But PLEASE stop with all the misguided Glinda slander and idealization of Fiyero. By all means, thirst! But don't give me all this bullshit about him deserving Elphaba more, or being super deep, or being really principled or noble or whatever else. He does have layers, and quite intriguing ones, but his insides are straw — he isn't meant to have some deep, overwrought emotional core or motivations; he has passions that he acts upon when given the chance. That's it. And that's fine. Actually kind of refreshing in a story rooted in simple children's fantasy but rife with intensely complicated personalities. Fiyero makes it his mission to represent denial of depth and embrace of raw, spontaneous desire — and I for one love that, and wish others appreciated it.

And in all seriousness, shipping wars aside: by the end of the story, it's Glinda who is ultimately vindicated, and has — for all her faults — made the necessary choices to fulfill Elphaba's wishes, bring down the regime, etc. And all that despite herself. She's miserable: not just because of the mistakes she made, but because of her correct moves as well. Fiyero is simply not — and could never be — that person. And that's okay! Like I said: I am not anti-Fiyero. Fiyero's willingness to throw it all away for the sake of sheer, overriding passion is a huge part of what people like about him, of course — and it's an obvious factor in the attraction between him and Elphaba, because she has her own flavor of that impulse as well — but I'd actually argue that it's not romantic, it's his fatal flaw. And thematically that's fantastic! But I just don't believe that it somehow means he "deserves Elphaba more" because he "gave up his life for her" or whatever. In part because NOBODY truly "deserves" Elphie tbh, not 100% (and I question anybody who claims otherwise), but ultimately because I don't accept the idea that his fleeting acts of passion make up for all the shit leading up to them (or even proceeding after them tbh). At least Glinda managed to do what Elphaba always wanted in the end — but I would die on this hill even if Gelphie didn't exist.

You don't have to agree with my analysis of Fiyero and his choices, relationships, etc. — that's fine. What isn't fine is trying to portray Glinda as some kind of spineless traitor whore for the Wizard and Fiyero as a conscientious hero who earned Elphie through self-sacrifice. That's just not the story that was written. It's WAY messier and more interesting than that.

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shmisky · 1 day ago

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So... Another thing that makes me love the post-Weirdmaggedon Stans dynamic so much is the tension caused by the fact that Stan’s enormous inferiority complex and lingering resentment at Ford have nowhere to go anymore. Knowing how strongly those two repress emotions, it’s just a matter of time before unresolved issues start to rear their ugly head.

What do I mean by that? Well, just look at Stan’s behavior in Weirdmaggedon, hahah. My man was just utterly done with Ford. I do believe he had a right to be at least somewhat petty after the way Ford treated him, but no one can question his resentment. It’s really incredible how all that seems to just... conveniently disappear... the moment Ford changes and apologizes and invites him to sail away together.

Or does it?

I don’t think it does.

I think Stan still has a lot of reasons to feel inferior in relation to Ford. Not that he should, but. The fact he was declared the town hero and saved everyone in Weirdmaggedon wasn’t that much of a triumphant moment for him if he said, “guess I was good for something after all!” as he had his memories erased.

Through the series, we learn that Stan is very sensitive regarding his inferiority complex towards Ford. He is easily upset by, angered by, and fueled (out of spite) by Ford’s perceived and/or implied superiority in any way, shape, or form.

Again...

And again...

He’s always trying to prove his worth, to others and to himself. Is he even convinced of what he’s trying so hard to prove? I find it interesting that he says he’s not always the bad twin, instead of simply saying he’s not the bad twin at all, period.

And then there’s the fact Alex said that, while Ford is smarter and fitter and would always win a physical fight against Stan if they were sober, Stan could win it if they were drunk and Ford was a bit off his focus — because Stan wants to win against Ford way more badly than Ford wants to win against Stan. After all, Ford doesn’t have an urge to prove himself.

Ford’s character was literally designed to be, in Alex’s own words, the biggest chip on Stan’s shoulder that the writers could think of. So of course Stan acts petty all the time. Not only is Ford an ungrateful asshole, but also (in his own mind) an ungrateful asshole that just happens to be better at everything! Stan was once the brawn to Ford’s brain, but he can’t even be that anymore because Ford is stronger and badass now and... and doesn’t need nor want Stan... at all...

But wait! Ford apologizes for all his mistakes and thanks Stan and invites Stan to sail away together! Everything is fixed now! 🩷

Except Stan didn’t go to therapy. Except Stan seemingly thinks that having his mind erased was his biggest accomplishment. Except Ford pulled Stan back into the extremely codependent dynamic of their childhood.

The way Shmebulock the Gnome describes the Stan twins even after Weirdmaggedon is... not ideal...

And while one could go and say that their dynamic is just going to revert back to their childhood dynamic, I’ve defended previously that no, it very likely won’t (for all these reasons), and, in what concerns Stan’s inferiority complex and need to feel useful, Ford now 1) doesn’t need his help defending himself physically, 2) is in better health conditions than Stan and his dentures, orthopedic pillow, hearing aids, girdle, etc, and 3) is much more confident 🦚

The thing is that, now, Stan can’t just act petty, like he started acting ever since Ford’s display of ungratefulness. Because Ford, now, isn’t being an asshole anymore. Ford is being nice. Loving. Supportive. They’ve already made peace.

I can see the little moments slowly piling up on top of one another, and Stan continuing to repress, repress, repress his feelings. It’s okay, Stan, who cares if Ford is better than you? You’re together, that’s all what matters.

Until it finally blows up in the most inconvenient of moments like it did in Weirdmaggedon.

#stancest #stancest meta #the bunny analyzes #old stans

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inlovewithpandora · 1 day ago

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ੈ✩‧₊˚ — Summers In Pandora ᝰ Day 31 - Body Worship/Praising

Artists — Ao’nung x fem!Metkayina!reader

Lyrics — Tonight Ao’nung wants nothing more than to dive between your pretty thighs but after a long day of duties you’re exhausted. His desire for you burns so hot that he offers to do all the work so you can be his pretty pillow princess.

Music Advisory — SMUT [ mature audiences only!], fluff, established relationship [mates], needy!Ao’nung, [implied] pleasure dom!Ao’nung, soft!Ao’nung, oral sex + fingering [fem receiving], double stimulation, face fucking, hair pulling, aftercare, allusions to male masturbation, lots of compliments and praise ᝰ this fic does contain aged!up character smut so if you don’t like that type of content please don’t interact and continue scrolling!!

Duration — 2.7k words

Index — Tsakarem - Tsahìk-in-training・Sayrìp - Handsome・ Syulang - Flower・Yawne - Love

Words from Artist — This was my first time writing smut for Ao’nung and it was really fun! This idea was originally supposed to be for Kinkmas 2023 but I never finished it so I decided to put a spin on it and make it fit this prompt. As always feel free to comment and reblog, I love reading y’all reactions! I hope you enjoy!!

Current Platforms — event m.list・main m.list・event taglist ・prompt list

Today there was a cold wind blowing throughout the village and it was causing a draft in your home. When the cold breeze kept gliding across your skin you could feel yourself shivering so you decided to start a fire and gather around it so it would warm up yourself and your home. When you start the fire you can immediately feel the heat emitting from it and it's already eliminating the cold air that's constantly flowing inside.

Ao’nung is next to you during the whole process and he watches you in awe, loving how you always take charge and make things happen. You've always been the type of woman to get things done no matter what it requires, you never wait around for a man to assist you and that’s one of the main reasons Ao’nung wanted you as a mate, he absolutely loves that quality about you so by watching you in your element he can’t help but feel a little turned on.

After a while both you find yourselves laying down a few inches away from the fire, your head laying on his chest and arm wrapped around his torso while his hand is resting on your thigh. The night is going perfectly just like you wanted, after the long day you’ve had all you want is to lay with your mate until you drift off to sleep. You can feel your eyes growing heavy so you allow them to close, happily letting sleep take over your body but that plan is interrupted when you feel Ao’nung’s hand travel from your thigh to your ass, squeezing it gently before rubbing it in a circular motion. You already know what he's implying by his actions, you know your mate very well. When he starts rubbing against the flesh of your ass, moving your hair out the way to place soft kisses on your neck, and teasing his fingers around the strings that are holding your loincloth together you know he wants sex.

When you feel his other hand inching toward your bra top you grab his wrist and stop him. “Not right now, baby. I’m tired and I just want to sleep.” From completing your numerous duties around the clan and also having to do your Tsakarem training with Ronal which took several hours, drained all the energy you had stored for the day. If this was a normal day and you had a good amount of energy you would of course engage in the marital act with Ao’nung but tonight you’re just too worn out. “Just let me take a nap and then I’ll do whatever you want, okay?”

Everything you just said basically went in one ear and out the other. Ao’nung doesn’t want to wait, he wants you now. He wants the sweet taste of your arousal on his tongue now, he wants to hear your sweet moans now, he wants to feel your hands gripping his hair as he devoured your heat now, he can’t wait until you wake up from your nap. “I’ll do all the work, all I want is you to lay back and look pretty for me. How does that sound syulang?” Ao’nung practically worships the ground you walk on, whether it’s publicly or privately, he always lets you know how grateful he is to have you, how beautiful you are, and how sexy your body is.

To him this is you’re world and he’s just lucky enough to live in it. Ao’nung is willing to do whatever it takes to see you squirm underneath his touch, he doesn’t want you to feel like you need to please him because by allowing him to pleasure you is enough for him, he could cum from simply knowing he’s satisfied you to the best of his abilities.

When you hear Ao’nung’s offer all you can do is let out a little laugh, you can tell he really wants to dive between your thighs. His eagerness is definitely turning you on, knowing that your mate is craving you without even having to do anything sexual is starting to make a pool of slick form between your legs. At first you were going to brush him off but now his horniness is rubbing off on you so you decide to cave and allow him to have his way with you. “That sounds perfect, sayrìp.”

The words barely have time to settle in Ao’nung’s mind before he pulls you in for a lustful kiss, swirling his tongue around your mouth while gripping your chin, moving his hand down and wrapping it gently around your neck. When Ao’nung can’t contain himself any longer he moves his hands down your body, using his mighty strength to rip off both articles of your clothing, revealing your round perky breasts and the mound of your sweet pussy.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that? Your body is so perfect, made just for me.” Ao’nung whispers as his eyes scan your body in awe, wondering how Eywa found him such a gorgeous and perfect mate. He feels like your body is carved and sculpted just for him, just for his hands to touch, for his eyes to see, and for his body to be pressed against. It isn’t long before his head is between your thighs, the sweet smell of your arousal making him feel like a man possessed as he runs his tongue over your slit, spreading you open in a swift manner before lapping up your juices so the sweetness of your arousal can dance on his tongue. His tongue finds its way to your clit, sucking on your precious pearl which makes you squirm within seconds.

Ao’nung continues swirling his tongue around your clit, giving it a deep kiss while it throbs against his palate, making a breathy moan from you fill the air. It’s a continuous process: flick, lick, suck, all the motions that’ll bring you great pleasure which is exactly what your mate wants. You can feel him spreading your juices on your inner thighs and his saliva running down your folds, making the flat of his tongue caress every pleasure point. After a while he comes up for air, wanting to savor your delicious taste and amazing scent. “Eywa, woman you taste good.” Ao’nung groans, his chest heaving as he catches his breath which makes you giggle because you’re ultimately doing the same before he continues feasting on you.

Once his lungs feel replenished he lowers his head between your thighs again, causing your breath to hitch in your throat at the unexpected feeling of his tongue swirling around the entrance of your pussy. After teasing you for a few moments, enjoying the desperate whines from you filling his ears while making it seem like he would place his tongue inside but only circling around the outer edge, he finally gives you what you want, intruding your hole and pushing his tongue inside.

“Oh, fuck,” You can feel your legs instinctively spread to make more your room for Ao’nung’s head that’s now moving in multiple directions, and your hips thrust upward wanting to feel him as much as possible. Your hands make their way to the top of his head, tangling your fingers in his curly hair as you grind against his face, practically suffocating your poor mate but he’s so drunk off your pussy he doesn’t give a damn.

With each stroke of his tongue he can feel you opening more and more for him, your warm slick leaking out and sliding down his tongue while the access drips down his chin and travels down his neck. Seeing how you’re reacting to him, tightening your grip in his hair, rutting against his face like an animal, and how you’re so eager to cum all over his face makes him want to ram his cock inside you until your eyes are puffy with tears, seeing your arousal stick to his pelvis as he thrusts inside you until he’s filled you to the brim with his warm seed.

The lewd thoughts he’s conjured up in his mind makes him moan into your heat, pressing his tongue further into you as he uses his hand to gently rub circles against your clit for added stimulation and double pleasure. Every small spasm and tiny twitch that ripples through you, Ao’nung call feel. Any movement you make, any warning tremor your body makes that you’re about to cum he reads loud and clear, wanting to make sure when you cum, you cum hard.

“Mmm! Don’t fucking stop!” And with that the Metkayinan goes into overdrive, his mouth, tongue, and fingers begin to work tirelessly, switching between slurping up every single drop of your sweet juices and swirling around your clit, smothering himself by stuffing his nose into your mound to reach the depths of you and fill his nostrils with your intoxicating aroma. Right now he doesn’t even care about his aching jaw, throbbing cock, or lack of oxygen, all he wants to do is please the woman he’s been blessed with.

Ao’nung slips two of his fingers into your wetness with ease and curls them just right, causing his fingertips to press against your sweet spot. His thick fingers stretch you out beautifully, and that paired with his controlled strokes, powerful sucks and long licks of his mouth, he coaxes you over the edge, bringing forth an ecstasy that only he can give your body. A sharp gasp leaves your lips, your grasp tightening the strands of his hair as your thighs snap close around his head, not allowing him any movement other than continuing to devour your heat.

Your orgasm almost takes you out, it makes you shake, your muscles spasm and twitch uncontrollably as your back arches off the mat underneath you and soon it turns into complete bliss. His fingers continue their relentless pace of pumping in and out of you, lengthening your orgasm while he gently kisses and sucks on your clit until your body slowly goes limp from the incredible pleasure he’s inflicting on you.

Ao’nung’s hand wraps around your thigh, gently tapping your supple skin, silently telling you to untangle yourself from him which you do in an instant, unwrapping your legs from around his shoulders and allowing him to sit up properly. When your eyes look up at him he’s glistening in your slick. His chin, lips, and nose are covered in your juices, making your cheeks heat up from the sight. When your eyes trail down his body you notice the outline of his hardened cock straining against the woven material of his loincloth, making your mouth water at how enlarged it looks and the blots of pre-cum you can see soaking through.

You blink up at Ao'nung, still feeling the warm tingles of aftershocks in your body as he starts to clean you with careful, practiced strokes. The damp cloth is soothing against your oversensitive skin, his touch so light it feels like a whisper. His soft hums of approval and the quiet murmurs of praise in your native tongue send shivers down your spine. "You are perfection, syulang," he murmurs, his deep voice like a soothing balm. "You have given me all I need tonight. Just seeing you like this... it is enough."

Your hairless brows knit together, lips parting as you glance down at the evidence of his own arousal, still taut against the fabric of his loincloth. The woven material struggles to contain him and his cock is practically growing in size by the minute. Your mate is anything but sated, and you know it. “But Ao’nung,” you protest while propping yourself up by your forearms, your voice slightly hoarse as you try to speak. “you haven’t—”

Ao’nung’s hand pauses, the damp cloth resting on your thigh as he takes a moment to study your face and the expression it holds. The slight flush in your cheeks, the way your chest rises and falls as you catch your breath, and the glazed-over look in your eyes tell him everything he needs to know. “You’re exhausted, y/n,” he murmurs, his voice laced with special tenderness that’s strictly reserved for you. He gently brushes a stray strand of hair away from your damp forehead, his fingers lingering against your temple. “I pushed you enough tonight. You’ve done more than enough for me.”

“But yawne—”

He shakes his head firmly, though his touch remains soft as he resumes cleaning you with the damp cloth. “No, syulang. You need to rest. It doesn’t feel right to make you do more when I can see how tired you are.” His gaze flickers to your trembling thighs and then back to face that clearly shows how sleepy you are. “I’ll be fine. Just go to sleep.”

As his wife you feel like it is your duty to sexually gratify your husband no matter what so the idea of leaving him unsatisfied sits uneasily in your mind. You reach for his wrist, stopping him mid-movement. “It doesn’t feel right to leave you like this,” you tell him, your voice firm despite the fatigue threatening to pull you under. “You’re my mate. I need to take care of you too.”

Ao’nung’s lips quirk into a faint, affectionate smile. “Stubborn, as always,” he mutters under his breath, though his tone is filled with nothing but adoration. “You’ve already taken care of me. Watching you cum for me is all I needed.”

Still, you persist, your hand tightening slightly around his wrist, wanting him to just give in already and allow you to reciprocate the pleasure he gave you. “Well, It doesn’t feel like enough.”

Ao’nung lets out a low chuckle at how persistent you are and how you’re fighting sleep just so you can return the favor, which makes him just fall deeper in love with you. His free hand comes up to cup your cheek, forcing you to meet his gaze. “It’s enough for me,” he says softly, his thumb brushing along your cheekbone. “I would much rather you rest than push yourself when I know you’re already spent.”

You open your mouth to argue again, but Ao’nung leans forward, pressing a firm kiss to your forehead that causes you to silence your words before you can make them audible. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll take care of it myself if I need to.” He doesn’t mind jerking off to flashbacks of you trembling under his touch, imagining your warmth wrapped around his cock, and running his thumb over his oozing tip and imagining it as your tongue, if it means his mate can get some well deserved rest.

“Ao’nung, just let me—”

“Shh,” he murmurs, his fingers sliding down to your shoulder, guiding you gently to lie back down so you can finally get sleep. “Close your eyes. You’ve done more than enough for me tonight.”

A part of you wants to push and continue fighting him on the idea of letting him handle his hardened cock alone but the weight of exhaustion finally takes over, your body sinking into the soft mat and you allow your mate to win this time. Ao’nung pulls the blanket over you, his hands lingering to make sure you’re fully covered and comfortable.

As your eyelids grow heavy, you hear him whisper in your ear one last time, his voice low and soothing as he lightly strokes your hair, something he knows helps calm your mind and body. “Sleep, my beautiful mate. You’re all I’ll ever need.” As the words leave his lips he settles beside you, his presence warm and protective as you drift off into a dream state. For now he’s here to make sure your night is peaceful and your sleep is without interruption but later tonight, when you’re hours into your much needed rest, he’ll be in the other room stroking his cock to the thought of your exquisite beauty and gorgeous physique.

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kikyoupdates · 3 days ago

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Tears of a Villainess ⭑˚🗡️⭑ 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟-𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑔

yandere!ocs x reader

yandere, reverse harem, isekai, original characters x fem!reader, slowburn, slowburn yandere

Reincarnation isn't as great as it sounds, especially when you've been reborn as none other than the villainess. Fated to die if you stand in the heroine's way, you immediately resolve to distance yourself from the plot. As long as you have nothing to do with any of the relevant characters, surely, you'll be able to avoid an untimely death. But in a horrible turn of events, the heroine ends up wanting to get close to you. Are you really doomed to meet the villainess' tragic end? Or is there an even more sinister fate that awaits you?

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Rowan is honestly having the time of his life.

From the moment he heard about Alistair’s engagement falling through, he had a feeling it would be a huge sore spot for him. Never in a million years would he have expected Alistair, of all people, to be broken up with. For as long as he can remember, everyone has always viewed him as perfection incarnate. He’s a man without flaws—or at least, he’s brainwashed others into believing that he is.

And yet, someone rejected him. Someone was finally able to look past all the bullshit and see Alistair for what he truly is.

Rowan knew right then and there that you were the woman of his dreams.

“...are you fucking kidding me right now?”

Alistair is angry. That much is clear as day, much to Rowan’s immense delight. Alistair gets annoyed with him all the time, and it’s no secret that they both hate each other’s guts, but it’s a rare treat to see him get this worked up. He can’t remember the last time he was privy to such a visceral display of anger. It’s ridiculously entertaining.

Despite how badly he wants to break down into a fit of laughter, Rowan tilts his head to the side and decides to feign ignorance.

“I beg your pardon? I understand you’re upset, dear cousin, but I’m not so sure why you’re taking it out on me. [Name] is the one who ended the engagement, is she not? It hardly seems fair to make me the subject of your anger.”

Alistair grits his teeth. “Spare me the theatrics. You know full well what you’ve done. Is there really no limit to how far you’ll sink, Rowan? Are you really so pathetic that you’ll pursue my former fiancée purely to spite me?”

“What a hateful thing to say,” Rowan sighs, shaking his head. “I would never act on such petty emotions. Of course, I realize that this isn’t exactly conventional, and I had a feeling it would upset you, but I’d been interested in [Name] well before you got engaged to her. Now that the two of you are no longer involved, I simply decided to act on my feelings, that’s all.”

“Bullshit. You never breathed a word about her. It seems rather coincidental that you claim to be so enamored with her all of a sudden.”

“Well, yes, because I had been holding back on your account. It hardly felt proper to express desire towards another man’s fiancée, let alone my own cousin’s.” Rowan pauses, and soon enough, he can’t hide his smile anymore. “I wasn’t completely sure if I wanted to marry her, of course. This was all just a hunch I had. But now that I’ve spoken to her face to face, I’ve made up my mind. She’s such a charming young woman. A real breath of fresh air. In fact, I dare say I’m already head over heels for her.”

Alistair’s eyes bulge out of his head, and this time, Rowan simply can’t resist the urge to laugh.

“Charming…?” Alistair blinks in disbelief. “You say [Name] is charming? That snobby, mannerless woman? Do you even know what she said to me? She called me unattractive right to my face. Me. And don’t even get me started on all the rumors I’ve heard about her off-putting behavior. Are you so shameless that you would willingly tie your future to someone like that?”

Rowan’s laughter just gets even louder, and watching Alistair’s face become increasingly red really is the cherry on top.

“Haha… ha.” Rowan wipes the tears from his eyes, still chuckling every now and then. “I’ll admit I hadn’t heard the part about her calling you unattractive. Forgive me for laughing. It’s just too funny. But… she never said anything like that to me, so I suppose I have nothing to worry about. As I said, she agreed to let me court her for a while, and her father seems open to the idea of us getting married in the future.”

“She was just trying to spare your feelings,” Alistair insists. His face feels uncomfortably hot, and he doesn’t know how to deal with it. “She… she’ll reject you before long, just take my word for it. She’s volatile and unpredictable. I’m willing to bet she was just trying to appease her family since they must be worried about the engagement falling through. Besides, you’re not even engaged yet, so I’d hardly call this arrangement ironclad.”

Rowan’s smile stretches further across his lips. The man he’s resented damn near his entire life is desperately struggling to defend himself and avoid losing face. He’s grasping at straws and offering whatever excuse he can come up with. He’s embarrassed beyond belief, and it couldn’t be any more obvious.

For the first time… Rowan has something that Alistair doesn’t.

“Show some humility, Alistair.” Rowan stands up from his seat to look down at his cousin with a cold, vengeful expression. “Your engagement is over. [Name] discarded you, and it’s time you came to terms with that. Besides, I’m not sure why you’re trying to debase her when you were originally going to marry her. If her reputation is as horrible as you suggest, then surely, you should have protested against this in the first place. Uncle and auntie would have understood. It’s rather crass for you to insult her after the fact, purely because she wasn’t interested in you. It shows a lack of character, and worst of all, that you think you’re above everyone else.”

Alistair blinks. He’s so dumbfounded he can’t even think of a rebuttal. It feels like he just got slapped across the face.

Rowan smiles again.

“Don’t worry. I’ll forgive your rudeness, on account of the fact that you’re still grieving your failed engagement. But from now on, you need to fix your attitude. [Name] and I are romantically involved, and I intend to make her my wife. I’ll urge you not to soil her name in my presence. I have a bit of a temper, you see.”

Rowan walks off without waiting to hear Alistair’s response, not that he would have known what to say anyways. He watches as the dark-haired man promptly leaves the manor. It seems like he came here purely to gloat, which, considering how much of an asshole he is, doesn’t come as much of a surprise.

All the same, Alistair feels completely and utterly defeated. He can’t recall having ever experienced such a bitter loss. It’s painful. It’s uncomfortable. Honestly…

He fucking hates it.

“Goddamn you, Rowan,” Alistair mutters. He clenches his fist and takes a sharp, shaky breath, fingernails digging into the flesh of his palm.

You really chose Rowan over him? So, he doesn’t meet your standards, but somehow, that miserable scumbag does?

Impossible. No. It just can’t be. He refuses to accept it. He refuses to accept any of it.

He doesn't know how he’s going to pull it off, but right then and there, he makes up his mind.

You will take him back.

While Alistair and Rowan were busy comparing dick sizes, you were trying to make strides towards improving your reputation.

“Name tags, my lady?”

Fiona stares at you, visibly perplexed. She usually looks pretty confused when she’s dealing with you, not that you can really blame her, but you think you’ve got a pretty good idea this time around.

“Yes,” you nod happily. “So that I can remember everyone’s names. Oh, it’s not like it’ll be permanent or anything. Once I’ve committed everyone to memory the name tags can be removed, but I just think it would help me remember better. I’d like to address all of the people that work here by name from now on. I’m hoping to connect to them on a personal level, so that they won’t think of me purely as their boss. I want to turn this manor into a comfortable place for all.”

Fiona still looks confused, bless her heart. In the game, the villainess treated everyone like property—especially if they were lower than her in social status. The heroine was the target of a good chunk of her malice, of course, but it seems like commoners got the worst of it, since she probably felt like she could do what she wanted with virtually no repercussions. Which is unfortunately the truth. If you were an absolute scumbag, you could, in theory, bully all these people with zero consequences. The staggering difference in social classes allows for all kinds of unwarranted abuse, which is exactly why you’re hoping to create a whole new status quo.

“I’m ashamed of my past behavior,” you continue, frowning a bit. It feels weird to apologize for something you technically didn’t even do, but in the interest of maintaining appearances, you need to show remorse. “Like I said before, I’m trying to be a better person, and a big part of that is treating everyone with the respect they deserve. Especially the people that work so hard to support me every single day. I’ve noticed they walk on eggshells whenever I’m around, but hopefully they’ll soon realize I’m not that scary.”

Fiona ponders for a few moments, then smiles as she nods her head. “I think it’s a lovely idea, my lady. They’ll appreciate the lengths you’re going to in order to help them feel more comfortable.”

“Well, it’s really not such a big deal. Remembering their names is the least I can do.”

“Considering how many people are under your employ, I’d say that’s not such an easy task. Besides, I hear from servants that work elsewhere that it’s rather common for the lords or ladies of the house not to remember their names. We’re only servants, after all. What we do isn’t all that remarkable.”

She makes a pained face near the end, brushing off her remarks with a weak chuckle. You can’t help but frown, and your heart throbs at the sight of it. It’s horrible that she seems to think of herself and the other servants as expendable. Then again, if they’ve all been mistreated time and time again, it’s not surprising their self-esteem would be so low.

You lean closer and place your hand on Fiona’s head, offering a gentle smile. “That’s not true. All of you work incredibly hard, and it’s your efforts that allow everything to go so smoothly. You keep this place immaculately clean, you repair anything that needs to be fixed, you help cook my meals… and the list goes on and on. You work harder than I can even imagine, and that’s no small feat. Please don’t demean yourself like that. Take pride in a job well done. You deserve it.”

You pat her head, which you’ve learned is something she greatly enjoys—even if she won’t openly admit to it.

Fiona just stares at you, and it doesn’t take long for tears to fill her big doe-shaped eyes.

“Th-Thank you,” she sniffles, trying to wipe her tears before they fall, but to no avail. “I—I really appreciate it. You’re very kind to say that, my lady. So very kind…”

You smile and give her some time to calm down. Fortunately, it doesn’t take long for her to regain her spirits, and she proceeds to lift her fist in the air, visibly determined.

“Alright!” she huffs. “I will speak to one of the seamstresses and inform her that we’ll all be needing name tags. I promise we’ll get the job done as quickly as possible. I won’t let you down, Lady [Name]!”

She speeds off before you can say anything else, but it warms your heart to see her opening up to you more and more. Even if you weren’t responsible for the villainess’ wrongdoings, it’s nice to see how positively everyone is reacting to the ‘new’ version of you.

Well, mostly everyone.

“[Name], darling, Flynn is here to see you,” your mother happily announces.

You grimace. Goddammit. For the past few days, you kept using your aforementioned sickness as an excuse to ward off visitors, but there’s only so long you can milk that excuse for, and it seems like he won’t be deterred any longer. He is supposed to be your best friend, after all.

“Have fun,” your mother beams, and she walks off with a spring in her step, heels echoing down the halls. Your parents are both rather fond of you, but she’s been especially chipper ever since she heard Rowan proposed. By now it seems like your parents have completely forgotten the Alistair incident, or they simply don’t care anymore.

Either way, you’ve dealt with almost all of the game’s love interests so far. Alistair is obviously a thing of the past, and since you’re well on the way towards improving your reputation, Carmine likely won’t have any reason to execute you later on.

The only person you just can’t seem to shake is this annoying bastard.

“How are you feeling?” Flynn asks, concern lacing his features. “You look a lot better now, but you’ve never fallen so ill before. I was worried.”

Sorry, dude. The tales of my sickness were greatly exaggerated. I was basically just looking for excuses so I could avoid you.

“I feel fine now,” you say, quickly smiling. “Anyways, I’ve got a lot of… math to do later, so I’m not sure how long you can stay.”

“Math? Ah, yes. Your father was saying you really started applying yourself. He said you were concealing a prodigal aptitude for academics all this time. You sure could have fooled me,” he muses.

You shrug. “What can I say? I’m a woman of many talents.”

Flynn purses his lips, and it looks like he’s resisting the urge to say anything. Even though he’s your so-called ‘best friend’, even he must realize that the villainess wasn’t exactly competent when it came to well, anything.

But he’s well-mannered enough to keep those thoughts to himself.

“Well, I’m just relieved you’re okay,” he smiles. “Oh. I also wanted to ask about your engagement. I heard that you’re apparently not seeing Alistair anymore. When did that happen?”

“A little while ago.”

“Your parents told me that you’re the one who broke it off. Is that true?”

“It is. I don’t know,” you sigh, “I guess I just wasn’t that interested in him. It happens. I’m fortunate enough that my parents haven’t pushed for us to get back together. They’ve given me the freedom to be more picky from now on.”

Flynn knits his brows together. “You weren’t that interested in him…? What about all those times you kept gushing to me about how excited you were for the engagement? You seemed to feel very differently up until not long ago.”

Ugh. This guy is constantly on your ass, pointing out inconsistencies left and right. Like, even your parents didn’t make this big of a fuss after the engagement fell through. Your so-called ‘punishment’ was doing some math problems. Let it go already, man.

“Feelings change,” you shrug. “I was excited at first, but I gradually found my interest waning. I realized I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life with him, and I think it was for the best, because he didn’t seem to like me very much either. I’m sure we’ll both find a better match eventually.”

Flynn arches a brow. “You mean to say that you no longer feel anything towards him at all?”

“Pretty much.”

“Not even a little bit?”

“Uh, nope. Otherwise I wouldn’t have broken up with him in the first place.”

“Huh.”

Flynn seems to be having a hard time wrapping his head around all this. Truthfully, you don’t know the finer details of his friendship with the villainess. It’s entirely possible that she bragged about Alistair more times than you can count, which is why your dismissiveness probably seems pretty suspect right now. A good friend knows when something is off, as evidenced by the fact that Flynn’s been on your case since the moment you met.

But… there’s no way he’ll actually figure it out, right? After all, who could ever imagine that their best friend’s been replaced by some total stranger from a completely different world? It’s way too far-fetched. Practically unthinkable.

Yeah. That’s not something I should worry about.

Never in a million years would Flynn be able to figure out what’s happening, and nor will anyone else, for that matter. Your foremost concern right now is figuring out a way to slowly push him out of your life, because the sooner you distance yourself from this guy, the better you’ll feel.

“If you weren’t happy with him, then like you said, it’s probably better this way,” Flynn acknowledges. “I would hate to see you stuck with someone who doesn’t bring you joy. You deserve much better than that. You deserve only the best.”

Well. You’d like to think that you deserve the best, but the previous owner of this body most certainly did not.

It’s actually kind of disturbing that Flynn sides with the villainess so much, in spite of all the fucked up shit she’s done. It says a lot about his morality.

Yet another reason why you don’t want him around.

“I think I should get a head start on my homework,” you blurt, already walking away. It’s incredibly rude to brush him off like this after he dropped by for a visit, but you figure that if you treat him a bit coldly, he might eventually take the hint and leave you alone.

“Alright,” Flynn nods. “I’ll spend some time chatting with your parents. I don’t have any other plans for today, so take all the time you need. I’ll wait.”

…people around here really don’t know how to take no for an answer, huh?

You sigh quietly and shake your head. Whatever. It’s going to take some time to completely get rid of him, but you’re confident you can pull it off. Even if he won’t ever hurt you, he’s simply too closely connected with the main plot. You don’t need that kind of stress in your life.

Flynn watches you walk down the hallway, and he also watches as you grin widely and point finger-guns at one of the servants.

“Duncan!” you exclaim. “Working hard as per usual, I see. You’re doing a great job. Keep it up!”

The servant awkwardly does finger-guns back before scurrying on his way, and needless to say, Flynn finds the whole scene rather confusing.

Since when do you bother to remember the servants’ names? As far as he can remember, you’ve always just snapped your fingers to demand service, or pointed to someone and said, “Hey, you.”

It’s all so strange. He can’t help but feel that you’ve changed somehow, and rather abruptly, at that. If there’s something special going on in your life, he thinks he deserves to know about it. He’s your best friend, isn’t he? The two of you have always told each other everything. And yet, he didn’t even find out about your broken engagement until well after the fact.

Whatever’s happening to you…

He’s not sure he likes it.

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chaoticdreamlandphilosopher · 3 days ago

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I just saw a video that was talking about vi in season 2 of arcane and talking about how she wasn’t the same and the comments even having complaints of their own and them also complaining about how Vi is written in season 2 and I just need to get this off my chest and say that I don’t agree with what some of the comments are saying about vi because I can’t help but feel like some of the comments are people who just don’t like vi as a character because of how she chooses to react to others or trying to say that she has no right or shouldn’t be reacting this way to some other characters. I saw this one comment that was paragraphing itself and it involved things claiming that vi shouldn’t be mistreating or hating her sister and all of suddenly calling her by other name “jinx” even though the only reason she does those things is because Jinx committed a terrorist attack against piltover and cost the life of her girlfriends mother and causing children to become orphans in zaun, you’d think they would bring that up as reasons as to why she kinda disowns her own sister in the first half of the season before warming up to her but they don’t because they want to make it seem like she isn’t justified to not like jinx. And then other people complain about her relationship with Caitlyn thinking that her whole character revolves around her even though it doesn’t because we still see her be her her own character and still sharing other relationships with people other than caitlyn like with Jinx and Warwick (Vander) like we see her in other relationships and I mostly think that it is the fandom that is just claiming and making it about how she is revolved around caitlyn when even the Caitlyn and Vi shippers make it clear that they don’t want people to see the other as if they’re whole character is revolved around the other only for that to happen even with people who don’t like the ship. So then the comment explains that vi is supporting her for what she is doing even though yes she is participating in Caitlyn’s actions and not saying anything bad about it because she knows that Caitlyn is not in the mood to listen to people having second thoughts about this but we can still see in vi’s face that she doesn’t support the stuff that caitlyn would bring herself to do like when caitlyn was trying to shoot jinx but was also going to shoot isha on accident if vi didn’t step in and prevent her from misfiring also not to mention after that display she confronts caitlyn about it and even ask her what’s wrong with her because she’s begging to see that her mother’s death is really getting to her in a bad way, and when Caitlyn says that vi is no different then her sister because her blood runs through her veins which gets vi mad at her and then tells her then why is she the one acting like jinx, showing that she is done taking the hate that Caitlyn has been giving to her and the people of zaun and also them believing that she is agreeing with what Caitlyn is saying about the under city people is just wow, because she literally doesn’t say anything that makes it look like she is agreeing with her and she says something in return to contradict what Caitlyn said that didn’t involve her agreeing with her. I mostly think that the reason as to why they think vi agreed with what Caitlyn said was because she was hesitant to say otherwise even though that doesn’t always mean that the person agrees with them it will often mean they don’t agree with them but they will keep it to themselves and not say it because they don’t want to start something and that’s what vi was doing in that scene.

Also the comment goes on to explain that vi had no reason to be sad the vander died because she should have gotten over his death long ago even though this was different being that her and jinx had a chance to actually bring him back and start over again so for that to all go to shit because of what happened in act 3 of course she is going to be upset about it and even cry for him again because they were so close to having their loved one back.

And I honestly didn’t want to look at more of the comments because one of them would have been complaining about how vi didn’t mourn jinx in the end even though we had a whole scene of her literally mourning jinx the moment she sacrificed herself for vi and we literally see her just laying there crying over the fact that her sister and her adopted father is dead and that she is the last of her whole family, we even still her crying when it cuts to another scene indicating that she was laying there for a long time before someone found her.

What I’m trying to say is that the video and the comments didn’t feel like criticism it felt more like hate for the character and hating on their flaws even though these are the same people who say that they want more complex female characters but when that character is written to have more flaws she gets hated and the fandom will try and make it seem as though she has no right to feel the way she may feel and thinking she has to have flaws just flaws that they will like not flaws that they won’t like

#arcane #arcane season 2 #vi arcane #arcane jinx #caitlyn arcane #jinx arcane #arcane vi #arcane caitlyn

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bellestrinkets · 11 hours ago

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arthur is such a sad character, man, i grieve who he was even when i know he is not real. reading about him alone makes me go into this crazy spiral where i just sit in silence —or talking to myself— and think, think real hard, about him.

but oh my, this man… oh my.

he carries this sadness within, this greatness too. i read the journal entries and, each time, i’m nothing short from in awe at what my eyes are skimming through. makes me wonder, what could have been of arthur if life had had kindness awaiting him? not even ‘a little bit more kindness’, because, i believe he didn’t know such word at all before he joined dutch and hosea.

he’s intelligent, yet he doesn’t believe so. he’s talented, yet he diminishes it.

who can we blame for it? definitely not arthur. i roll my eyes every time his intelligence, or the ‘lack there is of’, gets pointed out in the game. he’s a brute, he’s uneducated! the characters claim and it is only mary-beth, and tilly briefly, who point unwavering at the greatness in him, hidden under all this planted insecurity.

“you’re the only one of these fools knows just how lost he is” says mary-beth after a heartfelt conversation with arthur. awareness is a killer when faced with delusion. the camp was perhaps living in a long and misty one —thanks to dutch— and from day one, meaning chapter two, arthur was well aware of what the future awaited. their time ‘had passed’, civilization was inching closer to the american country. he dreaded it, yet he dreaded even more the path through which they were quickly sliding off, like an uncertain mudslide. and he cared, arthur cared deeply for all the people around camp —yes, even for kieran at the end—. alas, the very last act of love, the ultimate gift he held out for others was caring about their wellbeing at the culmination of such hazy delusion.

he almost couldn’t let go of john’s hand, he gave him his hat.

he was a bad man, i will not be discussing it. he was a bad man, he had been cruel to many. maybe for that very same reason, and looking at it from a very shallow perspective, he doesn’t deserve such grace. can a bad person revoke it all by the means of giving to those he wronged? the people that were dead weren’t going to crawl out of their tombs to thank him; ‘… I just wish you’d done it before he worked himself into the grave’ said arthur’s widow. so, is it okay for us to have such compassion for him? well, yes!

as i said, he was a very self aware person, he knew wrong when he saw it, even when it came from his own hand. his loyalty nonetheless, rested upon dutch. he was loyal to the man and that was his greatest fault. arthur was not really reliable when it came to judge dutch’s rights and wrongs. he was ‘his son’, i’ve already discussed such things on a different post. for that very same reason, i do believe we can reproach certain aspects about his character, but only so much; because he realizes, he does the work, he grows and understands, breaking free from this misty delusion

growth hurts, it’s a punch to the gut. to arthur it came in this tragical way, but even before finding out about the tuberculosis we see him approaching it.

it’s an issue of morality; red dead redemption makes you abandon the blacks and whites there are and face the grey areas in between. the honor bar is a physical element used to explain it. you do wrong, you inch towards the black, you do right, you approach the white. yet when you don’t do any, and consistently choose not to, you stay in the grey.

it’s an issue of redemption, it’s in the name.

yes, he was a bad man, making good deeds may not strip that title completely off him but it’s a gamble he takes. like sister calderon says, if he can truly believes that love exists then he can start doing good, or trying to at least. because when everyone believed arthur to be this dumb man, it materialized into his poor opinion on himself.

when one is called, and defined publicly, by all these poor characters; what is there left to be believed about oneself but if not those very same traits? same thing about the others, if he had this negative approach to everything, when could be the day he saw otherwise?

he noticed it and changed. that is growth, that is a search for redemption in the pits of hell.

he could have been a writer, he could have been an artist. he could have been many things yet he didn’t have time. he had this love for nature, for animals and others. he had love to give so that’s what he did.

and that is truly tragic, saddening. looking at the potential being thrown around and punched down. it’s tragic knowing there could have been, there was, more that awaited him but not even arthur gave arthur morgan enough credit.

the potential was not all wasted but rushed to a cruel ending.

that’s another thing i want to see being discussed. arthur died cruelly, even the high honor ending feels cruel to me. it may be peaceful, but still cruel. left to rest on that place. who knows what may have happen after the others flee the woods, how much time passed until he was found again? was his body exposed to the harsh climate of the mountains before it was buried for eternal slumber?

he died facing east, facing the rising sun; and that’s story telling, a testament to the game’s writing and ability to make me go on long rants about a fictitious man.

man, i love arthur, i love his character and i love his mind. i love going ‘oh, arthur’ as i play it and discover a whole new thing about him because really, oh my goodness this man.

#red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #red dead redemption #red dead redemption community #red dead redemption arthur #rdr2 #red dead redemption playthrough #such a heartbreaking and tragic character #character analysis #chapter 6 #ramblings

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thatidiotsuds · 1 day ago

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John Price x Fem! Wife! Reader

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or images used in this work, nor do I claim any rights to them.

Warning ⚠️ : kissing 💋

Kit's Notes: Not proof-read and I may have stated "Johnny" here a couple of times since I wrote this for soap and changed the character to Price last minute.😅 Because this really gives Dad Vibes.

Word count: 2080. Masterlist

Finally Home

It was late at night, the kind of night where the world outside felt heavy with silence, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind. John Price had just returned home after being deported for over a month, and the weight of his experiences clung to him like a second skin. Friends lost, bloodshed, and fear—things no one should ever have to witness. But now, he was back, and that was all that mattered.

He quietly placed his keys on the table, the sound echoing in the stillness of the house. Dropping his bag, he made his way upstairs, where the warmth of home awaited him. As he entered the bedroom, he found you sleeping peacefully, the soft rise and fall of your chest a soothing sight after the chaos he had endured.

“Love…” he whispered, his thick English accent wrapping around the word like a warm blanket. He slipped into bed beside you, the familiar scent of your hair grounding him. You stirred, blinking sleep from your eyes, and smiled at him.

“I’m tired, love…” he murmured, burying his face into your shoulder, inhaling the comfort of home. “I missed you…” he mumbled against your skin, his voice thick with emotion.

“I missed you too,” you replied softly, your heart aching for the man who had seen too much.

John pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, even in the dim light of the room, his own filled with a mix of exhaustion and longing. He brushed a stray hair from your face, his calloused fingers gentle against your skin. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you, sweetheart…”

You smiled, concern flickering in your eyes. “You look like you need a drink.”

He let out a small laugh, a tired smile tugging at his lips. “That’s an understatement. I need more than just a drink. I need a long, hot shower and a whole week of rest.”

“Let’s get you in the shower then,” you said, taking his hand and guiding him toward the bathroom. He leaned on you for support, his body heavy with fatigue.

Once inside, he began to undress, letting his dirty clothes fall to the floor. The moment he stepped into the shower, the hot water cascaded over him, washing away the grime and sweat of the past month. He closed his eyes, letting out a contented sigh as the tension in his muscles began to ease.

“Here, let me help you,” you said, letting him sit on the tub while you perched on the edge, your hands gentle as you helped him wash. The warmth of the water and your touch was a balm to his weary soul. But just as he began to relax, you poured the soap and shampoo on his hair and skin, lathering it into thick bubbles while you massaged his torso.

As Price was about to doze off, a soft cry echoed from the nursery.

“Ah, bloody hell,” John muttered, frustration creeping into his voice. “I’ll finish up here, love. You go see to the little one.”

You nodded, giving him a quick kiss before stepping out to tend to the baby. John finished rinsing off, the water soothing his aching muscles, and once he was done, he wrapped a towel around his waist, took his comfy clothes from the rack, and made his way to the nursery.

There you were, gently covering your daughter with a soft blanket, finally getting her to sleep, her tiny features peaceful in slumber. “Look at her,” you said, glancing up at him with a smile. “She’s got your eyes.”

“Yeah, she’s a precious one,” John replied, his heart swelling with pride. He stepped closer, nuzzling against you, and slowly guided you both back to your bedroom, walking through the narrow halls of your small home, the warmth of your body mingling in the dim light of the room. Silence was comforting at the moment.

When you reached your bedroom's door frame, he placed a finger under your chin and leaned in to kiss you, a passionate deep kiss that he had longed to give you after all the missed time. As you both shared a tender moment, the heat of your reunion ignited a spark, and soon you found yourselves back in the bedroom, lips crashing together in a passionate kiss. The world outside faded away, and for a moment, it was just the two of you.

But just as things began to heat up, the door creaked open, and in walked your eldest son, rubbing his eyes. “Mum? Dad? I can’t sleep. It’s too dark.”

Price sighed, a mix of frustration and amusement washing over him. “Aye, come here, lad,” he said, scooping up his son and cradling him in his arms. “Let’s get you back to your room.”

As he carried the boy down the hall, he couldn’t help but be playful, making silly faces and telling ridiculous dad jokes that had the little one giggling. You stood at the doorframe, watching them with a smile, your heart full.

“Dad, what were you and Mum doing in the bedroom?” the boy asked innocently, his curiosity piqued.

John paused, caught off guard. “Uh, well, we were just… uh…”

“Were you kissing?” the boy asked, eyes wide with wonder.

“Yeah, we were,” John admitted, trying to keep a straight face. “But it’s just a way of showing we love each other.”

“Are you making another sibling for me?” he asked, referencing what he’d heard from his classmates about storks and babies.

Price chuckled, shaking his head. “Not quite, son. It doesn’t work like that. You see, babies come from a bit more than just kisses.” He took a deep breath, preparing to explain. “When two people love each other very much, they can decide to have a baby. It’s a special thing that happens when they’re ready.”

The boy’s eyes widened, processing the information. “So, you and Mum are just… practicing?”

John couldn’t help but laugh at the innocent interpretation. “Aye, something like that. But it’s not just about the kisses; it’s about love and care, too.”

“Okay,” the boy said, nodding seriously. “But I don’t want a baby yet. I have my little sister.”

“Fair enough, lad,” John replied, tucking him into bed. "We wouldn’t change that for the world.” He covered him with a blanket, planting a soft kiss on his forehead. “Now, get some sleep. You’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

As he turned to leave, he glanced back at his son, who was already drifting off. With a smile, he walked back to the bedroom, where you were waiting, arms crossed and a playful smirk on your face.

“Did you manage to explain it without too much trouble?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

John shrugged, a grin spreading across his face. “Aye, I think he’ll be alright. Just a bit of a misunderstanding, that’s all.”

You laughed softly, stepping closer to him. “Well, now that we’ve settled that, how about we get back to what we were doing?”

Price’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he pulled you into his arms. “Aye, let’s not let a little one interrupt our time together again.”

With that, he leaned down, capturing your lips in a heated kiss, the world outside forgotten as you both melted into each other, ready to reclaim the moments you had lost. The kiss deepened, igniting a fire that had been smoldering during the long days apart. Price’s hands roamed your back, pulling you closer as if he could merge your souls into one. The warmth of the room enveloped you both, and for a moment, the weight of the world faded away.

“Ye know,” he murmured between kisses, “I could get used to this again. Just us, no interruptions.”

You smiled against his lips, feeling the tension of the past month slip away. “I think we deserve a little time to ourselves, don’t you?”

“Aye, we do,” he replied, his voice low and husky. He lifted you slightly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you back to the bed, the soft sheets welcoming you both.

As he laid you down, his gaze softened, and he brushed his thumb across your cheek. “I’ve missed this—missed you.”

You nodded, your heart swelling with affection. “And I’ve been waiting for you to come back, Johnny. It hasn’t been the same without you.”

He leaned down, capturing your lips again, pouring all the love and longing he had into that kiss. The world outside ceased to exist, and all that mattered was the two of you, lost in each other’s embrace.

But just as you began to lose yourselves in the moment, a soft knock echoed from the door. John groaned, pulling away slightly, frustration flickering in his eyes. “What now?”

“Dad?” came the small voice from the other side. “I can’t sleep. I’m scared.”

Price sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll be right back, love,” he said, adjusting his pajama pants.

You watched him go, a smile creeping onto your face as he opened the door to find your son standing there, wide-eyed and clutching his blanket.

“Come here, lad,” Price said, kneeling down to his son’s level. “What’s got ye all worked up?”

“I don’t like the dark,” the boy admitted, his voice small.

John scooped him up, cradling him in his arms. “Well, ye don’t need to worry. I’ll stay with ye until ye fall asleep with that ...night lamp..How about that?”

The boy nodded, snuggling into his father’s shoulder. “Can you tell me a story?”

“Aye, I can do that,” John replied, carrying him back to his room. As he settled the boy into bed, he began to weave a tale of brave knights and daring adventures, his thick English accent bringing the story to life.

You leaned against the doorframe, watching the scene unfold with a smile. John was a natural storyteller, his voice animated as he painted vivid pictures with his words. The boy’s eyes sparkled with wonder, and soon enough, he was drifting off, lulled by his father’s soothing voice.

Once the boy was asleep, John tiptoed back to your room, a playful grin on his face. “Well, that was quick,” he said, closing the door behind him.

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you. “You’re a great dad, you know that?”

John chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Aye, I try. But it’s not always easy, is it?”

“No, it’s not,” you agreed, stepping closer to him. “But moments like these remind me of what truly matters.”

He nodded, his expression softening. “Family is everything, love. No matter how chaotic life gets, it’s these moments that make it all worthwhile.”

You wrapped your arms around him, feeling the weight of the world lift just a little. “And we have to cherish them, don’t we? Time is fleeting, and we never know what tomorrow will bring.”

“Aye,” he replied, holding you close. “We need to make the most of every moment we have together. That’s what family is all about.”

As you both stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, you realized that despite the challenges and uncertainties, the love you shared was a constant source of strength. In the quiet of the night, you understood that time spent together, no matter how small, was a treasure to be cherished.

With a renewed sense of purpose, you leaned in to kiss him, knowing that no matter what lay ahead, you would face it together as a family. And in that moment, you both understood that love, laughter, and the simple act of being together were the greatest gifts of all.

#cod #john price #price #captain price #price x reader #price x you

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zepskies · 3 days ago

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Oooh here we go, diving right back into Angst City with some manic Cowboy Sheriff. 😅

A computer mouse flung against the wall and only missed Jenny’s head by an inch as the blonde peeked inside his office. The rest of the station had selected her to talk to the big boss, his outbursts even being heard from miles away. “You okay?” Jenny checked carefully. “I’m tryna find that stupid camera!”

*snorts* Oh, he's not handling this well, is he? Can't really blame him, considering a serial killer has the love of his life captured somewhere. 🥲

It wasn’t just about what he had done in there but also about he’d said. No wonder Diane had gotten so easily under his skin. She probably had heard every insecurity he had ever uttered. To you. And to imaginary Randy. How was he supposed to sleep in a place where he felt exploited, exposed, and unsafe?

Oh Goddd, it really is awful. It's like nowhere in his life is private or safe anymore for him. How could you ever feel comfortable in your own office again?

And if the roles were reversed, Beau wouldn’t either. He’d probably be even more annoyingly persistent than Randy.

loll I could definitely see that. 😅

“This isn’t a game, Randy! We need to find Y/N before it’s too late,” Beau argued furiously. They didn’t have time for petty competitions.

THANK YOU. At least one of them is taking this situation more seriously than their rivalry. But I honestly understand and sympathize with Randy too -- he's grasping at straws even though he knows he's losing his (former) wife emotionally already, even if he does manage to find the key to saving her before Beau does.

“‘Sides, why would I give up my favorite part? I’ve waited a while for this one. Killing her? While you two idiots watch helplessly and throw feces at each other like monkeys in a zoo? Gotta say, it’s better than killing twenty-four people combined. Ever since I met Deputy Popcorn, I’ve been actually craving a snack.” Upon Beau’s facial twitch, Diane leaned closer and whispered with a smirk,

Ok, just shoot this bitch out back and bury her under the sheriff's office. Honestly. 😤 (But the monkeys line did make me snort lol)

“About four years ago, she wrote a rather lengthy email to her sister Sophia in Seattle. She seemed very upset. Said there was a little something you wouldn’t give her. Ring any bells?”

Dammmmn how the hell is she getting this information?? But now I'm looking at Randy sideways even harder. 😒

I was on pins and needles throughout all of the reader's almost escape -- that bear trap actually made me physically grimace/wince!! Omg poor thing. But I loved how remembering Beau's advice helped her get out of the trap -- or at least the bear trap, if not Hal's "Benders"-themed game of hunt and chase. 😰

Pulling out their weapons, the two shared a look without speaking a word before entering the house, a feeling of familiarity rising in Beau’s chest. They were still partners, somewhere deep down.

Such a great moment between Beau and Randy here, and such great storytelling, especially as they actually start to work together to solve the mystery of what happened to the reader next. 👏🏽💜 I think one of the things I love most about your writing is you have such a great sense of story beats, creating tension and when to relieve it, and how to build character arcs that provide amazing twists, while also making exact sense when it all comes together, piece by piece.

Beau knew the question was mostly rhetorical, but true to himself, he still answered, “It’s actually pretty easy. Just press down on the springs, and the thing opens right up.” A smile formed on his lips as a memory popped back into his mind. “I told Y/N that once when we took a camping trip back in Houston. She probably didn’t remember it. I mean, honestly, I doubt she was even listening. I was kinda ramblin’, you know?”

Oh these two were made for her -- she was actually listening to his ramblings. 🥰💜

“Yeah, well, it’s true,” he said, his gaze cast downward as if he were confessing his sins to a priest. “She wanted kids, and I told her I didn’t. Neither of us was backing down. The night the cartel kidnapped me, we were supposed to have dinner and talk about it when I got home. Part of me already knew where it was headed.”

Remember earlier when I was talking about your amazing twists that make things click into place even more perfectly? Well THIS IS IT. 👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽 It makes things with her and Beau make even more sense now that we know she was likely leaving Randy anyway, no matter how much she loved him.

“Good thing you’re not her father,” Beau snapped. He could only muster so much patience. “You don’t really have a say in who she’s datin’.”

YES, Beau!! I get it, Randy's been dealt a shitty hand, but Beau's POV in this situation and conversation is so valid. 👌🏽 (Especially since she was likely leaving Randy anyway.)

Regardless, it seems like they had the honest man-to-man talk they needed to have about everything. But Wayne!!! That cliffhanger is...

Polaris – Chapter 12

Series Summary: When Beau Arlen moved to Montana, he left behind a past he wasn’t proud of. But when a series of murders requires the FBI’s help, Sheriff Arlen‘s ghosts come back to haunt him one by one. With a wrong turn waiting at every crossroads, it’s hard to make the right choices and find his way back home – back to you.

Pairing: Beau Arlen x FBI Agent!Reader

Warnings: 18+, a heavy dose of angst, kidnapping, violence, injuries, serial killers, death, an awful cliffhanger

Word Count: 6.8k

A/N: Happy New Year, everyone! 🥳 We jump straight into 2025 with an angsty banger 👀

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Tag List

Chapter 12: Through

On one of the sunniest mornings Helena had seen in recent days, the peaceful quiet of the early risers in the Sheriff’s Department was disturbed by one restless sheriff.

Beau was taking his office apart – bit by bit, nail by nail, panel by panel, brick by brick.

The search for you had gone on all night and yielded zero results. You were nowhere to be found. For all Beau knew, you could be dead by now and buried in the vast woods of Montana.

“You okay?” Jenny checked carefully.

“I’m tryna find that stupid camera!”

“Thought you already found that hours ago,” Jenny noted with a raised brow.

“Can’t be too careful…” the sheriff murmured, his focus landing on the pile of pens on his desk. The silver one – had that always been there? He picked it up. “Does this look normal to you?”

Jenny only offered a shrug.

“Never mind,” Beau muttered and reduced the pen down to its individual parts. Nothing. Just a plain, old pen.

“Did you get some sleep?”

“What d’you think?”

At five in the morning, Beau had promised Jenny he’d snooze for half an hour on the couch in his office. He did lie down, stared at the suspended ceiling tiles for about a minute, and then remembered the damn camera.

How was he supposed to sleep in a place where he felt exploited, exposed, and unsafe?

“Well, uh, I just wanted to tell you that Randy went into Interrogation Room 2 with Diane…”

“WHAT?!”

“Yeah…” Jenny exhaled a deep sigh and leaned against the door frame. “He said you’d deputized him and authorized it, but I had a feeling that wasn’t true.”

Beau ran a hand across his face, rubbing his beard.

Rule #3: She’s my wife. I get to decide how we proceed.

Rule #4: You’re not the boss of me.

“Well, I did deputize him,” Beau admitted. He had given his former partner a long leash, not expecting he’d bolt through the backyard.

“Beau…” Jenny clearly didn’t approve.

“He left me no choice, alright?!”

Well, no choice his guilt could deal with.

The sheriff then left his destroyed office and thundered into Interrogation Room 2 down the hall. Randy wouldn’t get to do this alone. Beau knew there was an ulterior motive – if only Randy saved you, he could also miraculously save his marriage. Randy was a persistent motherfucker. He wouldn’t give up.

And if the roles were reversed, Beau wouldn’t either. He’d probably be even more annoyingly persistent than Randy.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Beau charged in with steam coming out of his ears. For a moment, his anger was so focused on his friend, he didn’t even notice the rising smile on Diane’s lips.

“Good morning, Sheriff Arlen.” Even if Diane’s voice sounded melodious, to Beau it was still chalk on board. “Remodeling the office, are we?”

“You mind?” Randy prompted stand-offishly, glancing up at the sheriff. “Kinda in the middle of something here.”

“Outside. Now,” was all Beau said.

Defiantly and miffed by the authoritative tone, Randy followed him to the hall.

“Play nice, boys!” Diane’s voice echoed through before the door fell into its lock.

“What d’you think you’re doing? You can’t just talk to our prime suspect without my presence!” Beau roared.

Randy rolled his eyes back. “Didn’t know I needed a babysitter…”

“This isn’t a game, Randy! We need to find Y/N before it’s too late,” Beau argued furiously. They didn’t have time for petty competitions.

“Yeah, which is why I’m talking to the only lead we have! That bitch knows where she is,” Randy countered with an equal amount of fury.

“She’s not gonna tell you!”

Randy only shrugged – cocky in nature and completely unlike him. And Beau then realized something that had changed: His friend wouldn’t back down anymore and bend. Those days were over, and it was probably Beau’s own fault.

“We’ll see,” Randy said stubbornly, his hand wandering back to the door handle. “You comin’?”

Beau inhaled and exhaled a deep breath before nodding – and back into the lion’s den they went.

Diane welcomed them with a sneer. “All made up?”

“Tell us where Turner took her,” Randy demanded with a stern expression and firm voice.

If Randy wanted to play bad cop, the role of good cop fell to Beau by default. And although they had never ever played it that way before, Beau figured Randy carried more anger than even him right now. He might as well let him make good use of it.

“Can’t.” Diane twitched her shoulders. “Hal doesn’t tell me.”

“Oh, and we’re just supposed to believe that?” Beau lifted a brow in mock. “C’mon, Diane…”

“It’s true,” she said, smiling. “Call it an insurance policy in case one of you Neanderthals decides to go rogue on me – looking at you specifically, Sheriff Arlen. If you leave your own partner to die in a filthy warehouse, I don’t wanna know what you do to your enemies.” She then looked at Randy, whispering behind her palm, “You know, I think he did it on purpose.”

Beau clicked his tongue and snorted humorlessly. “Alright, Diane, you’ve had your fun. You’ve wreaked havoc… You’ve won, okay? Fair and square. Just give up your partner, tell us where Y/N is, and end this once and for all. Might even get a better deal if you do. Think about it. Murdering an FBI agent doesn’t look good in front of a judge and jury. We have iron-clad proof you killed at least five people in Texas. Capital murder, death penalty… See where I’m going with this?”

“Oh, I’ve thought about it, Sheriff. And I’ve told you: I don’t know where she is now,” Diane reiterated with the same infuriating smile. Her gray eyes then wandered to a wall clock behind the men. “At least not yet.”

Randy and Beau both followed her gaze and stared at that same clock. Their eyes widened.

“Then when?” Randy prompted.

“Don’t worry. You’ll see her soon.” Diane smirked. “If she makes it out alive, she can tell you in person she’s choosing the rugged sheriff here over you, Detective Nichols.”

Randy’s jaw tightened, his fists clenching and unclenching under the metal table.

“I gave her a fighting chance.”

“Oh, you mean like the others?” Beau had known from the start that it would be useless talking to her.

“They all could’ve gotten out,” said Diane as if she blamed the victims for not being smarter and more durable. “‘Sides, why would I give up my favorite part? I’ve waited a while for this one. Killing her? While you two idiots watch helplessly and throw feces at each other like monkeys in a zoo? Gotta say, it’s better than killing twenty-four people combined. Ever since I met Deputy Popcorn, I’ve been actually craving a snack.” Upon Beau’s facial twitch, Diane leaned closer and whispered with a smirk, “Yeah, I know about the cute little nicknames for your deputies too, Sheriff. I wonder how many bugs you’ve found yet in your office. Sure it can’t be all of them. Maybe I’ve bugged the whole station. Who’s to say? Have you checked your trailer yet? The lovely agent’s motel room? No?”

Beau couldn’t pinpoint the exact feeling that clutched his heart and twisted it like a boa constrictor. Pain, fear, anger, sadness – a deadly cocktail for anyone. Was this throbbing sting in his chest what a heart attack felt like? Only recently, he’d read an article in the paper about a guy his age who just dropped dead. Was this it for him?

Would it mean he'd get to see you again, though?

“Enough of that!”

Randy’s voice rang in his ears, but Beau couldn’t refocus. He needed fresh air to breathe, his lungs dried up and clinging to every molecule like he’d been deprived of oxygen for days. The small room felt suddenly suffocating as the monster across from him sneered joyfully.

“Look, I don’t know if you’re saying all that horseshit ‘cause you wanna hurt him or me,” Randy said, his voice laced with a darkness Beau had never seen before.

“Little bit of both,” Diane teased with a shrug.

“Yeah, well, I don’t care either way,” Randy huffed, the deep creases in his brow casting threatening shadows on his face. “Do your worst to me or him. Hell, burn us at the stake if it makes you feel any better, sweetheart, but all I wanna know is where that bunker is. Where is she? Your beef’s clearly with us. Men, right? You know she doesn’t deserve this. Just let her go.”

Diane seemed unamused by the suggestion, leaning back in the metal chair. “You’re right. She doesn’t deserve this. I actually like her. She reminds me of me. But you two did this to her. It’s out of my hands at this point. You don’t deserve her, sheriff,” she said and looked at Beau before her cold eyes shifted to Randy. “Neither do you, detective. I know a lot of things – and not just about the sheriff here. I know what you did to her, too.”

Randy forced a tight smile. “You’re bluffing. I didn’t do anything.”

“Am I?” Diane quirked a brow and then sent him an innocent smile. “About four years ago, she wrote a rather lengthy email to her sister Sophia in Seattle. She seemed very upset. Said there was a little something you wouldn’t give her. Ring any bells?”

With a thick swallow and a glare swimming in his hazel eyes, Randy nodded. “We’re done here.”

Diane let out a long, suspenseful sigh, not bothering to engage further. Her icy heart wouldn’t melt. Her eyes flickered around the bleak, depressing room. “I miss windows. Haven’t seen the outside for days.”

“Yeah, and you ain’t gonna,” Beau huffed. He had quietly listened, his heart rate slowing down as his head started spinning with questions. You had never told him anything. He had never asked. It had been an unspoken rule to not talk about your marriage. Beau always figured knowing too much would only make it worse.

“Too bad. I always liked the autumn sunsets. When it gets dark sooner…” Diane then stretched out her neck. “Anyways, nice chatting with you boys, but it’s time for my beauty nap now. Which one of you two cowboys is gonna accompany me back to my cell, hm?”

The men shared a look and then wordlessly rose, leaving the room. In the safety of the hallway, Beau ran a hand over his face and took his first deep breath.

Air. Lungs. Brain. Without toxicity, he could finally think straight again.

“Well, this was pointless and a waste of our time. Happy now?” Beau huffed with his newfound lung capacity.

But Randy’s brow was furrowed. He was thinking. “Actually, yeah… Didn’t you hear what she said?”

“Yeah, bunch of narcissistic bullshit. She’s not gonna tell us where Y/N is,” Beau muttered bitterly. If possible, he wished to never converse with that psychotic witch again. There was only so much he could handle before snapping her neck.

“She said that she doesn’t know where Y/N is now,” Randy pointed out. “Maybe she wasn’t lying. Maybe Y/N’s not in the bunker yet. Turner might keep her somewhere else and wait till he can move her.”

“At sundown,” Beau mused, Diane’s words haunting his mind. “He’ll move her when it’s dark.”

“Which means we still have a couple hours to find her,” Randy finished the thought.

“Popcorn!” Beau yelled down the hallway. The sheriff found himself in better spirits. He hadn’t used a silly name for his most loyal deputy in days, although it ached a tiny bit to say it now. “Any properties in Newton’s name?”

“Yes, sir, several,” Mo replied.

“I need a list of all in the area. Get a team together and search ‘em. One by one,” Beau ordered. “Warehouses, cabins… Take it all apart. I don’t care.”

“And also see if any properties are in Hal Turner’s name and add them to the list,” Randy suggested.

Poppernak shot Beau a look, and only when the latter gave his agreement, did the deputy nod. “Yes, Sheriff Arlen.”

The obnoxiously loud sound of birds woke you from a deep slumber. Groggily, you pried your eyes open and found the first few beams of sunlight warming your face. For a peaceful moment of dazed bliss, you had no clue where you were or how you got here.

There was a thumping, searing pain in your skull, hammering away at your sanity like the ticks of a clock. Your neck and shoulders hurt from tension till you realized you were bound to an old wooden chair, a harsh and creaking surface underneath you. Your behind felt both sore and numb.

Glancing around the room, you noticed you were in the living quarters of a small cabin. A fireplace sat to your right. Above it, a cuckoo clock that showed shortly past noon, and you realized that must’ve produced the bird noise that woke you. The stinging sunlight reached your eyes and filled you with hope.

Hal Turner hadn’t locked you into a bunker yet.

“You’re awake. Good.” Turner entered the room with a bottle of water and a sandwich, throwing the items unceremoniously onto your lap. “You need to eat. We’ll leave soon.”

“Where are we going?”

“Where they all went,” he said and came up behind you. Turner wasn’t a man of tall stature. Small, middle-aged, nervous. Non-threatening.

Diane’s little ant.

He cut your ties, and you could tell his hands were shaking. They didn’t treat the others like that. Entertaining a victim had never been his job before.

Sedated, dumped, marooned.

That had been the pattern, and you hoped this little off-course adventure would pay off with your freedom. Your gaze drifted down to a lonely brown belt buckle.

Unarmed.

With free hands and Turner still vulnerably behind you, your arms shot up and wrapped around his neck. Fortunately, he wasn’t as heavy as Beau in training when you jolted him forward, jumped up, and rammed his face straight into your knee.

Unconscious for the moment, Turner tumbled to the ground, and you sprinted through the front door. You hoped it would give you enough time to find an exit.

But all you found was a vast sea of trees – towering pines that reached heavenward with no neighboring houses or roads in sight.

There was a shed to your left. Tools. You needed weapons.

And, most of all, you needed more goddamn time to think your way out of this one.

It wasn’t long till you heard the front door of the cabin slam open, heavy and angry footsteps aimlessly searching before they slowly circled closer to the shed.

Fortunately, your little hide-out had proved itself useful – and fully stocked. Turner had arranged his tools in a neatly organized manner. Nothing seemed to be out of place, screwdrivers hanging on the wall from small to big, pliers, drills, hacksaws… Your weapons of choice, however, fell on a hammer and the heaviest, biggest wrench.

Lurking behind the small barn door, you lay in wait till the old door creaked open and Hal Turner walked through. He only blinked at you wide-eyed before your first hit with the wrench landed across his right cheek. It was hard enough for blood to spew out of his mouth, and as he tumbled forward, you delivered your second blow – the hammer, this time, slamming against the back of his head.

Dropping the tools, you decided to take your chances and make a run through the woods for it. You still had a few fleeting hours till dark. If you just kept going, maybe you’d make it to a road or a town somewhere before you froze to death.

What a great outlook…

However, you didn’t even get farther than a few yards from the house before a sharp pain seared from your ankle throughout your entire body. Falling harshly and bracing yourself on the cold, wet leaves, you screamed out and looked down at the culprit – a bear trap.

Well, points for Hufflepuff!

Apparently, you had underestimated Turner. Ahead of you, you also spied some tripwire. Great. This place was a giant death trap – and you had already hated the woods before all of this.

Getting back onto your feet was not only hindered by the giant claws in your flesh but also the iron chain attached to the trap that tethered you to the ground. So, with your freezing hands, you dug out the metal stake that served as your anchor.

Then, the fucking bear trap – you knew this one would hurt like a son of a bitch. Carefully, you inspected the oozing wound, the razor sharp edges deeply clutching your skin at your lower calf and ankle. For a moment, you even swore you could feel the tips of their pointed teeth drilling into your bone. You tried to pry them apart with your hands but gave up on that idea rather quickly once the jaws cut your fingers.

Glancing at the shed, you saw the door was still ajar. It was quiet in there. Either Hal Turner was gone, solely unconscious, or currently bleeding to death. The shed was your Schrödinger’s cat. As long as you didn’t know which one it was, you still had time.

Taking several deep breaths, you closed your eyes and remembered the trip you took with Beau when you were back in Houston. The two of you drove camping in Piney Woods. For a few days, you were gone and unknown to everyone around you. You could just be you and him. No one had to hide anything. No one had to feel guilty. In those short days, you realized you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him.

“Did you know bear traps are actually pretty easy to get out of?” Beau babbles a random fact in his usual manner when neither of you has said anything in a minute. He glances at you, a happy smile on his face as he intertwines his fingers with yours during a stroll through the green and lush forest.

“Huh.”

“Yeah, all you gotta do is not panic, get up on your feet, and press your weight down on the springs at the bottom. Just pops open and you can pull your leg out,” he explains with a popping sound, turning the little lesson into a show-and-tell.

“Don’t panic…” you mumbled to yourself and sat up. “Get up…” With a strained groan and your palms supportively on the ground, you heaved yourself to your feet. You winced as you put pressure on your injured leg and, therefore, tried to shift your weight to your good one. The main problem was the next step: “Press down.”

Mentally, you braced yourself before you slowly started to put pressure on the leg again. The jaws moved and wiggled in your flesh, but the pain was too much too bear. You bit down on your tongue as tears strangled your eyes.

Alright, next try.

If slow was too painful, then maybe the bandaid method was the way to go. Quick and painless, as they say. You inhaled and exhaled through your nose as you raised your foot a few inches above ground, making sure the springs would hit the uneven surface properly. Then, you kicked down.

The trap sprung open, you pulled your foot out, and released a primal scream that echoed through the quiet woods, surely disturbing whatever lived there.

And then, suddenly, Hal Turner stood in front of you with a shovel.

Diane’s listed properties came up empty. There was still no sign of you. Turner, on the other hand, had only booked a motel room in his name but hadn’t been seen there in weeks. So, Beau figured he had to be staying somewhere if he wasn’t sleeping in his room.

At four o’clock, the sheriff was close to a breakdown when all leads petered out and the daylight was almost gone. But then Cassie and Denise stormed the station, both out of breath, and brought forth a document that showed a property north of Helena in the name of a Diane Turner. It was a remote cabin in the middle of the woods, which also happened to be close to the location where the ambulance had picked up Randy.

Ding, ding, ding!

Beau gathered the whole cavalry and raced there as fast as he could. By the time he was ten minutes out, the sky had grown dark, the woods pitch-black around him. Switching on the Jeep’s headlights only added to the uneasiness in his stomach. His passenger was quiet next to him, but Beau could tell how worried Randy was by the way his left leg anxiously drummed against the floor mat.

Both of them thought it was too late to save you.

An access road, all dirt, led up behind the cabin, only making it a short hike. Turner’s vehicle had been parked at the fork where it reached pavement. They seemed to be on the right track. After all, if Turner was here, then hopefully so were you.

Beau and Randy were the first to arrive, the cabin inside dark without a single light on, not even a candle burning in the smudged windows. Carefully, the men stepped on the porch, the property around them quiet and undisturbed, but the front door was an inch ajar. Pulling out their weapons, the two shared a look without speaking a word before entering the house, a feeling of familiarity rising in Beau’s chest.

They were still partners, somewhere deep down.

The floorboards creaked under Beau’s boots as he treaded down the hallway. The cabin was small, only consisting of one bedroom, a living area, a kitchen and bath. While the men checked each room, Beau already knew you weren’t here anymore – if you’d ever been here to begin with. Maybe Diane had sent them on a wild goose-chase, another sick game created by the mind of psychopath, while you had been locked in a bunker all along, waiting for him to find you.

How much air did you still have left? Would he get to you in time?

“Beau!”

His partner’s voice drew him from the bedroom to the living space, his mind still rattling with the unspoken fear of losing you. His green eyes then focused on the beam of Randy’s flashlight as it shone on a wooden chair in the middle of the room, a set of cut plastic ties on the floor next to it. There was also an uneaten sandwich and an unopened bottle of water scattered on the ground.

And then, there were the trails, the little drops, and the sheer pools of blood everywhere that made his gut churn. Was it all yours?

“We need to get forensics here,” Beau said with a thick swallow, already pulling out his phone to call Jenny.

“That’s a lot of blood,” Randy said with a lump in his throat, his eyes transfixed on the little red pond by the tips of his feet. And although it was dark, Beau could see the color drain from his partner’s face.

“I know.” Beau bobbed his head quietly, gently clasping his friend’s shoulder as he held his phone to his ear.

The sheriff then informed Jenny of their findings, telling her to hurry any lab results along. The sooner they knew whose blood it was, the better. As he hung up, he noticed Randy following a trail of blood to the door, leading further outside. He shone his flashlight through the dense foliage before it landed on a little working shed to the right.

As Randy creaked the door of the shed open, with Beau behind him, both thought there was a high probability they’d stumble upon a body in there – if not two.

Instead, the shed was disappointingly empty.

Beau whistled lowly as the light hit the neatly arranged wall of tools. “Well, that’s some freak level organization.”

But Randy’s brow furrowed as his light landed on the ground behind the door. “There’s a hammer and wrench on the ground.” He knelt down to inspect it closer. “Got blood on it. Lot of it.”

Beau chuckled lightly and ran a palm over his face to keep the stinging tears of hope inside, which only confused Randy.

“What’s so funny? Y/N might be dead,” Randy said sourly.

“That’s not Turner’s doing,” Beau argued and gestured at the tools on the ground, his heart flooding with a tiny bit of relief. “Look at the wall. Why would he kill her with tools? It’s way too bloody. Guy like this can’t handle the mess. He had a perfectly fine gun. Would’ve been way cleaner if he wanted to.”

“So, you think this was Y/N?” Randy thought for a moment before nodding. “The ties inside were cut. The food and water on the floor… Maybe he cut her loose and she took advantage of it? I mean, it does sound like her.”

“Yeah…” Beau’s eyes then musingly drifted back to the wall. “Is there a screwdriver on the ground somewhere? There’s one missing here.”

“Nope, nothing on the ground,” Randy replied once his flashlight search was complete. “You think she took it with her?”

“Let’s hope so…”

“But if Y/N managed to overpower Turner, why isn’t she here? And where’s Turner? And if it happened out here, why is there so much blood inside?”

Beau licked his chapped lips, his brow returning to their initially creased position. “Maybe she didn’t take him out for good.”

“You thinkin’ she knocked him out and escaped?”

“Yeah, and then Turner woke up, went back into the house before taking off after her through those woods,” Beau shared his theory. It would explain the vast amounts of blood inside.

“So, your theory is she’s lost and being hunted?” Randy cocked a brow.

Beau only offered him a shrug. “Best possible scenario.”

“Great.” Randy scoffed. “What’s the worst possible scenario then?”

Beau’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “I think we both know.” Licking his lips, he patted Randy’s shoulder. “But let’s not think about the worst right now. I’ll get a team going to search these woods. We’ll find her. You’re not losing her again, alright?”

Randy could only nod and hope, but a little tug on his heart told him something different as he glanced at his former friend.

“It’s been three hours,” Randy huffed frustratedly as they passed the same street sign to Helena down the mountain once more, driving up and down the roads around the cabin in an endless loop, hoping and praying a miracle would happen. “Don’t you think we would’ve found her by now? If she’s hurt and inside those woods, we should be in there looking for her.”

Beau passed another sigh between his lips. There had been three hours of that, too. Patience was a not only an eight-letter word but a bitch as well.

“Neither of us is any help there. We don’t know those woods. You don’t even a phone, Randy,” Beau said with a bit more firmness in his voice, causing his partner’s frown to deepen. Saved by the bell, Beau’s phone chimed in his pocket with Jenny’s angelic name popping up on the screen. He pulled over on the side of the road before picking up.

“What you got? Uh-huh… You sure? What did they say about the cabin? Okay… Both of ‘em? How far? Which direction? Alright… We’re close. Driving back up there now.”

Randy held his breath till Beau hung up, trying to guess the content of the phone call by the various facial expressions of the sheriff. Then, he asked, “Good news or bad news?”

“Hard to say,” Beau replied, his eyes fixed on his hands gripping the steering wheel. He swallowed the lump in his throat, gave himself an encouraging nod, and started the engine, trying to sink every bad theory that surfaced in his mind. “Forensics came back. Our theory was partially correct. The blood inside the cabin was mostly Turner’s.”

Randy raised a brow, his heartbeat thrumming in his ears. “Mostly?”

“Evidence points to her not escaping. Turner might have gotten to her before she could even leave the property. They found a bear trap with her blood on it,” Beau explained slowly, his grip on the wheel tightening. “Dogs picked up a trail, leading into the woods. Forensics confirmed both of their blood on that trail.”

“Doesn’t mean anything. He could’ve followed her. She still could’ve escaped,” Randy replied and knew full well it was only sugarcoating the truth swimming in the lower pits of his belly.

“Could’ve…” Beau nodded and swallowed heavily. “But then again, if she did manage to escape, how did her blood end up inside the cabin?”

Defeated, Randy licked his lips, expelling a humorless chuckle. “Yeah, guess my hopes are little too high. I mean, how the hell would you get out of a bear trap?”

“Uh-huh. I remember. I’ve spent a lot of time with you…” Randy smacked his lips, fingers tapping his thigh. “You guys went on a trip together?”

Beau’s mouth opened on reflex, but he stopped himself from replying, shooting a scrutinizing look at his partner. “Yeah, uh, just the one, really. Shoulda been more…”

Regrets seeped to the surface. If Beau had known he had only a finite amount of time with you, he would’ve enjoyed and appreciated every last second of it. He should’ve spent less time in his head. He should’ve taken you out on more dates. He should’ve been the best he could be. Instead, he wasted so much time and couldn’t even remember why in retrospect.

“What makes you say that?” Randy’s question rang both with curiosity and pain. His brown eyes stared stubbornly ahead and focused on the dark road.

Beau blew a long sigh. “Well, I wasn’t always the best–,” he hesitated a moment before saying the word, “–boyfriend, I guess.”

If Randy was upset by the term, he didn’t let it show. Maybe he was sticking to Rule #2. He quirked a brow and glanced at Beau in the driver’s seat. “So, on top of stealing my wife, you’re telling me you didn’t even treat her right?”

“Guess so,” Beau admitted quietly, poking the inside of his cheeks with his tongue and ignoring the subtle jab. “And I didn’t treat her badly, by the way. Just could’ve tried harder. Felt guilty because she was your-, well, you know… And the divorce got kinda messy, too. I just wanted to stay clear of complications.”

Exasperated, Randy scoffed, shaking his head. “This is not really making me want to give you my blessing…”

Beau huffed a chuckle. “Didn’t know that was an option.”

“Well, it’s not. You don’t deserve her.” Randy clicked his tongue, pensively bobbing his head. He then finally admitted, the words sounding almost sour, “Neither do I. You might be as big of an idiot as me.”

Beau’s eyes widened in surprise, his focus briefly swaying from the road. “What d’you mean? You guys were perfect together. Is this about what Newton said?”

Randy’s lips curved into a bitter smile. “Y/N never told you?”

“Told me what?”

Randy chewed on his lower lip before pushing out the words that had plagued him for three years. “She wanted to leave me.”

Beau shook his head. “Nah, I don’t buy it. She loved you. You should’ve seen her after she thought you’d died.”

Randy inhaled sharply, his head spinning with regret and heart filling with hope. For the past years, he had wondered if he’d ever get another chance to fix things with you.

Beau listened and nodded. He remembered the set dinner table, the lovingly prepared food, the candles – it didn’t seem like something one would do if they planned on leaving.

“No, I don’t think she would’ve left you,” Beau noted, although his heart stung when he said it out loud.

“I overheard her asking Carla for a divorce lawyer. Pretty sure she was,” Randy retorted. “Seems silly now. She was already out of my league. I should’ve just given her what she wanted. I don’t even know why I didn’t. I should’ve just shut up and been grateful.”

“That’s what I would’ve told you to do,” Beau muttered, his brain trying to keep track and process everything. Why had you never told him any of this? And more importantly: “Why have you never told me?”

“Guess I was embarrassed.” Randy shrugged. “And I already knew what you would’ve said.”

Secretly amused, Beau cocked a brow. “What? That you’re an idiot?”

“Exactly.”

“And Carla knew?”

“I guess.” Randy gave another shrug of his shoulders. “I mean, they talked all the time. Well, mostly it was Carla complaining about you, but still…”

Beau’s brow furrowed into deep lines. He should’ve been more surprised than he was. The only thing that really baffled him was the fact you had still agreed to date him after hearing all of that. What else didn’t he know?

“I thought they met once a week for book club?”

Randy shot him a pitying look. “Dude, there was no book club. Only three bottles of wine.” He then exhaled a long sigh, stretching back into his seat. “Maybe it’s good she didn’t pick anyone. She deserves someone who can give her what she wants.”

“What makes you think I can’t?” A little offended, Beau raised his brow. “You know, when she came back a few weeks ago, I swore I’d make things right. I wouldn’t let her go this time.”

But Beau broke that promise. He pushed you away to stay clear of complications. His heart twinged.

“And you think she wanted to live in a trailer in the woods of Montana?”

“Doesn’t matter. I would’ve given her anything she wanted. No questions asked,” Beau stated simply. “I was happy when I was with her. Didn’t matter where we were or what we were doing.”

“So, what? You planned on marrying her? Kids?”

Beau twitched his shoulders, his eyes not drifting from the street. If he glanced at Randy only for a beat, he couldn’t ignore his friend’s reactions any longer and still remain honest. “We never talked about it, but... If that’s what she wants, then yeah. Don’t even have to think about it. You really were an idiot, you know?”

“I know that. Thank you,” Randy huffed sarcastically and rolled his eyes. “Still not getting my blessing, though.”

“Good thing you’re not her father,” Beau snapped. He could only muster so much patience. “You don’t really have a say in who she’s datin’.”

“You’re one to talk.” Randy scoffed mockingly. “I met your friend Denise at the station. We had a long chat. She almost talks as much as you. Sounded like you tried to have a say in who Carla should marry. Little hypocritical, don’t you think?”

“That’s different,” Beau retorted defensively. “We have a kid together. Whoever Carla’s seeing is also gonna be in Emily’s life.”

“So, you don’t even care a little about Carla’s well-being? ‘Cause Denise said you killed her new husband,” Randy countered cleverly.

“Of course I care,” Beau admitted frustratedly. What did Randy want to hear? That he was right about everything? Well, except one thing: “And I didn’t kill Avery, by the way. Might have been slightly responsible for his death, sure, but I didn’t kill the idiot.”

“Seems to be a pattern for you. Maybe Diane was right,” Randy muttered wryly.

Beau licked his lips and sighed. “Listen, I know that devil woman is good at getting into someone’s head, but you gotta believe me, man. I did not leave you to die. If I had known–”

“Whoa, I know,” Randy interrupted him with an amused chuckle and two placating hands. “I was just joking. I knew you didn’t hand me over to the cartel on purpose in some evil ploy to get with my wife. That would be insane.”

Beau gave a nod, accepting his answer with relief. “Well, good.”

“Look, I’m not delusional, contrary to what everyone’s thinking. I know things happened while I was away,” Randy admitted. “I figured she had moved on. For three years, I actually hoped she did. I wanted her to be happy. Just didn’t think it be you, I guess. Probably shouldn’t have been surprised, though. I kinda knew you always liked her. Just didn’t think any more of it, you know?”

“And there wasn’t more, alright? I promise,” Beau assured him, his cheeks reddening from embarrassment. He never thought Randy would’ve suspected anything – not that there really ever was anything. But had his tiny crush really been that obvious? “One of those things, you know? Just ‘cause I find Michelle Rodriguez attractive doesn’t mean I seriously expect to date her. I didn’t know it was more than that till I spent some time with her.”

“Good to know,” was all Randy said, crossing his arms with an uncomfortable clear of his throat. “Definitely surprised Y/N likes you, though. She always had a pretty low opinion of you. Said you were doing shitty police work and I should be more careful. Guess she was right..." Beau shot him a darkened look but refrained from taking the bait. Randy pursed his lips. "Look, I know I’m a pain in your ass right now. You’d probably love to get rid of me.”

“Well, hey, that’s not–”

“What, true?” Knowingly, Randy lifted a brow. “I would if I were you.”

Beau only nodded, not admitting out loud the thought had certainly crossed his mind. “So, what are you thinking now?”

“Still want her to be happy,” Randy said quietly.

All of a sudden, Beau then slammed on the brakes, both men jolting forward into their seatbelts. A loud thud echoed through the car as something heavy hit the Jeep’s hood. For a moment, the sheriff thought he’d run into a deer before blinking his eyes at the bloodied and muddied image of Hal Turner.

“What the hell?!”

Turner was in rough shape, pantingly and deliriously stumbling around the car and onto the road, shielding his eyes from the blinding headlights with his palm. Blood dripped from various places from his head and body before Beau’s eyes narrowed on the metal tool stuck inside his neck.

“Guess we found our missing screwdriver,” Randy noted as the two men jumped out of the car, guns drawn.

“Where is she, Turner?” Beau prompted sternly, his finger itching to pull the trigger for everything he’d done to you. But knowing where you were was more important than a vendetta. Turner could only speak while he was alive.

And the man seemed to know it, too. Before the sheriff could call for back-up and an ambulance, Turner sneered and raised a hand, gripping the screwdriver tightly.

“No, don’t!”

Beau’s plea came too late. Hal Turner pulled the makeshift weapon out of his throat and collapsed to the ground, bleeding out within seconds.

Randy’s fingers landed on the man’s pulse point. He glanced up at his partner with a shake of his head. “He’s gone.”

Throwing his gun angrily into the rustling brushes, Beau gripped his temples and screamed into the void of the dark woods. Desperation clawed on his mind and heart. The fear of losing you for good took him prisoner. With labored breaths, he squeezed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger and rubbed his tired eyes. Turner had been his last lead. He knew more wouldn’t be coming.

What now?

A sanctimonious beep of his phone drew his attention. A small part of him prayed it was Jenny, informing him you’d emerged a few miles up the road – bloody like Turner, but otherwise fine. Alive.

But his green eyes only found an email and darkened at the sender’s name. “Diane just sent me a link.”

Randy, caught in his own spiral, suddenly glanced up. “To what?”

“Livestream.”

Chapter 13: Sure And Certain

Another cliffhanger, and it looks like Diane's still having the last laugh 🙈

What did you think of this part? Were you surprised by Randy's revelation? He might've changed his mind on a few things 😉

See ya next week for the freaking finale 🤍

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