#ash stump removal

[chrisstumps05]

Helping out a Small Tree Service

[khalaris]

"Australia have staunched the flood of maidens."

[massivedrickhead]

Pitch Perfect SpookFest Day 5 - H is for Hike

Words: 9282

Summary: Beca takes Chloe on a hike she used to do with her Dad. It’s a chance for Beca to feel closer to him, and a chance to introduce Chloe to one of her former favourite pastimes. Beca soon discovers that there is more than just memories hiding in the trees.

Notes: Buckle up boys, this one’s a long one! I’ve really let myself have free reign with the horror in this one, and haven’t held myself back at all. I mentioned previously that I’ve been reading almost exclusively horror this year, and Adam Nevill’s The Ritual was one of my favourites, and the setting of this was definitely a little inspired by that.

@pitch-perfect-spookfest

Read on AO3

-

“Bec?”

“Hmm?”

“You doing okay?”

“Uh huh. A little tired.”

Beca’s hands clenched and unclenched around the straps of her backpack, her shoulders burning under the weight of it. 

“We can stop if you need a break?”

“No, I’m good,” Beca said, turning to smile at Chloe. “This is just a bit more physically demanding than I remember it.”

Chloe smiled back and they continued to walk.

“I’m glad you told me to wear these boots for a few weeks at home first,” Chloe said, taking hold of Beca’s hand as she helped her step down a particularly craggy rock. “I think a blister out here would finish me off.”

“Yeah,” Beca said. “I remember Sheila learning that lesson the hard way. I honestly thought her and my Dad were gonna divorce right there and then.”

“How is Sheila?” Chloe asked. 

Beca shrugged. “I dunno. Better, I think, now that we’re doing this. She didn’t like him just being stuck on a shelf.” As if on instinct, Beca reached a hand around to press against the front of her pack, pushing against the tightly packed interior, trying to feel for the small, hard, object that was wrapped safely in the centre. It hardly weighed a thing, but was the heaviest item she carried.

“I don’t think you’ve lost him,” Chloe said. 

“No, I know,” Beca said, removing her hand. “But it’d be so embarrassing if we got all the way up there and it turns out I left him on a tree-stump near the parking lot.”

Chloe laughed and took hold of Beca’s hand again, this time for no other reason than just to hold it. 

“We’d have to just grab him on our way back and tell Sheila we did it.”

It was Beca’s turn to chuckle now. “Damn, lying to a widow about where her husband’s ashes are scattered? Pretty dark.”

“Better than having to do this hike again,” Chloe replied, squeezing Beca’s hand to let her know she was joking. “Are we much further from where you wanted to set up camp?”

“I don’t think so,” Beca said, removing the map from the plastic pouch hung around her neck. She knew where on the map they needed to be, and had a pretty good idea of where they currently were. “Maybe another hour and a half? We should have enough time to get everything set up before dark.”

Chloe nodded and they carried on following the trail. 

Beca had done this hike more times than she could count. At one time in her life, she’d have been able to do it blindfolded, her feet knowing where to step without any input from her brain.

Now, however, it had been almost a decade since she’d last been here, and she found herself checking the map more often than she really needed to. The whole place felt totally unchanged and yet completely different at the same time. It was like she was viewing it from another angle. Through a different lens. It felt like something was missing.

It dawned on Beca that something was missing.

For the first time in her life, she was walking this trail without her Dad walking beside her.

She tugged on the straps of her bag again, feeling them dig into her already sore shoulders, and she focused on that pain because if she didn’t she’d start crying. 

-

Despite being a little out of practice, Beca managed to set up their tent without much trouble. It was as if her hands knew what to do even if she didn’t quite remember the steps. 

“I love watching you be all outdoorsy,” Chloe said, as Beca slid tent poles through eyelets and hammered stakes into the ground. 

“Oh yeah?” Beca asked. “Is this turning you on?”

Chloe laughed. “A little.”

“If I’d known that’s all it took, I’d have taken you camping sooner.”

That night they ate a dinner of ramen cooked on their gas stove, and they watched the stars begin to appear above their heads. 

Beca lit a small fire to keep them warm, and they huddled together under one blanket, sharing a small cup of spiked hot chocolate. 

“Thank you for doing this with me,” Beca said, her head on Chloe’s shoulder.

“Of course,” Chloe replied, her head resting on top of Beca’s. “You don’t have to thank me.”

“I know this isn’t your kind of thing.”

“Maybe not,” Chloe said. “But I’m glad I’m here with you.”

They kissed, finished their hot chocolate, and Chloe crawled into their tent while Beca put out the fire. 

Far off in the trees, she heard a branch snap. 

A deer, she told herself. Just a deer.

She joined Chloe in the tent and zipped it up after her with a little more urgency than necessary. 

Their solar-charged camping lamp was shoved in the corner of the small tent, turned to its dimmest settings. 

“Can we keep it on?” Chloe asked, climbing into her sleeping bag. “It’s, like, insanely dark out here.”

“Of course,” Beca said, unable to shake the feeling of unease that, with the lamp on, their tent would shine like a beacon in this pitch black forest. 

Beca didn’t realise how tired she was until she was wrapped in her own warm and comfortable sleeping bag. 

“Night Chlo’,” she mumbled, suddenly unable to keep her eyes open. 

“Night Bec,” Chloe replied. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

-

By the time Chloe woke up the next morning, Beca was already up and preparing their breakfast of oatmeal and sweet, strong, coffee. 

“Morning,” Chloe said, kissing the top of Beca’s head before joining her on the log they had used as a seat the night before. 

“Morning,” Beca replied. “Sleep well?”

“Not bad. Better than you, anyway.”

Beca frowned and turned her attention away from the oatmeal so she could look at Chloe. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you were up all night, shuffling around the tent. Were you looking for something? And I’m pretty sure I asked you to keep the light on.”

“I did,” Beca said. “I never touched it.”

“Well then the battery must have died, because I woke up at like 2 am and it was basically pitch black. I could just see your… shape, sitting at the entrance to the tent.”

“Chlo’ the lamp was still on when I woke up. I slept like a log last night, I was exhausted. Unless I’ve suddenly started sleepwalking at the ripe age of 32, I didn’t move a muscle.”

“Huh,” Chloe said, frowning too. “I was sure…” Chloe shook her head, dispelling the memory of the night before and already reframing it in her mind. “I must have dreamt it.”

“You get some weird noises in the forest,” Beca said, returning her attention to their breakfast. “It can play tricks on you.”

“That must be it.”

After they ate and packed up, they were ready to begin their second day of the hike. If all went well, they’d reach their second camp spot by dinner, and their final destination tomorrow afternoon. 

This used to be a hike that Beca and her Dad did in two days, but because it was Chloe’s first time, she’d planned a slower pace which meant a couple more nights in the wilderness. Not that Beca minded, she’d always preferred a slower pace to her Dad’s break-neck speed, and it meant more nights spent camping, which she loved. But their time together had always been limited, and she needed to be back at the pre-approved custody drop-off spot by Sunday night. 

“You’re quiet today,” Chloe said, her voice breaking the silence that had accompanied them for the last two hours of their hike.

“Sorry,” Beca said. “I’m in my head a little.”

Chloe swapped the stick she’d been using to walk with to her left hand, and took hold of Beca’s with her right. “Don’t be sorry. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“Yeah,” Beca said. “I’m fine. It’s just… It’s weird doing this without him.”

“I can’t even imagine,” Chloe said. 

Beca sucked in a breath and puffed out her cheeks as she blew it out.

She hated this feeling, the one she got right before she was about to cry. 

“Bec.”

“I know,” Beca said, clearing her throat. She knew what Chloe was going to say, she’d said it to her what felt like hundreds of times since her dad had passed. She was going to tell her that it was okay to cry. That it was healthy even. That Beca shouldn’t bottle up her emotions. And Beca knew that was true - logically knew that she shouldn’t be holding everything in like a shook-up soda can - but every part of her told her it was wrong. 

Beca kept her tears at bay and they lapsed into silence again. 

For hours they walked, Beca ahead of Chloe by inches. She couldn’t see her, but she could feel her, a millimetre behind her left shoulder. A shadow in her peripherals. 

She could hear Chloe’s footsteps just behind her, in sync with her own, close enough that if Beca stopped, Chloe would bump into her. Her left hand swung back as she walked and occasionally brushed against the textured surface of Chloe’s sweater.

Then Chloe took hold of her right hand.

Beca jumped - almost yelled out - and spun on her heels.

No one there.

Her heart was beating so fast and there was a sound like rushing water in her ears.

“Beca? What is it?”

Beca swallowed, her eyes scanning the trees behind them. She shook her head.

“I thought-” Beca cut herself off, alarmed and ashamed to hear the shake in her voice. “I thought you were behind me. I…” She swallowed again, her mouth dry, her tongue feeling thick. “I just got a fright. I thought you were on my left, not my right.”

Beca clenched her left hand and then shook it out. She had felt something brush against it. Had heard something walking right behind her. 

But she didn’t want to scare Chloe - didn’t want to scare herself anymore than she had - so she told herself she’d imagined it. She rubbed the back of her left hand against the sweater she wore under her raincoat, trying to clear away the residual feeling of having touched something unknown. 

“Let’s stop for a break,” Chloe said, still eyeing Beca with concern. “We have time, right?”

Not here, Beca thought.

“Yeah,” Beca said, not wanting to turn around and put her back to whatever that was, but also not wanting to stay in this spot for another second. “We can stop, but let’s cover a little more ground first.” She turned and carried on walking the trail, unable to shift the feeling that they were being watched, but refusing to turn and confirm it.

Whatever it was, she knew she didn’t want to see it.

You sound crazy, Beca thought. 

Chloe could tell something had deeply rattled Beca, so she didn’t argue and instead jogged to catch up. She decided not to take hold of her hand again, and tried to remain in her line of sight as best as she could.

After what Chloe would call a 30 minute speed-walk, Beca finally slowed and they stopped to take a break.

They took off their packs and Chloe almost cried with relief at the feeling, her aching shoulders and back practically singing now the weight had been removed.

Beca poured them each a coffee from the thermos she’d filled that morning, and they drank it with some cheese and crackers. 

Chloe rubbed at the knot in her shoulder as she looked up at the bright white sky that was peeking through the canopy of the trees. 

“I’m not walking you too fast, am I?” Beca asked, relieved her voice sounded normal again. 

“No,” Chloe replied. “I mean, that last 30 minutes was basically a run, but other than that it’s been fine.”

Beca nodded. “You’ll tell me if it gets too hard?”

“Of course,” Chloe said. Something about Beca had hardened in the last few hours, and Chloe couldn’t work out how or why. It gave her a pit of worry in her stomach, the kind she got when she thought someone might be mad at her. “I’m not, like, slowing you down or anything, am I?”

“No,” Beca said, her eyes widening in surprise. “No, you’re doing great. We’re making good time.”

She sounded sincere, and Chloe felt the tension in her loosen a little. “Good,” Chloe said. She could have left it at that, but Chloe was never one for holding back. She couldn’t swallow her feelings the same way that Beca could. “Sorry,” she said. “I just… I don’t know, I feel like you might be mad at me or something.”

Beca looked even more surprised. “Why would I be mad at you?”

Chloe shrugged. “The atmosphere’s been kinda tense, I dunno.”

“I mean, we’re here to scatter my dad’s ashes, Chlo’, I’m not sure what kind of atmosphere you were expecting.”

Chloe cringed and felt her cheeks begin to burn with embarrassment. “You’re right, I’m sorry. Forget I said anything.” 

She turned away and began busying herself with checking her bag.

“I’m not mad at you,” Beca said, her voice softer than it had been a moment ago. “I’m, like, trying to process a lot of feelings right now, and when that happens I go quiet. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t,” Chloe said, turning back around so she could take both of Beca’s hands in hers. “You didn’t do anything wrong, you don’t need to be sorry. I can’t imagine what you’re feeling right now, what kind of memories being back here is bringing up, you are 100% allowed to be in your own head. I just needed to make sure I wasn’t doing anything to make it harder for you.”

Beca nodded. “Thank you,” she said. “And you never make anything harder, Chloe. I wouldn’t have been able to do this without you. Any of it.”

Chloe tugged Beca closer and wrapped her up in a tight hug. “Whatever you’re feeling, or trying to work through, I hope you know that you don’t have to do it in your head. If you want to talk, or even just think out loud, then you can. I can talk it through with you or just be a sounding board. But only if you want to. We can walk in silence, or talk about something completely different. Whatever you need, Bec.”

Chloe felt Beca nod against her, and she held her against her chest until Beca ended the hug. 

They packed up, their backs groaning as the weight of the packs settled against their shoulders again, and they carried on walking.

The silence between them remained, and Chloe couldn’t think of any way to break it. 

She knew Beca needed it, but she hated it. 

Hated it because she was starting to feel on edge.

She couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched.

-

Dinner that night was spaghetti in sauce with some kind of mystery meat. Chloe had grimaced as Beca had squeezed it out of the vacuum-sealed packet, but once it had been heated on the stove Chloe’s mouth had watered at just the smell of it.

“It’s not scientifically possible that spaghetti from a bag should taste this good,” Chloe said, trying to scrape up every last bit of sauce.

“I know,” Beca said, her mouth almost smiling. 

Beca hadn’t been able to shake the darkness that had been growing in her chest since that morning, and it had only gotten heavier as the day wore on. Each step caused a rock to harden in her chest, and now it was almost nightfall, she felt like she was made of stone. 

Chloe cleaned up their plates while Beca lit another small fire, and they were soon huddled up together as night fell quickly.

“Is this the part where you tell me a ghost story?” Chloe asked, desperate for Beca to get out of her head. 

Beca let out a laugh that was little more than a puff of air through her nose. “I don’t think I know any.”

The silence fell across them again. Beca stared into the fire, and Chloe felt like she was sitting beside a statue.

Then Beca moved suddenly, startling Chloe. She reached into her pack and pulled out the bottle of whisky she’d used in their hot chocolate the night before. 

“Bec?”

“I’ve thought of one,” she said, pouring them each a small measure. She’d brought it with them so they could toast her Dad when his ashes were scattered - something that she realised was approaching closer and closer and that she wasn’t sure she was ready for - she hadn’t intended on them drinking it the rest of the nights. But the whisky had warmed her the night before, had temporarily eased the aches in her back and legs, and had allowed sleep to come more easily. Besides, she figured she might need a drink to tell the story she was about to share.

She took a sip and stored the bottle away again.

“You’ve got a ghost story?”

“Not a ghost story,” Beca said. “But a campfire kind of story.”

“Okay,” Chloe said, pulling the blanket tighter around their shoulders. She wasn’t sure a scary story in the middle of the woods was a good idea, but anything was better than silence at this point.

“Did I ever tell you about the time I got lost in the woods?”

“No,” Chloe said, frowning. “Wait, is this a true story?”

Beca nodded. “I must have told you,” she said. “It’s how I got this.” She pointed to the scar on her cheek.

On instinct, Chloe reached out to touch it. She had asked Beca about it before, had even joked that it must mean they were meant to be together, since the scar formed an almost perfect “C” on her cheek. 

“You told me you got it hiking, not that you got lost,” Chloe said, her cold fingers tracing the edge of it. 

The light coming from the fire had blinded Beca to the rest of the forest, and the darkness stretched out around them on all sides. Even the stars were hidden by clouds. They were a solo pin-point of light in a vast sea of nothingness. Beca felt like if Chloe let go of her arm, she would float away into space.

Beca took another sip of whisky. 

“I was four,” she said. “Out hiking with my Mom and Dad. Before the divorce. The last time we did anything like that as a family. My Dad asked me to grab some sticks for firewood. I was right beside him. My Mom was in the tent, and he turned to ask her something. When he turned back I was gone.” Beca took another drink. “They found me three days later in a Walmart parking lot, the next state over.”

Chloe felt herself go cold. “What the hell?” She asked, her voice little more than a whisper. “What happened?”

“Not a fucking clue,” Beca said. “I don’t remember anything about it.”

“Nothing?” 

“I remember looking down for a stick, and then I remember this old couple in the parking lot asking where my parents were.”

“Jesus, Bec,” Chloe said. “Did you just wander off?”

Beca took another drink, her eyes burning from the heat of the fire that she refused to look away from. She couldn’t look away, because then she’d have to look into the darkness. Into the forest. She didn’t want to look.

“I was four, I couldn’t have walked that far on my own, not in three days,” Beca said, a hint of strain in her voice. She was suddenly wondering why she had decided to tell this story. She hadn’t thought about it in years. “I didn’t have any shoes on when they found me. No coat or hat or anything. There’s no way I could have survived on my own.” Beca cleared her throat, and took another drink. “They think someone took me.”

If Chloe had felt herself go cold before, it was nothing to how she felt now. She practically shivered. 

“Were you hurt when they found you?” Chloe asked, terrified of the answer Beca was about to give.

“No,” Beca replied. “I was fine. Healthy, even. I should have been malnourished or dehydrated or something. I was perfectly fine, except for this.” Beca touched the scar on her cheek. She cleared her throat. “They asked me what happened for months afterwards, but at the time I didn’t have the words to tell them, and by the time I did, I didn’t remember.”

“Beca, this is insane, I can’t believe I’ve known you for over ten years and I’ve never heard this story. You really don’t remember a thing?”

Beca closed her eyes. “I remember being cold, and I remember…” It came back to her sometimes in her nightmares. The wooden structure. Incongruous to its surroundings, like it had been cut out of a home depot catalogue and pasted into the forest. “It was like a hut.”

A stick snapped in the distance and Chloe jumped, and a nervous laugh followed. 

“We moved basically immediately after. Mom said she felt like everyone was watching her. Judging her. She was the bad Mom who let her kid get snatched from under her nose. They divorced not long after that. Mom blamed Dad, Dad blamed himself. I’ve never been back in that forest. It took me years before I’d even agree to go hiking with my Dad again.” Beca went to take another drink. The cup was empty, and the last few drops splashed against her chin. “I didn’t speak for a full year. I… Jesus, I haven’t thought about this in so long, I thought…”

“Thought what?”

“Thought I was over it. Thought it was like a funny, mildly interesting story. The time I got lost in the woods.” She let out a laugh that sounded strange. Panicked. “What the fuck?”

“Bec, it’s okay,” Chloe said, trying not to catch the panic rising in her girlfriend. She knew it was contagious, this kind of fear, and one of them had to be calm. “You’re okay.”

“They checked me over at the hospital,” Beca said, her voice shaking as every horrible memory from that time came flooding back. “You know, just in case. And he hadn’t. I hadn’t been… But, fuck, I was four. I was four and they were checking… fuck.”

It was all rushing back to her faster than she could process it. She wanted to be sick. 

This is why she kept things inside. Pushed them down and turned herself to stone.

“Did you speak to anyone after? Like a therapist or someone? Someone to help you process it?”

“Like 10 of them,” Beca said. “But all they did was try and get me to remember. Asked me to draw it if I couldn’t say it. The police tried that too. Said I needed to help them out because what if this guy snatches up another little girl, and she doesn’t get as lucky? But there was nothing in there. Nothing to draw. Just a black space. They never found him. No evidence there was ever anyone with me. This was back in the 90s, but they had basic security cameras in the parking lot, and there’s footage of me just walking into the parking lot alone. No shoes. No strange man pushing me out of a car and speeding off.”

“Man?”

“An assumption,” Beca said. “An assumption everyone else made too.”

In the light of the fire, Chloe could see Beca’s hands were shaking. She took hold of them, and Beca jumped at the contact.

“Baby, I’m so sorry this happened to you,” Chloe said, her thumb brushing over Beca’s knuckles as she squeezed her hand.

“I don’t… I don’t know why I thought about it after all these years,” Beca said, the panic leaving her voice as the heaviness returned. “I don’t know why I told you.”

“I’m glad you did,” Chloe said. “You know how I feel about bottling things up.”

Beca gave a soft grunt of a laugh. “Yeah,” she said. 

“You’ve been in your head all day,” Chloe said. “You’re back camping and hiking for the first time in a long time, I’m not surprised that memory came back.”

“I wish it hadn’t,” Beca said, rubbing her free hand against her forehead. 

“I know,” Chloe said. “Let’s go to bed. You’ll feel better after some rest.”

Beca didn’t think that was true, but she knew Chloe was only trying to help so she didn’t argue. 

A night of rest wasn’t going to undo this thing that had happened to her almost 30 years ago. It wouldn’t break up the rocks that had been settling in her chest all day. It wouldn’t change the fact that her dad was little more than a pile of ash stashed in her bag, instead of the living breathing man that should be here.

She tried to give Chloe something close to a reassuring smile, but her mouth barely moved. It was as if this was turning to stone too. Her face a frozen expression of grief and pain. 

“You go on ahead,” Beca said. “I’ll take care of the fire.”

Chloe went into the tent to set up their beds for the night, and Beca was alone in the woods.

Except, she knew she wasn’t alone. That feeling of being watched had never left Beca since it arrived, and she was acutely aware that by standing in the light of the fire, it could see her, but she couldn’t see it. It could be a foot away and she’d have no idea.

Before the fear could take hold and root her to the spot, she began putting out the fire, and then backed into the tent rather than turning around. 

“All good?” Chloe asked, already curled up in her sleeping bag.

“Mhm,” Beca replied. “Light staying on?”

“Please,” Chloe said. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” Beca said, getting herself ready for bed before climbing into her own sleeping bag. “Weird day.”

“Yeah,” Chloe agreed. 

“I’m sorry,” Beca said.

“What for?”

“Being all… You know. Moody. Brooding. Whatever.” 

“You don’t need to apologise for that,” Chloe said. 

“Still. I’m not myself. Not fun to be around right now.”

“You don’t have to be,” Chloe said. “You’re grieving. Get some rest, Bec. I can tell you’re tired because you’re not even talking in complete sentences.”

Chloe was right. Beca was exhausted and not just from their hike. 

“‘Kay,” Beca said. “Night. Love you.”

“Love you too, baby.”

The sound of rustling in their tent woke Chloe up again that night. 

It was dark. Darker than anything Chloe had ever experienced. 

It was as if the darkness was a physical presence, and not just the absence of light. She could feel it pressing all around her. Smothering her. 

Chloe wanted to ask Beca if she was okay - because who else would be rustling around in their tent - but she found she couldn’t. She was scared that if she opened her mouth the darkness would pour in and she’d drown in it. 

Then she heard another sound which made her blood run cold. 

Beca was crying. Sobbing. Right beside her on the ground. 

Which meant there was something else inside their tent. 

A fear like Chloe had never felt before gripped her so tightly she was afraid she’d shatter. 

She wanted to cry. To tell Beca to be quiet. To do something about this intruder that might wish them harm. 

But she couldn’t. 

All she could do was squeeze her eyes shut and hold her breath and pray that it would go away. That whoever or whatever it was would leave them alone. 

Beca continued to sob beside her, and Chloe realised this was the first time she’d ever really heard her girlfriend cry. She wanted to cry too but she swallowed the urge. 

“Please,” Beca whimpered, her breath shuddering between each painful sob. “Please, I want to go home. I want to go home.”

Her voice sounded so much smaller than usual. So much younger. She sounded like the lost little girl in the story Beca had told earlier that night. 

Beca’s story came back to Chloe like a bad dream she’d tried to forget. 

In her mind, she could see her huddled. Shivering. Looking up at… something. Something her four-year-old brain didn’t understand. Something she couldn’t put into words, but she knew enough to be afraid. 

All Chloe wanted to do was reach out and comfort her, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t move because she could still hear this thing in their tent. 

Behind her closed eyes, Chloe could see light. A dim glow that had returned to the tent. 

She almost opened her eyes.

Almost. 

Then she heard another rustle, and she knew they still weren’t alone. It was still there with them. 

Chloe could feel it watching them. 

It had turned the lamp back on. It wanted Chloe to look but she wouldn’t. She couldn’t. 

It was silent save for the soft whimpering still coming from her girlfriend. So silent that she couldn’t hear the sounds of the rest of the forest anymore. No animals scurrying or owls hooting, or the wind rustling through the trees.

She could feel its eyes burning into her and she could feel herself beginning to shake as she realised something else.

She’d heard those noises the night before and had attributed them to Beca. 

Now she knew better.

This thing had been in their tent last night too. 

Had likely been following them this whole time.

That feeling she’d had of being watched wasn’t just her mind playing tricks on her. 

The silence dragged on with the feeling of pressure in their tent growing and growing. Chloe felt like she was waiting for a jump-scare in a movie. 

Then she heard the whine of the zipper being pulled, and felt a rush of cold air blow through the entrance to the tent. She heard the zipper again and the soft retreating footsteps of whatever it was. 

They were alone again, Chloe could feel it, but she still couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes. 

In her head she counted to ten. Twenty. Thirty. 

“I want to go home,” Beca cried again. “I want my Daddy.”

It was enough to finally force Chloe’s eyes open, and she felt a brief flood of relief to discover they were in fact alone again. 

Beca was curled on her side, knees pulled into her chest, body shaking with each cry for home and for her dad. 

From her spot beside her, Chloe could see that the scar on Beca’s cheek was bleeding. The scar was over 20-years-old, long faded and barely visible, but was somehow bleeding like a fresh wound.

Chloe tried for the rest of the night to wake her, but she couldn’t. Beca remained trapped in the nightmare where she was a lost little girl, begging to go home.

All Chloe could do was hold Beca in her arms. She assumed sleep would never come, but at the sound of the birds and the sight of soft light beginning to filter through their tent, she finally did. 

-

Chloe was alone when she woke up only a few hours later.

She scrambled up and out of her sleeping bag and was relieved to see Beca sitting just outside the entrance of their tent.

The cold air bit at her exposed arms and legs, but she didn’t return to the tent to get dressed. 

Beca was hunched over their camping stove, but was staring off into the trees. Chloe could smell the burning oatmeal in the pan and hurried forward to take it off the heat. 

Beca didn’t even react to her presence. Her eyes were slightly puffy from the hours she’d spent crying the night before, and the cut on her cheek was beginning to scab over. 

Chloe thought she looked empty. Lost.

“Beca,” she said, taking a seat beside her, the wooden log cold and wet against her bare skin. She took hold of Beca’s arm.

Beca gave a grunt in response, but didn’t look away from the trees.

“Bec, last night…” She trailed off, unable to find the words she needed to explain what had happened. “I don’t think we’re safe here. I think we need to go home.” Even as she said it, the knot of worry tightened in her stomach. They were at least two days' walk away from where they had parked up, which meant two more nights out here in the forest. 

Beca still didn’t speak, and Chloe’s panic increased.

“Something came into our tent last night. I don’t know if it was an animal or-” she cut herself off as she remembered that whatever it was had messed with their light. Had zipped and unzipped the entrance to their tent multiple times. “Something was in our tent,” she repeated. “And it was in our tent the night before. And it followed us all day yesterday, and I think you know that. I think you felt it too.”

Beca nodded, slowly.

It wasn’t words, but it was something. It was an acknowledgement. 

“So we should go, right? Like pack up and hightail it out of here? I can walk faster,” Chloe said, the speed of her voice quickening as a sense of urgency filled her. “You and your dad used to do this hike in two days, right? Well just walk at that pace and I’ll keep up, or-” Chloe’s words were coming faster. Tripping over each other in a rush to get out of her mouth. “Or we go a different way. Just whatever will get us out of this forest the fastest. We can Uber to the car when we’re back to civilization.”

Beca nodded again, her eyes never leaving the trees. Chloe was too afraid to follow the direction they were focused on.

“Baby, please say something. I’m really fucking freaked out right now.”

Beca swallowed and a tear crept down her cheek, stopping when it reached the raised scab that was still a scar only hours ago. 

“I’m sorry,” Beca said. “I don’t… I don’t know what’s happening.”

“I know,” Chloe said. “I don’t either, but I need you right now. I don’t know what I’m doing out here, and I need you to help me get us out of here. I need…” She trailed off. She had almost told Beca she needed her to snap out of it, but that seemed too harsh.

But then she thought, fuck it.

She needed to be harsh.

She needed to be harsh because she couldn’t get them out of this forest alone.

Because she refused to die out here.

“I need you to snap out of this,” Chloe said, her voice sterner than it had been a moment ago. “Something weird is happening out here, and I need you to fight it. You can’t give up, Bec. We need to get out of here.”

Beca cleared her throat and finally tore her eyes away from the trees. 

“I know,” she said. “I know, I’m sorry.” She pulled out the map, and tapped on a spot. “That’s where we’re headed,” she said, pointing at the place where she intended to scatter her Dad’s ashes. “From there we’ll cut down here.” She traced her finger down a length of what Chloe assumed to be woodland. “A harder path than the way we came, but shorter. There are multiple places to join the trail, and this should lead us to one of them.”

“Have you done it before?” Chloe asked.

“No,” Beca admitted. “But we could be out of here by tonight if we take it.”

Chloe nodded. The unknown was frightening to her, but the way they came didn’t feel much better. “Then that’s what we’ll do. I trust you.”

Chloe dressed and they packed up their camp in record speed.

The oatmeal had been beyond saving, so they each ate a protein bar as they walked.

The pace Beca set was punishing, but Chloe kept up. Everything hurt from her feet to her shoulders, but she didn’t complain. She would not slow them down.

The thing still followed them.

They both knew it, could both feel it, but they refused to turn and look.

Up ahead, they saw the gradual incline of a hill, and for the first time that day, Beca thought about why they were even here in the first place. 

She thought about her dad.

She thought about what she would soon be doing.

These weren’t the circumstances she’d wanted when she’d suggested the idea to Chloe a month ago.

She’d wanted time. Peace. She’d wanted to be able to say a few words. Have a drink. Cry, maybe.

Beca knew now she wouldn’t get that. She knew she was foolish to even still be doing it. 

But she also knew she had to. It was her last chance. 

Once she got out, she would never set foot in this place again, or anywhere like it. 

Because what she knew now was the man that had taken her all those years ago had never been a man.

It was a Thing. An It. Something not human. Something that had followed her to the other side of the country.. 

After all these years, it had found her.

Or had it always known where she was? Had it just been waiting for the right moment?

Had it been following and watching on every hike she’d taken with her dad?

Beca shuddered as the ground sloped upwards beneath her feet. 

It didn’t make any sense, but logic and reason were starting to feel like foreign concepts. 

None of it had ever made sense.

How do you snatch a child from right under her parents’ noses? How does she end up in a parking lot miles and miles away from where she started?

Chloe walked beside her, her right hand holding Beca’s left, as their pace slowed as they climbed the hill.

The thing followed on Beca’s right. Its footsteps out of time with her own.

It wanted her to know it was there. 

Chloe was beginning to pant beside her.

“We can stop soon,” Beca said, her own breathing just as laboured.

Chloe didn’t want to - she could feel it beside them too - but she knew they needed to. 

They crested the top of the hill, and the forest stretched out beneath them.

It seemed to go on forever, and Chloe felt that panic grip her again.

How would they ever get out of this?

“There,” Beca said, pointing in the direction they had to head next, her head down to look at her compass. “Down that way.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah,” Beca said, pulling the map out to double check. 

“Okay,” Chloe said. She unclipped the strap across her chest and let her pack drop to the floor. The relief was immediate but the pain still lingered. 

Beca did the same, though she was a little more careful about lowering her bag to the floor. 

This thing that followed kept its distance.

Like it understood this was a moment Beca needed to have before whatever came next. 

She reached into her pack and pulled out the urn that contained what was left of her Dad.

She straightened up and took a deep breath.

“This isn’t how I wanted to do this,” she said, speaking to the urn. To her Dad. “I had a whole speech prepared, but I think we have to keep it short. The gist is, you deserve to stay in your favourite place forever. To be with nature, in this forest you loved so much. I… I miss you. I love you.”

Beca opened the urn and tipped out the ashes and they were picked up by the wind. 

She had expected to feel lighter, but she didn’t. She didn’t know how she felt, but they didn’t have time to dissect it right now.

“Ready?” Beca asked. She couldn’t bring herself to glance over her shoulder at Chloe, in case it wasn’t Chloe that was looking back at her. She kept her eyes focused on the direction they were heading as she hauled her pack back onto her bag.

“Yeah,” Chloe replied, doing the same. She handed Beca another protein bar. “Let’s get out of here.”

-

Hours and hours passed and they had no idea if they were even close to getting out.

The trail Beca had chosen for them had been significantly more overgrown than expected.

The terrain was rough, uneven, and dangerous. A lot had been completely impassable and had required them to alter their course to go around it. 

Beca had tried to maintain their pace but it was proving reckless. One wrong step could result in a twisted ankle or worse, and that could put them in serious danger under normal circumstances.

The sun was getting lower in the sky, and Beca was forced to bring them to a stop.

They would have to endure one more night in this place.

“I’m sorry,” Beca said, her breathing heavy as they finally conceded defeat. “I didn’t realise how bad it would be.”

“It isn’t your fault,” Chloe replied. “We didn’t have a lot of choices.”

They set up their tent even though they knew it offered them no protection from the thing that still stalked them, and they huddled inside it together without any intention of sleeping.

“As soon as it’s light we head out again,” Beca said, checking the map for what felt like the hundredth time. “I think we went too far south, we need to be more west.”

“Eat something,” Chloe said, handing her one of the vacuum sealed packages Beca had brought, and keeping one for herself.

They ate them cold, and in silence, hunger gnawing at their stomachs even after the last of the food had been squeezed into their mouths. 

“We’re going to be okay, right?” Chloe asked, shuffling closer and linking her arm through Beca’s.

“Yeah,” Beca said, without conviction. “Of course.”

Darkness was falling fast, and only their dim, flickering, camping lamp provided them with any kind of light. 

“I was going to propose,” Beca said, her voice breaking a long silence between them. “Before my dad… Then I thought maybe I’d do it when we got home from this trip.”

There was defeat in Beca’s voice and it made Chloe feel helpless. 

“When you ask me when we get home, I’ll say yes,” Chloe said. “I’ll even act surprised.”

“What if I asked you now? Would you say yes now?”

Chloe wanted to cry. “Are you asking now?”

“Yeah,” Beca said. “I think I am.”

“You have to actually ask me,” Chloe said, tears coming quickly now. 

Beca laughed and sniffed and cleared her throat. “Chloe Beale, will you marry me?”

“Yes,” Chloe replied, her voice hiccuping as she half laughed and half cried. “But you have to promise me we aren’t going camping for our honeymoon.”

“After this, I’m never going camping again.” 

Beca hurried to wipe her eyes before kissing Chloe for what felt like the last time. 

Darkness had truly fallen now, and she knew their time was short. 

“The ring is in the bottom drawer of my desk. The one with the lock. Key is taped to the back of our photo,” she said. 

Her brief moment of joy was now being replaced by the fear that had followed them all day. 

It was coming. 

She could hear the snapping of sticks in the distance as it made its way over to them. 

“You can give it to me yourself when we get home,” Chloe replied. She could feel it too. Could feel the fear radiating out of Beca as the lamp in their tent began to flicker and die. 

They were plunged into darkness. 

The only thing they could hear was their own ragged breaths. 

“Beca. I love you.”

Beca didn’t reply, because she was already gone. 

-

The darkness lifted so slowly, Beca thought maybe she was just imagining it. Maybe her eyes were finally adjusting after so long in the pitch black. 

But then it got brighter. 

She thought it was the sunrise, but she knew that morning was still hours away. 

What was that old saying her grandmother had said about a red sky at night?

She reached for Chloe’s hand, but Chloe wasn’t there. 

There was no use delaying the inevitable. 

Beca unzipped the tent and stepped out into the blood red sky. 

The ground was cold beneath her bare feet, the wind bit at her now completely naked body, and her breath fogged in front of her face.

This wasn’t the same forest she’d been in only hours before. 

Before her was a clearing free from trees, and in the middle was that wooden structure from her nightmare. 

Beca began to sob.

No no no no no no no

God

Please

Her feet moved of their own accord towards the hut, and the door creaked open to welcome her inside. 

It was so cold. 

The red light filtered through the single window above the door and she could make out the shape of a creature crouched in the shadows.

The door slammed shut.

No no no 

It stood. Its presence filled the space.

It was taller than the height of the hut, and it had to hunch over as it stood.

Its body was too long. The back of its head was flat against the ceiling as it looked down at her.

Red eyes and a smiling mouth with too many teeth. Ram-like horns and hooved feet. Thick matted black hair.

Beca began to tremble.

In her mind she begged and pleaded and prayed but not a sound left her mouth.

She was mute with terror, the same way she’d been as a little girl.

The cabin smelled of the cold. Of rotten leaves and neglect. Of animal waste and rotting meat.

Please god oh please please I want to go home please let me go home

This creature looming over her made no sound. It simply stared.

Like it was deciding what to do with her.

Beca knew she was in the presence of something ancient and terrible.

It was older than anyone alive. Older than the country it lived in. Older than the Gods.

She also knew that this creature was dying.

It was the last of its kind.

And Beca was here to fulfil a promise she’d made when she was four years old.

No words had been spoken but Beca had understood that when she’d left this hut as a child, that she would be expected to return. She would be expected to help.

And Beca had wordlessly agreed.

Yes. Anything. I want to go home. I want my Mommy and Daddy.

It had even left its mark so it would be able to find her again.

It’s why Beca had flat out refused to go hiking again as a child, until every part of the experience had been lost from her memories.

She knew now what would be required of her.

Without telling her body to do it, Beca backed up until she hit a wall, and then she slid down it.

Not this not this not this not this

Her mind screamed and tears rolled down her cheeks, mixing with the fresh blood now dripping from her scarred cheek.

No no no no no no no no no

The creature began to fall apart.

Its horns crumbled into dust. 

Its eyes melted in their sockets and ran down its snout like tears.

Its fur fell away in clumps.

Its skin and flesh sloughed off its yellowing brittle bones.

It was nothing but a pile of bones and teeth and viscera. 

Beca was not comforted by this, and she began to cry harder as she saw movement in that pile.

I don’t want this not this not this please please Jesus fuck please

She remained silent and completely paralyzed as what was left of this monster began crawling towards her.

She couldn’t move an inch. She couldn’t fight. She couldn’t scream. All she could do was watch.

-

Chloe was pacing her apartment, a cut chewed into her lip, a headache pushing against the backs of her eyes.

“Chloe, can you sit down and eat something?” Aubrey asked, her own head pounding as she watched her best friend pace backwards and forwards. “I know you think we’re going to hear something today, but-”

“It’s been three days,” Chloe snapped. “She’s been gone for three days and the last time she was taken she turned up three days later.”

“I know,” Aubrey said, trying to keep her voice calm. Trying to sound rational. “You told me what she told you. Even if that is what’s going on here, pacing a hole in the floor won’t make the phone ring any faster.”

“I can’t sit still,” Chloe said. “If it lets her go…” Chloe trailed off. It had to let her go. The alternative was unthinkable. “When it lets her go, I need to be ready. Who knows where she’ll end up, so I’ll need to be ready to leave at a moment-”

Chloe’s phone ringing and buzzing from the countertop cut her off.

“I can’t,” Chloe said, suddenly frozen in place. “Aubrey, please, I can’t.”

Aubrey nodded and answered.

“Chloe Beale’s phone, Aubrey Posen speaking,” Aubrey said, in her best lawyer voice. “Oh my god are you serious? You found her?!” Aubrey’s eyes were wide as she looked at Chloe. “Wait, she’s where? How did she - you know what, never mind, we’ll get there as soon as we can.”

Chloe felt relief flood through her like someone had opened a valve of it in her brain.

Beca was alive.

“Oh,” Aubrey said, her shoulders dropping. Chloe’s stomach dropped with them. “I’m sorry I think you have the wrong person, Beca isn’t… You’re sure? Like 1000% positive because if I tell her fiance this and you’re wrong I swear I will sue you to… Okay. Shit. Okay. Um, thank you detective. I’ll speak to Chloe now and we’ll… Yeah, we’ll get there as soon as we can.”

“Well?!” Chloe demanded as soon as Aubrey put the phone down. 

“Chloe, sit down.”

“I’m not-”

“Sit down.”

Aubrey’s voice left no room for augment. Chloe sat down at the kitchen table. She fiddled with her engagement ring, twisting it around her finger as she waited for Aubrey to speak.

“She’s alive,” Aubrey said. “They found her in a Walmart parking lot and they took her to a nearby hospital. The detective is going to text the address.” 

“Is she okay?”

“She’s in labour.”

Chloe blinked. Thought for a second she was having some kind of stroke. Or maybe a hallucination from lack of sleep. 

Then her shoulders sank the same way Aubrey’s had. “It’s not her,” Chloe said. “Beca wasn’t pregnant.”

“Chloe-”

“Beca wouldn’t have cheated on me. And even if she did, even if she was somehow miraculously pregnant, she was certainly not pregnant enough to be in labour.”

“She’s asking for you,” Aubrey said. “That’s what the detective said.”

“‘Bree, this is impossible,” Chloe said, her voice breaking. 

“So is a lot of the stuff you’ve told me in the past 72 hours,” Aubrey said. “Maybe the detective is wrong. Maybe something else is going on here. But we have to find out, right?”

Chloe nodded. “Let’s go.”

-

They arrived at the hospital the next afternoon, after an overnight flight and long drive in a rental car.

The detective met them at the entrance.

“Ms Beale? Ms Posen? I’m Detective Farrow. Please follow me.”

“How is she?” Chloe asked, her hands shaking as she followed the detective through the winding halls of the hospital.

“Okay, considering,” he said. “Still in labour, though I hear it won’t be much longer. Seems like the baby was waiting for you before making its entrance.”

There’s no baby, Chloe thought.

“When can we see her?” Aubrey asked.

“Not sure, not my circus so to speak. Down to the doctors,” he said. “You should have given the police and mountain rescue folks a heads up about her being pregnant by the way.”

“She wasn’t pregnant.”

“You thought she was just gaining weight or something?”

“Look,” Chloe snapped, pulling out her phone. “Here is a picture I took of her two days before she went missing.”

The detective frowned as he looked at the photo. 

“Huh,” he said. “I’ll be damned. Late bloomer, I guess, in the stomach department.”

Chloe was starting to get annoyed with this guy.

“Can you find someone I can talk to about my fiance?” She asked. 

He opened his mouth to speak, but there was a series of shouts coming from a room up ahead. He turned, his hand resting on his gun.

A man in scrubs came stumbling out of the room looking horrified. Chloe saw the name Mitchell scrawled on the whiteboard outside the door.

Her feet started moving before her mind could make sense of what was happening, and Aubrey’s hand closed around her arm, pulling her to a stop.

“Everything okay, doc?” The detective asked.

The doctor shook his head, practically tripping over himself to get away from the room.

“Has something happened to Beca?” Chloe asked, her voice shaking. “To the baby?”

“That… That’s no fucking baby,” he said.

The screams and shouts continued coming out of Beca’s room and more doctors and nurses began fleeing.

Chloe pulled her arm free of Aubrey’s grasp and she ran for the door.

She took a deep breath before she pushed it open.

In the days that would follow, a smartly dressed man would arrive and introduce himself as being a part of the FBI. 

Beca and Chloe neither checked nor cared if his credentials were real.

He promised he would help, but only if Beca could tell him exactly what happened.

Beca couldn’t, and he would leave seemingly disappointed.

That same night, a nurse would tell Beca, with a straight face, that her baby had died. They could see her mouth twist at the word ‘baby’. 

Beca had no reaction, and Chloe was secretly relieved.

Beca would tell Chloe months later that she thought the FBI guy took it. She would tell her that she hoped it wasn’t suffering, but that she also hoped it was dead.

But that was all to come. 

Right now, Chloe had to confront the horror she had just walked in on.

Beca was on the bed, staring blankly out of the window to her right, her legs still in stirrups.

The room was empty of medical staff, and Chloe could hear the dripping sound of blood hitting the floor as it ran from in between Beca’s legs.

They hadn’t even covered her up before they fled.

Chloe’s hands were on her mouth as her eyes travelled up Beca’s body.

On Beca’s chest was something small. Hairy. Horned and hoofed. Chloe could make out the red of its eyes as its razor sharp teeth bit and tore at Beca’s breast.

It lapped up the blood that flowed.

Chloe swallowed. 

“Beca?”

Beca’s head turned. Her eyes were hazy. Glazed over. Lost. 

Somewhere in there, Chloe could see her fiance begging for help.

“Hi Chlo’,” she said, her voice breaking as she spoke. “Have you come to meet my son?” 

[monsterfloofs]

The Chocolier (Enchanted Armor x Reader) Sfw

You pushed and prodded at the dark ashen logs that sparked with bright winding flame. Raising a hand to protect yourself from the blistering heat. Giving the firewood one last jostle with your makeshift wooden poker before a gloved hand reaches around you to close the metal grate. You smile, looking up at the knight with the wood stove in its belly. The enchanted armor's head was removed, in its place laid a saucepan of boiling water with another pan set into the bubbles and steam. You gathered more wood for the stove, as the figure moved on its own, one hand constantly stirring a rich brown liquid,  balanced above its breastplate. While the other hand adding sugar and cream.

“Oh, you’re done already?” You set the logs you were carrying down, as you notice the knight holds the pan out to you. You pick your cup off the forest floor, holding it out to the armored being. They carefully tip the contents into your cup, and you retrieve it with grateful hands. Holding it close to you as you sit down on a large overturned log. The knight undoes the strange contraption it was balancing. The Breast plate shifted forward to dump the ash and fire into the firepit it was standing inside. They take a step outside the ring setting down their cooking impliments and ingredients. Then reclaiming their helmet that was laid out carefully on a cut stump. They keep their back to you as they place their head back around their shoulders. 

You take a sip and give an indulgent sigh, a hand resting momentarily on your cheek. 

“This is so good. . . Where did you get the recipe for something so heavenly?”

A squeak of metal as the armored head looks over to you. No response but it claps its hands together to show that they were delighted at your compliment. They began picking up more wood to toss on the fire before they sit down on the stump beside the fire ring. 

You had met your odd companion, being chased out of a small town for thieving sugar and other goods. Monsters typically didn’t roam this far out into human settlements, not wanting to risk unfavorable interactions. This being could pass off as a human knight well enough, and had tried and failed many times to peacefully buy supplies. 

Enchanted armor wasn’t something you saw everyday, you heard whispers of this kind of magick guarding a haunted tower or ancient city with riches beyond your dreams. Never imagining to bump into one on the road. What you managed to gleam from the statuesque being was that it wanted to be something a little different than a guard. Judging by how much it prided itself on cooking, you could only guess it had something to do with food. A passion for cooking and no way to consume it. The thought had made you sad. Until you watched it upturn the contents of the skillet into its neck cavity, where it had promptly disappeared from sight.

So the two of you had made a little deal and had begun to travel together. You could be the armor's mouthpiece, able to go into residing towns and buy what you pleased. You could buy the different ingredients that it wanted for its recipes, and for your help, they would share its cooking with you. You began to learn more cooking skills yourself as the two of you traveled alongside the road. The creature seemed to delight in having an assistant that would help chop vegetables or partake in other tasks. You didn’t ask how it was able to afford the ingredients it wanted to purchase. Though at first when it pressed gold pieces into your hands it made you weary. 

It was not the journey you had been expecting. However, it was one you gladly embrace with open arms.

“Are we going to stay here long?” You asked, the heat from the cup in your hands warming your cheeks. The being pauses to ponder your words, reaching for the stick to scrawl into the sand. 

“Two days,” was written into a patch of soft mud. You lean back, taking a thoughtful sip.

“And where are we going from here?” You asked, “You want to travel around collecting recipes as well as ingredients correct? I heard there’s a lot of good food if we continue to travel up north.” You jump as the knight leans forward in interest. 

“Th-though I can’t say for sure! I’ve just heard mumblings, that's all!” You watch the figure curiously as it mimes looking dejected, then regains its composure, clenching a fist with determination. You laugh, bringing your cup back up to your lips.

“You really are a strange one, I’ll give you that.” You hum with a smile as you let your eyes close. “I suppose that is why we make such great company. I was not good at staying at home by myself, I was told I have too many stars in my eyes.”

You hear a slight clink of metal, and you open one eye to peek at your knight. Watching it tamp down the mud to write a new message.

“I’m thankful for you,” 

You give a soft embarrassed huff at the muddy scrawl, before you blink as a small bouquet of wildflowers pinched within their thumb and forefinger is laid gently on your knee. You look down at the baby's breath, feeling your heart skip a beat. You rub the back of your neck then gently pick up the little bundle of flowers. Twirling them slowly between your fingers.

[heartofirminsul]

👻 GHOST — is there someone or something that you feel is missing from your life? do you know if there's any way to find it/them?

(character development prompts)

There is a hole in Nahida's life.

A gaping, bleeding wound in her memories; like the imprint of a shadow of something that is no longer there.

If you cut a branch from a tree and take that branch from the forest to use as firewood, it is not removed from the world entirely. The smoke of its burning stains the sky; the stump where it once grew remains to its host tree; even the depressions in the ground caused by its fall will not be entirely lost to time. And even when fresh bark covers the wound, when the grass below springs back and the winds disperse the smoke, that tree will never be the same as it was.

So it is for her.

A question haunts her every step, tantalizing in its incomprehensibility: why was I crying, that day, after purifying Irminsul? Why did I feel like I'd torn my own heart out and crushed it to ash? Why did my First Sage look at me with such horror in their eyes, and later hug me like they were afraid I'd shatter?

Who have I forgotten?

[dujour13]

⭐!!

Thanks Ash! A wild card, what a gift! 💕💕

I’d love to chatter about the Woljif parts of Wandering Stars—the parts where he’s running for his life in Kenabres in chapters 6-10. It’s my favorite bit of the story, drawing inspiration from my beloved Charles Dickens and Terry Pratchett. I read Dodger not long before writing it.

It was a little chance to echo Woljif’s thought in The Lark and the Crow:

A tiefling just can’t catch a break in this city.

In chapter 6 there’s a lot of rat imagery associated with Woljif as he finds himself thrown back to his days as a Kenabres street tiefling:

He scurried around the nearest corner into the gap between tenements, his tail whipping behind him like a rat’s, and crouched for a few moments to formulate a plan.

He even steals cheese at one point.

So that was on purpose. Sorry Woljif.

As for Alix. I limited it to just suggesting that Woljif had been through some heavy stuff, because the tone of Wandering Stars and The Lark and the Crow is pretty light-hearted in keeping with the azata path of the game. Besides, he’s sharp and has a strong enough sense of self-preservation to remove himself from anything truly unpleasant, so I don’t mean to imply it was much worse than an insensitive dickhead he hooked up with once or twice, but I did tag the fic with a couple content warnings for this little confrontation. Sorry Woljif.

While writing this I was stumped for a long time: I needed to intersperse Woljif parts with Siavash parts in these chapters, and all I knew was that he was on the run and going to end up cornered, but it took a long time to come up with what I hope are interesting ideas for getting him from point A to point B. The run-in with the Constable, Barnaby, and the scene in the Defender’s Heart only came to me very gradually.

I even remember where I was the exact moment when the Barnaby idea struck me. (I was taking a walk. That often seems to shake things loose in my brain?)

So what I’m saying is, from a stuck writer to any other stuck writers with a gap in the story that just feels boring, be patient, be kind to yourself. It will come to you.

My favorite part is with the Constable, it was so much fun and gives Woljif a chance to show off those acting skills he touts:

Woljif wrung his hands. “Ain’t you gonna take me in?” “What’re you on about?” “Ain’t you gonna take me in, on accounta the cheese? You know, clap me irons?” The watchman waved him off. “Don’t let me catch you around here again or I will.” “Please, Mister Constable, I gotta be held accountable for my actions. I ain’t never gonna change, otherwise.”

The other thing I want to say is I’m so excited about the plot twist in this fic, another thing that came to me while I was taking a walk. Must have looked like a madwoman out there in the forest grinning to myself. I hope people enjoyed it.

[draconicfool]

He's never going to get used to this. Never going to grow accustomed to the feeling of looking at part of himself removed. Of watching how it withers into ash as his body began repairing itself. Seeing his skin weave and stitch itself back together. Not going to get used to that feeling of nothingness before he's jolted back awake and into existence. Not a once. Huffing softly as he sat up in the snow. Ran his fingers over what had once been the severed stump of his leg. What had once been an artery cut so perfectly by feral claws. And the hole in his stomach from those same powerful claws. Every part coming back together as if it had never happened.

And he'd let out a long sigh, leaning his head back.

"...how many time s'this gonna happen..?"

[kokorowoutsu]

-- RP: @pokemon-experiments

pokemon-experiments:

He'd be more than happy to show them. So he would take the casing panels off to reveal artificial muscles connected to a device that we're clearly made to fit perfectly to the nodes in his stump. If he had the proper equipment he'dremove the artificialmuscles and show them as much of the inner workings he could. "Alright. So, these legs are made to be as sturdy as possible. And to copy how real legs work." He would flex his other leg to let them see it work. As he did they'd hear the small turning of gears in his other leg as he moved joints around. He point to the connection points and than to his stump that had the surgically implanted nodes. "In order to do that they connect to these lights, and they carry the signal to my legs." He would flex non-existent muscles causing the nodes to light up all over the stump. Than, to show how the muscles moved, he attached the leg, now missing the outer casing, and flexed his leg around d to let them see them work. "Where it attaches it's made to be as comfortable as possible. Allowing for me to wear it indefinitely and use them as if they were no different from my actual legs. But the down side is that if they get damaged I don't feel it. And there is only one person who fully knows how to make them, how they work, and all of the complex inner workings." The next thing he'd do is get up and walk a few feet, turn, and walk back. This was to show the synthetic muscles stretching, clenching, and working the way they should. Ruko hoped that his explanation and demonstration would help. "If my dad was here he could show you each piece of my legs, how they connect to each part, and how the more complex things work."

Now Willow was curious enough to move around to look at her uncle's legs -- the gears turning and the synthetic muscles moving... She desired to learn and know more about anything and everything just like any child, but like Ashe, she seemed... lost. Not able to devote herself to one thing unlike her father who was driven to be a great trainer -- if not the best trainer. Truly she was a different child that had a long road ahead of her... but unlike her mother who had to build that family, she had help all around her to guide and make sure she didn't take the wrong path.

As for the pokemon, they seemed to be communicating in Fae while the fire-types communicated in chirps and churrs as if agreeing on some things. Getting up, Whimsy thanked Ruko by extending her hammer as a means of letting him touch it. Willow got up and explained; "To'ch'n a ham'er is'a si'n o' tr'st 'nd c'm...c'm... c'mrod..." Willow attempted to find the word but she instead tussled her already messed up hair with a growl coming out.

[ Comraderie. ] Tinkerbell called. "Th't!" Willow nodded rapidly. Only if and when Ruko shook the hammer would Whimsy chirp happily before hurrying off with everyone else while Willow eyed Ruko with his plates he had removed. "D' y'n'ed h'lp?" That and she was curious enough to want to try and see if she could solve the puzzle.

( Now that seemed more like a thing Kianga imprinted on her considering Ashe didn't care for puzzles. )

[ruiniel]

What of their life in Ossiriand?

Ever since

(snippet)

Through the calls of birds, the cawing of ravens, and the pawing of beasts, she hears other sounds, disturbances foreign to these parts until recently: the clink of steel and ring of chainmaille, the soar of words woven in foreign tongues, unfamiliar in their musicality. She smiles, taken with the lilt of it. Some of the Golodhrim had retreated here after their last crushing defeat, and so settled among her people.

A crippled society they are and bereaved of lands, but the legacy they wrought had irreparably marked them. And if there’s one trait she learned the Deep Elves possess, it is pride, streaked with honor like veins of gold trapped in unyielding rock. They seemed distant and aloof at first, before she learned their demeanor reflected their grief.

Collaboration with the clans dwelling in Ossiriand had come naturally, for the Golodhrim have great skill in the craft of metal and stonework, and their swords helped keep the increasing aggression of the Enemy at bay with a viciousness that would have been disconcerting, were it not so needed in the circumstances.

She nears the wooded space leading to a clearing near the river Thalos and follows the path to a remote area on the north side. There is a tent, deftly built by swift hands, a circle of blackened stones that guards old ashes, and artfully cut stumps of trees crafted into seats around the fire area.

She passes the armed guards, for after all, she is one of the known assigned guides to the High Elves from her community. Looking ahead to the more populated space of the temporary settlement, she sees spent folk retiring to their own tents, or some speaking to the guards assigned watch on the nightly shift. Others are sharpening weapons or drinking by their campfires.

They had not seen her. If the Golodhrim shine with exalted might, her people master nature’s shadows and upon concealing themselves can only be found if they wish it. Moriquendi they call them: elves of darkness, ones not having basked in the light of the West. A light that meant little to her, until sharp, grey eyes reflected its radiance.

Reminded of her goal, she steps forward, closer to the stones, and sees the place is currently empty of its occupant. She raises her gaze at a sudden stir and bustle, and turns her head to see a group emerging from the forest on the opposite side of the clearing. They are armed with bow, arrow and knife, and large game is slung over their shoulders; the day’s hunt gone late, it appears. Her eyes catch one of them in particular, and her knees go weak as she watches him relinquish a deer to others in wait, assigned to plan the provisions and the meals.

His hair is tied back from his face in a long, messy braid, and steadily he treads over to where she stands, waiting and watching and shaking from the unruly elation in her chest.

He stops before her, tall and wiry. Rebel strands of auburn frame a face that is both harsh and beautiful. The dust of the hunt clings to him, and his hand is dried with blood, as are the shoulders of his faded over-tunic. He grips the pommel of the hunting dagger resting at his hip, his features shuttered. A ruse, proven by the depth of his stare and the roughness of his voice when he speaks her name.

“Seleth,” he greets with a nod, then busies himself with removing his belt and setting his weapon aside to clean and sharpen later.

He is short of words save for a few precious occasions she remembers, yet different to her first encounters, when loss was the only emotion engraved in the deep scarring of his face. She follows the pale traces of past torment he’s not shared, distantly wondering if he ever will.

“What brings you here?” the Golodhrim prince asks in an even tone as he pulls his soiled tunic over his head.

“You.” It always takes time with him, but bluntness has always worked best between them, whether as allies or the uncertain friends they’ve become.

[aqua-loves-writing]

Rebellious Flame chapter 2 part 2

Disclaimer, this series is meant for teen and up audiences, with depictions of violence, abuse, misogyny and death of the fantasy sorts, nothing too graphic. I won't put an M rating for the future chapters so be warned of the topics in this series. Now, you can start reading.

“Zvezdoprah. ”

"Wow, the sky's beautiful isn't it?" 

"Zvezdoprah."

"Let's go to the festival already, I'll get all the awards," mumbling strange words, everyone around her snickered except for one enraged man.

"Zvezdoprah!" 

"Hey," Alice fell to the ground, her hair covering her face,  "We did the games fair and square so gives us the awards-oh." 

Looking around, she spotted several kids her age laughing and a stern old with a long black beard tapping his foot to the ground.

“...Oh.”

“Had a nice sleep?”

"...I didn’t sleep, I just," she got up again, “I was…mingling about all the knowledge brought upon me on this day.”

“Oh really? Then do you mind telling the class what exactly we were talking about?"

"...We were, uh, starting an extended lunch break," she pointed finger guns at him.

"..."

"...Just kidding! We were studying…stuff! That’s right! I know what I'm doing, heh."

"...Anyway" in a middle of a grass field, with some trees across in the back, the professor put two tree branches across the floor. The students sat on old small tree stumps, excited to see where this was going. 

"Before a certain snore interrupted me, one of you asked what's the difference between the blue purity flames and the flames the natumagi people have, it’s really simple actually" 

The first branch, he lit with a match and it slowly turned to ashes. The other branch, he sparked blue flames on it, the branch didn't burn, it flew. The professor controlled where the branch would float around the sky and it fell into Alice's grasp. The students were amazed, jumping excitedly to see what was coming next.

"As you see, the flames the Natumagi people control are like any other flames while ours, the blue purity, does not burn the objects or people it engulfs, nor does it generate heat, but it does hold incredible strength in combat and with enough skill, the ability for one to levitate themselves." 

"What about climates," a student raised his hand, "Does that affect it? 

"Good question, you see, the empire of Unia is split into different sections depending on what the weather and climate are best suited to each different elemental power, ours are not affected as such, and thus can even be used when it rains and it won't blow out"

"Sweet! We must have the best power then" 

"Hm, I would have said that’s true, but it’s wrong. Another thing the two powers share is the consequences of when we lose control of it. If a natumagi mage is enraged, for example, their powers will go berserk and could lead to a lot of harm in the process. If the same thing happens to us, the flames will engulf us entirely and we could lose our ability to use them for days, months, or even years in the most extreme cases."

The students were feeling uncomfortable hearing that, while Alice got lost in thought and raised her hand. 

"What is it now Zvezdoprah," the professor turned away removing the spare branches around the ground, “No, you can’t go back to sleep.”

“That’s not what I was going to ask. There’s something I’ve been wondering about?”

He rolled his eyes, “What is it this time?”

“If blue purity is so great and everything, why didn't any of our hunters join the war?”

Hearing that, the professor dropped all the branches, "...What?"

“Well, yesterday I checked some history books about and I couldn’t find anything about someone using blue purity in it, not even a mention of my father either, did he go alone or-”

“Alice Zvezdoprah”

“Uh…”

The professor suddenly slapped his wrist against her table, leaving everyone startled and quiet around. He gazed at her with an expression of anger, and disappointment. His eyes widened when he realized what he did, so he walked away and turned away from everyone.

“You should…already know that the only reason he joined it was because he used to live with those people, we had no connection to them otherwise so that’s why we didn’t get involved. It’s that easy to understand, so don’t ask any…unnecessary questions again, got it?” 

“Uh, yes sir…”

“Good, after I’ve done cleaning up we’ll go to train. So take a small break now.”

“Al-alright.”

“Great, you  pissed him off twice today.”

“Ugh, he’s going to make us work to the bone during training now.”

“Thanks, Alice.”

Hearing all of that and seeing her professor upset, she crawled under her table.

Man, why did I wrong? I should probably stop talking about the war for some time.

“Zvezdoprah, please get up,”

“Huh-ouch,” surprised, she accidentally hit her head against the table, “Oof!”

“Yeesh, please be careful,” her professor reached out his hand to her, “We’re heading out now.”

She got up and after packing her books and feather quills, the professor brought them all deep into a small forest. Alice tried to join small groups as they walked but they all ignored her or walked away from her. She tightly held her skirt frustration filling her face and she began walking faster than the others, causing her to accidentally bump into her professor again.

“Oh! I’m sorry!”

“Forget about it, we’re here now.”

In the middle of the forest, they arrived at a giant field, training dummies and wooden weapons all positioned around a giant tree stump in the middle of the field.

“Now, do light exercises and then we’ll do simple 1:1 training with blue purity. Zvezdoprah, grab the training weapons to everyone,”

“Uh, me? On it!”

Yeesh, I really got on his bad side today. It’s alright, Ally, you got this! Just impress everyone now during training and all will be forgiven!

“What are you doing? Quit standing there and hand everyone the things!”

“Oh of course!”

Or not, we’ll see.

The kids all lightly began training against one another. Some used swords, some spears, but Alice picked up a Bo staff. While she was not the best, she handled herself well, being able to hit the others lightly and taking them off guard.

“Great job everyone. Though you all need to focus on your defenses more, especially you,” he looked at Alice as he said that.

“Heh, got it!” 

“Now then, it’s time for you all to learn something I mentioned earlier today, and that is levitation.”

The kids all got excited when hearing that. They all began screeching and jumping all over the place as if they found a bunch of gold.

The professor chuckled seeing that, “Now calm down everyone, I know you’re all excited but it’s not as easy as it sounds. It’s the spell that takes the most usage of flames to control and you must be fully concentrated as you use it. One slip and you could die falling into a cliff, that’s both a metaphor and literal warning, please don’t die falling into cliffs.”

The kids all calmed down, some pondering the chances of them dying by falling into cliffs.

“Of course, Zvezdoprah, why won’t you go first?”

“Uh, me,” she was startled, “Of course, it’s me who else is called Zvezdoprah here. Uh, I’m coming.”

She climbed up a wooden step-ladder, a pillow placed on the ground in case she falls. She looked up in the sky and back to the ground, meeting the mocking stares of the other student, and the professor’s silent judgment of her.

Yay, I did absolutely nothing and I am already ‘the bad example,’ great. OK, calm down. I need to be calm. I already messed up enough, can’t mess this up too. Just close your eyes, and take a deep breath. Mind at peace, heart at home.

Keeping her eyes closed, she jumped. Unable to hear anything but muffled noises, she tried to touch the ground below her.

“Open your eyes already”

“Huh-wow!”

Opening her eyes, she saw herself several feet away floating from the ground, the ends of her hair burning in blue, and her eyes shining like crystals. In that moment, she was able to see her entire village, the giant walls surrounding it, and the mountains and forest beyond them.

I see it. I can really see it. A world beyond.

“It’s beautiful,” her smile widened and she kept levitating herself across the skies, feeling freedom at the grasp of her fingers.

This feeling. I have done this before. And yet, it’s so nostalgic. Was I born in the skies, so wide and azure, away from everything and close all the same? These feelings, these questions, why do I feel like this happened before?

“Zvezdoprah,” her professor shouted, “Can you hear me?”

“Oh, yeah,” she arrived in front of him, still floating midair, “This is absolutely amazing!”

“I know but…”

“I could do this for hours on end!”

“That’s great to hear, but…”

“Thank you so much, professor-”

“Uh, you’re welcome, but,” he held her arm, “Do you have any idea on how to land?”

“...”

“Zvezdoprah?”

“Uh, don’t worry! I’ll figure it out! I just need to…do this!”

Speeding through everyone and blowing their hair away, she saw the closest tree to her and hugged it.

“...Uh?”

“Give it a minute!”

After a few minutes, her flames were blown out and she climbed down, “See, I got this!”

“...I’ll teach you more practical ways of doing that.”

“Pfft, that was so lame.”

“Really couldn’t come up with anything else?”

The other students began laughing at her making her embarrassed.

“Heh, you guys are right,” frustrated, she looked away, her professor taking notice of it.

“Ahem, children,” his coughs silenced everyone, “Make fun of her as you like, but I don’t recall you all doing anything either, or am I wrong?”

The students were scared, “Uh, no, you’re right sir.”

“Good. Now, get back to training.”

“Heh,” Alice giggled.

“And you aren’t done either.”

“I know,” she happily went after the other students.

He’s harsh but means well. Gotta appreciate that more.

***

As the sun began to set,  the students all went back home in small groups, while Alice approached her professor alone.

“Good evening professor.”

“Oh, good evening.”

She quietly smiled at him, leading to awkward silence quickly.

“...What is it?”

“Nothing!”

“Alright then.”

He began walking away, unsure what to do with the fact that she was following him, the wide smile on her face creeping him out.

“Uh, isn’t that way over there closer to your home?”

“Yeah, but I want to change things up today!”

“...I see.”

“...”

“...”

The awkwardness went on, a cow close by witnessing it all firsthand.

“Professor, can I ask something?”

“Thank goodness,” he made a sigh of relief, “I mean, what is it?”

“Should I call you ‘professor’ or ‘mister Adam’ outside of school? Or is ‘Adam’ alone enough? Or should say ‘Addy’ like dad did-”

“Please, just keep calling me professor…”

“Ok, thank you, professor!”

“Uh, for what?”

“For standing up for me when I trained to levitate earlier and everyone made fun of me!”

“Oh that, they were being noisy is all, I would have silenced them even if you weren’t involved.”

“Sure, I believe you.”

“Oh, I am not hiding anything, that was just me doing my job.”

“Sure,” she said with snark.

“...”

Huh, he got silent all of a sudden. That’s weird. And he looks nervous, is something wrong? Oh, he looked away! Is he staring at the sky or the cow?

“Zvezdoprah…“

“What is it?”

“I apologize if this sounds inappropriate, but, in two weeks, it’s going to be two years since…your father die right?”

She was unsure how to respond, “Y-yes.”

He’s right. But why is he asking this all of a sudden?

He gulped, then he put his hand into his coat’s pocket to grab something, a bottled opener, which he gave to her.

“Huh, why did you give it to me?”

“It’s a gift, for him. We used to go drinking a lot together, your father and I, so maybe bring it to his grave, he might appreciate it, wherever he is right now…”

“I see,” she held a soft smile on her face, “He is going to love it, I just know it!”

“Heh, good to know,” Adam smiled, and after realizing he did, he walked several steps away from her, “Just get home already before I hear from your mother tomorrow. I have enough on my plate to handle that now.”

“Okay-dokey,” she giggled and went her separate way home.

I'm telling her this. Should I do that when I come back or wait when we go to his grave? Hmm, the former would ruin the element of surprise, but the latter would just make it look suspicious for me to have this lying around in my bedroom. Either way, that was really nice of him-Huh?

Gazing into the sky above. She noticed several streaks of what appeared to be smoke fading into the sky in small streaks from one another, someone made several campfires outside.

Are the hunters going out late tonight or something? I mean, it’s hunting season but why are they so close to the village’s walls, I should ask mom about this.

Arriving at her home, she hurriedly knocked on the door, doing small circles waiting for her mother to come.

“Oh, welcome back, sweetie! How was it-agh!?”

“Let’s go,” Alice suddenly grabbed Talisha’s arm, running through her streets.

“Ugh, Alice calm down!? Where are we going, did you get into trouble again?”

“No! I mean, yes, but that’s not what this is about!?”

“Then what are you-”

“Look,” she pointed her mother to the streaks of smoke in the sky, “Is it the hunters or…”

“...”

“Mom?”

She took immediate notice of her mother’s worry. From covering her mouth and her eyes terrified, she knew something was up.

“I’m,” Talisha shook her head and crouched down to Alice with a fake smile on her face, “It’s the hunters definitely, they’re probably trying to hunt for rabbits for dinner. It’s the season after all!”

She’s lying. 

Unsure of how to help her, she followed along with what she said, “I see, I worried for nothing then, hah.”

“See, it’s all gonna be alright now, so go back home and go to sleep. You don't wanna be late for tomorrow’s classes, right?”

“...What about you?”

“Oh, I’ll get back home later, I need to check something about the library with the chief, good night.” 

She gave Alice a kiss on the forehead, walking away with her body shaking ever so slightly. Alice noticed it quickly and watched her as she got farther and farther away, seemingly unreachable.

Something is up, I know. But what? She looked so concerned. Can I really leave her like that in her current state? No, I shouldn’t bother her.

She walked back home.

I can’t get involved, what the heck can I even do, but, she might get lonely.

Clenching her fists, she kept walking

No, you can’t get into her way. You need to go back home, you need to stay away from this. You need to, I need to-AH screw it!

She decided to follow after her mother, “I need to be by her side, no matter what!”

[sinvulkt]

Angstpril: 14. CRUELTY - evil au

@whumpril - 14. False Smile

I scowled in disgust as the backwater planet’s mud dirtied my primaries. There was no way I’d escape preening once going home. The village chief, some kind of one-legged humanoid owl that heavily leaned on a weirdly decorated stick, cried out as they trailed behind me.

“You- you can’t-”

“Can’t I?” I smirked. 

Wave of pain echoed from the old owl’s presence. Their leg ached and their stump pulled as they struggled to meet my pace. It was delectable. I accelerated just for the fun of it, the Dark pumping my body full of adrenaline.

By a surprising feat of strength, the one legged owl managed to jump in front of me, blocking my path.

“Please- It’s the  last remnant of our culture—” the village chief begged.

“And I need it,” I answered, sweeping them aside. 

I stepped into the room, letting out a whistle at the sight. The room was wide, and simple, but magnificent. Silver and gold runes covered the walls, the pillar and the ceiling in a hypnotizing runic dance. Wood beams were covered with slithering creatures, and the faint candle light refleccted on some kind of long golden nets, giving a refined atmosphere to the dimly lit room.

A deceptively-simple necklace sat prominently In the center of the room, on which hung a black stone. It sent subtle pulses into the Force, its ripples crashing against my shield like tides. A wave of greed surged within me. This was it. This was the artifact I had risked facing Aheka’s wrath for.

I had read legends about it in the great Sith library: an artifact from a Force Sensitive people that were  neither Jedi or Sith, but great warriors nevertheless. They had engaged in several wars and won, before disappearing back into their corner of the galaxy. The artifact was rumored to allow its user to hide from any living being. With it in hand, my escapades from the palace would become much easier.

(It was ironic, how close to collars necklaces were.)

I carefully removed the case, covering the necklace with my presence. Soon, it would be mine. I took it in hand, and reveled in the stone’s smooth feeling against my palm. I held it up, and admired the way the jewel unnaturally shined in the candlelight. I loved it already.

“Please-” 

The peaceful moment broke. My tail lashed in annoyance.

“Would you stop your whining?” I snapped. “You’ll survive just fine without it.”

The village chief opened their mouth, but I didn’t intend to listen to any more of their pitiful begging. I turned around, going back the way I came. I had what I came for.  Aheka would throw a fit if I was gone for too long.

A hand desperately grasped my clothes. 

“Please- we’ll die without it-” I tried to shrug them away, but the old owl was surprisingly strong. “It’s all that protects our village from the predators outside-”

I flared my wings, and the sudden movement was enough to chase the distasteful leech away. I folded them back and stared at the desperate village chief.

“If your village is up to the legends, it will survive without the necklace.”

“But the legends are-”

“If it’s not,” I cut in, “then it is only natural law that it ends in  ashes.”

For in this world, only the strong survived. Such was the will of the Force.

I resumed my way towards the exit, but the hand came back, stronger this time. My skin burned where the village chief touched me, my body unused to the feeling.

“I can’t let you take it away,” the old owl said. They were trembling, and fear made their tone waver, but their voice was underlined by an admirable determination.

Glee filled my chest. My lips turned upward into a false smile, one a predator would throw at its unaware prey. 

“Now, that’s more like it,” I said, tail waving with the thrill of a soon-to-come chase. Fighters were always much more fun to crush.

The village chief sent me a confused look as I dragged them towards the exit. Their lone leg clawed at the floor in an attempt to slow me down, but they were old, and I was much stronger. At some point, they did try to attack me with their ridiculous stick- but I made short work of it. A quiet mourning fed the Force as it gave under my hands. The Dark twirled in a dance of joy.

Breaking wood had rarely felt so satisfying. 

We stepped out of the building, and I stopped, releasing the owlish being. I turned towards them, dangling the necklace in the air.

“You need this to hide the village, right?”

They nodded, wide eyes fixed on  the artifact, fear pouring out of their body. I scoffed. The old owl had no need to be so terrified for it- I’d never break such a useful tool. Their impertinent life, however…

I reached out to the planet, connecting with the various predators living there. Using the Force to modulate my voice, I roared: “Here is food!”

Immediately, hundreds of hungry minds turned towards me. Towards me… and towards the village the cry had echoed from. The villagers stared at me, confused. I drank on their nervousness, delighted. They knew I had done something, knew their impending doom was near- but they didn’t know how, and it scared them.  

They’d learn it soon enough.

I raised my hand for my second action, connecting once more with the Force. 

“What are you doing?” the village chief wobbled.

“Testing the legend,” I answered.

Then, with a clench of my fist, every building in the vicinity crumbled. A ping tightened my chest as the magnificent room that had sheltered the necklace disappeared into ashes. It was kind of a waste, but soon no one would be left to appreciate its lost splendor anyway.

Cries and wails filled the air as people found themself trapped, lost, or crushed by the mayhem. The old owl fell on their knees, silent tears running down their fluffy cheeks. I stepped back in disgust.

Weak.

Perhaps the legends were wrong and they wouldn’t survive after all.

“Why…” they sobbed. “What did we do to deserve this-” 

Their whispers asked for no answer, but I did nevertheless. 

“Nothing.” The old owl turned towards me, incredulity filling their eyes. I smiled at them; at least they would die wiser. “Life has never been about what we deserved,” I told them. “It’s always been about what we take, and the consequences we suffer for it.”

I spread my wings, stretching my body out to better feel the Dark caress against my skin. It sang a soft lullaby in my ears, mixing the cacophony of cries into a beautiful melody. 

By the time I took off, the precious artifact looped around my hand (not my neck, never my neck-), there was nothing left of the once-cozy village. Beasts rampaged freely amidst the broken ruins, sharing the Dark Side’s delight in this early meal. A purr bloomed in my chest.

Life was nothing but a long, unpredictable chain of cruel consequences.

And this was the consequence of weakness.

[that-one-gothic-murder-of-crows]

Tagged by the ever wonderful @nsfwitchy💞💞

Nickname: Moxxie<3

Height: 5’4"!!

Sign: Libra (but I can easily get confused for a virgo)

Last Thing I Googled: “ao3"

Amount of Sleep: Uhh let’s see. I think I passed out around 5am... soooo... approximately 4 hours all together (not counting power naps)

Dream Job: funeral mortician and funeral director. (If you want me to elaborate as to why, I'd be more than happy to)

Wearing: a rather sl*tty rendition of a cropped suit. (Stylized after Robert Fischer from Inception 2010)

Favorite songs:

wing wham bam - sweets.

Brat - Delilah Bon

Melody dean - Amanda Palmer

Harpy - petrol girls

Media That Summarizes Me:

Gotham (2014-2019)

Most if not every Cillian Murphy film

Patrick Melrose

Instruments: The only "instruments" I'm really good with is my voice. But I did play violin for 4+ years (I'm still shit.)

Aesthetic: Ngl this one always stumps me because I feel like I have a bouncy one.

Like, one day, I could look like gothic royalty, then the next I look like a punk rock vagrant, then the next I could look like someone's bratty inner city friend with a high class job. XD

Favorite Author: Honestly I don’t think I have one?? My top picks are

Laura Senf.

Leigh Bardugo

Random Fun Fact: the father of the atomic bomb (J. Robert Oppenheimer) {added little tidbit. The "J" stands for Julius} pnly lost his security clearances after the trinity project in Los Alamos due to previous communist sympathies dug back up during the second Red scare. He had them removed 32 hours before they were to expire.

After the project concluded, he spent most of his time in the Virgin Islands (where he had his ashes spread).

Let's see,... imma tag

@scarecrowismybabygirl.

@jonathan-cranes-mistress-of-fear

@nostalgic90s

@newpotatomash

[hontou-baka]

Pet death cw;;

So my guinea pig died the day after i started therapy, without my bf or i there to comfort him. Went out to my boyfriends (where my pig was staying) to bury him since theres not been snow and ive got inches out here. Well too bad the ground is still too hard to dig a hole. So i take him home on the train (wrapped in a towel, in a ziplock, in another big bag with ice) and bc it was free fare week it was packed and some guy kicked him (it was an accident but still). Stop by the store to get some stump remover but its not even the correct chemical so it wont burn hot enough (not even flammable, would just make toxic shit if i burned it). So now hes just in the garage i guess til i get my potassium nitrate.

Anyways i almost took my dogs ashes home (been considering if i wanna split w my bf here and there so obvi i dont wanna leave my beloved dogs ashes there). But frankly having my little container with some of my besties ashes i got Wednesday (year anniversary of her death, finally moved her ashes to the custom steven universe amethyst urn they commissioned for her) and my dead guinea pig (pre-ash form) was all the ashes i could stand to fuckin take on the train. Well and my bf would probs assume im dumping him if i took puppos ashes and i didnt wanna deal with that since im never sure about how i feel about our relationship.

[ontimetreelopping]

What Is Tree Care?

Tree Care is all about maintaining or improving the health, beauty, and vitality of trees and shrubs throughout a landscape. This begins with proper species selection for a given site and good installation practices that minimize the probability of future problems. Once plants are established, the focus shifts to proactive addressing of potential issues through regular inspections and preventative maintenance treatments. Trees are a significant asset to any property, enhancing curb appeal and value while providing shade, increasing home energy efficiency, and lowering cooling costs. However, improper tree maintenance can result in the decline of a tree’s health and structure. Trees are also vulnerable to damage from storms and from human activity, so proper care is crucial for their longevity. A tree’s health is dependent on numerous factors, including water, soil, sunlight, and nutrients. Proper watering helps trees to grow and thrive by reducing the frequency of drought stress, which can impact both root growth and the availability of water for the rest of the plant. Soil testing and fertilization ensures that trees have the nutrients they need to stay healthy. Sunlight exposure is essential for photosynthesis, which provides the energy needed to produce food for a tree’s cells. Insufficient light can result in stunted growth and reduced vigor. Proper pruning removes dead or diseased branches, improves air circulation and promotes balanced growth, and can reduce the risk of branch failure during a storm. Pests are a serious threat to a tree’s health, and keeping trees properly trimmed and pruned can help them better resist insect infestation. Trees are also a natural barrier against invasive pests, such as the emerald ash borer and spotted lanternfly. Some services a tree care company offers are more specialized, such as installing lightning protection or emergency removals to remove hazardous trees. Other services include stump grinding to remove unwanted tree stumps, and soil management treatments such as root and soil aeration to loosen and enrich compacted soil. When looking for a Tree Care company, look for one with a Certified Arborist on staff. These highly trained professionals are trained to understand how a variety of factors affect a tree’s health, beauty, and vitality, so they can work with you to preserve your trees for as long as possible. The best way to determine if your trees need water is to feel the soil. A healthy soil will be moist but not wet or waterlogged. Too much water can be as detrimental to a tree’s health as too little, as it can lead to root rot and fungal diseases. When you water, do so slowly and deeply to allow the roots to absorb the moisture. Mulching is a great practice to implement around your trees, as it will insulate the roots, protect them from lawn mower cuts, and suppress weed growth. A layer of mulch 2-3 inches deep is recommended. Be sure not to cover the base of the trunk with the mulch. Feel the soil underneath a layer of mulch; if it’s dry, it’s time to water! via https://ontimetreelopping.wordpress.com/2024/12/10/what-is-tree-care/

[albertxylin]

Alex ran past.

His was the last set of footprints John heard leaving him, half buried in the churned earth.

Everyone else had already abandoned the front, through either their own choice or the last volley of mortars.

John was alone with his thoughts and corpses, a lake of blood forming from the jagged stumps of his legs. He wheezed, lungs punctured and bubbling wine.

It wouldn’t be long before he too was a corpse, another casualty of patriotic fervour. Another soul who signed up for dreams sold by death mongers who had no real interest in making anything better, just fattening up their pockets at the expense of others.

The thoughts had creeped up on him as reality did, as he ate shitty meals in damp trenches, fighting others who were equally cold and miserable and about to die for someone who didn't give two shits about who they were and what they could have been beyond the fact their bodies worked and had the ability to aim a gun.

He watched the blood pool around him, felt the few limbs he had left grow numb and cold, and wondered how much money he had been worth. How much he would enrich another through the sacrifice of his life.

He didn’t want to die.

He didn’t want to die here, alone and drowning on land, away from anyone who’d ever cared about him, for a cause that made less and less sense as the war went on.

He didn’t want to die a meaningless statistic, one line in a mass obituary about the brave men who’d served, his body nothing but fertiliser for a foreign field.

But he would. He would die here, unable to change anything, left behind by everyone who should have had his back, by the ones who sent him here in the first place, by a god he’d prayed to every night since he arrived at the front who had done nothing to help.

In fairness, those prayers had been hollow since his second day in the trenches.

He didn’t try again now. There was no faith left to kindle, nothing but ashes that had died along with any belief in a just world.

Instead, he tried to force air through lungs that no longer responded. He wheezed the last shred of defiance through clenched and shattered teeth, tears blurring vision that was already failing. He bargained, screaming through his mind for any chance of vengeance.

He didn’t ask to live. He knew that death was the only thing left for him. He merely asked for those responsible to hurt, to feel the consequences of their actions, to join him in the hell that they had created.

He closed his eyes, determined to die without that glassy-eyed expression that denied any dignity, that removed any doubt that he was dead and not just sleeping.

And die he did.

His life did not flash before his eyes, nor did he see a light. All he saw, was an empty, endless void.

The void spoke.

“Interesting.”

One week later, newspapers reported on the sudden simultaneous heart attacks of multiple world leaders and generals. The war had been officially declared over, as every involved nation took time to assess what had happened and to ensure their own survival.

On the fifth page, crammed in tiny font, were the last casualties discovered in that war.

John Mills was the third last name from the bottom in the second column, just above an advertisement for fertiliser.

You’ve been abandoned on the battlefield, the enemy closing in. Forsaken by heaven and countrymen, you retreat to the deepest corner of your mind. If your gods won’t help, perhaps the inner dark will. You cry out to the void. It answers.

[audetenterprise]

Why Tree Service Is Essential for Property Safety in Portland, Maine

Portland, Maine, is known for its beautiful, tree-lined streets and charming landscapes. However, in October 2017, a severe storm caused fallen trees across the city, damaging homes, cars, and power lines. Such incidents highlight the importance of tree service in Portland, Maine, for property safety and preventing potential hazards. 

Regular tree service is essential to protecting your property and the people around it. Let’s explore why professional tree care is vital and how you can take proactive steps to ensure the health and safety of your trees.

Dangers of Untrimmed Trees

If you own a home or property in Portland, properly maintaining your trees can prevent unexpected damage or expensive repairs. Neglected trees may seem harmless, but if untrimmed, they can pose significant threats.

Falling Branches and Debris

Strong winds and heavy snowfall, which are common in Portland, can cause dead or weakened branches to snap off. These falling limbs can cause severe damage to roofs, vehicles, and even power lines. Tree service in Portland, Maine, helps mitigate these risks by regularly removing weak or dead branches before they have a chance to fall.

Tree Disease and Pest Infestation

Unmaintained trees are more vulnerable to diseases like oak wilt, Dutch elm disease, or infestations from pests like emerald ash borers. Once a tree becomes infected, it can spread disease or pests to nearby healthy trees. Professional tree service not only keeps trees healthy but also prevents the spread of infestations.

Benefits of Regular Tree Service in Portland, Maine

Routine tree care isn’t just about preventing problems—it also comes with several benefits. These advantages can enhance the value and beauty of your property.

Improved Tree Health

Regular pruning is one of the most effective ways to maintain and improve the overall health of your trees. Pruning removes dead or diseased branches that sap energy from the tree, making it stronger and more resilient. Well-maintained trees are better equipped to survive these conditions, ensuring your property stays safe and beautiful year-round.

Enhanced Property Value

Aesthetic, healthy trees can make your yard more appealing, creating a welcoming environment for visitors or potential buyers. Research has shown that properties with mature, properly cared-for trees tend to sell faster and at a higher price. Regular tree service in Portland, Maine, ensures your trees remain an asset to your home rather than a liability.

Tree Service Regulations in Portland, Maine

Like many cities, Portland has local regulations governing tree care. For example, trimming trees that overhang streets or sidewalks may require a permit from the city. Additionally, diseased trees that pose a safety risk may need to be removed. Ignoring these rules can lead to fines or penalties, so hiring a professional tree removal service is essential. A knowledgeable arborist in Portland will understand the local regulations and ensure your tree maintenance is done legally.

Choosing the Right Tree Care Experts

Not all tree service providers are created equal. To ensure you get the best possible care for your trees, it’s important to select a qualified tree care company. Here’s what to look for:

Experience and Qualifications — Look for a company with certified arborists on staff who understand the specific tree species and challenges.

Insurance and Licensing — Tree work can be dangerous, so make sure the company you hire is fully insured and licensed. 

References and Reviews — Positive feedback and proven experience indicate that a company is trustworthy and skilled.

Pricing and Services — Some companies offer comprehensive packages that include tree trimming, stump removal, and emergency tree services, which may provide better value for money.

DIY Tree Pruning: Safety Tips

While many homeowners may consider DIY tree pruning to save a few dollars, it’s not always the safest option. For those who choose to handle smaller tree care tasks, it’s important to follow safety precautions. Always wear protective gear like gloves, helmets, and goggles to guard against falling debris.

Pruning large trees without property tools or expertise can be extremely dangerous. It’s highly recommended that you hire a professional tree service. Experts have the right tools and insurance to do the job efficiently. Whether you’re a property owner or a certified arborist, safety should always be a priority.

Here are three key safety tips to keep in mind:

Use the right tools for the job

Be mindful of your surroundings

Never climb trees without safety gear

Ensuring Property Safety with Professional Tree Service

Tree care is critical to property maintenance in a city like Portland, Maine, where the weather can be unpredictable. Regular pruning keeps trees healthy and enhances your property's aesthetic and financial value. Whether it's removing hazardous limbs or controlling pests and diseases, professional tree service in Portland, Maine, care can make a big difference. Audet Enterprises has years of experience and understands tree care in this region.