#but i really think ash and dawn are WAY MORE than just that

[love-is-a-pearl]

Wait okay now I'm confused, do you not ship them romantically?

Yes. And no. Both?

I've said time and time again that I like Ash and Dawn and their relationship. Period.

I don't care how it's portrayed. If it's romantic, if it's platonic, is it's something in-between (aka what queer platonic kind fits into). They can be friends with benefits, divorced, married or just bffs. Gosh I even like the idea of them as siblings!

What matters for me is not what they are. But rather that they LOVE eachother. Because they do!! They adore one another! They are easily the most important person in their lives and they are both better when together! And they like being together!

As long that part of them is kept intact I honestly don't care for the specifics of their relationship ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[pink-petal-lover]

It's always really sad to me, when I see people saying that Astarion thinks he's so much better than everyone. When that's really just the front he puts up, and baby you fell for it hook, line, and sinker. Cause this man really doesn't think he's better than anyone, he kinda hates himself more than anyone. That's why he gets so genuinely surprised you'd choose him over anyone else in camp. In truth, he seems to see himself as just a pretty face and a piece of ass. Something to use, and then be discarded when his use has been worn out.

He knows it so well in fact, he expects the same out of the player. Which is why he uses you in the first place, you fall for it. And considering how many people write him as this prince charming, I think he chose well. Then he feels like a total dumbass for catching feelings, because he's faced with someone who is open to casual intimacy with him but also actually cares about him as a person. Which is why he feels genuinely bad about it. You actually care about him, and he's never had that before. It makes him care about you, which is even more terrifying.

The last time he showed the tiniest bit of compassion for someone, he was thrown into solitary confinement for a year. On top of that any "relationship" he's had, it's all been fake. He even says he doesn't know what real is, it's all just a performance for him. And goddamn if he isn't a star actor, he knows his lines and he reads them oh so very well.

Which makes his "What, why?" Line when you tell him you'd rather be with him, all the more tragic to me. Because while he fronts that he knows he's the obvious choice, he really doesn't think that. You have way better options in camp, but you'd rather go with him?

Sorry, but no matter how much anyone out there hates Astarion. Chances are you could never hate him, more than he hates himself.

Anywho, this came on for a lot of reasons. But honestly one of them was me thinking "Man I don't think he'd realistically look at me twice. He's so far out of my league, I'd be burned to ashes for even trying."

But then it kinda dawned on me, that this man literally thinks so little of himself. He gets genuinely shocked you actually want to have him as a partner over everyone else in camp. No matter how big of an act he puts up, he doesn't think himself worthy of being loved. We can project all that self loathing into love for each other, and try to learn to love ourselves as we go. I think that'd be sweet.

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

.⋆｡Let Me Be Your Bear｡⋆.

Halsin x plus size reader (Tav)

An accident involving a fiery touch and your beloved stuffed teddy leads you to something wonderful

Warnings: Tav!reader, fluff, mutual pining, daddy Halsin, cuddling, reader has no specified gender or pronouns

WC: 782

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

It had been an accident really. You knew Karlach was just curious about the small stuffed animal that was sitting on top of your open pack, she didn’t mean to turn it to ash as soon as she touched it and you didn’t resent her for it, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t break your heart just a little bit. 

Especially now as you lay by the dying fire, clutching a small bag Wyll had given you for the ashes tightly to your chest in some vain attempt to receive the same warmth the toy had given you before. You knew it was silly, it was just a small bear you found at the beginning of your journey but it was comforting on the darkest of nights when you were stuck with your thoughts or nursing some wound. 

Sighing, you rolled over onto your back and came face-to-face with the massive druid who was standing over you, looking at you curiously. You inhaled sharply in shock, clutching the bag even tighter. Halsin just tilted his head. “Why are you holding a pouch?” 

Heat crawled up your neck in embarrassment. “It’s dumb.” You mumbled, but his sensitive ears caught each word. Firelight flickered over his face yet the light in his eyes was even brighter.

“You can tell me you know. I have been told I am a good listener.” You sighed, patting the ground beside your bed roll. With no hesitation, Halsin took a seat beside you, his muscular thigh only a few inches from your soft one. 

Your fingers toyed with the small braided rope that tied the top of the pouch together, the ends already frayed from your nervous fiddling. “It was my bear, it was accidentally burned up which I understand, it wasn’t deliberate. But I can’t sleep without it.” 

Halsin hummed under his breath and you braced yourself from some teasing remark (perhaps you were spending too much time with Astarion) but it never came. Instead, the druid smiled softly at you. “Perhaps, you would allow me to help, with your permission of course.” He must’ve noticed your confused expression because he quickly spoke again. “I think you forget, I myself am a bear.”

Realisation dawned on you then, which was quickly followed by bashfulness. He was offering to let you cuddle him just so you could sleep. That of itself was an enticing offer, he was an incredibly handsome man, only a fool would deny that. But more than his outward appearance, he had a gentle and kind soul, one you had quickly fallen for.

“You don’t have to.” You replied but Halsin laid one massive palm on top of your knuckles, easily enveloping your much smaller hands.

“I want to.” No other words were needed. He pulled away from you just far enough for him to shift without hurting you as his eyes began to glow a beautiful gold. You blinked and suddenly there was a brown bear standing before you. He huffed and nudged your shoulder, pushing you to lay back down.

You didn’t even notice as the pouch slipped off your lap, too focused on the way that Halsin’s huge front legs now straddled your wide hips as he himself lay down between your legs. A soft groan was forced from your lips when he placed his head onto your soft stomach but it wasn’t uncomfortable, far from it actually. His weight on top of you eased the tension throughout your body and you quickly found yourself overwhelmed with exhaustion.

He gazed at you with emotions you couldn’t quite comprehend, watching with some satisfaction as you relaxed beneath him.

Your arms curled around his head as best you could, rubbing one of his ears between your fingers. He gave a satisfied groan, his black eyes shutting. “Thank you.” You whispered and he nuzzled further into you, almost purring as your closed your eyes.

“What in the bloody hells are you doing!” Astarion’s shrill voice cut through the tranquillity of the morning, startling you from your surprisingly deep slumber. Hot breath fanned across your face as the massive bear on top of you growled before settling back to sleep, his huge maw resting on your sternum.

“Sleeping.” You grumbled and your fingers tangled in his dark fur.

“Well yes I can obviously see that but why do you have a bear on top of you?” You cracked open one eyelid to glare at the elf who looked greatly put off by this whole thing.

“He’s my bear.” You answered simply as Halsin groaned in agreement, both of you wishing to go back to sleep and maybe get another blissful hour of just holding each other.

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[bxnnywrites]

hiya!! im the anon that told you abt requests being closed, im glad i could help you out!!

i saw you headcanon danny as demiromantic and im very curious, what would it be like if danny had romantic feelings for a survivor reader? how would those feelings develop? i’m not demi myself so i’m rlly curious about the process of it!!

oh anon you have no idea how excited i am to answer this

*clears throat*

🫀 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐅𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐒𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐯𝐨𝐫!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 🫀

TW :: Obsessive behavior, stalking, violence, general Danny Warnings

Authors Notes :: This uh...kinda turned into a ficlet. Oops!!! I've just thought of this scenario a LOT so I had a lot to say-

Anyways!! Hope you enjoy <3 (also this isn't proof read, we die like men)

It took a really long time for him to realize it, or maybe just for the emotions to develop. He wasn't sure.

You had appeared months ago, or whatever the equivalent was in the realms. Time wasn't exactly an easy concept to pin down here.

For a long time you were just another survivor, someone his knife sliced through with delicate ease. Someone to hunt and kill, that was his job, and entity if he didn't love every fucking second of it.

He liked to stalk his victims, both in and out of trials. Especially the new ones, he loved to see what made them tick. What really fucking scared them.

So he was keeping an eye on you, taking his usual notes, keeping an ear out for anything to use against you later.

But it started to develop into something a bit...more than that.

Suddenly he noticed his notes becoming less about what you feared and more about what you liked.

The way you smiled, how you laughed at Ash's jokes, the way you bit your knuckles when you were worried. The way your eyes lit up when seeing your friends and fuck he wanted to see your eyes light up for him like that.

He shook it off, had to shake it off. It got in the way of what he did. What even was this feeling?

Sure he had flings before he was taken, but he never really had feelings for them. It was part of the game, part of his job. Something to keep him low on the radar. That's all.

Was that what this was then? What it felt like to properly fall in love?

He hated it.

He hated every feeling, he hated the way your smile made his chest light up. He hated how distracted he was, so fucking distracted.

He hated you.

He couldn't stop thinking of you.

Quit laughing at Ash's stupid fucking jokes they aren't even that fucking funny.

More scribbling, more anger, why did you have to appear here? Was it some sort of taunt by the entity? Some kind of damn punishment? Fuck you and fuck whatever feelings you gave him.

For a long time it was like that, if you were in a trial with him you were the first hooked. You were too much of a distraction to his work.

And maybe he loved the feeling of holding you like this but fuck he wouldn't admit that.

------

Eventually you got fucking tired of it.

Every damn trial he would tunnel in on you and only you. Wouldn't focus on anyone else while you were around.

You realized quickly killers couldn't truly kill you. You felt it, every last agonizing slice into your flesh, every bruise, every broken bone, but you would just wake up at the fire at the end.

And you needed to figure out what the fuck his issue was.

Your fellow survivors tried very hard to convince you out of it, but they understood being pissed about it. So in the end, no one stopped you.

So there you were, in front of Autohaven Wreckers. A few survivors tipped you off that Ghostface liked to hang out around this area. Beats you as to why, the place stank of burning rubber and old oil. It made your stomach turn, but you entered nonetheless.

As you walked through the old junkyard, it dawned on you, you didn't really have a plan. You had done this mainly on a whim, annoyed at constantly being targeted and harassed by the white faced freak. Where were you even supposed to look? What if the Wraith saw you? This was fucking stup-

Before you could react a leather gloved hand covered your mouth, pulling you back as the cold steel of a sharp blade touched your throat.

"You scream and this is going into your fucking back, got it?" The voice was husky in your ear, unfamiliar. It made you realize you had never heard Ghostface speak before. So you nod, and he make an approving noise before releasing you. You run a hand over your throat where his knife had bit into it, leaving a light red line against it.

"So," He spoke again, letting you turn to him finally to confirm your suspicions. There he was, the Ghostface in the flesh, mask and all. "What do I owe the pleasure, Doll?"

"Well," You started, feeling your anger bubble up in you again. "For fucking starters, I have some damn questions for you, asshole."

Oh he loved when you spoke like that, some real final girl trope shit.

"Ooo, questions for the killer?" He cooed, leaning against a nearby car and watching you intently. "Brave of ya, Doll. I like it."

"Oh fucking can it, you damned halloween drop out!" You spat, and though you couldn't see it under his mask, your words had him grinning ear to ear. He loved when you were angry like this. "Why the fuck do you keep tunneling me, huh?! Every fucking trial we have you steamroll me and kill me as quick as possible. It's fucking bullshit, dude!"

He laughs a bit, removing his leather glove and using his knife to pick the dirt from under his nails.

"I dunno what you're talkin bout, babe." He says nonchalantly. "You're mad because what, I'm killing you during trials? Come on, that's my job-"

"Bullshit, this is more than that and you know it!" You seethe, god if you knew you wouldn't die you'd punch him. "What's your fucking damage? Hell, I've heard stories about other trials, you're even fucking friendly with some of the survivors sometimes! What the fuck did I ever do to you?!"

His eye twitches.

"Like I said, I'm just doing my fucking job. Now if you would just-"

"NO YOU AREN'T!" You shout at him and he's on you in an instant, hand over your mouth and you can see his eyes through his mask. A deep red brown and angry.

"Listen here you stupid bitch, one more outburst like that and I'm gutting you like a fucking fish, understand?" He snaps, his grip on your face almost bruising. Fear grips you again and you nod. He sighs, letting you go again with an unspoken warning that he would follow through if you got loud like that again.

"Look, it's fucking...it's complicated." He mumbled, looking almost shy as he played with one of the ghostly strips of fabric attached to his outfit. "You're just...you're a fucking distraction. Every trial I'm in with you it's hard to fucking focus, and I have a fucking job to do god damn it." He grumbles. You almost feel bad for him, almost.

"What, and that's my problem?" You snap in return.

"Yeah, it fucking is." He snaps in return, starting to pace back and forth. "I have work to do, people to kill, fear to harvest, the whole nine fucking yards. But you," He points, "You get in the fucking way, you make me lose track, you make me...you...fuck, you make me feel something, OK?"

You blink dumbly at him, finally speechless, and he continues.

"I get this stupid fucking feeling in my stomach and it makes me fucking twitchy. It makes my damn mind race and I can't tell if it's because I want to fucking dissect you or..." He trails off.

"...Or?" You question.

"I don't know!" He snaps, growling a bit as he continues pacing. "I haven't fucking felt like this before, I didn't think I fucking could. I just..." He takes a breath, looking back at you. "I need you to stop."

Your mouth hangs open, shocked by his...confession? If you could call it that.

"What?" You question again.

"Stop! Stop making me feel...whatever the fuck this is!" He snaps again, and even though you can't see his eyes anymore, you can feel the frustration wafting off him.

"How the fuck am I supposed to do that?!" You snap in return, annoyance rising in you as well. "It's not my fault you have a...a fucking crush on me or something!"

"Yes it is, it's absolutely your fault!" He throws his arms up, almost like an annoyed toddler. "It's your fault because you have this soft fucking face and this pretty laugh and that stupid fucking smile! You have these fucking eyes that light up whenever you get to talking about what you love, and fuck I just wish for once that was ME and-" He cuts himself off with a growl, kicking a nearby stack of tired and knocking them down. "It's bullshit, you're bullshit, it's all fucking bullshit!"

You're left speechless until he finally looks at you again.

"There, you happy? Now could you fucking make it stop?!" He breathes out, his eyes just barely visible through the black mesh of his mask.

"I...Well...fuck uh..." You mumble, shifting your weight from foot to foot. "I...don't think I can do that? I mean..."

"Fuck, yeah, course you can't." He grumbles, fidgeting with the fabric strips of his costume again. "I just...this is a stupid, distracting fucking feeling and I hate it."

"Well...I mean..." You take a breath, not really sure how to approach the situation. "Maybe we could like...I dunno...start over?"

He looks at you, and you swear he thinks you're insane.

"Start over?" He questions, "The fuck you mean start over?"

"Like, I dunno. Figure shit out from the beginning, like...get to know each other or something?" You say awkwardly, rubbing the back of your neck.

"...Are you fucking crazy?" He questions, and yeah, you expected that. "Like, hello, earth to Dollface, I've killed you dozens of times now. I have murdered your friends in front of you." He snaps his fingers, impressive considering he's still wearing his gloves. "Like sure, sounds nice and all, but how the fuck do you expect to just start over? Hi, what's up, the names Ghostface. Wanna get stabbed?"

"Don't be a fucking dickhead." You snap in response and huff, "Look, I don't know what you want me to do about...whatever this shit is," You motion to him vaguely. "Like I dunno dude, you need a good therapist or something?"

"Fuck you." He growls.

"Yeah, whatever." You breath out. "Look, I don't care what you do, but I'm sick of you pulling bullshit during trials because of...whatever your feelings are. So you either talk to me about it and we get it sorted, or I start making offerings to the entity to make your job even harder than I apparently already am." You cross your arms and look him up and down before sighing. "I'm heading back to camp, if you want to fucking talk-"

"Wait," He grabs your arm and you stop, looking back at him before he sighs. "OK maybe...maybe you're right. Maybe we can like, try that? I dunno."

You smile at him, sighing in relief.

"Good, I prefer that." You turn to him, extending a hand and telling him your name proper, even though he already knows it. "Nice to meet you, Ghostface."

He stares at your hand for a second, but slowly, he takes it.

"...Ghostface is fine for now." He mumbles, shaking it awkwardly. "So...uh...how do we do this?"

"Well...what kinds of movies did you like? Before you got taken."

His eyes light up, and suddenly he's on a kick. Rambling happily about his favorite horror movies while you listen.

Things get better after that.

Rather than being targeted, you're more often than not spared during trials.

Of course people get suspicious though, so you have to cut a small deal with him to either spare all of you during trials or kill everyone including you.

He's not personally a fan of the second option, so he ends up sparing your little party whenever you're involved.

You two get closer and you start to have your own feelings for him in return.

Eventually he tells you his real name. Danny, it rolls off your tongue nicely.

He's nervous at first, but eventually his smooth charm comes back and it's rare for him to not leave you flustered and blushing when you two talk.

When you finally get the courage to tell him your feelings, you swear he's on cloud nine. immediately talking about how happy he's going to make you and how he'll make sure no one in this fucking realm ever touches you.

You have to talk him down from that, knowing that your other survivors would hate you if you were the only exception during trials. And while he says "fuck em" you know you can't have him as your only friend in the realm, as much as part of him would love that.

But it's nice, he treats you like royalty. Like you're his entire world.

It might not be a real happy ending, but it's probably the closest you'll get in this hellhole.

And that's good enough for the both of you.

[lynzishell]

The Past 💛 Atlas

For the second year in a row, Rainy Day has rented out the Casbah Gallery for their Winter party. When I arrive, most people are taking the time to walk through the exhibits, but art galleries have never really been my thing, and neither have large groups of people, so I bypass them both and walk up the stairs to the second floor where the party itself will take place.

“Atlas!” I hear the familiar voice of my sister call out from behind me just as I’m about to walk inside. I glance over my shoulder to see her and Phoenix climbing the stairs and pause to hold the door for them.

“Good timing,” I say as they walk through. They’ve both dressed up for the occasion, Dawn in a black dress filled with vibrant flowers and a leather jacket with matching red lips and nails. She must have really been excited to get out tonight, she rarely goes to those lengths. Clearly, she even talked Phoenix into putting on a suit jacket, which I imagine wasn’t easy.

They walk in practically hanging on each other, and I wonder if this is what I’ll be subjected to the whole night. Not that I’m not happy for her, but the idea was supposed to be to get them out of their isolated bubble for a little while.

With most people downstairs, the room is nearly empty, which is just fine by me, but we spot Kiyoshi at a table alone, so we join him and say hello.

When the two of them finally break apart so Phoenix can talk with Kiyoshi and make plans for the following weekend, Dawn scoots over and tugs at the sleeve of my cardigan. When I look over at her she flicks her eyes toward the bar, indicating she wants to step away for a moment. She’s being weirdly sneaky about it, which makes me curious, so I nod and turn to the others, “I’m going to grab a drink while there’s no line at the bar, does anyone want anything?”

“I’ll come with you,” Dawn offers quickly, pulling me away while Phoenix and Kiyoshi give me their drink orders.

“What’s going on with you?” I ask her once we make it to the bar.

“I need to talk to you about something.”

“Okay. What is it?”

She glances over toward Phoenix and then back at me with a smile, “Phoenix asked me to move in with him.”

“Oh my god, Dawn. That’s fast. Are you ready for that?”

“I know, but it wouldn’t be right away. We’d have to get a new place, and his lease isn’t up for a few months. He just asked me to think about it.”

“Okay, so what do you think?”

“Well, I don’t want to leave you in a bad spot. Our rent isn’t cheap, and you already pay more than your share.”

“You don’t have to worry about me. I can cover it until the lease is up and then downsize. I’ll be fine. But is this what you want?”

She chews at the inside of her lip nervously as she nods. “Yeah. It is.” The way her smile stretches across her face when she says this tells me everything I need to know.

“Then that’s what you should do.”

“Really?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Okay,” she exhales a laugh, “Okay! Ah, anyway, how are you?”

“Fine,” I shrug, “Same old.”

As we pick up our drinks and start walking back to the table she asks, “How are things with Asher?”

“Um, yeah, he’s good. Why?”

“Just curious. Is he coming tonight?”

“Yeah, he’s your boyfriend’s date, remember? I assumed that’s why he’s all dressed up.”

She laughs at that, “No, that was my failed attempt to get him to wear something besides jeans or gym shorts.

“You should’ve known better.” Not that I’m one to talk. I couldn’t even be bothered to wear jeans that don’t have holes in them. “But, yeah, Ash and Lex should be here soon. For all I know, they might just be downstairs with everyone else.” As if on cue, a group of people come up the stairs then to get things started.

Someone starts playing music through the speaker overhead while others gather at the bar. I’m only halfway through my beer before we’re surrounded and I start having trouble focusing on the conversation at our own table as those behind me grow louder.

In the far corner, there’s a small room with a sofa that I remember from last year. It’s tucked away and quiet. With the crowd of people increasing by the minute, I have the sudden urge to escape and claim the room before anyone else can. Thankfully, Dawn knows me well enough that I don’t have to say much, nor do I have to hide behind any excuses. I lean over to her and say quietly, “I’m gonna go hide.”

“Okay, I’ll be here,” she says with a smile, and pats my arm as I step away.

I slip into the room, happy to see that it’s empty, and pick a spot in the center of the large black sectional sofa. It’s surprisingly more comfortable than it looks. The wall across from me is lined with large mirrors, and for a moment I stare into it, at myself, at the painting that’s hung on the wall above my head. I like it. I like the splashes of gold among the otherwise muted tones of red and purple and teal. The teal reminds me of Ash, and I wonder if he’s here yet, wonder if he’ll come sit with me or if he’ll prefer to enjoy the party, chatting with Lex and Evan and his other friends. I imagine he’s the type that gets stopped frequently when walking into a party, people wanting to say hello and have a drink and share a laugh. And he’s the type that’s always happy to do so. He greets people with an enthusiastic smile and remembers small details about them, making sure to ask about a family member or pet or an update on a project they’re working on or about the latest episode of a show they like. It’s a quality I admire in him. And one I definitely lack.

“How’d I know I’d find you here?” I smile at the sound of his voice and look over to see him standing there, having dressed up his usual jeans and t-shirt with a cardigan and suspenders. He’s leaning forward, loose and relaxed, propped against the doorway with a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. Something about it feels incredibly familiar.

“You know me too well," I say, my eyes following him as he steps forward into the room, walks over and plops himself down next to me, slouching down low onto the sofa. And there it is again. The feeling that we’ve done this before.

“What’s with the face? You okay?”

“Yeah,” I shake my head as the feeling fades, “I just got déjà vu.”

“Really? What triggered it?”

“You. Just standing in the doorway like that, and then walking over here”.

“You know what that means, don’t you?”

“No, what?”

“You basically had seizure.”

“What?”

“Yeah, it’s like a misfire in the memory center of the brain. I once read this article about someone with a particular seizure disorder that gave him déjà vu regularly. And then, for like, the next year, I’d panic any time it happened to me even though the article gave assurances that it’s quite normal to experience it every once in a while.”

I chuckle softly, “You have a story for everything, don’t you?”

He shrugs, “Not everything, but yes,” and then he leans toward me, “I like this cardigan, by the way. It looks good on you.”

I smile at him, “Yeah, I’m diggin’ the suspenders.” And, once again, as I reach over and hook my finger around one of them, pulling it taut and then releasing it so it can snap back into place, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m reliving a moment that’s already happened.

“Thank you,” he winks at me, which somehow still causes my cheeks burn, and we laugh as I turn my face to hide it.

“Anyway,” I take an exaggerated breath as I look back at him, “how’s the party?”

He shrugs, “It’s okay. I saw Dawn on the way in. Got to meet your future brother-in-law.”

I roll my eyes, though he’s probably not wrong at the rate they’re going, “Yeah, I’m sure it’s only a matter of time. So, what’d you think? Is he an asshole?”

“Nah, he seems okay. He’s going climbing with you guys, right?”

“Yep.”

“Are you getting nervous?”

“No, honestly it doesn’t really feel real yet.”

“When do you go?”

“Not until Spring. April, I think.”

He sits up then, getting animated, yet his eyes look more concerned than excited, “Are you sure it’s a good idea? I mean, it’s dangerous up there, isn’t it?”

I have to admit, it’s kind of sweet that he’s worried, but he really doesn’t need to be. “Well, yeah, of course, but that’s why we’ve taken a year to prepare.”

“I guess. But it’s one thing to be a strong climber. I don’t know, I just can’t picture you as the outdoorsy type, out there surviving the elements and all that.

“That’s probably because you’ve only ever seen me behind a desk in the city. But being in scouts I spent a lot of time in the wilderness growing up.”

“Oh my god, you were a scout?” He seems absolutely delighted by this information which makes me laugh. Nearly all of us were in scouts when I was a kid. It was more strange if you weren’t.

“Yeah, I earned every badge, and I was very proud of it. But we went on camping trips all the time. And when I was fourteen, I went on a survival trip where they basically drop you in the middle of nowhere with minimal supplies and leave you to it for a few days.”

“I’m not gonna lie, that sounds awful.”

“No, it was fun!”

“Fun?! Jesus Christ,” he shakes his head and then looks up at me with a smirk, letting his arm come to rest behind my shoulders, “You never stop surprising me, y’know.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“Yeah,” he says, locking his eyes on mine, “It’s a very good thing.” The way he says this, the sudden intensity in his voice and in his eyes, causes the energy between us to shift and I’m suddenly very aware of how close we are, of the way he's leaning into me, of his knee resting against my leg.

If this were a movie, I’d probably kiss him right now. I want to. But the last thing I need to do is complicate or confuse things further.

I clear my throat and lean back slightly. When I do, he catches himself, pulling his arm back and tucking it around his waist as if to keep it secured. “Y’know,” I say, preferring to keep the conversation going rather than acknowledging the obvious, “the way you draw plants and animals, with so much care and detail, I would’ve expected you to be a little more outdoorsy.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I definitely enjoy being outside, going for a hike or spending a day on the beach or in a field or something. It’s relaxing to be out in nature with my dog and my sketchpad. But camping for days out in the woods is a bit much for me.”

“Well, you should come with us next weekend, to Mt. Komorebi. Phoenix wants to go snowboarding, so we’re all just going to hang out up there for the day. And then probably stick around for the Festival of Snow. They make these huge sculptures and light them up, it’s really cool. But it’d be a good opportunity to get out of the city, hang out together outside, away from the computer.”

“Okay, yeah that sounds fun.”

“It will be, I promise.”

“In the meantime, are we still working on our game tomorrow?”

“Yep, planning on it. You can come over whenever.”

“Good,” he smiles. “Well, I’m going to get a drink; do you want one?”

“Sure.”

When he leaves the room, I turn to look out the large floor-to-ceiling windows, frosted at the edges from the cold. It’s begun snowing lightly, the first snowfall of the season, and the city is already covered in a thin layer of sparkling white.

Normally, I can barely endure events like this, and would’ve left by now, but I’m actually enjoying myself tonight, thanks to Ash.

I can’t stop thinking about what he said last weekend. I’ve been repeating his question in my head over and over, “Why are we doing this? Why are we pretending we’re just friends when, clearly, we both want more?” And the truth is, I don’t even know. I think I’m just doing what I’ve always done. Avoiding. Isolating. Pretending. But it’s exhausting, and I don’t want to do it anymore.

He walks back into the room, drinks in hand, with Lex at his side, and I decide to put a pin those thoughts for now. To relax and enjoy the night. But I look forward to spending the day with him tomorrow, and I hope I might get the courage then to tell him how I feel.

Prev // Deja vu // Next

[yamujiburo]

POKEMON SERIES RANKED (IMO)

I get this question a lot and haven't made an updated list with Journeys

Original Series (S1-S5)

Sun & Moon (S20-S22)

Chronicles (S0)

Diamond and Pearl (S10-S13)

Advanced (S6-S9)

Journeys (S23-S25)

Black & White (S14-S16)

XY (S17-S19)

Original Series (S1-S5)

OS had that first season charm. Very unpolished, still finding its footing but super enjoyable for those reasons

Probably the strongest series comedy-wise

That GORGEOUS 90s anime style

Main character dynamics were REALLY strong

Ash's personality felt much more like a shitty little 10 year old which was entertaining

Dub writing was also the best hands down

Sun & Moon (S20-S22)

Honestly tied for first with OS for me

REALLY fun ensemble cast! They do a fantastic job giving each character enough time for you to get to know and care about

Excellent modern anime style that perfectly fit the vibe of the season and allowed for some of the best character animation of the show's run

Finally figured out how to write Ash like a 10 year old again (but in a kind/sweet 10 year old way as opposed to OS)

Very different from previous series in terms of the formula they'd follow. Doing a school series instead of another "8 badges to championship" plot felt new and fresh!

This series genuinely made me cry the most (MEMORIES IN THE MIST!!!!! LIKE ARE YOU KIDDING ME)

Chronicles (S0)

Fun concept! It was really nice to see more of the side characters without Ash there. We get to see more of Misty, Tracey, Daisy, Brock, Ritchie, Oak, Delia, Butch, Cassidy, Jessie, James and Meowth!

Stylistically really nice. Just solid drawings all around and it retained the 90s anime style in digital form more successfully than other digitally done series imo

BUTCH AND CASSIDY!!! Team Rocket centric episodes!!! Training Daze!!!!!!!

Idk how possible it would have been (seems like a TON of work) but it made me want one of these in between each season, where we'd follow the characters that Ash had just said goodbye to for the next region.

Diamond and Pearl (S10-S13)

Series I grew up with! Honestly I was kinda a hater as a kid but having watched it back, I love the series

Love that Ash and Dawn were bros. They had a really fun dynamic.

Debatably peak Team Rocket. They had some of the best Team Rocket centric episodes this series.

Contests were really fun and a bit more figured out compared to the Advanced series

Fun, memorable rivals for Ash (Paul and Barry) as well as Dawn (Zoey, Kenny and Jessilina sometimes)

This is unfortunately where I stopped caring about Ash as much. He feels kinda watered down for the next couple series.

Advanced (S6-S9)

Pretty tied up with DP for me

Really fun series! Still had some of that early Pokémon charm

I appreciated that they put Ash in more of a mentor role for May (but he still had a lot to learn himself).

Ash and May constantly butting heads was really fun

May was a very compelling character to me, being very clumsy, kinda lazy, directionless, not really into Pokémon, etc. But then over time, she comes around and finds something she's interested in!

Journeys (S23-S25)

I love the episodic take as well as the way they let the characters jump around from region to region at random

Goh was a GREAT travel companion to Ash. They contrast each other nicely, have moments where they get on each others' nerves but still get along and have a mutual admiration for one another.

It was fun that they made Goh's thing catching every Pokémon (the motto of the entire series) so they could focus on Ash just training and prepping for Worlds.

Amaaaazing style. Took the great parts of classic Pokémon, roundness of SM and blended em together for a really fun look.

Black & White (S14-S16)

I don't think it's that controversial to have BW this low haha

I did enjoy Iris and Cilan but it felt like the writers didn't reaaally know what to do with them? Also this was their first time in a while not having Brock and it shows. I feel like Brock was successful because he was grounded and lower energy compared to the rest of the kids. Having 3 pretty eccentric characters is kind of a lot. No hate to the characters in the slightest, there was just not as much balance.

I think maybe they leaned on Cilan and Iris for more comedic relief because they killed the comedic relief that was Team Rocket this series. I appreciate them trying something new with Jessie, James and Meowth but I don't think it worked very well lol

XY (S17-S19)

I've ranted about this series a lot LOL. I get the appeal of it, but it just wasn't for me. I felt like it was the weakest comedy-wise and took itself a bit too seriously for my taste

My main gripe is that Serena, Clemont and Bonnie all like,,, worship Ash. By doing so, Ash begins to feel like a side character because we're constantly looking at Ash through their eyes. There's so little conflict within the group so their dynamics feel really flat. I think this dynamic could have worked if they leaned waaay more into Ash being a mentor and maybe feeling the pressure of having to be a role model for the people around him.

Team Rocket very much feels like an afterthought in this series. They did in Journeys as well, but at least in Journeys they were doing something silly and also had a handful of episodes dedicated to em.

Outside of that, the episodes weren't super memorable for me

I think it's just frustrating because there was sooooo much potential character-wise

[goneatlas]

i need a jirv gets turned into a vampire AU soooo bad. especially if it's canon setting. especially if it's just him alone who was turned, nobody else.

imagine (well i mean you don't have to imagine this part, it's just who he is even in canon). repressed jirving who is having ""impure thoughts"" about other men. listen it could be anyone take your pick but i'm going with nedward and hodgson here because i like my cringefail terror lieuts ot3 a lot. ofc he's praying to god for forgiveness for the way his mind wanders and he represses that shit all the way down (it doesn't work, obviously. because when has repressing things worked) anyways he's dealing with all that guilt of seeing himself as not beeing good enough in the eyes of god, that maybe he's just a sinner masquerading as a saint, preaching to others in hopes that in saving someone else he would redeem himself in the eyes of god. you know. the usual jirving fare.

and then on watch one night, he gets swiped at by a creature (a vampire) and he doesn't even know what happened because he was knocked out but dr macdonald remarked that it's strange how they found him lying in his own blood, and there's dried blood in his hair and on his clothes, but there were no sign of any injury on him, not a single scratch. he looks paler than usual but that was chalked up to the cold. he gets told to get warmed up and to report if anything changes or if he feels woozy or otherwise. he thinks it's strange but everything feels fine. (of course it's not fine)

later when he reaches for his bible, it burns and he drops it. he reaches to pick it back up but it burns him again. a horrible sinking feeling starts to set in. when he picks up the bible with his scarf, he opens it to read a passage and it makes him physically nauseous. the more he reads the more it feels like he's drowning. he closes the bible and tries to recite a passage from memory, but it's the same thing. the cross burns him too. he tries to pray to god but it tastes like ashes in his mouth.

whatever rations he eats comes back up. he tries to keep them down, he really does, he knows the scarcity of food—he tallies them for god's sake—but he can't. he feels hungry all the time, but nothing he eats stays down. there is a voice in his heading telling him that there's food all around him, he just needs to take it. the voice gets louder when he brushes against one of the crew, or when someone passes him by in the cramped space. he resolutely ignores the thought. his stomach hurts all the time now.

it's funny. but the thing that finally broke him was when he went to clip his hair and trim his beard and found that he has no reflection. he angles the mirror this way and that, nothing. he wipes the mirror clean again and again, nothing. (at this point the realization must've dawned, it should've dawned ages ago, but he won't acknowledge it. to acknowledge it will make it true. it will make it inescapable). at this point he realizes he will no longer be able to groom himself. all the rituals that he holds dear, the ones that make up the shining pillar that guides him in all this chaos and darkness, are now inaccessible to him. he blacks out and comes to behold the broken shards of his mirror, and he thinks he might be crying but his cheeks are dry. there are no tears for him to cry, his new self was not made for that.

sooner or later nedward and hodgson corners him in his cabin. they're concerned for him. as they try to get him to confess what's wrong, the ""impure thoughts"" come back full force. he's just thinking about how nice it would be to be embraced by them. to be held between them, sheltered from the world. to press his face to their shoulders. to turn his face towards their necks. sink in his teeth. taste their warmth on his tongue.

he feels the fangs grow in his mouth. he has to clap a hand on his mouth and turn away from his friends so they wouldn't see the monster he's become. because that's what he is now. he has been spurned by god, damned. he is dead, but he isn't in heaven (why is that a surprise? why does that hurt? he knows his deeds and his sins. he has judged and found himself wanting. maybe it was just that he hoped god would forgive him for all of it anyway). no, he is dead and yet he's forced to live out his life in this hell.

[moosesarecute]

Chapter 3: The Shadow to my Flame

Series masterlist

masterlist

Relief filled Ashe’s body as she let her friend in through the door before she closed it.

“You scared me for a second there,” she told him.

Eris had already sat down on her bed, head leaning against the wall and eyes closed.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to,” he answered. “It’s just been a rough day.”

Ashe sat down on the other side of the bed with her legs crossed. They just sat in silence for a little while. Eris never wanted her to ask and pry about his feelings. He would talk when he was ready, and that wasn’t yet.

Eris had saved her from one soldier once. The soldier had refused to let her go, even though she said no. He wanted her, and that wasn’t anything new. She would usually just let them have their way, but that day she had just started her cycle. While most males found that disgusting, that male didn’t care. It was almost like it made him want her more. Eris had randomly walked by and punched the male in the face. Eris had then helped Ashe into a warm bath.

Eris would since come to her room about once a week. Not to have sex as most the of soldiers thought, but to speak freely. Both of them.

It was terrifying at first, but eventually Ashe started to look forward to it. Their conversations were casual and safe.

“I got them out,” Eris started to speak. “The mother and her children. I helped them over the border to Summer.”

“That’s amazing, Eris.”

Eris abruptly stood up.

“They shouldn’t need to leave, Ashe! They should be able to live here as normal.”

She knew he wasn’t angry at her, but she also knew that he couldn’t show his true feelings to anyone that wasn’t her. So, she let him speak.

She listened to him as he poured his heart out. He was pacing in her small room, and every time he got close to the closet, Ashe got scared he would somehow know about the money and letter inside. Each time he turned to pace back the other direction, she felt like she could breathe again.

“I’m sorry.”

After each and every rant, Eris would end by saying sorry. Ashe had stopped telling him that it was alright, he didn’t listen to her anyway.

“How’s work?”

It was now Ashe’s turn. And she was so ready to speak about everything. But at the same time, she really wanted to read what was in the letter from Shadow.

“Honestly, I’m just tired. The amount of work is so much more than before and it’s exhausting.”

Eris’ eyes softened a little as she spoke. It was usual for him to react that way when she spoke. He never wore pity in his eyes. Only guilt.

“Do they pay you more?”

“Yeah, but still not a lot. It’s okay though. I don’t need more money.”

She thought about the money from Shadow. It must have been at least the same amount she would get for two months of work. It was crazy. It must have been a mistake. That was the only reason Ashe could think of.

Eris nodded gravely at her words.

“Chess?”

They spent the rest of the evening playing chess and card-games. Eris had eventually retreated to his own room and Ashe could finally read the letter. She ran and pulled it out the second Eris had left her room.

Thank you so much, Flame. I can assure you we are currently working on figuring out the most effective ways to help.

My High Lord has decided to join the ball Beron is hosting. Will you be there? If yes, you need to make sure you have a safe place to go to if something rather unfortunate happens. (We are not planning anything, but we don’t trust anyone.)

I have sent some money for you as payment for your help. I hope you will continue to share information with me.

Stay safe,

Shadow

And then it suddenly dawned on Ashe that she somehow had become a paid spy for the Night Court.

Ashe slept surprisingly well that night and when she woke up, she felt relaxed and well-rested.

That was until Maria came knocking on her door saying that the High Lord was calling them in for inspection.

Absolute terror filled her body.

Her hair. She hadn’t dyed her hair. She let Maria stand in the open door as she ran to her mirror. Her roots were definitely red. Her dark brown hair didn’t hide it one bit.

“Oh, dear,” Maria said with pity in her voice. “Well, there’s no time to fix it now. Come here.”

Ashe’s shoulders slumped as she walked to Maria. Maria lifted a kitchen towel she had at her waist and tied it around Ashe’s hair.

“Maybe he is less observant than usual,” she said to make Ashe’s anxiety less. It didn’t help.

They walked together with multiple other servants and went to the throne room.

The High Lord was seated at his throne, his wife sat beside him. The room started to fill up with all servants, gardeners and cooks. They stood in four long rows and waited for the High Lord to make his round. Ashe and Maria stood in the middle of the second row.

The High Lord stood from his throne, and it felt like everybody stopped breathing.

He walked slowly, almost too slowly. He stopped before each and every person. He gave some critic, but most of them he just walked past. Ashe saw him pass multiple others with similar scarfs or towels around their heads. He asked none of them to remove it. It made her calm down a little.

He started on the second row. Ashe immediately felt her back straightened. She needed to look proud. He had to see that she was proud of working for him. But at the same time, she couldn’t be too proud. She was a servant after all.

The High Lord stopped before her. She kept her back straight, but her gaze was on the ground. She gave him a small curtsy, just like everyone else had. She felt his gaze burning into her.

“Remove your headscarf.”

His intimidating voice gave her chills, but it was his command that terrified her. He would see it. He most definitely would.

She almost hesitated, but she knew it would only make it worse. She wanted to argue. To scream at him. Why did she have to remove her scarf? None of the others had to.

Luckily, she wasn’t brave enough.

Ashe lifted her hand and removed the towel from her hair.

It only took the High Lord a second before his new command came.

“Show me your arms.”

Her heart sunk. Why? Why did she have to be the first to mess up.

It didn’t matter. She did what he told her to do. She rolled up the sleaves of her dress and showed him both of her forearms. They were already covered in scars and burn marks. Some of the burn marks were from herself, but most of them were punishments.

He didn’t hesitate as he released his power and burned both her arms. The pain spread through her body. Her vision blackened for a few seconds, but for some unknown reason she managed to stand on her feet. Tears build in her eyes, but she didn’t scream. She did not scream.

“You have until tomorrow to dye your hair.”

“Yes, my lord.”

He finally moved to Maria.

Ashe had to stay in the throne room for another hour. Only two more people were punished, and both were new. Unlike Ashe, who had not only grown up as a servant, but also work there for over 150 years. She was so humiliated.

Maria shoved her back to her room. In silence, she put cooling cream over Ashe’s forearms and carefully dyed her hair. She gave Ashe a small squeeze when she finished.

“You can take the Lady this evening. Relax until then.”

Ashe couldn’t to anything but thank her.

That evening it was only planned a small dinner. Meaning, the Lady of Autumn needed minimal help. Ashe had combed through her hair and was using her powers to heat up the small iron-stick as the Lady started to speak.

“You’re brave.”

Ashe almost stopped her task in confusion. Did wasn’t unusual for the Lady to come with such compliments, but it felt unnatural.

“Thank you, my lady,” Ashe answered.

She then picked up one section of her hair and wrapped it around the hot iron-stick. She counted to three and let loose the curl. She continued to the next part of hair. Her forearms were still filled with burn marks that were hurting her, but the quicker she finished the Lady’s hair, the quicker she could go back hiding in her room.

“How old are you now Ashe?”

“160 years, my lady.”

The Lady nodded. She seemed in deep thoughts that evening. Ashe felt herself hope that the High Lord hadn’t done anything bad. But at the same time, she knew it was unlikely that he hadn’t.

“Have you thought about marriage? Or been in love?”

The question caught Ashe off guard. It wasn’t often the Lady would ask such personal questions. It happened once in a while.

“No, my lady. I’m afraid been a servant takes up most of my time.”

The Lady nodded once more.

“I really hope you do find love, Ashe.”

Ashe found herself agreeing before she could even think twice.

Love.

They spent the rest of the time in silence. It was first after Ashe had given her curtsey and was on her way out before the Lady spoke once more.

Ashe was so ready to go to bed, so being stopped was kind of annoying. However, she didn’t let her true emotions show.

“Yes, my Lady?”

The Lady had moved over to one of the draws in her room. She opened it and pulled out a small box.

“I want you to take this. It makes the wounds scar less.”

Ashe couldn’t do anything but take the box. As she walked out of the Lady’s cambers, she felt both embarrassed that the Lady had seen her being in such pain, but also happy that she got some help.

Let me know if you want to be tagged!

Dividers by: @saradika-graphics

[askinkiskarma]

𝕄𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕀𝕟 𝕄𝕖 | ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕀𝕍: 𝕀𝕥'𝕤 𝕀𝕟 𝕐𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕀𝕞𝕒𝕘𝕖 𝕀'𝕞 𝕄𝕒𝕕𝕖

Pairing: Neteyam x (f)Omaticaya!Reader

synopsis: Neteyam's actions leave you aching and shamed, and life is made difficult by your attempts to avoid him at all costs, until it dawns on you that, much like your entire relationship, nothing good ever happens without reciprocation.

warnings: 18+ minors DNI, aged-up! Neteyam/Reader, enemies-to-lovers, angst (mentions of violence, battle, blood, death), smut (oral - m receiving, orgasm denial), strong language, neteyam and reader being horrible to each other lol

wc: 6.4k words

a/n: we're in it now, besties. the plot thickens, much like reader/neteyam's steamy enmity and desire for each other. i hope you enjoy this chapter, and as always, thank you for asking to be tagged, commenting, sending me asks, it really keeps me going and i appreciate you so so much (thank you very much also to @cinetrix for her amazing Neteyam art and the prompt which inspired me so much and got me out of my writer's block ily bestie x)

na'vi compendium: yawne - beloved, Tsakarem - Tsa'hik in training, ketuwong - alien, txepvi  - spark, teylupil - teylu-face, kurkung - asshole, skxawng - idiot, eveng - child, tsìltsan rewon - good morning, Oel ngati kameie - I see you, sa'nok - mother, ite - daughter, srane - yes, kä - go, Olo'eykte - female Olo'eyktan, tam-tam - calm, mawey - calm, oare - moon

: ̗̀➛ previous chapter (x) : ̗̀➛ series masterlist (x) : ̗̀➛ series playlist (x)

I'm only whatever you make me And you make me more and more a villain every day But you don't know, you reap, you sow Whatever you give to me, from yourself, you take Well, if you're a hater, then hate the creator It's in your image I'm made

The absence of his fingers, of him, from you, as he abandoned you, with your thoughts and insecurities, left you in a state of deep shock and shame - so much so, it took a good hour to finally get the strength to move the few steps it took to get to your tent.

Your mind was spinning with more thoughts then it could process, and as you continued worrying about the consequences of your actions, about all the ways Neteyam would find new ways to torture you and make you miserable, as you reeled from the ache that settled deep in your core from the emptiness he left behind, as you tried to understand the convoluted ways his mind worked and the reason he would ever do something like this to begin with, you found consciousness slipping away from you and in no time, you were asleep, taunted by dreams that you couldn’t find in you to call nightmares anymore, dreams about him finishing the job. At least in these dreams, you were safe, and he was nice, and his touch healed instead of breaking you further and further each day. You realise now it’s not what happens in these dreams that makes you think of them as nightmares, it’s the reality juxtaposed against them that sours their taste on your mind. It’s funny how even the purest, happiest moments can turn to ashes in your mouth when the backdrop is haunting and inimical. 

It was evening when you woke, and the headache that accompanied your newfound conscious state was heightened by Lo’ak’s harsh voice, as he shook you back to a reality that still ached, that couldn’t have been better than the fantasies you just left behind. 

“Lo’ak, stop shaking her, just give her a second.”

“Look, we have no time for pleasantries. She’s going to thank me for this.” 

“Teylupil. Kurkung. Skxawng.” You curse in a hoarse, barely audible whisper, eliciting a laugh from Kiri and an exasperated groan from her little brother. 

“Is this how you talk to the man that’s going to save you from an evening of misery?” 

“What’re you talking about, you irksome little -“ 

“Just get up and I’ll tell you. What’re you doing asleep at this hour anyway?” 

“Kiri, remove your brother before I remove him, and take one or two fingers with me.” 

“Come on, Lo’ak, let’s make sure you’re still alive by Eclipse.” 

You rose from your mat with a small wince as your head throbbed in pain. 

“Are you alright?” Kiri’s hand was cold and soothing against your skin, and you placed your own hand on top of hers, grateful that she was here, if not for anything else, to dilute the intensity of Lo’ak’s personality while you were still recovering your strength. You couldn't look at your two favourite Sully siblings properly, not when the shame stung and dulled your senses, not when their eyes would remind you of his, and what you did.

“I’m fine, just… tired. I… broke up with O’i’en. Or actually, I guess he broke up with me.”

“Shit. Did he find out?” 

You considered how much you should tell your friends about what transpired, knowing they’d have questions, knowing the answers might lead to more questions, some of which you couldn’t possible begin to explain. 

“Yeah… Neteyam told him.”

“Fuck. I still don’t know what you possibly ever did to make Neteyam, who happens to be the most boring and calm person to walk this planet, so angry at you.”

You scoffed at Lo’ak’s statement, so obvious and speaking to a mystery that has plagued you for the last 7 years. 

“Yeah… I love living my life paying for an imaginary slight he feels the need to remind me of every day.” 

He thought about it for a second, his fingers stroking his chin in an obviously exaggerated contemplative manner. 

“How do you know it’s imaginary if you don’t know what it is?” 

The roll of your eye reminded you briefly of the headache that tried you, and how it was getting worse with each passing second you had to entertain this conversation. 

“Look, even if it’s not, don’t you think it’s a little extreme?”

With a raise of his shoulders, Lo’ak continued.

“I guess… but it’s not like you make it easier for yourself.”

You felt your anger picking up speed, making your pulse quicken and heat rise in your cheeks. 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” 

“I mean, you are just as bad to him. You’re both horrible to each other. Don’t get me wrong, it’s hilarious and we all get a kick out of it, but - OUCH, KIRI!” Lo’ak yelped in pain as soon as his sister’s elbow found its way in his ribs, and the theatrics continued as he collapsed on his side, until his head was on your lap. 

“You’re the worst.”

“I still maintain my view that you both just need to fuck. Maybe this mateship is going to be the solution to all your problems.” 

The flush of your cheeks brought about by anger only deepened at his words, that instilled memories that you still didn’t know whether you were trying to forget or imprint on your brain, memories that had no business flashing in front of your mind’s eye now, memories that might infer the beginning of the end of the world: Lo’ak finally being right about something. 

“Yeah, cause what successful lifelong commitment hasn’t started with two people who despise each other?” You didn’t want to harp on a subject that you’d do everything to never have to talk about again, so you quickly changed the subject. 

“Moving on. Why are you guys here?”

The two siblings exchanged awkward looks.

“Mum, dad and grandma were talking about you and Neteyam… about the ceremony and everything.” You could tell Kiri felt uncomfortable talking about the subject, and you were happy at least one of them was sensitive to the situation. “They want to sit you both down and pick a date. Grandma said something about the sooner the better. We thought you’d rather eat a Talioang tongue than do that, so we came to give you a heads up.”

Well, so much for changing the subject. You groaned, moving Lo’ak out of the way so you can raise your knees and place your head in between them, trying to make the world stop shaking and your heart stop trying to escape out of your chest. This can’t be happening. Not so soon.

“What did Neteyam say?” 

“Neteyam hasn’t returned home, which isn’t like him. Have you seen him at all today?” 

“No.” You lied. 

That was weird. Why would Neteyam not return home? It’s not like he had any reason to hide, unlike you. You’d think he’d be the first one back in the tent, waiting to see if you’d show up for dinner, with a smug smirk plastered on his face, so ready and willing to taunt you for your momentary lapse in judgement and for being able to rub in the fact he won one more battle in your never-ending war, that until now was even, but now, felt completely thrown off balance. 

“Do you want to get out of here?” The magic words, spoken to you almost like in a dream, pulling you out of your intense musings about the speaker’s older brother. 

“It’s almost eclipse. You’re gonna get in trouble.” 

Lo’ak snickered and rolled his eyes, almost upset that you would ever think that’s something he should care about.

“Come on. We can go to the labs, chill with the humans for a night.” 

“As tempting as that is, I don’t think aiding and abetting the Olo’eyktan’s kids to leave after curfew is going to improve my situation in any way. You should go back. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

Lo’ak huffed and puffed, but did as he was told, not before he left you with one last nugget of information.

“By the way, Norm and Max intercepted some new intel about a mission the ketuwong are planning. It’s in two days. Dad wants us all in strategy meetings and training all day tomorrow. That includes you. As soon as eclipse is over.” 

“Roger that. Now go.” You kissed both of them on their foreheads, and watched as they left you with your thoughts. 

Questions and worries plagued your mind, all, like most times, revolving around the oldest Sully sibling. Ponderations of how or why, of when or what, all swirling, all fluttering away, none of them settling enough to be thought about in detail, all of them flailing about, knocking every other thought from your consciousness until you were a panted mess of breaths and ringing heartbeats. You couldn’t be here.

Curfew has always been more of a suggestion to you than an order, so with that mentality deeply embedded in you still, you picked up your knife and bow and made your way out, walking past the Sully tent and into the thick forest, to a place you haven’t been in since that night Mo’at announced your engagement. You tried to shake the unnerved feeling that still haunted you as you remembered what last transpired there.

As you trekked past foliage and snuck past apex predators that were out hunting for the night, you eventually reached the meadow you've always loved so much. You didn't have time to breathe out a sigh a relief as you noticed a navy blue form turned away from you, toned, muscular back full on display. You would always recognise this body and the man who inhabited it, now and forever, as long as you would live, but still, you almost couldn't believe what your eyes were clearly showing you.

Neteyam was deep in thought as his feet dangled in the lake in which you liked to bathe and relax normally, that used to be a sacred place for you, one more thing he ruined in the time you've known him. He didn't hear you, you realise suddenly, and you were glad. He was the last person you wanted to see and you didn't know what you were feeling in this moment as you watched him, so unlike the Neteyam you always got to experience, so far removed from the man that always had his guard on around you, that was smug and arrogant, and primed to hurt you with every possibility that presented itself to him. This felt more like the Neteyam you used to know and love, that everyone else still gets to know and love, that you hear so much about on a day to day basis - the peaceful Neteyam, the considerate and shy Neteyam, the golden son, the epitome of what made the Omaticaya special.

You stayed hidden in the shrubbery that concealed the meadow, just watching him, and as the time continued, you found yourself relaxing, your own thoughts percolating and settling one at a time, until you processed as many of them as you had the strength to. A few things became clear to you. The priority right now were the Sky People. You had to fight, and you had to do it well - too many people relied on you for you to give anything else than your 100%. Neteyam was a distraction you couldn't afford - not right now, and not until this was done. Avoiding him at all costs seemed like the smart thing to do. Revenge could wait... for a little while. You pushed the reminder of the ceremony discussion from your brain. You didn't have enough power to consider the implications of the talk the Sully patriarch and matriarchs wanted to have with you and Neteyam. It was too soon.

Other things, you were more confused about than ever. In the end, you left with more questions than you came with, leaving him to his own devices, knowing you'll soon regret not having gotten at least a couple hours sleep before the two days ahead, both difficult, both with enough power to take more from you than you were willing to ever lose.

Why is he here?

What is he thinking about?

Were you on his mind at all?

Did you even want to be?

Could you stand it if you weren't?

You made it back to the village right as Jake and Neytiri came out, a sleepy, uncooperative Lo'ak following close behind.

"Ma eveng, tsìltsan rewon. Oel ngati kameie."

"Oel ngati kameie, sa'nok."

Neytiri made her way to you with wide, gentle steps. She always reminded you of these humans you once saw in a video the scientists showed you when you were younger, called ballerinas. She had so much poise, so much gentle, quiet power, that you have tried to emulate your entire life. Despite it paining you to admit, Neytiri was more your mother, more a role model, than your own mother ever had been. When she reached you, her hands found your face, that she stroked gently, running her thumbs under your eyes.

"Please tell me you've slept, 'ite."

Your tail stilled midair as you were caught red-handed, and you knew you either had to lie, a concept only familiar to you after being around humans, and one that you have to admit you found useful in certain circumstances, or deal with a long lecture, that you were much too tired for.

"Srane, sa'nok."

She gave you a skeptical look, one that told you she didn't quite believe you, but knew better than to probe, at least not in front of the Olo'eyktan, who would give you the ass kicking of a lifetime if he knew you weren't going to give your 110% over the following days.

"Kä. Get your bow and quiver and meet us on the training grounds."

You did as you were told, changing quickly while you were at it, realising briefly you have been in the same garbs for a long time now, something your mum would have told you off about. She always looked her best, always beautiful and presentable, always the most sought-after woman in the village. She had no grand aspirations, not like you, or like your father, who wanted nothing more for you than to be a warrior and a fighter, to be the best of the best, the best of them all. If it was up to him, you would be Olo'eykte. You tried to make both of them proud in their own ways - your mother, by continuing her secret weaving technique and always wearing the special garbs that only your family knew how to make, and your father, by becoming the pride and prodigy of your clan, and sharing that title with only one other person, none other than the prince of the Omaticaya.

Your heart picked up pace as you reached the grounds and in front of his parents stood Neteyam, looking perfect as always, not a single stray hair on his head, his braids flowing softly in the wind and chiming when the beads adorning them knocked into each other. You've always loved Neteyam's hair. It was always perfectly braided, and so weirdly emotive and... alive, sometimes looking like it moved on its own accord, a little like the tail that you saw moving in a circle, a sign he was not happy - what else was new?

When Jake spotted you, he nodded in your direction, which made everyone's attention shift to you, including his, and when his eyes trailed over your body, widening minutely, mouth slightly agape, you felt your cheeks burn and ears twitch nervously. He gained composure as quickly as he lost it, the slightly taken aback expression far removed from the one now displayed on his face, that he reserved for you, that you hated with every fibre of your being. The moment of vulnerability you witnessed yesterday was long gone, replaced by his usual contempt he liked to emanate as soon as you entered his personal bubble. You wondered if he was gonna rub your nose in it, if he was going to declare it to the world, let his friends know that you were another name to add to the catalogue of women he's fucked, or if he wouldn't want anyone to know - his little secret, only for his twisted mind to keep and thrive on. Your own mind tortured you with scenarios, each one worse than the last, before Jake pulled you out of your nightmarish thoughts.

"Kid. Come on, now, you can't go all mellow on me today. Tomorrow's a big one, I need you here, I need you with me. Can I count on you?"

"Yes, sir."

By the end of the day, that now went well into the night, you were more tired than you could remember being in years, and between the strategising meetings, the weapon training, the military drill exercises, and the hand to hand combat that Jake insisted would, at some point in your life, become useful, your brain was fried and your body sore and covered in mud and twigs.

The dirt that covered every inch of you was the kind which would stick to your skin and your hair for days on end, without any sliver of hope that it could get removed. You knew your braids were ruined, and so were your garbs, that you worked so hard for, that were all you had left of your family and your ancestors. It was a good day, you tried to remind yourself. A successful day. That’s all that mattered -not your clothes, nor the man that you were trying to avoid like he was a plague, or his gaze, or the heat that emanated from his body, or the memory of his fingers or his torturous ministrations. 

“Good job today, both of you. Now go wash the muck off of you at the river and be back in 30 minutes so we can go over it and discuss what went right and what could have gone better. Dismissed.” 

“Um- can I go to the lake instead?” The thought of being alone with Neteyam made your skin crawl. Is that what that was? It had to be. Skin crawling… yes, not goosebumps and shivers down your spine. Skin crawling…

You cringed a little at Jake’s expression, and his raised eyebrow which most of the time, and especially now, indicated annoyance or grievance.

“The lake is far, plus you wouldn’t be able to make it back in 30 minutes, kid. And it’s still dark. Is there a reason the normal river is not to your taste anymore?” 

Your tail stopped in its tracks at his slight admonishment, ears pushed back so far, they were flat against your head. You hated disappointing Jake, almost as much as you hated Neteyam. 

“No, sir.” 

At the sight of you, Jake’s expression melted away and was replaced with a soft smile, one exclusively reserved for his kids. He approached you quietly and patted your head affectionately.

“That’s what I thought. Now come on, off you go, you little troublemaker.” 

It was a short trek to the river that most Na’vi used as a personal bathing station, that was now deserted for the night. The training lasted longer than expected, and you knew eclipse would be over in a short couple of hours. You felt Neteyam’s eyes boring into your back and you did everything in your power to forget that he was there, but alas, it was near impossible when his presence overwhelmed your every sense, when it took over any thought in your mind, when the embarrassment of your encounter still rings painfully in you, telling you to run, or hide, or get your petty little revenge so he stopped having the upper hand in this scenario. The latter option, much as it has for years now, seems like the most obvious, the most alluring one. 

The devious plan, that was just a slight variation of his own, as it usually was, was taking a more defined form in your mind with each passing second, especially after remembering the little human snap bracelets that were stronger than any Na'vi rope you owned, that were light and easy to carry, and that you conveniently happened to have in the little pouch that dangled from your waist. You just needed the perfect opportunity, and you believed in making your own luck.

Without looking behind you, you got into the river, purposefully bending until your hands reached your ankles, that you started rubbing and cleaning, taking your time as you moved slowly upwards, your ass fully on display for the male you knew would be watching, as he, too, was cleaning the day off him.

"Can you be any more obvious, yawne? You might as well have a 'fuck me' sign plastered all over you. Is that all it took, three fingers in that pretty cunt and you forgot you hate me?"

You ignored his words and continued cleaning yourself, until you were so squeaky clean, someone could eat off your body, which now, you felt like you craved more than food itself.

When you were done, you got out of the river, once more trying to be as sensual and inviting as you could, and you smirked as you heard him get out as well, his presence inundating your senses as he approached you, the way it always did.

"Are you finally going to apologise and behave? I knew you would event-"

You quickly turned and pushed him backwards, until he fell, a pained gasp escaping his lips as his back made contact with a tree. The snap of the cuffs was more satisfying than you would ever care to admit as they tightened around his hand, and almost as satisfying to you as his realisation of what you’ve done, of the fact that he was trapped, at your disposal, at your mercy. 

“Let me out.” The growl he let out was low and feral, unamused at best and frightening at worst. Lucky for you, you’ve never really been scared of Neteyam. The smirk that blossomed on your face deepened as you watched him, squirming and pulling at the cuffs with all his might, getting angrier with every second he couldn’t untie himself. His tail was moving furiously behind him, slapping his calf with erratic, uncoordinated movements. 

“You know, Neteyam... For far too long now, it felt like you had control over our dynamic. I hated it, every day, feeling weaker than you. When you came and grabbed me by the throat, it was the first time in my life I almost felt scared of you. When you came and told O’í'en about us, I felt almost like life was slipping away from my grasp and you were the quicksand through which it was falling. When you… when we-“ it took you a while to compose yourself and subside the purple stain of your cheeks as you remembered how he left you. “You made me feel things I have never felt before. And then you left. And I felt almost ashamed. I had just got out of a serious relationship, I broke someone’s heart, and all I could think of, was your fingers. I felt weak, and I hate feeling weak.”

You took advantage of the way he was entranced by your words, too focused on you for anything else, and took his other hand and tied it on an opposing branch.

“Fuck! Let me go!” His legs were thrashing in front of him as he struggled to undo the human contraption, but if there’s one thing you learned, is that humans knew how to imprison and hurt other beings the best, and for once, you didn’t mind taking a page from their books.

“Tsk tsk tsk… no, Neteyam, what do you say?” 

“Fucking let me go, you little -“

“Mmm…” you pretended to think about it for a while. “No… i don’t think that’s it. Y’want to try again?” 

He hissed at you, a hiss that sounded more like a roar than anything else, and heat ignited in your core at its sound, mighty and powerful, wild and untamed. Still, you kept your composure and the sweet smile that you knew would anger him further.

“No, that’s not either. You say ‘please’.” 

You knelt in between his thighs, thick and muscular, and put a hand on each one, steadying yourself as you found yourself on your knees, heart thundering in your chest at your plan, that, despite the adrenaline, seemed more and more deranged with every passing second. His breath stilled at your touch, as did his body, his legs now limp on either side of you. His expression shifted, from one of unadulterated anger to pure shock, and a flicker of muted awe, eyes wide and mouth agape, canines tucked away behind his beautiful lips, that he wet with a swipe of his tongue. 

“What are you doing?” 

“What do you think I’m doing, Ne-te-yam?” 

Your fingers dug in the meat of his lower limbs, thumb trailing over his inner thighs as you moved upwards, massaging him, stopping right before the part of him you itched to touch most, smiling to yourself as his breath laboured with every inch transversed. You wrapped your slender digits around his loincloth, making quick work of the knot that would have been safe from most other people, but not you - you and Neteyam learnt this knot together, back when you were still you and he was still him. Back when he loved you. No matter how much he wanted to forget you and what you meant to each other, he would never be able to, because you’ll always be there to use those memories - that he banished from the night of his mind - against him. 

“You see, Neteyam… I’m not the most creative person, unlike you.”

His cock sprung free and you swallowed a gasp along with the saliva that gathered instantly in your mouth. He was huge, and for the first time in your life, you found yourself thinking… pretty, too. There was something almost ethereal about him, deep contrasted stripes running alongside his length, the pattern of his luminous freckles so exciting, you wanted to run your fingers… or your tongue, over them, connecting them with your mind to uncover the pattern it would form, one you wouldn’t mind getting to know over and over again, until it was imprinted into you, into your skin, into your mouth.

You looked at him, back against the bark of a tree, just as yours had been before, his arousal, that he tried to hard to mask on his face, given away by the endless pits that were his pupils, which almost completely swallowed his beautiful golden-green irises. 

“Let. Me. Go. Or I swear to Eywa, I will make you pa-“ 

“Pay, yes, yes.. I’ve heard the speech before. And you know what? I know you’ll make me pay. You’re good at that. You like to think of these new ways to ruin my life, all inventive and new, all of them difficult to stomach and so, so pleasurable for you at the time, aren’t they? Yes… I’m not very creative, so keep in mind that anything I ever do, is your burden to carry… yawne. You made me, everything you hate about me, everything I hate about myself…”

You wrap your fingers around his cock, hard and throbbing under your touch, and watch as he throws his head back and lets out a small, intemperate groan.

“… I learnt from you.” 

Slowly, you start moving up and down along his shaft, taking your time, observing every twitch of the muscles of his face, all the ways he was trying to refrain himself from giving into the pleasure that was wearing his resolve down. His eyes were so tightly shut, you wondered if it hurt, and you hoped it did. You hoped it all hurt, just as it hurt you. You turn your attention back to his cock, that was throbbing in your hand, and noticed the glowy liquid now covering the slit of his pink-purplish mushroomy tip. 

“Am I making you feel good, yawne? I must be, since you’re dripping all over my fingers.” The sense of deja-vu couldn’t be lost on the male writhing beneath you, and you hoped every second of the incident was playing through his mind, like it has been in yours, ever since it happened. Not being able to contain yourself any longer, you sank down until your lips wrapped around him, the sweet taste of his precum staining your tongue as you swirled it around his tip, licking it clean. The moan that escaped him was music to your ears, erotic and sonorous and so unbridled, despite his best efforts, that it spurred you on, that it made you want to explore every inch of him until every striation of his cock was imprinted on your throat. 

And so you did. Your mouth stretched to accommodate for his length and girth, too big for even your best efforts, and your hand wrapped around his base to reach what your mouth couldn't. You gagged as his hips bucked upwards, driving his cock deeper down your throat, until the tip was tickling the back of it. You stopped yourself from thinking about your heart skipping alternate beats as soon as his tail wrapped tightly around your thigh, almost as if claiming you, bringing you closer to him, attaching himself to you, almost if his body was telling you a secret he tried his hardest to repress, one that he could never speak out loud.

You could tell he was itching to free his hand, to entangle his fingers in your hair and use you as his own personal toy. He was itching for the control he desperate craved when it came to you, that you denied him, that you now had over him, that made him weak and puny under your touch.

You hallowed your cheeks as you devoted everything you had to sucking him off, the saliva pooling down his shaft and balls facilitating the bob of your head, that got faster and deeper the longer you did it, the longer his moans, that could no longer be contained inside of him, filled your favourite meadow and your ears, nestling in your body and making their way to your core, that ached and throbbed, that begged you to ride his cock until you were both just a limp mess of limbs on the mossy ground. Your movements met his synchronously, working in perfect harmony, as his heels dug into the ground and he started wildly thrusting in your mouth, his self-control long gone, as the pleasure reached new zeniths and you knew he was close to orgasm.

"F-fuck! Fuck, oh, please!"

Hearing him beg brought you to the brink of your own release, and with a couple more strokes, you released him from your mouth with a pop, sucking on his tip just a little extra, as if he was your own personal lollipop, just like the ones Norm introduced you to as a child. This one was so much better, though.

His eyes opened wildly as the lack of stimulation registered in his mind, chest heaving and mouth open, tail untangling from your body and thrashing violently, as the high came crashing down abruptly, just like yours had. You smiled, flicking your index finger over your lips and chin, gathering the remnants of his arousal before you closed your lips over it, sucking on it enthusiastically, eyes locked onto his own, dark and feral, and for the first time in a really long while, completely lost in you.

“You taste fucking amazing, tsxepvi. Maybe next time, if you apologise and behave, you’ll actually get to cum.” 

You got up from your spot on the ground, removing your knife from its sheath and bringing it to one of the cuffs that looked like it had marked his wrist, and with a careful swipe, you freed him. Without sparing him a second look, you turned around and walked away, speaking as you left him, still shackled by one hand, naked and vulnerable, happy with yourself, unwilling to consider yet again the consequences of your actions and how the fear of retaliation, that you knew would be painful and ghastly, would hit you with enough intensity to cower you, just as soon as the adrenaline wore off.

"I trust you can get yourself untied... yawne. See you on the battlefield."

A few hours later, you could barely think straight, by the time you were preparing your beautiful ikran for battle, as she was dutifully waiting on you to finish, trilling softly whenever you pet her in between chores. 

“Tam, tam, Oare.” 

You felt guilty at the way you’ve handled the past few days, as images of O’i’en swirled in your tired, progressively drowsier mind, at how it took you no time to do… everything you did with a man you hated, a man that more and more it seemed your ex was somewhat right about, despite how much you wanted to banish the thought into the pits of Hell, where it belonged. You started to regret the fact you have not taken the opportunity to sleep when the opportunity presented itself to you, and now you were about to go into one of the most dangerous missions of your life, one that may even infer the future of your clan, worn-out and distracted, body trembling under the weight of your mistakes. 

You spotted the man that affected you in ways no one else seemed capable to, face and body painted in war patterns, just like yours was, and winced a little when you realised he was already watching you, deep hatred imbued in his features - you knew there and then you were in for a world of pain, if you ever survived this mission to begin with. It actually hurt, thinking of all the ways he could still make your life a living nightmare, his ingenuity knowing little bounds and never diminishing throughout the years. 

“You ready, kid? I need my little star in tip-top shape today. We’re all counting on you, you know?” 

Jake’s voice, usually soothing and calming, was grating to your ears, although you had a sneaking suspicion it wasn’t the voice itself as much as what the voice uttered, words that you didn’t want to hear at all, words that pushed you near the brink of collapse, whose weight you always almost buckled under, but now, with everything else going on, brought you to your knees. Still, you nodded, the desire to please and make him proud of you outweighing anything else you wanted to say, like asking for permission to sit this one out, like how, right now, you felt more like a liability than an asset. You had to do this, and you would, because they needed you, because they relied on you. 

“That’s what I like to hear.” He tapped the little choker that was tied around your neck. “Make sure this is on, alright?” 

“Yes, sir.”

The war cries echoed through the Hallelujah mountain as the full might of the Omaticaya clan erupted through the floating rocks, bearing down on the helicopters and ships that were looking and scanning for signs of life, that were ready and armed to kill and torture, to destroy and burn life to the ground. On top of your ikran, bow tight in your hand, you normally felt unstoppable. You were unstoppable. Before you even had time to register it, 3 helicopters fell at Neytiri, Jake and Neteyam's hands, crashing into the mountains before exploding into nothingness, never to be seen again.

In the midst of all the chaos, you tried not to think about how hard it was to control Oare, how your own frenzied, disruptive consciousness was affecting her ability to fly and focus, how that in turn was making you miss shots you would have never missed otherwise, how that was further weakening your state, the whole endeavour a vicious cycle you saw no escape from.

"Mawey... mawey." you couldn't tell if you were talking to your ikran or to yourself, as you pet her gently, trying to return you both to a state in which you could be present and useful, the way you were expected to be.

The sudden pain that rushed over you was excruciating, worse than anything you’ve ever felt, worse than all your previous injuries put together, and with a trumping heart and fear poisoning your blood, that felt like it was spilling out of your body more with each passing second, you looked down at yourself, trying to assess the situation. There was nothing. The pain deepened as soon as realisation hit that the fatal wound and the ache that followed wasn’t yours, although it might as well have been. 

“No…” your beautiful ikran, that has been with you every day of your life since you were 12, that not only witnessed, but facilitated every one of your victories, that was integral part of your life and happiness, that made you feel seen and understood, let out a screech so loud and filled with anguish, one that would haunt you for the rest of your life, that settled in your bone marrow and will forever have a home there, until your last day on this planet.

As she drew her last breath, you felt every ounce of happiness dissipate from your being, along with any sense of self, any sense of purpose. You had no time to dwell on your immense loss, not as your queues broke apart with her departure from this plane, leaving you in a free fall that would make sure that while you lost your sister, you would be following her close behind. The last thing you saw before you felt darkness enveloping you was Neteyam, and your last thought was how you must have imagined his panicked look and the tortured howl that left his body, as his hand reached out for you, his own ikran diving towards your falling form at full speed. 

I sleep with one eye open and one eye closed 'Cause I'll hang myself if you give me rope I lost all my faith and lost all hope That everything means anything at all

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[holychopshopgalaxy]

the speculation about post-savannah reunion "how could a relationship work and how would thomas be ok with everything flint did" is like. i did Not get that interpretation at all based off the london flashback scenes

I think after talking a lot they'd come to a mutual understanding (which they were always very good at doing in their partnership) and it'd be fine imho.

like even as a privileged aristocrat, thomas was a troublemaker. a political radical who's whispered to be mad by half of whitehall as well has his political powerhouse dad ("what a piece of work you are") because he believes in rethinking systemic things and isn't afraid to say it loudly. he considers his wife his intellectual equal and lets her sleep around with as many men as she wants, in general could not give less of a fuck what others think of his marriage or his beliefs. his sexuality warrants death by hanging yet he remains confident in it and entirely unashamed. this guy wasn't exactly a goody two shoes

he was also stubbornly determined to see humanity in the downtrodden and exercising forgiveness for those who are extremely disadvantaged. he gives coins to random lower-class families at criminal executions by the docks even after witnessing the angry mob behavior (makes a friendly comment to the child about it being "lucky"), and is still persistent in seeking the universal pardons after learning how israel hands brutally murdered the governor's family. he was an actual authentic christian when it came to mercy and compassion for the poor and oppressed

then he spends 10 years unjustly incarcerated as a political prisoner ("unjustly" because aside from having a homosexual relationship, he never actually did anything illegal), and spent at least a significant amount of that time in horridly inhumane conditions. going from a wealthy politically-active nobleman to an early 18th century asylum inmate who then supposedly kills himself and is perma-exiled to a penal colony is... quite a harsh downfall to say the least. there's no way it doesn't dawn on someone that intelligent and intellectual that trying to work within the system cost him absolutely everything. flint says that england took everything away from him and miranda, but that's not entirely true - he and miranda still had each other. thomas truly had nothing.

so i don't think it's a stretch to infer 1716 thomas would be way more ideologically aligned with flint than one may initially think. would he agree with everything flint did in his war against england? most likely not. miranda didn't, so highly doubtful that thomas would either. that was always their dynamic though - they saw eye to eye on principles and beliefs (james admits this during his bar convo with hennessey), but argued a lot over methods and practicality. that was always the foundation of their intellectual connection. furthermore, flint didn't even agree with everything he did himself. gates' sacrifice tortured him. he wanted to return flint to the sea for a long time. he kept fighting brutally because he believed he had nothing left to lose. sounds like an incredibly wronged and damaged human being who may qualify for... authentically christian forgiveness perhaps

and besides. james was his truest love and miranda was his dear wife. miranda and james recognized each other despite everything and thomas and james recognized each other despite everything. bottom line they all suffered and they were all committed to each other because it was love. love is synonymous with a commitment to seeing the best in someone despite their flaws and fuckups. that's just what it is and its demonstrated plainly over and over again in the show.

if he could forgive ashe for his cowardly betrayal which cruelly ruined all 3 of their lives, would he really not forgive miranda and james for charlestown? or the maria aleyne. thomas wasn't eleanor. he wasn't thirsting after his father's approval so logically i can't see why he'd react the way she did

i mean yeah they'd have a LOT to talk about but still. all this taken together, you really mean to tell me thomas wouldn't understand flint's war against the empire, and wouldn't forgive his more evil actions (born out of desperation)? ya i doubt it

[illumiera]

see, i've come to burn your kingdom down

or: How Elentari Bellefeuille Ruined the Dark Brotherhood's Day pre-i fear no fate (for you are my fate), 641 words

Astrid has heard of the Dragonborn, of course, long before she turns up in the Falkreath Sanctuary in the grave-dark hours before dawn. Flameheart, they call her, or Dragonslayer, or Ysmir come again, or something far too sentimental in the name of Mara. Not that it matters. In the flesh, she’s a slip of a thing—a slip of a thing some cosmic jokester decided to pit against a god. Poor fool, Astrid thinks with an amused quirk of her mouth. Barricaded the door behind herself and all. It’d be a mercy, really, to end it here. One clean blow—or, well, a few clean or not-so-clean blows, since everyone’s come out to see—as opposed to the inevitable dragonfire.

Better the blade than the burning, always.

“I suppose you haven’t come all the way here and breached our Black Door just to have a chat,” Astrid says lightly, one hand toying with the hilt of the Blade of Woe at her belt. “Shall I assume you’re here on some sort of do-gooder errand? Wipe out the Brotherhood, save the world, everyone’s happy, hm? You wouldn’t be the first to give it a shot.”

The Dragonborn smiles, then, and it cuts across her full lips like a knife.

“Not quite,” she replies in an accent that reeks of Bretic. She’s like a little bird, the way she tilts her head, the way she perches on the balls of her feet as if poised to take flight. “I will not deny that my purpose here is indeed to ‘wipe you out’, as you say,” she allows, “but I’m afraid my motives are far more personal than that.”

“Ah, so this is revenge, is it?” Not uncommon in this line of work, and just as entertaining when they start screaming and cursing and swearing by gods that never look the Brotherhood’s way. “Do enlighten us who it was—or shall I guess? A lover, maybe? No? A friend? A sibling?”

But the Dragonborn just flicks her too-green gaze around, taking in daggers, swords, and scimitars with unblinking impassivity. “You may all draw your weapons, if you’d like, so as not to die without a blade in your hands.”

And Astrid would laugh. She would laugh, but then the Dragonborn’s eyes are blazing silver in the glow of the flames she cups in her palms, and her toes are leaving the ground altogether, and none of their blades will sink into her skin, and maybe there’s the curve of great wings arching at her back, or maybe it’s just the fire, and the fire, and the fire—

—the fire, the Void—

Later, when it is done, Elentari stands with both feet planted in the ashes and releases a slow, steady breath. She’s scorched pure inside, clean and bright as the heart of midwinter, and the world around her is as ringing-sharp as a bell. For a moment, she studies what little remains. Here is where she would go to her knees in the ash, the snow, the dirt. It’s where she would close unseeing eyes with gloved fingers, return weapons to empty hands, and perhaps leave a flower behind for the dead, though she never allows herself to think of why. It’s where she would murmur a prayer to Arkay, most of all, so that the soul may find rest, and so that the last thing the body knows on Nirn is not violence.

Without her prayers, she thinks, these assassins will be damned wanderers. Untethered, their spirits will walk and walk in the ashes for eternity, even as the scorched earth turns anew and wildflowers spring between their bones.

Elentari does not kneel. She breaks apart the barricade with a whispered Word, steps out into the light of the rising sun, and listens to the wolves howling in the woods all around her.

[jiwoosify]

Why do I think Emily Davis is the best until dawn character, alongside Josh.

In fact, I hate Emily, as much as I love her. She's indeed "too bitchy for my taste" doctor Hill..

But I can't deny that most of the best scenes of the game were when we're playing as Emily. For example, the whole chase scene with the stranger and the wendigo. Those were so intense that I was sweating. But they were also immersive as hell, with many qte's and a "don't move sequence."

And I can't forget the scene where she slaps Ashley. It was so unexpected to me. No offense to Ash. She's one of my favorite characters, actually.

We can't deny that Miss Davis is the smartest character of the game. Her decisions are always calculated. That girl never hesitates to trust herself even if her selfishness is showing. She knows how to stand for herself.

"- Rule number one, Emily is always right." We heard you, I swear.

She has many red flags, that's certain. I don't like the way she's treating Matt. Her grumpy attitude is a main part of her whole personality. I think deep down, she really likes her boyfriend, but however, feelings for Mike are still here. So Matt is just a "second choice" in some kind of way.

Speaking of Matt, the devs should have made his character more interesting instead of him constantly being shadowed by Em. We don't know much about him because of his lack of screen time. Poor boy.

Also, she's a bitch with style. I crave for her wardrobe. And that jacket ? Real Fashionista. Once again, she gains a point for her fashion taste. It's brilliant.

Emily starts off as a character often criticized for her attitude, but her intelligence and inner strength make her essential to the group’s survival. If she survives, she proves she is much more than an arrogant and superficial young woman. (she still is)

In conclusion, Emily is a complex and often polarizing character, but she brings a lot of dynamism to the group thanks to her determination and resilience.

We love you Em ꨄ︎

[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?” 

[real-fire-emblem-takes]

im playing 3h and yuri walked up w two other folks. balthus, yeah, that makes sense, and *ashe*

now im just imagining yuri has absorbed this kid into the ashen wolves. name fits, youre traumatized enough, our friend now

which is very funny bc while im not using ashe as a unit i am making sure he gets a good ending via marrying ingrid. i want him to have a good life :) their supports are so cute too theyre such nerds

i mean tbh ashe fits very well w the wolves too generally. like hes absolutely a kid theyd exile into Abyss bcuz of Lonato if he hadnt already been in the proper school for a while.

balthus and yuri build him a bunk in Abyss if he wants it and within 4 days hes already moved in and started cleaning up the place. couldnt stand how monastery staff were looking at him post lonato, and hey the assassins down here sure know a lot about how to use a bow. neat

hapi and ashe spending time together being kind of nerdy about things that they feel embarrassed to be weird ant in public. yuri knows and supports their nerdiness by dropping off books and shit but neither has figured it out

candance hyping ashe up being like "no my friend!!! you are just as noble as the rest, your father was a shining example, i believe in you and your ties to him!!!!" like she isnt a therapist but she is w hypeman. and when she gets sad in sunlight hes always there w her umbrella, murmuring similar things but quieter so she doesnt fall into a pit of depression.

balthus bringing ashe out on excursions to do stupid shit, talking to him about girl troubles ("I dunno Balthus, Ingrid's so.. regal and knightly, and I'm just Ashe!" "No no no way, little bro, you're just as knightly! Strong as hell, too!" Cue Balthus grabbing Ashe and nuggie-ing the hell out of him), helping him train his 1v1 skills as well as his bowmanship.

yuri and ashe have a much quieter relationship i think. a lot of quiet support, both ways--yuri complains about some matter he doesnt have time to attend to and he notices randomly that it's been done. ashe shies away from someones ire and they change their mind soon enough. i think it slowly dawns on the both that theyre supporting one another, and they get dinner together to joke about it. but at the end of the day this REALLY feels like one of those friendships where just reading books together quietly is more than enough.

ingrid is, however, not allowed in abyss with ashe. he does have to leave her outside.

okay but who's candance...

[no-goodbyes-no-regrets]

If it's really Amy (which sadly I think it will be) I will riot.

And by riot I mean write to the soap magazines (do they still have letters from readers?) or complain to itv (don't they have some kind of feedback thing? I think we used that for Robert's stupid cheating arc back in the day)

Even if Natalie wanted to leave, this is just a cruel way to do it.

They got together during covid so no on screen kisses, then they got 0 focus for ages, 1 tiny bit of story over Matty’s bottom surgery that was dropped as soon as it started and was more about his relationship with Moira than Amy.

Amy's (first) proposal was to get one over on Cain over custody of Kyle, they had 5 seconds of drama and then she proposed for real - and then that kiss was only their second or third on screen kiss, despite having been together for years by then (I know not every couple is big on pda but compared to other couples on the show...)

Then absolutely 0 focus in the lead up to their wedding, Amy was busy with the Chloe nonsense - without any support from Matty (who is a glorified babysitter just there to get the kids out of a scene), then 5 minutes before they're supposed to get married the writers remember they exist and suddenly Claudette is transphobic - until Ethan tells her "transphobia is bad grandma", and Matty forgives her out of the goodness of his heart

Then there was the Kerry and the necklace bullshit and her paying for the wedding - but it turned into Eric scamming her about said stupid necklace.

The wedding was nice but we didn't even get to see Amy's vows because emmerdale was too busy patting themselves on the back for having a trans guy get married.

Then Matty got sent down and the focus was mostly on how *Moira* coped with that - not his new wife. Matty got released off screen, no tearful reunion with his wife, and then him and Amy disappeared again - only popping up here and there to clean tables at the Hide or get the kids out of a scene.

Moira has seizures and gets diagnosed with a brain tumour - but Amy is not involved in her mother in law's health crisis. Not until a few weeks ago when she suddenly watched Frankie for Tracy with Moira and decided she wanted another kid.

She goes full speed ahead, barely talking to Matty, until she dumps it all (new house, wanting another kid) on him, he has a little crisis but one conversation with Cain and all is well.

And now suddenly we get Amy buying sexy underwear for Matty and an implied sex scene (that they've never had), more kisses and pda than they've EVER had, they're happy and starting the process of adopting a kid... And then there's some heavy handed focus on Amy's bracelet and Kerry saying she's proud of her and even acknowledging Matty as her son in law (that I'm pretty sure she has never done before)

I know it's all for THE DRAMA and soaps are gonna soap, but it just pisses me off. They've been together for YEARS and get 0 focus while Dawn having an affair with Joe or Chas jumping into bed with yet another new guy is front and centre.

Can't have the trans guy have a happy marriage on screen - not until right before we kill his wife off.

They've patted themselves on the back over Matty being trans and being in a relationship with Amy and her accepting him... But never let her talk about dating a trans guy, never had her discuss her relationship with her friends - not even in the early days.

There's just SO MUCH wasted potential and emmerdale expects praise for doing less than the bare minimum and sending Ash to award shows

[lynzishell]

The Past 💛 Atlas

I don’t know how long we’re wrapped in each other’s arms before we’re forced apart as an overzealous dancer bumps into us, causing us to stumble sideways.

I barely regain my balance before Ash grabs my hand and pulls me away, leading me through the maze of people. They’re nothing but a blur as we wind our way off the dance floor where there’s finally some open space to breathe. I think he’s going to stop once we get there, but he continues forward. The only thing ahead of us now is a hallway with the bathrooms on the right and stairs on the left. Just as I’m about to ask him where he’s taking us, he stops short and slides into a dark corner.

As he backs himself against the wall, pulling me into him, I finally understand. “Is this okay?” He asks.

I lean in so fast that I practically breathe the answer into his mouth, “Yeah,” and before I know it, we’re making out again. But this time is far more intense, our kisses deeper, our breathing ragged, our hands grabbing fistfuls of hair and clothing and clawing at skin as though our desire for each other has grown into some kind of wild animal. Finally free from its cage, there’s no going back now.

I pin him against the wall and press my thigh between his legs, and he makes a sound that I feel more than hear with his mouth on my neck. And then I feel his hand move down the front of my jeans. I’m grateful for how loud the club is when he finds what he’s looking for and an uncontrolled moan escapes my lips. He grips me and breathes into my ear, “Atlas.”

Fuck, there is nothing sexier than the way he says my name.

I can barely think, let alone speak. All I can manage is, “Hm?” and even that comes out as more of a whimper than a question.

“Let’s go somewhere.”

I put my hand up on the wall behind him to steady myself and somehow find it in me to ask, “Where?”

“Anywhere. My place, yours, I really don’t care, but if we stay here, we’re bound to get kicked out.” He moves his hand slowly over the bulge in my jeans and kisses my ear softly. The wet sound of his lips is amplified and sends a shiver down my spine. “Do you wanna leave with me?”

More than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.

I nod as I clear my throat and try to will my brain to start functioning again. “I, um, my apartment. It’s three blocks away.” Or maybe it’s six. I don’t know. All I know is, Dawn better not be home tonight.

“Perfect.” He kisses me and moves both hands to my waist, “Let me check in with Lex real quick and then we can go.” I step back to make room for him to squeeze by. He looks up at me with a smirk, biting his lip, and winks at me before saying, “I’ll be right back,” and walking away.

It’s been a while since he’s winked at me, but for the first time I don’t blush. I assume my blood is otherwise occupied and not available to flush my face. Speaking of which, I need to take a moment, so I lean against the wall and pull out my phone. I start typing out a text to Dawn asking if she’ll be home tonight, but then delete it before sending, realizing I’ll have to explain why I’m asking, and I’m not prepared to do that. So, I slide the phone back in my pocket and hope for the best.

I take a few deep breaths and wipe the sweat from my face, suddenly realizing how dehydrated I feel. As soon as I’m able, I walk over to the water station set up in the back of the club.

The relief of the cool liquid as it hits the back of my throat is instant, and I drink three full cups before Ash finds me. I hand him one as soon as he walks up.

“Thank you,” he says gratefully, and drinks it down quick. As he refills the cup he says, “Lex is good. They’re all staying at Blair’s tonight.”

I suddenly remember the promise I made to her when we first arrived, and I almost feel a little guilty. “Did you tell her we’re leaving together?”

“Yeah.”

“Was she okay with that?”

He shrugs, “Not really her decision, is it?”

“I suppose not. You wanna go?”

“Definitely.”

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