#i have read carry on itself like 6 times though

[sucrosette]

★— ⋆｡˚ [Losing Myself In Simon Snow]

For Day 23 of Carry on Countdown 23, Bite. @carryon-countdown

On Simon Snow and Baz Pitch and their respective sets of teeth finding their way into each other's bodies.

Rated M for... this being what it is (the precursor to smut).

⋆｡˚

Simon bites a lot.

Between the two of us, you’d expect the vampire to be the one that bites a lot, but no. That honor goes to the dragon winged boy with the prehensile and overly sensitive tail.

When we’re kissing, he tugs my lips between his teeth, nips at them till they’re sore. He’ll trail more nips and bites overy jaw and down my neck and over my shoulders until I’m so worked up and frustrated, I pin him beneath me, just to keep his teeth from digging in more. I mean, other things follow, but it starts with stopping Simon from assaulting me with his teeth.

When he’s been worked up into a bluster— my fault, almost with one hundred percent certainty, I know— he bites. He latches onto my forearm or pec and digs in for dear life until I give in and stop teasing him for some small thing or another. Even if I think he’s cute when he’s all red in the face and annoyed with me.

I do, by the way, always think he’s cute.

When he’s embarrassed, he steals my hand to hold, inevitably using me as a sort of shield from whatever thing’s embarrassing him. I’ll talk us out of the situation and walk us away and then somehow my hand will end up in his mouth and he’ll be chewing on my palm like some sort of stimtoy. I don’t bother to stop him. It’s silly, sure, and it feels odd, but I don’t mind if it helps calm him.

When he’s angry, he doesn’t quite bite. He’ll snap his jaw at whatever or whomever has him fuming, but he never actually finds purchase to bite. I can feel it in him though, the urge to snap back with something more instinctual than sharp words and mean looks. Sometimes it’s at me, though I like to think that I give Simon less cause to be angry than I once did, but even though I always let him, he never bites me when he’s fuming at me. He doesn’t want to actually hurt me, sweet thing that he is.

Sometimes I wonder if it’s because I don’t bite him. It is mostly in teasing and play and definitely intended to get a reaction out of me, so it could be that. I mentioned the thought to Bunce once and she kindly asked me to never mention it again, or else she’d evaporate out of existence.

I’ll stick with Shakespeare and familial magicks. At least that much is safe to talk about with Penny, as much as the psychology of Simon is also a shared interest of ours. Apparently the interest doesn’t extend to all facets of Simon, and his biting habits are just a boundary she won’t cross.

It’s fair enough, I suppose.

Maybe I need more friends so I can have more perspectives on what might be normal or not. Vampire friends, maybe, though I admit that I’ve had relatively bad luck with those.

I think a part of it might be the whole “well if you won’t bite me, I’ll have to bite you” attitude he’s got going on. A sort of petty revenge, or maybe it’s some kind of way to egg me into doing it. That’s not to say I haven’t thought about biting him. I’ve thought about it too much, honestly. Every time his heart skips a beat when we kiss, every time we’re nestled together in sleep and my nose is buried against his neck, every time his pulse is thrumming with effort when he’s wrapped around me, every time I bend to kiss his wrist…

I think about it too much.

He undoes me, my Simon. Takes every decision I’ve ever made and throws it out the window, makes an exception of himself in my life at every turn.

But not on this. At least, not yet.

I’m getting weaker in my resolve against it, and I think Simon knows, because he’s tripling down on the biting lately. Coffee’s gone cold? A bite. Remote’s gone missing? A bite. I changed the wifi password? Several bites. I had a good reason for it, but no, there was no forgiveness, only teeth.

He’s in my lap and he’s kissing me hard, shoved me back against the couch like he’s desperate for it, and he is. His tongue is everywhere, my lips are already sore from his teeth, his hands are hot under my shirt and I don’t even know what I did to get him worked up like this.

I’m not about to stop him though. “You make me come undone, Simon Snow,” I breath against his lips and he moans into our kiss, “You make me feel insane.”

“Show me,” He half-demands, half-begs as his kisses start wandering. His lips feel like fire against my collarbone and I can hear the thundering of his heart. “Show me how insane I make you…”

I’ve spoiled him, I know I have. I give him everything he wants, I give into his every demand, but there’s no going back on it now. I don’t regret doing it either. I love giving Simon everything I can, he’s so hungry for it, swallows it all down like he was made for me, asks me for more.

I’m kissing him still and he tugs at my lips, asking for a deeper kiss while he grinds over me, and I give it to him. I let my tongue trace the roof of his mouth and the heat of his tongue, and when I pull back I tug on his lips in turn. I give him just the barest taste of my teeth.

He nearly collapses on top of me.

“Simon?”

He leans up on his elbow, biting into his own lip over where my teeth had just been. He bites hard enough to make himself bleed. I don’t think he’d intended that, but he did it all the same. “You used teeth.”

I don’t think he can even taste his own blood he’s so caught up in the thought.

It’s a moral thing. I want to live my life with Simon Snow. If I drink human, I become more inhuman, I live forever, blah blah blah. I’ve thought about it. I’ve thought about it too sodding much.

There is a drop of blood growing on Simon Snow’s lips.

I’m not thinking about it when my tongue darts out of it’s own accord and laps over the bite. I’m not thinking about it as that droplet runs over my tongue and back down my throat. I’m not thinking about it as I feel Simon start to run through my veins, as his taste fills my mouth.

The only thing I’m thinking about is that taste, that savory-sweet taste. It’s not like the blood I normally drink, but it is blood. It’s not like anything else I’ve ever tasted. I can’t find the words to describe it, and that would probably shock Simon more than the fact that I’d used teeth in the first place. I don’t stop to think about it.

I capture his split lip between mine and suck over it hard, tongue laving over it as I drink from him, letting myself linger in the flavour that is uniquely Simon Snow’s. I drink from that little wound until it’s given me all it can, and it’s not nearly enough, and in the same breath it’s entirely too much.

I didn’t even realize I’d flipped at some point in the process. My hands are poised on Simon’s shoulders, keeping him pinned down under me, my kisses turning tender over that small sore.

“You used teeth,” Simon says again as I lean off of him enough to regain myself.

I’m trying to think about my breathing, bring myself back to calm, but my veins are alight with Simon running through them. I’m thrumming with him. “I used teeth,” I manage to echo back.

“Do it again,” Simon asks, his hands finding their way back under my shirt, and I almost shake my head, denying us both.

But why not?

I’m already not thinking. I can’t think of a single reason why not.

I’m already pulling one of his hands away from my abdomen, letting the other linger there while I caress his palm against my cheek, against my lips, teasing the sharp edge of fang against it, lapping over the lines of his palm, tasting his sweat.

I am not thinking.

I am breathing Simon, tasting Simon, bleeding Simon.

And I want more.

I lay the tenderest of kisses against his wrist, feeling the pulse of it against my lips, thin, sensitive skin against thin, sensitive skin. “Do it again?” My voice comes out harsher than intended, giving me away entirely.

“Do it again,” Simon confirms. His eyes are fixed to mine, watching me lose myself in the sensations of him.

I don’t mind. I trust him. He trusts me. He wants it just as much as I do.

My fangs sink in against his wrist and he gasps like he’s forgotten how to breathe while I drink from him. Maybe he has. Maybe with both have.

I’m drinking from Simon Snow. I’m losing myself in Simon Snow. I’ve never felt more alive. I’ve never felt more dangerous. I could live on this, I think. He’d let me.

I might be addicted already.

He’s writhing under me when I pull off his wrist, and I must look some kind of way, but I can’t begin to imagine how. I keep kissing his wrist, licking up stray droplets, even as his nails dig into the soft underside of my jaw, begging my attention properly.

“Again,” He whines, and it is a proper whine.

I haven’t taken much for myself. I know I could.

I smirk down at him. “Later,” my words filter back in clearer, and I think I can see the details of him that much sharper, “I have other ways I want to eat you tonight, Simon Snow.”

[itacats]

Under the Shadow of Ghost

FT: Simon "Ghost" Riley x gn!reader

Warnings: past trauma, war themes, please let me know if anything else should be here!🙏

A/N: Trying something new with a character that has been plaguing my brain. First time writing with TF141 - feeling like this might be a slow burn kinda thing.

Read Part 2 here! Read Part 3 here! Read Part 4 here! Read Part 5 here! Read Part 6 here! Read Part 7 here! Read Part 8 here! Read Part 9 here!

Part 1: Into the Fold

As the newest member of Task Force 141, I felt the electrifying pulse of adrenaline coursing through my veins, accompanied by an undercurrent of doubt that gnawed at my resolve. The weight of my gear was nothing compared to the weight of the responsibility that now fell upon me. Around me stood the elite – legends whose names alone carried more power than any weapon. Simon "Ghost" Riley was the most enigmatic among them, a figure whose reputation cast a shadow that stretched far beyond his silent presence. The skull mask he wore seemed to be more than just an intimidation tactic – it was a barrier, a reminder that no one was allowed to see the man beneath. His past was a whisper among the team, a dark tale of betrayal, violence, and unimaginable pain. And yet, he stood unflinching, his every movement deliberate, his gaze unreadable.

Beside him was Soap, a man who wore his brash confidence like a badge of honor. His laughter could cut through the tension of any firefight, his jokes and quips serving as the last thread of sanity we often clung to. But beneath that devil-may-care attitude, I knew there was a man as serious and deadly as any soldier I’d ever met. Then there was Gaz – razor-sharp, always on edge, his eyes flicking between targets as if constantly calculating the odds. He was quick-witted and quicker on the trigger, never missing a beat in the heat of battle. And finally, there was Captain Price, a figure larger than life itself. He had the kind of authority that didn’t need to be spoken. It was felt. His leadership was a rock in the storm, and even though he rarely showed emotion, his mere presence was enough to rally the team in the face of impossible odds.

I had been thrown into this firestorm, a greenhorn among giants. Earning their trust would take more than just pulling my weight in battle – it would take resilience, endurance, and a willpower forged in the fires of chaos. I had to prove that I was more than just another soldier assigned to fill a roster spot. I had to show them I was one of them. That I belonged.

My poker face became my greatest weapon, a mask I had perfected long before the battlefield became my home. No one could read the thoughts that tumbled like dice in my mind. The fear, the doubt, the anger – it all stayed hidden behind a façade of calm. But over time, as the sweat, blood, and dust of our missions blurred the days together, I found myself inexplicably drawn to Ghost. There was something about his quiet stoicism that spoke to me, something in the depth of his silence that resonated with the scars I carried – scars that ran deeper than the physical.

Ghost was a riddle wrapped in pain, a man shaped by horrors that would have shattered anyone else. I could see it in the way he moved, deliberate and unyielding, as if every step was an act of defiance against the demons that haunted him. His eyes, always obscured behind the mask, told stories I would never hear. The hushed rumors that swirled around him – the torture, the betrayal, the graves he had crawled out of – only heightened the sense of mystery. Yet, despite it all, he never faltered. He was the kind of soldier you could follow into hell without hesitation. But there was a heaviness to him, a burden he carried that no one could touch, and in some way, I understood that.

Perhaps that’s why I couldn’t help but feel a connection to him, even though I knew he’d never acknowledge it. Ghost didn’t form attachments – not in the way that others might. He lived in a world where connections were weaknesses, and weakness could - no - would get you killed. But still, in those moments between missions, in the fleeting glances and shared silences, I saw a flicker of something familiar. A reflection of my own struggles, my own battles fought in the shadows of my mind.

I knew better than to pry into his past. Men like Ghost didn’t share their stories willingly. They were locked behind walls so high and thick that no one could scale them. But in some way, just being near him made me feel like I wasn’t alone in my fight. Maybe that was the draw – the unspoken understanding between soldiers who had seen too much, lost too much, and yet continued to stand, unwavering, in the face of it all.

Every mission we embarked on was another chapter in a story that felt both infinite and fleeting. The gunfire, the explosions, the brief moments of camaraderie – they all blended together into a tapestry of survival. And in the middle of it all was Ghost, a figure who seemed more legend than man. I was determined to earn his respect, to prove that I wasn’t just another cog in the machine, but a soldier worthy of standing alongside the infamous Task Force 141. 

In the end, it wasn’t about being fearless. It was about understanding that fear was inevitable, but what mattered was how you handled it. Ghost had his way. And I had mine. But perhaps, in the chaos of war, we weren’t so different after all.

Read Part 2 here!

I want to turn this into a multi-part series. If you have any suggestions on how to improve for these guys let me know! Thought I might give these guys a writing shot and see how it turns out.

Thanks for reading this far💙

[3hks]

Key Components in Creating THAT Character

If you read a lot or enjoy television and interact with the fandoms, you quickly realize that there are certain characters that have fans COMPLETELY wrapped around their finger! And furthermore, they usually end up pretty iconic even though they aren't the main character! (People like Gojo Satoru, Levi Ackerman, Killua Zoldyck--I watch too much anime but hopefully you get the point) So how do they become so popular? Do YOU want to create a character along those lines?

Perfect! Because this guide will have literally everything you need! (Keep in mind that some things will get very specific and there's no need to follow absolutely everything!)

1. Confidence

It doesn't matter if the confidence is a facade or if your character is genuinely confident--readers LOVE a confident character! This is because confidence can establish reliability, easily capturing the audience.

2. Status

Following confidence, it's important that your character has status. I'm not necessarily talking about royalty and whatnot, but if you look at my first three examples (assuming that you know who they are), they all carry a title and are known.

Gojo Satoru: The Strongest Sorcerer

Levi Ackerman: Humanity's Strongest Soldier

Killua Zoldyck: He's a Zoldyck

Again, this creates a sense of reliability and that awareness that your character is someone important.

3. Reputation

Alright, so this character now has confidence and status, so therefore, they also need some kind of a reputation! Consider some of the following questions: Does the public have an opinion on them? If so, what is the general viewpoint? What about the people close your character? Are their opinions accurate to your character's actual personality?

The truth is their reputation doesn't have to reliably reflect them. What the readers see in your character versus the others in the story can be vastly different. So, with these types of characters, it's important to establish a perspective of them that's separate from the audience's!

Now, what does this even do? A reputation builds onto status because it shows that, again, this character is someone who genuinely matters not just to the story itself, but to the actual verse. It also offers a lot of indirect characterization because it demonstrates how they are seen!

I would consider the first three to be the surface level traits, which is not a bad thing at all! However, with these next few points, we're going to dig deeper!

4. Empathy/Sympathy

Yes, yes, I'm well aware that empathy and sympathy are completely separate concepts, but either one will work for what I'm about to talk about next!

Vulnerabilities and flaws are critical to any realistic and quality character.

However, it's important to keep in mind that for THIS type of character, specifically, is meant to be established as someone with status and thus, won't easily show their weaknesses.

When boiled down, treat your readers like all another character.

Don't shove your character's fragilities into your audience's face because that can ruin everything you built up in steps one through three. Instead, leave their weaknesses (not necessarily flaws, they can be revealed however you like) slightly vaguer than you might normally. Let it be up for interpretation!

A simple way to achieve this is to dive into their past and let their old selves speak for themselves!

5. Situation

Great, so now you have the flaws and rough imperfections of your character down! What do you do with them?

Put your character in a situation with something on the line that exposes their vulnerabilities and forces them to confront their issues. Allow your readers to see their flaws physically in action because that's one of the best ways to fully elaborate on their character.

Additionally, if you're looking to flesh them out or generate more emotion, this will achieve that! With these characters, they NEED their time in your story.

6. Development

Just like all characters, the fundamentals still apply, and this character is no exception to development! If you're not too sure about what changes to make, start with step 5 and continue from there! There is no need to make a drastic difference, a simple realization or small alteration will do!

CONCLUSION

Alright, let's wrap this up! Steps 1-3 are the basis to creating your character's personality! It gives the impression that they are important and have a reputation. Steps 4-6 are mainly for development and to create a more dimensional character; but the main takeaway is that any weaknesses should not be downright stated but instead hinted at!

Happy September and happy writing~

3hks <3

[cosmerelists]

How Well Cosmere Characters Would Do At Speed Dating

"Speed dating" is an event where a bunch of people move from table to table, having like 5-minute conversations with a bunch of different partners. Then people fill out cards ranking the people they met, and the organizer pairs up any people who both feel that they hit it off. Basically, it's a way to meet a lot of potential romantic partners in a very short span of time.

So let's say that yesterday, for Valentine's Day, Cosmere characters attended such an event. How did it go for them?

1. Kaladin: It went badly; 0/10 stars

People have to reach like Friendship Level 5 to unlock Kaladin's tragic backstory. People talking to him for like five minutes will only read his surface vibe: glowering, uncomfortable, and tall. He might get some good ratings for sheer hotness, but I don't think he's walking out of this with any dates (if only because HE doesn't rate any particularly high).

2. Adolin: It went SO well; 10/10 stars

Adolin (single in this universe I guess) is personable, good at flirting, and very adept at getting dates. He's being ranked as a top-tier catch by everyone he meets, and he's ranking everyone he sees as top-tier too because hey, he could probably maybe see it working out for a while. That boy's calendar is FULL for the next month.

3. Elend: It was not great; 3/10 stars

Elend is obviously carrying a book the whole time, and he has a tendency to start reading during the conversation, even though--again--each conversation is only five-minutes long. Most of his partners find this rude and off-putting, but he'd get a least a couple who are intrigued either by him or by his book.

4. Leshwi: It was okay; 5/10 stars

She's magnificent and tall, so that's gonna get her some positive feedback. I also do genuinely think Leshwi is good at connecting with people. On the other hand, she keeps asking when the "stabbing part starts," and, uh, that doesn't go over very well with most of the people.

5. Denth: It was pretty great; 8/10 stars

To be honest, Denth would be GREAT at speed dating. He's disarmingly funny and self-deprecating but in a self-confident way. He might lose a few potential partners who are like, "Ew, mercenaries" but I do think he's walking out of there with plenty of dates if he wants to.

6. Ulaam: It was mostly a failure; 1/10 stars

He's quick with a compliment, but his compliments are usually along the lines of, "What a nice elbow you have. Can I have it? Only after you die of course, ha ha!" I'm sure there's at least one person who's into that, though.

7. Kelsier: It went great; 9/10 stars

I think Kelsier would be great at speed dating if he wanted to be. He can definitely smile and get people on his side. He 100% has an ulterior motive for this speed dating thing, though...

8. Shallan: It was so-so; 5/10 stars

Can Shallan rock a social event? Yes. Can she resist making that slightly inappropriate pun when the opportunity presents itself? Absolutely not. For this reason alone, I think her ratings are...varied.

9. Charlie: He ranks it 10/10 but everyone else ranks it 0/10

Charlie has EXACTLY the speed dating experience he wants! AKA, he is as boring as possible so that nobody wants to date him. He has a great time. Nobody else does.

10: Nightblood: People died; 0/10 stars

The people who partnered with Nightblood either tried to unsheathe him and died, or being near Nightblood just made them feel sick. Nightblood had a great time! (And is not allowed back.)

[aggro-my-beloved]

The Grey Area (GuyxHoney)

note: welcome to day three! if you’re wondering why this is so short and unedited, my stomach issues have gotten the better of me this week. 1 reblog and silly lil comment = 1 get well soon wish for me <3

summary: *everybody views the world as black and white until soulmates meet/lock eyes and see colors for the first time* [what’s more depressing than witnessing an amusement park in black and white? realizing it may be the last time you visit one, is probably what guy would answer, as he dangles upside down on Wonderworld’s “Surge” coaster. the pretty stranger next to him isn’t the worst company, though.]

pairings: GuyxHoney (romantic)

word count: 1.1k

estimated reading time: 5-6 mins

taglist: @ther3alsweetheart @darlin-collins @professionallyyappinabtangst @elles-roses bloop

GUY DRAWS IN DEEP, LABORED BREATHS alongside the other coaster passengers, inhaling the savory stench of sweat and cotton-candy coated air. In any other instance–preferably one where he isn’t tilted one hundred and eighty degrees on his head and about to suffer a deadly impact onto the fairgrounds–he’d be less green in his gills. His stomach would be rumbling requests for another sopping chili dog, or warm pretzel glistening with yellow mustard to tide him over for the night. However, the mass of citizens gathering beneath him with frightened eyes and murmured concerns is beckoning him to yak up what could be his last meal. No, no, maybe it’s word vomit.

“Crazy, huh? How one second your friends are wagering how many corn dogs you can eat before taking a spin on Wonderworld’s Surge, and the next you’re bracing to be a splat on the ground, remembered as nothing more than a crime scene photo–a crumb of a tragedy–”

“Please stop talking.” A meek voice belonging to the passenger beside him introduces itself. Due to their stiff pose and shut eyes (and seat dividers), Guy has no vantage point to any recognizable characteristics other than dirty sneakers and tremor in their voice. Their hands keep the lap bar restraints in an unyielding choke, and for good reason. If Guy were to shift as much as a millimeter, the minecart of a coaster seat would resound with an unpleasant creak.

“My bad. Talking to myself keeps me relaxed.”

“You find narrating your final moments relaxing?” Another tremor shakes their body, but Guy credits it to the anxious laughter bubbling from their lips. It offers little comfort for either of them, but he’ll take whatever distraction he can get from the looming thought of this night being their last. The respite is short-lived, as Guy and his passenger peer down to see one of the maintenance men (who’d been tackling the coaster’s sudden malfunctions for the past fifteen minutes) wave up at them with wide, swooping arms.

“Don’t worry, help is on the way!” The wind carries his voice unevenly, making it sound warbled to Guy’s ears. What may also be to blame is the unnatural amount of blood rushing past his ears and to his head. As the night progresses, a prominent chill grows stronger each second they are suspended thousands of feet above ground. He perks up at the relieved mutter from the passenger beside him.

“Thank goodness, there’s still hope.” Guy wiggles his toes, but cannot feel them. He chooses not to mention it.

“Now look at who's talking to themselves.” His voice quakes through the tease. The lurching in Guy’s stomach persists, and he ponders if it's another threat from his gut to expel its contents, or the beautiful stranger giving him their undivided attention. Usually, nobody pays him any mind unless he is adorning his work uniform and offering samples of Max’s award winning garlic knots to passersby.

“You may be onto something about the relaxing aspect.” They try for a deep breath, and Guy notices them strain to pull the air in their lungs. He’s sure they feel the lurch now too, but for different reasons.

“So, what’s your name?” The stranger snorts, before answering.

“I like that name. I’m Guy…how old are you?” Again, they reply. A humored snort follows.

“You gonna ask me for three fun facts about myself next?” Guy smirks, and cranes his neck to view the fairgrounds. The crowd of witnesses has grown, and their cell phone flashlights are blending in with the warm bulbs of the distant Ferris wheel. No sirens. No search and rescue. Not yet.

He looks back up to take in their profile. Closed eyes. Scrunched nose. Tight lips.

“Yeah, why the hell not? Seems like we got time.”

_________________________

“Okay, is it my turn?” Asks Guy, who holds up three remaining fingers. He’s become more impressed by this stranger with each hypothetical they toss for him to mull over, and ultimately concede to as he curls another digit to meet his fist.

“No, it’s mine. Never have I ever put pineapple on my pizza.” A disgusted groan falls past Guy’s lips as he tosses his head back, or attempts to. The seat he is strapped against stops him.

“I shouldn’t have mentioned where I worked, had I known it’d be vital to your victory.” He mutters through clenched teeth, and drops another finger. Of course, he had to try all of the controversial toppings—even anchovies, though he wasn’t completely sober when the slice peppered with them went down his gullet.

“C’mon, Guy. Dig deep!” They encourage contagious titters. The amount of blood pooling in their upper body is the culprit, Guy knows, but for now he’ll wish it’s his undeniable charm and wit upholding the conversation.

“Okay.” The man gnaws on his bottom lip. Would it be uncouth to ask after just meeting? How vulnerable can a person be staring into the eyes of death and accepting their fate? They’re strangers…but could be bound by the wicked force of trauma if they manage to walk away unscathed from tonight’s events. “Uh…”

Screw it.

“Never have I ever seen colors.” For a moment, Guy swears he feels their sharp breath inflate his lungs, because the inhalations are synced.

“You mean, you’ve never met your soulmate?” They gander, to which Guy shakes his head.

“Nope. Probably never will, by the looks of it…kinda hoped my last moments wouldn’t be all black and white. Or when the time came where my life flashed before my eyes like in the movies, it would be more…lively.” The stranger beside him blinks theirs open, and keeps them afixed on the array of stars peering down.

“I’ll never even know what color my eyes are.” They scoffed, much to Guy’s surprise. It seems every beautiful stranger he crosses paths with gives him a motivational phrase to keep his eyes peeled for his other half, which is how he knows they’ve jumped the hurdle of finding theirs. “I always ask my family and friends not to tell me, so I can find out for myself.”

Guy grows tired of winking at constellations and phone cameras. He much prefers the profile of the one sitting beside him. “I’m sure whatever color they are is gorgeous.”

Whiskey or bile coats his throat—he’s too far past delusional to tell—as they turn to fully face him. And then their eyes meet.

The whooping sirens reverberate like violins and complement the symphony of cheers from the crowd below awaiting to grasp and tug their loved ones into grateful embraces. The red engines and blue cotton candy clouds perched below them—even the neon painted cart Guy is sitting in means nothing beside the revelation that his life is not flashing before his eyes. They’re sitting right in front of him, letting him study their melanin, and wind blown straggles of hair, and undoubtedly gorgeous irises.

Suddenly, the pair could stay in this spot forever.

soulmate september schedule | main masterlist | abt author

[immajustvibehere]

Spark (7/8)

Arthur Morgan x fem!Reader - Enemies to Lovers

Chapter 7 summary: You and Arthur spend some time in Strawberry together. Your relationship develops. It's only when you get home that one incident after another seem to separate you.

link to my masterlist

chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 3, chapter 4, chapter 5, chapter 6

5400 words, 30 minutes reading time

You awoke to the twittering of birds, their song gently piercing through the silence the awakening nature. You felt stiff and cold as you turned on the hard forest floor. Your head had rested on the bedroll, but this had done nothing for your back, which ached in pain. As you sat up, a familiar weight slipped off your body. It was Arthur's jacket. He must have covered you with it at some point during the night, you hadn't noticed. The man itself crouched in front of a fire, tending to its flames with a stick.

"Morning", Arthur greeted as his gaze shifted from the fire to meet your eyes.

You responded with a grunt, stood up and handed him his jacket so you'd have your hands free for a satisfying stretch.

"Slept well?", you asked under the cracking of your joints.

"Well enough", Arthur shrugged.

You sat down again and watched as Arthur set up some coffee. All of this went without saying. It was a bit awkward how you eyed each other occasionally. It was a bit uncomfortable, as you didn't know where this conversation would turn and you really hoped it would stay light and happy, though there were so many grave things to discuss.

"How long do ya plan on layin' low?", Arthur asked after he handed you the cup of coffee. You didn't have any cutlery with you, so it seemed like you and Arthur would have to share that cup.

"Couple of days", you said, "four, maybe?"

"Ya think we should stick together for a while?", Arthur asked. He was hesitant to ask, still not entirely sure if you'd reject him eventually.

"If it suits you", you answered, a hint of relief evident in your voice. In truth, you had never planned it to be any other way. You wouldn't mind running around alone, but the circumstances were different now. Your stitches needed taking out, you had no spare clothes, food or money on you and your mind wasn't in the best place at the moment. You'd much rather Arthur stays by your side.

"Sure. We should go to a town, though. I ain't planning to sleep in the dirt for that long", Arthur complained.

"What do you mean? Getting old?", you teased.

"Wasn't my bones that woke up half the wild-life with them cracking", Arthur grinned.

"Fair enough...", you smiled and exhaled. The teasing felt comfortable, it's what you have known for the last weeks and in a way, you preferred that method of showing that you cared. It was easier. You didn't have to expose yourself too much.

"Strawberry shouldn't be too far", Arthur pondered.

"Sure, why not", you said. You handed the steaming coffee cup to Arthur and observed how he placed his lips where yours had been a minute ago. It had done a solid job of warming your chilled bones. "Why don't we rob a couple of fellas on the way? I'd use some money for clothes and a stay at the hotel”, you suggested.

"Ain't necessary, I got some money on me", Arthur dismissed your proposal.

"Ya telling me to rob you instead, or to just submissively accept you covering my expenses?", you asked.

"I'd prefer the latter option", Arthur said sarcastically.

"I don't plan to be in your debt, Morgan."

Arthur raised an eyebrow: "You might have saved my life earlier. This ain't about being in my debt, y/n. This is not usually how those things work, you know?" Arthur chuckled at the thought that you wouldn't accept his favours, despite...well, you weren't in a relationship yet, but he hoped it was heading in this direction.

"Fine then...Strawberry's half a day’s ride. Let's go then."

The weather was nice for a ride. The crisp air carried the lingering freshness of last night’s rain, while the sun tried its best to dry the damp grass and trees. The last wafts of mist disappeared, as the sun rose higher in the sky. You would have enjoyed the ride a lot, weren't it for the turmoil within your mind. The uncertainty of the situation overwhelmed you. On the one hand, you felt like you had to address the feelings you had for Arthur. You watched him ride, reins held casually in one hand, the other nonchalantly swaying by his side.  

On the other hand, there was Micah. He had planned something. You knew very well he was in Dutch's favour, and you also knew he is a man that was willing to do whatever it takes for survival and money. Somehow, you didn't want to tell Arthur. It might overcomplicate the matter, you weren't sure how things would turn out.

"You ain't tellin' me what's on your mind, am I right, darlin'?", Arthur disrupted your thinking. The pet name made you stiffen up a bit and you couldn’t help but feel a blush rise to your cheeks.

"It’s not that important…I’m just thinking", you lied.

"I understand", Arthur’s voice was laced with empathy and understanding, "Ain't gonna pressure you."

You smiled; you were glad about that. This was new, a partner by your side who didn’t pry.

"It's just difficult to trust you, Morgan. I'm riding unarmed, I feel like I’m damn naked", you admitted with a grin, cursing that your guns were back at camp. One of those guns being Arthur's older one. Remembering this, you cursed yourself, because you had started to cherish it a lot…it had become something of sentimental value to you, and its absence was keenly felt. You saw Arthur stirred in his saddle bags before he handed you a holster and a gun.

"You carrying a whole arsenal with you?", you quipped as you secured the holster around your waist and settled the gun within it.

"Damn right, but I expect this one back, you hear?", he said with a wry smile on his face.

-

Midday had past when you arrived Strawberry. Arthur handed you a couple dollars, insisting you use them to get some new clothes. You agreed that a big blood stain probably didn’t give the best first impression when you tried to go unnoticed. The general store didn't offer to much of a variety, but you found a blouse you were happy with. Your pants were fine. Arthur rode ahead to the Welcome Centre, arranging a bath and a room. Arthur had convinced you to take a bath, saying it would be more sanitary to take out the stitches after your skin around the area had been cleaned.

As you entered the hotel, the clerk warmly greeted you, informing that the water had been warmed up and was ready for your use. You headed straight for the bathroom. You had to admit that your last bath was some time ago, so it did feel good to immerse yourself in warm water. The remnants of the O’Driscoll’s blood that had managed to elude your previous wash in the creek only fuelled your desire to scrub every inch of your skin.

Drying yourself off and dressed in the clean blouse you had purchased earlier, you did feel very much renewed – especially after the long ride you’ve had.

When you entered the room that Arthur had arranged, your eyes fell upon him sitting on the edge of the bed, tending to his spurs.  

"Should we get the stitches out?", Arthur asked. His question hung in the air for a while and was accompanied by a sigh of resignation that escaped your lips.

"Yeah...sure,” you gave in and took a seat on the bed.

"Ya could do it yerself, ya know? Ain't that hard."

Yor uncertainty must have been evident when you glanced at Arthur. The pain of the night he had stitched you up came back. The white glaring agonizing pain that almost had you pass out and scream muffled cries into a cloth pressed between your teeth. The memory caused a shiver of unease to travel down your spine.

"I don't know...", you admitted.  

"Under the premise that you won’t accuse me of prudishness and making selfish advances, I can do it for you, if yer so kind as to lift yer shirt for me", Arthur grinned boyishly, reminding you of words you had said yesterday.

You sighed and lied down on the bed, exposing your stitched scar to Arthur. You closed your eyes, reading yourself for some pain.

"You really never had stitches, did ya?", Arthur’s voice cut through the silence.

Your answer was the release of a tense breath, before you felt Arthur's warm touch on your flesh, resting just above your hip. He took out some tweezers. Soon, you felt a slight tugging sensation that was done after five seconds. When Arthur turned away, you knew he was done. There was this cocky smile on his face when you looked at him.

"You son of a bitch!", you cursed as you sat up, your voice was laced with playful anger, "Why didn't you tell me it doesn't hurt?"

"Liked yer submissive face, 's all", Arthur said nonchalantly.

You stared at him in utter disbelief.

"I'll fucking skin you alive the moment I get the chance", you mumbled, your gaze suggesting an attack any moment.

Chuckling lightly, Arthur met your threat with a playful glimmer in his eyes: "Sure, I'd like to see ya try, Missy.”

You went into attack position.

"Will ya try to knock me off my feet?", Arthur asked, hands resting on his hip. Your stance suggested you’d tackle him any moment, he found it quite amusing.

"I won't try. I will do."

"What are we betting for? A kiss?", Arthur suggested.

"Your life, cowpoke."

By now, you couldn't contain the huge grin that had formed on your mouth. This sort of friendly banter had been going on for the last couple of weeks, though the mention of a kiss had introduced a new dynamic. Memories came up from last night and how you avoided him after he had kissed until you had sorted your thoughts. It wasn't that you lacked trust in Arthur specifically; rather, it was a matter of your own guarded nature, a reluctance to place your trust in anyone.

Despite your reservations, you did feel safe around him. You gave up your competitive stance and settled back down on the bed.  

"You'll have to earn that next kiss", you declared, a mix of playfulness and sincerity in those words. It was more in a manner of finally addressing the issue, than actually binding it to conditions. You weren't sure if Arthur understood that you were so hesitant, not because you lacked in desire for him, but from fear of disappointment.

"I'll do whatever you want me to, my lady", Arthur replied mockingly.

"How about some food?", you asked with a smile, "Here. That's the money I've left from my shopping tour earlier." You fished a couple dollars from your bag, but Arthur shook his head.

"Keep it, ya gonna need it sooner or later. I still got some money for dinner."

So, Arthur headed out for the general store and returned ten minutes later with enough dried meats and fruits to last you a week.

You lied down, staring at the ceiling. Now this was going to be awkward. You weren't that tired yet and Arthur also didn't seem too determined to head to bed just yet. But he still sat on his side of the bed and got his journal out.

"Ya don't mind me drawin', do ya?", Arthur asked politely and opened an empty page in the journal.

"No", you answered honestly and sat up too, "can I watch?"

"Sure", Arthur said, "'s there something specific you want me to draw?"

"Remember that waterfall we passed on the ride?"

"You mean Cumberland Falls?"

"Mhm", you nodded.

"'course", and in barely a minute Arthur had outlined the most important features of the landscape. You couldn't have recalled the scenery any better, you had not the slightest doubt that every tree was placed correctly.

Arthur took his time with the drawing because he noticed, as time went by, that your body started to slump against his. Just as he had added all the shadows he had wanted to, he heard your heavy, steady breathings. The subtle scent that enveloped you was intoxicating, and the softness of your features in the warm glow of the oil lamp fascinated him. Your features looked so peaceful and inviting, Arthur wanted to bury his head in your arms. But he resisted the urge in order not to disturb your sleep.

Slowly, he draped an arm around your shoulder, pressing you gently against him as heshifted your position from sitting to a more comfortable lying position. He halted, his heart pounding when you opened your eyes. 'Please don't flinch away, please don't reject me' he thought. But you didn't, you smiled slightly and snuggled up to him. It was at this very moment, that Arthur had felt an amount of hope he had never felt before. It was a profound sense of possibility that he hadn’t experienced in a long time.

-

The second day had passed in Strawberry with the soon soon to be disappearing behind the mountains. As the day before, you sat on the bed and Arthur opened his journal. You watched as his pencil wrote words that you couldn’t read. The least you could do it appreciate how handsome his handwriting looked.

"Y/N woke me early today. I thought lying low meant a break from the work and chores - but no. She wants to gather some money so she can say she followed a lead and not saved me from the O'Driscolls. We went fishing and hunting. I shot a cougar, pelt was real fine. Also some birds for feathers. The post clerk gave us a hint for a stage we can rob tomorrow."

You noticed when Arthur had finished the text, as his pencil wasn’t moving on the paper anymore and the last line he had set looked very final. You sat up a little in anticipation of a drawing: “What are you going to draw?”

“Maybe the cougar?”

You didn’t need to reply, Arthur had already started with the outline of the animal.

-

"Third Day of lying low in Strawberry.

We was told the stage coach is best robbed quietly. Of course, y/n wanted to just start shooting. I convinced her to use dynamite. We were done with the guards quickly and the take was ok. I also remembered a fella telling me about Watson's house. We robbed the old hag blind. She had a shotgun stored away, I offered it to y/n but apparently it’s “too uncivilized and not her style”."

“It’s rude to stare”, Arthur remarked and shot you a glance as you were sitting on the chair in the corner, “Come here.” Arthur patted the bed next to him.

“No. Stop telling me what I should do”, you said. Your tone was annoyed but Arthur knew that you didn’t mean to offend. You had been a little pissed earlier when you had a disagreement on how to rob the stagecoach, but this was different. He knew you were teasing as a way of punishing him for interrupting your thoughts.

“I know you want to come here. I’m gonna start drawing without you”, Arthur carefully arranged the pillow so you could sit next to him.

He was right. And you weren’t sure if you liked that or if you wanted to grant him this little win. You supressed a smile: “I hate you.”

“Yer doing an awful job of showing it, so I doubt it”, Arthur chuckled.

You sighed and stood up to walk over to the bed: “I did at first. But it’s harder to hate you if all I thought was despicable about you…turns out I don’t despise it so much.”

“It’s what Micah told you about me before we even met, got that right?”, Arthur said, content to see you settled next to him. He started a sketch of the view you had on the ridge when you waited for the stagecoach.

You nodded and rested your head against Arthur’s arm: “You did exceed my expectations.”

“The bar couldn’t have been too high if you believed everything Micah’s told ya”, Arthur said. He handed you the tobacco and paper and let you roll a cigarette while he sketched on. When you struck a match and a little spark flew on Arthur’s journal, he brushed it away without a care, not saying a word of or cursing you for being inattentive.

-

The deafening roar of thunder roused you from your slumber and startled you awake in the early hours of the morning. As you slowly gained consciousness, you wondered how the torrential downpour outside hadn’t stirred you earlier. The raindrops were big and heavy and pounded merciless upon the rooftop and the window glass.

You crawled out of bed and made your way to the window. Despite the darkness with heavy clouds covering moon and starts, you could still make out the gushes of water that were coming down the skies.

"Good thing you suggested stabling the horses", you mumbled, your words almost swallowed by the overwhelming noise.

Arthur grumbled and turned in bed, he was barely awake: "Ya coming back to bed?"

His voice was drowsy. The cold air was getting to you quickly, and you regretted leaving the warmth of the bed in first place. Turning around, you gazed upon Arthur’s form, dimly illuminated by the soft glow of the flickering oil lamp at the room’s corner.

In that moment, it struck you. This was the first time you truly realised that you shared a room - a bed with a man who you had come to trust. You liked him a lot. And despite having more than one opportunity, spending pretty much every waking hour with you the last three days, he hadn't tried to make a move. He was being very respectful, only ever putting his arm around you when the opportunity was right, but never ever pushing for more proximity. It was a level of consideration and restraint that surprised and touched you deeply. Probably because you weren’t used to it.

"Y/N it's getting cold...", Arthur mumbled, referring to the empty spot in the bed next to him. As you approached bed again, Arthur shifted to the spot you had vacated, a cold patch of linen that he now warmed with his body. Half aspleep, he pulled back the blanket, inviting you to take his still-warm place beside him.

Without saying something, and probably barely registering what he was even doing, Arthur tugged you in and then spooned you, his head conveniently finding the curve of your neck. Your heart rate picked up; you hadn't been so close before.

It was a weird sensation to have someone breath hot air down your neck, his arm was snaked around you, leaving you no room for escape. However, the coldness you had felt out of bed soon was gone, replaced by the warmness that radiated from Arthur’s body. It calmed you down. You got used to the sensation of his breath on your neck. Gradually, you grew accustomed to the sensation of his breath against your neck. Heck, you even started to like it. You tried to synchronize your own breaths with his. Soon, with Arthur’s warmth and steady breathing, sleep reclaimed you.

The white noise of rain falling was still present when you opened your eyes again some hours later. You had turned onto your back; Arthur wasn't spooning you anymore. When you turned your face to his, his eyes tiredly blinked back to you. You wanted to sit up, but Arthur quickly caught your arm and held it: "You ain't dragging me out of bed so early today."

You looked out of the window. The sky had turned grey, and the rain was still falling.

"Wasn't planning to...", you mumbled.

After what felt like an eternity of lying still and counting the boards on the ceiling, you turned your face to Arthur. He was lying on his side, turned towards you. His eyes fluttered open as if he had felt your gaze on him. He watched you as you shuffled closer ever so slightly. You weren't even sure what was it that pulled you closer to him, but with your heart pounding relentlessly, you finally closed the distance between the two of you. Your lips met tenderly for a very slow and drowsy kiss. Arthur savoured every second of it.

Unconsciously, his hands wandered up to your face and he halted only a moment before he would have cupped your cheek. He wasn't sure if you'd want that. But he did feel a bit awkward when the kiss ended, and his hand lingered in the air over you in an unaddressed manner. Your cheeks were clearly flushed, and Arthur's eyes showed hope and surprise.

"Your beard needs a trim", you commented sheepishly.

"Yes ma'am", Arthur replied, a smile forming on his lips. This time, he was the one who closed the distance, finding the courage to place his hand on your cheek, cupping it gently. The second kiss was longer and more passionate. You had no intention of backing out. It felt like having your first kiss all over again, with the butterflies in your stomach going wild.

It was over sooner than you hoped, but Arthur went on to pepper your cheeks and neck with little kisses, his beard tickling quite a bit in the process. Then he stopped and simply lied down in his initial position, next to you on his back. Though your hand found his and held it loosely, just to ensure some touch between you.

"Sorry I wasn't ready sooner", you said.

"What are ya even talking about?", quipped Arthur.

"Just...making you wait and all tha-"

"You didn't make me wait", he quickly established, "Who said that I was ready? I wasn't ready either. Hell, I don't even know if I was ready now because my brain feels like it has been smashed on a wall. And I have you to blame you for that!"

"You do know how to make a lady feel special", you chuckled.

"Sure", Arthur snorted, "keep tellin' yaself that if that means I get to kiss ya again."

You grinned sheepishly, sat up and leaned over Arthur to give him another kiss. It just felt so safe to do it. The way he still held your hand, caressing the back of it with his thumb. He was entirely at your mercy, his blue eyes scanning your face the moment you moved away, pleading for another kiss which you readily granted.

"We won't ride back to camp today, huh", you said after a while, watching the rain.

"No, no use for that. We'll just drown in mud."

When you got out of bed, Arthur hurried to get his pants on, leaving you to guess what that haste was all about. The welcoming centre, as it so happened, was filled with a bunch of people. Your room neighbour and two other men who had found refuge from the storm here at night. Breakfast was shared and someone had brought a deck of cards. You and Arthur mingled with the group, playing Poker and Blackjack pretty much the entire day. Sometime after lunch it had stopped raining. Before evening, the sun was coming out from behind the clouds.

It was later decided that you'd head back to camp right now, traveling through the night and probably arrive early in the morning. There'd almost be a day between you and Arthur coming back, as not to raise suspicion that you spent the time together. You walked to the stables together, boots covered in wet soil when you said:

"At camp...you know that we can't..."

Arthur sighed and lit himself a cigarette: "I know. Micah's the problem, isn't he?"

"He'd kill us both if he found out", you mumbled, a hundred percent believing the words you had just said.

"Would rid the world of some filth for sure", Arthur joked and earned an arm slap.

"Didn't mean you, darlin'. Yer an angle", he teased.

He then watched you saddle your horse. You checked if you've got the money. Hunting, robbing and gambling had brought you a take of almost 200 dollars, enough to count as a solid lead and to excuse your long absence.

"See ya tomorrow", you said.

"Don't get yourself killed on the ride back."

"Mhm", you grinned, "You neither. Without me protecting you."

Arthur had the most beautiful smile, you realised. He had grinned and shook his head as response to your answer. It made you unbelievably happy. And then you rode off.

-

When you rode up to Clemen’s point, it was Charles on guard duty. You acknowledged this with relief, because out of everybody, he'd not be someone to plague you with questions.

"Y/n, we worried about you", he said, his voice laced with true compassion.

"Yeah...I'm fine", you smiled awkwardly.

"Where've you been?", he asked so innocently, a question stemming from pure curiosity.

"Ehrm...out and about. Hard to explain, really..."

"When's Arthur coming?"

"What?"

"Arthur. He was with you, wasn't he?", Charles asked. The innocence seemed to be replaced by an air of knowledge. He knew, somehow, he knew. You were aware that he was a great observer...but this good?

"I...don't know", you lied. But seeing Charles' raised eyebrows, you sighed in defeat: "He'll be back by tomorrow morning."

Charles nodded in acknowledgement.

"Guess I figured out why you had a change of heart", he said with a smile. It was a subtle hint towards your changing attitude at camp.

"Mr. Smith", you grumbled warningly.

"Don't worry. I won't tell anyone. But you should come up with a proper excuse, because Miss Grimshaw is furious you disappeared."

Turns out that not even 200 dollars could get you out of a scolding. You had to hear all of it. Sneaking away, disregarding your healing process, not being present to support the gang. Anyone who walked by or overhead your scolding was quite sympathetic. Even Dutch patted you on the shoulder when he walked you over to the donating box and watched you put the money inside.

To make up for your days away, you were put to work immediately. You had to help manage the horses and soon were sent off to a mission with Micah. It’s safe to say that when Arthur arrived at camp in the afternoon, you were exhausted from a night without sleep and a day full of work. It left no time to catch up with Arthur or asking him about his travels. You overslept the next morning, missing the little window which you usually shared with him, talking about your day and drinking coffee.

You weren’t sure how you had imagined it, but there was barely a minute in which you and Arthur were alone. And then, suddenly, events started to happen one after another. You went to town with the boys, found it deserted and one minute later you had the brains from the Irish boy all over your face. You had barely returned and helped to bury his still warm body, when the message spread that Jack had been taken by some Braithwaites.

When more guns were needed to get the boy back, you offered yourself willingly, fuelled by rage. You loved Jack. You had played with him so often that the thought of him gone was sickening. You understood Abigail’s fears and yet you tried to be somewhat restrained, because Micah was there and he’d certainly frown at your behaviour. But there was no Micah at the manor, so when you still kicked in doors after the place had caught fire, Arthur was suddenly by your side, urging you to leave the house.

“We sure he ain’t here?!”, you said, still ripping open closets.

“Yes. Come on, y/n”, Arthur put a hand on your shoulder and guided you out. Maybe, if he hadn’t been there to collect you, you would have been buried in the rubbles of this place with the wretched mother.

Then you moved to Shady Belle.

Jack was back with you within a week. You helped Grimshaw and Arthur to get Tilly back and stabbed the Foreman when Arthur didn’t deem it necessary.

“Tilly wanted him to tell his stupid gang-“

“His corpse will tell enough”, you answered.

Then Arthur was busy with the mayor, with robbing a boat, and finally, Shady Bell was attacked by the O’Driscolls. You watched in awe as Sadie butchered more O’Driscolls than you managed to get in front of your guns.

The only time you and Arthur had some time alone away from camp is when he had you tag along to help the Indians.

It was a young man named Eagle Flies who greeted you on a hill with a nice view on the oil factory. “You came”, he stated.

“’course I came. Said I would”, Arthur mentioned as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

“You took a friend with you, I see?”, Eagle Flies looked at you a bit sceptically.

“She’s back-up”, Arthur explained.

“Hope we won’t need that”, Eagle Flies commented before he explained to Arthur what he needed to steal.

You were left behind with the native as Arthur hid in the back of the waggon to sneak into the place. You didn’t say much, only listened to a couple of words he told you about the situation he and his people was in. Barely half an hour later, Arthur was back with the papers he was told to steal.  

-

You hurried up to Arthur’s room, using it as an opportunity that Micah wasn’t at camp and everybody else was busy with planning the details of the heist. You intently knocked on the door.

“Yes”, Arthur replied. He knew that it wasn’t Marston or Miss Grimshaw, because they never had bothered to knock. But when he saw you come in and swiftly closing the door behind you, his shoulders relaxed and his lips curled into a smile. “Y/N���, he breathed, relieved to see you and happy that this meant you had a moment together, alone.

“Hey”, you replied briefly, “Are you okay, Arthur? Are you sure about this bank heist?”

Your uncertainty irritated Arthur, but he’d try to reassure you that they had a plan. You had been assigned to stay at camp and to take care of the rest of the people, in case anything went wrong.

“It’s Hosea’s planning and I trust him when it comes to things like that”, Arthur said.

“I have robbed my fair share of city banks, and it always ends with half of my partners dead or captured”, you said, your shoulders slouching. You hadn’t been able to think about anything else since the idea had first come up.

“It’s risky, sure. But I think we are prepared”, Arthur nodded and looked at you. Arthur felt how uneasy you were though it had been some time since you last had intimate contact, Arthur gently pulled you into a hug. You wouldn’t have admitted it if he’d asked, but you had needed this. Carefully, you nestled your head against his chest and felt his hands roam your back, caressing it.

“If this works…we’ll soon get some more time for ourselves. Thing’s have been happening so fast the last weeks…”, Arthur murmured. It didn’t go unnoticed how you pressed Arthur tightly in your arms, your fingers dug through the clothes and into his flesh. There was this sense of fear in you, and despite his reassuring words, you couldn’t quite shake it. You had to push yourself away and stand on your tiptoes to press a gentle kiss on his lips.

“What was that for? Good luck for tomorrow?”

“That was for me”, you answered cheekily, a smile appearing on your lips.

-

Despite preparations, despite it being Hosea’s plan and not Dutch’s…it went wrong. Arthur didn’t dwell on it for long, he was occupied with surviving and getting off the damn island. He had lost a sense of awareness of how long they had been gone, and was eager to rejoin the gang, yearning to see your face again. He hadn’t thought about it…no he hadn’t even considered it that you might not be there. His gaze scanned the crammed room and he only mumbled your name out of fear of finding out something has happened.

It was Miss Grimshaw who spoke up: “Miss y/l/n left. Shortly after Molly, a couple of days ago.”

Arthur didn’t believe it. Only after he caught Charles’ eyes which seemed to confirm it.

“A rat fleeing a sinking ship…”, Micah commented through gritted teeth, “Should never have introduced her…”

Dutch was about to express his disapproval, when the Pinkertons arrived.

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Phew, sorry if it's a bit messy. Had to cover a lot of ground to make it end on a cliff hanger =)

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LAST CHAPTER

[andreafmn]

In the Heat of the Moment | Part 6

Word Count: 9.7K

Pairing: Jake Sully x Fem!Omatikaya!Reader, Neteyam x Fem!Omatikaya!Reader

Story Description: Every month female Omatikayans go through their heat whilst men go through their rut. It’s a time for mates to engage in the most animalistic desires. But when one of the two is gone, it can be a rather painstaking endeavor. With Neteyam gone on a hunting trip, (Y/N) has to go through her heat alone for the first time. Or does she?

Warnings: SMUT (+18, minors DNI), infidelity, p in v sex, face riding, oral (fem and male receiving), very vanilla sex, feels [also: cringe use of the words -> make love to me; sorry but they fit the story 😬]

A/N: read at the end of the story for this last part😬😬 I meant to post this a lot earlier than this but I overexerted myself and had a flare-up that took up a lot of my day, but it's here, it's long, and it might break and mend your heart. Hope you enjoy, and all constructive criticism is encouraged.

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Dedicated to every single person that read, liked, or reblogged this story! It was such a joy to write and I will miss it💖

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In the Heat of the Moment | Part 6

That split second felt too short as the glistening rays of the sun shone on Jake’s eyes. He stirred awake, careful of the body that was cuddled on his. She was still asleep and he did not dare to wake her. Not just yet. 

Her eyelids fluttered as her mind played dreams in her head. She looked peaceful, magnificent, divine. And most importantly, she was still in his arms. (Y/N) belonged to no other man but him. Under the sunlight and the watchful eye of the Tree of Souls, she was his. 

He traced her body with his fingers, barely touching her skin, afraid to wake her. Jake followed the expanse of her skin. From her delicate shoulders to the side of her chest, to the dip of her waist, to the mountain of her hip. Every part of her that he had claimed for himself, but could never truly be his. 

Jake had known from the moment he entered (Y/N)’s nest that night that he could never go back. That she would be the reason for his undoing, dismantling everything he has carefully built with a simple touch. There was no more a beginning or end of who he was with her, he now simply was. He belonged to her, never the other way around. 

Deep down, he knew it would never be that way. Belonging to someone meant giving your entire being to someone, even if they wouldn’t give you theirs. And that’s what he’d done with (Y/N), he’d given everything he was to someone that already belonged to another — he thought he had done the same many years before. 

For that moment, though, he could trick himself into believing she has chosen him. As he stared at her sleeping figure in his arms, he allowed himself to believe that from that night forward they belonged to each other. Maybe then what he was feeling would not be wrong. Even if he hadn’t been her sign, she was his. 

She stirred beside him as sleep left her body. She turned to face him, staring at him through hooded eyes, and she smiled. A smile so bright he felt it warm his body, more than the sun itself. 

“You look as radiant as ever, sevin,” he smiled, caressing and cradling his cheek with his hand. “How did you sleep?” 

“Too comfortably,” she chuckled. “It’s the last day.”

The lingering timer that had been following them since the first day showed, in glowing red numbers, that they had less than twenty-four hours until their world would reset. Every decision they had made would be buried, deeper than six feet under ground. It would be hidden in the deepest, darkest parts of their souls and they would carry it with them for the rest of their lives. 

“You’re right,” he sighed. “But we still have tonight, and I’m gonna make sure it’s a night you’ll never forget, baby girl.” 

“But what happens after, Jake?” (Y/N) looked at him with pleading eyes. “What will happen to us — this — after tonight?”

“We’ll pretend it never happened. We will carry this with us for the rest of our lives,” he said, sadness slipping through his voice. “But we can look back to these moments with fondness and excitement. We will dream about it, we will daydream and pretend. We will be the only ones to know. It will be the souvenir of our time.” 

“Do you think that is possible?” Her yellow eyes stared into his, tears pooling at the corners as her lower lip quivered. “To live with what we’ve done as if we didn’t… do what we did. Could you live with that?” 

“I could,” he responded quickly, no qualms in his voice. “Because I don’t regret a single thing that has happened between you and me, and I never will. I can carry this because I will now and forever yearn for you.” 

“Jake…” (Y/N) sat up, her hands landing comfortingly on his knee as he followed her suit. 

“I probably know what you will say,” he smiled sadly. “But I don’t want to hear it until it’s absolutely necessary. Let me live in this fantasy where you do choose me and we run away together because nothing else matters. Let me just pretend for this last night that it’s me.” 

(Y/N) remained quiet for a moment. It was the first time she was the one wiping away tears from the man’s face. And she finally understood why he didn’t feel burdened by their decisions. Jake did not believe this to be a mistake.

“I couldn’t possibly do that to you, Jake,” she spoke softly, her hand now the one cradling his cheek. “I can’t let you trick yourself into thinking that. It’ll hurt too much in the end. Maybe, last night should be the last time. If you’re feeling this way…”

“No, please,” he interrupted her. “One more night. That’s what we said. The last time and we’ll forget all about each other. Everything will go back to normal.”

“Could you do that? Forget all of this ever happened? Forget the way you feel… a-about me?” 

“Don’t ask me questions you don’t want the answers to.” But her eyes pleaded for an answer. So, he lied. “Yes,” he responded sternly. “I can forget everything that happened.”

“Then I’ll see you tonight,” she breathed in relief before kissing him softly. “Right now, I must meet with Mo’at, and you must prepare for tomorrow’s arrival.”

“Can’t we just stay here for a couple more minutes?”

“You know we can’t,” she chuckled. “Now, up you go. We have work to do today. I know you can hold off until tonight.”

After they parted ways, (Y/N) felt herself implode. Her head was hazy and her stomach was in knots. She felt worry and concern dizzy her mind. She had never wanted for things to get so complicated, emotions to get entwined with the physicality of the moment. 

By the grace of Eywa, her body walked the path to Mo’at’s tent. Her vision was blurred and her breathing was heavy. Jake’s confession had thrown her for a spin. With so few words, he had been able to crumble everything she believed. 

She had gone to sleep trusting that he would give her the perfect solution to their problem. That she could end this journey unscathed and could go on with her life as if nothing had occurred. But he didn’t see it as one. Jake had seen this as an opportunity, and he’d continued to do so. 

The last thing she wanted to do was hurt anyone. At first, she worried only about Neteyam and how he would react if he found out. But she never thought she had to worry about Jake as well. That he would be one of the people to be upset when this was finished. She thought their minds were aligned, but they couldn’t be further from each other. 

“My child, are you alright?” Mo’at called the girl’s attention as she walked through the flaps of the entrance. 

(Y/N) heard her voice far away, even though they were standing almost face-to-face. She tried to speak, but all the sounds got stuck in her throat. Her hands reached out to the woman, needing something —anything— to stabilize her. 

Then everything went black. 

She felt calm, at peace. Surrounded by nothing but darkness and no sense of impending doom. (Y/N) wanted to stay there. It was quiet and comfortable. And she didn’t have to face all the problems she had created for herself. Maybe if she tried hard enough, that’s where she could stay until everything magically resolved itself. 

But a sour smell filled her nose and triggered her head to start waking.

(Y/N) fought it at first. She truly wanted to stay asleep. To forget the reality that she had made for herself. Yet, there was no way to keep running – she couldn’t. Life had a way to catch up whether she wanted it or not. Sooner or later, she would have to confess. At least to Neteyam. 

Her eyes struggled to adjust to the light that flooded her. The warmth of the day was suddenly too overwhelming to her body. She felt suffocated and choked, her breathing staggered and haphazard. It almost felt like bile was threatening to escape her throat. 

“Let it out, my child,” Mo’at cooed. She rubbed the girl’s back comfortingly as (Y/N) emptied the little contents of her stomach into a bowl. “Good, good. Let it all out.” 

(Y/N) coughed as the acidic liquid passed through her. It sloshed in the receptacle beside her until she let out the last drop. She fell back onto the mat once she finished, slowly starting to feel better. She wiped away the beads of sweat that had formed on her forehead. 

“Drink this,” the healer instructed. “It’ll help ease your stomach.”  

“Thank you,” the girl smiled in relief after she downed the liquid that was handed to her. “I have no idea what came over me. I was feeling odd yesterday but nothing to warrant this reaction. I don’t understand.” 

“You were dehydrated, my child. Exhaustion and dehydration.” As the woman spoke, a smile crept onto her face. A smile that the girl mistook for pity. “Well, there is another reason as well.”  

“What is it? Is everything okay?” Worry took over her mind. Every worst-case scenario ran through her head. Maybe this was Eywa’s answer to her prayers. A well-deserved punishment. “Is something wrong?” 

“On the contrary, (Y/N),” the woman beamed. She took the girl’s hands in hers as she braced for the information she was going to share. “These are news to celebrate.” 

“Oh, then, what is it?”

“You are with child, (Y/N),” Mo’at said excitedly. “You are pregnant with the new heir of the Omatikaya clan. Congratulations, sweetheart.” 

A breath hitched in (Y/N)’s throat as the word escaped the healer’s mouth. It took some time for her to process what Mo’at had said. It was almost unbelievable… had it not been for the past few days. If she hadn’t already emptied her stomach seconds before, she was sure she would be doing so at that moment. 

Her hands flew unconsciously to her stomach. Inside, there was a life growing. A life that four days before had no chance of existing. She felt conflicted. Without Jake, there wouldn’t have been cells multiplying inside her. Regardless, it was happening. Her firstborn. 

“There’s a baby growing in here?” (Y/N) worded it as a question, but she knew it was a fact. “I’m going to be a mom.”  

“You are,” Mo’at simpered. “You and Neteyam will be magnificent parents. This child will be brought into a home of love and warmth. They will be strong and talented, just like their parents. This is a blessing from Eywa, my child. She had answered our prayers.” 

“Could you keep this a secret until Neteyam comes back?” the girl blurted. Tears were stinging the back of her eyes, threatening to spill as she felt herself coming loose by the seams. “I want him to hear the news from me. Once he knows, we will announce it to the village.”

“That is completely understandable. A child is a gift to new couples. I understand wanting to relish in this new life by yourselves,” she said. “Consider my lips closed.” 

“Thank you, Mo’at.”

“Why don’t you take the rest of the afternoon off,” the woman continued. “You need the rest.” 

“That would be splendid,” the girl forced a smile. “I will say I am still a bit tired.”

“Of course, my child.” Mo’at helped her up and walked her to the entrance, leaving in her hands a  net filled with utumauti and a vial of water. “Congratulations again, (Y/N). May Eywa continue blessing you.” 

(Y/N) couldn’t leave the tent faster. As soon as the woman disappeared back into the healing tent, the girl took off running. Her mind was going a million miles an hour, faster than any day before. She was unraveling as everything in her world came tumbling down. 

She knew the chances of this happening were high, but she never imagined it would happen. Not this quickly. Neteyam and her had been trying for a whole year, and by the grace of Eywa, his father had done the impossible in a couple of days.

“Maybe it’s not in our journey to have children,” (Y/N) had told Neteyam one night, a week before he left. “Maybe it’s not Eywa’s will for us.” 

He had ran his hands through her hair, brushing it comfortingly as she rested her head on his chest. “Maybe,” he echoed, kissing the top of her head. “Doesn’t mean we can’t keep trying.” 

“Neteyam,” she chuckled. 

“There’s the laugh I was looking for,” he responded. “It’s not like the family name ends with us. We can leave the creation of heirs to Lo’ak. It’s about time he finds himself a mate.”

“I don’t think I could even imagine your brother settling down. He’s only a year younger than us but he’s so childlike.”

“It doesn’t matter, though,” he boasted. “I’ve got the best woman already.”

Worry swirled and hooked its claws into her soul. The very fiber of the morals and rules she had been brought up on had been dismantled by the pleasurable feeling of fulfilled carnal desires. The overwhelming sensation of feeling her body be taken apart and put back together through kisses and touches were far greater than reason. And it was hard to let go of it. 

Everything came into hyperfocus as she sped through the village in search of one man. 

Leaves crunched under her feet, loudly cracking under her quick steps yelling who she searched for. The wind whistled in her ears, whispering all of her mistakes and wrongdoings. She tried to quiet the air, afraid that everyone would know what had happened. But how does one quiet nature? 

Her eyes blurred over as they focused only on one face, everyone around her merely a blue body in her way. Her voice was asking for his name, but her ears could not hear it. Her hands reached for others, but she couldn’t feel them. She knew her body was moving, that her legs were transporting her, but the normal burn that accompanied the movement never came. 

She thought maybe that’s how it felt to be a dream walker. Things happened to your body but it didn’t entirely feel like it was real. She felt as though someone else was in control of her body as her mind watched it all unfold. 

Tears pricked at her eyes and (Y/N) had no idea when she had started to cry. But now, she was more than aware of the streams that fell down her cheeks, falling to the ground as she moved. It made her lungs ache as strangled sobs escaped her at the same time she tried to breathe. The rash influx of every emotion drowned her quickly, taking with them whatever thread was holding her to sanity. 

Suddenly, she crashed into a body and strong arms steadied her. Yet, her eyes could not focus on the figure that held her. All she could do was hold on as her eyes continued their downpour and her lungs pleaded for more air. 

“(Y/N),” they called. The voice felt familiar but so far she could not decipher who it was.” (Y/N). What’s wrong, baby girl? Talk to me.” 

She took a whizzing breath in, the air eating at her bronchioles. Still, she had found him. Somehow in her blinding haze, she had found the only person she could confess all her sins to. The only man that knew the darkest thing she had done because he had been right alongside her to do them. 

In her silence, or rather her futile attempt at speaking, he pulled her from the center. There were too many people and he was sure he knew what was weighing heavy on her heart. It had her panicking once more, trying to cogitate the immorality of their choices. 

He felt bad that she was carrying the whole burden of their wrongdoings on her shoulders whilst he was simply glad he had been able to have the moments they shared. Jake wished he could take all the worry from her brain and carry it himself, untether her from any and all bad sentiments that had planted themselves in her because of him. Because she deserved only happiness and joy to course through her veins. 

“Alright, sweetheart,” he spoke softly. “Breathe with me. Okay? I need you to breathe, beautiful.” 

He placed a comforting hand on her cheek, forcing her eyes to focus on him. He emulated the breathing pattern he wanted her to follow, breathing deeply in through his nose and out through his mouth. He established an easy rhythm allowing her to follow in tandem. 

Their chests rose and fell at the same pace soon enough. The girl settled as she stared into the yellow irises of her father-in-law – now, the biological father of the baby that would grow inside her. She envied his calmness. How he could remain collected as she felt their world was crumbling down around them? 

Her fingers dug into his arm softly, needing the reminder that she was there. That she was in control of her body again. She needed tangible evidence that Jake was standing in front of her and she could breathe again. She could breathe.

Breathe.

Breathe.

Breathe. 

“What is it, baby girl? Huh?” Jake cooed at her. His thumbs caressed her face and memorized the way her eyes fluttered as she melted into his touch. “What’s wrong?” 

“I-I-I,” she stammered. “I just… Mo’at… and now…”

The words were stuck in her throat, clawing at the walls, unwilling to spill out. She could feel as they tried to climb down and settle in the deepest parts of her soul. To join the other secrets that had made their home inside her. 

“Just breathe, (Y/N). Tell me what’s wrong.” 

Unexpectedly, a commotion broke out in the village center. The sounds were unmistakable. Ululations and screams of excitement rang out as the sounds of the flap of various ikrans’ wings filtered through the air. 

The hunting party. They were home early. 

Panic flashed in her eyes as every plan they had crashed into the ground. They were supposed to have one more night, less than twenty-four hours to give themselves closure. They had allowed themselves one more night to live in their fantasy and shut the book for good. 

“It’s okay,” Jake smiled comfortingly as he cleaned her face of any tears. “Everything’s going to be okay.” 

He kissed her forehead before they went separate ways, emerging nto the center by themselves, ready to put on the biggest performance of their lives. 

A group of ten ikrans descended from the sky and landed gracefully on the ground as the tribe cheered for the group of hunters that had come back home. The younger Omatikayas were the first to dismount, their excitement spilling out of them as they searched for their families. Their voices muddled as they recounted stories from the trip, the thrill of their first hunting expedition. 

Suddenly, two more banshees thudded against the hard ground. The duo was unmistakable and, easily, the biggest animals of the group. Between their claws, they carried a net that had landed before them. A net that held a massive srakat, the prized kill of the hunt party. 

Neytiri was the first one off her ikran, flashing the tribe a massive grin as her eyes searched for her family. She nodded toward (Y/N) as her eyes met hers, and the girl swallowed as she returned a smile. But once her gaze fell on her husband’s, her smile grew. The woman raced toward Jake, wrapping her arms tightly around her neck. She pulled him toward her tightly, basking in the warmth of her mate, the man she had missed deeply the time she was away. Unaware of how little he had missed her. 

She was followed by her first son. Neteyam pushed himself off his banshee and his eyes quickly found the eyes of his love. He hurried toward her, ignoring the people that tried to congratulate him on his hunt. He had one thing, and only one thing, on his mind. And it was her, it was always her. 

“(Y/N),” he breathed as he reached her. “Eywa, how I missed you.” 

He placed his hands gingerly on the sides of her face and pulled her to him. Neteyam crashed her lips onto her, trying to convey through the kiss just how much he had missed her. Then, his arms fell from her face to her waist as he twirled her in a tight embrace. 

And though her heart was with him at that moment, feeling as though her being was complete, her eyes were focused on someone else. They were trained on Jake as everything flashed in her head. The yellow irises held all the panic and worry she had been expressing the past few days. They searched his eyes for any sign that everything would resolve itself. That in their silence, life could simply go on. 

“I’ve missed you too, darling,” she whispered to him. “You have no idea how much.” 

Neteyam pulled apart from her, needing to stare into his wife’s eyes, and found tears falling down her cheeks. “Oh, baby, I’m here now,” he smiled as his thumb wiped away the streaks on her skin. “And I’m not leaving you ever again.” 

He kissed her once more on the lips, then the corners of her eyes. His fingers traced the features of her face as if it was the very first time that he had seen her. He studied the lines and dots on her skin, he studied the amber in her eyes, he studied the soft skin of her lips. She was as beautiful as the first time he had seen her. 

“Tonight we celebrate these young hunter’s first prey,” Jake’s voice boomed across the air, calling the focus of every single person in attendance. “ We also celebrate, my son, Neteyam’s courage as he faced a srakat and brought it home. Tonight, we feast!” 

All hands were on deck. The tribe got to work to prepare the center for a revelry. Some started preparations for the food – the hunted meat as well as fruits, vegetables, and fungi to serve with it. Others started building a bonfire where later in the evening the young hunters would retell their stories facing their first mark. They would dance and celebrate, and everything would be perfect. No one would find out the indiscretions of the chief and his daughter-in-law. 

But (Y/N) would and it was already eating at her from the inside out. She helped to the best of her abilities in the preparation of the food as well as the clearing of the village center where the bonfire was being set up. But dread squeezed her heart every time Neteyam would sneak a glance at her and would smirk, or when his hand traced her hip when he passed by her, or when he whispered into her ears that they would have their own kind of celebration after the feast. 

She felt the air leave her lungs every time he was near her with his loving touches and teasing words, with his glances filled with adoration and his mouth spread in a smile. It broke her, how he could continue to love her as she was without knowing what she had done. Living with the secret would end her, but she didn’t know how she could confess. Not when he looked at her the way he did. 

Her head was spinning once more. Even more so surrounded by people celebrating her husband and telling her how lucky she was to have Neteyam for a mate. (Y/N) knew she was lucky. She knew she had struck gold when they had chosen each other as partners. That being with him granted her stature and respect, and that there was no better option for her than him. And four nights of pleasure could take that all away. 

The sun had already set, and the chill of the night was starting to set. Music swirled through the air, mixed with the joyous voices of the Omatikaya and the mouth-watering smells of the food. That night was a sight to behold. The clan joined as they rejoiced and celebrated the up-and-comers and the future Olo’eyktan. 

(Y/N) could not celebrate, though. Not without having a plan. Not until she had a way to continue with her life, with her child’s life. She could not continue with the farçe until everything was laid on the table with the person she had started this. 

Her eyes met his across the bonfire and she motioned for him to join her. From the distance, he could see her eyes were reddened and tears were threatening to spill once more. Jake wanted nothing more than to run to her, wrap her in his arms, and tell her that there was nothing for her to worry about. But he couldn’t. Not in front of the village… not in front of his wife. 

As (Y/N) started to walk away, getting lost in the sea of people, he knew exactly where she was going. He kissed Neytiri’s cheek and excused himself, claiming he would be going around to talk to the families of each of the new hunters. She smiled in return, continuing to speak with another woman. 

Disappearing between the people as the girl had done proved to not be difficult. Everyone was moving around, impossible to keep still. It was a celebration at the end of the day. He followed the step he knew she had taken, walking slyly down the path. It had become second nature to him, the journey to his salvation. 

Jake could hear her sniffling before he entered the tent and he felt his heart sink. Her pain destroyed him, and him being the reason for it finished him. Happiness was all he ever wanted for her, even if it wasn’t with him – though he hoped that she would want it with him. A small part of him still prayed that she chose him in the end. 

“What’s wrong, baby girl?” he cooed as soon as he entered the nest. “What did you have to say?” 

“I’m scared, Jake,” she croaked out. “Things have gotten so messed up and I don’t know what to do. I’m so lost. And now…” 

“What happened, (Y/N)? What’s changed since this morning?” 

The same panic that had overtaken her hours before pinched her insides. It cut off her air supply and she felt herself growing faint. But she couldn’t keep running. Not anymore. Not when there were no more nights to wait for, no more mornings to sleep on it. She had to do it here and now. 

“I had been feeling sort of ill since yesterday, but it was nothing to worry about,” she started. “This morning, when I got the healing tent, I fainted.” 

“Are you okay? Mo’at didn’t say anything.” 

“Everything’s okay. It was only dehydration and exhaustion,” she calmed him. (Y/N) stared at her fingers, suddenly far more interesting than holding Jake’s line of sight. “But she did tell me some news.” 

“(Y/N), please,” he groaned. “You’re killing me here.” 

“She told me I was pregnant, Jake,” she whimpered. “And I’m certain that it’s your child.” 

Silence fell upon them and (Y/N) was sure he would curse her out. That what he had promised the first night they had been together, had spilled out in the heat of the moment. That everything they had gone through had been done simply in the heat of the moment. 

Instead, he planted a passionate kiss on her lips and twirled her in an embrace. He peppered her face with kisses, tasting in his lips the saltiness of her tears. He kissed until there was nothing left and his mouth to her neck, where he kissed until she laughed. 

“Jake,” she chuckled. “Jake, stop.” 

“Here,” he said, placing a hand on the valley of her stomach. “It’s my child.” 

“Yes, Jake,” she smiled sadly. “And this is not something I can hide from anyone. This is not something I can hide from Neteyam.” 

He could see the despair in her eyes and once more he wished he was the one carrying all that guilt. He wanted his eyes to be the ones crying those tears for her. He wanted his heart to feel the pang of fear hers did. He wanted all the pain to be felt by him, and only him. 

“Then, let’s run away,” he blurted. “Let’s leave right now. Just you, me, and our baby.” 

“No, Jake. That’s not the solution. You can’t do that to your family – your children. And I can’t do that to Neteyam,” she cried. “I’ll just have to tell him the truth and… I don’t know, hope.” 

“What happens if he rejects you, (Y/N)? What happens if Neteyam can’t live with what we’ve done and casts you aside?” 

“Then, I accept the consequences of my actions. It wouldn’t be wrong of him to do so.” 

“But I’m giving you a way to not have to go through more pain, sevin,” he countered. “I’m giving you an easy escape here. A way for us to be together without any trouble – the three of us. Don’t you want that?” 

“You already know what –who– I want, Jake. This should have never happened, and I should not have allowed this to go on for this long,” she responded. “I never meant for you to feel this way. Not about me. I thought…”

“Don’t ask me to regret this, (Y/N). Don’t ask me to repent over what happened between us,” he pleaded. His eyes kept searching hers for the answer he wanted. That, maybe, in the deepest parts of her soul, she wanted him just as much as he did. “Don’t ask me to give you up without a fight.” 

“I was never yours to fight for, Jake. Not in the way you want,” she said. “I gave you my body in the most desperate time in my life, and for reasons beyond me, I kept giving it to you. But it was only that. I can’t give you my heart because it belongs to someone else.” 

“He couldn’t even give you the one thing you wanted more in this world!” he cried. Tears fell from his eyes as desperation coursed through his veins. “You even told me he couldn’t touch you in the ways that you wanted. It was me, (Y/N). I showed you everything you could have. Everything you can still have. All you have to do is choose me.” 

“And, what, you leave your family behind? Your children? Your wife? They don’t deserve that, Jake. They need you.” 

“They have their mother and they’ll have their brother,” he retorted. “It can be as easy as that, (Y/N). You, me, and our baby against the world.” 

“I can’t do that to them,” she lamented. “I can’t let you do that either.” 

There was so much distress that surrounded them, clutching at their lungs and their hearts. There had been so many words unsaid, left for a later time, and they came bursting out. Neither of them wanted to hurt the other, to break their hearts. But they had tried too hard to keep things buried and they had festered for far too long. 

“Then say it’s his,” he let out dryly. “Make him think the baby is his. And we can keep going as though nothing has happened. We will forget we were together –that it all started with your heat, devolving in more– and we will take it all to our graves that the child is mine. I can let go that you don’t want me, but I can’t lose you completely. I won’t let that happen.” 

���I don’t want to keep lying to him, Jake. He deserves better than that –better than me.” 

“There’s no one better than you, oeyä hì’i ‘awpo. If there was no Mother Goddess on my Earth, I’d believe it was you. If I had not met Eywa on this planet, I’d believe it was you,” he spoke in devotion. “So, please, grant me this prayer. And maybe I can go back to my life.”

(Y/N) kept quiet as she drank in his words. They pricked at her heart as she muttered her apologies to him quietly. She was breaking his heart, and she was hurting someone she cared for. “Alright,” she sighed. “I’ll tell him that the baby is his, and that will be the end of us.” 

Though his heart had been shattered, Jake wanted nothing more than to be close to her again. They were supposed to have one more night together and he had the opportunity to do just that. He snaked his hands to her cheeks, committing to memory the warmth of her skin, and pressed his lips to hers. 

“Jake,” she muttered against him. “You have to stop.” 

“One more night,” he responded. “We were supposed to have one more night.” 

“Stop, Jake,” she repeated as his kisses didn’t relent. “We don’t have one more night. It’s over.”

“Please, sevin. Just one more.” 

“No, Jake. We can’t. You need to go.” 

“Get your hands off my fucking wife,” a voice grumbled. 

***

Neteyam had been searching for his wife for the better part of the bonfire, but no one had seen her in some time. He looked through the crowd twice, but could not find her beautiful face. The face he looked for in his darkest times, the face that brought her peace and solace with a simple look. 

He was in love with her since the moment he knew what love was. He knew she was his past, his present, and his future. That nothing could ever push them apart. 

“Yo, little bro, have you seen (Y/N)? I can’t find her anywhere.” 

“Check your nest, dude. She’s probably there,” he waved him off, too engrossed in whatever game he was playing. “She’s been tired these past couple of days.”

“Alright, thanks.” 

He ran in the direction of their tent, eager to find his wife in the privacy of their home. Hopefully, he’d find her still awake and they could have some private fun. He had spent six days without her and his body could feel it. His arousal had pent up and he needed to let it out. For the past few days, all he could do was think of (Y/N). The swell of her breasts, the dip of her waist, the rise of her hips, and the sweet, warm embrace of her insides. 

It wasn’t just the physicality of the moment. He needed her like he needed to breathe. He needed to hear her laugh, to see her smile, to fall asleep in her arms, he needed all of her – heart, body, and soul. The same way he was sure she needed him too. 

But he could have never imagined he would hear what he did when he reached the tent. A mind-shattering confession that made his blood boil. 

“Then say it’s his,” Neteyam heard his father say. “Make him think the baby is his. And we can keep going as though nothing has happened. We will forget we were together –that it all started with your heat, devolving in more– and we will take it all to our graves that the child is mine. I can let go that you don’t want me, but I can’t lose you completely. I won’t let that happen.” 

“I don’t want to keep lying to him, Jake. He deserves better than that –better than me.” 

“There’s no one better than you, oeyä hì’i ‘awpo. If there was no Mother Goddess on my Earth, I’d believe it was you. If I had not met Eywa on this planet, I’d believe it was you,” his father spoke in devotion. “So, please, grant me this prayer. And maybe I can go back to my life.”

After a moment of silence, (Y/N) responded. “Alright,” she sighed. “I’ll tell him that the baby is his, and that will be the end of us.” 

Then, he heard a kiss. Followed by another and another. 

“Jake,” she muttered. “You have to stop.” 

“One more night,” he responded. “We were supposed to have one more night.” 

“Stop, Jake,” she repeated as his kisses didn’t relent. “We don’t have one more night. It’s over.”

“Please, sevin. Just one more.” 

“No, Jake,” she cried. “ We can’t. You need to go.” 

Neteyam couldn’t hold it in anymore and slipped into the tent. His hands were balled into fists and his teeth were gritted as he grumbles, “Get your hands off my fucking wife.” 

(Y/N) and Jake startled and jumped apart, fear flashing through their eyes. This was it. Neteyam had found out the truth in the worst way possible and they were sure this was the end for the both of them. 

Instead, he stepped between his wife and his father, a hand protectively in front of her. “I think she’s said her piece,” he said. “(Y/N) has asked you to leave.”

“What’re you gonna do, Neteyam?” Jake spoke. “Look, son, I don’t know what you think you’ve heard, but…”

“I heard that you fucked my wife,” he snarled. “That you took advantage of the fact that she was in heat to fuck her. And now she’s pregnant.” 

“Nete,” she breathed. She placed a hand on his outstretched arm, making his head snap back, his eyes softening as he looked into hers. 

“And… she had asked you to leave.” 

“I won’t,” Jake dared. “That child she’s carrying is mine.”

“No, dad. It’s mine,” he growled. “Everything that happens to her, happens to me. Every fiber of her being belongs to me, just like I belong to her. Nothing that you did will ever erase that. You may have fathered this baby, but I’m the one that will raise them. I’m the one they will call father. That child is more mine than it will ever be yours.” 

“(Y/N), please,” he pleaded to her. “We can…”

“Not another word, dad,” Neteyam spat. “Here’s what’s gonna happen,” he took a deep breath and continued. “You’re gonna leave our nest and go back to the bonfire. You will go back to your wife and your children, and you will enjoy the rest of the night. After that, you’ll never speak of this event again. You won’t even mutter about it in your sleep. You will only speak to (Y/N) when absolutely necessary. If not, you’ll tell me. This child will be ours and that’s what they will know. You will be a proud grandparent and nothing more. They will carry the family name, but not because of you. It will be because of me. (Y/N) is my wife, and she is my family. You will never interfere again. Do I make myself clear?” 

“(Y/N)...” 

“I said, am I clear, dad?” 

“Crystal,” Jake spat. 

“Good.” Neteyam gifted him a spine-chilling smile. “Now go enjoy the rest of your evening.”

Jake tried to catch another glimpse at (Y/N) but his son stood in the way. So, he admitted defeat, and with slumped shoulders, he left the tent, and his heart, behind. At any other moment, he would have been proud that Neteyam had stood up to him. But he was taking everything from him. His newfound reason for being, his heart, and his child. An ending to his and (Y/N)’s story he could have never imagined. 

The moment Neteyam was sure his father was far away, he turned to his wife, his gaze softening once more as he looked at her. She looked frail, defeated, and it saddened him. The last thing he ever wanted was to see her in pain. 

“I’m sorry, Nete,” she broke down, slumping against his chest. His arms tightened around her in a comforting embrace and he lovingly shushed her as she repeated the same words. “I’m so sorry.” 

“You have nothing to be sorry about, my love,” he comforted her. “This… this is all my fault.”

“How could it be your fault, Nete?” she sobbed. “You haven’t done anything wrong. Ever.”

“You were supposed to go on the trip with us,” he sighed. “Mom told me to ask you, but I thought you wouldn’t want to come. Since we had that talk a week before we left, I thought it would have been best for you to take this time to rest.” 

“Nete…”

“Instead, I left you here, vulnerable and alone.”

“I’m not innocent in this, Nete,” she stated, locking her eyes on his. “I could have stopped at any point, but I didn’t. And now we’re in this mess because of me.”

“It’s only a mess if we let it be,” he responded. “I meant what I said, baby. I will raise this child because it is a part of you and you belong to me as I belong to you. One mate, for the rest of my life. Our souls are bound together for eternity, (Y/N). No matter what.” 

“I don’t deserve you, Nete. And you deserve better than me, than what I’ve done to you.” 

“Oel ngati kameie, (Y/N).”

“Oel ngati kameie, Nete,” she smiled between tears. “I love you.” 

“I love you more,” he chuckled, kissing her temple. “I love you more than life itself. I love you, I love us, and I love the life that is growing inside you.” 

He pressed his lips softly onto hers, his hands cradling her jaw. Neteyam pulled her close, his body flush with hers. He wanted to comfort her. Even at that moment, he could not think of anything other than her solace. His heart had broken at her infidelity, yes. But he was angrier at the fact that he had left her and that he wasn’t doing enough to keep her body. 

“Show me,” he mumbled against her lips, a grin spreading across his face. “Show me what you need, baby.”

“W-what?”

“I want to give you everything and more than what he gave you,” he breathed. “So, tell me and show me what you need.”

“Nete…” 

“Please, my love. I want nothing more than to please you,” he groaned. “I want to find all the places he did and claim them back. I want to discover all the places he didn’t and leave my mark. I want your body to belong to me as it once did.”

(Y/N) took her lower lip between her teeth. How could he still want her? How could he stand before her and speak words of love when all she’d done was take him for granted? She wasn’t sure if it hurt more that she had done what she did or that he could so easily forgive her. 

But as his lips took hold of her lips, then her jaw and her neck, she couldn’t help the pooling between her legs that grew in tandem. There was something different in his kisses, a different kind of passion than the one she shared with Jake. It wasn’t fevered. It was natural and welcoming, it simply felt right. 

She took his hand in hers, guiding it to where she needed him the most. “Here,” she breathed as his fingers traced her loincloth. “I need you here.” 

With her free hand, she untied her garment, baring herself in front of him as she had done many times before. Yet, it felt like the first time. Their chance to renew and start over. She guided his hand, whispering in his twitching ears what to do with his fingers.

“Like this?” Neteyam whispered as he did as told. Always the perfect rule follower. “Is this what you need?” 

“Yes,” she moaned. 

His fingers grazed over the aching bundle of nerves, teasing and learning her. He stared at every reaction from her, no matter how minuscule. Neteyam traced her, grazing over the bud, using her wetness to glide over it. He drew shapes and added pressure. He studied her sounds, edged on by her beautiful melody. 

“Don’t stop, Nete,” she mewled. “I’m close.” 

His smirk grew as she moaned against him. Her fingernails trailed his arms, looking for any form of stability. She was unraveling under his touch, coming undone by the agility of his fingers. A skill she had yet to experience from him, but he had already proven to be a fast learner. He moved as though he’d done it a million times before. As though he knew all along what she needed and had been waiting for her to request it. 

With the right pace and the correct among of pressure, (Y/N) was moaning out his name and growing weak at the knees. Her nails dug into his skin as she grew weak, holding onto the only thing she could. Her breath hitched in her throat, unable to steady her breathing. It was like the very first time she had felt this sensation – double the pleasure. 

“Very good, baby,” he cooed in her ear as he peppered her face with soft kisses. “What else? What else do you want?” 

Through hooded eyes, she smiled at him. She got down on her knees softly, never breaking her gaze from his eyes. She untied his loincloth, allowing his erection to spring free. Her hand grasped him by the end of his shaft and he followed every move she made. From the kisses she placed on his stomach to the way her tongue lolled out of her mouth to lick a stripe from the base to the tip, a move that had him sucking in a breath. 

(Y/N) opened her mouth, stretching to allow his length to fully enter her. She lowered her head softly, twirling her tongue against the skin as she took him completely. She hollowed her cheeks and bobbed her head, moving at a painfully slow pace, teasing him to speak up. Because just as much as he wanted to please her, she wanted to please him. To unlock the deepest desires of his body. To give herself completely to him. 

“Oh, Eywa,” he groaned. “That tongue.”

She chuckled against him, sending reverberating vibrations rippling through his body. His hands landed on her hair. In complete juxtaposition to his father, he brushed her hair lovingly, keeping it off her face as he let her set the speed she desired. 

His eyes rolled to the back of his head as he could feel the tightness in the pit of his stomach grow. Between the sight of his wife on her knees for him and the way she used her mouth around him, he knew there was no chance for him to last long enough. His breathing grew staggered as his sensitiveness heightened 

With the expertise she had acquired, it didn’t take more than a few bobs of her head to have Neteyam spilling his release inside her as he let out a guttural moan. But he grew impatient with being so far from her. He pulled her to her feet and crashed his lips onto hers, using her surprise to slip his tongue into her mouth. He tasted himself in her mouth, the salty essence of his release still present in her. 

She moaned against him, her arousal reaching unfathomable levels. (Y/N) felt as though she was going in heat once more, her hunger insatiable and untamable. She felt warmth rushing through her, making her skin feel like it was on fire. She needed more, she needed everything, she needed all of him. 

Their kiss grew hungrier as their hands searched each other’s bodies. Neteyam removed her necklace, exposing the last bit of her to him. He kissed her jaw, then her neck, and kept traveling to the mounds of her breasts. 

“There,” she breathed. “Kiss me there.” 

He smirked at her and took one of her stiffened peaks into his mouth. He ran his tongue flat against one as his hand pinched and tweaked the other. He hollowed his cheeks just as she had done with him, and circled her. He lapped until a string of moans fell from her throat and her hands nestled between the strands of his hair. He switched from one mound to the other, neither was left unattended for more than a few seconds. 

“Nì'ul, Nete,” she whimpered. “Oe kin nì’ul.” 

“Pseng, (Y/N)?” he murmured. “Peng oe pseng.”

Instead of using her words, (Y/N) guided him toward the mat, laying him completely flat on his back. She grinned mischievously at him as she crawled over him, her legs on either side of his chest.

“There is something I wanted to try,” she confessed meekly. “Something I’ve never done before.”

“Anything you want, baby,” he grinned. “I like where your head is at. Now come here.” 

Neteyam curled his arms around her thighs and guided her to his face. Although it was a position that was new to them, he was guided by carnal instinct. He breathed her in, her scent as familiar as the day he knew what it meant. He stared at her wetness for a moment, admiring the pulsing core in his gaze before he attached his mouth to it. 

He ran the tip of this tongue from her folds, parting them and tasting her essence, to her clit, where he remained. He swirled against the bud, reveling in the sounds that were expelled from her body. As he listened to the sweet harmony, his tongue journeyed from the swollen mound to her entrance, pushing through and exploring her insides. 

(Y/N) let out a strangled breath as her husband’s tongue pierced her. He pistoned into her at a teasing rate, chuckling as she groaned. He was exploring her, learning of her from the inside out. But, once he added his thumb and circled her clit, the girl was screaming in pleasure. 

At the rate he was going, it was no surprise when she was spilling all over his tongue a few seconds later. Her weight fell onto his face, the pleasure too much as her body shook. The suddenness of her contact took the breath out of Neteyam’s lungs, making him moan at the sensation. A sound that ran through her body, making her grow more aroused, even in her starting stage of exhaustion. 

“I need you, Nete,” she keened. “I need to feel you inside.”  

“Me too, baby,” he answered as she climbed down his body, her face close enough to kiss. “I will claim you the same way I did when we got married. Just like the same way when we promised ourselves to each other before Eywa.” 

At the memory of that night, tears fell from (Y/N)’s eyes. It was a reminder of the vow she had broken, the one rule Na’vi mates lived by. She remembered saying those words, promising Neteyam that she would give herself completely to him and only him. But she had gone back on that statement for a few days of pleasure. 

“No, baby, don’t cry,” he comforted. Neteyam sat up, sliding her body down to his lap, and wrapped her in a warm embrace. His cock very prominently pressed against their stomachs, a fact he was trying to ignore. “I said that because I want this moment to feel just like we felt that day. I want to erase everything that happened these past few days and replace it with the memory of us. With the feeling of my cock deep inside you.”

“I’m sorry, Neteyam,” she whispered against his neck. “I’m sorry for being so weak.” 

“No, (Y/N). You are not weak. You’re the strongest woman I know,” he said before he kissed her lips tenderly. “The most beautiful.” Another kiss. “The most perfect woman I have ever laid eyes on.”

“Make love to me, Nete,” she cried. “Make me forget there was ever anyone else inside me.” 

He kissed her deeply once more before moving her to align himself with her entrance. But before sinking onto his length, (Y/N) took hold of both of their queues. As she lowered her body onto his, the tendrils at the ends of their braid made their connection. 

They both gasped deeply at the overwhelming touch. It was what was always missing for (Y/N), the spiritual connection that bonded their hearts and souls together. A feeling that overtook every other sensation in their bodies. It synched the beating of their hearts, their breathing, their thoughts. It was a promise not only to themselves but to the Mother Goddess that their entire beings belonged to her creation. 

“Oel ngati kameie, (Y/N),” Neteyam breathed. 

“Oel ngati kameie, Neteyam,” she muttered in reply. 

(Y/N) was the first to move, her hips grinding down on his lap, the initial pain of the stretch gone in the blink of an eye. In its stead was the feeling of fullness –completeness. This was the reason it felt good with Jake, but it never felt quite right. The older Sully did not complete her, and he never would. He was experienced in the art of sex and he had been able to teach her things she never thought imaginable. But she simply could not give him her heart because it did not belong to her anymore. 

Neteyam spoke her name like a prayer, the only word that could guide him to salvation. She was the air in his lungs, the blood in his veins, the thoughts in his head. (Y/N) was his everything and he could never stand to lose her to anyone. He would show her every day of their lives why their lives had been entwined. 

With Neteyam, there was no learning the areas inside her that had her screaming and squirming. He knew exactly what to do, the right buttons to push. He knew where to kiss, where to nip, where to thrust.  

At that moment she understood. The reason she had needed so much from Jake was not that Neteyam was lacking, it was because she could not live with just the physical connection. (Y/N) truly yearned for the way souls connected in the act. He may have known how to fuck her and get her to finish, but she did not see him. 

This is what her heart truly yearned for. Her and Neteyam’s bodies were connected, in more ways than one. They fell into a perfect rhythm, their moves perfectly choreographed, the pace beautifully synchronized. At that moment, they were one. 

“I’m close, baby,” he groaned into her neck, their bodies flush in a tight embrace. “I’m so close.” 

“Me too,” she groaned. “Just… keep going.” 

His hips met hers, his cock pressing on the most sensitive part of her insides. They were breathless, panting as they chased together their finish. A couple of more angled thrusts and their releases were mixing deep inside her. It felt like electricity coursing through them, passing through their limbs until it finished where they were joined. 

(Y/N) slumped against her husband, her lips leaving soft kisses against his neck as Neteyam kissed the tears that had fallen unconsciously away. Still connected, the pair lay on their mat as the exhaustion of the night started to wrap its claws around them. 

“I don’t want you to ever feel sorry for what happened with him,” he whispered to her as he drew comforting circles across her back. “There is absolutely nothing you could do that would ever push me away. At the end of the day, I know you will choose me because I would do the same. You are my reason for living, (Y/N). You are the reason that Eywa allowed my creation. I love you more than I love life itself.”

She kissed him in response. The kind of kiss that mended wounds. The kind of kiss that spoke where words could not. Because it was more than that. It was a promise. That she would be the kind of woman that deserved a love like the one Neteyam was giving her. She would, now and forever, be the woman he was so in love with.

That night was the ending of a sentence and the start of a whole new chapter. They would remember that week as nothing more than a nightmare, a distant memory that could have been just their imagination. Because it could not be real, not to them. 

But for Jake Sully, it would become a constant reminder of what he had grasped so tightly in his hands. It was the realization that his heart beat a different tune than it had decades before. He did love Neytiri. She had given him a new life and she was the mother of his children. There would always be love in his heart for her. But somehow he was no longer in love with her and there was nothing he could do about it. 

Somehow, (Y/N) had made her way into his heart, a place he did not know was vacant. He thought, he prayed, he wished that she would have chosen him. That his fears that she loved his son more than she could want him were not true. He had allowed himself the fantasy that in another life it was her and him and their baby. But it wasn’t real, and it was clear that it never would be. 

She had chosen Neteyam, just as she had said she would. And it shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did. From the beginning, it was just a game to pass her through the week. But in the heat of the moment, love snuck in between and changed the rules. Rules that only affected him, and they would continue to do so for the rest of his life.

A/N: I'm lying, this is not the last part. There's an epilogue coming in a few hours cause it's already 1 am where I am😈😈 it's short but it's worth it! honestly thought I'd be able to post both today but I'm exhausted

Taglist: @uwunuggetchan @ellabellabus07 @sweetllamaparadise @crazy4books1 @jake-sullys-whore @saltedcoffeescotch @laylasbunbunny @atxara

Next -> (posted at 2:30 am)

[eskewcity]

Eskewcity's Top Ten Games of 2023

Hello!!! I've decided to compile a list of the best games I played this past year. As such, this list is not limited to only 2023 releases (in fact a majority of the games I played are several years old atp). Additionally, I only considered games that I had completed by year's end. This means that fantastic games such as Signalis and The Talos Principle 2 will not be included, though I still highly recommend them.

Finally, I will put my ranking under a read more for the sake of not clogging anyways dash. Hope you all had a good 2023 and maybe can find something that interests you mwah <3

10. Subway Midnight by Bubby Darkstar

Board the train! Run away from a weirdo! Solve some puzzles! Make friends with some ghosts! Try not to become a ghost yourself!

While I am not someone usually willing to gloss over a somewhat lackluster story for the sake of gorgeous visuals, I will give Subway Midnight an exception. Even with a game that largely takes place in a subway car, it was exceptional when it came to its visual design. It has a blend of a cartoonish style for the characters mixed with extremely realistic environments. The gameplay itself was also quite fun, if not tedious in multiple runs and I really enjoyed the variety of characters that players encounter.

9. Broken Reality by Dynamic Media Triad

A humorous adventure set in a 3D parody of the internet. Diverse puzzles, beautiful worlds, friends, experiences, upgrades and more, await those who 'log on'!

Depending on yourself, Broken Reality might either be a headache inducing cacophony of colors or a fun exploration game about the internet and the commercialization of products and each other. For myself, I choose to look at it from the latter perspective. I found the game to put quite humorous and I really enjoyed all the different worlds to explore. Much like Subway Midnight, I would not recommend it much on its story but I think the design and concept certainly carries where that lacks.

8. Hylics by Mason Lindroth

Hylics is a recreational program with light JRPG elements.

At its core, Hylics is a game with a pretty simple concept. Fight your way through the world with the end goal of defeating the big bad, Gibby, King of Moon. However past that, get ready for a confusing and abstract adventure. This accounts for several reasons. For one, the dialogue of Hylics consists of randomly generated sentences that feel almost coherent while maintaining a healthy amount of head scratching. The game was also created through claymation leading to characters and environments whose shapes twists and turn in perplexing patterns. While this may seem to take away from the experience, I found this not to be the case at all. In fact, I would say it enhanced my time playing greatly. I could not stop thinking about Hylics after I played it simply because its weird and purposely lacks focus which makes it all the more memorable.

7. Babbdi by Sirius & Léonard Lemaitre

BABBDI is a short, first person exploration experience with light narrative and platforming elements. Visit the town of BABBDI, a forsaken district in the outer ring of the megalopolis. Meet its inhabitants and discover how to escape.

In Babbdi, your goal is to leave Babbdi. You must search through the city to find a train ticket that can guarantee your escape. However, the ironic part of playing this game was that I did not rush to leave. While being a free-to-play game, it had an incredibly sizable area to explore. The game actively encourages the player to search every inch of city to find its secrets while also reminding the player that their goal is to eventually leave all of this behind. If you have an hour or so to spare and love games focused more on exploration than action, this is definitely one to check out!

6. Who's Lila? by Garage Heathen

A reverse-detective adventure, where you control your character's face

In Who's Lila, you play as a young man named Will who cannot properly control the expressions on his face. As the player, your job is to ensure that he reacts properly to the world around him. The game even starts with a tutorial on how to respond accordingly to a variety of situations. While a seemingly simple concept, this game is not as it may appear. In fact, and without giving much away, Who's Lila requires multiple playthroughs to order to begin to piece together what is truly going on.

5. Hypnospace Outlaw by Tendershoot

Greetings Enforcer, and thank you for enlisting in the Hypnospace Patrol Department! As the world falls into its slumber, Hypnospace becomes a bustling global village. These virtual streets aren't going to police themselves!

Taking place in 1999, Hypnospace Outlaw tasks you as a moderator for a new form of technology which allows users to surf the internet in their sleep. As the player, you're tasked with seeking out policy violations and handing out warnings and even banning users, if necessary. There is so much about this game I can say but I find going in blind is the best. I definitely found some frustrations which some of the puzzles and how obtuse their solutions were but its undeniably one of the most unique games I have ever played.

4. Return of the Obra Dinn by Lucas Pope

Return of the Obra Dinn is a first-person mystery adventure based on exploration and logical deduction.

In Return of the Obra Dinn, is a mystery game where you not only have to determine the fates of one person, but an entire ship's crew. Additionally, you have to determine the names of each individual based on existing records. By going in the past to witness the last moments of each individual, players can be able to slowly work out the mystery of the Obra Dinn. As someone who plays many puzzle games, I found this to be one of the most satisfying I've ever played. I also thought the game just looked gorgeous and was extremely fitting for the vibe it was going with.

3. Papers Please by Lucas Pope

Congratulations. The October labor lottery is complete. Your name was pulled. For immediate placement, report to the Ministry of Admission at Grestin Border Checkpoint. An apartment will be provided for you and your family in East Grestin. Expect a Class-8 dwelling.

As a border patrol officer, your job is determine the legitimacy of the documents that are brought to you by people wishing to enter the country of Arstotzka. This requires things such checking if their paperwork has expired, if they match their passport photo and if they have the necessary seals for entry. However, what if someone comes to the border fearing for their safety if they are denied, without the correct paperwork? Will you let them in, risking punishment for yourself or deny them, ensuring that you will able to provide for your family at home? Papers Please is a game that will continuously make you question your own ethics under a authoritarian regime. I found this game to be incredibly emotional and made me replay several days simply because I decided against my initial judgments. Certainly one of the most impactful games I played this year.

2. Presentable Liberty by Wertpol

You have been imprisoned without being told why. All you can hear day in day out is the faint ticking of a clock in your cell. That is, until the first of 5 fateful days begins.

Sometimes there are short indie games in the world that fundamentally change you and this is one of them for me. With that in mind, there is not much I want to say about Presentable Liberty since I find its best experienced blind. The short of it is you play as a prisoner as they receive letters from those on the outside. The gameplay is minimal since the player is stuck in their cell for the majority of the game but promise you when I say it does not much that action when its biggest strength comes from its writing. While this game had its short lived success on Youtube, I implore everyone out there to play it and see why I choose to rank it this high on the list.

1. Cry of Fear by Team Psykskallar

Cry of Fear is a psychological single-player and co-op horror game set in a deserted town filled with horrific creatures and nightmarish delusions. You play as a young man desperately searching for answers in the cold Scandinavian night, finding his way through the city as he slowly descends into madness.

Honestly, it's insane it took me so long to play this game especially when loving a piece of media that's a psychological horror featuring a depressed character wandering a city is kind of what I'm known for. However, I finally got around to it and I'm so glad I did. While not the most technically savvy game out there, it is incredible what Team Psykskallar managed to pull off while offering players the opportunity to experience the entire thing for free. Several times throughout playing Cry of Fear I couldn't stop thinking how much better it was than many of the games I've paid for. Like I said, its definitely not the most polished horror game out for sure but damn was I charmed. Even after I completed this game, I immediately had to restart so I could play with director's commentary as I was just that damn interested in learning about as much of this game's development as I could. And its because of how invested I got in playing this game but also its background, that I choose to make it my number 1 pick this year.

(fuck that train level though)

[idalenn]

Day 14 - Telling

Venat finally allows Lillian to heal her following their previous bout, and emotions leading up to their fight come spilling out. (6.0)

Major characters: Warrior of Light, Venat, Meteion, Hythlodaeus Note: Descriptions of injuries, spoilers for a particular character death in Heavensward, First Person POV, some funky formatting in one section if you're reading this on Tumblr/on mobile/not Ao3.

Full text below the cut

Grimacing, Venat lifted her arm to allow me closer. Along the ribs of her robe was a line of smeared rust-brown, a light copper tang wafting from the red wetly dotting along the centrum like teardrops soaked into parchment. As I crouched there, wondering, of how I might preserve her dignity in front of Meteion and Hythlodaeus, if such a need even bore considering, given what I’d learned of the ancients, the sullied white cloth rippled before my eyes and parted to allow me perceive the damage’s full extent. A sour smell struck my nose; I tasted humidity on my tongue.

An inflamed laceration, burning red, ran along the cage of Venat’s chest. Thick webbing of veins pulsed in the borders of the damaged flesh. Remnants of an attempt to heal, I suspect, disrupted by ancient and primal will. From its mouth wept drops either a sickly yellow or were tinged with scarlet. The corner of the swollen lips leaked a thin rivulet of blood.

To think the combined aether of Emet-Selch and Ramuh had proven so effective.

Gerolt would be giddy. The Adjudicator had split the ancient’s seemingly invulnerable hide easily as any and inflicted more damage in the breadth of a heartbeat than my magic and fists combined across our spar. Had I not made my intent blatantly obvious at so crucial a moment and therefore warned her to turn the attack…

“Were you to gawk at mine injuries,” Venat hissed. Strain had thatched a nest in her voice. “Remedy what you’ve dealt me as promised.” Shade from Elpis’ trees cut across her form, blackened the shadows pooling beneath those piercing eyes hobbled with pain. And, for me, revulsion.

White aether surged around my palms. From sternum to back, the trail of damage dealt me sung reminder of the telling blow that had almost claimed us both. My own prodigious aether had been too poor an amount. An entire field’s worth had withered into dust to preserve me, trees, fruits, beasts, and insects all. Healing this scratch should be comparably small in cost – should being the operative word. “Stand back,” I urged the others. Meteion hurried behind Hythlodaeus to clutch at his robes. A kinder hand than mine patted her head. Facing Venat, her skin veiled in moisture, I planted my hands on the wound to a murmur of distress.

Close. Close, I willed, exhaling as the wave of fatigue struck heavier than I’d predicted: enough to feel a bell’s worth of hiking across the Shroud.Nothing so intense as to necessitate drawing more aether from the land, however. Venat’s flesh rolled back together forming a hill stained red and bruised before a healthy tone seeped in, the path cut by the Adjudicator filled solid and smooth as the webbing of veins dissolved into the new, unblemished skin. A sigh of relief left Venat’s mouth.

“Never in my time have I suffered a wound similar. From the minute to the incapacitating, none have ever refused my touch.” Though her gaze looked to the trees above, I could still feel a touch of its held malevolence. “Not once.”

“The staff I carry negates the body’s ability to heal itself.”

She swallowed, eyes refusing to meet mine – understandably so. “Yet you are capable of mending what I cannot. How is this?”

I offered a shrug. “White magic differs from yours, I suppose. As I’ve come to understand, the means of healing through conjury are rendered ineffective by certain powers, as is the body’s own methods of which conjury is intended to bolster using small amounts of aether siphoned from the land. White magic, however, steals exorbitant amounts instead to alleviate the strain on the body, often requiring their wielder’s own aether – their life force – in tandem.”

Venat nodded. “You avert your weapon’s inimical nature by providing an alternate means to sustain separate from the process it inhibits.”

“Precisely.”

“At the cost of your own life.”

“’Tis only a risk to overdraw from myself. Your wound poses no threat.”

She tapped two fingers against her knee. “But if it were deeper. Higher, perhaps. Skewered a rib and ripped it from me; you would fare poorly.”

“Well enough. Farce or no, Elpis is abound with aether for my use, so unless we were both dying –” I stop myself. With her wound almost gone, the last I needed was to become agitated. “Capable of saving another from the clutch of death, strength enough so reliance will imbalance the star: that is white magic.” When my hand finally dimmed, I gave Venat’s wound one last inspection, prodding where the flesh had previously smiled. No bruise; no mess. A satisfactory work.

“But not all. Not all can be saved.”

Venat cocks her head at the speaker. A familiar lump coalesces in my throat, and I pause. The sun has dipped low on the horizon, turning the sky orange as flame. A frigid wind had begun to gnaw. In hindsight, I should have demanded Hythlodaeus drag that child away.

“Meteion?” He asks.

“Because in doing so,” that warbling child’s voice finished, “…you would have died.” Her words brought the world to a crawl. No longer was I breathing air so much as inhaling a clear, viscous syrup, a sharp pang in my airway as it started to tighten. Will you never listen to what I ask, about keeping yourself from my head?

I was there again, kneeling on the mosaic stones, his chest rent and weeping warm over my hands. Smile splattered with red.

“His death is on my hands.” The words escape before I think to stop them.

“Come now, that’s less than correct,” Hythlodaeus attested, and wrongly. “As I understand events, the wound dealt him would merit a grievous end to any struck and you were unawares of the assailant. Any one of us would do the same for our friend.” (Ancients would gladly sacrifice themselves for comrades.)

“No. That’s not it, not at all.” My voice had become a whisper.

“Enlighten us, then.” Venat’s gaze had softened away anything resembling a once baleful mien, the corners of her eyes crinkling as though she were about to break into sobs. By the Lover, it was pity. How dare she look at me so after what I’ve done. Were I less claimed by despondence those eyes would be left in bloody scraps for the soil.

“Because I looked at my friend… I looked his wounds as he bled into my hands and I, for the first time…” The words were bile in my throat. Hot tears intruded into my vision. How it burned, the cruel pragmaticism.

“I realized the value of my life.”

All of it came rushing back in a blizzard of dragon wingbeats and clamor of armored limbs on stone, our pursuit across a bridge of brick and mortar and centuries of prayer, eyes trained in every direction but the one we were attacked from. Fragments of his shield skated across my face cutting shallow lines from which only one dripped crimson, my ears still ringing with his shout of alarm. I was blinded; my vision naught but a taut white thread, but I could smell him burn. Bleed. Cauterizing. The stones shone white where bones should have glistened, where crimson should have flown.

“Help him!”

“What are you doing?”

“Have you lost your senses? Why have you stopped?”

“He’s gone pale…”

“Was she caught, too?”

But… if I continue…

“Move her aside! Lay a hand here. And another here!

“Lord Haurchefaunt!”

“We must away.” “Go. Azys Lla awaits.”

“We can’t let them escape!”

“Lillian, he’ll be lost if you don’t act.”

“Find someone more willing! Anyone!”

“Oh, do not look at me so…”

For a long time, the only sound was that of the wind; leaves and branches, blades and flowered stems, hair and cloth, in and out. Loud was this ancient world far removed from mine, but those around me offer quiet enough. It is underserving for the wretch I’ve been.

“I weighed his against mine: what he could accomplish against the Ascians; the forces he would muster against the dragons; the support, resources, and might he could supply Eorzea, his family’s combined assets; beyond Ishgard, beyond Garlemand, the weight he might help us carry; his capacity for compassion, love, duty and honor; willingness to sacrifice for the good of all who lived and breathed.

“And when I could not bear to weigh anymore the logical part of me continued on counting. Analyzing – until there was nothing left. Then again, and again, until we’d hammered out our list a malm long of advantages he might contribute in my stead.

“And I deemed my own survival paramount to his.”

[elstreem]

(Spoilers for FGO LB6)

Something that has been bouncing around my head for a while now is how interesting it is to compare Bedivere and Oberon's actions and roles in their respective chapters.

...I'm pretty sure I can never put this neatly or concisely enough so ok rambling time!

Which means, this is a warning for a very long post. Seriously.

I have read discussion on similarities between the Faerie Knights and the Knights they were named after, as well as Morgan and Goddess Rhongomyiad, and of course the game itself compares and contrasts Artoria and Castoria. It wasn't until I read that Chapter 6 Habetrot mirrors Bedivere's journey that I realized that our cat-loving fairy is actually Bedi's counterpart in Lostbelt 6 lol, but it is obvious in retrospect (they bond closely with Mash and help her work out her issues, they're both close friends to a queen figure who they now must work against, they're carrying a secret weapon that has to be returned to someone).

So why compare and contrast Bedivere and Oberon? Because I feel like it and also I just think about Bedivere a lot :b A little disclaimer though, I don't actually have Oberon on my account so I might be off base about my understanding of his character...basically, these are just my musings!

But yeah, I think it's interesting they're very alike characters in a lot of ways: they appear to help Ritsuka and co., but secretly had their own agendas waiting to be fulfilled at the end of said chapter. They both even have important bonds to the iteration of Artoria that appeared in their chapters, and interestingly, both of them do mention outright having used Ritsuka for their own purposes and express a sentiment about being fake (Bedivere's wording is "counterfeit" while Oberon is, well, a Pretender).

At the same time, Bedivere and Oberon are very much each others' opposites, too - and I think the key difference here is Bedivere is truly himself, and Oberon...basically can't do that. "Staying true" is an impossibility for Oberon because his very existence is being something he's not.

Going scene by scene, the contrast between the two shows as early as their respective meetings with Ritsuka:

Bedivere tried to keep his distance from the Chaldea crew, even giving a false name and bluntly stating he can be considered an enemy. (key word here being "tried," he sure caved in quickly later on lol) He even says the meeting was just coincidence, and you know, in retrospect it's a crazy stroke of fortune for both Bedivere and Ritsuka to meet like this in Camelot.

By contrast, when Ritsuka finally meets Oberon face to face, he's immediately friendly and personable, even stating he's destined to help them. However, this meeting is definitely not coincidental, as Oberon has been making sure to keep Ritsuka and Castoria on a specific track of actions.

Following the story, Bedivere doesn't actually join Chaldea until he shows himself against Gawain during the night of Selection. And even then, he sort of admits it was an impulsive decision on his part -

And he even confesses to Mash that what happened afterward wasn't totally for Ritsuka's and Mash's sake, he was also just taking advantage of the Chaldea crew.

While he is a genuinely good person, it's true Bedivere had his own personal agenda throughout Chapter 6 which he kept secret until the confrontation with Goddess Rhongomyniad. It just so happened that goal aligned with what our heroes were after, too, so it all works out.

Meanwhile, Oberon does a lot of things to help Ritsuka from the get-go, and he makes plenty of suggestions as to what to do next - but as it turns out, it's all part of his plan to lay the groundwork for him to appear as Vortigern. Castoria even calls him out on this when she confronts Oberon about how he deliberately kept it secret from Ritsuka he knew where Mash was.

Speaking of which, this is another major difference between Bedivere and Oberon -

Part 1 is mostly Mash's story, and as with all of Arc 1's companions, Bedivere mostly guides her.

I know I have terrible BediGuda brainrot hours all day every day lol, but I do admit as far as the actual game goes, Bedivere is shown being very close to Mash. The film switches it up by giving the conversation before the final battle between Fujimaru and Bedivere, but in game, it's Mash who reassures Bedivere there is meaning to his journey, and it's Bedivere who tells Mash how to fully utilize Lord Camelot. Mash even reacts to the news of Bedivere being a summonable Servant by saying she has another Senpai to look up to (which, tbh I'm kinda sad the game never really followed up on, I think it would have been cute to see more of Bedi being Mash's supportive senior at the Round Table).

By contrast, Oberon very much focuses on Ritsuka, and there's a couple of scenes where he talks extensively with Ritsuka about personal matters.

It goes both ways in Lostbelt 6 really, if you think about it, Oberon goes out of his way to have Ritsuka tell him about the Lostbelt and how they've felt so far, but in turn, Ritsuka actually does learn enough about Oberon to be suspicious of him at various story beats. (Although, one thing I'm not completely sure of is, does the Oberon who appear in the Garden of Lost Will the actual Oberon or is it just a representation of Ritsuka's doubts?)

In any case, while they have a different focus in relationships, Bedivere is still clearly shown caring for Ritsuka as Chapter 6 goes on, and at the very end, when he comes clean of everything, he does so with an apology.

So while Bedivere hid a secret all this time, his end goal worked well with Chaldea's goal of eliminating the Singularity, so no harm was ultimately done by his keeping his secret, even if his aberrant action was the root cause for Goddess Rhongomyniad being who she is.

And by contrast, Oberon does address Ritsuka and Castoria's anxieties, and makes sure they are doing what needs to be done, but while doing so he is also making sure he can be Vortigern again. Needless to say, his end goal of destroying the world is something Chaldea needed to stop. Though, my understanding of Oberon is, he does care for Ritsuka and Castoria, but his way of affection and concern is all twisted up because of who he is, so he can't really be honest with them even if he wanted to, because admitting it would turn it into another lie.

Their relationships to the Artoria they knew are also interesting to look at, because both Bedivere and Oberon in part made them who they are. Bedivere meant well when he didn't return the sword, only to find it led to Artoria turning into the Lion King, and he sought her for a long time to fix his mistake. Even then, when they met again, she didn't recognize him until he could reveal Excalibur for what it really was. And before that, Bedivere knew Artoria as a king to be looked up to - he loved her and served under her, so while there are strong emotions of respect and concern, it's still a formal sort of relationship, the king and the knight. Meanwhile, Oberon practically raised Castoria while he could. The way they interact is very much devoid of formalities, since they argue and fight a lot, but deep down they understood each other for what they were.

There's probably also something to be said about how both characters did find closure at the end of their journeys, but while Bedivere got it after fulfilling his goal despite all the hardship, Oberon got it even after he was thwarted at the very end.

I think I can put a few more comparisons in but I'm gonna be repeating my points and just stating what's already in the dialogues.

So to sum them up - one is a horrible liar and the other is a natural liar :b

Sorry, I just had to put in how terrible Bedi is at lying, it's pretty funny.

Gosh, I don't even know how to tl;dr this, it's so scattered and long. I think it took me over two hours to write this and this probably still reads more like ramblings...and man, I hate having to look for screenshots only to find I'm missing the one I'm thinking of and I don't want to be bothered to re-check the game :')

But yeah. Anyway. Bug boy got them issues, while Bedi resolved most of his (good for him).

[myth-blossom]

It's The Little Things

I wrote a lil something in honor of @grumpynora's birthday! You can read about young 6 and 47 breaking into a diner below.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, NORA! 🥳🥳🥳 I'm sending you lots of love and I hope you have an amazing day like you deserve! 💗

The lock gave way easily as they broke into the diner, its only security a loose doorknob that couldn’t keep out determined wildlife, let alone two young assassins. The business was closed and the staff long since gone, providing them a quiet place to relax as they formulated a new plan to eliminate the target. 

Of all the places they normally visited, a diner was the most unusual. 6 and 47 lived a strict lifestyle that allowed them little freedom of choice, hindering their experience of locales that weren’t useful to their work. Father mostly dictated their daily routines, often sending them around the world to complete contracts for Providence before returning home and starting the murderous cycle anew. Though the Institute guards chauffeured them to and from the airport, they were allowed to work fairly unsupervised, though they were only given a limited amount of time to complete the job before returning to Romania. Father didn’t want his subjects to deviate from his grand plan, nor for them to get any troublesome ideas about rebelling.

Still, they had to improvise when the target’s plans changed, causing them to move from the office building to a neutral location where they could reevaluate their tactics. 47 stationed himself at the diner’s counter while his brother took interest in the kitchen. He used the small ray of kitchen light shining through the serving window to study their map of the city, doing his best to ignore the noise of 6 opening drawers and running water from the other side. He had just concocted a new plan when he heard the flat top grill switch on. Curious, 47 left to investigate. 

6 slapped many strips of bacon onto the grill’s hot surface, smirking proudly to himself at the resulting symphony of sizzle. He ignored his brother’s stare from the corner of his eye as he reached for a bowl of egg yolks. 

“What are you doing?” 47 asked, his tone neutral. 

“It’s a surprise.” 

47 raised his brow, but said nothing. 

“Go sit down,” 6 grinned. “Trust me.”

47 sighed lightly, but did as he was told. He returned to the old yellow spinning stool at the diner’s counter and listened to his brother work. After many interesting sounds, wonderful smells, and a few muttered expletives for entertainment, 6 was finally finished. He walked backwards through the swinging doors while carrying two large ceramic plates filled with breakfast food. 

47’s eyes widened at the chef’s offerings: five strips of bacon of varying doneness, a large mass of scrambled eggs, and two & a half pancakes (the half being the third pancake that folded in on itself while flipping). 6 waited expectantly for 47, refusing to eat his own breakfast until he saw his brother’s reaction to his food.

“Why?” was all 47 could muster. 

"Seriously, brother?” 6 sighed. 

“Yes. Father wouldn’t approve of us wasting time.” 

“47, enjoying life isn’t a waste,” he frowned. “Just try the food, I promise you’ll like it.” 

“Very well.” 

6 watched as he quietly ate from each corner of his plate, sampling a strip of bacon before eating half of the eggs and then one of the pancakes. 

“And?” 6 prompted. “What do you think?”

47 considered the plate. The bacon was chewy, the eggs a bit overcooked, and the pancake overly sweet with a hint of raw batter still in the middle. 

It was the best meal he ever had. 

They very rarely ate anything other than the protein-and-vitamin-rich meals served at the Institute. The meals served their nutritional purpose, but they were often shaped as grayish mush or patties and were very much lacking in flavor. What his brother had just served him was rather perfect, a revelation for his palate, and he was suddenly very glad that they took up a brief residence in the diner. It became another one of 6’s rebellions against their Father’s restrictions, one that 47 was very grateful to have experienced. 

“It’s…good.” 

6 grinned proudly. “I told you you’d like it.” 

They slowly ate their delicious meal as they attempted to savor each bite. They would eventually have to return to their assignment and clean the diner of any evidence of their presence. But for now they would sit together and eat, and enjoy the liberating taste of something new.

[beep-beep-imma-sheep]

I decided to read Anne Frank's Diary... What an interesting experience considering Venezuela's current events.

—

Our lives were not without anxiety, since our relatives in Germany were suffering under Hitler's anti-Jewish laws. After the pogroms in 1938 my two uncles (my mother's brothers) fled Germany, finding safe refuge in North America. My elderly grandmother came to live with us. She was seventy-three years old at the time.

This anxiety feels similar to... Pretty much what anyone who fled their home country would feel.

After May 1940 the good times were few and far between:

28th of July, anyone?

first there was the war, then the capitulation and then the arrival of the Germans, which is when the trouble started for the Jews. Our freedom was severely restricted by a series of anti-Jewish decrees:

Out freedom was severely restricted... Yeah. That speaks for itself.

Jews were required to wear a yellow star; Jews were required to turn in their bicycles; Jews were forbidden to use street-cars; Jews were forbidden to ride in cars, even their own; Jews were required to do their shopping between 3 and 5 P.M.; Jews were required to frequent only Jewish-owned barbershops and beauty parlors; Jews were forbidden to be out on the streets between 8 P.M. and 6 A.M.;

This is not the same, of course, but this also reminds me of how, even if there's no official curfew, no one dares to go outside after certain hour. I remember one of these nights my aunt woke up around 2 am and saw the military through the window roaming around were I live, probably looking for someone to arrest.

Jews were forbidden to attend theaters, movies or any other forms of entertainment; Jews were forbidden to use swimming pools, tennis courts, hockey fields or any other athletic fields; Jews were forbidden to go rowing; Jews were forbidden to take part in any athletic activity in public; Jews were forbidden to sit in their gardens or those of their friends after 8 P.M.; Jews were forbidden to visit Christians in their homes; Jews were required to attend Jewish schools,etc.

... Well, we haven't reached that point. But no one SHOULD get to that point-.

You couldn't do this and you couldn't do that, but life went on.

That sounds very 🇻🇪 to me.

Jacque always said to me, "I don't dare do anything anymore, 'cause I'm afraid it's not allowed".

Again, that feeling looks... Very familiar.

It seems like years since Sunday morning. So much has happened it's as if the whole world had suddenly turned upside down.

🇻🇪28th of July🇻🇪

It's more like being on vacation in some strange pension. Kind of an odd way to look at life in hiding, but that's how things are.

Coping mechanisms be like.

Whatever we do, we're very afraid the neighbors might hear or see us.

GIRL, SAME. There's Chavistas in my neighborhood, I'm s c a r e d that they'd end up ratting us out on being from the opposition so the police can put us under arrest.

Though the people who work there are not on the premises after hours, any sound we make might travel through the walls.

I know that fear.

We've forbidden Margot to cough at night, even though she has a bad cold, and are giving her large doses of codeine.

...

Of course, we can't ever look out the window or go outside. And we have to be quiet so the people downstairs can't hear us. (...) Not being able to go outside upsets me more than I can say, and I'm terrified our hiding place will be discovered and that we'll be shot. That, of course, is a fairly dismal prospect.

From July 28th to August 1st I didn't even dare to look out the window. And the fear of being shot is something I carry with me since I was a kid.

And sometimes they talk about Moortje and I can't take that at all. Moortje is my weak spot. I miss her every minute of the day, and no one knows how often I think of her; whenever I do, my eyes fill with tears. Moortje is so sweet, and I love her so much that I keep dreaming she'll come back to us.

Unrelated to the topic, but back in the last days of May my dog passed away (yes, I had the worst pride month). I resonated with this scared 13 y/o girl who had to leave everything behind, even her beloved pet.

Yesterday I had a horrible fright. At eight o'clock the doorbell suddenly rang. All I could think of was that someone was coming to get us, you know who I mean. But I calmed down when everybody swore it must have been either pranksters or the mailman.

Sometimes I remember the fact that a guard could just... Break into my house and take me or someone I love away. And that's terrifying.

[puck-luck]

I’m not hating on YOU. Just on how slow and rude the characters are being made out to be. Honey should stop being so rude to Trevor, give him some credit for putting up with her attitude. Bea is genuinely for the streets. Again not hating on YOU because I like your writing style plus reading your other works i really like. I get I don’t have to read it if I don’t like it but I’ve waited and gave it time for stuff to start picking up.

I appreciate that you're not hating on me because you enjoy my writing style. That's always nice to hear. I'm glad you've read my stuff and even tried to stick it out for STG.

I want to reply to your concerns, so I typed up a couple of bullet points in my notes app. In a very in-character moment for me, it became lengthy. I'm hiding it under this Read More so that no one has to see it if they don't want to. Tbh, that includes you— and I don't mean that in a mean way, even if it might come off like that. It's hard to convey feeling through words on a page, which brings me to my first point:

1. A lot of Honey's attitude is written as means for banter, since Trevor knows that she doesn't mean it in such a negative way— he's aware that she's deflecting. Maybe I need to make that clearer and now I know, which means I can try and work on that! Thank you for bringing it to my attention.

2. Honey has trauma, which I've started to explain in the story. It's going to be fleshed out more and she WILL work through it, but the girl has some pretty complex PTSD when it comes to relationships. That's the reason why she's so hot and cold with Trevor. She knows what she's feeling, but she's not ready to accept it yet.

3. In Chapter 5, the most recent chapter, Honey admits to Trevor that she's the difficult one. She's well aware that she's having trouble with this new relationship and that manifests in her attitude towards Trevor. He says he doesn't mind (basically) and she just hums BECAUSE it bothers her that she's being hard to deal with, and yet she can't stop herself. Again— it's her complex PTSD.

HERE is a screenshot of my Google doc so you can read the scene itself:

4. Fair. Bea is for the streets. Yet, at the same time, I don't see the real issue behind this: everyone involved is a consenting adult that is fully aware of the situation. Everyone knows that Bea is hooking up with the guys in the house. If the guys didn't want to hook up with her, they wouldn't— like how Luke turns her down in this most recent chapter. She's also a girl in her 20s... I know a lot of girls in college that made goals to sleep with entire exec boards of frats or collect each frat president or, in an extreme case, a girl that wanted to hook up with every brother in our pledge class, the pledge class above us, and the pledge class below us. If the girl wants to be a slut, then she can be a slut. & that's how I'm writing her. More power to her. Things might even change for Bea over time, like how real relationships go...

5. As for the slowness: I know that my chapters have gotten super long. I keep getting carried away and writing more than I mean to. It's because I like this project and the characters I've created. BUT, each section is a day. Each chapter is a week. Honey and Trevor have known each other for just over a month and I PERSONALLY am not the kind to hook up with a guy I've just met. Yes, at times it seems long and I know that it drags at times because I can feel it dragging while I write— but I am trying to make this as realistic and detailed as possible. Between the whipped cream scene and the blowjob scene, 10 days passed. That's SUCH a short amount of time, especially since the pair didn't see each other as much that week. Honey works, Trevor trains, and a lot of that is off screen because I think it's boring to write when this is a ROMANCE.

6. If I had an editor, they could probably help me cut this shit down and make it drag less. I DON'T have an editor though and this is a very detailed rough draft of a story that would probably change a LOT before publishing IF I WERE TO GET IT PUBLISHED.

7. I apologize that you have waited and hoped for quicker advancement in Honey and Trevor's story. To me, it's not a fast story. It's going to pick up... on my outline I have Trevor and Honey hooking up 3 times next week. You're welcome to hang in there for that if you want to. It's up to you.

And finally... I apologize that my explanation was so long. And probably slow. I just want to be thorough with your concerns. If you choose not to read anymore of STG, then good for you. I'll still be churning out oneshots when I can and I hope you like those more.

I really do appreciate the feedback. I hope this response didn't seem rude because I'm not trying to be. It's also 2:30am for me so I really should go to bed before I ACTUALLY get my feelings hurt or start lashing out... which I've been known to do when tired. So. Goodnight Anon. Thanks for not hating on ME and I hope my explanations were good enough for you.

[rivangel]

how do you think levi's insecurities about becoming a father would manifest itself? (action wise bc i don't think he'd outwardly say as much given it's levi, but maybe you could make sense of him verbally expressing his insecurities?? seeing as you give the best levi analysis imo)

the baby's sex here is male for jus practical reasons btw🙂

writing this gave me baby fever

//self-doubt/hatred

He wouldn't say much at all, that's right, but considering he's at a point in his life where you carried his child and brought new life into this world with him, Levi would try his best to communicate his feelings instead of pushing them down. The fear of doing something, anything, to hurt his son or give him less than the best is paralyzing for Levi. And for the majority of his life, whenever he has any fear, he avoids it/buries it. That's not an option anymore. If he doesn't act, that'll hurt both you and your child.

Levi is the type of person to read all the pregnancy books and even take notes. He bought and did more than everything you ever needed during your pregnancy, and that doesn't stop when the baby is born. Him learning about SIDS was a mistake because for the first 6 months of the baby's life (the timeline in which it's most possible to happen), Levi stood pretty much sentry whenever your baby lied in his cradle. You can't stop Levi when he has that look in his eye, when he's not only determined, but desperate, so you can at least stay up with him as long as you can, bring him tea, rub his shoulders and tell him he's doing a good job. It's hard for Levi to believe in compliments toward himself, but he really really needs the assurance as far as being a father goes, though he doesn't convey it out loud.

He runs himself ragged very quickly. It doesn't matter how much the advice says that no one is a perfect parent, Levi is determined to be. He's not only new to parenting, to being a father, but the very idea of what being a father means. Kenny didn't make any effort to father Levi so to speak (he was more of a teacher), but he was all he had, as the worst-possible example. He just can't mess this up. The only reason something bad could happen, would be because of him.

Thus he overcompensates for his insecurities by completely burning himself out. He's determined to prove himself, which hurts you in the process, because he becomes distant, and turns into a bit of a control freak. One day you just have to take him by the shoulders and shake him, you know?

"I've never seen you so scared," you tell him, using that forbidden word. Levi, according to him, doesn't get scared. But he's going to make things worse if he deflects from now on.

When he tries to express his insecurities verbally, he needs a lot of time, sometimes minutes, to collect his thoughts between explaining. He speaks slowly. Tries to make you understand that he never understood the love a parent has for their child until he held yours for the first time, but he still feels like he has no idea what he's doing even after going out of his way to learn, and in fact has only ever learned the wrong things to do.

"Hurting you... wasn't my intention. I want. To do well. And give him a different life from what I had."

He doesn't realize how good it is to get it off his chest until all this invisible weight feels like it slides off his shoulders. Even though he isn't used to being comforted after talking like this, when you embrace him tightly, he brings his arms up after many seconds and hugs you back. You promise that you're a team; that there's no way he can be perfect, but he's doing a perfect job; you can keep Levi in line if he does get something wrong. His eyes sting.

It's hard to change the way he thinks. He's still almost always the one to get out of bed if the baby starts to wail in the middle of the night (unless the baby's hungry, in which case Levi brings your son to you so he can breastfeed), and you both spoil the baby rotten, but he starts asking for help for once if there's something about the baby he's not confident managing on his own.

"How do I... turn the mobile?"

Poor Levi doesn't know how to wind up the mobile above your baby's cradle. He had no idea little music would start tinkling out as the moon and stars dangling from the strings whirls round and round, much to your son's little giggles (which is music on its own). You smile down and Levi can't help matching it. Every time he beholds his face and the tussock of hair beginning to appear on his head, Levi's stunned both by awe and fear how you made this little life together, the way he resembles him as well as you. Part of Levi hopes that that only extends as far as the good qualities about his appearance goes, and most of your traits. He doesn't want him to grow up to be bitter or sardonic or awkward—but even if he does, he can't imagine feeling anything other than love for his son.

(Okay I went on a bit of a tangent there.)

Levi... never rocked the cradle on his own because he struggles to be gentle, and he was paranoid of hurting him. You show him how to gently rock it side to side, and eventually his hand appears beside yours. He doesn't realize he's holding his breath until you chuckle and remark that the baby is falling asleep.

When the baby cries, especially if you're taking the rare outing on your own (months after the birth, when you both have settled into routine), he gets nervous. One time, after he's done all he could do, Levi becomes a nervous wreck. He was never a hypochondriac until it came to the health of your baby. All through his life, he's suffered loss, and almost every time unexpectedly. He's not a superstitious person, but he never even liked to name his horses because it seemed like everyone he ever got close to dies. It's not worth it. For once, he found the exception in you, and then in your child, but he can never let himself just. Feel secure.

The baby doesn't have a fever, he's been changed and rocked and all his other needs met, but he simply won't stop crying. The only lulls in the screams are when he takes a breath in order to wail some more.

For once pacing is helpful for Levi because that should help settle the baby, but it fucking isn't, and the potential of ruining everything washes back over him in waves. How a dirty thief like him holding this innocent little bundle is tainting just through touch. He's not conceited enough to think that just because part of your baby is his that he's cursed from the womb, but Levi can't help thinking, not just how unsuited he is, but how unworthy.

He sighs in an extremely stressed way and endures the crying while doing his best to comfort him (mostly based on things you have done), but nothing is working. The baby is inconsolable.

When the front door shuts behind you, Levi doesn't know whether to collapse in relief or shame. From the instant he appears in the entranceway, holding your crying baby to his chest with total helplessness on his face, you worriedly hurry over.

"He won't stop crying. I've tried every damn thing, but I just can't seem to..."

You look intently from Levi to your baby and hum. "Have you tried talking to him?"

He somehow looks even more stressed than before, but intrigued too. "Talking."

"Yeah! He can't understand you yet, but he knows your voice, so maybe that'll help." You stroke the baby's back. "It's alright, it's okay..."

You're caressing Levi's shoulder with the baby sort of held between you as you stroke your son's back. He's still wailing louder than ever.

Levi begins softly, feeling a little lost. "Hey... did you just want to talk to me? We can talk, honey. Stop crying, you're just fine. I've got you. It's okay."

He's not the best at it his first time. It's sort of like talking to a mannequin in his mind, but to his shock and your elation, it works. His wails quiet down to sniveling weeping as long as Levi keeps talking, but not without your support too, in his opinion. Relief floods him.

There is something about your son just wanting to hear his voice that helps erase the heaviest insecurities in Levi. It's hard for him to be confident by any means, but he ends up talking to him a lot, whether you're with him or not (but usually, you are). Mostly after you put him down for the night and Levi wants to spend more time with him. It becomes one of his favorite parts of his day. He watches the mobile turn and talks idly about whatever's on his mind. Sometimes reassurance.

"Your mother and I love you. Did you know that? Well... you better remember," he murmurs. The baby just goggles up at him sleepily. "You can tell me anything... and I'll listen. Whatever you want matters, baby. You're a good boy. If anyone ever tries to hurt you... then they'll regret it. Always gonna look after you."

Unlike the life he had. But now, Levi feels confident that he can provide that for his son.

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[powdermelonkeg]

Tears of the Kingdom: The Final Analysis

Part 7

Part 6 here

In the next shot, we have Link and Teba's son, Tulin, jumping on some kind of trampoline to get height.

Fortunately for us, we've seen that trampoline before, so we know exactly what this is.

Link and Tulin are disembarking from their ship ride into a set of new ruins.

Link waits for the ship alone, though, so Tulin either had to tag along after ("Wait for me, I can help!") or he gets on the ship first and helps steer it down.

The architecture here looks almost too smooth to be Zonai. Red paint and triangular markings also hint towards something else, even though the ship itself has a Zonai figurehead.

Then these ruins down here are darker than the rest, with some kind of orange glow.

On the jump up, we can see much more of them; they seem to be their own separate platform set to the dropoff point.

This, however, looks to be the same material as the spot they're closest to. At the very least, the dropoff isn't isolated.

Then this has the same shape, but darker material. Are the ruins being corrupted?

A ship departs in the background, dark with red sails, just like we saw on the ship boarding scene.

And down here, we see the glowing spiral of a generator shrine.

Moving higher, we can see the full structures. The two identical ones are pillars, there's a flat platform towards the back, and a tall structure that almost looks like it's been built on, like a lookout post.

Next, Link draws a carriage of passengers.

The pieces are stuck together with Ultrahand. However, they're also very specific shapes rather than something improvized; this carriage likely broke down at the side of the road, and Link can stop and offer to help.

A Rock Octorok shoots a fireball at Link

Which he then catches with Recall midair

And sends hurtling back.

While it's being sent back, the Octorok moves, meaning that even if you stop something, time doesn't slow down to allow you to do so. If you manage to catch an arrow, you'll still be in the line of fire as you're figuring out how to shoot it back.

There's also a mineshaft entrance back here.

When Recall completes and color comes back, it turns bright blue inside. Two things come to mind, right off the bat.

First, Twilight Princess's Goron Mines. We know from the terrain that this is Eldin, and the mines here had magnetic ore inside that could be clung to with iron boots.

Then the Timeshift Stones from Skyward Sword, which turn blue when struck and extend a time field around them.

However, there are arguments against both these reads, too; for magnet ore, we'd have to ask what purpose it has. In Twilight Princess, it served as a game mechanic to allow unique traversal. In Tears of the Kingdom, we don't have any iron boots-style item we can use. On top of that, we have the Ascend power.

Which would make any kind of stick-to-walls-to-get-new-places redundant, if not completely useless.

On the side of Timeshift stones, while they are blue when active, they're usually a deep purple.

So if the mines were Timeshift, they would need to be active, and we would be able to see some kind of terrain shift around them.

However, I did find one more thing that matches the blue glow.

In Skyward Sword, there's a minigame called "Thrill Digger," in which Link plays a game of bomb flower minesweeper. On the walls of this minigame, though, you can find rupee ore, which you can shoot for extra rupees.

The blue in here could easily be a vein of blue rupee ore.

The colors look about right for it, the final cut rupee just has a more polished, vibrant look to it.

Up next, Link has a rocket in the Faron region.

It appears to be Fused to some kind of shield, and it carries the Zonai colors. The strange ring around the shield makes me think it's the Zonai equivalent of a Sheikah Guardian Shield.

He flies up with it, and we get a better view of what the rocket is attached to

The shield itself is round, very much Zonai colored, and about the size of a pot lid. The field it gives off fluctuates like it's expending energy, so it may have a limited charge.

Out of image space again, see you in part 8!

Edit: Part 9!

[bmaxwell]

The World of Oath

Oath: Chronicles of Empire & Exile bills itself as "A game that remembers."

It's best experienced with the same group of players rolling from game to game with the locations and denizens changing over time. There is no provided lore in the game. There is no flavor text anywhere. No backstory. "The lore book" says designer Cole Wehrle "is your first 5 plays of Oath."

Like so many works of art, you get out of Oath what you put into it. I was the chancellor in our first game, and my wife and daughter immediately named their factions. Kat played as The Seekers, the blue faction represented by a mysterious cloaked figure of whom only a single eye is visible. Our daughter chose black and coined them The Shadow Clan immediately. "I took this name from something I read" she sheepishly admitted. "That's okay" I replied. "So did they"

When my initial run as chancellor ended after a single game, I took the yellow player pieces and declared that The Empire of the Sun would reclaim their rightful position upon the throne of power, which we did. Eventually. We've played a whopping 15 games in a little over 3 weeks. We have plenty of stories of betrayals and triumphs, clever gambits and colossal blunders.

What I've been thinking about lately, though, is the world of Oath. It's as much a character as any of the players at the table. There are 23 site cards in the game box, 9 of which will make up the available world in a given game of Oath. Players play cards onto those sites, representing the denizens and buildings that make up the societies in those parts of the kingdom. At the end of each game, the sites (and their societies) ruled by the winner are carried over into the next game, and the rest are removed. Each site can hold from 0-3 cards, and typically has a special rule concerning travel or, if the site is the homeland of one of the game's 6 factions, a bonus for playing a card of that faction there.

At the beginning of your first game, the 6 factions are fairly balanced. At the end of each play 3 cards of the winner's advisor faction are added to the card pool, and some cards from the discard piles and the losers' advisers are removed sight unseen. This means that, over time, your world naturally starts to tip toward some factions and away from others.

For example, our first few games saw the winner using advisers of the Arcane faction. This meant that Arcane cards were added to our card pool (and to a lesser extent, Order and Hearth faction cards were added as well). More Arcane cards means those are more likely to be drawn and used, so they're more likely to be used as advisers for the winner and thus more Arcane cards will be added, and so on.

What this means for us that our world is essentially a magocracy with a strong authoritarian bent. We regularly see Arcane cards like Fire Talkers (+/- 3 attack dice if you control the Darkest Secret), Portal (spend a secret to travel to or from this Site without spending supply) and the Dream Thief (Pay 2 favor to swap any 2 face down advisers). If you think of magocracy like a technocracy, it becomes relatable.

We're also very strong in the Order faction's cards. Things like Curfew (You have to pay the ruler 1 favor before you can trade with denizens), Toll Roads (You have to pay a favor to a Site's ruler when you travel there), and Tome Guardians (Enemies cannot target or take the Darkest Secret in any way) make frequent appearances as well, eliciting sly smirks or exasperated sighs depending on your game state. We're heavily tilted toward these 2 factions, we have a fair amount of Hearth and Discord cards, very little in the way of Nomad cards. and almost no cards from the Beast faction - and yet, one in particular has been a mainstay in our kingdom. The Roving Terror comes up quite a bit. It allows you to spend a secret to discard a card from any site then move the Roving Terror there.

Since the winner isn't always tied to ruling the most sites, sometimes the kingdom changes very little from one game to the next, sometimes is changes wildly. As I write this, we've had a stable regime for the last several games and our game looks familiar from play to play. Our world feels both fantastic and dangerous. There's a lot of neat, mystical shit going on, but you maybe don't want to leave the house.

The site cards themselves are also key in informing the story of our campaign. One site card in particular has been a thorn in our side: The Narrow Pass.

The Narrow Pass says that, when a player is traveling to its region, they MUST travel to the narrow pass. Oath is a game where players will only get 5-8 turns in total, and you never have enough supply to do all the actions you want to do. In that environment, a card that forces you to spend precious supply traveling somewhere you DON'T want to go...well, it's prompted more groans and eye rolls than anything else in the game. My wife will say "Okay, I travel here then I muster, then I'm going to campaign against..." only for me to hold up a finger, pick up her pawn, and set it on the Narrow Pass. Cue the slumping shoulders as she winds back and reconsiders all of her plans.

I love this.

When I say that our Oath world is oppressive, the Narrow Pass is an ever-present part of that world. It feels like a wasteland where the citizens are doing their damndest to enact change while the chancellor, looking down at all of the lands they rule and their pile of money and insists that no, life is actually very good.

My wife has snatched victory by playing the Vision of Faith while holding the Darkest Secret alone at The Hidden Place. I've Blackmailed the chancellor to steal the Grand Scepter, granting myself citizenship then using the imperial army to seize relics for myself. We've had negotiations for citizenship fall through and lead directly to a change of power for the next game.

Every card and site in the game is influential under the right circumstances, and it all lends itself to weaving an emergent narrative. In a game with zero lore and zero flavor text, this is an incredible achievement. Oath is a real bear to teach, at the end of your first game you might know how to play. Sort of. You'll understand the actions, but not when and why to take them. It's the old "it gets good after you've played for 10 hours, trust me" thing that I've said and heard dozens of times.

Some people will never like it. I'm surprised that I like it. The game can - and will - end on a die roll after 2-3 hours. There's king-making aplenty. There are fiddly rules and, after 15 games within a relatively short span of time, I still need to consult the rules and FAQ's when someone takes the Campaign action more often than I'd like. The winner will not always be the player who played the best. When I made a conscious effort to see the game as a shared story we were telling together rather than a competition, I fell deeply in love with this game.

I've bumped my rating from an 8 to a 9, and finally a 10. I'm currently at the "I need some time to decide where this ranks in my top 10" stage. It winds my clock in a way that very few games have.* * A Study in Emerald comes to mind.