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neteluvr-library · 2 years ago

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okay im back for my weekly read through of cardigan!! idk why i choose to do this at 11 pm at night but that's when im most unhinged so its kinda funny letting my unfiltered thoughts through??? but don't worry im only doing two chapters today bc i really want to do the last three chapters together!! NOW THAT WILL BE INTENSE. i love DBTAC sm. It's literally one of my favorite taylor songs ever bc of u--i slept on lover before but its one of my favorites now. I never really paid to the lyrics because simply because I didn't know this song when you first posted, but now I am so appreciative of the lyrics because it flows so perfectly with the story. so I'm very excited to read this chapter ):

He couldn’t say no to you, he realises. He would follow you anywhere in this world, do anything you asked of him, regardless how stupid or reckless or crazy it was. He would always follow you, for the rest of time, and he was happy about it.

No because Neteyam is such a lover boy. everything in his DNA is fierce and i think that's very applicable to the way he loves. I don't think he could do anything half-assed which is why I love the way he loves atan ):

Things happen in life sometimes, and it makes you lose your ability to react. There was no reaction, definitely no overreaction.

I literally thought she was going to die I was like no way this just happened how fucking unfortunate 😃 BBYGIRL IS FINALLY LIVING HER LIFE NOW THIS???? atan will not get a break for the next year or so for her life-

You hoped that maybe you tried hard enough, the last 6 hours can just be erased from your life, from world.

NO BC I KNOW ATAN FELT SO NUMB IN THIS MOMENT 😭 but also i was and still am living for the angst please its just too good

First step, respiratory fluids. You remove a sterile cotton swab and swab your pharynx as thoroughly as possible and place it in a tube. That’s easy enough.

This entire chapter was anxiety-inducing like it literally felt like something out of the movie contagion or any other pandemic movies (very weird considering we lived throughout a pandemic) but the whole sequence of atan (PLEASE I JUST TYPED ATAN AND IT GOT CORRECTED TO SATAN LMFAO) studying her samples in the lab adds to the anxiety and was a genius move on your part. it was easy to imagine in my head because you were so descriptive but also it's shows a lot about atan's character and how strong she is (despite the fact she doesn't believe). like most people would freak out, rightfully so, but she just goes straight into action to figure out what is going on. (LOL soon you'll get better just started playing now).

...like your mum was saying it had to be done back on Earth about a century ago

one thing that blows my mind is that avatar literally takes place only 150 years after the year 2000 which is the year i was born in so it's like not even that far off (is that a covid reference lol) from our current timeline. like yeah I'll be dead but my grandkids and even great grandkids will be alive in 2100) i really hope we don't end up like them lmfaoooo..

THE FIVE STAGES OF GRIEF STAGE I: DENIAL

I LITERALLY LOVED THIS SO MUCHHHHH ITS LIKE A MOVIE SEQUENCE!!!! going through the different stages of grief always hits in literature, but i think you captured it so well in a way that was entertaining to read, but also cathartic? (but I'll elaborate more on that in seven)

With those thoughts still floating in your mind and a Xanax on your tongue, you made your way to the comfortable bed and crashed without a dream in sight.

NOT THE XANAX 😭 POOR ATAN!!!!! she is going through it rn.

He gave you the quickest look known to man then quickly busied himself with literally anything else. “No reason, just focused on the task at hand.”

EASTER EGG!!!!! and i'm literally just catching this now 😭 obviously i know what its implying but im kinda disappointed i didn't notice until now? i need to be a more careful reader bc sometimes i skip over details like this that set the stage for something else. honestly i think i just focused on the bolded words instead of everything but like DESCRIBING BODY LANGAUGE AND ACTIONS IS JUST AS IMPORTANT FOR CONTEXTS AHHH i will do better. but also, you're a mastermind because you already had this planned 😒

Neteyam shifted uncomfortably in front of you and looked… nervous, you realised. What the hell was going on with everyone?

LITERALLY LOOKING BACK I DIDNT KNOW WHAT WAS GONNA HAPPEN BUT I STILL DIDNT EXPECT WHAT YOU DID i literally thought everyone was being sus for no reason

...if he too was struggling to catch his breath at the torture of knowing he can’t have you, claim you, right now, right in this second, right here.

I'm sure he was...lol

...like they were urging you to come closer so they can spill their long-forgotten dreams to you

so dreamy ): i love the idea of plants being like friends you can spill your secrets to and they have open ears that don't judge you

You didn’t pass judgement, or make him feel bad for sharing his feelings, and he felt like he could tell you all the hardest truths his heart has always craved to speak out loud.

GOD so most of the times i can't relate to romance stories because i have only had one failed relationship and honestly i haven't been truly in love, but i do know what its like to have a soulmate like that (one of my best friends) so it warms my heart to know neteyam has someone like that and by relating it to my experience i think it really clarified just how strong their bond is and made me realize that damn you only get that type of love (whether platonic or romantic) once in your life so you should hold it tight when you do find it

...but he also knew that being selfish is not a trait that came naturally to you. You have always respected the deep bond Neteyam had to his family and his people and you always used to tell him how proud of him you were for how strong he was, for the lengths he was willing to go to to protect and nurture those bonds.

Reading this little portion made me think about how different Atan, Vol, and Vi are (they have a lot of similarities tho). They're all fierce and multi faceted characters but I specifically thought about Atan and Vol because you wrote that Vol was more selfish in nature at the beginning of Cruel Summer and then compare her to Atan, who is selfless from the beginning. I've always appreciated your female characters, and i know each one has bits and pieces of you, but I just love how you're able to write so many different female characters without them being too "Mary Sue" or having the same personality. it's great that each one of Atan, Vol, and Vi are easily distinguishable from each other.

The scraps would have been enough, and now even those were brutally taken from you, like everything else in this life.

There is definitely a different type of pain that comes from grieving something that is alive and in front of you. it must make atan feel so helpless and lost ):

“Did you tell her?”

I JUST REMEMBERED WHAT I ORIGINALLY THOUGHT!!! GIRL BECAUSE THIS ENTIRE TIME I THOUGHT NETEYAM WAS GOING TO CONFESS HIS LOVE FOR ATAN AND THATS WHY EVERYBODY WAS SO SECRETIVE LMFAOOO IT JUST MADE SO MUCH SENSE IN MY HEAD like yeah neteyam loves atan and wants to say sorry and confess and that's why everybody is so jumpy because he wants them to keep it a secret so atan doesn't fight out but neteyam was too stubborn to actually do it ... silly me. but next time i won't be so silly and will be on guard for any sus actions...

You wanted to be in this body just a little while longer, because, in this body, it was easy to forget the realities of your actual life.

Me except instead of being in an Avatar body, its reading Avatar fanfics because I want to avoid any responsibilities I have (lowkey supposed to be writing my personal statement but i chose to do this instead AHAHAH)

...discover themselves, make decisions and choices that would lead to a happy, fulfilled life, rather than a proud and accomplished one.

And to that I question: what draws the distinction between the two? i think that would be an interesting conversation lol

Despite never seeing anything that he could deem suspicious, the images of his baby brother taking for himself what was his, what should be his, haunted him and made him sick to his stomach.

So claim your woman . So, how i pointed how the difference between your female characters, I also want to point out the difference between your Neteyams. Mainly this Neteyam and Cruel Summer Neteyam. Sure, they were both selfess and put their obligations first but it's interesting how they diverge and are almost like opposites? but i love how Cardigan Neteyam goes against his obligation while Cruel Summer Neteyam ultimately succumbs to it. like okay, the circumstances are different but its interesting because it shows how you can characterize Neteyam in different ways (even MiM Neteyam is completely different). this fandom was literally given CRUMBS but they have managed to keep him alive through the 8734987349 different variations and characterizations of him and i love it. James cameron slept on neteyam. I feel like he give us was like a blank canvas almost. Like neteyam has defining traits, but you can take the defining traits and completely change who is with each version of him. okay that got a little long whoops....ALSO PLS I NEED YOU TO DO A NETEYAM POLL of which neteyam is their favorite 😭😤

“There are perks that come with being an Omatikaya, you know? You can make your bow out of the wood of the Home Tree… and you can choose a mate.”

Classic love triangle moment lol...CUE THE DRAMA

GEEZE THIS TOOK ME AN HOUR. i feel like im picking up on so much insight that i didn't before so i actually really love rereading. though i try my best to annotate anything my mutuals post IT TAKES UP SO MUCH TIMEEEEE i just love writing every little thought

lllicit Affairs | Chapter VI: Death by a Thousand Cuts

Pairing: Neteyam x Human/Avatar!Reader

Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X

Synopsis: You and Neteyam both have a dark secret that would change everything between you - and neither of you are willing to share.

Warnings: angst, some fluff, Lo'ak x reader, jealous!Neteyam, both main characters thirsting for each other, mentions of lab work, disease, blood, cursing.

Word Count: 7,2k words

A/N: Chapter 6 is the chapter that sets EVERYTHING in motion for what's to come. There is a LOT to come, a lot of drama and angst, maybe some smut (? 😉) and this chapter is meant as a stepping stone to the beginning of the end. Also, realised I forgot to ever mention, that if the dialogue is ever italicised, that usually means the conversation is in Na'vi, I don't know how I have never made it clearer, but here we are.

Thank you so much for everyone who's been reading and asking to be tagged, I never expected this to gain any traction and I am so grateful for people enjoying it x

My heart, my hips, my body, my love Trying to find a part of me that you didn't touch Gave you too much but it wasn't enough But I'll be all right, it's just a thousand cuts

One second.

“Just one second, Neteyammm!”, you whined, as he was trying to remove the blanket from your currently very comfortable and very warm body.

“It’s late, come on! Early bird catches the worm, isn’t that what you people say?”

“Nobody says that, I don’t know who told you this lie.”

“It was you!!” he says, and he’s laughing at your whinging while trying to remove the blanket. He’s not trying that hard, considering he would make an easy job out of the task if he used a tenth of his actual force, but he couldn’t bear the thought of bringing you any unnecessary distress. You had enough of that in your life, and he wanted to be a source of comfort for you, a shelter in the storm.

You scooted on one side of the bed close to the edge, and left a big gap which you brought to his attention by patting it aggressively.

“Press the button on the audio player and lay with me, please? I don’t feel like going out today.”

A song he liked came on, one that he’s heard you play before and there was no doubt in his mind that he liked it better when you sang it. He circled the bed and lay in it, next to you, in the dark.

“Thank you, light of my life.” You attached yourself to him, arms sprawled across his bare chest and legs carelessly placed on top of abdomen and hips, and sighed contently. He could feel your warm breaths on his neck, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He turned his head to you and placed a small kiss on top of your head and listened to the soft tune filling up the room.

“Oh, goddamn, my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand

Taking mine, but it's been promised to another

Oh, I can't stop you putting roots in my dreamland

My house of stone, your ivy grows and now I'm covered in you”

“You’re annoying.”

“I know I am, but you love me anyway.”

I do, Neteyam thought. I really do…

Things happen in life sometimes, and it makes you lose your ability to react. There was no reaction, definitely no overreaction. You stared at the vial of blood that shattered all across the floor, all across you and your mind was blank. Almost robotically, you made your way to one of the benches and got some paper rolls and the IMS laying next to it. You carefully cleaned all of it, and spit whatever made its way to your mouth to the floor to be removed. When you were sure everything was gone, you went to the sink and removed your goggles and gloves, and scrubbed yourself clean. You felt yourself moving, picking up a bucket of water with some floor cleaner, felt yourself adding disinfectant to it and moping thoroughly, but it was like an out-of-body experience. Like you were merely a puppet executing orders from above. Cleaning everything took about an hour, after which you made your way back to your room slowly, deliberately.

You didn’t sleep. You spent the whole night looking over everything you and the rest of the scientists have ever found out about this virus. You didn’t know its way of transmission. Maybe you had nothing to worry about, maybe it’s not by blood. You knew it’s not by air, you’ve seen plenty of people infected whose family was fine. So even if you do get infected, the people at the lab should be fine. Your friends would be fine. He would be fine.

Next, incubation period. That’s a tough one, in-vitro studies show it takes the virus anywhere from 2 to 12 months to show symptoms. You don’t know how that changes in humans. You don’t know any of this shit for humans. You could be perfectly fine, you could die within the month. The thought made your blood run cold.

You sat in your chair for the remainder of the night. Unmoving, unthinking.

That’s how Norm found you.

“Hey, Ace. What are you doing up?”

You scrambled for a lie.

“Just woke up, actually. Listen, if you are going to check on the boy, can you please bring my supplies to the tent and tell the Sullys I won’t be in today? I was too exhausted to run any experiments yesterday so I will do it today.”

“Oh… is everything alright? You haven’t missed a day in the village since you got your Avatar.”

“Yeah, everything’s fine, just worried about the boy and want to get to the bottom of this sooner rather than later, if possible.”

“Alright, I can bring you back some of his blood to run as well?”

“NO!”

Norm’s eyes widened in shock at your response and you knew you fucked up, you knew you slipped up. Calm yourself…

“It’s just not necessary at the moment since I have other blood and I don’t want to overwhelm him, if it’s not imperative. I will retrieve some blood when I check on him tomorrow.”

Norm looked at you with a concerned look, but eventually relented.

“Ok, whatever you think, Ace.”

“Thanks, Norm.”

“Let me know what you find tonight. I’ll tell Jake, but they might not be happy with you.”

“You can explain it’s an emergency, I’m sure they’ll understand.”

You struggled to get up and get your legs to not want to collapse beneath you. Eventually, you made your way to the sink and washed, you scrubbed your face as hard as you could without removing a layer of skin, and your teeth until you felt the familiar taste of metal coat your teeth. You hoped that maybe you tried hard enough, the last 6 hours can just be erased from your life, from world. You hoped it could undo the damage that would plague you for the rest of your most likely very short life.

Luckily, most scientists seemed to be out. Claire was teaching Na’vi kids English at Grace’s old school that Jake deemed fit to be reopened, Max left with Norm to check on the situation of the village, and most of the Avatars would be out on missions or training with Jake. You made your way to the quiet halls to one of the labs, and prepared for your long day ahead. This will be hard to do by yourself, but not impossible.

First step, respiratory fluids. You remove a sterile cotton swab and swab your pharynx as thoroughly as possible and place it in a tube. That’s easy enough. Next comes the blood. Finding a vein has always been hard for people to do on you, and it’s not gotten any easier in time, so after poking yourself a few times in the wrong place, you manage to get enough blood to run experiments on.

Hours of sample preparation, incubation, pipetting and running went by at an excruciatingly slow pace, like the universe was revelling in making every second of torture last forever. You thanked your lucky stars of the progress made in lab equipment and that you didn’t have to spent days on one PCR, like your mum was saying it had to be done back on Earth about a century ago. Regardless, it took most of the day for you to do everything you needed, check for all the proteins and markers you knew were deregulated with this virus, and by the early hours of night, you were done.

Aș people were starting to return to the hub as another day was nearing its end, you retreated back to your bedroom to work on the data analysis. You did not want to see anyone, did not want to speak to anyone until you knew at least some things. The less you talked, the less lies that had to come out of your mouth, and that seemed ideal to you.

Inputting the data and having to wait on some software to give you your literal death sentence felt so tragic is was almost comical, and you had to stop and ask yourself if you were some serial killer in a past life to warrant all the pain and misery life seemed adamant to throw at you. For the first time in so long you couldn’t even remember, things were going… well. You were strong, and doing well, and lived outside of the walls of this lab. You had a chance at something more, you had a chance at maybe one day healing and working through your issues and maybe even coming out the other side a better, healthier version of yourself. You had a chance at love.

And there it was… positive. One second.

THE FIVE STAGES OF GRIEF STAGE I: DENIAL

Your blood became poison in the span of half a day, but at least you now knew it wasn’t transmitted through air. That means no one else would have to suffer because of you. The thought made you weirdly calm, and you realised you didn’t care about your own health all along. No, you weren’t sad anymore, just relieved. A wide smile appeared on your face at the results, and you jumped out of the chair with enthusiasm at the great news. Everybody would be ok. Norm, Max, they would all be ok. You will handle all the virus experiments and blood samples from now on. They wouldn’t have reason to doubt you or question you, not when it made most sense anyway, since you were always in the village and knew the protocols and techniques the best, anyway. You would go on the same way as you had, and no one had to know or suffer because of your mistakes.

With those thoughts still floating in your mind and a Xanax on your tongue, you made your way to the comfortable bed and crashed without a dream in sight.

You were up before dawn again, and ready to get started on your day at the village. You were looking forward to gun training with Jake, and finally putting those years of practice to good use. You found Norm deep in thought in the link room, and he didn’t register you walking in until you patted his shoulder and he jumped out of his skin.

“Jesus, Ace. You scared the shit out of me.”

“I noticed. Why so jumpy, Norm?”

He gave you the quickest look known to man then quickly busied himself with literally anything else. “No reason, just focused on the task at hand.”

“…turning on the linkpod?”

“No one likes a smartass, you know?”

“So how was the village yesterday? How is the boy?”

“He’s alright, still not great, but his vitals are stable for now.” You noticed he did not answer your question about the village, and found slight panic rising in your chest.

“Is everything okay? Did something happen in the village?”

“No, Ace, everything’s fine. You don’t have to worry about everything, you know. How did the experiments go yesterday?”

“The virus is not airborne, it seems to be transmitted by blood, so we need to be very careful handling samples.”

“We always are. But good work, good to have some concrete evidence finally. I’ll look over your analysis soon.”

“You know, I’m not quite done with it, so maybe wait and we can look over it together?”

“Sure, that makes sense.”

You didn’t buy Norm’s pathetic attempts at deflecting the subject of the village, but you did not want to fight him so early in the day, so you guess you had to find out what happened for yourself. You woke up in your Avatar body soon enough, and could already tell the village was already awake and buzzing with the perspective of a new day. The guitar sitting on the ground next to your sleeping mat caught your eye, and you smiled softly at the memory which now seems a life away. Your fingers lingered on the chords and you strummed it gently a few times, enjoying the sounds that seemed to settle in your heart. Adjusting your braids in the small mirror you brought with you a few weeks ago, you made your way out of your tent and straight into Neteyam’s chest with a loud thud.

“What the fuck?” You say, indignantly and then look up to find Neteyam watching you with an unreadable expression adorning his beautiful face.

“Hi.” He says, and tries to muster a small smile.

“Hi…? Is there any particular reason you have decided to attack me first thing in the morning?”

“I was just coming to get you, I heard the guitar playing. I didn’t think you would be running straight into me. Are you ready? We can spend the morning tracking a herd of Talioang that the hunter party spotted a few clicks south of the village. It will be good practice for you.”

“…alright? Can I get some food first? I’m famished.”

Neteyam shifted uncomfortably in front of you and looked… nervous, you realised. What the hell was going on with everyone?

“I have food that Ma packed for us, we can eat in the forest? I’d really rather get a move on as soon as possible, this will most likely take most of today, anyway.”

“Is there a particular reason you seem so eager for me to leave? You and Norm have both been acting weird today, and you are both terrible liars.”

Neteyam gave you a hard look. “Let’s go, Y/N. Unlike what you like to think, you don’t need to know everything, and not everything concerns you. Let’s go, now.” Nothing’s changed, you realised bitterly. Last night was just a fluke and you hated yourself in that moment for letting your guard down.

“You can be a real dick sometimes, Neteyam.” You said and took off without looking at him.

You ran for about 5 clicks without checking behind you, knowing full well he was following you, your hearing being one of the many senses that heightened in this body. You stopped suddenly at the sight of a huge footprint, one you could identify as the Sturmbeest, or a Talioang, like it was known to the Na’vi. Soon enough, you saw the ground littered with them, and began carefully tracking the beasts.

“Alright. How far would you say they are and which direction?” Neteyam asked, approaching you slowly. He was back to teaching mode, and you tried your best to learn, instead of recoiling and telling him to go to hell, which is what you really wanted to do.

You touched the ground and felt it with your fingers, trying to assess the moisture level and deepness of the mark. You thought about for a while.

“I’d say they’re quite fresh. Maybe this morning? Taloioang move slowly, about 1 click every hour or two, so I’d say we’ll find them about 2 clicks east?”

He didn’t even have to touch the ground to be able to assess it. He was impressive.

“Good. Let’s go. We shouldn’t run, they have good hearing and the wind is blowing east, which means they’ll be able to smell us if we’re not careful. We will take a roundabout way and approach them from the south.”

You both made your way through the forest and it was your turn to follow him, although you stayed close behind and tried to look around you and pick up on clues, tiny sounds and movements, trying to learn, trying to see. “Eyes on the tracks, Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes, but did as you were told. Eventually, Neteyam let you deem the appropriate time to stray from the tracks and move south to avoid being spotted. Soon enough, you saw the herd of prodigious beings, bathing in a shallow lake. You made your way slowly, sneaking on the ground, with Neteyam close to you, and you felt his arms grazing your sides every inch of the way.

The herd was protecting the calves, 5 in total, playing and splashing in the clear water. You watched in amazement, just enjoying the view of these seemingly ferocious beasts that in the moment, felt more like a family watching their children play at the local pool. You couldn’t believe the beauty and mild predisposition, the complex nature of these animals whose equivalents were long gone on Earth, long decimated by humans and their needless desire for wealth and acquisition, for mindless cruelty. You felt your stomach drop at the realisation that soon, this could be Pandora, if you didn’t fight will all your being in the upcoming war.

You felt a sudden gentle pressure on your lower back, a pressure you quickly identified as Neteyam’s hand and you shuddered at the touch. He neared his mouth to your ears, and you felt his warm breath tickling your neck, a sudden warmth pooling in your lower abdomen.

“You’re not allowed to kill anything yet, but I want you to show me how you would go about it. Show me your bow work, how would you aim from this position.”

You slowly removed your bow from from your person and sat up, in a now crouched stance, and loaded the arrow, doing your best to accommodate for the uncomfortable position you were in and the tight space you were sharing with another person. You held your breath, engaged your core, and aimed as if you were going to release your arrow on the target about 300m away. Neteyam’s large hand touched your upper thigh, by your left hip and squeezed gently. Your arm dropped suddenly and snapped your head in his direction. He didn’t react to your sudden snap, instead talking lowly, so as to not give your location away. “Your leg is not in a position by which you can maximise release. You will have more power in the shot if you place this knee on the ground and lean into it.”

You wanted to take that hand and either break it or redirect it on other parts of your body that felt like they would explode if they didn’t feel him, have his touch provide the relief that was desperately yearned for, needed. You wanted to scream at him or make him coax the screams out of you like a war-cry, wild and desperate. You wanted to kill him, you wanted him to kill you, slowly and painfully, taking his time on your body until you were falling apart at the seams around him. You hated him, you loved him. You hated him.

You gave him a hard look, an angry look directed at your thigh, and he removed his hand from you. You wondered if he knew, knew what he was doing, wondered if he felt the same way, if he too was struggling to catch his breath at the torture of knowing he can’t have you, claim you, right now, right in this second, right here. You hoped he did, hope it ate him alive, the yearning and the desire. Because that’s what it was doing to you, what he was doing to you. You turned your attention back to the herd and adjusted your position based on his advice. He was right, you could tell right away, as you felt a lot more power when aiming the arrow this time.

“Much better. We can go now, we will give the location to the hunting party and the will be able to secure us dinner for a couple of weeks from the back of a couple of Ikrans.”

You made your way out of their surroundings, and slowly started walking back to the village. After about half an hour, he stopped on a rock and removed the food he was carrying in a pouch. You didn’t join him, preferring to keep your distance and thus a clear mind, not being able to afford being weak around him anymore.

“I thought you were famished.” He says, with a slight smile. You shook your head and turned around, taking in the views of the forest, distracting yourself with the flowers reaching out their neon green tendrils towards you. You kneeled next to one, and touched them gently, enjoying the way they cupped around your hand and tugged, like they were urging you to come closer so they can spill their long-forgotten dreams to you. You heard him sigh loudly.

“Sorry for being a dick. Just had a fight with mum and dad, and I took it out on you. I shouldn’t have, and I am sorry. Come eat, please? I don’t want you passing out on me, you’re not as easy to carry as you used to be when you were human.”

You remained on your knees still, focused on only the plants and your gentle tug-of-war. You knew how much pressure Neteyam was under, has been for pretty much his entire life. A prodigy created… or made, no one could really know for sure, he began training when most babies learn to walk, and speak, and play. He has never had a childhood the way Lo’ak, or Kiri, or Tuk, or pretty much any other Na’vi children did, mostly fleeting moments of bliss in between a lot more moments of stress and struggle. He never complained, though. Not out loud, not to anyone else but you, once he realised you were a safe haven from the storm. You didn’t pass judgement, or make him feel bad for sharing his feelings, and he felt like he could tell you all the hardest truths his heart has always craved to speak out loud. You have always wanted to protect him from the world, a world that demanded so much of him, that asked for a sacrifice of which it was undeserving. Being Olo’yektan, leading the people, being the one person everyone relied on was a great honour, a great achievement - one you didn’t think he wanted, but was never given the chance to decline.

“What happened?”

You walked slowly towards the rock he was laying on, and sat at its foot, crossing your legs on the slightly damp grass. You grabbed a piece of jerky from the pile of food and slowly chewed through it, humming in appreciation at the smoky taste and rich flavour of the meat.

Neteyam grimaced and didn’t look at you, choosing to focus instead of his arm guards, picking at something that was clearly not there. “More sacrifices I need to make in the name of the future, of the people.”

“I see you still haven’t learnt to say no, even after all this time apart.”

Neteyam’s hand froze in midair, his eyes widening slightly - it was the first time you brought up the year apart. He braced himself for what he thought was the beginning of the end, of you finally demanding answers he didn’t think would ever satisfy you, but no other words left your lips.

“I can’t say no. I owe my parents everything I have, everything I am. This village, this life, is all I know. My dad gave up on everything he knew to stand up for our people, to make sure we’d get a future worth living, a family worth saving, a world still worth fighting for. He became Olo’yektan despite all that stood against him because he loved my mum, loved us, even then, even before we were born. My grandpa died defending this village, watching home tree get decimated in front of his eyes, with only the people’s safety on his mind and tongue. I see that bow that my mum cherishes like a gift from Eywa herself and I want to be worthy of it, someday. And if it means giving up some things, maybe that’s just how it’s meant to be.”

“Maybe whatever you’re giving up is making room for something ever better, Neteyam. Sometimes we want something so bad, we can’t see the forest for the trees.”

He looks at you confused for a second.

“That’s a saying. What I’m trying to say is maybe you are over focused on something you want right now, that you think is the best thing for you, but maybe you just are not focusing on the bigger picture. Maybe in the future, whatever you’re giving up now will make room for something that was much better for you all along.”

Disappointment filled his chest at your words. Neteyam looked at you with deep sadness marking his features, and he could see you were trying to think of things to say that could make him feel better. In all honesty, he wanted - needed - you to tell him to be selfish, and trust his gut, and follow what he knew was right in his heart, but he also knew that being selfish is not a trait that came naturally to you. You have always respected the deep bond Neteyam had to his family and his people and you always used to tell him how proud of him you were for how strong he was, for the lengths he was willing to go to to protect and nurture those bonds.

You felt an overwhelming sense of grief at the realisation that you will never get to see him become Olo’yektan, see him become the man everybody knew he was. He would never be yours, and although that painful conclusion had settled in your soul and had time to scar in all the time you knew him, a new wound, deeper, bloodier, deadlier, tore your heart apart at the thought you would not even be able to watch from afar. You would have been satisfied with scraps, just watching him rule, and be, and love someone else and imagining it was you. You never thought you’d get more than that anyway, never had any delusions for more. The scraps would have been enough, and now even those were brutally taken from you, like everything else in this life.

You needed to leave, now.

“Should we head back? It’s getting late.”

You walked back in deep, uncomfortable silence. Eclipse made the nature shine and glimmer with colours your sadness dulled to muted tones. There was light coming from the village and you realise how badly you wanted to be alone, in your tent and read, or watch a movie or a show, and ignore this world for a little while while you licked your newly-opened wounds. Tonight was a communal dinner around the big bonfire in the centre of the village, and you felt grateful your presence would not be missed in such a crowd. You’ve come to love these dinners, another one of the many ways the tribe connected to the village and to each other, but tonight you couldn’t entertain even the thought long enough to count.

“Can you please tell your family I am sorry, but I will probably head to bed early. I’ll be early for breakfast tomorrow, I promise.”

“I can do that. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You nodded absentmindedly and closed the flap of the tent shut.

Neteyam watched as you left him, still reeling from your conversation. Much like you, he just wished to hide in his family’s tent and pretend for a night things are different, that they are better. Actually, if we are talking about wishes, he wishes he could be in your tent. In all honestly, dealing with you on a day to day basis, seeing you, your body, touching it more and longer than he knew he reasonably had to, was making him think thoughts he knew he had no business thinking. In his wildest dreams, he’d be in your tent and making your eyes roll back in the way that drove him crazy. In his wildest dreams, he’d be coaxing sounds out of you that only he would ever hear. In his wildest dreams, your hands all over him would heal him and break him at the same time. He was desperately in need of some relief, and he loathed all decisions in his life that lead to you not being able to be the one to provide it for him.

He made his way to the bonfire, and greeted all of the Na’vi that respectfully bowed their heads at his arrival. He saw his family at the centre of the crowd, where they normally sat, and joined them silently. They all gave him uneasy looks - all but one. Lo’ak was blatantly glaring at the older Sully, a look of disappointment and disgust marring his normally kind face that reminded Neteyam so much of their dad.

“Did you tell her?”

Kiri elbowed Lo’ak in the abdomen, but he didn’t flinch. He did not even bother to acknowledge Kiri, or the low hiss escaping their mum’s lips - his eyes were still boring into Neteyam, unwavering.

“No.” Neteyam’s expression darkened and in a split second, he became the warrior his dad moulded him into. “And you will not, either, Lo’ak. Do you understand me?” Lo’ak had to look up to look at his brother who was now dangerously towering over him.

“Oh, the mighty warrior giving out orders, what else is new?”

“Lo’ak, that’s enough.” Neteyam heard Jake intervene, and he eventually had to physically put his body in between his two sons, who still refused to look away from each other.

“Fnawe’tu (coward).”

Neteyam watched his brother turn his back on his family and walk away from the feast, and although he wouldn’t admit it to himself, he knew deep down that Lo’ak was right.

You were almost robotically flipping through the directory of movies and tv shows on the laptop that you had with you in the village, not quite ready to go back to the lab and have to deal with the consequences of your newly acquired “condition”. You had all night to do experiments, and lie to yourself that you were fine until you eventually succumbed to a Xanax-induced blackout. You wanted to be in this body just a little while longer, because, in this body, it was easy to forget the realities of your actual life.

You saw a five-fingered hand emerge from the entrance to your tent, and you laughed incredulously at the clown you loved, who seemed to have a knack for improving your dour mood.

“I am here to bother you.” You got up and started making your way towards the entrance of your tent.

“Shouldn’t you be at dinner?” You say, laughing and pulling Lo’ak by the hand, so he stumbles unattractively into you.

You wrap your arms around him and hug him gently. “Skxawng.”

“I should, but I am here instead. We haven’t had movie night in so long.” He lay on your sleep mat and you hissed for him to move over. “You’re getting way too comfortable hissing at people.”

“Not people, Lo’ak, you!” You smiled saying that, knowing you were quoting Kiri, and he groaned exasperatedly.

A few more weeks passed, and you felt the discrepancy between your bodies become more pronounced than it had ever been. It turns out, the incubation period of a Na’vi virus in a human is not long at all, and roughly around last week, you began displaying symptoms. You were taking every drug under the sun to try to soften them, but you had seen one too many good Na’vi people die due to this to know what was lurking underneath the comfortable cushion of drug-induced health. Despite all that, you felt on top of the world in your avatar. You were continuously improving, and, with a little bit of luck, will be completing your first kill soon - the first stepping stone to becoming Taronyu, hunter. If you do that successfully, you will be taking your Iknimaya with other Na’vi apprentices, and finally get your own Ikran. You were buzzing at the thought, and the image of you flying in the sky was enough to push any other worries out of your mind.

After that weird day that ended with Lo’ak in your tent watching Friends together and teaching him the chords to a song you both loved, things went back to normal, sort of. You couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that the Sullys were hiding something from you. They exchanged looks, and avoided certain subjects, and you were starting to be worried they guessed you were ill, and were tiptoeing around the subject so as to not upset you. That was a good theory, although it could not explain the heavy tension between Neteyam and Lo’ak that also started that night.

You saw them bicker and fight your whole life: two opposing personalities, both of whom had misunderstandings about the other. Neteyam could never understand Lo’ak, understand that, despite being the chieftain’s son and the grandson of the Tsahik and former Olo’yektan, people still looked at him like he was not quite full Na’vi. His eyebrows and five fingers made his appearance uncanny enough to always attract whispers and looks, and despite Lo’ak’s apparent devil-may-care attitude, he cared. Neteyam could also not understand anyone who wished to live freely and discover themselves, make decisions and choices that would lead to a happy, fulfilled life, rather than a proud and accomplished one. Finally, Neteyam did not understand that skill and tenacity doesn’t come easy to everybody, and the weight of living in his shadow was bearing heavily on his baby brother’s back.

On the other hand, Lo’ak never tried to understand the burden Neteyam had to carry, because, in his desire to not appear weak, he took it in strides and never complained. Lo’ak never fully understood the downfalls of what being “the perfect son” brings: no freedom, no childhood, no time, no fun, no choice. He only ever focused on the positives: praise from his family and clan, skill and composure, the title of future Leader of the Omatikaya. He will also never be able to understand the depths of Neteyam’s love for him, who, despite all their differences, would be willing to sacrifice everything, even his own life, to make sure his baby brother would never having to experience these burdens.

This tension felt like more. More than you’ve ever seen, not mended in time, they were always glowering at each other and only speaking to each other if prompted or forced by their increasingly frustrated family. You tried to talk to both of them individually and ask, but you were promptly sent on your way each time. You could tell Lo’ak was itching to spit it out, but every time he got close, he flashed you a look of hurt and fear, and moved on.

Eventually, you stopped worrying about it. It will come out in time, and you had better things to worry about. Your training became brutal after that day tracking Sturmbeests. Neteyam would come to your tent before dawn, sometimes having to wait for you while you woke up in your Avatar body, and you were always gone past eclipse. You were tracking, joining hunting parties to learn, working on shooting arrows while on Pa’li or in nearly impossible positions (he made you shoot targets hanging upside down from the branches of trees, seriously) and working on guns and practicing with Jake and his soldiers. Jake made you his second-in-command during these sessions, and you enjoyed having the roles reversed and having to watch Neteyam squirm every time you touched his arm, or waist, or thighs, in order to adjust his shooting form. You also taught Lo’ak, sometimes late in the nights, where he would sneak into your tent and ask you questions about guns that he hoped would bring him in his father’s good graces for once in his life. You loved teaching them, and you felt powerful with all the eyes on you, trying to absorb every piece of information coming out of your mouth.

“In your hands, you are holding a sub machine-gun.” You said and you made your way through the 10 soldiers in your midst. “It can fire up 600 rounds per minute. You have a button on the side of the weapon, as you can see right there”, you stopped and show everyone on your own weapon, “that allows you to choose between semi automatic and fully automatic. What’s the difference, Lo’ak?”

“A semi-automatic guns fires one shot when you pull the trigger, a fully automatic gun fires continuously until you release the trigger.”

“Tsantu (good guy)!” you said with an intimate smile. Lo’ak was making amazing progress, and you were proud to be even a small reason why.

Neteyam gave Lo’ak a hard look as he answered your question. He was angry with his brother because of his recent attitude, he thought. That’s the reason. Not at all because you were smiling at him with that dazzling smile that used to be reserved for him years ago, definitely not because he knew Lo’ak was sneaking in your tent at night and doing Eywa-knows-what, a fact which kept Neteyam up nights with images he would do everything in his power to be able to erase from his brain. Neteyam was exhausted. He hasn’t slept since this thing started, not until Lo’ak returned to his tent after his meetings with you, and he was able to look at him in the dim light of the night and gauge for himself if his brother was flushed, or panting, or extra happy for one reason or another. Despite never seeing anything that he could deem suspicious, the images of his baby brother taking for himself what was his, what should be his, haunted him and made him sick to his stomach.

Coward. Lo’ak words rang in his ears incessantly throughout each day, never being able to fully block them out.

Neteyam saw you move from Lo’ak and towards him, and tried to remember what they were talking about. Sub-machine guns, right.

“Now, SMGs are best used in tighter quarters or close to mid-range. The spread will make it inefficient for long-range. If you find yourself on the back of your Ikran shooting at a plane or Valkyrie, make sure you close the gap between you or use your bow, instead.”

“An SMG will have a lot of recoil, making it harder to shoot accurately, but there are a few tips you can use to make to improve your aim and accuracy.”

“First. Always fire in short bursts, if you are firing on automatic mode. A few shots at a time will make sure the kick is not unmanageable. Two, account for the kick and adjust your aim to compensate. Think of shooting an arrow and how you always take the wind, its direction, speed and power in consideration before you actually release. It’s a similar principle. The recoil will make the gun kick upwards, so always aim slightly lower than what you want to hit. Three, don’t aim for the head. Leave that for a bow or an assault/sniper rifle with a scope. Aim for the abdomen and chest, since that is a wider target and more likely to hit. Everyone on the same page?”

Neteyam was forever in awe of you, but it was particularly impressive watching you now. You were confident and powerful and knowledgeable. Neteyam felt bad admitting it, but you were a much better teacher than their dad ever was. Toruk Makto had many incredible qualities, but his patience was definitely not amongst them, and his lessons tend to get a bit derailed by his inability to understand that Na’vi are not predisposed to guns or understanding Sky People technology. You were calm, and kind, and funny, and you made it easy for everyone to follow your instructions. In the span on a few weeks, all of the Na’vi and Avatar soldiers training for the upcoming war became better at pretty much every aspect that they were training in, and I think everyone felt just a bit more comfortable about the conflict that was soon to befall them, with you by their side.

After the lesson was complete, you left alongside Lo’ak, sparing one last look in Neteyam’s direction. He was already watching you, and you saw a fleeting angry look that was quickly replaced with an expressionless mask. He was getting good at that, you thought.

“Do you want to do anything? If I have to listen to Kiri talk about all the new types of flowers and plants and shit she keeps finding in the woods, I will lose my mind.”

“Be nice.”

Kiri has been particularly hyperfixated on her newfound discoveries recently, and you tried your best to pay attention to every time she was describing them, in detail, but in reality you were always so exhausted by the time dinner came around that you were only assimilating about a tenth of all the words coming out of her mouth. You felt bad, and made a mental note to dedicate a couple of days to your friend that you saw less and less each week.

“Your Iknimaya is getting closer and closer each day, how do you feel?”

“Honestly I haven’t thought about it that much, just taking it one day at a time.”

“I think you should start thinking about it, cause it’s going to happen. You’ve managed to blow everyone’s expectations out of the water. It barely been two months since you got your avatar body, not even my dad did this so fast. You were made for this, Angel.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. You were grateful for Lo’ak’s faith in you, but with everything happening in your human body, it felt pointless looking towards the future.

“You will be one of us, soon. I’ve had dreams about this my whole life, you know? It’s like I manifested your Avatar, Norm should be thanking me.”

“Lo’ak…”

You didn’t like the turn this conversation took, and felt an uncomfortable twinge settle in your chest at his words.

“There are perks that come with being an Omatikaya, you know? You can make your bow out of the wood of the Home Tree… and you can choose a mate.”

Fuck.

Neteyam was making his way back to the village with the rest of the soldiers, casually chatting to one of the Avatars returning with them. He wasn’t paying attention to the way until his body knocked into one of the Na’vi walking in front of him. Utsou was staring intently at a scene unfolding in front of him, a scene that turned Neteyam’s blood to shards of glass, leaving cuts and bruises along his entire body. It was you, smiling, running your hand up and down Lo’ak’s arm whilst his hand was cupping your face and caressing your cheek. It was such an intimate interaction, it felt wrong to everyone there to even be able to witness it, and Neteyam felt himself becoming nauseous. With the image now seared into his memory and rage turning his breaths to pants, he turned around and left everything - everyone - behind.

Tag list: @nuhteyam @eywas-heir @fanboyluvr @mashiromochi @puffb4ll @sassy-persona @simp4ff @mommyneytiri @hayhay9091

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asscreeds · 4 years ago

Text

Heila - Chapter 1

“Heila,” an Old Norse verb meaning “to heal.”

Self-insert F!Eivor/Reader fic where the reader is a Dane from a clan with an unhinged leader that lands them in a heap of trouble, and are captured by Saxons after a failed raid. Eivor rescues the mortally wounded reader from certain death & with a little help from the Raven Clan, they are nursed back to health, and Eivor and Reader grow a little closer via helping eachother to overcome their traumas. Then inevitable lesbian pining and one or two (a little horny) dream sequences that suggest Eivor and the reader have actually known eachother for a very, very long time.

Reader is DFAB and uses she/her pronouns.

There are very specific trigger warnings for this chapter that are only referenced to later on in the story - graphic descriptions of violence, physical & psychological t/orture, religious fanaticism, wh/ipping, v/omit, blood, and minor/background character d/eath.

Read on AO3. i havent rlly posted fanfiction before on tumblr be nice to me

The morning waves broke calmly against the eastern shore of Cent, the salty sea breeze & sting of sand against your face and arms both familiar and calming to you; despite being weeks away from the place you once called home, it seemed the ocean would never change, no matter where you went. You could hear seabirds cry above you, and the gentle bustle of your impromptu settlement as your clanmates began to stir and prepare for the day to come. This was not your home, nor your intended destination when you had departed from your homeland - but, hopefully, you & your clan would make a home out of it yet. Originally you were to sail to Normandy but an unexpected and powerful storm threw your ship off course & you'd landed somewhere in England, according to your navigator, Vilmar.

Sitting around & watching the sun rise would not do much to help your people build a base camp. Before you could even get up, you heard footsteps in the sand behind you, and turned to find Gunnar. "There you are, y/n!" he bellowed, helping you to your feet as you giggled. "We've been looking for you for a meeting - needing your level head and all. We need supplies quickly," he said, quickly guiding you to your leader's tent, the both of you somehow avoiding bumping into clansmen carrying lumber, goods and the like. "Oh, needing my guidance for once, Gunnar? Or are you going to suggest we ride into the heart of a storm again?" you jested, elbowing his side as you walked up the green hillside. He made some sort of huffing sound, like a grumpy animal, and simply ushered you into the tent where your leader Frederik & Vilmar were already arguing.

"We need supplies, Vilmar! Else we'll all starve by the end of the week!" Frederik growled, slamming his fist into the table, sending little carved statuettes out of their places on the map.

Vilmar moved to speak, then saw you and Gunnar standing at the entrance of the tent, visibly deflating & waving the two of you over. "Hello Gunnar, y/n." Your arrival didn't seem to placate Frederik at all…

Vilmar continued with his thought. "I know we need supplies, Frederik, but the risks outweigh all rewards at the moment. We musn't rush in blindly going a-vikingr, we must make allies first and set up a trade route," he said, rearranging the statuettes to their original places. "We've sent scouts out to every corner of this kingdom, as far as we could, and every single one has come back with word of a potential allyship, and a warning that every single village here is armed to the teeth. We cannot afford to raid right now."

Frederik seethed quietly, seemingly first accepting Vilmar's words, then growing even more agitated. "And how long will it take,Vilmar, to establish a trade route?" he spat, staring down at the other man with something unreadable behind his eyes. Vilmar held his stare, then looked down at the map. "...A week."

The effect was instantaneous. Before you could even get a word in, Frederik stormed out of the tent, leaving the three of you bewildered, confused & frightened. You knew Frederik could be hellfire at his worst, and he'd always been obsessed with the tales of glory & kings that were told to children, and you had always chalked it up to him barely being 22 winters old, but this was something else. Sharing a worried look with your friends, you chased after him, & were met with a small crowd that had already gathered in the center of the encampment. Frederik's clear & raucous voice rang out over your clansmen, and you saw him pacing back & forth on a wooden platform. Like a king.

"Hear me, kinsmen! We may have landed in a strange land, but it is not an unknown land! We are upon the shores of England, the holy country," he spat out the world 'holy' like an insult, "and we are not the first Danes to do so, and we will not be the last. England is the same as any other land - full & ripe of pickings for the vikingr. Any and all of the able-bodied, you will ride the waterhorse with me to their Christ-House, and we will deprive them of their stores & silver!"

No, no, no, no, no. This was suicide.

Frederik leapt down from the platform, immediately heading for the armory, his wolf-fur cape billowing behind him as if he were a great hero from the old tales, though you knew he was anything but . This was not a good plan, nor a sound plan. He was insane if he thought a band of two dozen sea-soaked & exhausted Danes could pillage a monastery & live to tell the tale. You rushed ahead & grabbed his arm. He did not look at you.

"Frederik, please! Listen to me! This will not end well for you, nor for this clan! Follow through with Vilmar's plan instead, please, I am begging you -" you cried, and were met with the man shaking you off as if you were a fly. He turned to you with a wild look in his eye, forcing himself in your space, close enough for you to finally smell the ale on his breath & to see the dullness in his honey-brown eyes. "I have seen great glory in my dreams, y/n. I will not be denied it." You didn't know what to say, staring at him in shock. He looked at you again, and decided something, muttering something under his breath. "You will ride with me," he growled.

This shocked you out of whatever daze you were in. "What? No! I…" you yelped, but he had already turned from you and stormed off again. This was not good. You were never an adept fighter. Sure, you had trained once or twice in your early years, but you would never call yourself a drengr. But to go against your leader's word & break your oath to him would be a worse fate, consigning you to Helheim. Begrudgingly, you went off in search of armor & a weapon, the distant sound of thunder rumbling in the sky.

A few hours had passed, and to the best of all of your abilities, your clan had mustered up a small yet intimidating army. Maybe things would go right, and you'll topple their church like a house of cards, but you couldn't shake the ever-present feeling of something being wrong. Finishing the warrior-braid in your hair and tying it with a leather strip, you donned the leather & fur armor handed to you by Runa, your weaponsmith. It did not fit you perfectly, but still fit, and would serve its purpose and protect you yet from whatever weapons the English would use to defend themselves. Your weapons of choice, an axe & a flail, hung from the belt around your waist heavily, and you were not used to the weight of them. A shield adorned with your clans symbol, the stag, laid against your back like a mockery of a security blanket. Taking a swig of mead to warm your belly & calm your nerves, you give one last glance to your tent & personal belongings - the dried flower & a bag of jewelry (that you've had to hide from your kinsmen many times) from your mother, a lovingly-written & tear-stained letter from your father, among other things given to you by your friends & family as parting gifts before your departure from Denmark.

You did not know it would be the last time you would see them.

Taking a deep breath, you exited your tent and headed for the shore, where many of your clan had already hopped into the three longships, painted red & blue, the stark coloration of the paint looking even brighter against the dark waves of the sea. Were you looking at them any other time, you would have called the scene pretty, but not while you had to wade through knee-deep oceanwater to try and scramble up the side of one of them. You struggled for a bit before a hand grasped your arm and pulled you up, and you heard a familiar voice. "y/n? What are you doing here? You should be staying here, with the women & children!" Gunnar spoke, his voice hushed so that the figure of Frederik somewhere behind him could not hear. You could only send him a sad but stern look. "Frederik insisted." He looked at you for far too long, and you could almost hear him thinking - he knew that you were not a drengr, either. He made some sort of soft sound & pulled you fully up onto the boat, and turned back to face forward in his seat. You could not read the expression on his face.

You sat next to him, both looking forward to Frederik, who turned around as the rest of the drengr boarded the ships, his face somber for a split second before shifting to another, more spry and almost violent expression. His voice rang out against the waves, his blonde hair had already begun falling out of his warrior-braid, sending tendrils of it flying in the wind, and his iron armor shone brightly when the sun allowed it. He was a picturesque vikingr, one you would see in the margins of fairytale books.

"Hear me, kinsmen! Today we sail for Raculf Monastery, upon the Northeastern Shore, for glory & for life! For there it is where we will find the supplies we need to replace those we lost in that dreadful storm, and there is where we will succeed! I know many of you have become doubtful, but fear not - I have dreamt of these moments and seen the glory within, and I have all of my faith in the nine Nornir that we will prevail!" he quaked, earning a few rejoiced battle cries from those around you, and even you felt a little energized, his words setting a newfound battlelust within you that you didn't know you even had.

Your clan set sail immediately, the wind from the brewing storm to the south boosting your speed on the short journey to the monastery. It would only take an hour or two to get there, if Vilmar's predictions were correct. Nervously you checked your weapons, feeling & testing the sharpness of your axe's blade-edge, and Gunnar gently elbowed your side. "Never took you for an axe woman," he said with a light chuckle, sending you an uneasy smile. You couldn't bring yourself to match it. "I have never been forced to choose, Gunnar."

His smile dropped momentarily, then returned, albeit a bit smaller, and he turned to you fully. His blue eyes shone with confidence. "Listen, y/n. I know you are worried as I am, but I have faith in both Frederik & the Gods that everything will go right for us this day," he said, gently setting his huge hand on your shoulder and giving a friendly shake. Slowly, you returned his smile. Maybe so.

It was difficult, however, to be so confident & blindly trusting in Frederik & your luck when the storm roared behind you, moving just as fast if not faster than the longships. Too soon you had seen the white pires of the monastery in view, the columns of smoke from countless houses & other buildings rising high into the air as the monastery's denizens continued their lives unaware to the coming danger, and too soon had you heard Frederik's voice over the roar of the sea again. It began to rain heavily, soaking through the leather of your armor and chilling your bones. You felt as if you were in a dream.

"Look there, men! Our prize, to be split open & savored! Prepare yourselves!" he roared, and it seemed like you had blinked and were suddenly upon the shore: the sails lowered, and just as Frederik blew into his horn, a deafening crack of thunder prevailed your raid, and a fire had already started, the hay-roof of a villager's home struck by lightning. Frederik gave a booming laugh, joyous & strong. "Thor is with us!"

And like that, you and your three-dozen clansmen descended upon the monastery, moving together like some unstoppable force. Taken off guard the Saxon warriors had little time to prepare for the assault, and many were immediately fell by the first wave of your brethren; thankfully you were at the back, but this left you open to attack from reinforcements - hopefully they would not come. You quickly entered some sort of fugue state where it felt like you were not truly there, not truly controlling your body, letting your arm guide itself, your axe cutting the chests & necks of already weakened Saxons, spilling red red bubbling blood - was this the battle fury felt by berserkir?

You did not enjoy it. You did not find glory in taking these men's lives.

By the time you had advanced closer to the church, many of the buildings were already set ablaze, the smell of wood-smoke & hair burning making you choke. Not even the pouring rain could douse the fires. All at once you were overwhelmed by the sensations, the sounds - iron clashing, battle cries, the screaming of civilians caught in crossfire - it was too much. You felt yourself shake. But you pressed on, finishing the weak off as before, checking corpses (both of your clansmen and Saxons, though notably more of the latter) as quickly as you could to make sure none of them were breathing - you did not know what you would do if you did find one still alive, either kill him or spare him - and, thankfully, you were never injured. Somewhere along the line you had reunited with Gunnar, and you helped him finish off the last of the Saxon warriors, to which he gave a grateful nod towards you, then a nod to the church. Come with me.

The locked timber doors of the monastery's inner sanctum were no match for the wrath of the vikingr, and crumbled as easily as any other. You both had finally breached the walls of the church when you heard Frederik's victorious cry, and when you turned the corner you could see why - barrels upon barrels and boxes upon boxes of supplies, food, raw materials, and the like.

You had done it. You had won, raided a monastery, and lived to tell the tale. You felt yourself let out a breath and breathe deeply in, something that felt entirely alien to you, as if you had not taken a breath in your entire life. You felt as if you could pass out on the spot. This alerted Frederik of your presence, and he turned to you and Gunnar immediately, wild-eyed and ecstatic. "We have done it, my drengr! Here is our lifeblood!" You couldn't match his enthusiasm, standing as still as a statue, but managed to let out a light chuckle. You had done it.

The chuckle turned into a scream as two arrows pierced your shoulder from behind.

Frederik let go of you and you crumpled to the floor with a sharp cry, taken aback as a dozen or so more Saxons forced themselves through the church's doors, and another had a knife to Gunnar's throat. Reinforcements.

If they had gotten to the three of you, who knows what became of the rest of your clansmen.

You writhed on the marble flooring, your blood staining the tiles red as you tried to gain your footing, your breathing, anything to keep you grounded in this world and alive as your body could not stand to produce adrenaline anymore from the strenuous and long battle, the sharp pain of the arrows lodged between your shoulder blade & your spine making it hard to do anything but lay there. At least it had not been your head.

You felt a boot come down upon your back, knocking the wind out of you again, and a hand tangled itself in your hair, pulling harshly against your scalp to raise you up from the floor - seemingly higher than you've ever been - and another hand came to pull your arms behind your back, as if you could even hope to try and break free. A Saxon, a zealot, you would later say, stepped forward from the rest towards Frederik.

"Hail, heathen," he spat, the rustle of his gilded armor & the voice behind his helmet too loud, too harsh against the once-peaceful quiet of the church. You squeezed your eyes shut. "What brings you here to this House of God, to commit acts of heresy? Tell me why I should not slay you and all of your kin for defiling this place." Thunder roared outside the church, stained glass windows shaking with the sound.

Frederik seemed in shock & at a loss for words. He took a breath, then two, and the Saxon grew impatient. "Speak, worm."

"I, I - we came here for supplies, and -"

"And you thought you could pillage and raid and steal, or maybe you have tried to make peace and were rejected and thought this was the answer. I've heard the same story and the same lie from the other dozens of you Danes that I have slain. I want you to tell me. Why should I not slay you?" You were suddenly very aware of how much of your blood was outside of your body on the floor, where it should not be, and you felt bile bubble up in your throat, saliva drooling from your mouth as if you were a sick animal.

Frederik could not respond. In his mind, he did what he thought was best, not for his clan, but for him; he ran.

At once arrows were drawn upon him, but the Saxon merely waved an arm & they were dismissed. "Ah, I love a good coward. Let him run & tell other Danes of his failure. Let him live with it. Take the others to Canterbury to be converted."

You were again jostled around, catching a glimpse of Gunnar in your periphery, who had cast his gaze down at the ground with a blank stare. You both had the same thought.

He left us.

Before you could finally let yourself pass out from shock, you felt a hand on your jaw, turning your head this way and that. "You're a pretty one, eh? Not a fighter like the others. What are you doing out here with these barbarians?" The Saxon from before. You couldn't meet the man's gaze, locking eyes for a just a second before you looked to the floor again. He gave a light chuckle. Thankfully, he said no more, and you felt yourself grow weaker and weaker as you and your kinsmen were bound & loaded into carts like animals, the rain having let up, only lightly sprinkling now. You fell asleep and dreamt nothing. It was both a blessing & a curse.

You all sat there quietly for the remainder of the morning, any attempt at conversation harshly shushed by a well-armored guard standing nearby on watch. From what you could see, he was bored… as if these circumstances were normal to him. Capturing & abusing prisoners. These Saxons were a new ugly.

When you awoke, you were corralled in some sort of cage with a few others, and you could feel the morning sun beating down on your back. You went to move but were suddenly reminded of the arrows still present in your back and let out a wheezing, pained sound, frightening some of your clansmen around you, waking up others. They had not sustained much injury in the battle aside from bruises and little cuts - your injury, amongst all of those still alive, was the worst. The Saxons had not even been so courteous to break off the shafts, and the nauseating feeling of the arrowheads moving between your muscles as you sat up nearly made you wretch onto the dirt. You were not used to pain like this. Among the others in your cage - all women - you found Hanne, Runa's daughter; Ulla, who you truly didn't know her origins but she could fight like a bear; and little Lissi, a winter younger than you, and in almost the same boat, though she had trained for combat for several seasons now. They all sent you sorrowful looks as blood began to drip from your nose & mouth onto your front, staining your tunic further. Tunic? You looked down. The Saxons had stripped you of your armor, at some point when you were asleep. Figures.

At some point, maybe during noon or after, bells sang from the church on the hillside, and a small, squirrely-looking old man had come down to bring all of you some dry bread & bowls of water. It was not a filling meal but you ate it gratefully regardless. He looked upon you & your kith, bound & shackled and being handfed like dogs, with great pity. An hour passed, and you were all allowed to relieve yourselves, though for some it had come too late. Then dusk came, and a different man approached your cages, followed closely by another armored Saxon. The man spoke in a strange tongue from an open book with a cross on the front, and from what English you understood you supposed it was some sort of rite, or blessing, or maybe a curse. Then they both went away, and you were all left alone for the night. They had not treated your injuries, nor given you anything to eat past the bread & water from midday. You thought of those back at the settlement, and hoped that they were safe… they did not deserve this mistreatment. And then you thought of Frederik, and a new fury from somewhere deep within you came to light. That fucking ergi. Abandoning his people. Maybe he had gone back to them, alone, and the thought of it made your blood boil - what lies would he tell them? It did not even matter if he told them, there would not be enough men left to rescue you. You looked up to the world around you in the cage, ignoring the burning of the arrows, and studied the night sky, and how the lights of the city reflected against the villager's homes, and how the moon seemed to give the church its own glow. This is what Frederik gave me , you thought. Consigned to die in a cage, locked up by an animal by the Saxons. Or worse. You saw a lone crow circling the church's highest point. And to yourself, you made an oath.

I will see to it that the coward faces what he has broken.

Another day went by, the same as the last, and then another. Some priests came by in the early morning of the second day and finally rid your back of the two arrows, though they did not truly clean the wounds, only simply broke off the shafts & quelled the bleeding. You were all only fed bread and water. On the third day, you refused your "meal," partly because of your burning hatred of Frederik to do anything properly, partly because of the fever that had set in and worsened rapidly over a few hours. You did not feel like yourself.

As you did every day, you sat still in the corner of the cage & observed villagers, soldiers, priests & pilgrims pass by, like a dog staring from the back of a kennel. Today, however, you were given the chance to see two new faces pass by - two new outlander faces. One of a tanned man with a beard in strange white & red gear, who looked upon you & your kith with a strange expression, and a tall, hooded woman with bear fur draped about her shoulders. A Norseman, plain in sight, and none of the Saxons in the city had even batted an eye at the pair. She looked at you with pity first, then her brows furrowed, and muttered something to her companion, who gave a short reply. They continued up the hill to the church - pilgrims, maybe? Doubtful.

An hour passed, and then two, then three, and another priest approached your cages. He spoke of conversion, some rite, and honestly you'd tuned him out after the first few words. Suddenly he turned to you, and the ice-blue of his eyes shocked you still. "Will you accept the love of God into your heart?"

You didn't know what to say. This felt like an insult, after all these people have put you through. You made up your mind quickly. Maybe it was your fever speaking for you. "No."

He made another sort of sad face, and then was suddenly shadowed by the same Saxon that had cornered Frederik, back at the monastery.

"Then we will make an example out of you yet, little heathen." You did not have time to prepare for the pair of armored guards dragging you out of the cage, your arms still bound behind your back, and maybe kicking and screaming was not the best reaction, given one of them suddenly backhanded you and shocked you into quietness. A handful of villagers had heard & perhaps caught a glimpse of the debacle and stopped to stare for a moment, before another heavily armed Saxon waved them away. You were brought away from your kinsmen closer to the church, where a foreboding column of wood jutted out of the center of a clearing. Its purpose was made clear as you were made to kneel and your arms were tied to the bough of it, in mockery of a praying position. Public humiliation. Or worse.

Unfortunately worse. A notable crowd had gathered, and though you could not see them, you could hear them mutter amongst themselves somewhere behind you. Some cheered for your punishment, some began to cry, knowing what was coming. The Saxon zealot circled you twice. You did not meet his gaze.

When he spoke, he bellowed his words so that the crowd may hear. "Here we have the little Dane, a fork-tongued thing that has dared to cast aside the love of God! What heresy," he said, his words poisoned with sarcasm & mockery. Somewhere to your left, you heard the squirrely-man's voice call out for mercy. "Please, Eadwulf! This is not the way of God!" Eadwulf simply waved the man away. "These pagans killed more than two dozen of our men at Raculf. Only one death of theirs is a kindness." Death? Oh, no. You did not sign up for this. You don't deserve this. You found a new will to live in the way you squirmed against the bonds to no avail. Fuck.

Eadwulf prowled somewhere behind you, and you felt sweat dripping down your brow. You heard a chain, or a whip maybe, rattling, and the sound of the crowd's murmurs growing louder, and how the entire city seemed to grow quieter. This is not how I am meant to die.

"If you will not accept the love of God, heathen, then bend to his wrath." How poetic. The first slash was unexpected, painful, making your entire body seize up as if you were dropped into both boiling & freezing water as the cloth & skin between your shoulder blades split, fresh blood spilling down the already-stained tunic. The second came only a few seconds after, worse than the first, and you let out a scream loud enough to frighten a flock of crows from a nearby tree. You felt warmth on your back. Whenever you moved, you could feel the lashes rubbing against the dirty & coarse clothing, made doubly worse by the dull, throbbing pain of the arrows. The third came nearly half a minute later, unexpected, and you screamed again. Then the fourth, fifth & sixth came in quick succession. You felt bile rise in your throat, spilling out onto the too-soft grass beneath you, onto the lumber in front of you. The seventh, eight, ninth and tenth came and went, and in your shocked, adrenaline-addled state, you barely felt them. You felt yourself grow weaker against the pole, the too-warm sensation of your own blood running down your back almost a comfort. Eadwulf said something else, you don't quite remember, and then the crowd dispersed. You were left there to die a martyr.

You don't know exactly when you had passed out, but you awoke during the quiet coolness of the night to a blurry image of the strange hooded Norse woman in front of you, cursing. "Are you still alive, kona? Stay with me," she said, voice somehow strained yet comforting all the same. You could only barely lift your head to look her in the eye, to which she cursed a little more colorfully. "I'm getting you out of here." She cut you loose from the wood, and helped you to stand (which you could barely do) before realizing that wasn't really an option. Cursing even more colorfully, a feat you didn't know she could accomplish, she took her hood off & draped it over your back, making you sharply inhale as the cloth stuck to the dried blood at your back. "I know, little crow. I know it hurts, but please, you must stay with me." She whistled faintly, and a black horse came trotting over, giving you a weary look. Even the animals had pity! Or maybe it didn't want some half-dead creature on it's back. Either way, she set you on the saddle, sitting behind you so that you didn't fall off during the ride, apologizing immediately for any discomfort the position might cause you. Before she could grasp the reins, you stopped her.

"Please…" your voice was hoarse, and you did not recognize it. "Please, my friends, my kin… are they still imprisoned?" The woman made some sort of sound, as if she had forgotten of the others she passed by today. "Yes, they are, but I fear it will be some time before they are freed. When we get back to my home, I will send my best warriors to retrieve them. Does that sound okay?" You could only nod your head, the simple action sending your world off kilter. She bid the horse to trot out of Canterbury to an unknown destination, breaking into a full gallop once you had left the city's boundaries. Both you and the Norsewoman understood you had mere hours left. She tried to keep you awake on the journey, asking questions about your name, clan and where you were from, though she mostly got one-worded answers.

"Are you a Dane?" "Yes." You pass over a bridge, the woods of England looking all the same to you.

"Why have you come here?" "Storm." An answer she didn't understand at the time, but continued regardless. The landscape slowly changed from forest to open plain, then to forest, then to marsh. You crossed two more bridges. It was your turn to ask the questions.

"What is your name?" Your speech was slurred, more incoherent. "Eivor."

"Why were you in Canterbury?" A question that she did not outright answer. "Looking for someone."

"Where are we going?"

"Ravensthorpe." A place you did not know, nor seen on any map. "We're almost there. Stay with me."

You couldn't fight to stay awake anymore. "I'm sorry," was all you said before slumping forward on her horse.

She thought you'd died, grabbing hold of your wrist and feeling a wave of relief at finding your faint pulse. She rode twice as hard to her home then, only taking another hour.

When you awoke, you were not dead, nor in your own bed, and could feel bandages straining around your chest, and the scent of herbs filled your senses.

#i copy-pasted the raw html directly from ao3 which was copypasted from google docs so the formatting might be a little wonky #ac valhalla #valhalla #my writing #eivor #lady eivor #f!eivor x reader #eivor x reader #tumblr pls dont block it again.....#ac valhalla spoilers

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woolishlygrim · 5 years ago

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Winter Weebwatch #5

After last week’s surprisingly bad bunch of episodes, this week’s episodes are surprisingly good! There was also no Darwin’s Game this week, probably because it got pre-empted by a sporting event, but to be honest, I don’t think anybody was especially crying out for another three paragraphs of me struggling to remember what happened in it.

Also, there is a huge trigger warning for discussions of suicide, both in fiction and in real life on this post, specifically in the ID: Invaded review.

In/Spectre

★★★★☆

So, this episode was cruising along for an easy three stars for most of its runtime. Continuing on the Steel Girder Nanase storyline, the episode sees Kotoko and Saki simultaneously deciding to hate each other and deciding that they need to work together to decipher the truth behind Steel Girder Nanase, who they believe to be the ghost of an idol, Haruka Nanase, who was accused of murder and subsequently was found crushed by a steel girder, her face unrecognisable and even her teeth unidentifiable, the body only identified by virtue of carrying Nanase’s identification.

… Just so we’re all absolutely on the same page here, next episode is definitely going to reveal that Nanase murdered someone else to fake her own death, and that Steel Girder Nanase is actually some poor woman who was her victim, right? Right.

But anyway, this episode settles into a nice, consistent tone, sets up a fun and legitimately intriguing supernatural mystery, and seems all set to make its way to a satisfactory conclusion in one or two episodes, probably.

What elevates it to four stars, though? The fairly throwaway joke in which a fully animated opening sequence for a completely fictional magical girl show, complete with an original and fully vocalised song, plays, and ruthlessly satirises the far-right, taking shots at capitalism, militarism, and the police and justice system.

It’s a joke that doesn’t fit the tone of the rest of the series at all, but it’s so unapologetically vicious while also making me laugh out loud that I had to add an extra star for it. I just had to.

ID: Invaded.

★★★★★

Honestly, I wavered on whether this should be a four star or a five star. If I could do half stars, it’d be four and a half, but I think it edges out five.

This episode switches gears a little. With the Gravedigger killed, and the woman who was manipulating him into his murders arrested, Sakaido dives into the woman’s mental world, hoping to figure out exactly what caused her to turn to murder, and why murder in such a specific, gruesome, and sadistic way.

And he fails completely.

The story tempts us with just enough information that we can start forming the half-baked foundations of a hypothesis, but not enough that we can actually form any kind of cohesive theory. We see in the woman’s mental world that she is stuck as a child, endlessly riding a train that’s going in circles, each loop having it cross the train crossing where her mother committed suicide. We see that her victims are gathered at said crossing, waiting patiently to cross. And we see that her accomplice, the man she had killing for her, is present on the train as well, as a young boy very far removed from the blank, not-all-there man we’ve seen up to that point. We see Kaeru, usually representing the murder victims, in this mental world is presented as a suicide victim, having removed her shoes and asked the woman to wipe off her wounds before expiring in a seat at the end of the train.

But we never get enough to build any kind of meaning out of it. The show deliberately withholds closure from us, mirroring the woman’s lack of closure over her mother’s suicide (why did she decide to do it, and why do it by throwing herself in front of a train she knew her daughter was riding?), telling us that we will only ever have a handful of puzzle pieces and no way to piece them together.

I admit, that affected me pretty deeply. As someone who obsesses over puzzles and especially over the whys and wherefores of why people do things, whose lowered empathy response means that figuring people out is often a maddening struggle, the show presenting a puzzle that can’t be solved is infuriating. But more than that, as someone who has had a friend commit suicide, leaving no note and providing almost no indication beforehand that he was going to, I’m familiar with the bewilderment that can follow something like that, the attempts to piece together a cause-and-effect that makes sense.

This episode kind of got to me. I’m not sure I liked that it did.

‘Not having enough information’ is the running theme of this episode, anyhow, as the rest of the investigation team takes some time to discuss the recurring appearance of John Walker, a mysterious man in a red frockcoat who has appeared in five separate killers’ mental worlds (and who appears also in the woman’s, as a reflection in the train window). As they talk, they realise all they know is a baffling mess of contradictions about him: Nobody has ever seen him in real life, and yet the fact that five different people dreamed him up wearing the same bright red coat means he must be going around wearing what is basically American War of Independence cosplay; there seems to be no single link between the killers who have him in their mental worlds, and yet there are strange coincidental links; none of the killers remember who he is, but all of them have extremely strong recollections of him.

The end of the episode pulls another gutpunch on us, as Hondomachi, having killed the Gravedigger in seeming self defence earlier in the episode, finally gets her wish to be trained to dive into people’s mental worlds -- only for Hayaseura, her boss and the man who recommended her, to tell her that it’s not enough to have just killed, you have to be a serial killer, something he knows that she is. While we obviously saw her murder someone (by provoking them into attacking her and then framing it as self-defense) earlier in this episode, Hayaseura also points out something that I’d dismissed at the time and completely forgotten about: That in the very first episode, before Hondomachi was kidnapped by the Perforator, she was alone with one of his victims in the basement, and when we next saw him he was dead, even though the Perforator couldn’t have killed him.

That’s … actually some really solid writing. I hadn’t even realised on my first watch that the guy couldn’t have been killed by the Perforator.

Pet.

★★★★☆

I feel like I haven’t given this series enough credit for how surprisingly vicious it is. The first episode sets us up to think that Tsukasa and Hiroki’s friendship is pretty cute, and the second episode clues us in to the fact that they’re (quasi-?)romantically involved and sets up a clearly unhealthy but quite sweet all the same romance where you think that, hey, they’re screwed up people but they clearly love each other. It isn’t until the third episode that the rug gets pulled out from under you, with the reveal that Tsukasa is actually quite abusive, and this episode pulls the rug straight out from under us again.

It follows two plot threads. The first one is a milder one, with Satoru meeting the niece of the mysterious Company’s CEO, who exposits at him a little about how the Company was founded and some of the strifes that have led it to its current state of disarray -- namely that the qigong masters who created the psychic techniques the Company uses (just … roll with it) all simultaneously betrayed the CEO and were killed for it, leaving the Company with only one person who can pass on those teachings: Hayashi.

The second plot thread sees Tsukasa and Hayashi playing mind games with each other, with Tsukasa first trying to persuade Hayashi to return to the Company, before Hayashi tries to psychically rewrite Tsukasa’s memories, only for Tsukasa to rebuff him and for the two to end up in a psychic battle where they both try to repel the other one’s attempts to alter their memories.

It’s in this second plot thread that we learn all about Tsukasa’s many issues: Like Satoru, he is most definitely in love with Hayashi, and like Satoru, those feelings clearly aren’t reciprocated. Unlike Satoru, however, Hayashi doesn’t even seem to have filial feelings for Tsukasa, and we learn that when he started teaching Satoru, the Company told him that he couldn’t act as mentor for two people and had to choose one. He picked Satoru with what seems like startling ease, effectively abandoning Tsukasa.

There are allusions, as well, to the idea that Hayashi kept using Tsukasa even after that abandonment, entreating him to infiltrate the Company on his behalf and keep Satoru safe. Tsukasa’s … not happy about this at all, and also, as becomes swiftly apparent throughout the episode, more than a little unhinged.

As the episode ends, Tsukasa and Hayashi are ramping up their psychic battle, with Tsukasa informing Hayashi that he’s learned some tricks off Hiroki, so we’ll see where that one goes.

Infinite Dendrogram.

★★☆☆☆

More and more, it feels like this show is falling into a rut, and that’s honestly a huge shame.

There’s just no forward momentum to it. Things happen, but there’s no sense of motion, no sense of things winding towards a conclusion, either on an arc level or a series level, and yet at the same time it’s not fast and snappy enough to be a truly episodic series like, say, Kekkai Sensen.

So, this week’s episode sees Ray, now cursed with dog ears (for reasons which are not plot relevant, but I mean, it’s fine), teaming up with a new character, Hugo, a Dryfe Master whose job is essentially that he’s a giant mecha pilot, as the two attempt to tackle a base of bandits who have been kidnapping children.

The show tries very hard to set the bandits up as absolute monsters, and to sell us on Ray’s rage, but it kind of lacks the elements necessary to make an impact. The huge emotional moment where Ray sees that some of the children have been turned into undead is weakened by the fact that the cinematography is bog-standard, the animation direction for the scene is uninteresting, and the music is unremarkable. Even Ray’s reaction is strangely muted, with some anger but no real horror or anything like that, and not even a quiet fury so much as just moderate amounts of rage.

There are hints of a broader plot involving Dryfe, though (which we know from an earlier episode is prepping to invade), with Hugo making remarks that he can’t use his Embryo yet, because keeping it secret is part of some plan.

He does, eventually, use it anyway, and relatively without fanfare at that.

#infinite dendrogram #id invaded #pet #in/spectre #anime #winter weebwatch #tw: suicide

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brokehorrorfan · 7 years ago

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Best New Horror Movies on Netflix: Winter 2018

There's an overwhelming amount of horror movies to sift through on Netflix, so I've decided to take out some of the legwork by compiling a list of the season’s best new genre titles available on Netflix’s instant streaming service.

Please feel free to leave a comment with any I may have missed and share your thoughts on any of the films you watch. You can also peruse past installments of Best New Horror Moves on Netflix for more suggestions.

1. Gerald's Game

IT was undoubtedly the most entertaining Stephen King adaptation in recent memory, but Gerald's Game may be the most tense. The novel - which revolves around a middle-aged married couple's attempt to spice up their love life - was seemingly un-filmable, but director Mike Flanagan (Oculus, Ouija: Origin of Evil) takes a creative yet logical approach to successfully translate the story from the page to the screen. The direction is stylish, despite largely involving only two actors in a single bedroom. Carla Gugino (Watchmen) and Bruce Greenwood (Star Trek) star, both delivering brilliant performances, with Henry Thomas (E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial) and Carel Struycken (The Addams Family) in chilling supporting roles. Its left-field epilogue won't work for some, but the film remains a suspenseful, dead-filled experience that includes perhaps the most cringe-inducing sequence of the year.

2. 1922

1922 is an adaptation of a little-known Stephen King novella, published in his 2010 collection, Full Dark, No Stars. Like much of King's work, it doesn't shy away from the supernatural, yet it's firmly grounded in reality. The always-reliable Thomas Jane delivers a transformative performance in his third King film (following Dreamcatcher and The Mist). He stars as Wilfred James, a conflicted man who confesses to murdering his wife (Molly Parker. Deadwood) with the aid of his son (Dylan Schmid, Once Upon a Time) in 1922. Akin to Edgar Allan Poe's "The Tell-Tale Heart," Wilfred's unbearable guilt manifests itself. Cinematographer Ben Richardson (The Fault in Our Stars) utilizes a lot of natural light, while Faith No More's Mike Patton composes an atonal score. Writer-director Zak Hilditch (whose previous film, These Final Hours, is also worth seeking out) delivers a brooding, character-driven slow burner.

3. Raw

Raw made waves on the festival circuit when it caused multiple viewers to faint. It is indeed a uniquely repulsive film in more ways than one might expect - depicting everything from animal dissecting to bikini waxing to eye licking in graphic detail - but it's much more than a mindless gorefest. The French film is a compelling, darkly humorous coming-of-age story... with cannibalism. The plot revolves around Justine (Garance Marillier), a young vegetarian, as she enters her first semester at veterinary school. She receives the full college experience: hazing, coed living, experimentation, partying, flesh eating. Marillier's fearless performance is matched by a strong vision from writer-director Julia Ducournau.

4. Super Dark Times

From the first act of Super Dark Times, you might expect it to be a coming-of-age genre tale in the vein of Stranger Things and IT, but by the end you will find a film that shares more in common with River's Edge and Stand By Me. It's set in the '90s, complete with scrambled "adult" channels, but it doesn't beat the viewer over the head with nostalgia. Owen Campbell (The Americans) and Charlie Tahan (Ozark) star as best friends with a secret that drives a wedge between them. Co-writers Ben Collins and Luke Piotrowski (Siren) capture the adolescent banter better than most films, while director Kevin Phillips makes an impressive feature debut. Living up to its title, Super Dark Times is a dark, tense experience.

5. Cult of Chucky

Child’s Play is a rare horror franchise that has maintained its original continuity, thanks to having Don Mancini - who has written every installment and directed the latter three - as the driving creative force. Cult of Chucky, the seventh entry in the series, brings together the franchise’s three distinct story lines - Nica (Fiona Dourif) from Curse of Chucky, Andy Barclay (Alex Vincent) from Child’s Play 1-3, and Tiffany (Jennifer Tilly) from Bride/Seed of Chucky. Taking cues from A Nightmare on Elm Street 3: Dream Warrior, the film takes place in a mental institution, where Nica bonds with the members of her therapy group. When they start dying one by one, Nica struggles to convince anyone that a possessed doll named Chucky (voiced, as always, by Brad Dourif) is responsible. Mancini’s well-paced script is fearless in its exploration of delightfully weird ideas, in addition to balancing the more serious tone with lighthearted fun. The result is as close as you can get to pleasing fans of all eras of Chucky. Read my full review of the film here.

6. The Bar

The Bar is the latest effort from reliable Spanish filmmaker Álex de la Iglesia (The Oxford Murders). It finds a group of strangers trapped in a seedy bar in downtown Madrid. Anyone that tries to leave is killed by an unseen assailant, with their bodies disappearing - blood and all - when no one is looking. Reminiscent of an episode of The Twilight Zone, suspicion grows and intrigue builds as the group must come together to solve the mystery. Iglesia does a fine job establishing an ensemble of quirky characters in a short time and then maintaining that momentum throughout the duration. He also injects his signature dark humor into the plot, helping to further set it apart from other contained thrillers.

7. Creep 2

2014's Creep (which is also streaming on Netflix and should be viewed first) was perhaps the last good, original found footage movie, made on a shoestring budget with copious improvisation. Star/co-writer Mark Duplass (Safety Not Guaranteed), whose eerie performance as an idiosyncratic murderer anchored Creep, and director/co-writer Patrick Brice return for Creep 2, which slightly expands the mythology without sacrificing the intimacy that made the first film so effective. Duplass' character now goes by Aaron, assuming not only the name of Brice's character from the first Creep but also his interest in filmmaking. Sara (Desiree Akhavan) responds to Aaron's Craigslist ad looking for a videographer, and it’s not long after their meeting that he admits to being a serial killer. But Aaron is going through a bit of a midlife crisis, so he employs Sara to film a documentary about him. Much like the first Creep, not a whole lot happens before the climax, but Duplass' eccentric character and vulnerable performance keep you watching with bated breath.

8. Killing Ground

Killing Ground is an unapologetic Australian thriller in the vein of Eden Lake, Wolf Creek, Deliverance, and The Hills Have Eyes. In other words, it's an intense punch in the gut. In the film, a couple's romantic camping trip is interrupted by unhinged locals against whom they must fight for survival. The familiar set-up is elevated by intriguing flashbacks to events a few days prior to the main story, the context of which adds even more weight to the harrowing situation. Although not the most original story ever told, Killing Ground is an effective, realistic debut for writer-director Damien Power.

9. Veronica

Verónica is a Spanish-language psychological thriller from Mexico. Co-directors Carlos Algara and Alejandro Martinez-Beltran opted to shoot the film in black and white with gorgeous, precise cinematography, bringing to mind the recent The Eyes of My Mother. A psychologist (Arcelia Ramírez) is offered a substantial sum of money to take on the evasive yet intelligent Veronica de la Serna (Olga Segura) as a patient. It's a simple set-up, consisting of little more than dialogue between the two characters, but the intriguing therapy sessions slowly reveal Veronica's deep-seated issues. The plot takes an unexpected, exciting turn for the final act, but it ultimately leads to a twist that is trite and, frankly, unnecessary. But don't let that deter you; the rest of the film is positively riveting.

10. Red Christmas

Red Christmas is a holiday horror film that - despite hailing from Australia - captures the typical Christmas season quite well, complete with the family drama it often entails. It also addresses the topical subject of reproductive rights, employs both a genre legend (E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial's Dee Wallace, in one of her strongest performances in years) and an actor with Down syndrome (Gerard O'dwyer), and tells a decent horror story in the process. Similar to You're Next, the film features a killer interrupting a strained family gathering, blending home invasion and slasher influences. It won’t replace any of the classics, but Red Christmas is a fine addition to the Christmas horror pantheon. Read my full review of the film here.

11. Don't Kill It

Don't Kill It is a fun amalgam of horror, action, comedy, and western from director Mike Mendez (Big Ass Spider). A rash of homicides - in which each killer murders the previous killer - lead FBI agent Evelyn Pierce (Kristina Klebe, Halloween) back to the podunk Mississippi town she once called home in order to investigate the case. She reluctantly teams with Jebediah Woodley (Dolph Lundgren, Rocky IV), a self-described demon hunter, to stop the body-hopping demon on the loose. There are a couple of big, bloody set pieces that make the abundance of exposition worthwhile. Clocking in at a lean 83 minutes, the film plays like a more charming and entertaining version of a Syfy original movie.

Bonus: Dark

Comparisons between Dark and Stranger Things are inevitable - both Netflix original series concern a mystery of a missing child in a small town in which supernatural elements are at play - but Dark approaches the material in am much more subtle, subversive manner. In addition to Stranger Things' coming-of-age through a genre lens, the German show has the mind-bending rhetoric of Donnie Darko and the mystique of Twin Peaks, with a touch of Back to the Future for good measure. There may be a few too many characters for its own good, but the story - in which a disappearance in the present is somehow tied to similar events that occurred in 1986 - is undeniably well told and well shot. I'm already eager to binge a second season.

Bonus: Mindhunter

Mindhunter is an original series from executive producer David Fincher (Gone Girl, Seven), who also directs several episodes, with Joe Penhall (The Road) serving as showrunner. Based on the true crime book Mind Hunter: Inside the FBI’s Elite Serial Crime Unit, it follows FBI agents Holden Ford (Jonathan Groff. Glee) and Bill Tench (Holt McCallany, Alien 3) as they conduct interviews with convicted murderers in the late '70s for their groundbreaking work in behavioral science. After an attention-grabbing opening scene, the show takes a couple of episodes to gain momentum, but it's virtually impossible to look away after that. There's an abundance of heady dialogue, in typical Fincher fashion, though it's never short of enthralling.

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