#post-void fun before the horrors start to settle

[sunsetno4]

A comic for small headcanons. In the immediate Nanosurge/Void fight, Ven's mind kinda falls back to 'factory reset' type start of mind, operating more on emotions and instinct and impressions, instead of masking and performing and over-analyzing everything.

Ven's mind eventually catches up and recenters itself but the first day or so after was a bit of confusing trip for all involved given Ven was talking in nir own little language and/or Re-Gene.

And the translations~~

Jello : Ortega's nickname.

Listen : One of Vendetta's treasured words, 'given' to Ortega because Vendetta is a sentimental troll at times. It's a bit like 'you're important. you're family. i love you'.

Vendetta : Ven's name, Number One Treasured Word, but also the word ne wholeheartedly associates with safety and sanctuary and shelter. Ne will often repeat it to nemself when ne is trying to feel safe and/or calm down (or, you know, calm down others).

The More You Know~~ 🌈🌟

[brutal-nemesis]

Getting Tortured by a Ghost 😳

If you remember the tags on this post, you know what’s about to go down :)

Character Picrews

Ingredients: spooky ghost shenanigans, implied mistreatment of mental hospital patients (really just funky spooky messed up mental hospital stuff), tooth pulling, temporary paralyzation, noncon stripping/clothes change, needles

Honestly, Finn didn’t mind the dare. He’d never scared easily, and he was actually excited to get to spend the night exploring the abandoned mental hospital. The multiple reports of hauntings didn’t faze him; all that stuff was bogus. He was more afraid of getting caught trespassing than he was of creaking doors and gusts of wind. 

The place absolutely had the look of a generic haunted building, hallways filled with abandoned, dusty objects and rooms cluttered with debris. He wandered around, his bright flashlight making it easy to see in the dark building. He was on the second floor now, walking down a long hallway lined with doors. On a whim, he opened one and stepped inside.

The room must have been for examination or something of the sort. There was a padded chair sort of like you’d see at the dentist in the center of the room, with cabinets and shelves lining the walls. Finn looked inside a few and wasn’t surprised to see rusty tools intended for...something medical. He assumed. Turning around, he looked at the chair again. You know what, it would be a good spot for one of the selfies he was supposed to take every hour or so to prove he’d stayed the whole night. Shrugging off his bag, he used the sleeve of his hoodie to wipe the thick layer of dust off of the chair. 

When it was about as clean as it was going to get, Finn plopped down and pulled out his phone. After finding a good angle that showed off the room, too, he put on his most confident smirk and took the picture. He briefly glanced at the photo to make sure it was good and went to put his phone back in his pocket. Unfortunately, he somehow managed to miss his pocket completely and ended up dropping his phone on the ground. Signing, he bent over the edge of the chair to pick it up, but while doing this, he noticed something...odd.

There were strips of leather dangling from the edges of the chair. They had holes, like a belt would. But what were they...Finn jumped up out of the chair, backing away from it in horror. Now that he looked at them, those were definitely for...for…strapping someone down. To think that people, very sick people, but people nonetheless, had been restrained here was...frightening. Not because that magically meant that their ghosts were going to manifest, but because something awful had happened here. He collected his belongings quickly, wanting to get away from the unsettling chair. 

But right as he was about to start walking out, the door slammed closed. All on its own.

No, no, there was an explanation, it was drafty in here, the doors in his house had done that sometimes if he had a window open or something. He’d be able to open it just fine, reach for the handle, twist, and pull...pull…pull...

Why wasn’t it opening it’s like it was bolted shut from the other side but these doors didn’t have those kind of locks at least he thought so maybe they did and he didn’t notice and it had locked by accident he’d be fine someone would come looking for him in the morning he’d be fi-

Behind him, the lights flickered on. Lights that weren’t supposed to be working because this building hadn’t had power in decades. He had to be dreaming at this point, there was no way this was real, maybe there was some weird gas leaking in somewhere and he was hallucinating because this can’t be real this can’t be real. But, to be sure the light wasn’t really on...

Finn stifled a cry of surprise as he saw the room behind him. It had become completely spotless, everything in fantastic repair, gleaming metal tools laid out on the countertops, the chair no longer losing stuffing. But that wasn’t what scared him most. No, no it was the woman standing next to the chair, dressed as a nurse with a clipboard in her hand, smiling at him warmly.

“Good evening, Mr. Waltersson. Won’t you please sit down?” 

“How do you know my-you’re not real.” Finn gripped his flashlight tightly to keep his hands from shaking as he backed up into the door. “You’re not real and I’m not sitting in that fucking chair.”

“Now, now, that won’t do, Mr. Waltersson,” the nurse tutted. “You need to sit down so we can get started on your treatment.”

“I don’t need treatment I’m not a patient here and this place is abandoned and this isn’t real.” 

“Those delusions of yours will need to be corrected,” the nurse muttered as she wrote on her clipboard. “And you,” she looked up, pointing at him, “need to sit down.”

And in that instant, Finn found himself sitting in that infernal chair. He tried to get up, run away, anything, but he found he couldn’t move a muscle. “Wh-what the fuck let me go-”

“Patient resisted treatment and had to be restrained,” The nurse said as she wrote, waving a hand towards the chair. Finn looked on in horror as the leather straps rose up all by themselves and slowly started to encircle him. He commanded his body to move, to squirm, to get away before it was too late, but it stayed impossibly still. He could only watch as the straps slowly tightened around him, first his ankles, then his thighs, then his wrists, and then his chest. He felt a final one slither over his forehead, and right after it had tightened, he found he could move again. He struggled and squirmed desperately, but the straps wouldn’t give. He was trapped.

“There we go. Now let’s get you changed and the treatment can start.” Finn’s eyes widened in fear.

“You can’t-you can’t do this to me this isn’t real-”

“Isn’t it?” She was looking right at him, and for the first time he saw her eyes, or lack thereof, gaping coal black voids that bored right into him. She snapped her fingers, and suddenly Finn’s clothes were gone, replaced with a flimsy hospital gown. He shivered in the sudden chill, feeling uncomfortably exposed.

“What the fu-give me my clothes back!” 

“We wouldn’t want to get blood on them, now would we?”

“Blood-you can’t hurt me you’re not real!” Finn wasn’t sure if he was protesting or trying to reassure himself at this point, but it didn’t matter, because this wasn’t real, it couldn’t be. He’d snap out of it soon, he was sure of it, because she was going to try to hurt him and it wouldn’t work because you can’t feel pain in dreams, as real as the leather straps and hospital gown felt, they weren’t real, they weren’t, and he was going to wake up from this awful nightmare soon.

“Let’s begin the treatment, shall we?” The woman pulled on a pair of latex gloves, and Finn flinched at the snap they made. “You need to make peace with reality, Mr. Waltersson, and this will help you with that.” She waved a finger, and a scalpel levitated off the counter and started to approach Finn’s arm. He tried his best to remain calm, reminding himself that she couldn’t hurt him because this was all just in his head.

The cold tip of the scalpel pressed into the flesh of his arm, fuck it felt so real, and as it started to move downwards, slicing into him, he couldn’t help but gasp at the pain because there was pain it was real this was real but no no it couldn’t be there’s no such thing as ghosts but how, how else could this be happening to him? The scalpel made multiple cuts in his arm, each one burning more than the last.

“How are you feeling, Mr. Waltersson? Ready to accept reality yet?” The nurse leaned over him, a deceptively warm smile on her face.

“This isn’t-just because this hurts doesn’t mean it’s real. I-I could have been injured some other way and my brain is trying to justify it because there’s no such thing as ghosts,” he said through gritted teeth. 

“Oh dear,” she sighed. “It looks like you’ll need something more...intense. But before that…” she reached out to touch him, but her hand passed right through, filling the area with an unbearable cold. She laughed darkly and sat right on top of his lap, passing through him but not the chair. All he ended up feeling was a horrible icy chill and a slight pressure. 

“Get off of me. Real nurses don’t do this, anyway,” Finn growled, trying to disguise his fear and discomfort.

“The rules stopped applying to me a long time ago, Mr. Waltersson. In fact, I don’t know if they ever did.” Finn’s skin crawled as her gloved hand traced up along his body, leaving a trail of icy cold in its wake. It settled around his throat, the cold and pressure making it slightly difficult for him to breathe. “You’re too stubborn for your own good. But I suppose that makes it more fun for me. I’ve always liked the feisty ones.” Finn’s eyes widened in fear. If this woman was a ghost, had she...had she treated patients like this? The thought terrified him more than his current, very much not-real predicament did. 

At least, until he saw a pair of pliers floating towards him, the nurse smiling at him as they did. “Open wide.” He clamped his mouth shut tightly, fruitlessly trying to turn his head away. She sighed, and he soon felt the pliers pinch his nose shut, making it impossible for him to breathe. Finn held out for as long as he could, but eventually he caved, opening his mouth and gulping in air to relieve his burning lungs. The pliers wormed into his mouth, clamping one of his lower molars in their jaws.

All the while, the nurse watched him with a sick smile on her face, her aura of warm professionalism starting to disappear. Finn whined, hyperventilating as the pliers began to yank at his tooth. He’d needed to have a tooth pulled as a kid, so the intense pressure was familiar, but the accompanying pain was something horribly, horribly new. It exploded in his mouth when the tooth finally came out, and he felt tears leak from his eyes. This...this was far too intense to be anything but reality. The ghost laughed maniacally, but he could barely hear it over the sound of his own cries. 

When he had started to calm down, she leaned in, her face right in front of his. “Well, Mr. Waltersson, do you understand now?”

“I-I understand that you’re a sadistic bitch,” Finn said as blood dripped from his mouth. He tried to spit it in her face, but it passed right through and ended up all over the gown. She just smiled.

“I’ll take that as a yes. The fear behind your bravado is all too obvious.” She stood and waved a hand, summoning a bottle from one of the cabinets. “Let’s get you taken care of, then.” The bottle unscrewed itself and dumped part of its contents on Finn’s injured arm. The wounds lit up with a horrible, stinging pain, and he fought the urge to scream. He tried to stay as still as possible as a bandage wound around his arm, just wanting to get this nightmare over with. 

His resolve faltered as a syringe floated into view, already filled with...something.

“W-wait no what the fuck is in that thing don’t you dare-”

“Shhh, it’s alright, it’s just a sedative. Come and play with me again, won’t you, Finnegan?” She placed her hand in his as the needle slid into the crook of his elbow, injecting its contents into his veins.

“I abso...lutely...will…not…” he gasped as he slid into unconsciousness.

Finn jolted awake what felt like seconds later, so startled to find himself still in the chair that he fell out of it. He stayed on his hands and knees for a moment, his mind racing. That...that hadn’t fucking happened, had it? He was back in his own clothes, thank God, but his arm and lower jaw were in a suspicious amount of pain. He reached with his tongue, and...his tooth was gone. He stood and carefully pulled off his hoodie to find his arm bloodied and bandaged. So then...that was all real, the pain and the chair and the straps and the pliers and the ghost nurse and her horribly empty eyes.

A terrible thought formed in the back of his mind. He pulled out his phone with shaking hands, going to the photo app. There, in the selfie he took right before everything went to shit...it was faint, but there was definitely someone standing behind him. But that wasn’t what scared him most. No, it was the photo that was taken after it. 

It was of him, lying in the chair, still restrained and wearing the bloodied hospital gown, very much unconscious.

He finally let himself scream.

Tags because y’all said 👀👀: @spookyboywhump @befuddled-calico-whump

[thewayshedreamed]

This Time— Part 5

A Nessian Fan Fic

Fic Masterlist

This chapter was a tough one for me to write. I got stuck a few times with the order of things (for this chapter and the following ones). Once I decided on that, the angst in this one was a little emotional for me to write, then edit. So, proceed with caution. That’s the official angst warning!

On a more positive note, this is a definitive turning point toward resolution, so it WILL get better! Thanks again for all of you who have offered your feedback and followed the story. Knowing y’all are enjoying this little au with me makes it all the more fun to write 😊

Trigger warning for short depiction of grief.

——————————————————————————

Birthday breakfast was really more of a birthday lunch the day after celebrating at Rita’s. Elain was sitting at the small island of Nesta’s kitchen, nursing a Gatorade and holding her head in her hands. Feyre was next to her scrolling through her phone. She was doing intel on their group’s collective social media updates, and so far, there were no embarrassing posts to deal with.

Nesta was mixing pancake batter, periodically folding in chocolate chips. Chocolate chip pancakes were reserved for Archeron birthdays or holidays, and they looked forward to sharing them when the occasions presented themselves. She poured some of the batter into her skillet, absently watching for bubbles as her indicator they were ready to flip. After making the initial flip, she walked to her refrigerator and produced a bottle of champagne with orange juice.

“Who wants to open the champagne for birthday mimosas?” She set both bottles on the island, with glasses, before turning her attention back to the pancakes. Elain’s only response was a long groan. Feyre giggled, pulled the champagne toward her, and started untwisting the cage over the cork.

“What’s the expression, El? Hair of the dog? It may make you feel better.” She stood away from the island to pop the cork. The last things they needed were physical injuries.

“I guess it can’t make me feel any worse, right?” She picked her head up from her hands. “I’m going to go grab my phone,” she said, with a cringe. She padded away to Nesta’s room, returning seconds later. She was scrolling through her phone as she walked and stopped short once she met the threshold of the kitchen, a horrified expression on her face.

”Why the fuck would I have deleted all of my texts last night?!” Her voice was more shrill than normal, and her sisters’ eyes grew at her use of “fuck” during pancake breakfast.

It was Feyre who dared answer her. “Umm... I have no idea. Maybe it was an accident?”

”That’s a pretty impressive accident.” Nesta realized her comment wasn’t helping as her sisters glared in her direction.

Elain continued. “I’ll tell you why. Because drunk me tried to hide something from sober me.” She paused for a second, blushing. “My evidence, in case you were wondering, is a text from Azriel that says: ‘*laugh emoji* Not cool. You had me worried there for a minute, Ellie. Goodnight. Hope you enjoyed your birthday.’” She glanced up at them in horror.

Nesta gave her a small smile. “Ellie, I’m sure it’s nothing. Even drunk you couldn’t have said anything too terrible. Maybe just talk to Az? It would be better than wondering.”

Elain sat down, her anxiety palpable in the small kitchen. She was quiet save for the nod she’d given her sister in acknowledgment of her advice. Nesta assumed maybe she could use a little more encouragement since she didn’t look wholly convinced.

“I really think it’ll be okay. Az is reasonable and has probably said his own fair share of drunken things he would care to take back.” She offered a short chuckle before sipping her mimosa. “You could call him, maybe, or—“

”Nes, are you really preaching to me about communication right now?”

Nesta blinked, taken aback by the irritation in Elain’s voice. “I wasn’t trying to preach, El. I just meant you didn’t have to worry and could trust Az to give you a chance to—“

”The same way you gave Cassian a chance to fix whatever the hell you’re holding against him? Why should Az be any more gracious than you’ve been?” Elain snapped. Her shoulders rounded a little at her own words, and Feyre’s eyes grew to the size of two steel blue saucers.

“Cauldron, Elain,” she said, looking from one sister to the other. Her back was straight, anticipating Nesta’s best weapons: her words.

Nesta took several seconds to reflect on their current situation. It was such an unexpected shift, where Elain was the one throwing insults, and Feyre, of all people, was defensive of Nesta. She wasn’t used to this type of interaction with Elain, and her words stung more than she was willing to admit. She finished her mimosa in one swift gulp and placed her dishes in the sink.

“Lucky for you, Azriel is nowhere near as disappointing, or shitty, as I am. I’m going to shower while you two finish breakfast. I’ll bring you home when you finish.” Her tone was neutral, dry even. By all measures, it was on the milder side for Nesta. She was halfway to the bathroom when she heard Elain’s wavering voice.

“Nes, wait. I’m sorry I didn’t mean—“

“Don’t ever apologize for saying what you mean, Elain,” she said, coldly, before walking the rest of her way. She couldn’t get out of there fast enough, wanting to leave the gaping wound that Elain had ripped open far behind her.

——————————————————————————

The following week went by fairly quickly. Elain and Nesta had made up within the day, Elain insisting that she had spoken from her own nerves rather than how she truly felt. She asked if Nesta wanted to talk about what happened with Cassian, but she declined, saying it wasn’t a big deal. She tasted the lie the second it left her mouth, but she shoved that down with everything else.

Her attention to the day of the week was higher than usual in anticipation of Wednesday. She was oddly preoccupied with a day that truly meant nothing to her, but it had haunted her since she overheard Cassian’s conversation with Alis. When the day finally arrived, she found herself ruminating over their conversation, letting her imagination run wild with the possibilities of how they were spending their time.

She told herself that she didn’t care beyond the fact that he would usually tell her all about these sorts of things. Gods, it bothered her to no end that she wasn’t his person anymore.

That Thursday, she found herself getting ready for dinner with Tomas. He had called her that Monday to see if she’d like to go out, and she didn’t have a reason not to. She may have even wanted to go. The downside, when the day arrived, was that it happened to be a particularly brutal work day. She was at home touching up and mentally preparing herself for a couple of hours of conversation. She would usually call Cassian for pep talks on days like this, but their non-friendship was a dealbreaker in that department. Not to mention, he likely wouldn’t have cared to give her a pep talk for this particular night. Gods, it bothered her to no end that he wasn’t her person anymore, either.

Dinner had been fine enough. Tomas looked handsome and seemed completely engaged with her the entire night. He was interested in her work, how her life had been since he’d last seen her, and her friends. He made brief mention of her mother and how he had been really sad to hear that she passed a few years ago. His condolences were sincere, but Nesta found herself oddly defensive at his mention of her. He hadn’t known her well, since their relationship hadn’t lasted long, and she felt like he couldn’t possibly imagine the void she left in their lives.

She resisted any response beyond a “thank you”, knowing that her reaction was likely due to her death anniversary coming up within the week. The rest of the night had gone well. The food was good, the conversation was fine, Tomas was fine. They had a fine time together. Everything was just fine.

Which is why, she assumed, that Tomas had tried to kiss her at the end of the night. He had driven her home, walked her to the door, and hugged her goodbye. As he pulled away, his cheek lingered next to hers, face turning toward her in slow motion. She cleared her throat abruptly and reached into her bag for her key.

“Well, thanks for tonight! I had a nice time.” She had the key in the lock, and she was already mentally selecting her sweatpants for the evening.

“Wait.” Thomas grabbed her elbow, turning her around. “Why are you being so weird? I thought we had a good time?”

”We did. I just said I had a nice time.”

”You seem to be rushing out pretty fast for a person having fun.” He paused for a few seconds to allow her to insist that she was having fun, or to invite him inside, she thought. She did neither.

He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “Is it Cassian?”

She knew she was balking at him, but she didn’t have it in her to control it.

“Are you kidding me? Just because I’m ending the night without kissing you or asking you to come inside and fuck me, there has to be a man responsible? Could it be because this night has taken us as far as it was ever going to?” She rolled her eyes, turned the key, and walked inside. “Goodnight, Tomas,” she said, as she shut the door in his face.

She kicked her shoes off in her entryway and tossed her purse onto the small table next to her door. She removed her dress over her head as she walked purposefully to her bedroom and ripped her sweatpants out of the too-full drawer. She pulled on an extra large t-shirt and went to the kitchen to pour herself some red wine. She settled onto her couch, put on some mindless television, and tried to relax.

She reflected over the night’s events. She was honest when she told Tomas that they had a fine time. She had enjoyed herself tonight, and she started to feel a twinge of guilt for snapping at him in her doorway. He hadn’t done anything wrong before asking that question, and if she was honest with herself, she knew why it bothered her so much. It’s not that he wasn’t handsome, that he was unkind, or that he was disrespectful. It wasn’t even that he had misjudged and asked the wrong question. The truth hammered through her brain like an ambush, and she was utterly incapable of stopping it.

He’s not Cassian.

——————————————————————————

Nesta watched several episodes of a home renovation show as she worked through her bottle of wine. She decided that it was the perfect type of show to watch on nights like tonight, where she was knee-deep in her thoughts. Her earlier revelation had sunken its claws into her brain, and she was having trouble thinking of anything else. She wasn’t sure at what point she had stopped fighting it— either glass 2 or glass 3. She finally allowed herself to take a critical look at all these pent up emotions, and noteworthy memories of Cassian started to play through her mind like a montage.

She is sitting in the passenger seat of an older, black pick-up truck. Cassian is driving, and they have the windows down to feel the cool fall breeze. They’re going for a leisurely drive because he got his license just yesterday, and he loves the freedom it’s given him. He doesn’t have to be a slave to his home life or his abusive father anymore. He can just drive. She makes a joke, and he’s laughing now. His mid-length waves are dancing around his face, and he turns to look at her for mere seconds before looking back at the road.

She sipped her wine thoughtfully, noting the memory as the first time he ever took her breath with how beautiful his joy could be. She remembered how her chest had burst with pride at being able to make him laugh and smile like that, despite his pain. She noted now what she was too scared to admit then: there was little she wouldn’t do to protect his happiness.

It’s junior prom, and she’s posted against the wall with a bottle of water. Her date is a total jerk, and she’s hoping that maybe he’ll just leave. His departure would be better than pretending to enjoy herself anymore. She sees Cassian approaching her from her left. He looks so much more mature in his tux, half of his waves tied back in a knot at the back of his head.

“Hey, Archie. Where’s your date?”

She chuckles softly. “I don’t know. But I think I like it that way. He’s kind of the worst.”

Cassian frowns. “Well, he’s an idiot, then. Dance with me?” He extends his hand to her, palm up, and offers her a half-smile. He looks almost nervous, and her heart swells with affection for him.

“Always. You’re my favorite person here.”

She wiped the tears from her face, not sure of when she started crying. The feeling now so vivid; her favorite person. The truth of that statement refused to be downplayed. She shook her head, realizing it to be as accurate as ever.

It’s her sophomore year of college, and her friends are at a local bar celebrating the end of finals. She hasn’t been able to see them nearly as often this semester, and she’s enjoying their time together. At a certain point, a guy she doesn’t know gets awfully too comfortable with her, and he’s touching her all over. She tries to walk away, and he grips her arm tightly as she fights against him. He’s so much stronger than she is, but her brain can only focus on getting away from him. Just before the panic sets in, she sees two familiar figures approaching from the side. Faster than she can note what is really happening, Azriel is separating the guy’s hand from Nesta’s arm and is shoving him too easily away from her. She’s immediately wrapped in a tight hug, her face tucked tightly into Cassian’s chest. She inhales his scent as she steadies her breath, and she clutches the back of his shirt like a lifeline. She isn’t truly crying, but tears are starting to pool in her eyes from the sheer relief of being safe with him. He pulls back only as much as he needs to cup her face with his hands. His brow is deeply furrowed as he scans her face in that knowing way of his, and his lips form a tight line. He is painfully concerned. He is furious. He is fighting all of those things to remain even for her.

“Are you okay? Nes, please. Talk to me. Tell me you’re okay.”

”I’m okay.” Her response is quiet, robotic.

“He’s gone. Azriel took care of it.”

She was yearning for a sense of normalcy, the intensity of his care becoming too much. She resorts to humor as she usually does.

“I’m surprised. It’s usually you who runs straight to the front lines. Forever the hero.” She cracks a small smile, hoping it’ll comfort him.

He’s still holding her face in his large hands. He drops his gaze briefly as he shakes his head, and when he looks back at her face, he’s wearing an ironic sort of smile.

“All I could see was you.”

The memory knocked the breath out of her, having been so long since she had thought about it. She understood his meaning then, but it hit her with a renewed vigor now. She superseded his basic instincts to protect, eliminate the threat. When it came to her, he trusted no one else and had to personally ensure she was okay. He would throw himself between her and anyone or anything that threatened her, and he would do it happily. Her heart clenched as she thought about how no one else could have made her feel comfortable or calmed her under those circumstances. Another tear rolled down her cheek at how careless she had been with his heart and how much she had taken him for granted. At how much she had always lied to herself. Because she was feeling particularly masochistic, she entertained one last memory, her tears pouring.

Her mother is terminally ill, and the doctors believe she will leave them any day now. It’s 3 AM, and her phone rings. Her father tells her she’s gone, and she holds herself together until she hangs up the phone. She is panicking; can’t catch her breath. Her father is calling Elain and Feyre, and they are supposed to meet at his house when they can get themselves ready. She doesn’t know how she will face this. She can’t do it. She can’t do it. She Can’t. Do. It.

Her fingers work automatically, pressing Cassian’s contact and putting him on speaker phone. Holding it to her face seems too taxing, and her tears will smear all over the screen. He answers in two rings, his voice gravelly with sleep.

”Nes?”

Her only answer is a choked sob, followed by several attempts at catching her breath.

“Nesta. I’m on my way. Stay on the phone with me.”

She complies, finally mastering herself enough to say, “Momma” through her sobs.

“Nesta. Sweetheart. I’m so sorry. I’m in the truck now. Please stay with me.”

Everything else is a blur except for hearing him come through her door. He opens her bedroom door swiftly, obviously in a hurry to get to her. He leaves the bedroom light off, allowing the hallway lighting to be his guide to her. His weight is shifting the mattress next to her, and he’s leaning against the headboard. He easily pulls her into his lap, and she’s tucking her face into his neck as she cries. She curls her legs into herself, and he holds her for what feels like seconds and years. She feels something wet soaking into the shoulder of her t-shirt and realizes his tears are falling as well.

He drives her to her father’s once she’s ready, holding her hand the entire way. He never leaves her side the days following, through arrangements, the ceremony, and family visitations. He makes sure she eats on somewhat of a schedule because time is all an illusion to her. He sleeps on her couch every night for the couple of weeks following, knowing bedtime is the hardest time for her, and she won’t want to be alone. She is so touched by his dedication, and she isn’t sure she could do this life without him.

She cried for a long time, only recovering when she felt like she had nothing left to give. She was hardly surprised at the landslide of emotions tackling her considering she had been repressing them for the entirety of their friendship. It was now apparent to her what should have always been apparent: she was in love with Cassian.

She was in love with him, but she had been myopic for so long that she may have finally exhausted his love for her.

——————————————————————————

A/N: Well, here it is. We’re nearing the end of this one, and I’m excited to get the rest up for y’all. As always, your feedback/ comments are welcome! If you’d like to be tagged, feel free to message, comment, or reblog! I’ll be happy to add you to the tag list.

Tags are below!

@polireader // @lord-douglas-the-third // @justgiu12 // @notyournymphetish // @sjm-things // @strangeenemy // @iammissstark // @keshavomit // @sjmships // @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks // @dusty-lightbulb // @texas-shaped-waffle-maker // @julemmaes // @charincharge // @superspiritfestival // @awesomelena555 // @sleeping-and-books // @hizqueen4life // @maastrash // @bookstantrash // @rhyswhitethorn // @grace-k-sterling // @sayosdreams // @sis-it-dont-add-up // @ladywitchling // @b00kworm //

[erekiosuncreativeideas]

Being Human - Chapter 16

<= Chapter 15

Summary : Snatcher learns something that is definitely not a good thing. Also available on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/24826561/chapters/68121814

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Sorry for the late posting ! I have a bit of a writer block, and I tried toi delay my chapters as much as possible until I couldn't anymore (the 17th chapter isn't finished so it'll force me to write it eventually), sorry about that ! I hope you're still interested in this story despite my lack of recent activity.

I hope you'll like this chapter !

Of course, the “Oh The Humanity” AU belongs to @doodledrawsthings​​ !

Happy reading !

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Chapter 16 - “So, what are you doing here?”

Out of all the people who could have come out of this hallway, Moonjumper was perhaps the less surprising one to Snatcher. Obviously, the fear of seeing Her had engulfed him since the moment the alarm went off, but now, he felt a huge wave of relief hitting him. The man knew very well this was absolutely stupid for him to think She would be able to come onto the ship uninvited… But still.

His posture relaxed once he realized he wasn’t in danger. This was maybe the first time he was truly happy to see Moonjumper, but compared to Vanessa, this wasn’t really difficult. However… Why was he here? Did something happen with Her…?

The living corpse’s face lit up as his eyes fell on Snatcher and the bow-wearing kid next to him. He had his hands clasped together, his face shifting from worry to relief as he saw them:

-“Oh hello! There you are!” he greeted the two, floating a bit closer, while the bow-wearing child approached him too, her smile wide. Her annoyed expression had been quickly replaced by a happy one, an excited one even, as if she hadn’t seen the guy for weeks when, in fact, it had only been two days.

-“Moonjumper!” she greeted him back, stopping just in front of him, her posture clear of how glad she was to see him. The feeling seemed to be mutual as he gave her a warm smile, just as happy to see her. The other’s eyes soon drifted higher to meet Snatcher’s, and the corpse’s warm expression fell a bit. Well, this wasn’t quite surprising, considering how sour their relationship was. In all honesty, who wouldn’t be put off by seeing their dead, rotten body floating right before them, stolen by an unknown spirit? Not a lot of people.

-“Good morning,” said Snatcher simply, the gears in his mind turning more and more. Was this a simple visit of courtesy or… Was there more to it? The former ghost couldn’t help but think of the worst-case scenario. But could this be possible…? It had only been a few days!

Yet, Vanessa was unpredictable and much cleverer than what she let people think. She wasn’t just a Queen that had gone crazy with jealousy and control… No, no… She was far more intelligent and cruel that one would think. And Snatcher knew that from experience. Furthermore, the man couldn’t help but think of Moonjumper’s worried face as the latter had entered the room… He had a bad feeling, he hated that, but that feeling was definitely there, eating him little by little.

Something had happened.

His thoughts were soon cut short as Moonjumper started to talk again, trying to fill the uncomfortable silence that had followed Snatcher’s greeting:

“I- uh, seem to have triggered some sort of alarm…?” wondered the ghost with confusion and nervousness: “Is… Is this normal?”

The former spirit couldn’t blame the other, that loud thing had surprised him too quite a lot. Just the same, he couldn’t help but wonder if this was something that happened on a regular basis or not. Given how annoyed the little girl had been instead of surprised or startled like he had been, he supposed the former was most likely.

-“Yeah, I was wondering about that too,” added Snatcher with a perplexed frown, tilting his head slightly.

The little girl winced as she glanced away, probably remembering quite a lot of situations revolving about said alarm. When she did start to explain, her features showed some hints of irritation.

-“Well… It’s something that Hat and I built in the spaceship in case of… Incidents.”

-“‘Incidents’?” repeated Snatcher, even more confused and, perhaps, a bit nervous now. What did she mean by that…? Apparently, Moonjumper’s face showed the same signs of worry he was expressing, if not more. Both of their stances were now tensed, waiting anxiously for the child to continue her explanation. At their insistence, she seemed a little uncomfortable, as if she didn’t know how to explain something to them in a way that wouldn’t worry them even more.

Well, this was not a success.

-“Hum… I mean, Space is a dangerous place, you know?” she tried to clarify: “And there are many, many life forms out there, not all being super nice so… It’s better to be prepared, right? Just in case. So Hat and I decided to install that alarm, but…” She paused, looking elsewhere as she kept going, more annoyed: “So far, it has only been a bother, and we never had any problems. But… You never know, right?”

Okay, so if Snatcher was nervous before, now he was just scared. What kind of horrific creatures would cause the need for such a system? Space was not his forte, never had been actually, but now the idea of stargazing through the window just made him terribly ill at ease. Who knew what he’d happen to see in this endless black void…?

Yeah no, he didn’t want to think about that.

As the bow-wearing kid looked back at them, she seemed to notice their change of behaviour and expression and raised her hands quickly:

-“B-but it’s fine!” she soon added with a forced smile: “It doesn’t happen really ofte-”

-“It has happened before?!” interrupted Moonjumper, with a panicked and horrified look in his eyes. Well, then again, Snatcher couldn’t blame him. The simple thought of an unknown creature possibly infiltrating the ship… It made him shiver. As if he didn’t have enough to worry about with Vanessa!

-“No! I mean, yes, but-!” the child was starting to grow a little frustrated and she eventually covered her face with both of her hands, rubbing it as she was maybe thinking of a way to calm the two. Eventually, she sighed and tried to smile again, though it didn’t reassure Snatcher very much: “Your solar system is safe,” she informed them calmly: “You don’t need to be afraid, for real. I mean, otherwise your planet would have probably been invaded by some giant eldritch horrors by now, or-”

The little girl closed her lips shut and tight as she realized she was only making things worse. Giant eldritch horrors? Normally, that wouldn’t scare Snatcher, but being in his fragile and weak human body made him reconsider a lot of things, and this was one of them. With so many risks of dying and not even being sure to come back as a ghost afterwards, he just couldn’t allow himself to be reckless... Especially with the time limit looming over them, this sword of Damocles looming over their head. He had to be there if Vanessa happened to do something, whether it was as a powerful spirit… Or as a weak and pathetic human being.

He needed to be there.

Right in front of them, the bow-wearing kid was fidgeting uncomfortably, a wince clearly visible on her face as a heavy and awkward silence settled in the room. Well, now it was much too late to try to reassure any of them, especially Moonjumper, whose face said enough about the whole ordeal. Quite soon, the little girl found herself unable to do anything else than to flee the conversation:

-“Uuuh, you know what, I’ll, uh…” she stuttered, gesturing to the engine room: “I’ll tell Hat you’re here, so, hm… Have fun you two!” And, without waiting for them to protest or even reply, the bow-wearing child dashed to the door and disappeared into the hallway, leaving two very confused and nervous spirits on their own.

-“What. The heck,” let out Snatcher, frowning even more, his eyes fixed on the now closed door.

-“I, uh… I’m starting to fear for these children’s safety,” murmured Moonjumper, just as shocked as him.

-“You don’t say,” answered the former ghost flatly. That wasn’t really surprising, considering all the kind of trouble the kids were used to put themselves into. Plus, Subcon was kind of a death trap in itself, and yet the little girls kept visiting no matter how many time they had almost got killed. However, if there was anything to be worried about, this wasn’t the kids’ safety (Ha!) but his.

Eventually, the former spirit turned back to Moonjumper, his mind realizing the golden opportunity he had for being alone with the living corpse. Without the kids being around them, Snatcher could ask about the state of Subcon Forest without having Moonjumper worrying about upsetting the children.

-“So, what are you doing here?” he asked, straight to the point. There was no use in delaying the inevitable and if there was something he had to know about… Well, it was better now than later. With Vanessa able to freeze his entire kingdom again, it was better to be careful.

Just like he had expected, Moonjumper was taken aback by his straightforward attitude, making him fidget just like the bow-wearing kid earlier. This sight was more than enough to tell Snatcher that, yes, there was indeed something bothering Moonjumper, and most likely something linked to their biggest problem at the moment: Vanessa. And yet, the corpse glanced away, biting his lips as if he was trying to find a way to tell him what was happening without upsetting him too much.

But the silence on its own was more than enough to make him upset.

-“Okay,” Snatcher pinched his nose, feeling a weight settling in his stomach. Gods, what was he going to learn… His legs were starting to shake a bit and the man felt like his muscles freezing from the tension and apprehension. If he had to know something, it was now or never: “What’s happening? I know you’re not here just to say ‘hi’, especially since it’s only been a couple of days. So what’s wrong?”

Snatcher didn’t have the strength to play the questioner type too long. Dealing with this body was already quite a lot on his mind, so if he had to get more worries over his unfortunately weak shoulders…

-“It’s…” Moonjumper started, looking much more worried than when he had first appeared in the room. Had he been trying to hide it as long as there was a kid in the room? “It’s your fires. They’re starting to die down already.”

Snatcher frowned again, more and more confused.

-“My… Fires? What do you-” but then, he closed his mouth. His fires. The ones he had lit up to protect Subcon Forest from his ex’s magic, the ones that were the only thing heating up the area enough to keep it warm and safe from Vanessa. The only barrier against this unnatural and terrifying cold that had killed so many people… Including him.

Those fires were dying down.

The former ghost’s face paled up as soon as this thought materialized in his mind, hitting him violently as he was forced to understand what it meant. What it all meant for him, for his forest… And for his minions. If those fires ever went out, then there wouldn’t be anything to protect Subcon from the terrible cold and ice coming from the manor, but this wasn’t the worst, no, oh no.

Vanessa would feel that there were no resistance against her magic anymore. This couldn’t happen, this just couldn’t happen, ever.

-“Snatcher...! Snatcher!” Moonjumper tried to call him back to reality, but Snatcher was too lost in his own horrifying thoughts. How could this already be happening? Those fires shouldn’t die down so soon! Sure, he had predicted this would happen, considering they originated from his powers and, thus, depended on them to remain active and warm. Now that the man was in a human body with none of his magical abilities left, he didn’t have any power source to maintain them. It didn’t take him long to put two and two together: this would be what would make Vanessa understand that the Forest wasn’t as well protected as before. However, he had expected this to happen much, much later. Not now. They hadn’t found anything to reverse the situation yet…!

Oh Gods. He was hyperventilating again. His body was now trembling like a leaf and he only realized he was hugging himself. A loud, very loud ringing noise was echoing in his brain, making him unable to distinguish any other sound. What? Why…?

Why was he so scared…?

He was forced out of his thoughts as he felt two hands on his shoulders, shaking him back and forth to bring him back to the present. He heard his name being called, though it was muffled by that deafening ringing noise. What would he do if Vanessa came before they found any solution? How was he going to protect his kingdom in this weak, stupid and pathetic meat sack of a body? The Queen wouldn’t give them any chance to fight back, especially if she was free to use his powers at their full potential in the Forest…

What was she going to do if she saw him like that again…? That thought alone made his stomach turn strongly, giving him the urge to throw up. No, no, no, no, he couldn’t go through that again, he couldn’t, she wouldn’t let him die this time, she would do her best to keep him alive, locked up for him to never, never escape again-

The pressure on his shoulders disappeared eventually… Only to reappear somewhere else, on his cheeks, forcing him to look up. There, he could see Moonjumper’s panicked face.

-“Snatcher!” the latter yelled, forcing him out of his trance. It was only then that the former spirit managed to glance around him, pulling himself together little by little. He was still in the ship. He was still safe.

His eyes went back on Moonjumper’s, the other letting go of his face now that he was able to think coherently again. As soon as he was free again, Snatcher stepped away: his breath was quick and heavy, his heart was pounding inside of his chest, his eyes were stinging… He reached out to rub his eyes, but as soon as his fingers touched them… He could feel them wet.

Did he really… Did he really start to cry…? In front of Moonjumper out of all people?! This could only be a joke. As fast as he could, he tried to dry them up, not wanting anyone to see him in that state, and especially not the spirit who had stolen his past life. No, absolutely not, not happening in a million years!

-“I’m… I’m sorry,” apologized Moonjumper, his expression no more afraid but guilty instead. His eyes were fixed on him, staring at him with what Snatcher identified as pity, as compassion. Gods, he would always hate being looked at this way. This made him feel even more pitiful than he already was in a state like this. But the other started to talk again, catching his attention again: “I should have been more tactful…”

But this apology wasn’t changing anything. It wasn’t changing the current situation, it wouldn’t keep Vanessa away. Those were just words. And words would never, never save them from a crazy Ice Queen starved for a twisted and inhuman love.

-“How much…” Snatcher could feel a lump in his throat, almost preventing him from talking. He still managed to get the words out, though his voice sounded much too broken for his liking: “How much have they died down?” he decided to ask. Maybe he had been panicking over nothing, perhaps the situation wasn’t as bad as it seemed! After all, he had always been quite powerful, it would make sense that his powers would persist even after him becoming human again!

… Right?

His eyes were staring at Moonjumper, awaiting the other’s answer with an unbearable impatience. He was hoping to see some kind of reassurance, something to make him feel better, anything other than the worst-case scenario he had started to picture since the very beginning of this problem. But the corpse wasn’t smiling, he wasn’t wearing the face of someone intending to comfort him, no…

Moonjumper seemed as terrified as he was himself.

-“Almost… Almost halfway,” answered the corpse with a paler face than the one he already had, his hands trembling as he fidgeted in the air.

As soon as the words came to Snatcher ears, he felt like he had just received a bucket of freezing water over his shoulders. Halfway…? No, no, this couldn’t be, this was too soon, way too soon! The man had thought it would take at least a week for that to happen! How could this be?!

-“No,” he breathed out, stepping away once more. He couldn’t believe it, didn’t want to believe it! Those fires were their only hope of keeping Vanessa away and oblivious of the situation! And those same fires were dying down?! “No, no, no, that’s not true,” he kept going, his voice becoming more and more distressed as he was glancing everywhere randomly: “You’re wrong, it’s not possible, they’re not-”

-“They are,” insisted Moonjumper with a troubled voice, not giving him the time to finish: “I thought just like you at first, I… I didn’t want to believe it either… But they’re already getting weaker. I… I checked, multiple times.”

This wasn’t good, this really wasn’t good… Snatcher felt like the world around him was collapsing around him. Their barrier against that crazy monster was weakening, it was weakening and they wouldn’t be able to fight her like this. But the worst question was yet to come, the most terrible and the most terrifying one that Snatcher wanted to avoid thinking about at all cost. But he didn’t have the choice anymore.

-“Do you…” The words got stuck in his throat, his breath becoming heavier and heavier as he struggled to talk again, fighting against the dread that was settling over him: “Do you think she noticed anything yet?”

If Vanessa had noticed anything… Then that would only announce a terrible danger. It wouldn’t take her long to understand that the Forest was soon unprotected… And that she would have the perfect opportunity to strike.

-“I don’t… I don’t know,” answered Moonjumper trustfully as he glanced elsewhere, visibly just as scared as he was: “I haven’t felt anything different coming from the manor yet, so I would guess not, but-”

However, the corpse was cut short in his reply by a high pitched voice that was very, very familiar to the two spirits.

-“What are you two talking about?”

The duo turned in the direction of the voice… Only to find the two little girls, standing up in front of the door leading to the engine room, a confused and worried expression painted on their faces. Both were glancing at them repeatedly, looking for an answer to their question, any answer. But the fear on their faces were already more than a good indicator of what was happening. Soon, their own faces crumpled as they started to understand.

No matter what they had to do to reverse this whole situation… Then they’d have to speed up the process, as much as possible.

Snatcher would not let Vanessa freeze the entire forest again.

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Hehehehehe another cliffhanger, woohooo- Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter ! See you in the next one !

=> Chapter 17

[heartwoodventures]

If You Go Down to the Woods Today Pt. 1

The latest posting pinned to Heartwood’s job board had seemed like any other. Something had been terrorizing the people around Buscarron’s Druthers. Some unfortunate soul would go missing only for their body to be found days later in the woods, bloody and broken. As the Company was inclined to do, they took on the job, assuring the Wood Wailers they could solve the problem. Honestly, to most of them it sounded like nothing more than a hunt for a wild beast that had gotten a little too comfortable around the forest settlement. Easy gil. 

So, with the collective ease of people who had been down this road before, Heartwood’s mercenaries started drifting into the yard of the Company house at the appointed time by ones and twos, ready to meet the client and get on with it. Aislinn, sitting on a nearby bench had her head bent over the handgonne laying across her lap, forever making little adjustments to the finicky firearm as she chatted amiably with Aiswyda, the towering Roegadyn’s sunny disposition belying the grim reason for this gathering. The two of them had joined up at nearly the same time and yet Aislinn couldn’t pinpoint when this mercenary business had become like old hat to them. 

Khora and Zorah stood nearby and now and then snippets of the miqo’te couple’s flirtatious banter drifted across the yard. Nazyl arrived looking perennially serious and ready for business, but then again, he rarely passed up the chance to rid the Shroud of any evils, perceived or not. Finally, N’yami came out from the house hurrying to meet them, her topaz carbuncle trotting happily in her shadow. 

This is how one Vanriri Vanri found them as she determinedly made her way towards the estate, relieved to find a group already assembled. She schooled her expression into one she thought serious enough to befit the situation, but not grim -- and climbed to the top of the stairs, clearing her throat. 

"You are the adventurers assembled to aid in the--" She paused. Too much alliteration, better quit that. "The hunt, in the Shroud, ...for the Wood Wailers, yes?" Was that too specific? No, no, better she confirmed.

Zorah smiled warmly by way of greeting, “We are, yes. Ready to go when you are."

Content that her weapon was indeed good to go, Aislinn rose to her feet and slid it into its holster over her back. She studied the lalafell that had just arrived before nodding in wordless agreement with Zorah.

Nazyl glanced over their client. Another Lalafell, hopefully it wouldn't go like the last two times... "Alright..."

“Yup! Ready to kick names and take ass.” Aiswyda cracked her knuckles in a playful gesture, unaware of her mix-up.

That caused a wave of reactions ranging from amusement to confusion to ripple across the faces of the rest of the group but no one corrected the Seawolf. 

"Wonderful!" Vanriri beamed at those before her, then seemed to realize that might be a little too chipper a response considering the circumstances, and quickly cleared her throat again. "Er, that is, the Wood Wailers extend their gratitude." She held up one finger, faltered slightly at Aiswyda's words and very severely pressed her lips into a line to keep herself from laughing. "A-ah, ahem, I've been instructed to bring you to an area near Buscarron's Druthers. If you are all prepared, of course!"

This set off a chorus of answers in the affirmative. 

"I'm set to go."

"Ready as I'm going to get, I think."

"South huh? Mm." Nazyl mused. Of course, he thought of his most frequent haunt, and its countless horrors, "Alright, I'm equipped then."

Zorah glanced to Khora silently, looking him over and deciding he was good to go.  "We're ready." She nodded toward Vanriri.

Khora’s ears flattened somewhat over his head.  "Yes I am ready mooom..."

"Don't you start with me."

"I never stopped."

"Then let us depart!" Vanriri glanced skyward briefly. "The attacks have largely occurred from dusk 'til dawn, which should fortunately line up with our arrival." She turned on her heel as each one confirmed their readiness, and led their trek.

As the adventuring party made their way through the Shroud, dusk settled in early as the sun dipped beneath the thick canopy. Buscarron's Druthers rose up to meet them at the end of the path -- though it was much quieter than normal; commonly a buzzing hub of activity even at this time, there was barely a skeleton crew of guards stationed at every entrance. One posted at the main road nodded to them as they passed and approached the settlement proper.

Aislinn took a moment to sweep a glance around the area. "Know what kind of attacks, exactly? Any idea what we're up against?" she asked with a note of curiosity. 

"No one has strictly seen the creature," Vanriri answered, glancing over her shoulder at Aislinn, "but the ...leavings from its victims have been-- ah, gruesome, if revealing in their nature. They appear to have been kills of opportunity, and have seemingly been dropped from a considerable height. ...According to reports from Stillglade Fane on the condition of the remains."

Looking off into the thicket, Aiswyda tilted her head, thinking aloud. “Dropped? Perhaps some manner of bird?”

Aislinn made a face that signaled her distaste before surreptitiously eyeing the skies above them.

The lalafell pointed further south. "By and large, victims have been found along the stretch of woods between here and Camp Tranquil, though none in the swamp itself."

"Egh, I don't like that. Issom-Har is in that area, n' all kinds o' nasteh things come from it. Closin' the door ta that hellhole has been an effort n' a half." Nazyl commented. 

Vanriri nodded. "Indeed, the Wood Wailers have posited it may well be some manner of creature from the depths."

Zorah frowned as she listened, "One of those one-eyed demons, I imagine? Or imps. Grotesque things."

Nazyl narrowed his eyes, gazing south. Considering how it killed, it was either a demented tree climber or, as he assumed, a devil of some kind. They were known for their cruelty, "Imps hardleh have that kinda clevahness.” 

"I am happy to defer to each of you on how best to approach; I can take you to the location of the last victim, if that is where you would prefer to begin?" Vanriri suggested. 

Aiswyda turned to the lalafell with a nod. “We could find some clues there. Seems like a fine idea to me.”

Dropping her gaze from the skies, Aislinn nodded in agreement. "Aye, seems like a good place to start."

With a nod Vanriri began to lead them away from the settlement. Her back turned to them, she let a little of the dread currently turning her gut to lead to creep into her expression. Here she'd thought some kind of Shroud animal gone wild was bad enough, but fiends...

Nazyl continued to speak as they moved into the dark forest. “Imps are smart, but not enough ta keep hidden this long without bein' found out. B'sides, they're too small ta carreh someone that ain't a Lalafell.” he paused. “...A bogeyman might have that capabiliteh though..."

From behind him Aiswyda stared in uncharacteristic speechlessness at the lalafell’s back. She would defer to Nazyl’s expertise but in her mind, she wondered. But what if there were a whole troupe of imps?! The horror. She shivered.

Vanriri brought them to a halt in a forest glen that could have been any other glen for all that it failed to scream of the violence done here among the peacefully nodding branches and soft, moss covered floor. The petite lalafell pointed slightly ahead at a patch of earth that had been a little more obviously trampled. In the gloom, it was difficult to see -- but the earth bore some small sign of a heavy impact. Keen eyes might have been able to pick out bloodspill though it had, unfortunately, largely sunk into the loamy undergrowth.

Immediately, Heartwood got to work. Almost as one they fanned through the glen.

Aiswyda’s heels sunk in the soft earth, but that didn’t stop her from making her way quickly to the scene of the crime. One janky step at a time. “Hm, well. If something really was dropped from up high to here, I’m shocked it managed to make it past the canopy.”

Aislinn's eyes narrowed slightly as she sought to take in whatever Vanriri had pointed out to them but it was difficult in the waning dusk. She moved forward a bit and eventually made out the impact site. Logic had her glancing up to the canopy of trees overhead. "Maybe not just something that takes to the air, but anything that might drag a victim up into the trees?" She looked to Nazyl, wondering if he knew of anything supernatural that might fit the bill off the top of his head.

The void hunter stared at the shifted ground, looking up from where the victim would have dropped. Nothing less than lethal distance, that's for sure. But why? If for amusement, then they would have just left the body. He grimaced, by breaking someone this way it would technically make them...easier to consume. An intelligent man eater...? He couldn't determine the purpose of this bizarre ritual from sight alone, and his eyes kept to the treetops. He glanced at Aislinn, "I'm still unsure. I don't know maneh things that do this off the top of me head, but so far it's pointin' ta bogeyman. They're not fun ta deal with."

Investigating the scene was indeed proving difficult in the gloom, though Zorah was less hampered than most; she was able to make out a wide spread of blood from the point of impact, and the remnants of strange tracks besides; whatever it was, it was ...probably quadrupedal. The miqo’te’s ears twitched as she looked about, remaining silent for the time being. She had picked up on the scent of blood, that iron smell of which she was never fond. She stepped a bit closer, looking over the area, listening to them speak all the while. 

"These are unfamiliar." Zorah finally spoke, gesturing to the tracks on the ground.  She looked to the others, "Any of you recognize them?"

At Zorah's question, Aislinn turned her attention from the impacted earth and moved closer to where the miqo’te stood in order to get a better look but soon shook her head. The tracks were unlike anything she had ever seen. "But then again, I'm not a tracker. Either way, I say we see how far we can follow them."

Zorah smirked, "Sadly, I was one of the ones who never really got hunting and tracking down with my tribe. I spent my days in Radz-at-Han instead."

The canopy above this point was perhaps thinner than most -- broken branches and foliage were thin, and too weak to support whatever was dropped through them. Curiously, several of the branches are bent upwards however. A detail Aiswyda quickly pointed out.

“Huh. The branches here lean up. Perhaps the ‘thing’ flew up afterwards, or can emit strong gusts of wind?” She narrowed her eyes, thoughtful. But her mind drew a blank. “Sounds like a doozy.”

"Miss Vanriri Vanri, was there aneh othah reports regardin' these attacks? Sounds, tracks, anehthin'?" Nazyl asked. 

Vanriri shook her head in reply. "Nothing conclusive. 'High pitched shrieking' was reported, but whether that was the creature or," she glanced pointedly at the impact site, "...otherwise..."

N'yami hung back and quietly studied the area, branches were pointed upward in an odd fashion, maybe the thing could come out of the ground? The Seeker looked over to her summon and gave a small shrug as if silently communicating with the carbuncle. Whackara chirped back at her and N'yami tilted her head curiously. Clearly she was lost in her own thoughts about this.

When the chatter and brainstorming from the group died down it soon became clear to all of them that the forest in this area was silent in a way no forest should ever be. The sounds of regular fauna were completely absent; even the buzz of vilekin seemed to be missing.

“Was the forest always this...er.  Silent?” Aiswyda wandered to the edge of the foliage, searching for any sign of wildlife. She didn’t like the quiet. She was the type of person who got antsy in silence around others.

In reply, Aislinn made a thoughtful noise in the back of her throat. An unsettled feeling had begun to creep over her though she couldn’t articulate why. She wasn't the forest type and couldn't pick out the significance in the lack of noise but even she knew the sudden silence in a calm before a storm.

Nazyl felt a chill down his spine. "....Somethin' ain't right. There's nothin' alive here." A hand curled around Perdition, hearing his own heartbeat drumming against the silence of the forest.

“Cheeky bugger. We’re alive, aren’t we?” Aiswyda muttered. But she understood where the lalafell was coming from. Something felt different. Off.

Their observations made Vanriri stand a little straighter, apparently realizing for the first time the only sound that she could hear -- other than the group of adventurers -- was the uneasy thumping of her own heart. "Oh." She cleared her throat uneasily.

And then, beyond the gradual lull of the sound of leaves in the evening breeze far overhead came a distant sound of wings that began to echo from above...

Zorah’s ears flickered, picking up the subtle sound all too well. "Something's coming..." She spoke quickly, just loud enough for all of them to hear.

(What gruesome fate befell the forest denizens? Will Heartwood survive what comes next? Will names indeed be kicked and asses taken? Find out next time! To be continued!)

[reputayswift]

 I was tagged by the lovely @jessmariana ! This was ridiculously fun

rules: pick 5 shows, then answer the following questions. don’t cheat. tag 10 (or however many) people.

gilmore girls

this is us

one tree hill

the mandalorian 

teen wolf

what’s your favourite character from 1? as a surprise to exactly no one, jess mariano 

who’s your least favourite character in 2? miguel >:( jk there’s so few hateable characters!! kate’s ex-boyfriend, probably, or rebecca’s parents.

what’s your favourite episode of 4? chapter 4: sanctuary

what is your favourite season of 5? ooooo it’s been so long I can’t really remember. probably 2 or 3? those tend to be my favorite seasons of every show and I distinctly remember it going down hill either at or after season 4. 

what’s your favourite couple of 3? peyton x jake and I will die on that hill!! but also naley (of course) and bevin x skills

what’s your favourite couple in 2? jack and rebecca!!! but also randall x beth

what’s your favourite episode in 1? season 3, episode 7 “they shoot gilmores, don’t they?” and also season 2, episode 13 “a-tisket, a-tasket” 

what’s your favourite episode in 5? I honestly don’t remember :( probably something with void stiles or any of the early eps that had a good balance between comedy and horror (before they went full horror)!

what’s your favourite season in 2? this is SO hard!! I’m just gonna say season 1 because all the twists were SO good, you really can’t beat that first episode.

how long have you been watching 1? since late 2016/early 2017 and every year since lol

how did you get into 3? I saw a lot of 2000s throwback accounts posting about it on instagram and twitter! also me and my mom needed a new show to watch after parenthood and I had a bunch of snowdays in a row so that’s when I started

favourite actor in 4? baby yoda, obviously. but pedro pascal does a fantastic job acting through a helmet and obviously I have a soft spot for julia jones because, twilight, and I genuinely believed she was ready to settle down with mando after all of 24 hours of knowing him

which do you prefer? 1, 2 or 5? I feel like this is us is objectively the best but gilmore girls has that cozy factor (and doesn’t make me cry as much) so (despite only really enjoying like 3 seasons of it lol) I choose gilmore girls! 

which show have you seen more of, 1 or 3? gilmore girls

if you could be anyone from 4, who would you be? omera or baby yoda

would a crossover of 3 and 4 work? HA OTH cast please do a collaborative cameo like you do for lifetime and hallmark movies but in the star wars universe I beg!!! but also the mandalorian feat. a 2000s soundtrack and basketball would also be something to behold

pair two characters in 1 who would make an unlikely but strangely okay couple? rory gilmore and getting her life together (luv u rory) 

overall, which show has the better storyline, 3 or 5? can I say neither lol?? they both go wild after like season 4

which has better theme music, 2 or 4? THIS IS US!! “death with dignity,” “to build a home,” “our house,” various carole king songs?? who’s doing it like them?

I tag @julesblackthorns @jedirey @lorelaigilmo + anyone else who sees this! (feel free to ignore)

[firehedgehog]

Retconned Chapter 12: A Reapers Moment

A double post for Retconned, all hail Nekophy for Goth

Goth watched, watched and remembered.

As another AU was swallowed and retconned from existence.

They were speeding up from what he could tell, as this was the tenth AU this morning taken.

It was due to this that Error didn't have to do his Duty of destroying Au's, as the retcons were wiping out them faster then he could destroy

He hugged the save lantern to his chest, a single tear slipping down his face.

"I'm sorry I can't save you, I can't even save myself," he whispered as the AU was snuffed from existence.

OoOoO

"Ummm.." Reaper said, he'd just finished a reaping and literally walked into Goth.

Who thankfully didn't die at his touch.

"Hi?" Goth said awkwardly.

"Would.. you like to... get lunch with me?" he asked, while he didn't have to eat he'd kill to have a coffee.

A killer coffee at that.

"Sure," Goth said.

"There's a sweet cafe a street away," Reaper said.

The Death quickly led the way to his favorite place in this AU.

OoOoO

Goth sipped at the remains of his hot chocolate, as Death consumed what had to be his 5th cup of coffee.

It was rather nice to be with his dad, but also awkward due to the fact he technically only barely existed due to the Retcons.

"So what are your hobbies?" Reaper asked.

"I like cooking and baking, I also do some art. I usually have a lot of free time, i think Error might have stolen a few libraries for me to read..." Goth said the last part awkwardly, probably from librarytales he destroyed now that he thought on it.

"Pff... sounds like Error," Reaper snorted.

"As I said I had a lot of time to do things, it was only recently that I could leave the anti-void for longer times," Goth sighed, gently touching the top of the save lantern sitting by his feet.

"What do you mean by that?" Reaper asked concerned.

"Ah, this may take a bit of explaining. I am not just Goth, I am pieces of all the Goths. I have there memories, there feelings and hopes, joys, hate and sadness, I am all of them at once. Due to this my body is very.. unstable. I will not tell you how long it took for my mind to settle, Error was very surprised i think that I came out sane," Goth whispered a bitter look on his face.

Reaper felt cold, to think it was only bare change Goth escaped full Retcon.

"Originally I could only leave the anti-void for half an hour, anything past that point.. I start to fade. Pretty sure I'd fully be retconned out if that happened," Goth continued.

"Originally?" Reaper asked, as they'd been here almost an hour now.

"Believe it or not Cross helped on that issue," Goth said dryly.

"Cross.. really?" Reaper said in disbelief.

Far in the distance, Cross could be heard yelling "Yes Really!"

Both ignored it.

Cross could be such a drama Llama.

"He somehow managed to trap a save point in lantern, he gave it to me. Somehow it gives me unlimited time outside the anti-void as long as I have it near," Goth said.

"Sounds... dangerous," Reaper said after a moment.

And felt horror, for just someone grabbing the lantern and running away leaving Goth trapped would kill him.

"Only if they get it, which I hope they never do," Goth gently said.

The two stayed silent after that, finishing there drinks and the remains of the food.

"Is.. Error kind to you?" Reaper finally asked, as the destroyer wasn't the most stable minded monsters.

"He's a mother hen, I sometimes wonder if he had kids before he became Error. He's been like an uncle to me, I think he's actually become more stable since I've lived there. The anti-void does strange things to people, my situation actually protects me from the anti error effects," Goth said, and hadn't Error had been relieved the error effect couldn't effect him as it wasn't really possible for him to live outside even now.

"Something to think about," Reaper said, he felt a tug and knew duty was calling. "Duty calls," he sighed.

"I understand," Goth said.

"Do... you have a way for me to contact you?" he asked hopefully.

Goth held out a cellphone.

"That works," Reaper said and they traded numbers.

"Have fun," Goth said standing up and grabbing the save lantern.

"Hah," he laughed, and sped off.

"See you dad," Goth said just before he was out of hearing range, Reaper turned quickly to respond to see Goth was already gone.

"See you soon Gothy," Reaper said.

[rosemary-and-such]

Haven't yelled into the Tumblr void in a while, wanna update any yall interested in my life

First thing, I live in the south so I'm legally allowed to say yall much I want

Currently tryna get a pharmacy job and tryna figure out how money and college works

Goin into language for college (Russian and probably Mandarin, unsure of my minor but it's fine cause I'm doin community college first) dk if I wanna work for like an international company or translating or teaching like refugees language

I do wanna make it clear, college is a class-gate and it's bullshit, I just wanna go cause I think it's right for me personally

Want more rap in my spotify and more punky clothes, wanna dress my style and be able to buy all my own clothes

Wanna figure out how skin care works

Wanna grow my hair out long and bleach/dye it a white-purple undertones growing it out long enough will take a couple years

I plan to get top surgery next summer but honestly depends how much money I can save in that much time. If it gets closer (like spring) and it looks like I can't make it, I might do a small crowdfunding, try to cover a lil bit (it's 7k$ before hotel and travel cost). It also depends on when the surgeon I settle on has an opening.

Planning out the tattoos I want better (a shoulder-neck piece is my most anticipated) I won't get it this year but like? Maybe next winter, maybe even the summer after that as reward for my associates? Imma put up that goal and we'll see. I want a specific style so I gotta find a good artist and it's big and'll cost a lot. Also gotta figure out placement of all my tattoos so it won't be too hard if I have to cover them on a daily basis. I think I'll have my neck tat not go up that far, so a light scarf or smtn will cover it. A while after that, I want cover ups for my top surgery scars I just still have to settle on the exact design. I probably won't do my arm till I graduate.

My cat, BB, is still doing well, he is about 1½ and I love him more than the world. He will be with me everywhere I live except for when I'm overseas on study abroad and if I ever travel. I've heard too many horror stories of pets on air planes and he'd be happier with my friends than alone all day in a new place.

I still have an intense passion for music and I'd love if my life leads me to being a musician and I guess we'll see what happens. I plan to buy an instrument (probably a guitar? Maybe a banjo) soon and start having fun with stuff. I wrote songs when I was little so I'd like to see if I still have it in me and I hope I do. It also means I could get more visible tattoos if I luck out and get into music.

I also still love art and can hopefully buy a drawing tablet soon. I don't think I'll be comfortable doing commissions since I like to draw for however I'm feeling but who knows where it'll take me. Maybe I could do a comic? I could already translate it into multiple languages lol.

Tldr; I'm starting college, tryna get a job like everyone, planning top surgery and tattoos, and love my cat, music, and drawing

Sorry this was pretty long but I never talk to yall C: thought some yall were curious what's goin on in the life of me, also felt good to type some stuff out and see what I have to look forward to

If any yall wanna ask me a question about smtn feel free! I'd love to talk about myself some more lmao. And if you wanna make a similar post @ me! I'd love to know what hopeful plans yall all have C:

[thelittlestspider]

💜👻

@mvcreates

💜- top 3 favorite lines

hmmmm. okay forewarning: this is gonna be long. also spoilery. 

1. sage “kills” owen.

[warning(s): car accident, violence, torture, blood, guns, gunshots, and crying.]   

sageis driving when the tires are shot out, causing them to spin out andflip over a bridge. Sage is hella pissed. Like burn the world downpissed. She drags violet and carter out of the vehicle, laying themdown safely out of sight, and then goes to hunt down the fucker thatdared to try and kill them.

Shegoes up to the bridge to see a boy and a girl who she thinks might besiblings, holding guns in their hands. Sage holds up her hands tomake them feel safe.

“whoare you” asks sage, slowly edging closer to them.

Theboy smirks. There’s a look in his eyes sage dislikes immediately,something evil. “hm, nobody you need to worry about.”

sage’smouth quirks. “i doubt that.” she glances at the girl, then atthe gun aimed at her. They are fools, the both of them. She wouldhave thought they were trained better than this.

Sagegrabs the gun out of the girl’s hand, punching her hard enough todaze her. She spins lightning fast to hit the boy with the butt ofthe gun, then slams her hand against his chest with enough force tobreak ribs, dropping him to the ground. When he holds the gun up,wheezing for breath, sage wrenches it from his grasp. He glares ather with a hatred that would be frightening if he wasn’t so pathetic.

“thiswas your idea, wasn’t it?” she asks, voice low, soft. “i hopeyou’re satisfied with what happens to you now.” his sister screamsat the first gunshot, tears streaking her face, her handoutstretched. Sage glances at her. “get out of here while you stillcan. I might not feel so charitable once i’m done with your brother.”

theboy gurgles as blood fills his lungs. His sister cries. Sage watchesthe scene, unmoved by their pain.

“what’syour name?” the girl looks up at her with frightened eyes, lipsquivering against her sobs.

“w-what?”

“yourname.”

thegirl opens her mouth and closes it again, struggling to draw breathinto her lungs. “bella. My name is bella.”

“thankyou. I just wanted to know who i’m dealing with.” sage walks aroundthe boy’s legs to stand next to his side. He gives her that glareagain. She narrows her eyes at him, places her foot on his gunshotwound, and presses down. “Now i’m going to offer you a way out ofthis. You leave him here, I spare your life, you live the life you’vealways wanted free of this cancer.” he screams as she presses downharder, grinding her heel into his wound. “he made you do this,didn’t he? He’s always making you do things you hate.”

“yes,”whispers bella. More tears fall down her face. Bella’s guilt ispalpable.

“go.”

bellastands on shaky legs and walks away. She doesn’t look back.

i mean. it’s gonna have to be rewritten but like sage is so fucking raw in this scene i had to put it here. 

2. nina tells carter about her abusive ex kyle. i really like bc it was one of the scenes i wrote that solidified the bromance between them. 

[warning(s): talk of emotional abuse and gaslighting.]

the party has been going approximately an hour, when they realize nina is nowhere to be found. Violet sends carter to make sure nina hasn’t been kidnapped or eaten, or boarded herself up in the bedroom to avoid an awkward conversation.

Eventually carter finds her sitting in one of the lawn chairs in the backyard, gazing up at the night sky. She looks so serious sitting there, knees pulled up to her chest. Carter wonders if the void would give him the answers to life’s mysteries if he asked, or if it would stare back at him with its vast coldness, as unknowable and everchanging as time itself.

He plops himself into the chair next to nina, deciding nina’s troubles are more important than the void.

“are you alright?” asks carter, copying nina’s sitting position.

“yeah, i’m fine. I get overwhelmed when it’s a big crowd of people. So sometimes I have to go hide away somewhere when it gets too much.”

“um, ever since I was a kid, i’ve always liked going out at night and talking to the moon. I’d tell her about my day, or about the books I was reading.” nina smiles jewel bright in the faint moonlight. “kyle always told me I was weird for doing that.”

“was kyle nice to you?”

“most of the time. I guess.” nina looks down at her hands, fiddling with a thread on the sleeve of her cardigan.

Carter waits for her to speak.

“kyle could be really mean sometimes. He would tell me I was weird and that’s why I had to have the moon as my friend, because I couldn’t get anyone to be friends with me.” nina’s eyes become shiny as she talks, reliving an open wound. “and when i’d cry because it hurt so bad, he told me he was sorry. Then he would um,” nina sniffles, wiping tears away with her sleeve. “he would buy me gifts, take me out to dinner; that kind of thing. He was so sweet that I forgave him, and I’d start to wonder if I had overreacted, like maybe I just blew it out of proportion.”

“but I wasn’t carter, I wasn’t.” nina’s face scrunches up. “he didn’t care about me at all. When the ghosts hurt me, he didn’t believe me. He said I was just making it up for attention.” carter wraps his arms around nina, rubbing her back as she cries. “tiffany was the only person who believed me.”

“i’m going to set him on fire,” says carter, deadly calm. “and then i’m going to use him to light my cigarette.”

“please don’t do that,” nina hugs carter tight, resting her cheek against his shoulder. “but thank you.”

some of this is gonna be rewritten bc of plot related stuff, but i still really like the lines in this.

3. carter confides in nina about a one night stand gone wrong and about his past. nina is heartbroken. 

warning(s): mentioned slutshaming, implied domestic violence and sexual assault. it’s not graphic or anything like that, but still heed the warnings just in case.

nina hears carter take gasping breaths behind the door as he cries, and holds her clasped hands to her chest, a terrible ache in her gut. She recognizes that kind of crying; the kind of sound you make when you try so hard to stop, but you can’t because it’s pouring out of you. All of the hurt comes out in these kinds of moments. Nina closes her eyes, bracing herself for the fallout.

She raps her knuckles on the door. “carter, can I come in?”

“come in.”

carter’s sitting on the toilet seat, lips pressed together against another sob. His face and eyes are red and his nose is dripping. He grabs a handful of toilet paper and wipes his face, trying to look brave for Nina and utterly failing in the attempt. Nina looks back at him, thinking Who did this. Nina sits on the floor next to him, back resting against the cabinet, arms draped around her knees. She waits there looking down at her nails to stop herself from looking directly at carter’s downturned face. The trick to getting carter to open up is to let him talk first. She tried to force it once and saw that naked look in his eyes, before he flew away like a startled bird. Out of the corner of her eye, carter sniffs wetly, tears clinging to his lashes.

“i’m sorry,” rasps carter. “i didn’t want anyone to see me like this.”

nina chances a look at him. “what happened?” carter opens his mouth, then closes it. More tears fall.

“some guy I went out with, we– we were having fun. And um, he asked if i’d go back to his place. So I said, “okay.” but once we got there…” carter blinks, eyes distant. “he started getting mean. He called me a, a slut, and he sounded so much like him, I just couldn’t–” he puts a hand against his mouth, lips trembling. “i left.”

I’m so sorry, Nina thinks, blinking back the warm pinpricks behind her eyes. She clenches her hands into fists, feeling her palms itch with the urge to hurt whoever gave carter these wounds.

“if I ever find him, he’s a goner,” says nina, jaw set.

“bella beat you to it,” replies carter with a watery smile.

i can’t spoil what’s gonna happen, but nina sort of plays a part in owen’s eventual downfall. 

👻- 2 or 3 sentences from something you haven’t posted yet

tiffanysees carter grinning down at his phone during break and it takeseverything in her not to lean over his shoulder to find out who he’stexting. The curiousity is killing her.

“so…”she settles onto the stool next to carter, trying to be cool andfailing miserably. “okay you know I can’t be chill about anything.Who are you texting?”

“there’sthis girl. Her name is nina. She likes ballet and horror andantiques. She’s really cool.”

“likebuddy cool or girlfriend cool?” carter looks at her with such blankconfusion – like the thought of nina being anything more than afriend had never occurred to him – tiffany almost laughs out ofreflex. Luckily she doesn’t. She’d hate to put that red tinged,shamed look on his face he wears when he feels he’s done somethingwrong, only he doesn’t know what and he’s being laughed at for it.It’s a look she’s seen him wear too often.

“well,i’m glad you made a friend. I know how hard it is for you.” tiffanyprobably knows better than anyone how hard it is to find a friend.Especially when everyone knows you’re different.

It’sone of the loneliest things in the world.

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: Scary Movie

Summary: Post-S1. Belle is eager to learn as much as she can about this new world, and watching horror films is all part and parcel of that. Rumpelstiltskin can’t help thinking, however, that her suggestion of a movie night has ulterior motives.

Written for the Monthly Rumbelling prompt: “Movie Night”

Rated: T

Note: So, three of these films Emilie de Ravin actually starred in. The final one is made up, but will be the plot of a forthcoming fic - watch this space ;-)

=====

Scary Movie

If Rumpelstiltskin was alarmed when he came home from the shop to find that his living room had been turned into a veritable blanket fortress, then he didn’t show it. He simply leaned in the doorway, peering into the cocoon to see if he could see Belle.

“Belle, love? Are you in there?”

Receiving no response, he began to feel a little bit more perturbed, fearing that perhaps the house’s entire supply of blankets and pillows had somehow become sentient and had eaten his petite beauty alive. He inched a little further into the room and gingerly poked about at the blankets, trying to find some kind of opening.

“Belle? Are you all right in there?”

“Oh, Rumpel, I didn’t notice you’d come back. You’re just in time.”

He spun around to find Belle coming into the room with a tea tray. She was beaming from ear to ear, and she handed him the tray before diving down into the fort through a previously unseen entrance. A moment later her head and arms ducked back out, grabbing the tray from him. Rumpelstiltskin continued to stand outside the fortress, looking at it with an increasingly perplexed expression. Over the past couple of weeks of Belle living with him, he had introduced her to a lot of the wonders that the Land Without Magic had to offer, and she had been incredibly enamoured with most of them, especially the TV. It had not escaped his notice that the blanket fortress had encapsulated the TV table.

Belle’s head popped out of the blankets again.

“Aren’t you coming in, Rumpel?” she asked brightly before disappearing into the woollen void once more.

Still a little bewildered, Rumpelstiltskin nonetheless obediently kicked off his shoes and crawled into Belle’s blanket fort, finding her seated comfortably on a large pile of pillows. He received the distinct impression that if he went upstairs, he would find that none of the beds had any covers on any more. She seemed to have used his entire supply of linen to create the fortress, but she looked so snug and perfectly at home there that he didn’t think he could begrudge her it. She patted the pile of pillows next to her before pouring the tea. Rumpel sat down and accepted the tea gratefully, taking a few sips before asking the question that was burning in his mind.

“Belle... As fabulously well-constructed as this blanket fort is, why are we sitting in it?”

“I thought that we could have a movie night,” Belle said, rummaging around in the cushions beneath her and unearthing the TV remote and the listings magazine. “And I thought that it would be cosier in here. And that it would add the necessary atmosphere.”

Rumpel raised an eyebrow.

“The necessary atmosphere for what?”

Belle flicked through the TV listings until she came to the correct page, and she eagerly pointed out one of the channels. It was hosting a pre-halloween horror film fest, and Belle looked at Rumpel excitedly as he scanned the offerings that the night had in store, his eyebrows shooting to his hairline a couple of times.

“Are you absolutely sure about this?” he asked.

“I’m trying to immerse myself in this land’s culture, Rumpel,” Belle said sagely. “Being scared out of one’s wits as a form of entertainment is part of that culture.” She gestured around their snug cocoon. “Hence our current position in a place of absolute safety from demons and zombies and other menaces.”

Rumpelstiltskin looked over at the far corner of the fort over the TV, where his quilt was starting to droop somewhat. He was not at all convinced of the protective properties of the fort, but he didn’t say anything.

The quilt, disturbed by their coming and going, dropped down completely and obscured the TV screen.

“Ah.” Belle sounded sheepish. “I guess my architectural attempts weren’t as sturdy as I first thought.

“It was a very ambitious first attempt,” Rumpel said valiantly as they fought their way out of the collapsing fort. “Although I must admit that it would probably have got quite warm in there completely encased in duvets.”

They rescued the tea set from the blankets and finished their respective cups. Belle looked around her at the remains of her fortress, and then up at Rumpel.

“So, what do you say?” she asked.

“To what?”

“To the horror film fest tonight? I thought that we could make it into a truly traditional evening. I bought pizza and microwave popcorn and everything.”

Although he was having some slight misgivings about the content of the films they were about to watch, Belle’s wide-eyed enthusiasm for sampling everything that the Land Without Magic was infectious.

“All right,” he said. “But don’t blame me if you get nightmares tonight.”

Belle gave him a Look, her patented Belle Look, and Rumpel could not help but give a snort of laughter at her expression, which in its turn set her off, and fresh peals of laughter erupted when the final part of the blanket fort collapsed over her head.

“I think some urgent repair work is needed,” Belle said once she’d wrestled the blanket off her.

Rumpel raised a hand, waggling his fingers. “Structural integrity guaranteed.”

Belle shook her head. “No, Rumpel. The whole point of building a blanket fort is to build it. There’s a sense of satisfaction and achievement.”

“Your last attempt at building a fort looked incredibly impressive, my dear, but you can see what happened to it.”

“That’s why I have you to help me on the second attempt.” She moved the tea tray and stood up, setting about gathering up the blankets and cushions. As simple as it would be to magic them a perfect blanket fort, Rumpelstiltskin would admit that there was a certain pleasure in the trial and error of doing it by hand, of cushion towers collapsing and Belle getting wrapped up in the blankets.

“You see,” Belle said, once the fort was reassembled - not quite so all-encompassing as before but still cosy and snug for film watching. “That was far more fun than you just snapping your fingers and having it all done in two seconds.” She rushed to prop up one stack of cushions where it threatened a cave-in.

“Yes, it was,” Rumpel admitted. The fort once more secure, Belle gave it a look of approval her hands on her hips, before rushing off to make the pizza and popcorn, and Rumpel settled down for an evening of horror movies. He took a look at the schedule, hoping that the films on offer would not be too scary. Although Belle had always been able to see right through his facade and there was no point in trying to put on an unafraid act in front of her, he still didn’t want to be jumping out of his skin every five minutes. He had never really been one for horror films under the curse, and his feelings towards them hadn’t changed now that he had regained his memories. Still, he supposed that it was a rite of passage that Belle wanted to experience, and as long as they were doing these things together, he really couldn’t deny her.

He shook himself crossly. It was just a few horror films; he could survive that. Presently Belle returned with two large glasses of soda and the kitchen timer, and she settled herself in the fort, switching the TV on and flicking through the channels until she found the one that they wanted, and they watched the last fifteen minutes of a Christmas-themed horror movie, the premise of which was so ridiculous that it was almost impossible to be scared, then Belle went to retrieve the food. An adaptation of Carrie was about to start, and Gold thought that he would be safe with that. He’d read the book, and so had Belle. It was a good place to begin their horror initiation.

Well, he thought it was going to be. The embarrassingly high-pitched squeak that he gave the first time that there was a jump scare on the screen - it wasn’t even really a jump scare, just something sudden happening - put paid to that idea. Belle gave him a little amused smile out of the corner of her eye, a slice of pizza halfway to her mouth.

“We haven’t even got to the scary parts yet Rumpel,” she said sagely.

Rumpelstiltskin took another piece of pizza and focussed very hard on eating it, rather than on the screen.

They managed to get through the rest of the film without incident, Gold feigning interest in the rapidly reducing popcorn as Belle stared rapt at the screen. He had always known that she was brave and fearless, and she evidently had an iron constitution as well. He had not been expecting her to be so engrossed by the horror genre, but it seemed that his little former maid never ceased to amaze him.

“So what did you think?” Belle asked. “Since you spent most of the ending looking at the popcorn rather than the screen, I’m going to assume that you prefer the book.”

Gold gave a slow nod, and thought that it might be fortuitous to clean up the plates whilst the commercials played in the break between films. Truth be told, he had been entertaining the thought that Belle had posited this movie night idea simply as an excuse to snuggle up to him during the scary bits, but if their current state was anything to go by, then it was going to be the opposite way around.

They switched the TV off half an hour into The Hills Have Eyes, that proving too much for even Belle’s fascination, and she shuddered, cuddling close against Gold and taking a fortifying sip of soda.

“Ok, maybe that one wasn’t such a great idea,” she muttered. They stared at the blank TV screen for a while, cuddled in together, and Belle groped around on the floor for the listings page, squinting at it in the darkness. Rumpel snapped his fingers and a ball of flame appeared in his palm, and he held it up for her to read with. She didn’t begrudge him the magic; she did not want to move any more than he wanted to move away from her to put the lights on. Together they perused the listings until Belle tapped an entry halfway down the page, a film starting on another channel that had piqued her interest; a paranormal investigator taking the case of a young woman who believed she was being possessed by something unnatural.

Rumpelstiltskin really wasn’t sure that his heart could take much more, but he nodded none the less and Belle turned the TV back on, quickly channel hopping to the right station before grabbing a pillow from the fort and pressing it into Rumpel’s lap.

“For you to hide behind,” she said sagely.

“I don’t need a pillow to hide behind!” he protested, but Belle’s expression brokered no arguments, and he continued to hug the pillow as the film got underway, and sure enough, he did find himself burying his face in it during the more unnerving moments. Beside him, he could feel Belle’s silent laughter, and he glared at her from behind the cushion.

“I’m beginning to think that you planned a scary movie night precisely for this reason,” he grumbled.

Belle bit her lip, her eyes bright and mischievous even in the eerie light from the TV, and it had to be one of the most adorable and alluring sights that he had ever seen.

“Maybe I just wanted to find out your weaknesses,” she teased, bopping him on the nose before feeding him the last piece of popcorn. “But it’s all right. I promise I’ll keep you safe from the monsters under the bed tonight.”

There was a purr to her voice, and Rumpel gulped before turning back to the screen, peeping over the top of his cushion as the paranormal investigator and his alcoholic priest friend began what was shaping up to be a rather eventful exorcism.

As her hand found his in the darkness and squeezed, something told him that Belle would be more than a match for any monsters that might present themselves.

[eirinizp-blog]

The Best Movies of 2019 (So Far)

The cinematic dry season (post–awards season, but before the good spring months have arrived) has officially ended, and the summer blockbusters are upon us. Will we remember any of them by the end of the year? Hard to say, but we can point to a few gems among the more conventional genre releases of 2019 so far: a politicized zombie slasher, a documentary about two nights at the New Temple Missionary Baptist Church, a Mary Kay Place vehicle, two Swintons for the price of one. Here are the best movies of the year that Vulture has reviewed, according to critics David Edelstein and Emily Yoshida, and frequent contributor Bilge Ebiri.

Arctic

Enjoyable and excruciating. In Joe Penna’s survival drama, the riveting Mads Mikkelsen plays a man whose plane has gone down in the frozen wilderness. That’s all we know about him and all we really need to — it’s what he does and keeps doing that defines him. Thrown together with a grievously wounded, non–compos mentis woman, he tugs her well-swaddled form on a sled into the unknown, trudging and grunting and falling and trudging and heeeaving and trudging and heeeaving — and just when we think it can’t get more horrible, we realize that up until then he’d had it easy. The movie really takes your mind off your own troubles. —D.E.

Birds of Passage Set in the north of Colombia among the indigenous Wayuu, Ciro Guerra and Cristina Gallego’s knockout film is part ethnographic documentary, part The Godfather. Over 20 years (from 1960 to 1980), people whose ways first seem strange metamorphose into a familiar breed of narcos, moving tons of marijuana and become avid materialists. As in Guerra’s last film, Embrace of the Serpent, the disjunction between ancient ways and modern, ephemeral fashions and technology, is not just jarring but toxic, a shock to the system that will almost certainly kill the host. The drive toward revenge kills the characters long before anyone dies — it kills their souls. —D.E.

Escape Room Escape Room didn’t need to be good, and its release during the very first week of the year seemed destined to make it a 2019 B-movie footnote. But the ensemble thriller from Insidious and Paranormal Activity vet Adam Robitel is a whole lot of fun, throwing a group of strangers together into a hyperbolically lethal version of the titular team-building game. It’s much more of a puzzler than it is a horror film, and Robitel doesn’t need gore or jump scares to keep the whole thing tightly wound. The grand finale is so audacious that you’ll be ready to buy a ticket for the sequel before the lights come up. —E.Y.

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Fighting With My Family The unlikely collaboration between writer-director Stephen Merchant and executive producer the Rock is an unexpected joy — a true story that skips along its inspirational sports-movie template while finding real pathos and tough truths under all that sparkly spandex. As WWE champion Paige, Florence Pugh is equal parts ferocious and tender, a misfit struggling to find the right way to share her talents with the world. It’s a WWE production, but if it’s propaganda for the sport, it’s the kind you’ll gladly let win you over to the joyful absurdities of the sport. —E.Y.

Transit Director Christian Petzold (Barbara, Phoenix) changes the time of Anna Seghers’s 1944 novel, in which refugees from the Nazis stuck in Lyons wait for ships to North America: It’s still Lyons, but the period trappings are gone and they’re now fleeing all-purpose “fascists.” At the heart of the story is a slow-motion mistaken-identity farce in which a concentration-camp escapee, Georg (the charismatic Franz Rogowski, who bears a resemblance to Joaquin Phoenix), assumes the identity of a famous writer whom only Georg knows committed suicide — and then falls madly for the writer’s discombobulated wife (Paula Beer). The physical, temporal, and emotional geography is very confusing, but the film is still potent. Petzold is part acrid realist, part romantic: His protagonists lose everything but their passion, emotion being the last refuge. 

Climax It’s Step Up crossed with Battle Royale, a house-music Suspiria, and exactly as fun and harrowing as that description would suggest. French adulte terrible Gaspar Noé (Enter the Void, Love) brings together a vibrant ensemble of dancers led by dynamo Sofia Boutella for a party gone horribly awry thanks to some no-good sangria. In what feels like more or less real time, we watch a cohesive, unified group of very-much-alive young people devolve into screaming, hallucinatory chaos, all set to an incredible disco-techno soundtrack. Noé’s desire to shock is still ever-present, and all trigger warnings still apply. But the dizzying, acrobatic camerawork and the impressive physical and emotional work of Boutella and the rest of the cast make this his most crowd-pleasing — dare I say, even sentimental? — work yet.

Diane A stunning platform for Mary Kay Place as a compulsive do-gooder out to expiate her sins as everyone around her is either dying (a first cousin with end-stage cervical cancer) or on the brink (her addict son and a slew of elderly friends and relatives). Kent Jones’s drama—mostly naturalistic, but with the odd expressionist flourish — is generally regarded as one of the most depressing ever made, but once you accept its un-transcendent, death-centric baseline the movie is strangely exhilarating. In between scenes are shots through a windshield of rural landscapes passing in every season, with soft, haunting music by Jeremiah Bornfield, the film’s protagonist (like all of us) going from someplace to someplace on the road to who-knows-where. In its mundane way, Diane shows you glimmers of the sublime. —D.E.

The Brink Alison Klayman’s On the Road With Steve Bannon doc is essential, sad to say, given that Bannon is not a fringe hate-monger but a man with the ears of protofascist, xenophobic movement leaders in the U.S., France, Belgium, Hungary, Germany, and the U.K., as well as sundry billionaires. Why would Bannon let Klayman be a fly on his wall — or in his ointment? He has faith in his message. He already has “a solid enough minority that’s immoveable.” He just needs to sway an increasingly susceptible 15 percent of the rest, and he’s excellent at making people feel as if they’re being marginalized by a dark (in all senses) cabal — while he denies and denies and denies that he’s saying what he in fact is. Klayman doesn’t have to editorialize to make the point that Bannon is one of the most dangerous people alive.

Ash Is Purest White Jia Zhangke’s epic revisits many of the themes he’s explored throughout his past few films (Mountains May Depart, A Touch of Sin) particularly the near-absurdities of a rapidly changing modern China, and its as profoundly wrought as ever. With Ash, however, there’s a genre twist; a sort of pulp gangster romance shot through Jia’s patient, wide lens. A deceptively steely Zhao Tao stars as a woman separated from the man who, for better or worse, is the love of her life, and sets out to find her way back to him over two and half decades. It’s as much a story of a country rebuilding itself as it is of one woman doing the same, and by its gutting resolution you’ll feel as if you’ve walked those miles and years in Zhao’s shoes. 

Us A politicized zombie-slasher film in which subterranean doppelgängers — separate but mystically “tethered” to their aboveground analogs — swarm our world with scissors and the message, “We exist.” Once you get over the disappointment that Jordan Peele’s second feature isn’t as trim or impish in its satire as his marvelous debut, Get Out, you can settle back and salute what it is: the most inspiring kind of miss. It’s what you want an artist of Peele’s sensibility and stature to attempt — to broaden his canvas, deepen his psychological insight, and add new cinematic tools to his kit. Fans will rewatch the film to savor the fillips, the purposeful echoes, and the “Easter eggs,” as well as a dual performance by Lupita Nyong’o that’s otherworldly in its brilliance. As the double, “Red,” her voice is the whistle of someone whose throat has been cut, with a gap between the start of a word in the diaphragm and its finish in the head. It’s like a rush of acrid air from a tomb.

Amazing Grace Over two nights in 1972, Aretha Franklin, then at the height of her fame, came to Los Angeles’s New Temple Missionary Baptist Church to record a selection of gospel classics. The resulting album, Amazing Grace, was one of the most acclaimed of her career. Director Sydney Pollack documented both nights with a small array of 16 mm cameras, but the footage languished for decades until producer Alan Elliott bought it and put together this concert documentary, which was then further delayed by Franklin’s own, somewhat surprising refusal to let it be shown. But now it’s here, and it is transcendent. Resplendent in her caftans but otherwise humble, Franklin gives off no diva or rock-star airs. But as soon as she starts singing, she’s in — eyes closed, head up, half-grins turning into flights of ecstatic joy. So is her audience, shouting their support, cheering her along, dancing in the aisles. And so are we. The movie itself feels like a church service, and it’s enough to make you get religion. —Bilge Ebiri

The Man Who Killed Don Quixote Terry Gilliam’s notorious film maudit, three decades in the unmaking and already the subject of a 17-year-old documentary about the collapse of its production, is, uh, here. And it’s surprisingly light on its feet. The story follows a slick commercial director (played by Adam Driver, an inspired choice) who returns to the Spanish village where he made his thesis film ten years ago, an adaptation of Cervantes’s Don Quixote, and discovers that the lives there were ruined by his production. Reuniting with the aging cobbler who played his Quixote (Jonathan Pryce), he discovers that the man still imagines himself to be the 17th-century knight-errant. Their ensuing journey mixes medieval gallantry, contemporary topicality, and typically Gilliamesque chaos — a swirling vortex of disguises, dream visions, broad humor, and a delightfully disorienting look at both the creative and destructive power of imagination. —B.E.

Trial by Fire Murderously hard to sit through, which is not something you’ll see on top of an ad. Maybe that’s why the film had been a commercial bust. But this portrait of Cameron Todd Willingham (Jack O’Connell), a Texas ne’er-do-well executed for burning his three little girls to death, is painstakingly well-made and important. The director, Ed Zwick, isn’t cynical about the motives of the investigators who allegedly screwed up so badly in interpreting the evidence. The lie of most police dramas isn’t that they’re on the side of the angels — it’s that they’re always competent at what they do and that there are fail-safe mechanisms to keep innocent people from the death chamber. Laura Dern plays the divorced mother who volunteers to be a pen pal to someone on death row and gets sucked in when she reads the trial transcript. Dern is a great detective actress — she externalizes thought. 

Souvenir A coolly intelligent autobiographical film by the British writer-director Joanna Hogg, who doesn’t often give you your narrative bearings — and spoils you for over-shapers, the spoon-feeders. Her protagonist (Honor Swinton Byrne, daughter of Tilda, who plays her mother onscreen) is a well-off, socially conscious 24-year-old film student who wants to make a movie about a boy growing up by the grotty docks near Newcastle but is thrown off course by her foppish, madly pretentious, and (as it turns out) heroin-addicted boyfriend (Tom Burke). At times the film seems too distanced, but it’s never obvious or banal. Hogg convinces you that incoherence is the only honest way to tell a story with any emotional complexity.