#being tortured. you say i am of the devil i have none to defend me

[textualviolence]

well. i DO know how joan of arc felt.

[mrsalwayswrite]

To Choose the Sword (Bishop Heahmund x Reader)

Summary: There is only person that Heahmund cherishes above all, and when she is threatened, he realizes he would do anything to protect her…. even sell his soul to a blue-eyed devil. 

This is my contribution to @maggiescarborough​ 500 followers celebration! (I’m so sorry this is late but here we are.)

Flower chosen: periwinkle- religious symbol in the Middle Ages tied to the Virgin Mary, benevolence (desire to do good to others, charitable), nostalgia and purity.

I also decided to add an extra challenge and write for a character I would not normally write for- hence Heahmund. 

Words: 6000

Warnings: implied abuse/mistreatment, mutual pining, couple swear words, heavy religious overtones, Ivar being manipulative 

Tag List: @youbloodymadgenius​ @evelynshelby​ @pomegranates-and-blood​ @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie​

Also, a huge shout-out to @flowers-in-your-hayr​ for this absolutely stunning moodboard. Look at this! Its gorgeous! Be in awe! 

 He knew where she would be. 

 The leaves and twigs underfoot crunched beneath his boots. The morning sun casted shadows as it peeked through the foliage above him. His sword bounced against his back almost in sync with the cross upon his chest. The weight of both, something he was continuously aware of. 

 It was here he first met her on a hazy summer day. 

 It was here the two of them always seemed to find one another like two stars caught in each other's orbits. 

 It was here he could never decide if she was his salvation or his damnation. 

 Along the thin trail, his feet guided him, stepping over sticks and rocks. His mind wrestled with the news, but as his mind fought, his heart broke within his chest. It was a selfish reaction, he knew. Yet that did not cease the pain welling in his chest, so strong it threatened to bring forth tears. He kept them at bay. For he was a man of the cloth, a man of God. 

 But sometimes he struggled with just being a man. 

 Soon the gurgling of the bubbling creek could be heard amidst the summer songs of the birds. His footfalls quickened and after several more paces, she finally came into view. Kneeling near the creek, hands folded before her in supplication, she appeared the very vision of pious purity. 

 Heahmund gently called out her name, like a whisper in the breeze, a soft caress on skin. When her head lifted, turning to find him walking closer, his heart skipped a beat. Those eyes that beguiled him, those sweet lips that only allowed kind words to pass through, and her smile…. oh, that smile that lit up her face like a lamp uncovered to shine in the darkest of nights. 

 To his dying breath, he would fervently believe she was an angel in disguise, a blessing from the Lord God bestowed on his creation to remind them of His goodness. 

 And that was why she was both his salvation and damnation. 

 Because he wanted her. He wanted her with all his soul. But she was too pure, too benevolent, too holy for someone like him. She made him want to be better in both his vows and himself. To fight without wavering in protecting his country from the heathens. To protect her from ever having to fear them. 

 And when she turned those eyes to him, when she smiled gently at him like he was her favorite person on earth, he was undone. 

 "Your Grace." She rose to her feet, brushing off the few pieces of grass that stuck to her green dress. 

 "I heard the news that you will no longer be in my congregation."

 "Yes. My father has family in York. With his failing health, he thinks it wise for us to move there."

 Heahmund hummed in thought as he moved closer. Even though his face remained impassive, his heart clenched at the thought of her leaving. For who else would he look to while saying prayers at Mass? Who else would he recite scripture and poems to while they reclined next to the bubbling creek? Who else was kind enough to seek him out after he returned from a raid, to clean his wounds if any and make sure he was fed?

 "I shall keep your family in my prayers to our Lord." He whispered, now standing before her. "My congregation will not be the same without you…. or your family."

 She gazed shyly at him through those long eyelashes. "You are too kind, Bishop Heahmund."

 "You have denied yourself for many years to look after your ailing father and the rest of your family. If the Pope heard of all your sacrifices for your family and our church, he would name you a Saint."

 "I am nowhere worthy of sainthood. You tease me."

 A smile drew his lips upward as he watched her. "Perhaps a little."

 She laughed, covering her mouth with her hand as she looked downward. It took all of his willpower not to lay a hand beneath her chin, the draw those beautiful eyes back to his own, to gaze upon her beauty, both inside and out, for longer. To ask her to never leave him. 

 But it was not his place. No matter how he felt for her.  

 "If it is not too bold of me…." She broke through his turbulent thoughts, her sweet voice trailing off as she toyed with one of her sleeves. 

 "Go on." He encouraged, heart hammering away inside of him. 

 "I made something for you. It's not much, but…. but it's just something to remember me by and know you will be in my prayers as well…. for your protection against the heathens." Quickly she dropped to her knees, digging in the basket by her feet. 

 The basket had gone unnoticed by him as his focus resided with soaking in these last few minutes with her. For he was unsure if the Lord's work would bring him to York. She swiftly pulled something out and held it out with both hands like an offering. His eyes momentarily widened before he reverently reached out and clasped it in his hand. It was a white, square kerchief, soft and pure. It was when he looked at the corners that he truly saw the beauty of it. A small cross was stitched in one corner and in the other opposite corner was a grouping of three small, periwinkle flowers. 

 "Thank you, y/n, truly." He returned his gaze to her, struggling to keep the awe out of his tone. "I shall cherish your gift as if the Virgin Mary herself gave it unto me."

 She giggled, a coy smile on her face. "I would hope that she would bestow a better present for someone as holy as yourself."

 "I would never cherish it as much as yours." He admitted with more candor than he should. 

 Her gaze snapped to his then darted away like a startled bird. A weighty, tense silence hung over them, drawing them closer yet apart simultaneously. For it was this blissful, torturous attraction that left them both spellbound, lost to reality in the presence of the other. 

 Unable to stay away a moment longer, he cupped her cheek with his calloused hand, forcing her eyes to meet his. 

 "Bishop Heahmund…." She breathed out. 

 "Must I remind you to call me just Heahmund when we are alone?" 

 "Heahmund." She murmured, one of her hands coming to rest on the center of his chest. To anchor herself or him to this moment, he did not know. 

 Desire and longing colored the air around them. A tension that pushed their bodies closer without their awareness, until they could feel the breath of the other gliding across their lips. Something burned between them, this thing that remained unnamed for so long. Heahmund knew it was not lust. For that carnal sin was something he intimately knew and had used other women for, much to his disgrace. No, this was something far stronger, far more powerful, far more dangerous for both of them. For as the years passed, it never faded or wavered like a dying flame. It endured. 

 His gaze zeroed in on her bottom lip as his thumb caressed it with an almost-there touch. Her lips parted on a quiet gasp but she made no move to pull away. Those enchanting eyes beheld him with absolute trust. Something he was unworthy of. 

 After taking a deep breath, his hand traced down her neck, to her shoulder and down her arm to hold her hand leaving goosebumps in its wake. He brought her delicate hand to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to her knuckles. Then, regretfully, he released her hand. 

 "Come, I shall escort you back to the city. You should not linger out here alone for too long." He said, taking a step back. Needing space before he did something indecent and unbecoming of his station. 

 "Thank you." She replied automatically, blinking rapidly for a second as if waking from a dream. A dream he wished he could have further explored, to share openly with her. Bending down, she grabbed her basket and held it against her hip. 

 They walked back through the woods in silence, more spoken in their actions and looks than could ever openly cross their lips. With each step, Heahmund silently beseeched his God that this encounter would not be their last. Although she was his sweetest temptation, his forbidden apple in the garden, he could not abandon her. It was for her that he picked up a sword to fight the heathens that invaded their land. With what might he had, he would see her protected and defended, that the purity she wore like a veil, the benevolence that dressed her daily, the pure goodness she radiated, would never be blemished. 

 Even if he never had the honor of holding her against his body, of tasting the sweetness of her lips, to hear the pleasured cry of his name from her mouth, to ever be more than just a man of God to her. It was worth it. For she was his angel. 

 *****

 With eyes that could pierce stone in the raging fury bubbling beneath his skin, Heahmund stared at the city of York. 

 Captured by heathens. 

 Those damned sons of Ragnar Lothbrok. 

 Saxon warriors moved about him, none bothering him, either thinking he was strategizing how to reclaim the city or praying for the Lord's protection over His people as they beat back the devils. 

 What none knew, what no one could see, was the despair and wrath gnawing away in the bishop's mind. It took every ounce of his willpower to remain in the Saxon camp with the new King and his sons and not to scourge the city of the infestation of heathens. But to go seek for her. To find and protect her. Somehow in his heart, he knew she was down there. In what condition though, he dared not imagine. 

 When the two sons of Ragnar came in the night to talk of peace, his resolve almost broke. Questions of her coated his tongue like the sweetest of poisons, slowly driving him mad. Yet he swallowed them back down. Not just for fear of his fellow warriors learning of his unholy affections towards her; but fear if she was alive and the heathens realized the depth of his care for her. Surely it would bring about her doom. So when he slipped into their tent like a snake cornering its prey, his fists dirtied by the blood of the Ragnarssons, it was his silent promise to save her, that even from here he would protect her. 

 They must retake the city, to drive out the Vikings, for God and country and justice. Most importantly for him- they must retake the city so he could find her. 

 *****

 "You call me heathen, but to me, I am godly. I live by the gods."

 "There is only one God." Heahmund bit out. The chain around his neck was even more sharp than his tongue. 

 Ivar continued, arrogance dripping off each word. "But I have seen other gods. I have seen the Odin, the All-Father, with my own eyes."

 "They are the devil's work. He conjures up demons and fallen angels to beguile us. And lead us into evil."

 "What is evil?" The raven-haired heathen asked in a haughty undertone. 

 Heahmund sighed, dropping his chin back to his chest. His legs were growing weary beneath him, having been chained here for hours already and he saw no true reprieve in sight. "Slaughter of the innocent." He answered in a whisper. 

 "You slaughter when it suits you." 

 Rage filled the Bishop at the way this heathen turned his words, how he taunted with that arrogant smirk on his face, how he disrespected the one true God. "He who chooses to be heathen is not innocent." He shouted, pointing his finger in condemnation at the ungodly sinner beside him. Then for a moment he wondered if this was why he had been captured by the Danes. If this was all the Lord's mysterious work. His tone softened as he continued to stare at his captor. "But I could show you the ways of God, to salvation and eternal life."

 But it was all in vain. 

 He chuckled darkly, almost as if shocked that the bishop would even try to convert him. "Do you know who I am?"

 "Of course. You are Ivar…. son of Ragnar Lothbrok. Many there are that fear you." 

 "But not you."

 "No, I fear no man….no matter how wicked." Heahmund allowed the sneer to taint his voice at the end. For it was true. No matter the horrendous stories he heard about the sons of Ragnar Lothbrok, fear never sunk its claws into him. For he followed the Will of God. 

 There was only one reason alone that fear gripped him, tighter than a lover, slipped beneath his skin to momentarily poison his mind…. but that reason was gone now. Dead. 

 The two sat in silence for several minutes, a heathen and a bishop, lost in their own thoughts. Heahmund could not help but wonder as he eyed the young man, if this was all some bloody, gruesome game to him. Was he even capable of remorse? Fear? Mercy? Love? Or had the fires of hell already scourged them from his soul?

 The shackles around his wrists grew heavier by the hour. The chain around his neck chaffed. The cold mud beneath him seeped into his trousers, slowly injecting a chill into his bones, amplified by the chains keeping him bound. 

 "I beseech thee, Lord. Save me or show me why I am here. Grant me Your mercy. Do not cast be aside into the darkness. Grant me Your light so I may see." He murmured to himself. 

 The sound of a door opening just off to the side of Ivar could be heard but Heahmund paid no mind. He knew his time on earth was dwindling, for how much longer would the heathen bother to keep him? Surely, he would be killed in a cruel and painful way. When he first took up the sword to defend his faith and his people against the Danes, he assumed that was how his life would end. On a battlefield somewhere, surrounded by blood and screams, with his cross upon his chest and sword in hand. Not like this. Not a prisoner to be tortured for amusement. 

 A soft voice hesitantly spoke up from behind Ivar. "My prince, your brother…."

 That voice. Oh, that voice had haunted his dreams, but lately it had only been heard in his nightmares. She would beg for his help to save her, only to witness her dragged away or killed before his eyes, chains or ropes or fire keeping him imprisoned, unable to do more than scream her name. More than once he had jerked awake to find tears streaming down his cheeks. 

 Now his head jerked up, ears attuned, desperate to see or hear her again, to confirm she was alive and not just a hallucination. To know all his nightmares were wrong. 

 He prayed his nightmares were wrong. 

 Ivar beckoned her closer with an annoyed huff and a roll of his eyes. Then she appeared, as if from the mist. His fears confirmed. Her green dress was ripped and filthy. Her hair matted and unwashed. But it was the dark circles that lay beneath her dimmed eyes, the bruise on her cheek and the split lip that adorned her face which brought his rage to the surface, festering in his gut. His hands clenched into fists at the sight of her and images of what all she must have endured played in his mind. 

 The heathen snatched the cup from her outstretched hands, mumbling something in his own language. "Go." He arrogantly dismissed her with a wave of his hand as if she was some pest he detested. 

 As she turned to walk away, her eyes drifted over to Heahmund and she froze. Time stood still as their gazes locked. He watched as a series of emotions passed over her face- surprise, relief, concern, fear, worry- they all took their turn to shine from her eyes. He wondered if his own expression mirrored hers. Her name, that name that tasted like the sweetest of honey on his lips, danced on his tongue. How he wanted to pull her into his arms and never let her out of his sight. To promise no one would ever hurt her again. To press his lips to hers tenderly. His chest constricted as he witnessed a single tear slip from her right eye, washing away a streak of grime on her cheek. His own tears burned in his eyes, threatening to betray him. Here she was. Alive. But mistreated by these heathens. Something he could never forgive. 

 "You know this…. priest, thrall?" Ivar's amused voice broke their staring, like a bucket of cold water suddenly thrown on them. 

 She jerked, brought back to the here and now, that her and Heahmund were not alone. Wordlessly, she lowered her head and nodded. 

 "Ah, I see." Ivar's shrewd blue eyes jumped between the two as his smirk widened. "You may go to him. I will allow it for now. Ah! And here, give him this." He held the untouched cup out to her.

 Hesitantly, she reached out and took it, as if expecting it to get thrown in her face at the last minute. Keeping her gaze downcast, she walked the few steps to stand before Heahmund. Once more, she peered over to the side at Ivar, silently requesting his permission before proceeding. 

 "Let him drink! I am certain he is quite…. thirsty." The heathen chuckled, playing with his bottom lip. 

 "Y/n…" Heahmund started quietly but she interrupted him. 

 "Drink, please." Immediately, she brought the cup to his lips and carefully helped him to drink. At the slow pace she allowed the water to flow, it was perfect to quench his thirst but not fast enough he would choke on it. A skill she must have learned from the many times she was forced to take care of her ailing father. The whole time, he locked his gaze on her face, refusing to look away for even a moment. For fear of her vanishing. For fear of missing even a second of this cherished time in her presence. Even if he was bound in chains like a common criminal. 

 "Are you well?" He asked once she pulled the empty cup away from his mouth, keeping his voice low for some resemblance of privacy under the heathen's scrutinizing gaze. 

 She peeked at Ivar out of the corner of her eye before whispering back. "I'm alive."

 "Are they treating you well?"

 Her gaze dropped to her hands, clutching the cup. 

 And her silence burned through Heahmund like a wildfire. He knew it was foolish to ask as soon as he uttered the question. The evidence on her face was proof enough. But he had hoped for a different answer. Wanted a different answer. And the truth ate away at him like leprosy. For chained here…. a prisoner…. a prize…. he could do nothing to save her. To protect her. 

 His nightmare coming to pass. 

 He swallowed thickly, emotions clogging his throat. "Stay strong, y/n. The Lord knows the challenges we face and will give us strength to endure. We are not forgotten."

 She nodded, hastily wiping away another tear that slipped down her cheek. "What…. what about you? What will happen to you?"

 Her concern for him warned his soul more than a fire and hot meal ever could. Even amidst her circumstances, she worried for him. She cared about him. Heaven certainly lost an angel when she was born onto this earth. For she was far too good to not be one of the Lord's divine beings. 

 "I'm deciding if I want to keep him alive," Ivar interrupted, tone all together smug and cocky, "or crucify him, like your god. A fitting ending for his priest."

 She inhaled sharply, eyes widening at the revelation. 

 Heahmund wanted to comfort her, but words failed him as he gazed upon her. For his life was no longer in his own hands. A fate he despised. Before he could speak words that would hopefully bring her some solace, the heathen spoke again. 

 "Thrall, come here." Ivar commanded. She walked over to him with visible trepidation, cup still clutched in her hands. Instantly, he grabbed her wrist when she was close enough, the movement as sharp and fast as a viper. The cup dropped and bounced on the ground as she gasped. In the next moment he yanked her down to kneel before him, a soft cry slipping from her lips that seemed to spur him on, a malicious smile forming on his face. So reminiscent of a hungry wolf cornering a young lamb, the taste of blood already tainting the air. An allure the wolf feasted on shamelessly. 

 Heahmund could taste iron in his mouth from how hard he bit his tongue to keep from demanding her release. He could only watch helplessly as this devil toyed with her. 

 "Hmmm…. what is your name, thrall?"

 She said, voice barely above a whisper, eyes firmly planted on the dirt. "Y/n."

 Complacently, the heathen tipped her chin up, staring into her eyes for long enough she began to tremble. He chuckled, moving her face side to side and scanning her body like examining an item for sale at the market. "And who owns you now?"

 "Ha…. Haakon, my prince."

 "Ah. Haakon. A good warrior by our people. But I have heard he is not so kind to his thralls. Hmm?" He stated, but this time his smug gaze was directed at Heahmund, waiting for a reaction. Waiting to see what his latest prize would do. 

 At his statement, she flinched and it felt like a flaming sword was driven through Heahmund's gut. He made no appeal to mask his hatred nor fury, his eyes hard as stone as he met the heathen's unnatural blue eyes. In his mind, he swore to himself that he would never forget the name she spoke with such a mixture of fear and despair. Somehow, he would kill this man. God, help him. 

 Ivar grinned, still focused on his prisoner, even as he traced a finger over her split bottom lip, tears springing forth from her eyes. "Maybe I'll buy you from him. What do you think?"

 She just stared at the ground, body trembling. Completely submissive. Entirely surrendered. 

 "You may go. Tell my brother I will join him soon." Ivar said, releasing her chin. 

 Carefully she scrambled to her feet and took a hasty step back. Her watery gaze flickered over to Heahmund's, meeting his eyes. Oh, how he wished these chains no longer held him. He would slaughter every Dane in York in holy recompense for the abuse she endured. He would shield her with his body, keeping her close until the fear bled from her like poison from a wound, until she was the sweet, vibrant woman he knew. 

 "I said leave, thrall." 

 As if startled out of a dream, she jumped at Ivar's shout. Then spun around on her heel and disappeared the way she had come. The cup laid forgotten on the ground, having rolled away. 

 The bishop dropped his head to his chest. What was left of his heart slowly eroded away inside of him. Why must she be made to suffer at the hands of these devils? Was this why the Lord allowed him to be captured? To save her? 

 "Y/n…." The heathen rolled her name on his tongue, voice inquisitive with his following question. "What is she to you?"

 The Saxon remained silent. He owed his captor nothing. The heathen had no right to say her blessed name, let alone touch her. He was evil, darkness, something to be destroyed. To touch y/n, her perfect soul, was a crime against all that was holy and good. 

 "Ah, you act like she is nothing but I could see it in your eyes. You want her. Like a man wants a beautiful woman. But more than that…. she means something to you. So, answer my question or maybe I'll call her back and slit her throat in front of you."

 Heahmund licked his lips, debating what to say. "She is the Virgin Mary."

 "She's a virgin?" Ivar scoffed. "I doubt that's the truth anymore."

 "No," he snapped, glaring at Ivar before turning back to stare straight ahead. "She is holy and pure. She is the epitome of benevolence, something you would never understand. She is a soft breeze on a scorching day, the spring rain come to bring new life. She is the candle of fond memories, keeping away the dark thoughts that threatened to cloud my mind. She is…. y/n."

 "You love her."

 "How could I not?" He sighed, for that was the truth. No matter how hard he tried, prayed for deliverance, she had wormed her way into his heart and planted herself there like an oak tree.  

 "Well, if Haakon owns her, then she will be leaving soon to journey to Norway with us." Ivar stared at him for a moment before looking away. They sat in silence for several minutes before Ivar laughed and shifted from a sitting position. "Prepare yourself, Bishop Heahmund, you are coming on a journey with us."

 "I am already on a journey." He called out, voice unwavering. 

 "Aren't we all."

 He watched the heathen crawl away like an overgrown snake, deceptive and cunning, wondering what this journey meant for him. What it meant for her. Closing his eyes, shutting out his surroundings, he focused on the feeling of her kerchief tucked away under his tunic. Close to his heart.  

 *****

 The crowd jeered around him, a sound beating against his mind like a hammer. The stench of the ocean clogged his nostrils, the fish guts spilled on the docks and ground, the masses of unrighteous bodies pressing closer to have their chance to spit at him. For once, he was grateful that he did not understand their language so his ears would remain untainted by their insults and taunts. 

 The flaxen-haired Ragnarsson led the parade with Heahmund being the center of attention. Like a spectacle for all to see. A large blond Viking pulled on the chains binding his hands, chuckling at making Heahmund stumble drunkenly to keep his feet beneath him in the unsteady mud. The bishop spat out a mouthful of blood onto the mud. The cut on the inside of his lip a courtesy from a punch to the mouth by the brutish Viking who currently held the chains. 

 Stubbornly, he yanked on the chain binding him, refusing to let himself be dragged around like some stray mongrel. The brute growled at the Saxon and gave a strong pull, disrupting Heahmund's already unstable footing. In the next moment, he found himself face-first in the revolting mud. The cheers of the crowd exploded around him to new heights at his predicament. 

 Through sheer determination and a refusal to appear weak to these ungodly wretches, he rose back to his feet. Will unbroken. Though he walked through the valley of death, he refused to fear the evil around him. The Lord would provide a way. Somehow, he would be delivered. Carefully he wiped the mud from his face on his sleeve.

 Once back on his feet, he could see Ivar sitting at a nearby table. Although from the way he reclined, he acted more as if it was a throne. The infuriating smug look on his face as he met Heahmund's gaze. All resemblance of vulnerability and unveiled candor from the prior night was gone. Replaced with the arrogant warlord who sentenced people to death with laughter on his lips. 

 All night his mind wrestled with their conversation from the prior night. How could he fight for this godless heathen? Surely the Lord would smite him for that? Even if in the fighting he only killed more heathens. Was he not also a man of peace like the Lord Jesus Christ? Which was more important right now? Which one was stronger in times like these…. the olive branch or the sword?

 He walked with confidence until he noticed y/n standing just behind Ivar. His feet faltered for a moment, shocked to see her. Since their encounter in York, he had only snatched a glimpse of her as he was being loaded onto the boats. His mind wandered to her fate more than he cared to admit. There were many times as he sat alone, he gently toyed with the kerchief she made for him, touching the periwinkle flower sewed onto it. His thoughts on her and all his regrets. 

 Now his eyes quickly scanned her, noting the different dress she wore. Something rough and bland he had noticed other slaves wearing. She appeared no worse. The bruise on her cheek was gone, the split lip healed. Her hands clasped before her as if waiting for instruction as her eyes followed him. When they finally met, a flood of relief and concern passed between them. For no words needed to be spoken to understand the predicament they both were in. Both of their fates were no longer in their control, only in the Lord's and their captors'. 

 He could not help but wonder why she was here? To witness his shame? His death? What game was Ivar playing?

 As he watched her, his mind returned to his short burst of despair earlier. How he had called out to the Lord for deliverance. But if the Lord delivered him from the hands of these heathens…. would the Lord deliver her also? But did not the Lord send angels to protect the Virgin Mary as she carried Jesus in her womb? How could he then abandon y/n in her hour of need? For it was unthinkable to leave her alone in their clutches. And seeing her now, dressed as a slave, at the beck and call of the blood-thirsty Ragnarsson, Heahmund would rather slit his own throat than leave her alone. 

 Determination saturating his veins, he tried to move closer towards Ivar but as he took a step, the brutish Viking held him back with an animalistic grunt.

 Ivar waved a hand. "Let him approach, Haakon."

 For a moment, Heahmund froze, his blood boiling at the name. This name he swore he would always remember. He turned to stare at the brute with a newfound understanding, fury a living thing beneath his skin. This was the man who mistreated the one most precious to him. An unforgivable sin. A heinous crime. And with the mischievous glint in Ivar's eyes, the bishop knew the prince had purposefully orchestrated for them to meet. Tearing his fiery gaze away from the brutish Viking, he walked over to stand before Ivar like a convict awaiting judgment. 

 "Shhhh…." Ivar hushed the crowd, his voice carrying with an air of authority. "Now will decide if you fight for us." Grabbing the knife out of the table from beside him, he continued. "Or whether I kill you." He paused, pressing the knife to Heahmund's chest. When he spoke next, his voice was low, a harsh truth only to be heard between them. "Nothing is keeping you alive but me."

 The tip of the knife pressed against Heahmund's jerkin, not a threat but a promise depending on the bishop's choice. With his quiet sigh, he peered past Ivar to look at y/n one more time. One of her hands covered her mouth, eyes wide with fear. Only now was Heahmund able to see the red marks on her wrist, marking of chains, ones he knew he carried also. 

 Without hesitation, the Saxon warrior-priest whispered back, "If I fight for you, y/n goes free."

 Ivar leaned closer, smirk growing on his lips. "If you fight for me…. I will give her to you."

 "Hmmm…." Heahmund's gaze dropped down to the knife still touching his sternum for a second before returning to meet Ivar's penetrating gaze. "Why don't you give me the knife?"

 The manic excitement in Ivar's eyes should have scared Heahmund, but right now he needed blood on his hands. With a wicked grin, Ivar handed the knife over, as if already knowing what was to occur next. He accepted the knife with a huff, surprised Ivar gave it to him. Both smiled darkly at one another, the draw and lust for blood staining their lips. Revenge- a language they both spoke fluently. 

 Slowly Heahmund turned around, the knife pressed to his sternum like he was about to take his own life. Aware of the crowd's eyes on him, he stepped away from Ivar, back into the street. Closer to the brute Viking. 

 Haakon began yelling in his thickly accented English. "Die! Are you afraid?" He sneered, getting right into the bishop's face. "Do it! Coward. Do it!"

 Without a second thought, Heahmund slid the knife home into the Viking's neck. Blood spurting out, coating his hand gripping the knife. As the heathen gurgled, he spat blood onto the heathen's face. The blood on his face was for the punch Heahmund received from him. The knife, though, that was for her. His gift to her. To deliver her from the abuse of the ungodly. He could see death sinking its claws into the Viking, latching itself onto the man's soul to drag him to Hell. With that he let the man drop limply to the mud and threw the knife to the ground nearby. 

 He gazed over the silenced crowd with his piercing eyes, weaponless once again, and curious if one would fight him for revenge for Haakon. They stared back at him, a mixture of shock and anger on many of their faces. A slow clap and madden laughter startled him. He turned back to see Ivar clapping with an unhinged smile. 

 "He will fight with us!" Ivar yelled, arms outstretched as if in victory. 

 The crowd cheered. An example of how fickle a mob can be. As he arrived, being led like an animal to sacrifice, they cheered for his death. Now they cheered for his sword, to fight alongside him. 

 Suddenly a form slammed into him, almost knocking him off his feet. He tensed, prepared to fight until he looked down to see y/n burying her face against his chest, hands gripping his tunic. Her body trembled against his, muffled sobs reached his ears as she clung to him like a lifeline. The bishop lifted his gaze to meet Ivar's, who leaned forward with a side smirk, eyes intently watching the two. As their gazes met, Ivar made a subtle motion with his hand, a quick wave, as if telling him to accept his prize. 

 Careful because of the many eyes still on them and not wishing to cause her harm, he brought his bound hands around her, pulling her closer against him. Embracing her in a way he had only fantasized about. Using his body as a shield, blood staining his hands.

 "You are safe now." He murmured against the top of her head, a storm of emotion whirling in his heart and mind. "You are safe, I promise. I will not let anyone hurt you again. I am here, my angel."

 Silently, she looked up at him, tears streaming down her cheeks, washing away what grime had been on them. But it was the relief and adoration in her eyes that made him freeze. How she beheld him as if a miracle or answer to her prayers. A reverence in her gaze but also joy intermingled. 

 His heart constricted in his chest; air momentarily cut off by the strong emotion stirring within him. For he knew with every fiber of his being as he gazed down at her, he would do anything to protect her. Would travel any sea to keep her. Fight any army with just his sword by his side. Even sell his own soul to the devil to see her safe. 

 Glancing up at Ivar and the manic smile on his mouth, Heahmund wondered if he had done just that. 

[1kook]

commercial break ; THREE

this is a netflix & chill drabble kook’s pov during their argument in d&b !

summary; But Jungkook loves the sun. warnings; post-fight, drinking, heart ache :( miscellaneous; everyone say thank u kim namjoon 🤩 word count; 1.5k

notes; a lot of people wanted to know his thoughts during the iconic d&b fight scene so here’s the closure we all needed </3 

He knows he’s said the wrong thing the second the last syllable departs from his lips.

Jungkook doesn’t mean it, that much he knows right away, but even still… there’s a silent moment of shock between the two of you, one where even he is surprised by his own tongue.

You move first, phone whipping across the room.

Now Jungkook has seen a lot of scary things in his life. He’s seen horror movies and walked through a cemetery at night once. He’s come home way past curfew and had to face the wrath of his normally lenient father. He’s sat front row in his first ever college seminar. Yet none of that fear, that anxiety, that dread, compares to the level of emotion he feels wrap around his throat the moment you get up.

“___, wait,” he calls out frantically, hands shaking the further and further you get. He has to tell you he doesn’t mean it, that he would never mean it. But how do you follow up a statement like that? Even when he catches your eyes, beautiful irises colder than the bottom of the ocean, he doesn’t know what to say. He stutters through an excuse he wouldn’t have believed himself and watches you slip further away.

Jungkook can’t let you leave, not when you’re so hurt and he’s so confused, but what else can he say? He doesn’t know, and when you angrily send him back inside he feels every bit the scolded child. Funny how that works.

He calls and calls until he realizes the muted hum from upstairs is the phone you left behind. He’s crazy and in love, desperately scouring through your social media accounts for a sign you’re safe and home. (You were on Twitter three minutes ago, so that’s a relief.) But even then he can’t relax, turning his own words over and over in his head.

Jungkook values a lot of things in your relationship. There’s a beautiful understanding that comes with being in love, a new sense of comfort he’d never felt before. You make him feel warm and in love, keep him grounded when the world threatens to swallow him beneath its surface. You care for him and he for you.

Where those thoughts had come from, he didn’t know. All he knew was that one minute you were picking at the edges of his patience, and the next he was shooting a dagger into your chest.

Self-reflection, Namjoon had always said, the key point to understanding oneself. Usually, that’s followed by some tips on yoga, on calming the mind, but his leg won’t stop bouncing and there’s a boa constrictor wrapped around his throat so that zen mentality will have to wait for now. A harsh exhale, foot thumping against the floor.

Carefully, he unscrambles his thoughts.

There were times you were childish and, for the most part, Jungkook didn’t mind. You brought out the most beautiful things in life with just your laughter alone. You roped him into doing things he never could enjoy growing up, which made him rekindle his love for old hobbies. If sunshine was a person, Jungkook is sure it was you.

You were bright and ever-burning, always with a mission in your head, even if it was something as small as cleaning your windows that day. A star, he thinks, except your smile alone garners the power of ten supernovas combined. The amount of joy and euphoria you’ve brought him this past year was immeasurable. You made him smile, even when you were tired, rising every morning and setting every night dutifully just like the sun.

But too much sunshine could be hot, scorching even.

His mom had mentioned it once, very early into your relationship, how you were a little too childish for Jungkook. He had angrily defended you, stormed out of his parents' house like he was ready to leave them all for you. (Would he? He likes to think so.) But a mother’s advice always haunted one the most.

Yes, your youthful outlook made his life colorful and bright, but there were times he found himself wondering what it would be like to have someone… not as outgoing.

Someone plain and always collected. Someone who would gently remind him of his deadlines, and watch all his favorite documentaries with him. Someone like him, he supposed, who matched his interests perfectly.

It sounds awfully boring.

It sounds terrible to be damned to such a dull life, especially now that he’s had a taste of you. You, who brings laughter and sunshine everywhere you go, his amazing other half. He’d hate it if you always did what he wanted— he loves when you pick at everything he likes because you let him do it back! Jungkook’s head was a never-ending spiral— that much he’s known from a young age. But with you in his life, it became fun and exhilarating. Gone was the dark tunnel and in its place was a twisty slide with loops and turns that defied all laws of gravity. It wasn’t a scary place anymore and it was all because of you.

You, who he might possibly lose forever. His own negligence was to thank, an inability to voice small issues until they piled up and became this big, warped monster that no longer pertained to his original frustrations. It was an ugly thing, so twisted and vile, taking the thoughts he seldom had and weaponizing them against you.

Was that it? Had those mindless thoughts been the root of today’s brash decisions. Jungkook wants to blame it on that, but part of him knows it’s his own inability to share his feelings that led to that spontaneous outburst. There were obviously some things he still needed to work on, but pinning it all on you, his dazzling ray in the sky, was the worst move he could have made. Self-reflection, he repeats to himself.

His heart is still pounding in his ears, drumming obnoxiously loud as if it wants to torture him for his actions. His phone rings across the room and Jungkook lunges for it, hoping and praying it’s you.

It’s not.

It’s just Namjoon calling to wish the two of you a happy anniversary. “You two having fun?” he teases before Jungkook can get so much as a greeting in.

“Hyung,” he chokes out hoarsely, glancing down at the ground. “I-I said something to ___,” he whispers even though there is no one here to hide from but his own crippling thoughts. “And I don’t think she’s coming back.”

His voice cracks a little. He hides it with a gulp so dry it hurts. “What?” Namjoon asks. “What do you mean?”

Jungkook sighs, running a hand over his eyes. “Are you busy right now?”

—

“You need to go to bed,” Namjoon tells him, ambling the two of them up the stairs. Jungkook snorts, sliding against the entire wall on the way up.

“I refuse,” he announces. He has to pause on the next step because he’s pretty sure there’s about four of the same step whirling before his eyes. Beside him, Namjoon sighs. “Hyung, I can’t see.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes, deciding the stairs are too much of a hassle and guiding them back to the living room instead. “Couch,” he informs him before rather carelessly dumping him onto it. “Listen,” he begins, crouching down beside Jungkook. “It’s like, 4 AM… and I have work tomorrow. So I’m going to leave,” he says, slowly pointing in the direction of outside. Jungkook nods, even though Namjoon is definitely pointing upside-down backward. “Okay, JK?”

“That’s me,” he agrees, letting his head slump back against a throw pillow. Namjoon groans.

“That is you,” he concedes. “And you need to sober up before you try talking to ___ again.”

The mere mention of your name turns a switch on inside him. “Can’t,” he whines, features twisting up together. “She hates me. Will cut my balls off.”

Namjoon goes to protest but eventually stops himself. “Yeah, well. Probably.” Jungkook wails at his friend’s poor attempt at consoling him. “Sleep a little and then head over to hers, okay?” He pats him on the cheek once before finally making his exit.

Jungkook can’t believe this. How embarrassing. If you saw him right now, you’d clown him for getting this drunk off wine. But he truly understands it now. It was the devil’s drink, so sweet and cooling only to suddenly slap him across the face with his own insobriety. Oh, his head was going to ache badly later.

Well, that was a problem for later’s Jungkook, he decides as he slinks off the couch and back into the kitchen. There’s a new box of cherry vodka he’d bought just for tonight—or last night, technically—because he knows it’s your favorite. And well. He misses you so much he’ll do anything to feel close to you again.

He’s not sure how long he sits on the floor, swing after swing going down his throat until he’s got three extra fingers and a new middle name. Just that when the sun finally filters through, so warm and bright, he finds himself missing you again. His feet take him out the door before he can think twice.

The morning rays bring with them a wicked headache that almost has Jungkook throwing up into his bushes. Part of him, the last droplet of reason, tells him he should change. He’s wearing the same clothes from yesterday and they reek. Furthermore, the sun is hellbent on soaking up every inch of his black clothing.  

He should change if he doesn’t want to suffocate in this heat, under this blazing sun in the sky.

But Jungkook loves the sun.

He walks on.

—

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[lonelyghosts-stuff]

Peppermint and Pinewood

Peppermint and Pinewood (Draco Malfoy x Reader)

Premise:

Draco Malfoy x muggleborn, Slytherin! Reader

Although the time setting isn’t too important, I envisioned it taking place somewhere in the fifth year.

Warnings: none really? I mean, I guess bullying, mild angst, and fluff lol. I dunno if Draco goes a little off-canon character wise here but I tried to make his personality as close to the source material as possible.

Word count: 4,581

Note: This is my first ever fan fiction I’ve ever written so yea.

Read it on wattpad too:

https://www.wattpad.com/story/244556691-peppermint-and-pinewood

It was another bad day. After getting yet another berating from Snape due to putting one too many dried lavender flowers in the Calming Draught potion and subsequently losing five house points from Slytherin, y/n found herself once again the target of insults and sneers. As if being a muggle born placed in Slytherin wasn't bad enough, it seems like every single mistake made, no matter how simple or innocent it may have been, was held against her as if it was the highest insult to the wizarding world.

Following a long walk down the hallway to her next class, a cold and judgmental presence drew near. With his steely gray eyes, Draco Malfoy looked down upon y/n.

"Well well... looks like the mudblood lost us even more points! As if it wasn't enough of a plague upon wizard kind and the Slytherin House to have a mudblood part of it..." Draco leaned in towards y/n towering over her by at least 15cm (about 6 inches rounded up) and continued "we have to further suffer your utter lack of any practical skills in class. I mean, bloody hell y/l/n! We've been learning the calming draught for what, the past three days? And you still managed to screw that up. If it was up to me, your kind wouldn't even be allowed in the magical world much less Hogwarts; as pathetic as this school is."

After the cacophony of insults and belittlement, Draco continued onward, gesturing his cronies to follow...

Only, they didn't follow right away. Crabbe and Goyle decided that it was their time to shine and decided to push y/n around, knowing full well she wouldn't do anything to stop them. With some rude comments and pathetic chittering of a laugh, Crabbe gave y/n one final shove sending her onto the ground and spilling out her supplies including books, quills, and a jar of ink. Despite the squawking coming from Crabbe and Goyle, Draco looked more bemused than anything. While he should be laughing at a lowly mud blood getting what they deserved, he felt empty. He almost pitied y/l/n.

"Crabbe, Goyle, hurry up or we'll be late to D.A.D.A. and I sure as hell am not losing any house points because of you buffoons." Draco demanded, leaving y/n on the ground, scurrying to clean up the mess.

Eventually one Slytherin classmate and their Hufflepuff friend spotted y/n and helped her clean up.

"Scourgify! There you go! All better now!" The Hufflepuff chirped as the Slytherin handed y/n the last of her things.

"Are you sure you simply tripped and fell?" The Slytherin doubted y/n's story. "I mean, you aren't the most popular nor liked in Slytherin."

"Oh uh yea. I know where you're coming from but I promise it was just a little trip. Just me being clumsy is all!" Y/n fumbled through her response. "But thanks for the concern Mallory!"

Mallory was one of the few Slytherins who didn't despise y/n for her blood status. Coming from a home where her dad is a wizard and her mom's a muggle, not even muggle born, she found herself sympathizing with y/n.

"Hey y/n, promise us you'll come for help if you really need it, okay?" Susan Bones the Hufflepuff, a caring and hardworking witch who, while maybe initially coming across as weak and a pushover, is not one who is past fighting someone in order to defend her friends.

"Yea yea I promise I promise." Y/n chuckled. If only Mallory was in y/n's dorm room. Things would be a lot better for sure.

After a couple more minutes of reassuring Mallory and Susan that she was alright, y/n begrudgingly made her way to her next class with her fellow housemates of the same year, Defense Against the Dark Arts. While not her particular favorite due to the inconsistency of the instructors, y/n found herself enjoying D.A.D.A. more than most classes due to not only the wide variety of skills and spells learned, but the hands on approach of applying said new skills in practical situations. It was certainly a sight to behold when she transformed her boggart from Voldemort to a mere Pansy Parkinson, shackled by her ankles no doubt by Filch. Of course this only earned y/n more nasty comments hurled her way as well as an unappreciated "gift" from an owl left on her bed, but y/n felt that the site was worth it nonetheless.

D.A.D.A. was unfortunately highly uneventful that day as the class merely reviewed the basic defensive and combative spells from previous years (a shocking amount of students performed poorly on the review exam and thus the whole class had to suffer). On her way out of the class, y/n was met by another Slytherin, none other than the she-devil herself, Pansy Parkinson. As if on cue, the moment y/n stepped out of the classroom and was out of sight of any faculty, y/n was roughly pulled by the hand and pushed into the neighboring, empty classroom by Pany who promptly closed the door behind her, holding it shut.

"Hey let me out of here! Pansy you downright insufferable git!" Y/n burst out, an uncommon instance that was released due to pent up rage from days of harassment.

"Nuh uh! Maybe when you learn your lesson that Draco is mine and you'll neeeveeer be more than a pathetic, weak, and intolerable mudblood!" Pansy chortled in a sing-songy voice.

"Pansy I swear to Merlin..." y/n started before stopping themself to recompose and calm down. "Pansy, I'm asking nicely... please, open the door. I have no clue what you are talking about with Draco, but you don't need to worry. I want nothing to do with that cocky, rude, hair-gelling bastard, okay?!"

"Augh?! You think that pathetic excuse for an apology is gonna cut it? Nuh uh! Maybe you need some more time alone to think about your actions, y/l/n. Colloportus!" And with that, y/n heard the doors click locked, Pansy mumble the anti-alohomora charm, and the ever fading footsteps of Pansy proudly striding away.

Feeling all of her built up emotion come to a boil, y/n allowed herself to blow some steam off while she was alone. Casting one destructive spell after another, the classroom suffered greatly from the y/n’s rage.

"BOMBARDA! STUPEFY! DIFFINDO! INCENDIO!" Y/n proclaimed with much fervor before stepping back in fear.

The last spell carelessly cast quickly caught the ratted tapestry curtains over the windows, sending them ablaze. In the panic, y/n stumbled back to the door before pounding on it wildly for help. Fortunately for her, her absence in her next class and last class of the day was reported and McGonagall was passing by to look for her. Quickly reversing the rushed anti-alohomora charm on the door and then following up by unlocking it, the door swung open as y/n fell through, almost onto the ground before catching herself.

After extinguishing the fire with a quick flick of her wand and a mutter of 'aguamenti' and long winded conversation filled with explanations, denial, and intense pleading, McGonagall decided it was in the best interest to remove 100 points from Slytherin for the utter lack of safety and human decency.

Of course this didn't go well for y/n. That evening she found herself locked out of her own dorm room as her roommates found the blame for the points lost resting solely on y/n. Making her way to the empty common room, y/n sat on one of the couches in front of the green, crackling fire. Equipped with nothing outside of her button up, vest, and pants, y/n used her robe as a blanket and cuddled up on the couch.

At that moment, y/n's bottled up emotion overflowed and she sobbed into the couch cushion. Feeling more like a burden than a human, y/n repeated in her head the insults she's heard many times. "Hinderance. Pathetic. Weak. Worthless..." she choked out between sobs. "Filthy... little... mudblood."

Before y/n could even get one wink of sleep, a door creaked open revealing the prince of Slytherin himself, Draco. Only, unlike most other times, Draco was sans henchmen. Presumably, Draco snuck out for one reason or another and was only returning about now. As Draco stepped into the light, he noticed a covered figure on the couch. Draco glimpsed at y/n h/l h/c hair, quickly deducing it was y/n.

"What are you doing out here this late, y/l/n?" Interrogated Draco. "Shouldn't you be in your room?"

"I could ask you the same thing. Wandering about this late at night, you could lose us house points or worse depending on what suspicious activities you are into." Y/n mumbled as she tried to tune out the excess noise, not caring anymore about how she responded to Draco.

"Harsh, but fair." Draco let out a rare chuckle.

For some reason, hearing Draco chuckle sent warm tingles throughout her body from one hand to another. This is just barely a fraction of a side of Draco she wished she could see all the time. Before getting too caught up in daydreams, y/n remembered it was Draco's fault in the first place that she's even locked out of her room at all.

"Well, to put it short, I'm still a, as you say, a filthy mudblood and it would appear as if torturing me and locking me in an abandoned classroom wasn't enough for them so they decided to lock me out of our own room." Y/n vented with both a sense of exasperated relief as Draco stood silently, stiff as a board, as if he was shocked as to what he was hearing.

Draco took a moment to drink in y/n. Her e/c eyes, red and glossy from tormented crying. Even in this state she was still breathtaking. Wait, what? Breathtaking? Draco suddenly forgot how to speak as his mind raced from his sudden observation. She's not pretty, right? She's just a muggle born, a disgrace to the wizarding world! Is that all she is though? And only a muggle born, not a mudblood? Draco panicked internally for a brief moment before finally recollecting himself and regaining his composure.

"Oh." Was all Draco could manage at the moment. Appearing deep in thought, Draco organized a response. "As much as I would love to hear more of your life problems, I have a room to go back to. So... um... good night..."

Draco awkwardly turned around and shuffled towards his room, pausing only for a brief moment and throwing a quick glance over his shoulder as if he was contemplating something. He quickly shook off any feeling of turning back and entered his room for the night.

The school year progressed without much of anything significant happening outside of the common bullying and stress of the holidays approaching. It was almost winter break and, as usual, y/n would be staying at Hogwarts for Christmas. Her parents always took a long vacation over Christmas break and figured they would save money by leaving y/n at school where she would still get food and housing without them having to pay for an extra plane ticket. Y/n didn't mind too much. She had always been pretty independent from her parents, but she loved them nonetheless. They all loved each other but they weren't very affectionate about it, a factor that probably contributed to her apathetic approach to most things. While always hopeful to be invited to one of her parents annual holidays, y/n also looked forward to the more or less peace and quiet of having the common room and school mostly to herself with the exception of the other few students who also remained for the holidays.

Unbeknownst to y/n, ever since their interaction at night in the common room, Draco has been secretly watching her. While seeing her in such a devastated state should logically make him happy as she is only a muggle born, Draco felt anything but happy. It was almost like looking into a mirror for him, seeing her broken. It reminded him of his many nights of anxiety and depression after getting an earful from his father about how he wasn't "good enough" or constantly feeling inadequate compared to the "chosen one", Potter. From that moment on, Draco avoided y/n. Y/n didn't really think anything of it except that she appreciated the extended periods of peace and silence between the other students' insults. This of course only prompted Crabbe and Goyle to try to make up for their ring leader's apparent avoidance and growing distaste of picking on y/n. Fortunately for y/n however, Crabbe and Goyle were quite dim witted and easy to outsmart or avoid. Another development for y/n was that, after her time in the abandoned classroom allowing her to let off some steam, followed by her mini rant to Draco, she found herself able to stand up for herself a bit more, much to the chagrin of Pansy Parkinson. Now when Pansy strode up to y/n with a cocky and mischievous smirk plastered on her face, y/n simply looked on with a strong and unavoidable expression of mere annoyance and anticipation of disappointment. Pansy would try to insult y/n only for y/n to retort with a simple motion of dismissal or a clever comeback.

"Well if it isn't the local mudblood of Slytherin!" Pansy would shout with falsely placed pride.

"Well if it isn't the local tramp of Slytherin!" Y/n would respond with a mock curtsy. "What an absolute honor to be in your presence. Oh, and of course the presence of all the guys you try to hook up with."

Pansy would only stare on, gobsmacked and dumbfounded. She would walk away trying to act as if y/n's responses meant nothing to her, but her embarrassment would be evident with the bright red burning at her cheeks. Y/n would always take a silent pride in herself when she managed to hold her composure and deliver lines to Pansy that would shut her up without the need to stoop down the Pansy's level herself.

The days progressed even more until it was eventually the last day before the Christmas holiday. As the other students were packing their things and saying their goodbyes, y/n spent her time in the library or in the Slytherin common room, sitting next to one of the many windows looking out under the Black Lake. Y/n would often sit by the windows and look at the fish and grindylows swim by, almost entranced by the aquatic life that resides within the lake. Y/n always hoped to spot the giant squid someday, but outside of the rare silhouette of a tentacle, she was disappointed. Of course her biggest achievement of her many nights of lake gazing was when she spotted a mermaid right outside the window. The mermaid smiled a soft and ethereal smile before singing a peaceful song, lulling y/n to a restful sleep. Y/n would constantly be on the lookout for that same mermaid each night, even more so than the giant squid, but was unfortunately commonly met with mere fish or the occasional grindylow that would give her a wicked smile. At the end of the day, students began to turn in for the night in preparation for leaving bright and early in the morning to go home or wherever for their Christmas vacations. Y/n, on the other hand, stayed up, sitting on the couch and watching the green flames dance and in the fireplace. A wave of contentment washed over her as she looked forward to a peaceful break. She had just been told by Mallory that, while she was leaving for the holiday, Susan Bones would be staying as her she had no family to return to (her family having been killed personally by Voldemort in the First Wizarding War) outside of her aunt Amelia Bones who was attending to business all holiday. Y/n looked forward to spending some time with Susan, especially knowing how hard the holidays are for her due to her family's past. She has already planned on taking her to Hogsmeade for some quality time as a “girls’ day” together and to make sure that, despite her circumstances, she would still have the best Christmas possible.

As y/n sat alone, mesmerized by the fire and picturing her plans to hang out with Susan, none other than Draco Malfoy once again stepped into the picture. He didn't directly approach y/n, more or less standing off to the side and looking outward at the lake. Y/n eventually directed her attention away from the fire and noticed Draco staring out at the lake. He seemed a lot more fidgety than usual, almost as if he was nervous or dreading something. 'It couldn't possibly be he's not looking forward to going home, could it?' Y/n thought to herself as she observed Draco's body language. After a brief minute, Draco turned around as if to head to bed only to notice y/n staring at him.

"Ah! W-what are you doing here y/l/n?" Draco jumped slightly, caught off guard.

Y/n quickly looked away, feeling her cheeks burn in embarrassment from being caught. "I, uh, well..." she calmed down and recomposed herself, "if you don't remember, despite yours and most everyone else's wishes, I'm still in Slytherin so I have just as much of a right to be here as you!"

"Oh. Yea. I mean, that's not what I meant." Draco fumbled through his sentences, his nervousness becoming more and more obvious. "I meant, what are you doing here, here. Shouldn't you be in bed so you'll be ready for the holidays?"

Once again, y/n found herself saying, "I could ask you the same thing." Y/n gave a playful yet unconfident smirk.

Defying anyone's best guess, a faint pink rose to Draco's cheeks, completely catching y/n off guard. He quickly tried to laugh it off before continuing to uncharacteristically stumble his way through the conversation. "Uh, yea. My bad, sorry."

Once again, y/n was caught completely off guard. 'Did the Draco Malfoy just say, "sorry"?' Draco didn't even seem phased by the absurdity of what he just said.

Quickly moving on from what just happened, y/n spoke up, "Well, to answer your question. No. I'm not leaving for the holidays. I'll be here all Christmas break."

Almost as if without a second thought, Draco made his way over to the couch area, sitting on the chai directly across from y/n. His previous nervousness seemed to fade away as he responded, "So, why are you staying here? How come you're not going home or traveling somewhere?"

"Well, my parents like to go on big fancy trips for the holidays and they figure that they can save money by leaving me here."

"Oh. Does that bother you at all? That they just leave you behind while they go and have a great time?"

Y/n shrugged, trying to ignore how weird this whole situation is. "Not really. It's always been like this. They never really went on vacations outside of an occasional camping trip with me when I was still living at home and they wanted to take advantage of the situation of me being at a school away from home to go on a nice trip while I was being cared for. We still go camping over the summertime though, so that's fun."

Draco was amazed, listening intently to every word that came out of y/n's mouth. The concept of needing to save money was pretty foreign to him, but he found himself able to relate to her situation of not having the most affectionate family.

"So, what about you, Draco? Why aren't you in bed? No doubt your family has some extravagant plans for the holiday." Y/n asked, turning the tables on Draco.

As soon as she asked this, the previously present nervousness and dread returned to Draco's face. "Oh, uh, not tired yet. A lot on my mind..."

"Well, surely your family has something exciting planned. I mean, you are a Malfoy after all."

As if she just pushed a button, Draco seemed to flinch away at the mention of his family name. For a brief moment, his nervousness was overcome with an irritated, defensiveness as he snapped, "Well it's not all perfect like you so clearly think!"

Y/n flinched back as he shouted this, confused by the sudden change in attitude. Draco noticed her almost immediately shut down, losing any joy that previously graced her face.

"I-I'm... sorry... I didn't mean to shout." Draco sighed. "It's just that-"

"No, I'm sorry." Y/n interrupted. "I saw you were clearly uncomfortable at the first mention of your family and I shouldn't have asked again... you don't have to say anything you don't want to."

"Thank you." Draco simply said. He began to stand up to head to bed before y/n got to say one last thing

"Draco. I-", y/n cut herself off, questioning if she should really finish her sentence. "I'm... always here if you need anything. Okay? I may not know of your family's background or yours, but I'm no stranger to hardships. I'm always here if you need help with something or even just someone to talk to."

Draco looked at her with a face full of mixed emotions. Uncertainty, confusion, fear of letting someone in, fear of pushing her away, and more. He was quiet for about a whole minute as he stood there, looking at y/n.

"But, why? Would you care about me? I've been nothing but cruel and rude to you. Why would you care how I feel?" Draco suddenly asked, breaking the silence.

"Just because you may not be the most pleasant person in the world to be around doesn't mean you don't have your own battles and issues in life, nor does it mean your issues are any less valid than anyone else's. You're still a human and... I care about you just like anyone else...", y/n looked down at the floor as she quietly said the last part.

Draco stood there, silent and uncertain about how to respond. Another minute of silence passed and, without a second thought, Draco turned around and walked to his room. Y/n kept looking down, berating herself in her head. 'You went too far you idiot! You just had to push it and make him feel uncomfortable...'. Y/n lied down onto the couch and closed her eyes as she tried to fall asleep.

As Draco walked away, he stopped for a second and whispered under his breath, "Thank you... y/n. Merry Christmas."

The night was rough for Draco; he couldn't sleep as he replayed the conversation in his head over and over again. When the time reached 1:30 am, Draco decided to get up and go for a brief walk to clear his head. He opened the door from his dorm room and quietly snuck out so as to not awake his roommates. Making his way down into the common room, he spotted y/n still there, only asleep on the couch. He quickly deduced she must have been locked out of her room again and that was another reason she wasn't in bed yet when he first came across her. He quietly walked over to her and looked at her. Despite her messy hair and unconventional sleeping position, she had a peaceful look on her face as she slumbered. As he turned away to continue his short walk, he heard a noise come from y/n. When he turned around, he noticed her shivering in her sleep. The fire had died down since he was last here and y/n was without a blanket or anything else to keep her warm. He wanted to relight the fireplace but he also didn't want to risk the sudden light waking her up. He eventually turned back to head to his room as y/n laid there.

The next morning, Draco and his friends were getting ready to leave the school and board the trains. A smirk was plastered on Draco's face, one which did not go unnoticed by Pansy.

"Hey Drayyyy!" Pansy cooed in a sickeningly sweet tone of voice. "What's got you so happy this be-a-utiful morning?"

Even Pansy's annoying presence couldn't dampen Draco's mood. "Oh it's nothing. Just looking forward to leaving this joke of a school is all." Draco proudly lied, his thoughts clearly elsewhere.

Despite many more attempts of learning what the truth was from Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle, Draco remained silent on the truth.

Back in the Slytherin common room, y/n began stirring awake. Surprisingly, she slept through the commotion of the other students leaving for Christmas. Stretching and yawning, y/n stood up off the couch, accidentally dropping the jumper that was draped across her onto the ground. Without hesitation she picked up the sweater and slid it on, quickly leaving to brush her hair and get ready for the day to take Susan to Hogsmeade.

Once in Hogsmeade, y/n lead Susan to Honeydukes to pick out an assortment of sweets.

"Thank you so much for all of this, y/n. I really appreciate it." Susan beamed as she grabbed a chocolate frog with one hand as her other held a box of treacle fudge.

"Of course. It's my pleasure and it's a nice change of pace from a normal school schedule. And one never needs an excuse to go to Honeydukes!" Y/n responded gleefully.

After they made their way back to Hogwarts with their bounty of sweets and a few items from Zonko's, Susan led y/n to the Hufflepuff common room so they could indulge themselves.

After taking a big bite from a liquorice wand, Susan spoke out, "oh I've been meaning to ask you, when did you get that jumper? It's been cold all winter but I haven't seen you wear it all!"

Y/n looked down at the jumper. It was green and silver in the Slytherin colors with a big, snake S in the center. "You know what? I don't know... I just woke up this morning and it was draped over me. I'm not sure how I got it."

"Weird. Maybe you made an impulse purchase and completely forgot?"

"No, I don't think that's it. It's a little big for me too. Maybe Mallory bought it for me and left it as a surprise? I know she's a bit bigger than me so that would explain it."

"No that can't be. She got you a new scarf and matching mittens for Christm-shoot!"

"Susan!!!" Y/n burst out laughing.

"Oh no I'm so so so sorry!!! Please don't tell Mallory I told you! She's been planning this for a week! Please act surprised when you get it! Aghhhh I'm so dumb!" Susan panicked as her face flushed from embarrassment.

"Don't worry don't worry!" Y/n chuckled loudly. "I'll act surprised I promise!"

"Thank you thank you thank you thank you!" Susan cried out as she stuffed her mouth with a pumpkin pasty.

The rest of the Christmas holiday was full of fun and funny times like this. For the first time in a while, y/n looked forward to getting up in the morning and seeing people. She would always wake up bright and early, brush her hair and her teeth, and slip on the mysterious oversized jumper. While it still bugged her and Susan as the jumper's origin remained a mystery, y/n was grateful to have it nonetheless on these cold, winter days.

It also had a pleasant scent of peppermint and pinewood cologne too.

[storiesforallfandoms]

love and drugs ~ klaus hargreeves;the umbrella academy

word count: 1805

request?: no

description: in which klaus and his best friend discuss the serious topic of love while high

pairing: teen!klaus hargreeves x female!reader

warnings: swearing, drug usage

masterlist

“Whoa, I just stumbled into a real life porno,” Klaus commented upon seeing Allison and Luther nearly kissing. You snickered at the comment as Klaus’ siblings glared at him.

“Fuck off Klaus,” Allison hissed before closing her bedroom door in his face.

“Fuck off Klaus,” Klaus mocked in a high pitch voice before continuing down the hall. “As if I did something wrong by walking in on my siblings making out.”

“To play devil’s advocate, they weren’t making out yet,” you pointed out.

“Yet is the keyword,” Klaus said.

He pushed his bedroom door open and went straight for his window. You followed, the two of you effortlessly pulling yourselves onto the roof of the Hargreeves manor.

You often forgot just how big Klaus’ house was, but you wouldn’t dare to comment on it to him. To Klaus, this house was a prison, a place of torture at the hands of his supposed father. It made for a great view when you sat on the roof, especially to get high while looking at.

Klaus rolled a joint and lit it, taking the first puff before passing it to you. “Fuck, that shit is good.”

You took a puff and laid back on the roof next to him. You both looked at the sky, a dark blue, almost black, as the sun began to set.

“It’s not that weird if you consider the fact that none of you guys are actually related,” you pointed out as you passed the joint back to Klaus.

He knew what you meant without having to ask. “We still grew up together, we were raised as siblings, we called the same dude dad and the same robot mom for years. We share the same birthday, we may as well be actual siblings.”

“Plenty of people share birthdays, doesn’t mean they’re related.”

“Stop defending Sweet Home Alabama. It’s weird, it weirds us all out.”

You laughed at Klaus’ joke as you tried to take a puff from the joint, causing you to start choking on the smoke. Klaus laughed at you as he took the joint back.

“I suppose I understand it in some way,” Klaus continued. “We’re locked in this house, unable to see any other actual person. They’re both the favourite kids cause they’re the ass kissers, so it makes sense that they’re attracted to one another.”

You put your hands behind your head and stared up at the sky. “Have you ever thought about falling in love?”

It was Klaus’ turn to choke on the puff he was taking form the joint. He began to cough, puffs of weed smoke coming from his mouth every time he did. He coughed so hard, he accidentally dropped the joint and watched it roll off the roof and onto the ground.

“Sad,” he commented, but laid back next to you again. “That’s a pretty loaded question there, (Y/N).”

“I don’t think so,” you responded. “I feel like everyone has thought about love at some point in their lives.”

“Thinking about love, yes. I’ve thought about how disgusting it is that my brother and sister are in love with one another, I’ve thought about how dad doesn’t know what the meaning of love is, I’ve thought about how much I fucking love weed. But falling in love is a much heavier topic.”

On any normal occasion, you wouldn’t have pushed the subject. In fact, you and Klaus rarely had any serious conversations, especially when he dismissed the topic. Most of your time was spent smoking weed and making fun of his family. But you were starting to feel a head rush and the lack of caring about anything leaving your body, signifying that the joint was working its magic and you were pleasantly high.

“I guess it is,” you agreed, “but I still think it’s something everyone has thought about at least once in their lives. Like when you were a kid, didn’t you ever think about growing up and having a wife or something?”

Klaus gave you a funny look. “Did I, the boy that was raised in a mansion with six other kids by an emotionally distant father who built his own robot wife, think about finding a human wife and living happily ever after? No, can’t say I have.”

You began to laugh, as if what Klaus had said was the funniest thing you had ever heard. Luckily, Klaus was just as high as you and didn’t take your laughing to heart. Instead, he smiled as well and began to laugh. You tried to stop but it was nearly impossible. It was like someone had flipped a switch in your body and now you were going to laugh forever, the thought of which caused you to keep laughing.

When you both finally managed to calm down, Klaus asked, “Have you ever thought about falling in love?”

“Of course I have,” you responded. “I’ve been in so many relationships, I think I fall in love once a week.”

“That’s not love,” Klaus told you. “I may not know anything about that feeling, but I know a new flavour of the week every week is not love. That’s you trying to simulate love, or trying to stimulate your vagina.”

You bit your lip to keep from laughing again. “Well, I’m failing at that second one, because none of the guys I’ve dated are good at sex. They all either have small penises or don’t know how to use the average sized ones they have.”

“See, that’s not love,” Klaus said, pointing a finger at you almost accusingly. “You’re not looking for a life partner, you’re looking for a guy to please you sexually. Love is looking for someone whose gonna make you happy and who you think will make you happy for life, the sexual pleasure thing is just a side feeling.”

You turned your head to smile lazily at your best friend. “For someone who supposedly doesn’t know anything about love, you sure do know how to explain it.”

“Allison watches too many soap operas and teen romance shows. You pick up stuff from time to time.”

You were both silent then for some time, starring at the sky as both your heads spun from your highs. Between you, Klaus’ hand was lazily outstretched, his palm facing upwards. You dared to look at it for just a moment, letting your eyes dart from his hand, to his face, then back up to the sky to act as though you hadn’t just looked at him.

Trying to test the waters, you slowly lowered one of your hands so that it was inches from his. As if knowing what you were trying to do, Klaus reached out and took your hand in his, intertwining your fingers together.

You felt your heart begin to race and you almost wanted to pull your hand away before it started to get gross and sweaty, but you were also at a point in your high where it felt like you had no control over your own body. You just wanted to lay there, holding Klaus’ hand and looking at the sky.

“I’ve thought about falling in love,” Klaus admitted then, his thumb beginning to trace your knuckles idly. “I’ve thought about meeting the right person and leaving this place for good. Moving as far away from the Academy as humanly possible, starting my own family, actually loving and raising my children, not just having them and being in the same house as them and calling that parenting.”

“I have, too,” you admitted as well, your mouth working before your mind did. “I mean, going out and having fun with guys is great and all, but I’d like to meet a guy that I feel like I can settle down with. That I’ll be with for a long time, even if it’s not for the rest of my life. Just someone for me to be with longer than a week.”

“You don’t think you’ve met him yet?”

You turned your head to see Klaus already looking at you, a hurt look in his eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you said. “I’m sure I have met him, I just haven’t realized he’s the right one yet.”

“How will you know? Or how do you think you’ll know if he is the right one?”

“I don’t know, I think the universe will give me a sign.”

There was a pause before suddenly Klaus rolled so that he was almost hovering over you, and lowered his lips onto yours. You were taken back by the action and almost didn’t know what to do. Do you push him away? Do you kiss him back? Well, you certainly couldn’t just lay there motionless while he kissed you, he’d definitely regret doing it then.

You decided to go with option B and started kissing Klaus back. The hand that had been holding yours slipped under your head, cradling it as his tongue began to poke at your lips. You opened your mouth, allowing Klaus to slip his tongue in and allowing you to do the same.

Despite the chill in the night air, you were starting to feel warm. So warm you were debating on taking your clothes off, and Klaus’, but you knew it was a bad idea to do that on the roof of his house. Instead, you pulled away, biting at Klaus’ lip as you did so, causing him to chuckle.

“Was that a good enough sign?” he asked as he rested his forehead against yours.

“All these times that we’ve hung out, alone, and have gotten high, and you waited till now to do that?” you asked, teasingly.

“How am I supposed to initiate a kiss when usually we’re so baked we don’t even know how to control our own bodies?” he asked. “I thought this was the perfect time, considering we were talking about love and all.”

“So you have thought about being in love?”

“I have, with my best friend. We’re a walking teen romance cliché, Allison would lose her shit.”

You giggled and lifted your head enough to capture Klaus’ lips again. You could get used to kissing him.

“I know this is probably moving too fast,” he told you, breaking from the kiss once more, “but do you wanna go back inside and make sure I pass the sexual pleasure test before we go any further?”

You smirked at him and responded, “Duh, what kind of stupid question is that?”

Klaus stood so quickly he almost toppled off the roof, you had to take hold of his hand to make sure he stayed up right. He pulled you to him again, kissing you once more, before the both of you climbed back into his room and closed both the window and the curtains.

[newobsessionweekly]

Quarantine games🌿

a/n: someone asked for this, I hope I didn’t let you down. I honestly don’t know where that came from. I have a strange mind and even stranger imagination. So, enjoy! 🌿

warning: maybe language and some explicit stuff. word count: 2.305

Arón Piper x reader 🌿

There are so many things going on in the world right now that you can’t even keep the step up with them. First, Italy confronts with this virus-thing and then you heard numbers too big for you to understand. More than nine hundred of deaths in one day in Italy, those news gave you goosebumps. Then you heard the news about Spain having a bad situation as well. You’ve been carefully every time, but this couldn’t keep you inside for more than four days, otherwise you’d go nuts. So when your best friend, Miguel, called and said that he and some friends wanted a gathering to watch together the new season of Élite, you accepted immediately. Inside Jorge’s apartament in Madrid were nine people and a cat, and the place was almost overcrowded. Two episodes and thirteen songs later, the news about a total lockdown and Spain being closed, gathered you in front of the TV. You are not allowed to leave the house , except for emergencies so even if you tried, you couldn’t reached your apartament, is like in the opposite side of Madrid.

“It’s not a big deal, right? We can get over this together.” Jorge told you and it was an subtle invitation to stay over. And you did stayed. The truth is, you were afraid of this situation and you didn’t want to get through this alone. You weren’t the only one thinking like that so you decided to manage this situation together. Danna was supposed to fly back in Mexic to be with her family, but the flight was cancelled. 

 Though you knew this people before, staying so many days together, you got to know them even better, for example how are they in their private space. A few days later, you finished the last season of Élite and all the food in the apartament. Day five of quarantine bring a bore bigger than the Empire State Building. You slept almost all day and ate, ghosting here and there. Danna let you borrow some clothes from her luggage but today you only could find dresses and fancy clothes. 

“Can somebody borrow me a t-shirt or something?” Ester just washed the laundry and now you need to wait them to dry. You weren’t the only one who wasn’t prepared for so many days away from home, you packed, just in case, for three days. Miguel, Omar and Álvaro weren’t prepared as well, but gladely they could count on Jorge and Arón. The latter was supposed to go visit his father’s family in Germany, but his flight was cancelled as well so he got stuck with you.

“I think I still have some clean ones in my baggage. You can look and take anything you like.” Arón responded from the window frame. He smokes too much when he is bored. And drinks. It’s already the third beer and the night just started. But you don’t want to say anything because it’s none of your business. You must addmit he is the one that caught your attention since the day one. You stalked him on Instagram a few days ago, trying to find something about him, maybe some pictures with a girlfriend or anything, but it´s nothing much. He keeps his life privately and that’s a thing you admire most at him. 

Surprisingly, he has an ordonate luggage and you find rapidly a t-shirt. He had many from expensive brands. You loved one shirt from Monclair, and said “why not?”, he said you could take anything you like. You screamed “Gracias, Arón!” and went for a shower.          

----------

After a warm shower, the anxiety started to spread from your body. When you dressed Arón’s t-shirt, a strage feeling attacked you and made you stare at the image in the mirror. You are wearing a shirt that isn’t yours, is a hot boy’s shirt, which fits you strangely perfect. And this smell... the smell of his cologne haunted you these days, but now is closer than ever and you can enjoy it without raising question marks from anyone. However you wished you could smell it from Arón while he is hugging you. “Nonsense, I am getting nuts!” you thought. But this handsome man would help your fantasies only growing day by day. You shooked your head and walked out of the bathroom, just to found everyone sitting round the coffee table.   

“Finally, we thought you died inside and we were just tossing a coin to see who had to rescue you.”  Miguel laughed and made some space for you to sit next to him.

“Good choice, that one is my favourite!” Arón winked at you and took a sip from a cocktail. 

“Ah, lo siento, I didn’t knew! I can change it if you want.” you said quickly, panicked. He smiled at you and waved his hand as in “keep it”.

“So, the rules are simple. Truth or dare. You don’t make any of them, you receive a punishment, alright?” they decided to play this game to animate a little this flat. All day you almost ignored each other and it wasn’t a wise movement. The depression started to fill in and Jorge, because it was his idea to keep all of you there, was feeling responsable for you bad mood. You played Poker three nights in a row, then “Uno” and even “Activity”. You won at Poker and made Arón kinda mad, but unfortunately lost at the other ones. You and Miguel are not a good pair for games. Jorge spinned the empty beer bottle which pointed Álvaro.

“Aye, amigo, truth or dare?” Jorge smiled wickedly.

“Truth.” Álvaro’s response came and everyone mumbled “chicken” at him. He rolled his eyes and waited for a question.

“What scene did you like filming the most?”

“That sex scene in the pool with you and Georgina.” the answer came and the laughs didn’t waited to burst. Then Álvaro had to dare Mina. “Drink that beer from one sip.” And Mina didn’t think twice before she grabbed the bottle.

“Easy with the beers, alright? There are not many left!” Arón attentioned all of you.

“Sure, we ran out of food and you are worried about the beers.” you like very much to provoke him. Arón looked at you menacing. When Mina spinned, Omar picked the truth.

“What is the funniest memory you have from the set?”

“From season 3?” he asked and Mina approved. “Maybe the one when I was supposed to mime a blowjob and he couldn’t stop laughing. I was bouncing my head up and down for a damn take until I’ve literally got dizzy.” he pointed at Arón and laughed while accepted the middle finger. You tought for a minute, that middle finger is like a signature for him, is one of the many specific things for him. 

“You blame me for laughing but you made some funny sucking noises!” Arón defended himself and you laughed even louder. Despite the noises, Omar could hear Miguel when he chose dare and it wasn’t a great idea.

“Mime a sex scene with anyone in this room.” Omar spoken out the final verdict. Miguel picked you up, despite the fact that you refused to do that with him. You wear some kind of short jeans, but they looked more like underwear, so when Miguel made you bend on one of the countertops, you looked like you were naked. He put his hands on your waist and mimed the “in and out” move behind your back.

“Come on, (y/n), you have to moan to make it credible!” Miguel pinched your arm and that made you sceam. “Well, that wasn’t really a moan, but it was better than nothing!” you could hear everyone laughing behind your back. When the torture finally ended, you faced Miguel with anger.

“I hate you for this!” you said, but he just laughed and passed you so he can also spin the bottle. Arón had a strange look on his face. You didn’t know if it was embarrassment or anger or any other feeling, but something bothered him. The bottle stopped in front of Arón and he choses truth. “What are your top three turn-ons?” Miguel looked at you after he spoke and winked. “Puta mierda!” you thought. Now everyone would know something is going on with you. The truth is you have a crush on Arón and Miguel kinda figured it out. The way he smiles, the way he moves, the way he smokes, everything is so perfect at him. Beside the amazing look, he have a good heart too, he’s a funny one and you find yourself some things in common with him.

“Wearing matching lingerie, playing with my hair and maybe the smell of food cooking.” he answered and it heard some of them whistling while and you almost turned red like a tomato. You are a shy one and dirty stuff made you turn red like a tomato every time.

When the bottle pointed you, almost frozed. Someone out there hates you for some reason, you thought. Arón is the last person you would have wanted to ask you. He smiled wickedly at you, licked his lips and made you pick truth or dare. You choose truth, obviously. “Who here would you most like to make out with?” he asked. ¡Joder!, he’s good at it.

“Pure curiosity or you have something in mind?” you challenged him, smiling like a devil.

“Are you gonna answer that or you want to let me find the answer by myself?” he’s not yielding either.

“I’ll wait to see how long would it take you to find out.”

“Fine, dare. Let two people give you a wet willy at the same time.” you crossed the nose.

“¡Joder!, that is gross! No, absolutely not!” you shooked your head.

“Then you need a punishment, (y/n).” someone finally interrupted the stare contest you and Arón unknowingly held. You found out it was Jorge.

“A punishment given by whom?” you hoped from the bottom of your heart not to hear Arón’s name. Not this time.

“Arón. And you are not allowed to reject this one.” ¡Joder!, it was like the game was against you.

“Siete minutos en el cielo con mi.” the others watched you and Arón as you were a fascinating movie, no one came between you. You had to take some time to understand what he said. Seven minutes in heaven. Seriously? You are not sixteen anymore and you are not trying to have your first kiss. You rolled your eyes. You were convinced that he doesn’t stand you a bit, and now he’s asking you to lockup with him seven minutes to what? Maybe he wanted to tell you to go home. You haven’t really talked to him much and you didn’t know him, but you can say, watching him from distance, he is a great man. And that “bad ass” face and attitude he always shows up, it’s just a mask. You thought he is the sweetest person inside there, because he let you somehow see a little of that side. But you had so many question marks. For something you were sure, you had his attention like he got yours. You couldn’t get him off of your head and that drives you crazy.

“Fine, seven minutes in hell. Ah, perdona me, I wanted to say heaven.” you played pretend because you didn’t had any clue what the hell he have in that beautiful head and just at the thought about staying seven minutes only with him, in a small place, made your stomach hurt in a way it never did before. You followed him into the bathroom and then he locked the door behind you. You wasn’t expecting the bathroom to be this small, but him with his big worked out body, occupies a lot of space. Your mouth was dry and you literally couldn’t help but stare at his lips. If you were uncertain about the answer to that question he asked you, now you are a hundred percent sure he’s the one that turns you on.

“You know, I think I found the answer to that question.” maybe he figured out on his own, because maybe you didn’t know how to play pretend, or maybe around him you can’t control yourself.

“Oh yeah, what’s the answer then?” you looked him bravely in his beautiful brown eyes.

“I am the answer.” he approached and you could smell his cologne, or maybe it was just the t-shirt you’re wearing. “And if I’m right, and I’m pretty sure I’m right.” he leans towards you and whisperes in your ear: “Then maybe you wanna know the real answer to Miguel’s question”

“Why would I?”

“Because it’s you. For months you are the first one on my top three turn-ons list. And I think I’m not the only one here who feels this way.” as an answer to his unspoken question, you closed the distance between you with a kiss full of desire. He doesn’t waste any time and responded with as many passion as you put in that kiss. He grabbed you waist and pulled as close as possible. It was a slow one, like nothing outside didn’t matter anymore. Just the two of you, creating a new world. You pulled away from that kiss when you heard a knock on the door and Jorge’s voice.

“You know, I can even offer you my room if you want to, but don’t take away the bathroom, please!” you heard laughing coming from behind that door and felt your cheeks turning red. You looked at the man in front of you and tried to memorise all his beautiful features. He really admitted somehow he likes you, and you couldn’t stop that stupid smile spreading on your face.

[carlycchapman24]

The Adventures of Celine Markus-Chapter 3

The following morning, they all get up, step outside their tents, and see Jolien still wide awake outside, “Not a thing happened,” she answered before anyone could say anything. “I suppose we’ll go our separate ways then,” Sidqiel says, beginning to pack up his and Arlech’s tent. “I suppose so, may the Gods and Mother Nature herself keep you all safe, I have some things to do,” Jolien said, standing up and dusting her cloak and dress off. “You can’t come with us to Tortoise Landing?” Celine says sheepishly. Jolien laughs, “No, this is a test to get into a Guild. Having someone like me be there would be cheating, especially according to Mistress Bula, who I dare say would likely disqualify you and kick out her favorite member,” she glances over at Sidqiel who has a look of shock on his face when she mentions him. “Now, I must be off, could day to you all,” she says and turns towards where the four came from, leaving them behind as Daxina picks up her and Celine’s tent. “Well, off we go then,” Sidqiel says and they all make their way down the road. “So, Elf lady,” Arlech says, “are you going to tell us your name or-?” Daxina sighed in annoyance, not wanting to tell the Wizard Girl or the Tiefling her name, but she was tired of them calling her ‘Elf’ or ‘Blondie,’ “It’s Daxina Amakiir, I’m a Pirate and I like fights, are you happy now?” “Yes,” Arlech answered. “What are your names then? It’s only fair that I get to ask too.” “Arlech,” the Tiefling said. “And you?” She asks the redhead, who seemed to not be paying attention. Daxina waved her hand in front of Celine’s face and said, “Uh, hello, Wizard Girl, are you there?” Celine shook out of it and said, “Huh, what?” Daxina sighed, “I said, what’s your name, since we’re all stuck together?” Before Celine could ask the blonde what her name was, Arlech whispered, “Her name is Daxina, she just told me.” Celine cleared her throat, “Uh, Celine, sorry to not pay attention, just, there’s a lot to think about after what’s happened in the few days I’ve been here.” “So you really aren’t from here?” Daxina said, genuinely surprised. “Obviously, did you not see my reaction to that giant fucking cat?!” Celine answered. Before Daxina could be snarky back at her, Sidqiel spoke up and said, “Tabaxi, they’re called Tabaxi, and they find it offensive to call them giant cats, even if that’s exactly what they are.” “So Tieflings, Gnolls, Elves, weird Dragon looking things, Tabaxi, Halflings, Gnomes, Devils, according to something Arlech told me when he was drunk, Demons for the same reason, drunk Arlech told me, but what else is in this ridiculous world?” Celine said, frustrated at having to remember all of these new things. “Much more than that, I can tell you that much. A lot of which I hope you’ll never have to run into. There are some nasty things in this world, and many would scare the living daylights out of you.” Sidqiel answered. “Okay, okay, I get it, you don’t want me to go looking for anything too dangerous,” Celine said, both aggravated and slightly freaked out. “Not until you’re strong enough, no.” The man answered and they continued.

After what seemed like ages, they arrived at Tortoise Landing, only to be greeted by the sound of bagpipes and people rushing out, getting ready to fight, “No, no, please, we’re here to help with your Gnoll problem!” Arlech says. No one believes him and the villagers prepare to defend themselves with what little they have. “No, please, he speaks the truth,” Sidqiel shouts and lets his glowing bronze wings out and both of his eyes glow a bronze color. Out of the crowd steps a, what looks like to Celine, a giant turtle. “I’m sorry, but what the hell is that?” Celine whispers but is told to hush by Arlech. The giant turtle says, “I am Koryver, the Chief of Tortoise Landing. If what you say is true and you’ve come to deal with our Gnoll problem, let us have a feast and discuss more of my job for you.” “Of course, we would be honored to join you for dinner,” Sidqiel says, putting away his wings bowing to the Chief, the other three follow his lead and bow to the Chief as well. When they stood back up the Chief said, “Come along” and they all went after him. After they set up the feast, with the members of the group sitting on either side of the Chief, Arlech and Celine to his left and Daxina and Sidqiel to his right, the Chief stands up and says, “Tonight, we welcome these four brave souls who are willing to rid us of the Gnoll problem we’ve had for the last few weeks. May the Gods smile upon them as they take on these dangerous foes who have done nothing but wreak havoc on our land and our people. Vu uas tewoust!” The villagers repeat “Vu uas tewoust!” The quartet looks on in confusion and after the Chief sits back down, he says, “It means ‘to our saviors’ in Aquan, my language. Now to the business at hand, there are usually three or four Gnolls that attack our village per night. We do not know if they are the same ones each time or different ones, but regardless, I want them dead and I want them to stop torturing my people. Gnolls are cowards, so if they see us fighting back, they’ll run away. If they see that none of their scouting party has returned, they will run. I want you all stationed at the front entrance, Gnolls are not smart creatures and will attack the same place every time, and they’ve been coming through the front entrance each time. Are you willing to take on this task?” All four nod and the giant turtle actually smiles, Celine notices, which is a little off-putting. “Good,” the Chief says, “now let us enjoy this feast and hopefully you’ll be victorious come the morning.”

They finish eating their meal and make their way to where they entered about three hours ago, keeping an eye out on the path ahead. Within minutes, Arlech and Daxina see three Gnolls making their way up the path and they point them out to Sidqiel and Celine. “How far away do you think the first one is?” Celine whispered. “A good one hundred feet, why?” Arlech answered and in an instant, Celine shot off a Fire Bolt, and it impacted the first Gnoll in the line, scorching it alive. All three Gnolls immediately run as fast as they can towards the source of what attacked them. “Good work Celine!” whispers Arlech. The first Gnoll, the one Celine hit, kept on running forward, Daxina also shot off a Fire Bolt towards the first Gnoll, just barely hitting it as well. Seeing what the other two were doing, but not being able to do much, he waited for them to get closer. The Gnoll furthest away just kept running forward, as did the middle one. Arlech looked between the two women, not being able to do much, so he prepared himself and waited until the Gnolls got closer. Celine shot off her Magic Missile and aimed it at the closest Gnoll with direction from Arlech, two out of the three went wide and the third one made impact, causing a little damage, but not enough to her liking. The first Gnoll kept running forward, trying to find its target. Daxina grinned and shot a Fire Bolt at the Gnoll getting closer, but missed, getting too cocky. Celine chuckled at Daxina’s misfortune and Sidqiel rolled his eyes and cast his Spiritual Weapon, which manifested as a Morningstar again, and placed it right next to the first Gnoll, then tried to hit it, but missed. The third Gnoll was keeping pace with the first two. The second Gnoll was right behind the first one. Finally able to do something, Arlech yelled, “You’re worthless, you’ll never amount to anything!” to the first Gnoll, casting Vicious Mockery and it instantly kills the first Gnoll. “You just insulted it to death.” Celine said in amazement. “Yes, yes I did,” he answered her with a wink. Celine rolled her eyes and shot a Fire Bolt at the second Gnoll, now that the first one was dead, hitting it with ease. Daxina pulled out her pistol and fired a shot at the second Gnoll since the first one was dead, and it hit easily. It was looking pretty ragged now. Sidqiel grinned and tried hitting the Gnoll again, it impacted and knocked the Gnoll down. The third, now second, Gnoll shot an arrow at Sidqiel, but missed and the arrow bounced off of a rock and fell on the ground. The second, now first, Gnoll tried hitting Sidqiel with an arrow as well but also missed. Both Gnolls growled at their attackers and Arlech used Thunderwave, hitting everyone. Killing one Gnoll, damaging the other, and accidentally hitting Celine, Sidqiel, and Daxina, apologizing in the process. Celine said, “Yeah, yeah, whatever, let’s kill this last one quick,” and threw a Fire Bolt at the last Gnoll, but just barely missed. Daxina laughed and shot a Fire Bolt herself at the last Gnoll, hitting it, it now started slowing down and was scorched and bleeding. Sidqiel threw a spell none of the recognized at the Gnoll, it was a gray-ish color, but it, unfortunately, missed the Gnoll, “Gods dammit.” The last Gnoll finally reached the quartet and bit at Sidqiel, but its teeth met Scale Mail, earning a chuckle from Sidqiel. Arlech shouted an insult at the last Gnoll, “You are a disgusting creature and no one will love you,” and cast Vicious Mockery, but the Gnoll seemingly wasn’t affected. “Oh move over,” Celine said, backing up a bit, so she was fifteen feet away from the Gnoll, and she casts a new spell of her’s called Burning Hands and a cone of flame came out of her hands, hitting the Gnoll who now looked like it could collapse any second. The others stared in shock, but Daxina shook it off and pulled her Great Sword out of its sheath and sliced at the Gnoll twice, the first slice missed, but the second one impacted it and killed it instantly. Celine collapsed on the ground and sighed in relief, “Holy fuck, thank whatever deities

this place has that we won.” A few moments passed and then Arlech asked, “Does anyone need to be patched up?” Celine, Daxina, and Sidqiel all raised their hands, “So everyone but me, all right then,” the Tiefling said. “I can heal myself, you can take the ladies.” Sidqiel answered, touching his shoulder and casting a spell that Celine didn’t recognize, all she did know is that it had a bright, white, light from her perspective. Arlech walked over and asked Daxina, “May I?” Daxina sighed, “Yeah, go ahead,” and let him touch her shoulder, a bright, white light like what Sidqiel’s spell looked like came out of Arlech’s hand and any bruises from his Thunderwave spell disappeared as if they had never been there at all. This surprised Celine and she blinked and shook her head, as if it was the darkness playing tricks on her. The next thing she knew, Arlech knelt next to her, holding a hand out, “Well?” Celine hesitantly stuck her hand out and Arlech took it and held it for a second, his skin feeling weirdly like warm coals, she noticed, and just as with Daxina, the bright, white light came out of his hand and her bruises from his Thunderwave disappeared before her eyes. “What the hell?” She said, not realizing how quietly she said it. “Well,” Daxina said, “let’s get a pelt off of one of these guys, that was the thing, right?” “Indeed,” Sidqiel answered, “Who wants to do it?” Arlech got up, stretched, and said, “I’ll do it.” “Do you have a knife?” Sidqiel asked. “No, but I have a dagger.” Arlech answered. “That should do it, have at it.” Arlech went down the path to the very first Gnoll they killed and skinned it with ease, taking the pelt off with precision that surprised everyone. “Celine,” he said, getting back up, “put this in your Bag of Holding and we’ll take it back to the Guild,” and gave it to her. “Gross,” Celine said, but did what she was told. Then, they finally went back into the village and were met by the Chief, “Did you kill them?” “The ones that tried to get to the village anyway,” Celine said, pulling out the Gnoll pelt with a disgusted look on her face. “Oh good, here, one hundred gold to split amongst yourselves,” the Chief said, handing them a large bag of gold, “and you’re free to stay for the night in one of the empty houses from the previous attacks. Maybe you could suggest this village to people on your travels so we can become more than just a small village.” “Thank you, sir,” Sidqiel said, taking the bag of gold. They made their way to one of the abandoned homes, split the gold amongst themselves, and went to bed.

The following morning, the quartet said their goodbyes and headed back to Crisherton. “So, how did you all enjoy your first contract, besides, of course, those damn bandits on the way?” Sidqiel asked. “It went better than I expected at least,” Celine said, stretching to wake herself up more. “Your idea to start attacking from a distance was a great one,” Sidqiel answered with an amused tone in his voice. “Yeah, well, after attacking those bandits or whatever they were head-on, I figured it would at least be something to try,” Celine said, rubbing the back of her neck. “Well, it was a smart choice,” Arlech said with a grin. “Well, thanks, guys,” Celine said awkwardly, not really sure how to accept the praise she was receiving. The two days to get back to Crisherton passed surprisingly quickly and Celine could only hope that the pelt didn’t decompose and get all gross inside her bag. When they got back into the Solarstriders’ building, they were greeted by Mistress Bula, “So you’re alive then? That’s amazing, considering you lot couldn’t take on a simple group of bandits that you ran into on the road,” she said and before any of the four could say anything she added, “Oh yes, I heard all about that, the whole town has. Jolien told us herself that she had to heal all of you up and bring Miss Red Head over here back to life completely, as she had been killed, not just knocked out cold. Here’s some advice, and I’d expect more from you as well Sidqiel if you cannot take on an enemy, run if you can. This world has no place for cowards, but nor does it have a place for martyrs. Now hand over that pelt and I’ll induct the three of you into the Solarstriders and forgive the damage from the Elf girl.” Celine sat her Bag of Holding on the desk and pulled out the Gnoll pelt, which to her surprise, didn’t decompose in her bag, and handed it over to the Mistress. Mistress Bula observed it and said, “Interesting, I’ll send this to the leatherworker in town so they can prepare to send it to the tailor for clothing. Now, come along, we need to mark you to induct you into the Guild.” “Uh, what do you mean, ‘mark us?’” Celine asked, which she regretted when she heard the answer. “Well you can’t expect to join any Guild without a branding of some sort, now can you?” Mistress Bula said. “Wait, branding, as in burning us? No. No, no. No, I refuse, I’m not going to get some symbol burned into my fucking skin!” Celine exclaimed and her wrist was grabbed roughly by the Mistress who said, “You will or you’ll be arrested and tried for trespassing in my building and for doing a trial and then leaving. Got it, Princess?” Celine tears her wrist out of Mistress Bula’s hand and massages it to get rid of the pain of the woman’s grip, “I’m not a princess,” she says with venom in her voice. “Then stop acting like one, you may not be from around here, that’s clear enough, but you’ll follow our customs and rules if you plan to stay. Now, as I said, come along.”

The trio is led down a flight of stairs and taken into the first door on the right at the bottom. They stepped in and saw a large furnace with fire blazing, a chair nearby the furnace that looked like a torture device, and a very tall woman, who looked like she was carved out of a mountain, was banging away at a weapon of some sort, “Niria, dear,” Mistress Bula said and for the first time since she met her, Celine noticed the woman had a look of admiration and love in her eyes, ‘Is this her wife or something?’ Celine thought. The giant woman turned around and said, “Ah, Umog, my love, what have we here? Some new recruits?” “Umog?” Celine whispered. “Her first name I assume,” Arlech answers back, just as quietly. “Yes indeed, they need to be branded, could you take the time to mark these three?” Mistress Bula asks. “Of course, but you’ll need to make it worth it since you interrupted me making more weapons for the Guild,” the giant woman said suggestively. All three rolled their eyes as Mistress Bula continued in the same suggestive tone, “You know I will.” The giant woman went over and kissed Mistress Bula on the cheek and said, “Well, then I’ll see you later tonight. Head back on upstairs, I’ll take care of them.” “I’m sure you will,” Mistress Bula said with a smile and left the trio downstairs. When the Mistress was out of sight, the giant woman’s demeanor changed, “Alright you lot, clearly you got far enough to be able to get inducted, so you better be able to handle yourself when I do this. If not, well, I don’t know how you got this far. Now, who’s first?” “I’ll do it,” Daxina said. “Then get in that chair over there,” Niria said, pointing at what Celine had thought looked like a torture device when they walked in. Her fears were confirmed when Niria tied down Daxina’s arms with some type of leather and rolled her sleeve up to her shoulder. “Uh, what’s this for?” Daxina asked. “Well, some squirm when I do this because it’s quite literally hot metal being placed against your skin to mark you.” Daxina went paler than usual and said, “Oh, I guess that makes sense.” “Now, let’s begin.” Niria said and pulled out a brand with a symbol that looked like a sun with a sword surrounded by fire in the middle of it, and above the point of the sword it read ‘Solar’ and it read ‘Striders’ beneath the hilt and pommel. Niria heated the metal until it was bright orange, “Now, take a deep breath,” she said and pressed the heated metal against Daxina’s shoulder with enough pressure to leave a permanent scar. Daxina gritted her teeth and passed out from the pain, which made Celine even more nervous, if Daxina passed out from the pain, she might just die. “Tsk, tsk, tsk,” Niria said and unhooked Daxina after she was done and sat her in the corner. “Who’s next?” the woman asked, holding the brand up. “I’ll do it.” Comes Arlech’s voice, sounding cocky. “Ah,” Niria said, looking up and down Arlech’s form, “Devil spawn, are we? This should be no problem for someone of your heritage. I may not even tie your arms down.” “A pity,” Arlech said, “I was quite looking forward to that,” and winked. “You’re quite charming, but as you saw, I’m a taken woman. Now, sit down.” She said with a laugh. Celine was dumbfounded, Arlech’s flirting almost worked, and the only reason it hadn’t was because Niria was with Mistress Bula. She took a minute to process this as Niria heated up the brand again and pressed it against Arlech’s shoulder with the same amount of pressure as she did with Daxina, if not more. Arlech sucked in air as the pain hit his skin, but stayed conscious, after it was imprinted, he got up as if he felt nothing at all and went over to Celine, “See, nothing to it. Go on,” he said gently. “Come over here, girl,” Niria said, not unkindly. Nervous, Celine hesitantly walked over to the very large woman and the chair, her legs felt like lead and it seemed like it took hours to get over to them. She sat down and let her arms rest on the arms of the chair and Niria tied Celine’s arms to the chair, noticing how worried the young woman was. “Take a

deep breath,” came the woman’s voice, but it seemed slow and distorted to her. The second the hot brand hit her shoulder, Celine screamed out in pain and agony and the next thing she knew, she saw blackness and felt nothing. The next thing she knew, she woke up lying on the ground with Arlech and Niria standing over her with very worried faces and when she sat up, she saw Daxina looking at her nails with a look of disdain on her face, which Celine assumed was directed towards her. “You really are weak,” Daxina said, not looking Celine in the face. “Fuck off.” Celine said as she leaned against the wall. “Are you all right?” Niria asked before the two young women started fighting, “I think I’m okay now, I’m sorry if my reaction ruined the branding so you couldn’t do it.” Celine said with a monotone voice. “No, no, don’t worry about it. That’s the usual reaction, albeit a bit more extreme.” Celine looked embarrassed as Arlech made his way over to her “Here, let me help you,” he said, kneeling next to Celine, “I already fixed up Daxina,” then he held out his hand. Celine rolled her eyes and held out her arm, he took her hand and cast Cure Wounds on her, “There you go, all healed up.” Celine immediately glanced at her shoulder, and the brand was still there, which she didn’t know if she should be relieved or disappointed about. Then it dawned on her, she had no idea how long they had been down here, she reached in her Bag of Holding to try and pull out her phone when Arlech smacked her hand lightly as if to say, “Not here.” Not wanting to potentially fight Niria for whatever reason, she sighed and took her hand out of her bag and closed it back up, deciding instead to ask, “How long have I been out?” “A few hours perhaps, why?” Niria said. “Well, I’m pretty tired after that, but if it’s not dark outside then I don’t want to go to bed.” Celine reasoned. “Well, then you all should make your way back up the stairs. Welcome to the Solarstriders.” “Thank you.” Celine said and got up, then the three of them headed back up to the main room.

“I cannot believe you flirted with her and it almost worked,” Celine said to Arlech when they were out of earshot. Which made Arlech laugh, “I told you it works in the right scenario, but you didn’t believe me.” “Wait, he did what?!” Daxina said in disgust. “You two are quick to judge, it meant nothing. Obviously, she’s with Mistress Bula, it was simply in hopes of having her be gentler with the brand.” Arlech said, rolling his eyes. “Do you ever mean it when you flirt with people or is it all just a game to you?” Celine asked with an annoyed tone at the Tiefling, disgusted at his attitude with such things. Arlech looked genuinely hurt at the accusation for a second and said, “Well, it depends on the person I suppose.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” Daxina asked, now honed in on the conversation. “Well, when it comes to store clerks or others of the sort, it’s merely just to get what I want, like information for example. If it’s someone I’m genuinely interested in, I mean every word.” Both women were still unsure but went with it and Celine asked, “And how does someone know the difference? The person on the receiving end that is? You’ve tried flirting with me multiple times and I haven’t fallen for it, because to me it certainly just seems like some bullshit a lot of men in my world do just to get in a woman’s pants. I call them fuck boys, as do many other people.” Arlech was taken aback and Daxina covered her mouth, snickering. “Mind explaining that term to me?” Arlech said, raising an eyebrow. “A fuck boy,” Celine said, starting to step closer to Arlech, “is a young man or as I say, a boy,” she stepped closer, “who thinks they’re hot shit,” even closer, “and who thinks they’re sexy,” closer still, “and will flirt with multiple women at a time,” she got even closer until she was as close to Arlech’s face as she could be with the slight height difference, “and don’t know how to take no for an answer, and the only thing on their mind is sex. They don’t want actual relationships, they just want a fuck buddy or friends with benefits and will keep on asking even after one of the many women he’s flirted with has said no.” Celine looked Arlech up and down, the tension in the air was so thick that it could be cut with a knife. Arlech stood his ground and said, “Well, they sound like terrible people,” also looking Celine up and down. Daxina looked on, half expecting the two of them to kiss, and cleared her throat, “I don’t know if you’re going to kiss or kill each other, but maybe we can do it outside of the Guild?” Just then, both Arlech and Celine looked around and saw Sidqiel, Mistress Bula, and a few random members of the Solarstriders that none of them recognized, staring at them with their jaws on the ground. Celine stepped back first, “I think I’ve made my point,” she said, glancing over to the Tiefling. “I don’t know if you have, maybe you could explain it further later on,” Arlech answered with a wink. “Maybe I will, but not in a room alone with you, I’m not that stupid.” She replied haughtily and stormed out, finally letting herself flush red at his flirting, which she thought was odd, it had never worked on her before, why now?

Not long after, Daxina and Arlech join her outside and immediately Daxina shouts, “I’m sorry, but what in the Nine Hells was that?! I have never, in the short period that I’ve known you two, seen you go at each other like that. Care to explain?” “I’d ask Celine that if I were you, she’s never snapped at me like that before. She’s been sarcastic, but never gotten in my face like that, it was kind of sexy.” Arlech answered with a grin. “You’re gross,” Celine said a few feet ahead of the two. “You’re attracted to me,” Arlech shot back. “No I’m not,” Celine answered, getting furious now. “Then why did you get in my face like that?” The Tiefling shouted back. Just then, Celine turned around sharply and shouted angrily, “Because I’m tired of your bullshit!” and passers-by in the streets turned to stare at the two. “Just admit you find me attractive and we can settle this,” Arlech said, smiling. “You’re delusional,” Celine answered and made her way to The Clydesdale Inn. “I’m not convinced,” Arlech said to Daxina, who was walking next to him. “I’m not either,” she said, watching Celine walk off. A moment later, a light bulb went off in Daxina’s head and she suggested, “I have an idea, either before or after the next time we fight something, you kiss her and see what happens?” “It seems a bit rude to kiss her without asking, don’t you think? I’ll shamelessly flirt with someone, especially her, no big deal, but unless they permit me to do anything more than that, I don’t go further than a flirt,” Arlech reasoned. “So you do have feelings for her then or at least are genuinely interested in her,” Daxina said. “Well, yes. Ever since I first met her I thought she was cute and rather interesting. What are you supposed to feel when someone claims they’re from a different world? You’re instantly interested and drawn to them in some way, correct?” The Tiefling answered as if it was the most logical thing in the world, “You want to know more, you want to see how they tick, how they react, yes?” Daxina thought on this for a moment and said, “Yes, I could see how that would make you interested or attracted to someone, and while I respect the fact that you want to ask permission before going any further than flirting, I don’t find it very likely that she’d give you permission to kiss her or do anything of the sort with her adamant claim that she’s not attracted to you in any way, shape, or form.” “I understand your point, but it just feels wrong to not ask first.” Arlech insisted. “Fine,” the Elven woman started, “but if you change your mind or feel like you aren’t getting anywhere with her, take my idea into account.” The red Tiefling sighed in a defeated way, “I will.” When they got back to The Clydesdale Inn, Arlech took a seat at the bar and tapped on it to get Mr. Longfoot’s attention, the Halfling turned and went towards Arlech, “Hello Arlech, how are you doing today? What can I get you?” “Nothing today Mr Longfoot, I just wanted to let you know that I won’t be performing tonight. I don’t feel well and I have a lot to think about.” Arlech answered. “Well,” started the Halfling, “it’s a shame you won’t be performing, but if you feel you need time to yourself, I have no problems with that.” “Thank you, sir, I appreciate that. I think I’ll go two doors down to Madam Fibavam’s Bathhouse whilst I think.” Arlech answered, and walked out. Not long after, Celine came down from her room and started walking out, only to be stopped by Mr Longfoot, who asked, “Are you going two doors down as well?” “To the bathhouse? Yeah, I feel like shit after getting branded by the Solarstriders today, why?” Celine asked. “Arlech just went over there too,” he said and Celine froze in fear, thinking Arlech would see her naked, but then she remembered there was a fence between the two sides of the bathhouse and relaxed a little. However, she second-guessed herself and asked Mr Longfoot, “There are two sides blocked by a fence, right? A men’s and a women’s side?” “I believe so,” the Halfling answered, “but I’d ask Madam Fibavam to make sure.” This made Celine

nervous, but she went over to the bathhouse anyway.

As she stepped in, Madam Fibavam was at the desk and she looked up from her book in surprise, “Two people in one night? That’s a new record I think. How are you doing Celine?” “Fine, hey I have a question,” Celine responds. “What is it dear?” The Gnome asks, sitting up more. “Uh, are the baths separated by gender or only the changing rooms?” Celine asks and the Gnome laughs, “Yes, the baths are separated by gender as well, with a tall wooden fence, don’t you remember that from when you were here a few nights ago?” “I didn’t really pay attention, so I suppose not.” Celine answered. “Well, they are, are you wanting to be here for a while too?” Madan Fibavam says with a warm smile. “Yes, two silver, right?” Celine asks and the woman nods. Celine hands over the two pieces of silver and goes into the same changing room as last time and puts her stuff in the same closet. Then she tries to stealthily step into the hot spring so Arlech doesn’t hear her, but unfortunately, Arlech hears her step in the water through the fence. He jumps up, startled, and says, “Hello?” Celine clasps her hand over her mouth and tries to make her breathing slow and silent and succeeds, and her second step was far more silent than the first one. “Hello?” Comes Arlech’s voice again and a shift in the water as if he were turning around to look through the fence to see if anyone was on the opposite side, but nothing. Celine heard him shift again, assuming he was turning his back to the fence again. Celine sighs in relief as quietly as possible and leans against the fence herself. Just then, she hears Arlech talk to himself and clearly hears, “How do you even tell someone how you feel about them? I could just go ahead and say it to her face, but what if she thinks it’s just another attempt at flirting? I could try Daxina’s idea, but she might smack me across the face. Gods, this is difficult.” Celine tilts her head, was he talking about her? She couldn’t tell, all she could understand was that he was clearly stressed out about whatever and whoever he was talking about. She thought back on all of the times he flirted with her from her understanding of what she knew to be ‘flirting’ in her world. The suggestive comments, him calling her cute while he was drunk, him holding her hand when he healed her instead of placing his hand on her arm or shoulder, did he really mean those things or was he just trying to get in her pants? Because what she knew from her world, men, or boys even, would only act that way towards women with one thing, and one thing only on their minds. Then she thought about how his earlier attempts didn’t work on her, yet this afternoon, something changed. His flirting actually worked on her, why then and in that moment? Did he use a spell on her? She knew he had healing abilities, could he make people fall for his flirting with some sort of spell too? “What did it all mean?” she unintentionally said aloud and froze in fear, “Celine, is that you?” Comes Arlech’s voice from the opposite side of the fence. He even recognized her voice, which she was dumbfounded about. “Uh, no, not at all. Who is this Celine you speak of?” She asked with a horrible, fake, English accent. She could hear in his voice that he had rolled his eyes, “That was the worst accent I have ever heard. What are you doing here?” Then it was Arlech’s turn to freeze in fear, “How long have you been here?” She made a split-second decision to lie and said, “I just got here.” Arlech sighed in relief, but Celine couldn’t keep the smirk off of her face, and it could be heard in her voice, when she said, “Why do you ask?” “Don’t torment me like that,” Arlech says, hearing the tone of her voice ‘You torment me enough by just existing,’ he thought. “Okay fine, you don’t have to tell me. I just thought I would take the opportunity to mess with you like you did to me earlier.” She said, and it was that moment when they remembered they were both naked and talking to each other through a simple wooden fence and an awkward silence followed. “So, um,” Celine finally said, subconsciously

covering her top half even though he couldn’t see her, “why here?” “What do you mean?” Arlech asked. “I mean, you came here, as I heard from talking to Mr Longfoot, why here and not, I don’t know, another bathhouse or the hot spring behind The Clydesdale Inn?” Celine asked. “Oh, well, the only other bathhouse in this city is on the complete opposite side of town and the one behind the Inn is pretty small and I wanted to stretch out and maybe swim around in the hot water a little.” The Tiefling explained. “Is the one behind the Inn really too small for that?” Celine asked. “For someone my height, yes, the one behind the Inn is for one person at a time and for just cleaning up and getting out. I think it’s six and a half feet long and three or four feet wide or something, and I’m six feet tall. These ones are about thirty feet long and forty feet wide, each. Madam Fibavam was lucky that she managed to get this much land on this side of town and still be far enough away from the ocean.” He explained, which prompted Celine to look around and see that it is indeed a very large hot spring and for a moment she felt quite lonely in the wide expanse of this spring. “She’s been here longer than this town has been here, this town is maybe a hundred years old, Madam Fibavam is about two hundred years old, so her bathhouse and spring have been here longer than this town, so they had to build Crisherton around her bathhouse. Gnomes can live up to five hundred years, you know.” Arlech says and Celine immediately says, “I call bullshit, there’s no way.” “Fine, don’t believe me, but you can ask her yourself,” he responds. “Maybe I will.” She answers indignantly. Then Celine comes up with an idea, grins, and says, “Oh yeah, you wanted more of an explanation about fuck boys, didn’t you?” Even though she couldn’t see it, Arlech’s mouth dropped open and he said, “Hold on, now this isn’t what I meant when I said that.” “I know what you meant, but I’m not gonna give you what you want. Now, a fuck boy is somewhat in the same vein as an incel. Now an incel is a man, or boy rather, who likes to be creepy to women online, I’ll explain what ‘online’ is later, and they often feel entitled to a woman’s body, which is absolutely disgusting behavior. When a woman rejects this man-child, he often calls her many names such as ‘bitch,’ ‘fat fuck,’ ‘whore,’ ‘slut,’ you name it, it’s probably thrown around and they often assume the account on a dating app or even apps that aren’t meant for dating, is fake just because she rejects him. I’ll also explain what an app is at a later date. They also objectify women, only seeing them as a piece of meat, or ‘a piece of ass’ and see them only as things to reproduce with or just have sex with and leave them for another. Following along so far?” Despite this not being what he expected or wanted, Arlech found himself very interested in her explanation. A few hours and some questions later, Arlech said, “Gods, they really do sound like awful people. I may be a shameless flirt, but I don’t feel like I’m owed anything if I do flirt and they flirt back. I also ask permission before I go any further. I just find flirting to be fun and in some cases, useful.” “Then you’re neither of those things, surprisingly.” Celine responded. “Did you really think I was one of those things?” Arlech asked, somewhat offended. “I didn’t know what you were or how you were. I mean, for Gods’ sakes, I’ve only known you for a week,” and at that moment it registered in her brain, and there was a pit in her stomach, she had been in this world and away from home for a week and suddenly she panicked, “Wait, oh Gods, I’ve been here for an entire week, I died in my first week and came back alive, my parents probably think I’ve been kidnapped, or worse, murdered!” and she started hyperventilating. In the short time he had known her, Arlech never heard Celine sound so scared and panicked, if anything, to him she seemed the least likely to be scared of anything. “Whoa, whoa, slow down,” he said, trying to calm her down to the best of his ability while

naked and separated by a fence, which made it slightly awkward, but he shrugged it off, “Is there any way you can contact them and let them know that you’re safe?” “No,” Celine said, starting to sniffle but holding it back, “my phone doesn’t work here, I have no service, so unless there’s a way to send a letter to another world, it’s hopeless.” Arlech thought it over for a moment, “There might be a way, but it’s rather complex and pricey. There is a sort of magical letter paper that can be sent to anyone in any plane of existence as long as you write their names on it. It is, however, a good one thousand pieces of gold, if not more. Then there’s also something called a ‘tuning fork’ that you can attune to any plane of existence, and obviously, there’s a little bit of magic in your world if The Royal Wizard was able to bring you here through magical means. However, those are rare and require very strong magic.” That gave Celine hope, if only a small amount, and she imagined something that made her laugh through her sniffles, “I just had a thought, imagine what my parents would think of you if we brought them here, the world itself would be strange but imagine if they got brought here and you, Daxina, and I were right in front of them. Daxina looks at least somewhat normal, by my world’s standards, but just with pointy ears. You on the other hand,” she said with a weak laugh, “and Madam Fibavam, and Mr Longfoot.” Arlech began laughing too, “And let’s not forget Niria and Mistress Bula.” “Holy shit, yes.” Celine said, now in a full-on laugh. There was a moment of silence and out of nowhere, with a hint of awkwardness and shyness in his voice, and no evidence of his usual cockiness, Arlech asked, “May I hug you? When we’re out and dressed, I mean, not now. I don’t even think there’s a way right now, even if you were okay with that, which I’m sure you aren’t considering the state we’re in.” Celine rolled her eyes, which he could hear in her voice when she answered, “Yes, but preferably not in front of Madam Fibavam or Mr Longfoot, I feel like they’d take it the wrong way and start some rumors and gossip around Crisherton.” “That’s understandable,” he said and then added sarcastically and playfully, “I wouldn’t want to ruin your reputation of being able to easily reject any of my attempts at flirting with you.” “Ha, ha, very funny.” She responds sarcastically as well.

They finally got out of the hot springs after what seemed like several hours, both of which had wrinkly feet and hands, and went to change. They walked out of the changing rooms at the same time and Madam Fibavam looked at them and said jokingly, “Certainly took you two long enough, I almost thought you’d drowned. I’m glad to see that I was wrong.” Celine laughed and then said, “I have a question, and I don’t mean to offend you,” the Gnome answered, “It’s hard to offend me, go ahead,” “Is it true you’re about two hundred years old and did this city really need to be built around your bathhouse?” Celine asked cautiously. The Gnome laughed and said, “I take it Arlech told you this?” Celine nodded and the Gnome continued, still laughing, “Well, two hundred years old is a bit of an exaggeration, I’m around a hundred and seventy-five years old, but yes, Crisherton had to be built around my bathhouse because I refused to leave when they began building it up.” Celine’s jaw dropped and Arlech burst out laughing, “I told you so.” “Shut up,” Celine said, now embarrassed. Then the two went back to The Clydesdale Inn, having to knock so that Mr Longfoot could let them inside and Celine and Arlech added two extra nights in their respective rooms for four gold each. The Halfling gladly accepted the gold and went back to bed. They both glanced around to see if Mr Longfoot was still in the room, but it was hard to tell, so Arlech hesitantly put his arms out for a hug, which Celine had forgotten she agreed to for a split second, and she cautiously wrapped her arms around him, as did he in return. It most definitely wasn’t her imagination when Celine thought Arlech’s hand felt like warm coals, in fact, to her astonishment, his entire body felt like warm coals, which was rather relaxing. She could feel it through his shirt as her arms were wrapped around his torso, and she could feel it in his arms, which were wrapped around her waist. ‘A first step at least,’ Arlech thought as they let go of one another. “Uh, before I go to bed,” Celine said awkwardly, “may I ask you something?” “What?” The Tiefling asked. “I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination when you first grabbed my hand to heal me or not, but now I know what I felt was real. Why does your skin feel like warm coals? Is it like that all the time?” “Ah,” said he, and they sat down in front of her door, “that’s part of my heritage. As a Tiefling, or a Half-Devil, you have a higher body temperature than beings such as full-blooded Humans, or Dwarves, or Elves. Our skin also does, in fact, feel like warm coals when someone touches an arm or whatever. Think of it this way, a full-blooded Devil’s skin, living in the Nine Hells, would feel like raging fire, or burning coals. A Half-Devil, like myself, living on the Prime Plane, which is what this is called, our skin would feel like warm coals, or a dying, low, fire, like embers.” “Would that change if you went to the Nine Hells?” Celine asked. “I’ve never been, so perhaps, but perhaps not. The only way to find out is if we go, but I don’t think that’s a good idea right now.” Arlech answered, standing up. “Fair enough,” Celine said, getting ready to stand up on her own, but Arlech held a hand out as if to ask if he can help her up. Celine rolled her eyes but had a small smile on her face, and she grabbed ahold of his hand. He pulled her up as if she weighed nothing and said, “Goodnight,” letting her hand go, and the two went to their separate rooms for some sleep.

[magaprima]

Part 3 Episode 8

Wait SABRINA IS TRAPPED IN THE STONE IN BETWEEN LILITH AND LUCIFER. PARENT VIBES AGAIN?? LIKE GO TO HELL LUICIFER, BUT I’M HERE PARENT VIBES FROM LILITH. So they’ve all be trapped there decades apparently? And Sabrina has gone back in time to save herself? Wait, they’re stuck in a loop? Wait, what’s HAPPENING???

So lots of time has passed and now Sabrina is free she’s finding hell in chaos, because in the story at the beginning we’re told the Pagans fought off caliban an took over earth for themselves and everyone is dead?

Hell was invaded by the archangel michael and all the devils are gone and everything’s gone to shit and Sabrina is walking around where everyone is fucking dead, including Salem. 

But not Ambrose he managed to make a safe haven out of the Kinkle mines. He still has the time egg so we might be able to undo all this I think

Ooh big confrontation with Blackwood, but I’m less enthused about this episode because Lilith, Zelda, Hilda aren’t alive at this point, so it’s just Sabrina fighting alone and I always find that less entertaining for me.

And now Blackwood has snapped the necks of Sabrina and Ambrose but oh no he’s not he’s trapped in a dream by Batibat because Sabrina released her on him. Nice tactic

So Sabrina has done a Back to the Future and is warning everyone to fuck off quickly before Blackwood arrives

Also Sabrina is realising Hell is pulling her away from what matters so maybe Lilith’s unborn child shall rule unchallenged? That would be nice

Zelda has been saved and has woke up and apparently has the answer to everything. But Hilda hasn’t resurrected from the Cain Pit and Zelda is insistent because she’s seen the future and knows Hilda lives

EVERYONE IS AROUND THE CAIN PIT CALLING ON THE TRIPLE GODDESS AND IS SAYING THAT SATAN IS A LESSER GOD, THAT THE TRIPLE GODDESS IS THE ULTIMATE DEITY OMG YES. wait, hang on zelda, Lilith told you Satan wasn’t a God. So don’t say this is new info. Yep, they’re calling on Hecate, the ultimate of Witch Goddesses. I am loving this scene because it’s the magic I was raised with and I am LIVING for it. 

Zelda is asking for powers from Hecate rather than from Satan! OMFG she’s game changing. I am loving this because it’s saying witches were blinded by Satan’s trickery and promises and turned their back on Hecate, the original one to give them power and I am just YES I AM HERE FOR THIS. I think even Lilith is here for this, especially as I headcanoned that my Lilith got her powers from Hecate and not Satan, so this fits in VERY nicely with my headcanon theories

Sabrina is defending Ms Wardwell about the shooting Zelda thing, so I think she presumes that Lucifer was involved, 

THEY’RE PUTTING ALL OF GREENDALE UNDER A SLUMBER SPELL LIKE FREAKING SLEEPING BEAUTY

So Robin has brought Mary to the Pagans for the sacrifice, but I suspect, since he was just with Sabrina etc, this is all a trick

Mary is calling out a lot of religious christian stuff much like the scottish policeman did in the Wicker Man. I feel this is too much of a reference not to be on purpose. And now Mary is being eaten by the Green Man, absorbed. But I’m not buying any of this. I don’t think it’s really Mary

The Green Man is rotting because that ain’t no virgin. So it’s not Mary. Ah, it’s the disease and decay witch!!! Glamoured as Mary. And Sabrina wiped the real Mary of the memories she was given and the whispers she was given by Lucifer

Zelda sending everyone to drive every last Pagan Monster from the place. The coven are going crazy for it. Having a grand old time

Hilda has caught up with the woman who turned her into a spider and caused her to kill Dr C. So she’s made the poppet and she is going to torture the fuck out of her. You go, Hilda, you go! And then she snaps the bitch’s neck.

Omg, Prudence just full on killed the God Pan. Hardcore

The Aunts getting upset about Sabrina having to be Queen of Hell. 

OMG SABRINA HAS GONE AND SAVED HERSELF FROM THE TIME LOOP SO THERE’S TWO OF THEM. SHE’S GOING TO HAVE ONE IN HELL AND ONE ONE EARTH???

I feel this second power-hungry Sabrina is gonna be the daughter Lilith never had, haha. 

‘Lilith in your last act as Regent, will you prepare our young Queen?’ Last act as Regent, but definitely not last day in power. 

DR C IS ALIVE. HILDA DIDN’T MURDER HIM. SHE JUST COCOONED HIM. 

However, Dorcas and Agatha are both dead. Prudence found them butchered in a cupboard. The poor woman is broken and she thinks if she’d killed Blackwood instead of bringing it back none of this would have happened, which is true. NONE of it would have happened, because Lucifer couldn’t have jumped. She blames Ambrose because he’s the one that stopped her killing him

So now Zelda is running the Order of Hecate. And Mambo Marie says there’s a bigger evil coming and they need to prepare to fight it. Zelda just asks if that means she’sn staying and then they snog.

‘you’re the glory and pride of satan, the face of the hell bound hordes. Strike down your enemies by tooth and by claw, bathe your skin in their blood. Every Queen must be made battle ready, every girl must prepare for war. Gird your loins, let nothing touch you let no MAN hold power over you. And when they cry out for mercy, the Moringstar must show them none’ Lilith is telling Sabrina while she gets her ready for her coronation. This sounds more supportive than resentful and like she’s teaching her. I’m hoping this means that we are going to continue the Satanic Godmother role thing, especially as Lilith is getting her ready in a very gentle way. There’s definite maternal energy there which I HOPE gets explored

“Your crown and throne await you, first lady of pandemonium, maiden of shadows, behold the Queen, Sabrina Morningstar” Sabrina puts her hands on her shoulders there and it’s all touching and tactile and there’s definitely something supportive and familial there. And Lilith is carrying Sabrina’s sibling, so that does make them family officially now. Now THAT part I like.

But I do think having two Sabrinas is a major cop out from the writers. Also Lilith has way better hell fashion going on. And I don’t like the implication that this means we’re not going to have hell in the show anymore, which means we won’t have Lilith in the show anymore, especially as Sabrina openly said ‘we’ll never see them again. Lucifer, Lilith, Caliban....who needs them?’. Well, I need them. One of them. Bring them back.

 But then Sabrina has created a time paradox so shit will hit the fan hugely. So I imagine Lilith will have to sort shit out again. Ambrose is like what if the aunts find out but Sabrina says they never go to hell. He says what about Lucifer and she says he’s such a narcissist he won’t notice and then Ambrose has the killer argument

‘What about Lilith? Lilith notices EVERYTHING’. He’s not wrong. Sabrina even admits it

“Lilith could be a problem, yeah....”

So I presume that means Lilith is gonna be back

Sabrina 2 is being crowned and Lilith and Lucifer do look like parents waiting for her. But they kind of are, because this is secondary sabrina, she’s the Morningstar, not the Spellman so....? But Lilith is so going to notice this isn’t the usual Sabrina. Sabrina-obssessed with her mortal friends- Spellman spending 24/7 in Hell? Yeah Lilith is gonna click

And now Blackwood is doing something with Agatha and his kids, because Agatha apparently isn’t dead. Wait he’s summoning ELDRITCH HORRORS TO USE HIM AS THEIR VESSEL??????

the beginning of the end? The end of all things??? Right, Lilith, get that fucking mark off him right the hell now

[alicedopey]

Heartless - Chapter V

(edit by my sweet @naaladareia

Pairing: Harald / Reader

Genre: Angst and romance

Words number: 2723

Warnings: None

You were in Hell. You always thought you would go to Heaven. Your late mother always said so, even when you stole some of the sweet treats she was making for the family...or when you were being a naughty girl by chasing the hens, giggling and screaming instead of feeding them. She used to call you her little devil then but you always were her sweet and angelic little girl.

Angelic little girls did not feel like that though. God had probably abandoned you because you were living sinfully among the Northmen. But whose fault was it ? Certainly not yours ! God had left you between their hands and was making you pay for the price.

All your body was in pain. Soon, the flames of Hell would consume you but until then, it was pure torture. Your side was burning, you head felt like it could explode any time. You felt sore everywhere. Something was definitely not right.

Some hand touched your forehead out of a sudden and you whined, trying to escape the contact.

“Shh, calm down.” A sweet voice comforted you. “Everything's fine.”

No. Your mother could not be here with you. Not in Hell. She was the sweetest human being you had ever known in your life. If only you could....

“That's right. Open those eyes for me.” The voice was becoming clearer to your ears. It was not your mother.

You slowly and painfully opened your eyes and was instantly blinded by the light. There, in the middle of the light was Rae. Sweet Rae. You were not in Hell. It was worse. You were....

“Alive ! She's alive and awake.” The excited voice of Rae interrupted your thoughts. “Come quick ! She's awake !”

The sweet girl was holding your hand, sitting next to you on a bed. You heard slow and heavy footsteps on the other side of the room. Your eyes followed the sound. The old Healer of Vestfolk, the King's personal healer was here as well. She leaned over your body and poked every inch of it. You winced under her medical touch when she palpated the wound on your ribs, reminding yourself that all your body was suffering right now.

“The wound is healing fine. There is no fever”. She added, softly touching your forehead. “You are out of danger. Any pain?”

“Everywhere.” You whispered weakly, still unable to accept the fact that you had survived all of this. She handed you some angelica root to chew. It felt sweet under your tongue.

“It should help you sleep and lessen the pain...and prevent you from getting with child.”

Like you would want that !

The old healer waited until you were done and stepped backwards. “I have things to do but I'll be back. I'll warn the King”. She turned to Rae. “You stay with her, girl.”

Rae nodded enthusiastically and watched her disappear. When she was out of sight, the young cook turned her bright and teary eyes towards you.

“I am so happy you are fine.”You gave her a weak smile in response.

“I wish I could have been faster though.”

You frowned at that. “What do you mean ?”

She seemed embarrassed, almost guilty. “I saw you leaving the Great Hall and those three men going after you. I was worried. I sensed they were planning something bad. I went after them and saw them attack you. I didn't think, I just followed you until they stopped and threw you in the middle of the forest. Finally, I ran back to the King. I should have gone back sooner or screamed or...”

You put your hand on hers. “It's alright. I'm safe, aren't I ?” Even if you did not really want to be....but it was not her fault. She always had your best interests at heart. You smiled softly and she smiled back.

“I guess...so I alerted the King. He took some of his men with him and I led them to you.” Her voice started trembling. “When we arrived, you were lifeless on the ground with those men over you.”

Her eyes widened, her lips quivered, she was reliving it and seemed really upset. You squeezed her hand.

“The King saw red. He did not need any help and killed them all on the spot. I had never seen him so enraged and oh....it was Ardith !” She suddenly exclaimed.

“Who ?”

“Ardith, the slave who was always glaring at you. Harald made her confess. She planned everything.”

So, Ardith was the famous “she” the three men were talking about. What people could do out of jealousy...

“She was hanged a few days ago.” Rae added nonchalantly. You frowned. A few days....

“I was unconscious for a few days?”

You felt lost. Why on Earth would the King take care of a useless thrall like you? Putting you in the hands of his personal healer ? In his own bed, even...you realized as you finally noticed your surroundings. You were in his personal chamber, in his very own bed. Why ?

There was an explanation. The perfect explanation. Your heart knew it....but your brain refused to go there. Not again.

Rae suddenly let go of you and stood up in a hurry. The King was here....

“Leave us.” His hoarse voice ordered Rae, who bowed and ran away, bumping into Baldwin who was silently guarding the room.

Harald smiled. “Gave the little cook quite a scare in almost dying”.

He approached the bed and sat down next to you. The way he was looking at you so intently was embarrassing to say the least. “How are you feeling ?”

You cleared your throat and tried to sit up straight even if your whole body was protesting. “Well I'm in pain but I'll live.”

“Oh, you will.” He said, determined. His eyes bore into yours, as if he was trying to read your soul. “Did you defend yourself ?”

You frowned. “I don't understand....”

“When those thralls attacked you, did you defend yourself or did you let them beat and grope you they way they wanted....like with Prince Hvitserk ?”

What would be the point anyways ? “I'm a thrall, they can take whatever they want to....I'm used to it.”

“They were thralls too, you know.” The King replied. “Next time something like that happens, I want you to fight back. No matter who it is....even me. You're not willing, you fight back.”

“Thralls don't fight back.” You regretted your words instantly. You disrespected your owner when he was taking care of you. King Harald did not seem affected though. A small smile even appeared on his face.

“You do. That's an order. Are we clear ?” You nodded. You had no other choice...

Satisfied, the King took one of your hand in his and turned it over to kiss your palm softly, sending butterflies in your stomach.

Raising his head, he playfully winked at you, let got of your hand and stood up to leave.

There was one question burning the tip of your tongue, though. “If I may, my King....why did you save me ? Why am I here in your bed, healed and taken care of ? I am...”

“Mine.” He cut you off, his hoarse voice echoing in the room, sending shivers in every part of your body. “You are mine and I already told you, I don't want to see my most valuable belonging getting hurt....or lost. But I've learned my lesson, I'm never letting you out of my sight again.”

And he did not. During the time of your recovery, you were constantly guarded by Baldwin...who really seemed annoyed by it. The King stayed with you at night and visited you several times during the day just to check if you were fine. He also allowed Rae to stay with you. She proved herself to be a cheerful distraction to your dark and bothered thoughts, gossiping like an old lady.

She told you about Bjorn and Gunnhild getting married. You heart couldn't help but jump with joy at that. She also told you that they would be soon ready to leave for Kattegat where they would meet other forces to overthrow Ivar the Boneless.

The King was determined to take you with him this time. You tried to reason with him. Why would a thrall do over there ? You would be a dead weight. He would not hear any of it. He needed Baldwin at his sides and he refused to let you in other hands.

So you joined them on their long journey after giving your sweet Rae a big and fierce hug to say goodbye. The journey on the ship was a nightmare. You constantly felt nauseous and had to remain almost motionless so that it would not get worse...Luckily, good and sunny days were with you so you did not have to endure the cold or....a storm.

King Harald kept you near him when he was not talking strategy with Bjorn and his newest wife. You would silently sit or stand next to him, patiently waiting for him to send you to bed...

A bed you shared, of course. You were tense to say the least....even if your heart loved that. That damned treacherous heart of yours would be your undoing. You tried and tried to fight against it but the King's little gestures towards you were ruining your sanity. He was leading your heart to believe something could happen between the two of you but you knew it would not happen. It never did.

They finally reached the shores near Kattegat. Everything happened very fast, then. The camp was set up, the armies met and they were getting ready to fight. Harald was training Magnus and the young boy was doing his best to satisfy him. Their relationship made you smile. The King seemed to have found a son figure in Magnus and it did him some good.

In the meantime, you tried your best to make yourself useful: cooking the meals for Harald and his men, keeping the King's tent clean. But the King did not leave you out of his sight like he promised and you were not allowed to wander alone. Was the King scared for your life or just afraid you would escape ? Only he could say....

The first confrontation was deadly. The armies came back with fewer men and a lot of injured ones. Harald was alive and well...but Magnus was not. You knew it hit the King hard even though he did not show it and lost himself to find a new way to defeat the Boneless. There were none...until you saw Queen Freydis enter then commanders' tent then leave it, a satisfied smile on her face.

At first, you were anxious but the faces of Harald and Hvitserk comforted you when you saw them. They seemed relieved even though you could see some sadness in their eyes. Prince Hvitserk seemed to have worries of his own. He appeared to be less cheerful and reckless than when you had first met him. Something had happened between him and Ivar, bad enough to make himself an ally of his enemies.

The King slowly came towards you and led you in a secluded place, out of earshot. You did not have time to talk with him since he was back from the first battle and you felt the need to comfort him.

“I'm sorry for Magnus, my King.”

Harald turned his eyes away from you and let out a deep sigh of sadness. “He proved himself to the Gods before leaving. He made me proud.”

Your heart clenched and you hugged yourself nervously to prevent yourself from touching the King.

“I should never have brought you here. Ivar is more threatening that we could have imagined.” He turned his head to look at you this time. “We might have found a loophole but we're not sure it would work. Besides, I don't entirely trust Queen Freydis....women and their treacherous ways.” He added with a sad smile.

He raised a hand and touched your cheek. “I wanted to protect you from any harm but I stupidly led you to it. If something happens to me, I don't want you to fall into Ivar's hands. Who knows what he could do to you?”

It could not be worse than all the things you've been through before...and at least, you would not fall in love with him.

King Harald suddenly handed you a heavy pouch whose coins inside chimed when it hit your palm. You looked at him, utterly lost.

“We leave at dawn. If I'm not back when the sun is high in the sky, you hide and leave. This gold will help you. I know you will manage.”

Panic rose in your chest. You had not thought about that before but what if the King was not to make it out alive.

“My King, I'm certain nothing will happen to you.” You said, more for yourself than for him.

His thumb caressed your cheek. “You can never be sure. Better safe than sorry, don't you think ?”

“I guess....”

You could not sleep that night. The pack of coins was hidden under your pillow. The wheels of your mind were wildly whirling. The King might not come back from this battle. He wanted you to escape. He gave you gold. To escape. To gain your freedom.

Did he realize that you could take the decision to leave before it was over ? Was it a test or did the King trust you that blindly ? And did you really want to leave ? Yes..... No.

A groan of frustration escaped your mouth and the King turned in his sleep, giving you a clear view of his peaceful face. Your heart almost purred at the sight and tears rolled down your cheeks. Could you leave this man behind ?

You still did not have the answer the following morning when you helped the King getting ready. You did not sleep one bit, your head was hurting, your wound was hurting.

You watched the King closely. How could he look so serene when you wanted to cry and scream ? Maybe you were seeing each other for the last time. Your eyes fell on his lips and you looked at them with envy. Just this once. Just to say goodbye.

“Just do what you want to do, Y/N the Heartless.”

You did not hear him come near you. His breath was tickling your mouth. “You'll just have to make the first move.”

Your breath quickened at his words. Slowly, your lips touched his lips. His scent, the tenderness of his kisses...it was just like last time.

Growing bold, you threw your arms around his neck and pressed your body against his. The kiss was intensifying, your tongues met, you kissed passionately, desperately....until you had to break the kiss to breathe.

You looked at each other, both breathless. Trying to compose yourself, you took a few steps back.

“May the Gods be with you, my King.”

Harald chuckled. “I'm sure they will be after a kiss like this one.”

You both sensed some movement near you. Baldwin. “It's time to go.”

Harald leaned over you to graze his lips over yours one last time before leaving.

Soon enough, the place was deserted. You entered the tent, sitting on the bed you were sharing with the King. Your hand retrieved the bag of coins under the pillow and you pensively stared at it. Your freedom was right in front of you, between your hands. Your brain was screaming at you to take the gold and go. But your heart....

You heart wanted to stay here, hoping your King would return safe and sound. And your treacherous heart won. Again. So you sat on the bed, your bag of gold in your hands, waiting for the sun to rise high in the sky.

Tagging (please tell me if you want to be added or removed): @naaladareia @therealcalicali @tephi101 @ivarslittlebadgirl @akamaiden @ivarswickedqueen @peaceisadirtyword @mblaqgi @two-unbeatable-beaters  @alhenablack @neeadinghugs @bangtanandbruno @uncomfortable-writers

[mizumi-kahago-writing]

Arc 5 Part 3: «Chronos» (MYSMESS FANFIC; Demon AU)

Arc 5

Part 3

The courtroom was truly something else. Despite the fancy attire and the red satin curtains everywhere, it was cold, harsh and cruel. Never before had she seen such an ambivalent room. The cage in which she was still sitting in dangled above it all, and she could take in the entire view of the chamber beneath her.

She hoped for the best, as the real challenge began now:

“The culprit is guilty until proven otherwise. Demon K006 is accused of interfering with the human world in a way which disrupts the space-time, as well as abducting a human child against their will, despite our laws and contracts prohibiting such behavior.” Perfectly summing up why any of them were here.

Now was the time to prove himself, as he was already called to the witness stand to defend himself. “Your honor, I plead not guilty.” Starting off with his demand immediately. That was way too early without any explanation and another dosage of electricity was released into his body.

Shaking as he tried to collect himself to withstand the doubled amount of volt, becoming even more difficult than the first time.

Meanwhile, Satan was just twirling her hair between her fingers. “Why?” was the monotone question back.

The man down in the room was slowly calming down and recovering from his punishment. “Let me explain, your honor.” Taking a deep breath as he was collecting himself. “You see, I just happened to be in the human world as I saw her passing by.”

Slowly looking up to explain his story, while the great leader also focused on him. On the other hand, the blonde woman seemed uneasy and was jolting forwards, held back by her girlfriend who was indeed curious about what the man had to say.

“So, I followed her that afternoon to the forest. I knew it was a dangerous place and my only reason was to protect her from any approaching wildlife or–” Before he could even finish his sentence, the next shock followed, and he was fried again.

Painful screams and groans filled the room, making it clear that he was lying. His father just shook his head in disappointment while crossing his arms. After a few more heavy pants, he started anew:

“Fine, fine. I have watched her for around about two weeks, since I felt a strange connection to her after seeing her silver hair sparkling in the moonlight that first night.” Envy was already on to push down the lever, but this time he was speaking the truth.

Lust finally spoke up again: “So, you admit that you stalked her and purposely followed her?” That in itself was no crime, but it seemed like that woman up there wanted to make it one. Why did she want him to be guilty so much?

Once more, the angelic demon was held back by her partner, hissing over to her: “Let him finish.” Visibly displeased about that, but she could not speak against the highest power of all devils and demons. She knew her place and stepped back. “Continue.”

Everyone was focused on him now. “That feeling, it never vanished. So, after a while, I kept on following her every step. Watching her sleep, watching her walk, watching her work. And so on.” Honestly, she was a bit shocked that he was so obsessed with her, but more so that she never noticed him doing so.

Surprised, she clapped her hands in front of her mouth to suppress a gasp, but he was already confessing more. “She eventually went into the forest, so, of course, I followed her. As I already said, it was to protect her from any harm.”

Now the voltage was almost unbearable for him. How many times had he been electrocuted now? And each time the voltage doubled. Slowly but surely, it was becoming harder for him to recover properly in such a short amount of time.

Shaking where he stood, the tips of his hair were already crispy. A let out a few coughs as he leaned over the railing, holding himself up. “Alright, I get it. I was curious, so I followed her. I thought that the feeling I had was because she’d be my next soul to devour.”

Her eyes sprung open in surprise. Had he changed his ways by now? Probably. But, when did it happen? Maybe throughout the entire first few weeks they had known each other he had seen her as nothing else but his dinner?

That thought made her shiver and she tried to shake off the unsettling feeling. No, that can’t be.

“As I saw her there naked, I felt that wolves were nearby. So, I might have mistaken that she was not my food, but theirs.” He was already continuing. Once more, the high ruler herself spoke up. “Did you know those creatures were approaching? Judging by your power to attract canines?”

Again, so monotone and with no interest in the entire thing. “No.” His quick answer was followed by another electric shock. This time, he was sinking down to his knees, only the shackles on his wrists were holding him up. “I mean, yes. Yes!”

He gasped between gritted teeth. Another electrocution he probably wouldn’t be able to stand. “My powers attracted them to her, and they attacked her. But I jumped in and saved her.”

That wasn’t a lie, so he was spared the pain for now. He rose up slowly, trying to balance himself. “And then? Did the human girl comply without any restrains?” the devil next to Satan asked, protesting again.

For a few brief moments, the entire courtroom went silent, everyone looking at the male standing there in shackles, barely holding up by now. “She came with me, as a volunteer.” Lying one last time, and that was his death sentence.

Now the dosage reached its maximum as probably millions of volts rushed through his body, grilling him entirely. A loud ‘Fuck’ was yelled through the room, and the girl in the cage couldn’t take it any longer.

Breaking into tears, she yelled into the room. “Yes, I came with him because I wanted it! Please, spare him!” Everyone’s gaze shifted upwards to the girl, interrupting the session as the older demon was still being tortured with electricity through his veins.

“Silence her,” was the order from the highest-ranked creature in the room. None other than the Raven followed that order and put a magical anti-sound barrier around the cage. Of course, the girl was so displeased with that.

She began banging her fists against the barrier, trying to shatter it. Yelling, crying, raging in her cage, and all she could do was watch her partner probably being killed down there. Why did he have to lie so much? He knew what was coming to him.

Only the dog which was with her could calm her down now, poking his snout against her tummy and shoving her away from the edge of the barrier as much as it could. It was simply no use. Eventually, the girl just broke down, hugged the dog close and buried her teary face in its fur.

Satan rolled her eyes and commented: “I seriously have no time for such nonsense.” Clearly, she was pissed off about all of this. Her girlfriend started to comfort her, while further down the stairs the father confronted his son.

By now, they had stopped the torture, but the smaller demon reached his own limits. Sitting on the floor, totally out of breath, as his father grabbed his chin, making him look up with his last energy resources.

“Why are you doing this son?” No answer. “Why are you making this situation so difficult for yourself? You should know better. Not only you suffer.” He pointed at the girl who hung up there in the birdcage. “You also make her suffer.”

Well, that was a statement, but it was true. “I expected more from you. Better from you. You are part of our family, and all you bring is embarrassment.” Scolding him, he then shoved him away forcefully.

However, the younger demon could not protest; he simply did not have the energy for it. “You and I both know how this trial will end. Don’t you?” Snappy as ever. The small demon scoffed and gave his father a death glare.

“I know. Both, you and I have used our future sight ability to foresee the end of this.”

“Splendid. Now, finally, tell the truth and don’t keep us waiting any longer.”

“Fine.”

Gathering his last pieces of strength, the male rose himself up, holding tightly on the railing and speaking up loud and clearly. “Your honor. I promise to tell nothing but the truth.” He started again.

That, however, only rose suspicion in the higher-ups as all of them rose their eyebrows and looked at him with curious, wide eyes. “She came with me because I caused her a life-threatening situation. At that time, I was unaware that she was going to become my Astéri.”

“I invited her to my lair, and she accepted. Afterwards, I wanted to devour her soul for a quick lunch, then I felt that there was something more and I offered her a Desmós.” Shifting his face to make eye contact with every single person present in this room. Lastly, his bonded one.

Further explaining how they fucked and ending his speech on a high note: “… I asked her if she wanted to bond with me. She said ‘yes’ again. However, I am aware she only said so because she feared me.” Swallowing thickly and lowering his gaze.

“I am now aware of all the mistakes I’ve made and how much I have changed since then. So, I plead: Not guilty.” A whistle accompanied by a slow clap from above, quickly silenced by Satan herself.

“So, is that so?” Exchanging another long gaze with the accused one down there, she swung herself up and stepped forwards. “The judge decides...” Silence and tension all across the room, waiting for the final judgment: “… Not Guilty!”

Raising her arms as a round of relieved sighs came from everyone. The two powerful women, stepping down from their pedestal, while the taller one flipped her long silvery hair back. “What a waste of time.” The other one followed her like a lap dog.

“But, your majesty.” Protesting about her judgment, as she was already looking forward to the spectacle of the male demon’s execution. “Enough. Let the girl down and let’s get going. I hate this place.” That order was loud and clear.

Lowering the cage and opening the door, as well as the barrier, the little girl was set free, as was her partner from the shackles. Still a bit wonky on his feet, he was trying to regenerate himself.

A heartfelt reunion had to wait a few more moments. While the girl was scooting out, she caught another glimpse of the dark-skinned woman with the tall horns. Seeing Satan so close made her shiver and gasp for a moment.

That was a true beauty of a woman. But that face—it was so familiar to her. Where had she seen it before? Blinking a few times, the moments of admiration were over, and the girl fell into the arms of her mentor.

________________________________________________________________

«« Summary | « Arc 5 Part 2 | Arc 5 Part 3 (Second Half) »

________________________________________________________________

Author Notes:

I have a confession to make: I am falling out of the fandom.

Which results in the lack of motivation to continue this fanfiction.

However, I will not leave my readers hanging completely.

Though out the upcoming weeks I’ll upload summaries of the rest of the Arc’s, that you guys know how the story concludes.

It’s the least I can do tbh.

No hard feelings, I hope everyone understands.

Thank you for your attention and support of my writing.

Fanart can still be drawn of course and is highly appreciated.

Maybe we’ll read each other again in a future work of mine.

[toast-tit]

Noir (Chapter Three)

Mob!Tom Holland x OC

One Two

Author’s Note: And Tom finally makes an appearance! Anywho, my requests are open all summer long :)

Warnings: Language, violence

Summary: Andi has no idea what she’s doing in life, but what she does know is that she just witnessed a brutal murder that had connections to the Holland mafia and now she’s practically fucked

   By the time I came to, the black bag was still on my head, and I was being jostled around every now and then, giving me the assumption I was in a vehicle of some sort. My fingers traced from my neck to my chest, feeling the heavy material of a seat belt. “I’m flattered you care for my safety,” I slurred, realizing that the sound of my own voice was too loud.

“Don’t be too flattered. Tom said to not let any car accidents fuck you up before he does,” the man quipped back. Tom, I had heard that name before. I closed my eyes and replayed the events from the last day and a half to try and remember. “Is he your boss? This Tom guy?” I asked. I recalled that my captor had told the man he murdered that Tom didn’t like to be deceived, but that was the only instance his name was muttered. I received a grunt as an answer, but I didn’t leave the topic alone.

As I regained my strength, I sat up straight. I lifted my hand to take the black bag off but I felt the man’s hand grasp my wrist tightly. “I wouldn’t do that,” he warned and I left the bag alone. “So,” I started, “Who is Tom and why does he want to fuck me up? I understand you, but him? Why?” “You know, for someone who’s getting kidnapped and potentially murdered, you have a big mouth. Weren’t you just panicking in the bathroom before all of this?” Another pang in my stomach hit me. Potentially murdered, was that the price for watching another man die? If I hadn’t gasped or made myself noticeable, would I have been in the clear? Or would I still be fucked up, if not more?

“I don’t know,” I answered, “Would you rather have me cry and plead for my life?” “It depends on the day,” he said as I felt the car slow down. It turned to my left and pulled into what I could assume was a driveway. The car stopped to a halt and the door on my side opened and I was yanked out of the car.  My knees fell onto what seemed like concrete and I was dragged across the floor, breaking the skin. I yelped, but a different voice spoke up and told me to shut up. Not wanting to cause anymore trouble, I listened.

After a few minutes of getting dragged around everywhere and nearly getting dropped down the stairs, I was thrown into a chair. The black bag was yanked off me and all I saw was a binding light, sending a painful throbbing to my head. I had forgotten about getting pistol whipped and now that I thought about it, I most likely have a concussion from it. I looked around me and saw my raw and bloody knees and a dark room filled with the silhouettes of three men. My hands rubbed against what felt like rope and I realized that I was bound hand and feet.

“Are you going to cry and plead for your life now?” one of the men piped up and I squinted, seeing the tall man who kidnapped me. He was dressed in a casual black suit, like something out of John Wick and to say he wasn’t attractive would be an understatement. However, my fear of getting tortured outweighed my need to be laid.

“I don’t know,” I said, my mouth dry, “Do you want me to?” “It would be more entertaining than watching you just sit there and ogle me.” “I was not ogling you!” my voice raised in defense, not helping my case at all. “I was just trying to see what you looked like considering I’ve been bagged for God knows how long.” The man smiled lopsidedly, “So ogling me.”

One of the men walked over and backhanded me before turning to the man, “Harrison if you wanted to fuck her, you shouldn’t have told Tom about your incident.” My head throbbed more potently than before and I knew if that light kept shining in my eyes I would not be able to keep conscious. “I-,” I began but the man who slapped me stepped forward so I shut my mouth. As if on cue, a door opened, spilling more light and the darkened silhouette of another man walked down the stairs. The scene was comparable to watching the Devil walking back to Hell. Perhaps it was the Devil.

The door closed behind him and the room was engulfed in darkness again. With one of my eyes open, I watched as the man came close to me, but I still couldn’t see his face. If I wasn’t so drowsy,  I knew that I would be panicking by now. This was him. This was the Tom who wanted me dead for witnessing a murder.

There was a scraping on the floor and I watched lazily as Tom pulled up a chair in front of me. He pulled the light away from my face and I closed my eyes in relief, relishing in a moment’s darkness before I felt the familiar feeling of a gun against my temple. “I’d open those eyes if I were you,” he said. It was then I noticed that him and Harrison both had accents.

Doing as I was told, I forced my eyes open and looked at my killer. He had chestnut hair slicked back with one strand falling in front of his face. His eyes were of the same color and he held a scowl. He was young, possibly my age. Yet he was in charge of what? An organization of contracted killers? Was this a big crime ring? Then it clicked.

I remember hearing his name on the news. Tom Holland, infamous mobster and contracted killer, escaped from the UK and emigrated his entire organization to the US. This was the Holland mafia, the deadliest thing since the plague. In fact, they were a plague, a plague of men in suits with daggers, tourniquets, and guns, ready to infect anybody who doesn’t obey orders. I had fallen prey to Tom Holland. I had witnessed his organization at work and blew my cover. Excellent.

“Alessandra Reese,” he started, “You’ve gotten yourself in some deep shit.” I hadn’t heard my full name in years, it felt strange hearing it and from a killer nevertheless. “I’m well aware,” I said and watched as the side of his mouth curled into a smirk. His eyes watched mine, most likely taking note of the cowardice that hid behind my tongue. “And before you kill me or torture me or whatever the fuck you’re going to do, I want you to know I’m not going to say anything. I already told Harrison that,” I couldn’t shut myself up.

Tom laughed and it wrenched my stomach. He looked back at Harrison and pointed at me with the gun, “She’s not going to tell.” Harrison and him shared a laugh as did the rest of the men. My face burned. Of course, he expected me not to say anything. Who the fuck was I going to tell anyway? From what I’ve seen, the mafia owns the police. Would I tell Katy? Lilah, in order to make our own old movie plot? There was noone I could confide in, so me defending myself with that hackneyed saying had no power at all. I just looked stupid and possibly more dead.

He turned back to me and took the gun off safety, pointing it at my face. “Now, who would you tell that made you think this?” He asked, “Your brother? Your kindergarten class? Katy?” The anxiety crept in like bugs in my skin. He knew Katy. Of course he did, he knew my fucking name! “None of them,” I said, “Forget about it.”

“Oh but I don’t want to,” he leant forward, “I want to know what made you think you were going to snitch. What would you even snitch about? ‘911? Yes I saw a man get murdered! It has to be the mafia!’ You’re hilarious, Reese. Now tell me, besides that pathetic attempt to save your life, why should I let you live?”

There was a million things I could think of that was a reason to live: My brother, Katy, my class, Thanksgiving, the songs I had never listened to, and the fact that I don’t want to live. However, he probably knew that already. He probably expected me to say those just so he could laugh and blow my face off. “Are you going to say something?” Tom pushed, “Or are you going to die with that pathetic excuse of life on your mind?”

“Jesus fucking Christ! Let me think for a goddamn second! I’m scared out of my mind by dying and you’re not making it any better by telling you a reason I must live when you’re going to fucking shoot me anyway!” I shouted and immediately wanted to cover my mouth up, but with my hands being tied up, I obviously couldn’t. He didn’t say anything, so I took this as an opportunity to say more, considering I was going to get shot either way. “Let’s see, if I live, you wouldn’t have to clean up the mess. I’m sure you love murder and all, but clean up has to be tricky, am I right? Oh, and if I live you won’t have to hear from me again, then again the same goes for when I’m dead. You know what? Just shoot me, you know you want to.”

Taking me by surprise, he put the gun down. I wanted to relieve all the tension stored in my body and thank the Lord I didn’t get shot, but then he pulled out a bowie knife. He stood up from the chair and walked behind me. “How fitting,” I whispered to myself, closing my eyes and making peace with myself internally. I felt the cool blade press against my cheek and then it slid to my throat, where it stayed put.

“One day, Reese, you’ll learn that silence is golden,” he whispered in my ear. He took the knife off of my throat and cut the rope from my hands and feet. “Get up,” he ordered and I did so with very little success. My knees were shaking and I almost fell, but I kept my balance, barely.

Tom handed me a flip phone and said, “I saved your life, darling, but now you’re in my debt. When that phone rings, you’ll answer.” I turned it over in my hand, my heart sinking when I realized I was probably better off dead. “What if I don’t?” I asked, keeping my eyes on the phone. I felt the blade of the knife rest below my chin and he raised my chin to meet his eyes. “I don’t call twice. If you don’t answer, you and everyone around you is dead. The price of doing business with me, I’m afraid.” He snapped his fingers at Harrison and the man who slapped me, “Get her out of here.”

Harrison grabbed my arm and started to lead me out of the place. The other man grabbed the black bag and right as he put it over my head, I saw Tom wave goodbye at me. “I can’t wait to hear your voice soon, Reese,” he said and I was forced out of the place, suddenly a slave to the mafia.

[fantasyandromancelover]

The Tale of Tales Chapter 15

When Juvia finally woke up she was startled to find two large men and a young boy staring at her.

"Oh dear!" She gasped.

"Sorry for scaring you Miss." Elfman said. "We just wanted to see if you were okay."

"Who are you people?" She asked. "And where am I?"

"Well we're dwarfs and you're in our house." Romeo said.

"You're dwarfs?" Juvia said confused.

"Yeah is that a problem sweetheart?" Gajeel asked gruffly.

"Oh no it's just that I thought you would be shorter."

"That is a vicious stereotype! I am not short! Do I look short to you?! No! I don't!" Gajeel said angrily.

"Please don't ever mention that around him again." Romeo whispered to her.

"Look dwarfs are not short little men. They are men who are strong enough to break through any material and we can bond with them. That's why most of the time we work in mines. Now that aside who the heck are you and what were you doing running around in the woods last night?"

"Well my name is Juvia and I'm the princess of Fiore or at least I was."

"Oh no a royal. Just what we need. Sorry princess but after what her majesty Queen Minerva did to us we've had enough of your kind. So beat it."

"But if you send me away the queen will kill me."

"I doubt that she would kill her own daughter."

"But I'm not her daughter. I'm her stepdaughter and she doesn't care at all about me. In fact she wanted me to be fed to the wolves."

"That's awful." Romeo said.

"But why would your stepmother want to kill you?" Elfman asked.

"I honestly don't know but I do know that I can't ever go home. So if it wouldn't be too much trouble could I stay here?"

"Does this look like a free room and board to you?" Gajeel asked.

"But I won't stay here for free. I don't have any money to pay you but I could work. I'll cook and clean and sew. I'll help out however I can and I won't complain."

The three dwarves walked off to discuss it for a moment.

"What do you think?" Elfman asked.

"I like her. I think she should stay." Romeo said.

"I don't know." Gajeel said. "What if the queen finds her here and does something to us?"

"If I may, my stepmother thinks I'm dead so she'll never look for me." Juvia said.

"Don't be foolish! You honestly think that she won't somehow discover you're still alive? She's an old witch I tell ya! And she has ways of knowing things."

"Isn't there anything I can do that will convince you to let me stay?"

"Look don't you have your kingly father to look after you?"

"My father's been missing for three months. Everyone in Fiore thinks he's dead but I know he's alive I just have to find him."

She was starting to cry.

"Alright, alright, calm down. Don't start crying. You can stay." Gajeel caved.

"Really? Oh thank you. Thank you so much. I promise I won't be any trouble."

And so it was that Juvia lived with the three dwarfs. Every day when they left to work in the mines she would spend the day keeping their house neat and tidy. She swept, dusted, scrubbed the floor, cleaned the dishes, and washed and mended all their clothing. She also cooked meals for them and would even help out in the mines occasionally. Throughout her work she never complained and despite working so hard all the time Juvia only seemed to grow more beautiful. Very soon Elfman, Romeo, and even Gajeel became very fond of her. Of course he would never admit that.

"You sure you don't mind sleeping on the floor?" Romeo asked her. "You can always have my bed."

"No I don't want any of you to have to give up your bed for me and besides sleeping on the floor isn't as bad as you think. I kind of like it."

"Then I guess you won't want this huh?" Gajeel said. He and Elfman had built her brand new bed out of wood which had a mattress, pillow, and quilt.

"You made this for me?" She asked.

"It's just a little something to show our appreciation." Elfman said.

"Oh it's wonderful. Thank you all so much."

She was very happy living with them. But happiness is not always meant to last. All too soon Queen Minerva would discover that Juvia was still alive and she would not be pleased.

"Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?" She asked her mirror.

"One who's beauty thou would spoil,

Grows with heavy toil.

In the forest where three dwarfs dwell,

Is Juvia alive and well."

"You lie! She is dead! Rogue fed her to the wolves!"

"Rogue fell victim to her beauty as most do,

Thou Queen he has betrayed you."

"How dare he! How dare he! He'll pay for this! But I'll deal with him later, right now I need to find someone to kill that brat! But it can't be anyone in the castle, they're all too loyal to her. I need someone who doesn't know her, someone who won't care weather she lives or dies!"

"Someone without a heart?"

"Now you're getting the idea. Know anyone?"

"In the village of Magnolia, lives a huntsman called Gray,

Who can track man or beast both night and day."

"But will he kill Juvia?"

"His soul is bitter and his heart is cold,

He'll kill anything for just the right amount of gold."

"Then he's perfect for the job."

"When she is dead consume her heart and beauty,

Then young and fair forever you shall be."

Gray was indeed a great huntsman with a heart of ice. You see as a young boy he was forced to watch his mother and father be murdered by the people of Magnolia because Reverend Hades accused them of being devil worshippers and the poor boy was then subjected to torture as a way to cleanse his soul or at least that's how the reverend put it. Alone and hurt, they say that he froze his heart to prevent himself from ever being hurt again. Growing up he trained to himself to hunt, track, and fight. He became a strong and brave young man who defended the village of Magnolia from the wolves that is as long as they kept paying him. And he didn't just kill wolves, he had also been hired to kill trolls, criminals, and other forms of threats.

Minerva quickly sent her men to bring him to her. However he was a stubborn and difficult man so needless to say it was a struggle for the guards to bring him to her.

"Get your hands off of me! Before I cut off all your heads with just a swipe!" The young huntsman demanded as he was dragged into the throne room and tossed at the queen's feet.

"Are you the huntsman called Gray?" She asked.

"Yeah what's it to you lady?"

"I have a job for you."

"Not interested."

"Really? Is that right?" She tossed a satchel on to the floor, when it landed some gold coins spilled out. "That's only a morsel of what you'll get if you do this job for me."

"I'm listening."

"I need you to go into the forest, track down a young woman, and kill her."

"You want me to kill a woman?"

"Is that an issue?"

"No man, woman, wolf, they're all the same to me. But why do you want me to kill her?"

"That is none of your concern. Now will you do it?"

Gray thought for a moment. He had never killed a woman before and he didn't like that Minerva was keeping her reason for wanting this woman dead a secret. But due to the fact that people hired him to kill monsters and criminals he figured this woman was probably some kind of a witch or something plus he really wanted the gold she was offering him.

"I'll do it."

"Excellent. You shall be rewarded handsomely if you succeed."

"Now what does she look like?"

"She's seventeen years old with blue hair and extremely fair skin. I'm sure she won't be that difficult to diverse from everyone else. Oh and one more thing, once you kill her bring back her heart in this box." She handed him a wooden and jeweled box, dismissed him, and went to her spell room.

"Now then I need to do something about this prince. Obviously wooing him the old fashioned way won't work so I need the love potion. The one I used on the king." She began brewing it up. "Of course it won't really make him love me it will only make him think he loves me but there isn't really a difference between loving someone and thinking that you love someone. Sting!"

"Yes?"

"Fetch the prince for me."

"Yes your majesty."

[catholic-rosary-beads]

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St Athanasius the Great to the Bishops of Egypt (Chapter I) Translated by Cardinal Newman

  St. Athanasius of Mount Athos icon

The time has come to fight for the truth against heresy. Our enemy does not always attack us in the same manner. Martyrdom does not consist only in refusing to offer incense to idols. There is also a martyrdom of the conscience, which consists in not violating the Faith.

Not a year goes by when they do not invent new creeds, which they are the first to condemn by replacing then with others that are no more acceptable. Their entire plan is to destroy Catholic truth while seeming to defend it. They are Pilate sending Jesus Christ to be tortured while seeming to spare Him. The only thing they fear is that they will be recognized for what they are, formal enemies of Jesus Christ.

1. Christ warned His followers against false prophets

All things whatsoever our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, as Luke wrote, ‘both hath done and taught [1147] ,’ He effected after having appeared for our salvation; for He came, as John saith, ‘not to condemn the world, but that the world through Him might be saved [1148] .’ And among the rest we have especially to admire this instance of His goodness, that He was not silent concerning those who should fight against us, but plainly told us beforehand, that, when those things should come to pass, we might straightway be found with minds established by His teaching. For He said, ‘There shall arise false prophets and false Christs, and shall shew great signs and wonders; insomuch that, if it were possible, the very elect shall be deceived. Behold, I have told you before [1149] .’

Manifold indeed and beyond human conception are the instructions and gifts of grace which He has laid up in us; as the pattern of heavenly conversation, power against demons, the adoption of sons, and that exceeding great and singular grace, the knowledge of the Father and of the Word Himself, and the gift of the Holy Ghost. But the mind of man is prone to evil exceedingly; moreover, our adversary the devil, envying us the possession of such great blessings, goeth about seeking to snatch away the seed of the word which is sown within us. Wherefore as if by His prophetic warnings He would seal up His instructions in our hearts as His own peculiar treasure, the Lord said, ‘Take heed that no man deceive you: for many shall come in My name, saying, I am he; and the time draweth near; and they shall deceive many: go ye not therefore after them [1150] .’

This is a great gift which the Word has bestowed upon us, that we should not be deceived by appearances, but that, howsoever these things are concealed, we should all the more distinguish them by the grace of the Spirit. For whereas the inventor of wickedness and great spirit of evil, the devil, is utterly hateful, and as soon as he shews himself is rejected [1151] of all men,–as a serpent, as a dragon, as a lion seeking whom he may seize upon and devour,–therefore he conceals and covers what he really is, and craftily personates that Name which all men desire, so that deceiving by a false appearance, he may thenceforth fix fast in his own chains those whom he has led astray.

And as if one that desired to kidnap the children of others during the absence of their parents, should personate their appearance, and so putting a cheat on the affections of the offspring, should carry them far away and destroy them; in like manner this evil and wily spirit the devil, having no confidence in himself, and knowing the love which men bear to the truth, personates its appearance, and so spreads his own poison among those that follow after him.

[1147] Acts i. 1.

[1148] John iii. 17.

[1149] Matt. xxiv. 24, 25.

[1150] Luke xxi. 8.

[1151] balletai, vid. p. 170, note 6.

2. Satan pretending to be holy, is detected by the Christian

Thus he deceived Eve, not speaking his own, but artfully adopting the words of God, and perverting their meaning. Thus he suggested evil to the wife of Job, persuading her to feign affection for her husband, while he taught her to blaspheme God. Thus does the crafty spirit mock men by false displays, deluding and drawing each into his own pit of wickedness. When of old he deceived the first man Adam, thinking that through him he should have all men subject unto him, he exulted with great boldness and said, ‘My hand hath found as a nest the riches of the people; and as one gathereth eggs that are left, have I gathered all the earth; and there is none that shall escape me or speak against me [1152] .’

But when the Lord came upon earth, and the enemy made trial of His human Economy, being unable to deceive the flesh which He had taken upon Him, from that time forth he, who promised himself the occupation of the whole world, is for His sake mocked even by children: that proud one is mocked as a sparrow [1153] . For now the infant child lays his hand upon the hole of the asp, and laughs at him that deceived Eve [1154] ; and all that rightly believe in the Lord tread under foot him that said, ‘I will ascend above the heights of the clouds: I will be like the Most High [1155] .’

Thus he suffers and is dishonoured; and although he still ventures with shameless confidence to disguise himself, yet now, wretched spirit, he is detected the rather by them that bear the Sign on their foreheads [1156] ; yea, more, he is rejected of them, and is humbled, and put to shame. For even if, now that he is a creeping serpent, he shall transform himself into an angel of light, yet his deception will not profit him; for we have been taught that ‘though an angel from heaven preach unto us any other gospel than that we have received, he is anathema [1157] .’

[1152] Is. x. 14. LXX., cf. p. 202, note 8.

[1153] Vid. Job xli. 5; xl. 24. LXX.

[1154] Isa. xi. 8; 2 Cor. xi. 3.

[1155] Is. xiv. 14.

[1156] Ezek. ix. 4. LXX.

[1157] Gal. i. 8, 9.

3. And although, again, he conceal his natural falsehood, and pretend to speak truth with his lips; yet are we ‘not ignorant of his devices [1158] ,’ but are able to answer him in the words spoken by the Spirit against him; ‘But unto the ungodly, said God, why dost thou preach My laws?’ and, ‘Praise is not seemly in the mouth of a sinner [1159] .’ For even though he speak the truth, the deceiver is not worthy of credit.

And whereas Scripture shewed this, when relating his wicked artifices against Eve in Paradise, so the Lord also reproved him,–first in the mount, when He laid open ‘the folds of his breast-plate [1160] ,’ and shewed who the crafty spirit was, and proved that it was not one of the saints [1161] , but Satan that was tempting Him. For He said, ‘Get thee behind Me Satan; for it is written, Thou shalt worship the Lord thy God, and Him only shalt thou serve [1162] .’ And again, when He put a curb in the mouths of the demons that cried after Him from the tombs. For although what they said was true, and they lied not then, saying, ‘Thou art the Son of God,’ and ‘the Holy One of God [1163] ;’ yet He would not that the truth should proceed from an unclean mouth, and especially from such as them, lest under pretence thereof they should mingle with it their own malicious devices, and sow these also while men slept.

Therefore He suffered them not to speak such words, neither would He have us to suffer such, but hath charged us by His own mouth, saying, ‘Beware of false prophets, which come to you in sheeps’ clothing, but inwardly they are ravening wolves [1164] ;’ and by the mouth of His Holy Apostles, ‘Believe not every spirit [1165] .’ Such is the method of our adversary’s operations; and of the like nature are all these inventions of heresies, each of which has for the father of its own device the devil, who changed and became a murderer and a liar from the beginning.

But being ashamed to profess his hateful name, they usurp the glorious Name of our Saviour ‘which is above every name [1166] ,’ and deck themselves out in the language of Scripture, speaking indeed the words, but stealing away the true meaning thereof; and so disguising by some artifice their false inventions, they also become the murderers of those whom they have led astray.

[1158] 2 Cor. ii. 11.

[1159] Ps. 1. 16; Ecclus. xv. 9.

[1160] Job xli. 13, v. 4. LXX. and cf. Orat. i. 1, and Vit. Ant. supr. p. 197, note 15.

[1161] Or sacred writers, hagion.

[1162] Matt. iv. 10.

[1163] Matt. viii. 29; Mark i. 24.

[1164] Matt. vii. 15.

[1165] 1 John iv. 1.

[1166] Phil. ii. 9.

4. It profits not to receive part of Scripture, and reject part

For whence do Marcion and Manichaeus receive the Gospel while they reject the Law? For the New Testament arose out of the Old, and bears witness to the Old; if then they reject this, how can they receive what proceeds from it? Thus Paul was an Apostle of the Gospel, ‘which God promised afore by His prophets in the holy Scriptures [1167] :’ and our Lord Himself said, ‘ye search the Scriptures, for they are they which testify of Me [1168] .’

How then shall they confess the Lord unless they first search the Scriptures which are written concerning Him? And the disciples say that they have found Him, ‘of whom Moses and the Prophets did write [1169] .’ And what is the Law to the Sadducees if they receive not the Prophets [1170] ?

For God who gave the Law, Himself promised in the Law that He would raise up Prophets also, so that the same is Lord both of the Law and of the Prophets, and he that denies the one must of necessity deny the other also. And again, what is the Old Testament to the Jews, unless they acknowledge the Lord whose coming was expected according to it?

For had they believed the writings of Moses, they would have believed the words of the Lord; for He said, ‘He wrote of Me [1171] .’ Moreover, what are the Scriptures to him [1172] of Samosata, who denies the Word of God and His incarnate Presence [1173] , which is signified and declared both in the Old and New Testament?

And of what use are the Scriptures to the Arians also, and why do they bring them forward, men who say that the Word of God is a creature, and like the Gentiles ‘serve the creature more than’ God ‘the Creator [1174] ?’ Thus each of these heresies, in respect of the peculiar impiety of its invention, has nothing in common with the Scriptures.

[1167] Rom. i. 2.

[1168] John v. 39.

[1169] John i. 45.

[1170] Vid. Prideaux, Conn. ii. 5. (vol. 3, p. 474. ed. 1725).

[1171] John v. 46.

[1172] See Prolegg. ch. ii. S:3 (2) a.

[1173] See Orat. i. 49.

[1174] Rom. i. 25.

And their advocates are aware of this, that the Scriptures are very much, or rather altogether, opposed to the doctrines of every one of them; but for the sake of deceiving the more simple sort (such as are those of whom it is written in the Proverbs, ‘The simple believeth every word [1175] ),’ they pretend like their ‘father the devil [1176] ‘ to study and to quote the language of Scripture, in order that they may appear by their words to have a right belief, and so may persuade their wretched followers to believe what is contrary to the Scriptures. Assuredly in every one of these heresies the devil has thus disguised himself, and has suggested to them words full of craftiness.

The Lord spake concerning them, that ‘there shall arise false Christs and false prophets, so that they shall deceive many [1177] .’ Accordingly the devil has come, speaking by each and saying, ‘I am Christ, and the truth is with me;’ and he has made them, one and all, to be liars like himself. And strange it is, that while all heresies are at variance with one another concerning the mischievous inventions which each has framed, they are united together only by the common purpose of lying [1178] .

For they have one and the same father that has sown in them all the seeds, of falsehood. Wherefore the faithful Christian and true disciple of the Gospel, having grace to discern spiritual things, and having built the house of his faith upon a rock, stands continually firm and secure from their deceits. But the simple person, as I said before, that is not thoroughly grounded in knowledge, such an one, considering only the words that are spoken and not perceiving their meaning, is immediately drawn away by their wiles.

Wherefore it is good and needful for us to pray that we may receive the gift of discerning spirits, so that every one may know, according to the precept of John, whom he ought to reject, and whom to receive as friends and of the same faith. Now one might write at great length concerning these things, if one desired to go into details respecting them; for the impiety and perverseness of heresies will appear to be manifold and various, and the craft of the deceivers to be very terrible.

But since holy Scripture is of all things most sufficient [1179] for us, therefore recommending to those who desire to know more of these matters, to read the Divine word, I now hasten to set before you that which most claims attention, and for the sake of which principally I have written these things.

[1175] Prov. xiv. 15.

[1176] John viii. 44.

[1177] Matt. xxiv. 24.

[1178] vid. Orat. ii. S:18.

[1179] Cf. p. 4, note 2.

5. Attempt of Arians to substitute a Creed for the Nicene

I heard during my sojourn in these parts [1180] (and they were true and orthodox brethren that informed me), that certain professors of Arian opinions had met together, and drawn a confession of faith to their own liking, and that they intend to send word to you, that you must either subscribe to what pleases them, or rather to what the devil has inspired them with, or in case of refusal must suffer banishment.

They are indeed already beginning to molest the Bishops of these parts; and thereby are plainly manifesting their disposition. For inasmuch as they frame this document only for the purpose of inflicting banishment or other punishments, what does such conduct prove them to be, but enemies of the Christians, and friends of the devil and his angels? and especially since they spread abroad what they like contrary to the mind of that gracious Prince, our most religious Emperor Constantius [1181] . And this they do with great craftiness, and, as appears to me, chiefly with two ends in view; first, that by obtaining your subscriptions, they may seem to remove the evil repute that rests upon the name of Arius, and may escape notice themselves as if not professing his opinions; and again, that by putting forth these statements they may cast a shade over the Council of Nicaea [1182] , and the confession of faith which was then put forth against the Arian heresy. But this proceeding does but prove the more plainly their own maliciousness and heterodoxy.

For had they believed aright, they would have been satisfied with the confession put forth at Nicaea by the whole Ecumenic Council; and had they considered themselves calumniated and falsely called Arians, they ought not to have been so eager to innovate upon what was written against Arius, lest what was directed against him might seem to be aimed at them also. This, however, is not the course they pursue, but they conduct the struggle in their own behalf, just as if they were Arius.

Observe how entirely they disregard the truth, and how everything they say and do is for the sake of the Arian heresy. For in that they dare to question those sound definitions of the faith, and take upon themselves to produce others contrary to them, what else do they but accuse the Fathers, and stand up in defence of that heresy which they opposed and protested against?

And what they now write proceeds not from any regard for the truth, as I said before, but rather they do it as in mockery and by an artifice, for the purpose of deceiving men; that by sending about their letters they may engage the ears of the people to listen to these notions, and so put off the time when they will be brought to trial; and that by concealing their impiety from observation, they may have room to extend their heresy, which, ‘like a gangrene [1183] ,’ eats its way everywhere.

[1180] [Probably Cyrenaica, see above, Introd. sub. fin.]

[1181] Cf. S:23, and Apol. Const. 32.

[1182] Cf. de Syn. 7.

[1183] 2 Tim. ii. 17.

6. Accordingly they disturb and disorder everything, and yet not even thus are they satisfied with their own proceedings. For every year, as if they were going to draw up a contract, they meet together and pretend to write about the faith, whereby they expose themselves the more to ridicule and disgrace, because their expositions are rejected, not by others, but by themselves. For had they had any confidence in their previous statements, they would not have desired to draw up others; nor again, leaving these last, would they now have set down the one in question, which no doubt true to their custom they will again alter, after a very short interval, and as soon as they shall find a pretence for their customary plotting against certain persons.

For when they have a design against any, then it is that they make a great show of writing about the faith; that, as Pilate washed his hands, so they by writing may destroy those who rightly believe in Christ, hoping that, as making definitions about the faith, they may appear, as I have repeatedly said, to be free from the charge of false doctrine. But they will not be able to hide themselves, nor to escape; for they continually become their own accusers even while they defend themselves. Justly so, since instead of answering those who bring proof against them, they do but persuade themselves to believe whatever they wish. And when is an acquittal obtained, upon the criminal becoming his own judge?

Hence it is that they are always writing, and always altering their own previous statements, and thus they shew an uncertain faith [1184] ,’ or rather a manifest unbelief and perverseness. And this, it appears to me, must needs be the case with them; for since, having fallen away from the truth, and desiring to overthrow that sound confession of faith which was drawn up at Nicaea, they have, in the language of Scripture, ‘loved to wander, and have not refrained their feet [1185] ;’ therefore, like Jerusalem of old, they labour and toil in their changes, sometimes writing one thing, and sometimes another, but only for the sake of gaining time, and that they may continue enemies of Christ, and deceivers of mankind.

[1184] Cf. de Syn. S:S:3, 6.

[1185] Jer. xiv. 10.

7. The party of Acacius really Arians

Who, then, that has any real regard for truth, will be willing to suffer these men any longer? who will not justly reject their writing? who will not denounce their audacity, that being but few [1186] in number, they would have their decisions to prevail over everything, and as desiring the supremacy of their own meetings, held in corners and suspicious in their circumstances, would forcibly cancel the decrees of an uncorrupt, pure, and Ecumenic Council?

Men who have been promoted by Eusebius and his fellows for advocating this Antichristian heresy, venture to define articles of faith, and while they ought to be brought to judgment as criminals, like Caiaphas, they take upon themselves to judge. They compose a Thalia, and would have it received as a standard of faith, while they are not yet themselves determined what they believe. Who does not know that Secundus [1187] of Pentapolis, who was several times degraded long ago, was received by them for the sake of the Arian madness; and that George [1188] , now of Laodicea, and Leontius the Eunuch, and before him Stephanus, and Theodorus of Heraclea [1189] , were promoted by them? Ursacius and Valens also, who from the first were instructed by Arius as young men [1190] , though they had been formerly degraded from the Priesthood, afterwards got the title of Bishops on account of their impiety; as did also Acacius, Patrophilus [1191] , and Narcissus, who have been most forward in all manner of impiety.

These were degraded in the great Synod of Sardica; Eustathius also now of Sebastea, Demophilus and Germinius [1192] , Eudoxius, and Basil, who are supporters of that impiety, were advanced in the same manner. Of Cecropius [1193] , and him they called Auxentius, and of Epictetus [1194] the impostor, it were superfluous for me to speak, since it is manifest to all men, in what manner, on what pretexts, and by what enemies of ours these were promoted, that they might bring their false charges against the orthodox Bishops who were the objects of their designs. For although they resided at the distance of eighty posts, and were unknown to the people, yet on the ground of their impiety they purchased for themselves the title of Bishop.

For the same reason also they have now [1195] hired one George of Cappadocia, whom they wish to impose upon you. But no respect is due to him any more than to the rest; for there is a report in these parts that he is not even a Christian, but is devoted to the worship of idols; and he has a hangman’s temper [1196] . And this person, such as he is described to be, they have taken into their ranks, that they may be able to injure, to plunder, and to slay; for in these things he is a great proficient, but is ignorant of the very principles of the Christian faith.

[1186] Cf. de Syn. 5, note.

[1187] Cf. de Syn. 12; Prolegg. ch. ii. S:3 (1), &c.

[1188] p. 104, note 3.

[1189] Supr. p. 119.

[1190] Supr. p. 107, note 9.

[1191] Omitted supr. p. 123.

[1192] De Syn. S:9.

[1193] Of Nicomedia, see D.C.B. s.v.

[1194] Vid. Hist. Ar. S:74 fin.

[1195] Hist. Ar. 75.

[1196] Cf. de Syn. 37.

8. Words are bad, though Scriptural, which proceed from bad men

Such are the machinations of these men against the truth: but their designs are manifest to all the world, though they attempt in ten thousand ways, like eels, to elude the grasp, and to escape detection as enemies of Christ. Wherefore I beseech you, let no one among you be deceived, no one seduced by them; rather, considering that a sort of judaical impiety is invading the Christian faith, be ye all zealous for the Lord; hold fast, every one, the faith we have received from the Fathers, which they who assembled at Nicaea recorded in writing, and endure not those who endeavour to innovate thereon.

And however they may write phrases out of the Scripture, endure not their writings; however they may speak the language of the orthodox, yet attend not to what they say; for they speak not with an upright mind, but putting on such language like sheeps’ clothing, in their hearts they think with Arius, after the manner of the devil, who is the author of all heresies. For he too made use of the words of Scripture, but was put to silence by our Saviour. For if he had indeed meant them as he used them, he would not have fallen from heaven; but now having fallen through his pride, he artfully dissembles in his speech, and oftentimes maliciously endeavours to lead men astray by the subtleties and sophistries of the Gentiles.

Had these expositions of theirs proceeded from the orthodox, from such as the great Confessor Hosius, and Maximinus [1197] of Gaul, or his successor [1198] , or from such as Philogonius and Eustathius [1199] , Bishops of the East [1200] , or Julius and Liberius of Rome, or Cyriacus of Moesia [1201] , or Pistus and Aristaeus of Greece, or Silvester and Protogenes of Dacia, or Leontius and Eupsychius of Cappadocia, or Caecilianus of Africa, or Eustorgius of Italy, or Capito of Sicily, or Macarius of Jerusalem, or Alexander of Constantinople, or Paederos of Heraclea, or those great Bishops Meletius, Basil, and Longianus, and the rest from Armenia and Pontus, or Lupus and Amphion from Cilicia, or James [1202] and the rest from Mesopotamia, or our own blessed Alexander, with others of the same opinions as these;–there would then have been nothing to suspect in their statements, for the character of apostolical men is sincere and incapable of fraud.

[1197] Supr. Apol. Ar. 50.

[1198] Paulinus of Treveri, cf. supr. p. 130, note 10.

[1199] At Nicaea, as most of the others.

[1200] i.e. of Antioch.

[1201] [Unknown.]

9. For such words do but serve as their cloak

But when they proceed from those who are hired to advocate the cause of heresy, and since, according to the divine proverb, ‘The words of the wicked are to lie in wait,’ and ‘The mouth of the wicked poureth out evil things,’ and ‘The counsels of the wicked are deceit [1203] :’ it becomes us to watch and be sober, brethren, as the Lord has said, lest any deception arise from subtlety of speech and craftiness; lest any one come and pretend to say, ‘I preach Christ,’ and after a little while he be found to be Antichrist.

These indeed are Antichrists, whosoever come to you in the cause of the Arian madness. For what defect is there among you, that any one need to come to you from without? Or, of what do the Churches of Egypt and Libya and Alexandria stand so much in need, that these men should make a purchase [1204] of the Episcopate instead of wood and goods, and intrude into Churches which do not belong to them? Who is not aware, who does not perceive clearly, that they do all this in order to support their impiety? Wherefore although they should make themselves dumb, or although they should bind on their garments larger borders than the Pharisees, and pour themselves forth in long speeches, and practise the tones of their voice [1205] , they ought not to be believed; for it is not the mode of speaking, but the intentions of the heart and a godly conversation that recommend the faithful Christian.

And thus the Sadducees and Herodians, although they have the law in their mouths, were put to rebuke by our Saviour, who said unto them, ‘Ye do err, not knowing the Scriptures, nor the power of God [1206] :’ and all men witnessed the exposure of those who pretended to quote the words of the Law, as being in their minds heretics and enemies of God [1207] . Others indeed they deceived by these professions, but when our Lord became man they were not able to deceive Him; ‘for the Word was made Flesh,’ who ‘knoweth the thoughts of men that they are vain.’ Thus He exposed the carping of the Jews, saying, ‘If God were your Father, ye would love Me, for I proceeded forth from the Father, and am come to you [1208] .’ In like manner these men seem now to act; for they disguise their real sentiments, and then make use of the language of Scripture for their writings, which they hold forth as a bait for the ignorant, that they may inveigle them into their own wickedness.

[1203] Prov. xii. 6; xv. 28; xii. 5.

[1204] Ap. ad Const. S:28. Hist. Arian. S:73, supr.

[1205] Vid. Basil. Ep. 223. 3.

[1206] Matt. xxii. 29.

[1207] theomachoi

[1208] John i. 14; Ps. xciv. 11; John viii. 43, heko, vid. Hipp. contr. Noet. 16. and de Syn. 16.

10. They ought first to condemn Arius, if they are to be heard

Consider, whether this be not so. If, when there is no reason for their doing so, they write confessions of faith, it is a superfluous, and perhaps also a mischievous proceeding, because, when there is no enquiry, they offer occasion for controversy of words, and unsettle the simple hearts of the brethren, disseminating among them such notions as have never entered into their minds.

And if they are attempting to write a defence of themselves in regard to the Arian heresy, they ought first to have removed the seeds of those evils which have sprung up, and to have proscribed those who produced them, and then in the room of former statements to set forth others which are sound; or else let them openly vindicate the opinions of Arius, that they may no longer covertly but openly shew themselves enemies of Christ, and that all men may fly from them as from the face of a serpent.

But now they keep back those opinions, and for a pretence write on other matters; just as if a surgeon, when summoned to attend a person wounded and suffering, should upon coming in to him say not a word concerning his wounds, but proceed to discourse about his sound limbs. Such an one would be chargeable with utter stupidity, for saying nothing on the matter for which he came, but discoursing on those other points in which he was not needed.

Yet just in the same manner these men omit those matters which concern their heresy, and take upon themselves to write on other subjects; whereas if they had any regard for the Faith, or any love for Christ, they ought first to have removed out of the way those blasphemous expressions uttered against Him, and then in the room of them to speak and to write the sound words. But this they neither do themselves, nor permit those that desire to do so, whether it be from ignorance, or through craft and artifice.

11. No profit to do right in one way, if we do wrong in another

If they do this from ignorance they must be charged with rashness, because they affirm positively concerning things that they know not; but if they dissemble knowingly, their condemnation is the greater, because while they overlook nothing in consulting for their own interests, in writing about faith in our Lord they make a mockery, and do anything rather than speak the truth; they keep back those particulars respecting which their heresy is accused, and merely bring forward the language of the Scriptures.

Now this is a manifest theft of the truth, and a practice full of all iniquity; and so I am sure your piety will readily perceive it to be from the following illustrations. No person being accused of adultery defends himself as innocent of theft; nor would any one in prosecuting a charge of murder suffer the accused parties to defend themselves by saying, ‘We have not committed perjury, but have preserved the deposit which was entrusted to us.’

This would be mere child’s play, instead of a refutation of the charge and a demonstration of the truth. For what has murder to do with a deposit, or adultery with theft? The vices are indeed related to each other as proceeding from the same heart; yet in respect to the refutation of an alleged offence, they have no connection with each other. Accordingly as it is written in the Book of Joshua [1209] the son of Nun, when Achan was charged with theft, he did not excuse himself with the plea of his zeal in the wars; but being convicted of the offence was stoned by all the people. And when Saul was charged with negligence and a breach of the law, he did not benefit his cause by alleging his conduct on other matters [1210] .

For a defence on one count will not operate to obtain an acquittal on another count; but if all things should be done according to law and justice, a man must defend himself in those particulars wherein he is accused, and must either disprove the past, or else confess it with the promise that he will desist, and do so no more. But if he is guilty of the crime, and will not confess, but in order to conceal the truth speaks on other points instead of the one in question, he shews plainly that he has acted amiss, nay, and is conscious of his delinquency. But what need of many words, seeing that these persons are themselves accusers of the Arian heresy?

For since they have not the boldness to speak out, but conceal their blasphemous expressions, it is plain that they know that this heresy is separate and alien from the truth. But since they themselves conceal it and are afraid to speak, it is necessary for me to strip off the veil from their impiety, and to expose the heresy to public view, knowing as I do the statements which Arius and his fellows formerly made, and how they were cast out of the Church, and degraded from the Clergy. But here first I ask for pardon [1211] of the foul words which I am about to produce, since I use them, not because I thus think, but in order to convict the heretics.

[1209] Josh. vii. 20, & c.

[1210] 1 Sam. xv.

[1211] Cf. Orat. i. S:25 note.

[almaasi]

reaction post typed while watching SPN 13x22 “Exodus”

“WATCH THIS SHOW” they said. “IT’LL BE FUN” they said. cue me being very stressed out for two hours straight

02:38pm

am i looking forward to this, with absolute confidence that nothing terrible and unfortunate will happen because it’s the deadly duo writing this and it’s near the end of the season and last episode was the whiplashiest of whiplashes? NOPE

am i gonna watch it anyway? .......yeah

hopes: nobody we care about dies

-

02:43

I DID NOT WANT THIS RECAP

SAMMY DID NOT DESERVE THAT

but also i still haven’t seen a captioned giftset of the moment cas said to dean “dean, he’s gone, we can’t save him”

‘cause wow as far as destiel moments go, that’s a heck of a lot of trust for dean, and a heck of a lot of concern and care on cas’ part

-

02:46

lucifer: your name is jack

jack: and yours is lucifer

i don’t even know why i laughed but i did??? i don’t think that was meant to be funny

-

02:48

lucifer: don’t you think that’s his choice?

cas: no

the abusive dad vs protective family saga continues

-

also i just realised for MONTHS/years? i’ve been using the 24-hour clock on my laptop and didn’t even notice how much i didn’t like it until just now, and i just changed it, and AAH THIS IS BETTER IT SAYS 02:49 INSTEAD OF 14:49 AND I DON’T ACCIDENTALLY TYPE 4:49 WHEN WRITING THESE POSTS

-

actually in terms of abusive parents vs protective families (expanding on what i said last week), i kinda feel like right now the writers are kinda toning down how bad it can be. lucifer’s so chill about this, kinda, and i’ve known families whose estranged parent is almost a perfect match for lucifer’s behaviour here:

they’ll offer the kid an incredible gift without telling the other parent(s), something the kid can’t refuse because of how badly they want/need it, and the parents can’t refuse without being the bad guy(s), and the whole family then becomes eternally indebted to the abusive parent and is obliged to give them money/time/rights with their child, with the threat of violence, property destroyed, access to said property removed, or instigated legal proceedings if they refuse.

plus the kid is often too young or innocent to understand, they just see an extra parent who gives them nice things, and for a kid from a broken home with not enough to go around, they don’t see the downside, and they maybe never see the threat their parents are under. or they’re physically or mentally abused by their parent(s), but think it’s okay because the parent(s) “apologises” or bribes them with nice things. or if the protective parent(s) try and keep them away from the abusive parent, the kid sees themselves as being deprived of that parent’s love

long story short, people can be shitty, and lucifer probably has the potential to be much worse than just standing around and having a casual discussion

i feel like the extended winchester family verbally defending jack is not gonna be enough, and lucifer’s gonna wanna take back sam, and destroy more while he’s at it

like an “if i can’t have it, nobody can have it” sort of thing

-

03:03

eyyy felicia day is in the credits

-

03:04

hug!!!!!!!!!!!

nawww the lil tiny nuzzle dean does with his chin before pulling away

-

03:07

YEAH MARY YOU PUNCH THE DEVIL IN THE FACE

!!!

AGAIN!!!

cas kinda looked like he was expecting that

-

03:09

i was busy admiring how mary’s hair was perfectly curly 

and then by the next shot it was all limp and sad

if the weather was humid i guess it melted the curl between takes

-

but also MARY WHAT THE HELL

YOU DON’T WANNA ABANDON ALL THE PEOPLE IN THE AU

BUT WHAT ABOUT YOUR SMOL NEEDY HERO CHILDREN

??????

i mean i get it bUT ALSO NO I DON’T

-

also my face is >:| because they cut to cas and lucifer in the middle of mary and dean having a super important conversation

usually it’s not jarring but THAT WAS JARRING

eehh the deadly duo trademark is all over this

-

03:15

sam: mom doesn’t wanna leave these people.

sam: ...

sam: so let’s take ‘em with us

YEAH NOW THAT’S A PLAN

MUCH BETTER

take charlie and bobby too okay please

..........aw man now i said that, i get the terrible feeling that one or both of them is gonna go out in a blaze of glory instead, or stay on the sinking ship for no good reason other than because the writers don’t know what else to do with them

edit: i mean there’s still next episode.... (best case, they all survive and get storylines next season)

-

03:20

see all the stuff lucifer is telling jack is true, and it does remove the blame from the CONCEPT of lucifer

but the personality is lucifer is BAD AND ABUSIVE

like you don’t have to commit horrible crimes to be a bad person to be around

he corrupts the will of others, he tortures them emotionally, he manipulates them

none of those things are first-degree murder, or the great oppression of the entire human race, but they are Bad Things For A Father To Be

-

03:23

lucifer: i have done bad things, but i just want the opportunity to get better. doesn’t everybody? don’t you?

i actually feel sick ‘cause this is sooooooo very very dangerous

cas was right, talking to lucifer is bad

yeah, he says all the right things. anyone could give him the benefit of the doubt, and perhaps say sure, lucifer’s changed ‘cause he has a kid now, but he PROVED in bringing sam back to life that he hasn’t changed

and not just because of the “i’mma bring jack a gift he can’t refuse thing”, but the “i’mma kill sam again if he doesn’t agree to this” thing

lucifer is a manipulative, blackmailing, flaming trash baby and jack needs better. lucifer might treat jack himself with genuine love, but he’ll destroy everyone and everything around him in doing so

-

03:28

also? i relate so hard to the fact dean, sam, and cas all see and know the real lucifer, and lucifer’s putting on a show for jack

i think the people i’ve personally felt the least safe around in the past, especially growing up, are the people who are perfectly sweet when you’re in company and then become bullies as soon as the adults/parents/protectors are out of earshot

and there’s no way to prove to your protectors that you’re being hurt because all they see is “a nice person” or “ohh they’re such a sweetie”

i mean it’s the other way around for team free will and jack, where tfw see the real thing and jack sees the perfect angel but yeah

-

03:42

ketch: take the b&o railroad......straight to hell

good line tbh

-

03:43

angel to ketch: i’ve sent for an expert in these matters

probably gonna be other ketch

-

03:44

WHOA DARK CAS

WAY BETTER

he has a twitchy hamster face

where does misha get these ideas

i kinda wanna draw whiskers on dark!cas ???

-

03:46

THE FACT DEAN CAN GIVE CAS INSTRUCTIONS JUST BY FLUTTERING HIS EYELASHES

and the way he moves his eyes is so soft and gentle and subtle too

it makes my heart feel a thing tbh

even though cas is torturing someone

ugh nonverbal communication is so sexy

-

03:52

DARK CAS IS GERMAN ?????

and there’s........something misha-like in his smile?? that’s weird

-

03:54

I AM INTENSELY UNCOMFORTABLE

his two different eyes are cool though

maybe it’s just a trick of the light, or a very subtle contact lens

-

03:55

fuck yeah that coat

but why is he german, other than clearly being a nazi-inspired character

-

is it just me or is this legitimately the scariest of all misha’s characters

i want to run away and hide

-

actually i kinda wanna cry

-

03:59

that’s better

GOOD CAS, PLZ DESTROY NAZI CAS

-

04:02

ketch: “well helloo~”

ketch: “are you... actually saving me? about bloody time”

gayyyyyyyy

biiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii

also maybe definitely a destiel parallel from that time cas beat dean up to stop him saying yes to micheal

-

04:05

um?????

that smile when real!cas dragged the blade down dark!cas throat ?????

-

04:08

jack’s like LET ME DO THE THING EVERYONE’S BEEN TRYING TO DO FOR MONTHS/YEARS

IN ONE HOUR

-

04:11

fuck yeah mary

lookin all swish at the back of the war bus

-

04:12

????????????????????

??????????????????????????????????

hOW DID THEY GET THE BUS THROUGH THE TUNNEL THAT HAD THE VAMPIRES IN

DID THEY TAKE THE MOUNTAIN ROUTE THAT WOULD’VE TAKEN SEVERAL DAYS???

WHAT???????????????????

-

04:16

MY HEART IS POUNDING

C’MON EVERYONE YOU CAN DO IT!!!!

-

04:17

mary, bobby, ketch, charlie, jack are safe!!!! SAVE EVERYONE!!! QUICK QUICK

NOBODY LEFT BEHIND PLEASE

except lucifer maybe

except that would probably be bad in the long run

-

CAS IS SAFE

YAH C;MON!!!!!!!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH I’M SO STRESSED RN

fuckin feel like i’m trying to pull ducklings one by one through a fence before a dog gets them FUCK

/sobs to self

-

04:19

I;M GONBA HEVA FUCKING HEART ATACK FUHF

-

04:20

WHY IS IT ALWAYS THE BLACK GUY

DO THESE WRITERS LIKE.. HAVE A FETISH FOR DEAD BLACK PEOPLE

WHAT THE FUCK IS THEIR PROBLEM

AND THE CAMERA ALWAYS LINGERS MORE WHEN IT’S THESE WRITERS I’M PRETTY SURE??? someone do a test, go find all the dead black people and check which writers/editors/directors leave the camera lingering for longest

istg these writers do it more often and for longer

-

04:24

aw MAAAAN :C

dean’s “gaBE nO” though. :c :c :c

-

04:26

everyone except gabe :c :c :c

(and no lucifer...........like i said, great now, baaaaaad in the long run)

-

04:29

nobody mentions cas but he’s still there, looking all pretty and being a good, wholesome bean

-

04:30

:C

-

04:30

SEE? BAD

VERY BAD

-

04:33pm

it ends

ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh man that was 

........a lot

overall a good ‘un but STILL VERY STRESSFUL

i need a nice calming shower after that, i smell like !!!!!anxiety!!!!

9/10, loses a point JUST BECAUSE OF HOW STRESSFUL IT WAS TO WATCH. THIS WAS NOT FUN AT ALL

BUT STILL GOOD??

I DUNNO MAN I JUST WANT A SHOW WITH THESE EXACT CHARACTERS JUST HANGING AROUND AND BEING NICE TO EACH OTHER AND FALLING IN LOVE AND HEALING EACH OTHER EMOTIONALLY AND PHYSICALLY AND BAKING CAKES AND RAISING CHILDREN

to be fair though, my endless almost-what-i-wanted-but-not-quite dissatisfaction with this show keeps driving me to write 81+ fanfics where nice things happen 

so

win-win????

but this show would still be better with dean/cas cuddles let’s be real

[dreamsofpilots]

Horns Pt. 3

Josh Dun x Reader

Tyler Joseph, Brendon Urie, Barns Courtney

Josh tries to heal, but what is that figure lurking in the shadows?

Warnings: Demons, Hellhounds, mentions of blood, cursing

AN: Hey guys, sorry this took me so long to write. I’m coming out of probably the worst depressive episode that I’ve ever experienced. But here it is now, enjoy. Since you’ve been so patient, it’s a bit long to keep you satisfied. Don't be afraid to like/comment.

A log shifted in the fireplace, causing sparks to flare up and wash the living room in an eerie glow. Hound yawned, letting out a slight whine, before licking Josh’s wounded leg again. 

He still hadn't woken up, but at least I was able to stop the bleeding and stich up the wound in his thigh. Plus, with the added help of Hound’s saliva, the venom had virtually disappeared from his system. At least I hoped so. 

It was all my fault that Josh was in this condition, and it bothered me to no end that I was upset about this. When I had first met the rancher, I had every intention to kill him if he got in my way. Now-

I sighed, looking over at him. Sweat glistened on his brow and his dark hair clung to it in wet clumps. I stood and went to the kitchen to grab a towel before returning to his side. He stirred slightly as I mopped at his forehead, small grunts of pain escaping from him. 

“Josh?” I asked softly, not wanting to startle him. He groaned a little, throwing his head to the side but still keeping his eyes tightly shut. Something unpleasant twisted inside of me. “Josh, hey, wake up.”

Slowly, almost excruciatingly so, his eyes opened. They looked wildly about the darkened room before landing on me. They were clouded with pain and lacked the look of focus as he stared at me. “How are you feeling?” I asked hesitantly. 

Josh seemed to snap to the present moment at my question, his eyes opening wide in fear. He jerked upright and attempted to scooch away from me before the pain in the leg stopped him in his tracks. 

“Josh, relax. You’re going to open up your stitches.”

I placed my hand on his leg to inspect said stiches before he swatted at me. 

“Don’t touch me!” he yelled, his voice raspy. “Don’t you dare touch me, demon!”

I recoiled. He didn’t hit me, but he might as well have. His words stung like a slap to the face. “What? Should I have let you die out there then? Let the hellhound venom take your body right there in the desert? That is if you hadn’t bled out first.” 

I stood, turning my back to him as I gazed into the fire. Hound whined, and I heard the distinct sound of licking as he probably tended to Josh’s wound again. The room was quiet for a while, nothing but the sound of the wood crackling in the flames. Heat flared on my cheeks, but it had nothing to do with the fire. 

It was shame. I actually felt ashamed for what I was for once. A demon. A creature of Hell. Not good for anything but pain, deceit, and mayhem. I’m sure that’s all Josh sees me as now. 

Josh grunted in pain as he shifted on the couch behind me. “Thank you,” he whispered. He was so quiet I first thought that I imagined it. 

“What?” I said rather sharply, spinning to pin my eyes on him.

Josh scowled, looking away from me in disgust. “I said, thank you.” 

I scoffed, lowering myself in a mock bow. “At your service.” Crossing my arms I began pacing in front of him, his eyes following my every move. “You’re lucky that the cure to hellhound venom is antibodies that are in hellhound saliva. The beasts are both a sickness and a cure. Perfect for torture.” 

Josh stared hard down at his lap, lost in deep contemplation. Assuming I would get no more from him, I motioned for Hound to follow me as I stepped toward the spare room. 

“I want you to leave,” came a small voice from the couch.

“What?” I demanded. 

He turned his head to fix me with a glare, “You need to leave.” 

Stunned, I stood quietly for a moment, staring back at this human. Rolling back my shoulders and straightening myself to my full height I retorted, “Without me you would be dead.”

“If it wasn't for you, I wouldn’t be in this position in the first place!” Josh shouted. He attempted to stand, failing miserably as the pain in his leg seized him and he fell to the ground. I rushed to his side, attempting to help him up. He shook me off with an angry huff before plopping back onto the couch. 

“Why did you even come here? You’ve brought nothing but problems!”

On reflex, I drew my demon blade from my boot, pressing the cool metal against Josh’s throat. His adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, his eyes widening. 

“None of that matters now,” I hissed. “You’re injured and at risk of being held hostage to get to me now. You have no way to defend yourself against my kind, let alone even take care of your ranch with your leg in that condition.” 

Josh bit back a growl of frustration, shoving me away. He was weak, but I allowed the action. 

“I will stay here with you whether you like it or not. Unfortunately for both of us, your life is my responsibility now, so I will stay and protect you until you get better. Barns will be in no condition to tell anyone where I am yet since you shot him. That should give me about a week to come up with a plan while you recover.” 

Josh glared hard at me, the light from the fire casting menacing shadows across his face. His cheekbones looked sharp and handsome, his eyes dark and intimidating, and his lips... My chest tightened in a way that left me confused. I cleared my throat and tucked my knife away.  

“Get some sleep. You need it.” I walked away before Josh could say anything more, Hound following behind me. 

Sleep did not come easily to me that night. I couldn’t seem to get the image of Josh bleeding out from my mind. His eyes were filled with terror as we raced back to the ranch, and for the first time in what seemed like ages, I felt fear for someone other than myself. 

Once Barns had recovered, I was sure that Tyler would come for me. I had to be ready. I had to find the Colt, and I had to protect Josh. He was right, it was my fault that this was happening to him, and he had almost lost his life. I would not let that happen again. 

The rest of the week had moved by slowly. Manual labor was not something I was entirely familiar with. Unless you counted battling an entire legion of demons just for fun ‘manual labor.‘ Either way, taking care of an entire ranch by yourself, with a grumpy injured cowboy shouting angry slurs at you from the porch whenever you messed up, was not my idea of a good time. 

With Josh indisposed, I couldn’t just let the horses suffer, so I sucked it up and followed his directions. I did take solace in paying special attention to Inferno and Sparrow though. Inferno especially. I was going to miss that horse whenever I returned to my home. 

Josh would watch with vigilant eyes from his rocking chair by the door, his Stetson casting shadows over his face. I would catch him staring at me as I groomed Inferno on a grassy area between the barn and the house. He would always look away quickly when our eyes met, pulling his hat lower, and I would feel myself blush. 

It was getting rather annoying having all these human attributes come out of me since being back on the surface, that was certain. Still, at least there was no sign of any other demons yet, and Josh was slowly able to get around a bit better on his own. 

Slowly being the key description here. 

He wasn’t healing as fast as I would have liked, and I was beginning to worry. Not to mention, it was getting very annoying helping him move around, my arm under his shoulders as we hobbled. He would grumble the entire time, spitting out the word demon every time I came near. 

I was helping him to the kitchen table now, his weight heavy against me when I caught him mumbling, “If it wasn’t for you, I could do it myself like a grown man instead of some baby.” 

I stopped in my tracks, having enough of his ingratitude. He gave me another one of those looks, like I was filthy and a thing to be hated, which yes I know, I am, but I didn’t like seeing it. So I dropped him. I let his ass fall to the hard, wooden floor like a sack of annoying potatoes. 

“Fine!” I shouted. “Feed your damn self then! Take care of your own god dammed ranch! You miserable-” I stormed out before I could say anything else, the screen door slamming behind me with a satisfying bang.

Refusing to let guilt take over me, I saddled up Inferno and took off down the road. I didn’t really know where I was headed, and I didn't really care. 

We rode until sweat foamed on Inferno’s sides, and I was breathless. I pulled back on the reins and slowed him down to a trot, and then to a walk. It wasn’t until I stopped my horse and hopped off, that I realized Hound wasn’t with me. In my furry/urge to run, I went on without him. 

I dropped the reins allowing Inferno to scavenge what vegetation he could from the scorched earth, before pacing around in front of him. 

“Who does that sorry excuse for a cowboy think he is anyway?” I shouted. “More like a  washed up punk rocker with all of those tattoos and piercings, if you ask me.” I stop pacing, placing my hands on my hips as I watched Inferno. The gelding gazed at me with a bored expression, weeds hanging out of his mouth as he chewed. 

“I’m just trying to help him and all he does is yell at me! I should just leave him and let whatever demons come do as they please with him.” I grumble. Inferno snorts as a response.

“What?” 

He just looks at me and stomps his foot, still chewing his food. 

I roll my eyes, “Yes I know all of this is my fault, you don’t need to remind me.” 

Inferno seems satisfied by this and ducks his head again to nibble at some more grass. 

I sigh and plop down onto the ground, plucking absentmindedly at the dry grasses. It’s not like I wanted all of this to get so complicated. Hound and I were supposed to come up here, get the Colt and then be on our merry way to assassinate the devil. I wasn’t supposed to be here for a week and get a human wrapped up in my business. Now, because of me and my enemies, he’s hurt and I’m stuck playing the nanny. 

Inferno snorts again, drawing my attention back to him. I stare into his brown eyes as his soft muzzle munches away. “What do you mean I should tell him about the Colt?” I ask.

Inferno tosses his head in the air in frustration, mane flying and tack jingling. 

I sigh again, “Fine. If you think it will help.” 

I stand from my place on the ground, dusting off my bum, before gathering his reins and hopping back into the saddle. We turn and begin heading back to the house at a quick pace.

When we get back, I don’t see Josh but Hound is waiting for me on the porch. He lopes over to us while I take Inferno into the round pen to cool him down. The beast growls at me half-heartedly, displeased with having been left behind. I scratch behind one of his ears, “Sorry buddy.”

Once Inferno was cooled off, wiped down, and released into the pasture, Hound and I made our way back into the house. Anxious energy whirled in my gut at the thought of coming clean to Josh, but I knew it needed to be done. If I wanted to protect him, I needed him to trust me again, and that started with telling the truth. 

I found him sitting at the kitchen table, both hands cupped around a coffee mug. He didn’t look up as I entered, but pointed to the coffee pot. “There’s more on if you want some,” he said, his tone dry. 

“Thanks,” I said after a moment. I made my way over to the counter and began fixing myself a cup.

“You cooled that horse down right?” Josh’s voice came from behind me.

“Yes.” 

“Did you wipe him and the tack down?”

“Yes.”

“Give him water?”

I tried to keep the irritation out of my voice as I answered again in the affirmative. Josh nodded, seeming satisfied as I sat down across from him at the table.

There was a tense silence between us as we sipped our coffees. I looked out the window and saw Inferno grazing with Sparrow and a few others in the field. Sighing, I worked up the courage to speak to Josh.

“I’m sorry,” I hated that my voice was just above a whisper, as if I was afraid of what this man thought of me. Josh looked up, his steely gaze meeting mine. “I came up here and caused all these problems for you and I’m sorry. None of this was supposed to happen.”

Josh’s gaze softened slightly, but not by much, “What was supposed to happen then?” he asked.

“I told you a little bit about Brendon, right?” I asked, he nodded stiffly. “Well the reason I came to the surface was to find a weapon, the Colt. It’s supposed to have the power to kill anything, even the supernatural.” 

I glanced up to see if Josh was following along. His eyes met mine and there was something within them that I couldn’t quite get a read on. I continued, “Hound thought he smelled it on you, which is why we let you take us here, why I shot your gun that first night. Barns had come to get me and I thought your gun was the Colt. Turns out that it wasn't.”

Josh was quiet for a while, lost in thought. His thumb rubbed along the side of his mug as he stared hard at the table, his dark hair casting shadows across his face. 

I shifted in my seat uncomfortably. “Look, I’m sorry all of this happened to you. When we first met I didn’t care whether you lived or died as long as I got what I needed. But you’ve been kind to me, and you don’t deserve all the terror I’ve brought to your doorstep.” 

Josh scoffs, “You have a strange way of apologizing.” 

I look down, shame coloring my cheeks. It’s something that has been happening a lot recently. Damn these human emotions. “I’m sorry.”

When Josh didn’t say anything else, I risked a glance at him. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I might have an idea about that gun of yours.”

Hound’s ears perked up from where he rested on the floor, and I felt myself straighten. “Oh?”

Josh looked at me, his brown eyes bright with mischief. “My grandpa used to tell me stories about a weapon that sounds like the one you’re talking about. I always chocked it up to old folklore and never paid it much mind, but I think I might know where it is.”

I rose from my chair in an instant, making it screech against the tiled kitchen floor. “Show me.” I demanded. 

Josh raised his hands in defense, “Hang on now. It’s in a cabin way out on the other side of the property. This isn’t a small ranch, need I remind you. It’s going to be dark soon so there’s no point in going now.” When I huffed in frustration and dropped back into my chair he added, “We can go first thing in the morning. We’ll take my truck.” 

I glowered, but nodded my head nonetheless. One more night here couldn’t hurt. At least Josh didn’t look so angry at me anymore. 

When night finally fell, I helped Josh back to his spot on the couch in front of the fireplace. He preferred to sleep out here instead of his room while he was injured. “Helps me keep an eye on things,” he always said. 

So I sat with him for a while, reading while he listened to some music through fancy looking headphones. Every so often he would raise his arms and drum the air, as if he were the one performing the music. It was entertaining to watch, but I had to keep reminding him of his stitches. 

I was still reading something about wild horses, when Josh gave up on his music. He was laid completely flat on the couch, one arm hanging over the edge as he stared into the flames. “What will happen when you kill him?” he asked quietly. 

“Hm?” 

“When you kill the devil- er- Brendon, what’s going to happen after that?” 

I shrugged. “I’ll get my freedom.” 

Josh didn’t look at me, just played with his dark curls, lost in thought. I went back to reading my book figuring he wouldn’t say any more when he piped up again. “But if he isn’t alive to keep control of Hell, who will?” 

I shrugged again, “Hadn’t really thought about it.”

Josh nodded, but I didn’t miss the look of fear in his eyes. 

Sighing, I put my book down and stood. “Look let’s just focus on finding the Colt and you getting better. I can figure out all of the other stuff later. Nothing for a human to worry about.” 

Josh didn’t meet my eyes, his still transfixed on the fireplace. Hound rose to follow after me as I moved to head to my room when Josh’s hand lightly grasped my wrist. “I’m sorry too.”

I stared down at him in surprise. Josh’s brow furrowed and he continued, “I haven’t been very nice to you since finding out about, well, um-” 

I nodded, not needing him to say it to understand. 

“And well, I was wrong. It was wrong of me to treat you that way and say those things. You can’t help what you are, and you’ve been trying to make up for it and, well, I’m sorry.” 

I felt a soft smile glide across my face as I looked down at this man, this beautiful man. I shifted, his grasp on my wrist sliding down so that I was holding his fingers lightly in mine. We shared a look and I felt something pass between us. Trust maybe? I wasn’t sure, but it made something stir in my chest that I couldn’t quite recognize. 

“Get some sleep,” I said, placing Josh’s hand to lay on his stomach. He nodded and closed his eyes. 

Hound and I went to my room, and I cuddled the black beast to my chest tightly, letting confused thoughts and feelings drift around in my head. I stayed like that for what felt like hours, taking comfort in the fur pressed against my cheek. 

I must have eventually drifted off, because I found myself on a road. It was dark and empty. I was surrounded by trees and snow on either side, my breath coming out in frozen clouds.

I spun, searching for Hound or Josh, or maybe even Inferno, anyone really. I was alone though, and the air was quiet, almost too quiet. I felt my heartbeat quicken, something was wrong.

I saw a pair of lights in the distance, then the sound of an engine reached my ears soon after. A car came barreling towards me and yet I couldn’t move my feet. 

“Y/N?” A familiar voice came from behind me. I turned my head but saw no one there. 

“Josh?” I called. 

“Y/N!” his voice shouted, this time from in front of me. 

Josh stood in the middle of the road, wearing ripped clothes that looked like they wouldn't provide any help in keeping out the cold. He shivered, looking around in a daze. Over his shoulder I could see the car coming closer. 

“Josh!” I shouted, “Look out!” 

It was as if he couldn’t hear me. I tried to move closer to him, but my feet remained planted firmly on the road. 

The car was mere seconds away from hitting him now. A scream ripped from my lungs and yet Josh still did not move. I looked away, waiting for the crash, the blood, anything. But when I opened my eyes, all I saw was fire. 

The car was a pile of burning metal, flames reaching high into the sky, smoke billowing into the clouds. I saw a figure move, his face shadowed by smoke. I called out for Josh once more, but was only met with silence. Silence, and red piercing eyes. 

I woke with a start. Hound licked at my face worriedly, a rumbling growl coming from deep within his chest. 

“It’s okay, it was just a dream.” I patted his head, watching as my fingers got lost in his dark fur as I tried to slow my breathing. A shadow moved in my peripherals, and Hound growled again, this time in warning.

The shadow shifted again and my gaze shot up to look at it. Nothing was there. I slowly reached under my pillow feeling for the familiar metal of my demon blade. Again something shifted in the corner of my eye, and when I looked, all I caught was a flash of red. 

“Oh no.” I whispered. It couldn't be, not yet. He couldn't be here. 

I heard the creak of a floorboard outside my room and I jumped to my feet, blade in hand. Hound jumped beside me, his hackles raised and his own red eyes flashing. 

Slowly, we crept to the door. Fear boiled within me, but I let out a quiet breath, trying to steady myself. I opened the door to the little hallway that led into the living room. It was dark and chilly, meaning the fire had long since gone out. 

I didn’t dare speak, I didn’t dare breathe, not if he was here. The air felt charged with a negative energy. It pulsated against my skin and I felt every hair on my body raise in fear. Fear for myself, and fear for Josh. 

I heard a yelp come from the living room. Losing all concern for myself, I ran into the room and my heart immediately froze in my chest. 

Josh stood with a blade to his throat, his arms held behind him at an awkward angle, and all his weight resting on his uninjured leg and his other was held out slightly. Behind him, stood my nightmares incarnate, with a cool expression on his face.

“Tyler.” 

The demon chuckled, pressing his cheek against Josh’s, who struggled against him. “My, my, what a pretty plaything you’ve found for me Y/N.” 

“Let Josh go.” I demanded, my grip so tight on my blade that my fingers went numb. 

Tyler tsked, his red eyes meeting my black ones. “Well if I did that, it would take all the fun out of it. Wouldn’t it Joshie?” Josh grunted as Tyler’ demon blade pressed closer to the sensitive skin of his throat. 

“Let him go and I’ll come with you. I won’t put up a fight.” My voice shook, and I hated myself for it. 

A wide grin sliced across Tyler’s face, cracking it in half. “Mmm but the struggle is half the fun.” Josh’s eyes filed with horror and they locked onto mine, pleading.

I dropped my blade and raised my hands, which made Hound growl ferociously. “Please Tyler.”

The demon cackled, “I like you begging. It suits that pretty face of yours. Brendon will like this new you.” 

I shuddered. Tyler’s voice was soft and sweet, the complete opposite of the type of demon he was. 

Tyler drew the blade across Josh’s throat, just enough to draw blood. Josh grunted in pain and my heart quickened in my chest. “Please Tyler, just let him go!” I was beginning to sound like a broken record. 

Tyler tilted his head, studying me in an almost unnatural way. It sent my nerves on edge. “You want your boy-toy back?” he chuckled. “Then first,” his red eyes flashed menacingly-

”you’ll have to come and find me.”

I leaped forward, a shout of, “No” on my lips. But Tyler and Josh burst into a cloud of smoke before I could reach them. Then, they were gone. 

Josh was gone. 

[toyfrog]

Did Donald say this in Esteban too?

Cooper: The meeting is set for the National Museum.

In 04-09 there’s another museum location

You’ll be going to Cuba undercover, as tourists.

Samar: He’ll be going. Not me. You may be fine with doing this job, no matter how you feel. I can’t.

“No matter how you feel.”

That’s the emphasis.

Ressler: How you feel? How about how Keen feels? Forget about what she did and try to figure out why she did it.

“Try to figure out why she did it.”

Liz is his partner. Liz comes first before the job. The job is the excuse to defend Liz.

Even though she lied to him. Used him. Took advantage of him the man is joyous and livid all at the same time.

Is he still livid now? Or might he do something to prevent Keen from ever leaving him again?

Samar: I have, and someday, maybe I’ll be okay with it.

That’s Thursday.

But right now I’m not.

What? You’re okay with this?

No. But for now, I accept it. You’ll be going alone.

Till he gets his real partner back.

Esteban: The Americans want me dead, so our relationship dies with me, so I get embarrassed.

Ressler: Look, I’m not here to kill you, pal, I’m here to tell you that Raymond Reddington wants to see you.

Stewmaker: “I’m not the guy you kill I’m the guy you pay.”

Esteban: Oh, so now the US government is Reddington’s messenger.

Yes.

Ressler: Oh, you know how it works. The American government has deals with all kinds of scumbags.

Plot point.

Liz: I faked my death to have a normal life. There’s nothing normal about being held prisoner.

Kirk: A temporary inconvenience. You’ll see in time that the normal life you want, I’m the only one who can give that to you.

Did this play out? Is he talking about the house and money?

Ressler: We have an ETA on that plane? There it's is! Go back to 318 what did "Tom" say after Liz water broke? "What's our ETA?" This is Bokenkamp and Eisendrath this is what Ressler says for the past 4 years in dialogue. Not Tom and not last season until THAT episode whenLiz gave birth.?

Red: Your job here is done, Donald.

Ressler: Like hell it is. [there it is again. In 3/18 only Tom said it.] [the cruelty and deliberate how should I say it, endless water boarding to a faithful audience is sick. And they really don't deserve the amazing cast they have, fans, and writers.] of 3B I came here to get Keen. I’m not leaving without her.

Red: You think I’m gonna let you tag along so you can inform the people who kidnapped Elizabeth they have the right to remain silent? I appreciate your assistance, but I’m not interested in having an ethical debate with you about whether they have the right to consult with an attorney before I put a bullet in their head. Excuse me. [ Door bell jingles ]

He didn’t kill Kirk.

What about that dirtball? I suppose you think, uh, I should be okay with letting him walk. It’s entirely up to you. You made a deal with him. Yes, in order to save Elizabeth, I made a deal with the devil of the day. I did you didn’t.

It was a charade, Aram.

Or as Red stated in 3/17 to Donald, an elaborate feint.

So Agent Keen is alive?

“Agent”

Reddington. Where are you? Tell me you have Agent Keen.

“Agent”

Red: You spent a lifetime bouncing from one authoritarian regime to the next. But this is the last stop. You’re a relic. The detente between America and Cuba makes you a man without a country. Sooner or later, both sides will want you dead. My money’s on sooner. [Red has no country]

Panabaker: You told them he worked for us? Do you have any idea what kind of blowback I’m dealing with here? And it doesn’t take long to find out who told the Cubans.

Ressler: I heard it was an anonymous tip.

Agent Ressler… Are you a traitor or– or just a moron?

You’ll find out on Thursday. Notice the red parallels? A man without a country.

Ressler: Look, the Agency was gonna assassinate Esteban… I have no direct knowledge– …so the Cubans wouldn’t find out who was feeding secrets to the CIA. [whos feeding???]

Ressler: Whoever this anonymous source is, he just saved a lot of lives. [Reddington]

Panabaker??? What are you talking about? Now that America knows about Esteban’s little torture chamber, the Cubans are going to want plausible deniability.

Panabaker: Let’s not mince words. You took it upon yourself to tell the Cubans about our–

Ressler: No, I took it upon myself to stop what Esteban was doing. Do you have any idea what that was? No, because all you care about is what Esteban was doing for you. [Ressler broke the rules]

Panabaker: There are bigger issues, Agent Ressler.

Ressler: Torture, abuse, murder. I don’t see any bigger issues than that. [Foreshadowing.]

Aram: Excuse me. Navabi: Have you heard from Reddington? No. Uh, last time I spoke to him, he was on his way to the location where Agent Keen was being held. I’m sure he’ll call. I’m sure they’re okay

Aram: . I think you were wrong not going to Cuba. I’m not saying what Agent Keen did was right, but as long as her life is in danger, as long as Agnes’s life is in danger, I think we have to put our feelings aside.

Samar: What’s happening to Liz is her own fault. I know that sounds harsh, but it’s true.

Hell yes! Audience took Samar’s side in this too.

Oh Donald Donald…

Let’s see what JR Orci wrote in Mato:

Tom: You have nothing to apologize for. You tried to help us find a normal life. I’d take that risk again.

I will guess here this led to the Keen 2 screamfest? Trust me. He’s going to be stupid again. And liz will go off again.

Liz is a fugitive?

If you don’t mind me asking, who’s on the plane? Ressler: Friend.

Samar: A fugitive.

Daly: Sounds complicated.

Sounds like their ONS is coming out.

Aram I guess??? I know this is not about me, it is about Agent Keen, but I don’t know if I have the strength to lose her again.

Who said this? None of us do.

It’s plot point.

Okay go back to lady Ambrosia and the story about liz’ parents collapse of the Soviet Union (Red took Liz after she was born. Cape May “there was a man. He wouldn’t let me see her.”

Now this:

Kate: I betrayed you for the same reason I just betrayed Nikos– to keep Elizabeth safe, just like you asked me to all those years ago, when you first put her in my arms as a baby girl, only now she has a baby girl of her own, and your existence in their lives puts them in constant danger.

Liz was an infant. Red stole his child because legally he could not claim her as his own. (I knew this was what went down! Who is reading slowburn fix? I’m revealing this now! Carla Reddington, and Jennifer and Elizabeth.

Then it was Katarina Red and Masha.

After that it was Katarina Kirk and Masha because red was married to Carla with Jennifer.

Red has two daughters. They need to go back to this. Red had two wives two families one in Moscow one in the states. Two identities. The Fulcrum was to keep him safe so he wouldn’t be a double agent–he’d have protection. Treason a man without country.

Kate helped him through all of it. Now is Kate a colleague or a relative?

Kate: Everyone wants me to make things easier for them. Cleaner. That’s what I am, after all, the Cleaner.

Tom: Just forget I brought it up. Typical selfish prick

Kate: In my desire to make life easier for your baby, I betrayed Raymond, and now he doesn’t know what to do with me. Well, he knows what he has to do, and he wants me to make it easier for him. But I won’t. I’m not here to make him feel better, and I’m not here to make you feel better, Tom.

Unforgiving dialogue. Accountability for actions.

Kirk said they’re going to the Summer Palace. That’s all I know.

Red: Yes. I know the Summer Palace.

Sure he does. He used to play house with Katarina when Constantin was gone. That’s why Liz stuff is there. But that’s not the house he was shot in. He blew up that house in S1.

Kirk: It’s yours. It belongs to you and Agnes, of course. It’s a lovely location to raise a little girl, don’t you think?

Liz gonna get to keep this house?

The armed goons don’t do much for the landscape. Well, the coercion was necessary and temporary. All I ever intended to do was show you, prove to you who you are, who I am. And then you can choose for yourself. Like a Russian fairy tale.

That’s right. Excuse me, Elizabeth. I have much more to show you, but my physician is waiting for me. Hello, Elizabeth. My name is Katja. You can think of me as the Palace Keeper. Palace? The Summer Palace. It’s what Mr. Kirk calls the cottage. Anything you need during your stay, let me know. [ Telephone rings, beeps ] Director Cooper. Red: I know where Elizabeth is, Harold, where Kirk is taking Agnes.

And Ressler is at this house. Rescuing Liz not Tom Ressler. The same house she lived in for the summers (back nine) that Red also knows.

And it’s all Liz’ and Agnes.

Got it.

Liz: How long have you known him?

I have worked here for nine years. I took over from my mother. She worked my entire childhood maintaining the Summer Palace.

[Foreshadowing for clues in back nine]

So you know him well?

No, actually, I don’t. He hasn’t visited here in years. It’s been… too painful for him. Until now. ♪

This was my bedroom. Welcome home, Masha. ♪ I promised you the truth.

Liz: But… there was a fire. I… I shot my father. I remember.

Yes you shot Red in *his* house. Not this one. Liz lived with Red too.

Kirk: What’s the memory of a small child? You didn’t remember me or your mother or this room.

Reddington lied to you, Masha. He told you your father was dead, but thanks to you– what you did on the water– I’m very much alive. All the stories Reddington’s told you about who he is and his connection to you– he knew you were looking for answers and he took advantage of that to re-enter your life.

True to protect her from Red’s reality. He’s a man with no country. A spy master, killer, who gave up his career for one woman.

Know anyone else who’s on the verge of doing the same thing?

Kirk: Do you know why I call this cottage the Summer Palace? We came here for a vacation one July, and my little princess loved it. It’s been a palace ever since.

One summer that changed everything. She was four-leading up to the horrible fire in December.

She wasn’t at the Summer Palace. She was with her “papa” in the states.

Tom: I’m gonna find her.

No you’re not. Red did. And Orci eliminated Tom from the Summer Palace. Huge deal.

So um do ppl see where the arc is going? Expect a few drop in scenes if they hadn’t happened already.

Read more at: http://transcripts.foreverdreaming.org/viewtopic.php?f=194&t=28691