#hinder-ly humble

[eri-cheshire]

The kind of misunderstanding that I love reading 😂

I need a Misunderstanding trope where Phantom is put with one of the ‘kid’ groups because everyone assumes he’s a teen, but Phantom (he’s, like, 28) thinks he’s just like… co-managing/supervising the group with another Justice League member.

Asked if he’s in school thinking high school? He says yes, thinking of college where he’s going for his graduate degree. His grumbles over homework and time management skills cements it.

ICE contact? Frostbite. Yeah, that’s really his name. (Jazz talked him out of putting her because if it’s an emergency then they likely need medical history and support.) Here’s a device to actually reach him. His parents? Uhhh, nah, I would put my sister second.

It just goes on.

The guy snarks, puns, and throws jokes, clearly up-to-date with internet culture. He’s a casual dude, loves video games, burgers, and space. He’s kinda short and a little lanky, but he’s stupid strong (like he both forgets he is strong and doesn’t know his strength at times).

Phantom’s checking all the boxes as a teen hero both visually and on vibes with the League so they put him there. Danny’s touched that they think he’s responsible enough to put him in charge of the kids, so he does his best.

(Batman finds out about the appointment after it’s approved, but before he says anything he sees how much the teens open up around Phantom and… well… if they didn’t do their homework to see that the Phantom persona has been active for 14 years with pop-ups through history then that’s not really his problem, is it? He might miss that Phantom doesn’t realise this for a while…whoops.)

[aestherin]

privacy

39: kiss them away

NOTES: -> happy 18th my bestie @lady-elodie 🤍 take my humble gift 😔🫶 -> a little heated at the end 👀

Enveloped in the warmth of a cozy sweater and surrounded by the calming scent oozing from a field of lavender — that's how you woke up.

Or not.

As your eyes gradually fluttered open, your consciousness was starting to come back. It was in fact, not a cozy sweater that is enveloping you, but Ayato's arms. The lavender part was, however, partially true.

Only that the calming scent of lavender was not from the flowers themselves, but from the man currently embracing you tightly.

It seems that after your little crying session earlier, you somehow fell asleep. You woke up in a different spot though. You are no longer in that one-seater sofa, but you were now lying down on a totally oversized long couch.

The living room was a slightly dimmer than it used to be, most likely caused by the passing of time. How long were you both out anyway?

Since Ayato is hugging you from behind, you were able to face the coffee table where your phone was. It was a little farther than an arm's length, meaning you had to reach out a little bit using your body to get to it.

You let out a soft grunt while attempting to, but your fingers barely graced your phone when you were pulled back against a certain someone's chest.

"Mm," he groaned, burying his face further into the corner of your neck.

You sighed deeply. Attempted to reach for the phone again.

Failed once more.

You rolled your eyes as you rested. "Ayato, I know you're awake."

There was no response from him, only that he brought you even closer to him, if that was even possible. "Good morning, love."

"Stupid."

"Hmm?"

"It's not morning."

"Oh. What time is it then?"

"I don't know," you huffed. "Maybe if you'd let me get my phone then I could probably check?"

"I don't wanna get up though."

"Then don't? You don't have to get my phone with me."

"I don't want to let go," he whined.

"Clingy," you whispered. "Only for you, love," he declared in a hoarse voice before giving your nape a peck.

It was as if a shiver run down your spine... but in a good way? It was the type of shiver that you want to experience more and more, again and again. The type that you would crave for and endlessly covet.

The type that only Kamisato Ayato could ever make you feel.

You chose to ignore it for now, avoiding the incessant teasing he'd probably give you once he notices his effect on you. This time, as you lifted your back a little in an attempt to get your phone, no obstacles hindered you.

"It's late afternoon now," you told him as you sat up, still with your back facing him. You don't see him get up after you, but you knew that he did based from the little noises he was making.

"I see," his voice still sounded like someone who just woke up. "[Name]?"

At his call, you turned to face him.

And shit.

His clothes, they were now wrinkled. His soft blue hair? Disheveled. His eyes? His damning lavender eyes? Holy archons above. They're indescribable at this point.

You continued to shamelessly gawk at him, subconsciously of course. He was able to let it pass only because he was still out of it at the moment.

If he realized it though...

Maybe he would've already ascended to Celestia by now.

Once you came to, you immediately looked away. "Why did you call me?"

"No reason."

"What?"

He flashed a gentle smile. "I just like how I'd call you and you'd respond immediately."

Ayato did not outright say it. What he really meant by that.

He remembered how you used to not respond to any of his attempts. His messages, his calls, the times he rang your doorbell, his desperate pleas to allow him to at least talk to you.

It was hell.

He knew he deserved it, but it was still hell.

"And your name is heavenly," Ayato added.

"Sweet-talking isn't effective on me," you lied.

"Could've fooled me, love." He leaned closer towards you again, his arms snaked around your waist and his chin resting on your shoulders.

You shifted your focus on your phone in an attempt to distract yourself. It's just that... you didn't expect it to be that distracting.

As you turned on your phone's internet, notifications flooded in nonstop as if they came from a waterfall. Thousands from Facebook, ten thousand from Instagram, and ten times more from Twitter.

Ah, that's right. Right now...

You were still the hot tea of society's party.

You were about to unlock your phone when you heard the fabric of the couch rustling loudly. You felt yourself being the only one weighing the sofa down. "Ayato?" You called.

"Hmm?" The sound came from above you.

As you removed your eyes from your phone, you could spy his feet directly across you. Panning your stare from bottom up, his form was slowly revealed before your eyes.

Ayato was now standing in front of you, in all of his just-woke-up glory. His legs straight, yet his back curved to lean closer to you. Once you met his enticing eyes, as intimidated as you were, you didn't fail to notice the glint of mischief present in them.

You subconsciously pressed your back against the sofa's backrest.

"Oh? It seems I was effective in taking your attention away from your phone." Triumph was evident in his tone.

He advanced further.

He spared a glance at the thing you were still holding for a second, then back at you. "Love... let's stop minding others anymore."

At this, you let out a sound of confusion. He looked away from you as he gently got ahold of some of your locks and began twisting them slowly.

"Let's just live for ourselves now."

"..."

He flashed a warm smile, now meeting your eyes once more.

"Our job is to act out dramas, not the public's fantasies and demands." You felt a palm cup your cheek. "Our occupations are being actors and actresses —"

He gave the crown of your head a soft peck.

"— not being puppets."

He didn't have to say it.

You knew. You reflected on that earlier. You let people you don't even know affect you, and where did that get you?

You were miserable without him. What more do you need to know?

There was no convincing needed.

He didn't even have to try.

You were already prepared to take another risk with him when you let him be near you once again. Only this time, it was a risk not fabricated by lies and seemingly-feigned affection.

It is a risk with no more reservations, only sincerity.

"And if I see negative feedbacks again then what?" You faked a pout.

"Those weren't feedbacks, [Name]," Ayato frowned. "Those were full on hateful and malicious comments. They should be banned. Honestly, they are punishable by the law. Hmm, what repercussions are there? I have a lawyer friend —" he started blabbering.

You chuckled. He's so cute.

The noise you let out made Ayato halt with his ceaseless uttering. At that moment, he wanted to hear you. And only you.

Your gleeful sounds were pleasant to his ears, and it hit all the right places in his heart. It was even better than when he found the perfect song to vibe to while boosting his self-esteem.

Yes, even he has moments when he needs to boost his self-esteem. He's not oozing with confidence 24/7, you know?

"Okay, okay. Then what if I get hateful or malicious comments again?" You were smiling when you said that, which let Ayato feel somewhat relieved. 'So this was a light-hearted conversation,' he thought.

"Then —"

As if on cue, the device on your hand started buzzing nonstop again due to the flooding notifications.

However, this time, instead of merely sparing it a glance, Ayato picked it up, snatched it, and threw it away, having it land somewhere in the huge couch.

"Then I'll just have to kiss them away."

You laughed even more. "You think your kiss is enough?"

He hummed.

"Liar."

"You dont believe me?"

You smiled as you shook your head.

"I'll just have to prove it then."

His lips crashed against yours.

It would be naive of you to assume that it would start gently. Given the teasing that came beforehand? Given how much you both missed each other? Given how much the two of you desire one another?

No fucking way.

You don't know how he managed to do it in such an inconventional position, but everything felt sensational, rapturous. Is this what people consider cloud nine?

His hot skin, his hand on your cheek, the other on your neck. His overwhelming scent, the feeling of his locks falling against your face — it tickles, yet you cannot even think of letting out a small laugh.

You feel hot. All over. Nonstop contact of your skin against his gave off burning sensations. Even worse, you felt heat seething from your insides as well. Everywhere. Your gut, your lungs, your face.

You were sure it was flushed deep red.

The two of you busied yourselves quenching your thirsts, not permitting the other to be dehydrated and depraved of the feeling of being satiated. Your touches were desperate, your nails piercing through the fabric of his shirt and onto his skin, and his fussy hands that kept switching spots because he wanted to feel everything all at once.

Memories of previous trysts simultaneously flashed in your mind — but one stood out the most. Back in his penthouse. You and him. In this very same position. The two of you were only supposed to practice kissing, but... it led to a full makeout session.

One like this.

You leaned back even more against the backrest when you felt his knees make a dent on the couch, caging you in even more. At this point, you were almost lying down.

Not that you mind even one bit.

Ayato grinned against your lips when he felt your fingers caress his hair roughly. He eyed your neck next, planning to make it his following target.

And of course, what Ayato wants, Ayato gets.

You gasped at the feel of his lips. "[Name]?" He whispered when he stopped his actions for a splitsecond.

"Hmm?"

"I." A peck.

"Love." A kiss.

"You." His lips went back to yours after his declaration of affection.

You and he went back at it again as if you haven't eaten for days. At this point, Ayato even thought that Maslow would frown on the two of you for messing with his 'Hierarchy of Needs' — both of your needs for love, belonging, and intimacy were already overflowing, overpowering everything else.

Everything else except oxygen, however.

Despite not wanting to, with the lack of breath, you pulled away.

"How was that, love?" Ayato curved his glossed lips playfully.

"You want my rating?"

"Yes."

Ayato suddenly felt your palm cup his jaw. Your hand pulsed as he gulped.

What the fuck was that look you're giving him? You with your sultry, half-lidded eyes, want seeping through. You make it hard for him to resist —

"It's not enough," you whispered, still catching your breath. "I want you -"

You pulled him closer.

"— to keep kissing them away."

Ayato's mind went spiraling at your request.

Fuck, [Name].

He let out a deep breath.

And then a grin.

"As you wish, my lady."

privacy — ayato x reader smau

prev. masterlist. next.

NOTES -> hilig nila sa sofa maglandian 'no? (trans: they really love flirting on the sofa, don't they?) -> also in case yall were confused what im talking about you can refer to ch19 🤍 -> lost my sanity writing this :DD /hj

TAGLIST I (closed) @catsrkool @sukunasrealgf @redactedhimbo @layla240 @mxlkytea13 @itsactuallylina @milza12 @aixaingela @tatiratty @kimiesstuff @laventiseriou @kunihaver @bibisbestgirl @lunaavity @coquettemaiden @opchara @slvdsjjk @cotton-eee @lady-elodie @dearxiiao @wheneverthesunrise @heartswonder @chuduchok @headphonesrlif3 @lleoll @vnderthesunn @lizzardlady1234 @nekogakuro @rifran @atlatcaheart @ani-st @creammpuff @lunastarjay @kittycasie @poisoned-candy-apples @zannivrs @b0bafl0wer @moonlightaangel @elsoleil

[harmonyhealinghub]

What is Coming is Better Than What Has Gone Shaina Tranquilino January 3, 2024

Change is the only constant in life, and as we bid farewell to the past, it's natural to ponder what lies ahead. Whether you're reflecting on personal experiences or considering the state of the world, it's essential to embrace the belief that what is coming is better than what has gone.

Firstly, let's consider our individual lives. We often find ourselves reminiscing about past successes, cherished memories, or even basking in nostalgic moments. While these reflections bring joy and warmth to our hearts, they should not hinder us from looking forward. The future holds endless possibilities for growth, self-improvement, and new adventures. Each passing year brings with it valuable lessons learned, resilience gained, and fresh perspectives acquired. It allows us to build upon previous accomplishments and expand our horizons beyond what we once thought possible. With each day that dawns, we have an opportunity to turn our dreams into reality and create a brighter tomorrow.

Similarly, when examining the broader scope of society, it becomes evident that progress is perpetual. History shows us that humanity has consistently evolved for the betterment of all. Technological advancements continue to revolutionize the way we live and connect with one another. Medical breakthroughs save countless lives every day. Innovations in renewable energy offer hope for a sustainable future. Social movements advocate for equality and justice like never before. Each era builds upon its predecessor by learning from past mistakes and striving towards a more inclusive, prosperous world.

Of course, acknowledging positive changes does not mean ignoring challenges or dismissing difficult times in history. However, dwelling on negativity can prevent us from seeing the incredible potential lying just around the corner. By focusing on what is coming rather than fixating solely on what has gone, we open ourselves up to new opportunities and foster a mindset of optimism.

It's important to remember that change requires effort from individuals like you and me; it doesn't happen magically. We must actively participate in shaping the future we desire by advocating for positive change, being open to learning and growth, and embracing new ideas and perspectives. By doing so, we contribute to a collective momentum that propels us forward towards a brighter, more promising tomorrow.

What is coming is better than what has gone because we have the power to shape our own destinies and make meaningful contributions to society. The past should serve as a guidebook rather than an anchor weighing us down. As we embark on this journey into the unknown, let us carry with us the lessons learned and the wisdom gained from yesteryears. Embrace change, embrace progress, and believe that the best is yet to come.

A Prayer to Ring in the New Year

Dear Universe, As we bid farewell to the year that was, and eagerly welcome a new chapter in our lives, I humbly ask for your divine presence and blessings to guide us towards a joyous New Year. May this prayer reach every soul, filling their hearts with hope and happiness.

Universe, grant us the strength to leave behind any pain or sorrow that the past year may have brought. Help us release any grudges, regrets, or negative energy that weigh us down. Let forgiveness flow effortlessly through our veins, healing wounds both seen and unseen.

May this New Year be a fresh beginning filled with endless possibilities. Let it be a catalyst for personal growth, allowing us to embrace change wholeheartedly. Grant us the courage to step out of our comfort zones, explore new horizons, and embark on exciting adventures.

Universe, bless each one of us with good health - physically, mentally, and emotionally. May our bodies thrive with vitality and resilience as we nurture ourselves with nutritious food, exercise, restful sleep, and self-care practices. Guide our thoughts towards positivity and empower us to overcome any challenges that come our way.

Let love radiate abundantly in our lives throughout this New Year. Help us cherish the relationships we hold dear - family, friends, partners - nurturing them with compassion, understanding, and unconditional support. Allow kindness to prevail in all our interactions as we strive to make this world a better place.

Grant prosperity and abundance in all aspects of our lives. May financial stability manifest for those struggling; may career opportunities flourish for those seeking advancement; may creativity blossom for those pursuing their passions. May we find contentment in simplicity while still aiming for greatness.

Lastly, Universe, shower upon each one of us an unwavering sense of gratitude. Open our eyes to appreciate life's little miracles - the beauty of nature surrounding us, laughter shared amongst loved ones, moments of quiet reflection, and the simple joys that often go unnoticed. May gratitude be our guiding light, reminding us to count our blessings each day.

Dear Universe, as we embark on this new journey called the New Year, may it bring happiness, fulfillment, and endless possibilities for all. May we embrace its challenges with grace and courage, knowing that you are always by our side.

With sincere love and gratitude,

All of us.

[walkswithmyfather]

[This is a long article, but it is well worth reading. 🙂]

“Miracle Prayer - How to Ask God for a Miracle” by Whitney Hopler (Crosswalk)

“Since everything is possible for God, you can experience miracles in your life when you invite God to intervene – even in situations that seem impossible. But too often, people neglect to ask God for miracles in their lives, and end up settling for far less than God’s best for them. Use these prayers for miracles when you're ready to ask God to take over.

You can always approach God with confidence if you trust in His Son, Jesus Christ. So don’t hesitate to pray about anything, including miracles!

1. A Miracle Prayer for the Impossible

Father, I come to you today with faith so small I cannot see a way. I want to believe you are able to do more than I ever imagine. I want to walk by faith and not by sight. God, please bring a miracle into my life. I know that you can do the impossible in my life and I am trusting in your promises. Thank you for being a God who sees and hears my every need. In Jesus' name, amen.

2. A Thankful Miracle Prayer

Heavenly Father, Thank You for answering my prayers and performing miracles in my life every day. Just the fact that I woke up this morning and can take a breath is a gift from You. Help me to never take my health and loved ones for granted. Help me to always stand in faith and keep my focus on You when unexpected circumstances arise. In Jesus’ Name, Amen. ~ Leah DiPascal, Proverbs 31 Ministries

3. A Prayer to Trust When You Need a Miracle

“Dear God, thank you that you love me and want to keep me from depending on other things instead of you. Forgive me for when I’ve depended on my job and other people instead of you. Thank you that you haven’t forgotten me. Lord, the days ahead may be a little scary at times, but I understand now that the path to a miracle is through uncomfortable territory. I understand now that the source of a miracle will be unexpected, so I shouldn’t try to figure it out. I should just trust you. When you tell me what to do, and it doesn’t always make sense, I will still do what you want me to do. Help me to remember that you’re all I need and that where you guide, you’ll provide. I want to learn to trust you one day at a time. I want to go your way, not my way. I want to follow you, and I ask you to save me and come into my life. I claim your promise that if I trust you, you’ll meet my needs. I pray this in Jesus’ name. Amen.” ~ Rick Warren

How to Pray and Ask God for a Miracle: Forget formulas and simply seek God’s presence. There are no magical formulas to use to conjure up miracles. Instead, miracles happen whenever you welcome God’s powerful presence into the situations you face. So don’t worry about trying to pray perfect prayers to convince God to do something miraculous in your life. Simply invite God to work in every situation in which you’re seeking miracles, and trust Him to do what’s best after you ask Him to intervene.

Consider what may be blocking miracles from happening in your life. Sometimes the particular miracle you’re seeking isn’t God’s will, sometimes spiritual warfare is occurring in your life and evil is blocking a miracle from happening, sometimes you have sin in your life (such as bitterness) that is preventing a miracle from taking place, and sometimes you don’t have enough faith to believe that God can really perform the miracle you’re hoping for. Pray about each of these potential blockages, and then relax, trusting that God has the situation covered and will answer your prayers with what’s best.

View miracles as expressions of how much God loves you. Recognize that every time God does choose to perform a miracle in your life, He is showing you His love for you in a tangible way. Be sure to thank God for His love whenever you experience a miracle.

Ask God to guide you to the truth about His will. If you’re not sure whether or not it’s God’s will to perform a particular miracle in your life, ask Him to make His will clear to you and tell Him that you want His will – not your own will – to be done.

Ask God to help your unbelief. Confess your doubts and lack of faith to God and ask Him to meet you where you are spiritually to help you believe that He is able to do what He says He will do in your life.

Obey God’s command to forgive so your prayers won’t be hindered. If you’re unwilling to forgive someone who has hurt or offended you, that refusal to forgive can hinder your prayers from being answered, because God sometimes waits until you obey His commands before answering prayers. Remember how much God has forgiven you for, and let that motivate you to obey His call to forgive others. Ask God to help you forgive; you can choose to forgive even when you don’t feel like it and rely on the strength God will give you during the forgiveness process.

Fight evil through spiritual warfare. If evil in the spiritual realm is hindering miracles from happening in your life, pray breakthrough prayers against evil to clear the way for more miracles to occur in your life. Start by confessing your sins that come to mind, and then repent of each one specifically. Next, ask (in Jesus’ name and through the power of His blood) for the Holy Spirit to help you and the people you’re praying for be victorious over all evil attacks. Ask God to protect you and those you’re praying for from future attacks by evil. Pray for any bondages that you (or the people you’re praying for) are under to be broken so you and they can experience the freedom God intends. As you’re praying, mention each issue specifically – from unhealthy addictions (such as to alcohol or pornography) and personal struggles (with jealousy, greed, gossip, lying, anger, anxiety, or any other issues) to negative words that others may have spoken over you and any involvement you may have had with ungodly spiritual forces (such as through the occult). Then ask God to bless you and those you’re praying for in the name of Jesus.

Praise God more through worship. You can experience more miracles when you spend more time praising God in worship, because worship ushers God’s power into your life in fresh ways and helps you discern His voice more clearly as He leads you toward miracles. Make a habit of praising God for who He is, during both good and bad times in your life.

Live a life that’s completely devoted to God. When you devote yourself to God completely – in every area of your life – you’ll notice more miracles happening in your life. Seek God’s guidance before making any major decision, and ask the Holy Spirit to change your own desires to reflect God’s desires for you. Live for God (rather than for yourself), and be willing to say “yes” whenever God calls you to help people in need.

Take the steps that God shows you. As you seek God’s will for your life, sometimes God will give you clear signs to follow, and sometimes He will simply give you a sense of peace. Humbly pray for wisdom every day and step out in faith whenever God shows you a way in which he wants you to put your faith into action. In the process, miracles can happen.

Don’t give up until God answers your prayers. Since God’s timing (which is perfect) often takes longer than the immediate results that human beings like to see, many people give up praying for miracles when they don’t see answers to their prayers right away. But God will always answer your prayers with either a “yes” or a “no” that’s clear; you just need to patiently wait until the right time for the answer to come. In the meantime, never give up praying and trusting God to do what’s best.”

[meaningofmischief]

Evil, Lying Scourge

Set immediately after the battle in the Timekeepers’ chamber. Loki and Renslayer go toe-to-toe as Loki creates the ultimately confronting conditions to force the truth of Sylvie’s Nexus Event from Renslayer.

The truth is devastating - can Loki and Sylvie survive it?

Loki and Sylvie were traumatized - that was near the only way to put it.

Hours ago they had resigned themselves to die together on an exploding moon.

They had been forcibly yanked into the clutches of the TVA at the last possible minute, restrained, separated, each subject to individual psychological tortures as all their remaining tatters of stability and freedom and friendship were ripped away from them one by one. Both prepared to meet their ends together again, and now even their impossible escape was ice cold comfort as they both examined in horror the head of the mindless android they had taken to be one of the three all-powerful Timekeepers. 

Not to mention the barely suppressed passion each felt for the other that roiled away like a wildfire between them - burning both the longer it went unacknowledged.

‘Then who,’ Loki’s voice broke for stress, ‘created the TVA?’. Sylvie felt choked by a sudden rage. Hurling the head of the android viciously across the floor of the chamber, she spat: ‘I thought this was it.’ They both had, of course.

A low moan startled them and they whipped around, mirrors of defense for the next attack, but the despised Ravonna Renslayer still lay passed out cold from the hefty blow Sylvie had dealt her not a minute before. 

B-15, the undisputed saviour of the pair of them, had finally regained consciousness after the massive strike to the head she had received at the hands of one of the Timekeepers’ specialist defense team. They had not treated her mercifully while she was down either, delivering unnecessarily cruel, wounding kicks to the woman they saw as the traitor in their midst. 

Sylvie reacted as if by instinct and rushed straight to B-15’s side, running practiced hands down the Hunter’s limbs to assess for fractures or broken bones. Loki could only marvel - for all her uncompromising toughness, Sylvie’s unconscious impulse was to compassion, a quality that he found at times miserably difficult to access, which frustrated him to no end, especially when he considered how yet more painful Sylvie’s past had been to his own.

‘Nothing broken.’ Sylvie’s soft reassurance to B-15 snapped Loki out of his reverie. ‘But those arseholes didn’t go easy on you by any means. Do you think you can walk?’ There was a flash of fire in the resilient Hunter’s eyes and she opened her mouth to deliver a stinging retort before Sylvie broke out into a warm smile and there was a brief moment of kinship between these two fearsome warriors.

‘Still,’ continued Sylvie bluntly, ‘I’m not having you risk your life to save us only to pass out in one of these obscure corridors where no-one’ll find you for the next week. I’m gonna see you to the infirmary and you can’t stop me.’ She was busy helping B-15 struggle painfully to her feet when Loki murmured, gravelly, ‘Sylvie. Is that wise?’ 

Sylvie glowered. Whatever difficult feelings she had for this man, he was not about to tell her what to do. Luckily B-15 interceded, voice tight with pain, but determined nonetheless: ‘I know how we can do this. Variant -’, she checked herself, ‘L-Loki. Take out Ravonna’s Tempad from her jacket.’ 

Loki’s skin crawled but he nevertheless did as she commanded, crouching down to where Ravonna still lay knocked out, reaching inside her jacket to retrieve the rectangular Tempad, surprisingly heavy in his palm. He handed it uncertainly to B-15 who snapped it open and began pressing buttons with a confident ease that seemed to indicate she knew exactly what she was doing. ‘There,’ she said smugly after 30 seconds or so, ‘the warrant for my capture has been deleted. And don’t worry,’ her gaze flitted over to Loki and in that brief glance Loki knew that B-15 had perceptively ascertained the depth of his attachment to Sylvie, ‘nothing is going to happen to that Variant on my watch. The store cupboard for this unit is right next to the infirmary, so we’ll get her a uniform to act as a disguise on the way back.’ B-15’s eyes narrowed, and Loki knew she was fighting hard what must be a tremendous amount of pain. She handed the Tempad back to Loki and he felt incredibly humbled by the action. Sylvie helped her very gently to the elevator door. ‘Promise me,’ B-15 whispered through gritted teeth as she turned to face Loki one last time, ‘that you’ll bring this place to the ground.’ Loki nodded once, slow and solemn - forcing himself to believe that such a thing was possible when so much lay still unknown. He and Sylvie locked gazes, and Loki longed to cross to the elevator doors in a handful of strides, hold her so close to him, take her face in his hands… Stop. He forced himself to focus right now, for all of their sakes. He only held her gaze as the elevator doors closed, and then they were gone. 

Loki exhaled, and it came out mostly as a sob. He closed his eyes to withhold the tears which he felt welling in their sea-green depths. He had held himself together all this while for Sylvie, but now, standing alone in the cold, misty chamber - he felt assaulted by uncertainty and fear. And sorrow. He so wished for Mobius, for his friend, who was always so grounded and strong - a master of strategy. Loki’s gift for style and verbal artistry were rendered useless in a situation such as this and he felt utterly incompetent and broken.

‘You can be whatever - whoever - you wanna be. Even someone good. I mean just in case anyone ever told you different.’

Loki’s eyes snapped open, shining with salt water and yet never so determined as now.

No.

He had the ability to stand up and make his own choices, and that started now. Not his first act of defiance against whatever cruel authority had created this suffocating institution of control, and certainly not his last. 

He knew what he needed to do, and he needed to do it for Sylvie - while he had this rapidly diminishing window and before they set about trying to achieve the impossible in burning this place to the ground.

And before he told her that he loved her. 

Loki stooped and grimly retrieved his Time Collar where it lay on the floor after B-15 had freed him of it. He was going to need it, unfortunately. He opened the Tempad and after a short while as he got to grips with its functions, a Time Door with a subtle magenta sheen opened up next to him.

Panicked breathing behind him.

Good, she was awake. 

Loki wasted no time, seizing Renslayer none too gently by the lapel of her jacket. She foggily tried to resist him, but before her blurry vision had even cleared, she felt the Time Collar wrap constrictingly around her neck, felt Loki haul her to her feet and unceremoniously push her through the Time Door ahead of him.

The Asgardian bedchamber was light and airy and warm - a stark contrast to the cool, damp darkness of the place they had emerged from. Loki looked around briefly, instantly wistful, recognising the arch of the ceiling, the pristine white marble floor, even smelling the heady summer scents of his old home. It made his heart ache even more - if that was possible at this stage. He was quickly distracted, however, by Ravonna’s wild sprint away from his side. She had regained her full mental capacity now, but was seized by terror at the situation - at the mercy of the Variant and whatever tortures he could concuct for her.

Loki fiercely loathed to play the jailor - even to someone as worthy of harsh treatment as Renslayer - but he needed her attention. He turned the dial of the Time Twister and in an instant Renslayer was back at his side. Though the logical part of Ravonna’s brain knew it was fruitless, she tried to break away from him several more times, just as Loki had tried upon his capture. Eventually Loki seized her by the arm and made her turn to look at the scene before them.

Throughout the chaos the little girl seated on the floor had payed them no heed. Not that she could. This was what the TVA quaintly referred to as an ‘Observant Loop Cell’ - of course obnoxiously abbreviated to OLC. An OLC was designed not to punish prisoners into submission but rather to force them to reflect on situations they had experienced - made to watch those situations over and over and unable to help, hinder or manipulate any of the figures within it. 

Loki himself had had no idea what to expect when he had found Variant L1129’s file on Renslayer’s Tempad, and created an OLC of the Variant’s apprehension. He had briefly had a vision of the young, out-of-control Goddess of Mischief, terrorizing Asgard - effecting pain and suffering, destruction and death so devastating that there was no choice but to send up a smoke flare, a Nexus Event. It did not fit in the slightest with what he perceived of Sylvie’s true character, but he could think of no other reasonable explanation. He did certainly not expect this angelic child, playing as any child would, with her toys. Loki felt a pang of unhappiness as he remembered his own childhood days, he never could play nicely. It was all borne of resentment and jealousy: Father would always ensure Thor had the most luxurious selection of toys, and he was anyway keen that both of his sons stopped messing around with playthings as early as possible and go out for battle training with the young sons of Asgardian nobility instead. Where Thor thrived in the competitive, loud environment of the training ground, Loki shrank into himself. Self-conscious, anxious, lacking the warrior’s bulk that all the other boys seemed to possess, the young prince found himself more often than not in a corner with a few books and some of the toys his father scorned - to make up his own stories in his own time. The other boys mocked him endlessly, tore pages out of the books, stole the miniature figurines of Valkyrie and other great warriors. Loki had eventually learned to be as harsh and cruel as they - only his power to hurt came from his intelligence rather than brawn.

This little girl was anything but harsh and cruel, hurt and isolated. Yes, she was alone, but she seemed to relish that independence - making her own stories up in her own time. ‘Dragon swoops towards the palace, but Valkyrie flies over, defeats the dragon and saves Asgard!’ she crowed, face alit at the conclusion of what had evidently been an epic story. Loki couldn’t suppress a small smile, though he knew that any moment there must be some great catastrophe which would set off the Nexus Event. Ravonna seemed to have frozen at his side - both were caught up in their individual perception of the events unfolding before their eyes.

When the golden Time Door opened mere seconds later, Loki gasped in disbelief, gaze flitting around the room and then back to Sylvie as he tried to ascertain what could have caused the Nexus and finding no evidence at all. Ravonna stiffened next to him as they both saw none other than Ravonna Renslayer - or more precisely Hunter A-20 - in clear command of the two Minutemen flanking her, hold out her Tempad before her and certify in a cold, triumphant voice: ‘There’s our variant.’ Sylvie’s eyes were huge and frightened as Renslayer continued without pause: ‘On the authority of the Timekeepers, I hereby arrest you for crimes against the sacred timeline’, as though she were addressing some notorious criminal and not a terrified little girl.

‘Where’s the Nexus?!’ Loki thought, increasingly desperate and distressed as the OLC Renslayer seized Sylvie by her skinny arm and wrenched her towards the Time Door. It all happened very quickly then. The Minutemen set their Reset Charge which immediately began its task of disintegrating Sylvie’s possessions - anything and everything that indicated that she had ever been in this room. Sylvie screamed, high-pitched, shaking in Renslayer’s grasp: ‘Wait!!!’. Loki resisted the urge to run to her aid, knowing it would be completely useless. Then Sylvie and Renslayer gone, followed by the Minutemen, the Time Door snapped shut and Loki and his Renslayer stood facing one another in a deafening silence in the handful of seconds of respite prisoners would receive before the loop started again.

Tears were clouding Loki’s vision, but he blinked them away angrily. ‘Why?’ was the only thing he said - in a voice several octaves below his usual speaking voice. Renslayer shook her head and pressed her lips together, though her chest heaved at the fraught situation. Loki growled softly and resisted the urge to hurt her - to make her talk.

No.

That was what he would have done in the past, he would not descend to such base measures now.

He didn’t need to, the loop was already starting again. Loki felt as though his heart would fairly break in two as he watched the young Sylvie skip into her bedroom, arms full of her toys, setting them out, beginning to play. ‘You’re going,’ he spat at Renslayer ‘to stand here with me and watch this as many times as it takes for you to tell me what the Nexus event was that made you rip an innocent young girl’s life away from her and force her on the run for her entire life. I don’t care how long it takes. You’re going to tell me.’

In reality that wasn’t exactly true - Sylvie and B-15 had almost certainly reached the infirmary by now and if Sylvie made it back to the Timekeepers’ chamber to find it empty, to think that she had been abandoned by her one companion (and perhaps more than that) in the universe… It nearly had Loki sending them both back to the TVA instantly. But Renslayer was breaking already, he could see it, as he forced her to watch the abject cruelty, cruelty at her hands, again and again. By the third viewing, Renslayer’s eyes brimmed with tears and Loki would gladly have wept openly. By the fifth, she started to hyperventilate, made to move away. Loki turned the Time Twister’s dial and she was jarred back into place. On the sixth viewing, just as the OLC Renslayer was about to seize Sylvie, she abruptly screamed: ‘Enough! I’ll tell you! I’ll tell you.’

Both breathed out in relief, when Loki pressed the button on the Tempad that cut the loop and everyone in the scene disintegrated immediately. He turned to face her and forced out between his teeth: ‘Do not try to lie to the God of Mischief. You have no idea how acutely I am attuned to falsehoods. You will tell me in every horrifying detail about this Nexus Event, or I will leave you in this Time Cell and bury this Tempad in the deepest crevice of the TVA where no one will ever, ever find it. Now TELL ME.’

Renslayer took a deep breath to steady herself, closed her eyes and spoke with a surprisingly steady voice: ‘The Variant was deviating from her role on the Sacred Timeline.’ Loki snarled: ‘Obviously! What was the deviation?’. Renslayer opened her eyes and locked her chocolate brown eyes with his green ones. ‘A Loki,’ she said, slowly, as though choosing her words carefully, ‘does not get to travel the kind of path that that Variant was on.’ Loki rushed to intercede, but Renslayer narrowed her eyes, warning him not to interrupt her.

‘It was a mistake that she ever got as far as she did. Our technology advances every day - it’s now so accurate that we can nip burgeoning Nexus events like this one in the bud.’ Loki was amazed that she could speak in such clinical terms about the organisation that had only very recently been revealed to have three mindless robots as its figureheads. But Renslayer’s voice ran with conviction which only strengthened as she continued: ‘Lokis are so very tricky. It’s an incredible rarity that any being is allowed so much leeway as they have been, and we have all had to suffer the consequences of that. You see, due to your natures as shapeshifters, this Variant being born the Goddess rather than the God of Mischief was no cause for a Nexus flare. But of course in the archaic society that you are raised in, the ridiculous difference in gender is of massive significance. Recall that only male heirs are permitted to succeed the throne of Asgard. In your case, informing you of your adoption would have caused colossal problems for King Odin - that would have had ramifications across Asgard, not to mention potential rebellion from you yourself. Odin was under no illusions of how much more intelligent you were than his legitimate son, and how that would have fused with the arrogance of princehood to create the ultimate cuckoo within the sparrow’s nest - an utterly unacceptable scenario. Far better to keep that knowledge from you, even if it did mean that you grew up confused and resentful - emotions Odin could easily ignore. Far better to have you treated as the bastard son, who he would insidiously try to manipulate to his own ideals, who might possibly one, highly unlikely day, be fit for the throne should Thor be killed in battle before his heir was old enough to succeed the throne.’

‘Of course, for a girl, Odin had no such concerns. He took the child from Jotunheim out of some scrap of pity, and because she could prove useful in negotiating with the Jotuns at a later date. A princess had no chance of succeeding the throne, not to mention an illegitimate one, who would likely be married off to some lowborn noble as soon as she had come of age. So Odin told the Variant of her adoption. And somehow, ludicrously, that knowledge failed to break the Variant, it only made her stronger. She took pride in her differences from her family and the rest of Asgard, her inclination to independence rather than company, her delight of mischief. Where she should have been enraged, embittered and vengeful, she was courageous, compassionate and creative.’

‘Excuse me,’ Loki hissed, interrupting Renslayer’s monologue, ‘where she SHOULD have been?’. Despite the fact that she had found herself at his mercy, Renslayer sneered at him. ‘Of course-’ she continued, seeming to try to gain the upper hand over him with the knowledge she was revealing, ‘a Loki is an evil, lying scourge, like you. Where would be the heroes of the Timeline without the villains? That Variant had a role to play, same as you, same as all of us, and she went off the path. Whoever heard of a heroic Goddess of Mischief?’. Ravonna’s voice cracked slightly on the last sentence as she bore witness to Loki’s murderous expression. ‘So what you’re saying,’ he replied with devastating calm ‘is that Sylvie lost her home, her family, her life, because she would one day grow up to be kind and just, to be her own person? Oh, no one is truly good or truly bad, but the TVA decrees that not to be so.’ His voice grew more intense and Renslayer shrank before him. ‘Because whatever devil puppetmaster is controlling the TVA, they like to have their play made interesting - with villains to cause destruction and heroes to save the day?’. Renslayer was at a loss for words, but Loki had heard enough. He pressed a button on the Time Twister he held and Ravonna sank ungraciously to the floor, unconscious once more. One of the functions the delightful Twister could enact was to reverse the prisoner’s physiological state - mainly meant for various exotic creatures the TVA brought in, that could effect all sorts of trouble as a result of their innate biology, but in this case merely necessary to give Loki a moment to take in what he had just experienced. He couldn’t quite do it.

Only concern for Sylvie forced Loki to action, and he opened up the door back to the Timekeepers’ chamber using the Tempad, dragging the unconscious Ravonna back through with him. Despite what he had said, he would never consign anyone to spend their life trapped in one of the hideous Time Cells. He removed her Time Collar too, and flung it to a far corner of the chamber, repulsed that it had had to come to him using one of the TVA’s disgusting methods of control to get the information he needed.

His thoughts left Renslayer entirely behind as the elevator doors opened and Sylvie emerged not a moment too soon, yanking off the breastplate and trousers of the TVA Minutemen she had worn as a disguise over her usual black top and trousers. Now that Sylvie’s purpose had been achieved, she too seemed utterly spent as she staggered over to where Loki stood staring at her. Both failed to speak for several moments and then Loki rasped, with a voice that sounded unused for days, ‘Sylvie. Sylvie, I need to tell you something.’

Sylvie’s deep blue eyes widened, her heart began to pound like a wild drum in her chest. ‘What?’ she could only say as Loki struggled to find the words for what he had just learned.

When it was over, they both started to cry. 

Loki and Sylvie had never been ones for excessive, histrionic displays of emotion. They had had to armour themselves in toughness and charm and mischief and wit all their lives despite the turbulence that roared inside of them. 

And now here the both of them stood, silent but for the ragged intake of breath as they struggled to bring themselves under some semblance of control. 

Eventually they stopped. Each observed the other’s tear-streaked face.

‘Sylvie...’ Loki said again. The word seemed to ground him and her at the same time.

‘Not another pep talk please.’ Sylvie uttered with a weak attempt at humour, that fell flat instantly with the sheer desperation in her tone.

‘No. I have to tell you something else.’

Sylvie wasn’t sure that she could handle anything else.

Loki stepped closer to her, and avoided her gaze, his breathing picking up again.

Sylvie felt herself instinctively mirroring him, and forced herself to focus.

Loki looked her in the eyes.

‘We will figure this out.’ 

It really was too much.

‘How do you know that?’ How was there any certainty about anything anymore?

‘Because, uh -’ Loki’s near-gasping for air cut him off and he twisted his sweaty hands together. 

‘Well, back on Lamentis…’ It was all too impossible to explain. Loki gestured helplessly, trying to find the beginnings of some clever story that had never failed to come to him with infinite ease before and now completely failed him.

He gave up. His arms dropped to his sides. 

‘This is new for me. Um -’ Loki’s heart raced in his chest and the sound seemed amplified, obliterating his thoughts. They were a tangle of grief and passion and...and love - a tangle that was impossible to reconcile.

Loki turned his hands towards his heart, as though it could speak for him.

‘What?’ Sylvie breathed, hardly daring to speak, her own heart pulsing just as intensely.

They would figure this out. They would. Some very deep and very soulful part in both of them, inextricably linking one to the other, knew it. Loki clasped her upper arms, barely believing himself.

I love you Sylvie. Sylvie I love you. Sylvie I will always love you - you beautiful spirit of mischief. Sylvie, we are free and we will figure this out. I love you Sylvie, I love you.

‘If it were now to die, ‘twere now to be most happy.’ thought Loki, even as he felt the icy touch of Ravonna Renslayer’s weapon seize his heart and rip its chill through his body, as Sylvie watched him disintegrate right before her eyes which never left his - as he was transported to some realm of chaos where the God of Mischief would navigate the labyrinth back to his Goddess so that he could speak those words unsung softly in her ear before bending down to her lips and watching the TVA burn.

- Inspired by a fantastic suggestion from asgardian1112! More suggestions for future stories gladly welcome!

[makeste]

some brief musings on why Kacchan is still going to lose his quirk

(and why that may ultimately be a good thing.)

so first of all, let me just say that Deku and Kacchan are still very much in danger. much as I hate to say it. thing is, Horikoshi didn’t go to the trouble of separating them from the others for no reason. so while it may be a few more chapters until they fall under the cool, calculating gaze of our bloodthirsty mangaka once again, they’re definitely not out of the woods yet.

and in the meantime, while their encounter with Tomura was so brief you almost have to question whether it was completely inconsequential, it did accomplish several things of note:

it scared the absolute SHIT out of the both of them and maybe now they will take this seriously???

it gave Endeavor the chance to learn that there is a thing called One for All, and that whatever the hell this thing is, apparently Midoriya might have it...? kids these days and their nonsense.

it gave Aizawa the same opportunity. ‘Midoriya and Bakugou... is he... after the two of them...?!’ and seeing as those are his kids, it’s a pretty safe bet he’s not going to drop this until he actually gets an answer. (which, honestly, about time??)

and last but not least, it allowed Bakugou to give a rousing speech and to have an internal monologue about how he’s been keeping up with Deku so far and he intends to keep doing so.

which brings me to the main subject of this post.

sorry kiddo. but having an entire scene devoted to establishing that you’re still full of pride, and still keeping pace with your rival, and how you won’t lose, and how he’s still trailing in your shadow same as always...

...doesn’t exactly fill me with confidence that all of that optimism isn’t about to come crashing down around you.

he has come so far. he has grown so much. he’s learned how to save others. he’s learned to acknowledge his own weaknesses. he’s learned how to work alongside his childhood friend rival. and he’s learned how to be selfless in the heat of the moment, even if he doesn’t realize it yet. slowly learning the meaning of “my body just moved before I could think.”

but his ego is still holding him back. his pride, and his desire to win, which I should stress is not at all a bad thing in and of itself (on the contrary, it’s what spurs that very growth I was talking about. it motivates him to keep striving forward, and inspires the others around him to also do their best). but what is bad about it is the way that it’s consistently at odds with his better self. how it hinders his compassion and empathy. because he sees those things as “weak”, and weakness = losing. and nowhere is this more starkly apparent than in his relationship with Deku.

even now, even after all the progress the two of them have made, he still stubbornly persists in doing this bizarre and ridiculous thing of framing every single aspect of their relationship, and every single one of their interactions, solely in terms of rivalry and power levels. of winning and losing. like, it is wild, though. to better illustrate this, please consider the following sample selection of Bakugou Thought Processes.

working together with Deku = losing to Deku (so I won’t do it)

oh no wait, working together with Deku = passing the exam = getting stronger = beating Deku (so I’ll do it)

getting kidnapped = being weak = losing to Deku (so I will be very sad and frustrated about it)

Deku being chosen as All Might’s successor while I bring about the end of All Might = ...do I really need to explain this one lol

[new input!!]: learning from Deku = getting stronger?? = becoming the best hero = beating Deku!! (so I will do it!)

feeling guilty about being a giant shit to Deku = needing to ask for Deku’s forgiveness = losing to Deku (...shit)

worrying about Deku = admitting that you care about Deku = see above = (so I won’t do it) (I won’t) (I won’t)

I really am grateful to this latest chapter for providing that rare bit of insight into the workings of his mind. lulz. 

so yeah! that’s where we’re at, apparently. where we are still at. so how, then, do we eventually move forward from here? and if you look at all of Katsuki’s previous breakthroughs (after his loss to Deku; after he was forced to team up with Deku in the final exam; and after Kamino), all of them only happened after he was brought down a peg. after his walls of ego and pride were cracked, and he was humbled and forced to look at things from the perspective he hates more than anything else. the perspective of “losing.”

and so now his relationship with Deku is being thrust back into the forefront again. and we’re being shown that for him, all of the things he’s learned about What it Means to Be a Hero and What Our Strength is For and etc. etc. etc. are all still jumbled up in this tangled web of thoughts about beating Deku, don’t lose to Deku, I’m keeping up with him, I’m not gonna lose. and again, the problem isn’t that he wants to win! the problem is that all of his own self-worth, his entire self-image, is completely caught up within this one concept.

winning is who he is. being the best is who he is. but that’s all he is. his thought process still doesn’t go any further past there. he can’t answer the question of “what is your strength for” because he doesn’t know. his sense of self is so intricately tied up in the concept of strength because he has always been strong. his fears are so intricately tied to the concepts of losing and weakness because he has always been strong. because he doesn’t know the answer to the question of: but who are you if all of that strength is ever peeled away?

and if he ever wants to be able to answer that once and for all, he needs to gain perspective once again. he needs to lose again. just this one last time.

Deku was once quirkless. Kacchan becoming quirkless would be the ultimate karmic act of balance between them, the ultimate humbling experience. it would force him to shed his remaining pride once and for all, the pride that’s still blinding him and preventing him from figuring out what it is that he’s missing. he’d be forced to reckon with the feeling of being powerless in a world where everyone else has power. forced to try and understand what it is that gives worth to people beyond just strength. forced to finally acknowledge that there are different kinds of strength, something he has always intuitively known since he was a young child (otherwise he would never have feared Deku), but was never was able to fully understand. because Deku’s strength was forged by him growing up in a world where he had no choice but to look within himself in order to find those core, essential qualities that truly make one a hero, with or without a quirk. compassion. selflessness. persistence in the face of doubt. kindness in the face of apathy. hope and courage in the face of fear.

so yeah. it may just be that in order to finally realize what true strength means, Katsuki needs to first let go of his old ideas of strength entirely. and I’d be lying at this point if I said I wasn’t excited about the possibility that this kind of storyline might really be about to happen now. not just because of the angst (although I won’t pretend that isn’t also a part of it because let’s be real), but because no other character in BnHA has come further than Bakugou. no other character has started from such an insane place of “holy shit they’re really doing everything wrong”, only to acknowledge that, and to say “okay yeah, I get it, I want to do better, show me what to do and I’ll do it”, and then to actually do it.

and I want him to continue to grow. I want him to successfully reach the end of his character development journey. and so if this is what needs to happen next in order for him to do that? to reach his goal? to understand what he wants to be, who he wants to be? then fuck it. bring it on.

[hysterialevi]

Hjarta | Chapter 7

Fanfic summary: In an AU where Eivor was adopted by Randvi’s family instead, he ends up falling in love with the man his sister has been promised to despite the arranged marriage between their clans.

Point of view: third-person

Pairing: Sigurd Styrbjornson x Male Eivor

This story is also on AO3 | Previous chapter | Next chapter

FIVE DAYS LATER

BJORNHEIMR, THE TEMPLE

Eivor cradled the basket in his hand, meticulously examining its contents to ensure that everything was in order.

At the moment, he was preparing to make an offering to Thor as thanks for their good fortune on the day of the ambush, and had arranged a humble collection of different gifts for the mighty god.

Inside the basket, he had placed a variety of meat, beer, mead, sweets, and a dagger from his own personal armory. Normally, Eivor wasn’t the type to depend entirely on the gods for safety, but considering recent events, he wanted to secure a strong relationship with them in case a tempest were to strike the village. He had no idea if Kjotve was planning any other attacks in addition to the ambush, and he could think of no one better to appeal to other than the Defender of Midgard. 

He just worried that his offering might not have been sufficient. It was a well-known fact that the thunder god enjoyed things in great quantity, and Eivor didn’t have that much to give at the moment. Ingrida always said that no offering was too small, but even then, the man prayed that his gift wouldn’t be considered measly. Things were precarious enough in Bjornheimr as it was; Eivor did not wish to vex the gods as well.

Working his way up the hill, the Wolf-Kissed spread a layer of cloth over the basket’s opening and held it tightly underneath his arm, careful not to disturb its contents.

He could hear the drinks sloshing inside their bottles to the rhythm of his footsteps, and a handful of scattered clinks reached his ears as they softly bumped into each other. Meanwhile, tiny snowflakes began to gather on the fabric lying above, and sunk into the cloth’s neatly-knit threads. They dotted the surface with jeweled specks of ice and clung onto Eivor’s skin, giving him a slight chill. 

The weather wasn’t exactly ideal for spending any time outside -- the snow seemed to be piling up higher than usual today -- but the young man carried on with his plan nonetheless. 

Reaching the top of the hill, Eivor strolled past the charms decorating the sides of the path, only to stop in his tracks when a nearby pair of voices caught his attention.

Up ahead, Eivor saw Ingrida and Sigurd talking with each other underneath the roof of the temple, just barely avoiding the snow that came blowing their way. The prince wore a wary expression on his face and spoke to the seeress about a matter of deep concern, causing a sense of anxiety to swell in Eivor’s chest.

It was fairly clear to the Wolf-Kissed that his friend spent a lot of energy concealing the many troubles in his life, but the fact that he felt the need to reach out to their völva worried him to a significant degree.

He hadn’t seen Sigurd ever since their conversation in the tavern after all, and he was oblivious to any new issues that may have risen during their time apart. It was unusual to see the prince in such a state, and Eivor had to admit that his curiosity was beginning to get the best of him.

He only hoped that Ulfar wasn’t the source of his perturbed nature. The man made his feelings about Sigurd quite plain back in the tavern, and Eivor had never known him as a person to shy away from confrontation. It was a blessing of a trait in most situations, but a hinderance in this one.

“...You’re certain there’s no other explanation?” Sigurd asked, clearly unhappy with the response he got.

Ingrida crossed her arms, reiterating her point. “I will tell you the same thing I told Eivor. I cannot speak in absolutes, for I do not know the gods’ intentions. I can attempt to decipher the messages they convey, but ultimately, it is impossible to offer anything unambiguous.”

The prince let out a troubled sigh. “I... I see.”

“I realize this must be disturbing news, but look at it this way. At least you are prepared now. You have an inkling of what to expect, and sometimes, a mere suspicion can be enough to save one’s life. Obviously, I do not mean to stoke any paranoia within you, but a little caution would be wise.”

Sigurd nodded, taking the woman’s words to heart. “Of course, but you understand if I say this is difficult for me to accept. I don’t doubt your prediction, seeress, but... I just can’t fathom why anyone would--”

The man came to an abrupt pause, stopping mid-sentence when his eyes fell upon Eivor in the distance.

“--Oh,” he said, his voice still laden with unease, “Eivor. I didn’t see you there.”

Ingrida followed Sigurd’s line of sight, smiling in the Wolf-Kissed’s direction. “Ah, hello, little cub.” She eyed the basket in his hands. “Come to make an offering?”

Eivor hugged the object close to his chest, admittedly growing somewhat weary of bearing its weight.

“Yes, seeress. I hoped to thank Thor for our survival in the forest.”

The woman appeared pleased. “An excellent idea. Go on and present your gift to the gods. I will ensure that nothing disturbs it.” Ingrida brought her eyes back to the prince. “As for you, Sigurd, try not to let this revelation suppress you. You are a man of many responsibilities. Your clan needs you to stay focused.”

“...Of course. You’re right.”

“I’m glad you understand.” Ingrida began making her way back inside the temple, strolling through the arch. “This war is nearly over, but the battle has not ceased. Do not surrender just yet. Either of you.”

Shutting the door behind her, the seeress disappeared behind the temple’s walls and returned to her duties, leaving Eivor and Sigurd alone. Meanwhile, the younger man approached his friend and glanced at him in an inquisitive manner, hoping to calm his nerves somewhat.

“Sigurd?” He asked. “Are you alright? A cloud of unrest hangs over you.”

The prince took a moment to gather his thoughts, not wanting to alarm his companion too much. “I’m... I’ll be alright. Don’t worry about me.” He glanced at the basket in his grasp. “What’ve you got there?”

Eivor lifted the cloth. “Just some food and drink for Thor, and a blade as well. I figured I should bring something of great quantity considering our luck that day. What about you? What brings you to the temple? You looked... frightened when I arrived.”

Sigurd sauntered towards the other man, speaking as he walked. “Nothing of immediate urgency. I’ve just been having these strange dreams lately. Visions.”

“Visions? Really? Of what?”

“A wolf.” He answered. “At first, I merely dismissed the dream as a simple nightmare, but it’s been occurring over and over again. In the same way, and in the same order. So, I came to Ingrida for answers.”

Eivor’s interest was hooked. “Tell me about this wolf. What did it do? What did it look like?”

“The wolf was as white as snow,” Sigurd described. “Its eyes split the darkness with a predatory glare, and its stature challenged that of a fully grown man. Its snout and teeth were stained red with the pigment of fresh blood, and hiding behind its features, I... I could almost... recognize someone.”

“Recognize?” Eivor repeated. “What do you mean? This was a wolf, was it not? How could it resemble a human?”

The prince shrugged. “I have no idea, but... I felt it. There was something familiar about the wolf’s face. It was a sensation that I have no proper words to describe.”

The young man tilted his head towards the temple. “And? What did Ingrida have to say about these visions?”

Sigurd was quiet for a second, hesitant to tell the truth.

“...She believes this vision foretells a betrayal.”

Eivor’s eyes widened in surprise. “A betrayal? At whose hands?”

“She doesn’t know, and neither do I. I have no reason to suspect anyone just yet, but somehow, that almost makes it even worse.”

“How did the seeress come to this conclusion?” Eivor questioned. “What makes her believe betrayal is the only answer?”

“Because she had a similar vision,” Sigurd explained. “Ingrida tells me the gods sent her a dream the night before I arrived. Apparently, she saw a man who looked just like me. He bore the same mark upon his neck, and his eyes glowed with a raging fire. The ground beneath him was soaked in blood dripping from the stump of his own arm, and standing behind him was another white wolf, prowling in the shadows.”

A thought crossed Eivor’s mind. “...I suppose that explains why she called you ‘the one who walks with Tyr.’ It also explains why she was skeptical of you when you first met.”

“I suppose it does,” the prince agreed. “But what connection could I possibly have with Tyr? And why me? What makes me so special?”

Eivor shrugged. “I don’t know. You mentioned you used to have dreams about a kingdom constructed of iron when you were a child. Do you think that could be related?”

“...Perhaps? But I don’t see how it would fit into all this. The kingdom I saw looked nothing like any of the places I’ve ever heard about. Not Helheim, and certainly not Valhalla. It likely originates from a place beyond this realm, but the purpose of its existence continues to elude me.”

Sigurd sighed deeply, resting his hands on his hips. “...Forgive me. I don’t mean to dump all of this onto you. You probably have enough on your shoulders.” He switched to a lighter subject, deciding to put his fears to rest for the time-being. 

“How have you been, Eivor? Is your wound feeling any better? I planned to check on you multiple times, but I fear that my duties always got in the way.”

“No worries. It’s just started to heal. Ingrida says it’s going to leave quite a prominent scar in its absence, but well, it’s better than dying.”

A smirk twinkled on Sigurd’s face. “...I like it.”

“Really?”

“Why not? It gives you character. It makes you look like a warrior.”

Eivor chuckled. “That, or a fool who wasn’t able to handle himself in a fight.”

Sigurd’s smile only brightened. “Nonsense. Each scar you bear is a battle that you survived. Wear it with pride.” He patted his friend on the arm. “But enough about that. I was actually planning to visit you after speaking with the seeress.”

The Wolf-Kissed quirked a brow. “What for?”

“I wanted to take you up on your offer. For fishing. I was down at the docks earlier today, and saw some decent-looking fish roaming in the water. Still in the mood for it?”

Eivor nodded, grinning joyously at the man. “Without a doubt. We can find a boat and take it into the fjord. There are plenty of spots I can show you. Just let me finish my offering for Thor first.”

“Of course. I’ll meet you there when you’re ready. In the meantime, I’ll gather some supplies. See you soon.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A WHILE LATER

THE DOCKS

Pacing eagerly towards the pier, Eivor strolled excitedly through the village with an unusual spring in his step, smiling to himself as he briskly made his way past all the other buildings.

It had been a while since he last got the chance to spend any time with Sigurd, and he imagined that the two of them would have plenty of catching up to do. Even though they hadn’t bumped into each other for the past few days, Eivor always spotted the prince zipping back and forth around Bjornheimr, tending to his never-ending list of duties.

The man always looked so busy. Eivor was well-aware that a prince’s life wasn’t nearly as laid-back as other people expected, but even Sigurd’s schedule seemed to be overflowing with a ludicrous amount of responsibilities. He hardly had any time to even sit down, and the sockets around his eyes had darkened slightly due to a lack of sleep.

Eivor just hoped Sigurd was okay.

Finally arriving at the docks, the Wolf-Kissed came to a halt and gazed at this surroundings, trying to single out the prince’s head of red hair from the crowd. He eventually located the tall man standing at the edge of the pier with a basket and a pair of fishing rods, but to Eivor’s surprise, he wasn’t alone.

Dag seemed to have also joined the party, in spite of the sour expression plastered on his face. He was conversing with Sigurd in an agitated tone, and his brow had crinkled in a manner that displayed obvious annoyance. Strangely enough though, the prince didn’t appear to mirror his temperament. 

Just what was going on?

“Sigurd!” Eivor called out, causing both of them to turn their heads.

“Ah,” Sigurd replied radiantly, “Eivor. There you are. I was just asking Dag if he wanted to join us. I hope that’s not a problem?”

The younger man would’ve been lying if he said he wasn’t somewhat disappointed, but he didn’t have the heard to tell him “no.” He knew Dag was a close friend of Sigurd’s after all, and he didn’t want to interfere. But still... part of him had been looking forward to spending the day with the prince alone.

“No,” Eivor lied, “not at all. He can come if he likes.”

“Great.” Sigurd brought his gaze to Dag. “So, what do you say? Care to go fishing with us?”

To Eivor’s relief, the man refused.

“I appreciate the offer,” Dag said flatly, “but I can’t accept. I have other things to do. You two go on without me.”

“Are you sure?” Sigurd asked, somewhat put off by his friend’s dour mood. “The weather has calmed down since this morning. Now’s the perfect opportunity to take a break. We’ll only be gone for a short while.”

Dag nodded in a dismissive fashion. “Yes, I’m sure. I have many things to take care of, and I’m afraid they cannot wait. Like I said, you two can go without me.”

Sigurd’s eyes dimmed at his friend’s response. “...Well, alright. If you’re certain.”

“I am. Now, if you’ll excuse me...” 

Storming off like a pouty toddler, Dag practically stomped away from the scene and swiftly made himself scarce, leaving Sigurd and Eivor with an uncomfortable silence. The two of them watched in confusion as the man disappeared in the distance, and not too longer after he vanished, they exchanged glances with each other, bewildered by what just happened.

“What was that about?” Eivor asked. “Is something wrong with Dag?”

Sigurd sighed in frustration, reaching down to grab the basket. “You know what? I’ve been asking myself the same thing. Dag’s been acting this way ever since the feast, and I don’t know why. This kind of behavior is unusual for him.”

“Have you talked to him?”

The older man lifted the basket onto his shoulder, walking towards the end of the pier as Eivor followed him from behind.

“Not yet, no. And even if I did, I’m not sure he would give me a straight answer. Dag’s never been the type to open up so easily. I’m just wondering if it’s because of something I did.”

His friend was quiet for a moment. “Does Dag always behave like this?”

Sigurd shook his head. “No, actually. He’s still the same man I know most of the time, but... recently, he’s been going through these random bouts of anger. And they’re always directed at me.”

The prince placed the basket down on a boat waiting beside the pier, carefully stepping onto it as it gently bobbed up and down with the water’s movement.

“I just wish he would talk to me. Dag is a dear friend of mine, and I don’t want anything to be wedged between us. Especially not after hearing Ingrida’s prediction.”

Eivor gave him a sympathetic look. “Try not to let it worry you. I’m sure Dag’s just stressed out from the constant battling with Kjotve. I know we all are. He’ll open up to you when he’s ready.”

Sigurd let out a breath. “...I hope so. I have enough on my plate at the moment. I don’t have time to be running around in circles with Dag. The sooner he opens up, the better.” 

He suddenly glanced up at his companion, deciding to leave the subject alone. “But push that aside. You came here to fish, not to listen to my life problems. Are you ready to go?”

The younger man stepped off the dock and took a seat across from Sigurd, excited for the ride ahead.

“Ready when you are.”

“Wonderful. Thank you for coming with me, by the way, Eivor. I apologize if I seem more stern than usual. I fear that this past week taken a toll on me.”

Eivor took no offense. “There’s no need to apologize. We’re all going through a lot. It’s only normal. Just try to forget about it for now.”

“I’m glad you understand. You seem to be the only one these days. But... you’re right. Today is a day meant for relaxing. Let us not spoil it. Come on, why don’t you show me those fishing spots you mentioned? I’m eager to see them.”

The Wolf-Kissed grabbed the oar and smirked at Sigurd, pushing their boat away from the pier. “As you command, my prince.”

~~~~~~~~~~

BJORNHEIMR, THE FJORD

Venturing deep into the fjord’s divine embrace, Sigurd and Eivor traversed across the water’s glassy surface, steadily gliding along with its rippled waves. They made sure not to put too much distance between them and the village as they did with the waterfall, but even then, the sheer size of the fjord was enough to make them feel as if they had stepped into another world.

All around them, mountains extended into the sky for what seemed like miles, and appeared to kiss the base of the clouds. Their peaks were frosted with fresh snow that floated down from the heavens, and their base remained concealed beneath the ocean, forming a basin fit for the gods themselves.

Meanwhile, a thin curtain of fog draped itself over the mountains’ rugged forms and obscured the landscape waiting ahead, encompassing the world in a layer of mist that stood as a barrier between the two men and the secular village they left behind.

It was the perfect place to clear one’s thoughts, and Eivor could see that Sigurd was already beginning to unwind. The disquieted expression that once hung on his face had vanished, and at the moment, he was currently sitting peacefully on the boat, watching contently as fish poked their fins out from the water’s surface. 

They were completely alone out here, and Eivor wouldn’t have had it any other way.

“So,” the younger man said, “what’ve you been doing these past few days? I haven’t had the chance to talk with you in a while.”

“Oh, nothing too exciting,” Sigurd answered, leaning back in his seat. “I’ve joined your father and Ulfar at the war table quite a few times now, and I’ve also been getting to know Randvi more. It’s difficult to juggle between the two, but things have been going according to plan so far.”

Eivor threw a puzzled look at him. “What about your father? Does he not take part in your conversations in the war room?”

The other man hesitated for a second. “Oh, h-he does, but... well, he’s been occupied lately. Sometimes I take his place.”

Eivor couldn’t deny that he found the response a bit odd, but he decided not to pry any further. “I see. And what about Ulfar? I hope he hasn’t given you any trouble.”

It was Sigurd’s turn to be confused now. “Ulfar? No, none at all. Why would he?”

The Wolf-Kissed sighed sheepishly, unsure of how to explain. He assumed Ulfar would have already expressed his concerns to the prince about his ability to be a leader, but evidently, he was wrong. 

“I, well... I suppose there’s no harm in letting you know. The day you and I went to the tavern, Ulfar stayed for a drink after you left. Initially, he was in a rather foul mood, and it was directed at you. He said you almost got me killed in the forest.”

A look of guilt spread across Sigurd’s face. “...Ah, I see.”

“I spoke with him, though,” Eivor reassured. “I convinced Ulfar it wasn’t your fault, and he told me he’d withhold any further judgement for now. That’s why I asked if he had given you any trouble. I was curious to know if he still harbored these doubts. But don’t let it bother you. Whatever Ulfar does, it’s only to keep me and my siblings safe.”

Sigurd shook his head in disagreement. “No, he’s right. I should’ve been more careful that day. I made a foolish decision, and you nearly paid the price. It’s a good thing you’re a skilled warrior. Otherwise, I’d probably be responsible for your death by now.”

Eivor’s expression sank with pity. “Don’t say that. It’s not your fault what happened in the woods that day. You could’ve run off at the first sign of danger, but instead, you risked your life to save me. And everyone knows it. Even Ingrida.”

“Well, I may not be at fault,” the man conceded, “but I was ill-prepared for such an ordeal. If I’m going to be king someday, I need to be able to protect people. That includes you.” Sigurd shifted his position slightly, sitting more upright. “I promise, Eivor, I won’t endanger you like that again.”

The young man grinned. “I appreciate it, but we’re in the midst of a war. I’m afraid we don’t have much choice. Anything can happen at any time.”

“True, but I’ll still do everything I can to keep you and your people safe.” Sigurd displayed a small smile. “Death may be inevitable, but that’s no reason to let it take us so willingly. That’s why we have shields.”

Eivor chuckled. “I suppose you’re right.”

The two of them trailed off into silence briefly, only for the prince to bring up another topic.

“Hey, speaking of Ulfar, did you hear his report?”

“No.” Eivor said.

“Well, apparently, he and his men found two camps in the woods not too far from where we were attacked. They both belonged to Kjotve.”

���Really? How many men were there?”

Sigurd conjured a rough estimation. “About ten each.”

“Ten?” The Wolf-Kissed repeated in alarm. “That’s nearly two dozen in total. That’s enough men to carry out a small raid.”

“Indeed. We’re lucky Ulfar was able to drive them out before their numbers grew anymore. Thankfully though, he didn’t uncover any plans to attack Bjornheimr. He believes these particular men were just scouts sent here to keep an eye on the village and send information back to Kjotve. Our encounter with them wasn’t coordinated. A few of his people simply decided to take matters into their own hands.”

Eivor found some comfort in that. “Well, that’s a relief, at least. Still, I wonder how Kjotve will respond to this.”

Sigurd raised a brow. “What do you mean?”

“If these men were sending regular reports to Kjotve, he’s going to realize something’s wrong when they come to a sudden stop. He might even send reinforcements.”

The older man couldn’t help but admit he had a point. “Hmm. That does sound likely. I’ll have to warn your father and Ulfar about the possibility of retaliation. We may be preparing for a wedding, but Freya knows that won’t stop Kjotve from spilling blood.”

A shiver traveled down Eivor’s spine. “What if... what if he comes to Bjornheimr? What do you think we’ll do?”

The answer seemed fairly clear to Sigurd. “We’ll fight, of course. What else?”

“No, no,” his friend corrected, “I didn’t quite mean it like that. I just...” Eivor gazed down at his father’s axe, tracing a hand down its grip, “...I’ve spent so many years thinking about how I would take my revenge on Kjotve; for what he did to my parents. I’ve convinced myself that I’d slit his throat without a second thought, but... if he actually shows up, I don’t know if it’ll be that easy. I don’t know what I’ll do.”

A sense of empathy softened Sigurd’s eyes. “It won’t be easy. But whatever happens, make sure you fight for what matters. Ideally, Kjotve will never set foot on your shores, but if he does, fight not for revenge. Fight for the honor your father lost. Only then can you know true peace.”

Eivor stared aimlessly at the water surrounding them, trying to block out the memories of that horrible night. “...I’ll try. Even if it kills me.”

The younger man watched the soothing rhythm of the waves dancing around them and fell into a deep train of thought, only to be pulled out again when Sigurd’s voice reached his ears.

“Hey,” he said gently, leaning closer to his companion, “are you alright, Eivor?”

The Wolf-Kissed blinked a few times, still somewhat lost in his own past. “Yes. I’m fine. It’s just... difficult to think about, you know. My parents were killed over a decade ago, and yet, their words from that night remain fresh in my head. It’s hard to ignore them sometimes.”

“Of course,” Sigurd replied. “I understand.”

“Anyway,” Eivor said, not wishing to dwell on the grim subject any longer, “you mentioned you’ve been seeing Randvi more earlier. How are things going between the two of you?”

“We still don’t know each other that well,” Sigurd confessed, “but she strikes me as a kind woman; an honorable one. I think we can make this marriage work. Although, I must admit... it’s bizarre to think about how she’ll be my wife in only a week from now. The future felt so far away when I first got here, and yet, these past seven days have fleeted by within a heartbeat. It just makes me wonder how fast the wedding will arrive.”

Eivor caught onto his tone. “Are you nervous?”

“Yes, and so is Randvi. But I think we’re both slowly coming to terms with it.” A glint of curiosity formed in the prince’s gaze. “What about you, Eivor? Have you ever considered marriage?”

The man laughed. “Me? No, not really. I’ve had partners in the past, but... nothing serious. It’s difficult to imagine someone marrying me, if I’m being honest.”

Sigurd scoffed. “Psh. Nonsense. Anyone would be lucky to have you as their spouse.”

“You think?”

The older man shrugged. “Why not? You’re compassionate, humorous, handsome, and--” Sigurd suddenly froze in shock, utterly embarrassed by his own words.

Meanwhile, Eivor simply gave him an appreciative smirk, undeniably amused by his slip-up.

“You consider me handsome, do you?” He teased.

Sigurd stammered bashfully and brought a hand to the back of his neck, barely able to hold eye contact with the Wolf-Kissed anymore. “Gods above... erm, f-forgive me, Eivor. I... I didn’t mean to--”

“--It’s alright.” He interrupted. “The truth is, I think you’re handsome too.”

The prince paused at Eivor’s remark, calming down somewhat. “You... do?”

Eivor chuckled, leaning forward in his seat. “Yes, you fool. Who wouldn’t? You’re strong, kind, caring, and you...” the young man caught himself before he could say anything else and stopped mid-sentence, abruptly retreating from his comments as Sigurd watched him quietly.

“...No,” Eivor said, his tone much more sullen now. “I can’t do this.”

Sigurd found himself growing concerned. “What’s wrong?”

The other man sighed in despondency, looking shamefully away from his friend. Eivor assured Ingrida that he wouldn’t allow his emotions to interfere with the upcoming wedding, and yet, he had barely been able to stop himself just now.

His thoughts slipped free from his lips as if they carried a mind of their own, and if it weren’t for the fact that everyone’s safety was depending on this alliance, Eivor had no idea how far he truly would’ve gotten. 

His ability to restrain his desires was already being crippled just after a week of knowing Sigurd, and the looming reality of his feelings was enough to send Eivor into a state of panic and loneliness. 

These next few days were going to be nothing but absolute turmoil for him, and sooner or later, he’d have to accept it. He just didn’t know how.

“Sigurd...” Eivor whispered sorrowfully, “...can I be honest with you?”

The older man nodded. “Of course. What’s going on?”

The Wolf-Kissed looked him directly in the eye, taking a deep breath. “...The truth is, ever since we met at that feast, I’ve been infatuated with you.”

Sigurd’s brow furrowed in shock. “...You have?”

“Yes. Whenever we’re apart, I’m always thinking about when I’ll see you next, or how you’re doing. I care about you, and I worry about your well-being despite being no more than an acquaintance.”

The prince knotted his hands together in thought. “And what about when you’re with me?”

Eivor showed a faint smile to him, but its facade was quickly betrayed by the pain in his gaze. “I feel at peace. I feel like nothing in the world can touch us. I feel a certain way that I’ve never felt before with anyone else, and it... it frightens me sometimes.”

The young man continued. “But I can’t allow these feelings to develop any further. No matter how persistent they may be. We’re both bound by our duties, and yours is to secure an alliance with my clan. The only thing I can provide for you is a distraction that you can’t afford.” Eivor slunk back to his end of the boat, hiding inside the shell that he constantly wore. “...I’m sorry, Sigurd. But our relationship can’t go beyond this.”

Sigurd offered nothing other than silence in return and simply delved into his own thoughts, gazing downwards in a desolate manner. It was clear that he mirrored the same affections that Eivor expressed, but he felt even more reluctant to share them now that he knew about the other man’s views.

It was the burden of being a prince, he supposed. Everyone always told Sigurd that his choices were his own, and yet, he was being forced to repress something that others would’ve been more than happy to admit. His life had been nothing more than one big preparation to rule the kingdom someday, but he felt as if he hardly had any control over his own life.

Still, Sigurd knew Eivor was right, and he knew he couldn’t afford to deviate from the path set out in front of him. The war with Kjotve was much bigger than either of them, and everyone’s safety was depending on this alliance.

“I... understand, Eivor.” He said quietly.

The younger man hung his head low, unable to ignore the guilt settling into his mind. “I’m sorry it has to be like this, Sigurd.”

“Don’t be. What you’re doing is noble. Not everyone would have your restraint.”

Eivor’s mood barely lightened at that. “It doesn’t feel noble. But I know it’s necessary.”

Sigurd nodded solemnly, unsure of what to say anymore. “...Indeed.”

Having had enough of this place, the older man took hold of the oar and stuck it into the water, eager to return to solid land.

“We should starting heading back.” He said abruptly, earning a tilt of the head from Eivor.

“Already? Are you sure? We haven’t even been out for that long.”

“I know, but I fear that my free time is rather limited today. An abundance of tasks awaits me in Bjornheimr, and I’m almost certain that my father will require my presence as well.”

Eivor peered at Sigurd with concern, clearly able to see that he had been affected by their conversation.

“Okay.” He agreed tentatively. “If you’re sure.”

“I am. Come on, I’ll row you back to the village. Just sit back and relax.”

Guiding their boat away from the fjord, Sigurd steadily drove them back to the shoreline without uttering another word as Eivor sat quietly on his side, admittedly feeling somewhat remorseful for having dimmed the mood.

Initially, he had been excited to spend more time with the forlorn prince, but now, he wondered if he had made a mistake. It was no question that a special type of bond connected the two of them, and Eivor mentally scolded himself for allowing it to strengthen even further.

At this point, part of him was considering the idea of severing their relationship. It was difficult enough battling the constant temptation that he felt whenever he was with Sigurd, so Eivor thought that, perhaps, it might’ve been best if he simply eliminated the chance for it to show up again.

There would be no need to practice restraint if the prince avoided him altogether. They would be complete strangers just like before, and Eivor wouldn’t have to worry about clashing with his desires on a daily basis.

But... he knew he wouldn’t be able to do such a thing. He cared about Sigurd too much, despite only having known him for a week. That man housed something special within his heart, and the last thing Eivor wanted was to cast it aside.

Still, he didn’t know how he would proceed from here. Sigurd was aware of his admiration now, and any interactions between them would’ve bred nothing but awkwardness.

They both needed some time to get their thoughts in order, and frankly, Eivor was starting to feel grateful that the other man decided to make such a swift exit. He needed to be alone for a while, and it was evident that Sigurd also had plenty to think about himself.

It was one of those moments where Eivor felt the urge to seek out guidance, and he knew exactly who to get it from. 

He just worried that they would tell him precisely what he didn’t want to hear.

~~~~~~~~~~

BJORNHEIMR, THE DOCKS

“Here we are.” Sigurd announced, letting the boat drift towards the pier as he gazed into the distance. “...And it looks like Dag is waiting for me. Just like I expected.”

Eivor stood up from his seat. “What does he want from you?”

His friend put down the oar and climbed back onto the docks, taking their supplies with him. “Nothing. It’s my father who probably wants something. Dag is merely the messenger. I just hope it’s not what I think it is.”

Walking briskly ahead of the other man, Sigurd strode down the wooden pier and made a beeline straight for Dag as Eivor hurried to his side, abandoning the boat. 

A newfound irritation had worked its way into the prince’s usually serene demeanor, and the Wolf-Kissed wondered if he’d finally learn the reason behind Styrbjorn’s aforementioned absence at the war table.

“Dag,” the redhead called out in a firm tone. “What are you doing here?”

The bulky warrior removed himself from the tree he had been leaning on and approached Sigurd, appearing no more pleased than before.

“The king requests your presence at the longhouse.” He informed. “There’s a problem he needs your help with.”

Sigurd sighed in defeat, plopping the basket down in frustration. “Of course he does. Is it the same ‘problem’ as yesterday?”

Dag nodded. “I’m afraid so.”

The prince shook his head angrily. “That drink-addled fool...! He promised me this wouldn’t be an issue. What is he doing now?”

“He’s waiting for you in his chambers. Same as always. I suggest you hurry. He’s in a worse state than usual.”

Sigurd’s face stiffened with ire. “And it’s no one else’s fault but his. What is that man thinking?” He paused for a second, recomposing himself. “...Thank you for letting me know, Dag. Hopefully, we’ll never have to have this conversation again.”

The raider began strolling away from them, pessimistic about the idea. “Hopefully, but not likely.”

Removing himself from the scene, Dag disappeared once again while Eivor took his place, confused as to what just happened. It was quite obvious to him that Styrbjorn seemed to be at the core of this issue, but he hadn’t the faintest idea what the issue was exactly.

“What’s going on?” Eivor asked. “Is your father safe? Do you need any help?”

Sigurd quickly rejected the offer. “No, no. He’ll be fine. He’s just being an idiot. It’s best if I deal with this alone. Believe me.”

The younger man’s curiosity remained fervent, but he decided not to press anymore. The prince was evidently in a state of heightened exasperation at the moment, and Eivor suspected that any further questions would’ve only earned him more animosity.

“...Alright. If you say so. But don’t hesitate to ask for my aid if you need it.”

“Thank you, Eivor. I appreciate it.”

Forcing himself to relax, Sigurd rubbed his temple out of stress and turned to face Eivor, softening the jagged edge of his voice.

“Forgive me. I don’t mean to be so irate, but things are chaotic enough as it is, and my father is only making things worse. He’s ignoring all of his responsibilities, and piling them on my shoulders instead. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t affecting me.”

Something clicked in Eivor’s head. “So that’s why you’ve been so busy.”

“Yes. That, and a few other things. But those matters are irrelevant right now. The only important thing I have to say is... thank you. For taking the time to come with me today.”

“Of course, Sigurd. You need only ask.”

The older man beamed warmly. “...You truly are a blessing. You know that, Eivor? I genuinely believe you’re the only person I can fully rely on. You’re a man worthy of trust.” He placed his hands on his hips, returning to his usual temperament. “But I’ve idled for long enough. My father’s probably wondering where I am. Feel free to take all the fish we caught. You deserve it for putting up with me today.”

Eivor took the basket in hand, waving goodbye to Sigurd. “Farewell for now, my friend. Take care of yourself. And remember, I’m here if you need me.”

The prince started heading in the direction of the longhouse, returning the wave with one of his own. 

“The same goes to you. I may be busy, but my door’s always open, Wolf-Kissed. I only pray that our next meeting will be under better circumstances. Until then, stay safe. We all need you.”

[babysizedfics]

Little Accidents, Big Developments

Chapter 5: A Little Reconciliation

[This is an age regression story]

Chapter Summary: Roman mollycoddles his brother, Patton makes a suggestion, Logan is perceptive, and Virgil is brave.

Chapter word count: 8,500

Other chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / bonus

Read on AO3 or below the cut!

Content warning: This chapter addresses (and resolves) some negative self-talk with regards to age regression, as well as alluding to cyberbullying. Please proceed with caution if you are sensitive to either of these topics.

Also, there is some swearing at the start - what else would you expect from adult Roman and Virgil?

oOo

Roman marched up the stairs armed with cookies, milk, and fierce determination.

The events of the previous day had left him wallowing in regret all night, and he was tired of it. No matter how much his caregivers had both made a significant dent in the cloud of guilt that fogged his mind, he could not stop replaying his own laughter in his head. He had been awful to Virgil the day before, and Roman had known he could not truly feel at ease until he had apologised to him properly and earned his little brother’s forgiveness.

He had been prepared to partake in all manner of valiant acts to prove his loyalty; he was willing to slay the Dragon Witch in Virgil’s name, to erect a statue in his likeness and honour, even to let Virgil get the first pick on movie nights for a whole month.

He had said as much to Virgil in the kitchen that morning. In response, Virgil had nodded, said “It’s cool,” and then left the room.

It’s cool?! Roman was quite frankly appalled by the lack of dramatic flair. Where were the tears? The arguments? The emotionally-overwhelmed collapse into Roman’s waiting arms? It had not gone as he had rehearsed in the mirror at all.

When Roman complained about this to Logan, the logical side had; 1) asked why Roman wanted Virgil to cry, yell, and/or faint, 2) reminded him that Virgil had forgiven him and had clearly done so in whatever way he deemed fit, and 3) told Roman to stop being so dramatic.

Needless to say, Roman was no longer on speaking terms with Logan.

Never one to give up in the face of a challenge, Roman had found Virgil in the living room and apologised again (an abridged version of his speech this time around). He received a small smile and thumbs up in return before Virgil went back to scrolling on his phone silently.

Once again, Roman was surprised. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be forgiven, but it had been far too easy. It was not satisfying. And so he continued to apologise throughout the morning whenever he saw Virgil - which incidentally happened a lot since Roman sought him out constantly.

It was around the fourth apology that Virgil had stopped smiling and nodding and instead simply rolled his eyes or walked past Roman without a word. Roman was wont to call it rude, but he couldn’t really comment on it given his behaviour a day before. The logical conclusion was that Roman’s courageous offers were simply not pleasing to Virgil.

Upon review, Roman begrudgingly accepted that Virgil wouldn’t necessarily care much about an imaginary monster being defeated for the hundredth time, or for a statue of himself given how self-conscious he was. As for the movie nights, Roman didn’t necessarily mind that he would still have the first pick on the films, so that really wasn’t worth complaining about. He realised he had to make his repentance more personal.

And what was more personal to Virgil than his littlespace? The boy adored it when Logan and Patton took care of him so (against all instincts) Roman resolved to prove himself through caregiving. As uncomfortable as it had made him when he had attempted caregiving all those weeks ago, it seemed the most effective course of action. And wouldn’t the fact that Virgil knew he didn’t enjoy it just prove Roman’s point even more? That he was willing to go above and beyond to show Virgil how much he cared about him, despite his own discomfort!

He had waited for Logan to disappear from the kitchen to load some cookies onto a tray, along with one of Virgil’s sippy cups full to the brim with almond milk. Now, standing outside Virgil’s room, Roman smothered the inkling of dread in his stomach and rapped on the door heartily.

‘Oh, Virgil,’ he sang, ‘Will you grant me entry to your kingdom?’

There was quiet for a moment and then, muffled through the wood: ‘Only if you promise not to apologise again.’

‘Damn…’ Roman whispered to himself, taking a moment to reconsider his plan. Well, he could still practice it without technically apologising. Years of improv work hadn’t exactly taught him nothing of adapting to unexpected situations. ‘All right, I promise,’ he yelled back confidently.

‘Fine,’ Virgil groaned and Roman lowered the door handle with his hip, being careful not to jostle the tray in his hands too much.

‘Greetings, Grumpy Space Princess!’ Roman called as he waltzed into the room with a wide grin.

Virgil was lying upside down on his bed with his head hanging off of the end, his Nintendo Switch held up in front of him. ‘What’s up, Princess Bubble-head?’

Roman smiled, appreciative that Virgil was a truly worthy opponent when it came to the Great Nickname Games. Though he did not let himself dwell on that for long and internally shook himself into his role, taking heavy inspiration from Patton.

‘Nothing much, kiddo,’ he said gleefully. ‘Just thought you might want a little snack!’

‘Kiddo?’ Virgil repeated, slowly lowering the game console from his eyes. Though they were upside down, Roman clearly noted the suspicion on Virgil’s features.

Roman continued smiling regardless, walking over to the bed. ‘How’s milk and cookies sound, Vee?’

‘But we haven’t had lunch yet.’

‘Yeah, don’t tell Logan,’ Roman whispered with a conspiratorial wink

‘Is this a trick?’ Virgil immediately asked. He squinted at Roman in suspicion. ‘What did you put in the cookies?’

‘Absolutely nothing and I resent the question,’ Roman couldn’t help but gasp in offence. As if he would stoop so low as to… what, poison Virgil? He had half a mind to turn back and eat the cookies himself. If only he weren’t utterly desperate for Virgil’s forgiveness.

‘Right, no, yeah,’ Virgil hurriedly backtracked, seeming humbled. ‘Sorry.’ Then the younger side sat up and spun his butt on the bed so that he faced Roman with his legs crossed. ‘Do you wanna…’ He indicated the other side of the bed in invitation.

Roman beamed. Clearly, this was the go-ahead for his plan.

‘Thanks, Stormcloud!’ He settled onto the bed beside Virgil, placing the tray in front of them both.

‘Thanks yourself for the cookies,’ Virgil smiled meekly. His gaze trailed over to the sippy cup on the tray and his eyebrows furrowed a little.

‘Anything wrong, sw-sport?’ Roman asked, cursing himself for chickening out at the last second. He had meant to call Virgil “sweetheart” as Patton so often did. Though while he was no stranger to using the nickname during courtships, it felt strange to call Virgil by it. Still, he had a role to fill and forgiveness to earn, so he couldn’t afford another slip-up like that again.

‘Nah, it’s cool,’ Virgil muttered and reached for the sippy cup. His movements seemed halted and his eyes briefly darted between the cup and Roman for a second before he sheepishly sipped at it.

Those words again: It’s cool. They infuriated Roman! But he took a steadying breath and pushed his irritation down. He had a baby to coax out, and anger would surely be counterproductive.

He reached forward for one of the cookies and snapped it in half, then held one piece up in front of Virgil with a smile.

Virgil frowned and lowered his sippy cup from his lips. ‘You wanna share one?’

‘No, silly!’ Roman giggled, putting all of the energy he usually observed in Papa Patton into his tone. ‘Are you ready?’

‘Ready for what?’

‘Here comes the cookie train!’ Roman sang, slowly pushing the cookie forward towards Virgil’s mouth. ‘Chugga chugga choo choo!’

Virgil’s eyes widened and his free hand flew up to grab Roman’s wrist before he had a chance to press the cookie to his lips. ‘I can feed myself!’

‘Oh…’ So apparently that technique wasn’t the way to go about it. ‘Apologies,’ Roman said. He pulled the cookie piece back and shoved it between his lips.

Virgil sighed quietly and reached for the other half of the cookie. He threw it into his mouth and munched on it as he pulled his Switch into his lap, resuming the game.

Meanwhile, Roman chewed thoughtfully. Perhaps Virgil wasn’t up for a baby headspace but would rather be a young child who was still able to feed himself. Though it was uncommon for him to be in a comparatively older regressed headspace, it wasn’t unheard of. And if Virgil was not comfortable with Roman feeding him, it didn’t automatically have to be the end of his plan. But what could Roman do to make it easier? What exactly was it that Patton did differently to be able to make Virgil regress in an instant?

Roman thought back to all the times he had witnessed it happening, quickly noticing a pattern. Patton always complimented Virgil (usually by calling him “cute” or “pretty” or “my little sweet and sour dumpling”) and touched him in some way (either with a nose boop or gentle tickles or head strokes). Roman would be a fool not to apply this knowledge, and a prince was no fool.

He decided to go about a subtle route, not wanting to startle Virgil again as that would probably hinder his regression.

‘Oh, that looks like a cute game,’ Roman said casually, pointing at the console balanced on Virgil’s knee.

‘You don’t know this one?’ Virgil asked, sounding surprised. He played with one hand as his other gripped the sippy cup.

Roman leaned closer, observing the colourful, animalistic characters who walked aimlessly around what appeared to be an island resort.

‘Ohh, is this the one with the capitalist raccoon who forces you to labour all day then takes all of your money?’

Virgil snorted. ‘He’s a tanuki, not a racoon. But yeah, essentially,’ he shrugged and tipped the sippy cup up to his lips.

Roman scooted closer on the mattress, trying to initiate casual contact. His thigh brushed Virgil’s and the other didn’t seem to mind it. With an internal hurrah, Roman initiated part two of his plan B.

‘Aw, is that you?’ he asked in a slight baby-talk voice, pointing at the chibi character on the screen. They had lilac hair and were sporting a rather intricate gothic dress. (For such a basic character design Roman was massively impressed by the attention to detail on the costume. He resolved to investigate it later as he had a job to do at the present moment.)

‘Mhm,’ Virgil hummed through a mouthful of milk then swallowed, ‘that’s me.’ He twiddled the joystick so that the character did a little spin.

‘Adorable!’ Roman gushed, and it was only half put-on (the game really did look sweet). Then he turned to Virgil, glad that their faces were mere inches apart. It would surely create intimacy and trust between them and hence spur on Virgil’s headspace. ‘But y’know what’s even more adorable?’

‘What?’ Virgil questioned, turning to look at Roman then freezing. A faint look of worry graced his features, though Roman assumed he was simply nervous about regressing around Roman alone. ‘What are you -’

‘This little Virgil right here!’ Roman smiled and wiggled his fingers over Virgil’s side.

Virgil broke into muffled titters. ‘S-stop,’ he stuttered, unable to get through the word without laughing. ‘R-Ro-ho-man!’

‘Aw, listen to your little giggles,’ Roman cooed, pushing an adoring tone past the strange heaviness in his chest. He just didn’t feel right doing this. But it had to be right, Virgil was laughing and smiling and had always enjoyed it whenever Patton did the exact same.

So Roman continued. He forced his own small laugh and doubled down on the tickling, jiggling his hand quicker over Virgil’s ribs. The boy squeaked and dropped his sippy cup to the mattress. (The cup was non-spill, gladly.)

‘No-ho m-more,’ Virgil pleaded through his giggles and pushed on Roman’s wrist firmly.

‘You can’t get rid of me that easily.’ On a whim, Roman went to poke Virgil’s nose with his free hand. Twice the contact probably meant twice the likelihood of regressing, going by his logic.

At the very same moment that his finger pushed forward, though, he must have unwittingly hit a sensitive spot on Virgil’s ribs because the younger side’s face unexpectedly lurched forward with a gasp. Roman’s finger ended up poking Virgil’s eye.

‘Ow!’ Virgil whined, shoving Roman’s hands away harshly. ‘What the heck, Ro?!’ He raised a hand to cover his assaulted eye while the other stared at Roman in shock.

Roman was stunned for a moment, feeling suddenly small. He had messed up again. He had hurt Virgil. Again! He just wanted their caregivers to make it better like they always did, but this was Roman’s mistake. He couldn’t always rely upon Patton and Logan when he accidentally hurt his brother. He had to learn to do it alone.

‘Shit, I -’ Roman clicked his mouth shut and shook his head. (Back into character, goddamnit!) ‘Oh, poor baby,’ he pouted in sympathy.

Virgil only looked more indignant, his hand lowering from his eye which was, thankfully, uninjured. ‘What?’

‘Don’t worry little, uh, guy.’ Roman winced at his phrasing. ‘Uncle Roman will kiss it better!’

Roman started leaning forward, his hands held out in a placating manner - though they trembled slightly.

‘Stop!’ Virgil yelled, placing his hands firmly on Roman’s shoulders and keeping him at arm’s length.

A glimmer of relief flickered in Roman’s chest.

‘What are you doing?’ Virgil asked clearly, his expression a mix of confusion, irritation, and concern.

‘I - I’m trying to kiss your boo-boo better, kiddo.’ Roman attempted to smile, though even he had to admit his acting was no longer up to scratch. He was feeling jittery. This wasn’t right!

Virgil’s eyebrows raised and he offered no further response. How on Earth did he master those nuanced expressions so well? Roman almost wanted to ask for tips.

‘Fine,’ Roman sighed, throwing his arms up into the air as he dropped the act. ‘I kinda thought maybe I could babysit you for a while.’ Despite his words, he knew the pout on his face must not have commanded much respect.

‘I…’ Virgil paused, blinking slowly. ‘Princey, you hate caregiving,’ he burst out, incredulous. ‘I thought we established that weeks ago. And anyway you’re shit at it.’

‘Charming,’ Roman grunted, crossing his arms and diverting his gaze to the mattress. He didn’t need to be good at caregiving, he didn’t even necessarily want to be good at caregiving, but he would be damned if he actually admitted to being bad at something.

‘Why are you babying me all of a sudden?’ Virgil’s voice was softer now.

‘I just wanted to make up for yesterday!’ Roman cracked, though he was conscious to not outright yell, knowing Virgil’s sensitivity to loud noises would not do him any favours. ‘I want to prove to you that I’m sorry about what I did, but you barely acknowledged my other apologies,’ he explained, annoyance seeping into his tone. Virgil’s eyes dropped to his lap. ‘And you obviously didn’t care for my other ideas for acts of chivalry, so -’ he flailed his arms around in frustration ‘- I’m making do!’

The silence in the room somehow rang louder than Roman’s outburst, and he felt a knot of embarrassment start to clench his stomach.

Before it had time to grow any bigger, Virgil spoke up: ‘I’m sorry.’

‘What?’ Roman frowned and looked back up to him. Virgil looked horribly guilty. ‘No, I think you’re confused. I’m here so that I can apologise.’

‘Yeah, I got that.’ Virgil’s lips pulled into a small smile, then it dropped again. ‘Listen… I’m sorry for being kind of flippant earlier.’ He looked down, shrugging his shoulders up to his neck and holding them there. ‘I do forgive you, I just -’ he paused and Roman noted his cheeks had turned rosy. ‘I just didn’t want us to make such a big deal out of what happened, y’know?’

‘Oh…’ Roman breathed. This type of forgiveness was unexpected (not unlike anything else that had happened that day, so really shouldn’t he have expected it to be unexpected?) but nonetheless acceptable. If Virgil truly did forgive him then that should have been enough for Roman.

‘I mean thank you for apologising. Like, twenty times,’ Virgil said hastily, clearly noticing Roman’s surprise. ‘I do appreciate it - even if I never want to experience “Uncle Roman” ever again in my life.’ He looked back up at Roman shyly, ‘But can we please just pretend it didn’t happen?’

‘Uh, yeah. Sure. It - it’s cool,’ Roman replied with a weak nod, distracted by the persistent emptiness in his chest. 

Virgil bumped their knees together amiably then went back to his game.

After a minute or so of the controller clicking and the cutesy music blaring from the small speaker, Roman realised he was still unsettled by the situation. He communicated this to Virgil in the most effective way he knew how: by groaning loudly and forlornly.

‘What is it?’ Virgil asked in his most dramatic, long-suffering whine. It was a little teasing quirk they had picked up together that was entirely well-intended. The familiarity of it made Roman feel somewhat better about admitting the issue.

‘It’s just this niggling feeling, you know?’ he asked, fully aware that Virgil did not know. ‘I have to do something. I have the rich blue blood of a prince, for heaven’s sake.’ His eyes wandered around the room as if looking for a solution to his lament. ‘If I cannot defeat a villain in your honour or commit some other brave, valiant act of -’

He paused abruptly as his eyes settled on something. A stuffed raccoon lay abandoned on the floor by Virgil’s bed, torn in two. Roman was sure he remembered Virgil naming it Meeko, after his beloved character from Pocahontas.

‘Dear Zeus, I believe I have it!’ Roman cried triumphantly.

Virgil startled at the sudden noise and Roman turned to him with an apologetic smile. The emo only looked vaguely miffed.

‘Glad you’ve reached a solution, but do you think you could have a dramatic epiphany elsewhere?’ Virgil mumbled, eyes flitting back to his screen. ‘I have debts to pay here.’

Normally it would have annoyed him to be pushed aside for no more than a video game, but luckily for Virgil, Roman had a new job to do. He just needed to sneak Meeko out unnoticed.

‘I thought you said you paid off your debts last week,’ Roman said easily, subtly dropping his leg over the edge of the bed.

‘Yeah, but now I have more,’ Virgil shrugged, unaware of Roman’s movements. ‘It’s kind of a constant in this game.’

Roman hooked his socked toes around one half of the plush on the floor and silently dragged it closer. ‘Doesn’t living in constant debt stress you out though?’ He hooked his toes around the other piece of the toy, looking carefully out of the corner of his eye.

‘It’s actually super chill. You, like, go fishing and catch bugs and stuff.’ Virgil carried on talking, though Roman’s attention was quite preoccupied. ‘And you meet these animals and invite them to your island. You’d like them, they’re really sassy.’

‘Uhuh, uhuh,’ Roman hummed noncommittally, slowly inching his hand down to grab the stuffie pieces and trying to act as if he was just itching his leg.

‘You plant flowers and craft furniture and stuff. Then there’s this cool museum.’

Roman hurriedly stuffed the plushie pieces inside his jacket, masking the movement with a cough. He hazarded a glance to Virgil, glad to see that he was completely enraptured by the game, seemingly unaware of anything that was not pixelated.

‘You can design your own clothes too, look.’ Virgil pushed the screen in front of Roman and showed that his character was now wearing an in-game replication of his signature purple and black patched hoodie.

Roman’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Oh my goodness, that’s brilliant,’ he whispered, partly impressed by the game, though mostly impressed by the incredible idea that just popped into his head.

‘You should totally get the game. We could play together,’ Virgil said, smiling when he brought the console back to his lap.

‘I would like that,’ Roman said sincerely. ‘Though for now, I must be off.’

He rose from the bed, being careful to keep his left arm clutched tightly to his side to avoid dropping the toy and ruining his plan. He was ready to go and settle down to hours of work, but the child in him begged him to do one last thing before he left.

‘Still brothers?’ he asked hesitantly.

Virgil immediately looked up from the screen, his expression soft around the edges. ‘Yeah,’ he said quietly with a smile. ‘Still brothers.’

‘Yes!’ Roman cheered, punching the air with his right hand. It was followed by a huff of amusement from Virgil. ‘Love you, Virge,’ Roman said offhandedly as he turned away, ready to leave at that.

‘Uh, yeah,’ Virgil mumbled.

Roman paused on his way out. He knew Virgil fairly well, having spent so much time around him during the previous few months, and so he liked to think he had a fairly decent amalgamation of the varying tones of Virgil’s mumbles and what they meant. The wheezy ones showed distress, the stunted ones showed annoyance, the lowest ones showed reluctant happiness. This particular brand of mumble, quiet and high-pitched, projected Virgil’s embarrassment. And honestly what kind of big brother would Roman be if he missed such a harmless opportunity for teasing?

He spun back around with a smirk which only grew wider when Virgil saw it and groaned.

‘Say it,’ Roman insisted, holding back a laugh.

‘Go ‘way,’ Virgil whined, pulling his console up to cover his face, though Roman could still spy the blush peeking from behind it.

‘Aww, come on.’ Roman stepped closer to the bed, giggling when Virgil brought the Switch so close to his face that it touched his nose. ‘You said it yesterday,’ Roman sing-songed, kneeling down right in front of Virgil on the bed.

‘Then you shouldn’t need to hear it again,’ Virgil grumbled.

‘Oh, but I’ve forgotten what the pure adoration in your voice sounded like,’ Roman teased, reaching forward to lower the gadget from Virgil’s face. He bit his tongue in amusement when Virgil glared at him past bright pink cheeks. ‘How did you say it? “Wuvoo, Wo-Wo”?’

‘You’re no longer welcome in my kingdom.’

Roman shrugged, still being careful to keep his left arm secure over the stuffed racoon in his jacket. He swivelled his legs to plop down onto the bed.

‘Not leaving until you say it,’ he proclaimed proudly.

Virgil growled (adorably) and dropped the console to the bed, crossing his arms. An unintelligible mumble left his lips.

‘Hm, what was that?’ Roman asked with a giddy smile. He held his ear forward with his free hand. ‘I couldn’t quite hear -’

‘I love you, you weirdo!’ Virgil said loudly, seemingly agitated, though Roman knew there was no real heat behind it (he was well-versed in recognising Virgil’s playful irritation versus his real, leave-me-alone-right-now-or-suffer irritation). ‘Now get out of my room.’

Roman stood and bowed regally, ‘As you wish, Princess Bitter-cup.’

Something small and soft was hurled at his head.

‘Wow,’ Roman chuckled, picking up the tiny giraffe stuffie from the floor with his free hand and chucking it back onto Virgil’s toy pile. ‘Even when you’re a bitch you’re adorable.’

The pout on Virgil’s face was not a dangerous one so Roman winked. He sauntered off towards the door, finally satisfied that the guilty fog in his head had blown away. ‘See you later, lil bro.’

‘Don’t let the door hit you on the way out, big bro,’ Virgil responded sarcastically behind him.

Roman gasped, turning back around in the open doorway. ‘Umm, rude much - Ahh!’ He had to hurriedly jump back into the hallway to avoid being hit in the face by the door, which had suddenly slammed shut.

Waiting a moment for his heart to stop beating so hard from the spike of adrenaline, Roman heard muffled laughter coming from the bedroom. He scoffed and shook his head.

One of their house rules was to not use their metaphysical powers in the mindscape unless entirely unavoidable. Logan reserved his powers for actual emergencies, such as when the kitchen had set on fire. Patton only stretched the rules a little by using his powers to clean parts of the house that were difficult to reach or otherwise highly inconvenient. Roman used his powers only for absolute dire needs, such as summoning medical aid after an arduous adventure in the imagination (though on one occasion he had summoned puppies for desperately-needed snuggles). And Virgil, coming from years of living with the Other sides who used no such rule in their establishment, respected the rule for the most part, though renounced it on occasion in favour of performing relatively harmless pranks.

Roman could have tattled on him to Logan, though they had only just reconciled, so perhaps it wouldn’t have been the wisest decision. Plus, the next few hours of his time were decidedly booked.

He made his way down the hallway, already drawing up designs in his head. Being so inspired by his ingenious ideas, he almost bumped right into Logan at the top of the stairs.

‘Oh, sorry,’ Roman muttered, wondering how many more times he would utter that word that day. 

When Roman looked up, he was unsurprised to see that Patton stood right beside Logan. The two had been almost inseparable for the past two weeks when they weren’t caring for Roman and Virgil, and Roman was absolutely enamoured by their adorable attempts at keeping their budding relationship on the subtle side. They were obviously failing miserably.

What he was surprised to see, however, was a very large cardboard box huddled in both of Logan’s arms. ‘What’s in the box, specs?’

Logan and Patton looked at each other with unreadable expressions, then turned back to Roman and spoke simultaneously:

‘Stationery.’

‘What box?’

The two looked back at each other with wide eyes. Roman frowned, mind reeling with what two people in a new relationship could possibly buy together, have delivered in discreet packaging, and not want to tell - actually yeah, he didn’t want to think about that. 

‘Well, that was disturbing.’ Roman cleared his throat, avoiding eye contact as he hurried past them. ‘Forget I asked,’ he called back.

He had no time to worry about their stumbled defences. His sewing machine awaited!

oOo

Later that afternoon, Logan readjusted his position on the couch and crossed his legs with a sigh. He was feeling unusually restless. 

Patton and he had efficiently hidden their package some hours previously, thankful that Virgil did not witness their secrecy. It was all for his benefit, though the anxious side could be suspicious at the best of times. They could not afford for his defences to be raised any higher than they were already bound to be for the conversation they had planned.

As Logan waited, he breathed evenly, hoping to dispel his nerves before the other two joined him. Patton had left the room a minute previously to fetch Virgil for the chat.

There was no use in feeling nervous about it, Logan knew. It was only a conversation and truly there was nothing threatening about that. Still, the idea that Virgil could be upset by it disturbed Logan somewhat. He could not predict how the regressor would react to what they had to say. Though, as he so often said to Virgil, unpredictability should not be cause for worry. He took a steadying breath and uncrossed his legs.

Within a few moments, the door to the living room eased open and Patton stepped into the room with a quick nervous smile at Logan. After he had entered, Virgil shuffled in behind him, scratching at his hoodie sleeves and chewing his lip. Logan crossed his legs again.

‘Virgil, have a seat,’ Logan said gently, indicating the spot beside him on the couch. Patton had settled in the armchair.

Virgil’s eyes darted between both of them and the seat in quick succession.

‘You are not in trouble,’ Logan said, hoping that his smile was reassuring.

With a shaky sigh, Virgil perched on the end of the couch. He had sat as far from Logan as he possibly could.

‘Patton said you, uh, you wanted to talk about something?’ Virgil muttered.

‘Yes,’ Logan said. He internally made a note to talk to Patton about open-ended requests and how they could exacerbate Virgil’s anxiety, though pushed the matter aside for now. He carefully angled his body toward Virgil, trying to use more engaging body language as he could sense Virgil might try to close himself off. ‘We need to talk about your recent bathroom issues.’

As predicted, Virgil wrapped his arms tightly around himself and sunk further into the couch. Though he didn’t try to leave (for which Logan was grateful). ‘Oh.’

‘You are aware that Patton spoke to me about you two’s discussion, are you not?’

The question was met with a slight nod from Virgil. Logan did not miss the tremble in his fingers which clawed at his hoodie sleeves.

‘Virgil, I’d like to remind you that neither Patton nor I are in any way angry or disappointed with you,’ Logan said, knowing that Virgil’s anxiety must have been wreaking havoc in his mind.

‘Absolutely not,’ Patton agreed fervently. ‘We love you so much, Stormcloud. This doesn’t change that.’

‘Okay.’ Virgil did not meet either of their gazes. ‘Can I leave now?’

Logan sighed, knowing the conversation was bound to be difficult given Virgil’s attitude. ‘That wasn’t what we wanted to talk about.’

Virgil slumped in defeat.

‘I told Logan about everything you said to me yesterday,’ Patton started gently, ‘and we think we might have a solution to -’

‘You can fix it?’ Virgil asked, finally raising his gaze from his lap to look at Logan pleadingly.

Guilt flooded the logical side. It was not often Virgil felt hopeful about anything. In fact, Logan and the others had been trying to convince him to accept more optimism into his thought process, though unfortunately in this situation it had to be shot down.

‘Not exactly.’ At the look of hurt in Virgil’s eyes, Logan had to contain a wince. ‘You cannot always fix something,’ he explained. ‘Sometimes, the situation is unavoidable and the only option is to adapt.’

 ‘Adapt?’ Virgil echoed uncertainly.

Logan’s eyes inched over to Patton. They had agreed it might be more agreeable for Virgil to hear the suggestion from his lips.

‘Sweetheart,’ Patton said gently, ‘how would you feel if whenever you regressed you wore a diaper?’

‘No!’ Virgil immediately yelled, his voice cracking.

Logan shared a quick, bewildered look with Patton.

‘No, no, no, no, no,’ Virgil rambled frantically, his hands fisting in the cushion beneath him. Logan was shocked by the abject horror on the younger side’s face. ‘No, I can’t! I can’t, no, no -’

‘Honey, honey, stop. It’s all right,’ Patton hurried to soothe him, holding his hands up in surrender. ‘It’s completely okay if you don’t want to wear one.’

Patton was correct. It would have been completely acceptable had Virgil not wanted to try diapers. But - Logan noted with curiosity - Virgil had not said he didn’t want to. He had said he can’t. The small slip-up suggested that (even if only on a subconscious level) Virgil perceived the concept as unattainable, as opposed to undesirable. Logan felt an obligation to investigate further.

‘Why?’ he asked simply.

‘Logan,’ Patton whispered sharply, sending him a reprimanding look.

‘I won’t have any more accidents, I promise!’

Both caregivers looked back at Virgil in surprise.

‘Virgil,’ Logan said carefully, wary of the panic in Virgil’s eyes, ‘we understand that you do not do it on purpose, hence the term “accident”. We all know now that when you are regressed you cannot control it. Now I am sorry, but you simply cannot keep that promise.’

Virgil squirmed in place, his whole posture tense and alert. ‘Th-then I won’t regress anymore.’

Patton gasped, and Logan could hardly blame him. Though Logan had been prepared for Virgil to turn down the idea, the intensity of his reaction was entirely unforeseen.

‘Why would you say that, Virgil?’ Patton whispered, sounding heartbroken.

Virgil was trembling. He clearly had no answer. Though Logan was not convinced he would be able to reply even if he did have one.

‘Your regression is not voluntary.’ Logan spoke in a calm, low voice. ‘You have no say in whether it happens or not. You yourself told us this.’ He frowned in confusion. Virgil’s reaction was so fraught that it seemed to be inflicting his capacity for rational thinking.

To his vague relief, Virgil did appear to have gotten through the worst of his panic, though he still glanced between Patton and Logan nervously. ‘I can hide in my room,’ he suggested shakily. ‘I won’t bother you anymore, I’m sorry for burdening you, I -’

‘Stop,’ Logan said firmly. He could not bear to listen to the anxiety-driven drivel any longer. ‘I want you to take a deep breath.’

Virgil did just that, and the result was instantaneous. As he exhaled, his shoulders dropped from his neck and his hands eased their grip on the couch.

‘Good, keep going,’ Logan murmured, sharing a concerned look with Patton as Virgil took another shaky breath. When Logan had deemed it safe to do so, he continued.

‘We do not want you to hide in your room,’ he said clearly, being cautious to keep his tone gentle. ‘You do not need to hide your regression from us. You are not a burden.’

Virgil bit his lip but did not protest.

‘You could never be a burden,’ Patton said softly. By the jitteriness of his fingertips, Logan could tell that Patton was eager to reach out and hold Virgil, though he held back. ‘Please don’t hide this part of yourself again, sweetheart. You don’t need to.’

Even as his silence persisted, Virgil gave a stiff nod.

Now that Virgil had calmed down, for the most part, Logan launched into his investigation.

‘Could you perhaps explain why you are so adamantly against the idea of using diapers?’ It was met with bewildered looks of varying intensity from both of the others, so Logan elaborated, ‘In no circumstance would we ever force you into doing something against your will. That is not my intention for this conversation. I would merely like to examine your thought process surrounding the concept.’

Virgil looked imploringly to Patton, though was only met with an apologetic smile and nod.

‘Virgil,’ Logan called softly and was hurt to see the look of betrayal that turned onto him. ‘Please.’

He insisted on holding Virgil’s gaze until the younger side looked away with a sigh.

‘I just…’ Virgil pulled his knees up to his chest in a defensive pose. ‘It’s just weird,’ he mumbled.

Good, they could at least get somewhere with that.

‘Sweetie, it’s not -’

Logan held his hand up, silencing Patton. Though the reassurance was well-intended, Logan believed that simply disparaging Virgil’s views would be ineffective. They had to address the root cause of the issue.

‘And why is it weird?’ Logan prompted.

Virgil’s brow furrowed and he looked up at Logan with wide eyes, apparently (unreasonably) taken aback by the simple question.

‘I-I dunno,’ he said hesitantly. ‘Adults shouldn’t need -’

‘Some adults require incontinence products.’ Logan nipped that train of thought in the bud right away. ‘It is beyond their control, and yet you would call it weird?’

‘N-no!’ Virgil hurriedly defended. ‘No, of course not. That’s not - I meant I shouldn’t need… those.’

Logan muffled the growing satisfaction in his chest as they inched closer to the crux of the problem. ‘And why is it weird for you specifically and not those other adults?’

Virgil’s arms squeezed around his legs, pulling them tighter against his chest. ‘Because it’s, um, not a medical issue?’ he asked quietly, seeming more uncertain of his own argument with each passing second.

‘That is unimportant,’ Logan said. ‘Regardless of the cause, you are still unable to control your bladder on occasion.’

The tension in Virgil’s posture was painfully visible, as was the growing flush to his cheeks.

‘So, I will ask you again.’ Logan scooted himself slightly closer to Virgil on the couch, hoping that the closeness would bring Virgil some kind of comfort. He did not move away. ‘Why would it be weird for you to wear diapers if it is not weird for anyone else to do the same?’

Virgil blinked quickly and opened his mouth. Then he shut it, blinked, looked to his knees, opened his mouth, and shut it again. After a repeat of this cycle, he groaned quietly and buried his face against his knees.

‘You cannot think of an answer because it is an incorrect statement,’ Logan said. Looking at Virgil’s hunched form, he realised that being proven right was not nearly as satisfactory when it caused such distress to someone he loved. ‘I can assure you that your worries surrounding this matter are unfounded.’

‘He’s right, Virgil,’ Patton added. ‘You don’t need to be embarrassed about this, it’s all right.’

Virgil shook his head, though his face was still concealed by his knees. ‘Is not.’

‘It is,’ Logan insisted. ‘Your mental state regresses to that of a toddler’s, so why should we expect every aspect of your physical state to be any different? A toddler cannot be expected to have such a high command over their body.’

‘But I should,’ Virgil argued weakly into his jeans.

‘Not when you’re regressed, sweetheart,’ Patton said. ‘You’re just a baby, you can’t -’

‘I’m not a baby, I’m a pervert!’ Virgil shouted, his head snapping up from his knees fiercely.

Logan’s breath rushed from his lungs, his stomach lurching at such intense self-deprecation coming from the person he had come to see as his child.

‘Stormcloud…’ Patton whispered, sounding close to tears.

Virgil beat him to it. His “sweater paws” (that had been a highly useful vocab card) scrubbed harshly at the tears that fell to his cheeks. The image made Logan’s heart sink.

‘I’m a freak,’ Virgil mumbled into his sleeve. ‘I’m just gross and messed up and attention-seeking and…’ His voice had become squeaky and broken before he trailed off.

‘Baby, no, no, no,’ Patton cooed sadly and rushed to his side at break-neck speed. Squeezing in to sit between the regressor and the armrest, Patton wrapped his arm around Virgil’s shoulders and pulled him to lean against his side. ‘Virgil, honey, none of that is true. None of it.’

Virgil sniffled as Patton kissed his head.

Following Patton’s lead, Logan closed the distance between them on the couch. He placed one hand on Virgil’s knee and squeezed while his other settled on Patton’s forearm gently.

‘Please understand that there is absolutely nothing wrong with your regression or with how your body reacts to it,’ Logan pleaded, feeling strangely helpless. He had been so certain that Virgil knew his regression was valid. What had changed to make him spout this nonsense? ‘As you have informed us and as I have ascertained from my own research, age regression is by its very nature entirely non-sexual.’

Virgil nodded against Patton’s shoulder.

‘It is and always has been a natural state for you,’ Logan went on, sure that Virgil was aware of this already.

As suspected, Virgil nodded again.

Logan frowned. Where could this all have been coming from? ‘And you are aware that it is highly beneficial to your emotional wellbeing.’

‘Yeah,’ Virgil said, his voice wet and choked.

‘And you enjoy it!’ Patton said, injecting joy into his words. Logan saw how his arms tightened around Virgil’s form. ‘That’s as good a reason as any.’

Once more, Virgil nodded.

Logan considered why Virgil might have had such a sudden change of heart towards his view of age regression. It was, of course, possible that he had simply kept these views hidden up until that moment, though they had addressed his insecurities surrounding the matter on multiple occasions over the past three months. With a heavy heart, Logan realised that if these opinions had not originated from Virgil himself, they had to have originated elsewhere and been figuratively drilled into him.

‘Who called you those words, Virgil?’ Logan asked delicately. 

Virgil angled his head further into Patton’s shoulder in avoidance.

It was an unusual experience, watching the realisation dawn on Patton’s face. His eyes lost their joyful sparkle and his concerned expression melted into one of pure indignation and - most uncharacteristically - rage. The moral side pushed gently at Virgil’s shoulders, getting him to sit upright to reveal his face.

‘Who was it?’ Patton asked, his voice shaking with what Logan suspected was carefully concealed anger.

Virgil hunched in his seat and met Logan’s eyes for a split second before hurriedly looking down at his knees. ‘No one.’

‘Falsehood,’ Logan said sternly. He did not want to make Virgil anxious at all by prying, but he could not afford for this topic of conversation to be shrugged off so easily. ‘Who was it?’

With a deep, shaky sigh, Virgil rested his chin on his knees and muttered, ‘I mean no one I know.’

Patton sent a confused look to Logan over the head of purple hair.

‘Could you please elaborate?’ Logan asked.

A moment of silence passed, and just as Logan was preparing to ask again, Virgil inhaled sharply, paused, and then spoke.

‘A couple weeks ago I made a Tumblr post about my regression.’ Virgil’s voice was quiet enough that Logan had to strain to hear it. ‘About how I wasn’t ashamed of it anymore and - and about you guys,’ Virgil said. He tugged at a strand of his hair harshly.

Logan reached out and smoothed his fingers over Virgil’s hand, convincing him to release the hair. Their hands both dropped to the couch cushion, remaining joined at Logan’s insistence. He understood where the conversation was heading. ‘I am aware that there is an anonymous question function on Tumblr.’

Virgil’s fingers twitched against Logan’s palm. ‘S-someone kept sending asks saying it was just a… a fetish and telling me I was sick and weird and -’ he cut off with an audible gulp, ‘and a bunch of other stuff.’

‘They’re wrong,’ Patton stated without room for argument. Logan saw the muscle in his jaw jumping. ‘They - I can’t believe someone would -’ His voice was incredibly strained and it strangled his words so much that Patton seemed to almost gag over them. He blew out a harsh breath, the sound something akin to a hiss. ‘This is ridiculous.’

Patton was shaking with the effort to contain his reaction and looked about ready to burst. Glancing down, Logan realised with a hint of concern that Virgil was looking at Patton in surprise and, unfortunately, appeared to be nervous.

‘Patton,’ Logan said, ‘I want you to take a moment to -’

‘No, Logan!’ Patton whispered harshly, red in the face. He snatched his arm off from Virgil then clenched his fists in his lap. ‘They’re bullies. Horrible, mean, cruel bullies. I just don’t understand why!’ he broke into a shout. Virgil flinched and leaned into Logan’s side. ‘Why the hell would someone want to - I mean, how could - To our baby!’

Logan was in full agreement to everything that Patton was saying (even if most of it had to be read between the lines since he seemed so enraged that he could hardly get a full sentence out). But - Logan noted, seeing that Virgil was staring at his lap in shame - this was neither the time nor the place to display aggression. 

‘Patton,’ Logan said more firmly, ‘I understand you are angry, but please be wary of the sensitivity of this situation. I am sure Virgil would appreciate calm right now.’

‘I don’t mind.’ Virgil sounded feeble at best.

‘Angry?’ Patton repeated incredulously, actually looking at Logan in shock. ‘I - I’m not angry, I’m just…’ He went silent, the fire dissipating from his eyes and being replaced by uncertainty. Then he whispered, all heat faded from his tone, ‘I’m not angry.’

Logan nodded slowly. It was evident Patton was having trouble identifying his negative emotions, though Logan did not feel it right to divert the purpose of the conversation. He would have to delay the talk with Patton until after they had resolved Virgil’s issue, especially since he suspected Virgil would not open up so readily a second time.

‘Now, Virgil,’ Logan said. He looked at Patton pointedly, conveying that they had to get back to the task at hand. Patton nodded, the tension finally dispelling from his form. ‘These strangers online do not see how this coping mechanism helps you.’ Logan squeezed the younger side’s fingers slightly, earning his attention through a hesitant glance. ‘Their opinions are uninformed and therefore worthless.’

‘I’m sorry, sweetie,’ Patton breathed. He was curled into himself slightly, clearly embarrassed by his loss of control. ‘I didn’t mean to - these people are clearly very damaged,’ he said the word as if it were a substitute for harsher language, ‘and, for whatever reason, they only wanted to hurt you.’ He cautiously wrapped his arm back around Virgil’s shoulders. ‘Those kinds of people don’t have any authority over you or your regression.’

‘I guess not,’ Virgil said. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, melting into Patton’s touch.

Logan sighed in faint relief, glad that Virgil no longer seemed intimidated by Patton’s outburst. ‘It is a futile task in pandering to these idiots’ prejudices. Your regression makes you happy and so it is indisputably perfect.’

The words earned him a soft smile from Virgil and Logan felt his own expression soften at the sight.

‘Thank you,’ Virgil said with finality.

‘Though,’ Logan started, something still eating away at him, ‘it remains unclear how these bullies made you feel bad about needing diapers specifically.’

Virgil bit his lip, then looked back at the floor. ‘I - I wanted to try them a while ago,’ he whispered.

From the look on Patton’s face, it seemed Logan was not alone in his surprise.

‘It was just so scary whenever I had an accident!’ Virgil quickly defended. ‘I - I didn’t know what else to do. I was stupid and -’

‘Try again,’ Patton interrupted with a squeeze on Virgil’s shoulder.

‘I was dumb and -’

‘Again.’

‘I… was uninformed and didn’t know how to buy them. So I made a post asking for advice.’ Virgil rushed through the words as if wanting them to be over as soon as possible. ‘Then there was a bunch of asks saying it was disgusting and pathetic and hilarious and -’

‘Imbeciles,’ Logan growled loudly, though took a steadying breath and left it at that. He would absolutely be having a chat with Patton later so they could release their frustrations in private, away from Virgil.

‘None of that is true,’ Patton said softly. ‘Do you remember what Logan said about toddlers not being expected to have such a high level of bodily control?’

Virgil nodded.

‘You aren’t aware of yourself when you’re regressed, so you have to trust us when we tell you that when you’re in that headspace you really are a toddler.’ Patton said it slowly and deliberately, not giving Virgil a chance to dispute the words.

Virgil looked up at Logan, seeking confirmation.

‘It was astonishing to experience at first,’ Logan said, ‘but I cannot deny it. It truly is remarkable. And wonderful,’ he added truthfully.

Patton nodded enthusiastically and guided Virgil’s head to look back at him with gentle fingers. ‘As surprising as it was, we can tell it’s very real and natural.’ Patton kissed Virgil’s head. ‘There is absolutely nothing about your regression or your body that’s wrong in any way. Do you understand that now?’

Virgil stalled for a few seconds, though when he finally spoke, Logan could hear it was sincere. ‘Yeah. I think so.’

‘And I’m so proud of you for trying to help yourself, honey.’ Patton pulled Virgil into a tighter hug. ‘I’m sorry we weren’t there to look after you back then.’

‘But you are now… right?’ Virgil pulled away from Patton and peered shyly between both of them.

‘Of course we are,’ Patton replied instantly.

Logan felt a swell of pride and love overtake him. ‘We always will be.’

Virgil hid a smile behind his sweater paw.

‘Kiddo… can you maybe turn off the anonymous option on your blog?’ Patton asked hesitantly, reaching out to card his fingers through the length of Virgil’s hair. ‘I don’t wanna control what you do but it really worries me that these strangers could make you feel so bad about yourself.’

‘Already did,’ Virgil mumbled.

Logan saw that the tip of Virgil’s thumb had found its way to his lips. He was not surprised that Virgil appeared to be slipping into his regression; it had been a distressing conversation for him.

‘Clever boy,’ Patton praised, lightly pinching Virgil’s cheek. He must have noticed the slip too.

A shy smile wormed its way onto Virgil’s features.

Patton gasped dramatically. ‘Oh my, there’s suddenly an adorable baby in the room! Where did he come from?’

The thumb that had rested on Virgil’s lips now pressed between them. Logan recognised the light blush on Virgil’s cheeks as indicative of his impending infantile headspace.

‘Before you regress completely,’ Logan said quickly, wanting to be concise lest he miss the remaining moments of Virgil’s adult mindset. ‘Will you please reconsider our suggestion? We have already purchased some diapers for you as a precautionary measure and I think it will be a good idea for you to wear one today.’

‘I think so too, sweetheart,’ Patton added softly. ‘Just to see how it feels.’ 

Virgil hummed, though it might have been a muffled whimper.

‘There is no pressure to agree at all. Similarly, if you do attempt it but dislike it then there is no need to continue.’ Logan hoped to reassure any of Virgil’s doubts that might have been inhibiting what was clearly curiosity, perhaps even desire. ‘Though I believe it will at the very least be worth a try.’

Virgil genuinely seemed to consider it.

‘Remember, we’re only doing this to help you feel safe, Stormcloud,’ Patton whispered, running his knuckle against Virgil’s cheek.

Logan gently took hold of Virgil’s hand and eased it away from his mouth so that his thumb left his lips. Virgil pouted at him, though Logan ignored it in favour of asking, ‘What would you like to do, Virgil?’

To Logan’s astonishment, he nodded.

‘Try,’ Virgil said, his voice babyish and muted.

oOo

Reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated! ♡

AO3 link | Next chapter

NOTE: Massive thanks to my friend Duckie for reading over the first draft of this chapter, giving me notes and cheering me on, it wouldn’t be the same without her! You can find her adorable age dreaming tumblr here: @duckies-little-pond​ 🐣💛

[ravenforce]

See you in a minute

Requested by: @subjectx17

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 4544

Warning/s: FIRST, INCLUDES ENDGAME SPOILERS. DON’T READ UNLESS YOU’VE WATCHED THE MOVIE ALREADY. Secondly, angsty, of course. Lastly, long af.

A/N: Hey guys, again don’t read this if you still haven’t seen Endgame. I also didn’t include a summary here so it wouldn’t spoil the movie but the plot for this imagine to simply put it is, R took Tony’s role at the end of the movie. I would like to apologize if I mixed up some deets from the movie, I tried to stay on course as much as possible but sometimes my memory fails me. LMAO. I would also like to say thank you to Luce for this wonderful prompt. I hope you guys like it. Also, my works are still not showing up on the tag search. If you guys love it, I would appreciate the reblogs. Thanks. Happy reading. xx

Part Two is here: I’ll Never Love Again

Part Three: Stardust

Alternate Part Three (3B): Begin Again Pt. 1 

Five Years After

You just arrived back at the compound from a solo recon mission and you can hear your girlfriend's voice coming from the living room. It's fairly easy to decipher as you're the only two Avengers living at the compound now. You stood by the door and silently watch Natasha's conference call with the others. She's really good at keeping things together while the others moved on with their lives. You couldn't begrudge everyone though, there was nothing you could do and Nat choose this path, and you choose to follow and support her wherever she goes.

"I brought you some real food," you said the moment Rhodey ended the call.

She swiveled in her chair to look at you. After all that happened, she can still take your breath away just by looking at you. She beckoned you to come closer. When you did, she quickly snatched the bag of food and put it on her table before she pulled you by the hips and have you straddle her. You laughed while you run your hand through her red hair, she fought not to close her eyes but the feeling of your fingers on her hair and you pressed close to her is just too good.

"I don't know what I would do without you," she said as she wrapped her arms around your waist tighter. Holding the last of the Avengers together, holding herself together, and keeping up hope is tedious work; and Natasha is doing it all.

You wrapped your arm around her head and you kissed her hair. "I'm not going anywhere love," you assured her.

When she pulled back from your hug, you noticed how tired she looks. Tired yet still so beautiful. In that moment you couldn't resist, you cupped her face and kissed her passionately. Her hand going straight to your hips and her tongue seeking entrance on your mouth. You giggled a little and that made her pull away with an extremely red face, and kiss-swollen lips.

"I'm sorry, not to be a mood killer but you really need to eat love," you said. You've always taken care of each other ever since you joined the Avengers, and you sure as hell won't stop now. She rolled your eyes at you before she's reaching towards her table for the food. When she opened the container, she literally threw you off her.

"Ouch," you groaned.

"Is this?" She asked unable to complete her question in utter disbelief.

"Yeah, I heard they're open for business again," you answered lightly rubbing your backside. Before you can recover, she tackled you in a hug again.

"Thank you  (Y/N). I love you so much," she said as she rubs her nose all over your face. Grabbing potstickers all the way over the other side of the country was definitely a good idea. Natasha looked so happy being able to eat one of her favorite food again.

"Alright settle down. Let's eat then let's go to bed," you said sitting on the table to eat with her.

***

The appearance of Scott Lang was the game changer you needed. You were hanging out at the compound with Natasha and Steve when he appeared at your gate. By the time he finished explaining who he is and what he can do you're reeling with too much information.

"We need Tony for this," you said with your arms crossed over your chest and knitted brows. You highly doubt Tony would help, there's too much on the line for him especially with Morgan around. God, just the thought of Morgan fills you with so much happiness and worry.

"We need to try baby," Natasha said, reading the worried expression on your face.

Morgan came barreling down the stairs and into your arms the moment you step in on their cabin. "(Y/N)!" She yelled as she wrapped her tiny legs around your torso and her little arms wrapping around your neck. You laughed and kissed the side of her face that you can reach.

"Hello princess," you greeted. She pulled back a little to look in your eyes and give you kisses all over your face just as Natasha walked in with Pepper.

"What? No kisses for Auntie Nat?" She asked in mock offense. Morgan giggled and jumped off of you and to Nat's arms.

"Auntie Nat!" She said as she obliged on giving more kisses. You and Pepper looked at the two with so much love. For all of the Black Widow's badass reputation, she's the softest around Morgan.

"Miss me?" Nat asked as she carries Morgan to the living room to sit down.

"Uh huh," Morgan answered nuzzling her head under your girlfriend's chin while playing at the ends of Natasha's hair.

"Room for one more?" you asked. Nat reached out her hand out to you. You smiled before walking towards the pair and sits as close to Natasha as possible. Tony walked in a minute after, he took one look at the three of you huddled together and engaging her daughter makes his heart swell.

"They're the cutest," Pepper said as she sidled next to him in her best date dress.

With the whole Thanos debacle and raising baby Morgan, date nights have been on paused for a while but now that she's a little older and a little easier to handle, Pepper and Tony decides they can leave her with you and Nat for a couple of hours. Besides Tony trusts you and Nat with his life, he definitely trusts you with Morgan's.

"Daddy!" Morgan squealed when she sees Tony but made no move to get off Natasha's lap. Tony smiled at her daughter before walking towards the couch.

"Behave while we're gone okay? We'll be back in a few hours," Tony said before kissing Morgan on top of her head. She giggled.

"I always behave daddy," she answered.

"Oh, of course, you are. I meant Auntie Nat and (Y/N)," Tony said laughing. You rolled your eyes at your best friend, which only makes him laugh louder. He leaned in and gave you a kiss on the head too.

"Go Stark before I change my mind about this," you said pretending to be annoyed.

“Like you have the power to resist her,” Tony teased before walking away. Of course, he’s right. You’re powerless over Morgan. All she really has to do is ask, and you’ll give her everything. You love your goddaughter like how you’ll love your future children with Natasha.

Morgan is hands down the easiest child to babysit. When Tony and Pepper left for their date, you all decided to watch a movie after dinner. Morgan chose Moana, again. You're lying on your back with Natasha squeezed in between you and the back of the couch, Morgan lying on top of you. Natasha noticed that Morgan fell asleep halfway through the movie.

"One day, after we get everyone back I want this with you," she whispered, careful not to wake Morgan up. You turned your head towards her and look her in the eyes.

"If you want it, you gotta put a ring on it," you couldn't help but joke. She chuckled before sobering up quickly.

"Would you marry me?" Natasha asked so softly. Without Morgan pressing you firmly down the couch, you would have pulled her towards you and kiss her senseless. You had to settle for reaching your hand to cup her beautiful, strong jaw.

"Natasha, you're my best friend, my partner, my rock, the half of my soul and the love of my life. There's nothing more I want than to marry you and have little Morgans' with you," you told her sincerely. She has tears in her eyes after you spoke. She leaned in and kiss you softly.

"We won't let anything happened to her, I promise," she continued trying to soothe both of your worries. Natasha loves Morgan as much as you do.

When you arrived at the cabin, Tony perked up when he saw you and Nat. His smile dropped and his posture tensed when he saw Steve and Scott. Your best friend is a genius in all sense of the word, he knows that all of you here in his humble cabin in the woods only means trouble. When Scott finished recounting his theory, Tony shuts it down immediately. He dismissed all of you and nearly threw you off his property.

"Tony," you said as you hang back a little after everyone file out.

"Why can't you leave me out of it?" He asked crossing his arms over his chest.

"I would if I could but I'm not as smart as you," you answered.

"Yes, you are! You're the second smartest person I know," he said. You smirked at that.

"Sure but I can't figure it out without you," you countered. He shook his head.

"There's too much at risk (Y/N)," he said looking away from you. When you followed his gaze, you saw Morgan talking with Natasha.

"I know. I'll do everything to protect her too," you answered simply before patting his shoulder and walking towards the others.

***

Tony figured how to stabilize the travel in the quantum realm, of course, he does. He's a Stark after all. The tests on the machines are proving to be trying even with experts like Scott and Bruce. You can sense everyone getting frustrated, and frustration hinders results.

"Again," Steve ordered.

"Hold up," you countered. Steve raised puffed his chest out, daring you to challenge his authority.

"No offense but we're not going to figure this out faster if we're all frustrated. So let's take a break, have lunch and convene after," you said.

Everyone looked at each other before nodding, Steve walked away without saying a word. You sighed, you never liked confrontation especially between teammates but Steve doesn't have the monopoly on decisions and he's not always right. Natasha walked towards you, you relaxed the moment you felt her arms wrapped around your waist and her chin parked in your shoulder.

"Wanna grab a bite?" she whispered on your ear with the voice she only uses inside your bedroom. You turned on her arms and looked at her smirking face.

"Yes, I'm actually in the mood for you," you teased back. You can feel the shudder that runs through her as you pushed her back against the table. You were an inch away from her lips when someone rudely cleared their throat behind you. You groaned, you wish you're wearing your suit so you can shoot whoever interrupted your moment with Natasha.

"Sorry to interrupt kid."

"Years after and you're still a cock block," you said without pulling away from Natasha. Natasha looked at Tony from your shoulder.

"Welcome back," Nat greeted him before planting a kiss on your shoulder and slowly untangling herself from you. With Tony on board providing his expertise, you're closer than ever to getting everyone back. The next step now is getting the rest of the team back.

***

The reunion of the remaining Avengers is bittersweet and short lived.

"Nat, where's Clint?" Bruce asked the moment everyone reappeared at the mouth of the portal.

Everyone held their breath waiting for Natasha to speak. If you're being honest, you think you know what happened and you had the foresight to catch Natasha before she fell on her knees.

"Clint is gone," she said while she sobs and holds on to you. She unclenched her fist to reveal the soul stone. "I'm so sorry love," you tried to soothe her.

With all the infinity stones at your hands, reversing the effects of the snap is a pressing matter. As superheroes, you're only afforded an hour to mourn the loss of your friend and teammate before duty calls. Tony gathered everyone as he assembled the infinity stones in one of his Iron suits spare arm. Bruce reckons he will wear the gauntlet as he has the best chance at surviving the radiation of the infinity stones.

Everyone held their breath as Bruce groaned in pain. It took a couple of minutes before he settled and was able to snap his finger. For a few seconds, it felt like the world stops before it starts again. Scott went straight to one of the windows to see if there are any noticeable changes.

"Guys, I think we did it," he said as he watches the sun seemingly shining brighter and butterflies fly in the garden.

You smiled at Tony, he put his hand up for a high five but gave him a quick hug instead. You turned towards Natasha and pulled her into a bone-crushing hug too. It was a glorious moment until a deep rumble shook the foundation of the compound. Before anyone of you can make sense of it, lasers shoot out from the sky and destroyed the compound.

You had a good mind to pull Natasha towards you to shield her from falling debris. Thanks to the suit Tony made for you, you're able to hold the weight of the debris pressing down at you and Natasha.

"Hey beautiful," you croak out. "Are you okay?" You asked, she just nodded at you.

You put your knee forward to leverage yourself and throw off the fallen part of the building away from you. You reached your hand towards Natasha to help her stand up. Standing side-by-side you surveyed the destruction and it was devastating to see your home reduced to rubble. You heaved a sigh of relief as one by one your teammates resurfaced through the wreckage.

"Everyone alright?" You heard Steve speak through your comms.

***

You're cursing in your head as you work with Natasha, Thor, Steve and Tony in containing Thanos but even with your combined powers and expertise, he's still a Titan skilled in combat. He's trashing everyone around like paper dolls. Even with your strength, and accelerated healing you can still feel the ache every time you take a hit from Thanos. Thanos pulled a combo move, which threw Thor and Tony back a few feet away. When Nebula opened the portal that transports their army on earth, you're standing next to Steve.

"Fuck me," is all you can say as you watch horde after horde of aliens come into the battlefield. Steve gulped but he is Captain America, he exudes hope even in the face of imminent death. Before any of you can make a move, a certain change in the air occurred behind you. When you chance a look over your shoulder, you felt a certain degree of relief as you watch numerous portals open behind you and came walking out of them are your previously dusted comrades.

You looked back towards Thanos and his horde feeling a little stronger. "Let's finish this," you said through your comms and you look across the field towards Tony and Natasha. They nodded their head before all of you broke off towards different direction to launch the attack. Chaos erupted all around you; Steve, Tony, and Thor took it upon themselves to take on Thanos.

Peter swung wildly in the air carrying the new gauntlet but he's being chased by multiple aliens from multiple directions. You wanted to get to him but you're swamped with enemies too. Thankfully, Carol landed in front of Peter, “got something for me, Peter?” The women on your team converged, you watch proudly as Natasha stood next to Carol. Carol nodded, they had a minute to look at each other before they charged forward; Carol flying directly to the location of the quantum portal.

Unfortunately, Thanos amidst being preoccupied, saw Carol flying in the direction of the portal. He threw his weapon and you watched in slow motion as it races Carol towards the goal. Captain Marvel is fast but Thanos is standing nearer to the portal, his weapon reached Scott's beat up van faster; effectively destroying it and throwing Carol off onto the other direction and dropping the gauntlet.

Thanos picked up the gauntlet and immediately wears it. Everything seems to be going in slow motion and silent, all you could hear is the muffled sound of chaos and Thanos groaning as the radiation creeps up his arm. Before Thanos could snap his fingers again to destroy the whole universe, Carol fought to take the gauntlet off him. He soon realized he can't take on the space girl with sheer brute strength, so he channeled the power stone on his other hand to blast Carol away.

***

You knew he would use one of the stones to attack Carol. Tony knew too as he looked at you from across the field. You're fighting way closer to Thanos than everyone else. You nodded at him before you swept your eyes through the field looking for Natasha. When you spotted her a few yards away, you tapped at your comms.

"Hey beautiful," you said as cheerfully as you could muster.

She looked up and met your eyes, she can see right through you even across the distance. She took one look at you and your proximity to Carol and Thanos, and she knows you're about to do something stupid.

"(Y/N)," she whispered with panic in her voice.

"I love you, Tasha, I'll see you in a minute," you said before running towards Thanos after he blasted Carol away.

You managed to hold on to the gauntlet before Thanos easily punched you a few steps back. He smirked before he raised his arm and snapped his fingers. Everyone who is close to your location held their breath. After a heartbeat without anything happening, he looked at you, down on your one knee with all the five of the infinity stones fitted on your suit. You looked straight into his eyes before you inserted the last stone in place.

"You shall not pass," you said through the excruciating pain of the radiation creeping up on the other half of your body before you snapped your fingers. In an instant, his horde of alien monstrosities disappeared in a cloud of dust. Thanos looked at you before he sat on rubble, accepting his defeat and failure before he too disappeared. Tony would have laughed at your dorkiness if you weren't screaming in pain.

Carol who was closest to you caught you before you totally fall. She carried you to the nearest stable surface and sat you against a wall. You're groaning and unresponsive to her calls. You're not sure if you've gone deaf or it really has gone quiet, your vision is blurry and all you can feel is the excruciating burning sensation at the right side of your body starting from your arm. You tried to look at your arm but your body isn't responding to any stimuli anymore.

Tony is immediately by your side with tears in his eyes. He cupped the unburnt side of your cheeks. "We won (Y/N/N), we won," he said crying. Steve had to hold him to steady him as he openly sobs next to you.

"Nat" you whispered in a last ditch effort to speak. At this point, you can't see anything anymore. You're barely conscious. Natasha nearly shoved Tony away as she runs to you. One look at you and she felt cold all over, tears immediately pooled in her eyes.

"Baby, look at me. (Y/N), look at me," she pleaded. Her voice cut through the darkness that's slowly swallowing you whole. You stood in the darkness and let her voice soothe you.

"It's okay, I'm going to be okay. You can rest now," Natasha continues as she put her hand on your chest.

"We will meet again," she said before she leaned in and kiss you. You wished you could see her one last time but the darkness around you is too thick. Natasha was one of the best things that happened in your life, you know she's going to hurt for a while but you know she will be taken care of. Tony will make sure of that, and you let that thought comfort you as you succumb to the darkness.

Natasha can taste her own tears as she watches the light in your eyes finally go out. She was trained to never show her emotions at all cost but you came into her life and barreled through her defenses with your stupid jokes, bright smiles, and steady presence. She like you the moment she met, she knew she loves you the first time you protected her on a mission that almost costs you your life. Wanda who reached the scene held Natasha as she openly sobbed in front of your lifeless body.

***

When the rest of the Avengers came back to the cabin, Morgan immediately wrapped her arms around her father. She looked around the faces crowding at their front yard. She knew half of the faces as some of them comes to visit once in a while, the other half are strangers to her.

"Daddy, where's (Y/N)?" She immediately asked when she finished looking around.

When Tony didn't answer, she turned in his arms and look at her mother. Pepper just smiled at her, then she turned to Natasha. Natasha had to use a tremendous amount of energy not to cry the moment their eyes met. Morgan asked her dad to put her down, she walked slowly towards Natasha. Nat kneels down in front of her, she's a very smart kid, she didn't need words to know what happened.

She caressed Nat's face with her tiny little hands before speaking, "it's okay Auntie, I'll take care of you. I promised (Y/N) I will." Nat whispered and gently pulled Morgan towards her. Morgan instantly wrapped her arms around her neck.

Tony and Natasha decided to hold your funeral at the cabin. They bought one of those biodegradable urns that'll turn your ashes into fertilizer for a tree. Morgan picked the spot in front of their house where she used to pitch her little tent as the place to plant the tree with your ashes. The gathering is intimate, mostly just your team including some of your friends from space. There's no formal ceremony, Natasha opted to have no eulogy as the pain of not having you around anymore is still too raw.

She surmises it'll feel raw and painful for the rest of her life. She got everyone back but lost who mattered to her most. When it's time, Tony dug the hole in which Morgan will help Natasha plant your tree. Nat silently cried as she put the biodegradable urn on the ground, Morgan helped her cover it up. Nat stood up but Morgan stayed on her spot, touching the freshly covered dirt.

"Bezopasnogo prokhozhdeniya v vashikh puteshestviyakh, do nashey posledney poyezdki na zemlyu. Mozhem li my vstretit'sya snova" Morgan enunciated the words as best as she could. Natasha stopped dead on her tracks.

"Where did you learn that?" Nat asked gently. Morgan looked at her.

"(Y/N) taught me some Russian when you're out with mom and dad sometimes," Morgan answered.

Natasha wrapped her in another hug. Of course, you did. You learned Russian to communicate with her earlier on your friendship. It's one of the things you did that made her fall in love with you more. Wanda and Pepper ushered you towards the house where everyone gathered. Fury walked towards Natasha on the couch and handed her a little device.

"I found it in one of my safe we salvaged at the compound," he said simply. Natasha looked to Tony, not knowing what to do with it. Tony pressed some buttons on it and there appeared a hologram you.

"Hey, is this working?" Your hologram said tapping at the camera before leaning against a table. "Okay. I think it's working," you continued while looking at the camera. You look so relax, beautiful, and alive. Tony held Natasha’s hand.

"This won't take long, Tasha will be back soon. So," your hologram paused.

"If you're watching this, I'm probably dead. I hid this at Fury's safe because even though I trust Tony with my life, I don't trust him to let me go when it comes down to a decision. Anyway, I just want to say a few things. Nick, thank you for believing in me all those years back. I couldn’t imagine what would have happened if you didn’t trust that I can do good. To the Avengers, thank you for giving me a family and a purpose. You guys are the best team anyone could ask for, even though you all can be annoying sometimes,” you paused as you let out a laugh.

“Tony, please tell Morgan I love her so much. She’s the most wonderful child in the world, I can’t believe he’s yours. Must be all Pepper’s genes, thank her for that,” you joked and laughed some more. God, hearing your laugh again made the tears Natasha was holding off run down freely on her face.

“I love you too, you're my best friend and my brother. Take care of Natasha for me," your hologram croaked out.

"Tasha," you said her name like a prayer. You looked directly at the camera. It took a couple of heartbeats before you spoke again. Clearly saying goodbye to the love of your life is the hardest thing you would ever do in this life. Probably harder than dying because you know you would die if it means Natasha would live and be safe.

"I'm sorry that I'm gone, Tasha. I wish we had more time. Ask Morgan to give you the box I asked her to keep safe for me,” Tony hit the pause button and looked at Morgan.

Her daughter jumped off Pepper’s lap and made a beeline to her room. She came back with a black velvet box. Natasha gasped as Morgan handed it to her. Her heart nearly stopped as she looked at the simple titanium ring. ‘I love you, I’ll see you in a minute’ is engraved on the inside of the ring. Natasha cried as she pulls the ring out of the box, and slipped it on her left ring finger.

“I wish I had more time to give that to you personally. I asked Morgan to keep it safe for after we get everyone back. I wish we had more time to actually have a wedding. The only thing I want more than to spend my life with you is to know that you’ll survive this war. Please know that I did what I did to ensure that you will live.” your hologram messaged continued.

“I’m sorry that this might take more than a minute but please remember that I love you with all that I am until my last breath. I will love you and only you from this life and the next, in all other timelines and all alternate universes. May we meet again, my love," you said before walking towards the camera and shutting it off.

Bezopasnogo prokhozhdeniya v vashikh puteshestviyakh, do nashey posledney poyezdki na zemlyu. Mozhem li my vstretit'sya snova

"Safe passage in your travels, until our last trip to the earth. May we meet again"

[darkhymns-fic]

The Cutest Maid for Me

After suffering a humiliating fishing defeat, Estelle needed some cheering up. And Joshua only knew one way he could do that, no matter that it was a little embarrassing... 

Fandom: Trails in the Sky/Sora no Kiseki Characters/Pairing: Estelle Bright/Joshua Bright Rating: G Mirror Link: AO3 Notes: Written for @taco-night-frenzy​ who I love dearly. It was her birthday yesterday! So here’s a gift of Trails! (Estelle is very fun).

The road to mastery was never easy. It was full of hardship, doubts and sometimes even pain. But Estelle had known her share of all of that – and she would achieve all she could despite whatever setbacks would come her way.

She threw out her fishing line with an expert flick, grinning in satisfaction when the hook made a soft plunk! as it bobbed onto the lake’s surface. “Ha! Beat that, Lloyd!”

The man standing next to Estelle on the dock, an expert fisherman that she had run into more times than she could count, rubbed his chin. His bushy moustache caught the sun's rays, burnishing it with a deep azure. “Hmm…impressive. You have a good wrist there. Nice arc on the line, and the bait is reaching deep enough into the water but not too much.”

“Heh,” Estelle huffed out with a smirk, one hand on her hip as she held the fishing pole in the other. She was already a master after all. The Fisherman’s Guild had recognized her talents long ago! But it seemed that one of their members wanted to put her to the test still.

Valleria Lake was no stranger to Estelle or to Lloyd. It was here where they had met each other long ago, back when Estelle had been a much lower-rank Bracer, and when Lloyd was just another regular fisherman. The Kingfisher Inn had been on the way for her and Joshua’s travels, and they had decided to rent out a room there, happy with some of the memories it brought them, as well as their much needed rest from so much traveling across Zemuria.

It seemed to be fate that she and Lloyd would meet again here at this very same place.

“Flattery isn’t going to save you.” With a turn to the fisherman, Estelle Bright, B rank Bracer and Legendary Angler, tried to give the man some hope. “But it has been a while since I seriously fished. Currently out doing my Bracer duty and all. Takes up my time a lot.”

Lloyd nodded, taking in her words with the utmost solemnity. “I apologize for interrupting you with this Angler’s Duel. It brings me back to when you were only a rookie… To see how far you’ve come!”

Estelle was not only the best at being a Bracer and being a fisher, but also at humbleness. She was humble as hell! Estelle started to laugh good-naturedly, to show off more of that humble nature of hers! “I’ve grown up! And I’ve learned plenty along the way!”

The last time she and Lloyd had dueled, she had been more hesitant, a bit greener around the gills as it were. (That was a fishing pun! She knew these things now because she was a fisher). But after all her experiences and finally finding Joshua, Estelle was confident, and of course much stronger. As proof, she was already feeling a nibble on her line! But she restrained from going ahead and reeling it in just yet. With that same smirk, she let the catch slip away, the ripples of its escape dancing across the water’s surface.

Lloyd was understandably confused. “Why didn’t you go and catch it? You had it!”

“It was just a small-fry. I’m here to get bigger game.” Estelle turned back to Lloyd with her most humble grin. “And I wanted to give you a head-start! Now you should show me what you’ve learned over this last year!”

Estelle may have also felt a bit competitive lately. Joshua would rarely fish with her as it was, even now! Maybe Lloyd would give her a challenge that she’d been lacking!

On their last duel, Lloyd had been fired up as they competed, but he had also floundered (another pun!), missing multiple catches in a row, allowing Estelle to claim sweet victory. But even if he had improved, she knew she could be better.

Lloyd stared hard at the lake, still rubbing his chin, his moustache absolutely brimming with energy. It was amazing how little the fisherman had changed at all for the past year. He even wore the exact same clothes! She recognized that green jacket, his leather belt, those brown pants…were those even the same shoes?

“Fair warning, Estelle. While you’ve been busy…I’ve been honing my own skills!” And there it was, that fiery look in the man’s eyes, that drive to fish to the max! At first, Estelle thought these fisher guys were a little weird, but she understood completely now.

“Then show me what you got!” she goaded on with a laugh. No matter that she let her line sink a bit into the water, that her form was more relaxed. She had this!

“Gladly!” That was when Lloyd went to his side of the pier, walked over to the fishing rack with multiple rods placed alongside each other…

…and pulled out two of them. Both of them crafted to perfection, their wood carefully polished, and their lures as bright as any scrumptious bait that the fish would be hungering for.

“My double fishing technique is going to leave you out to dry!” Lloyd stated proudly. “You’ll have to catch up to me now!”

Estelle blinked, her humble grin completely wiped from her face. “Wait…wait, two? You can have two? Isn’t that against the rules?” The Fisherman’s Guild had rules, didn’t it?

“This is an advanced technique proposed by Mister Fisher himself!” Lloyd waggled his thick mustache in pride, then whipped out both rods towards the giant lake. “Hiyaaaa!”

Estelle had not been prepared for this at all. She floundered (no!!) with her own fishing pole, just able to grab at it before it fell into the water. She then turned to Lloyd with a grimace. “I’ve been away from the Guild for over a year! I didn’t get any news about using double fishing rods!” Was Lloyd trying to trick her? It would make sense, as it would be the only way to beat her…

Lloyd faced the lake with that same fire in his eyes, one fishing rod in each hand. Already the lines were pulling on both! So fast!

“Better not just stand there gawking now!” Lloyd said. “Or I’ll be winning this duel in style!”

“How can you fish with two fishing rods!? How are you even going to reel them in? It makes no sense!” It would be like if Estelle used two staffs instead of one! Their weight would hinder her and would make it harder to do her moves! Sure, Joshua used two swords to fight but swords were different and he was always weird about stuff like that anyway…

Lloyd though, seemed to have no trouble with his catch. With another triumphant shout, he stepped back on the pier, and pulled on both rods with a flourish. The water, from where the lures were descended into, burst upwards in a glorious array of colors. The sun caught the droplets, fell onto Lloyd’s hair and moustache, all as the fishing lines curled around him, as if they were a part of him...

From both hooks hung two wiggling basses. Lloyd stood tall. “Now see if you can beat that! I gave it my all, and now got my all twice-over!”

Estelle blinked. “Muh? But those are just- argh! Never mind! You’re on, buster!” She took her fishing rod in both hands, gripping it as she would with her staff, and readied herself for her next move.

She wasn’t going to lose!

It was only an hour later before the door to Joshua’s and Estelle’s room in the Kingfisher Inn opened so forlornly that Joshua had barely noticed it at first. Except well, that wasn’t entirely true. Trained to be a hyperaware killing machine, he noticed it right away actually. It was just…it had opened so pathetically he didn’t even feel he had to be on his guard.

And going by the soft footsteps, Joshua had already known who it was.

“Is everything alright, Estelle?” he asked. Seated at a small table next to the window, he closed the book he had been reading. The fascinating history between the exotic fruit traders of the Calvard Republic and the Erbonian Empire would have to wait. “I was getting worried.”

Estelle’s position was so slouched, she might as well have been dragging her head across the floor. As it was though, it was mostly her twin ponytails, probably catching every piece of dirt and lint on the way. “Joshua…”

He got up, now overly concerned. Eyes hard, he knelt before Estelle, grasping her shoulders. “Did you get hurt?” Was it the agents of Ouroboros? Or had Estelle found Renne but couldn’t get her back? “Tell me what happened.”

She collapsed to the floor, knees tucked underneath her. It seemed that all of her previous zest for life had completely left her. How could someone extinguish her light so easily? “…Joshua…”

He gripped her shoulders tighter. “Estelle…please tell me.”

She finally raised her eyes to him, on the verge of tears. “I…I lost!”

“Lost what? Did you…?” So she must have found Renne then. Estelle would feel so guilty at losing her already-

“The Angler’s Duel! I lost!” Estelle’s once broken voice was then tinged with disbelief, a pout in her tone that Joshua could recognize anywhere.

“…You lost a duel?” Joshua questioned, then sighed. The fire in his amber eyes cooled instantly. “Is this just about fishing?”

“It’s not just that!” Estelle than stood up, leaving his hold. “I didn’t just lose a fishing duel! I lost my reputation!” With a frustrated groan, she sat on the bed, muttering under her breath. “Stupid…two rods…not even fair…”

Joshua got up from the floor as well. At least it hadn’t been anything too serious. “You’ll get over it. Why don’t you have something to eat at least?”

“I’m not even hungry!” Estelle whined, obviously lying but Joshua would let her ride that anger out until her stomach started growling at any moment. “I just wanna sleep and forget it all…Leave me to wallow in my shame…” With another sigh, Estelle let herself fall backwards onto the bed to finally sleep away her defeat at the hands of Lloyd, already feeling drowsy while halfway to the pillow…

“Estelle, watch out!”

Bam!

“Owww!!” Estelle sat up instantly, clutching the back of her head in pain. The metal rim of the bed’s headboard had a nice big dent from where her skull had collided into it at full speed. “Why was that even there?!”

“We’ve been sleeping in this bed for the past few nights, you should already know by now…” Joshua sat next to her, massaging the back of her head with his hands. “There, there…”

“Waaa…what if my skull is broken?”

“It’s not broken.” Joshua gave her head a gentle pat. “You’ve got the thickest skull in all of Zemuria.”

“…You’re not that great at comforting, you know.”

“I know.”

As Joshua rubbed that forming bump on Estelle’s head (wouldn’t be the first time either), he could feel Estelle beginning to wind down from earlier. “Since when do you want to skip out on dinner? Come on, we can get you something from the downstairs kitchen.”

And for a moment, Estelle looked as if she would listen. It would be nice just to eat together, especially after all of their hard traveling throughout the continent, searching for any traces of Renne where they could. This familiar inn by Valleria Lake was supposed to be their moment of rest, and he was going to make sure Estelle got that.

She gazed up at him, that bump on her head almost like a halo with the way it framed her…It was really that big. Maybe Joshua needed to get Estelle to a doctor…

“Hey, Joshua…You know what would make me happy?” Estelle said, interrupting his thoughts. Her eyes were as bright as the sun, the same sun that had shone through his seemingly everlasting darkness.

He knew exactly what she was asking for then.

Joshua lowered his eyelids halfway, distant and empty of all meaning. His hands slid from her head, hanging now from his sides. “No.”

“Come onnn!” Estelle placed her fists underneath her chin, as excited as a kid who just caught a gigantic, wriggling, completely disgusting beetle in her bare hands. “It’ll be great!”

“I can’t keep doing this for you every time you get sad, Estelle.”

“But I’m injured! Look!” She ducked her head, showcasing more of that bump that poked through her hair. “Looook!!”

“I’m looking! Now please stop!” Joshua lost his cool demeanor. With Estelle, he could barely keep it up for very long. “…Do I really have to do this for you?”

“But you like it too, Joshua!”

He sighed in long-suffering defeat. Joshua knew when to pick his battles, and with Estelle, there was just no winning. Not when she looked at him like that. “Fine. Give me a minute then.”

“Yay!” Estelle reached out to hug him, her pain of past losses (and actual pain) already leaving her so quickly. “You’re the best!”

“I’m only wearing it for a little while! I don’t want anyone seeing it…” With that proclamation, Joshua went to the window and pulled the curtains closed. The sun outside was shut out, with no more view of the grand lake.

“You don’t need to be embarrassed, Joshua! It looks good on you!”

Joshua could control every action of his body – even down to the very core temperature. But not when it came to Estelle. He was weak to everything she threw at him; from puppy dog eyes to the multiple bugs she had literally thrown at his face. He could already feel his face burning a bright red. “Estelle, come on…”

She was grinning, already looking very excited, and he couldn’t let her down. Not after everything she did for him.

“…Don’t take pictures this time,” Joshua said before he went to an extra room in the back, quickly pulling out a dark garment from one of their packs. “I mean it.”

“Oh fiiine,” Estelle said, but she was still smiling just before he turned away to change.

She really had him wrapped around her finger, didn’t she?

Even though only a few minutes passed, Estelle easily got impatient. Even more so now with the throbbing on her head. That bump really hurt! These beds were clearly a safety hazard. The Kingfisher Inn needed to get their standards up for sure! But she would fulfill her Bracer duties later on. Right now, she only wanted one thing!

“Joshua!” Estelle yelled. She had gone to seat herself at the table, pushing whatever book was on there more to the side, more away from her. (She had looked through it earlier and saw no pictures, so it wasn’t that important anyway).

“Hold on!” She heard Joshua call from the back. “This isn’t the easiest thing to put on…”

“I can help!” she said ecstatically. “Want me to help?”

“No!”

“Aw…”

But Joshua didn’t keep her waiting long. Finally the door to the back room opened. Estelle was practically vibrating on her seat, her twin ponytails nearly perked up the same way animal ears tended to do…

“Uh, are…you sure you’re alright?” Joshua asked. He pressed down on the front of the maid’s dress, looking shy as he did so. The material was pitch black, decorated with white frills alongside its sleeves and the hem, which was outfitted with a white apron on the front. He looked exactly like how he did back at Grancel Castle when they had to be in disguise, only lacking the long-haired wig he had worn last time. But it didn’t detract from his presentation at all. “That bump on your head looks like it’s getting bigger.”

Estelle waved away any health concerns. “Psh, I’m fine! I’m better than ever!” She was too busy looking over at Joshua in his maid’s uniform, complete with the white cap. “I just need my maid to serve me my food!”

Joshua closed his eyes, and in his arms brought up a picnic basket that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. “Of course…Lady Estelle…”

“Hehe, yeah!” She pumped her fist in the air. This was great!

“But seriously, I’m not even sure how you were able to keep these maid outfits at all.” He looked down again at what he wore, down to the prim stockings and shining shoes with the heels just a tad too high for him. “These are supposed to only belong to Grancel Castle.”

“It’s a secret technique!” Estelle said with a wink, careful to not let slip the fact that the simple act of asking the other maids for spare clothes had been the solution. But she was too busy staring hard at pretty Joshua and the food he carried just for her! When he dared to walk closer to her, she then tugged on the hem Joshua’s dress, pulling him nearer. “C’mere!”

“Estelle, stop! I’m gonna trip!” Joshua complained, still struggling with the stockings he had put on. But despite being expertly trained ever since at a young age, he apparently could not sidestep quick enough to avoid landing right in Estelle’s lap, picnic basket bouncing over his knees.

“Hehe, got you just where I want ya!” she said gleefully. “Remember to feed me!”

“Well, can you at least hold still?” Despite his complaints, his voice had been soft, and his actions even more demure. He reached into the picnic basket he still held onto…and pulled out a big steak and cheese sandwich that honestly didn’t look to be fit for human consumption.

“You even got me my favorite!” Estelle purred, squeezing Joshua to her chest. “Thank you, thank you!”

“It’s kinda hard to feed you when you’re holding onto me tight…” Joshua was able to free himself from her arms, then held up the big sandwich to her, trying to not let any of the condiments fall out of its loose hold. “Uh, dig in?”

Something about this meant something much more to Estelle than just satisfying her hunger (although that was a big plus).

When they had been in small town, seeming so long ago, Estelle had felt so content seated next to Joshua on the bench, eating the freshly-prepared sandwiches they had gotten earlier from the market. She hadn’t realized the extent of her feelings then, even as she caught the soft catch of the light reflected in Joshua’s eyes, memories caught in amber. Because Joshua knew and remembered so much, more than she had been able to. Unlike her, he had always known.

She had got to be so up-close to him as she force-fed him their food, something about that moment engraving itself into her very heart. She wanted it to stay locked their forever.

Joshua still had those same eyes, though accompanied by a gentle blush on his cheeks. He looked away, towards the floorboards that connected to the far-right wall of their room. “Why are you staring so much, Estelle?”

Even his voice could always take away her breath so easily, but she was able to stay upright, to stay in control (even if her head still felt a little woozy), all while carrying the boy she loved in her lap. “Because I want to! Do you not like it?”

“I mean if you’re thinking weird things about me, then maybe.”

That only served to tickle Estelle, swinging her legs all excitedly as she continued to hold Joshua. “Not that weird! Maybe a little!” And before he could question it, Estelle could no longer resist. She took a huge chomp right out of the sandwich Joshua held out to her, leaning forward enough to catch the look of utter surprise on his face. It was even cuter when he was in the maid outfit!

“Ow! Estelle, you just bit my fingers!”

“Mmph? Somphy!” Estelle apologized through a muffled mouth. The sandwich was still good though!

“It’s…fine…” Joshua sighed again, but he hadn’t shifted from her lap. He continued holding the sandwich, closing his eyes, trying his best to stay peaceful. “I’m getting used to it.”

“I didn’t bite that hard this time!” Estelle said after swallowing her food. “Give me another! And don’t we have some cookies in there too?”

The time passed peacefully, for Estelle at least. After already scarfing down the sandwich and only biting at Joshua’s fingers two more times, they both started to share some chocolate chip cookies. Estelle felt like she was flying high in an airship, eating scrumptious cookies right out of Joshua’s hand. And she was more careful with her teeth this time!

After a while, Joshua looked to be at more ease, but every so often, he’d stare at Estelle, looking ready to speak but then pressing his lips together firmly. After about the fifth time, she had to ask him about that.

“What’s wrong, Joshua?” she said, spilling crumbs from her mouth. “Is the dress too tight?”

“It…Well, kinda.” He shook his head, all while brushing aside the crumbs to keep Estelle from making a mess. “Just, you haven’t really ever explained why you keep wanting me to wear this.”

“Hm, why not though? It’s fun!” Estelle’s face glowed with pride. “Is it because I can’t match with you? Maybe next time I can buy a pair!”

“It’s not that… And, you didn’t really answer my question.” Here, Joshua acted a bit more serious, or as serious as he could, still perched on Estelle’s lap. “Can you please tell me?”

It made Estelle think for a moment, even as she continued to chew on her cookie. It did give her a moment to think on it, and after a while, a soft smile broke through.

“I just think it’s nice…Because, well, maybe you haven’t noticed, but usually you’re the one that gets me all flustered instead.” Estelle’s cheeks brightened at the mention of it, remembering all those times when Joshua would nearly leave her speechless, turning all her thoughts into mush. “I’m so weak when I’m with you…like, in a good way, but still..”

She reached to take one of his hands with her, raising up her gaze to meet his eyes. “And now look at you! You’re like putty in my hands! Or my lap, I guess. And I like that. I like that I know that I can affect you the same way. It makes me feel even closer to you.”

Joshua was quiet as she spoke, still sitting quite easily on her lap, hands clasped together neatly as Estelle held on. He was really pulling off this look well. “Estelle…”

The wolfish grin she sported should have warned him then. She leaned in for a quick kiss on his cheek. “There!”

Stammering, blushing, and all around red in the face, Joshua was the complete opposite of his usual calm self. “E-Estelle!”

“What? You do that to me plenty!” To demonstrate further, Estelle leaned in to kiss Joshua’s other cheek, tapping her Stregas on the floor as she did so. “See?”

“I’m…not used to this…” he admitted. “And without the wig, I just look stupid. I really don’t understand how you like this.”

Estelle tilted her head, then shrugged. “I dunno. I just do! You look cute!” She poked at his sides then. “And so shy too!”

“Y-you know I’m ticklish there!”

“Yeah, exactly!” And she kept going, kept tickling to Joshua’s protests before she started to slow down slightly. “But maybe…stop spinning around so much, you know…”

“Estelle?”

“Ehe…” With her goofy grin, Estelle leaned in once more, looking like she was about to kiss him on the lips right then and there. Not that they haven’t already. Joshua had even been the one to take her first kiss too. But now it seemed like she would do the same almost…

Of course Estelle ended up falling backwards on the floor, bringing Joshua down with her.

His reflexes came in time to get him moving, to get to his feet and grab Estelle before she would hit her head against the floor. “Hey! What’s wrong?” he asked, genuine worry in his voice, his dark locks frayed about his head as he looked at her with concern.

“…I may or may not have a concussion,” Estelle said with a lazy wink. “Hehe…”

“Estelle, that’s not funny! We need to get you to a doctor. There should be one in town.” Joshua went to carry her up in his arms with a groan. As he cradled her head, carefully keeping it level, he looked at with her with maid-like disapproval. “You’re so troublesome sometimes…”

“I’m not troublesome…I’m Estelle!” She shook her head, her smile just a bit lop-sided. “Maybe it’s you that needs a doctor instead…”

“Alright, sure. Come along, Miss Troublesome.” Joshua headed straight for the door to their room, reaching to unlock it. “Try not to fall asleep, okay?”

“Hey…you’re still wearing the maid’s dress, you know?” she pointed out, even as the room was definitely getting all spinny now. “Thought you didn’t want people to see…”

“We shouldn’t waste any time. You need to get checked up.” But she saw that blush on his cheeks, even as he tried to play himself off as the cool Joshua Bright that she knew since childhood. “And it’s not so bad anyway…can move pretty freely in this.”

Estelle could feel the smile on her face. Maybe it was too wide and manic if she went from Joshua’s worried expression, but it didn’t matter. She laid her head against his shoulder, knowing that no matter what, he would always be there for her.

[orthodoxydaily]

Saints&Reading: Fri, August 28, 2020

Commemorated on August 15_ Old Julian Calendar

The "Falling-Asleep" or "Repose" ("Dormition", "Uspenie", "Koimesis") of our MostHoly Lady Mother of God and Ever-Virgin Mary

     The "Falling-Asleep" or "Repose" ("Dormition", "Uspenie", "Koimesis") of our MostHoly Lady Mother of God and Ever-Virgin Mary: After the Ascension of the Lord, the Mother of God remained in the care of the Apostle John the Theologian, and during his journeyings She lived at the home of his parents, near Mount Eleon (the Mount of Olives, or Mount Olivet). She was a source of consolation and edification for both the Apostles and for all the believers. Conversing with them, She told them about miraculous happenings: the Annuniciation (Blagoveschenie), the Conception (Zachatie) without seed and without defilement of Christ born of Her, about His early childhood, and about all His earthly life. And just like the Apostles, She helped plant and strengthen the Christian Church by Her presence, Her discourse and Her prayers. The reverence of the Apostles for the MostHoly Virgin was extraordinary. After the receiving of the Holy Spirit on the remarkable day of Pentecost, the Apostles remained basically at Jerusalem for about 10 years attending to the salvation of the Jews, and wanting moreover to see the Mother of God and hear Her holy discourse. Many of the newly-enlightened in the faith even came from faraway lands to Jerusalem, to see and to hear the All-Pure Mother of God.      During the time of the persecution, initiated by king Herod against the young Church of Christ (Acts 12: 1-3), the MostHoly Virgin together with the Apostle John the Theologian withdrew in the year 43 to Ephesus. The preaching of the Gospel there had fallen by lot to the Apostle John the Theologian. The Mother of God was likewise on Cyprus with Saint Lazarus the Four-Days-Entombed, where he was bishop. She was also on Holy Mount Athos, about which, as says Saint Stephen Svyatogorets (i.e. Saint Stephen of the "Holy Mount"), the Mother of God prophetically spoke: "This place shalt be allotted Me, given unto Me by My Son and My God. I wilt be the Patroness for this place and Intercessor to God for it".      The respect of ancient Christians for the Mother of God was so great, that they preserved what they could about Her life, what they could take note of concerning Her sayings and deeds, and they even passed down to us the regards of Her outward appearance.      According to tradition, based on the words of the PriestMartyrs Dionysios the Areopagite (+ 3 October 96), Ignatios the God-Bearer (+ 20 December 107), – Sainted Ambrose of Mediolanum-Milan (Comm. 7 December) had occasion to write in his work "On Virgins" concerning the Mother of God: "She was the Virgin not only of body, but also of soul, humble of heart, circumspect in word, wise in mind, not overly given to speaking, a lover of reading and of work, and prudent in speech. Her rule of life was – offend no one, intend well for everyone, respect the aged, be not envious of others, avoid bragging, be healthy of mind, and love virtue. When did She ever in the least hurl an insult in the face of Her parents, when was She at discord with Her kin? When did She ever puff up haughtily before a modest person, or laugh at the weak, or shun the destitute? With Her there was nothing of glaring eyes, nothing of unseemly words, nor of improper conduct: She was modest of body-movement, Her step was quiet, and Her voice straightforward; – such that Her bodily visage was an expression of soul, and personification of purity. All Her days She was concerned with fasting: She slept only when necessary, and even then, when Her body was at rest, She was still alert in spirit, repeating in Her dreams what She had read, or the pondered implementation of proposed intentions, or those planned yet anew. She was out of Her house only for church, and then only in the company of kin. Otherwise, She but little appeared outside Her house in the company of others, and She was Her own best overseer; others could protect Her only in body, but She Herself guarded Her character". [trans. note: In context, we must realise that Saint Ambrose wrote this discourse in exhortation to young women to conduct themselves maturely and with concern for the reputation of their good-name, an exhortation equally incumbent upon young men].      According to tradition, that from the compiler of Church history Nicephoros Kallistos (XIV Century), the Mother of God "was of average stature, or as others suggest, slightly more than average; Her hair golden in appearance; Her eyes bright with pupils like shiny olives; Her eyebrows strong in character and moderately dark, Her nose pronounced and Her mouth vibrant bespeaking sweet speech; Her face was neither round nor angular, but somewhat oblong; the palm of Her Hands and fingers were longish... In conversation with others She preserved decorum, neither becoming silly nor agitated, and indeed especially never angry; without artifice, and direct, She was not overly concerned about Herself, and far from any pampering of Herself, She was distinctly full of humility. Regarding the clothing which She wore, She was satisfied to have natural colours, which even now is evidenced by Her holy head-covering. Suffice it to say, an especial grace attended all Her actions". (Nicephoros Kallistos borrowed his description from Sainted Epiphanios of Cyprus, + 12 May 403, from the "Letter to Theophilos concerning icons".      The circumstances of the Falling-Asleep or Dormition of the Mother of God were known in the Orthodox Church from times apostolic. Already in the I Century, the PriestMartyr Dionysios the Areopagite wrote about Her "Falling-Asleep". In the II Century, the account about the bodily Assumption of the MostHoly Virgin Mary to Heaven is found in the works of Meliton, Bishop of Sardis. In the IV Century, Saint Epiphanios of Cyprus refers to the tradition about the "Falling-Asleep" of the Mother of God. In the V Century Sainted Juvenal, Patriarch of Jerusalem, told the holy Byzantine empress Pulcheria: "Although in Holy Scripture there be no account about the circumstances of Her end, we know about them otherwise from the most ancient and credible tradition". This tradition in detail was gathered and expounded in the Church history of Nicephoros Kallistos during the XIV Century.      At the time of Her blessed "Falling-Asleep", the MostHoly Virgin Mary was again at Jerusalem. Her fame as the Mother of God had already spread throughout the land and had aroused against Her many of the envious and the spiteful, who wanted to make attempts on Her life; but God preserved Her from enemies.      Day and night She spent at prayer. The MostHoly Mother of God went often to the Holy Sepulchre of the Lord, and here She offered up incense and the bending of knees. More than once enemies of the Saviour sought to hinder Her from visiting her holy place, and they besought of the high-priest a guard to watch over the Grave of the Lord. But the Holy Virgin Mary, unseen by anyone, continued to pray in front of them. In one suchlike visit to Golgotha, the Archangel Gabriel appeared before Her and announced Her approaching transfer from this life into the Heavenly life of eternal beatitude. In pledge of this, the Archangel entrusted Her a palm branch. With these Heavenly tidings the Mother of God returned to Bethlehem with the three girls attending Her (Sepphora, Evigea and Zoila). She thereupon summoned Righteous Joseph of Aramathea and other disciples of the Lord, and told them of Her impending Repose (Uspenie). The MostHoly Virgin prayed also, that the Lord would have the Apostle John come to Her. And the Holy Spirit transported him from Ephesus, setting him alongside that very place, where lay the Mother of God. After the prayer, the MostHoly Virgin offered up incense, and John heard a voice from Heaven, closing Her prayer with the word "Amen". The Mother of God took notice, that this voice meant the speedy arrival of the Apostles and the Disciples and the holy Bodiless Powers. The Disciples, whose number then it was impossible to count, flocked together, – says Saint John Damascene, – like clouds and eagles, to hearken to the Mother of God. Seeing one another, the Disciples rejoiced, but in their confusion they asked each other, why had the Lord gathered them together in one place? Saint John the Theologian, greeting them with tears of joy, said that for the Mother of God had begun the time of repose unto the Lord. Going in to the Mother of God, they beheld Her augustly lying upon the cot, and filled with spiritual happiness. The Disciples gave greeting to Her, and then they told about their being miraculously transported from their places of preaching. The MostHoly Virgin Mary glorified God, in that He had hearkened to Her prayer and fulfilled Her heart's desire, and She began speaking about Her immanent end. During the time of this conversation the Apostle Paul likewise appeared in miraculous manner together with his disciples: Dionysios the Areopagite, wondrous Hierotheos, and Timothy and others from amongst the Seventy Disciples. The Holy Spirit had gathered them all together, so that they might be vouchsafed the blessing of the All-Pure Virgin Mary, and all the more fittingly to see to the burial of the Mother of the Lord. Each of them She called to Herself by name, She blessed them and extolled them in their faith and hardships in the preaching of the Gospel of Christ, and to each She wished eternal bliss and prayed with them for the peace and welfare of all the world.      There ensued the third hour, when the Uspenie-Repose of the Mother of God was to occur. A multitude of candles blazed. The holy Disciples with song encircled the felicitously adorned sick-bed, upon which lay the All-Pure Virgin Mother of God. She prayed in anticipation of Her demise and of the arrival of Her longed-for Son and Lord. Suddenly the inexpressible Light of Divine Glory shone forth, before which the blazing candles paled in comparison. All that saw took fright. Sitting atop as though immersed in the rays of the indescribable Light, was Christ the King of Glory Himself come down, surrounded by hosts of Angels and Archangels and other Heavenly Powers, together with the souls of the fore-fathers and the prophets, formerly having foretold of the MostHoly Virgin Mary. Seeing Her Son, the Mother of God exclaimed: "My soul doth magnify My Lord, and My spirit rejoiceth in God My Saviour, for He hath regarded the lowliness of His Handmaiden" – and, getting up from Her bed to meet the Lord, She bowed down to Him. And the Lord bid Her come enter the habitations of Life Eternal. Without any bodily suffering, as though in an happy sleep, the MostHoly Virgin Mary gave up Her soul into the hands of Her Son and God.      Then began joyous Angelic song. Accompanying the pure soul of the God-betrothed and with reverent awe for the Queen of Heaven, the Angels exclaimed: "Hail Thou, Full-of-Grace, the Lord is with Thee, blessed art Thou amongst women! For lo, it be the Queen, God's Maiden doth come, take up the gates, and with the Ever-Existent take ye up the Mother of Light; for of Her is salvation come to all the human race. Upon Her tis impossible to gaze and to Her tis impossible to render due honour" (Stikherion verse on "Lord, I have cried"). The Heavenly gates were raised, and meeting the soul of the MostHoly Mother of God, the Cherubim and the Seraphim with joy glorified Her. The graced face of the Mother of God was radiant with the glory of Divine virginity, and of Her body there exuded fragrance.      Miraculous was the life of the All-Pure Virgin, and wondrous was Her Repose, as Holy Church doth sing: "In Thee, O Queen, the God of all hath wrought a miracle, that transcendeth the laws of nature. Just as in the Birth-Giving He did preserve Thine virginity, so also in the grave He did preserve Thy body from decay" (Kanon 1, Ode 6, Tropar 1). Giving kiss to the all-pure body with reverence and in awe, the Disciples in turn were blessed by it and filled with grace and spiritual joy. Through the great glorification of the MostHoly Mother of God, the almighty power of God healed the sick, who with faith and love gave touch to the holy cot. Bewailing their separation on earth from the Mother of God, the Apostles set about the burying of Her all-pure body. The holy Apostles Peter, Paul, James and others of the 12 Apostles carried the funeral bier upon their shoulders, and upon it lay the body of the ever-Virgin Mary. Saint John the Theologian went at the head with the resplendent palm-branch from Paradise, and the other saints and a multitude of the faithful accompanied the funeral bier with candles and censers, singing sacred song. This solemn procession went from the Sion-quarter through all Jerusalem to the Garden of Gethsemane.      With the start of the procession there suddenly appeared over the all-pure body of the Mother of God and all those accompanying Her a vast and resplendent circular cloud, like a crown, and to the choir of the Apostles was conjoined the choir of the Angels. There was heard the singing of the Heavenly Powers, glorifying the Mother of God, which echoed that of the worldly voices. This circle of Heavenly singers and radiance moved through the air and accompanied the procession to the very place of burial. Unbelieving inhabitants of Jerusalem, taken aback by the extraordinarily grand funeral procession and vexed at the honours accorded the Mother of Jesus, denounced this to the high-priests and scribes. Burning with envy and vengefulness towards everything that reminded them of Christ, they sent out their own servants to disrupt the procession and to set afire the body of the Mother of God. An angry crowd and soldiers set off against the Christians, but the aethereal crown, accompanying the procession in the air, lowered itself to the ground and like a wall fenced it off. The pursuers heard the footsteps and the singing, but could not see any of those accompanying the procession. And indeed many of them were struck blind. The Jewish priest Aphthoniah out of spite and hatred for the Mother of Jesus of Nazareth wanted to topple the funeral bier, on which lay the body of the MostHoly Virgin Mary, but an Angel of God invisibly cut off his hands, which had touched the bier. Seeing such a wonder, Aphthoniah repented and with faith confessed the majesty of the Mother of God. He received healing and joined in with the crowd accompanying the body of the Mother of God, and he became a zealous follower of Christ. When the procession reached the Garden of Gethsemane, then amidst the weeping and the wailing began the last kiss to the all-pure body. Only towards evening time were the Apostles able to place it in the tomb and seal the entrance to the cave with a large stone. For three days they did not depart the place of burial, during this time making unceasing prayer and psalmody. Through the wise providence of God, the Apostle Thomas had been destined not to be present at the burial of the Mother of God. Arriving late on the third day at Gethsemane, he lay down at the sepulchral cave and with bitter tears bespeaking loudly his desire, that he might be vouchsafed a final blessing of the Mother of God and have final farewell with Her. The Apostles out of heartfelt pity for him decided to open the grave and permit him the comfort of venerating the holy remains of the Ever-Virgin Mary. But having opened the grave, they found in it only the grave wrappings and were thus convinced of the bodily ascent or assumption of the MostHoly Virgin Mary to Heaven.      On the evening of the same day, when the Apostles had gathered at an house to strengthen themselves with food, the Mother of God Herself appeared to them and said: "Rejoice! I am with ye – throughout all the length of days". This so gladdened the Apostles and everyone with them, that they took a portion of the bread, set aside at the meal in memory of the Saviour ("the Portion of the Lord"), and they exclaimed also: "MostHoly Mother of God, help us". (This marks the beginning of the rite of offering up a "Panagia" ("All-Blessed") – the custom of offering up at meals a portion of bread in honour of the Mother of God, which even at present is done at monasteries).      The sash of the Mother of God, and Her holy garb, – preserved with reverence and distributed over the face of the earth in pieces – both in past and in present has worked miracles. Her numerous icons everywhere issue forth with outpourings of signs and healings, and Her holy body – taken up to Heaven, witnesses to our own future mode of life therein. Her body was not left to the chance vicissitudes of the transitory world, but was all the more incomparably exalted by its glorious ascent to Heaven.      The feast of the Repose-Uspenie of the MostHoly Mother of God is celebrated with especial solemnity at Gethsemane, at the place of Her burial. Nowhere else is there such sorrow of heart at the separation from the Mother of God and nowhere else such uplift, persuaded of Her intercession for the world.      The holy city of Jerusalem is separated from the Mount of Olives (Olivet) by the valley of Kedron on Josaphat. At the foot of the Mount of Olives is situated the Garden of Gethsemane, where olive trees bear fruit even now.      The holy Ancestor-of-God Joakim had himself reposed at 80 years of age, – some several years after the Entry ("Vvedenie vo Khram") of the MostHoly Virgin Mary into the Jerusalem Temple (Comm. 21 November). Saint Anna, having been left a widow, resettled from Nazareth to Jerusalem, and lived near the Temple. At Jerusalem she bought two pieces of property: the first at the gates of Gethsemane, and the second – in the valley of Josaphat. At the second locale she built a crypt for the repose of members of her family, and where also she herself was buried with Joakim. And it was there in the Garden of Gethsemane that the Saviour often prayed with His disciples.      The most-pure body of the Mother of God was buried in the family cemetery-plot. With Her burial Christians also reverently honoured the sepulchre of the Mother of God, and they built on this spot a church. Within the church was preserved the precious funeral cloth, which wrapped Her all-pure and fragrant body.      The holy Jerusalem Patriarch Juvenal (420-458) attested before the emperor Marcian (450-457) as to the authenticity of the tradition about the miraculous assumption of the Mother of God to Heaven, and he likewise sent to the empress, Saint Pulcheria (+ 453, Comm. 10 September), the grave wrappings of the Mother of God, which he had taken from Her grave. Saint Pulcheria then placed these grave-wrappings within the Blakhernae church.      Accounts have been preserved, that at the end of the VII Century an overhead church had been situated atop the underground church of the Dormition-Repose of the MostHoly Mother of God, and that from its high bell-tower could be seen the dome of the Church of the Resurrection of the Lord. Traces of this church are no longer to be seen. And in the IX Century near the subterranean Gethsemane church was built a monastery, at which more than 30 monks asceticised.      Great destruction was done the Church in the year 1009 by the despoiler of the holy places, Hakim. Radical changes, the traces of which remain at present, also transpired under the crusaders in the year 1130. During the XI-XII Centuries there disappeared from Jerusalem the piece of excavated stone, at which the Saviour had prayed on the night of His betrayal. This piece of stone from the VI Century had been situated within the Gethsemane basilica.      But in spite of the destruction and the changes, the overall original cruciform (cross-shaped) plan of the church has been preserved. At the entrance to the church along the sides of the iron gates stand four marble columns. To enter the church, it is necessary to go down a stairway of 48 steps. At the 23rd step on the right side is a chapel in honour of the holy Ancestors-of-God Joakim and Anna together with their graves, and on the left side opposite – the chapel of Righteous Joseph the Betrothed with his grave. The rightside chapel belongs to the Orthodox Church, and the leftside – to the Armenian-Gregorian Church (since 1814).      The church of the Repose of the Mother of God has the following dimensions: in length it is 48 arshin, and in breadth 8 arshin [1 arshin = 28 inches]. At an earlier time the church had also windows beside the doors. The whole temple was adorned with a multitude of lampadas and offerings. Two small entrances lead into the burial-chamber of the Mother of God: entrance is made through the western doors, and exit at the northern doors. The burial-chamber of the All-Pure Virgin Mary is veiled with precious curtains. The burial laying-place was hewn out of stone in the manner of the ancient Jewish grave and is very similar to the Sepulchre of the Lord. Beyond the burial-chamber is situated the altar of the church, in which daily is celebrated Divine Liturgy in the Greek language.      The olive woods on the eastern and northern sides of the temple was acquired from the Turks by the Orthodox during the VII-VIII Centuries. The Catholics acquired the olive woods on the east and south sides in 1803, and the Armenian-Gregorians on the west side in 1821.      On 12 August, at Little Gethsemane, at the 2nd hour of the night, the clergy-head of the Gethsemane church celebrates Divine Liturgy. With the close of Liturgy, at the 4th hour of the morning, the clergy-head in full vesture makes a short molieben before the resplendent plaschenitsa, lifts it in his hands and solemnly carries it beyond the church to Gethsemane proper where the holy sepulchre of the Mother of God is situated. All the members of the Russian Spiritual Mission in Jerusalem, with the head of the Mission leading, participate each year in the procession with the holy plaschanitsa [of the Mother of God], called the "Litania".      The rite of the Burial of the Mother of God at Gethsemane begins customarily on the morning of 14 August. A multitude of people with hierarchs and clergy at the head set off from the Jerusalem Patriarchate (nearby the Church of the Resurrection of Christ) in sorrowful procession. Along the narrow alley-ways of the Holy City the funeral procession makes its way to Gethsemane. Towards the front of the procession is carried an icon of the Dormition-Uspenie of the MostHoly Mother of God. Along the way pilgrims meet the icon, kissing the image of the All-Pure Virgin Mary and lift children of various ages to the icon. After the clergy, in two rows walk the black-robed – monks and nuns of the Holy City: Greeks, Roumanians, Arabs, Russians. The procession, going along for about two hours, concludes with a lamentations at the Gethsemane church. In front the altar‑table, beyond the burial chamber of the Mother of God, is set a raised-up spot, upon which amidst fragrant flowers and myrtle and with precious coverings rests the plaschanitsa of the MostHoly Mother of God.      "O marvelous wonder! The Fount of Life is placed in the grave, and the grave doth become the ladder to Heaven...", – here at the grave of the All-Pure Virgin, these words strike deep with their original sense and grief is dispelled by joy: "Hail, Full-of-Grace, the Lord is with Thee, granting the world through Thee great mercy!"      Numerous pilgrims, having kissed the icon of the Dormition-Uspenie of the MostHoly Mother of God, – following an ancient custom, then stoop down and go beneathe it.      On the day of the Leave-taking of the feast (23 August), solemn procession is again made. On the return path, the holy plaschanitsa is carried by clergy headed by the Gethsemane archimandrite.      

Luke 1:39-49, 56 

39Now Mary arose in those days and went into the hill country with haste, to a city of Judah,40and entered the house of Zacharias and greeted Elizabeth.41And it happened, when Elizabeth heard the greeting of Mary, that the babe leaped in her womb; and Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit.42Then she spoke out with a loud voice and said, "Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb!43But why is this granted to me, that the mother of my Lord should come to me?44For indeed, as soon as the voice of your greeting sounded in my ears, the babe leaped in my womb for joy.45Blessed is she who believed, for there will be a fulfillment of those things which were told her from the Lord.46And Mary said: "My soul magnifies the Lord,47And my spirit has rejoiced in God my Savior.48For He has regarded the lowly state of His maidservant; For behold, henceforth all generations will call me blessed.49For He who is mighty has done great things for me, And holy is His name.56And Mary remained with her about three months, and returned to her house.

Luke 10:38-42; 11:27-28

38Now it happened as they went that He entered a certain village; and a certain woman named Martha welcomed Him into her house.39And she had a sister called Mary, who also sat at Jesus' feet and heard His word.40But Martha was distracted with much serving, and she approached Him and said, "Lord, do You not care that my sister has left me to serve alone? Therefore tell her to help me."41And Jesus answered and said to her, "Martha, Martha, you are worried and troubled about many things.42But one thing is needed, and Mary has chosen that good part, which will not be taken away from her.

27And it happened, as He spoke these things, that a certain woman from the crowd raised her voice and said to Him, "Blessed is the womb that bore You, and the breasts which nursed You!"28But He said, "More than that, blessed are those who hear the word of God and keep it!"

Philippians 2:5-11

5Let this mind be in you which was also in Christ Jesus,6who, being in the form of God, did not consider it robbery to be equal with God,7but made Himself of no reputation, taking the form of a bondservant, and coming in the likeness of men.8And being found in appearance as a man, He humbled Himself and became obedient to the point of death, even the death of the cross.9Therefore God also has highly exalted Him and given Him the name which is above every name,10that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, of those in heaven, and of those on earth, and of those under the earth,11and that every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.

[krisseycrystal]

rated: t

fandom: Kingdom Hearts

prompt: “Big Sibling” + Kairi & Isa (& Wayfinder Trio)

requested by: @alounuitte

I HAVEN’T WRITTEN KH IN AGES. ARE THESE GUYS EVEN IN CHARACTER? DAMN I HOPE SO

BIG thanks to my friend who requested KH, specifically Kairi & Isa and “Big Sibling” which is SUCH an interesting take but I am LEGITIMATELY DIGGING IT and y’know what? Hell yeah it’s Isa redemption hours. Hell yeah. I mean, they still got a lot to work through, but it’s happening.

this takes place between KH3 and uh that “year later” thing in RE:mind ENJOY!

- o - o - o -

Avidya [Read on AO3]

- o - o - o -

When Sora is gone and Kairi doesn’t know what to do with her empty hands because the one that used to hold her right has disappeared and the one who used to hold her left chased after him in the hopes of bringing him back, Kairi puts herself to good use. Riku is Riku and refuses to take her with him, so Kairi takes Sora’s gummi ship and seeks out her own adventures for as long as she thinks it’ll help.

She doesn’t need to--will not--wait for Sora to be found when she can look for him herself.

She just…doesn’t know what to think about the ever-present shadow that stubbornly hovers at her back.

- o - o - o -

Kairi swings Destiny’s Embrace in a strong, downward strike. After the wriggly heartless under her boots bursts and dissolves, she spins around. Her mouth is curled into a dark, frowning curve; her keyblade snaps out to strike another leaping at her from her right. The flowers along the edge cut through the shadow’s throat, ripping it into nothing. “I don’t need your help.”

“That was never debated.”

Kairi rolls her eyes. She digs the heel of her boot into soil, grabs the hilt of Embrace with both hands, and shoves it forward into the heartless soldier scrabbling at her. “Then stop following me.”

Isa’s blue hair fans around his shoulders as he moves. He is not used to the keyblade in his hand; he keeps trying to wield it like his usual claymore.

To be honest, she can’t even believe the thing is in his hands at all.

With a growling cry, Kairi cuts the last shadow down and releases a deep sigh. Destiny’s Embrace glitters away, but she would be lying if she tried to say she wasn’t tempted to keep it ready at a moment’s notice with him around.

“There. They’re all gone now,” she says and fists her hands at her sides. “I’m fine. You can go back to Twilight Town.”

Isa doesn’t say a word, so Kairi turns around again. He stands with his arms crossed over his chest, feet shoulder-width apart, a yard or two behind her, like he expects her to be okay with him here in the first place.

“I said,” she stresses and extends her arms at either side, “you can go back. If you were waiting for something like permission, then there it is! You have it! Bye!”

When he still doesn’t say anything, Kairi makes a grand show of rolling her eyes and spinning around to walk down this world’s beautifully forested hill. She doesn’t have the time or patience for him.

So why the hell can she feel him following her descent?

- o - o - o -

The gummi ship’s rockets putter as it comes to a stop. Space is vast and infinite around them, an endless expanse of stars and criss-crossed nebulas that look like the smokey efforts of a child finger painting with watercolor. It’s gorgeous. It’s immense. It’s serene. It’s exactly what Kairi needs right now.

“Okay, dude, we need to talk. It’s been three days. When are you finally gonna get off this ship and leave me alone?”

Kairi’s cheek is bunched against her palm as she lounges in the driver’s seat. Her other wrist hangs loosely over the steering, eyes lifting to the glass dome above them and Isa’s frowning reflection she can see the faint outline of.

Isa doesn’t answer.

Which is exactly half of the problem.

Kairi turns, tossing both of her feet over the side of the pilot’s chair. “Why aren’t you answering me?”

“There’s no answer I have to give that will be satisfactory to you.”

“That’s--” Kairi almost bites her tongue. It’s frustratingly accurate. That pisses her off, too. “Look. I can try, okay? I can try to understand but that’s only if you have a good reason.”

“You speak like you already think I’m not here for a good reason.”

“I have it in good faith that you’re not here for Sora and that’s the only reason I see that’s good right now.” Kairi glares hard into citrine eyes; for some reason, they remind her of acid. “So no, I don’t think you’re here for a ‘good’ reason.”

Isa’s look is enough to communicate a single, humbling word: Exactly.

“You say you’ll try,” he mutters quietly. “But pre-condemning me based upon your presumptions seems to hinder that effort.”

Kairi’s lips slam together.

In echo to her silence, something in Isa softens. He turns to look out at the endless stretch of space surrounding them. There’s a glimmering, sunset-painted world surrounded by flower petals a fair distance away. “If you wish to know, if you care to…” he does not finish that thought; perhaps it’s because he cannot finish it. “…I wish for atonement.”

“…what, now?”

Isa’s sharp, angular features harden. His mouth slips down into a frown. “I said, I--”

“--no, no, I heard what you said! It’s that you actually think that’s going to happen.” Kairi’s voice shakes a little. Her hands ball into fists. There’s a tremulous pause in her speech, a moment that teeters on the edge of something, and then it bursts. “Ugh! I was kind enough to let you join me for a few days, but if I’m being honest? I thought it was because of this. I had a gut feeling it was because of some…misguided attempt like this to get me to forgive you for what you did. And I thought, ‘Sure, why not?’ anyway, because that’s what Sora would have done!”

“Kairi--”

“--but everytime I look at you, I get so angry!” Kairi’s voice tilts; it tightens and changes. “I guess that makes me a hypocrite, doesn’t it? I want to be angry at you for kidnapping me, for how you treated Sora, but he isn’t even here right now, after he made himself disappear from saving all of us! From saving me by using the power of waking again, and--!”

“Kairi!”

Kairi’s fist, thrown to the side, knocks against the gummi sheep’s steering. With a violent yank to the right, Kairi and Isa spill over onto the floor and side of the lopsided ship. Kairi’s knee bangs against the other co-pilot chair. Her back crashes against the steel wall of the cockpit siding. With a short cry and hiss, she grabs at her knee with both hands and bows her head over her leg. Her back curls.

After a long moment, Isa slowly rises to his feet first.

He climbs to the steering and sets the gummi ship right side up.

After an even longer moment, Isa walks over to kneel in front of her. “Kairi.”

“…I’m sorry…”

“Kairi.”

Kairi sniffs and blinks up at him. She hates the way her eyes water and the way her lower lip trembles. She hates how tight her chest is. “I’m sorry,” she gasps again and she hates those words but right now, she thinks she hates herself most. “I’m such an idiot. What right do I have to be angry with you anymore when it’s my fault the two most important people to me are gone?”

Isa’s hand falls on hers and gently pries away her hands from her knee. A big, wide bruise is purpling and mottling, forming a cathartic ring of blue-black.

“I think…” Isa begins and gently releases her hands to cast cure over her knee. “…you will find that you and I are more alike than you think.”

Kairi blinks up at Isa.

“It seems we both must learn to forgive ourselves.”

Kairi takes a deep breath in and feels the way her lungs swell with it, with air. For the first time in three days, the knot in her chest finally begins to loosen.

- o - o - o -

“Can you believe it’s already been over a month?”

Kairi winces. Hard.

Ventus straightens up and quickly puts out a hand on her arm. He gives it a gentle squeeze. “Oh, I didn’t mean that in a bad way! Ugh, I’m sorry. I should’ve been more thoughtful…I meant it in like a--”

“--no.” Kairi shakes her head and puts on a brave face. She puts on a good smile and covers his hand with her own. Gently, she pulls it away and sets their hands down on the counter between them. “I know what you mean. You’ve been reunited with your family for over a month now and that’s…really wonderful, Ventus. I’m happy for you. And I know that wherever he is, Sora’s happy, too.”

It’s funny watching the emotions that fly over Ventus’ face at the mention of “family.” He’s so much like Sora and Roxas that way; he wears his heart so visibly. He’s so easy to read.

It is so warm in this kitchen, too, Kairi thinks. So light and airy. Just being here, sitting with friends again after traveling and fighting for so long with no leads, is more rejuvenating than the warm coffee cup she cradles between her hands. Ventus, Aqua, and Terra have done well for themselves, she thinks. They have a lovely epilogue together.

It’ll end soon, she knows. The three have already told her they have plans to help join the search for Sora, intending to dive into the Realm of Darkness as a “just in case.” Just as she has finally decided she intends to take Ansem up on his offer of a year-long sleep so he can study her heart. It’s the most frustrating decision she has ever had to make: to try to help by, of all things, resting, when really she wants to fight, fight, fight--but if something in her slumbering heart holds a key to finding Sora again, well.

She did say she’d do anything.

It’s with an endearing blush that Ventus raises a finger to scratch at his cheek. “Y-yeah. My family…”

Kairi raises an eyebrow. A small smile stretches her face. “What, you don’t agree?”

“What?”

“You wouldn’t call them that?”

“Oh, no, calling them my family’s perfect! I mean, really, Aqua and Terra have always kind of been big siblings to me, so I guess it makes sense. It’s just funny to hear the word out loud and not in my heart, y’know?” Ventus smiles. He looks over Kairi’s shoulder to the trio awkwardly talking beyond them, in the lounge area of their home, however temporary it may be. “But I guess…what else would you call people who have your back no matter the bad you’ve done?”

Kairi thinks about the month she’s spent searching for Sora. She thinks about all the adventures she’s been on, all of the heartless and unversed and nobodies she’s fought. She thinks about the one person who chose to be there through it all, however much she fought him on it at the start.

And for the first time, she thinks maybe Isa really does deserve the keyblade he wields.

Her eyes land on him, frowning and clearly uncomfortable between Aqua and Terra. Isa looks back and meets her eyes in turn with an expression that bends the scar across his face in a pitiful read of, Please. Save me.

Kairi laughs and takes a long, slow sip of her coffee. She raises her other hand to give him a…friendly gesture.

When he raises his hand to give it back, she thinks maybe there’s truth to what Ventus says.

[bellatrixobsessed1]

A Flame For A Cabbage (Part 11)

Azula feels a faint sense of accomplishment as she lounges in her booth at the Jasmine Dragon. It is a shame that the old man in charge has been arrested, even with all of the ingredients, she can’t seem to make roast duck the way he does. She sighs, why does this victory feel so empty? She should be thrilled, she has just taken down the boy responsible for consistently destroying her cabbage stalls. Yet, she can’t help but to feel this sense of incompletion. A soft inkling that somehow the boy has survived and that her cabbages are still very much in danger. It helps less that Princess Sie has stolen half of her Dialluminati agents. One of the remaining agents had apologetically informed her that the other half were off to a top secret conference for the lizard people. He was killed immediately. She had to flee, for she now knows too much. This, she realizes, is a recurring problem in her life. She is an intelligent young cabbage merchant and people fear that kind of intellectualism.

She looks up from her stolen meal and shudders. A man in black glares at her from across the vacant tea shop. He has been following her for the better part of the day, occasionally holding up signs that read, ‘surrender your memories and we won’t hurt you’ and ‘you’ve heard nothing’ and ‘your reality isn’t real, you aren’t real’ and ‘Tin-Tin’s Turnips, only 2 copper pieces!’’ She thinks that, that last guy is confused as to what the Dialluminati’s objectives are. That or he is not part of the Dialluminati at all, he is simply trying to advertise and the extra signage is hindering his business.

No matter, Azula drinks from her tea. She refuses to let pesky secret agents slow her down, not after such a grand victory. With the avatar out of the way, she can sell cabbages without fear. Really, she has arrived at a new high point in her career, she is in the perfect position to begin expanding her business.

She has come to a striking realization. A realization that she is wasting her talents here in the Earth Kingdom where these savages have not acquired a taste for the delicacy that is a good cabbage. Indeed she has traveled all about the Earth Kingdom and for her troubles, has only received little pay off.

Well she is done dealing with and fraternizing with barbarians. It is time to move on. She knows in her heart that the Fire Nation is where she belongs! Now those are people with the riches and class to appreciate the wonders and unbridled joys of a perfect cabbage.

All she has to do is get Jet to stop hissing and screeching whenever she mentions firebenders and the Fire Nation. “REEEEEEEE!” He yells, and swipes his claws at her.

“Come on, Jet, we need to do this.”

“REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!” He screeches again, but this time with more passion. He flings himself from the table.

“Jet.” She says firmly.

She is met with another hiss.

The Dailluminati agent tasked with stalking her judges her from the table on the other side of the tea shop.

.oOo.

“You seem so downcast. Has Mai gotten to you already?” Sei (for he hasn’t spelled his name that way in a while) is well aware of Mai’s ability to spread her drab demnor. It is her superpower. She doesn’t know it, but she is a type of spiritbender; left unchecked, this will become a problem. It is already a minor issues, as she is unknowingly adding gloom to the auras of many around her. “Though actually, Mai has been in a strangely good mood lately.” It is probably because Zuko is home and she knows that they can make out in the turtle duck pond again.

“I haven't seen Dad yet.” Zuko replies. “I haven't seen him in three years, since I was banished.”

Well no shit, Sei thinks. He really does hate it when there is a forced plot summary, especially when a show has been at least ten years past its conclusion. But then again, it has never been discussed that Zuko had been banished for leaving his socks just laying around the house, despite father politely requesting that he does not.  Ozai has a fear of socks. In fact socks were outlawed in the Fire Nation. But Zuko somehow got his hands on contraband socks and was fool enough to leave them lying around.

“So what?” Sei finally asks.

“So, I didn't capture the Avatar!”

Sei rolls his eyes. “Who cares? The Avatar is dead, unless you think he somehow miraculously survived.”

Zuko seems to drift off then, thinking about something. Sei imagines that he is thinking about frozen yogurt. Seeming to come back into the present, Zuko replies, “This isn’t Mortal Combat, there's no way he could have survived.”

Sie (growing sick of spelling his name, Sei) glares down at Zuko. And Zuko glares up at him. And he glares down at Zuko who continues to glare up. And then they shift positions and glare at each other from a different angle. And Iroh glares at both of them from his cell. They cannot see it, but they can feel it.

“Well, then I'm sure you have nothing to worry about.” This isn’t strictly true. He should be worried about Iroh. They should all be worried about Iroh. Iroh is very. Very. Angry.

.oOo.

Azula frowns very intensely. “Jet, get down from there!”

But the boy has gone absolutely feral. Azula sighs, she didn’t want to have to do this… She wanders up to the Dailluminati agent. He flinches, never before in his days of following a target has the target approached him. Usually they just note his presence with sideways glances and nervous laugher. This girl is brazen. “Agent, you will help me transport my boyfriend to the Fire Nation.”

She would do it herself but Jet is heavy in all his muscular, chiseled glory, and she is still very woefully small.  “I will subdue him and you will carry him into the ship.”

“I don’t know if I feel comfortable helping you abduct your boyfriend.”

“But you are comfortable abducting me and taking me to your shady lizard-person organization for memory erasure and possible re-education?”

The Dailluminati agent chuckles nervously.  

“That is what I thought.” Azula declares. “Now, help me get him to the Fire Nation.”

Jet throws himself at Azula who gives him a light zap. He recoils with another hiss. Azula shakes her head. “You are going to have to face your fear and hatred of the Fire Nation, Jet. It’ll be good for you and for our business.”

On all fours he scampers into a corner, still hissing.

“I didn’t want to have to do this…” She trails off, lightning dancing on her fingers.

“You’re not supposed to have lightningbending.” The Dailluminati agent declares.

Azula scoffs, “And, you’re a background character, you’re not supposed to have any lines.” But it is too late, her lightningbending has been revoked. It is a good thing that she has a backup plan. She wanders into the backroom and fetches a spray bottle. “Don’t make me do this, Jet.”

.oOo.

Nighttime arrives in the Fire Nation. It has arrived several hours ago, in fact. Zuko has wasted his whole day away, brooding and sulking, and thinking about the avatar and failure. And he is about to waste his night away...and Sie’s...doing the same.

“Why'd you do it!?” He demands of the princess.

“You're going to have to be a little more Pacific.” He coughs. “I mean, specific. Sorry, it’s three in the morning, I should be sleeping.” He gives his brother a pointed glare.

“Why did you tell Father that I was the one who killed the Avatar?” He ignores the princess’ saltiness.

“Can't this wait until the morning?” Sie grumbles.

“It. Can.” Zuko replies. “But I want to make this conversation as aggravating as possible!”

Sie groans. “Fine.” He mutters. “You kept whining like a lil’ bitch because you hadn't captured the Avatar. I figured if I gave you the credit, you'd shut the hell up.” He shrugs.

“But why?”

He truly is trying to be annoying as hell. Rising from his bed, Sie says, “I just answered that.”

“You're lying!” Zuko accuses.

“No, I really did just want you to shut up.” Sie says. He realizes that he is being uncharacteristically unkind. Usually he is a timid man. He thinks that the power is getting to his head. He apologizes to Zuko.

“You have another motive for doing this, I just haven't figured out what it is.” Zuko rambles. Sie thinks that Bosco’s big reveal has pushed him back into his conspiracy theorist phase.

“Please Zuko, what ulterior motive could I have? What could I possibly gain by letting you get all the glory for defeating the Avatar?” He muses. He decides that it is time to annoy Zuko back. So he encroaches in Zuko’s personal space. He puts a hand on his shoulder. “Unless, somehow, the Avatar was actually alive. How crazy would that be!? But you said it yourself, that was impossible.”

Zuko visibly shivers. But Sie is only trying to prep him for all of the possibilities. Things always tend to go amiss for him, he has learned to take every victory with a grain of salt. “Sleep well, Zuzu.”

Zuko’s nose crinkles at the nickname.

.oOo.

“You need to stop crying. Crying is weak. We can’t afford weakness when making such a huge step in our business.” Azula says matter of factly.

“But I don’t wanna goooooo.” Jet wails as though he is not already in the middle of the ocean.

“We are already on our way.” Azula declares.

“But firebenders are evil!”

Azula finds herself deeply offended, but she can’t place why. She is not a firebender. She is, when the plot calls for it, a cabbagebender. But mostly she is but a humble cabbage farmer tending to her cabbage crops. No less she replies, “some firebenders are actually somewhat decent.” She thinks that most people are more or less decent, so long as they aren’t particularly destructive of her cabbage stall.

Without warning, the boat lurches. The tides are growing restless. Azula frowns, she does not like tides. They slam into the boat once more.

“These tides are making me nervous, captain.” A crew member cries out.

But it is not the tides that they should worry about. They should be worrying about her. She, who is growing more and more dissatisfied with every crash of the tides. A particularly strong slap sends ship furniture sliding. Azula’s eyes go wide. She watches as her cabbage stall sails, seemingly in slow motion, over the railings. “My cabbages!” Azula laments to the swirling, merciless, sea.

[dionetaofavalon]

Negotiations Awkwardslide (4/25)

My interpretation of book!Bard comes from The Hobbit. For starters, Bard name-drops his lineage at the drop of a hat. Second, in chapter 14, “Fire and Water,” Laketowners clamor for 

“’King Bard! King Bard!’ they shouted; but the Master ground his chattering teeth.

‘Girion was lord of Dale, not king of Esgaroth,’ he said. ‘In the Lake-town we have always elected masters from among the old and wise, and have not endured the rule of mere fighting men. Let “King Bard” go back to his own kingdom---Dale is now freed by his valor, and nothing hinders his return. . . .’ 

[Then a bit more of rabble-rousing, hushed by Bard, and] 

. . . even as [Bard] was speaking, the thought came into his heart of the fabled treasure of the Mountain lying without guard or owner, and he fell suddenly silent. He thought of the Master’s words, and of Dale rebuilt, and filled with golden bells, if he could but find the men.

At length he spoke again: ‘This is no time for angry words, Master, or for considering weighty plans of change. There is work to do. I serve you still---though after a while I may think again of your words and go North with any that will follow me.’

As for his attitude toward Thorin I get it from the way Bard parleys with Thorin---“proudly and grimly,” in Bilbo’s humble opinion---his mistrust when Bilbo delivers the Arkenstone, and the fact that he’d objected to Thorin’s quest from the beginning.

But they decided to change Bard’s personality, for some reason. For the record, book!Thorin has a better case in this scene.

[imbeccablee]

Fic Request: Deku/Melissa Shield; Melissa running on a treadmill while connected to a heart monitor as part of a stress test, the stress proving too much for Melissa's heart, resulting in a massive heart attack and Deku must revive her. Feel free to tweak this to your liking.

(Alright, finally! Thank you for your patience. I did change a small thing, just the part about the heart monitor, but the rest of the prompt is the same! I hope you enjoy it! (also, I will be putting this on ao3 as well, under the same username, if you want to give it some love there as well))

Melissa had a lot of inspiration in her life. Her father, of course, and her Uncle Might, obviously. Her classmates were brilliant as well, and her professors were nothing to sneeze at either. Everyone around her was simply amazing and Melissa was so happy she could witness everyone reaching their highest potential. She was so happy to grow right alongside them. But she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t focused on one specific person.

Deku was a star. No—a comet. A bright, shining, once in a lifetime experience everyone looked in awe towards. People charted his path, trying to figure out when and where he’ll appear so that his entire being can be admired and studied.

And Melissa was one of the few able to get close to him.

She was honored, really, that he let her as close as he did. Before, they’d just been acquaintances through their connection to Uncle Might, but once he graduated UA, he had reached out to her. He debuted decked out in her gear, able to reach his true potential through reinforced support equipment.

When he had returned to the agency they both worked at, he had met her with that all-too-blinding smile, gushing about how incredibly well her gear had worked and how he was so happy he could save so many people without the fear of hurting himself and how he was so, so very happy to have known her at all; and in his happiness, he had swooped down and kissed her.

And in her own happiness, she had kissed back.

It’s been a year. Deku had walked right into the top three as if he’d owned the place, taking the country, the world, by storm as he did. He always sang the praises of his teachers, his classmates, her. As if they were the only reason he was standing up there all high and mighty. He really was too humble for his own good.

Melissa should be happy, and she is, don’t get her wrong. Her life was perfect, honestly; she’s been given more than she could have ever dreamed of. But there was a certain part of her that yearns for more. Even if she didn’t know exactly what it is she wanted.

She was going through old photos of her dad and Uncle Might when she found what she’d been looking for.

“Hey, Deku?”

Deku looked up from his bowl of katsudon. (It was his debut anniversary, so of course they made his favorite). “Yeah, Mel?”

She took a breath, contemplating her words once again, before speaking, “You know how when Uncle Might studied abroad in America, he and dad formed a partnership during his time there?”

Deku brightened. “Yeah! They were so cool, flying all around Northern California with Dave’s awesome tech. They were like something out of an action movie.” He sighed dreamily. “I wish I was alive then to see it in person.”

Melissa giggled. “Yeah, I’m sure they were quite the pair. America really didn’t know what hit it.” Her face turned a little somber, and she wasn’t surprised that Deku immediately jumped on it.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He reached across the table and took her hand in his. She smiled.

“Nothing’s wrong, Deku, I was just…” She let out another breath and squeezed his hand. “I was… wondering… Would you, maybe, want to form a kind of partnership like that?”

Deku was quiet as he digested that. Melissa forced herself to look at him as he thought, wanted him to know she was serious.

“But…” he started, but Melissa was quick to defend herself.

“I won’t do much fighting, obviously! I would be more support than anything else, just like I am now, with your gear. Just… more offensive support, than defensive.” She chuckled nervously. “Like—dad always stayed in the vehicle, and would use missiles to protect Uncle Might and special containment inventions to limit surrounding destruction. I would do that.” She could still see some hesitancy in his eyes, so she plowed forward. “A-And, I know I don’t have a quirk, but my dad’s quirk isn’t exactly combative, and he made it work…” That one was a little weak, she had to admit, but it’s not like she’s wrong. Besides, Deku was so powerful and protective, she doubted she would even need a quirk to be safe.

“I dunno…” Deku looked away.

“Please, Deku.” Melissa grasped his hand with both of hers. “I hate just sitting here and watching you rush off into danger. I know you can handle it and that you haven’t gotten too badly injured yet, but it terrifies me to think of what might happen.” She smiles at him and moves enough so she can see his eyes. “I want to be able to help more. And it’s not like I’ll be a liability. I’ll train and become strong in my own right and use my inventions to protect myself as well as support you! I promise, Deku!”

Deku met her eye and looked stunned. Melissa watched as the gears in his head turned—she could picture him monologuing to himself—before a grin finally stretched across his lips.

“Okay,” he said, then got up suddenly. She, too, shot from her chair and collided with him. He grabbed her by the waist and spun her around in the air, laughing all the while. “Okay! We’ll be partners!”

And that is how Melissa found herself in Deku’s private gym, working herself to the bone so that she could officially partner with him. It’d been a few days since she began and already she was starting to feel the fatigue weigh on her. But she knew she couldn’t give up! Deku wouldn’t, Uncle Might wouldn’t, her other hero friends like Uravity and Creati wouldn’t. They were all so amazing, and soon, she was going to be just as amazing as them!

With a determined smile, Melissa brushed away her fatigue and went to work on the treadmill.

Everything started out fine. Occasionally she would feel a bit of a burn in her chest and when she did, she took a short break. Once the pain dulled, she hopped right back to it, running her heart out. The pain soon stopped coming back and Melissa smiled. She turned the difficulty up a smidge and ran with new energy. She wouldn’t let a little pain get in her way to achieving her new dream anyway.

So she ignored when her elbows began to tingle. She figured it was just from how she swung her arms back and forth. Besides, it just felt a little weird, no big deal.

And when her back began to ache, she stopped reluctantly, stretched, and went on her merry way again when it dissipated. Then it came back, and when it was clear it wasn’t going away, she ignored it. After all, she probably just slept on it wrong. Maybe she pulled something at some point and it was just now flaring up. Melissa wouldn’t let this hinder her progress at all.

Everything was fine until it wasn’t.

It was like someone had flipped a switch. The pain that had been there but forgettable had suddenly shot up to a ten, crawling up every nerve in her spine both lightning fast and in slow motion. She froze on the treadmill and was immediately thrown off of it, stumbling backward off of it before she slammed against another machine.

The pain spread into her chest like a virus, seizing her breath. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. It was like there was a hand squeezing the life out of her heart.

Her hand fumbled for the phone in her pocket. She focused her vision as best she could through her tears and typed out the three-digit number.

“119, what’s your emergency?”

“Help, I—” And that was all she able to get out before she fell unconscious.

—

Izuku was a very caring man, and with that care came an unrelenting wave of worry. So, of course, he would check in with Melissa thirty minutes into her workout. That’s what he’s been doing these past few days, much to her chagrin, but he couldn’t help it. He remembered his own ten months of Hell, and wouldn’t wish it on anyone, and while this certainly doesn’t have the same time limit, Izuku knew Melissa would want to go as fast as possible to get out on the field with him.

Izuku had found that a little funny, honestly. After all, the two of them have all the time in the world.

So when he walked into his personal gym, he expected to see her going at it with her usual determination. He expected her to turn her head to him, roll her eyes, and say she was fine, without stopping her workout. He expected her to be winded, sweaty, tired maybe, but overall okay.

Obviously, when he didn’t see her right away, it raised some alarms.

“Melissa?” he called, walking further into the gym. His eyes flicked around the room. Everything seemed to be in its regular place, nothing broken or knocked aside. The windows were intact, as were the mirrors. Perhaps Melissa stepped out for a moment? Why she would, he doesn’t know. Maybe she got sick, maybe she pulled something, maybe something came up, maybe, maybe, maybe.

A whirring sound caught Izuku’s attention and he made his way over to it. He saw that the treadmill was still running.

Strange, he thought, because Melissa wouldn’t keep a treadmill running. It was dangerous, plus a waste of power. The only reason she would was if there was an emergency or if she was…

Izuku sped up at the possibility of Melissa being hurt and as he turned passed a few arm machines, his heart dropped to his stomach.

There on the floor was Melissa. He was by her side in an instant, his eyes traveling up and down her body in search of injury. Nothing stuck out to him. He snapped his fingers in front of her face. “Melissa, hey, wake up!” When she didn’t rouse, he swore under his breath.

His eye caught Melissa’s phone off to the side. It was face up and was in the middle of a call. He could hear a voice coming through it. He picked the phone up and said, “Hello, who is this? Do you know what happened?”

“Thank goodness; sir, no, I don’t,” a woman said. “A woman called 119, but most likely collapsed before she could say what she needed.”

“I-I see, well,” Izuku stammered. “She is collapsed, she was running on a treadmill, but now she’s unconscious. I don’t know what happened, I just got here.”

“What is your location, sir?” Once Izuku told her the address, she continued, “I would advise you to begin CPR if the woman is still unconscious. Do you know the procedure?”

“Yes, I do.” Izuku set the phone to speaker and immediately began chest compressions.

“Perfect. While you do so, I am going to ask a few more questions, alright?”

Izuku agreed, easily falling back on his hero instincts. He knew if he dwelled too much on the details of his circumstances, he would work himself into a panic.

The counting helped. One to thirty, two rescue breaths, one to thirty, two rescue breaths. The repetition helped him pretend it wasn’t Melissa he was performing this on, but another civilian who had collapsed out of nowhere on a patrol, or had been drowning in a lake.

Melissa didn’t wake up at all while he did this. It was a thought that kept coming into his mind as he rhythmically pressed on her chest and breathed into her mouth. Even when the ambulance arrived and she was connected to oxygen, she didn’t wake up.

Izuku sat in that ambulance staring at her lifeless body as the first responders worked to make sure she was still alive.

Izuku hiccuped, and if the others in the ambulance noticed his silent tears, they didn’t mention it.

—–

When Melissa came to, she was confused. She was staring at a ceiling she didn’t recognize, in a room that wasn’t familiar, from a bed she didn’t know. She had to stare at her surroundings for a solid two minutes before the word hospital ran through her head.

“Oh,” she whispered. She went to sit up, but her arms gave out before she could get all the way there. She plopped back down on the bed and let out a slight hiss at the uncomfortable feeling in her chest.

What happened?

The door opened and a man walked in. “Ah, you’re awake! Wonderful,” he said. He wore what Melissa thought was normal attire for a doctor, so she assumed that was what he was.

He walked to the side of the bed. “Are you feeling alright? Any drowsiness or aching?”

“Um,” she said dumbly. “I feel a little uncomfortable, uh, everywhere?”

The doctor chuckled lightly. “That’s about normal, I’m afraid. It’ll ease up in the next few days, if not weeks ahead, I assure you.”

“Oh. Okay.” She paused, then went on when the doctor didn’t continue. “What, uh, happened?”

The doctor explained that she had, simply put, had a heart attack. At her shock, he had said that it rarely happened in people as young as she, but rare didn’t mean never after all. He was quick to explain that she was alright now, which helped ease the horrific images beginning to plague her mind. “Immediately after it happened, Midoriya Izuku fortunately found you. He finished contacting emergency services and performed CPR on you until they arrived. He’s been here ever since, waiting for you to wake up.”

“Deku’s here?” Melissa asked.

The doctor smiled at how she focused on Deku out of everything and replied, “Yes. He wasn’t allowed in the operating room, of course, but now that you’re awake, we can allow him to visit you. He’ll probably be here within the next—”

Deku then crashed through the door shouting, “Melissa!”

The two already in the room turned towards him and he flushed bright red. “Oh, um, s-sorry, they just told me you were awake so I… uh, I can leave if—”

“No, no, that’s quite alright,” the doctor said, looking rather amused. “I was just finishing up with Miss Shield here. You can stay.” He turned back to Melissa. “We would like to keep you here for a day or so to make sure there are no other problems, but after that you should be free to go. Just take it easy for a while after that, alright?” Melissa nodded and with another warm smile, the doctor went on his way.

Deku was at her side the second the doctor left it. He immediately launched into another one of his mumble storms, asking all sorts of questions about her health and what happened. At some point or another, he had started crying.

Melissa let the familiarity of Deku wash over her for a few moments, before reaching her hands out and cupping Deku’s face in them. His words halted mid-sentence and as she leaned her forehead against his, she said, “I guess our whole partnership thing will have to wait a little longer, huh?”

He laughed, then sagged, his forehead pressing a bit harder into hers. “Yeah,” he breathed. “Yeah, I think so. Sorry, Mel.”

“It’s fine,” she said, and was a bit surprised to find that it was, really. She was fine. She could wait. She’d get out there with him eventually. “Right now, I have everything I need.”