#i went from gratitude to bitterness lol

[anonkp]

More good takes. I think Gemmill even went a step further from @sonyarebecchi's excellent point about seeing Deeks only as part of Densi. It's that to the extent that he did see Deeks as a separate character, it was to take over for Beale as the silly one. I won't even bring up FLETC (except I couldn't stop myself and just did), but even in Gemmill's future plans, he just wanted to see Deeks agitated over Roberta and Arkady, just as he had been over Roberta and Guy. He was never interested in digging deeper. And that's another issue with Gemmill- he was very content to repeat entire story lines. We had multiple versions of Callen's younger years (at least as far as I could understand them). Multiple adorable couples bickering over wedding planning. Multiple times Deeks was frazzled by Roberta (which granted, was usually fun, just not with Guy). I'm sure it's hard to fill up 14 years of stories, but then again, he needed to look no further than social media and fan fiction to see all the interesting avenues he might have explored.

this might be a controversial opinion but i’m going to say it anyway as i have in the past because it’s still unfortunately relevant: not getting a ‘deeks, m’ episode or more deeks focused episodes or stories has nothing to do with the show choosing to focus on kilbride & his son or callen’s story because there were multiple seasons where they had the opportunity to do so, to focus on deeks and chose not to. the problem where the lack of focus on deeks is concerned is that for many years now, it was evident that the show and writers had reached a point (quite early on too unfortunately) where deeks was clearly seen more as an extension of densi as opposed to his own character and until that changed (which honestly wasn’t likely to ever happen), he was never going to be focused on more as a character. 

[eldragon-x]

What I say: haha sifloop is toxic doomed selfcest yuri lol

What I think: Do you ever think about Siffrin and Loop. Do you think about how one and the same person living different experiences can practically shape them into two different people. Do you think about personhood and identity and how Loop reduces themselves to a guide to help Siffrin with the loops down to their name? Do you ever think about Loop mocking Siffrin vs Siffrin expressing his gratitude to them and about self hatred vs self love? Do you think about how the scene where Loop wins the battle has them depicted in a similar style as Mal Du Pays, who embodies Siffrin's homesickness and self loathing? Do you ever think about a version of yourself who got a happier ending and get angry? Do you think about "I'm sorry, Siffrin. And thank you, Loop." do you think about how loop genuinely wanted to help siffrin but also was so so enraged that he succeeded where they failed. do you think about how siffrin yearns for his home and the stars and wants to remember things but as the timeloop goes on he grows bitter towards those things and hates having memorized everything that happens. but he also still yearns for what he lost. do you think about loop hating the universe and their country and being removed from everything they ever had and forced to go through so much change after their fear for the future trapped them in the timeloop for so long.do you think about how siffrin starts seeing his friends as actors. do you think about how much loop still loves their friends even after all of this. do you think about how act 5 siffrins cruelty almost fits loops brand of cruelty. do you think about the diary written by someone who went trough a hard time and created a copy of themselves because they felt like no one could understand them. do you think about loop believing the only person who could understand what they went through was siffrin. do you think loop died peacefully knowing they made it possible for siffrin to get out of the loop or do they have to rebuild their life up from nothing? do you think they could ever forgive siffrin. do you think they could ever forgive themselves

[o-wild-west-wind]

It is the 1 year anniversary of the OFMD finale, and also the 5 year anniversary of my uncle’s death. For no particular reason, I’m feeling compelled to write something about it, so…here goes. This is more for myself than anyone else, but I guess I wanted to put it out there in case it resonates with anyone. I know a lot of us have found healing through this show 💛

When I first found OFMD, I was still in a state of mourning. The loss of my uncle hit me hard; I had been living with him on my breaks during college, and with no kids of his own, I was also his primary caretaker when he was ill. He took me in when my MAGA dad—his brother—couldn’t look at me without starting a fight. In many ways, he was the dad I wished I had.

And then, before he was ready to go, he was gone.

It wasn’t until after I started going through his things that I finally confirmed that he was gay (a copy of an application to be a mentor for the Trevor Project, and a sizable collection of gay erotica LOL). As nice as it felt to know, it also gutted me—because we had both feared backlash from my homophobic dad, neither of us had ever come out to the other. I felt an overwhelming amount of regret for never having talked about it with him, and I especially regretted that he’d lived alone, aside from me. I regretted that I’d never know if he had had the chance at love.

His death snapped something in my brain; I lost my spirituality, became obsessive about death, and was convinced that I was on my deathbed myself. I tried multiple different therapists, but nothing worked. And as years went by, I still felt the fog of grief, depression, and paranoia. The bitterness that my uncle could never be himself to his own family compounded on my bitterness that I had to hide myself in the same way, and I resigned myself to a life I felt almost to be condemned.

When OFMD started, my partner (a longtime Taika Waititi fan) suggested it to me, knowing how much I was looking for a distraction (and a laugh). I’d just been diagnosed with an alphabet soup of neurodivergencies, and told myself to hang onto the world at least until I could get my meds sorted out; but I had months to wait for my appointment, and I needed something, anything, to get me by until then.

So this silly little show came around, and it genuinely felt like the first seedling of spring after a long winter. It was fun, and funny, and just the world I wanted to escape to—but it was also about self-acceptance, love, queer joy, and—in its surprisingly understated way—death. It was a space to explore the themes that had haunted my own life, but in an overwhelmingly uplifting vessel. And it finally hit me that my uncle had never really been alone, like I’d assumed; there was and had always been a whole world of people out there, young and old, like us. We’d carved a space for ourselves, despite. It was the first time I really started feeling that it was okay to just…be.

I got onto an upward trajectory from there—I finally got on meds, came out to my close friends (half of which came out to me in turn lmao), and—thanks to Stede—found the courage to quit the job I hated and go back to grad school. But when S2 dropped, it really felt like the closure I didn’t even realize I needed. I’m not even exaggerating when I say that Ed’s arc basically cured my death anxiety—and the closure of his issues with his own father figures really helped me find a closure with mine.

I guess I say all this as a reflection of what this show gave me, and also in gratitude that a year later, I’m still in awe at the lasting power of its healing medicine. I still have my shit, and I’m working through more loss and grief I experienced during this span of time, but I’m honestly feeling…okay. Like I can breathe again, for once—no longer like I’m just waiting to drown.

I know that this piece of art just managed to be exactly what I needed at exactly the right point in time, but FUCK, am I glad it was. I’m devastated we don’t have more, but I’m so, SO grateful for what we ended up with, because it was exactly what I needed.

And while I wish I could’ve watched it with my uncle—he would’ve loved this show—I’m so grateful that it has turned his memory from something of deep pain to that of humor and joy. Like so many of the characters, he was funny, and brash, and caring beyond belief; he gave me my love of sailing, and taught me to treasure fine things, laugh in the face of hate, and never to give up on what I loved.

So cheers to you, Uncle R. Cheers to the renegades. And cheers to queer joy—because it feels good for the flag that once meant death to me to finally have a new meaning 🏳️‍🌈

[keep-the-wolves-close]

Movin’ Mountains

Chapter 5: Tennessee Mojo

* Pairing: Kayce Dutton x OFC Stella Daniels

* Rating: M

* Warnings: language, grouchy Rip (what’s new), some John angst, good ol Teeter has finally arrived lol

* Word count: 3,355ish

I would love to give credits to @dameronscopilot and @deanscroissant and @lexixstewart for being sounding boards for me during this whole process, giving outsider insight, being cheerleaders, and allowing me to screech at them about things that have happened during the writing process. I seriously couldn't have gotten this far without y'all.

Author's note: I hope everyone is enjoying so far! I hope you love this chapter as well!

Stella grumbled as she stumbled out of the tent. She was grateful for the time she got to spend with her brother and Colby, but she remembered why she was so happy to get her own house. Those two slept loud enough to wake the whole state.

Jake and Ethan had been awake for a while now and were brewing what smelled like a mean percolator of coffee, and a good breakfast. Stella trudged over to the fire and plopped unceremoniously into the chair. The two men nodded quietly at her, knowing that this early they all enjoyed peace and quiet.

Stella hunkered down in her chair and tried to convince herself to wake up. The tossing and turning did her no favors last night. Ethan brought her a cup of coffee. She smiled sleepily at him.

“Sugar?” Stella asked. She knew they wouldn’t have creamer with them, but she could get by with just the sweetener to take a little bit of the bitter out. Ethan handed her the container they’d packed it in. “Thank you.” Ethan nodded at her gratitude and went back to messing with the fire.

She gazed around, watching everyone mill about getting everything set up for the morning. She spotted Kayce talking with his dad. While the sight was not unheard of, there was something about Kayce that confused her. He looked unsure of himself. ‘That’ll be something to bring up later,’ Stella thought to herself.

She watched as John took notice of her from afar, patted his son on the arm, and moseyed his way over to her with his hands in his pockets. On any other day, Stella would have sat up a little straighter in the presence of her boss, but today she couldn’t be bothered. When he was close enough to her and looked at her, she politely raised her coffee to him in silent greeting.

John let out a scratchy chuckle. “I know it’s early, but I have a favor to ask of you.”

Her pink scarred eyebrow rose and she sat a little straighter at the possible proposition. She could see Kayce as he inched closer in the background keeping a close eye on her and his father. He didn’t think Stella had any reason to be aggressive this morning, but he knew how explosive things could get between her and his father at the drop of a hat.

“What would that be?” She leaned her elbows on the arms of the chair and wrapped her fingers around her mug.

“Well, Rip was talking to me yesterday about how having a woman in the bunkhouse really helps keep these knuckleheads in line and helps get work done. You’re not there all the time, but he was thinking about hiring another woman.”

“Okay,” she frowned. “Not to be rude, John, but what does that have to do with me?”

She watched as John squirmed around, and settled with putting his hands on his hips. “I told him to hire another one, either mean or ugly. I want you to be there to help him.”

If Stella wasn’t awake fully before this, she was now. The offer from John seemed important. Only the foreman or himself usually had the say. “Can I be real with you for a second?” John nodded for her to continue. “Are you sure you want me to assist?” She locked her gaze on him. “Cause I’m bound to hire someone who’s mean as fuck and will hurt people’s feelings.”

John snickered into his coat collar. “That’s what I was hoping for, Stella.”

She looked up at him over top of her lenses to gauge how serious he actually was. If John wasn’t serious he wouldn’t have wasted his breath asking her. She pushed the frames back up her nose. “When do I gotta go back down to the ranch?”

“Well I think people are probably gonna be gettin’ there soon, so you should head out now.”

Stella stood from the chair, excited at the idea of having another woman around again. Avery had kind of just drifted away, and she hadn’t gotten a chance to figure out what happened and why she decided to leave. She cracked her neck and went over to Abigail to get her tacked up.

She made quick work of the job as usual, and felt someone come up behind her. She glanced over her shoulder and saw that it was Kayce. She gave him a little half smile. “Mornin’.”

Kayce came to stand further in her line of view. “Mornin’.” He watched her as she finished tacking Abigail up. “Whatcha doin’?”

“I’m goin’ back to the ranch to help Rip hire, as your father put it, a “mean or ugly” woman.”

His eyebrows rose beneath his hat. “Is that what he asked you?”

“Just now, yeah.” She jerked a thumb back toward the fire. “Trust me, I’m just as shocked as you are. If my brother asks?”

“I’ll tell him, sugar.” His eyes darted around, taking in who all was standing near and made sure his son was still in the tent with his mother. He leaned toward her and she moved closer to him, craning her neck to allow him to place a light kiss on her lips.

“Thank you. I gotta hit the trail back down.”

“You got a rifle?”

She tapped the holster attached to her saddle that happened to be right in Kayce’s face. He looked at her sheepishly. “I was blinded by you.”

Stella belly laughed. “Smooth, cowboy. Real smooth.” She lifted her leg and hoisted herself up into her saddle. “I’ll see ya when I come back.”

“Do you know if there’s still an extra tent?”

“I mean,” she looked around, “I didn’t even bring my own, so I have no idea. But I’ll look around and see if there is, there’s gotta be. I’m guessing for Monica?”

Kayce affirmed. “If you don’t mind?” He knew it was kind of a touchy ask.

Stella waved her hand at him. “No, I don’t mind, love. It’s fine.”

Kayce looked up at her with wide eyes at the new nickname. It unlocked something deep within him. “Be careful. I love you.” He handed her the ball cap she’d left in the tent, knowing that she’d want it.

She gave him an affectionate smile. “I will. Love you too.” She took her hat from him, slid it onto her head backwards, and tapped Abigail with her heels. Kayce watched after her longingly almost. John beared witness his son be enamored by his best friend. It reminded him of Evelyn and himself when they were young and in love.

••

Stella and Abigail ripped down from the top of the hill. She could hear commotion at the practice pen of the cattle chute being opened and a horse galloping after it. ‘Apparently auditions have started.’ Stella caught a glimpse of Rip and Lloyd standing near the chute. She loped over to them, catching the two off guard.

“Lil’ bit!” Lloyd welcomed her with a grin. “What’re you doin’ down here? I thought you’d be up at camp relaxin’, giving those boys hell.”

“I was until I was given a task this mornin’.”

Rip gave her a brief look. “What’re you up to?”

She feigned a look of hurt. “Surpisngly, nothing. John asked me to come down here and help you hire another woman. So that’s what I’m here to do.”

In true Rip fashion he said everything with a look. Stella cringed internally. He appeared to be in a mood this morning. He was either in a mood or focused on the task at hand. Stella chose to ignore his attitude and remembered she needed to get a tent for Monica. “Do we have any extra tents?” She asked while they watched one of the cowboys poorly try his hand at the cattle.

“We should.” Rip answered.

“Okay,” she said slowly at his lack of give. She rolled her eyes with a huff and looked at Lloyd. “Do we still keep them in the bunkhouse?”

Lloyd nodded. “In the storage room, lil’ bit.”

“What for?” Rip asked.

Stella thought to herself, ‘not that it’s any of your business while you’re grumpy,’ and answered plainly, “Monica wants to stay up there with Tate.”

Movement on her left caught her eye. There was a woman waiting on the chute to be ready. She had on a flannel and a ball cap, very similar to Stella’s outfit today. The cotton candy pink haired woman caught Stella’s gaze and gave her a wink. The woman nodded quickly to the person pulling the chute door and took off fast as lightning.

Stella, Lloyd, and Rip watched as she successfully roped the cow’s head and pulled it along. The woman got irritated at the man who was heeling for his lack of talent. From afar, the trio could hear her as she gave him a hard time and cut him down a few sizes.

Lloyd leaned over to Rip. “Is that Spanish?”

Stella barked out a laugh. “No, Lloyd. It’s a southern accent.”

“And you know all about those, don’t you?” Rip sassed at her.

Stella craned her neck downward and stared at him like he had six heads. “Did we forget that Ryan and I are from Tennessee? If either of us get rowdy enough, we sound just like her. I know plenty.” She bit back. She witnessed Rip’s head drop. He had forgotten, and now he felt stupid. Stella prayed it would knock him out of his grouchiness.

“Well whatever it is, she’s a hand. That much is true.” Rip climbed up a rung on the fence. “Hey! Yo!” The woman’s head snapped to him, and he waved her over. When she trotted closer he asked, “Where’d you learn to cowboy?”

“I’ve been fuckin’ pullin’ and draggin’ since I could bounce piss off a rock.” She bounced her way over making direct eye contact with Stella. The men of the trio argued about whether or not her accent was Texan.

Stella side-eyed them, and smiled at the newcomer. “I’m Stella. What’s your name?”

“Teeter.”

Lloyd squinted up at the firecracker of a woman. “Peter?”

Stella glared over at her father figure. “She said, Teeter,” she defended Teeter plainly, the aforementioned accent slipping out a bit.

Teeter’s eyes widened as she motioned to her figure. “Do I look like my name is Peter, you skunk-haired motherfucker?”

Lloyd was practically giggling at Teeter’s audacity. “She just called me a motherfucker.”

“You understood that, didn’t ya, ya bowlegged bastard.” She chuckled to herself. Teeter continued as a laugh creeped up. “You look like you all got bent over one of them nurse things and fucked up the ass till your knees buckled.”

Stella howled with laughter. She laid a hand on Rip’s shoulder. “We need to hire her. Now.” She was in love with this woman already.

“This is the kind of girl that got drove to high school wearin’ a damn hockey helmet. She’s gonna go through the bunkhouse like wildfire.” Lloyd gave some kick back.

Stella pulled her eyes from the woman in front of her and looked at both men. “She’s perfect. I say hire her. Trust me.”

The men stared at her incredulously. The woman, Teeter, had a familiar feel. It was like Stella, but a little rougher around the edges instead of soft.

Rip agreed. “Hire her. Now, Lloyd.” He noticed Beth standing nearby. Stella watched his shoulders relax and thought it was sweet. He turned on his heel and marched over to her.

Stella grinned at Teeter as the woman spit out some dust. Stella gave Lloyd a look. “Can I trust you to leave her in your care?”

“Yes, lil bit. You can.” He chuckled.

“Treat our girl right, Lloyd!” Stella nodded her head to Teeter and walked Abigail over to Rip and Beth. Beth caught her gaze and gave her an almost imperceivable smile, she was happy to see the woman up and about again, even though she wouldn’t admit it out loud.

Stella gave the formidable woman a soft smile. “Sorry to interrupt,” Rip looked up at her and she caught his eye, “but do you need me for anything else?”

He shook his head. “No, I think I have enough direction to know what caliber of person we’re lookin’ for.”

“You sure you don’t need babysat?” Stella smirked at him and Beth chuckled.

“Nah, Stella-belle. I’m good.” He snorted out a laugh.

Stella smiled warmly at the two of them, enchanted by how Rip loved Beth. Amazed at how just her presence calmed him from the grouch he had been. She turned Abigail around to head on to the bunkhouse to grab that tent for Monica before heading back up to the camp.

••

Ryan heard hoof beats coming over the hill as he grabbed his plate to sit down. ‘Must be Stell,’ he thought as he recognized the sound of the horse. He turned around to start her plate, but ran into Kayce. His face lifted in shock, not expecting someone to be standing there. Kayce had an extra plate in his hand. “Makin’ a plate for Tate?”

Kayce shook his head. “No, Monica took care of that. I heard your sister comin’.”

Ryan’s shoulders dropped and his face softened at the small act of affection for his sister. Ryan smiled at the man in front of him who had seemingly gotten his head out of his ass when it came to his little sister. “I’m gonna go help her break Abigail down.” Kayce nodded and silently went about grabbing Stella’s favorites.

Ryan wandered over to the makeshift pen and smiled at the sight of Stella looking relaxed. It had been a few weeks since he’d seen anything normal from her. She must have heard him because she gave him a quick glance and a smile. ‘That was the first time she didn’t pull her gun.’ This trip was doing her well and he couldn’t be happier. It was starting to look like they were on the other side after all that mess.

“You want help?”

“Sure.” Stella worked on her saddle. Undoing it in a ritualistic way that was uniquely her, and muscle memory at this point. “Dinner smells good.”

“Kayce’s making you a plate.” Ryan told her as he started working on Abigail’s bridle.

Stella’s stomach fluttered with giddiness. “Oh thank god.” Happy that Ryan didn’t mind the display of attention, no matter how infinitesimally small it was.

“Did you get a woman hired?”

“Boy did we ever. I’m so excited to see her in the bunkhouse.” Stella laughed.

“Should I be worried?” Ryan looked concerned.

Stella cackled. “Very.” Her stomach growled. “I think it’s time I go get my plate.” She giggled. Ryan waved his hand in the direction of everyone sitting around the fire.

Kayce just finished putting Stella’s plate together. He looked up and beamed at her. He appeared to be more at peace than she’d seen him in weeks. She decided it looked good on him. Ryan walked past her and patted her shoulder and went to grab a seat around the fire with John and the rest of the gang. As Stella stepped in front of Kayce, he held out her dinner for her.

She batted her eyes up at him with a small smile. “Thank you, love. I’m starving.” Kayce came up behind her and placed his hand on her lower back and guided her over to the group.

She took a seat next to her brother, who had John on his right. Kayce chose the spot next to Stella on her left, followed by Tate, Monica, and the rest of the crew. Stella started to dig in to her plate, not realizing how hungry she had been since she skipped breakfast this morning to take care of that favor for John. Everyone was talking quietly amongst themselves. She could hear Kayce being a parent, and smiled tenderly at the interaction between father and son.

John opened the dutch oven in front of him to check on the biscuits that he was cooking, with his late wife on his mind. She crossed his mind often, but especially up here. Stella caught the melancholy look on his face, and decided to distract him from his thoughts.

She swallowed the current bite of food in her mouth and cleared her throat. “By the way John,” he placed the lid back on the dutch oven and glanced over at her waiting for her to continue. “Rip, Lloyd, and myself found a winner today. I’m excited for her.” Stella suppressed a laugh.

“And why is that?”

Stella couldn’t hold her laugh any longer. “She’s gonna whip these boys into shape real quick.” She caught her breath. “I mean, real quick.”

“Oh hell,” John mumbled to himself.

“Hey I asked you if you were sure you wanted me to help them and you told me yes.”

“You’re right. You did.”

“You forget who my best friend is apparently.” The amusement was clear on her face as the guys around the fire chuckled at the true statement. Kayce leaned into Stella’s shoulder with his own and a smug look on his face.

“There may have been a lapse in memory.”

“Gettin’ old there, dad.” Kayce dug at his father.

John relaxed into the log he was using as a seat and enjoyed the banter.

Tate got up and made his way to his grandfather. “Any more biscuits?”

“Yeah, well, I think there's plenty.” John opened the pot and picked one out for Tate. “There you go.”

“I'm gonna need more than that.”

“All right.” He proceeded to grab another.

“Another one.”

“You're just... You're just like your father. Here.” John laughed. “You know, my wife,” he looked down at his hands. “She used to make two Dutch ovens full of biscuits: one for your father and one for the rest of us.” Everyone fell silent and listened to him speak. It was rare when he got sentimental, or shared anything about the time before her and Ryan.

“He'd stand right by the fire and ask his mother, "How long?" She'd say, "Five more minutes." Which just meant "soon" to my wife. It didn't mean five minutes. Didn't mean 30 minutes sometimes.” John smirked at Kayce. “He'd stomp off and pout and walk away and come back and ask again and that shit would go on for an hour.”

Stella giggled. “Sounds about right for him.” She glanced over to her best friend. “Glad you haven’t changed much.” Kayce nudged her arm gently.

“When they were finally ready, he'd take a plate of biscuits, nothing else, and he'd just go sit at the edge of the firelight with his back to us and he'd just go at it with both his hands.”

Kayce looked at everyone and shrugged. “They were really good.” Everyone laughed heartily at the image of small Kayce ravenously tearing into a plate of just biscuits. “Why is that funny? They were really good.”

John continued to reminisce. “Like a wild dog. After an hour of standing over that Dutch oven, she'd sit beside me,” everyone could tell he was imagining her right in front of him, “her hair a mess, smelling like smoke, madder than hell because she hated cooking them damn biscuits.” He laughed. “And I looked at her and said, "Sweetheart, he'll eat anything you put in front of him. Just make him something else that doesn't take all night." Your mom looked at me and she said, "I know. But if I don't make 'em, I can't watch him eat 'em." And then she went to the tent, laid down and fell asleep. We were branding, so I was up before her. That was the last thing she ever said to me. Branding cattle on her goddamn birthday.” His voice got rough at the end, and he stood.

Stella knew that grief would follow him forever. Her heart went out to him. Her eyes tracked with him as he walked over to his tent and away from everyone. She and Kayce shared a look and he got up to go to his dad, which shocked her. It wasn’t often anyone would see Kayce be soft on his dad.

John felt his son’s presence come up next to him. He sniffled and pushed the tears away. “Makes you wonder the point of it all. Find someone you love so much just to lose them.” He sighed roughly. “I'd like to believe there's a plan to it all, but I—, I don't see a plan.”

“That's just 'cause we're inside it, Dad.” Kayce explained simply. “We see the plan. We're standing on it.”

“Yeah.” John cleared his throat. “Guess we are.”

[theawakenedstate]

I wanted to take you a little bit behind the scenes of my Inspiration behind Why I created this book. 

I remember it like yesterday, 

It was around 2013-2014, I was on Maternity leave after just having my son, Godric.  My love came home really upset. 

he said he just lost his job and we had NO CLUE how we were going to make it now. 

Both of us not working, living at my parent’s at the time and a newborn – so we were also sleep deprived on top of it LOL. It was messy.  We were both deeply upset, I remember that holiday we didn’t buy presents – My mom bought us a few things for the Baby we could give from ‘santa’ and that was really it. I felt devastated… Around Spring – I was really desperate for Change, and I was tired of feeling panicked about depending on others and having chronic money anxiety. 

I was telling myself ‘I just need a SOLUTION. Some type of Change or perspective shift, i cannot feel this negative and hopeless.’ I need hope! 

And with that simple intention, one of my internet friends and i were chatting.  She told me she wanted to share a book with me on her Kindle, it was called “The Magic” – Maybe you’ve heard of it?  I was desperate for just a shred of hope so I read this book daily religiously and followed along – It was a 28 Day Gratitude Challenge to teach you how to Attract what you want Via the power of Gratitude. (featuring the early teachings of the law of attraction)  This was my second introduction to Manifestation. I knew of the concept of ‘thoughts create reality’ BUT – I never really experienced it before. 

my gratitude jar from 2014

I set intentions each day and I put them in what I called ‘My gratitude jar’  – i didn’t even have a journal! Lol it was tiny pieces of post it paper that i wrote on and put in this jar. (sidenote, that jar got broke when i had a massive money uplevel, 2 apartments –  years later )  this book gave me hope, wonder, inspiration and I started experiencing a 360 degree shift in my mindset. 

And then MY REALITY STARTED SHIFTING.

I went from feeling really bitter, annoyed, desperate and slightly negatively depressed to focusing on ALL the good in my life.  I was so positive out of nowhere, appreciating the food I ate to nourish my body, appreciating the bills & checks I paid, grateful to have a warm house for my baby, instead of feeling resentful that i didn’t have my own home –  and so forth! 

My perspective started shifting and as a result from that – My reality started changing. Within those 28 days, things got WEIRD – 

the more I set gratitude intentions – I started having big shifts physically: 

+ I started losing a ton of my baby weight and easily fit back into my pre-prego jeans.  + I started attracting Free things LIKE CRAZY – giveaways, discounts, Free Gifts, random encounters, Money in the street, Random money. Like money everywhere.  + We Attracted my Love a good-paying job to help us start to save money I felt inspired that if we really wanted to make something happen, we had to start saving money – We started Saving money for our own apartment, startng with literally $20 a month. it was nuts lol. 

So many crazy things happened during that time period in such a short amount of time. 

– resulting in us finding a crazy affordable 2 bedroom apartment for only 550 for rent special the entire year including water and most utilities – except electric ( which is pretty cheap considering how nice it was) most places around town were starting at 990 or $1020 ) – I started the website! This website. which resulted in starting the business.  – I discovered Digital courses for the first time – which is a big part of my business. 

And From all of this – I became OBSESSED with trying to figure out Why, That very simple gratitude challenge produced such a 360 Mindset Shift. 

I needed to know WHY. 

I was literally obsessed with figuring out Manifestation and how to get better at it, I started questioning why could i manifest some things easily but not others?  Why could I manifest a New Car but Not a house?  Why did it work easily on non-resistant things – but not as easily on BIG things like, owning a house, six figures or millions of dollars! And As my experiments grew – I started creating my own Mindset Challenges – that worked FASTER, Easier and as a result Helped me Believe in Manifesting. 

In the beginning, there was a ton of disbelief,  “like HOW did i even manifest that?!”  “How did i manifest that money, what even happened?”  How did i move out soooo fast once i applied gratitude?!” 

I was out of the house in a MONTH – after setting intentions about it.  I was in so much wonder, disbelief, and doubt – at the same time I was obsessed with doing it with bigger things. 

And I knew my problem was Self-belief. I didn’t BELIEVE I could do it. So I started playing with Challenges and it flipped the entire game for me.  I made it similar to what i learned in the 28 day Magic days of gratitude challenge – but I changed all the exercises to actively support my Self-belief. 

And My First one I called it,  The Awakened bliss Creator Challenge – a 30 Day challenge to Awaken your BLISS as a co-creator of reality. 

Here’s the thing, most teachings completely dismiss this step and yet it’s the most important piece of the puzzle. 

It isn’t that you can’t manifest.  It isn’t that you can’t manifest BIG things. 

It’s your DEGREE of BELIEF towards BELIEVING you can attract and have that thing.  It’s your self-belief. 

What I started to realize, very quickly was the more i did challenges – I was consistently building up my self-belief that I could manifest what I want.  And As I kept doing it – It became easier and easier to manifest. 

Part of the Journey of creating this book and sharing it, is the realization that,  I know what it’s like being on the other side of that!  In Self-doubt, Disbelief, confused, Hopeless and Lost on your direction in life – not really sure if you’re going anywhere.  I totally Get it,  The origin of this book – is made so that anyone can pick up these pages and learn to manifest within 30 days or less.  Anyone who is willing to discover the magic – will experience it themselves and most importantly, you will begin to know and experience – You are more powerful than any situation, circumstance or obstacle in your pathway. Your Belief is what will take you far. 

And When you Believe in yourself?  WATCH OUT WORLD – 

You can do anything. 

but first, it starts from within, 

it’s an inner game

and that means, 

If you’re not changing your perspective, no one will do that for you either. 

Don’t you feel it’s time for real new beginnings?  Grab your Copy today and see for yourself 😉  Awaken You Power to Manifest: A 30 Day Manifestation Challenge 

Transformation is Always Possible, Change is only a moment away for the highest good of all, But you have to get intentional about it.  it’s bizarre how much life can change when you start to get more intentional on WHAT YOU WANT FOR YOUR LIFE.  🙂 

Dec. 2013 June 2022.

A lot can change in 9 years!

P.S. It’s the Final Weekend on the Anniversary Sale for Awaken Your Power to Manifest: 30 Day Challenge workbook! https://www.amazon.com/Awaken-Your-Power-Manifest-Manifestation/dp/B09RM5XH2S/ref=sr_1_1?crid=30VK4EXDP3CLK&geniuslink=true

You can get your OWN printed copy for only $9.99 for the Anniversary Sale on Amazon right below – that’s over 60% off it’s original price. 😮😯🤭

Also – We’d love to hear from you Readers! What did you Manifest? What did you love about the challenge? Give us a comment on FB or drop a review on Amazon.

Thanks so much for your Support!

Happy Manifesting 😘

READY FOR MY MANIFESTING CHALLENGE! P.S. S. International Link:

Awaken Your Power to Manifest: A 30 Day Manifestation Challenge

https://www.theawakenedstate.net/i-cant-believe-i-manifested-that/

I Can't Believe I manifested that...

I wanted to take you a little bit behind the scenes of my Inspiration behind Why I created this book.  I remember it like yesterday,  It was around 2013-2014, I was on Maternity leave after just having my son, Godric.  My love came home really upset.  he said he just lost his job and we had […]

[homielander]

hey! hope you’re doing well! <3 wanted to ask, what about cole’s depiction did you not like after hotd ep. 5? cuz i totally agree; felt like the writing in terms of his character was more compelling earlier in the season, and i am bitter with the timeskips basically robbing us of a lot of character dynamics (love alicole dynamics and cole/ali’s kids, but i wanted more!!) hoping next szn will be better esp since fabien said a lot of his scenes will be with a certain actor (i’m predicting ewan)

hello! thank you, and i hope you're doing great <3

we can't have any discussion about criston in this show without first considering his encounter with rhaenyra, and the dubious consent on criston’s part.... it's been discussed to death already, but i will reiterate: he only went inside her chambers to get his helmet. he asked her to stop. then he tried to go for the door (and was blocked from leaving). he was visibly uncomfortable. she was in a position of power over him. i'm not saying rhaenyra intended for him to feel this way, but that doesn't change that their perceptions of the situation seemed very different. i need people calling him an "incel" for hating rhaenyra to be sooo for real right now.

the problem is (and this has happened more than a few times on this show) that the writers clearly intended to communicate something different with that scene than what came across to a bunch of viewers. so i suppose based on what they intended to portray, criston couldn't resist temptation, slept with rhaenyra, then blamed her for his own poor decision. the issue is that it's difficult to show this considering we don't have access to criston's thoughts in a tv format, so after ep 4 aired i was pretty squicked out but decided to reserve judgment until we got to witness the fallout. and ooh boy what a fallout it was

when rhaenyra refuses his offer to flee to essos, there is literally no sign of heartbreak on criston's part (and i never got the impression that either criston or rhaenyra harboured any romantic feelings for one another, they seemed very friendly). instead, he's upset because he realizes rhaenyra initiated and pressed for sex when she didn't truly value him. for him, love is the one thing that might have surpassed the importance of his vows, and when he realizes rhaenyra doesn't actually feel that way about him -- that she put him in a situation where he felt pressured to taint the sanctity of his kingsguard station even though he told her it was the highest honour ever bestowed upon him or his house -- he stops deluding himself into believing that he feels that way about her too. that's why his dialogue in that scene explicitly spells out "i thought All That could have been worth it but clearly i mean nothing to you" instead of "my love and devotion was all for naught :(" (moreover, she refuses his offer by talking about her duty and her obligations, after undermining his, like, the night before. i'm sure he appreciated that lol)

i really think that scene on the ship was the moment the writers could have recontextualized for us whether their encounter was criston giving into long-held attraction or criston being violated (and subsequently doing his best to cope), and nothing about it gave me any reason to believe it was the first. (he felt immense gratitude towards her, sure, but that only intensifies the power imbalance)

so the issue is that post-episode 5, criston is bitter and resentful towards the woman who effectively coerced him into sex -- and he is villainized for it! (like that scene where he called rhaenyra a cunt... seriously? of course no one should be using that word offensively in reference to a woman, but how many times has daemon called women -- who have done nothing to him btw -- gross things only for every character who heard to ignore it?) it's the same deal with the madonna-whore complex they've attempted to show. i take serious issue with extrapolating that criston actually hates all women who are sexually promiscuous because of his feelings towards a woman with whom he had an awful experience (that, if it were up to him, never would have happened). it should be noted that the only woman aside from alicent and rhaenyra he's interacted with is the prostitute in 1.09, and he was perfectly polite with her. of course he has strict ideas about what rules women should abide by, but these strict ideas are not limited to the opposite sex. he's even more harsh with himself to the point where he nearly commits suicide when he breaks his personal code.

the other major part of his characterization that i hated after ep 5 is that he's been turned into, like... a dumb thug?? (also why does everyone behind the scenes describe him as a thug. that word for him bothers me a lot.) i'm specifically referring to criston in ep 9, which was supposed to be his crowning moment (pun not intended, but you know, he becomes the kingmaker!!) and ended up being a huge letdown. he randomly wanted beesbury to sit down and applied such force to the action that beesbury died over it, he drew his sword on the commander of the kingsguard because of an insult, and his scene with alicent where she mentions what he feels for her did somewhat give the impression that she was using him. (olivia cooke has since talked about that scene and i don't think that was intended. which is a common theme)

i can't really figure out a way to reconcile 1.09 criston with earlier criston, but the biggest problem here is that he hasn't been given enough screen time for the character to be fleshed out and have too many consistent character traits. he's shown the ability to be calculating (like when he provoked harwin into beating him up which resulted in the bastard allegations spreading), but he's also prone to emotional outbursts (though prior to 1.09 i would have just said killing joffrey in 1.05 was a one-time breakdown). he's definitely not supposed to be a blind dog that follows orders -- he immediately refuses when alicent asks him for the eye of lucerys -- but in 1.09 he lashed out at westerling for saying a bad word against her. (if there was more time devoted to his relationship with alicent, i think the green council scene would have played much better.) i'm not entirely sure what the writers are trying to achieve with him.

my impression of criston on the whole is he's a guy who deeply values his honour because it's what got him out of a period of his life when he was undisciplined and floundering (he mentions to rhaenyra that he had a wild youth in 1.03) and helped him, the son of a steward, rise to the position of kinsguard. but, that being said, his sense of honour is pretty unconventional. that's why we have him attacking daemon from behind in the tourney in 1.01, but only after daemon already used a dirty trick to beat gwayne hightower. that's why he is content following the orders of the green council in 1.09 -- because unlike harold westerling, who requires the king to be present -- criston is not doing any of it for aegon (the official monarch they’re attempting to install). he's doing it for alicent. alicent showed him mercy, alicent saved his life, alicent is the embodiment of the mother, alicent has ruled over the realm competently for some 6 years -- and he sees all of that and trusts her and really does think her leadership would be best! i generally just really like the characters in the asoiafverse who struggle with concepts like knighthood and honour, and i appreciate that from the get-go criston has been someone who makes the rules for himself.

so yeah he's so neat to me and i love him. also his little family unit with alicent and her kids is EVERYTHING. i'm desperately hoping and praying that we get more screen time and focus for him in the second season but i won't hold my breath </3

(also... super interesting that most of criston's scenes next season will probably be with aemond! i'm honestly extremely upset that the gang is splitting up already, but i really liked the chemistry between ewan and fabien in 1.09 so i am excited to see more of that!!)

[i-did-not-mean-to]

For my dear friend

It is I once more, with another request from a dear friend...@eunoiaastralwings, here's another example of me writing characters I don't know LOL

Words: 1,2 k

Warnings: Sadness, loss, tears

Characters: Erestor x Reader

After all the suffering you had endured at the hands of the thoughtless creature cutting through your field of vision like a white-hot blade, you would never have believed that it would be his happiness – painfully obvious in his deportment and mien – that would tear you apart from the inside out.

What angry and bitter words had been spoken in the vacuum of a love asphyxiated and crushed by the fists of an unimaginable tragedy; you remembered every single jab and harsh remark, but apparently the hands of time had blandished soothing caresses upon the weak and wicked mind of the one you had once loved.

With unseeing eyes – your tears burning like acid as they shivered on your lashes, unwilling to be spilled – you rushed out of the courtyard and down corridors as if you could outrun the hurt that radiated out from the bottom of your heart until it had numbed and paralysed your limbs; you tumbled and fell hard against a wall.

It didn’t matter, you thought, you didn’t care; you would stay here, crumpled up and miserable, until fatigue offered oblivion in its sweet, caring embrace.

“Oh,” Elrond turned away from the window he had been idly standing at while Erestor droned on and on about some minor damage an open window had inflicted on a couple of inconsequential scrolls, “this is not good.”

He worried for the sensitive soul that had lived under his roof and protection for a while now; too gentle and welcoming anyway to banish the one who had broken your heart, Elrond had willingly given in to your pleading not to make a big deal out of your mental torment, but now he wondered if he had been wrong in letting it slip so easily.

“What is it now?” Erestor stalked over, stiff-limbed after having been sitting all day long and threw a quick glance out of the window as well, only to spy your nemesis standing suspiciously close to a young maiden. 

He froze.

Heat – crackling along his skin almost painfully – shot up his spine and his body tensed ever further until he thought he’d shatter under the impossible strain of keeping his boundless anger under lock and key.

“Erestor?” The soft voice of his friend and lord put a fault line in his meticulously crafted mask that started crumbling at the edge and – before he could crush it in his bare hand – he flung the inkpot he had barely noticed being clasped tightly in his cramping fingers out of the window into the general direction of the couple where it exploded into an angry black stain.

Startled by the noise, the lovers dispersed like shooed birds and Erestor smiled darkly to himself before turning on his heels sharply to seek out one he hoped had not witnessed this disgraceful show of disloyalty.

You were still huddled against the wall when Erestor came down the corridor with swift, elegant steps that betrayed hurry and uncharacteristic preoccupation.

“My friend,” he greeted gently, “so…you have seen?”

You merely nodded weakly.

“Mind him not,” he grumbled, his eyebrows sitting like ominous clouds on his fair brow, “he doesn’t deserve a single thought let alone a lone tear from one so precious as you.”

The smile tugging at the corners of your mouth was feeble and watery, but you gave it your best effort to express your deep gratitude for his presence and support.

“I should have him flayed,” Erestor went on mumbling under his breath; you knew well that he was not a particularly violent person to begin with which made his passionate tone all the more astonishing.

“Do not trouble yourself…or him on my account,” you whispered.

“You love him still? You’d still defend and protect him?” he hissed angrily at you.

In your fragile state of mind, you were neither able nor willing to tell him – plainly and bravely – that it was him and not the one you had let go a long time ago you were so worried about.

You had no doubt that Erestor could stand his ground, of course, but you’d rather not see him discomfited or pushed out of his comfort zone to fight a battle that you had lost either way many moons ago.

“No,” you sighed softly, “but it’s no longer worth anything being done about it.”

“You’re wrong,” Erestor contradicted, “he shall be sent forth from this place in disgrace; Lord Elrond will see to it.”

“Why would he do that?” you asked; you knew the Lord of Imladris to be generous and kind, and so, you could hardly imagine that he’d drive out a guest.

“Because he loves you well,” Erestor answered sternly, “and because I shall ask it of him; for all my years of devoted service and devotion to this place and to his person, I deserve to be heard and indulged.”

A small smile – warmer and more genuine – crept onto your face because, even though it was true that he was the most faithful of friends and councillors, Erestor was generally humoured by everyone in his dark moods and snappy remarks.

“It’s my fault, Erestor,” you whimpered, “you cannot cast him out for my failure.”

The low rumble coming from the elegant Elf sounded like a storm brewing, but his eyes were clear, and his gaze was sharp as he shook his head slowly.

“You are not to blame yourself for his weakness, I’ve told you so before,” he replied sternly, “and even if that was true, a friend will defend another friend’s interest even when they’re wrong, wouldn’t you agree?”

A mischievous glint had sparked in his eyes now as both of you remembered how many times you had defended him – tooth and nail – when people tried to mock or judge him for his slightly anti-social and awkward tendencies.

“I guess so,” you admitted quietly.

“You will heal from this,” he murmured soothingly then, cradling your cold hands in his carefully, “and he shall regret what he’s lost sorely.”

“He’s moved on,” you sobbed as it all became too much to hold in; Erestor’s rare tenderness burned right through your walls of desperate pride and left you naked and shaking under the icy fingers of the awful truth.

“And so will you,” he promised fervently, giving your fingers a fond squeeze, “you have taken your time to think on what you had and what you’ve lost. Day by day, you lay it to rest a little more; you swallow the bitter, stale awareness of what could have been. My brave friend, every second you inhale hope and exhale dead dreams.”

You nodded; he was right, and yet it vexed you that the other party seemed to have forgotten so easily and quickly about all the things you carried around like stones weighing down your pockets.

“He is not breathing,” Erestor went on, suddenly unable to look at you, “he’s merely holding his breath and when it hits him – for hit him it will – and he gasps for air, all the words unspoken he owes you will clog his throat. I hope he chokes on them.”

“You are too good to me,” you sighed, leaning your feverish brow against your intertwined fingers in search of solace. 

“Nobody is ever too good to you,” he mouthed tonelessly into your hair as he allowed himself to press a gentle, comforting kiss onto the back of your head, “we all just endeavour to be worthy of you…some of us more than others.”

“What are you saying?” you asked, your head shooting up in surprise and shock, almost knocking the poor creature out cold. 

So, that was it from me today LOL

Good night, sweet dreams, I love you dearly, thank you for indulging me with all my stupid ideas and being the best reader and friend one could ever dream of.

Lots of love, my darling ❤️

[erosofthepen]

Letters From Amad pt.2

After about five months of not knowing how to continue it, i have finished part 2!! There will be a third part, not nearly as long, and i already have most of it written, so it should be out a lot sooner lol. BUT, i hope you enjoy it, and thanks for putting up with me lol.

-Part 1

-Words: 4,898

-Warnings: blizzard/storm, injury, hypothermia, some swearing

-Tags: @grunid, @elvish-sky, @sassyscribbler, @whore4fictionalhoes11, @smaugs-guardian, @bitter-sweet-farmgirl, @jotink78, @marvel-ous-hobbit, @anjhope1, (if i forgot you, im sorry, i have trouble keeping track sometimes)

It was moments like this that reflected Thorin’s terrible decision making. In actuality, his decision to not put anymore lives at risk was very wise. But still, it was Fili who was out there. And Kili. And since Thorin would not send a search party out, it was time to take matters into your own hands.

First things first, you went back to your chambers and put on your warmest, fluffiest, most wind-resistant coat. Rabbit fur covered the insides (the hides were hunted and tanned by Fili, a courting gift to you), and thick leather made up the outside, keeping the cold out and the warmth in. Next, you pulled on your winter boots (you had actually just had them made last week, and there were three little pockets perfect for concealing knives in), as well as a hat, gloves, and a scarf, all knitted by Ori, his way to show gratitude after your help in the libraries. You then proceeded to gather up some salted meat and cram, walk down to the entrance of the mountain, and enter the stables.

You choose a faithful companion to keep you company, namely, Daisy. The Mare had a thick wooly mane, and an extreme proclivity towards sweets. This was not to be your first venture with the pony, and now you knew better to bring him anywhere within five leagues of a bakery. You had not been amused when he had eaten an entire box of pastries meant for you and the scholars, though Kili and Fili had thought it to be the most hilarious of stories. However, despite his tendency to devour pastries, Daisy was reliable and resilient, and you hardly rode any other steed.

Several stableboys tried to dissuade you from leaving in the storm, but you brushed off their remarks as you tacked up Daisy. Thankfully, they didn’t try to block your path as you left, though they did warn you to be careful. You weren’t too concerned, for the storm had grown tamer in the day, and the frost was not biting your face. Yet, that is.

You reached Dale in about an hour. It took much longer than expected, with Daisy being nearly up to his belly in the fallen snow. Dale was practically devoid of men and women, most of them having the brains to stay inside during the storm. The only exceptions were some watchmen and one or two passersby.

“Oi, it’s a bit too cold for a morning ride lady, have you lost all sense?” A guard asked as you were leaving the gate on the other side of town.

“No my good fellow, I'm just looking for my friends. Have you seen two dwarrow come this way?”

“Can’t say that I have, but Maurice said he saw a pair last night, a few hours before the snow started.”

“Did Maurice mention where they were headed?”

“To the caravan, where else? It’s about fifteen miles from here, I would guess. You’re not considering going out there, are you?”

“I’m afraid that I must. Good day to you sir,”

“And a very cold day to you, lassie. Best of travels.”

“And to you as well.”

You quickly left and mentally cursed yourself for wishing him best of travels in return. He wasn’t traveling, you idiot!

The embarrassment faded as the wind began to pick up. The blizzard was steadily getting thicker, the puffy snowflakes turning more compact and icy. The city of Dale had long disappeared behind you in the snow, and you could only hope you were headed in the right direction.

However adventurous and bold it sounds, riding bare-back on a pony in the middle of a freezing cold snow storm was not at all an easy task. Your scarf had been moved to cover most of your face, and your hood was tied tightly ‘round your head, yet the flakes still stung your flesh. You were definitely starting to rethink your whole “making sure the brothers were alright in a storm idea.” Especially since it was pointless to look for them in between the caravan and Dale, as you couldn’t even see ten feet in front of you. Your goal now was to simply make it to the caravan without frostbite.

Around noon, you tried eating a bit of the bread you had packed, only to find it frozen. As well as the cheese. And the dried meat. It wouldn’t do good to gnaw on it either, as that would just make your innards cold as well, so you just went with your stomach protesting.

It was starting to get quite dark when you finally saw what seemed to be a glow in the distance. As you drew closer, it grew apparent that it was the caravan, and you sighed in great relief.

The dwarrow on watch were very suspicious. Of course, once you explained your purpose, they grew less so.

“I come from Erebor, in search of the Princes. Prince Fili and Kili left last night with the intention to travel here, have they arrived?”

The guards started to look a bit nervous.

“No my lady, no one’s seen anything of them.”

Your heart dropped to your feet.

“Are you sure?”

“Aye, the whole group would have known.”

You might’ve cried, but your eyes felt nearly frozen. You turned your pony, with full intent to head back out into the blizzard and look for your love, when one of the watchdwarrow stopped you.

“You’ll freeze out there my lady, as will your pony. Stay and get warm.”

“Aye lass” another said, “Besides, if the Prince’s are out there, her Lady Dís should be informed.”

Ah, that’s right. Dís.

One of the guards led Daisy off to get warm with other animals, while the other led you to Her Ladyship’s tent. He announced your presence, awaited approval, and then lifted the flap of the tent, beckoning you inside before letting it fall behind you.

Dís was a truly stunning Dwarrow, even for her age, with long black raven hair and a beard to match. Some strands were turning silver, much like Thorin’s, and her blue eyes were more piercing than an orc’s. She looked incredibly confused when you walked into her tent.

“Good Mahal lass, what the hell were you doing out in that storm? You must be senseless.” She said, looking up from a book she had been reading and furrowing her brows.

“I was looking for the Prince’s. I should introduce myself, my name is (Y/N).”

Dís’s eyes widened and she stood, showing off quite an impressive height.

“Why would you be looking for my sons out in this storm, (Y/N)?”

“They… Fili left a note this morning, he and Kili were coming to the caravan to see you. The watchdwarrow said they hadn’t arrived.”

The Dwarrowdams jaw went slack for a moment, and then she cursed, banging her hand on a small table that held a bottle of whiskey.

“Foolish boys! Have they no sense? I was to be seeing them in only a few more days, but they could not wait, could they? Och, the beasts!” Dís continued her rant for a while longer, before she turned her gaze back on you.

“And you journeyed out here in the storm?”

“Aye. I could not rest well knowing that they were out in this foul weather. I will be going to head back out to look for them as soon as I’ve warmed up a bit,” you replied, very conscious of the Mother’s piercing stare. She was quiet, until she breathed a worried sigh.

“It’s no use to search out in this weather, lass. Especially at night. Rest here with me, we’ll go searching first thing on the morrow. I must talk with the guards for now, make yourself comfortable, I will return soon.”

And, just like that, Dís left the tent. Her talk was brief, and left you standing dumb in the center of the tent. For some time, you debated on whether or not to go out searching anyways, but the fire was surely inviting, and something in you knew Dís wouldn’t take kindly to you leaving against her wishes.

Your travel bag, heavy and frozen from being exposed to the elements for so long, left your shoulders as you set it down by the entrance. Next came your gloves, and then the outer coat, snow and ice caked on it making your fingers fumble whilst trying to unbutton it. Eventually, it joined your bag, as well as your boots (if you had thought the coat was difficult to get off, the frozen buckles on your boots were torture). After you had stripped the burdensome clothing off, you simply stood in the center of the room, close to the fire. There were blankets nearby, piled near a bedroll, but you dared not touch them, seeing as they belonged to Dís. It was rather awkward, simply sitting in a stranger's (of sorts) quarters, and weren’t sure what to do.

Your eyes did some exploring for you, falling first on the book that Dís had been reading. ‘The Heart of Hrund’. Huh. You recognized the title, from the Great Library, but you knew very little about it. You’d have to read it now. Your eyes then fell to the whiskey bottle. ‘Breaker’s’. Ah. Memories you shared with Kili at the beginning of the journey returned, however hazed they were due to your drunken state. Strong stuff, Breaker’s was. Bofur managed to get his hands on a few bottles from a merchant, and you and Kili had stolen one from him, much to Thorin’s disappointment and Fili’s annoyance (he was upset to be left out of the fun). Your eyes then drifted to a leather-fitted box, beautiful khuzdul runes and designs etched into it, however, before you could get a closer look, footsteps crunched through the snow outside the tent.

Dís and a young dwarrow entered, carrying stew, bread, and a plethora of blankets and pillows.

“Mahal,” Dís started, placing the tray of food down on the little table and grabbing a quilt from the other dwarrow, “Have you just been sitting here freezing? You could have taken a blanket, you know.” She said, wrapping the quilt around your shoulders and moving you to sit down.

“I, er, I didn't want to be rude.” You replied, now sitting cross-legged on the floor. Dís screwed her face at you.

“Lass, it is never considered rude to take a blanket in the cold. Only exception is if someone is already using it.”

You didn’t reply, feeling very uncomfortable social-wise, despite finally starting to warm up physically. Dís grabbed the rest of the supplies from the other dwarrow and nodded at him to leave. As he left the tent, Dís set the other blankets down and started making a bedspace for you near the fire.

“I can help with that,” you said, starting to get up to help.

“Nonsense lass, you get yourself warm.” Dis stood and grabbed the food tray once more. “However, I do request that you eat.” she set the tray down in front of you, and you thanked her, feeling a bit guilty as you started on the stew.

“Uh, have you eaten yet, My Lady?”

Dís scoffed, resuming her work on your bed roll. “Don’t call me that child, call me Amad. I can hardly stand to be addressed in that way by servants, let alone my sons One. But yes, I’ve had my fill.”

Her words shocked you, having only ever heard Fili refer to you as his One. You hardly expected Dís to accept you as Fili’s lover, let alone his One.

“Alright.” You replied, once more feeling dumb and without anything to contribute. So you sat in silence, trying hard not to slurp and watching Dís make up your bed. Eventually, She moved up and away, surveying her work.

“Thank you, that was very kind.” you said. Dís sighed and nodded, sitting down on the other side of the fire. You were quiet once more, and were now re-considering going out to search for Fili and Kili, if only to avoid the discomfort of the situation.

“I hope you are only not talking because of the storm. I expected a much more chatty lass, if i’m being honest.” Dís remarked, eyeing you carefully.

Panic flashed through your eyes as you tried to think of something to say, but Dís let out a soft chuckle before you could make a fool of yourself.

“I’m only joking, child. You needn't be nervous here. Tell me, how was your journey from the mountain to here?”

“Cold,” You blurted out, shuddering as you imagined the wind biting your face. Dís smiled at your bluntness.

“Indeed, I imagine it would be, especially if you’ve been out all day. Tell me, was there any sign of them as you came over?”

You shook your head. “Unfortunately no, I could hardly see past my nose once the snow grew thicker.”

“I swear, those boys will be the death of me,” she muttered.

“Just be glad you weren’t Thorin trying to deal with all three of us,” you said without thinking. Dís locked eyes with you, and then started chuckling.

“I do not envy him, based on what I've read of you three. It seems that you made it your entire purpose to create trouble for my brother dear.”

“Well, we tried to. For the first half of the journey, at least. He was much more willing to withstand our meddling before we crossed the Misty Mountains. Then came the orcs, and goblins, and Mirkwood, Laketown, the dragon… and the battle too.” Your face had fallen whilst you spoke, and Dis reached out her hand to comfort you.

“You mustn't dwell on the hardships of the past, child. It does nothing but cause trouble for the mind. Believe me, I know.”

At that moment, Dís seemed to age very quickly, and the wisdom and experience that this dwarrowdam had became clearer. You knew her story well-enough, from nights Fili had needed to find comfort in you, telling you about his childhood and family. Dís had wed Víli Heptifilissøn, and twelve years after Kili had been born, he had fallen ill from the Black Lung*, and had spent months growing weaker and weaker until he perished. Fili was able to remember the wretched coughing, and his Adad’s ragged breaths, as clearly as the day it happened. It was the reason he refused to go deep into coal mines, or else made up excuses. If those memories still hung onto Fili, you could only imagine how horrible it must have been for Dís, who had to watch her husband suffer such a death. Looking at her now, you never felt more in awe of a single person.

“You speak truly, my Lady-”

She looked at you sharply, but with a twinkle in her eyes.

“-I mean, Amad.”

That satisfied her, and she relaxed her hand away. “I do indeed, child. Never has a lie crossed my lips. Except when I told Thorin that he had a mighty spider in his beard.” You chuckled at that, but it quickly turned to a yawn. Dís raised a brow.

“It’s time for sleep then,” she commented, “I’ll leave you in peace to finish eating, and then it’s straight to bed.” Dís stood and went back to her chair, and resumed her book, leaving you to scoop that last of the stew in your mouth. It was not long before you were warm and cozy in your makeshift bed, and Dís bid you goodnight before blowing out the lanterns.

You woke to shouting. In your groggy state, you couldn’t make out the words, and you blinked in the dim light of the fire.

“What new madness arises?” You heard Dís murmur, followed by the sounds of her fumbling about. The shouting grew nearer. “Are you awake, (Y/N)?”

“Only partly,” you replied, trying to untangle the covers from your legs. You shuddered as the extra warmth left, but hurried to your feet, only stumbling slightly. The noise was becoming considerably louder, and your ears could start to make out the words being yelled.

“Get a healer, lads!”

“He looks frozen stiff!”

“SHOVE OFF! WHERE IS AMAD?” Kili’s furious shout snapped you into alertness. At that moment, Dís was able to find a lantern, and finally the tent’s interior was more visible. The flap in front of the tent lifted, and Kili stumbled in, hair frozen with bits of ice and face bright red. With horror, you realized he was supporting another dwarf who was barely conscious. Fili.

You jumped to your feet and rushed towards your betrothed, supporting his other side and lifting his head. Fili’s lips were tinged blue, and his teeth were chattering bitterly, clacking together in a terrible rhythm. Dís was there not a second after you, and she helped guide you all to lay Fili down in the space you had slept just moments before.

“Strip him down,” Dís commanded, starting to work on his boots. You followed her orders without hesitation, helping Kili with Fee’s coat. It didn’t take too long for the three of you to undress him to his underclothes, and you winced when you saw his shoulder looked… definitely not normal. Dís pressed on it gently, and Fili made a weak groan that twisted at your heart.

“He fell off his pony,” Kili said.

“Of course he did. Kili, fetch a healer.” The younger prince sprang up, filled with energy even after being out in a blizzard for nearly an entire day. But he was hardly at the entrance when a grizzled old dwarrow entered, a satchel in hand and a hard look set in his features.

‘‘Hanarr,” Dís welcomed, nodding her head. The old dwarf grunted in acknowledgement before kneeling down by Fili’s shoulder, feeling along the bone. He grunted once more, before looking up at Kili.

“Hold down right here lad,” Hanarr instructed, moving Kili’s hands to rest on Fili’s other shoulder and chest. “Right, hold it firm.”

Hanarr outstretched Fili’s other arm, and began to move it towards his head. A click sounded, and Fili called out, however weakly. His shoulder looked back to normal again, and Hanarr quickly folded his arm against his chest, before searching through his medical pack and pulling out a sling.

“Sit him up, lad.” the healer instructed Kili. He propped Fili up against his side, and this time, Fili held his own head up, his gaze landing on you. Confusion flitted across his nearly-frostbitten features, and he mumbled your name despite of his state.

But Hanarr was upon him again, and soon the sling was fastened to his arm, and the Healer was moving his legs so that they were tucked against his chest. He addressed Kili once more, “Get rid of yer tunic, and stay close to yer brother” and then turned towards you, “do the same, but mind his shoulder lassie.” Without hesitation, you followed his command and soon Fili was sandwiched between yourself and Kili. Dís (with the permission of Hanarr), wrapped several blankets around the three of you, and soon set to work on making some tea. Hanarr presented her with a root of ginger, and, after seeing that all that could be done was done, decided to take his leave.

“He should be fine in a few hours, I'll come back to check on him soon. Keep him awake.” were his final words before departing.

The silence that followed his departure was intense, interrupted only by the sound of the fire, the kettle, and a knife. Dís was the first to speak.

“I would have your hides, if I was not so glad to see you again.” She said in a low voice as she shredded the ginger.

“I’m sorry Amad,” Kili said, eyeing the movement of his Amad’s knife, “Patience has never been my strong suit.”  Beside you, Fili shifted and rested his forehead against your temple.

“Indeed not,” Dís replied, her voice heating like the water she was boiling, “How did you convince your brother to join you in this endeavor?” Fili moved again, this time nuzzling his face into your neck and hair, his nose startlingly cold.

“Who said it was my idea?” Kili argued. However, Dís turned her glare on him, and He flushed and murmured, “he wanted to see you too, it didn’t take much to convince him.”

“(Y/N)” Fili said, drawing the attention away from arguing. “ ‘m tired.” He let his head rest heavy against your shoulder, and you (reluctantly) moved him away.

“You must wait to sleep, Kidhuzel,” You said, bringing your hand up to brush his hair away from his face. He opened his eyes wider, in sheer betrayal. You could have smiled, knowing Fili’s tendency to become unreasonably cross when denied sleep, but instead you kissed his cheek.

“Your Amad is making tea for you, and when you drink it, you’ll warm right up.” The blond prince’s eyes dropped once more and he tried moving back to the crook of your neck, only to be refused a second time.

“ I’d prefer Ale,” He muttered bitterly. At this, you did allow yourself to smile.

“Not a chance. Your heart might stop.” He grumbled and detached his uninjured arm from Kili, taking your hand and squeezing it with what feeble strength that had returned to his veins.

“It won’ stop as long as you’re ‘ere.”

Kili snorted, but was silenced as Dís sent him another glare, and you laughed softly, shaking your head and squeezing his hand back.

“If it worked that way, then I would gladly give you the finest Ale, however, I do believe tea would be a better option.”

When the tea was ready, you helped Fili to drink it. At first, the prince had winced at the heat, but soon he drank it gladly, becoming more alive with each sip. You sensed Dís watching you and Fili carefully, but brushed it off, telling yourself she was only concerned for Fili, not observing how you interacted. A small part of you that wouldn’t be silenced said it was both. Soon the mug was empty, and it had apparently helped Fili along much more than you anticipated, and soon he had detached himself completely from his brother and was pulling you closer.

“Careful of your shoulder,” you reminded him.

“ ‘s fine.” He replied, pressing flush against you. His skin had already warmed, thus proving the hardiness and hot blood of dwarrow. Kili scooted away, seeing that he was no longer needed, readjusted the furs covering yourself and his brother, and pulled his tunic back on. Dís immediately walked over and threw another fur across his shoulders, and pulled him into a tight hug, which he returned just as tightly. You averted your eyes when Kili started to sniff and tremble.

“I missed you,” he said.

“And I as well, inùdoy” Mother and son stayed in once another’s embrace, until she drew away and made him drink his fill of ginger tea as well.

A half hour later, you were struggling to keep Fili’s eyes open, and Kili had already crashed on Dís’s bedroll. The dwarrowdam herself grew impatient for Hanarr’s return, and had gone out searching for him. She reentered the tent with him not ten minutes later, and Hanarr (as grumpy and irritable as he was, he was an excellent healer), inspected Fili. Truly, your prince was proof that dwarves were nothing more than portable furnaces, and his temperature was more or less back to normal. He still was a bit out of it, but it was nothing a good night’s sleep wouldn’t fix. Soon Hanarr declared that it was safe for Fili to sleep, and almost immediately, the blond sank into your bedroll and began to snore.

Diís left after Hanarr, telling you to rest and call her if need be. You didn’t question where she was going, and she did not share it with you.

However tired and exhausted you were, sleep would not come. You sat in front of the fire for hours, feeding it and stoking it, keeping your mind entertained with the images dancing in the flames.

You had just finished adding another log to the fire, when a hand lightly gripped your wrist.

“Ghivashel” Fili said faintly. Your head turned towards him, and you smiled despite all things; for while Fili’s face was still red, his hair undone, and his eyes bleary, he was alive and conscious.

“Khuzd allakhul” you scolded, bending down to lean your forehead against his, “What sort of prince are you, to go out in the snow and frighten your lover?” You kissed his lips softly before drawing away just enough to wait for his answer.

“A very foolish prince indeed,” He murmured, his hand on your wrist pulling you back towards him. “But what sort of lover are you, to worry so greatly and come after me in the snow?”

“A very devoted lover, who has half a mind to leave now that you’ve insulted my care of you.” Fili’s eyes widened and he summoned his strength to pull you down, nestled in his side.

“Forgive me, I was not thinking of insulting you, amrâlimê. I just don’t want to see you suffer for my sake. Menu Tessu.” He said, turning his head to press a kiss to your temple. The beads on his mustache braids still felt frozen, but his lips were warm. You smiled and took his hand, entwining your fingers together.

“All is forgiven. So long as you won’t do anything as stupid as that ever again.” you replied. Fili sighed and kissed the side of your mouth.

“I shall try my very hardest not to.”

“That isn’t very reassuring.”

“Then you must forgive me once more, for I cannot make such bold promises whilst Kili remains my brother.”

You both chuckled at this, before settling into comfortable silence. Slowly, your eyes began to drop, the crackling of the fire and the steady rhythm of Fili’s breath making it harder and harder to evade sleep. The fact that the lion prince had begun to rub circles into your shoulder with his thumb wasn’t helping. After the third time you startled yourself awake, Fili’s voice was near your ear.

“You can sleep now, Amralime. I won’t be going anywhere.”

His words were nothing short of a spell, and in less than a minute, your eyes closed and sleep overtook you, a comforting, dreamless sleep, the best kind.

When next you woke, indeed, Fili was still right next to you, awake, but only just. He was blinking the sleep away, and you suspected that his movements had been what had woken yourself. Cold winter light was shining through the tent flaps, cutting like a blade through the warm glow that filled the inside, and a conversation was taking place.

“We left in the wee hours, m’lady, just before dawn. You can imagine the state Thorin was in when he heard that the entire future of Erebor was out in the snow.” The voice of Dwalin more than successfully brought you to awakeness, and you sat up, looking around for the source of his voice.

“Indeed, I imagine he would be weathering the floors with pacing. I expect we’ll be leaving soon, no?” Now Dís spoke, and by this point, you and Fili had turned behind you to see the pair talking over mugs of mulled wine. Kili was also there, however, he was still dreaming on Dís’s previous sleeping roll, limbs sprawled out wide and mouth hung open almost comically.

“Aye, as soon as these three are dressed and ready.” Dwalin said, turning his gaze onto you and Fili, brow raised and the slightest of smiles on his warrior face. “What a lot of worry you and your brother had us in,” he continued, addressing Fili specifically, “I swear to Mahal, you’ve no idea what sort of panic you caused. Course, when yeh come back with your shoulder like that, everyone’ll be doting on yeh. ‘The poor heir who got caught in a blizzard trying to see his Amad’, not ‘the fucking idiot who didn’t have any patience and went out in the night despite knowing there was a storm brewin’.” But all while saying this, there was humor and relief in the warrior's voice, betraying how glad he felt that the boys were not frozen under three feet of ice and snow.

“Both versions are correct,” Fili pointed out, his voice still croaky from sleep.

“Aye, but only the first version will get told.” Dwalin replied, to which you laughed. He turned his focus to you now. “Don’t think you’re innocent lass, Thorin nearly had a heart-attack when we couldn’t find you. Both the heirs missin’ was bad enough, but the lady who’ll be adding to the heirs disappearing made it all worse.”

“Och, Dwalin, she had a noble cause to come out in the snow, you needn’t blame her for anything.” Dís said, coming to your aid.

“Was our cause not noble and justified?” Kili’s voice piped up. The Prince's eyes were hardly opened, but he was more than ready to defend himself from accusations.

“Not when you were to be seeing me in less than a week. If I was able to refrain myself from going out into a blizzard in the late hours, you should have been able to as well.” Dís retorted. A sour expression crossed Kili’s face, but he dared not argue with his Amad.

“Right then,” Dwalin said, “Get yourselves up an’ ready, we’ve not much daylight left to get back to Erebor.”

*Black Lung: Coal miner’s pneumonia. 

Kidhuzel: Gold of Gold

Inùdoy: Son

Ghivashel: Treasure of Treasures

Khuzd allakhul: Stupid Dwarf

Menu Tessu: You mean everything to me

(part three will be out soon)

[fickleminder]

the years start coming and they don’t stop coming

In which Lilith’s return distorts her brothers’ perception of time.

Part 2 here

You’ve never seen the demon prince look so embarrassed.

“I can call for —”

“No, it’s okay. They deserve this.”

But you don’t, goes unspoken. You can see the pity in his eyes, feel the palpable disappointment in the air. Even Simeon and Luke make sure to hug you extra tight before stepping through the portal to the Celestial Realm, and Solomon promises to check up on you after you’ve returned home.

Thanking Lord Diavolo and Barbatos for their hospitality, you turn towards the final demon in the council room and put on the biggest grin your breaking heart can muster. “Hey, c’mere.”

Satan doesn’t hesitate to throw his arms around you. It’s almost like he’s trying to make up for his brothers’ absence, the way he crushes you to his chest and cradles the back of your head.

You can’t find it in yourself to blame them. As far as miracles go, this is a pretty big one. Lilith coming back to life is an unprecedented event, one not even Barbatos had seen coming. Nobody has any answers either. She’s definitely not a demon, not an angel, not human; just an immortal who knocked on the front door of the House of Lamentation three days ago.

Her brothers haven’t left her alone since. You’re happy for them, you really are, but a bitter part of you can’t help but wish her return had waited until after the exchange program ended. At least Lucifer had the courtesy to pull you aside and thank you on his family’s behalf (though you’re quite certain you had nothing to do with your ancestor’s sudden revival), in addition to making a pact with you as a token of his gratitude.

With that, you could have summoned all of them to send you off just as effectively as Lord Diavolo giving the order, but it won’t be the same and you know it. Your only saving grace is Satan, the one brother who’d kept his head and anchored you in the sea of loneliness you’d been set adrift in over the last few days.

“I’m gonna miss you, cat boy.”

“I miss you already,” Satan laughs softly, pulling back with a warm smile. “I’ll stay in touch, I promise.”

You squeeze his arms affectionately and glance past his shoulders at the closed doors. There’s the smallest shred of hope in you that thinks the others will come bursting through any moment now, scrambling for one final chance to see you. You give yourself five seconds, silently counting down to a pipe dream, before pressing a kiss to Satan’s cheek and releasing him.

“It might not seem like it now, but the Devildom will always be here for you,” Lord Diavolo says as the world around you fades to white. “Farewell.”

.

.

.

“Did you lose track of time at the library again? You missed dinner last night LOL.”

“Levi, be nice!”

Satan only hums quietly in response. He can’t be bothered to correct the assumption; it’s a convenient excuse for when his brothers actually notice he’s missing anyway.

The irony of Levi calling him out isn’t lost on him. While the otaku is still obsessed with his games and shows, he’s no longer as shut-in as he used to be, venturing outside the comforts of his sanctuary more often. Satan has passed by the common room on many occasions to find him and Lilith gaming or binging anime together, and the content expression on Levi’s face proves beyond a shadow of a doubt that the void from his Henry’s departure has long been filled.

“Oh, but speaking of,” Lilith sets her cutlery down and smiles shyly at the fourth-born, “I haven’t had the chance to explore the libraries here yet. If it’s not too much trouble, can you show me around and recommend a few books?”

Shrugging non-committedly, Satan continues with his meal, not once looking her in the eye.

.

.

.

You’ve always wondered how someone with the Avatar of Lust for a brother can have such terrible fashion sense. It should be impossible to go wrong with dressing for a funeral, but you guess life (along with a certain eyesore of a tie) just loves to disappoint you. Still, you’re too glad to have Satan with you right now to care.

“Thanks for coming.”

“Anytime.”

You lean into the demon’s side as he holds an umbrella over both of you. Your eyes are drawn to the flowers he’d placed on your mother’s grave, the only splash of color against the dull tombstone. For the longest time, all you can process is the pitter-patter of the afternoon rain on the plastic wrap of the bouquet, and the comforting weight of Satan’s arm across your shoulders.

“She was in a lot of pain,” you admit after a while, your voice slightly hoarse. “The doctors had to sedate her. She went in her sleep.”

“I’m sorry.” Satan fidgets awkwardly, not quite sure what to say. He’s no stranger to death, but the loss of someone dear is unfamiliar to him. “Perhaps Simeon can find out if —”

“No, no it’s fine. I just — I need to —”

The umbrella is forgotten as Satan catches you, lowering you gently to the ground when your knees give way. You cling to him desperately, and it’s all he can do to draw you close as you start to wail.

.

.

.

Satan barely makes it three steps into the house before getting pounced on.

“How was it? Where did you go? Ooh you lucky demon, I want to hear all the details!”

“Oi, oi! What are you babbling on about?”

“Don’t act coy with me! Lilith saw you at the florist’s yesterday with the most gorgeous bouquet of flowers!”

“Yesterday? But —”

“How come you never told me someone caught your eye? I would have dolled you up, lent you some of my clothes —” Asmo gasps dramatically. “You didn’t wear that horrid jacket to your date, did you?”

Wrestling a hand free, Satan musses his younger brother’s hair. “None of your business,” he growls, walking away with a smirk when Asmo immediately releases him to fix his appearance. “Who do you take me for, anyway?”

“Aww come on, just give me a hint! Do I know them? Is it someone from RAD? Ooh, did you meet them at the library or —”

Ducking into the safety of his room, Satan shuts the door in Asmo’s face.

.

.

.

“Thank fuck. Who picked your outfit this time?”

“Barbatos. And shut up.”

You grab Satan’s arm with a laugh and lead him towards your table, politely introducing him as ‘Stan from work’ to any relatives who ask about the handsome young man accompanying you. Satan’s usual mask is in place, but there’s no mistaking the gleam of wonder in his eyes as he takes in his surroundings.

“Finally,” you sigh, sinking into your seat and grinning sheepishly at the blond. “Sorry about them. It’s just that they’ve never seen me with anyone, so they’re really curious about you.”

“Well, I’m glad you invited me along. I’ve never been to a wedding before.” The romantic in Satan is openly basking in the ambience of the reception. “You mentioned that your niece had gotten married?”

“Technically my first cousin once removed, but yeah.”

“And you’ve not been seeing anyone?”

“You would have been the first to know if I have,” you tease, nudging him playfully. “Apparently a lot of people are put off by the way I dress. Too modest, they say.”

But not without good reason. The pact marks on your body may be slightly faded from disuse, but they’re still discernable if stared at hard enough: Lucifer’s at the back of your neck; Mammon’s over your heart; Levi’s curled around your right calf; Satan’s circling your left arm; Asmo’s dangerously close to tramp stamp territory; Beel’s just under your navel; and Belphie’s on your ribs at the side you like to sleep on.

Passing them off as tattoos without attracting the wrong kind of attention is a little tricky, so you’d rather take a page from Solomon’s book and cover them up. Being called a prude is easier than dealing with cultists.

(It also helps you to keep your mind off of them, because some wounds continue to hurt even after they heal, so there’s that.)

Sensing the drop in your mood, Satan clears his throat to get your attention. It’s only then that you realize there’s music playing in the background, and couples moving from their tables to the floor.

Your companion stands up and offers you his hand, this time with a genuine smile on his face. “May I have this dance?”

.

.

.

Lucifer’s tone books no room for argument. “This will be a family event, so I expect your attendance. Don’t think I haven’t noticed your little escapades over the past few months.”

“Tch.”

“Do I make myself clear?”

“Whatever. I’ll be there.”

Satan has to resist the urge to hurl his hardcover at the back of Lucifer’s head when he takes his leave. That’s no way to treat a book, after all.

Beel’s Fangol team has an upcoming match and it’ll be Lilith’s first time watching him play. She’s been hyped up for weeks, so it comes as no surprise that Lucifer would use the opportunity to turn it into a family outing. He’s been doing that a lot lately.

Gone is the stuffy first-born who can spend days in his office if left unchecked. Lucifer is still as strict as ever, still fulfills his duties to Lord Diavolo diligently, but it’s like he’s managed to master balancing work and play overnight. He makes more time for his siblings now, even if it’s to dole out punishments for their endless shenanigans, punishments that vary in severity depending on how cutely Lilith pleads on their behalf.

Lucifer has always doted on her, and she has him wrapped around her little finger. Belphie has even gone as far as corrupting her into pranking him, and she need only bat her eyelashes to get off scot-free.

Lilith was the catalyst for the Fall, her descendent the glue that brought her siblings back together, and her return the final piece in making their family whole again.

But you were family too, Satan thinks sourly, pulling out his D.D.D. to mark the date in his calendar.

.

.

.

When you invite Satan over to your apartment for tea, he never expected to be introduced to your new housemate: a handsome fellow with chestnut brown hair, sharp jade eyes, a runner’s body, and the softest-looking toe beans he has ever seen in his immortal life.

“Satan, meet Satan!” You hold out the tabby towards him with a shit-eating grin.

Both demon and cat blink owlishly at each other. The blond doesn’t know whether to feel endeared by the feline sharing his name or insulted that you would replace him so easily, but all it takes is a single bop on the nose with a curious paw for him to melt.

Satan the tabby, who normally prefers to scale your shelves and nap between your books, spends the entire day a purring puddle in Satan the demon’s arms, shamelessly relishing in pets and massages to the extent that at some point, you have a very real fear they might just end up absconding back to the Devildom together. Thankfully, some kibble and freshly baked treats help you separate the two for a while, at least long enough for you to get some decent conversation in.

You brew a pot of Earl Grey with the beautifully crafted tea set Barbatos gifted you when you had first moved in, and serve the scones you made earlier in the morning using the baking tools blessed by Luke during your housewarming. You don’t know if the little angel had actually imbued them with Celestial magic, but everything you cook somehow always lifts your spirits when consumed.

Satan has to catch himself in the middle of regaling you with Mammon’s latest half-baked scheme. The wistful look on your face is new; you’re usually eager to hear what his brothers have been up to, but something feels off today. He pours you more tea, slides another scone onto your plate, and waits.

“…Are they happy?” You ask after a while.

The demon knows better than to lie, even if it’s to spare you from the truth he suspects you’re already aware of. “Yes,” he admits grudgingly.

“I’m glad.”

Your smile doesn’t reach your eyes.

.

.

.

Lilith stands outside his room, holding a tray of tea and cakes.

“Hey, um, may I come in?” Her smile is both hopeful and uncertain. It’s a gamble, ambushing the fourth-born when he obviously has no interest in her. At best, he’ll make up an excuse to turn her away or just ignore her completely; at worst, well… she doesn’t really want to think about that. To her visible relief, he opens the door wider and steps aside.

Satan clears a space for her to set the tray down. There’s the briefest moment of hesitation before he drags your favorite armchair over and offers her a seat as well. He looks guarded but not openly hostile, a promising sign so far.

“You’ve been in and out of the house lately, so I haven’t had the chance to catch you. I thought we might sit down and talk,” Lilith says, pouring two cups of the hot beverage as she chooses her next words carefully. “The others told me about how you were born, but I understand that you are your own person. I’d like to get to know that person.”

A part of Satan is acutely aware of their one-sided relationship; he is familiar with her through Lucifer, but she has never met him. It makes sense for her to be curious about him, though Satan isn’t so sure he wants to return the favor. She reminds him too much of you in the way she prepares her tea, how she sits on your chair, her shy lopsided smile —

But she’s not you, and you’re not her, Satan has to remind himself lest he commits the same mistake his brothers nearly did after your lineage had been revealed. Now in a convoluted turn of events, it’s you who’s gone and Lilith here, and there’s no reason why he can’t give her a chance and treat her like the sister she could be to him.

It’s what you would have wanted.

Lilith tries not to let her shoulders slump too much when Satan quietly stands up and heads towards his door. She’s prepared to pack up and leave until she spots him grabbing several books from a nearby shelf.

“Have you ever read Mid-Fall Murders?” He asks, handing her a hardcover with a shy smile of his own.

.

.

.

“What’s it like?”

Satan’s grip on your hand tightens. “I don’t actually know,” he confesses, shuffling closer so that your shoulder and arm are pressed against his. It’s a strange sight, the two of you lying side by side on your bed, staring aimlessly at the ceiling.

“Will it hurt?”

“No.”

You’ve never heard a single word hold so much promise, but you have no reason to doubt the demon’s sincerity. Satan wouldn’t take pity on you just because you’re —

A light knock on the door, and in pokes Simeon’s head. “Ah, little lamb! I’m glad we made it in time.”

“Not so little anymore, Simeon.” You laugh softly, greeting Luke and Solomon as they trail in behind him. Satan brushes his lips over your forehead before getting up to receive your guests.

The day is as ordinary as it can be. You talk and catch up with your friends, trading stories and laughter over cups of tea that neither grow cold nor go empty. When the session turns into a mini book club gathering halfway through, Luke helpfully retrieves the debated titles from the massive shelf in the living room. He takes a while to find them; you’ve accumulated plenty of works over the years: recommendations by Satan, literature published under Simeon’s pseudonym, and handwritten tomes from Solomon to keep you in touch with your magic. The shelf is practically jam-packed with books, the only exception being a corner on the topmost tier, housing a little space that’s empty save for a worn green collar with a rusted bell.

Come sundown the five of you are still neck-deep in discussion, but as with all good things, the get together eventually reaches an end.

“Thanks everyone, it’s been fun,” you say, reclining back in your bed as Satan wordlessly cleans up. You squeeze his hand when he returns to your side and bid the others goodbye. “Hopefully I’ll see you guys soon?”

“About that…” Solomon clears his throat, wearing the smug look that usually accompanies a trick being pulled out of his sleeve, but this time it’s tinged more with excitement than mischief. “Simeon has a little present for you first.”

The guileless smile on the angel’s face betrays nothing as he steps forward and reaches into a small pouch at his hip. “Solomon, Diavolo and I have a theory. Now, keep in mind that this is all very experimental, but if it works, you’ll have more options to choose from, should you so wish.”

And then he brings out a ring.

.

.

.

“Are you, uh, are you okay?”

“Not in the mood, Mammon.”

“Oi, I’m trying to be nice here! Who do you think covered for your sorry ass when you came back past curfew the other day, huh?”

“What the hell do you want?”

“You may think you’re all stealthy and shit, but your eyes were pretty red that night. I thought you were at a book club meeting. Did something happen?”

“None of your business.”

“Argh, fine then! This is the last time I try to be a good big brother.”

“…Mammon?”

“?”

“...”

“...”

“I’m sorry.”

“Eh, what are you — you can’t just say that and then run off! Get back here!”

.

.

.

“Twenty, nineteen, eighteen…”

Lilith’s countdown echoes along the deserted hallway, prompting Beel to nudge the deadweight on his back. “Belphie, go get your own hiding place.”

“Mmngh… zzz…”

“Come on, or she’ll win this round with a two for one. Again.”

“…Just dump me somewhere she won’t find me then.”

A tall order, especially since Lilith can easily track them down by listening out for Beel’s stomach and/or Belphie’s snores. Still, the sixth-born lumbers through the house as quietly as he can, doing a one-eighty whenever he hears Lilith’s cheerful hums coming from the opposite direction. Technically they can avoid being caught if they keep moving, but that would be cheating. They hid in the attic previously so that’s a no go, their room’s too obvious, the kitchen too tempting, the common room too exposed…

Maybe Levi’s room? The otaku had sound-proofed his walls to avoid distractions from the outside world when he’s gaming, so it’s an ideal location to hide. He can stash Belphie in the bathtub and run interference until time’s up.

Backtracking, Beel breaks into a light jog towards the other wing, keeping his ears open for their seeker. It’s only because of his heightened senses that he’s able to pick up the faintest traces of magic on one of the walls, causing him to pause in his steps.

“Hmm? Why’d you stop?” Slightly more awake now, Belphie rubs his eyes and slides off his twin, who’s studying the blank space intently. “What’s wrong, Beel?”

“There’s something here, something…”

“It’s just a wall —”

“No, don’t you feel it? I know you weren’t around then, but it’s the same glamor as that time Luke went missing and we —”

Beel goes white. He whispers a name, a name not spoken in the house for years, and a door flickers into view. One hand grabs Belphie’s in a death grip as the other twists the knob and pushes the door open, revealing an old yet familiar room.

The place is devoid of life. Most of the furniture are covered by sheets, resting under thick layers of dust. In the middle sits a tree, sagging with age and soft with rot. Sunken footprints mark the demons’ furtive venture into decrepit memory, and the creaking of floorboards with every step only tethers the growing nightmare closer to reality.

A photo frame crashes to the ground.

.

.

.

They deserve this.

Satan feels it the moment the spell concealing your room was broken. It had been his way of protecting your memory, ensuring that your sanctuary would only be accessible to those who made the effort to remember you. He cast it about a year after you had left the Devildom, after he realized that leaving your door in plain sight wasn’t doing you any favors.

Hidden away in an alcove at the back of the garden, curled up with a blanket and a thermos of hot tea, Satan slides a bookmark between the pages of his latest novel and leans his head back, closing his eyes with a heavy sigh.

Even this far away from the house, he can hear the cacophony of screams and shouts, objects being flung and shattered into pieces, a muted bang suggesting that a wall has just collapsed. The fallout comes as no surprise; waking up after living the past hundred years or so in a daze will do that to a person – or in this case, demons.

Although the sounds of fighting call to the rage bubbling within him, the vindictive thoughts of his brothers getting their just desserts cool it to a simmer. He knows he’ll have to face them eventually, but he’ll cross that bridge when he gets to it.

“Meow?”

Emerald eyes blink open. There’s a faint rustle from the nearby bushes as a tiny Calico wanders out of the foliage, peering around the garden curiously. Upon spotting the blond demon, it perks up and makes a beeline for him.

“Hm? You’re not Callie. Are you new here, little one?” His mood considerably improved, Satan extends a hand towards the kitten. It skips the finger sniffing step and goes straight to headbutting his palm, begging for attention.

“You’re an affectionate one, aren’t you?” Satan caves immediately and scritches away with a delighted chuckle. He examines the markings on its tri-colored fur, wanting to recognize the friendly feline if it comes back in the future. The Calico is mostly white with patches of brown and black splashed over the back of its neck, near the base of its tail, just under the side of its ribs, and several other spots that seem to collectively resemble a familiar pattern…

Satan’s hand stills. He whispers your name, trembling with hope, and the kitten practically leaps into his arms, nuzzling his chin with a happy purr.

[anthemxix]

whumpay day 4: ice / fire (part 1 - ice)

wild!whump is below the cut! feel free to skip my babbling~

ok, i wasn't going to write anything for this prompt, but then i had an idea for "fire" based on a movie (which i will not specify ohoho). however, since it's may 4th, i figured if i was writing something film-inspired, it should be star wars-related, yeah? so i thought of a sw idea for "ice."

i still wanted to do the fire story, though, so i made the galaxy brain decision to write both fics! 2 fics for one prompt seems illegal, but oh well, lol.

needless to say, trying to complete 2 whole stories in one day was a little too ambitious - although i did actually finish a big chunk of the fire story. so! i plan to finish and post the fire fic some other day. in the meantime, i hope you enjoy this wild!whump fic stolen from based on empire strikes back <33

(btw, i'm posting all my whumpay stuff on ao3, too!)

warnings: animal death, blood'n'guts, ambiguous ending

Between the sunlight’s harsh glare and the turbulent snowstorm, Wild could see virtually nothing as he squinted across the barren tundra. He pulled back on the reins of his shaggy tauntaun, stroking the creature’s neck as he maneuvered it, trying to get his back to the wind.

He tugged down the covering protecting his nose and mouth, and his skin was instantly battered by the elements as he fumbled for the Sheikah Slate on his belt. Thick gloves made it difficult to operate the device, and he impatiently swiped and tapped, struggling to hit the proper commands.

At last, there was a burst of static, followed by the Sailor’s distorted voice. “Champion? You rang?”

“I’m heading back,” Wild said. “If any monsters were out here, they’re dead now. Nothing could survive this storm.”

“Roger that. We’ll see you soon.”

Wild eagerly covered up his face again, blocking out the frigid air that made his lungs burn, and put away his Slate before grasping the reins once more. His mount lurched forward, Wild bouncing in the saddle as they strode across uneven snow banks, until suddenly the tauntaun stopped short and reared back with a startled cry.

“Whoa! Steady! What’s wrong?” Wild asked, patting the frightened animal. He couldn’t see any threats through the snowy haze. “There’s nothing out here, girl. Let’s keep—”

A grating roar, a looming silhouette, and a massive, woolly paw overwhelmed Wild in quick succession. He was violently knocked from the tauntaun, hitting the ground with a grunt, and before he could even open his eyes, something hard and heavy crashed across his skull and dragged him down into darkness.

He awoke sometime later to dizziness and a throbbing head. It took several seconds for him to orient himself and piece together that he was suspended upside-down. He was surrounded by snow and ice, but the rush of the wind was distant. A cavern, then.

The bitter cold had started to penetrate his extra-insulated clothing while he was out scouting, but now, it had clawed its way down to his skin. On top of that, he had lost his goggles, and his face covering was unclasped. He could feel frozen blood streaked down one side of his face and under his nose.

Shivering, Wild looked up to see his boots sealed in ice and affixed to the cave’s ceiling. Looking down, he noted his lightsaber jutting from the snow, along with the disquieting display of a tauntaun’s near-complete skeleton, picked clean.

A muffled gurgle called his attention deeper into the cave, and he was startled to see an unknown beast crouched over what must have been the remains of Wild’s mount. The beast—humanoid in shape, with a flat face, crescent moon horns, and stringy white fur matted with blood—had dug in to the tauntaun’s abdomen and was pulling out coils of intestines, slurping them up like noodles.

Wild grimaced, sparing a sympathetic thought for his poor tauntaun, before looking back to his lightsaber. He reached out a hand, feeling a familiar tingle extend from his arm and stretch towards the weapon. In response, the lightsaber quivered, but, frustratingly, it was jammed deep in the frozen snowdrift.

The strange beast hooted in delight as it continued its meal, and the unsettling noise crept under Wild’s skin with the cold. Closing his eyes, he wrestled with his dizziness and struggled to funnel all his energies towards his lightsaber. It quaked and jiggled and, finally, rocketed from the snow and into Wild’s hand.

The movement caused the beast to look up, chunks of flesh stuck between its yellow fangs, and in the time it took for Wild to activate his saber and slice the ice imprisoning his feet, the monster had closed the gap between them.

Wild was scarcely able to roll out of the way of its mammoth paw. Clumsily, he jerked his blade up, and the beast wailed in pain as part of its arm tumbled to the ground, cauterized and slightly smoking. Wild stumbled to his feet, head spinning, and this time, he couldn’t dodge the hefty paw flung his way.

Hooked claws sliced deep into his cheek as Wild was slammed headfirst into the icy cave wall. Fresh blood sprouted from his forehead, only to swiftly congeal and solidify. Dark spots muddled his vision, and he blindly thrust out with his lightsaber, impaling the snow beast’s chest. It heaved another horrible cry as it collapsed, clasping its talons into Wild’s arm and yanking him down with it.

Once again, he hit the ground hard, and the considerable weight of the monster pinned down his legs. In pain, it groaned and slashed its claws across Wild’s chest, ripping open his top layers of clothing. He stabbed his lightsaber right through the thing’s skull, and the weak remainder of its life force was snuffed out.

Wild went boneless and sank back into the snow, panting, closing his eyes to stop the world’s tilting and clear his mind.

Staying here, even within the protection of a cave, meant certain death in these temperatures. Wild wriggled his way from under the monster’s corpse and, standing, instinctively reached for his Slate—only to find it missing. He whirled around, frantic, hoping to find it buried in the snow somewhere, as his lightsaber had been, but he didn’t see it. He scrabbled through a few snowdrifts, but his search was futile.

So, he was stranded in a frozen wasteland in subzero temperatures, lost, with no weapons or supplies and no way to communicate with the others.

Brilliant.

Wild staggered to the entrance of the cave, covering his mouth and nose once again, though his goggles were long-gone. From his belt, his binoculars still hung, and he unclipped them to peer across the endless waves of snow.

Though the wind still kicked up now and then, it seemed the worst of the snowstorm had passed, and the day was now clear and sunny enough for him to spy their base camp on the horizon. If he had his tauntaun, he could have made it there in ten, fifteen minutes, but on foot through this deep snow…

Well, it was either sit here and freeze to death, or walk out there and freeze to death, and Wild did not want to meet his final end without a fight.

He tripped his way through snowbanks, dizzy and weak, and only growing dizzier and weaker. He kept his eye on the base in the distance and thought about his friends gathered there, safe and warm. That sparked some envy but mostly gratitude. Better him than them.

Wild’s mind was mostly foggy, and it didn’t take long for him to lose grasp on coherency. Senseless thoughts eventually yielded to no thoughts at all, and after a time, he couldn’t even decipher if he was walking or crawling or lying still.

In a single moment of clarity, he swore he glimpsed a silhouette moving towards him across the snow, from the direction of the base—but he couldn’t be sure, and he couldn’t keep hold of his consciousness long enough to find out.

[ddarker-dreams]

Can I request head-cannons for Dabi, Shigaraki and Overhaul when their Darling escapes and ends up at an old friends house? Like the friend and the Darling had feelings for each other but never new until now and the Yandere finds them kissing? Idk lol just an idea. Sorry for wasting your time.

i found this idea so interesting that i went ahead and wrote mini scenarios for it!! yall get to watch shin suffer three different times LMAOO

click here to check out my commissions ! 

TW: for death, torture, mutilation

Shigaraki: 

Comfort and security have been rare in your life for the past few hellish months. Even now, as you sit with a blanket wrapped around your shivering frame; you can’t relish in your small victory over Shigaraki. It’s only been a matter of hours since you managed to escape him, and you can only imagine how desperately he’s searching. 

“[First], are you sure we shouldn’t go to the police?” Shin eyes you with concern, his lips frowning at your shivering form. Shaking your head, you take a sip of the tea he had given you earlier. The bitter flavor brings you no comfort, but the scorching warmth steels you in reality. 

“I don’t know. I’m sorry, I really don’t know,” you murmur to your friend, who takes a seat next to you on the couch. “I just need to… I need to get a hold of myself first. I can’t think straight.” 

Shin offers a reassuring smile, his hand reaching out. You flinch slightly as he places it on top of your free hand, being mindful of your fearful form. The pad of his thumb soothingly rubs circles into your skin, temporarily taking your mind off everything.

“I was surprised when you came to me,” Shin confesses, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m sorry if I’m being out of line. I’m just glad you thought of me. That you know that you can rely on me.” 

Your breath hitches, and you look away from his face. The blush lining his cheeks says it all; but you’re unsure of what to do with it. Before Shigaraki had come into your life, Shin had been someone you adored wholeheartedly. His charisma and friendliness attracted you, he was someone that was always so well put together.

“T-thank you again for helping me.” 

All you’re able to offer is your genuine gratitude. At this, Shin shifts in his seat. 

“Of course,” Shin graciously accepts your words, moving closer to you. Your eyes widen when soft fingers delicately touch your chin, prompting you to look at him. “I would do anything for you.” 

“Shin–” 

His lips softly press against your own, muffling the squeak you let out. Apart of you feels uncertain of what to make of this, but the other part doesn’t care anymore. Why should you deny yourself any comfort you could get after the nightmares you’ve endured? 

Fluttering your eyes shut, you shyly return the affection being bestowed upon you. For a few blissful seconds, your mind is relieved of your previous woes. 

That is, until you hear a crumbling noise in the direction of Shin’s apartment entrance. 

Pulling back at the alarming noise, Shin furrows his eyebrows at a figure that makes your blood freeze. 

“Hey, who the fuck do you think you are?” Shin goes to stand from his position next to you, only for you to put your arm out in front of him. Bloodshot eyes look from your form to Shin’s, Shigaraki’s form hunched over. You hear his labored breathing, as he stalks towards the couch with a sense of urgency.

At this point, a part of you knows there’s nothing you can say to convince Shigaraki to stop what he’s doing, but it’s not enough to stop you from trying.

“Shigaraki, please, don’t do anything–!” 

It’s too late.

His hand extends out towards Shin’s, wrapping viciously around the young male’s neck. Before Shin could even let out a scream at the sensation of being chocked, his skin turns an inhumanly gray pigment. Shrieking in horror, you spring up from your position as Shin’s body turns to a pile of dust. 

“N-no…” your voice is weak, eyes blurred by tears. 

Shigaraki turns his head towards you, pupils dilated and chest heaving. He watches as you press your knees to your chest, bottom lip quivering from anxiety.

“Come,” Shigaraki beckons, voice devoid of any humanity. “I’m tired of this little side quest.” 

Dabi: 

“Got room for one more?” 

The intrusive, lighthearted words are accompanied by a grin that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Dabi begins snickering as you instinctively pull back from Shin, eyes wide as saucers. Shin grimaces in disgust at Dabi, immediately putting two and two together.

“So you must be the fucker who’s been harasser her,” Shin growls, reaching into his pocket to reveal a switchblade. “Get the fuck out, or I’ll call the police.” 

The small blade gleams threateningly, pointed in an accusatory stance towards Dabi. Dabi’s hands remain in his pockets, not even so much as blinking at the threat presented before him. He all but ignores it, preferring to look over at your shaking form. 

“You gave me quite a shock, doll. I didn’t think you had it in you,” Dabi tilts his head, voice lowering with intent. “But enough’s enough. Come right over here princess, and I’ll give some thought to forgiving you.” 

After the time you’ve spent with Dabi, you’ve been able to pick up on the subtlest of nuances in his body language. To the untrained eye somewhat might mistake Dabi’s disposition for carefree, but you know better. He’s toying with you purposefully – there’s a concealed fury in his eyes from your string of betrayals. 

His patience with you is gone. 

“A-alright,” you pathetically concede, eyes stinging with tears. On unsteady legs you stand up, earning a look of confusion from Shin. “I’ll do what you say. But please don’t hurt him. I-I dragged him into this, he has nothing to do with it.” 

The pleading tone doesn’t garner a strong reaction, Dabi instead shrugging his shoulders at your heartfelt request. 

He waves off your feeble concern, “Sorry to say sweetheart, but you’re in no position to be making demands of me.”

“I’ve heard enough of this!” Shin abruptly stands up, firmly steeling himself next to you. Dabi’s eyes follow his every movement carefully, undoubtedly assessing if you’ll get caught up in a blast of fire from his quirk. In a protective reflex, you fling yourself in front of Shin; arms reaching out on each side. 

Dabi clicks his tongue at your interference. “What a bad girl you’ve been.” 

With that, he suddenly charges forward, your eyes barely processing the events unfolding in front of you. Dabi moves to your left abruptly, causing you to swirl on your heels. Before Shin has the chance to plunge his knife forward, Dabi’s hands grab Shin’s shoulder and wrist respectively.

A sickening snap reverberates in the air, accompanied by a hellish scream of pain. What is most likely to be Shin’s ulna erupts from the skin of his forearm, blood gushing out alongside it. Shin drops to the ground, clutching his mutilated arm while tears leave his eyes. 

A string of curses leave his lips, but Dabi responds by kicking him onto his back. Jaw agape, you lunge forward to assist your friend; only for Dabi’s hand to grip harshly onto your wrist. Hissing at the pressure, you twist your wrist around in hopes of freeing yourself. The movement only serves to bring you greater pain, so you stop momentarily. 

Shin’s cries continue on in the background as Dabi forcefully shoots you a chilling smile. The hand that isn’t holding yours flickers with blue flames, revealing Dabi’s malicious intentions. 

“I didn’t realize you’d be so eager to watch. Let’s see, what part of him should I break next? If you tell me, I’ll put ‘im out of his misery faster,” Dabi offers, making certain you had a front seat to the events that were about to unfold. “Probably, that is.”

Overhaul: 

“Please stop! This isn’t right, he has nothing to do with this!” 

Cold amber eyes glare through your soul, showing no sign of softening with compassion at your incessant begging. Kai’s lifeless gaze moves from you to your struggling companion, who currently has his arms twisted behind his back by Kurono. 

“What should we do with him, boss?” 

“If I recall correctly,” Kai begins, stepping forward to minimize the distance between himself and Shin. “One of our subjects recently passed from the stress of testing. This one will serve as a replacement.” 

“Go… to hell, you... monster,” Shin wheezes out, struggling to lift his bruised face to meet Kai’s stony stare. “[First] will always hate you.” 

The room goes silent, save for Shin’s labored breathing and your own rapidly beating heart. All the struggling in the world isn’t enough to remove you from Mimic’s tight grip, but it’s not enough to stop you from trying. The sudden emergence of the Shie Hassaikai was hell on earth, but one you were eventually expecting. 

Kai had acted faster than you thought he would, finding you after your escape in only a few hours. With his expansive number of contacts and manpower all it took was a few phone calls and orders, and here they were. 

Kai’s exchanged no words with you, ever since he and his subordinates walked in on Shin kissing you. You can’t begin to comprehend the volume of his vexation towards you, but whatever he’s feeling he’s keen on not showing it.

You wince at Shin’s words, realizing that the combination would make his fate even more painful than it would’ve been before. Kai suddenly holds one of his gloved hands up, in the direction a few other subordinates were standing.

“Knife.” 

The order is simple and to the point, and a masked individual brings him the item he requests. With the glistening weapon in hand, Kai moves it closer to Shin’s face. Before you can even let out a scream, Kai begins to steadily move the sharp end of the knife against the skin of Shin’s lower lip.

A bloodcurdling shriek leaves him, as he desperately struggles against Kurono to no avail. Kurono moves a hand to steady his face, effectively allowing for Kai to continue with the task he had started. As Kai continues his cruel task of flaying the skin off Shin’s lips, all you can think to do is close your eyes and pray it’ll all be over soon.

There’s not much more you can take of this nightmare. 

A few more excruciatingly slow seconds pass, before Kai moves back, scrunching his nose at a drop of blood that marred his white gloves. 

“Filthy,” Kai murmurs underneath his breath, a frown set on his face. “Treat him before he goes into shock. I don’t want him dying anytime soon.”

For the first time in a while, Kai’s attention returns back to you. Noting the puffiness of your eyes, it’s difficult to mask the irritation he feels at your compassion for this cesspool of trash. He begins to walk towards the door, you being prompted to follow suit alongside the other members of the Shie Hassaikai. 

“We’ll discuss your punishment in detail later.” 

All you can do is nod, feeling numb to the world as you return back to your hell. 

[first-and-last-neocount]

Whumptober Day 5

Aaaand here we are, second offering in the Escape!AU, though this is... third I think?... if we’re going by internal chronology of what I’ve got so far. I’m not even going to try to track that as we go, though, because of the whole still-adding-more-as-I-go-along thing. I’ll figure that shit out when the AO3 post gets made, lol. 

Have some EVEN MORE FEELINGS realization, friends! And also some sad, because y’know, Whumptober. 

With the rest of Damien’s family being pagan, I also had this headcanon that his relationship with them was pretty well trashed after he joined the Church, and that the Matriarch of Ganji had kind of... honorarily adopted him, and that they were still super close, and that’s why she backed him so firmly against the Patriarch’s bullshit. Having that headcanon, though, made me wonder - what must she have thought, when she heard about certain developmens?

Day 5 - Theme Chosen: Betrayal

Damien eyed the pile of letters with some trepidation. He had only meant to grab a few belongings from his rented room in Jaggonath before abandoning it permanently – the world needed to believe that he and Gerald had perished at Mount Shaitan, so he couldn't exactly tell the landlord that he wasn't coming back, but he'd wanted to pick up a few of the items he'd brought with him across the Dividers before he and Gerald left the city for good. He hadn't expected a pile of letters to be laying on the front hall rug, having clearly accumulated during the journey to Shaitan and back.

Gerald was currently at Alesha Huyding's house, convincing the woman to let them take the rest of Senzei's journals on the Iezu for their own project. They were supposed to meet at Karril's temple in less than an hour; Damien definitely didn't have time to read these all. He scooped the pile off the floor and started flipping through them quickly, discarding the majority of them at a glance. Most of them were notes from his fellow clergy members at the Jaggonath Cathedral, wondering where he'd disappeared to; there were a few unpaid bills from local merchants, and one heavy linen envelope with a golden seal that he knew must be his official notice of excommunication. The sight of it made his chest ache, but it was nothing compared to the shock that ran through him at the last letter.

The envelope from the very bottom of the stack was also fine quality, though it lacked the ostentatious gold seal, instead being tied shut with a red ribbon. Even at a glance, though, Damien recognized the delicate hand that had traced out the address of the Jaggonath Cathedral – it seemed the letter had gone there first, and been redirected to his temporary apartment when the messenger learned that Damien was no longer employed by the Church.

The letter was from the Matriarch of the Cathedral in Ganji-on-the-Cliffs.

Guilt pooled in his chest like icy water, and Damien cursed softly. Stuffing the two Church envelopes in his jacket pocket, he left the rest of the letters on the kitchen table and went to gather what he'd come for in the first place. There would be time enough later to deal with the two he'd kept; neither of them, he suspected, were going to be an easy read.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

He ended up putting off looking at the letters for a few days. Between gathering everything they would need to get them to another city, and tying up any loose ends they'd left behind, he actually managed to more or less forget about the envelopes tucked away in his pocket. Gerald had decided that their best bet was to head back northeast, retracing their steps yet again to get some distance from Jaggonath now that they had what they needed from the city; Damien wasn't any more keen on running into any familiar faces than the adept was, and agreed that it was probably the safest plan. Ensuring that they remained anonymous was enough to keep his mind occupied on the road, and it wasn't until they stopped at a dae three nights later that he remembered.

They'd both had their fill of sleeping on the unforgiving ground as winter crept closer again, and when the dae had come into view, they had agreed with only a glance that they could afford the minor risk  of dealing with the residents if it meant getting to sleep in proper beds for a night. Damien negotiated for their rooms while Gerald saw that the horses were stabled comfortably, and they met up in the common room of the dae, at a small table in the corner farthest from the light of the fire. As they sat down, though, Damien made to tuck the room key into his pocket – and his fingers brushed the envelopes still tucked into his jacket.

Either his face had shown his dismay or Gerald had felt it through their link, because the adept turned to look at him immediately, grey eyes narrowed in concern.

“What's wrong?”

“It's nothing urgent, just...” Damien pulled the letters out, feeling dread settle into his gut like a stone. “There were some letters that had been slipped under my apartment door, when I went back to get my things. Most of them weren't important, but I kept these two. I meant to look at them later that day, but – I forgot.”

Gerald's gaze fell on the golden seal of the Cathedral on the top one, and Damien heard his sudden, sharp breath. The former Knight's mouth twisted in a bitter half-smile.

“Yeah, I think we both know what that one is. This one, though...”

He pulled the other envelope out and set it on top, his heart in his throat. Gerald frowned at it, then glanced up at him.

“Who is this one from?”

“The Matriarch. In Ganji,” Damien whispered. “I wrote to her when we were sailing back from the Eastern Continent, telling her everything that had happened. The Master of Lema, what we'd discovered about the rakh, the Undying Prince... you.”

The adept went very still. He was rather like a hunting hawk in that way, a distant part of Damien's mind observed; when they laid eyes on their prey, such birds would freeze, in a manner that could look almost like a prey response itself unless one knew what to look for. In reality, the bird was preparing for the swift, sure, devastating movement of an attack – but the only warning you would get was that unnatural stillness.

“This is her response.” The soft words weren't a question. Damien sighed deeply, rolling his shoulders back in a fruitless attempt to shed some of the tension.

“Yes. And probably more, given that I'm fairly sure the Patriarch wrote to her as well – she likely knows by now that I've been thrown out of the Order, even if she hasn't yet heard about our... tragic demises.” He looked up and forced himself to meet Gerald's gaze steadily, feeling the prickling anticipation through the bond, the chill creeping over his skin. When he spoke, he kept his voice very low, not wanting to speak too loudly even though Gerald had put up a Warding when they sat down that would keep anyone from eavesdropping on them.

“I know you're hungry. Take what you need. This is going to be miserable for me either way.”

Gerald's eyes flashed, but the adept only inclined his head slightly, a silent gratitude. Damien swallowed against the lump that had formed in his throat, then reached with shaking hands to untie the ribbon and unfold the letter.

My dear son,

I hope you will forgive my informality. I know that, as the Holy Mother, I ought to have worded this more properly – but at the moment, I care nothing for propriety, so long as I can reach you.

Your letters have given me enough nightmares for a lifetime. This demon that conspires to corrupt our world, Calesta, is all that the Church most dreads; not a passive evil, but an all too active one, darkening the minds of men and swaying them to its nefarious cause. I was horror-struck to learn of the men and women that willingly served it, and what it plans for our world, but those concerns too have paled in comparison to the chill that fell over me when I read what you had written of our fallen Prophet.

Damien. If ever you felt, as I did, that our bond was that of true family – that you were my son in more than the titles that the Church proscribes, that I cared for you as I would have for a child of my flesh – then I beg of you, in the name of that bond... turn aside. I do not need it written out to know that you hope to save Gerald Tarrant, to redeem him from his dark deeds and guide him back into the light of God. I cannot stress enough how much I fear for you if you pursue such a path. There are some choices that a man cannot make without altering who he is forever, and some roads are too dark to retrace one's steps. You cannot save him. God's greatest gift is forgiveness, but a man such as that will not accept it, for to do so he would have to admit that his deeds require forgiveness – to admit that he has become a monster, and repent of what he has done. A man like Gerald Tarrant can never do that.

If you try to save him, I am certain that he will poison you. Slowly, no doubt, and subtly, for to have survived all that he has the Hunter must be a devious creature indeed – but inexorably, and perhaps, irrevocably. I know you, Damien, and your greatest strength is also your greatest weakness; your incredible determination. It has carried you through so much adversity, and it held you to our faith and cause when your family would have dragged you away... but I fear that it will also keep you from recognizing when you are outmatched, and hold you to your resolve to alter his nature, even as his corruption takes hold. If you are focused only on his redemption, you may not see what is happening until it is too late.

Please come home, Damien. I know it goes against everything we preach, but this once, I reach out to you and speak not as the Holy Mother, but simply as a mother. Come home. Let another fight this war; let the Hunter carry this burden alone, if you truly believe he wishes to make amends. We are all of us sworn to give our lives for the Church, but I beg of you, not like this.

Come home.

With all my love and prayers,

Carla

No title. No Holy Mother. Not her regnal name, Aelia II. Just her given name, as a mother might sign a desperate letter to her son.

Damien didn't know when he'd started to cry, but his eyes burned by the time he reached the end; his cheeks were wet, and his chest ached from staying quiet, even as his whole body shook with silent sobs. He dropped the letter on the table and pressed his hands over his face, past caring if his distress was obvious. No one else in the room was going to notice anything with the Obscuring still in place, and it wasn't as if Gerald needed the visual cues to know that he was upset – with the way he felt, in that moment, the grief and guilt had to be flooding out of him like blood from an arterial wound, staining the fae around him black and crimson.

He'd known, since the night he braved Hell itself to bring the Hunter back, that he was turning his back on everything he'd ever cared for. Not merely his faith, intangible as it was, but also his home, his friends, and his family.

Perhaps his parents and brother would not have disowned him for the choices he had made on this quest – but it was years too late for that to matter, after the way they had fallen out when Damien chose to join the Church. The faith of the One God had forced Damien to distance himself from their aggressively pagan lifestyle, and they had seen his choice as a betrayal, a self-righteous attack on their way of life instead of the deeply personal calling Damien had felt it to be. The only thing that had gotten him through that loss and upheaval had been the support of a woman who, at the time, was just another priestess at the Ganji Cathedral. Mother Carla had been his bedrock of support, his sponsor in the seminary and a gentle voice of reassurance whenever Damien felt himself faltering; by the time Damien was Knighted, she had ascended to the Holy Mother's seat as Matriarch Aelia II, and their bond had been unshakable. It had been Carla who recommended Damien for the experimental program teaching young Workers in Jaggonath, who had seen him off with a warm smile and the assertion that she knew he would do well, and that he would return to Ganji-on-the-Cliffs having shaped a whole generation of new minds.

And Damien had betrayed her.

It wasn't what he meant to do, but what did intent matter when measured against the cold facts of the outcome? He had betrayed the faith they held in common by choosing to forgive the Hunter's centuries of crimes; he had betrayed the Church they both served by thwarting Andrys's attempt at vengeance and helping Gerald elude the Crusade; he had betrayed the personal trust she had placed in him by deserting his duty and turning his back on the very principles that he himself had once preached to the Church's young followers. She had sent him east to further the vision of the Church, and instead he had struck it one of the most staggering blows it had suffered in centuries. She had reached out to him in compassion and love, ready to absolve him of every responsibility if he only turned back... but even if the letter had reached him in time, Damien knew in his heart that it still wouldn't have altered his course.

That, surely, was the bitterest betrayal of all – the knowledge that seared through him and left him shaking and cold and sick. That letter hadn't said anything that he hadn't already, on some level, known; he had held all those arguments with himself a thousand times, those long lonely nights on the road to Mount Shaitan. He had recognized the risk that his own stubbornness was blinding him, recognized that his judgement and morals were compromised, recognized that he was nearing the point of no return. Even with all of that, though, when the moment of choice had come – he hadn't even hesitated. He'd seen the murderous rage in Andrys Tarrant's eyes, known that it was the reckoning for all of Gerald's sins, and he'd still stepped in front of the bolt.

He might not have surfaced from that yawning abyss of despair for a long time, if not for the gentle sensation that ran along the link between himself and Gerald. Unlike the assertive, even imperious force that Damien was used to from the Hunter's power, this was softer, almost inquisitive; a coaxing tug, instead of a firm push. He was still too badly shaken to muster any kind of coherent response within his mind, and a moment later, he felt an equally gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Damien.”

With an effort, the former Knight swallowed back the sounds of pain he wouldn't allow himself to make and lifted his head, blinking through tears at his companion. Gerald had shifted his chair and was sitting close by his side now, one hand raised for that steadying grip on his shoulder, and the look on the adept's face took what little breath Damien had regained away; genuine concern, traces of sorrow and guilt – unmistakable compassion, raw and unpractised and honest. A more human expression than the Hunter's face had worn in centuries, one that no one else would even have believed him capable of.

Damien realized, quite suddenly, that his heart was beating so forcefully that it might have been trying to break free of his ribcage.

He heard himself speak, without consciously deciding to do so.

“I wouldn't change it. Even if I knew, if I could go back and do it again, I wouldn't choose any differently.”

Gerald's grip tightened on his shoulder, and for a moment he just held Damien's gaze, silent. Damien could see the thoughts racing behind his quicksilver eyes, and even with the link, he couldn't read them all – but suddenly he knew, with a certainty so firm that it had to be resonating through the link, that someday he would be able to. They'd been operating on the unspoken understanding that Damien would be helping Gerald fulfill his new goal of establishing proper communication with the Mother of the Iezu, and that their work would keep them together for some time yet, but in that moment Damien knew that it was more than that. He hadn't just chosen betrayal for its own sake, in that moment in the Hunter's Keep; he'd chosen Gerald, and that choice was always going to be there, just like the link that hummed between their souls. They were walking the same path now, and wherever it lead, they would be treading it side by side.

Finally, Gerald spoke, his voice soft but ever so steady; the unwavering voice of a man who had stared Death in the face, and made it bow to him.

“I don't know that I can ever find a way to repay you for that... but I swear, on my life, that I will never make you regret it.”

Damien reached up and took the hand that had gripped his shoulder in his own, lacing their fingers together, the Hunter's once-chill hand now almost warm against his own.

“That's good enough for me.”

[riversofmars]

Can’t believe this is actually happening! Part one of the grand (I hope lol) finale. I really hope you’ll be happy with how I’m wrapping it up... here we goooo!

Chapter 16: The Parting of Ways Part I

Clara gasped as she hit the floor with a thud. She was completely disoriented. A moment ago, she had been prepared to die, she had seen the Emperor’s knife heading towards her and accepted her fate. The teleport left her stunned. Who was responsible for saving her? And how did they do it? She scrambled to her feet, she wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

“River…“ She mumbled to herself. The person who’d betrayed her and therefore the only one who  could have predicted the situation … it wasn’t gratitude she felt towards her, she had brought her into that position after all, but she clearly hadn’t been oblivious or ambivalent towards the consequences of her actions. It seemed as though she was keen to keep balance and playing all sides. She couldn’t help but admire her a little. 

Clara looked around to find out where she had been teleported to. A tent city of sorts, in the shadow of the Citadel. It was the dead of night and only some dying campfires gave any light at all. 

“Clara?“

Clara whipped around at the sound of a familiar voice.

“Of course you’re here…“ She sighed as she recognised the Monk walking towards her, he looked at her bewildered, as she was so completely out of place.

“What are you doing down here?“ He asked slowly, trying to figure out if she had been sent by the Emperor but the expression on her face and the defensive body posture told a different story.

“I was just leaving.“ Clara replied looking around for a way out. There were several people approaching now from all sides. Her arrival had not gone as unnoticed as she had initially assumed.

“Get Missy and the Doctor.“ The Monk said to a man to his left.

“You’ll be looking for a long time.“ Clara retorted, when she realised this had to be where the Doctor had gone to hide.

“What do you mean?“ The Monk frowned, confused.

“Oh, didn’t you know? Your fearless leaders are back at the palace, staring down the Emperor herself. Can’t imagine it’ll end very well, she’s not in a good mood.“ Clara answered flippantly. “To think I was so close… they only had to play along.“

“What happened?“ The Monk carried on, stepping closer.

“Oh you know, I was plotting to kill the Emperor with the help of the Doctor and her wife but they seemed to have other plans.“ Clara gave a little dismissive wave. “I should get going…“ She didn’t want to stay in this place any longer. It wasn’t exactly like they would be sympathetic towards her.

“You’re not going anywhere.“ Another man intervened that Clara vaguely recalled being called Manton. She had seen his file. “You haven’t got the Shade anymore.“

“Very observant.“ Clara replied curtly, trying her best to hide her anxiety buttoning up her shirt higher. She was helpless and they had just realised that.

“They have cast you out, haven’t they.“ The Monk realised.

“They were going to kill me so yeah, you could say that.“ Clara couldn’t resist the sarcastic reply.

“But why are you here?“ He asked, struggling to make sense of it.

“This is where River - the Doctor’s wife that is - sent me, when the Emperor was going to execute me.“ There was no point in lying. She was in an impossible situation. She had no friends to turn to on either side and the power of the Quantum Shade was gone, so she might as well be honest now and accept judgement whichever shape it should come in. She had already lived longer than she had expected.

“In that case, you will help us get our friends back. Word of your treason won’t have carried far yet, I can’t imagine the Emperor would want that rumour to spread.“ Manton said firmly. They could use her to get around the palace.

“Why would I help you?“ Clara asked, utterly bewildered.

“It’s the least you can do for her saving you. It won’t make up for what you’ve done, you will answer for your crimes too, but you owe us this much.“ The Monk retorted.

“There is absolutely no point, you can’t outsmart her. Missy and the Doctor are most likely already dead.“ Clara shook her head, they clearly didn’t grasp the magnitude of the situation.

“No. That’s the bells ringing in the end of this reign of terror.“ Manton gestured towards the Citadel, the Cloister Bells ringing steadily. “We have to free them, we can’t sit around any longer.“

“Then you will get yourself killed too. Don’t you see there is just no wait to overpower her? I thought I’d figured it out and then… no matter what the Doctor and her wife are planning, it won’t be enough. Missy should know that by now, she should never have clung to that false hope, the Emperor will have her head this time, you mark my words.“ Clara shook her head, her voice bitter. “She should have just given up, why didn’t she just stop?“ It made no sense to her. “Four and a half billion years, she kept going and for what?“ It was a question she had been asking herself for such a long time. She had been responsible for trapping Missy in the confessionary dial, she had spent an eternity in repetitive agony because of her, and yet she had kept going. The question as to why still eluded her.

“To do the right thing.“ The Monk answered, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“The right thing?“ Clara huffed. “That’s all a matter of perspective…“

“No, it’s not. There is right and wrong, good and bad. There are lines not to be crossed.“ Manton shot back and this time, Clara remained silent. What was she to say to that? She knew she had crossed too many of those lines herself to ever redeem herself. The twinge of guilt she felt was oddly welcome, as she thought of Missy and what was likely happening at the palace.

——

“Keep walking.“ Yaz gave River a shove for good measure as she lead her and Missy down to the holding cells.

“You really don’t have to be so pushy, you know.“ River sighed slowing down a little on purpose, solely to annoy their captors more.

“And you don’t have to be so confrontational.“ Missy hissed to her, worried she would make the situation worse for them. She couldn’t deny, she was a little confused. The Doctor had given her fair warning. When they had spoken of River, she had told her that she could be trouble, but she could hardly tell the difference to the River she knew. They were both overly confident, confrontational and inconsiderate, she just didn’t know when to shut up.

“So when she said arena, am I to think gladiator games?“ River looked to Missy curious for some answers, she knew she wasn’t going to get much out of Yaz.

“Something like that, yeah…“ Missy huffed, dreading to think about it. She hoped the Doctor had a plan… at least she was safe for the time being.

“How exciting.“ River grinned, which worried Missy even more.

“No, it’s not exciting, it’s a public, and very certain, death sentence!“ She hissed in annoyance.

“I’m starting to think your evil version is more fun.“ River sighed. “We broke out of prison together once, fun times, I’m getting an awful sense of deja vu.“ She observed when they reached the holding cells. Dungeon had been a suitable description, they were far underground by the looks of it, there was little light and the cells were set into heavy stone.

“There is no escape.“ Yaz informed them as she opened the cell door and gestured for them to stepped inside.

“Don’t worry, we will be awaiting our execution with baited breath.“ River smirked and walked past Yaz quite happily while Missy followed more reluctantly.

“I’m glad you’re still enjoying yourself, let’s see what you’re like when you’re in the arena and you realise she’s not coming back for you.“ Yaz couldn't resist, she wanted to make sure they understood they were defeated. There was no way the Doctor, wherever she was, would be able to save them now. “If she’s clever, she’ll take the opportunity and run and never look back.“ She locked the cell door.

“And yet, the bells are still ringing.“ River smirked stepping right back up to the bars to where Yaz was standing. “Get some rest, Captain, you look rather worn out.“ She gave her a quick once over. Her misadventure in the Cloisters had left her in worse shape than she cared to admit. Without comment, Yaz turned and walked away. “Judgement is coming for you all.“ River called after her in amusement, sensing she was getting under her skin. None of them would rest easily till morning, not with the Doctor at large.

“Was that really necessary?“ Missy scolded when they were alone at last.

“What’s to be gained by being placid?“ River asked looking around the cell. There was nothing but a metal bench.

“What’s to be gained by being confrontational?“ Missy retorted in annoyance.

“Everybody deals with stress in their own way.“ River shrugged and went to sit on the bench.

“Do you… where did she go?“ Missy asked after a moment of silence. She didn’t sit down, she hovered by the bars looking down the corridor. She didn’t want to doubt that the Doctor was fine and would be back, so she didn’t pose the question, trying to plan ahead instead. If there was such a thing as a plan to all this.

“Earth… some time in the past, I’m not entirely sure, I knocked the time coordinates at the end there, just in case, if they tried to get the information out of me.“ River revealed watching Missy curiously. She marvelled at the genuine worry painted all over her face. She hardly even looked like the Missy she knew.

“They may yet try to…“ She mumbled, there was no way of knowing which lengths the Emperor would go to.

“I think she knows I would sooner die than give up the Doctor.“ River smiled. The Emperor and her wife shared the same unbreakable bond, they would know that it would be a waste of time to question her at this point.

“Did you two plan this? Is there a plan?“ Missy had to ask. The two had barely seen each other, let alone have a chance to hatch a plan, and yet they seemed to be working hand in hand.

“I would like to pretend that there was a plan… but this is what it’s usually like. You just work with what you find and hope it somehow all works out in the end.“ River chuckled.

“And does it?“ Slowly Missy made her way over to her, beginning to feel more comfortable. Without an audience, River immediately appeared more approachable and her words were open and honest.

“Always has so far.“ River smiled as she watched her sit down.

“And what makes you think this isn’t the one time where the odds are just overwhelming.“ Missy couldn’t ignore her doubts altogether. As much as she believed in the Doctor, the odds seemed as insurmountable as ever.

“When you’re with the Doctor, you don’t give up. Ever.“ River shrugged, it was obvious to her but Missy hadn’t know her long enough yet to understand that, so she decide to explain: “We all just do what we can and keep going, keep trying, looking for something we can do, something we can use… The vortex manipulator seemed like a good bet. I knew River would have one cause I always had one. The Doctor is the only one who could dream up a way of stopping them so giving it to her, rather than using is myself, was the logical thing to do.“

“She did say she had some sort of a plan…“ Missy mused. River was making a whole lot of sense. If anyone could come up with a way of bringing down this reign of terror, it was the Doctor. And with time travel at her disposal, she had a real shot. She just had to figure out how to make it count.

“Then I hope I have done my bit to enable it.“ River smiled.

“She did say you wouldn’t need looking after.“ Missy mirrored her smile. She could see what the Doctor had meant when she said River wouldn’t really need their help.

“I am quite capable.“ River winked. “I like to have an ace or two up my sleeve, you never know.“

“Like with Clara?“ Like everyone else, Missy had been caught completely off guard by the disappearing act. She had fully expected her to get killed until River’s last minute miracle.

“Ah, see, that’s another good example of making the most of what we find.“ River chuckled, she had anticipated the question. “I’ll be honest, that was a fortunate coincidence in the end. I had expected her to die. When I made the gamble to betray her to the other River, I accepted that that would probably get her killed. I’m a pragmatist. I knew my best chance at finding a way out of here and a way to aid the Doctor would be to distract River and go through their resources. Clara made a good distraction.“

“You didn’t know you’d be able to save her?“ Missy frowned, unsettled by her apparent lack of remorse. She could tell she was being honest.

“From what I’ve learned about this universe, about these people, about her… she probably would have deserved it. That made the choice slightly easier.“ River shrugged. “And even when I was going through stuff and found the emergency teleport mechanism… I hadn’t intended on using it on her until she really was about to get killed… It was intended as a way out for me, should I need one.“ She revealed.

“What?“ Missy’s eyes widened in shock. River had decided to save Clara instead of herself, when it came to it.

“Don’t misunderstand, Master. I didn’t give my way out up for Clara’s benefit. It wasn’t because I thought she deserved saving.“ River smiled apologetically, she could tell Missy was thoroughly confused. “With the Doctor gone, I didn’t want to leave you behind as well, having to deal with them on your own, and I didn’t want the teleport to go to waste, so Clara was the unwitting benefactor.“

“I uh…“ Missy didn’t know what to say and River didn’t need her to say anything, she just reached for her hand.

“Have a little faith, we’re alive, we’re fine, the Doctor is doing her thing. Now, we just hang on for the time being.“

“Thank you.“ Missy gave her hand a squeeze. “Not, necessarily, for sticking around with me when you had a way out. That was probably stupid. Particularly if we end up getting killed in the arena… but you and the Doctor wanting to help… when you could just be on your way… between the two of you, you’d have found a way back to your reality in no time if you’d wanted to.“

“Ah well, the Doctor has never been able to walk away from toppling a tyrant.“ River winked. “Besides… I’m sure finding a version of the Master she can actually trust… that probably means a great deal to her.“

“Well, having met her means a great deal to me, too.“ Missy smiled weakly, trying not to let her emotions overwhelm her. “I’d pretty much given up hope… I mean, we’re at the end of all things, trapped in the Emperor’s perfect little Empire… nothing to do, nowhere to go… She…“ Suddenly, Missy stopped speaking mid-sentence, she blinked, confused, having lost her train of thought.  

“What is it?“ River asked, immediately concerned.

“It’s… I don’t know like… are these new memories forming? But how…“ She looked to River. “It’s the Doctor… I’ve… met her before.“

——

The Doctor knocked for a third time and looked around to make sure she wasn’t being followed. Earth was a battlefield, the Emperor - or Doctor, still at this time - had really gone to town. She had never seen the devastation of these events first hand, the Master had kept her in a cage when he had carried out these deeds in her universe. She could only presume things had been similar at the time. She averted her eyes and focused on the door in front of her. One battle at a time. She looked at the vortex manipulator on her wrist. Time is what it would take. A lot of it. So much to do… She could only hope she hadn’t miscalculated. She was drawn from her thoughts when finally, the door in front of her was being opened.

“Harold Saxon? Mind if I come in?“ The Doctor smiled at the Master who looked back at her in confusion. She looked up and down the road again to make sure she hadn’t been followed.

“I uh… I think you’ve come to the wrong place…“ He started saying but she interrupted him, she didn’t have time for this, so much to do still.

“No, I think I’m in exactly the right place, now if you don’t mind…“ She pushed past him.

“Who… what… you shouldn’t be here…“ Quickly the Master closed the door, worried someone would see and recognise him. He had been travelling around the globe, trying to help people, but he couldn’t stay anywhere for too long.

“Don’t worry, not going to tell on you, I know you’re busy and everything, preventing the end of the human race. I think this one actually works out alright for you too. Sort of a stale mate, hard to tell, this universe is really confusing. Now, do you have access to your TARDIS?“ The Doctor stopped in her tracks and turned back around to face him. He nearly bumped into her.

“What?“ The Master looked at her dumbfounded. That was an awful lot of information to take in.

“Okay, I feel like I need to rewind a bit…“ The Doctor smiled apologetically, she had gone too fast again. “Hello, Master, I’m the Doctor.“

“You… can’t be.“ The Master took a step back, stunned and confused.

“I am but not the one you’re thinking of. I’m from a distant point in your future and also from a parallel universe. I know it’s a bit much right now but I have a lot of time to get through… and vortex manipulator travel really takes it out of you. So if we could skip ahead to the part where you believe me so we can carry on, that would be great.“ The Doctor explained.

“I think I need to sit down.“ The Master felt a little dizzy with the flood of information but the craziest thing about it wasn’t the information itself, it was the fact that when he looked at her, searched her eyes, he knew she was speaking the truth. He dropped onto a chair by a well worn dining table.

“Good, so do I.“ The Doctor sighed and sat down across from him. She had been at this a while now and rest wasn’t really an option.

“Do you just… expect me to believe all this?“ He asked, after a moment’s consideration.

“Unfortunately, yes. The fate of the entire universe depends on it.“ She replied with a little shrug. “I need your help, I need you and your TARDIS.“ She carried on as he was seemingly getting over the initial shock.

“I’m sure you can understand why I’m a bit sceptical… the Doctor is out there, enslaving all of humanity and I’m one man in a shack…“ The Master said slowly, wondering what other terrible things were happening elsewhere in the universe right now.

“I know you are and you’re doing great, really. But this is not the big fight, Master. It’s one of many. But there is one you can’t afford to lose.“ The Doctor reached out for his hand.

——

“Ahh clever girl.“ River grinned as she waited for Missy to recover. “Anything in particular spring to mind?“

“She’s got a plan…“ Missy realised and looked up to River with a sense of relief and excitement. The Doctor was fine. She was out there, travelling through time, leaving her mark and sharing her plan with her past selves. It was the strangest feeling but it was as if Missy had always known about it. “I don’t understand it, there’s pieces missing still but it must be a clever one.“

“Of course it is.“ River smirked, knowing her wife well enough by now.

“There’s more… so many times, so many versions of me…“ Missy’s head was spinning, she bent over, cradling her head with the strain of it.

“Here, hang on…“ River got up and made Missy lie down. They couldn’t be sure what exactly the Doctor was doing, interfering with Missy’s timeline but it wasn’t exactly easy on her mind by the looks of it. “You should get some rest. Remember, we got a big day ahead of us, fighting for our lives in the morning.“ She joked and Missy actually laughed a little.

“Can’t say I’m looking forward to it.“ She sighed, as she closed her eyes, feeling dizzy.

“Well, it’s not exactly my first time as a gladiator.“ River shrugged as she sat back down at the end of the bench, next to Missy’s head.

“Oh?“ Missy chuckled, she should have expected as much. “When was that then?“

River laughed lightly and brushed back a rough strand of hair from Missy’s face as she leaned back, relaxing herself.

“Well, there was this one time when the Doctor and I…“

——

“Where have you been all this time?“ The Emperor snapped when Amy and Rory showed up in the royal quarters the next morning.

“Getting a good night’s sleep.“ Amy replied a little defensively and confused. “What about breakfast then?“

“Are you serious? Have you not been hearing the bells?“ River exclaimed exasperated. She sat at the dining table piled high with food that neither her nor her wife had touched. The Emperor was pacing, unable to sit still. Neither of them had been able to sleep after the events of the night.

“Oh, that’s what that is?“ Rory strolled over to the table and picked up some grapes from a fruit platter.

“What happened, you look concerned…“ Amy frowned, studying her daughter expression as she came to join her husband.

“Well, while you’ve been getting your beauty sleep, we’ve discovered and stopped a coup.“ The Emperor snapped.

“That’s good, isn’t it.“ Amy asked, confused as to why she was so irritable.

“We also lost the Doctor.“ River revealed with a sigh.

“Less good… what happened?“ Amy looked in between the two women. The Emperor was quick to answer:

“While your dear daughter here has been busy uncovering Clara’s treason and overpowered her, she took the improvident risk of leaving her doppelgänger in our quarters.“ The Emperor still couldn’t believe she had allowed herself to be played like that.

“I could hardly have anticipated her going through our things!“ River retorted defensively.

“What did you expect her to do, wait around for you to get back?“ The Emperor shot back, a clear sign of her stress levels rising, she never usually talked to her like that.

“She had just betrayed Clara to us, she appeared to have sided with us.“ River snapped, the stress getting to her as well.

“You can’t trust anyone, anyone outside of this room. Clara is proof of that.“ The Emperor groaned exasperated. “How has no-one found her yet?“

“Wherever she was transported to, it has to be on Gallifrey, there is nothing beyond it. We will find her.“ River gave a wave of her hand. She wasn’t exactly concerned with Clara. She was no threat to them now. Idly she ran her fingers along the tattoo lines stretching up her neck.

“Clara is on the run?“ Rory asked, trying to get to grips with what was happening.

“Yes but she is harmless now.“ River reassured them.

“And what about the Doctor?“ The Emperor snapped in annoyance.

“The generals are watching the time streams, she will slip up eventually and we will find her. Plus, it’s only a matter of time until she will be back.“ River retorted.

“What makes you say that?“ Amy asked.

“Because her wife and best friend will be publicly executed in less than two hours. I should think she’ll want to be here for that.“ River smirked excitedly, at least something to look forward to.

“That’s alright then.“ Amy shrugged and reached for a plate. “Breakfast?“

——

Neither Missy nor River slept much for the remainder of the night. Instead they shared stories of their lives, learning about each other and even though the Doctor wasn’t with them, her presence was felt in every line, every story.

When footsteps echoed down the corridor, they both looked up. Ryan and Graham stepped into view. The Emperor clearly only trusted her most loyal companions by this point.

“Oh is it that time already? I was hoping for breakfast in bed.“ River sighed theatrically when Ryan unlocked the bars.

“Get moving.“ He ordered.

“Lead the way.“ River stepped out of the cell and Missy followed, trying her best to hide her anxiety.

“I really hope she knows what she’s doing…“ Missy mumbled to River as they walked along the corridor. Although the memories had settled down in Missy’s mind, she was none the wiser as to what the Doctor was really planning. The more she tried to think about what happened next to her past selves after meeting the Doctor, the more blurry the memories got. Perhaps because it hadn’t happened yet?

“If there is one thing I believe in, it’s the Doctor.“ River gave her a reassuring smile.

——

“Lovely day for it.“ River stepped out onto the balcony that overlooked the arena. With a weather as sunny and stable as the seasons on Gallifrey, it was always lovely weather for it. The binary suns where blazing down on the sand, the had really captured the ancient Rome aesthetic the Emperor enjoyed so much. The stands were full, the guards had seen to it.

“Is everywhere secure? Are the troops on hand?“ The Emperor asked of Yaz who had joined them in the royal box.

“Every inch of the arena is being monitored.“ The captain of the guard confirmed.

“Any word from the generals?“ The Emperor continued her questioning and the answer was a prompt one:

“Nothing.“

“Let’s get this show on the road.“ The Emperor knew this was their best chance at luring the Doctor back here to be captured. She stepped up to the balustrade of the balcony where her wife was waiting for her. Despite the stands being crowded, silence fell swiftly as she held up her hands.

River shielded her eyes against the suns when her and Missy where being shoved into the arena. It took a moment to get used to the blazing heat and blinding light as they looked around. No wild beasts or gladiators charging at them just yet. There were, however, confused murmurs amongst the crowd upon recognising River.

“Oh I love the ancient Rome aesthetic they’ve got going.“ River stated as she looked around.

“You know this means we’re either going to be torn limb from limb by wild animals or will have to fight people who are actually trained to fight.“ Missy said sounding worried as they made their way further onto the floor of the arena.

“I’m trained to fight.“ River shrugged, unfazed.

“Speak for yourself.“ Missy huffed and River grinned:

“This just seems like a fun weekend activity if you ask me.“

“How can you be so relaxed about this?“ Missy couldn’t believe her attitude.

“Because I have faith.“ River replied.

“She really must be something, your Doctor.“ Missy did admire the trust River placed in her. She had not hesitated to give the vortex manipulator to her.

“You know she is.“ River retorted looking up to the royal box where she spotted her wife’s doppelgänger glaring down at them.

“You told me the Doctor always wins… well, so does the Emperor… So, who is going to win this? If they’re both undefeated, who will walk away from this?“ Missy asked but River didn’t get the opportunity to respond as the Emperor’s voice echoed through the arena, amplified for everyone to hear and cower.

“People of Gallifrey, welcome to the annual celebration of the forming of our empire.“ There was reluctant cheering that grew when the Emperor frowned in annoyance. Once satisfied with the volume of cheers, she carried on: “You have all heard the Cloister Bells tolling through the night. I will not keep from you that our Empire has been under attack. Despite our best efforts to eliminate all threats to us, we couldn’t account for insidious forces from another, parallel universe to our own. I’m pleased to say we have succeeded in subduing these threats.“ There were few cheers this time, just concerned and confused murmurs. The Emperor gestured for silence and the crowd complied waiting with baited breath. “So here we are, as a reminder of what happens to traitors and dissidents.“ She grinned, regarding Missy and River with wicked delight: “You’re sentences to death, both of you, for attempting to incite a coup.“

“And who, pray tell, is brave enough to carry out that sentence? I’m in the mood for a good fight.“ River called, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“River, don’t antagonise her…“ Missy hissed as she surveyed the arena for a way out.

“Why not?“ River shrugged and yelled up to the balcony again: “I don’t imagine you are brave enough to come down here yourself, so who’s it going to be?“

“Let me do the honours, Emperor.“ Yaz was quick to volunteer.

“I’m not risking anyone of the few people I trust still.“ The Emperor huffed, visibly displeased at her open challenge, but she couldn’t back down, they were in front of people.

“Do you not think I could take her?“ Yaz asked, obviously disappointed. Since the Doctor had tricked her in the Cloisters, she was eager to get her revenge and killing the Doctor’s wife seemed like a satisfying way of doing that.

“I know my wife.“ The Emperor growled, she knew she couldn’t underestimate this River.

“Then let me, I have some scores to settle. We’re evenly matched.“ The Emperor’s wife suggested but she would hear of it either:

“I am not risking you getting hurt.“ The Emperor snapped.

“What’s taking so long, are you picking straws? You wouldn’t want to appear weak and indecisive in front of your people would you?“ River called up from the arena floor again sounding incredibly smug.

“River, what are you doing?“ Missy hissed.

“What I always do when my wife is late to an appointment.“ River answered with a wink: “Play for time.“

“Get me a firing squad.“ The Emperor looked to Yaz who nodded and barked instructions into a comms device.

“Ah, see now, that’s unfortunate…“ River huffed when ten guards, armed with rifles, walked out from the stands and onto the arena floor. “Guess that’s the difference between a fair fight and an execution…“ She mumbled. “Any moment now, Sweetie, would be great…“ She looked around for a sign of her wife but nothing so far. Meanwhile the guards lined up.

“You don’t have to do this.“ Missy burst out, holding her hands out to them. “Please, you know what all this, all of it, it’s wrong! If everyone just stopped listening to her, she would lose her power, don’t you see, if you just…“

“Enough of that.“ The Emperor interrupted her. “Take aim.“ She barked at the guards who drew their guns, some of them obviously reluctantly. They were Gallifreyans, all of them. Missy recognised some of them for having fought alongside them in the Time War. “On my command…“ The Emperor grinned, regarding both Missy and River one last time, steadfast in her decision. She had allowed Missy to carry on for too long, whatever sentimental attachment she still felt towards her, she had betrayed her one time too many. And River… even though she loved the face she wore, she couldn’t be allowed to live, either. In fact, she looked forward to seeing the Doctor’s reaction to finding out she had been killed. If the Doctor ever chose to return at all.

“Not so fast!“ A voice sounded at the far end of the royal box and they all whipped around to see the Monk.

“How did you get in here?“ The Emperor snarled and realised immediately that he was’t alone. Manton held a gun to Clara’s head, she had been their bargaining chip for getting into the royal box. They were accompanied by a large group of men and women, armed and ready to fight for their freedom.

“Isn't this quaint. A little rebellion.“ River growled and the Emperor fixed her eyes on Clara.

“Just when I thought I couldn't be more disappointed in you.“ She hissed. “But at least I’ll get the chance to kill you properly now.“

“Wasn’t exactly my idea, was it.“ Clara protested but she fell silent as she looked down into the arena to see Missy facing down a firing squad. Maybe they had come at just the right time…

“It’s no matter. This was incredibly stupid of all of you.“ The Emperor looked around as Amy pulled out a gun, Rory his broadsword, Yaz, Ryan and Graham readied their weapons and the recently acquired tattoos on River’s chest started dissolving threateningly.

Chaos ensued as Amy took the first shot. Manton shoved Clara aside and went for Rory, barely evading the Raven that struck down two men behind him. There was blaster fire. Clara ducked for cover as the Monk attacked Amy. The Emperor looked on with unadulterated joy. As annoying as this whole misadventure was, she loved the chaos, the blood spill, and these foolish people didn’t stand a chance against them. The Emperor turned back to the arena, remembering what they were actually doing.

“Fire!“ She shouted above the noise of the fighting and the guards did. Everyone stopped moving for a moment, looking to the arena floor waiting for the dust to clear. “How…“ The Emperor stared in disbelief, when she found Missy and River standing unharmed, they both looked confused themselves as they looked around. Every single shot had missed.

Suddenly, with a crackle of energy, the Doctor appeared behind the Emperor.

“Hello again.“ The Doctor grinned and threw herself at the Emperor, knocking into her and pulling her over the balustrade of the balcony with her.

[yukimoji]

My World: Part 1 ( Tanjiro Kamado x Reader )

(a/n: hello! “my world” is a mini two part series! this was inspired after listening to some of my favorite opm songs on repeat lol. part 2 will be coming soon! hope you all enjoy!)

Part 1 I 2 I 3

Total words: 3937 words

Genre: Fluff

No manga spoilers

!!Slight mentions of Blood and Death!!

--

You've never really considered the possibility of true love coming to you all your life.

Growing up in a demon-infested world, life seemed to be fond of throwing you into hardships and struggle. Sure, some may argue that what breaks us makes us even stronger. However, every time you came face to face with a demon, all the horrors of the world would slap you in the face.

Life was rough, to be frank. Losing your family, the agony of training to death, and the endless amount of missions that never seemed to end. All this has taken a huge toll on you, as you become even more frustrated the longer you fight.

Even in the midst of those moments of uncertainty, you've seen rays of sunlight peeking through the dark and gloomy clouds. The way you watched children play around every time you visit a new location, the way laughter and joy was abundant despite the ever-growing threat, or even the way some people would cling to you to sing praises of gratitude after being rescued from a demon would always warm your heart.

These little bits of happiness can bring just the smallest of smiles to your face, and you were secretly hoping that maybe soon, you will also be happy and enjoy the warmth of love that would've had surrounded you without a care in the world.

But you could only hope, only dream. You can't stop fighting for even just a second.

Not when your life is still in the hands of danger. Not when there's a likelihood of a horrible and painful death looming over you.

You're not going to stop until you have avenged your family and the numerous deaths that Muzan Kibutsuji has inflicted upon humanity.

You've never really considered the possibility of true love coming to you all your life, but that seemed to have changed when you finally met him.

Tanjiro Kamado is a peculiar boy.

The first time you met him, you were sent on a mission at Mt. Natagumo with several other slayers. You were in a rough shape, after seeing how your comrades were turned against each other and were ruthlessly murdered in front of your very eyes. You couldn't move after being badly injured from a rouge katana stabbing you somewhere in your body. Pain and suffering was the only thing you could feel in that moment, and it seemed like your life had flashed before your eyes.

Minutes later, in front of you, a glimpse of a green and black checkered haori appeared. A boy wearing hanafuda-like earrings that seemed to twinkle and reflect the rays of moonlight with every slightest movement. He had Burgundy locks, which seemed to be swaying from the cool breeze, a red scar adorning his forehead, and a dashing pair of crimson eyes that gazed at you with such concern. 

The powerful emotion directed towards you seemed to have left you breathless.  The next thing you know, you've been taken away to a safe location where no one could hurt you.

"Stay here, okay? Don't move too much or you'll get even more hurt." His voice trailed off, holding you so delicately, as though you were about to fall apart at any moment. He looked worried, his nose wrinkled, and his lips was in a hard line when he saw how much you were in a horrible state. Then, looking at you, he smiled softly.

"I'm going to go now and find help, okay?" You could only nod and stare helplessly as he stood up and ran, presumably trying to find help.

And then, everything went dark.

You were in the Butterfly Estate's Ward the next time you saw him. Miraculously, as you were lying motionlessly in your safe position, the Kakushi came and got you all patched up. You were then taken to the Butterfly Estate to heal and rest.

But it seemed that recovery itself was a challenge.

You had a hard time sleeping, because a certain blonde-haired boy, whom you later learned to be named Zenitsu, kept screaming and whining to the poor girls who had given his medicine. Apparently, he was almost turned into a spider and the medicine was supposed to help him go back to his regular form.

"I GOTTA TAKE THIS FIVE TIMES? A DAY?! AND I HAVE TO KEEP TAKING THIS MEDICINE FOR THREE MONTHS??! IF I TAKE THIS, I CAN'T EAT ANYTHING YOU KNOW! I MEAN, IT'S REALLY BITTER! IT'S SUCH AN ORDEAL!!"

You could just stare in disappointment at the ceiling. Zenitsu's eyes exploded up in tears as he proceeded to have a tantrum, leaving the poor butterfly girl sweating in front of him, not knowing what to do. If you weren't hurt and just mainly having a bad time, you'd have already smacked the guy for his childish behavior.

Laying after an empty bed besides you, the boy with the boar-head, Inosuke, did not seem fazed at all. But then, you also discovered that the poor soul had his throat crushed by a demon. You could only assume that he was also beyond tired to even deal with Zenitsu's antics.

"SO, YOU MEAN MY ARMS AND LEGS WILL HEAL JUST BY TAKING MEDICINE? FOR REAL?! LISTEN, ARE THEY REALLY GONNA HEAL? TELL ME HOW THEY'RE GONNA BE HEALED!"

"Please stop shouting, will you?" The butterfly girl spoke out, attempting to calm the aggressive boy down.

After what seemed like an eternity of wails, Aoi and a pair of Kakushi came into the ward, one of them carrying a very familiar boy behind his back.

Your eyes widened when you saw the boy who rescued you calling out to Zenitsu. You didn't even hear Aoi scolding Zenitsu, who was whimpering and trembling in his bed sheets. Aoi left the ward annoyed with a huff, and you just stared at the kind boy as he was put down on the floor and went on to have a conversation with Zenitsu.

Judging from their discussion, Zenitsu and the other boy appeared to be friends. Zenitsu started to ramble about how mean Aoi was, and the Burgundy hairy boy realized how small his friend had become. You could just look away when the snot started to spill out of the rowdy blonde's nose.

However, as soon as you turned away, Crimson eyes found your exhausted body lying a few beds away, and his eyes gleamed as he remembered you as the slayer he had rescued the night before. He sighed in relief, because you were still alive even after all those injuries.

He observed your form, and he picked up the scent of exhaustion coming from you. Who wouldn't be? He wondered. He was just glad that he managed to save you in time, after seeing how countless slayers were murdering each other, he's just happy that he managed to save one more life.

But apart from fatigue, he couldn't help but pick up the scent of resentment and sadness surrounding you. He came to understand that your friends and comrades were all gone, not to mention that you may have lost all of your family, too. If there's someone who can understand you, it's him, because he's also lost his family and his sister became a demon.

After cleaning up, it was his mission to befriend you at all costs. He went into the ward and took the bed next to you and Inosuke. Per usual, Zenitsu was already bawling, and Inosuke continued to be in a sour mood.

You, on the other hand, could only look at the ceiling with a dark shadow cast on your face that the hanafuda-clad slayer could only assume to have been irritation caused by his blonde partner. As he claimed his bed, he turned and grinned softly towards you.

"Hello!" He greeted enthusiastically.

You get startled and pulled out of your thoughts of murder, as you tilt your head only to be greeted by the bright expression of the boy next to you.

Jesus, this boy could rival the sun with the warm and inviting aura he had.

"I'm glad you're all right! My name is Tanjiro Kamado, what's yours?" he introduced himself happily, leaving you speechless as to how friendly and cheerful this boy was.

"...[ Y / N ]. [ Y / N ] [ L / N ]." You manage to blurt out. Tanjiro's eyes sparkled, and his smile grew even more.

"EHHHH??! SO THE PRETTY GIRL CAN TALK! AND HERE I THOUGHT I'M NEVER GOING TO HEAR HER WONDERFUL VOICE!" Zenitsu cries out in excitement, laughing and waving about to himself as a vein started to pop out from your neck.

"SHUT UP, MONITSU! I'M TRYING TO SLEEP HERE!" Inosuke yelled out, grabbing a pillow and throwing it at Zenitsu's face, effectively shutting him up.

Tanjiro could only chuckle nervously, as Inosuke grumbled in irritation and Zenitsu muttering out little whines after Inosuke's outburst.

"We're sorry about that, they're always like that." Tanjiro explained, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. "Anyway, what a pretty name! It's nice to meet you, [ Y / N ]- san! I hope we can friends!" He exclaimed happily.

You flush at his words and looked down in embarrassment, but then, you paled when realization hit you like a brick.

You never thanked him for saving you.

You whip your head towards the boy, your brows knitted together in determination.

"I never thanked you for saving me, Kamado-san! I am deeply grateful for your generosity! I owe you my life!" you proclaimed and bowed your head, leaving Tanjiro raising his hands in reassurance.

"Oh no, it's fine! Really!" He sweats, "And you can call me Tanjiro, you know!"

--

After that encounter, you seemed to have grown closer to the trio. During your time in the ward, you spent much of your time talking and joking around. After a while, Inosuke became arrogant and wild, which you discovered was his "natural" self. Often his attempts to pick fights bugs you to no end, and it doesn't stop there as Zenitsu has been even more irritating ever since you first spoke to the Burgundy-haired boy.

"[ Mispronounced Name ]!! I DARE YOU TO FIGHT ME RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NOW!"

"[ Y / N ]- chan~! You look pretty today!"

"COME ON AND LET'S SEE IF YOU CAN TRULY BEAT THE GREAT INOSUKE, [ Mispronounced Name ]!"

"[ Y / N ]-chan, Inosuke is being mean to me again, can you please comfort me?"

"Why are you looking at my face like that, [Mispronounced Name]?!"

"You would marry me, right [ Y / N ]-chan?!"

You pass. No thanks.

As days go by, you and Tanjiro would grow even closer, as your friendship with him continued to grow. He was a very open friend. He's also sweet, caring, charming, not to mention he worries about others before he could even think about himself!

"Inosuke, do you want to eat more? Here! Have some of my Tempura!"

"Zenitsu, please, stop crying! You're getting the poor girls into unnecessary trouble!"

"Oh, you wanted to me to accompany you to Shinobu-san, [ Y / N ]? Sure! I'll be with you all the way!"

God, does this boy do bring a big smile on you face.

He would also tell stories of adventures, describing each event with such vivid detail. You could only listen in awe as he proceeded to tell you how hard he trained in order to join the Demon Slayer Corps.

You gazed in silence as you observed the Tanjiro's calloused hands. He must have endured and suffered so much, maybe even more so than you did. The boy just remained there, a tiny smile on his face as he proceeded to show his hands for you.

You gulp, and averted your gaze from his hands to make eye contact with him.

"It must have been really hard, huh?" You whispered, the corners of your mouth pulled down as you stared at the boy, an unreadable emotion present in your eyes.

Tanjiro only chuckled as he pulled his hands back.

"Yeah, it was really tough. But come to think of it, my hands are proof of all the hard work I've put into being a Demon Slayer. Sure, sometimes I felt like dying and even giving up, but the fact that I've reached where I am now just gives me the confidence to go even further to help those in need. " He explained.

He lifts his hand and glances at it. His eyes were filled with determination as he recalled why he had become a Demon Slayer in the first place. Confidence overtook his expression when he broke his eyes from his palm and smiled at you.

"My hands are a reminder that I will never stop fighting for the safety of humans. I will always protect them, so that they can never witness the kind of horrors that we as demon slayers have to go through."

Your praised his sense of selflessness. In this life full of hardships, it was rare to find somebody as genuine and kind like Tanjiro. It was a trait that you admired wholeheartedly. With him, it seemed like your whole world would light up because of the sheer amount of positivity he would radiate.

It seemed, for a moment, that your dark and cruel world had taken a turn. In the blink of an eye, you've been welcomed with smiles and snippets of joy every time you interact with the boys. Your laughter became more frequent, not a dull hour would pass by, as you would find yourself becoming more fond of the crimson-eyed slayer.

You'd get to learn more about Tanjiro and his history later on. The boy's face would always light up by the mention of his family, and he would still be fond telling stories of his memories of the time they were still alive. The guy's got five siblings! 5!

Now, you truly understood how much patience the boy had with his two companions. Hearing him talking about his family gave you a sad sense of longing, and soon enough, you also opened up to him about how you, too, had a family, and that they were also killed by demons.

You told him stories, memories that just seemed like scattered visions located on a distant shore. You'd feel the sides of your mouth pulling up, your solemn [E / C] eyes showing a nostalgic light in them. Tanjiro would laugh every time you mentioned how much of a rucus your siblings were, would smile at you with delight as you mentioned your everyday life, and would nod in agreement as you recalled of your love-filled memories that happened a long time ago.

It was nice to know, though, that you had someone who could relate to your loss of family.

Speaking of family, you also had the opportunity to meet Nezuko, the little demon sister of Tanjiro. You have to confess that the thought of a demon battling alongside a demon slayer made you laugh at first. There was a reason why you became a demon slayer, and that is to slay any demon you meet in order to protect human beings.

You've been in conflict with the situation for the first few days of getting to know Nezuko. Your instincts were screaming at you to get a sword and just kill her then and there, but you also realized she wasn't like any other demons. If Oyakata-sama seemed to approve of her presence, then maybe you might come to accept her as well.

Tanjiro has taken note of your behavior towards Nezuko, but he can't blame you. Your family was killed by demons, so you had every right to be suspicious of Nezuko. He was grateful, however, that you took restraint and tried to accommodate her, despite his keen sense of smell telling him that you're more than ready to put an end to her demon life.

It seemed like Nezuko also wanted to be your friend. During the nights where you can't sleep, you would always go to the rooftop and gaze at the starry sight above. Not long after you arrive, the demon girl would find you and she would sit beside you, accompanying you the whole time.

The first few times, you were tense towards her. As much as you respect Tanjiro and Oyakata-sama's wishes, her status as a demon still bothered you to no end. Nevertheless, you would just let her accompany her because you knew that she had no malicious intent towards you. She seemed to understand your conflicted feelings towards her, as she would just sit and stare at the sky the entire time the two of you would sit at the roof, never once trying to force you to interact with her.

However, one interaction made you view Nezuko in a whole different light.

You wake up in the middle of the night, whimpering, soaked in cold sweat. You've had another nightmare, a vivid flashback of your mangled family dead in your old home. You sighed softly, and you looked around the ward to see the trio still sleeping soundly. A few minutes pass, and you realized you couldn't fall asleep again right away.

You got out of bed stealthily, and you went to your sanctuary, where you would eventually meet the demon girl again for the hundredth time.

You sat down on the edge dejectedly when you arrived. You've had this same kind of nightmare too many times, but the sight of your family lying helplessly dead in their blood pool always gets to you. Your lower lip quivers, brows buried together as you try to fight back the tears threatening to spill out. You cover your face as you try to calm yourself down, but a hand pats your back to console you.

You're shaking when you turn your head and come face to face with Nezuko. Sadness clouded her eyes, little "mmhm"s coming out of her bamboo muzzle, as if she was trying to say it was all right;

"You're going to be all right."

You looked at her, and wondered, how could a demon look so human? Her hand on your back proceeded to caress you in a circular motion, her eyes held so much compassion and kindness that you almost forgot she was a demon.

But that doesn't matter anymore.

You broke out crying, warm, thick tears falling from your eyes. You hiccuped and sniffled, already racked up with sobs. Nezuko didn't waste any time and embraced you, and you embraced back almost instantly. Your cries echoed in the night sky, and you're weeping so hard that your tears are staining Nezuko's kimono. But the girl never stopped, and she just remained there and comforted you the whole time.

Once you finally calmed down, you sat there for a little longer, gazing up at the night sky. Nezuko was still sitting beside you, just like what she did when she spent time with you on the roof. You pulled your eyes away from the stars, and you gazed at Nezuko. She stared at the tranquility of the stars above and was happy with it. You're sighing softly, now feeling foolish to have ever doubt the girl.

"Nezuko-chan?"

The demon averts her gaze from the sky, and looks at you, her head tilting to the side slightly. Her rose-colored eyes flickering with concern. You gulp, and shamely looked down.

"I'm sorry. For ever doubting you. I guess you really are something special, huh?"  You apologized, a flush creeping up to your face as you looked down in embarrassment.

"Mmhm!" Nezuko just hummed, when you looked up to see that she was giving you a happy expression. She put her hand on top of your head and began to rub it in a reassuring manner. You could only just chuckle fondly at her actions.

When she pulled her hand back, it was your turn to pat on her head. Her eyes widened momentarily, before she let out a joyful noise, lifting both of her arms to victory. You chuckled at her adorable shenanigans as you continued to bond with the affectionate demon.

Little do you know, a pair of crimson red eyes gazed at both of you, watching you interact with Nezuko. Tanjiro felt a sense of satisfaction, seeing how much you seem to care for Nezuko now. But he couldn't help but feel a funny sensation in his chest. Seeing all of you happy and treating Nezuko like your own sister made him feel something.

He could only look in admiration as you laughed and played with Nezuko, his sister always happily reciprocating any little pleasant interaction you would have granted her. He smiled, seeing how happy you were and how you seemed to glow under the moonlight.

You looked absolutely beautiful.

Come to think about it, he grew rather fond of you these past few weeks. The way you would light up at a joke, the way you would scrunch up your face with irritation, and even the way where you would listen to him with such concentration when he's reminiscing about his family seemed to make him feel funny and warm all over. Your little actions and quirks had Tanjiro hooked, and with every little adorable action you do, it would make the burgundy-haired boy grow even fonder for you.

It also didn't help that when he found you at Mt. Natagumo, his initial thought was, well, that you looked very pretty. Although, he suppressed this thoughts towards you because, well, you were such in a rough state and he was beyond worried. It was not the time to be a Zenitsu when you were hurting so much!

Wait, pretty? Fondness? Affection???

Tanjiro looked away from the wonderful sight, and proceeded to run back to the ward. His face reddened and he put a hand on his chest. His heart was beating like crazy! He couldn't believe what he was feeling towards the [ H / C ]-haired girl!

As he arrived, he instantly covered his face with his blanket, trying to make sense of the warm, fuzzy feeling he would get every time he thought of you.

He couldn't help but think of your wonderful smile. God, how much he had grown to love your smile! And the way your eyes would flutter, the way you giggle at even the most ridiculous joke, and how you would just- ugh!

He could only cover his face with his hands in embarrassment as he proceeded to have sweet yet confusing thoughts about you. He felt he was going mad, and he's trying to make sense of his emotions towards you.

He realizes something in the midst of his breakdown. He recalls how the couples at Asakusa would intertwine with each other, how Kazumi cried out for his deceased fiance, and the memory of how his mother and father would look at each other with such devotion and tenderness while overlooking him and his siblings. The way all the couples portrayed themselves in his life reminded him of how he would think and feel about you.

He widened his eyes as a quick gasp escaped his lips. His face flushed more and more out from the revelation as he desperately tried to calm himself down from the intense surge of emotions overwhelming him.

And in that moment, it was clear.

That he, Tanjiro Kamado, now wished the whole world for [ Y / N ] [ L / N ].

[tinyanimelover]

Falling

This one wasn’t requested, I just wanted to write this as a birthday present for myself ^.^ and I’m a sucker for Grimmjow so I had to do this lol sorry if he's ooc!

[Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez x Female Reader]

It was encounter. One damn encounter and days of mulling over that encounter that lead to Grimmjow realizing that he was infatuated. With who? Who had caught the hot-headed arrancar's attention? Surprisingly enough, a damn human. After being injured severely by Ichigo. Grimmjow ran into a human, who -despite his rude insults about her being a weakling and a human- still helped him against her better judgment. He spent a few hours at her place, insulting her taste in colors, taste in fabrics, her being a human, the way she wrapped his wounds up, her shyness and just about anything he could think of. He just about said anything and everything but thank you, but for some reason she didn't mind. She kept tending to his wounds, even when he would flinch and curse her out with his vulgar vocabulary, she would just smile and continue on. How odd. He thought it was odd, even after he returned to Hueco Mundo. Why did she help him and why did she put up with his temper? And for fucks sake, why couldn't he get that out of his mind? He walked through the dimly lit hallway of his quarters, hands in his pockets. He just couldn't stop thinking about that, that one moment he shared with her. But why the hell was he so hung on it?! It riled him up as he thought back on it but he couldn't stop!

"Fucking fuck!" Grimmiow yelled as the girl flinched slightly "Don't press so hard on it dammit!". "S-sorry!" She stammered out as she went back to cleaning his wounds "But please stay still, if you keep moving around, it'll hurt more" . "Just hurry it up woman!" He snapped, glaring at the her, but she didn't see this, too busy with what she was doing. Why did she help him? Why was he even letting a human help him? "Why did you sav--" he was cut off when she pressed into the wound, his eyes widened and he grabbed her hand "Dammit woman! You're doing this on purpose now aren't ya?!". His eyes widened even more when her hand found it's way to his face, pushing him away and down "Stay still I said! I'm almost done!". He panicked, he wasn't sure if it was because a human was touching him or the fact that her hand was so small compared to his own as well as his face, he just panicked. He used his other hand to try and push her away but she was just as persistent, climbing on top of him to get a better grip on him. "O-oi!" He let out but it was muffled, eyes glued to the way her legs were on either side of him, one hand still pressed against his lips while the other finished wrapping the wounds. She was gentle despite having her hand against his lips, he could smell the faint scent of her perfume, it smelled sweet and lightly fruity. It wasn't overwhelming but still intoxicating nonetheless. She was gentle and quiet but he could tell she had a fierce side. He watched silently as she finished, letting out a soft sigh as a smile graced her lips. She lifted her eyes to look at him, noticing his eyes were wide and full of surprise. She closed her own and smiled, bowing her head "S-sorry for using force, I just wanted to make sure your wounds were properly cleaned and bandaged...". She called that force? He was an Arrancar for fucks sake, he lived for violence! Her idea of force was nothing compared to his. But..why couldn't he say anything? Nothing came to mind. He was confused and couldn't focus on anything but that fact that the two were in such a position and her dam perfume. Dammit! What the hell was he even doing?!

He wasn't sure what it was, or why he was drawn to her but he was sick and tired of being consumed of that moment and her. So he really wasn't surprised that his feet took him right back to her place, his knuckles banged against the door. That was how you knocked right? He heard a familiar voice, prompting him to turn his head and immediately he spotted the girl with another man. His eyes widened, the way she smiled and looked at the man, was way different than the way she smiled at him that day. What was this feeling? He had an urge to rip the male apart, but it simmered down once the male bowed and entered the apartment they had stopped in front of. Whatever rage that was leftover completely was wiped away once she noticed him standing in front of her door, a smile graced her lips. He had half a mind turn around and run off, what the hell was he doing here again? But the moment she spoke, he felt his stomach begin to feel weird. "It's you!" She let out, titling her head "What're you doing here?". Her gleeful expression quickly changed into concern as she looked him over "Are you injured again?". "I'm fine" he spoke up after pulling himself together "Who the fuck was that?". "Hm? Hashi-kun?" She let out with tinged cheeks as she opened the door and stepped inside her home, allowing Grimmjow to follow her inside "H-he's my neighbor..". "What's with that red face?" He asked, a bit aggressive "Ya like him or something?". Her eyes widened as she spun around "H-huh? No way! He's a good friend and my neighbor..a-and he's really nice to me...". He noticed the smile she had while thinking of him, bitterness sinking in as he shifted from one foot to the other "Your fave says it all, idiot". She shook her head, "It doesn't matter if I do or not..Hashi-kun has a girlfriend...even if he didn't, he'd never see me that way..". Grimmjow almost felt the need to wrap his arms around her, but he kept his cool. Or so he thought. "It's not fair" he accidentally let out. His eyes widened as she looked up at him, her head tilted "What isn't fair?". Fuck it. He was here for a reason and he'd be damned if he let another man occupy her heart and not even feel the same about her. He approached her slowly, she didn't move for some reason and he was glad. He was even more glad once he saw her face growing redder as he lowered his face down to hers, eyes locking with each other. "The fact that you looked at that fucker with those kinds of eyes...why do you lool at me with different eyes? I want you to look at me with the look you gave that fucker..." He explained. "...what..are you talking about?" She managed to get out "I barely even know you. I don't even know your name..". "So why did you save me then?" He asked. "Because I didn't want to see you die" she revealed "I don't want to see anyone die in front of me ever again..". He realized what she meant, he wondered how many she'd seen die for her to try so hard to save a stranger. What had she gone through? How was she still so nice and gentle? "Grimmjow" he let out "My name's Grimmjow". "Grimmjow.." She repeated, his heart lurched forward "My name's Y/n". Like honey. Her voice was so smooth, her name was heaven like while he replayed it in his mind, everything about her just kept reeling him in. He pulled away with a smirk "Good. Now that we know each other's names, I'm gonna show you just how much of a better man I am than that fucker. I’m sure you’ll love the ways I can show you my gratitude for saving me without even saying the words directly". Her confusion rose, "What?".

[lisinfleur]

Hacksilver

The request:

Author’s Notes | It was supposed to be called "Mea culpa". I even called the request like this so I could identify it. But well... My works have their own life. And it seems they have their own names as well... I hope you like it! Universe | Vikings Pairing | No pair, Hvitserk interacting with his foster daughter Info | Viking Age AU, requested by anon. ¹Synnove – Norwegian name that means “Present of the sun”. Words | 1644 ⁑ Warnings: Angst.

Those big glowing eyes. Dark like the sky at night, like the color of her hair, like the traces that would scream she wasn't my blood.

Like the words I had just said, turning the night in her eyes rainy...

"Why should I care, right? You're not even my daughter, isn't it?"

Harsh words I regretted saying as soon as they left my mouth, shutting hers, finishing that arguing about her body dressed in one of my armors manually adjusted for her curves; my old sword sharpened in her sheath.

We were ready to depart in a raid.

She was ready to go with me.

I couldn't feel safe with a thought like that. And my fear had poured through my mouth in bitter words I couldn't take back now.

She straightened her back, looking at me with a Summer storm encaged inside her black orbs, fighting her tears back into the channels.

She wouldn't cry for me. No.

I just proved I didn't deserve her tears.

"You're right. You're not my father. You're the hand who took my family from me and you have no say in this matter. I'll go for the raid, whether you want it or not, cause I'm a shieldmaiden, a warrior. And, after all, sticks and stones, hammers and swords are nothing when I can stand the sharpness of your tongue!"

Her heavy steps stomped the ground when she gave her back to me. But I could see her shoulders shrunk and the shaking of heavy sobs she didn't let my eyes catch.

The same sobs I saw years ago when that little piece of nothing came out of the space under her bed to find me bathed in blood, sword in hand. The man who should be her father laid down by my blade.

The same blade she was now saying herself able to brandish against enemies that were once her own kind.

He wasn't a good man - she took a while to speak and tell me how abusive her father was to her and to the boy I also saw fallen somewhere on the street when I took her with me - mother dead in childbirth, he thought his children were the ones to be blamed. Yet, he was her blood. And yet, she never treated me as if I wasn't.

We were always together. She always would smile at me.

But now she was crying because of my own stupidity.

"Take care of the boats," I said, pulling one of my men by its shoulder. "Ensure everything will be in its place. I'll be back soon."

None questioned me.

All of them had seen Synnove¹ growing up and how we were like flesh and bone. Some of them were even looking at me with judgmental glares, reproving me for such heavy words when my mind was showing me the obvious my fear of losing her didn't let me face.

My sword in her sheath... My armor in her body...

She wanted to be like me.

She was like me.

And I was shoving my child away.

I walked calmly - there was no need to rush. I knew exactly where to find her and there she was, on the beach we used to play together when she was a child - the same beach I used to fish with my brothers when I was younger.

She was sat over the rock on the edge of the sand, looking away to the sun rising up in the sky. Her black orbs shining with the wetness of the tears she cleaned as soon as my steps on the sand denounced my presence.

"What do you want here, your highness?"

There was so much anger in her voice... She never called me that way and I missed the "faðir" I had taught her years ago.

My head lifted to look at her, but my eyes were full of guilt.

"I'm sorry."

Few words that she almost didn't hear me speaking through her whole life. My eyes on hers once again, like decades ago, heavy, but trying to convince her it was safe to come over. To approach.

"I'm just afraid to lose you, Synnove," I confessed, causing her to come down from the rock, looking me in the eyes almost as if she was searching for a reason to believe me inside of my green orbs. "I'm afraid I didn't do it right, afraid to see you hurt. I'm scared the gods had decided to call you into their halls before me. After all, I'm a father afraid to lose its child. I'm your father, Synnove, afraid to lose the light of my heart."

She came closer, looking at me from four inches below my height with the toughness of my warriors into her orbs. Dark, deep... Full of sureness.

"Then maybe you're not my father indeed," she said, hitting her index against my chest. "Cause my father is the fearless Hvitserk Ragnarsson, who told me to fear no foe and face the death with a smile in my face. My father is a great warrior who wouldn't fear losing me to battle cause if it happens, then he knows we'll find each other in the halls of the gods he taught me to worship! Min faðir knows I'll be there waiting for him. He knows how to find me. He knows he will never lose me! Cause not even death can break our bond! He knows it... You know it..."

Her voice broke slowly as her tears started to win the fight against her control and roll down her face, wetting her skin.

Raining on my favorite part of the nocturne sky.

"I'm protected by your lessons! I'm forged by your training! How can you go into battle and believe I'm not ready to do the same? Then why are you going, faðir? If what you taught me is not enough, then tell me why are you going away?"

I nestled my hand on her nape, feeling the braided hair, tight like mine. The beads with protection runes I remember carving for her, braided into the strands of the dark hair I wouldn't get tired to see my wife brushing every night.

My thumb caressed her jawline as my eyes landed on hers, getting lost into that darkness full of stars. I pulled her closer and touched our foreheads, seeing when she closed her eyes caressing my chest, nestling into my embrace as if it was the safest place in this whole world.

From all my children, she was the closest to me. The one who came closest to my heart.

"You're right," I mumbled, getting her tighter against my chest. "You're right, Synnove. Sooner or later I have to realize you grew up... I have to stop looking at you like a lost little girl. And gods... How much of me there is in you now? Uh?" I smiled. "To say that you're not ready would be saying I'm not ready. And this is not true. A father should be proud when its child becomes enough grown to follow him outside of its home. And this is how things shall be. For you're my child, Synnove. Undeniably. And I shall be proud of your talent and bask in your tales of glory. And someday, we shall share the mead and feast in the halls of the gods together. But may this day be further away from us. And may we fight together this time... And many more times later."

I saw my child's face enlightening as if the moon had risen up into the dark sky of her eyes. And Synnove smiled at me, but it wasn't the childish smile of before. It was gratitude and happiness. Admiration and pride.

"I won't disappoint you, faðir," she said.

And I landed my hand on the metal in her waist, feeling the contours of the armor adjusted perfectly to her body.

"You did it very well... It fits you perfectly," I said, recognizing the metal and leather.

"Mother helped me. She said it was to be mine so she helped me to make it fit."

My fingers landed on the blade and I took it gently out of her sheath.

"We should make a new one for you," I said, feeling the weight of that weapon in my hands.

The weight of her blood, her kind.

But she landed the soft hands around mine and her dark eyes looked at me once again full of sureness.

"No. It wrote my story. And I want to keep it with me. I don't want to forget who I am, where I came from. Cause it reminds me of how much I have grown. And who allowed me to do so."

Her words curling my lips in a proud smile.

"You grew up so well... I'm proud of who you became. Here... Take it." I said.

My hands taking off the hacksilver necklace I used my whole life, placing it in her neck, for her surprise.

"Father gave it to me when I went with him in my first raid. Now you owe me one from yours," I said, smiling at her, seeing as she touched the necklace on her chest and smiled back at me.

"I'll bring you the most beautiful I can find!" she said.

Bouncing on her heels in a way so characteristic to me.

So, mine...

I giggled. Father should be laughing at me from Valhalla now.

I was growing old.

But my legacy was safe in her eyes.

"Come... We have a tide to catch," I smiled.

Walking beside her when we came back to the docks.

I was still afraid of losing her - of course. What father wouldn't be?

But my heart was too full of pride to leave space to my fear.

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