#that man awakens an instinct within me i fear i am better without

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

getting a ridiculously high fever = being forced into a state of hyperdependency on you would fix sunday

[empressofthesunwriter]

Anomaly

Anomaly; noun: something that deviates from what is standard, normal, or expected.

While her older brother Zack rises in the ranks of SOLDIER, Dalia Fair is one of the biggest Idol’s Midgar has ever seen! All seems well for the siblings, till the Whispers appear and try to kill Dalia. Now brother and sister must unrevail ShinRa’s dark secrets and why Dalia is an anomaly in the eyes of the spectral beings.

Or:

Zack has a younger sister whom the Whispers want to get rid of because they must protect the sacred canon.

Spoiler Alert: Dalia won't let herself get killed or erased by the spooky grim reapers wannabe!

Also, canon who, it's her show now!

!!!!Please read and review!!!!

Chapter 2: Haunted 

Zack was dreaming of becoming SOLDIER First Rank when a loud scream awakened him from his slumber.

Confused he blinked into the darkness of his room.

Huh?

What was going on?

“ZACK-NIICHAN!”, shouted the voice of his sister. “HELP ME!”

Instinct took over, not only from his SOLDIER training but also from a lifetime of being a big brother.

The black-haired man jumped out of bed, gripped his sword and ran into his sister's room.

“Dalia, I’m Here!”

The scene before him belongs in a horror flick.

His sister was cowering in her bed and over her, a shadowy-foggy-like grim reaper wannabe floated above her!

The SOLDIER Third Class didn’t waste any time took a deep breath and focused his energy, calling upon the Mako within him to enhance his abilities.

He charged towards the shadowy figure with his sword raised high, ready to strike. As he swung his blade, it passed straight through the apparition without making contact.

“What the fuck?!”, he shouted in disbelief.

The grim reaper wannabe just stared at him.

At least that gave Dalia the chance to hide behind him.

“Zack what is that?!”, she shrieked, gripping his sleeping shirt tight in her fists.

“I don’t know and I don’t care, I will burn it to crisp!”

Thankful he had Fire Materia on his sword.

He cast the spell and at least this seemed to work.

Mr. Creepy Grim Reaper hissed.

“Anomaly.”, came a scary voice from the being. “You will be erased.”

With that, he disappeared into thin air.

Dalia clung to Zack tightly, still trembling in fear. He comforted her and assured her that everything was going to be alright.

“Going alright, that thing wanted to kill me!”

“It can’t hurt you anymore, I made it go away.”

“Zack, what kind of thing was that?”

“Don’t know.”, he admitted stroking her long spiky hair. “Probably a new monster. Something Ghost-like, I dunno.”

“Why does it want to erase me?”

“I don’t know sis, why do monsters attack us? No one really knows.”

With a loud sigh, Dalia formally fell into her brother's arms.

Like she was a little girl again she asked quietly if they could share a bed.

Zack understood her. He was still shaking from this encounter too.

They moved to his bedroom and Dalia clung to him like a barnacle.

Thankful after a while she fell asleep, only Zack refused to sleep.

If Mr. Creepy Grim Reaper came again he wanted to be ready.

Never was he more thankful that as SOLDIER he didn’t need that much sleep like a normal person.

***

“Rosethrone what is wrong?”, asked Amelia the next day at lunch break. “You are normally good at photo shoots, but you seem off.”

“I’m just going through some personal stuff,” replied Dalia, trying to brush off her manager's concern.

But Amelia wasn't convinced.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked, placing a comforting hand on Dalia's shoulder.

“I don’t know, are you a part-time monster expert, while being my manager?”, Dalia sassed and gulped down her water.

Amelia chuckled at Dalia's remark, "No, I'm not a part-time monster expert, but I am your friend and I care about you. If you ever need someone to talk to or just vent, I'm here for you."

The younger girl smiled gratefully at her manager, feeling a bit better. It was nice to know that she had someone in her corner.

As they finished their lunch, Amelia made a mental note to check in on Dalia more often and make sure she was doing okay. After all, being a good manager meant more than just overseeing photo shoots and deadlines - it also meant being there for your team when they needed you the most.

“I have a little surprise for you.”, she told her protege as they made their way back to Rosethrone's backstage room. “Maybe it will lift your spirits a bit.”

“Mmh?”

“Your new Idol outfit is finished, you can wear it today at the concert.”

Dalia's blue eyes lit up with excitement at the news. She had been looking forward to the new outfit for weeks.

It was a custom design made just for her, and she couldn't wait to see how it looked on stage.

"Really? Thank you so much, Amelia!", she exclaimed, feeling a burst of energy and enthusiasm. "I can't wait to try it on!"

The brunette woman smiled, happy to see Dalia's mood improving. "I knew it would make you happy. Now let's go get ready for the show!"

As they entered the dressing room, Dalia spotted the outfit hanging on a rack in the corner. It was even more beautiful than she had imagined - a glittering black, white and red ensemble that sparkled under the lights.

She quickly changed into the outfit, admiring herself in the mirror as she did so. The fabric felt soft and silky against her skin, and she loved how it hugged her curves in all the right places.

Now she really was Rosethrone, Midgar’s Beautiful Rose.

When she emerged from the dressing room, Amelia gasped in delight. "You look amazing!"

Rosethrone beamed with pride as she took her place on stage.

As she began to sing and dance, all of her worries faded away.

For those few hours, nothing else mattered except for making music and entertaining her fans.

Afterwards, as Dalia was packing up her things backstage, Amelia approached her with a serious expression.

"Dalia," she said softly. "I know that something is bothering you. If there's anything I can do to help - anything at all - please don't hesitate to ask."

Dalia hesitated for a moment before admitting. "It's just...last night something really strange happened."

Her manager leaned in closer, listening intently as Dalia recounted what had happened with Mr. Creepy Grim Reaper.

"That sounds terrifying," Amelia said sympathetically when Dalia finished speaking. "But you know what? Zack was there and protected you. Your brother always has your back."

Dalia nodded slowly, feeling a sense of pride wash over thinking about what an awesome older brother she had in Zack.

"And besides," Amelia added with a grin. "If any other monsters come after you again...well, we'll just have to make sure you have some backup."

Together they laughed off their fears, feeling stronger knowing that they had each other's backs no matter what challenges lay ahead.

***

As the weeks went on, Dalia found herself feeling more and more confident in her role as Rosethrone. Her concerts were selling out faster than ever before, and she was receiving more fan mail than she could keep up with.

But despite her success, there were still moments when the memory of Mr. Creepy Grim Reaper would haunt her thoughts. She couldn't shake the feeling that there was something else out there, waiting to harm her.

One night, as she was getting ready for bed after a long day of rehearsals, she heard a strange noise coming from outside her window.

At first, she tried to ignore it - maybe it was just the wind or some stray animal.

But as the noise grew louder and more persistent, she realized that something was definitely wrong.

Heart pounding in her chest, she tiptoed over to the window and peered outside.

There, lurking in the shadows below, was a group of monsters like Mr. Creepy Grim Reaper! He had friends it seemed!

The black-haired girl froze in terror for a moment before remembering what Amelia had said about having a backup.

Quickly grabbing her PHS, she dialled Zack's number and waited anxiously for him to pick up.

"Zack! Oh my god, there is Mr. Creepy Grim Reaper outside my window! What do I do?!", she whispered.

"Stay calm," he replied calmly over the line. "I'm here."

True to his word, not a second later her bedroom door opened. Zack armed with his trusty sword and a handful of materia orbs was standing there.

He pointed with his head to leave her place at the window. She did so, as he walked over, opened the window and jumped down!

Good thing he was a SOLDIER Third and their apartment was only second floor.

Morbid curiosity made Dalia look out the window, as her brother fought off the Creepy Grim Reapers, with his sword and spells.

After the last vanished into thin air, her brother climbed back up their apartment.

When he was back in her room Dalia collapsed into Zack's arms sobbing with relief.

"I don't know how you do it," she whispered between sobs. "How can you be so brave all the time?"

Zack just smiled down at her gently. "It's easy," he said softly. "I do it for you."

“You are already a hero, Zack, my hero!”

“Thanks, Imoto-Chan, but we need to do something about this Creepy Grim Reapers. They said to me they have to erase the anomaly.”

Confused Dalia looked up into Zack's grim face.

“What do you plan?”

“Tomorrow is your free day right? We go together to Angeal, maybe he knows this kind of monster.”, then he facepalmed. “And I just realized I could have asked him weeks ago, I’m such a dumbass.”

This released the nervous energy in Dalia and she couldn’t help but laugh.

Yep, Mister Angeal's nickname for Zack, puppy, fitted indeed her brother.

He was not only friendly and eager as one, he could forget things easily.

***

The next day, Zack and Dalia went to see Angeal.

This meant for Dalia she would be the first time on the the SOLDIER floor of the ShinRA building.

She had visited her brother at his work, but they always had met up at the foyer.

It would be a lie to say Dalia wasn’t a tiny bit curious about how it looked there.

With Zack vouching for her and checking that she really was his sister, she got her visitor pass for the day from the kind secretary in the foyer.

Now the siblings could take the elevator to their destination without a problem.

On the SOLDIER floor, of course, Dalia saw SOLDIER from Rank three to two and even some infantrymen.

But no Genesis or Sephiroth.

Like probably all girls in Midgar she had wanted to see the Crimson Commander and Silver General in the flesh.

Zack looked amused at her.

“Are you looking for someone?”

“It’s not any day you can go up the SOLDIER floor, would be awesome if I could get an autograph from Mister Genesis and Mister Sephiroth, especially Sephiroth, Amelia has the hots for him. If I brought her autographs she would die happy.”

As they walked down the hallway, Angeal's office came into view. Zack knocked on the door and they were welcomed inside by the First Class SOLDIER.

"Zack, and Dalia, what a nice surprise.", he greeted them warmly. "What brings you here?"

They explained what had happened with the Creepy Grim Reapers and how they had tried to attack Dalia twice.

Angeal listened carefully and then said, "I think I know what these creatures are. Even if it seems impossible.”

“Why Angeal?”, asked Zack, holding Dalia's hand tight as they sat before the FIRST CLASS SOLDIER.

“They considered legends. An accretion of Whispers, the so-called arbiters of fate. The creatures appear when someone tries to alter destiny's course. They are connected to all the threads of time and space that shape the planet's fate.”

"The Whispers?" repeated Zack, looking puzzled. Dalia wasn’t far behind.

Kinda lame name for something that scarred her shitless.

"Yes," replied Angeal. "Whispers, also known as the arbiters of fate, are beings born of the planet said to enforce the course of destiny. They appear in large gatherings whenever events stray too far from fate's intended path. Or so they say.”

Zack and Dalia listened intently to Angeal's explanation, trying to wrap their heads around the concept of beings that enforced destiny. It all seemed a bit far-fetched, but then again, they had just fought off a group of monsters that could disappear into thin air.

"So what do we do?" asked Dalia anxiously. "Why would they be after me?"

Angeal sighed, looking pensive. "I'm not sure. Is there something which you do that can alter destiny so much? Zack told me you are just a normal school girl.”

Ups.

Both Fair siblings turned red and looked ashamed at the ground.

The older man looked at them. So they were hiding something.

“Zack, I hope you had a good reason to lie to me.”, scolded Angeal his protege.

If even possible, Zack shrunk more in his seat than before.

“Mister Angeal, please don’t be mad at Zack-Nii.”, begged Dalia. “I told him to lie.”

Then she told him that she lived a double life as the Idol Rosethrone because she didn’t want to be swarmed with fans all the time. Dalia loved being an Idol, but she loved her privacy with her brother too.

Angeal nodded. He could understand this.

Being First Class, was also a bit like being a celebrity. He had his own fan club and often people asked for his autograph, which was crazy since he fought in a WAR.

He was a warrior not a singer like Dalia.

“I see.”, mumbled the black-haired man and gripped his chin thoughtfully. “It could be that your recent success as Rosethrone has caused a ripple in fate's course. Or it could be something else entirely."

Zack frowned, his protective instincts kicking in. "Whatever the reason, we need to find a way to stop them from coming after Dalia again."

Angeal nodded in agreement.

“Let’s see...Dalia, when did the first Whisper appear?”

“It was after my successful concert in the Chocobo Lounge. I got home, ate and then got to bed. Then The Whisper appeared in the middle of the night.”

“Was there something special this day?”

The girl frowned, thinking.

What was noteworthy on this day...?

“Oh I had a Fan-Meeting after the concert.”, she told Zack and Angeal. “The young man I talked to was not even one of my fans. He just had come to my concert so the card of his friend, who couldn’t make it, didn’t go to waste.”

That alerted both males.

“Do you remember his name, sis?”

“I think...It was Cloud. Yes, Cloud Strife!”

Angeal nodded.

“I have a hunch, Mr. Strife could be a lead you could follow.”

“I don’t know anybody with that name.”, whined Zack and gripped his hair. “How should we find him? Just asking around all Midgar? That would take years and that’s not counting the Slums!”

Dalia felt also distressed and petted her brother on the back.

How should she find this boy, she only met once?

“Now, now, no long faces. There is a simple but efficient way.”, tried Angeal to cheer the Fair siblings up.

“Which way, Angeal?”, they asked together.

“You could go to floor 62. All of Midgar’s documents, records, and reports are stoked there. So also the resident list!”

“Angeal, you are a genius!”

The SOLDIER First Class chuckled quietly at the happiness of the Fair siblings.

With his authority, he gave them passes for floor 62 and the two were off.

Time to find out, where to find this Cloud Strife.

***

!!!!Please read and review!!!!

[eveningstar1516]

Rise Of The Demon King ~ Chapter 1

Rise of the Demon King

Fic: Multi Chapter Paring: MC x Everyone (Mostly Lucifer) Type: Angst with a Happy Ending Total Word Count: 26,758 TW: Major Character Death, Reader gets stabbed with a sword through their chest so..., Abusive Parents, Past Child Abuse, Demon Hunters, Loss of Control Summary: You’ve done it. You’ve finally done it. You’ve managed to anger the demon king. Now you hold your head high as he hands down your sentence. AO3 Portal: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27065362

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ So I've been meaning to post this on here and I finally am. I'll be posting a chapter a day but the completed version is up on my Ao3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

CHAPTER 1 - Awakening Day (1,526 words)

It’s been a few years since the exchange program ended. It was such a great success that Lord Diavolo had passed a law allowing inter-realm travel between the Devildom and the Human realm so long as you are approved with the proper paperwork of course. You were one of the few with a special pass to come and go as you pleased while skipping all the procedures. The day you visited was a special day. It had been the day the Demon King “Abandon” would awake from his slumber and return to the throne until he deemed Diavolo fit to rule as a permanent king instead of an heir. After much debate, you convinced your 7 demons to allow you to attend the ceremony. As they were high ranking Lords, they had to be present by Diavolo’s side while you stayed within the crowd with Solomon.

Awakening Day

“So what’s the Demon king like?” you asked the group on your way to the palace.

“Well, we’ve never actually met him. We came to the Devildom while he was still asleep” Satan answered.

“I heard that his aura is so powerful that even if you didn’t know him, which is impossible, that you would both fear and respect him on instinct. It’s rumoured that he is the only being in existence that could possibly challenge the Celestial realm and stand a better chance than we did!” Beel inquired.

“Well if Diavolo got any of his looks from him then he might be one of the most handsome beings in the three realms, after me of course!” Asmo added.

“Remember all of you, King Abandon is not like Lord Diavolo. Lord Diavolo might take enjoyment from your little escapades and shenanigans but His Highness will not tolerate any of that. You are all high ranking Lords, the “Rulers of Hell” I expect you all to behave yourselves and at least try to act the part. That means no inappropriate jokes, going off to steal something, sleeping at inopportune times, constantly snacking, or having your nose buried in a book or console. Our behaviour will reflect on Lord Diavolo and I will not have any of you tarnish it.”

“Oi! We can behave if we want to! Besides this is the King! We’d have to be absolute morons to try and do anything to him!”

“Well Mammon, we’ll just have to keep an eye on you, our moron of a brother,” Asmo said while ruffling Mammon's hair.

“HEY QUIT IT!”

“All of you enough! We will be arriving soon. Remember best behaviour-”

“Alright, Lucifer, you can relax. We’re not crazy enough to invoke the King’s wrath.” Satan said in an attempt to soothe over the eldest concerns.

“Y/N, are you absolutely sure you will be alright with Solomon?”

“Yes, Lucifer I’m sure. I’ll stay right next to him the entire time. I promise.”

With that, we arrived to see Solomon and a few other high-ranking Demons waiting outside the palace courtyard to be allowed in. Upon seeing us, Solomon walked over, extending greetings to each of the brothers before turning to me. Before he could do anything I gave him a big hug.

“How’s my favourite wizard?”

“Hehehe, nice to see you too Y/N. Are you ready to see the King?”

“Yes! I’m so excited. Reading about him just isn’t enough. Have you ever met him?”

“No of course not! I’m not that old!” Solomon replied between laughing breaths.

“We will be heading inside to meet with Lord Diavolo before the ceremony. I trust that you will keep Y/N safe right, Solomon?”

“Of course Lucifer. I love them as much as you guys do. Besides if I don’t you’d all just kill me and I for one enjoy my life.”

With that, the brothers bid me goodbye turning to head into the palace leaving me and Solomon waiting with the other demons for the ceremony to take place.

A little while later, the courtyard is packed with demons and sorcerers of all ranks, waiting to welcome their king back.

“Nervous?”

“A little but who wouldn’t be? I just hope that things won’t change so drastically now that the king is ruling instead of Diavolo.”

“I won’t be so sure, from what I’ve heard, he rules with an iron fist and is much harsher than Diavolo when it comes to his court. As Diavolo’s right hand, Lucifer will be very busy in the upcoming days. I imagine he will be even more stressed making sure his brothers stay in line.”

“Wow, you didn’t need to dump everything on me all at once…”

“It’ll be alright, you’ve handled worse, this’ll be easy in comparison. As long as you don’t anger him or anything like that.”

“Trust me, I don’t plan on doing any of that. Although things never go as planned for me huh?”

“No, they usually don’t do they?” he answered with a chuckle.

Before I could answer, we heard what sounded like fanfare and the crowd quickly quieted down. At the front of the courtyard stood Lord Diavolo in his demonic form with Lucifer at his right and Barbatos at his left also in demon form. The rest of the brothers and a few other high ranking elders and demons stood behind in their demonic glory in accordance with their rank. Diavolo then addressed the crowd.

“Denizens of Devildom! Thank you for coming out today to welcome my father His Highness King Abandon back to the Devildom. I will not keep you here so without further wait, HIS HIGHNESS KING ABANDON OF THE DEVILDOM!” As soon as Diavolo introduced his father, a tall dark man resembling Diavolo stepped up from the shadows in his full demonic glory. His demon form surprisingly simple and modest but still elegant enough to be fit for royalty. His horns unlike Diavolo’s curve upwards from the side of his head and onto the top forming a crown-like shape with gold swirling around it and admonishing the tip. His eyes like golden lava glowing in the lighting and you were convinced that he could set anyone ablaze with just his eyes and little thought. His upper body much like Diavolo’s is full of tattoos symbolizing his royal status. He brandished 4 large black leather wings with golden tips and blood-red accents. While he didn’t have a multitude of accessories like his son, the few he wore complimented his attire greatly making him look even bigger and more regal. He presented an aura that screamed for you to have the utmost respect when in his presence. As if on instinct, everyone present immediately bowed down taking a knee with their hands on their hearts along with those on stage. The kings’ eyes swept over the crowd taking in the different ranks all present for today when you felt a gaze settle on you, the only non magical born human here. I didn’t dare to raise my gaze or move, keeping my head down and as still as possible until I felt his gaze avert from my figure. Sensing my tension, Solomon risked a glance towards me without moving his head and I returned it with a slight smile to try and reassure him that I'm alright.

“RISE!”

At once, all that were present stood at once. Those on stage adopting a soldier-like pose with their hands behind their back, expressions betraying nothing. If this were any other situation, I would've sent them a smile and thumbs up. I wasn't used to seeing them like this and was impressed by their behaviour; though now was not the time for that.

The king then started addressing the crowd. Taking the opportunity, I studied him a little closer; never meeting his eyes and keeping my gaze as respectful as possible. During his speech, he raked his eyes across the crowd and would rest his gaze on mine more than once. Each time he did, I suppressed a shudder as his gaze looked like he was picking me apart and looking right through me. Solomon sensed my discomfort and squeezed my hand to assure me that he’s got my back should something happen. After he finished, everyone bowed their heads with their hands over their hearts as he left the stage along with everyone on it by ranking order. Soon after he left, everyone buzzed back to life talking among themselves about their king and leaving to get ready for the ball happening that night in honour of the king. As Solomon and I were leaving, Barbatos appeared by our side.

“Hello Y/N, Solomon”

“Hello Barb, is everything alright?”

“Yes, all is well. The king requests your presence is all. I’ve been sent to get you.”

“Oh,” I felt a pit form in my stomach. I’ve never interacted with royalty other than Diavolo and I didn’t know how to act when it came to the king.

“Alright. Sorry, Solomon, I’ll see you tonight right?”

“Of course. See you tonight.”

With that, he said his goodbyes to both Barbatos and I, then left. I took a deep breath and followed Barb into the palace.

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[pitch-pearl-void]

Hi! I love your work! Do you take requests? If so, would you mind doing something like maybe Skulker is looking for Phantom so in the middle of the day he comes to find Fenton to use him as bait while he's in the middle of class? And the class' reaction, because holy crap Fenton knows a ghost, and Phantom coming to save him? If not, that's totally fine, too!

I love the idea! I may have gotten a little carried away...whoops ^-^’ I focused more on Fenton and his classmates than on the romance, but I hope you’ll like it!

A paper football smacked directly into Fenton’s neck. Fenton cringed and gritted his teeth. In the desk behind him, he heard Dash snicker and the dull smack of two hands connecting as he high-fived Kwan. Mr. Lancer continued droning on about Shakespeare’s career, too passionate to notice Dash’s behavior—assuming he would care. He would probably just see it as another form of punishment for Fenton’s actions.

Not punishment for taking too many bathroom breaks or arriving late to class, though. No, Fenton’s days as a misbehaved student were supposed to be over, brought to an end by his and Phantom’s separation. He no longer needed to escape class to fight ghosts. He no longer needed to think about ghosts at all.

In theory…

Avoiding ghosts might have worked if Fenton could just stop thinking about his other half. 

For weeks after they had separated, they had barely spoken, but then Fenton had to go and open his big mouth, invite Phantom to play a round on his video game, driven by some instinct or by some longing he couldn’t put a name to. Phantom was just…he was his missing half. Being around him felt right. It wasn’t that crazy that Fenton had missed him, right? That they had stayed up nearly all night talking, playing, and joking? That Phantom visited almost every night, that they were rebuilding something new between them?

There was just so much to talk about, so many things to share, so many things to experience together in ways they never had as one. A month had passed with the two of them growing closer, and Fenton was losing his mind, he was sure of it.

What else but madness would have made him meet Phantom’s kiss with one of his own?

He had gotten caught texting Phantom. There was just so much they needed to figure out about what they were feeling… Lancer had confiscated his phone and moved Fenton to the front of the class where Lancer could “keep an eye on him.”

A fourth football landed without Lancer’s eye seeing a thing.

Fenton groaned and dropped his forehead onto the desk.

“Head up, Mr. Fenton,” Mr. Lancer ordered without looking.

Amazing, Fenton thought irritably as he lifted his head. He knows and sees everything except—

An invisible hand seized Fenton’s wrist, cold metal plates painfully squeezing his arm. He drew in a sharp breath. Before he could call out a warning, the ghost flew above his desk, lifting Fenton by his arm until they were at eye-level several feet from the ground.

Skulker, fully visible now, grinned viciously at Fenton’s stunned face.

“Crime and Punishment!” Mr. Lancer yelped.

The other students jumped from their seats, screaming. They ran for the door, but Skulker activated something by flicking the fingers of his free hand, and green electric bars sprang up in front of the door and the windows. The students cried out in fear and backed away from the bars. Fenton grabbed the arm holding his wrist and tried to pull himself up or at least relieve the strain on his shoulder and wrist. He grunted, kicked his feet, but he couldn’t manage a chin-up one-handed. He could barely do them with two.

“A bit overkill,” Skulker mused aloud, staring at Fenton’s classmates, “I have my bait, I don’t need hostages, but perhaps one of you lot can perform a service for me.”

“Skulker,” Fenton growled under his breath, trying to slip his voice underneath the fearful screams and yelling so he would only be heard by Skulker, “what the heck are you doing? You know I’m not half-ghost anymore, let me go.”

Skulker laughed, a cruel, creepy sound due to the robotic speakers and the natural echo in his voice. Fenton’s classmates shrank back from him. “You now serve a new purpose for me, whelp.” He swung Fenton by his wrist, Fenton’s legs swinging freely, and then, before Fenton could squeak a protest, he tossed him.

Fenton cried out and tried uselessly to activate powers that were no longer there. It took five seconds. Five seconds of falling before he landed on the cement floor. 

Air burst from his lungs. Pain and shock exploded from his back. He tried gasping in a breath, but his lungs didn’t seem to be working. He choked before managing a ragged inhale.

Skulker’s boot pressed down on his chest before he could roll over and curl into a ball. Fenton groaned, his back screaming, but he wrapped his fingers around the boot and tried to shove it off. He couldn’t. Without ghost powers, he was too weak. He was too disoriented. Had he hit his head? He thought his back took the full brunt of his fall, but his head might have bounced back.

Add super healing to the list of powers I wish I had right now, he thought woozily.

He had never hurt so much during a ghost fight, not even when he had been thrown through buildings. He had made craters in pavement and climbed out of the pit with only a sore shoulder. If this was the sort of dangers full humans faced during every ghost attack…

No wonder they always ran away.

Except Sam and Tucker… Fenton pried his eyes open and turned his head toward his classmates, desperately searching for the friends he knew wouldn’t be there. They shared a math class with Valerie during final period. Skulker must have waited until Fenton was isolated from any other ghost hunter who could help. But why?

“Where is your communications device?” Skulker asked him.

Fenton turned his head and blinked stupidly up at him. “What?”

“Your…” Skulker snapped his fingers together as he searched for the word he needed, “rectangular device. Phone. Phone! Yes, that was it. Where is your phone, whelp?”

Fenton tipped his head back and looked toward Lancer’s desk. It was probably there somewhere, but…he could see Mr. Lancer and a few of his classmates huddling behind the desk. He lowered his chin and looked incredulously up at Skulker again. “That’s why you’re attacking me? My phone? What the hell do you need my phone for?”

“Dude,” one of the jocks, Brad, hissed. “What the fuck are you doing, Fenton? Shut up and do what he says!”

Skulker snorted—or mimicked one, anyway. “Better do as the other whelps advise, child. You’re a great deal more delicate without your powers.”

Fenton hissed in a breath, but his classmates would hopefully miss the implication—if he spoke fast enough and gave them something else to think about. “Tell me what you want my phone for, first.”

Brad groaned.

“He’s a dead man,” Kwan whispered.

“To contact your ghost half, why else?” Skulker said disdainfully.

Fenton wanted to scream. “I don’t have one!” he said, the words almost tripping over each other as they rushed from his mouth.

“What?” Skulker’s menacing tone softened into something almost civil. “A phone? You don’t have a phone? Perhaps I can make one for you. I understand these devices are important to human development. And it would serve my purposes to be able to reach one ghost child through the other.”

“Stop—Damn it, Skulker! I don’t have a ghost half!” Fenton tipped his chin up and raised his voice. “I am one hundred percent human!”

“Oh yes, now,” Skulker grumbled bitterly. “You two have cheated me of a unique specimen.”

“Wow, sorry,” Fenton deadpanned.

“What the fuck are they talking about?” Dash demanded. He tried to whisper it, but his high-pitched voice easily carried his words to Fenton and Skulker. “What the hell is a ghost half? Why is that robot ghost after Fenton?”

Fenton glared pointedly up at Skulker, trying to communicate a silent “look what you did” reprimand, but Skulker only moved his head in a way that made Fenton think the tiny ghost inside it was rolling his eyes. A blade shot out of the armor’s wrist. Skulker touched the flat side to Fenton’s cheek, and Fenton drew in a breath, the cold touch of the blade spreading throughout his body.

“Your phone, whelp,” Skulker said, once again sounding menacing. A few of Danny’s classmates wailed in terror.

Fenton snapped, “I don’t have it!”

Skulker twisted the blade, the edge pressing into Fenton’s cheek. “Last chance, whelp.”

“Wait!” Lancer stood from behind his desk. Paulina and a couple other students stood with him, looking petrified. “Stop, stop!” He lifted Fenton’s phone above his head. “I have it! You can have it if you release him.”

“No, I don’t think I will.” Skulker blade moved away from Fenton’s cheek, however, allowing Fenton to breathe a little easier. “Awaken it for me.” Skulker’s false lips spread into a wicked grin. “We shall be making a little phone call…”

Fenton narrowed his eyes.

“Uhh…” Lancer began, uncertainly. “It’s, uh, it’s asking for some sort of password?”

“His password is numerical!” Mikey called from within the crowd of students clustered around the door. “A pin! Seven-eight-nine-zero.”

“Hey!” Fenton cried. “How do you know that?”

“You have other things to worry about, Fenton!” Kwan reminded him pointedly.

Lancer typed in the pin number and then stared down at the phone like he was facing down a complex puzzle. “How, uh, do I make a phone call on this thing?”

“Oh here!” Paulina snatched the phone from Lancer’s hands. “You just press the little phone icon, see?” She glanced up at Skulker and seemed to shrink in on herself, her confidence faltering. Fenton couldn’t really blame her. He remembered being terrified of Skulker the first few times he had met him too. “Um, what’s the phone number?”

“Child?” Skulker nudged Fenton’s cheek with the flat of his blade again.

Fenton kept his head turned toward Paulina and glared at Skulker from the corner of his eyes. “What?”

“The phone number, human child.”

Fenton snorted. “You haven’t said what you want to call him for yet.”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“Spell it out for me.”

“In my efforts to study my prey’s habits, I have noticed the two of you getting…” Skulker tilted his head, “closer, shall we say? You have been spending a great deal of time together, lately. I don’t know how far things have gotten, but the signs of a ghost in love are fairly obvious. That is a weakness I can use. You are a weakness. Once he knows I have you, my prey will come to me.”

“You should change your name to Stalker,” Fenton grumbled, blushing.

The blush worsened as his classmates made little “ohhh” sounds of dawning understanding.

“Fenton has a ghost boyfriend,” Mikey said, his laugh too strained to be natural. “That must be what they mean by ghost half!!”

“Idiot,” Kwan groaned. “If this ghost doesn’t kill him, his parents are going to.”

Dash cupped his hands over his mouth and shouted, “Hey, Fenton, maybe you should dump your kinky ghost boyfriend before you get the rest of us killed over it!”

“Oh, fuck you!” Fenton shouted back, turning into the blade in order to glare at his classmates. “We’re not dating! We just kind of—He just…it’s complicated!"

Skulker snapped, “Whelp!” and turned Fenton’s head with the blade until Fenton’s glare had resettled on the ghost. “His phone number. Now!”

“No!” Fenton snapped back. “Forget it! I’m not going to let you use me as bait so you can—”

He cut off with a shriek of pain as the point of Skulker’s blade sliced across his cheek. Hot blood gushed from the wound and spilled toward his ear. He writhed under Skulkers boot and reached up to cover the wound, but Skulker’s blade slapped his hands away. Fenton’s classmates were screaming again, the tentative calm Fenton’s behavior had inspired shattered by the sight of so much blood. Tears streamed from Fenton’s eyes. Skulker slapped his hands away again before he could touch his face.

“You!” the hunter pointed at Paulina who quailed and shrank into Lancer. He protectively wrapped his arms around her. “Those devices can capture photos, can they not? Take a picture of this and send it to my prey as well.”

Paulina, trembling, shrieked, “I don’t know the number!”

Skulker looked down pointedly at Fenton. “Shall I give you a matching gash on your other cheek or will you cooperate for once, whelp?”

Fenton glared up at him and gritted his teeth against the pain.

“Look through his contacts!” Mikey shouted.

“Stop—” Fenton gasped in pain as speaking stretched the wound in his cheek. “—Stop helping him!”

“We’re not helping him we’re helping you, you suicidal maniac!” Dash shouted back.

Paulina’s hands shook as she maneuvered through Fenton’s phone. “What would the contact be? What—what do—h-how will I know which one is…?”

“He was texting someone during class,” Lancer said quickly. “That may be your best bet.”

“Mr. Lancer!” Fenton protested.

“Alright!” Paulina nearly sobbed. “Alright, I got it!” She pressed the phone to her ear, and Fenton squirmed under Skulker’s boot.

“Paulina, don’t!” he pleaded. “He’s just going to spring Skulker’s trap!”

“Hello?” Paulina gasped into Fenton’s phone, apparently ignoring Fenton. “Are you Danny’s ghost boyfriend, er ghost half? Yes, my name is Paulina, you have to come quick, there’s a ghost here!” Fresh tears escaped her eyes. “I don’t know his name!”

Skulker grinned. “He’ll know me once you take our picture.” He nudged Fenton’s chin with his blade, forcing his head to turn toward Paulina so his right cheek rested on the floor and the wound on his left cheek was exposed to the air. “Behave, child. Let him see the injury.”

“Uh, hold on,” Paulina told Phantom, “he wants me to take a picture…I don’t know! I’m just doing what I’m told!”

Fenton glared at Skulker from the corner of his eyes as best he could. “You’re a real piece of work, you know that?”

“I know.” Skulker grinned viciously down at him. “It’s part of the fun.”

Fenton heard the camera on his phone make an artificial shutter sound and clenched his jaw, the wound on his cheek shrieking.

“O-okay,” Paulina stuttered. “I’m sending it.” She pressed the phone to her ear again. “Did you get it yet? Danny’s bleeding really bad. If you can find Danny Phantom, tell him we need his help!”

Skulker tipped back his head and laughed. “Yes! Tell Phantom to come at once!”

“Oh!” Paulina exclaimed. “You got it? Yeah, it’s a lot of blood, but—” Her expression froze. Her eyebrows furrowed and she pulled the phone away from her ear so she could glare at it. “He hung up on me!”

Skulker chortled. “Excellent! He will rush over here at his fastest speed, don’t you think, human whelp?”

“Probably,” Fenton bit out through his clenched teeth.

Skulker removed his boot from Fenton’s chest, and Fenton didn’t waste any time rolling onto his stomach. He frantically pushed himself onto his hands and feet and scrambled toward his classmates huddled by the door. They backed away from him like he had some sort of disease. Skulker fired something at him—a net—and Fenton crashed to the ground again. He screamed his frustration and struggled against the ropes. Kicking. Pulling. Twisting.

“Damn it!” he howled.

Skulker laughed delightedly at his efforts. He stomped toward Fenton, his mechanical boots making hissing, clicking noises as he approached. “I see you are as fierce as ever, whelp.” He grabbed ahold of the net and lifted Fenton into the air. Fenton hissed as his weight caused the thin ropes to bite into his skin. “But woefully weak. I wonder…if I tied to you to your other half, would you slow him down?” His grin grew more vicious. “That would make for an interesting game.”

Fenton wiggled in the net, trying to get comfortable as he glared at Skulker. “You’ll have to catch him first.”

“It’s only a matter of time, now. His protective instincts and weakness for you shall be his downfall this day.”

Fenton growled through his teeth and kicked Skulker’s chest as best he could through the net.

Skulker snorted. “That tickled…”

“Are you guys sure this was a good idea?” Nathan asked anxiously. “I mean, inviting another ghost here? Isn’t that just going to result in this classroom turning into a battlefield?”

Fenton’s classmates murmured uneasily to each other.

“Not if Phantom gets here first,” Dash declared, his voice only trembling slightly. “He beat this ghost before! He can do it again, no problem!”

“Would you like to tell them, or shall I?” Skulker asked Fenton in an almost conversational tone.

Fenton scowled at him and slumped in his unwelcome hammock. All of his and Phantom’s efforts to keep whatever was building between them secret until they could figure things out for themselves had just been shattered by Skulker’s attack. “Fine,” he grumbled. “Go ahead. They’ll find out when he gets here, anyway…”

Skulker threw his arms outward, Fenton and his net swinging from his fist. Fenton hissed his name in complaint, but Skulker ignored him. “I am Skulker!” Skulker declared in a ringing voice they probably heard from several classrooms down. “The greatest hunter in all the realms! I have vowed to capture the ghost child known as Danny Phantom, and now thanks to all of you and Phantom’s other half…” Skulker raised the net and grinned victoriously at Fenton’s scowling face, “my prey is at this moment speeding toward my trap…”

The quiet that fell over Fenton’s classmates was deafening, tension adding an oppressive pressure to the air so that it felt like Fenton was suffocating.

It was broken by Paulina.

“No!” she screamed. Fenton flinched, assuming her reaction had to do with him and Phantom’s feelings for each other, but Paulina proved him wrong as she fumbled with Fenton’s phone. “No, no, no!” She pressed the phone to her ear. “Pick up, pick up, pick up! Don’t come here, Ghost Boy! Don’t come!”

Skulker laughed. “It’s far too late for that! I have studied my prey well. His temper is always at its most irrational when one he cares for has been harmed.”

Fenton pushed against the confines of his net again. “You bastard,” he growled.

“It’s just Fenton,” Dash said weakly. “Phantom wouldn’t risk everything just for Fenton, would he?”

“But Danny is his ‘other half,’” Mikey pointed out. “That’s what the robot called them. It might be a ghost thing? Danny could be special to him.”

“What, like soulmates?” Kwan asked, sounding almost intrigued.

“It’s Fenton!” Dash gestured at Fenton’s hunched form inside the net. “Just look at him! There’s no way he could be Phantom’s…other half. Soulmate. Thing. No!”

Others murmured their assent.

Fenton groaned. “I can’t decide if being called Phantom’s soulmate is better or worse than the alternative,” he whispered.

“Better,” Skulker whispered back. He lifted his other arm and stared at the screen on his wrist, only partially listening to the humans. “It’s far more amusing.”

“Yeah, for you.”

“Excuse me?” Amanda shoved Dash’s shoulder and pointed at Fenton. “Danny can’t be Phantom’s soulmate?’ Who here has been acting like a total badass? Who just bantered with a ghost while they were threatening him? Who got his cheek slashed because he was trying to be a hero? Like, uh, hello? Are you guys blind? They’re practically the same person!”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Fenton groaned.

Skulker chortled.

“Fenton is nothing like Phantom!” Dash objected, sounding offended.

Fenton struggled in his net and searched the classroom for signs of Skulker’s trap. The only thing Skulker had activated were the glowing bars in front of the door and windows, but that was just to keep the humans trapped in the room, wasn’t it? That was why they only blocked physical exits and not the walls or ceiling.

Fenton narrowed his eyes. None of his classmates had actually touched the bars, they had only backed away from them. Skulker might have used the bars for the fear factor, not as a true barrier, and if that were the case, it made sense for them to only block the door and windows. He only needed to stop the humans from getting or receiving help.

“Hey!” Fenton shouted. “Someone run through those bars and get Sam and Tucker!”

His classmates stared incredulously at him. None of them moved an inch.

“It’s far too late for that as well,” Skulker said gleefully. “My prize shall be here in five, four, three, two…” he paused dramatically, “one.”

Phantom flew through the ceiling, his hands already coated with green energy. His head jerked left and right as his eyes searched the room, coming to a stop on Fenton in his net. His eyes widened and his jaw clenched. Fenton swore. His classmates shouted, some cheering Phantom’s name, others screaming for him to run, but Phantom’s eyes narrowed and he looked too pissed to think about running.

“Skulker,” he growled, his glare moving toward Skulker, “let him go.”

“That would be counterproductive.” Skulker lifted Fenton in his net and gave it a little wiggle. Fenton grimaced as he swayed. Phantom’s gaze jerked back to him. Something dropped to the floor, but Phantom’s eyes had become fixated on Fenton again. “If you want him, Ghost Child, come and get him.”

Phantom bared his teeth.

“Don’t do it!” Dash shouted.

Phantom shot forward, one fist pulled back for a truly epic punch. Skulker floated back a few steps, and as soon as Phantom flew over the space where they had been standing, a beam of light shot up from a small cube on the floor. Phantom’s eyes widened. Fenton didn’t understand until a vortex began to pull Phantom down into the cube.

“The Fenton Thermos,” Fenton gasped.

“Inspired by it,” Skulker corrected. “I have endured the indignity often enough to replicate its effects.”

Phantom fought against the pull, struggling to fly out of its range, but the cube floated off the ground and followed his movements. The tip of his spectral tail touched the cube, and in moments it sucked him in completely.

“Phantom!” Fenton and his classmates shouted. He struggled against his net, pulling on the ropes and kicking his feet outward.

Skulker laughed his triumph as he walked toward the cube. Fenton stared in horror at the little black box, his chest aching. Phantom had been captured because of him. It wasn’t over, not by a long shot, but…it wasn’t looking good. Skulker bent down and picked up the cube. He looked between it and Fenton, a wide, vicious grin splitting his face.

Fenton glared at him. “What?”

“How long has it been, human child?” Skulker asked him. “Two years?”

“Just about,” Fenton mumbled.

“It has been a long hunt…”

It’s not over yet, Fenton thought. He tried fitting his fist through the gaps between ropes, but it was no good. The holes were too small. “You cheated!”

Skulker’s eyes narrowed. “Cheated?”

“Cheated!” Fenton repeated.

“I baited and set a trap!”

“You cheated!” Fenton looked at his classmates. They were muttering and staring at the black cube in Skulker’s hands like they had just witnessed something impossible. “Right, guys? He cheated!”

They stared back at Danny with haunted eyes until Dash surged forward, pointing angrily at Skulker, and shouted, “Cheater!”

Starr gasped and exclaimed. “Yes! Cheater!” Her voice took on a practiced tone, and she chanted, “Cheat-er, cheat-er!” until the rest of the class caught on and began to chant it with her.

“I did not cheat!” Skulker yelled, offended, but the class continued chanting. He growled viciously, growing increasingly infuriated by the witnesses to his victory calling foul. It was exactly the kind of pride snatching maneuver Fenton had hoped for, and he waited anxiously to see if Skulker would take the bait.

He did.

“FINE!” Skulker roared. He lifted his arm higher and glared at Fenton as the other students quieted and shrank back from him. “I shall give you and your other half one last chance, whelp.” Slowly, he spread his metal lips apart in an angry grin. “I believe you know how this game is played. Let’s see how well Phantom can keep you alive when he’s tethered to you.”

Fenton sucked in a breath. It wasn’t unexpected, given Skulker’s previous comments, but all the same it was frightening, being hunted. He looked at his classmates. They were his only chance to leave a message, and he shouted, frantic, “Tell Valerie!” before electricity arced through the net into his body. He screamed, arching his back, before everything went mercifully black.

 I would absolutely love to continue this as an actual short story. Like, you’ve all heard of “Danny’s classmates taking a field trip into the Ghost Zone,” now get ready for “Danny’s classmates leading a rescue attempt into the Ghost Zone to free Phantom and his other half/boyfriend Danny!” Ahh it would be so much fun. Valerie would place herself in charge (because she’s actually been through this before, and because she won’t say why they all assume its because she once dated Phantom too which pisses her off) and she and Sam would butt heads a bit on what to do. Tucker would 100% brag about how much he knows about the GZ to Dash and friends like “yeah, that’s right, I’m a badass” but they’re all still reeling over the idea Phantom is 1) gay 2) dating Fento-loser.

Phantom and Fenton, meanwhile, are doing their best to stay alive on Skulker’s island while also dealing with the romantic tension between them.

I would absolutely love it. I have no idea how I would pull it off. Action scenes are my weak point, and I’m not entirely sure how I would sneak all these kids past the Fenton parents, if Jack and Maddie should even be told, if Lancer should go with the kids, or even if they could all fit in the Specter Speeder. RIP my idea lol. I think I might put it up on Ao3 just as a potential story some day? I’m not sure. It needs work, but I made leavemyelevator-alone wait long enough for this prompt lol

[amarimaryllis]

The Sun’s Incarnation (Ushijima x Reader)

Pairing: Ushijima/Reader

Prompt/Summary: The love between the two of you was not meant for this lifetime. Alternatively, Ushijima is a demon slayer, and you’re the unlucky demon that fell in love with him.

Tags: Angst, Demon Slayer AU, Reincarnation AU

Note: I used she/her pronouns for the reader

Warnings: Angst, Death, Mild Violence

The shop was always empty in the dead hours of the night. You couldn’t blame the people for being absent during those hours. The cold air bites at the skin of those who dare walk out, and the moon barely gives any guiding light for those who dare stumble out in the dark. It was better for you that way. Having no customers to serve meant that you could just sit in one spot, and you’d still get paid. It also meant the hunger that swirled in your stomach would not tempt you to sink your teeth into the flesh of the unlucky soul that dared to cross the path of a starving demon.

It gets monotonous with the lack of life in the restaurant, but monotony is a grim reality that came with being immortal. You’ve grown accustomed to the emptiness that settles itself in the confines of your chest, and you’ve tried all that you can to fill that void, but nothing ever really worked. Maybe this was the price of power, but even then, no power on earth could rival the dreadful feeling of loneliness.

You’re disturbed from your thoughts when the door slides open, a tall figure appearing from the freezing darkness that hugged around the restaurant’s warm light. A gust of cold wind comes from the open door, and if you were human, you might’ve shivered from the autumn wind.

“Welcome to Sakanoshita.” You greet with a smile as you try to hide your annoyance. You guess that there were still humans out there who did not value their life, and this man was solid evidence of that. What kind of idiot would walk around in the cold in a town rumored to be infested with evil spirits?

Your question is answered when the door closes and the man turns to look at you,

“I seek shelter from the cold,” He states with an air of confidence that didn’t match his fatigued figure,” And a warm bowl of noodles, if it’s not too much to ask.”

You would’ve rolled your eyes and told him that restaurants usually were meant to serve food so asking for a bowl of noodles is not too much to ask as long as you pay, but the fear that clawed at your mind stopped you from doing so. His clothes were a dead giveaway of what he was. His maroon haori, his dark uniform, and the blade perched at his hip were enough to make you feel threatened. Only a demon slayer could awaken the instinctive fear that lies within you.“Would any noodle do?”

“As long as it’s warm.” The tall man replies as he sits on one of the tables, the one closest to your booth.

“It’ll probably take some time.” You warn even if you know that you could easily whip up some noodles in a short time. You were doing all that you can to rid yourself of the demon slayer’s presence.

“Take as much time as you need.” The man waves off your fraudulent worries before he relaxes into the chair that seems to be too small for his large frame. “I am in no rush.”

“I’ll go ahead then.” You smile tightly before going to the back to prepare some noodles.

You could feel your fear grow with each step you took away from the man’s presence. You had no qualms about having to defend yourself from him, should he attack, but there’s always that part of you that worries. It was also unnerving how he barely gave you a glance. The tired man seemed to be too absorbed in his fatigue to second-guess your true nature. Perhaps he knew what you were, and he was just toying with you, lulling you into a false state of comfort before he slashes his blade through your neck in one clean swipe.

He did not.

Once the man got his noodles that took you almost an eternity to prepare, he ate it up like it was his first meal in a long time before he stood up, paid for more than what the noodles cost, and disappeared into the shadows of the unforgiving night.

You pray it was the last time you encounter the mysterious slayer. Funny how faithless creatures call on the power of the very gods that have forsaken them when placed in danger’s way. You would think the power that coursed through your veins would set you in a high free of worries, unyielding and arrogant in facing any creature that dared breathe in your direction. However, you should’ve known that anyone who dares defy the power of the heavens will soon meet their match.

The gods reject your prayer, or maybe it never even reached them. The prayers of sinners remain flightless and bound to earth, whispered into the sky only for darkness and oblivion to consume it. Whichever it was, it didn’t matter because a week passed, and the mysterious slayer reappears.

You set a bowl of soup in front of the man and he thanks you. You acknowledge him with a nod before you walk back to your booth. This was the part you hated most: sitting on a chair and wondering if the man was going to figure out what you were. He seemed pretty dense for a man meant to kill such elusive creatures.

“Why do you only work at night?” The mysterious man asks before he takes a sip of water.

You could feel the fear in you growing stronger. Had he figured it out? “How are you so sure I only work at night?”

“I drop by here in the mornings.” The man looks at you, his gaze not giving away any of his thoughts. “I never see you.”

“Why? Are you looking for me?” You attempt to fluster the man, maybe that would shut him up and veer his thoughts away from suspecting you. “After all, you won’t really notice my absence if you don’t seek out my presence.”

“I am.” The man admits, and your attempts on flustering him seem to backfire because now you’re the one who’s flustered, but at the same time afraid, as strange as it sounds. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

You give him the same answer you give to those who get the opportunity to ask. “Working at night pays more, and I have to do less because of the lack of customers.”

You motion to the empty seats surrounding the two of you. “You’re the only one who dares to walk through the dark streets of a town rumored to be infested with evil spirits.”

“I am armed.” The man pats the sword on his hip. “And I’m sure it’s not the spirits that will harm people like you and me.”

“Oh?” At this point, you were playing with fire. However, the monotony of immortality is slowly eating away at the rational part of your brain. The desire to feel something more than just emptiness was leading you to dangerous roads that most likely ended in blood and death. “Then what exactly will harm people like you and me?”

“Demons.” The man replies without a pause, his once dull eyes seeming to glow with a raging inferno of hatred and bloodlust. “Foul creatures that prey on vulnerable humans like you.”

“You speak as if you are not human.” You reply with a stable voice, but it’s taking all of your efforts not to run away.

“I am human, but I am not as weak as one.” The man’s unwavering confidence seeps into his words, and you’re almost tempted to rip him into shreds just to extinguish that flame in his eyes. However, you could tell that he meant every word, and he could easily prove himself if you attack. “However, you are. You shouldn’t be working this late at night. It’s dangerous for a woman, especially one unarmed.”

���So what if I am a woman?” You scoff. “I can still put up a fight.”

“I am not questioning your abilities.” The man replies. “I’m sure you can put up a fight, but you shouldn’t have to if you just put yourself out of danger.”

“Why are you so concerned?” You can’t help but scoff at the man. You just wanted to get this shift over with.

“There are demons lurking in this town.” The man replies, stoic and unyielding. “And I’d like to keep the deaths as low as possible.”

“How brave of you.” You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “Demons are but a tale to keep children in line.”

“I beg to differ.” The man replies. “Should a demon come your way, you’ll know just how horrible they are.”

You can feel your anger grow at his words.

“However, I’ll make sure I kill that demon before it lays a hand on any of the people in this town.”

“Do what you please.” You shrug. “By the way, I never got your name.”

“Why do you need my name?” The man questions, a brow raised questioningly.

“I’m going to gossip with a few ladies here and there about a man who goes to restaurants at the dead of the night and believes in demons.” You reply, sarcasm dripping off of every word.

“Ushijima Wakatoshi.” For the first time, you see the man smile.

Over the course of a few days, Ushijima’s late night visits become more frequent which led to you becoming more and more comfortable in his presence. His presence had breathed a fire into the cold emptiness that lay within your body, and you found yourself seeking his presence out more and more with each day that passes. Your relationship with the slayer was a friendship of sorts, a few conversations tossed around here and there before Ushijima departed into the night. However, that relationship took a turn during your weakest night.

The emptiness in your chest was not part of the promises that the demon offered you in your wintry deathbed. You should’ve known from the start that the price of rising from the ashes meant that nothing in this world could make you feel that burn again. The demon’s promises were as cold as the snow stained with your blood, if not colder, but you had deluded yourself into thinking that the promise of being reborn would breathe a new fire into you. Being placed at the brink of death had a funny way of clouding a person’s judgement.

It was at the moment, in the outskirts of the dark forest near the town, that Ushijima found you, mourning the death of your humanity and reminiscing the moments that led to it. The feelings had been bottled up for too long, and now the fragile glass that held you together was shattering violently. You were a shaking mess, tears staining your cheeks, blood coating your knuckles as you punched at the ground to feel something other than the void that was once your soul. Even then, the pain that throbbed through your knuckles wasn’t enough.

Ushijima pries you away from the ground and he pulls you to his chest. He doesn’t ask you to speak. He doesn’t ask you to do anything. He just lets you sob into his chest, cradling you in his arms as he runs his fingers through your hair in an attempt to comfort you. He wishes he could calm the storm within you, swipe a hand to alleviate the raging winds of sadness that stirs within you, raise a finger to silence the deafening thunder of regret that crashes within your soul, but could not. The gods despised creatures like you, and Ushijima realizes this as he watches the wounds on your knuckles heal at a speed foreign to the body of a mortal. Ushijima pretends to not see it as he removes his haori and drapes it across your trembling figure.

Ushijima brings you home, your meek voice guiding him as he carries you through the town. You did not have it within you to fight. You did not have it in you to think twice about the offer of being brought back home to the comfort of your bed that you did not even need. When you get there, Ushijima sets you down gently on your futon before sitting across from you, an arm’s distance away.

“I’m sorry for the trouble.” You whisper as you lean against the wall and hug your legs to your chest in an attempt to feel safer. You grip at Ushijima’s haori, pulling it tighter around you. A small voice in your head tells you to wonder about how many of your kind have stained the fabric with their blood, but you push it away because in this moment, nothing made you feel safer than the very thing that was meant to be a danger to your existence.

“Don’t apologize.” Ushijima is as straightforward as ever, and you’re not sure if the tears in your eyes are altering your vision, but you swear there’s a tenderness in his eyes that makes the unbeating muscle in your chest flutter. “Do you… Want to talk about it?”

You shake your head. You knew that if you spoke now, you’d let it all out. Something about Ushijima made you want to tell the truth, whether it was trust or foolishness, you did not want to find out. It almost makes you feel bad as you’re reminded of what Ushijima does as you look at the sheathed blade by his side, but you knew that you would feel worse if you had to die at his hands. You didn’t want to see the disgust that would take over his face if he found out that you were one of the very creatures that he swore to destroy. “Can you… stay?”

“If it’s alright with you.” Ushijima replies coolly, but the light blush dusting his cheeks gave away his feelings towards your proposition.

Silence hangs between the two of you like the wisteria that grows on the mountain. Its presence was overwhelming, and it displeased you greatly. You glance at Ushijima for a brief second before you just give it all up. Courtesy be damned, you were lonely and fate was dangling an opportunity not to be right in front of you.

“Ushi—“ Your attempt to call out for Ushijima dies in your throat halfway through. It was pathetic. You thought you were done mourning what has been long dead, but for some reason, without a trigger, without a warning, you’re back suffering through the same feelings again. It wasn’t fair.

Ushijima immediately scoots over to you before he guides you to lie down on the futon. He holds you close to his chest, his arms wrapping around your waist as you sob into the juncture of his neck and shoulder. “Sleep, it’ll help.”

You didn’t know which deity had gazed upon you and thought you deserved a semblance of mercy, but that night, sleep washes over your body as you surrender yourself completely in the demon slayer’s arms.

Ushijima awakens before you do. The sun was still out of sight, and you were still fast asleep. As much as he wanted to stay with you, he had a mission to fulfill in the other town. At least, that’s what he tells himself as he shuts your curtains tight to make sure that neither sunlight nor moonlight will filter through your windows. He knew it was wrong, whatever it was he felt about you. Fondness? Sympathy? Affection? Love? Whatever it was, he knew that he couldn’t feel that way towards you. He had sworn to kill your kind after all. However, for some reason, he can’t seem to do it with you. His hand remains far away from his blade, and the usual urge that Ushijima had to swipe a demon’s head clean off their neck was absent.

What the hell made you any different?

Ushijima shakes his head, hoping that the thoughts in his head would loosen its grip on his consciousness and fall out into the air and fade into the dark. It doesn’t work, but it doesn’t stop Ushijima from trying as he walks out of your house and into the blanket of the cold morning.

The next time you see Ushijima, he is draped in casual fabrics. His demon slayer uniform is out of sight and the sword perched at his hip is nowhere to be seen. In his hands, however, was a bouquet of gardenias.

“There’s a festival later.” Ushijima says with a hint of uncertainty in his voice, and you’re almost tempted to tease him for the blush dusting his skin and for the lack of his usual air of unwavering confidence. “I would like to go there with you.”

It’s your turn to be flustered, an unfamiliar heat creeping through your cheeks as Ushijima stretches out the bouquet of flowers to you.

“Gardenias?” You gently grab the flowers from Ushijima’s grip before you give him a teasing smile. “Not my favorite, but they’re pretty.”

Ushijima smiles at your teasing. He has been around you enough to know your little quirks. “The woman at the shop told me they were fitting.”

You don’t understand what Ushijima means, but you don’t bother questioning it. “So, shall we?”

Ushijima smiles as he holds out an arm for you to take.

The music from the band rings all the way to the quiet part of town. Each note thrums in the air and you can almost feel your heart beating in time with the faint boom of the drums. The night is filled with life, and for the first time in your immortal lifetime, you are reminded of the long-forgotten beauty of the things that live under the sun. Ushijima, whether he knew or not, had given you a piece of the life that you have long turned your back on, and in that moment, as you sit beside Ushijima in the grassy landscape, you almost wish you could stay until the sun rises on you again.

“What are we, Ushijima-san?” You whisper out, not wanting to disturb the serenity of the night. You fear that if you spoke louder than a whisper, the shadows would awaken and devour the life that floated through the midnight sky.

“I seek out your company even when I am with others.” Ushijima replies as you both continue to observe the town from a distance, the slowly dwindling orange lights made it look like the embers of a dying fire. “And I can only hope you feel the same.”

Monotony can make even the most simple things feel like a momentous event. Simple words spoken by a simple man, nonetheless, they succeed in making your insides flutter with a felicity unknown to your immortal personage. “And if I do?”

“Then perhaps I would ask if I could kiss you.” Ushijima turns to look at you with an unfamiliar glint in his eyes, swirling like liquid pools of gold under the glimmer of the moonlight.

You attempt to swallow your nerves as you turn to gaze at Ushijima who sits beside you. Your voice still comes out soft and unstable, however, there’s an undeniable certainty in the words that leave your lips. “And if I allow you to?”

Ushijima brings his face closer to yours until your noses are a hair’s breadth away, his warm breath dancing on your lips as he moves to engulf your cheeks in his large calloused hands. “Then I would be the happiest man alive.”

His lips, his hands, his body, everything about Ushijima Wakatoshi is warm. The way his mouth moves against yours feels like the fire you have long forgotten when you decided to rise like a phoenix from the ashes. It dances through your interlocked lips, like a mortal breathing in the sun as he offers a graceful dance to the god of fire. It burns you, his touch, but it makes you feel alive. As Ushijima wraps his arms around your waist, and as he pulls you into his sturdy chest, you forget.

You forget that the fire he breathes into the empty shell of your body is the very same fire that is meant to snuff out whatever light is left within you.

The last time you see Ushijima Wakatoshi, it’s in the forest of the other town.

A brother in need had sent a letter to your domicile, seeking your presence in the mountains that he dwelled in. Oikawa Tooru was the one who showed you how to live after you were reborn. Your creator could not, and so the brunette was the one to fill that spot in. You owed Oikawa your life, and although it was life you used to regret living, it was a life that had brought you to Ushijima

Oikawa had been told that a group of demon slayers were sent to his mountain, and he sought your help. Apparently, the Sun Breather was one of the slayers they had sent. It was alarming to any demon, powerful or not, because every single one of you feared the sun, and to face the man who breathes its rays is even more horrifying. No one knew what he looked like. No demon ever crossed his path and lived to tell the tale.

Oikawa was afraid, and he sought your company.

This leads to your current situation, lingering in the trees with Oikawa across from you as you listened to the growing sound of footfalls against the snow. The moon is nowhere to be seen, and you can only hope that the shadows are enough to conceal you.

“Come out demon, you have nowhere to run.” The familiar voice makes you freeze in your position up in the trees. “There’s no use hiding when I’m going to kill you anyway--”

Oikawa dodges in time, and he hops to the next tree. Another slayer had attempted to kill him from the back.

You, however, are not as lucky as Oikawa is.

A slayer comes up from behind you and manages to slash through your arm. You fall onto the ground, bleeding profusely out into the cold snow, and it almost feels like you’re back at your deathbed.

You don’t lift your head, you didn’t want to see the look on Ushijima’s face when he confirms that it is actually you. You’ve tried so hard to conceal who you are in order to lengthen whatever time you had with the man, and you were not ready to lose him just yet.

“So you’re the Sun Breather.” Oikawa stands protectively over you. “I should have known.”

“Oikawa.” Ushijima nods in acknowledgement as the other slayers appear behind him, including the one who had slashed through your arm. “I never thought you would end up becoming one of them. You were a promising slayer after all.”

Oikawa laughs as he nudges at you with his foot, a silent plea for you to start running. “You brought quite a lot of slayers, I’m flattered.”

“And it seems you’ve brought a friend as well.” Ushijima turns to look at you, taking your figure in properly before he freezes. It couldn’t be, right? The owner of Sakanoshita said you were visiting a friend in another town. Ushijima clears his thoughts, and he hopes he is wrong. However, no matter how much he pretends not to see, he can’t deny the familiar figure. He had been around you enough to know you by the lingering traces of your presence.

“I’m giving you the chance to walk away, Sun Breather.” Oikawa hisses as he pulls you to stand up.

You cover your face with your hair, ignoring the world around you as you focused on mending the wound left by the slayer’s blade.

“Unfortunately, I cannot do the same for you.” Ushijima draws out his blade.

And with that, you and Oikawa break out into a run.

The snow is cold against your feet, you don’t feel it, but you remember the feeling very well. If there’s one thing from your past that you remember, it’s the feeling of the unforgiving cold that nips at your skin, eating away at your warmth until there’s nothing left in you but the raging winds of winter.

You can hear the footsteps, the crunch of the snow under the weight of the slayers that are sprinting to catch up with the two of you. There’s an undeniable fear clawing at your chest, devouring all rational thought and cultivating the demonic instincts that you wished you could destroy.

But alas, the consequence of power is beginning to catch up, and the gods have grown tired of your defiance. Death would not let you escape this time around. You have defied the heavens once, and those proud creatures would not let you disobey them again.

Oikawa stumbles as a slayer cuts him down, and he screams. He shouts at you to continue running, to not look back, and to save yourself from the fate that he knew he was about to suffer.

You can hear the sickly sound of the blade meeting skin, and you run. You run as fast as you can, as far as you can from the snowy mountain stained with the blood of the man you once called brother. Fear courses through your veins and you can only hope that none of them catch up to you.

And if ever they do, you pray that it wasn’t Ushijima to do so.

You are brutally reminded that the gods have no need for your prayers. They did not need the worship of a faithless creature. You trip over a branch concealed in the snow, and you’re sent rolling down a steep incline. The rocks dig into your body as you crash down into a snowy part of the mountain that overlooks the town. Crimson bleeds through the fabric that hugs your figure, and your blood stains the pristine snow.

You hear footstep as you lie defeated on the ground, and you shut your eyes as you surrender your fate to whichever slayer has found you. Redemption does not exist for beings like you. Only death can forgive you for defying it. There is no atonement for a sinner who does not accept their fate.

“Why are you giving up?”

You breathe out a chuckle. The gods really were cruel, of all that they could send to kill you, they sent the one that made you feel alive.

It was poetic, in a way. The man who breathed life into you would be the one to take it.

“It is my fate to die either way.” You mumble out as you trace the skies with your eyes, surrendering to its vastness. “Running away will only prolong my agony.”

“If someone else found you,” Ushijima kneels beside you, hand far away from the hilt of his blade. “Would you have given up this quick?”

“If someone else had found me,” You can feel a tear escape your eye. “I would’ve been long dead.”

“So you’re just going to die,” Ushijima lies down beside you, and you wonder if he can feel just how cold it was. You doubted that though, the man was practically an incarnation of the sun. Even the winter in your body died when brought close to his warmth. “Do you not care about what would happen to me?”

“You would not care.” You mumble out, your throat tightening and your head throbbing with the urge to sob. “I would’ve been just another demon dead.”

“But I would.” Ushijima sits up and brings you with him, gripping your arms as he looks into your eyes. This was the first time you’ve looked at him since the start of the chaos in this mountain. “I’ve always known. Ever since that time at the mountain, I knew.”

“Then why did you stay?” You could feel the tears flowing freely. You gripped at his haori, clenching your fingers tightly as your chest did. “Why didn’t you kill me? Why did you have to make me long for a life I cannot have? Why did you give me a taste of the sun when you knew it would kill me?”

Ushijima doesn’t speak as he wraps his arms around your sobbing form.

“Pathetic, don’t you think?” The laugh that escapes you is laced with bitterness. “I’m a fool for falling in love with someone I’m meant to resent.”

A chuckle rumbles through Ushijima’s chest and you wonder if he has gone mad. His grip tightens around you as he presses a kiss at the crown of your head. “Then I guess we are both fools.”

Hours pass and you are both silent, no one speaks, just having the other is enough. You listen to the beating of Ushijima’s heart, the sound lulling you into a state of calm that you haven’t felt in a while. For a moment, you both lose your identity. He is not the man who breathes the sun, and you are not the demon that brings death upon mankind. There was nothing in that moment that grounded you to the harsh reality of the world you lived in.

“Wakatoshi,” His name feels like a prayer as it falls from your lips. “I want to see the sun with you.”

You can feel Ushijima shaking. His breathing speeds up, and his heart starts beating faster. You can hear the sobs forming at his throat. “But… That would mean…”

You pull away from Ushijima’s chest and you move to cup his cheeks. “It’s okay.”

“I don’t want to lose you.” There are tears flowing down Ushijima’s cheeks as he leans into your touch. His heart mourns a death that hasn’t happened, and for a moment, you’re almost tempted to stay.

“They’ll kill you if you don’t kill me.” The smile on your face has an underlying tragedy underneath it. “And I don’t think you can raise your blade far enough.”

Ushijima’s eyes widen. “I could never raise--”

“I know.” You wipe the tears away with your thumbs. “So let me see the sun, okay? I’ve forgotten what it looks like.”

“Please,” Ushijima grips at your wrists. “Not like this.”

“One day, Wakatoshi.” You smile sadly. “A time will come where we can gaze upon the sun with no worries.”

“Please don’t do this.” Ushijima pleads with you, desperation evident in his words as he seeks to change the inevitable.

“There will be a lifetime for us, my love.” You run your fingers through his hair, you trace the features on his face, and you embed every inch of his face into your memory. “Maybe not today, but someday.”

You ease the wrinkles in between Ushijima’s furrowed brows. “Promise me you’ll find me?”

There is resignation in Ushijima’s eyes as he presses his forehead against yours. It is inevitable. The two of you can only make the most of what you are given, and you were not given much. “I would happily die a hundred deaths to reach the lifetime meant for you and I.”

You smile sadly. “Can I kiss you?”

“What if I say yes?” Ushijima thinks back to the festival as he gazes into your eyes.

You can feel a tear roll down your cheek. “Then I’d be the happiest woman alive.”

And as you kiss Ushijima, the skies begin to shift, the sun slowly rising in the horizon as dawn breaks in the distance. You never see the sun before you fade into the ashes you once escaped, but you didn’t have to. The only sun you needed held you in its arms, whispering confessions of love and promises of devotion.

Ushijima can only look at the rising sun with contempt. He hated how the very thing that gave him strength was what took away yours. He hated how you had to suffer. He hated how he had to fall in love with you in a world that would never accept it, but he relents.

The sun brings with it a hope so strong that it pulls Ushijima from his thoughts.

One day, he thinks to himself, the sun will shine on us again.

The sun is bright.

You were starting to think that hiking up a mountain during the summer was a bad idea. It’s not like you were the one who willingly brought yourself here. Oikawa was back from Argentina, and for some reason, the first thing he wanted to do was hike up a damned mountain. You don’t know where your brown-haired companion was, but you could care less. The view you got from this part of the mountain was a sight to behold.

The mountain overlooked the town. The skyscrapers looked like dots in the distance, and the city’s noise was unable to disturb the peace protected by the towering trees. As you breathe in the air and feel the sun kiss your skin, there’s an overwhelming sense of peace and recollection that floods through you.

Something about standing in that spot felt so familiar.

“Excuse me?”

You nearly trip off the edge at the sound of someone’s voice.

You turn to look at the culprit, ready to chew them out for almost sending you to your death. However, when you turn to look at the stranger, the words die at your throat.

You knew who he was, Ushijima Wakatoshi. One of the players in the Schweiden Adlers team. Someone Oikawa has always talked about with distaste.

However, you feel like you knew him more than just that. For some reason, as you look into his olive eyes, you feel like you’ve known him your entire life. And he probably felt the same because the next thing you know, the same words escape your mouths.

”Do I know you?”

A/N: Bringing back an old piece. I made this to explore a more poetic (?) writing style, and this was one of my practice fics before I wrote “All The World Drops Dead”. It’s also pretty angsty, and there’s barely any closure, but rest assured that I’ll probably be giving out fluffy fics soon cause angst is tiring HAHAGSGRHFHDJHSKS Also, I’ve posted this before (in my old acc) and I’m bringing it back cause this fic is dear to me. Anyway, I hope you guys liked this and thank you for reading 💖

[anightflower]

Come and Find Me

Chapter 3: Ring, Ring!

Things are heating up my loves! 

Spencer Reid x Reader 

Warnings: Mentions of Violence, swearing

Masterlist here

“Breaking news. After countless weeks of Quantico in fear, the murderer of five innocent women has been caught. Andrew Curtis, age 29 has been accused of first degree murder and will face trial in these upcoming weeks. Curtis was caught before laying his hands on his 6th victim, 24 year old Emily Bloise-”

You groaned, awakening to the sound of the TV blasting the news. You didn’t even remember turning it on before going to bed last night. Hell, you don’t even remember falling asleep. You pulled the blankets over your head to block out the noise, as you shifted your legs, you heard a jingling of chains and became aware of the cold clasped around your ankle.

Your body jolted fully awake and you shot up as everything came crashing back to you. You hadn’t been able to sleep last night, you were too nervous for your presentation tomorrow. You were meeting with the one and only Lila Archer. She had gotten word of your design company and was so impressed with your work, she had contacted you to meet with her to discuss designing her vacation “workspace” home in Florida. This was your first celebrity job that would most certainly put you in the big leagues if you got it right or put you six feet under if she hated it. So needless to say your brain would not shut down for the night. 

You had given up on the idea of falling asleep on the rock hard bed the hotel had provided you. Instead you had thrown on some shorts and one of Spencer’s oversized t-shirts you had stolen from him and made your way to get some snacks from the convenience store that was just up the block from your hotel. 

You cautiously made your way up the street, pepper spray in hand. It was 3am and you were no idiot. You were still haunted by the Andrew Curtis case, and you knew deep down so was Spencer. He had gotten you new pepper spray, a pocket knife, and a keychain alarm after the case. He made you promise to carry it everywhere you went and you had held to that promise. It was the haunted look in his eyes that had bothered you the most. 

The bell on the door let at a shrill ring as you entered the store. You gave a small smile and a wave to the man behind the register which he returned. It looked like you were his first customer in a while. 

You wondered the aisles waiting for a snack to catch your eye, when the bell rang again signaling that someone else had entered. You didn’t really pay much attention to it, as you were focused on your very important task at hand; salty or sweet. 

That’s when you caught movement out of the corner of your eye. It was a male silhouette. You struggled to make out any of his features. He had his hood up, with a ball cap pulled low to block his face. Yet even without seeing them, you could still feel his eyes on you. 

Ice went down your spine. Something was not right about this, and you always trusted your instincts. Grabbing a random bag of chips and some chocolate covered pretzels you walked quickly over to the register. You could feel the hooded guy’s eyes burning into you even as you handed your money over to the cashier. 

The cashier didn’t seem to pick up on your discomfort and took his merry time with your purchase. You rushed out of there as soon as he handed you your change and bag. 

You had the urge to call Spencer, but you didn’t want to wake him up if you were just being paranoid, he hardly got enough sleep as it was.

 Glancing over your shoulder, you realized there was no one behind you. You slowed down a bit and caught your breath, chastising yourself for letting your fear get the best of you.

That's when you felt a muscular arm encircle your waste. You began to thrash and scream, but a cloth was thrust over your mouth and with one inhale, you were met with darkness.

And now you were here; a dingy little room with soundproof walls and chains on your ankles.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You whispered glancing around. Your fear doubled when your eyes landed on the small TV near the foot of your bed. On it was reruns of the news footage for the Andrew Curtis case. The news footage recapturing every horrific detail. 

You got out of the bed slowly, trying to figure out how to move with the chains around your ankles, and began to take stock of anything that could be made a weapon, but the room did not have much. You paused when you realized this room held details that looked like they were taken right from your home. 

The gray and white duvet was exactly like the one you had on your bed in your apartment, it’s complex design hard to miss. The lamp on the bedside table, which was unfortunately glued down, was the exact replica of the one you had found while thrifting. How this person managed to get a similar one, you had no idea. You shivered when you realized there were cameras all over the room. One in each corner of the room, one on top of the TV and one glued to the bedside table. 

You slowly made your way towards a curtain blocking off something. You took a deep breath and ripped it open, only to find a tiny bathroom with a toilet, sink, and a door. You rushed to the door and attempted to open it. The doorknob rattled, it was locked.

 A voice boomed from a PA system above. “Aw my darling, you’re awake!” The voice was clearly distorted to sound deeper. You nearly jumped out of your skin. “I’m sorry your quarters aren’t that nice, but don’t worry, after we win the game, you and I are going to go someplace where you’ll have everything you’ve ever desired.”

“Who the hell are you?” You growled, your head whipping back and forth to see if there was anyone in the room. “Someone who cares very much about you. Someone who’s been in the shadows waiting for you for a long time.”

“Why don’t you come out and show your face instead of hiding behind a little PA voice system? Only a coward hides in the shadows.” You growled trying to seem unafraid, but your body trembled. 

“Oh no my sweet, there is a game afoot and as tempted as I am to reveal myself, I have something better in mind and I can’t have you ruining it.” He purred.

“Why the fuck am I here?” 

“Because darling, I had to open your eyes. You’ve been blinded by awe for your Doctor and you need to see the truth! He doesn’t deserve you, he can’t give you what I can! He leaves you so often, discarding you like a broken toy, only to return later to pick up the pieces.” The voice hissed.

If you weren’t so terrified you would have laughed in the man’s face. “You’re wrong. Spencer is the best thing that has ever happened to me.” You argued. 

“You’re a love-struck blind bitch who can’t see the truth.” The voice snarled. “He took so much away from me and I won't let him take you away too. He disgusts me. Stumbling around spewing bullshit and everyone regards him as a God. Guess I am the devil who has to show him the truth.”

________________________________________________________________

Reid glanced around your room, he hated how nothing seemed out of place. Part of him wished it was ransacked so he could find a clue as to who the unsub was, so he could see wrath or vengeance or some sort of motive, but there was nothing. 

Instead he just saw you everywhere. You liked to joke that your room was organized chaos. You had a large calendar above your cream-colored desk with important dates and meetings on it, color coded by importance, yet your desk had your design plans and pencils strewn about it.  Pictures of you and Spencer were taped up precariously around the calendar. Cliché photo-booth pictures that you had begged Spencer for, silly selfies you had taken of the two of you, and some pictures you had snuck of Spencer when he wasn’t looking.

Spencer ripped his gaze away as his heart shattered. He instead dragged his gaze around from that glancing at your bookshelves nearby. Design, fantasy, and sci-fi books were strewn all about the shelves. Spencer dragged his hand along the spines, remembering how you had teasingly refused to read any of Spencer’s “real-world” books. “The real world is too boring, I need my escapism and magic.” You said, sticking your tongue out at him as you had gone to the adult fantasy section of your favorite bookstore. Spencer had followed you, eager to explain the science magic tricks he knew.

Spencer shook his head, he needed to focus, yet every part of your room held a precious memory. He made his way to your bed, smoothing out the ornate pattern of your gray and white duvet. Your bed was made, each fluffy blanket folded and decorative pillow in place. 

The thing that truly hit Spencer was the lone stuffed animal that sat on the bed. It was a chubby bumblebee stuffed animal. Spencer had surprised you with it, after he witnessed you squeal in delight at it through a storefront window. You had claimed it was your most prized possession and that he would be your snuggle buddy when Spencer was away on cases.

Emily popped her head in through the door. “Hey Reid, any luck? I didn’t find anything.” 

Spencer glanced up at her. “No, everything looks normal. Not a damn thing out of place.” 

“Who’s that you’re holding?” Emily asked gently. 

“Reid. (Y/N) named him that, he would be by her side when I was away. (Y/N) joked that he protected her while I was away. A lot of good he did for her.” Spencer grumbled, shoving the bee back onto the bed. 

That’s when it caught his eye. The empty picture frame. The one that usually held the photo of you and Spencer, the one that had been mutilated and sent to him in a Curtis-like box. 

Spencer observed the frame, turning it this way and that. He heard the tiniest rustling sound of something moving within the frame. He opened the back of it and a folded up piece of paper fell out. 

Emily rushed to Spencer’s side to see what it said. Spencer slowly reached to pick up the paper and opened it.

Good job Doctor! You found something. Hopefully you find her on time! Ring, ring!

Emily looked at Spencer confused. “Ring, ring?” As if on cue Spencer’s phone began to ring. “What’s up, Garcia?” Spencer asked urgently.

“You need to get back to base, now.” Garcia sounded like she was near tears.

________________________________________________________________

You tried to tear your eyes away from the screen, but you couldn’t. The news reruns had turned into home videos that Curtis had made. You remember how Reid had explained that they had found the camera Andrew Curtis had used, but no physical films had been found. “Like they had disappeared.” He had said.

 It had driven him and his team nuts because Curtis had worked alone, so who could have taken the film?

“Aren’t they beautiful darling?” The voice crackled through the PA. “Drew and I put so much work into them. It’s a work of art that Picasso would envy.”

“It’s perverse and disgusting, and it proves how truly sick you and Curtis are!.” You yelled, holding back a sob.

“Yet, part of you can’t bear to look away can you? Have you noticed yet?” He purred. 

You didn’t answer, tears flowed down your cheeks. 

He chuckled at your silence.

 “Oh you have, haven’t you? I bet you thought it was a sick coincidence that they looked like you, huh?” He mocked. “Drew told me all about the haunted looks in your Doctor’s eyes. How weak your Doctor was, how your Doctor could never find them in time. They were always dead before they got there.”

“Spencer worked his ass off to catch Curtis. He managed to stop him and he saved so many more lives than what Andrew Curtis took. Spencer is not weak for not getting there in time. Curtis is sick for killing those girls in the first place!” You snarled through your tears. 

“Ah, ah, ah darling. Drew is not a sick man, he’s a hero. He was like the big brother I never had, he protected me, he made sure even when he was caught I was not. Nobody would know I was even involved with him, so I could achieve my goal of having you- of putting that ridiculous Doctor in his place.”

You remained silent, your body trembling at his confession. Whoever this man was he had worked with Andrew Curtis and he had done it just to get you.

“Every girl was a mere tool to prepare me for when I got my hands on you. Drew told me my time would come. Even when he was caught, we wrote letters back and forth, we had a code you see. Nobody really trusts communication between a prior serial killer and innocent boy, they’ll corrupt you apparently. But we found a way around those who separated us. You see, Drew, my guide, my  brilliant mentor, the man who taught me so many things, was right, now I have you right in my hands.” 

“What are you going to do?” You asked terrified.

“Play a game.” You could hear the smile in the man’s voice.

________________________________________________________________

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[lesbian-peanut-writer]

Unexpected

Finally!!! The first of the day 31 fics is finally finished. I’m terribly sorry that I’ve taken this long to get the story finished but it is finally here! this one was requested by @obsidian003 who was more than helpful when I got stuck and failed to find a way to move on with the story. They request Aizawa in the Zombie AU and Omegaverse, with the prompt  “Well looks like my cat found a kitten.” I hope you enjoy what I came up with and that the ending isn’t a disappointment. I owe you a part 2 for this one and I will get to it as soon as I can.

~Lesbian Peanut

Word Count: 2186

There was nothing worse than the world coming to its inevitable end, unless of course Zombies count. Do those suckers actually count? Yeah, they count! Zombies had never been a favourite of yours, movies and books that were centred around them had always left your nerves on edge, leaving you with a lingering sense of dread. The day the Zombie apocalypse rolled into town though, it didn’t exactly go the way you had always been expecting it to go down. Sure, people went into a dead panic and the shops started to get looted for anything that wasn’t locked down by desperate people but you didn’t actually panic like you had always thought you would. You had taken the whole thing within your stride, had just let it be but you had always been a more relaxed Omega than was normal and that was saying something. It only took a week minimum for the real terror of the whole situation to sink in, Alphas who had turned to Zombies.

You quickly came to prefer the movies or books where the only thing Zombies were ever known or interested in going after were the brains of other unsuspecting people and didn’t get a sickening sense of pride when it came time to hunt their prey. Alphas turning into Zombies appeared to create some form of strange chemical imbalance and primal awakening in them, changing them into these violent hunting machines that were driven by their instincts; creatures that couldn’t be reasoned with not even by an Omega. You had always thought that Alphas had been the ones who overpowered all the others and the apocalypse had only served to strengthen your reasons behind your beliefs. These primal Alphas spread terror faster than a wild fire could burn and caused far more destruction than any of the other Zombies around.

It turned out the Zombies weren’t the only problem people had to worry about, the living proved to be a rather large issue for people as well. While towns were being brought to their knees and turned to ghost towns by ravenous Zombies, refugee camps for survivors were being attacked by those who were still living which proved to be a pain in the arse. You had taken it upon yourself to travel from camp to camp, attempting to find one which was secluded enough from all the others and hoped that it wouldn’t be found by those who would seek to destroy the facility. It was because of this exact reason that you had recently taken to the road, rather than being tucked away in a well-known refuge and run the risk of being found by marauders. You weren’t exactly alone for your entire journey though; you had stumbled across some company while out and about.

“Hey, where do you think you’re running off to kitty?” You complained as you jumped up off the rock you were perched atop and stumbled along after the small feline as it gracefully walked away from you.

Your four-legged companion was nothing more than an ordinary run of the mill cat who just so happened to cross your path while out on the road. At first you had thought it was an abandoned or stray cat but the more time you got to spend with it, you started to think that wasn’t the case. The cat was beautiful, its grey coat with that distinct white patch across its chest seemed to be well groomed. It wasn’t until your third day with it when the small creature approached you and allowed you to pick it up, that you realised there was a small silver bell around its neck. The tiny bell had a soothing sound but one that wasn’t too loud and it blended perfectly with that cat’s fur.

“Hey, don’t leave…” You whined as you followed after the cat, your hands twisting into the hem of your shirt as you fought back the foreboding feelings of abandonment and loneliness once more.

The cat turned its head back at you, its tail swishing back and forth as it let out a soft mewl before disappearing through some bushes; it was as though the cat had been telling you to follow after it until it stopped. You didn’t bother to think the situation through for a second before pushing through the bushes and stumbling into the clearing. Your body instantly froze up on instinct, you hated the thought of being exposed to such a large area and yet you couldn’t help but follow after the cat.

The clearing before you held a vastity to it, the likes of which you hadn’t come across so far and that was enough to have your skin crawling. You couldn’t really complain though, the sight that greeted you was pleasing to the eye and there was a calmness in the air that almost had a sense of security slipping over you. The clearing was sparse, wild flowers scattered throughout the low grass and seeming to dance with the gentle breeze. You couldn’t help but to walk out into the clearing, taking in the beauty of the scene despite knowing the risk of being so exposed. There stood a tree further into the clearing, a singular tree which stood with such strength that you didn’t think anything would ever be able to uproot it. Your eyes flickered over the tree, taking in the way the bark of its trunk was held fast and the way the leaves swayed back and forth in the wind.

The cat meowed as it brushed against your leg, causing you to jump out of your skin as your heart rate rocketed out of control. You glanced down at the small feline and watched as it trotted away towards the tree, a new found spring in its step the closer it drew. You stumbled forwards after it, silent as you approached the tree and your eyes fell upon the man lying beneath. He looked rugged and worn, the bags beneath his eyes a tell-tale sign that this man hadn’t been given the chance to get proper sleep in a while. You hesitated as you approached him, your hands trembling as you took in his appearance; unsure as to whether you should be approaching this stranger.

His hair swirled and was lifted by the breeze, giving you a better view of his face while erasing any doubt you had. You shuffled closer to the stranger, your eyes lingering on the nasty scar that was etched into his cheek just below his right eye. You lifted your left hand cautiously, stretching it towards his face as you dared to invade this stranger’s personal space. His thick black hair was surprisingly soft to your touch, your fingers slipping up into his hair with ease before you brushed it back behind his ear. The moment your fingers brushed against his ear; the man’s hand shot up to clasp your small wrist tight within his grasp.

The snarl that left his lips as he moved fluently and toppled you backwards, had a violent shudder shooting down your spine. An involuntary yelp left your body as your back was slammed against the ground and your body was swiftly pinned beneath this man. You stared up into onyx eyes, their depth reflecting back to you the fear that was written across your face and you watched as a semblance of realisation seemed to flicker through this man’s eyes. He sat there staring down into your eyes, some of his hair cascading over his shoulders to curtain his face while the rest remained secured atop his head in a messy bun. Not a word left him as he watched you closely, his grip on your arms painfully tight as he restrained you and his legs heavy atop your own. It wasn’t until the cat came along and sat atop your chest, reaching up with a paw to swat at the man’s face, that he released you to sit back away from you.

You sat up slowly, rubbing at your wrists as you shot the man a pitiful attempt of a glare and pulled your legs in under yourself. You hadn’t noticed it before but there was a heavy scent of coffee and cinnamon hanging in the air, a scent that now clung to your body. The scent grew stronger as you shifted your head down to sniff at yourself and you regretted doing so as you picked up a distinguishing feature to his scent.

“It would seem as though my cat has brought me a Kitten.”

God, his voice was like velvet and there was a depth to it that you didn’t think had been possible in a person. However, you didn’t miss the underlying tone that his voice carried and it had shivers passing throughout your body. This man, the one sitting so dangerously close to you, was an Alpha! You watched as your four-legged companion climbed up into his lap and his fingers without missing a beat, dropped down to pass over the smooth coat of the creature. Turns out you hadn’t been wrong about the cat after all, it did indeed have someone to care for it and you just so happened to have run into the man.

“I apologise if I startle you just now.” He murmured softly as his fingers shifted to behind the cat’s ears and scratched gently.

“If?” You queried as you raised an eyebrow in disbelief, your hand still rubbing at your aching wrist.

He chuckled as he flicked his eyes up to look over at you, a crooked smile gracing his features and sending heat rushing through your cheeks. “Right, I apologise for startling you just now.” He corrected before his eyebrows drew together in concentration. “Though, I am curious… Did no one ever teach you not to startle an Alpha while they’re sleeping?”

“I wasn’t exactly planning on running into an Alpha all the way out here.” You admitted sheepishly before sighing heavily. “Why are you out here? I mean, there’s nothing out this way, right?”

There was silence between the two of you for a moment, as though the man was weighing up his options for answering your questions. “Not exactly. There’s nothing out here if you don’t know about it, but for those who know; there is something out here.”

Your eyes widened as you undoubtedly understood what he was talking about. “You mean, there’s…”

He nodded and put a finger up to his lips quickly, hushing you before you could give too much away. “Yes, but few people know about it; those that do know better than to tell people about it.”

“Does that mean you shouldn’t have just told me about it?” You asked quickly, scared about what it would mean if this was the case.

“Probably… I get the feeling you’re not going to be a problem though, Little Kitten.” He quipped as he smirked over at you before looking down at the cat curled up in his lap. “Carlos doesn’t just let anyone follow him back all this way, he brought you to me for a reason. So, why are you all the way out here where there is nothing?”

“Looking for a safer place to go. All the known refuges keep getting hit and taken over by marauders, leaving the people living there with nothing to call their own. It won’t be long before there are no safe havens for the living.” You whispered tenderly, your eyes casting down as you fidgeted with the hem of your shirt.

“Then you can consider yourself having found one. Come, I’ll take you back to the compound where you’ll be safe.” You shot your eyes up as he stood to his full height, tucking the cat away into the scarf that was wrapped multiple times around his neck. He stood before you, his hand outstretched towards you as he awaited your response. You reached out tentatively, placing your shaking hand within his own and allowing him to hoist you up off the ground. “Would seem as though you could use a good feed, we’ll see to it that you get a proper meal when we get back.”

You followed after him slowly, your hand held securely in his as he pulled you along. It was hard to believe this was all real, if it hadn’t been for the warmth radiating from his hand into your own; you probably wouldn’t have. You squeezed his hand tight, you had so many questions you wanted to ask him but you knew better than to make noise while travelling. This was it; you’d no longer be alone and you wouldn’t have to travel around anymore.

“I’m Shota Aizawa, by the way.” His voice was soft as it carried back to you, his head never once leaving the path he seemed to be able to find while your eyes failed to do so.

“(Name).” You whispered back as you tightened your hand further around his and a soft smile spread over your lips; tears threatening to spill from your eyes. “Thank you, Shota.”

[ymiwritesstuff]

*Crashes through the door* Hey! I saw your request box is open and I am so glad to see you writing again! Is it possible for a Yandere Dino-Infected Gyro with a female reader please? You can choose what happens, I don't mind. Thank you! *Fixes door then leaves*

Hey thanks for fixing the door! That’s very kind of you! Also thank you for the request! This concept is very interesting and I hope I was able to write this in the way you were hoping. It’s always a pleasure to write for you!

Beastly Obsession

Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure Part 7: Steel Ball Run

Dino-Infected!Yandere!Gyro Zeppeli x Fem!Reader

Summary: Something had been amiss lately. Something about him was different in a terrifying way, and when you finally find out the cause for his sudden change in behavior, everything around you changes.

Notes: Angst, Swearing, Yandere, Minor physical violence

“You better not leave me anytime soon, okay?” He had said, his voice carried by a playful chuckle.

“Don’t worry, Gyro. I won’t,” you had answered innocently, your vision that was filled with unconditional love oblivious to his true nature and obsession.

Something wasn’t right with him. Something behind those usually gorgeous eyes and that charming grin wasn’t like it had once been. He got more aggressive, more possessive, and before you even realized, he behaved like a totally different person. Not like a person at all, but like a feral animal.

You should have realized it sooner, just how sick he was. How twisted his mind had so suddenly become. The way he behaved, the way he spoke, and the way he acted around you when you were in the company of others, it wasn’t normal. And it scared you. You gradually noticed the small actions like subtly glaring at someone you had just talked to, tightening his hold on your waist and pulling you aside on multiple occasions, and even saying you weren’t allowed to leave your shared home. It was overwhelming and somewhere deep within you, you knew that things wouldn’t end well if this continued. 

You had this haunting feeling that something was going to go horribly wrong. The reason for this troubling feeling was unknown to you but you knew for a fact that Gyro wasn’t like he once was. His demeanor frightened you to the point where you’d rather spend your time alone or with anyone else other than him. You wanted to say you loved him, but you couldn’t. Not with how he currently was. Perhaps you could have a conversation with him about the issue and bring forth your concern about your relationship and how it would be better if you-

“What did you say?” The tone of his voice was cold, something you had never heard come out of his mouth. Immediately, a fog of uneasiness and anxiety surrounded you, making you instinctively take half a step backward. “I... I said I don’t think this works out anymore...” Slowly, the sound of your increasing heartbeat reached your ears, your voice being barely audible to a normal human. But not to him.

His eye twitched at the sight of your beautiful (E/C) eyes looking at him with such fear. Those pretty little lips frowning at him, and that fast heart rate he could clearly hear thanks to his heightened senses. Though the view was adorable to him, the words you let out uncomfortably stabbed him where it hurt most. “Why would you say that?” He asked, voice low and filled with such unhinged disappointment, it sent cold shivers down your spine.

You swallowed a lump that gets stuck to your throat and keep your eyes on him, his own staring back at you in a way that makes your stomach twist in fear. “I just...” Another step back. “I-I don’t think I can...” Your shaky voice doesn’t allow the words you so desperately try to form to come out of your mouth, something emitting from Gyro preventing you from forming coherent sentences. His eyes have lost their usual shine as they follow your every move and something about how he stands in front of you silently makes you want to get far away from him.

You attempt to take another step away from him, but stop in your tracks when his voice snaps at you, sounding far more hostile than before. “Don’t you fucking dare run away from me.” His eyes are glued on you, intensely piercing your entire being as a sound resembling an animal’s growl quickly surrounds you. Every part of your body freezes, a fearful gasp escaping from your lips as he takes a heavy step towards you. “G-Gyro... P-please...” The situation had quickly turned to something else, something far more dangerous you could have ever anticipated, and the only thought that entered your mind was to get out of there. Fast.

Without much hesitation, you somehow overcame the fear that was paralyzing you and bolted out of the room, heading towards the front door. Your heart hammered in your chest, tears pooled in your eyes and your consciousness was filled with the helpless desire to escape. However not only was it helpless, it was utterly futile.

A terrified shriek ripped out of your throat when you felt something forcefully grabbing your arm with an amount of strength that for sure didn’t belong to a human. Your teary eyes turned to Gyro, except it wasn’t him. Not anymore. His eyes were glowing maliciously, one side of his mouth that held sharp teeth that could only belong to a beast from a fairy tale was strangely cracked and the hand that had a painfully firm grip on you had claws that dug into your skin. “L-let me go!” distressed groans left your mouth as you tried to free yourself from his iron-like grip that only seemed to tighten with every movement you made. How was he this strong?!

With one swift movement, you were thrown into the ground, which only worsened your current state of panic. You thrashed around, trying to get up and continue your utterly fruitless attempt to escape, only to feel both of your wrists being grabbed with the same amount of force from earlier and pinned to the hard ground below. Your tearful eyes met his unhinged ones and all previous signs of sanity they may have held within them disappeared completely. Low growls rumbled in his throat, his claws once again digging into the skin of your wrist. 

“You know...” He started, his furious voice distorted by whatever being was infecting him. “I was only gonna have little chat with you...” His grip tightened, another cry of pain left your mouth, desperate tears rolling down your cheeks. “But you really pissed me off with that little stunt you pulled there.” 

“S-stop Gyro! Y-you’re hurting me!” You managed to choke out, his claws sending waves of agonizing pain throughout your arm. However your desperate cries of help seemed to go unheard by him. How had it come to this? What happened to him? The man you once knew and loved was gone, replaced by this feral beast that only awakened terror in you.

“You ran. You fucking ran even though I told you not to!” He yelled, anger boiling within him at your actions. Everything had gone so well, so perfectly, just as he had imagined and now you dared to try to run away from him? Everything around him crumbled into dust and now the only thing fueling him was fury and his twisted desire to have you all to himself.

“I won’t let you go.” Your (E/C) eyes widened at that. His words hit you violently in a way that felt like someone had just shot you. Your struggling ceases, and you look at him, despair floating in your orbs. The gaze that frames his eyes fills your insides with an uncomfortable sensation of terror you had never felt before. Only now you understood the cursed mess you had gotten yourself into. The signs were right in front of you, but you chose to ignore them.

And now, the vicious beast that was once the man you loved, had you in its claws, with no intentions of letting you go.

[nerdybookworm25]

Rambling about Katara and Zutara

Ok so I’m going to kind of just put my two cents out there on this stuff. I joined the ATLA fandom this past summer and just started watching TLOK (my brother and I just finished Book 2 yesterday). This is a hot debate and I just want to ramble on about my opinions on this stuff. A lot of this will focus on Katara’s perspective because I can understand her better than Zuko or Aang due to personal experience. Im just... gonna... get into it now...

I’ll give you some background on me so you guys can understand where I’m coming from. I’m a 15 year old girl with abandonment issues caused by multiple deaths of close friends and family at a young age (my uncle when I was 4, a grandmother like figure when I was 7, my dad’s mum when I was 9 or 10, my great grandma when I was 11, a close friend of my dad’s when I was 13 and many others). I also am the Mum Friend (my friends literally call me “Mum”). I’m the caregiver of the group- the glue, the harmonizer, the therapist, the teacher, the good advice giver etc. (This stuff actually hot me in trouble as a kid and it kind of messed me up). My friends who have seen Avatar have compared me to Katara on multiple occasions and say I’ve got the temperament of a waterbender. You can kind of see where I’d relate, you know?

I do ship Zutara. My brother turned to me during the Book 1: Water- Episode 9~ The Waterbending Scroll and asked, “What if Zuko becomes a good guy and ends up with Katara?” From then on I was on the Zutara hill and I’ll probably die there. It limited ships that I loved from childhood and I thought it would hav been really cool- it would have fit the themes of the show, it would have been a cool thing to see grow and blossom, etc. It had nothing to do with Katara and Zuko being attractive at all- not in the slightest. It also wasn’t me projecting onto Katara. I didn’t really care to notice any major similarities between us until Book Three: Fire- Episode 7~ The Runaway. It was this exchange that changed Katara from my favorite character to someone I could heavily relate to.

Toph: [Sarcasically.] Oh really, Mom? Or what are you gonna do? Send me to my room?

Katara: I wish I could!

Toph: well you can’t! Because you’re not my mom, and you’re not their mom! [Extends her arm at Aang and Sokka, who are sitting on a ledge.]

Katara: I never said I was!

Toph: No, but you act like it! You think it’s your job to boss everyone around, but it’s not! You’re just a regular kid like the rest of us! Stop acting like you can tell me what to do! I can do whatever I want!

I remember bursting out laughing when I heard this. My brother asked me what was up and I paused it and explained that that was a lecture I revived so regularly when I was younger. It really really ended up messing me up. It’s not like I tried to mother anyone- it just happened. I wasn’t controlling it. I didn’t notice I was doing it and I got in trouble. Now things are different and I’ve embraced the fact that I am the designated Mum Freind. Still working on getting over being told off about it in therapy though. Anyway, I think you now can understand where I’m coming from with this “analysis.” Now I’m going to get into it (for real this time lol).

I think I’m going to start with the caregiver stuff. Katara’s mother died when she was very young. It was a very traumatic death. We can infer that Katara blamed herself for this death because the Southern Raiders were looking for the last waterbender of the Southern Water Tribe- her. That’s a lot for an 8 year old to try to process. Here’s the kicker: I don’t think she ever fully processed it until after Book 3: Fire- Episode 16~ The Southern Raiders. She almost immediately helped her grandmother take up the roll as the woman of the house. She probably didn’t feel like she had anyone to talk to about what she was feeling however true or false that’s what she most likely perceived this to be. When Hakoda leaves for war with all of the men of the tribe, Kanna might be the matriarch and help raise Sokka and Katara but even Sokka admits that Katara became a pseudo-mother for him. Taking care of others doesn’t leave a lot of time to deal with your own issues. Sometimes it feels easier to help others face their demons than face your own.

We continue to see Katara become the glue of the Gaang as the series progresses. She keeps them together in the Si Wong desert after Aang leaves her, Sokka, Toph, and Momo. She’s always the one cooking, cleaning, and mending not because she wants to, but because she knows no one else will do it and it needs to be done. We see her try to coax Toph into helping out around camp when she firsts joins the Gaang. It doesn’t work and this conflict continues for most of Book 2 and the beginning of Book 3. All of this time, she’s making it a point to take care of everyone. When the adults show up after the Boiling Rock, she’s still the one making the dinner and probably does a lot of the other chores as well (except for tea making- this will come into play later).

There’s a running joke about Katara being “Momtara” within the ATLA fandom (more the Zutaraians in the fandom than anything else but it’s a pretty well known concept). We continue to see this when the Gaang is on Ember Island. She brings them all drink during training sessions, watches said training sessions in case someone gets hurt and they need her, wrangles Sokka to the best of her ability, and just generally looks out for everyone regardless of age gap. It’s her natural instinct to be motherly. She retains this quality even after she finds Yon Rha. (Getting closure on her mother’s death doesn’t mean losing what had become a major personality trait).

Let’s unpack that now, shall we? Kya dies and Katara thinks it’s her fault. She doesn’t really talk to anyone about it. A few years later, Hakoda leaves to fight in the war. The Southern Water Tribe recives no letters or news about what happened to their warriors at all. Katara felt like she lost another parent. She nearly says as much during Book 3: Fire- Episode 1~ The Awakening.

Hakoda: You’re taking about me too, aren’t you?

Katara: How could you leave us, Dad? [She attempts to wipe away the tears.] I mean, I know we had Gran-Gran, and she loved us, but we were just so lost without you.

Hakoda moves to comfort her as she turns away.

Hakoda: I’m so sorry, Katara.

Katara: [Embraces Hakoda.] I understand why you left. I really do, and I know that you had to go, so why do I still feel this way? I’m so sad and angry and hurt!

The thing that sets off this exchange is Aang running away for the third time since Katara has known him (the fourth time in Aang’s lifetime). The other times he ran were when confronted by the rude fisherman in Book 1: Water- Episode 12~ The Storm, then again during Book 2: Earth- Episode 11~ The Desert. Aang has a, for lack of a better word, chronic running away problem. I’m not mad at him for it. It makes him an interesting character and shows that he too has flaws (even if they aren’t always addressed but that’s an issue with Bryke). When Aang flys away after waking up during 3.1, Katara is distraught.

Katara: He left.

Hakoda: What?

Katara: Aang. He just took his glider and disappeared. He has this ridiculous notion that he has to save the world alone, that it’s all his responsibility.

Hakoda: Maybe that’s his way of being brave.

Katara: Its not brave, it’s selfish and stupid! We could be helping him and I know the world needs him, but doesn’t he know how much we need him, too? How can he just leave us behind?

Katara feels abandoned by Aang. This is completely understandable. She has every right to be angry at him and feel sad that he flew away. He comes back every time but I feel like if I were in her position, as much as I’d hope my friend would come back and I’d tell everyone that I knew he would, I’d still be afraid that there was an off chance that he doesn’t. This is a natural human reaction to this situation. People were seemingly constantly fading in and out of Katara’s life and that just wasn’t good for her mental health. It couldn’t have been. This also raises the question of if someone has a very serious fear of abandonment, would it be healthy to be in a romantic relationship with someone who consistently leaves? Personally I don’t think so. Be friends? Sure. Date? I don’t know. It doesn’t quite sit right with me.

Katara probably feels abandoned by Zuko too. During the Book 2 Finale: Crossroads of Destiny, Katara and Zuko bond in the crystal catacombs under Ba Sing Se. They relate over their shared fear of being abandoned by those they love (yes I think Zuko has abandonment issues too- among other issues/fears). When he turns his back on her, she doesn’t live him (obviously). She has cared about him enough up to that point to offer to use what is arguably her most powerful possession to heal his scar. She cares. Because she cares about him then, she is downright livid when he betrays her. (Of course the difference between Zuko and Aang with this is Zuko leaves once and comes back and he doesn’t leave again. Aang leaves and comes back over and over and over again).

Katara: I thought you had changed!

Zuko: I have changed!

Katara carries the weight of his betrayal on her mind until she and Zuko go on their life changing field trip to confront the man who killed Katara’s mother. This was her time to finally get closure. She had probably had these feelings bottled up for 6 years and didn’t act on them. When she finally had the chance, her best friend and brother tried to stop her. She lashed out.

Katara: We’re going to find the man who took my mother from me.

Sokka pauses and stands up, surprised.

Zuko: Sokka told me the story of what happened. I know who did it and I know how to find him.

Aang: Um ... and what exactly do you think this will accomplish?

Katara: [Shakes her head in dismay.] Ugh, I knew you wouldn’t understand. [Begins to walk away.]

Aang: Wait! Stop! I do understand. You’re feeling unbelievable pain and rage. How do you think I felt about the sandbenders when they stole Appa? How do you think I felt about the Fire Nation when I found out what happened to my people?

Zuko: She needs this, Aang. This is about getting closure and justice.

Aang: I don’t think so. I think this is about getting revenge.

Katara: [Angrily.] Fine, maybe it is! Maybe it’s what he deserves!

Aang: Katara, you sound like Jet.

Katara: Its not the same! Jet attacked the innocent. This man, he’s a monster.

Sokka: Katara, she was my mother, too, but I think Aang might be right.

Katara: Then you didn’t love her the way I did!

Sokka: [Hurt.] Katara!

Katara gets a lot of flack for this interaction. She says Sokka didn’t love their mother like she did and Sokka I’d understandably hurt. It doesn’t excuse what she said, but people do lash out when they are feeling a lot of emotions and they get defensive when they feel like they’re being ganged up on or attacked (I myself am guilty of this sort of thing). What Katara said was wrong but I have no doubt in my mind that she didn’t apologize to Sokka when he and the rest of the Gaang arrive on Ember Island later in the episode. She is seen walking over to him after she hugs Zuko.

Zuko and Katara go after Yon Rha anyway. For once in her life, Katara is feeling emotions and no one is trying to get her to stop or to push them aside. She doesn’t have to be constantly taking care of someone so she can focus on herself. Katara trusts Zuko more than I think she realizes. I mean she trusts him with a lot and he follows through on a lot of unspoken/subconscious agreements and promises.

Zuko is looking out for her. Zuko has her back. Zuko is allowing her to feel all of these emotions and work them out of her own accord. Zuko isn’t telling her to feel one way or another. Zuko isn’t going to judge her for whatever she decides to do when they find Yon Rha or what she does in order for them to get to that point. Zuko ensures she gets the closure she feels she needs.

When he sees her bloodbend, he’s surprised, but he isn’t appalled. When he thinks she’s going to run Yon Rha through with a giant shard of ice, he doesn’t try to stop her. He lets her be her. He sees a dark side of her in a way that no one else in the Gaang has seen. It’s strangely intimate. Clearly it has enough of an impact to make her forgive him. She knows he isn’t going to abandon betray her and her friend again.

Once they become friends, and even before that, Zuko starts to help out with small things here and there. We see him making tea for all of the kids at dinner. He tells jokes to make them laugh. He teaches Aang firebending. He goes with Sokka to the Boiling Rock to make sure he doesn’t get himself killed or in a prison cell for the rest of his life. With all of this, “Dadko” is born.

If you strip away Zuko’s anger, he just becomes the awkward-turtleduck-first-time-father that we all know and love. There’s more balance in the Gaang with him there to help and become an “authority” figure with Katara. They become the parents of the other members of the Gaang. It’s an interesting shift in their relationship- enemies to unsteady acquaintances to enemies to frenemies to friends. They’re close enough that they show small signs of physical intimacy and they tease each other.

Also if you look close enough when the Gaang walks into the “seedy Earth Kingdom tavern,” Zuko and Katara appear to be holding hands and are near each other from then until the finale episodes. They are clearly just great friends by the end of the show. I mean Zuko also takes a bolt of lightning to the chest for her...

Zuko doesn’t leave when his life gets difficult- not after he joins the Gaang. He made that mistake once and he won’t make it again. Aang was always part of the Gaang but continued to leave (again, I’m not mad at him for it but he never seems to realize the effect it has on the people around him- especially Katara). Zuko also doesn’t all but forget Katara and continue to run around the world. When Zuko fully decides to stick around, you best believe he is sticking around.

This works really well for Zutara. They’re both each other’s rock. They support each other and help each other in times of trouble. Do they argue? Yes. Is that a normal part of a healthy relationship- romantic or otherwise? Yes. Do they take care of and look out for each other while also not smothering or suffocating each other? Yes. I don’t know about you but this sounds stable and healthy to me. They balance each other out so well (I’m not going to get too into that because if you’re reading this you probably already know with the whole Tui and La, Yin and Yang, Oma and Shu thing).

Now, this is a big deal for me and it makes me furious, but Katara is forgotten by history. She has no statue. She is reduced to a housewife and healer- things our wonderful water feminist was afraid of becoming as an adult. I mean this girl

This girl

THIS GIRL

She becomes nothing but a housewife stuck in a healing hut who gets forgotten by the world and left behind by her family just... let’s all of that happen? Yeah that’s pretty unrealistic. I think about this frequently and with starting TLOK I have formed even more opinions and have a little thingy (I don’t know what to call it) for what happened to her.

Kya II is everything Teenage Katara wanted to do and be before settling down. Old Katara is everything Teenage Katara was so afraid of become reduced to/becoming.

It’s an interesting way to think about it and I thought I’d share. Now if Katara was Fire Lady, she wouldn’t end up like that. She’d have the power to change the world and continue to fight for what she believed in. She could have helped with the trail with Yakone. Katara has so much potential to not be forgotten or brushed aside and somehow it happened. It makes me so sad. The potential Zutara had to make sure Katara had a genuine legacy was right there at their finger tips and they didn’t use it. What a shame. What a shame.

With all of the things I’ve talked about, I just feel like Zutara would have been better for Katara than Kataang was. I think that’s more Bryke not developing the relationship well enough and instead choosing to be sloppy and selfish in the way they structured the relationship. Yeah this is my rambling on about the issue. Hope it was mildly entertaining! If you want me to write something about how Zuko would have benefited from Zutara, let me know!

[sisterkosho]

Changing Fate

Characters: Ayume Nejireta, Genyō Anrui, Suguru Geto

Warnings: A bit angsty, but with a happy ending. Also major manga spoilers for volume 0.

Notes: As you can see, I am still not writing bios. Honestly, I didn’t think I’d end up writing anymore fics after that last one, or at least not so soon. But my besto friendo and I ended up getting into a conversation about this AU, and I couldn’t help but write it even if I didn’t do it enough justice. This is really just me using writing as a coping mechanism when it comes down to it so don’t mind me. 🚶

Panic. That was the only thing the girl could feel as she walked the streets, the soft glow of the moon and a faint trace of cursed energy being her only guide.

Just what was it that had taken place here? Suguru Geto was smart, there was no doubt about that. He knew what he was doing, he knew his own limits. And yet, she couldn't seem to shake the feeling of pure uneasiness that had formed and twisted itself into the pit of her stomach. It felt almost suffocating. She had only been on the move for a short while, and yet it had felt like an eternity. Each minute that passed by feeling longer than the last as the fear set in. Her mind repeating the same question over and over again like a broken record as her pace began to quicken. "Where is he?"

As if somehow sensing the woman's distress in that moment, the cursed spirit that resided within her seemed to awaken. With the traces of cursed energy growing ever stronger, it became clear that they were getting close to their destination. Yet her only concern, given the woman's current state, was what they would find when they got there. Knowing this, she wasted no time in having one of her eyes appear upon her cheek, using it to her advantage as she began to examine the area around her. And sure enough, there, just outside of her vessel's field of vision, was a darkened alleyway that the moonlight barely touched. Had she not been so on guard from the situation at hand, it would have easily been missed. 

Upon seeing this, as if on instinct, the cursed spirit made a rare, spur of the moment decision. The woman stopped in her tracks immediately as various black markings began to appear on her skin, her consciousness slowly fading. Out of respect for her vessel, the curse had made it a point to never switch without permission, or a simple game of rock paper scissors. But this, was a very different case. It was the only thing she could think to do. There was no denying that Ayume was a strong individual. She wouldn't have accepted her as her vessel otherwise. Yet she could be vulnerable, emotions often getting the better of her. Especially when it came to him. Rui knew this better than anyone, and the horrific sight before her would have surely broken her far more than anything else ever could. "Sorry, Yume... You don't need to see this." She muttered, though silently hoping that her words went unheard by the curse user.

There, leaned against the cold, stone wall was none other than Suguru Geto. The very man that they had been searching for, bloodied and beaten. The entire right side of his body practically obliterated. The moment the two had learned of the man's disappearance shortly after his fight with that jujutsu sorcerer, Yuta Okkotsu, Rui had known something was off. But now, seeing him there at death's door, she couldn't help but feel annoyed at best. How could one be so careless? If he didn't value his own life, at the very least, he should value the heart of the one who did. 

"The hell are you doing, Geto? You look like crap." Upon hearing the woman's voice, the man slowly raised his head, eyes moving up to meet her gaze. It was clear that his mind wasn't fully there at that point, seemingly in some sort of daze as he spoke. Truth be told, he had thought that anyone who found him would have been there to put an end to him. "Ayume....?" 

"I suppose it can't be helped..." Rui began, ignoring his previous question, knowing full well that the markings present on her features would be a dead giveaway as to who it was he was speaking to. "If you died, you'd be taking her with you. And we certainly can't have that, now can we?" She let out a deep sigh before approaching him, kneeling down so as to get a better look at his condition. It would no doubt take up a significant amount of cursed energy to heal wounds this severe, but fortunately for him, there was no shortage of such things when it came to the Lady of Seals. What was important now was that it could be done. Though she was going to need an extra long nap afterwards, and she most definitely would not be disturbed.

"Sorry... I guess I was a little in over my head, huh?" Suguru said, letting out a somewhat forced chuckle as he leaned his head back against the now bloodied wall. Upon hearing this, the curse tore her attention off the man's wounds for a brief moment, only to send him a glare. "Save it for when we're done here. I'm not the one who needs to here that." Though there was still a hint of annoyance present in her voice, her gaze had softened ever so slightly as she heard him mutter a small thank you. It was strange to admit, but she couldn't help but feel relieved that they had managed to get to him before anyone else did, or better yet, before he ended up bleeding out. The fact he hadn't being a miracle in and of itself. 

It didn't take long for the cursed spirit to finish her work. Despite the energy it had taken, healing a human was mere child's play to one who has lived as long as she has. The man in question now looking much better than he had been just moments prior. His missing arm had been practically healed to perfection, along with the rest of him that had suffered damage, and the initial shock of such an experience seemed to be wearing off. The worse he'd suffer now was fatigue, and whatever mental scars this may cause later. As for Rui, her job there was done. She could only hope that Ayume wouldn't be too shaken once she retreated back into the corners of her soul.

It took a moment for the woman to register what had just taken place as the markings on her face began to fade. Though with Suguru smiling in front of her, not a scratch to be seen despite the various traces of blood and his disheveled appearance, she didn't have to ask. It took everything she had not to break down into tears right then and there. 

Whether it was out of fear for what would've happened had they gotten there a moment later, relief that he was alive and breathing, or simple tears of joy that he was still there, she wasn't sure. It felt as though she was being hit by every emotion imaginable all at once. And yet, she managed to keep her cool for his sake. He'd been through hell, and the last thing he needed was to see her cry. So instead, she smiled, that same smile she'd give him every time he'd enter the room. But he knew better than that. "I'm ok." Those two words were all she needed to hear as he pulled her into his arms. She tried. She tried so hard not to cry. But she was no longer able to hold back the tears as she buried her face into his shoulder.

Nothing else needed to be said in that moment as the two sat in silence in one another's embrace. Perhaps she'd scold him later for his recklessness, but for now, despite this cruel twist of fate, they had survived. And in the end that was the only thing that mattered.

"Come on..." She said, attempting to compose herself as she wiped the tears from her cheeks before swinging his now healed arm over her shoulder. She helped him off the ground, giving him a moment to steady himself before beginning to walk him out of the alleyway. "Let's go home."

[writerbyaccident]

Negotiations (Yandere Kylo Ren/Ben SoloxReader)

Author’s note: this takes place before The Force Awakens

           Rage was a fairly common emotion for Kylo Ren to feel. Oftentimes it was background noise to him, like the hum of a Star Destroyer or of his saber. His rage could almost be comforting, grounding him in the darkness and away from the temptation of the light. But at other times, times like this, when he was forced to hold back his rage like some barely contained beast, there was no comfort to be had. He didn’t see why the Supreme Leader was having him meet with the arrogant merchants of Canto Bight. Surely this was a task better suited for someone like Hux, Kylo could hardly stand having to do it himself.

           These merchants, he thought bitterly to himself, they were all fools. None of them truly believed in the First Order or in the legacy of the Empire. No, they were only trying to make money off of his cause. Yet the First Order needed them, needed their resources and the weapons they built.  And so Kylo was forced to make these infuriating trips to frivolous planets to make deals with frivolous people like Aldous Lundor. Wanting to get this whole thing over with, Kylo stalked down the hallway, bypassing the guards and using the Force to open the door to Lundor’s private room. He wasn’t interested in being polite and, glowering under his mask as strongly as he was, that was the aura he gave off.

           “Ah, welcome!” Lundor exclaimed, the very epitome of slimy charisma. “Welcome, I am so glad to finally meet the premier member of the First Order. Please, sit.”

           Kylo sat without a word, glaring into Lundor’s limpid blue eyes and already wanting to choke the air out of him. The room, much like the man who owned it, radiated ugly opulence, with its walls of gilded gold and furniture of white fur. Kylo’s hand twitched for his saber, wishing he could tear the room and the man in it to pieces.

           “Would you like something to drink? I have a wonderful wine from one of the moons of Cato Neimoidia.”

           “No,” Kylo answered, his voice deep and foreboding as it echoed from the mask. “I would rather just begin negotiations.”

           “There, now that is why I requested to meet with you personally,” Lundor simpered. “I always appreciate being direct and staying focused. Although, I hope you don’t mind if I have some wine.” When Kylo didn’t answer, Lundor simply smiled and snapped his fingers, turning his attention to a curtain that covered the doorway to what Kylo assumed was a side room. Kylo glared at the curtain too, just as he had done with everything in the room, impatient as he was to finish things here. But—although no one could tell—his glare disappeared the moment you walked into the room.

           Carrying in a bottle of wine and a glass for Lundor, you were clearly some sort of servant. No, Kylo corrected himself as he noticed the silver collar on your throat, you were a slave. As you set the glass down on the crystal table and began to pour the golden wine, you carefully avoided even glancing at Kylo Ren. It was fairly obvious that you knew who he was, and you knew at least part of his reputation. Kylo could sense your fear, could feel the way that the whole room practically trembled with it. And while your fear thrilled him, he couldn’t help but wish that you would look at him, if only for a moment. But even though you refused to look at him, Kylo gladly gazed at you, devouring each new detail that he saw. Your skin practically glowed in the warm light of the room. It appeared so vulnerable that Kylo had to fight the temptation to touch it and see if it was as delicate as it looked. And your body, substantially exposed by the few wisps of clothing that made up your uniform, looked positively luscious. Finishing pouring your master’s drink, you began to step away from the table, only to pause, finally raising your eyes to Kylo.

           “Would you like any refreshments, my lord?” you practically whispered to him. At first, Kylo hardly even heard your question, far too focused in taking your eyes. He could see the terror and the sadness and the hardship in them, yes. But within them he could also sense a warmth that he hadn’t felt for a very long time. And your voice, oh, your voice. Despite the fear that was woven into every word you had so softly spoken, you had still spoken to him. With everything you must have been through, there was still a bravery to you.

           “Imbecile,” Lundor spat before Kylo could gather his thoughts to answer. “You do not speak unless spoken to. And if he wanted something to drink, I would have ordered you to give him something.” Standing roughly, Lundor stalked toward you, raising his hand as he did so. With practiced composure, you set the wine bottle down and braced yourself for the blow.

           “Actually, I will sample some of your wine.”

           Blinking in surprise, Lundor turned the merchant’s mouth twisting at the way Kylo had dared to interject before he could discipline you. As much as it irked him though, the merchant knew better than to object, and so Lundor forced his sickly smile back into place. Once your master took his seat again, Kylo turned his attention back to you. Without so much as a pause, you walked through the curtain again, returning a moment later with another glass. Setting it before him, you poured his wine, and with you so close to him, Kylo had to curse his mask for preventing him from taking in your scent. His wine poured, you retreated to the corner of the room with the bottle, ready to refill either glass at a moment’s notice. Kylo knew that this was what you had been trained to do, yet he couldn’t help the rage that threatened to choke him as you stepped away. The temptation to call on the Force and simply drag you back to his side was almost too much to bear, and through the rest of the meeting, the glorious image of doing so stayed in his head.

           The rest of the negotiations passed by in a blur, with Kylo responding on instinct as his attention remained on you. Although your fear had subsided after Kylo had kept Lundor from striking you, he could sense that it was still there. It practically radiated from you, spiking each time your master made a sudden movement. Rage swelled within Kylo once again, hissing in his blood and cracking through his bones. You shouldn’t be sparing a single thought towards that fool, Kylo thought fiercely. No, only he was worthy of your fear. Only he was worthy of your terror, of your worry, of your devotion. And so, as the negotiations came to a close, he decided to throw in one more caveat.

           “Supreme Leader Snoke and the rest of the First Order thanks you for your allegiance,” Kylo forced out. “But to make this deal complete, I need a show of your loyalty.”

           “Oh? And what does that entail?” Lundor asked with eyebrows raised.

           “I will be taking your slave as a gift.”

           Still gazing intimidatingly at the merchant, Kylo felt rather than saw your shock. The way that it struck you though, along with the horror that soon followed, sent his blood humming. Even as Lundor hesitated with his answer, Kylo was comforted by the feeling of your gaze and by the feeling of the Force at his fingertips, knowing that he would gladly use it to take what was rightfully his.

           “Of course,” Lundor finally answered with a slight bow, figuring that one slave was not worth the risk of the painful death that Kylo could provide him.

And so, Kylo Ren dragged you back to his ship, his grip on your wrist unflinchingly tight. Kylo Ren was your master now, and he would ensure that he was the only one you would ever serve again.

Please consider supporting me at my Ko-Fi account 

[datura-foxglove]

your words are my salvation (please don’t say it)

Rating : T

Prompts : Ghost / Haunting

Summary : (BEAST AU) Atsushi meet with Dazai for the last time as he tethered between life and death. In every parallel worlds written in the pages of the Book, Dazai would save Atsushi, and so did Atsushi would save Dazai in return. Unfortunately for them, their story must end here.

Warning : Please bear in mind that I haven’t touched BEAST AU for a long time and I refuse to tear my heart out reading it again, so I’m sorry if there is a mistake. Also, spoiler for the ending of BEAST AU obviously.

.

It was dark.

It was cold.

Atsushi opened his eyes, his mind felt strangely empty as he felt himself drowning. He must be drowning, right? Everything around him was water, cold and suffocating. His body fell deeper and deeper into the water as he could only watch the dancing light on the surface became farther and farther. His screaming lungs should kick his survival instinct to swim upwards, but all that his heart felt at that moment was peace. A calm, everlasting peace like he was enshrouded within a cocoon.

He closed his eyes, the dancing light on the surface was the last thing in his mind as he waited. Was this how it felt for a caterpillar as it metamorphosed into a butterfly? A certainty that it’s old skin would peel away and be reborn into something better? Something beautiful? The water surrounding him slowly cleansed away his sins, his fears, and his guilt. He felt guilty for tainting the pure water with his filth of his existence, but even that guilt was washed away. All that was left was just emptiness, an unending void.

Something forcefully awakened him from his stupor. Atsushi gasped, his eyes opened in shock. It took him a few moments to realize that he felt warmth from his wrist and another moment for his eyes to trail up the hand that had caught his wrist to see a face that he hadn’t thought would be able to see ever again.

“That won’t do, Atsushi-kun. If you continue to fall here, you will lose everything.” Dazai waved his hand to gesture at the black substance that had originated from Atsushi’s body all around them. “Your sins, your fears, and even your guilt. No matter how painful they are, they are still what made your existence Atsushi-kun.”

“Dazai-san…” Atsushi’s lips trembled, sobs caught in his throat. “Am I dead? Why are you here?”

“Not yet, Atsushi-kun, but close enough.” Dazai smiled, a perfect smile that Atsushi had seen countless times but never even once reached his eyes. “Do you forget my last order? I told you to live, Atsushi-kun. Live in the world of light with Kyouka-chan.”

“Ah…” Atsushi remembered, but what he did afterwards to follow that order was all a blur. “I don’t know why I’m almost dead, actually. I think… I left Kyouka-chan to the Agency, and escaped from Yokohama. After that… I don’t remember.”

Life after Dazai’s death was akin to hell. He had become so used to blindly following Dazai’s order, depending on them to seek temporary escape from his guilt. Without someone to give him orders, without Dazai to guide him and his Ability… Atsushi was lost, in more ways than one. He just… waited. Waiting for something to happen, waiting until the limbo he had gotten lost in to disperse, or maybe he had just been waiting for Dazai to pick him up and smiled mischievously, saying that everything was a ruse that he had planned and everything would go back to normal. His normal daily life, following Dazai’s orders and becoming one of his most useful pawn.

Dazai looked at Atsushi with something akin to guilt, or what close enough to be guilt. “You will be fine. The person I asked to take care of you will help you through this.” Dazai patted his head, the only act of affection they had ever allow themselves to have before. “Soon, you will forget about me. You should.”

Atsushi felt his fist shaking, his voice raised at Dazai for the first time in more than four years. “How can I forget you? You have saved me, all those years ago, from that hell! You have given me a place to belong, a reason for my Ability, and even forgive all of my foolishness! You are important to me, Dazai-san, how can I—“

“I have never saved you, Atsushi-kun.” Dazai’s cold voice stopped his tirade. “In fact, I’m the one who had drowned you in the filth of the mafia.”

Atsushi’s instinct made him clammed up, the old habit hard to break as he focused to listen for Dazai’s explanation instead.

There was a mirth in Dazai’s eyes as he saw Atsushi’s struggle. “Remember when I told you about the Book? How I’ve acquired the knowledge of the other worlds other than this one?”

The younger nodded. The guilt burdened him for not protecting the Book like what Dazai had told him to do, but there was an understanding in Dazai’s eyes that let him breathe easily again.

“In other worlds, your role is switched with Akutagawa.” Dazai explained. “You should be the one who joined the Agency, and he is the one who bloodied his hands in the mafia.”

Atsushi’s eyes widened in surprise. “Then… why did you choose me?”

“Everything I did in this world, is to keep someone alive.” Dazai’s smile was almost gentle, more real than the rest of his expressions. “So that he could achieve his dream to write a book. I sacrificed everything and everyone just for that reason.”

Dazai watched as conflicted emotions flitted through Atsushi’s eyes. “You are one of the sacrifices. I dragged you down with me, despite seeing how living in the world of light had healed the scars from your trauma. I ordered you to commit atrocities, forced you to wear that collar, and then throw you away after everything is over. I’m not your savior, Atsushi-kun. You shouldn’t even hate me, just forget about me. Go live in the world of light that you should be in.”

Atsushi didn’t respond. He just hung his head and stayed silent. Dazai held a sigh and looked up, towards the inviting dancing light that would be forever unattainable to him. “You should go back, Atsushi-kun. You can still be saved—”

To Dazai’s surprise, Atsushi had reached for his hand and held it tightly within his own. So tight it was painful, but Dazai couldn’t see the reason behind Atsushi’s brittle smile.

“I’m glad.” Atsushi chuckled weakly, his sunset colored eyes had a sheen to them that wasn’t caused by the water surrounding them. “For so long, I couldn’t understand you at all. It’s painful, my heart hurt knowing that I experienced so many pain because of you, but I’m so glad that I finally able to understand you a bit.”

Seeing Dazai’s shocked expression, Atsushi continued. “You are so smart. Everything was within your plan, even when all I could do was panic. You are always so out of reach from me, but to know that the reason for everything you’ve done is something so humane…” he looked at his own hands. “I don’t know if I will do the same thing to protect someone so precious to me, but then again I had also kill countless people just to follow your orders. Maybe it’s the same thing, maybe it’s not.”

Dazai let out a snort, not in disbelief but in resignation. “Why do you always try to understand me, Atsushi-kun?” he put his free hand on his bandaged face. “In every world I see within the Book, if there is something constant, it’s that you will always try to understand me. Even when I am your enemy, your ally, or even your…”

He shook his head solemnly. “It doesn’t matter. You should still forget about me. There will be nothing but pain awaits you if you keep dragging the memory of a dead man.” Dazai let out a humorless laugh. “Trust me, I know.”

If Atsushi was braver, or maybe in other worlds where they were more equal, he could call Dazai a hypocrite. “No matter how painful they are; they are still what made your existence. My time with you, my memory of you, and my feelings for you… they are proof of what I am.” Just like the watch he couldn’t bring himself to throw away. “Even if pain is all there is for now, I am sure that someday I can remember you with a smile.”

Dazai seemed stunned for a long while, even his breath stopped. Atsushi held on to his hand, the hand that had never hurt him. The hand that had always guide him. He would never forget. He wanted to carve the feeling of Dazai’s hand in his in his memory forever.

Atsushi almost jumped in fright when Dazai suddenly laughed. “Ha—hahaha!” Dazai nearly doubled over from the force of his laugh, his hand covered his mouth in futile attempt to muffle it. “You are really something else, Atsushi-kun!”

Atsushi watched in trepidation of the man’s sanity as Dazai slowly collected himself, his finger wiped away the tears from his eyes. “I’ve always taught that I’ve lived a good life, to have someone who would feel pain from a goodbye.” When their gaze met, there was a flush to Dazai’s cheeks. “To think there will be someone who would feel happiness from memories of me. Ah, what is this feeling I wonder? I think this is the first time my chest ever felt this light…”

Slowly, Dazai put his free hand on Atsushi’s cheek and leaned down so their forehead touched lightly. “I thought I only had one regret, but your words… they tempt me so. To wonder, to imagine, and to regret the path that I had already taken.”

Dread filled Atsushi’s heart. He knew, even without warning, of the sands of time that were slowly running out. This was his last chance. He would never have another. “Dazai-san, I—“

A finger on his lips prevented the confession from being spoken out, to become a reality that they couldn’t deny. “You mustn’t, Atsushi-kun. Don’t waste your feelings on a ghost. Find someone else that could love you the way you deserve it, not a broken man who couldn’t even love you properly.”

Atsushi wanted to deny. He wanted to spill out the feelings that would otherwise be forever unspoken and died without ever received. But the sorrow in the older man’s eyes was too much that it sealed his mouth shut. Atsushi closed his eyes and weep, for both this man with a broken heart and himself.

“Y-you said,” Atsushi sobbed through his words. “You said, that in other worlds I live in the world of light. Please tell me, Dazai-san, does the me in those worlds can tell you words that I can’t say?”

Dazai’s hand gently but tightly held the back of his head, pulling him closer so that there was almost no space between them. “In most of them, yes.” The grip on his hand tightened, as if they could prolong the time that was rapidly running out by just holding to each other. “You are always the one who first said those words, because in every parallel world I’m too much of a coward to take that first step.”

How ironic, that a coward like him was brave only on the things that matter the most. “I am sure, myself from the other worlds are also saved by you. No matter how insignificant little things, or a life changing things, you will always save me.”

“And so do you.” Atsushi opened his eyes, his blurry eyes just managed to catch Dazai’s gentle smile. “Even now, your feelings had saved my soul.”

Atsushi opened his mouth, but no words came out. Despite how he wanted to scream out his feelings, to spill out the entirety of his aching and broken heart, no voice came out from his strangled throat but weak sobs.

“I had finally get what I waited for the most the moment I died, but you…” a glimmer of light in Dazai’s visible eye only made Atsushi cried harder. “You make me want to live. A foolish dream of living together with you...”

A strong current within the water all around them pushed Atsushi up. He shouted his sorrow, but nothing heard his pleas. Dazai let him go, despite Atsushi’s protests. The roar of the water almost muffled Dazai’s last words to him, as Atsushi could only futilely reach out his hands to Dazai.

“Thank you, Atsushi-kun and… goodbye.” Dazai smiled at for the last time. A gentle and sad smile.

“Dazai-san!” Atsushi screamed with all his might, but Dazai’s form became smaller and smaller, until all that he could see was the last smile that would forever be carved into his heart.

---

The sound of children’s laughter stirred him up from the depths of his slumber. Atsushi opened his eyes to a familiar ceiling, but for a long time he couldn’t understand why the room was so familiar.

No, right now all that Atsushi could remember was Dazai’s words and his last smile.

“You’re finally awake—oh my, are you crying?” a woman’s voice spoke to him in concern, but Atsushi couldn’t answer it. He curled up in the bed and cried his heart out, as if he hadn’t cried enough before.

“I’m sorry.” Atsushi sobbed to the pillow. “I’m sorry, Dazai-san.”

“Young man, are you alright?”

“Elise-chan, leave him be for now.” Another voice said kindly. “We will return later.”

“Rintarou, wait—“

The sound of footsteps left his senses, enough that Atsushi felt that he was alone. He sobbed, tears continued to flow from his eyes. He couldn’t stop, not even when his eyes stung and his throat hurt.

“I—I’m sorry Dazai-san, I can only cry n-now.” He hugged the pillow harder, although it was a poor substitute to the warmth that he had felt from the most precious person in his life. “I promise; I will smile someday when I remember you.”

Someday, Atsushi would smile fondly as he remembered Dazai. He hoped, with all of his aching and broken heart, that it would comfort the lonely man somehow. To remind him the words that Atsushi couldn’t say, but wish he could have uttered to the man before. It may not change anything, but if those words brought any little happiness for Dazai…

‘I love you.’ He whispered silently to the wind, hoping that it would carry those feelings to that person. ‘You are not alone, Dazai-san.’

[therealcalicali]

“Ivar, I have something to tell you.” Part 9

IMAGINE: TELLING YOUR HUSBAND IVAR, THAT YOU HAVE BEEN SLEEPING WITH ANOTHER MAN, AND IT’S DEEPER THAN JUST SEX.

Read Part 1 here: “Ivar, I have something to tell you.” Part 1

Read Part 2 here: “Ivar, I have something to tell you.” Part 2

Read Part 3 here: “Ivar, I have something to tell you.” Part 3

Read Part 4 here: “Ivar, I have something to tell you.” Part 4

Read Part 5 here: “Ivar, I have something to tell you.” Part 5

Read Part 6 here: “Ivar, I have something to tell you.” Part 6

Read Part 7 here: “Ivar, I have something to tell you.” Part 7

Read Part 8 here: “Ivar, I have something to tell you.” Part 8 

Read the Finale Chapter 1 here: “Ivar, I have something to tell you.”

Read the Finale Chapter 2 here: “Ivar, I have something to tell you.”

Read the Finale Chapter 3 here: “Ivar, I have something to tell you.”

PART 9 WARNINGS: Angst, Intrigue, Marital Strife

Word Count: 12,764

____________________________________

As you slept peacefully with the help of the tincture administered by the Healer, an elated Ivar entered the passageway. There, he found his brothers and the main servants eagerly awaiting him.

"Well, what is it?" Hvitserk asked, annoyed at his little brother's silence.

He was worried sick and it didn't help that Ivar seemed intent on making them beg for information.

"There is no need to be distressed." Ivar smugly replied. "I will tell you everything in a moment."

With that, he glanced at the servants and ordered them to return to their duties. Even Adelaide. Naturally, the Head Domestic was taken aback by the command but did as asked. When he was certain the Thralls were out of earshot, your husband proudly announced that he was to be a father again.

Ubbe, Bjorn and Hvitserk could not believe their ears. Like Ivar, they were shocked that he had managed to become a father at all. But now, that you were with child yet again, they began to question all they had believed about their little brother. The things the female Thralls had told them about his inability to "perform" now held no weight.

As for Ivar, he wanted to gloat further, but the looks on his brothers faces was victory enough. After all their taunting and gossiping, he had won. He would now tie Bjorn in the number of offspring and add more. Ivar had always desired a large brood to leave his legacy to, and now, he was well on his way.

"I can see that you are all overcome." Ivar said with deep satisfaction. The jubilation he felt from rubbing their faces in the announcement was palatable. "I shall take the silence as a sign that you are all overjoyed for Y/N and I. Now, if you will excuse me, I must tend to my wife."

When Ivar reentered your chamber and closed the door behind him, Bjorn became livid. Though the most reserved of the Ragnarssons, he was still the eldest. Thus, he took exception to Ivar’s obvious disregard for the rules.

Glaring at his brothers, Bjorn stated that he wanted him returned to the cells immediately. Especially since your "illness" had now been identified. However, before he could call for the guards, Ubbe informed him that he didn’t agree. In fact, he added that he didn’t see the issue with Ivar being at your side.

"Let us not punish Y/N for his mistakes." Ubbe concluded. 

"But he killed Sigurd. Or have you forgotten that already?" Bjorn asked with eyes wide.

"Of course I have not forgotten. But the trial is tomorrow." A thoughtful Ubbe replied. "So what harm is there in him spending time with his wife? As fathers, we both know how stressful things are for a woman in that condition."

"Fine. But I am telling you, he has learned nothing." 

Without another word, a frustrated Bjorn walked away. He couldn’t understand Ivar’s ability to garner mercy even when it wasn’t deserved. Though he tried to shake the thought, in his heart, Bjorn knew that his little brother would not pay for his crime. Like it or not, it appeared that the Gods favored Ivar.

The signs just couldn’t be ignored. For that reason,Bjorn resigned himself to leave Kattegat as planned once the trial concluded. He refused to be around when Ivar the Boneless was unleashed again.

________________________

"Ivar?" You mumbled as you noticed him asleep beside you.

Sitting up, you could still feel the effects of the tincture. For that reason, you were unsure if you were dreaming or not. He was supposed to be in the cells, wasn't he? 

Ever the light sleeper, your husband's eyes promptly opened and his hand instinctively went under his pillow. It was where he kept an axe, despite all your protests.

"Y/N…what is it?" Ivar asked with concern as he sat up. Holding the weapon’s handle firmly, he eyed the chamber door. "Did you hear something?"

"No. I just did not expect to see you here."

Relieved that there was no danger to you or Dahlia, Ivar set the axe back in its place. After laying back down, he motioned for you to come closer. As you did so, he brought you against his body, resting your head upon his chest.

"You do not know how happy you have made me." He declared as he ran his fingertips along your arm.

"Me?"

"Of course, woman. Are you not with child?"

"Oh." You replied with some displeasure. "I explicitly told the Healer that I wanted to give you the news myself."

"Either way, my heart is full." Ivar said before bringing your hand to his lips. After kissing your palm, he apologized for the man not heeding your request. "Perhaps it was because you were asleep by the time I was called."

Before you could reply, your mind went to Dahlia. The last you saw of your daughter, the wet-nurse was feeding her in your chamber. Immediately, you sat up - heart racing.

"The baby." You exclaimed.

"Calm yourself, Y/N. She is in her cradle."  

You felt a wave of relief as you laid back down. As he held you again, Ivar stated that he was glad that you also saw the need to keep Dahlia close. After all, he was no fool. He knew that there were people who wouldn't mind hurting her just to send him a message.

For that reason, your husband had employed his own countermeasures. 

Ivar had numerous spies masquerading as Thralls. All of them courtesy of his loyal friend, King Harald. Furthermore, he was using his "flirtations" with Messilla to mask his real reason for keeping her near. Whom better to uncover things for him than your shy personal attendant? No one would ever suspect that the pretty Thrall was Ivar's eyes and ears. Not even you.

Caressing your back, he admitted that there was much to discuss, but it could wait until after the trial.

"After the trial." You thought.

The words echoed in your mind, nearly causing you to burst into tears. The sleep concoction had eased your mind temporarily, but now, reality had returned. Hvitserk and Ubbe wanted you to bear witness against Ivar, and King Solmund expected you to do far worse.

"Ivar…………"

"Yes, love?"

"Never mind. It is nothing." You replied, too afraid to lay your heart bare.

"Are you certain?" He asked tenderly. Ivar then brought your face up gently with his rough hand. Looking straight in your eyes, he studied your countenance, almost as if he could see the fear that raged within you. "Y/N, you know that you can tell me anything. I am your husband after all."

"I know. It……it is nothing important. Just nerves about tomorrow, I suppose."

"Are you sure?"

"I am sure." You lied – hoping your facial expression didn't betray you.

In all honesty, you wanted desperately to tell Ivar everything. But what if revealing the plots against him only made things worse? Your husband was clever, however, he had the habit of losing his temper. If you divulged all, there was no guarantee that he wouldn't make things worse.

"God, help me. I do not know what to do anymore." You prayed silently.

_________________________

Unable to find any peace, you awakened in the middle of the night. Though you tried, you just couldn't shake the ominous feeling that hung in the air. Either way, the trial was going to put you at odds with someone.

If you sided with Ivar, Hvitserk and Ubbe were sure to be upset. After all, they had plans on ruling Kattegat without their little brother's interference. And why wouldn't they? With Bjorn no longer interested in anything there, they would be able to do as they pleased. Most importantly, they wouldn't have to placate or bend to Ivar’s ego ever again.

Then, there was King Solmund - Sven's father. He and Jarls Borg and Øysten would be furious if you didn't side with Ivar. 

“I need to clear my head.” You thought as you got out of bed.

Desiring fresh air, you put on your boots and grabbed a cloak - tying it about your shoulders.

You then walked over to the cradle and caressed Dahlia's cheek as she slept. Looking at your daughter, you nearly sighed when you noticed her thumb stuck in her mouth. It was another new habit that you didn't care for. 

However, as always, Ivar encouraged it. As long as it made his baby happy, he could care less about your complaints.

After fixing her furs, you walked to where your husband slept peacefully. It was obvious that he had been completely exhausted. Which of course, was not surprising. Despite his high spirits, you doubted that he got much sleep in the cells. As you were fixing his furs, Ivar’s eyes fluttered open.

"Where are you going?" He asked groggily - noticing your cloak.

"I am going to the gardens for fresh air."

"Let me come with you."

"No. Just go back to sleep." You insisted. "I will not be gone for long."

Ivar stared at you a short while before asserting that he didn’t like the idea. However, he recalled that you often went for walks when carrying Dahlia. So, he relented. But before you could depart the bedside, he grabbed hold of your wrist.

"I will come and find you if you do not return soon." A tired Ivar declared.

"There is no need. Besides, your men are posted everywhere."

"Y/N, I will never leave your safety or that of our children to others." He replied before placing his hand upon your belly. "You are my responsibility and I will never take that lightly. Do you understand?"

You nodded before laying your hand on top of his. Satisfied that you appreciated his concern, Ivar laid back down as you left the chamber.

_________________________

In the gardens, you sat down, practically on the verge of tears. You were with child and that typically meant joy all around. However, it only complicated your dire situation. The only thing you could think of was the safety of Dahlia and your unborn child.

As you sat contemplating things, Torvi's warning echoed in your mind. She had not minced her words when she stated there were people who would do anything to hurt Ivar. After all, he appeared to be the strongest of the Ragnarssons. Not even Bjorn Ironside commanded the following that he did. 

Thus, any weakness they could find, they would most certainly seize upon it. That of course being you and your children.

"Princess, why do you weep?"

Stunned to realize you were not alone, you looked up to see a worried Sven staring at you.

"I...........it is nothing. Please, do not concern yourself."

Though he hardly believed you, the Prince didn't push further. Instead, he informed you that he had just returned from the Ragnarsson’s training grounds and was unable to sleep.

"But I suppose that makes two of us." He said lightheartedly in an attempt to lift your spirits. "I get these restless spells from time to time. Perhaps it means I am half owl."

When your expression didn't change, he became concerned again.

"Princess, I know this may be bold of me….." He said in a hushed tone. "but tell me why you are so troubled. As a man of my word, I will do my best to help you."

"And why should I?" You asked skeptically. “Pardon my bluntness, but I have absolutely no reason to trust you.”

It wasn't your intention to be impolite to the Prince, however, he was the son of the man you now feared. King Solmund had proven himself to be treacherous and for that reason, you didn't know how to feel about Sven anymore. As for the Prince himself, though taken aback by your harsh tone, he remained serene.

"I know there is allot on your mind right now. But despite what you may believe, you and I share a great deal in common." He replied.

"Sven, please. You have been beyond kind and I think you are a good man. However, I prefer that you leave me to my thoughts."

"No!"

You were surprised by his reply but he appeared determined to remain where he was.

"Fine. If you will not leave, then I shall go."

"Please stay, I beg of you." An exasperated Sven implored. "All I am asking for is a few minutes of your time. Nothing more."

"Why should I listen to anything you have to say? I hardly know you."

"As if how long you have known me infers anything. Tell me, the people you have known for much longer, how do they seem now? Personally, I think all of them are showing their true colors."

"Why would you assume that?"

"Believe me, the opportunity to gain power always reveals the worst in people."

You wanted to deny what he had said but you couldn't. Sven was right. Everyone was acting quite strange. Even sweet Hvitserk, whom you never thought was that ambitious. Giving in, you informed the Prince that you would allow him to speak his mind. The one condition however was that you didn't need to respond, either way.

"Tell me, do you not wonder why I have been so drawn to you?" Sven asked, causing you to give him a peculiar look.

But it was a good question. He had been attentive from the very first time you met. When you shrugged, he smirked.

"You remind me so much..............” He added as if hurt physically to utter the words. “of someone dear to my heart."

"What does that have to do with anything? You asked with disinterest.

Undeterred, Sven paced a moment before glancing at you again.

"You promised that you would hear what I had to say. So I ask that you allow me to finish." He replied. "As I was saying, from the moment I saw you, you reminded me of someone." Sven then inhaled and let out his breath nervously. "My wife."

"Wife?" You thought to yourself.

That was the last thing you expected him to say. Sister or Cousin, yes. But not a Wife. From all you had heard, the Prince was unattached. Not to mention he flirted with maidens, including Jarl Holmfast's daughter.

"Asfrid was so much like you.” He added with a weak smile. “You should have seen her. I swear, she had a presence larger than her small frame. I  think that you would have liked one another."

"Where is she now?" You asked cautiously.

"In Valhalla . Along with our son."

You could see the heartache in Sven’s eyes despite him remaining stoic. There was a brief silence since you didn't know what to say. How does one continue a conversation after such a revelation?

"You need not feel sorry for me." Sven said – noticing your expression. "It has been some years now so I have done all my grieving."

"If I am being too forward, do let me know. But can you tell me what happened to them?"

"They died during one of the battles over the disputed lands."

Your heart sank. Not because you thought it was directly Ivar’s fault that his family had perished. But you knew it meant that the Prince surely held a grudge. It could also mean that he was going along with his father's plots.

"Is that why you befriended me?" You asked with disappointment. "So you can use me to get your vengeance?"

"What?"

"Sven, do not insult my intelligence. You must know that your father wants me to kill Ivar." You furiously replied. 

"I will not lie to you. I am aware of the scheme but I had no hand in planning it."

"So, what is your role then? To use our “friendship” to convince me to listen to your father?

To your surprise, Sven looked wounded by the accusation. He shook his head in disbelief as he gazed at you, almost unable to speak.

"Princess, I do not blame you for thinking the worst of me. But I will say this, I may be King Solmund's blood but I am nothing like my father." He replied. "To be honest, I have been waiting for the chance to ask for the vial."

"This is some type of trick.” You said. “If I hand the vial over, you will just report that I will not comply. That would put me and my daughter in danger."

"Stop with these accusations and listen." Sven pleaded as he looked at you. He was quite frustrated and for the first time, you saw emotion upon his face. "If Ivar dies, my father will surely invade his settlements. He wants it all. Honestly, he hated the idea of sharing even when King Ragnar was alive. I may be a warrior but I grow tired of killing at my father's behest."

"Why should I believe that you are against your father? He is your blood, regardless of how awful he may be."

"Because………." Sven said, eyes glistening with tears. "Ivar did not kill my younger brother Tormund. My father did."

Your eyes went wide as you stared at him. If he hadn't appeared so broken, you wouldn't have believed your ears. You recalled Ivar mentioning a great battle with Tormund's battalion right before King Solmund surrendered the lands.

In fact, Sigurd had told you that despite the treaties, the King held a grudge for the death of his son. 

"But, I do not understand. From what Sigurd told me, everyone believes Ivar killed him."

"Well he did not. Though your husband is unbothered by the lie, I know the truth. "

"How are you certain?" You asked.

Walking closer, the Prince knelt before you.

"My ships faced severe weather, for that reason, my men were too late to be of help. However, as my men searched amongst the dead for survivors, they miraculously discovered Tormund. He was between life and death. Upon taking him to my tent, it was quite apparent that he would not last long. Thus, I resigned myself to be at his side." Sven paused a moment. "Remarkably, his eyes opened and he called my name. As I held his hand and confirmed that I was truly there, his exact words were "Father cut me down. Our own father turned his sword on me. Do not trust him, ever."

The Prince then added that his brother held on long enough for him to ask a few questions. The most important of course, being why would their father do such a thing.

"Princess, my brother was a man of honor. So he did not agree with father's decision to seize the disputed lands after Ragnar's death. And he was quite vocal about it. Obviously, this caused a rift between them. Still, duty compelled Tormund to fight Ivar's men when they came to reclaim the territories."

"It sounds like he wanted a peaceful resolution."

"He did, but father never regarded his wisdom." Sven agreed. "It is why my brother had the hearts of our people. Both in our Kingdom and the settlements. Father grew resentful, but I never realized how much. Thus, he seized the chance to rid himself of the son he feared would replace him."

"Sven, I am speechless." You confessed.

"Now, that I have unburdened my soul, I hope you longer think ill of me."

"I do not even know where to start. Forgive me for misjudging you."

"There is no need to ask for forgiveness." The Prince replied lightheartedly. "It only proves you are as prudent as I have believed you to be."

"But, what do I do now? Your father expects me to act after Ivar's trial. If I do nothing, he will surely send men to silence me."

"Do you trust me, Y/N?" Sven asked, looking you deep in the eyes.

You nodded as he glanced around the gardens again. Satisfied that you were alone, he instructed you to give him the vial of poison when possible. With that, Sven instructed you to return to your chamber. But he added that you had to slap him first. When you asked why you should do such a thing, he laughed. 

Wisely, the Prince stated that he wanted it to appear as if he had been trying to seduce you the entire time.

"You never know who may be watching from their window." He said with a smile. "Now, Princess, please make it worthwhile."

Getting to your feet, you walked over to Sven and mentally prepared to strike him. After all, it was not something you were accustomed to doing.

"What is taking so long?" He taunted. "Are you scared to hurt your wrist?"

Annoyed, you let your hand fly, striking him much harder than you had intended. However, your violent slap amused the Prince. To your annoyance, he smiled as he rubbed his cheek that had turned a bright red. As you left the gardens, Sven watched you with pure admiration in his eyes.

___________________

Back in your chamber, you entered to find that your husband and daughter were both still fast asleep. After removing your cloak and boots, you got into bed, however, you didn't lay down. Instead you looked at Ivar, contemplating what to do. There was great turmoil within your heart as you debated whether or not to reveal the plot against him. 

For whatever reason, something kept compelling you to reveal the truth. The sooner the better. Despite Sven having a plan of his own, you didn't feel right hiding things from Ivar any longer.

"Y/N, are you alright?" He suddenly asked as his eyes fluttered open.

Ever the light sleeper, Ivar had sensed your presence in the chamber.

"Not really."

He gave you peculiar look as he studied your expression. Though you hadn't noticed, you were twisting the fine hairs of the furs nervously.

"Y/N, look at me." He said sincerely. "There is no need so suffer in silence. As your husband, it is my duty to do everything within my power to help you."

Though he sounded sincere, you knew Ivar was a force of nature. There was no guarantee that he wouldn’t lose his senses once you told him of King Solmund’s plan. So, you took a deep breath and mentally prepared for the worst.

"What I am about to reveal is sure to enrage you. For that reason, I need you to promise that you will not do anything hasty."

"You know very well that I cannot promise such a thing."

You sighed and informed Ivar that if he couldn't do that one thing, you would keep your thoughts to yourself. Of course, that displeased him because he wanted to hear what you had to say. Especially now that you were with child again. The last thing he wanted was for you to be under stress for any reason.

"Fine." Ivar reluctantly said. "If it will make you happy, I promise to control my temper. Now, can you please tell me what is troubling your mind?"

"I am serious, Ivar. You must make this promise on your honor as the son of Ragnar. I am trusting you to keep your word.

Though he glared at you momentarily, he reaffirmed the promise as a Ragnarsson. Satisfied, you looked at the fireplace as you composed yourself.

"Well, I am waiting." Ivar demanded.

Though it wasn't obvious, he was troubled. The last time the two of you had a serious discussion, you told him that you were in love with another. Despite Herry being deceased, it didn't mean you couldn't have similar news. Numerous scenarios raced through Ivar's mind until his anger began to rise.

"Y/N!" He seethed, unable to take the suspense any longer. "Speak!"

"Ivar, you were so right about King Solmund. He is a dangerous man."

Your husband practically let out a sigh of relief. All the dire assumptions vanished from his mind as he gazed at you. Whatever you were going to say, he could at least take comfort that it had nothing to do with a lover.

"Go on." Ivar persuaded, giving you his undivided attention.

"He asked me to do something."

As your voice wavered, he eyed you with suspicion. He wasn't sure what you were alluding to. But for the King's sake, Ivar hoped the man had not tried to bed you. Regardless of what he had promised, it was one thing he wouldn't take lightly.

"Y/N, your silence is not helping. Just tell me what it is."

"He……………he asked me to kill you."

"What?" A dumbfounded Ivar asked as he finally sat up.

The words hit him harder than when he had heard of Aslaug’s death. He couldn't believe what had come from your lips. For a long while, your husband could only stare at you. Not in anger but deep anguish.

"For whatever reason, he said that you are a common enemy." You continued. "I assume he has heard the many whispers about our relationship."

Sensibly, Ivar recognized that people did gossip about your dysfunctional marriage. But for King Solmund to use it as a tool to entice you to murder, shook him to his core.

"So, how was it supposed to play out?"

"He provided a poison." You anxiously replied. "I was to pour it in your ear as you slept."

Even in the dimly lit chamber, you could see Ivar’s eyes glistening. There was no doubt that your revelation had shocked and enraged him. As the tears began to well, he stared at you - speechless.

“Please, say something.” You pleaded as you clutched the furs. He was truly making you regret listening your instincts. But you couldn’t hide such a massive secret any longer. Especially if things went awry. He had to be in the know in order to make a contingency plan. “Ivar?”

“Did you consider following through?” He finally asked with deep hurt upon his face.

“Of course not! That is why I am telling you everything.”

“I will not get angry if you tell me the truth. After all, I know you hate me.”

For the first time since you had been with Ivar, he was vulnerable. Even his body language that was typically imposing, revealed a broken man. Yes, he had been your tormentor and done vindictive things to break your spirit. Yet, there was no doubt that you held a power over him unlike anyone else.

“I do not hate you.” You replied. “It is true that you have been unkind, but I am a Christian. I am compelled to forgive.”

“Y/N, I do not care for your Christianity!” Ivar said with exasperation. “I want your heart, not your pity. Look me in the eyes and tell me that you never considered using the poison.”

You looked him straight in the eyes as he had asked. Hoping it would help calm his emotional state.

“Though you have mistreated me and we have been at odds, I do not wish you harm. Besides, you are the father of my children.”

“I will take you at your word. But let me say this. I know I am not the man you wanted.........”

“Ivar, th—–”

“Y/N, please allow me finish.” He interrupted. “I make mistakes and do things that even I cannot explain. But I need you to know one thing for certain. I love you.”

Looking at him, you could practically feel his pain. In spite of everything, his raw show of emotion had touched your heart. Before you could speak again, Ivar rested his head on your shoulder. Again, he professed his love and added that you didn't need to reciprocate.

"I am sorry that I did not tell you straightaway." You admitted as you stroked his neck. "To be quite honest, I was confused and afraid."

"The fact that you told me is all that matters."

When he lifted his head, you ran a hand over his plaited hair reassuringly.

"Fortunately, I believe things will work out without your interference. I spoke with Prince Sven and he revealed that he already has plans for his father."

Instantly, Ivar's eyes fell upon you and he didn't look pleased.

"Sven?" He repeated. "Of all the people to trust, King Solmund's own blood is the last."

"And that is how I felt initially. But trust me, Ivar, there is more to him than you think. He is nothing like King Solmund."

Your husband scoffed. But unlike other times when he disagreed with something you had said, he remained composed.

"Y/N, you know that I do not give my trust easily. Whether blood or otherwise. So tell me, why do you feel that the Prince is worth yours."

You were grateful that Ivar hadn't resorted to shouting or putting you down. Normally, that is how all your conversations went. But this time around, he was actually interested in what you had to say.

"I know it sounds absurd, but I do not think Sven likes the way King Solmund operates. Not only did he tell me not to listen to his father, but he also revealed something about you."

"About me?" Ivar asked with curiosity. "What?"

"That you did not kill his brother. He said that though mortally wounded, Tormund lived long enough to give last words. He told Sven that their own father had cut him down."

"Well, at least someone knows the truth." A apathetic Ivar replied.

"But I do not understand. Why have you allowed King Solmund to go around spreading lies about you?" You asked with great confusion. "Sigurd said that you supposedly killed Tormund after he and his men had surrendered. Why allow people to think you did something so dishonorable?

"Because."

Though you waited, Ivar didn't add anything further. Instead, he laid down and stared at the ceiling.

"Because what?" You asked. "Please, I really want to know."

"Y/N, is it not obvious?" He replied reluctantly. "People already believe worse about me. There are even those that say Aslaug was cursed, that is why she birthed a half serpent child. So what is the point of fighting their prejudice? I am not a perfect man, but if they wish to think I am a monster, so be it."

You hadn't considered the fact that people did gossip a great deal about Ivar. Even when you were a Thrall in Bjorn's home, you heard countless whispers about "The Cripple". It couldn't be easy to live life continually being mocked for an infirmity.

"But that is no way to live, Ivar. I refuse to believe that you like people making such assumptions." You said. "Why give in so easily?"

"It is far from giving in. It is merely allowing them to think what they wish. If people want to believe every tale they hear about me, let them. I will never beg to be understood."

"So you do not care how people see you? Even a little?"

"No." He replied confidently. His sorrow had lifted and he was now contemplative. "Let them create whatever version of me that pleases them. Besides, any man that cares about the opinion of others will never be happy. And I prefer to be happy."

Everyone knew Ivar was a masterful tactician but who knew that he was also quite philosophical. Curious, you observed him a moment before asking if he was indeed a happy man.

"Of course I am." Ivar said before he stopped gazing at the ceiling. He then gave you his full attention. Putting an arm about you, he stroked the small of your back in circular motions. "When my mother was killed, I never thought I would find peace. Every day I woke up with a great tightness in my chest. As if a storm was raging deep inside. But then came the day I saw you. It was like finding something I did not know I was searching for. So yes, I am very happy, Y/N."

You could only stare at him. Your husband was showing a side of himself you had never seen before. Not only was he being soft-spoken but he was revealing personal thoughts. In nearly three years of marriage, you couldn't remember sharing such a moment.

"Ivar, it is not wise to find your joy in other people." You said as he brought his face closer to yours. "My father; rest his soul; believed such a thing was the path to sorrow and disappointment."

"Perhaps. But I have never been good on my own. When I had my mother, all seemed right with the world. In spite of everything, she made me feel that I was truly loved." He confessed, almost as if he was reminiscing. "She loved me unconditionally. So when she died, it was as if she took everything good with her. Despite the presence of my brothers, I felt………………..alone. Floki was my only saving grace. But then, you came along. So you see, I cannot help finding my joy in you."

"Did you not hear what I just----------"

Putting his finger to your lips, Ivar gazed at you - his intense eyes studying your every feature.

"Y/N, I choose to feel as I do. If I am gravely wounded for that in the end, so be it."

With that, Ivar pressed his lips to yours tenderly. As he pulled back, he  affectionately caressed your cheek, feeling more assured about your marriage than he had in some time. 

_______________________

In the morning, Ivar was the first to awaken. Quietly, he lifted himself utilizing the leather and chain strap he had installed over the bed. After putting his leg bracers on, he rang the bell for the servants. 

As the women busied themselves selecting his clothes for the day, one asked if they should wake you as well. To the shock of all the Thralls present, he nearly threw the horn of ale he was drinking.

"Are you mad?" He hissed. "Can you not see that my wife is exhausted? Now go and have them prepare my bath before I have you flogged."

Before the three frightened women departed, he called one back to the chamber.

"Yes, Master."

"Fetch Messilla. And tell her to come straightaway. I have a very tight schedule and cannot be kept waiting."

"Of course, my Prince."

With that, the woman hastily left to go and fetch the newest Thrall. Optimistic about the day going well, he walked to the cradle and gazed at Dahlia. The baby had apparently been awake for some time, entertaining herself. She was happily babbling away until she saw Ivar’ face. Instantly, she gave him an adorable smile as she reached up for him.

"Are you happy to see me, my love?" Ivar sweetly asked as he placed his finger in her grasp. To say that he was enamored with his daughter would have been an understatement. Every time he beheld Dahlia, he couldn't believe she was real. Taking a seat in the chair beside the cradle, he placed the crutch down and picked her up. "You are going to spend the morning with me so mother can rest.”

As he brought her in for a kiss, Dahlia excitedly held his face with her plump fingers. It was a little game they played now that she was bigger. As Ivar kept lifting her in the air and bringing her down for kisses, he tried to get her to repeat words.

"Say, fa-th-er." He coaxed before nibbling her cheek playfully.

He did so a few times more which only seemed to amuse Dahlia. Every time he said the word, she squealed and became livelier. Knowing that repetition was the only way to get babies to talk, Ivar kept the game going.

"Fa?" She unexpectedly babbled.

His eyes lit up with elation as Dahlia kept repeating herself. Glancing over at your sleeping form, Ivar contemplated whether or not to wake you. However, despite wanting to share his the news of your daughter’s first word, he quickly decided against it.

"We will tell her later." He cooed as Dahlia stared at him attentively - almost as if she understood his words. "Do you know you will be an elder sister soon? Yes, you will. That means we have to take good care of mother so she and the baby stay healthy. She will need lots of rest."

To Ivar's amusement, Dahlia began babbling excitedly as if she was challenging his assertion. As he continued playing with her, a knock came upon the door. When he asked who it was, the Thrall he had sent to fetch your personal attendant nervously replied.

"My Prince, I have brought Messilla as you instructed."

"Let her in."

The door opened slowly and in walked the tense Gaul. She had been asleep when the Thrall had burst into her chamber instructing her to make haste. For that reason, Messilla only had time to throw a robe over her night dress.

"Master, what do you require?"

Without taking his eyes off Dahlia, Ivar informed her that it was to be a long day. And since he wanted you to rest before the trial, she was to take the baby to be fed and bathed.

"When the wet-nurse is done, you shall mind the baby."

"Of course."

Timidly, Messilla walked to where Ivar sat and took Dahlia into her arms. Though she didn't cry, the baby did begin to whine.

"What has father told you about crying? Hmm?"

Running his hand over Dahlia's head, Ivar comforted her affectionately before glancing at the Thrall.

"She is likely quite hungry so you may go. But remember…….." He said before dropping his voice to a whisper. "do as I have instructed."

"Of course, Master."

______________________

As he ate first meal in the privacy of the Study, Ivar asked one of the servants to fetch Messilla. After all, he had to keep up the pretense of favoring the Gaul. Not long after, one of the Thralls returned with the lovely Gaul in tow. 

Though she still found it awkward, Messilla had donned one of the costly dresses Ivar had gifted her. 

This of course was causing great chatter amongst the other Thralls. It was bad enough that the new arrival had her own chamber within the estate. But the fact that she was also being dressed lavishly by Ivar was not doing her any favors. Most of the female Thralls were growing to hate the young woman. 

In fact, whenever Messilla was around them, they went out of their way to be rude or curt.

Fortunately, they didn't go too far with their disdain. They may have been envious, but the last thing they wanted was for the young Ragnarsson to hear of her mistreatment.

"I am so glad you called for me, Master." Messilla informed Ivar as she took at seat. She then began to gently rock Dahlia in an attempt sooth her. "I have not been able to calm the baby since her feeding. Mistress told me that she is cutting teeth so I went to get advice from the wet-nurse. However, I was informed that she has gone into town."

"For what reason?"

"They said she was headed to town square. She wanted to purchase certain foodstuffs appropriate for the babies."

Rolling his eyes, Ivar broke a piece of bread and put it on his plate. Though he found himself growing aggravated with the wet-nurse, he didn't wish to dismiss the woman. Not only had she come highly recommended, but she was actually quite likable, minus her unplanned day-trips. Additionally, her son was only a few months older than Dahlia. 

That meant he wouldn't need to find a playmate for her as she got older. Taking a piece of dried beef from one of the platters, Ivar motioned Messilla over.

"Bring her to me."

Placing the baby over her shoulder, Messilla did as commanded. To her surprise, he took Dahlia from her arms and sat her on his lap. Ivar then held the dried meat to her lips despite her crying. It took some coaxing, but soon enough, Dahlia grasped the hardened beef and began chewing on it.

"How did you know that would work?" An impressed Messilla asked as she took a seat at the table.

"You women need to stop thinking men are dolts when it comes to children." Ivar remarked proudly. He held Dahlia securely with one hand as he began eating again. "Anyhow, have you had first meal?"

Messilla shyly looked at her lap and shook her head. She had wanted to, however since you were asleep she was nervous about entering the Great Hall. Especially since the Ragnarssons and guests were there feasting. It would have been too much for the poor girl to enter such an environment.

"Then help yourself." Ivar commanded as kissed the top of the baby's head. "There is plenty."

"That is a kind gesture but I must decline."

"Why?"

"I mean no offense by it, my Prince. It is just that my previous Master would never have allowed such a thing. Perhaps you are putting me to a test."

"Messilla!" Ivar said with exasperation. "If I wished to punish you, I would do it outright. Now eat."

Bashfully, she took a plate and began serving herself whilst Ivar gave Dahlia his attention. The baby was content and resting her head against his chest as she busily suckled on the dried beef.

"Love, you are getting spittle everywhere." He commented before grabbing a linen. As he wiped her face and chin area, Dahlia began whining. "Stop that. You are becoming much too spoiled."

As Messilla ate, she kept stealing glances at Ivar. It was hard for her to believe that it was the same person everyone feared. Even when he had purchased her from her old Master, the man had given an ominous warning. He teased that the young Ragnarsson was likely to be the worst Master she would ever have in her life. Thankfully, she had yet to experience such.

"Give Father a kiss." Ivar sweetly said after cleaning Dahlia's face. When he brought his face closer the baby pressed her lips to his. With a big smile, he looked at the introverted Thrall. "Can you believe how clever my daughter is?

"Yes, Master. She is also very attentive when adults are speaking. It means she will likely speak earlier than most children."

"Of course she will." He replied as he looked at Dahlia. Taking his horn of mead, Ivar took a sip before turning his attention to the Thrall again. "Now, tell me, is there anything new I should be aware of?"

Straightening in her seat, Messilla bashfully looked at him. She then stated that she had overheard a conversation between Ubbe and Bjorn.

“Well?" Ivar said with annoyance.

"It was right before they entered the Great Hall for first meal. I was seated near the gardens when they made their presence known. After they acknowledged me, they spoke by the entrance. Apparently, Master Bjorn plans to leave Kattegat after the trial for his settlement. He thinks you will not see any punishment and does not wish to be around once the dust settles."

Ivar scoffed. He could care less about Bjorn ever since his mother killed Aslaug. Though he had tried, living at peace with his elder brother had run its course. Despite what Ubbe and others said, to forgive Lagertha was not in his blood.

Ivar had denied himself vengeance for years, suppressing his growing rage for the sake “family”. But now that he had a real family of his own, he no longer cared if he fell out with his brothers.

"So, Bjorn wishes to run away?" Ivar contemplated with a delighted expression. "That does not surprise me. Like his mother, he is a coward. But please, go on."

"He said that……..that….he wants Master Ubbe to take over his assigned territories in Kattegat. He does not think he will return to oversee them anytime soon, if ever. Master Ubbe tried to change his mind but it appeared that Master Bjorn is resolute."

"Is that all you overheard?"

"Yes."

Not believing her reply, Ivar looked at Messilla. As expected, her eyes were dashing around which was a telltale sign that she was hiding something. Being astute at reading people, he eyed her with seriousness.

"Messilla, I will not ask again!" He said as Dahlia became restless. She let go of the dried beef and began fidgeting in his lap. Taking his attention from the Thrall briefly, Ivar held the baby firmer. He then spooned some honeyed porridge and put the spoon to her lips. "Still hungry love? Do not worry, Father will have a talk with that blasted wet-nurse when she returns."

As he continued feeding the baby, Ivar turned his attention back to Messilla.

"Tell me what you are so afraid to say. And do not make me repeat myself. Trust me, you do not want to see my other side."

"Master Bjorn said…….he said he could not believe that the Mistress is with child again. He also said that he pities her and the children for being trapped with you. And Master Ubbe agreed."

Though the words enraged Ivar, he didn't show it outwardly. He instead kept feeding Dahlia while pondering what Messilla had revealed.

"Thank you for being of great help." He finally said. "Now come closer, I have something to say."

Placing her knife and bread down, Messilla went to Ivar's side. She stood nervously with her hands clasped in front of her as she waited to hear his words.

"I want you to keep doing as I have asked. And remember, no matter what my wife may inquire, do not reveal anything. I will let you know when you are free to desist your efforts." He stressed. "You may go and finish your food."

"Yes, Master."

"And remember, anything I do or say to you in public, play along.” Ivar added. “But never to the point that it offends my wife. Understand?"

"Of course, my Prince."

Messilla returned to her seat, grateful that Ivar was nothing like her previous owner. Though she had initially thought he wanted to lay with her, it was apparently not the case. Amazingly, Ivar was a loyal husband. Her previous Master was nothing of the sort. The man was not only cruel but he used her as a bed-warmer despite having two wives.

As she ate, Messilla hoped that when her task of spying came to an end, she could make use of her talents. As a learned woman, she could teach languages, music and other skills to Dahlia and her siblings. Indeed, for the first time since becoming a Thrall, the young woman felt she could have a decent life with you and Ivar as her Masters.

__________________

You awakened in the afternoon feeling rested and ready for the long day ahead. For whatever reason, you spirits were high despite all that was occurring.

“You know what? I think I shall wear something colorful today. Perhaps the color red would suffice." You announced to the servants as they rubbed you down with rose oil.

"Would you like to take a look at your wardrobe so you can make a selection?"

"No." You said cheerfully. "Just surprise me."

Straightaway, one of the Thralls left to go through your vast collection. The one thing no one could ever say was that Ivar was selfish. He was exceptionally generous when it came to showering you with gifts. Your husband gave you so many things, that there was hardly any space in the chamber that housed your wardrobe.

When the woman returned, she was holding a lovely burgundy dress with gold embellishments and embroidery. You nodded in approval as the other Thralls laid out your boots and other necessities. As they were doing so, one of them brought out a corset.

"I shall not require that." You said without explaining why.

The woman put the corset back on the bed and came to assist with the braiding of your hair. Thankfully, with two Thralls working diligently, they finished rather quickly.

"Mistress, how would you like the ends? Pinned into a bun or left down."

"Pin it up please. And use the golden hair combs."

After your hair was finished, the servants helped you dress before looking you over.

"I think you should use kohl as well, Mistress?" One thoughtful Thrall said.

Agreeing with her assertion, you sat down so they could apply it to your eyes. As they were doing so, one of your least favorite people entered the chamber. Head Domestic, Adelaide, sauntered in unannounced, looking unpleasant as usual.

"May I have a word, Princess Y/N?

"As you can see, I am quite busy. Besides, I must go and have first meal once they are finished."

"Understandable. But I will not keep you long."

"Alright.” You said, trying to hide your annoyance. “I am listening."

The old woman looked around the chamber to convey that she wished to speak to your privately. Taking notice, you dismissed the other Thralls despite not really wanting to entertain Adelaide.

You knew she didn't like you nor your presence. But what could you do about it? The woman had served Aslaug faithfully and taken care of Ivar after her death. Thus, asking him to send her away would be like asking him to dismiss a family member.

"Well, we are alone now. What do you wish to discuss with me?" You asked.

Adelaide looked at you with a stern resolve.

"Prince Ivar tells me that you are with child again." She began. "He asked that I say nothing to the other servants until he makes the formal announcement."

"That is understandable." You replied. "But if he has already spoken with you, what do you need from me?"

"I need to ask an important question. Something only you can answer."

You instructed Adelaide to proceed, but you were weary. To your utter bewilderment, the old woman looked you straight in the eyes and asked if you were truly with child.

"What a strange thing to ask. Of course I am! Do you think the Healer has nothing better to do than to go around fabricating things?"

"I meant no offense. I just wanted to know for certain."

“Well, you may rest your mind. I am indeed with child! You snapped. 

"I beg your pardon. But you cannot blame me for being apprehensive. After all, you did not want to birth my Master’s firstborn."

Your neck snapped in her direction. The audacity it took for Adelaide to speak to you as she was doing was astounding. 

“There is no need to feign innocence with me.” The old woman continued. You attempted to rid yourself of seed the first time around did you not?" And do not say otherwise because I witnessed it all with my own eyes. The only thing I want to know now is if the unborn child is truly Ivar’s."

"What?"

"You heard me." Adelaide replied without flinching. "Why are you so content this time around? Personally, I think it’s another man’s seed."

Your hand hit the table hard before you got to your feet. Not only were you angered by the accusation, you couldn't believe that she had been spying on you so much.

"I will hear no more from you Adelaide!" You seethed. "I cannot believe you have the gall to speak to me as if I am the servant, and not the other way around. Now you listen, and you listen well. This is Ivar's child whether it pleases you or not! Now get out!"

"As you wish, Princess Y/N."

With that ominous reply, the old woman departed the chamber, leaving you to your thoughts.

_______________________

"It’s done." King Harald said as he stood on the pier beside Ivar. "Someone should come across her soon enough.

Since the time of the trial was fast approaching, Bjorn had given permission for them to meet. Despite the King being on the panel of judges, he was still Ivar’s dearest friend. For that reason, he requested time with Ivar in case it was his last day of freedom.

"I cannot express how grateful I am. Lizzy was a danger to my family."

"That she was." The King said with a nod.

With a pleased expression, Ivar suddenly looked at his friend, almost unable to contain his joy. Noticing his sudden change of mood, King Harald gave him a peculiar look.

"What’s with the smile?" He asked.

"Though I have yet to make the announcement, you must share in my good fortune."

"Good fortune, aye? What is it?"

"Y/N is with child again."

With a hearty slap to Ivar's back, King Harald congratulated him. As he laughed, he added that the news only proved that the Gods had not abandoned the youngest Ragnarsson. In fact, it seemed that they favored him greatly.

"And you now what else? The King added. "It also proves what you said to me the night you met her."

"I said something to you?"

"I’m not surprised that you cannot remember. After all, you were very intoxicated that night. But after Y/N served our table, you looked at me as if you had been stuck by lightening. Your exact words were "She’s the one. I must have her." Hopefully, this good news should finally give you reason to stop mistreating the poor girl."

"What?" An irritated Ivar asked as he shifted the crutch underneath his arm. "You think I mistreat Y/N? If that is how you feel, why have you never voiced it before?"

"Do you forget whom you are?" King Harald asked with a hearty laugh. "I prefer my skull intact, thank you very much. But I digress. If you truly wish to know my opinion, then I shall speak freely. Personally, I think you should stop being so aggressive with your wife. Leave the rage for the enemies on the battlefield."

"Let me understand what you are suggesting. You wish for me to become soft so Y/N can run amok? Never. She is far too willful as it is."

"Look Ivar, I am not asking for you change who you are. But you must think before you act. Y/N is a foreigner and already unaccustomed to our ways. If you are not careful, like a bird, she will fly away the moment opportunity presents itself."

King Harald observed his friend’s expression once he was done speaking. Obviously, Ivar was not thrilled, however, he did not fly into a rage. Instead, he pondered the words thoughtfully.

"I am grateful." Ivar finally said as he glanced over the waters. "It is not often anyone gives me words of wisdom. That all ceased when Ragnar died. For that reason, I will take what you have said to heart.”

"Good. Now, about the trial, have you spoken to any of the other panel members?”

"That will not be necessary. You see, I believe things will go my way."

"Oh?" King Harald remarked with a chuckle. "You are far more confident than you were before. What has brought about this sudden change?"

"Let’s just say that my brothers have been overly zealous with their desire to take control of Kattegat.” Ivar scoffed. “Ubbe is a fool to think he can dissolve the Council without worrying our allies. But I’m not surprised. He lacks understanding when it comes to the intricacies of leadership. Not to mention he forgets whom everyone credits with avenging Ragnar. Me."

"That is interesting. I never took Ubbe as the ambitious type. What of Bjorn?"

"That coward? He intends to join Lagertha at his new settlement. As if mere distance will protect him once I’m ready to strike."

When King Harald asked if he was finally going to seek vengeance for Aslaug's death, Ivar nodded. 

"That treacherous woman will die by my hand. I will watch the light leave her eyes and enjoy every second."

"I do not blame you for wanting to do so. But it may be easier said than done. Don’t you think Bjorn will fight by his mother’s side?"

"Then he shall die by her side." Ivar shrugged.

"True." King Harald mused as he ran his hand over his beard. "But what of Ubbe and Hvitserk? I know they are not your favorite people at the moment. But do you think they will finally side with you?"

"Those useless dogs? None of them cared about our mother like they should have. They may go and join Lagertha’s forces for all I care."

"Well, if it is of any consolation, I shall be at your side when the time comes. After all, you area seeking justice. That makes your cause righteous in the eyes of the Gods and man.”

A pleased Ivar smiled before thanking his noble friend. There was no one else he trusted more than King Harald. And in that moment, it was reassuring to know that such a powerful man understood his need for retribution.

________________________

When you entered the Great Hall, the entire place went silent. Though it was unnerving, you remained calm. With everyone's attention focused on your every move, you approached the center of the room with your head held high. 

There were about sixty people in attendance, all of them men of valor and great importance. As for the Ragnarssons, they were on the panel of judges along with King Harald, King Solmund, Jarl Borg and Jarl Øysten.

"Thank you for being patient, Princess Y/N. Please, sit there." Ubbe said as he pointed to the chair that sat in the center of the hall. 

As you did as instructed, you passed by Ivar. Remarkably, your husband seemed to be in good spirits despite the gravity of the situation. He even gave you a reserved smile while watching you take your seat.

You could hardly breathe wondering how the proceedings were going. Despite being a character witness, you had not been present for the start of the trial. Due to your condition, Ubbe felt it was best not to expose you to the entire ordeal.

"Sister, how do you fare this afternoon?" Hvitserk asked with a pleasant expression.

"Fine, thank you."

"Good." He replied. "Firstly, on behalf of the panel, I must ask if you understand why you have been summoned."

You nodded and stated that you were there to answer their queries about Ivar. Satisfied, King Solmund followed Hvitserk’s words by asking if you were prepared to speak truthfully despite your husband being the accused.

"Of course, your Majesty. I swear by the Gods."

"The Gods?" Jarl Borg interrupted. Despite being one of the conspirators who wanted Ivar set free, he had not forgotten about your little confrontation. "No offense Princess Y/N, but everyone present is aware that you are a foreigner. Not only that, you were a Thrall forced to adopt our ways. For that reason, swearing to our Gods holds little water in my eyes."

As several people murmured in agreement, you could only look the Jarl's arrogant and mocking expression. Though it was clear he enjoyed demeaning you, he was playing with fire. 

Ally or not, Ivar didn’t appreciate his assertion. Though his expression remained serene, one thing was certain. The Jarl would live to regret his display.

“I hardly think her old life matters, Jarl Borg.” Ubbe declared.

Though you thanked your brother-in-law, you added that you understood the man’s concerns.

"Jarl Borg, you speak no lies. I am indeed a foreigner. And a Christian one at that." You began. "If swearing by my newfound Gods is not acceptable, with permission from my husband, I will swear by my old faith."

When you looked at Ivar, everyone in the Great Hall watched with great interest. It was no secret that he treated you harshly, even in public. For that reason, all those present expected an angry response.

"You may do so if it will appease Jarl Borg's concerns." Ivar replied, surprising everyone.

Relieved that he had shown restraint for once, you thanked him before giving the Jarl your attention again. You then swore to be truthful by your Christian faith, and their Gods.

"That is more than satisfactory." Jarl Øysten said, as he glanced at his friend. "What say you Borg?"

Defeated, the Jarl shrugged and told Bjorn to continue with the proceedings. From what you could gather, your brother-in-law appeared more tense than usual. 

"Sister, as you know, we are here because of Sigurd's untimely death. Unfortunately……" Bjorn continued as Ivar stared daggers in his direction. "he died at the hands of none other than our brother and your husband. Ivar. In spite of this, we want you to be forthcoming. Is that clear?"

"Yes, of course."

"Now if you please, can you shed light on Ivar's feelings toward Sigurd?"

You knew the question was coming but it didn't make it any easier to answer. Honestly, you had heard your fair share of Ivar's complaints about his brothers. But for whatever reason, Sigurd got the brunt of it. Simply put, the two were like water and oil. 

Although there were moments of peace, your husband made it clear that he hated the deceased Ragnarsson for tormenting him. 

"I can only speak on what I observed." You said as you tried to gauge your words. . "There were times that the two of them got along. For instance on the Council and things of that nature. But things never went well for long. They argued often and would not speak to each other for long periods of time."

"And what did they fight about most of the time?" King Solmund asked with curiosity.

"Well, my husband is…………was born with an affliction." You began.

But before you could say another word, the King interrupted.

"My dear, we all know he is a cripple." He affirmed. "What of it?"

"With all due respect, King Solmund, I would not put it that way. As I said, Ivar was born with an affliction."

"Fine. You may carry on."

Ivar's expression softened. Despite often referring to himself as a "cripple", it was a word he greatly disliked. He only called himself one in an attempt to take the sting out of the insult. However, it still hurt him to his core. For this reason, he was immensely touched by the way you spoke of him.

"As I was saying, my husband’s affliction was used to belittle him." You continued. "Though Sigurd knew it bothered Ivar, he would continually make mean-spirited remarks."

"Like what?" Jarl Borg asked.

"Often, it was things directed at Ivar's worth as a man." You admitted as the room erupted with whispers. It was so distracting that Bjorn had to tell everyone to desist so you could be heard. "I loved Sigurd. God knows I truly did. But he did not bite his tongue when it came to Ivar. Nor did he desist when threatened. Honestly, when my husband’s anger would rise, it only amused him. It even………………"

You paused before adding that on numerous occasions, Sigurd had told Ivar that Aslaug should have allowed him to die. Additionally, you revealed how he would also insult their deceased mother for being a dreadful caregiver.

"Of course, I never had the opportunity to meet my mother-in-law. She was long dead before I was transported to Kattegat. But from what I can tell, Ivar truly loved her. For that reason, Sigurd's disrespect of her memory made things between them worse."

King Solmund leaned back in his chair and glanced at you with a raised brow. As for Hvitserk, he looked at Ubbe before leaning forward and placing his hands on the table before them.

"Sister, you speak truthfully. The feud between the Ivar and Sigurd began in childhood." Bjorn said in agreement. "But if we are to believe that inciting Ivar is what causes his ruthless behavior, then how do you explain how he treats you?"

Your heart sank. It had not occurred to you that out of all people, one of the Ragnarssons would be the one to bring up your marital problems. And since they had witnessed things firsthand, you couldn’t lie.

The entire Great Hall was strangely quiet - everyone eager to hear your response. The only other person unnerved by the question beside you, was Ivar. 

Though the two of you had conversed openly, there were no guarantee that you wouldn’t change your mind. Naturally, the line of questioning only deepened his hatred for his elder brother.

"It is no secret that my husband is volatile." You said truthfully. "Has he done things to bring me to tears? Of course. In fact, many have seen it first-hand, including yourself. However, I do not know whether he’s worse than any other husband. All I know is that despite everything, Ivar rescued me from a life of servitude. After all, I was your Thrall when he met me."

"That may be so.” Bjorn replied. “But are you saying that Ivar isn’t cruel by nature? That he needs no provocation to be violent?"

"As a Christian, I do not think anyone is violent by nature. Everyone is capable of good and bad deeds. Even Ivar can be kind. After emancipating my family, he not only gave them homes but he established trade for my mother and brother-in-law. For that, I am ever grateful."

There were murmurs as Bjorn groaned at your reply. As for Prince Sven, he sat quietly amongst the crowd, pleased by the developments. On the flip side, no one was more disappointed by your testimony than Hvitserk. 

Like Bjorn, he hoped that you would have sealed Ivar's fate. Unfortunately, it had come to nothing.

The questioning went on for a while longer before Jarl Øysten indicated that it was enough. He added that you had been very cooperative and provided great insight. With a kind smile, he then gave you permission to depart the Great Hall.

Utterly relieved to have held your own in a room full of intimidating men, you stood. As you passed by where Ivar was sat, you felt the calloused touch of his hand on yours. When you looked down at him, he gave you a gentle squeeze.

Giving him a reassuring smile, you returned the gesture before leaving the Hall.

___________________

"Mistress, please eat something." Messilla said as she rocked a sleeping Dahlia. The two of you were sat under a sunshade in the courtyard trying to enjoy second meal. However, you had no appetite despite the delicious spread. "There is no use in worrying about what is occurring at the trial. The Master is in the hands of his Gods now."

Though you knew she was right, you were far too stressed. Whenever that occurred, your appetite was the first thing to go. And how could you enjoy any food at such a time anyway? 

The fate of your family was in the hands of other people. If things went badly for Ivar, it would be devastating. Especially since you had cast your lot with him. That meant there was no guarantee that any of the Ragnarssons would offer shelter or help.

"Messilla, if things go awry, Please stay long enough to help me get my daughter somewhere safe. After that, I will let you go."

"I wish you would not think so negatively, Mistress. But if it will ease your mind, I give you my word."

You thanked her before taking a sip of honeyed milk. Your mind eased slightly, but as you glanced at your personal attendant, your curiosity peaked. In spite of all that had been going on, you had noticed that Ivar had taken a liking to the Gaul. 

So despite your normal aversion to him, you found yourself slightly bothered.

"Tell me, what do you think of Ivar?" You asked as Messilla ran her hand over the Dahlia’s thick black hair.

"The Prince is a good Master unlike my previous one. Many of the other Thralls think so as well."

"That is good to hear." You replied as you looked into her green eyes. "But what do you think of him? Personally, I mean."

When her expression wavered, your anxiety worsened. How odd it was to think you could very well be chatting with Ivar's mistress. Though you had no evidence, all signs were saying it was a possibility. 

From her expensive wardrobe to her private chamber within the estate, your husband was not treating Messilla like a Thrall.

"Do not be alarmed. I am only trying to satisfy my curiosity. Has Ivar attempted to..............lay with you?" You added.

"Mistress, please. You are asking things that you know I cannot answer. As I told you before, the Master forbids me to say anything without his permission." She said timidly. "Truly, I wish that was not the case."

Her response didn't answer your question but it definitely created more. Why did Ivar have her sworn to such secrecy? After all, Vikings took Mistresses openly. There was no need to hide anything if Messilla was his lover. But since the entire subject was giving you a headache, you chose to push it from your mind.

Before you could take another sip of milk, you spotted some guards escorting Jonah to where you sat. Since you had not seen your brother-in-law since the last time he had visited with Ivar, you got to your feet. 

However, you barely greeted him before he practically collapsed in your arms.

"Oh Y/N, it’s awful." He said with great pain in his voice. 

Your heart raced as your thoughts went straight to your mother. She had gone to take care of a foreign Jarl's daughter. What if the girl's illness had killed her? 

"It's Lizzy! She’s dead!" Jonah said as if he barely believed it himself. “My wife is dead!”

You could barely accept what you heard. Was your little sister truly gone?  Though you tried to ask him to repeat himself, Jonah was overcome by grief and embraced you tightly. As tears welled in your eyes, you felt the peculiar ache that only death provoked. It was numb and surreal.

All you could do was rest you head on your brother-in-laws shoulder and grieve with him.

_____________________

"We have come to a decision." King Harald declared as the Great Hall quieted down. "I will now give the floor to Bjorn to convey the panel's decision."

With that he sat down as the eldest Ragnarsson got to his feet. He first locked eyes with Ivar briefly before folding his hands over his chest.

"Friends, we gathered today for the sole purpose of deciding whether or not Ivar, son of Ragnar, was accountable for the death of our brother Sigurd." Bjorn said as everyone hung on his everyone word. "After all statements were taken into account, the panel concludes that Ivar did not act maliciously. Furthermore, he will be given his freedom immediately with the condition that he pay the fine of one thousand silver penning within the month. The amount will be split equally amongst the leaders of the Heathen army. If the fine is not paid, he will be returned to the cells until the entire amount is remitted."

The Hall burst into chatter and whispers of approval. Some men even cheered causing Bjorn to raise his hands for their attention.

"Have you any questions to ask of the panel, Ivar?"

With a smug expression, your husband looked at his elder brother with satisfaction.

"You shall have the coin first thing in the morning." He replied.

Hvitserk was so appalled, he could barely look in Ivar's direction. The disappointing ruling had gone down, two to six. With he and Bjorn voting against Ivar. For whatever reason, Ubbe had changed his mind halfway through the proceedings.

"That concludes the trial. You are all free to go." Bjorn pronounced.

The Hall erupted with great noise as the people in attendance began making their way to Ivar. Everyone wanted the opportunity to shake his hand and commend him on his vindication. As for Bjorn, he marched out of the Great Hall straightaway, followed by Hvitserk. 

Ubbe, however, sat at the long table, pondering his next move. He knew that he had angered his brothers, but he had no choice.

He may have been ambitious, but Ubbe was smart enough to see the writing on the wall. Ivar was going to be set free even if he had cast a guilty vote. And the last thing he wanted was to put a target on himself or his family.

"It appears that congratulations are an order." Prince Sven said to Ivar as he shook his hand. "I for one am glad to see you remain at the head of the Great Army."

"Your words are kind. I shall not forget them." 

"I only speak the truth. Now, if you will excuse me, I shall step aside so others may have their turn."

With that, Sven excused himself and departed the Great Hall. 

______________________

As a euphoric Ivar made his way across the courtyard toward the West wing, he couldn't help smiling to himself. Not only had he thwarted the takeover attempt by his brothers, but everyone seemed satisfied by the outcome of the trial. 

In fact, like Prince Sven, most voiced their relief that he would remain leader of the Heathen forces. Whether the Ragnarssons liked it or not, their allies viewed Ivar as the superior strategic mind. 

"Master!"

Ivar stopped in his tracks as Messilla came dashing across the courtyard holding her skirts. When she made her way to where he stood, she looked around to ensure no one was within earshot.

"Why are you running around like a madwoman?" He asked half amused.

"It is Princess Y/N." She began, her breathing somewhat labored. "She has been taken to your chamber and put to bed. Master Jonah is at her bedside along with the Healer."

Ivar's pleasant expression melted away as the words hit his ears. His first thought was that something had happened to the unborn child. He knew that it was a common occurrence for women in the early stages. But then, his thoughts went to you. Ivar could tolerate many things, even the loss of an unborn heir. Though sad, it was possible to try to create another.

However, he didn't want to think of what would happen if he were to lose you.

"Why was the Healer called?" He asked. When the nervous Thrall failed to reply straightaway, his anger began to rise. "Speak, damn you!"

"Apologies. I think I should make things more clear." Messilla replied. "Rest assured that the Princess has not taken ill. She is grief-stricken."

"About what?"

"I hate to be the bearer of unhappy news, but your sister-in-law is dead."

Feigning disbelief, Ivar asked the Thrall if she was certain. Messilla replied that it appeared to be so since Jonah himself had said it. 

Though he had not expected for Elizabeth's body to be found so quickly, Ivar was glad. The sooner she was laid to rest, the sooner your family could grieve and move on.

"Where is my daughter?"

"I gave her to the wet-nurse for a feeding only moments ago."

"Fine. But when that is over, you are to keep Dahlia with you. Understand?"

"Of course, Master."

Before Ivar could add to his instructions, He spotted King Solmund, Jarl Borg and Jarl Øysten walking. The three men were headed to the Dining Hall to partake in the imported wines he had instructed the Thralls to serve. Without hesitation, Ivar took hold of Messilla's hand and kissed it affectionately.

Though he had told her to expect such things to occur, it didn't make it any less awkward. Messilla truly enjoyed being around you and feared losing the burgeoning relationship. 

Ivar leaned closer, as if flirting with the Thrall, aware that King Solmund and his companions were observing.

"That is all for now." He whispered. "And remember, anything you observe or hear, no matter how insignificant it may seem, report it."

Messilla nodded despite wanting to tell him that the entire situation was rousing your suspicion. But she held her tongue. She was a servant after all and there to do as commanded. All she could do was hope that things would return to normal sooner than later.

"Now, go and do as you have been told." Ivar said as he began walking away. "I will go and see to my wife."

King Solmund and the Jarls weren’t the only people to take not of Ivar’s “flirtation” with Messilla. Hvitserk, who had decided to go for a ride, spotted his little brother and the Thrall as well. Of course, he thought exactly what Ivar wanted everyone think. 

Needless to say, the flaxen-haired Ragnarsson was appalled by his brother’s display. Especially since he had just announced that you were with child again. Despite you siding with Ivar at the trial, Hvitserk was still contemplating helping you escape Kattegat.

It would be difficult, but not impossible. So, as he stared in his brother’s direction, the plan began to take shape.

_____________________

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[planestrainsnpages]

This Is IT by Alan Watts (and Other Essays on Zen and Spiritual Experiences)

I give it: 7/10

Length: 153 pages

My Spiritual Awakening took place in Los Angeles, summer of 2014. At the same time, I read this text—and now, nearly six years later, want to synthesize the take-aways as I practice minimalism in reducing my extensive books collection to just 125 books. 

In this text, Alan Watts defines this as, “Spiritual awakening is the difficult process whereby the increasing realization that everything is as wrong as it can be flips suddenly into the realization that everything is as right as it can be. Or better, everything is as It can be” (13).

Essays include:

This Is IT

Instinct, Intelligence, and Anxiety

Zen and the Problem of Control

Beat Zen, Square Zen, and Zen

Spirituality and Sensuality

The New Alchemy

The title essay, This Is IT focuses on current consciousness—the continually moving moment of NOW and on the necessity to let go of control in order to be open to all emotions and the “cosmic experience.”

“I believe that if this state of consciousness could become more universal, the pretentious nonsense which passes for the serious business of the world would dissolve in laughter” (12).

This essay slightly contradicts Abraham Hicks’ (Law of Attraction) assertion that your emotions matter most of all, as the indicator of your vibrational alignment (or disharmony) with all that is. Many Hicks’ listeners confuse this to me POSITIVE VIBES ONLY, when instead, Hicks affirms that negative emotions are not “wrong” or in need or control but instead act to move you towards what you do want and what feels good. 

Watts echos Hicks by affirming that negative emotions are not wrong, but co-exist on the spectrum of emotions, and we should not try to control these feelings away/separate from us. In fact, Watts points out, enlightenment often arises in moments of despair. Contrasting emotions guide us towards what we want. However, Watts contradicts the idea that joy matters most, as he distinctly states that feelings of ecstasy are often confused for enlightenment. 

“...[T]he immediate now is complete even when it is not ecstatic. For ecstasy is a necessarily impermanent contrast in the constant fluctuation of our feelings. But insight, when clear enough, persists; having once understood a particular skill, the facility tends to remain” (18-19). 

Instead, Nirvana includes any/all emotions present and changing. Watts and Hicks alike encourage selfishness, while Hicks considers this a path to joy and Watts sees this humanness as a path to transcend the self to the “cosmic” whole or oneness, which he claims is purposeless and instead playful.

He points out that people mistakenly look for spiritual leaders to exhibit perfection over humanity:

“...[W]hether he shows anxiety or not, whether he depends upon ‘material crutches’ such as wine or tobacco, whether he loses his temper, or gets depressed, or falls in love when he shouldn’t, or sometimes looks a bit tired or frayed at the edges. All these criteria might be valid if the philosopher were preaching freedom from being human, or if he were trying to make himself or others radically better.... But the limits within which such improvements may be made are small in comparison with the vast aspects of our nature and our circumstances which remain the same.... I am saying...that while there is a place for bettering oneself and others, solving problems...this is by no means the only or even the chief principal of life....” (31-32).

Instead of prioritizing joy as an end-goal, Watts encourages purposelessness (as opposed to goal-setting and focus on improvement) and letting go of control as key to enlightenment:

“Nature is much more playful than purposeful, and the probability that it has no specific goals for the future need not strike one as a defect.... much more like art than business, politics, or religion. They are especially like the arts of music and dancing.... No one imagines that a symphony is supposed to improve in quality as it goes along, or that the whole object of playing is to reach the finale. The point of music is discovered in every moment of playing and listening to it” (32-33).

“...[I]f we are unduly absorbed in improving...we may forget altogether to live....” (33).

He goes onto say that if we believe that everything in the world is right just as it is, then we may perceive “our normal anxieties” as “ludicrous,” or a wrong response. Really, though, each emotion exists along a spectrum of all emotions, connected and contrasting one another in relation.

“...[T]he superior truth of the ‘cosmic’ experience... [C]ontrol must always be subordinate to motion if there is to be motion at all. In human terms, total restraint of movement is the equivalent of total doubt, of refusal to trust one’s senses or feelings.... On the other hand, movement and the release of restraint are the equivalent of faith, of committing oneself to the uncontrolled and the unknown..... An essential part of the ‘cosmic’ experience is, however that the normal restriction of consciousness to the ego-feeling is also right, but only and always because it is subordinate to absence of restriction, to movement and faith.... [T]here must be total affirmation and acceptance.... [F]or man to make himself mad by trying to bring everything under his control. We become insane, unsound, and without foundation when we lose consciousness of and faith in the uncontrolled and ungraspable...world which is ultimately what we ourselves are. And there is a very slight distinction, if any, between complete, conscious faith and love” (38-39).

One critique that I have with this essay is Watt’s meager attempt to assure that such acceptance of all as-is need not perpetuate injustice: 

With little supporting evidence, he state that, “[E]ven though it may be exploited for this purpose, the experience itself is in no sense a philosophy designed to justify or desensitize oneself to the inequalities of life,” (26). He goes onto say, “...the holocaust of the biological world, where every living creatures lives by feeding off others.... is reversed so that every victim is seen as offering itself in sacrifice” (37), going onto argue that all is relative. 

For me, this stretch contradicts experiences of the oppressed who fight against such an “offering” of themselves to a system that goes against their free will.

Overall, I think the message —to let go of control and constant striving for perfection, to accept all of our emotions as part of all that is— ironically offers an anecdote for an unbalanced culture to improve, through acceptance over action.

The other essays in this collection:

Instinct, Intelligence, and Anxiety looks at how humans differ from animals in our ability to analyze, predict, and decide—and at what cost.

Zen and the Problem of Control asks if, “man is a self-conscious and therefore self-controlling organism, how is he to control the aspect of himself which does the controlling?” Watts using judo as an example, of working with the blows delivered versus resisting. As it turns out—cooperation is key. 

Beat Zen, Square Zen, and Zen opens pandora’s box of true Zen, traditional Zen, and cultural interpretations—including Jack Kerouac’s. Watts argues that in order to don a true Zen lifestyle, one must overcome any fear or rebellion of their own culture. “Lacking this, his Zen will either be ‘beat’ or ‘square,’ either a revolt...or a form of stuffiness.... Zen is above all the liberation of the mind from conventional though...utterly different from rebellion against convention, on one hand, or adapting foreign conventions on the other” (90).

Spirituality and Sensuality begins with how, “It has often been said that the human being is a combination of animal and angel....” and further explores the illusion of duality as a true unity that cannot exist without an opposite.

The New Alchemy is an acid test that starts off with talking about immortality. Watts discusses the high points and recurrent themes of his experiences on LSD, including facing the ultimate illusion: fear of death.

[samesongxox]

Savior: Chapter 4 (Rude Awakenings)

Summary: (Hellboy 2019) AKA Turning a New Leaf AKA Good Samaritans Need Love Too. The B.P.R.D is tasked to infiltrate a black market creature trafficking ring led by a powerful warlock. Hellboy rescues Phyrra who is found being held hostage, a slave for her magic. He must protect her as she is hunted by her master and his gang of monsters. (AU where Broom isn’t dead/Abe wasn’t found)

It will be rated M, it will include violence, swearing, smuttiness, all the good things in life.

Disclaimer: Hellboy belongs to Dark Horse Comics/Mike Mignola, I don’t own anything except the AU and my OC’s.

Phyrra awakened to a still space. She blinked dry eyes, the lights were harsh and she struggled to focus her gaze. Phyrra wasn’t in pain, but she felt fuzzy, colours were circling before her sight. Taking a cleansing breath, they started to stay together, creating an image.

She was lying down, tucked into a clean bed. 

In a bright, clean room she didn’t recognize.

There was a sizeable man with his head perched on his arms across the bed by her knees, he was snoring soundly. 

No, whoever he was, it was not just a man. The creature’s skin was crimson like an apple, and had stumps where horns could be on his head. His features were large and sloping, relaxed in sleep they held no danger, which a creature of this breadth was bound to be. Was he a guard of some kind? Asleep on the job? 

Phyrra ran her eyes down his broad shoulders encased in a dark jacket, she observed his tail. With as much silence as she could, pulled herself up to a sitting position, carefully watching the creature. She was unlucky however as the sheets shifted with her movement, he was roused from his slumber.   

Eyes the colour of lemon skins opened and affixed to Phyrra. She froze in alarm, clearing her parched throat.

“Hello,” The creature thick lips upturned slightly, Phyrra was even more apprehensive.

“Hey, you’re awake.” Despite the slight surprise, he sounded like he knew her well. He reached forward, clear intention to touch her hand. On instinct, Phyrra pulled back. She didn’t sense enough threat to jump out of the bed, but she didn’t miss the disappointing aura that surrounded him. She kept wary eyes locked on the creature, watching as he stood up from his perch beside her sickbed. 

Desperate questions were on the tip of her tongue, she dared not speak them. Fight or flight instincts were beginning to kick in and Phyrra felt the clammy wash of panic settling over her. Thankfully her dry mouth filled with saliva, but unfortunately only with the weight of impending nausea; why was she not remembering anything? 

Phyrra’s tense nerves flexed in agony as the door clicked open; a human casually strolled in. 

Quick eyes scanned over the woman: aged, lanky, olive skin, wise eyes. She smiled gently at Phyrra.   

“Hey sleepy heads, I came back here and both of you were totally checked out. Thought I’d leave you for a few hours,” The crimson creature and the human woman obviously knew each other well; she approached him, pressing her fingers to his bared, furry chest. 

“Your rib isn’t broken anymore Hellboy, in fact you’re completely fine. No injuries at all actually, I know I saw you bleeding when I let you in here.” The woman looked from him to Phyrra. “I take it that was your doing.”

Phyrra remained silent, she healed this creature? His name was Hellboy? Hell. A demon then, the answer was obvious to her now. Phyrra couldn’t stop herself from focusing her attention back to him, without a sound willing him to explain. Whatever sort of connection she had with him, maybe it would travel through a kind of bond or the airwaves themselves and reach him.  

She did not not how to feel about the way the demon was looking at her. So tender and sad, not at all how she expected a demon of Hell to behave. 

“Yeah she did. I better go let dad know she’s awake.” Quicker than she thought something of his proportions could move, he disappeared through the exit. Phyrra stared at it for a moment, perplexed, try as she might she could not yield the feeling she didn’t want him to leave her alone with this woman.

“I’m Sorah, they tell me your name is Phyrra?” It was confirmed, they did know her. Phyrra strived to figure out how she got here; she felt her eyes water sorry at the emptiness of her mind.

She licked her dry lips and croaked out a pitiful, “Where am I?”

“At the Bureau of Paranormal Research and Defense. B.P.R.D for short. You were, well I would say rescued from that shady guy that dealt in creature trafficking. Elias?”

A light bulb burst in her head, Phyrra remembered. 

She was suppose to be with him. Elias. His precious trophy. Phyrra hiccuped in anguish, she no longer stop the flood of tears down her cheeks. The human caught who turned out to be not just as such...She went to her room to get away from him… Mordecai in the hallway.. She was going to take a bath, then she couldn’t find Binx, and….

That was it. She could recall nothing else.

Phyrra tried to control her breathing, but nothing could stop the great, gasping that had overtaking her. 

“Oh honey, you’re going to be just fine.” She felt the women's warm, comforting hand on her shoulder, Phyrra didn’t have the strength to move away. Keening, mournful sobs reached her first, before Phyrra realized it was coming from herself. Oh Goddess! Why did this happen? 

Was he dead?

Phyrra crazily felt hope permeating through her fear. It was too much, too many emotions were trapped within her. She was drowning. She had to find some solid ground before she lost what little mind she had at the moment.

Forcing herself to look up, she took notice of Binx. Her most trusted and beloved companion. Her lifeline. The glow in the darkness. Speaking to her.

“Phyrra! Snap out of this!" Phyrra’s grateful hands stretched out, cupped to allow her friend to land in the nest. The pixie held its little warm hands to the wet surface of Phyrra’s cheek, blowing gently in a drying enchantment.  

“Oh Binx! Wha-” 

“I’ll explain later, deal with this human!” Phyrra dropped Binx in her lap gently, finding the calm she needed from her friend’s instructions, of course; Binx always knew best. She wiped away the tears left behind on her face. She thanked Sorah for the handkerchief the human woman handed her, dabbing away the sweat on her neck, then blowing away the mucus building up inside.

“I’m sorry, I find myself quite emotional.” Phyrra tried for the even, serene tone she hoped would please this woman, striving to fall back into her formal demeanor. The lady went to some machine that held water, pushing a button that made it pour out into the cup in her hands. 

“Drink,” Phyrra accepted obliged, gulping back the cool liquid, practically starving for it. 

“You don’t have to say sorry, sweetie. I see no physical wounds on you, would you mind if I checked on you?” Phyrra shook her head no as the woman reached around her neck for some sort of medical contraption Phyrra could never recall seeing; she put one end of the object inside her ears, the other end was pressed against Phyrra’s breast.  

“Deep breath please.” A complex look spread over Sorah’s face, she pulled the instrument away, “Your heart is running so slow, considering you were just breathing hard. Have to say I haven’t ever treated...Someone like you.” 

“You do not have to worry, my body has to sustain extreme damage to require any medical attention…” Phyrra quietly contemplated what to say to this human, surely information like that would have been already found out in her incapacitated state. “That one you called Hellboy? Do I... I mean, do we ...” 

Phyrra had no idea how to pose her question. Sorah saved her from further suffering.

“He brought you in. Caused quite a little scene when you first arrived, do you remember any of it?” 

Phyrra, realizing she wouldn’t get very far pretending to do so, she shook her head and listened in horror as Sorah recalled the beastly way she acted. Her brows furrowed, Hellboy had also stopped her from… Phyrra shuddered, she would like to think she would not have killed this human called Hurse, but who was to say when she could not for the life of her remember doing it. 

“May I see this man? I wish to apologize,”

“I think that can be arranged, honey.” Suddenly, the door opened and in stepped another human, this time a man. 

Once again, on pure instinct, Phyrra’s eyes studied: Aged as the woman, dark features. A powerful, quiet confidence emanated from him. He was being followed by the demon…. 

Hellboy, Phyrra corrected herself. He had hardly acted demonic towards her, she could no longer call him that.

“Hello Professor,” Sorah greeted warmly.     

“Good morning Doctor,” the Professor replied, bidding Hellboy to close the door behind them please. Sorah looked back down on her patient, halting him mid-close.  

“I think I’ll go get you some decent clothes Phyrra.” Sorah spared the elf girl one last pleasant smile, leaving the room.   

The creature known as Hellboy was acting like a trapped rabbit, he was very flustered and anxious, pacing behind the one he had called father. They had no resemblance, both had black hair but that was no indication of heritage, the Professor looked to be completely mortal. 

Phyrra’s eyes followed Hellboy’s movement, she wished he would cease the nervous energy. Phyrra thoroughly sized him up, this one who she seemed to had sought out exclusively in her time of need. 

The way Sorah had describe how she clung to him disturbed her greatly. Who was she to throw herself at a complete stranger? She needed to ask in private how she had acted, and apologize for the ghastly behavior. 

It seemed she had multiple people to seek forgiveness from, and she had just arrived. 

Phyrra felt very unlike herself. In the daunting times of Elias’s capture, she had long since stopped the ferocious, feral way she would deal with things around her. Learning promptly the only way to survive was to learn, and subsequently, live the lie of a ‘friend’ to him. 

She would now do everything in her power to never go back to that fictional existence.     

Trevor looked from Phyrra to Hellboy, sensing as if neither one of them could even be bothered to know he was here. There was something peculiar going on between the two of them, no doubt about it.

The Professor cleared his throat in a grand fashion, “Welcome to our little operation. How is the patient feeling?” 

Trevor’s query was met with forced quiet, something was stopping the elf from answering, and he had a certainty he knew why. He could feel the anxiousness teeming from his boy. 

“Hellboy, I believe Major Daimio is still waiting for you downstairs,”

Hellboy wanted to protest. In the end, he was too nervous to voice his concern, what his concern actually was he couldn’t say it was absurd. 

Basically running away with his tail between his legs, quite literally, Hellboy realized his folly. He had just left Dr.Sorah with her. No matter if she seemed to be of a different disposition upon waking, mostly pertaining to her change of heart towards contact with him, he thought bitterly. He didn’t know if she would pull the same stunt with poor Dr.Sorah than with Hurse, Hellboy needed to concentrate. 

“Yeah, sure.” For the second time, Hellboy escaped from the room as if it was the last place he wanted to be. Leaving her alone with a human once again. Phyrra was curious as to why he seemed to be so… Frightened of her, she wasn’t anything intimidating. Nothing like a towering giant of a being he was, she had to get him to tell her what had… Transpired between them in her gaps of lucidness.   

“Alone at last. I’m sure you are quite overwhelmed right now, do you require anything?” 

“No. The woman, Sorah, has been most kind,” 

“Good to hear. I am Professor Trevor Bruttenholm, this is my home.” He gestured all around him, Phyrra tilted her head, starting to become puzzled.     

“Sorah mentioned this to be a.. Research Center for the Paranormal?”

“Yes we are a private, government funded organization that deals in the investigation of the occult, sometimes we combat evil forces, other times we help to defend and protect those creatures in need. As we have now done for you,” the Professor crossed the room to what looked to be a 

“I’m sure you have your fair share of them, but may I ask you a few questions?” The Professor sat down in the chair once occupied by his son,  “I want to broach this subject as delicately as possible. You seem much more agreeable now, pardon my term, than before. The man we extracted you from…”

The Professor got up, crossed over to the wall that once he tapped his fingers, appeared as a wide screen, the image flickered. There it was, the long gloomy hallways she resided in not so long ago. And at the end of it stood Elias, staff arched high in his hands, face pinched in combat with some unknown assailant on the other end of this camera.

“Is he your boss? Your friend perhaps? You were not with the others. In quite a luxurious room actually.” 

Phyrra snorted with disgust. “Please turn it off.” 

Trevor conceded, Phyrra heaved a great sigh. Bitter resentment welled up at the memory of her master. 

“Elias covets powerful creatures. As I’m sure you well know he’s made quite a career out of it. He has acquired vast knowledge of blood magic, but he is still a human man.” Phyrra found the courage to look at the Professor, making her words count. “Make no mistake sir, never did I ever want to be in his possession.”

“I am very sorry to hear that, dear. But I'm also glad I must confess, it would have been an awful turn of events to find out you didn’t want to leave.” Phyrra laughed abruptly, she slapped her hand over her mouth to stop the flow. 

“Oh, I don’t know what came over me sir. You must understand that is all I have ever wanted.”

“Please you can call me Trevor, dear. We have some other shots from the body cams of the agents, would you be willing to name some faces? It would be very beneficial to our organization.” Phyrra ascended, it was the least she could do, besides she also had a good feeling on whom he wanted information on.

Sure enough, the screen in front of her flicked onto an image of the centaur, standing proud and mighty. Phyrra smiled unknowingly.   

“That is Rhys, Elias uses him as a bodyguard of sorts. He is a very faithful employee. You didn’t hurt him did you?”

“No when last we have footage of him, he was in tip top shape. In any case, it was him that roughed up my boy.” Trevor raised an eyebrow at the elven girl’s apparent concern for the creature.

“It’s not like that. Rhys just does what he’s told to do, he would never have hurt Hellboy without Elias’s instructions...He is an ally.” 

“Mhm, and this unsavory type?”

 Phyrra once again flinched at the sight of the vampire, goosebumps broke out over her skin and she shivered, as if the mere sight of it sucked out all the warmth of the room.

“Mordecai. Elias and him seem to have some sort of companionship. He is a parasite. A bloodsucker. I would exercise great caution in your interest of him.”

Trevor resumed his seat, so much information to take in...     

“I thank you for your cooperation. But there is also the topic of your magic, Miss. I’m told you healed my boy.” Phyrra felt her face flush, strangely like she was caught doing something wrong. 

“Yes I did. Why I did I’m not sure, but if he saved me as you and the doctor have relayed, then I’m glad I did.”

“What of your history? How was it you came to be possessed by Elias?”

This was it, she had to choose: did she trust them? One brisk look through her time since waking up made it obvious to her that she could: Sorah, Trevor, Hellboy. They had been nothing but kind to her and it was time to repay that with her own respect. Even if this all turned out to be a farce, she was away from him. Right now that was all she needed.

“I cannot remember anything before my time with him, what do you think that means?” Phyrra felt relieved to tell Trevor, it was a weight off her shoulders.

“We can’t be certain, but you could just be experiencing some temporary amnesia, perhaps whatever caused you to be in the state you were when Hellboy found you,”

Phyrra was about to speak her thoughts, but held back. She didn’t want to tell Trevor she knew nothing when she woke up in this bed. Yes, trust needed to be established but Phyrra still felt the impulse to keep that to herself. They were strangers, after all. She had to at least have a failsafe here.

“I feel as if I stayed away from them for some reason. Perhaps that is how I came to know Elias, he never once mentioned my life.. Before him.” 

“Hmm maybe… What of this one? Pixies are not known to keep the company of any other kind, why has she?”

Both took in the sight of Binx dozing in Phyrra’s lap. The events of the last 24 hours seemed to have caught up to the poor dear. Phyrra could only imagine how ornery Binx had been through this whole ordeal.

“Binx? She is a true friend. Her and Rhys were the only I ever had in that prison.” The answer was vague, but seemed to be enough for the Professor. His thoughtful expression kept the room silent for a moment.

“What has happened to him?” Phyrra inquired in a quiet voice, scared to voice it too loud. She knew what the answer was, and also knew she did not want it.

Phyrra thankfully didn’t need to voice the name, Trevor knew who she was talking about.

“He lives. We recovered the beings that were held in that warehouse of his, but I’m sorry to say Hellboy tried his best, let me tell you.”

“You… Recovered them? I’m sorry, are you meaning to say they are here?” 

“Am I to assume you are pleased with this news?”

“Yes I am, that is. I am extremely relieved!” Phyrra felt elation at the idea of Elias without his prizes, all alone in that dungeon. The feeling didn’t last long though, he would be furious in his intent to get them back.  

“May I?” Phyrra was left wondering for a moment at the Professor’s request. She could not help but think back; she would of agreed to Hellboy’s touch if he had asked when she awoke. Phyrra nodded and Trevor took her delicate, pale hand in his much darker, much more weathered palm. A soothing sort of familiarity overtook Phyrra, he was a calming presence that was certain.

“Right now what I believe the course the actions you take should be with the B.P.R.D. We can provide you with a safe space for you to begin recovering your memories, and in return, you could perhaps join the team. I’ve seen what you did for Hellboy and was quite impressed, we can always use a helping hand.”

“I am beyond grateful to you for the opportunity, but you have made me aware of Elias’s survival. I know him Professor, he will come for me. I cannot in good conscience put everyone here in such danger.”

“Phyrra with all due respect, we are most prepared for the possibility of that. And I cannot in good conscience, turn you out onto the streets of modern day America. Can you remember the last time you were free enough to walk the world Phyrra?”

That silenced her. So many lonely, aching nights. Only Binx to keep her company but the pixie could only do so much for her. Phyrra now recalled the sleeplessness, when nightmares taunted her. Unfortunately what was once clear, lurid dreams of earlier days, could now purely be looked back on as shadows passing her in a dark space.    

“A very long time ago.” She replied, turning quite grim.   

“I apologize, I am not attempted to interrogate you, simply asking myself as well. Thinking out loud, if you will.” Also the questions might jog something in your brain. Trevor speculated, after this meeting, he was enchanted. This mysterious, amnesia stricken child was rather special. He would definitely need to return to those books.   

“No, it is quite alright Trevor. I will give your offer some thought.” Trevor nodded, patting his hand in a gentle manner against Phyrra’s.   

 “Right now, I believe you must get some privacy. We have begun cataloguing the poor creatures we found housed in that place, and you would be of a great help to us using your prior knowledge.” Trevor sighed with exasperation, placing her hand back beside her with care. 

“I’m getting ahead of myself,” He rose from the chair, crossing to the door. Turning back to look at her,  

“Rest well, Phyrra. You are no prisoner any longer, but a most welcomed guest here.” 

No sooner had the Professor left, Phyrra began poking at the dozing pixie, rousing her awake. 

“Alright Binx, tell me everything.”

-

Elias abhorred torturing humans. It was so plain, mundane. He likes his specimens to be of a thicker skin than the average son of Adam. But desperate times…

Counselor Louis Hudson had two decades of dedicated service to his country, both in times of war, and then from behind a desk. Tied up, beaten bloodied by this monster, he rued the day the funding for the B.P.R.D ever fell on his plate. 

“I’m really losing my patience Counselor, you realize the futility of not giving me what I want. Bring them in.” Counselor Hudson was most distraught at the sight of the vampire, followed by the centaur, dragging in Elaine and Morgyn, his beloved wife and child. The bloodsucker was decidedly more rough with his wife, heaving her down on the floor. Louis flinched at her pained cry. The beastman at least placed his daughter beside her mother, decidedly with more care.  

When at 14, his father told him his future would be in politics, Louis never would have even believed he’d ever be in a situation like this.

The vampire, with veily thinned glee, took a firm grip of the meaty flesh of Elaine’s upper arm, dragging it’s claws down the muscle, Elaine’s shriek pierced through the space. Louis could do nothing but watch in horror as blood oozed from the cuts.   

“Okay! I’ll tell you where they are! Just let them go! Please!”

Mordecai hissed in displeasure, 

Elias stroked down the shaft of his staff reverently, murmuring the gentle spell that created the illusion of the family. The figures blew away like dust in the wind, leaving behind the picture of them that Louis always kept in his wallet. 

“What?! Where did they go?” Louis cried out distressed, one minute they were there, real as anything...This paranormal shit was fucked. Elias stepped forward, grabbing Louis roughly by the mouth, directing the man’s attention to him.

“Worry no longer Counselor, they are safe. Now, your information please.”

[shaniahnoel]

Loki x OC (Elle)

This began as an incessant thought that wouldn’t leave me be. Now, I enjoy reading it but can never find it. So here it is: copy and pasted into a new post and saved to my masterlist! 

No warnings, no word count. 

———————

“Loki.” The voice is quiet amidst all the noise and chaos.

The man in question turns to its source and finds a young woman staring at him with eyebrows raised. Her long blond hair falls limply about her face, covered in the soot of the fallen buildings. She moves towards him slowly and keeps her eyes on him until she’s reached the man on the floor. Thor, God of Thunder, is panting at her feet and she kneels to press cloth to the wound in his gut. Her gaze is reproachful as she looks back to Loki. He sheaths his dagger in defiance and curls a lip in distaste. The way is clear to the throne and he turns to the portal in haste.

His cloak billows behind him and he’s nearly reached the portal when he hears the weapon discharge. Loki turns, ready to defend but finds there is no need. On the floor beneath him she lays, clutching at the hole in her chest. A weapon charges again and Loki whirls, throwing the dagger through the throat of the one who sought to harm him. He scans the room. Thor stirs on the floor, his vigor returning but she grows more still. The color has nearly left her when he takes her into his arms and exits through the portal.

The tunnel is perpetually damp. A salty tang fills his lungs as he steps through the portal. He moves carefully to the opening in the cliff side, mindful of every loose rock. It is nearly impossible to remove his gaze from the woman in his arms. Her breath is slight and her heartbeat faint but still they are there as markers of her life and so he presses on with her. The waters of Asgard are calm as he gazes out over the sea. There is little movement on the bridges and he closes his eyes to focus. Heimdalt must not see.

It is four days later when she awakens and Loki holds his breath. She sits up slowly, painfully, grasping instinctively at her chest. Her hands shake as she pulls off the top and to his credit Loki looks away. He listens to her tears as she examines the wound and rolls his eyes. Midgardians are so fragile, he thinks to himself. He risks a glance and his eyes go wide. She’s clothed and staring straight into his eyes. No, through his eyes. Loki steps to the side but her gaze doesn’t follow. He slips carefully through the cracked door and pauses a few minutes before entering the room.

Her gaze shoots towards him and this time he knows she see him. A slight smile adorns her face. “Where am I?”

“Asgard,” he answers with a voice of disdain. A faint flush creeps into her cheeks and he pauses to consider its meaning. “Why did you step in front of me?”

The question is abrupt but his voice is controlled. He’d planned to wait for this interrogation. Need for an answer gnawed within him as guilt pulled at his gut. He averted his eyes from the bandages peeking out from her shirt.

“I… I didn’t want you to die.” She shrugs and the color dulls in her cheeks. Her brow furrows and then clears. “Did Thor bring me here?”

Loki’s teeth grind together. Of course her thoughts are of Thor, he thinks. Did she save him for his brother’s favor?

“No,” he responds in a clipped tone. “I did.”

“Why?”

“Is it not possible for the God of Mischief to have compassion?” He didn’t mean it. His only desire is to question her and to free himself from the burden of life debt. He’s prepared for the list of his misdeeds but instead she smiles. He can see that it reaches her bright eyes as she brushes the hair from her face.

“Of course it is. I’m sorry I—Thank you.” Her words are earnest and he studies the way she leans towards him and how her gaze never wavers. She seems genuine and he bristles within. Without intending another word he turns to leaves the chambers but stops, compelled.

“How are you healing?”

She moves with small, tentative motions. There are several movements which cause her to wince and he makes a mental note to speak with her attendants.

“It feels okay,” she says quietly and for the first time Loki notes the deception in her voice.

“Truly?”

Her mouth opens and the color returns to her cheeks. “It hurts,” she admits quietly. “But I’ll be okay.”

Midgardians have always been terrible at deception but this one, this one is extreme. One probe of verification and she crumbles. Part of him wants to disdain her for that alone. Part of him is still curious.

“I will be okay, right,” she asks, her voice anxious. Loki realizes some emotion must have crossed his face because now she is unsure.

“A scar should be all the remains,” he assures her.

“When can I go home?”

“Home?”

“Back to earth,” she clarifies and Loki’s brow furrows. No mention of reward, no statement of debt.

“You wish to go home?”

“Y-yes, as soon as I am well.”

————

It is a week before Loki returns to her chambers. Perhaps fear of his failure to return will pressure her to reveal the price. When he arrives at her chambers, the door is a ajar. She is nowhere to be found and his breath hitches. Most of the people do not know a Midgardian is among them and so he fears where she’s gone.

He races through the halls, glancing into rooms and straining his senses. At last he finds her, standing at the end of a corridor and staring up at the art with a look of awestruck wonder. She jumps when he appears at her side but to his surprise she does not cry out. Instead she looks abashed, like a petulant child denied a treat. Footsteps sound down the hallway and Loki recognizes the metal of the guards.

“Trust me,” he whispers, placing a finger to his lips as a green light flashes and suddenly a man in regal dress stands where he once was. A mixture of awe and confusion spreads across her face and she turns to the source of the noise. The guards stand at attention when their gaze falls to the man and each steps back, deferring to the guard at center.

“Commander and …,” he waits, inclining his head to the woman at his side. Loki realizes a pertinent question had been left unasked.

“Elle,” she supplies for him with a warm smile on her face. “Its a pleasure to meet you.” She greets each one in turn and Loki’s eyes narrow at the wince in her eyes.

“Forgive us the intrusion, but we’ve received word that Loki is alive and up to his old habits. Thor’s been injured but is recovering.”

Loki freezes. From the outside, the Commander is stricken with concern for his son and the chaos the God of Mischief might incur. On the inside, Loki weighs his options as Elle will surely—

“He’s aware.” Elle inclined her head towards Loki, still in his new form. “You don’t think we midgardians come just for a casual chat, do you?”

They exchange a look and murmur their assent. Loki bids them on and steers her more forcefully than he intends around the corner. A flare of green and it’s his blue eyes piercing her once more.

“You didn’t divulge my charade?”

“You said to trust you,” she answered with a shrug. Loki wants to scream with the simplicity of the answer.

“People don’t tend to do that.”

Her fingers gently, carefully, touch the exposed skin of his forearm. “Sorry.”

Before he can ask, she turns and walks down the corridor. It’s a few beats before he moves to catch up with her. “You’re sorry?”

“If I hadn’t walked out of my room, there wouldn’t have been any of that. I’ve just grown stir crazy.”

Loki can’t believe his ears. Guilt wasn’t an emotion he felt often, but waves crashed upon him. The situation was singlehandedly his own doing and yet here she stood apologizing for seeking to stretch her legs. The Midgardian who could not lie allowed others to be misled.. for him. A light feeling bubbled in his chest, reminding him of discussions with Frigga. He grabs her arm and then hesitates, the green aura of his magic dancing around them as he steps back.

“Join me,” he says, extending a hand. The awkward blur between command and invitation brings a smirk to Elle’s lips but she takes his hand willingly and he leads her through the castle. The turns are never ending, they go up staircases and through hidden corridors, and once or twice she finds herself hastily thrust into an alcove as guards pass but finally they arrive at his destination.

Elle gasps and walks to the edge of the balcony as it overlooks Asgard. It is shielded from view on most sides and so Loki steps with her, pointing out the various buildings of the world he lives in. When she turns to him, the awestruck wonder on her face strikes him to his core. Suspicions flutter at the edge of his mind, overshadowed by the radiance of her joy and an answering smile twitches at his lips.

Pieces of the rail are eroded away and Elle steps carefully around broken marble. She crouches low and slides on her bottom to the edge, allowing her legs to dangle.

“Join me,” she asks with a raised eyebrow and Loki bristles slightly at the mockery but concedes to her playful demeanor. As he moves beside her he notes that her skin has paled within the last hour.

“How’re you feeling?”

“A bit dizzy,” she admits. “I’m sure it’s just a symptom of exertion. C-could you..”

“Could I,” Loki repeats, an icy feeling seeping into his chest as he prepares for the request she’ll give him. Now more than ever she must assume he has a debt to repay.

“I don’t want to go back to my room quite yet, but I am feeling a bit light-headed. I-I didn’t know if there was anything you could do about that, but I imagine you have better things to do than tend to me..”

Loki clears his throat. “I’m not a healer. What do you know of me, Midgardian?”

Elle purses her lips and her brow draws together as she considers the venom in his words. “You’re Loki, God of Mischief. Occasional enemy and occasional friend of the avengers.. And for some reason determined to argue with me—I’ll make my way back to my room now.”

She stands with surprising speed and he clenches his fist against the urge to catch her as she sways. His teeth grind together as she continues forward but he resolves to watch her walk away.

An hour passed before he brings himself to move from the spot. Every sight before him transforms into her and he must admit she’s beautiful. However it is not her beauty that compels him but her demeanor—the kindness and respect in her eyes is like nothing he’s experienced since Frigga.

When he enters the castle he freezes immediately. Elle is tucked into the nearest alcove, her arms wrapped around her torso as it rises and falls gently. The worries of her face have softened as she sleeps and Loki contemplates what to do. She stirs as his footsteps approach and he stills once more.

“This isn’t your room,” he notes drily. His ire fades as she giggles nervously and a flush creeps into her cheeks.

“I fell and was too weak to stand,” she admits. “I decided to rest and try again later.”

“Why not fetch me?”

“You can’t have it both ways, you know. Either you want people to rely on you or you don’t. I felt you made it clear that I was to ask nothing of you.”

“So you do want something then?”

“I want to go home.”

“Loki has better things to do, eh,” Elle comments to the woman, Yara, who’s been her attendant in Asgard. All wounds have healed and only the faintest hint of scar remains.

“He’s not one for sentiment.”

“Do I have the time to find him,” she asks, turning to Heimdalt who, for a moment, looks through her.

“The bifrost is available when needed. Loki is in the vault.”

Yara appears apprehensive, but concedes to take Elle back to the castle. They walk the corridors in silence until Yara draws back before a set of ornate doors. Elle steels herself for the rebuff, straightening her shoulders and lifting her chin before marching through the doors.

His back is to her but he stiffens as she approaches. Growing meek, she stops a few feet from him and clears her throat. When he doesn’t turn she proceeds.

“I’m ready to leave.”

“Then go.”

“I wanted to say goodbye, and to thank you.”

Loki whirls then and she notices the pale blue of his skin, the vibrant red of his eyes. A wooden casket is in his hands and she studies it curiously.

“Midgardians and their pleasantries,” he spits at her but Elle is undeterred. She steps forward carefully, stopping within arms reach. His eyes tighten as she touches the skin of his cheek and she resists the urge to pull away from the frigid surface. Instead she rises on her toes and touches her lips gently to the opposing cheek.

“Thank you, Loki,” she murmurs, blue eyes meeting red. The casket drops from his hand back to the pedestal he plucked it from and his complexion changes to its usual pallor. Elle smiles as her thumb caresses his cheek and then she turns to leave. Once more he wills himself not to follow her, but this time he’s unsuccessful.

“Elle,” he whispers, a breath in the wind but she stops and turns expectantly. Loki hesitates, unsure of what spell he’s fallen under. This woman, this Midgardian woman, has been in his company for no more than a week and yet there’s an emptiness at the thought of her leaving. How starved for companionship has he become?

“What is it,” she prompts when he fails to continue and he clears his throat.

“Did you know,” he asked, gesturing to the cask behind him. Her brow furrows. “Did you know that my true name is Loki Laufeyson, heir to Jotunheim? That I am a frost giant.”

The more he speaks the greater her confusion but he cannot help but ask. The answer matters more than he can form into words. She shifts self consciously.

“I suppose that explains the cold,” she chuckles. “I didn’t know. Does it matter?”

“T-to some.”

“To you?”

Loki’s breath catches in his throat. He thinks of Frigga, of some of his last words to her. He considers Odin. He remembers the comments he’s endured with avengers and asgardians alike.

“And yet not to you.”

“What does that mean?”

“Everyone sees the God of Mischief, the frost giant… but not you… why? It’s troubled me all the time you’ve been here. You’ve only ever seen.. me.”

The emotion is tight in his throat. He hasn’t meant to be so revealing but to keep her any longer would be to incur the interest of Thor and the others. He couldn’t bear himself to hold her any longer and thus he must free it all at once. Elle smiles.

“No one’s perfect… and everyone needs kindness. I try to make everyone smile,” she shrugs and Loki aches at the generality.

“I see,” he hedges careful and Elle steps forward. Barley an inch is between them as she looks up into his eyes.

“I will say… your smile has become much more endearing to me.”

With that she raises on her toes again, holding his head in her hands. Nervously her lips press against his before she slides backwards, but this time his hands move with her. He wraps his arms around her waist, hindering her escape.

“Stay,” Loki whispers as his forehead touches hers. The uncertainty is clear in her eyes and his gaze becomes more earnest. “I.. I haven’t felt this in so long and you.. you feel something too, yes? Please stay.”

At a loss for words, Elle rises up again and presses her lips to his. “Okay.”