#termites wanted to eat them all. whispers just wanted to kill them all. SAME PEOPLE BASICALLY
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Dirt Crawlers
Look @darkeninganon , I beat you to writing the slug thing!!!! :)
(brain just randomly started thinking of story and I just decided to write it now before I lost motivation/inspiration)
Part 2->
TRIGGER WARNINGS: BUGS, FEAR, MENTION OF DEATH, FEELING SMALL, VERY GROSS DISCRETION
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Tommy watched Dream as he pushed the door to their hole in the ground open The younger Dirt Crawler was practically bouncing with excitement. Today was the day, finally Dream was taking him out on his first hunting trip. It was the perfect day for hunting as well, since it hadn't rained for weeks and was so bright and sunny out (as Tommy could tell from the blinding light coming through their burrow door) that there was no way it would rain; so there was no risk of them drowning in a puddle or getting dragged down to suffocate in mud. It was also the afternoon by now, judging by where the sun was, which meant almost no birds out hunting at all. Yeah, now would be the perfect time to get some food.
"You remember all the rules I told you, right?" Tommy was startled out of his thoughts by his older brother's voice.
"Yeah yeah yeah, I know I know!" The teen rolled his eyes. The rules had been drilled into him ever since he was a kid, ever since their parents were still around.
"Okay, so remember that we're only hunting aphids- no attacking ants, ladybugs, termites-"
"Mantises,"-He cut off Dream's words-"slugs- yeah yeah, I know boss man! We don't fight anything that isn't an aphid!!" Tommy climbed out of the burrow with that in mind. He already knows what happens if a Dirt Crawler tries to fight anything other than an aphid, he's been told the horror stories thousands of times. Ants will swarm you if you hurt one, ladybugs can headbutt trample and eat you, termites can take a limb off with one bite, and mantises- of Prime Tommy really does NOT want to think about fucking mantises.
"I'm just making sure-" Dream added as he climbed out to stand next to Tommy, kicking their burrow door closed behind himself. "I know how adventurous you can get at times and I don't want to risk anything." The elder puts a hand on Tommy's shoulder and looks into his baby brother's eyes seriously. The world is a dangerous place for someone only half an inch tall, and he wants to make sure his baby brother is safe.
"Stop worrying so much- I'm not gonna leave your side big man." Tommy smirks into their serious gaze and gives his brother a comforting pay on the shoulder, making them sigh with relief.
"Good- because I don't know what I'd do without your annoying voice." Dream jokes with a slightly forced chuckle and ruffles the teen's curly blond hair. Tommy only groans in annoyance and pushes his hand away, which only makes Dream let out another fond chuckle. "C'mon, we don't have all afternoon!" The elder doesn't give Tommy any time to fix their hair as he grabs their hand and pulls them off into the towering grass blades.
It's a few hours later when the two brothers find themselves watching from being blades of grass as several aphids hop around on the dirt, having called off of the grass after the two tiny people had shaken their plant homes with the help of a light breeze. Dream pulls out a small sword and turns to Tommy to make sure he's holding his own sword correctly. Once the eldest is sure the time is perfect, he gives a signal with his hand and both split- Dream running in from the right and Tommy from the left, both catching the tiny bugs off guard and using that to their advantage to slice off the heads of several before they can jump out of reach.
"You did it!" Dream smiles up at Tommy who himself is smiling proudly. They were running low on food, and now with Tommy's help, they're both sure to have more than enough aphids to last them for a week or more at least. "This should be good- you, did good Toms." The green clad Dirt Crawler walks over to his brother and ruffles their hair, and this time Tommy does not complain. "Now help me bag them up-"
"Yes sir!" Tommy gives a small thumbs up and starts to fill his sprig woven bag with the dead aphids as Dream does the same. It's all fine until one of the aphid bodies gets up and starts to limp away- Tommy missed it's head. "I'll get it!" He calls over to his brother, who gives a nod of acknowledgement before Tommy chases after the aphid, knowing he can easily catch and kill it since it can't jump.
Tommy doesn't notice anything suspicious as he approaches the injured aphid. He doesn't look around at his surroundings as he gets out his sword. He doesn't look up as he stabs the bug and finally kills it. He does however scream after looking up to see where the droplet of slime had come from on his sword after landing the killing blow.
Dream snaps his head up to attention, his eyes wide with fear for his Tommy as he looks to where they'd run off to- and he almost screams as well. "IT'S A SLUG!!!!" He's quick to run over and grab Tommy's arm and start to drag the petrified teen away before they can be eaten.
Tommy doesn't hesitate to follow Dream once he snaps out of his state of fear. As they run Tommy tries not to think about the humongous slimey being of pure squishy muscle, with four eyes that stared at him with nothing but hunger, and a large gaping mouth that was opening and closing, ready to eat it's lunch with the rows upon rows of tiny razor sharp teeth that could allow the disgusting giant to swallow him whole. Tommy shivers, yeah that's going to be haunting his nightmares- oh well at least slugs are slow, so he and Dream have plenty of time to run away…. Or so he thought, before suddenly his running is slowed significantly by something making him stick to the ground. The teen looks down, and sees he's stepped into a trail of familiar slime that has him now stuck where he stands.
"Dre- Dream!?" He yells to his older brother, who also finds himself slowed by the slime trail. Dream looks at his brother sadly, and grabs their arms before desperately trying to pull Tommy free as the slug approaches at a slow orgilating crawl towards them.
"Tommy- Tommy, look at me!" Dream said, keeping his voice firm, trying to give his baby brother something to focus on. "Don't look back- don't- d- don't look behind you. Just focus on me, we're going to get out of this." At least Tommy is close enough for Dream to pull them into a hug. He lets Tommy bury their face into his chest, letting them cry as he glares up at the omnivore that had successfully hunted them down on Tommy's first aphid gathering…
"I- I'm scared…" Tommy admits quietly, something they usually would never do, but Dream can understand in this situation: getting stuck while running from a slug is certain death for any and all Dirt Crawlers.
"I know… I know, but it's going to be okay, I promise…." Dream whispers softly and weaves his fingers into Tommy's soft golden curls, something that's always calmed them down, no matter how old. He hugs his small brother close, closing his eyes so he can savor one last moment with them…
BOOM-SQUELCH!!!
The sound is loud and disturbing to hear for the absolutely miniscule brothers, and they both open their eyes wide in surprise and fear of what happened. All that can run through Dream's head is that the slug must've been crushed by something, but what? A deer? A wolf maybe? Possibly even a skunk even if they aren't in this area? The only way to find out is to look up- and up- and up and up and up and-
"Fuck." Dream doesn't cuss often, but for this occasion it feels necessary.
"Wh- wha-" Tommy begins to ask but cuts off his own words as he feels all his breath leave him in fear, as he looks up too.
A giant. An actual giant. A person, thousands of times their size was standing right on top of where the slug had been only seconds before- and it seemed like they didn't even notice they'd crushed anything.
"Human…" Dream mutters quietly, remembering the word from a story their mom told him once before Tommy was born. Giants- humans- weren't supposed to be here. Dirt Crawlers almost never had to deal with humans… yet here one stood, having unintentionally saved the two brothers lives, and Dream realized in a moment how close they both were to that death dealing foot, and if the human hadn't seen the slug, then if they took another unfortunate step- "R- run- we need to run! Run!!" Dream shouts and starts to pull Tommy, and his brother quickly gets the message as they both pull themselves out of the slime to start running.
Dream doesn't let go of Tommy's hand the whole time as they both run as fast as they can, but it doesn't feel fast enough as every time Dream looks back the human looks just as close as they were before and- oh gods they were looking down at them. Dream pushes forward, trying to pull Tommy even faster with a feigned hope that maybe, just maybe they can at least get to the burrow in time and be safe until the human leaves-
Dream bounces back off of something hard and smooth, he can't see it but he can feel it. Tommy rushes forward to stand beside him and starts to bang on the invisible wall; it's a fruitless effort however as both know that anything used by humans is guaranteed to be too strong for either to break through. Only a few seconds later they feel gravity change and they're sliding down the wall, Dream grabs Tommy and hugs him, wanting to make sure that wherever they land his brother is safe more than anything. They eventually hit a bottom, made of another invisible wall- and as Dream looks up he meets two massive eyes, twice as big as himself, staring directly at him and his brother.
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Mcyt g/t list:
@trashpumped @lorie-the-little-ghost @encaos @i-am-a-weeb @wyforyu-gaming @5unfl0writ3r @colorfulsiren @moonmwah @iwasgoingtohellanyways @echoslime @wilbur-simp @trouble-off-grid @lilsyxx @smogs-0 @hello-world-im-snow
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Two Shorten the Road
part 1
joel dawson x reader
warnings: cussing? idk, bad writing.....fluff, cuteness, monsters(is this a warning), mentions of death, SPOILERS
word count: 2154
prompt: when your best friend decides to leave your colony to go find the love of his life, you decide to join him on his journey even if you aren’t so happy about where this journey is going
Welp I did it, I took it into my own hands. I am writing a joel dawson series. Because we👏need 👏more👏joel👏fics👏 it’s basically the movie, almost the same script but obviously slightly different…ENJOY! <3
No one in my generation or later had a typical upbringing, I mean some of us did but then the world ended. This type of thing sounds straight out of some apocalyptic movie, but we basically live in one now. Agatha 616, an asteroid heading straight for earth, I know, so original. So we all came together and did what we do best, blow things up. Yup, we blew up teh asteroid, and humanity was saved! We thought. But here’s the thing about rockets, they are made of a bunch of chemical compounds which eventually rained back down on earth. Suddenly there were these Aileen creatures that mutated and started eating us. Ants, lizards, roaches, crocodiles, you name it. Our president was even killed by a giant moth. Ya….not so original now huh? We suddenly need tanks to kill ants, oh man I remember the good old days when a shoe would do just fine. Sometimes even the tanks didn’t work. Eventually the really big ones and our military took each other out and we lost 95% of the human population in a year! Those of us who survived hid, bunkers, caves, panic rooms, all around the world. So for the last seven years I’ve been hiding in an underground bunker. It’s really not as bad as it sounds, and it’s better than getting eaten alive. It’s a great group of people and we all love each other.
“Are you sure they’re asleep?”
“Who?”
“Y/N and joel!”
“Oh ya I’m sure”
“Joel? Y/n?”
“He’s asleep”
Actually we are both awake. Me and my best friend joel have kinda mastered faking being asleep. Our beds are right across from each other so we normally just lie there and make stupid faces at each other. We are the only two single people in our bunker. Nice huh? Joel is my best friend. I met him when I joined the colony. He’s the sweetest. It’s funny cause everyone thinks we should just have sex already because that’s literally all everyone else does. But we are way above that. Anyway, joel is in love with his girlfriend from before the colony, her name is Aimee. With one “I” and two “e”s. He loves to talk about her, he writes her letters. So in reality, I am the only one who is not in love in this bunker. I’ve never had a boyfriend, ever, even before the world ended.
We don’t really get any sleep. The moaning kinda keeps us awake. I got up and out of my bed and headed for the kitchen. I heard Joel’s bed creak and then his footsteps as he followed behind me. Another annoying thing about being down here is that to get to the kitchen from my room, you have to walk though other people’s bedrooms. Oh shit, they are busy, why would they leave their door open. Me and Joel stopped.
“Oh” joel and I said in unison
“Hey Y/N! Hey Joel!” Ava said
“Oh hey Ava” Joel said, we didn’t dare look over to our left.
“Y/N how’s it going?” Tim asked
“T-totally good tim, h-how are you doing” I asked
“Yeah, good” he responded
“I uh we couldn’t sleep” said Joel looking at the ceiling
“Ya we know the feeling” Ava said with a laugh
“Yeah probably not for the…..same reasons” joel said looking straight ahead
“Your guyses door was open, did you…did you know that?” I asked
“Yeah we know” they said
I shook my head and knitted my eyebrows together
“Okay” joel trailed off
Ever since Tim’s parents were eaten by a swarm of termites he and Ava have gotten really close, in every way.
“Okay, goodnight” joel said as we walked
Basically everyone is coupled up down here, a baby was born last winter! Welcome to the apocalypse kid. Ok if we ever get out of this, that would be an awesome story to tell your kids. “Oh ya I was born in an underground bunker doing a monster apocalypse” “yes exactly like World War Z but with bugs bigger than a 5 story building”. I mean come on.
So your probably wonder how the hell we get food, we’ll we have a cow. Gurdy. Gurdy is great. We also have a hunting party that brings back whatever they can from the surface. It’s gotten harder and harder, cause we ran out of bullets. And facing one of those things with a handmade weapon is just as hard as it sounds. It’s very very difficult. I go with them….sometimes. I still get scared. But I’ve been out quite a lot, especially compared to my man joel over here. I’ve been out maybe 30 times, he’s been out…maybe once, or not even. He’s the chef of the bunker. He makes super good Minestrone.
Me and joel like to hang out with Mavis. A robot. Yup. Not much for conversation, her batter is shot. Just like every other mavis I would imagine. When I’m not hunting we hang out with her. But sometimes I just go read. Reading and joel keep me sane. I mean sometimes joel drives me insane but I still love him. I have quite the collection of books too! I’ve got Emma by Jane Austen, a couple random ones that we found, all the hunger games and Harry Potter books, some mysteries that stopped being mysteries after a while, and then of course some smutty romance books for personal entertainment.
Joel likes to say that his thing is target practice. He has never hit the target but ya know, gotta entertain yourself. I think his thing is drawing though, he has this book that he draws in from Aimee. It’s really cool actually. He’s really good.
I sat watching Joel as he tried to hit the target, laughing a little every time he missed. It was cute how hard he tried.
“Shut up” he said shaking his laugh away
I laughed again, but then suddenly the lights started flickering. You could hear screeches and creeks echoing through the bunker. Joel turned to look at me. Worry and determination in his eyes. We both scrambled out of the room and into the kitchen where everyone was preparing.
“Hustle, hustle people we’ve gotta move”
I turned to look at Joel but then realized that he wasn’t next to me. Where did he go? Worry flooded through me. Suddenly the clanking of our weapon started behind me.
“Hey guys!” Joel said as he rammed into the railing, I shook my head. “Guys! I’ve got the weapons” he smiled at me
A few people walked over to him taking them out of his hands
“Stay” said Tim
“W-what?” Joel asked looking around in confusion
Everyone was talking and barking orders “grab what you need and let’s go! Y/N you coming?”
My eyes shot open “yes! Yup!” I jumped up and grabbed the bow and arrow from Joel.
“W-what's happening?” He asked innocently “what’s going on?”
“There’s a breach” said Tim
“What do you mean? Like inside the bunker breach?!” He asked
“Yes joel! Now come on!” I told him, patting him on the pack as I followed the others
He followed me and watched the plan get arranged
“Anna, Y/N and I will engage. Anderson and Tom plank him”
“Plank him, ya ok where do you guys need me? You want me to uh come through the rear or..?” Joel asked eagerly
“I don’t think your going to pass this joel” I told him
“Pass what? You guys need help, let me help” said clutching his crossbow
“You gonna make me say it?” said Sam
“Say what?!” God he was so adorably clueless
“You can’t handle it joel, your shook” said Sam, we all began getting into positions
“Ya ok, yes so you guys don’t get scared..ever?” He asked still getting ready to fight
“We get scared, we all get scared joel, but you get really scared” said Sam
“They are trying to make you feel bad joel” I said sweetly, trying to calm him down
“We love you joel”
“But your a liability”
“Ok why did that speech feel so rehearsed? And what about Y/N? She’s like…ya know?” He said bobbing his head
“Joel-“ suddenly the bunker shook and the lights flicked again
“Ok 30 meters out! Let’s move!” And we were off
Leaving joel and some others behind. You could hear the growling of whatever we were up against
I followed the others and listened carefully. I was freaking shaking. Don’t ask how I got sucked into becoming one the the hunters. Kinda just happened and I was just-
“OH SHIT!” I heard someone yell, it was too dark to see. Someone was gone, that thing took them. I couldn’t even see it. Oh fuck my life. Everyone began scattering, running away from the monster. I stopped running to take a breath, when I realized I was alone. Nicely done Y/N. The lights kept flickering. I heard something blow up in the distance.
“Conned? Conner?” I heard a whisper, one I knew all too well. Shit, joel. I ran toward the sound, and had no idea I was also running toward certain death. I stopped running. There it was, that thing. I’d never seen this before. I didn’t recognize it. I stayed silent, not moving at all. It slowly crawled over a shower curtain. Oh fuck. He was going toward joel! I quickly grabbed my bow and arrow and shot it. Right though the face. Next to its….eye I guess you could call it. Joel stood there, frozen.
I slowly walked over to him “Joel, hey are you ok?” I asked as I slipped my hand into his. He was trembling. Tears ran down his cheeks. He has a bad freezing problem, so I've been helping him work on it.
About an hour later I sat with Joel, still holding his hand as he stared out into space. We could hear everyone talking. How could this have happened?
“It ripped through steal”
“Anderson and I resealed the Breach point, nothings getting in that way again”
“But why did it happen?”
I tried to toon it out, and I hoped Joel did too.
“Joel, do you wanna talk about it?” I asked squeezing his hand, he looked so sad, which just crushed me
He shook his head
“Ok….” I nodded, I leaned into hug him but was interrupted by his voice
“How far away is Aimee's colony?” He asked
I pulled back, looking at him confused. The talking stopped and everyone look at him
“What?” Tim asked
“Aimee’s colony, how far away is it?” He repeated
“About 85 miles” he said as he furrowed his brows
“How long will it take to get there?”
“What do you mean joel?” I asked leaning closer to him
“Just humor me, how long?” He insisted
“7 days” said Tim
“Someone who’s armed and trained would hardly last 50miles, but you…joel” Ava said, I felt bad for him, he really didn’t deserve any of this
“Alright” Tim continued “now I need volunteers”
“I’m gonna go” joel said
No one said anything, they just stared
“It’s an impossible journey joel” said Tim, crossing his arms
Joel stood up, moving around my chair. “No im serious…I love you guys but there’s only one person in this world who ever truly made me happy and she’s only 85 miles away” he said strongly “I’m gonna go see her” I could see his mind was made up
God he was such a romantic, how could you not love this guy? Sure it hurts when your best friend tells you that you didn’t make him truly happy. Especially when you maybe sorta kinda have a crush on him.
He let out a breath “woah, that felt awesome” he said as he walked off to start packing
I stood there for a second processing and thinking, but then suddenly my mouth took over and well….
“I’m coming with you!” I said, he froze “I mean you can’t leave me here with these middle aged people, and your my best friend so” I shrugged
“I’ll come back for you I promise” he walked over to me “I can’t let you put yourself in even more danger” he said grabbing my arms
“I can’t let you put yourself in danger knowing that I could have helped protect you” I said, he stared blankly at me
I smiled “o-ohK…then I guess…” he trailed off
“Cool I’ll go pack” I skipped past him. Was I scared? Hell yes. But like I said, I needed to help joel and protect him in every way I can. And sure I wasn’t so happy that he was returning to his long lost love but if it made him happy then I would live. And anyway, two do shorten the road.
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Title: One kiss or your soul
Pairing: Modern AU! Ivar the Boneless x female!demon!reader
Prompt: Where Ivar decides to my a deal with a demon.
Word Count: 4520
Warnings: a little swearing, satanic rituals, mention of monsters and death
Note: The images doesn’t belong to me, all the credits go to the respective creators. I only made the collage. Also,the rituals were based on Supernatural.
♦⋅☆⋅♦
He tried to take a short walk that day, for the first time in months... His skin was now bone white, and Ivar knew he needed at least about ten minutes of vitamin D.
What he did not expect was the huge crowd that was on the street that blessed day; families gathered to talk animatedly, children playing with each other to discuss the disguises they would wear and all the sweets they would eat. The city appeared to be decorated with bats, cobwebs, scarecrows and zombies, lanterns and pumpkins. It was then, while he was surrounded by people everywhere and feeling his heart thundering, that he remembered it was October, Halloween more precisely, and the whole community was getting ready for the fun of that night.
The pain in his legs was already characteristic, his gait was sloppy and lame, and crutches were his longtime companions. But that never failed to attract attention as always, and that happened at that moment. The children who played looked at him laughing and pointing, talking to each other, the adults whispered and looked at him with pity.
Ivar hated pity.
And he hated even more how the attention of those shitty people made him feel, even though he was already used to it.
With a strong desire to vomit, feeling the sweat running down every corner of his body and trying to breathe, Ivar looked for any corner where he could take shelter. The small library across the street that seemed to be the only establishment without the festive theme appeared to be the best option. He was quick to cross the street - as fast as it was possible for him - to enter the establishment, greet the lady with the half-moon glasses behind the counter (who chewed blue bubblegum while filing her nails), and hid in the most distant place possible, among several decrepit shelves almost falling with the weight of dozens of books.
Ivar had sat on the floor, his back against the books and shelves, his head hidden in his arms and knees drawn up just trying to remember how to breathe. He was at the beginning of a panic attack, and being aware of it only made him even more distressed. He hated that it happened because of his useless legs and because of people he didn't care about. Why couldn't he have been born healthy like his brothers? The air did not seem to reach his lungs fast enough, leaving him almost choked and trembling all around, and with the world spinning around him over and over again.
It took a while, but it ended up after a few minutes of breathing exercises. The frustration remained, however, leaving him so enraged with himself and the world, that he punched the bookshelf behind him in an abrupt gesture. This hasty action caused so much noise that he was sure that the children across the street had been able to hear. In silence, swallowing hard and fearing he would be expelled to face the crowd outside, Ivar peered slightly at the librarian trying to see if she had heard it too. This one, however, had her back to him with the phone between her ear and shoulder, talking animatedly while continuing to take care of her nails, without paying attention to what was happening around her.
"No..." she exclaimed, certainly wanting to sound shocked, but looking completely delighted by what she had just heard. "Don't tell me that she really said that to you?"
More relieved, the boy leaned back against the bookshelf perhaps with more force than was necessary, as he immediately felt the wood behind him creak and the piece of furniture rocked from side to side. The dark-haired boy was quick to grab it, managing to keep it from tipping over, but not without a few books falling to the floor raising so much dust that it left his black pants almost gray. One of those books, due to fate, had not joined the others on the wooden floor eaten by the termites immediately, but had fallen on top of him, the hardcover hitting his head hard. Thankfully, the boy had been born with a head full of rich black hair capable of supporting the impact, or he could now have a bruise to take care of later.
Curiously, still rubbing his head with the free hand of his clutch, he looked at the cursed object. It was a book with a brown cover and black insignia and broken in the corners. In large and dark letters, in a font that looked like a victorian one he could read 'Monsters in the Darkness'. Interesting title, Ivar thought, quickly putting the other books on the shelf and flipping through the one that had caught his eye.
Looking at the watch on his phone that said it was still 2PM, and listening to the conversations outside, he thought why not.
He found himself a chair, shook off the dust with the back of his hand and began to read. The pages were turned quickly while Ivar, frowning, realized what the book was really about.
"What the fuck?" He asked in a low voice, amazed.
His hands held the book tightly, his eyes skimming over the yellowed and gnawed pages. Or maybe it was the mice, this place seems to be full of them, Ivar thought. It was true. That library was old, smelled of mold and looked like it hadn't been cleaned in years. But that was a good thing, at least for him, because it meant it was almost always empty. Whoever wrote this must be on drugs.
But he still didn't stop.
The more he read the more confused he became. The names and notes changed as well as the images, but they were all on the same theme: dark creatures and reports of sightings. Vampires, werewolves, spirits... creatures with claws and fangs, ferocious and with the ability to kill as easily as breathing.
The younger Lothbrok was confused but immensely interested. He didn't believe any of that, but it helped to pass the time. The boy always liked scary things, but he liked the real ones better, and those creatures that the book addressed had no way of being real. However, he was unable to drop the book.
His fingerprints passed smoothly through the written words and the drawn figures, feeling the depth of the ink on the paper. The words registered in his mind quickly as he read page by page, practically devouring the book in what seemed to him mere minutes, but in fact it was already three hours straight sitting in a corner of the moldy library, with a weak lamp beside him illuminating his reading.
He read so much until his blue eyes got tired and he was forced to rest for a few minutes, and until he was at the end of the book. The last theme was demons, but as soon as he turned the page to continue reading, he found… nothing, just the back cover of the book indicating that it was over.
Strange, he thought absently. And that page was even stranger, a few millimeters thicker than the others... almost as if it were glued.
He should? Looking again at the librarian who, admirably, was still distracted on the phone after three hours, Ivar grabbed the knife he always carried with him, opened it and carefully took it to the paper, making a small cut. As he suspected, the previous page was actually many more, and Ivar was eager to find out what it was about and why those pages seemed to be a secret.
> Of all the inhuman creatures that walk the earth, demons are the most evil. They desire nothing more than death and destruction, and not out of desperation or need as is the case with vampires who need blood to survive ... Demons kill and torture simply because they want and can, because they love the pleasure that the chaos of humanity brings them. There are those who say that they were also mortal once, but that their souls were corrupted so perversely in the depths of hell that they ended up becoming what tortured them. Blood, pain and death are all that are left behind when they pass.
> They are faster, more beautiful and stronger than should be possible. They are attractive and charming, in a way that hypnotizes a human. But they are evil, above all. Demons are separated into different sections depending on their personal power, or at least that is what we think. They are able to make a deal with a mortal, give us what we want for a while, but take away something they want afterwards. They are deadly dangerous… She, above all.
Ivar didn't even realize he was reading aloud until his voice started to crack, and he had to clear his throat so much that it looked like his throat was scratched. He wanted water, but he didn't have it, and he was not going to stop reading his interesting book now to fetch it. Frowning, he looked back at the page.
> It is not really known who she is or when she was created. Some say that she is Lilith, the first demon known by men and the mother of monsters... Others say that she is even older and her real name is lost, or forgotten by those who fear her. Now, she is known as Y/N, and as her there is no equal. Dark and deadly, she is Lucifer's right hand. But she is the most qualified to make a deal with, if they are brave enough to do so, and if they have something she wants.
Deal? What kind of deal? Ivar asked himself, and at that moment his cell phone vibrated in his pants pocket. When he pulled it out and unlocked it, a message from Alfred appeared on the display.
Alfred: Hey man, are you sure you don't want to join a horror movie marathon? It was going to be fun.
Oh, Ivar had completely forgotten about that. Alfred had already invited him a few days ago, but the long-haired boy hadn't given him the right answer since he was working on one of the chapters in his new book. He made a point of ignoring his family's thousands of missed messages and calls, however.
Ivar: Nah bro, I still haven't finished the chapter and I have until Thursday to deliver. I will probably be busy working on it for the next few hours. Sorry…
That was what I had to do as soon as I got home. It didn't take long to receive an answer.
Alfred: There is no problem, but you will have to compensate me. The marathon is next Saturday, okay?
Ivar: Yeah, sounds good to me!
He received a "Cool" as an answer and returned the phone to his pocket.
> Generally summoning a demon requires several ingredients: a devil's trap, fire (white, black or red candles), bowl with red-hot charcoal, salt, summoner's blood and the summoning words.
Ivar then proceeded to read what the ritual was like, along with the necessary Latin words.
> However, it is not advisable to do this. Once a demon is summoned and on the human floor, they are freed from the restrictions of hell. There is nothing to stop them from doing what they want. And if you try to summon her... Well, may God have mercy on your soul.
And so the book ended, with a phrase that at that moment seemed so scary.
His throat was dry, his hands were shaking again and for some strange reason he felt the sweat on his forehead and neck, the fat drops escaping the hairline running down his neck and back.
Should I? He thought, confused, it's freaking stupid, I know.
Ivar was a man of science, he believed in the real facts. Yes, he liked scary stories and mythologies - after all, one of his books dealt with Norse mythology - but he didn't really believe in it. And everything in that accursed book that had fallen on his head addressed unreal things, fictional things... Monsters created by the human imagination, by humans who wanted to blame their own evil on creatures that could not exist.
He was already closing the book and getting up to replace it, when he stopped and looked at his left hand, opened his palm and saw the half-moon wounds he had done with his nails in one of his attacks of anger.
He sat down again, staring at the yellowed pages. The dark, sharp letters and monstrous figures, with horns and cat-like eyes were everything he could see... that and his hands, always injured.
The earlier panic attack came back to him, his mind working at full speed. Frustrated, he ran his hands through his dark hair making a mess of locks fall onto his forehead and into his eyes, and he felt like pulling out each one.
The librarian was still talking on the phone, the children outside were playing, but all Ivar could think about was how hard it had been to breathe, and how much the walls felt like they were going to close and crush him in that moment when he was curled up on the floor hours ago, with useless legs at his side and that characteristic pain.
Why couldn't he just be normal?
"Fuck it." He grunted then, tearing up the page that contained the details of the ritual while making sure he was not seen, folding the paper and putting it in his pocket. He closed the book, got up, grabbed his crutch and went to put the book in a random place on the shelf where it belonged.
Without further ado, he passed the librarian who looked at him strangely again, still in that conversation (what kind of work allowed her to be on the phone for hours with no end?), And left the place that had been his hiding place in the last hours.
It was night when he returned home. The full moon shone overhead, and the children and their companions were already spotted in all kinds of disguises ringing the bells and knocking on the doors.
Upon entering his practically empty apartment, with only the minimalist decor here and there, he placed the bag from the convenience store on the couch, and pushed it away. The feet of the couch squeaked as they were dragged across the wooden floor and left a prominent mark.
He turned on the TV on a random channel and turned the sound down, just to feel a presence and have a light to illuminate, and closed the curtains on the window that was always closed too. He would never again make the mistake of leaving it open, the last time that Mrs.Rose's cat on the third floor entered the house in search of food, and left a mess of scratched furniture and broken cushions.
Taking a deep breath he took the materials he bought, and prepared himself.
Even though Ivar didn't believe it was going to work, he was still willing to try it, at this point he was desperate… The prices of medicines were high, the hospital bills were even higher, and even with his writing career going well, he continued to lose hundreds of dollars a month. Ivar was too proud to join his father's company, contrary to what his brothers had done. He wanted a job that was his own, and guaranteed on his own merit and not because it was in the family.
And he wanted to go outside and not worry about people seeing him because of his disability and dragging legs... he wanted to be able to live, not just survive.
For once in his life Ivar wanted normalcy.
He opened the box of chalk, took the page he still had in his pocket, and with the red chalk he drew the pentagram shown on the paper on the floor. The lines were more crooked than they were supposed to, but it should be enough to work.
He took the black candles, placed one on each of the five ends of the star, and lit them with a lighter. Then he put the charcoal in a bowl, lit it and watched it burn for a while.
He took the knife in his pocket, took the sharp blade to the index finger of his left hand and pressed hard, breaking the skin. Ivar saw the red drops begin to fall into the bowl, the blood sizzling as it came in contact with the burning coal.
And then he did nothing more than take a deep breath for a few good minutes.
Before being too afraid to continue - he wasted too much time and energy to stop now - he spoke, pronouncing each word slowly and correctly, in a calm tone.
"Daemon, esto subjecto voluntati maea. Te invoco apro funus inferni, Y/N."
For a moment nothing happened it was just him there, in the middle of the living room, with a number of absurd things around him that if anyone saw him, he would be immediately sent to a hospital.
But suddenly he shivered. The floor shook, the walls shook, everything shook. TV and appliances, furniture, lamps, everything. The plates and glass bottles on the kitchen table rattled, toppled and broke into a thousand pieces as it fell to the floor. The windows seemed to want to open with the force of the wind outside that wanted to enter, whistling furiously. Ivar had to hold on to something when the earthquake suddenly got stronger.
And then…
The flames went out, leaving the wax to melt and hit the floor, he wasn't sure how he was going to explain it to the owner, the shaking stopped and the wind calmed down.
Ivar was left in darkness and silence, with blood dripping from his index finger to his pants, and breathing so fast that he had to open his mouth and inhale as deeply as his lungs could take to try to breathe.
Blood was pumping through his veins and hitting his ears, preventing him from hearing.
"You are such an idiot." The man said frustrated with himself. It was just an earthquake, which came just in time to almost make me believe. Later, when I turn on the TV, I’m going to see that all over the news.
He shook his head, and looked once again at the destruction in the kitchen and confusion in the living room. He was getting ready to go clean up the mess when the candles lit again - alone this time - they went up so high that they looked like they were going to reach the ceiling, beautiful dancers in red, orange, and yellow dresses. The firelight created strange shadows in every corner, tall and small, thin and wide.
And there, in the middle of the chalk-drawn pentagram, was a woman.
Ivar gasped in shock, stepping back several steps, almost falling into the sack of coal left there. The woman looked at him and he looked at the mysterious woman.
"Mortals." She almost spat, full of disdain. "Always so bold and wishing for more than they are due."
He didn't know what to say or how to react. He had hoped it would work but at the same time he didn't really expect it to actually work!
"So what do you want, human?" She said disinterestedly, looking at the chalk-drawn pentagram that held her in disgust.
"I want to make a deal."
"Oh really?" The way she spoke suggested that she thought the boy was stupid. "What is your name, mortal?"
"Ivar Lothbrok." He replied proudly, because as much as he hated his life, he could not hate his name.
"Cute." Y/N commented with an eyebrow raised in clear disdain. "Now tell me what you really want."
Ivar tried to swallow his anger, tried not to let it show on his face and mannerisms, but he couldn't. His eyes and jaw narrowed, his nostrils flared in fury, and his hands gripped the clutch so tightly that for a moment he was afraid to break it. "Look at me and tell me what you think I want!"
And she looked. She looked from head to toe, passing through his long dark hair, blue eyes and facial features, over his body and legs... those damn legs.
"I don't see anything too much."
If it were possible, Ivar would now be smoking his ears. The veins in his neck swelled and bulged, and his cheeks flushed with anger.
“All my life I have always been different from everyone else. If we still lived in ancient times, my parents would leave me in the forest for the wolves when I was born. My whole life has been a struggle, I am the youngest son and the one who had the misfortune of being like this. I'm not normal, I'm not like my brothers, and as much as everyone tells me that it doesn't matter… I can't help being angry all the time.” Ivar confessed, forcing his grip on his clutch. “I was born with broken legs, I spent my entire life in hospitals and being inspected by the doctors. And now they said they think that I will get worse and stop walking completely. Being healthy is what I want.”
There was silence for a long time, while the human and demon looked at each other.
"Yes, that is possible."
"Then give it to me!"
The demon's laugh was loud, hoarse and cold, and her face was full of disdain. But then it changed in front of him, becoming something out of a horror movie. The beautiful woman was gone and now there was something much worse. It was an almost grotesque sight in his human eyes. A dark and without beauty female figure. A pale face and half cadaverous; black lips and sharp teeth like a dagger blade. Completely red eyes shining with hunger and malice. Two long horns protruded from between the hair with something sticky like blood.
Ivar's extremely blue eyes widened, he backed away almost falling again in that damn night.
“Honey, this is not how it works. Do you really know who you are talking to? Do you think you can boss me around? Do you expect me to do something to you without giving me something in return?” She said in an ugly, guttural and chilling voice, smiling devilishly revealing a long, almost snake-like tongue.
"As long as you're in that trap, you'll have to do what I want." He tried as hard as possible not to let his voice falter, but he still couldn't.
"Oh really?"
And as if just to prove her point, she took a step forward, approaching and crossing the crooked lines that formed the pentagram leaving the trap completely.
“Deary, you should have done your research better. With a normal demon, perhaps this lowly trap could have worked, but with me? I am something much worse than a simple demon, and by invoking me you have left me completely free to do what I want. ”
"I'm not afraid of you."
"You should be."
Ivar's heart was pounding in his chest, almost as if it was about to explode at any moment, and his fragile legs were shaking so much that he didn't even know how he was still standing.
"I want to be able to walk freely, run, jump... Do everything I can't right now. Please..." She seemed to want him to beg, but Ivar didn't. He could put aside some of his pride, but not that much.
They stayed close to each other, he deathly pale looking in amazement at the bottomless red pits that were her eyes, her sharp teeth, her black lips full of darkness... Until she opened a toothy and devilish smile, and little by little her demonic features retreated, disappearing into her skin again and making her look like a human woman again… and a beautiful one.
She walked away still smiling amused, letting out a little laugh. "Usually I give you what you want and you have ten years to enjoy it."
Ivar's heart gave a huge leap in his chest. "What happens at the end of the ten years?"
"I keep your soul…” Y/N shrugged, assessing her sharp nails before looking at him and raising her left eyebrow, still with the crooked smile on her lips. “Which means that at the end of these years, you die. "
Ten years, thought Ivar. I always knew that I wouldn't live long, anyway. But...
"Usually?" He gave voice to his thoughts.
“I liked you, you seem to have courage... You were brave in trying to challenge me, stupid, but brave. I'll give you what you want, in exchange for... ”The woman seemed to think for a while. “… a kiss.”
"A kiss?" The young man thought surprised and in other words, extremely incredulous. With everything she could ask of him, she just wanted a kiss? The book should have been mistaken, it was impossible for this demon to be so dangerous if Ivar is the one that actually wins with the agreement between them.
"A simple and small kiss." She repeated, seeing his puzzled expression. "It's one kiss or your soul, you choose."
"We have an agreement, then." Ivar said.
"Great." Y/N smiled, making her eyes blood-red again.
She came over, put her hand on his neck and pulled him forward until their lips were timidly shocking at first, but quickly turning into a fleeting and toothy kiss, with their lips moving in sync and their tongues caressing one another. She tasted like danger... And it was a good taste.
When they pulled away, Y/N still had the smirk on her mouth when she snapped her fingers, causing him to make a huge cry.
He felt excruciating pain like never before, his legs seemed to be on fire, they burned so much, the pain was horrible. It felt like all of his fragile bones were breaking and growing, only to break again. Ivar fell to the ground screaming so loudly that his neighbors probably thought he was being murdered and would be ready to call the police at any moment.
It hurt, but it passed. Sweat ran down his face, his hands were shaking, his body was shaking. But when he got up again without the help of a crutch, he had never felt better, his legs were… healthy, normal, complete… healed.
"I- I can't believe this..."
"You have what you want, and I got what I want. "
Something about her facial expression seemed wrong, Y/N seemed too delighted just for the simple reward she had won.
"The kiss wasn't the only thing you wanted, was it?"
"No, it was not."
"We had an agreement! What do you-"
"Has anyone ever told you not to mess with things you don't understand?" She stroked his face, with a smirk on her lips. "Honey, you belong to me now."
#ivar lothbrok#ivar the boneless#ivar ragnarsson#ivar x reader#ivar x y/n#vikings imagines#vikings#son of ragnar#ivar imagines#ivar the boneless imagines#vikings fanfic#fanfiction#imagines#one-shots#female demon reader#demon reader#ivar ragnarsson x female reader#ivar x you
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When Two Worlds Collide- Chapter 1
Hey Y’all!
This is my new series and I hope you guys truly like it. I wanyed this out earlier but your girl had some bad writer’s block!!
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"Now Ms. Linda, I payed for this month rent. Then you wanted to tell me that my building have termites!" Nia shouted at her landlord over the phone.
"Nia, you know that I wouldn't take your rent if I knew there was a problem. However, I just found out today. You might have to move in with Trevante." Ms. Linda whispered out the last part.
Nia shooked her head even harder. Nia walked downstairs to the kitchen to make her something to eat before she needed to leave.
"Ms. Linda that is a definite no and you know that!" Nia said with much anger while finishing up her food before heading to the shop.
"Baby, the whole damn neighboorhood knows that! I know he have hurted you, but baby if you don't want a termite infested salon. I'm going to needed you to leave by Monday!" Ms. Linda shouted back at Nia.
Nia shook her head once again, still listening to Ms. Linda trying to give her other options to go.
"Ms. Linda, you can ask him because I am not." Nia quietly said to Ms. Linda. Nia got to the refrigerator and saw that last night dinner, rice and chicken, was in the back.
As Nia reach to grab the leftovers, Ms. Linda caught her attention.
"Baby, I will ask Trevante for you. However, honey you need to get over that heart break! I know Trevante was your first love, but baby if you want to live life, you need to move on !" Ms. Linda said in a motherly tone with Nia.
Nia froze as she was place the rice and chicken in her bowl. Cierra knew Ms. Linda was right, but she just couldn't. As she was about to reply, she heard Cause I Love You by Lenny Williams.
Nia smiles to herself, as she finish packing up her lunch.
"Ms. Linda, I will talk to you later and please don't make it sound that I need desperate help to Tre!" Cierra said with emphasis on the last part of her statement to Ms. Linda.
Ms. Linda laughed at the comment.
"Baby, you are in desperate help!" Ms. Linda continue laughing as she ended the call.
Nia walked into the dining room, hearing Lenny Williams song even louder. She saw her Gigi over there moving to the song.
Nia drop her lunch on the table to get her attention. As it drop on the table, Nia's Gigi turn around quickly.
"Little girl, you better not scare me like that. If y'all wasn't here, I would be naked!" Gigi Ruth exclaimed while turning down the music.
Nia laughed at her Gigi Ruth.
Gigi Ruth was the matriarch of the family. She wasn't originally from Chicago, but moved here when she turn 18 to get away from the Jim Crow South. Even though she still experience racism, she felt a little more comfortable than living in Alabama.
She didn't take shit from nobody, and she was going to act like how she felt: young.
"Well Gigi, I heard you and your little friend last night. Whom, was in the same bed my papa had his last breath!" Nia exclaimed while bringing out breakfast for the table.
"Nia, get out my business little girl. The last thing I remeber your old, ugly papa was six feet under!" Gigi Ruth starting grabbing some of the sausage off the plate.
As Nia saw the sausage in Gigi's hand. She snatch out of her hand.
"Now little girl, you might be my blood! However, don't snatch my damn food out my hand!" Gigi Ruth said while giving Nia the death scare.
"Gigi, you know that you can't have this! You need to lower down on the greasy food!" Nia shouted back as she went into the kithen to get her Gigi's food.
"Well damn Nia what I suppose to eat! I should called the damn AARP on your ass!" Gigi Ruth said as she put her hands up to her chest. As Nia was walking out the kitchen with Gigi's food, her mother came downstairs.
As Nia place the food, Gigi Ruth saw the contents of it.
Plain oatmeal.
"Cassandra, get your daughter before I kill her! There is no butter, milk, sugar! It is white people oatmeal because no black person a would ever touch this shit!" Gigi Ruth shouted even louder, while shaking her head looking at the oatmeal.
"Momma, please I have a headache right now." Cassandra calmly sat down on the plastic dining seat. As Nia heard that, she rush over to her mother with her medicine.
"Momma well take this one first. Then take the other ones!" Nia stuttered out, while rushing to get all the pills out of the bottle. Cassandra grab her daughter's hand and held it. Nia looked at her mother with tears in her eyes.
"Baby, it just a headache. I am fine." Cassandra reassured by grabbed the medicine and taking it. Nia went back into the kitchen to recollected herself. As she did that, Gigi Ruth looked at her daughter.
She wasn't getting any better.
Even though Cassandra tried to hide it, she couldn't hide it from her momma.
Back in the kitchen, Nia looked at the time, seeing it was almost time for her to leave. She knew her younger brother, Nate, wasn't up at 7:30 on a Saturday.
Nia walked out the kitchen to her brother's room. As she got to the door, she didn't even knocked.
As she walked in, she saw not one body but two.
"I know your dumbass don't have a girl in the bed!" Nia snapped by pull the cover off the bed. As the cover came off, she saw her brother and some girl from his high school.
When the covers got snatch off, Nate realized that his ass is in for it. Nate look at the foot of his bed, and saw his sister. He looked at her face, and it was giving attitude.
"Wake her up." Nia gritted out with her hand folded across her chest. Nate looked at the girl and he was scared. As Nia saw her brother being scare, she took matters in her own hands.
Nia grabbed the girl's foot, and get start dragging. As the girl started to feel herself being pull, she woke up immediately. Just as she recognized was happening, she hit the floor.
"Now little girl, you need to find your clothes and get out of this house! With that, I know you sneaked in through the window, however you are walk out of the house through the front door!" Nia hissed out to the girl , who started to cry, as she realized that Nia was pulling her out the bed and she got caught.
As the girl starting getting her stuff, Nia turned to her brother.
"For you, you are going to get dress and be working like a dog at the shop today! You have five minutes to be down here!" Nia shouted at her brother.
As the girl had her clothes on, Nia pointed for her to walk first. As Nia and the girl got to the dining room, Gigi Ruth spit out her oatmeal.
"Now I know this ain't Nikki's little girl up in here!" Gigi Ruth chuckled out while shaking her head. Cassandra looked behind her and was shocked by the girl walking out the house.
"Baby, don't be like your grandma and momma: a hoe!" Gigi Ruth shouted at her the girl as she got to the front door.
"Momma!" Cassandra sighed while shaking her head at her momma. Gigi Ruth just went back eating her food. Nia shut the door and went back into the dining room.
"I can't believe him! He knows better than that!" Nia shouted out while sitting down waiting on Nate.
"Baby, it is okay. He is just a teenager!" Cassandra calmly said to her daughter.
"Momma, I just don't undestand! He needs dad! I just don't understand, why dad would just leave like that!" Nia barked out.
As Nia said something about her father, Cassandra stomach drops like it always does. Even though, Cassandra did tell the truth about their father, she didn't tell them all the truth.
As Cassandra was about to say something, Nate came into the dining room.
"Now Nate, I am going to tell you, you don't need to mess with them Jackson women because all I know that they give people the itch." Gigi Ruth teased her grandson, as she head to the door to get into the car.
Nia and Cassandra laughed as they head outside to the car too. Nate on the other hand, was scared. Nate ran outside and closed the door.
"Gigi, I am itching a little bit!" Nate uttered out as he got into the car.
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12:00 pm
The shop was busy due to it being a Saturday. With the salon, Nia sat at the very end on the left of the row.
With everybody chatting and people jumping in, Nia went to the front were Nate was at.
When she finally got up there, she saw him talking to a girl. Nia looked and just saw all her breast hanging over the desk. Nia went behind the desk, which catch the attention of both of them.
"Ummm, Nia, don't you see I'm busy." Nate said in a hushed tone trying to push his sister away.
Nia looked up from the computer to her brother and the girl. The girl seem like a smart girl, with her dark melanin popping and her braces shining in her mouth.
"Honeybun," Nia spoke holding the girl hand, "My brother is a broke man! You don't want a broke man, so I suggest you go back sitting over there. Cause I bet he said that you the most beautiful girl he ever met. With that, he suggest y'all go to the park and kick it. Then he going ask you do you want to go to the movies which he going ask me for money. " Nia said to the girl whom didn't look happy.
As Nia finally saw who her next cilent was, she walk in the back. As for her brother, who was trying to recover from his sister outburst, the girl slap him and walked back to her seat.
Nate followed Nia back to her station.
"Why would you do that Nia! I already have to be at this dumb salon helping clean! I can't even get my haircut at Tre's place because you so mad at him for cheating on you! Let me have my damn life! " Nate hollered out in front of the whole salon. Everybody stop their conversation and looked at the siblings. With that, Gigi Ruth walked over there to straighten them out.
"Now y'all stop acting a damn fool! Nate go over to the barbershop and get your head cut. " Gigi Ruth boldly stated to the siblings while handing money to Nate. As Nate left, Gigi Ruth looked back at Nia and her face showed how she felt.
"I want you to say something. I dare you. Your brother need somebody that want mess up his hair. Justin. " Gigi Ruth joked while looking at Justin when walking back to her station. Everybody started to laughed at her.
"Well I do know how to cut Ms. Bump the Ends!" Justin snapped back with his marcel curler in his hand.
"Baby, ask your grandaddy about bumping the ends because he was bumping my ends all last night!" Gigi Ruth scream while taking the rollers out of her head. With that, everybody was dying with laughter.
Nia just shooked her head while grinning to herself while sitting in her chair. She looked around seeing that her client wasn't here yet. She went and got her phone from the back to see if she was still coming.
While back there, one of the many people waiting in the shop shouted out.
"Oh God, everybody Tre is coming over here!" the lady shouted so the whole shop could hear. All the ladies and Justin was straighten themselves out.
Tre was like the Denzel on the Westside. His always straight white teeth, with his low fade haircut, and that clean beard just make every women a little moist.
Also, Justin.
As the door open, all the ladies and Justin looked at him.
"Hey ladies." Tre smirked at the ladies and Justin looking at him like a pack of meat.
"Hey Tre!" All the women shouted back while looking at Tre and the sweatpants he was wearing.
"Y'all are some hoes! Trevante don't want y'all ass! Some of y'all needed to be worrying about y'all baby daddies and if they giving you some child support! " Gigi Ruth shouted at all the women in the shop.
All of them sighed and turn back to what they were doing.
Tre laughed and looked at Gigi Ruth and gave her a hug. With that, the person behind him held on to his leg a little harder.
"Well I kinda needed some help. My babygirl hair needs to be braid! I know y'all busy but I really need your help. " Three calmly stated while bringing the little girl from behind him.
Gigi Ruth looked at the little girl, along with everybody else. The girl, Brelynn, felt all the eyes at her.
"Daddy why are all these people looking at me!" Brelynn quietly stated on the verge of tears. Brelynn was a really shy little girl and daddies girl due to her mother dying during childbirth.
"Lets go in the back!" Gigi Ruth stated while walking in front of them. As they was walking behind Gigi, people started to notice the little girl. They were talking alot.
“ Oh God, that the child!”
“ Were is Nia?”
“ Ah damn, keep me under the dryer a little while longer so I can what is going to happen.”
Tre heard the comments and shooked his head. As they finally got to the back, he saw her.
The person he still loves.
As Nia was getting off the phone with her client, whom was not able to make her appointment, she put the phone back in her locker after it. As she turns around she see her Gigi, Tre, and Brelynn.
Nia was just left in shocked, while looking at the little girl. The same little girl, whose mother that Tre slept with during their relationship.
The same little girl, Nia wish was hers because she wanted to have all of Tre’s kid.
“ I did not know you was back here!” Gigi muttered while looking at her grandaughter. Gigi Ruth can see the hurt on her granddaughter face when she Brelynn and Tre. Nia shooked her head and walk pass them. However, Tre grabbed her arm. As Nia realize that, she started to looked at him like he was crazy.
“ I really need somebody to do her hair Nia. I don’t trust nobody but you to do it! I was really hoping you didn’t have anyone.” Tre begged to Nia. Nia looked at Tre and saw the man that she still in love with after ten years.
Nia looked back at the the little girl, whom was looking at Nia. Nia walked over to her and smiled.
“ What’s your name?” Nia asked while smiling at her. Brelynn went further behind her daddy.
“ It’s okay. My name is Nia. I see that you like to read books!” Nia smiled at the book in her hand.
“ My favorite book series is Harry Potter too. Your daddy use to take me to get the books all the time in the city.” Nia giggled while remembering when Tre and her went to the city to stand in line for the new Harry Potter book. Brelynn smiled at Nia, whom wasn’t like the other women her dad brought around.
“ My name is Brelynn.” Brelynn answered while smiling at Nia. As Tre was looking at the interaction, his love for Nia expanded even more.
“ Babygirl, can Nia do your hair?” Tre asked as she saw that Brelynn wasn’t behind him anymore, but was standing in front of Nia smiling and talking.
“ Yes daddy, I want her too!” Brelynn answered excitedly while going back to talking to Nia. As Gigi Ruth realize that her client was still under the dryer she went to go back to check on her.
As she was beginning to open the door, she heard whispering. So Gigi Ruth do what she does best.
“ I know y’all nosey, black asses are not at this door!Y’all need to get some business before you try to see what others are doing! That is why most of y’all asses don’t have no man!” Gigi Ruth screech as she open the door seeing clients and hairstylists trying to listen.
“ Now Hattie, I know you done had a hip replacement. You say you can’t go to church, but you can come to a door to listen to somebodies business!” Gigi Ruth scream while shaking her head as she closed the door.
Tre shook her head and laughed at the crazy, old woman.
“Okay sweetie, my chair is right on the left at the end!” Nia said to Brelynn as she skip out the door to Nia’s chair. Nia realize that it was only her and Tre in the backroom.
She finally looked at him in the eye, those chocolate brown orbs, and looked at him for the first time in a long time.
“ Well how much is it going to be?” Tre quietly mumbled out to ease the tension in the air. Nia just looked at him and shooked her head.
With that, she left and started on Brelynn’s hair.
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2:00 p.m.
“ Hey everybody, I got hotdogs, pasta salad, fried chicken, smothered pork chops, and some baked chicken plates! I also got all the Madea movies on DVD.” Ms.Linda shouted out as she came in with her a mobile food stand.
Ms. Linda did everything from being the landlord, selling the food, to the bootleg DVDS.
Nia looked up as she finish parting the last section of hair on Brelynn. Brelynn was preoccupied with her book. Ms. Linda recongized the Brelynn in her seat.
Ms.Linda walked over to Nia’s station to have a little chat with her.
“ Hey Ms.Linda!” Brelynn said while smiling.
“ Hi baby, Nia doing a good job on your hair!” Ms. Linda said while giving a hug to Nia.
“ Have you talk to the person you needed to talk to Ms.Nia?” Ms.Linda questioned while looking at the mirror to check out her makeup.
“ No. We only talk about hair Ms.Linda.” Nia answered backed as she was starting to braid the last braid. Before Ms. Linda could answer, somebody start talking about how men ain’t shit.
This was a very hot topic in the shop for all the women, plus Justin.
“ Now that nigga, Jacquees, at the barbershop is not shit at all! He told me that I needed to leave like I was some hoe.” one of the hair clients in Dajai chair said disgustedly.
“ Well honey you are hoe!” Gigi Ruth laughed while sitting her chair. Everybody else start laughing with her.
With that, Brelynn laughed at herself. Nia notice, but she thought it was something in the book that was funny.
“ Well, Mr. All Goody Two Shoes, Allen, he is a hoe too!” Emily, one of the hairstylist, said while pressing out the girl hair.
“ Nerdy Allen?” Nia question remembering Allen in high school. Emily look towards her and gave her look that said she was right.
With that, Brelynn laughed even harder, and caught the attention of everybody.
“ This remind of the barbershop! They talk about y’all too!” Brelynn laughed even harder. Everybody in the shop looked at Brelynn.
“ Well for you,” Brelynn pointed to the girl in Dajai’s chair, “ They call you duck lips becuase you tried to swallowed Jaccquees lips when kissing him!” Brelynn stated while still laughing.
“ Also you,” Brelynn pointed to Emily, “ Allen thinks you a nice girl and he really likes you! However, he just stand the smell of your. I don’t remember what it is call, but I know it started with a v.” Brelynn finished laughing up. Everybody else was left in shock and gasp.
“ Oh hell no, they talking about like us like that! Lets go over there now with the little girl!” Dajai’s client shout while getting up and standing in the middle of the salon.
“ Wait hold up now,” Gigi Ruth went to the little girl, “ What they say about me ?” Gigi Ruth said in a cocky tone.
Brelynn laughed even harder while looking at Gigi Ruth.
“ Well they call you a old hag!” Brelynn finish laughing. Nia shooked her head thinking, WW3 is about to happen on the Westside streets.
“Oh hell naw, they going need Black Jesus because I am about to pistol whip all of them bastards!” Gigi Ruth shouted while walking out the door, with mostly everybody following behind her.
Brelynn looked at Nia, whom shooked her head.
“ Did I do something wrong Nia?” Brelynn question with much concern.
“ Oh baby, it is okay, but WW3 is about to happen!” Nia help Brelynn out the chair to see what is about to go down.
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Well.........
Me waiting for the next chapter to see how this shit about to pop off!!
Once again I hope you truly like it!!!
Please comment, reblog, and like!!!
Plus if you want to join the taglist comment too!!!
Taglist: @soufcakmistress @lovesunnyandmary
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But I Like One Piece (11)
The scar on her lip is kind of a pain.
It feels strange for one thing, tough and bumpy, making her aware of its presence every time her mouth shifts or when she gets too excited while talking or when she yawns too widely.
Of course, once she’s reminded that it’s there, she want to fiddle with it. But for some reason whenever she gets bored enough to do so, Naruto or Sakura or whoever’s sitting closest to her will grab her arm and say “No.” in a Very Stern Voice.
It almost feels a little demeaning. Not quite, but almost.
What is demeaning is Uchiha glaring at her, and demanding, “Are you some kind of coward?”
She blinks, thermos of miso halfway to her mouth. “Beg your pardon?”
He eyes her disdainfully. “We’re going to be ninja. We fight to kill our enemies—”
“I’m going to be a pirate, actually.” She interrupts.
Naruto snorts softly into his rice.
“—Pirates kill people too, shut up.” Uchiha hisses.
“Wait. Is this about the biting thing?” She asks, incredulous. Surely not. Uchiha is a clan kid. He should know how this works—
Uchiha sniffs imperiously. “You’ll just drag me down if you always need Sakura to save you from a fight.”
Apparently not.
Robin give her strength.
“Hey!” Kiba yells. “Sakura beating up Ami was totally badass. Mizuki-sensei shoulda given her a medal instead of detention!”
Sakura goes as pink as her hair as Akamaru yips in agreement, mumbling something about it not being a big deal around her second stick of dango. She does return the fist bump Kiba offers though.
“That’s not the point.” Uchiha retorts dismissively. “The point is we’re going to fight and kill as ninja— don’t.” He stabs an accusing finger in her direction and she raises her hands in mock surrender. “And Ketsugi never fights back. She says stuff, but then she runs away, or lets other people take care of it, or hurts herself. It’s weak, stupid cowardice.”
The last word is said with such vehemence that it’s hard for her not to flinch.
“Well, it’s not like I have any choice.” She snaps, irritably.
Uchiha scoffs. “What are you talking about?! The only thing stopping you is your own stupid, cowardly ideas about pacifism!!”
She blinks, trying to process that last bit. “What? What on earth are you on about?”
“Don’t pretend you don’t know!” He screams, all but jumping out of his seat, “It’s just like him! I’m not watching another one—not when I can stop it!!”
Uchiha looms over her, glaring down, chest heaving from the force of his yelling.
She has no idea what he’s talking about. She feels more worried for him than insulted at this point.
“Hey Shino.” Chouji cuts in, munching on his second onigiri. “There are insects that don’t get along with your bugs, right? Ones that weren’t born in your hive?”
Shino tilts his head, letting his insects eat bits of strawberry from his daifuku off his finger. “That is a technically true statement. Why? Because while my kikaichū do not have natural enemies in the way ants and termites are opposed to one another, there are several species of insect and arachnid that would prey upon them, which have been utilized by imitator clans in other hidden villages.”
“Right.” Chouji continues. “So, let’s say you found one of these bugs that eats them had injured one of yours. Not killed, but injured. What do you do?”
Shino stiffens, but replies, “I would exterminate it. Why? Because it has proven itself a viable threat to my colony.”
“Wh-that doesn’t mean anything!” Uchiha interrupts. “It’d have to be one of Aburame’s bugs attacking another of the same hive, since Ketsugi was born here, so—”
“No I wasn’t.”
Uchiha actually has the gall to shoot her a disbelieving look. “Yes you were.”
“No I wasn’t.” She hisses, leaning forward. “I was born in Iron, like my father. One of my earliest memories is him and my mother leaving the country, on the run from something that made it better to drug their baby rather than let me cry and have whatever it was find us.”
A hush falls over the table.
“That would explain why you’re here, in Konoha.” Shikamaru says slowly. “Even if it’s not the closest to Iron, it’s one of the strongest hidden villages, so pursuers would have trouble trying to get through our defenses.”
“And guess what happens if the village decides me and mine are too much trouble to live here anymore?” She snaps, taking a swig of her miso.
It’s gone lukewarm.
Uchiha’s turned pale, staring blankly down at his bruschetta. He slowly sits back down.
“So...” Kiba says, feeding Akamaru some pork belly. “Are you, like, some kinda lost princess or something?”
“What? No, of course not.” Ino and Sakura’s eyes take on a worrying gleam. “I said no. I’m not. No. Stop that. Stop it right now, the pair of you.”
“We’re not doing anything~” Sakura sing-songs, hands clasped against her chest.
She squints at them, lips thinning. “Lies.”
“Hey hey, Mayu-chan,” Ino says, leaning forward. “If you just happened to be a lost princess or daimyo’s daughter hiding from a usurper’s assassins, you’d totally hook your best besties in the entire world up with some hot princes, right?”
“Does Naruto even like princes?” She replies, bracing herself against Sakura’s playful assault on her shins and Ino’s tossed napkins. “Ow, ow, I’m kidding, I’m kidding!”
“Aw, what! I wanna meet a prince, believe it!” Naruto whines, though his playful tone sounds a little strained.
“Tough.” She sticks her tongue out at him. He blows a raspberry back in response.
“So who were your family in Iron?” Chouji asks, passing her an apple slice.
She shrugs, handing him her cookie. “Just one of the many, many samurai clans who serve the Iron daimyo. Like the Kiryuuin, the Kurogane, the Kishi, the Kageyama, the Kihote, the Kikuchi, the Kaname, the Koremune, the Kusakabe, and loads of others.”
“Do all of these clan names start with ‘K’ sounds?” Hinata asks.
“...No.” She says.
“Could you give us an example one that doesn’t?” Hinata asks.
“...The Okashi.”
“What the heck, that doesn’t count! They just slapped an ‘O’ in front of the ‘Ka’!” Kiba complains, Akamaru barking his agreement.
“You’re the last person to say anything about ‘K’ names.” Shikamaru replies.
“You’ve not got much room to talk either, Shika-kun.” Chouji ribs, nudging his friend.
From there it devolves into a debate about how many “k” sounds are in whose names, and who has the right to criticize an excess of “k’s” based off of that. So far, only Shino and Hinata are awarded that honor.
Naruto isn’t as active in the conversation as he usually is, only responding when addressed directly, staring into space when not.
Uchiha doesn’t say much at all.
Naruto goes straight to the swing-set outside the Academy once the day ends.
She follows him, watching curiously as he clambers up to stand on the swing, looking up at something behind her with a solemn expression on his face, eyebrows furrowed in thought.
She goes up to the tree and sits between its roots to wait.
Lee comes out of the Academy, and come striding towards them. “Greetings Mayu-chan! Naru—”
“Ssh!” She hushes, jerking her head towards Naruto.
Lee instantly clams up, a quizzical expression on his face.
She shuffles a bit to the side and pats the ground next to her, and he plops down to sit cross-legged beside her.
“What’s Naruto doing?” He whispers to her.
“I don’t know.” She whispers back. “But he’s concentrating really hard, so I didn’t want to disturb him.”
Lee nods in understanding, then waves silently but with great enthusiasm at a girl with her hair in buns who passes them.
She seems like a nice girl, because she waves back.
They play five rounds of rock-paper-scissors, four of which Lee wins, and one of which results in a hushed debate about whether “gun” is a “youthful” option in this game, before Naruto finally speaks.
“I’m gonna be the Hokage, believe it.”
They look up at him, standing on the swing, jaw set in determination, hair swaying in the breeze that swirls a few leaves past his face.
“...Okay? Weren’t you always going to be Hokage though?” She asks, not quite seeing where he’s going with this.
“Wh—yes, but s’more than that.” Naruto says, exasperation evident in his tone.
He lets go of one of the swing’s ropes, and gazes down at his clenched fist. “I wanted to be Hokage ‘cause old Jiji’s the most respected person in the village. Everyone loves him, an’ he protects everyone, because everyone’s his precious people.”
He looks at them, eyes bright and painfully earnest. “But even though everyone in the village is precious, some’ve them’re still so mean to you, and to Otou-san and to Okaa-san, just for being from somewhere not here, f’r bein’ different, an’ that’s not fair. So I wanna be Hokage, so I can tell them not to be mean. I’m gonna be Hokage so you don’t have to bite yourself anymore, and so we can all always go home to Okaa-san and Otou-san and Gai-sensei an’ eat tortoise bread. So everyone can be happy, and understand I’ll protect everyone, no matter what, believe it. What foods we like is more important than where we’re from, right?”
Oh.
Oh.
She swallows around a lump in her throat. “Right. T-that’s exactly, exactly right.”
Lee gives a great sniff, fat tears rolling down his cheeks. “Your resolve is highly youthful, Naruto! I am sure you will even surpass the Yondaime when you become Hokage!!”
Naruto rubs the back of his head, grinning widely.
Then a stronger gust of wind rocks the swing and he teeters dangerously, arm windmilling as she and Lee lunge forward to catch him, try to cushion his fall somewhat.
She’s partly successful as Lee’s lunge ends up knocking Naruto off the swing entirely, the pair landing on her with a thud that drives the air from her lungs and leaves her wheezing.
“Ow.”
They end up half-limping home.
Otou-san is dozing on the couch, and he blinks awake drowsily at their chorus of “we’re home,” only to tilt his head in sleepy confusion.
“What happened to you three?” He asks, nodding towards her dust and bark covered dress as he picks a few leaves off of Naruto’s clothes, before pulling aside some of Lee’s hair to see the faint bruise where the swing swung back and clocked him in the head. “Did you all get into a fight at the Academy?”
They share a glance.
“N—” Lee starts.
“Yes.” She hastily cuts in, “Big fight. Very nasty.”
Naruto nods vigorously along with her. “Yeah, there were loads of missing nin with huge swords an’ killer laser jutsu an’ stuff.”
“That does sound scary,” Otou-san says, gently ruffling Lee’s hair with bandaged hands. “Lee, why don’t you go get an icepack from the freezer for that bruise? They’re on the top shelf.”
As Lee nods and trot off to the kitchen, her father shifts to sit more upright on the couch. “What were missing-nin doing at the Academy anyway?”
“They thought Mayu-chan was a lost princess, so they were tryna steal her for ransom.” Naruto replies, kneeling next to the couch so he can receive hair ruffles as well.
“Ah, I see.” Otou-san smiles, obliging him. “Mayu-chan, your mother is waiting in the back yard to do that.”
“Already?” She grimaces. She’d forgotten— thought she had more time...
“You don’t have to.” Otou-san urges softly. “There’s no shame in not doing it. I never did when I was your age. We could tell—”
“No.” She says firmly, fists clenched. “I-I want to do this too. Just—let me go prepare, alright?”
Her father nods slowly, his face solemn. She turns and climbs the stairs, ignoring Naruto’s worried stares or his queries about what was going on.
Sanji and Brook give her courage. Let it be over quickly, at least.
“Done.” Okaa-sama says, and she can barely contain her shudder of relief.
Her mother hands her a mirror, brushing stray bits off her shoulders. “Just as it always is, see?”
She keeps her gaze on her newly trimmed fringe and the Nico Robin cut brushing her shoulders, pretending she doesn’t see the shorn, wet slivers littering her clothes and the ground around her.
“Thank you, Okaa-san.” She smiles weakly, gratefully accepting the hug she receives and trying to ignore the pit of guilt in her stomach.
“I don’t get it.” Naruto says, sitting on the threshold of the back door. “What’s so bad about a haircut?”
“Well, for samurai, long hair is a mark of honor.” Otou-san says, hands folded into his kimono sleeves. “To have it cut off is a sign that you are no longer a samurai, which is highly dishonorable for lots of people in Iron. Mayu-chan has the spirit of a true samurai, so she hates having her hair cut.”
“Is that why you still have long hair, Jirou oji-san?” Lee asks, sipping on a cup of juice while holding a half-thawed ice pack to his head.
Otou-san tries to do an overdramatic flip of his braid, making the two boys giggle when it just ends up smacking him in the arm. “My hair is far too lustrous to be cut by the likes of sword or scissors!”
“Care to prove it, dear?” Okaa-san challenges, brandishing her scissors playfully.
Her father retreats back into the house in mock-fear. “You’re one of the lights of my life, darling! Even in the Pure Lands, my love for you will burn brighter than the sun!”
Her mother shakes her head. “And mine for you will shine brighter than the moon. Now inside, all of you, so we can begin making dinner.”
The discussion about hair continues through the preparation of hamburger steaks with sautéed greens.
Naruto and Lee are suitably amazed by the idea of women in Iron wearing their hair practically down to their ankles. Her brain just keeps conjuring up a mental image of Kumadori from CP9 in a woman’s kimono, with his long pink hair and kabuki poses.
“Doesn’t their hair get dirty, Mayu’s Okaa-san?” Naruto asks, almost dropping the patty he’s throwing between his hands.
Her mother shrugs. “I’m sure it must do— I was just as surprised as you when I saw it after I married your Otou-san and moved into the clan compound. I must confess, I never really understood the fascination for long hair that a lot of people in Iron have.”
“Do they not wear it like that in Kiri, Chie oba-san?” Lee says, depositing his chili flake-and-paprika-filled hamburger into the hissing frying pan.
“Oh, they can.” Her mother says, finally taking Naruto’s hamburger off him when he fumbles it again. “My baby cousin Mei had hair down to here.” She wiggles an elbow as she deposits the patty into the pan. “But since her hair was so thick and wavy, she found it a headache to deal with. Mayu-chan’s lucky she got her father’s fine hair, even with my color.”
“I love this color.” Otou-san declares, leaning over from stirring the spinach to plant a loud, wet kiss on Okaa-san’s cheek.
She pretends to gag as Naruto snickers, while Lee watches the display of affection with bright, shining eyes.
“Anyway.” She interrupts loudly. “Otou-san, what are we going to do for practice with the bokken? We were gonna move into fighting opponents before—”
There’s a moment of awkward silence as everyone tries to avoid thinking about what “before” signified.
“Well, you don’t need to worry about that, Mayu-chan.” Her father says, smile a touch too wide and gleeful. “I’ve made arrangements so we shouldn’t be thrown off our planned course too much. You may even pick it up faster!”
She understands the reason behind his glee the next morning.
She wishes she didn’t.
“You can’t be serious.” She says to her grinning father.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” He beams. “This is the perfect way for you to get used to fighting an opponent. You need to learn how to adapt what I’ve taught you to counter a variety of fighting styles, given that it’s unlikely every opponent you face will be playing by the same rules you are.”
“Yosh! Well-said, Jirou-san!” Gai-sensei cheers, far too energetic for someone who’s just made them to do thirty laps around Konoha on one leg.
He finishes warming up and takes up opening position for Strong Fist style. “Now, Mayu-chan! Your aim for today will be to land a single blow on me before I disarm you! When you succeed, we will move on to landing two consecutive blows, then three, and so on until you are able to spar against me properly. Are you ready?”
The feeling of imminent regret is an old and familiar friend by this point.
She tries to make sure her grip on the bokken is as solid as possible. “Ready.”
By the time her mother opens the back door, she’s lying on her back, panting from the effort of trying to stand, and the bokken is lodged at the top of the neighbor’s tree.
She hadn’t even landed a hit once.
Even with her father yelling “helpful” advice like “Go for the hands!” once chakra had come into play.
“You have a visitor, Mayu-chan.” Okaa-san says.
“Ah, greetings young Uchiha! How are you this most youthful morning?” Gai-sensei asks cheerily, like he isn’t half-way to scaling the garden fence to get her weapon back for her.
She turns her head to the side, just in time to catch sight of Uchiha staring at the green-spandex-clad wonder that is Gai-sensei in silent stupefaction.
She wishes she had a camera so she could capture his expression.
Uchiha shakes his head, as though to disperse the shock of acknowledging Gai-sensei’s existence, then looks around until he sees her on the ground.
“What are you doing?” He asks, brows drawn down like he’s personally offended by her presence.
“Dying.” She tells him flatly. “Lee gets Habu-san, and Naruto gets all my cookbooks. He’ll eat way too much ramen otherwise.”
Uchiha glances between where Gai-sensei is making a lot of rustling noises and at her, considering. “Can I have the sword?”
She snorts. “Like shit, that’s Sakura’s. You get the all purpose flour.”
Her father sighs and kneels down to offer her an arm up. “Language, young lady. You did very well today.”
Her legs wobble under her and it’s a fight not to collapse right back down.
Gai-sensei leaps from the tree with a yell, rolling and neatly popping up in front of them with a thumbs up. “Yes! Once you stop freezing up in the face of jutsu, you’ll land a blow on me for sure, Mayu-chan!”
Uchiha shoots her a look that is extremely judgmental. “You couldn’t even land one hit?”
“Shut up Uchiha.” She says, taking the bokken back from Gai-sensei with a tired nod. “Why are you here, anyway? Is there a problem with cooking today?”
“We’re not doing that.” Uchiha drops his voice a few octaves. “I’m giving you the opportunity to prove your fighting spirit. You versus me. No politics, no cowardice. No holding back.”
The wind picks up, a cold draft that swirls leaves between them.
“Do you want me to die? No.” She says, leaning on the bokken. “I’ve spent all morning getting my a—”Her mother clears her throat pointedly. “—My butt kicked. I need a rest. And food.”
“Wh—I’ll give you food!” Uchiha blusters. “A-and it’s not just you! I’m fighting everyone!! You can rest while I fight Lee or Shino or something!”
“SUCH YOUTHFUL SPIRIT!!” Gai-sensei bellows, throwing an arm over Uchiha’s shoulders. “You truly are a paragon of your clan’s sense of camaraderie, young Sasuke! I would be honored if you would allow me to witness your battle with Lee!!”
“Young Sasuke” cringes away from the spandex’d arm. “No. No adults allowed. They’ll just hold us back.”
Gai-sensei wilts.
“Mayu can take some pictures of the fight for us!” Okaa-san adds quickly. “She’ll be happy to do it, won’t you Mayu?”
Gai-sensei immediately perks back up. “What a youthful idea, Chie-san!! Mayu-chan, be sure to capture these expressions of Youth as best you can! We’re counting on you!”
He shoots her a vigorous thumbs-up as her mother goes pink and swoons.
“Ah, I think our camera’s in a drawer over here—” Otou-san darts into the house, muttering under his breath about where he last saw it.
She stares blearily up at them. “Can I have a shower and some breakfast first?”
By the time she comes back down from her shower, the atmosphere feels very...awkward.
Lee’s arrived, and has been armed with their family camera on a thick cord around his neck. It’s what she’d consider an old one, big and bulky, that prints out its photos from a little slit on the bottom.
He waves to her, his mouth full of rice. She gives him a little wave back.
Uchiha is sitting stiffly in Naruto’s chair, staring down at an untouched plate of tamagoyaki like it’ll hold all the answers to the universe.
Okaa-san is washing dishes, back tense. She hands her a plate without a word.
Otou-san’s mouth is drawn, bandaged hand curled into a loose fist. He doesn’t even seem to notice Gai-sensei’s hand on his arm.
Gai-sensei smiles at her, but it’s strained. If she didn’t know any better, she’d almost say it was worried.
She wants to ask what happened in a cool, sneaky way that wouldn’t make the situation get worse, like Robin or Nami or Sanji or Brook can. But she’s not smart enough for that.
So she shovels egg and rice into her mouth, trying to eat as quickly as possible.
She wishes Naruto was here. It’s not fair the Hokage gets him for practically the whole two days on these weekends.
She kicks Uchiha’s ankle under the table. When he yelps and glares at her, she nods towards his plate and mouths “EAT”.
He scowls at her, but finally takes a bite, chewing aggressively.
They clear their plates in silence.
“I guess we’re heading out.” She says, after putting their dirty dishes in the sink. Uchiha just grunts and heads straight for the door.
Even Zoro has better manners than that kid.
“See you later Gai-sensei, Jirou-oji-san, Chie-oba-san!” Lee yells, holding the camera tightly. “Mayu-chan and I will fight with all of our youthful spirit today!”
“Lee!” Gai-sensei cries, tears streaming down his face. “You’ve worked so hard in training...I know all your youthful efforts will allow your strength to blossom!!”
“Gai-sensei!” Lee yells back, beginning to cry himself.
“Lee!”
“Gai-sensei!”
She chuckles despite herself. “I’ll make sure to get a lot of good pictures, Okaa-san, Otou-san.”
Her mother catches her face in a soapy hand, thumb stroking over her cheek. Her eyes are impossibly sad, for some reason.
“We love you, Mayu.” She says. “You know that, right?
She smiles. “Of course I know. I love you too. Even more than Luffy loves meat.”
The worry on Okaa-san’s face melts into fondness. She leans forward to plant a kiss on her forehead, then steps aside so Otou-san can wipe the soap off her cheek with a tea-towel and plant a noisy kiss there instead.
Uchiha makes an impatient noise in the hallway, so she and Lee shout their goodbyes as they follow him out of the door.
Lee really likes the camera.
It took him a little bit to work out the settings to keep the photograph from being under or overexposed, but now he’s merrily snapping away at anything that captures his attention.
Which, so far, has included a bunch of pink flowers, a dog, a bird in its nest, a couple of ninja outside a weapon shop, an old lady in a pretty kimono who called him “a very nice boy”, and three babies in matching ninja-themed prams.
“Can you stop that and get a move on?!” Uchiha snaps. “There won’t be any film left at this rate.”
“Ah! Not to worry, Uchiha-kun!” Lee digs around and pulls out three black capsules of the stuff from...somewhere. “Jirou-oji-san was nice enough to insist I take extra!”
Uchiha groans and slaps his hands over his face as Lee catches sight of a curry restaurant and snaps a shot of its sign.
“Aw, lighten up Uchiha. Let him have his fun.” She ribs gently. “Where’s the harm?”
He stops in the street. When she looks back at him, he’s trembling slightly, fists clenched.
“Fun doesn’t make you stronger.” He sneers, “It’s a weakness that sets you up to be killed.”
He strides forward and body-checks her out of the way, stomping off down the road.
She stares after him, more than a little disquieted, scratching at her scar before following.
She stops and stares.
Along the top of the Uchiha compound there are katana, naginata, sai, spears, daggers, arrows, knives, staffs with kunai tied to the top, even what looks like a fishing pole.
All of them have been bound to the top of the exterior wall by copious amounts of black wire and tape, rusting or ornamental blades jabbing at the sky like a hedgehog’s spines.
Lee lifts the camera and snaps a picture.
The rest of their lunchtime group is standing near the entrance to the compound, also gaping at the wall’s spiky additions.
“Ah, Sasuke-kun!” Sakura says. “Um, what’s all this?”
Uchiha scoffs. “I know you’re a civilian, but even you can recognize traps, can’t you?”
“Aren’t traps supposed to be hidden?” Kiba mutters, Akamaru whining on top of his head.
Uchiha pushes open the door, pausing to unhook what looks like several tripwires and other mechanisms. “Even that man wouldn’t be able to get past all of this. He wouldn’t even dare chance it!”
They all begin trooping inside, only for Uchiha to quickly turn and say, “Step exactly where I step if you don’t want to die.”
There’s a veritable web of tripwires crossing the path through the compound, spidering haphazardly up trees and the sides of buildings. Several of the abandoned stores have been rigged with what looks like the sharp things Uchiha couldn’t mount on the wall, alongside what she thinks she recognizes as rudimentary explosives.
Usopp preserve us, she thinks as they gingerly pick their way through the tangle after the last Uchiha, who may have gone off the deep end while they weren’t looking.
Shikamaru mutters “Troublesome,” like an oath.
#my writing#but i like one piece#naruto#one piece#reincarnation#isekai#naruto uzumaki#sasuke uchiha#sakura haruno#chouji akimichi#nara shikamaru#ino yamanaka#shino aburame#hinata hyuga#rock lee#maito gai#itachi uchiha#one piece sanji#one piece brook#one piece robin#kumadori#naruto oc#haircut#sasuke’s trauma
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bad dream | c.j.h
jongho, aka: deadshot
a skilled marksman of his time, choi jongho’s perfect kill record as a mercenary-for-hire makes him more dangerous than he lets on, his moniker emerging as a result of his impeccable aim.
inspiration: jongho actually causing pain via flicking people’s foreheads.
song: “bad dream” by ruelle (x)
word count: 800
"Choi Jongho, also known as, Deadshot, the most wanted hitman in the world—let's just say he has an elite clientele."
Upon arriving at the public prison, a hand slipped out of the driver-side window to latch a black box onto a metal bar, wrapping a monoscope around the back of his head to utilize it with his preferred right eye, modifying the box to achieve the proper angle, before leaving the alleyway and maneuvering himself up onto the rooftop. He fished his phone out of his pocket, fingers flying to press a series of numbers and after the third ring, a disgruntled voice stating, "What?"
"Lucy, I'm the exterminator you hired to handle your termite infestation, and my account appears on the thinner side," he responded, glaring at the lack of money in his savings.
"Nobody is getting paid until the job is complete," she coldly refused, the mercenary visualizing the eye-roll and scoff with minimal effort.
"That's not the rules, sweetcheeks: no money, no honey"—the man pressed his monoscope, altering the perspective from the inside of the room to a series of cars entering the alley—"There's your target right now, with roughly twenty of his new friends." Through the eyewear, he detected the figures required to eliminate them, observing the authorities release the prisoner, snidely commenting, "I'm still seeing zeroes."
"Stop being cute, and do you what you were hired to do."
"They're currently removing him from the vehicle, which means your window closes in thirty seconds."
"Relax, baby boy, we had an accounting issue," Lucy snapped, a transaction sliding over to the hitman's account, delivering him one million dollars.
"You have ten seconds to double it for being a bitchass, and please don't think you have the audacity to threaten me; I know what I decided to get myself into, especially considering your target is going to get a sore throat from all the singing he's about to do."
"Jackass," she snapped, another ping signifying the second transaction, and the young man hung up, pulling back to load the gun on his wrist, firing the weapon and killing his mark, before covering himself with a mask and scaling down the rooftop to make his escape.
"His weakness happened to be his girlfriend, who happened to be his latest target, and he shot her after he learned of her true nature," Gyuwook recanted, a perplexed expression on his acquaintances' visages, "He turned himself in, to which I'm perplexed as to why."
Drunken footsteps pattered into the apartment, the young couple sharing a round of heated kisses until they parted, the petite of the two breathlessly whispering, "I'm claiming the shower first." Jongho chuckled, allowing her to enter their bathroom as he meandered through the kitchen, hands instinctively reaching for the apple to break with his bare hands, inaudibly eating and walking until he felt an unusual noise that differed from the floorboards his feet rested upon.
"Most peculiar," he mused, fiddling to pry the wood from its resting place, pupils dilating at the folders underneath, fingers skimming through his criminal profile in explicit detail and the golden FBI badge underneath.
"You weren't supposed to find out, my love," a voice called from above him, the man intrinsically turning and raising his pistol at her, the resounding click of the safety familiar to the both of them.
"What else was I not supposed to find out, then—that you deceived me with your touches and words to lead me to prison like a sheep to the slaughter?" Jongho snapped, "I can't trust you anymore."
"Please, Jongho," she begged, bordering onto tears, "Please don't do this; cross my heart."
With his eyes screwed shut, the sound of the bullet rang through, an impassive expression on his face as he completed the phrase, "Hope to die."
Kim Gyuwook and Eden could only watch the prisoner break the fruit in half with his fingers, a resigned tone in his voice as he muttered, "I typically thought that an apple a day would keep the guard away; I suppose I live to be corrected."
"Do you honestly want to die in here?" Eden provoked, a stern, inquisitive appearance on his countenance, "You have potential to walk a free man if you choose to assist in our goals: have a nice, cold bottle of alcohol, a burger, even a woman."
"Sir, you don't happen to the first to ask, and you certainly won't be the last person to ask me; I'm a man, despite all my killing, and I would rather die in this cell in peace than hurt another person due to my rage at the love of my life betraying me."
Choi Jongho swiveled his body as to face the same direction as the men that came to visit him, ignoring their departing footsteps.
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#ateez#ateez scenarios#ateez imagines#ateez fanfic#choi jongho#jongho#ateez jongho#ateez jongho imagines
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So I Heard You All Like Lizard Kisses
Keep Your Head Above The Blue
[ao3] [Companion piece to Toss and Turn In Undertow and A Little Remedy]
[Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast
Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla
Characters: Lord Arum, Sir Damien, Rilla, The Keep
Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Depression, Suicidal Ideation
Summary: In a relationship, you take care of each other. Before that, you have to learn that it's okay to let yourself be taken care of.
Notes: Extra warnings because I am a nervous bean: there's discussion of medication, discussion of eating habits which might be triggering for people with disordered eating, and a glancing mention of the possibility of self-harm, but no actual self-harm.
The narrative voice in this is very mean at times which is ENTIRELY in the head of the viewpoint character and not my own opinions to be perfectly clear. Also I am in no way a psychologist- I HAVE depression, but I'm not on any medication myself and I can't afford therapy, so like, I did my research but I'm just doing my best here. A lot of the... bad thoughts here are cribbed from my own brain. Projecting mental illness onto your fave fictional characters: it's what ya do!
Title taken from the song Library Magic by the Head and the Heart, 'cause I literally don't know how else to title shit at this point. ]
-
Arum feels the creep of darkness in his veins, some days. It’s part of who he is; a monster, born of the darkness and belonging to it, and there are times when it crawls beneath his skin and settles there, weighing his muscles until he can’t make himself move from the petals of his bed.
The world is too loud. Too full of conflict and pointlessness and chatter, and he wants the weight within him to seep out and curse the world dark, and silent, and easy.
In the time since Damien and Amaryllis, the feeling hasn’t lasted more than a few days at a time, thankfully. Arum, for the most part, can always wave it away as a bad mood or momentary distraction. Eventually, though.
Eventually it lasts. Eventually it creeps in, and it settles down to nest. He manages a few days without arousing suspicion in his mates. He is too curt with them, too distracted, but he apologizes and they believe easily that he only made himself over-tired, working late into the night and then oversleeping. They still have enough difficulty parsing his reptilian expressions that he can convince them that it is nothing more than exhaustion. Only exhaustion, and not a hollowness as if he is a termite-infested tree. For a few days longer he responds too slowly and they pull a little harder, trying to draw him out. Amaryllis holds his hand across the table when they eat together, an anchor he feels very distantly through a sort of fog. Damien recites a poem when they finish eating and Amaryllis laughs beside him at all the moments she should, and Arum can’t even remember the words the moment they are past.
They are so bright, his humans. They look right together, and Arum is-
He thinks, out of nowhere, that Damien would have been better off if he had only carried through with that knife in the cell. If Damien had merely taken the blade, and pushed. It would have been better for everyone. The two humans could go back to how they had been before Arum interfered. The Keep would have produced a new familiar and the new creature would certainly have done a better job than Arum had; they would not work the Keep to killing itself, would not be so filled with conflict and casual cruelty and this dull, unending weight-
The thoughts pass as easily as Damien’s story, when they are done, and he doesn’t mean any of it. Not really. He knows the Keep would have died if he and Sir Marc had not been here to protect it, and even if he does not feel it he knows that Amaryllis would likely have not forgiven Damien his murder, but there is a small, heavy part of Arum that remains convinced that it would have been easier to just let go.
If I still had the Hermit�� he thinks, sluggish even in his own head, but he does not allow the thought to close. It is a pointless hypothetical, and it’s not as if there is any guarantee it would work even if he did.
He slips off alone, finds a shadowed corner for the Keep to grow him a place to rest, curls into the petals and wills himself unconscious.
When he wakes, Damien’s hands are pulling the petals back open, filling his dark little space with dappled green light, and Arum can barely summon the energy to blink the stars from his eyes. Damien says something, curious, and it feels important, but Arum simply… can’t.
Damien says something else, quieter, and then he’s climbing into the petals as well. He’s too close for Arum to ignore, suddenly, warm-blooded heat and blessed softness and he cups the sides of Arum’s head in his palms. He gently settles closer until their legs are tangled together and they are pressed forehead to forehead, and Arum feels just a little more solid, a little more real.
“What’s wrong?” Damien murmurs, his voice finally piercing the fog, and Arum hates himself because he has no answer. Nothing is worse than it has been, he has no reason for this grayness that clings to him, no curse and no cause-
Arum curls his tail around Damien’s back to pull him closer, giving a rumbling purr deep in his chest to let the knight know that he has been heard, even if Arum can’t make himself respond.
Damien relaxes into the embrace, though Arum can still taste the worry on him. “Arum,” Damien begins softly, “I don’t wish to- to overstep. You aren’t ill, are you?”
Arum smiles wryly, dishonestly, then just barely shakes his head. They are close enough that Damien can feel the movement anyway. “Not ill,” he manages in a dry, cracked voice. What he wants to say is that there is nothing wrong with him at all, but- clearly that isn’t true. Clearly he is flawed in some way, or he could just- rise, speak, become more himself again. “Nothing physical.”
Damien nods, as if somehow this is the answer he was expecting. “Rilla has been… worried,” he says, and Arum pretends not to wince. “She said that you- you had a look in your eye like you did when you were on trial. When you refused to defend yourself.”
Arum supposes that he felt similarly then, when he thought that both Amaryllis and Damien were lost to him, when he thought that he would be personally responsible for their deaths as well as the deaths of their entire species if all went according to the Senate’s plan- but at least then he had reason. Now, the weight is formless.
He can’t understand the shape of it, and so he cannot lift it.
Expressing any part of that feels exhausting, though, not to mention too embarrassing to stand, so Arum only sighs.
“I am worried about you as well,” Damien admits.
“Don’t, takatakataka.” Arum growls low in his throat, clutching him closer.
“I do, though. Of course I do. I…” Damien pauses to laugh, a little roughly. “I know what it is like, to fight a battle with yourself that no one else can see, even if my own thoughts plague me quite differently than I believe yours plague you.”
Arum thinks, this does not feel like a fight, and shakes his head.
“Arum… both Rilla and yourself have been… instrumental in holding me steady when my fears betray me, in keeping me from succumbing to the falsehoods with which my mind tries to torment me. I only hope that you will trust me- trust us to care for you in return, when you so need.”
Very distantly, Arum thinks that he should be riled to offense by the very idea that he needs help, needs care, but he can’t grasp the anger in his claws, can’t make it stay. Damien’s body heat is radiating into the space inside the flower, permeating Arum’s scales, making him sleepy again despite the many hours of rest he must have had between dinner and now.
“I only wish for you to be safe, and happy,” Damien says, a keening note in his voice. “And for you to know that you are loved.”
Arum’s throat suddenly feels tight, his eyes hot, his ribs constricting around his thudding heart, and he reflexively closes his eyes before they can do something ridiculous. Damien must have felt his body stiffen, though, because he makes a sympathetic noise, one arm wrapping around Arum’s waist and the other cupping his jaw just gently.
“Oh, my lily,” Damien says in a whisper, “I wish I knew better how to help you.”
Arum grits his teeth and growls, as if that will make it better when he feels the tears at the corners of his eyes.
“Anything you need from me, anything at all-”
“If you say another word I swear I will bite you, honeysuckle,” Arum says in an embarrassingly uneven voice.
“If that helps you in any way, so be it,” Damien declares, and Arum chokes on a laugh that devolves into something else. He nips Damien’s ear so as not to make himself a liar, then presses his snout into the crook of Damien’s neck where it is warm warm warm and he is surrounded by the scent of leather and vanilla and the faint hint of Amaryllis that clings to his skin as well, where he can just breathe as his poet holds him and pretend that he is not debasing himself with something as ridiculous as tears. Damien makes a humming noise and Arum is close enough to feel the vibration of it, soothing and overwhelming at the same time. “There, love, I have you,” he says in a gentle sing-song, stroking his hands down Arum’s back. “I have you. You are unpracticed, I think, in allowing others to take care of you, so I do not hold your reluctance against you. You must know, however, that I have learned from the very best in the art of care and comfort, and so you may take from me whatever you need. I will still be here when you are yourself again, and I will love you the whole way through.”
“And if I-” Arum’s breath hitches and he buries the noise in a more intentional sounding hiss. “If I cannot lift this fog from my mind, honeysuckle? What then? My entire long life this has sat on my shoulder like a parasite and struck whenever it pleases, and then I am merely- this. Wretched and empty and unshakably tired-”
“Do you love me less when my tranquility leaves me, Arum?”
“Of course not,” Arum growls quickly, buffeting his cheek against Damien's. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I do not ask for the purpose of coaxing comfort for myself,” Damien says, “but only to make the point. You are suffering, Arum. It is not your fault, and it does not change how I feel about you. I love you even when you are unhappy, my lily. I love you when you are tired, when you are irritable and stubborn, when you are distant, when you need affection but are too proud to admit to it.” Damien chuckles when Arum growls at that. “I love you, and nothing will change that.”
Arum breathes slow, the tightness in his throat easing as Damien’s hands stroke gentle circles on the scales of his back.
“Is there any more room in there, or is it a bit too crowded?” Rilla says, muffled from outside the flower-bed, and Arum jolts in surprise. Damien smiles, putting a hand on the petals around them and pushing until the flower blooms wide, allowing Rilla to quirk an eyebrow and smile down at the two of them tangled together. “Looks cozy,” she says.
“Amaryllis,” Arum mutters, eyes flicking nervously away. It’s bad enough for Damien to see him acting this atrociously weak (he can still feel the wetness of tears on his face, ridiculous), but for his shortcomings to be laid bare before the both of them-
Rilla’s smile softens, and she lifts a little tray he hadn’t noticed yet. “I brought coffee and breakfast. Thought some caffeine might help, at least a little. Keep?”
The Keep gives a short soft song and raises a little shelf of vines beside the flower so Rilla can set the tray down, and she thanks it before she climbs onto the petals beside the lizard and the knight, gently shoving them to make room. She pushes until they’re halfway sitting, Damien sideways in Arum’s lap, an arm around his back. Then she slots her own arms neatly around Arum from the other side, kissing his shoulder and humming softly.
After a moment she pulls a hand back and grabs one of the steaming mugs, and then she presses it firmly into his hand. Ordinarily he prefers tea to the bitter beverage Amaryllis enjoys so much, but… he is tired, and he trusts Amaryllis to know how to mend things. He flicks his tongue through the steam and takes a mildly begrudging sip.
“So,” she says after a long moment of quiet, sliding her fingers through his own and squeezing his hand. “Do you want to talk about what’s been going on with you lately?”
Arum takes another sip to delay answering the question, but she’s still looking expectantly at him when he finishes. “Not particularly,” he grumbles, and then he hugs the knight in his arms possessively. “Our little poet said more than enough for the both of us already.”
And Arum is grateful for those words; they feel like bright spots amid the grey, points of light he can summon back through memory, but Arum does not know how to put that gratefulness to words of his own. He does not share Damien’s skill.
“I think…” Rilla sighs, “I think you should try to talk about it anyway, Arum. I know it’s difficult, I know you’ll hate to do it, but… I think it could help. Or, at least it will give us an idea of how we can help.”
“There isn’t anything wrong,” Arum growls. He winces the moment the words leave him.
“That… does not seem quite true, my love,” Damien says gently.
“I cannot tell you how to help me,” he exhales, ducking his head. “because I do not know what is wrong with me.”
“Okay,” Rilla says. “Okay. So- what are your symptoms, Arum? There are a few things I can infer, but I’d rather not assume anything.”
“Symptoms, I’m not ill-”
“Humor me,” Rilla says, her thumb pressing lightly on the back of his hand. “Please.”
He hisses out a long breath. “I… it…” he cannot find the words to explain the grayness, the weight. Instead, he tries to think what came with them; how other parts of his life have suffered when this thing strikes. “I have been… having difficulties keeping my mind attentive, I suppose. I cannot work on my projects, and I… I don’t care much for any of them. I have eaten because you expect me to dine with you, but I have not felt hungry, though I know I should have. And I am weary, Amaryllis.” His eyes slip shut, defensive. Saying all of this – admitting this much weakness – if this were anyone but Amaryllis and Damien he would sooner cut out his tongue. “I am weary to my bones. Even now, despite all rest. Too weary to lift my head, at times.”
Rilla inhales, deep and steady, and when she exhales she breathes out, “Thank you. I know that’s not the easiest sort of thing to talk about.”
Arum grumbles noncommittally under his breath, then finishes the coffee and sets the mug aside so he can ensure that two of his hands are free to hold each of his loves.
Rilla squeezes his hand after another long pause, almost like a warning. “I think you have depression, Arum,” she says, her tone blank and professional.
“What?” Arum says, spine going rigid, and then, “Don’t be ridiculous.” And then, “It’s not- I couldn’t possibly-”
The Keep warbles a triplet of dawning realization, and Arum scowls as his tail lashes a denial.
“Mental health might not be my exact area of expertise,” Rilla admits wryly, “but I do have a little experience at least, and I can recognize common symptoms easily enough. Have you-” she hesitates, “have you been thinking about- hurting yourself?”
He flinches, genuinely surprised. “No, of course not.” He pauses. “I- not hurting myself. Nothing- nothing so- nothing so active.” Arum can feel Damien’s posture going bit by bit more tense in his arms, but- “Only- only I have perhaps been thinking of- of moments when- this is impossible, Amaryllis. I can’t talk about this.”
“Take your time, my lily,” Damien murmurs roughly, his face hidden against Arum's shoulder. “We aren’t going anywhere. Take your time.”
“… I have been thinking more than is normal about death in the general sense,” he admits in a detached voice. “About times when I was close to death. About- about what would be different, if I…”
“Arum,” Damien breathes, his hands warm and steady against Arum’s chest. “Oh, love-”
Rilla nudges Damien’s shoulder with a hand before he can get too carried away. “All of what you described just now lines up really solidly with depression.”
“But there is no reason for me to-”
“That’s not how it works, Arum.” Rilla smiles, the expression a little strained, a little pained. “Sometimes the brain just- doesn’t function the way it’s supposed to, same as can happen to the body.”
“As we all, by now, are aware,” Damien adds wryly.
The Keep sings a trill of trust, of hopeful warmth towards Amaryllis and her skill, and Arum sighs deeply.
“If that is your diagnosis, doctor, then I must trust to it,” he rumbles quietly, and Amaryllis breathes a laugh at the word doctor. “But what does that help? I- so I know the name, but-”
He can know the shape of it, now. That thought makes him pause, brow furrowing.
“There are some pharmaceutical treatments of varying effectiveness for depression in humans,” Rilla says, voice slipping back to professional for a moment, “but trying to figure out how to modify those for the brain of a reptilian magical construct is- it would be a bit much, even for me. Too far outside my usual wheelhouse, unfortunately. But,” she says when he tries to turn his face away, “but knowing will help, Arum. Knowing, and talking about it, which- don’t make that face at me!”
“I simply don’t see how demeaning myself will be of any use at all.”
She flicks the tip of his nose and he gives a little snarl automatically. “If Damien got stabbed when he was out doing his knight nonsense it wouldn’t be demeaning himself to come tell me he needed me to stop the bleeding and treat the wound, Arum.”
“You said not moments ago that you don’t have a way to treat-”
“I said that I probably wouldn’t be able to make medication that would work for you. That doesn’t mean that we can’t figure out ways to help you. And telling us when you’re hurting is only way for us to even begin that process.” Arum huffs, and Rilla scowls in response before she stops herself, taking a breath and then quirking a small smile. “See? Even this. You’ve- you’ve been so- I’ve missed arguing with you.” She pauses. “I’ve just missed you. I know you’ve been here, it’s silly, but-”
A pained noise slips from Arum’s mouth without his say-so. “Amaryllis. I- I apologize. I did not expect… I did not think this would persist for long enough that either of you would notice. It was not my intention to- to cause you worry.”
“We’re always gonna worry about you,” Rilla says softly. “That’s part of the deal. You care about someone, of course you worry about them.”
“That…” Arum scrapes his claws lightly, carefully down Damien’s back, and nuzzles his snout against Amaryllis’ temple. “Yes. I have learned that quite well.”
“Promise you’ll try to talk to us when it gets bad like this, Arum?”
“I will… try,” he says, wincing. “As our poet so gracefully put it, I am unpracticed in allowing others to care for me. But I will try.”
“And we will do what we can to help,” Damien says. “If you need be reminded to keep yourself fed, if you need be be told that there are people who care about you, if you wish to sleep for hours in the sun and have meals and affection brought to you, if you need distraction from darker thoughts…” Damien lifts his head just enough to press a kiss to Arum’s jaw. “Anything at all, if you only ask. We love you. If there is anything we can do to make your life less difficult- that is what love is for, my lily. Love is a path walked side by side, a journey you ease by taking it together, step by difficult step.”
“And step one, I think,” Rilla says, “is for the three of us to actually eat the breakfast I brought before all of it gets cold. And I don’t care if you’re hungry, Arum, you need to eat too.”
“No, I…” Arum gives a single breath of laughter. “I do feel somewhat hungry this morning, as it happens.”
Rilla smiles, bright as morning, and Arum can’t help but nuzzle against her cheek until she chuckles and places a kiss at the corner of his mouth. She taps the tip of his nose again, then, teasing, before she untangles their limbs and starts passing her loves the food she and the Keep prepared.
Damien asks a question about one of Rilla’s experiments as he blows across the top of his tea to cool it, as if this were any other morning, and Rilla sighs dramatically before she launches into her answer. Arum eats, and listens, his mouth curling into a slow smile of his own.
There is warmth and sunlight and laughter, there is the gentle pleased song of the Keep, there is filling food and a long unmapped day ahead of all of them, and Arum feels-
Arum feels more than he has in near a week. More than he knows what to do with.
He is not fixed, his mind is still unmended and may sink down again without warning. He knows that none of this will be easy-
Not easy, but Amaryllis and Damien are determined to make it easier, to hold out their hands for Arum to lift himself with. That is better than was true yesterday, Arum thinks. It is one more step, a stumble and catch, down this path they are walking together.
-
[End Notes: Hope you enjoyed! I'm going to count this as complete, but there's a chance there will be two companion pieces to this one, because I want to see each of our flowers being taken care of lovingly and tenderly. I just related most to the way Arum needed it, so his came the first and easiest.]
#elle's fanfic#the penumbra podcast#second citadel#lizard kissin' tuesday#rad bouquet#lord arum#sir damien#amaryllis of exile#things will be better
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January 11 2016
TRIGGER WARNING - THIS JOURNAL ENTRY CONTAINS GRAPHIC IMAGERY AND DETAILS ABOUT RAPE, SEXUAL TRAUMA, AND DOMESTIC VIOLENCE. I ADVISE YOU TO PROCEED WITH CAUTION IF YOU ARE CURRENTLY DEALING WITH ANY OF THE ABOVE ISSUES.
1/11/16
I want to get you out of my head. You are everywhere and nowhere to be found at all. We are good right now – or so it seems. But I’m keeping you at arm’s length to prevent my demise. At the end of the night he says, “I love everything about you. Soon we’ll be 5 months if you don’t leave.” I’m such a talented actress I’m starting to believe my own lies. I am in denial, reminiscing over the past which wasn’t real. His breath smells like liquor and his skin like cigarette smoke. “Who is that?” He asks ask my cellphone screen lights up. I forgot to turn the ringer off – fuck. He’s driving fast now over black ice. He explains how he would have no reason to live if I left him. He asks if I feel the same… “Why don’t you have my number memorized?! I know yours by heart” He’s beginning to get angry and my blood is boiling. Dad, if you’re out there... please save me I think…
I want to break free. I have no strength. I thought death was easy, but living is the worst way to slowly perish. I am ashamed. I have choices but feel helpless, stuck. I want to be the kind of person who doesn’t hurt people, who says the right thing. I want everyone to win, yet I lose when that happens so I’m aware it’s unrealistic. I want to have courage but I am a coward. I want to face my fears and conquer my demons. But how can I when I am sleeping with the enemy? So instead, I run and hide. I try to avoid it, yet it escapes me only a short while. I let my demons win. I surrender, and let him conquer me. My imagination runs wild and my mind survives by deviating the truth. I’m outside of myself, watching life pass me by from a distance. On the outside looking in, but the door is frozen shut, out here I shudder. I’m shattered by the thought of uncertainty. I look at other guys and if I find them attractive, I feel like a whore. I hear him calling me slut, whispering fuck you and words of betrayal in my ear. I constantly feel unimportant, jaded. I am always wrong, forever defective. I don’t want to be with men anymore. I don’t trust them. They will hurt me, beat me, and bury me alive. Men abuse me, trick me, I end up on the ground, being kicked and spit on while they get out free. It’s not worth it, none of it. They all take advantage, cross my boundaries, relish in me becoming their victim. I must keep my distance, I am not safe. My head may convince me to love, to try again, but I won’t fall prey to its commands. I cannot make this mistake again, they are the shark and I am the bait. Like a gazelle running, fighting for its life, but the puma pounces, he is too fast. He tells me what to do, what to say, what to where, where to go. I try to take a stand, say no with what dignity I have left, if any. But he’s sabotaged me, he has sabotaged everyone. I’ve been brainwashed. Where did my sense go? I am stupid. Did I not see it coming? I should’ve known, he was wearing a disguise and overnight took off the mask. When we have sex, we don’t make love like he says. I hate it. I don’t want to. I try and dodge but he pry’s open my legs and fucks me like he hates me. I am in pain, raw; he makes me bleed. I stare at the bruises when I get home and love them. They remind me what is happening isn’t fake. When he is inside me, I exit my body. I dissociate. I’m somewhere safe which is not with him. Tears run down my face but I think he believes that means I enjoy it. Or he doesn’t care. I get into his car and the smell that used to excite me, now churns with disgust and disdain. His scent is nauseating. He tells me what I want to hear. “I’m going to therapy. I’m getting help.” I am enmeshed, and he is pathological. I know he is not honest and disintegrate into pieces. He laughs at my tears or forms his own to turn the tables. I try harder to please him. I was uncertain but now I am certain. Want to run away from it all. I feel deserted and stranded. I was thrown on this island with no life boat. Do you not know what you are doing? I wish you would kill me already. Have some guts and fucking slaughter me. You always talk about it, so just do it. I want to scream but nothing comes out. You are a termite, eating away at my soul. I don’t trust myself and you want me to trust you. I will never let you see me cry.
#metoo#me too campaign#me too movement#rape#rapesurvivor#sexualabuse#sexualassault#journal#journal entry#domesticviolence#abuse#abuse survivor#domesticabuse#writer#journal entries#ptsd recovery#ptsd#cptsdrecovery#trauma#narcissiticabuse
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