#Pharaoh had more round eyes

[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

Shaking (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have an anxiety attack in a public setting, but luckily, the doctor is there to help you through it.

Word Count: 2450

Warnings: Anxiety attack, mild cursing, mostly just ANGST and then comforting FLUFF

A/N: Wanted to write Spence comforting the reader during a panic attack. Fanfiction is better than therapy, right? At least, it’s cheaper! Also not my GIF

——

“You don’t want to just order it online?” Spencer asked as you walked beside him down the sidewalk. His longer legs would typically mean that he’d be several steps ahead of you, but he always slowed his pace so you wouldn’t have to strain to keep up with him. He also walked on the outside of the path because, let’s face it, he was a gentleman.

You shook your head. “No, I want the whole experience,” you said excitedly as you walked, your face lighting up in anticipation. You were on your way towards a local bookstore, where the third book in your favorite series was being released today. The bookstore was going to be packed, but you were so excited to be one of the first ones in the door, to get your hands on a physical copy. “I don’t ever do things like this, but it’ll be something I think about every time I look at the book sitting on my shelf.”

Spencer nodded, lifting his hand, his thumb and forefinger in an O-shape as he spoke. “Ah, the age-old concept of symbolic treasures. One of the main reasons why souvenirs are such a prevalent part of going on vacation. Did you know the tradition dates back to Ancient Egypt?”

You shook your head as you continued to walk with him. Your boyfriend carried on without fault. “As far back as 2200 B.C, Egyptian Prince Harkhuf traveled to what is now known as Sudan and returned with all sorts of objects to present to his father, the pharaoh,” Spencer explained. His words spat out quickly, compulsively, as though they had to exit his encyclopedic brain. “He brought back items such as incense, ivory, even the skins of leopards to show off to his father.”

“I had no idea,” you told Spencer as you neared the bookstore, smiling sideways at him. You loved it when he spouted off facts like that, like he had to get the information out or else he’d explode. He had confessed to you more than once before that most people found it weird or off-putting or even annoying, but not you. Rather, you loved learning new things. Whatever information he had to share with you was always relevant in one way or another, and it was just one of the reasons why you loved spending time with him - he made you a more knowledgeable, well-rounded person.

Before either of you could say much else, you’d reached the back of the line of the bookstore. You checked the time on your phone. The store would open in about fifteen minutes. The line stretched down at least a full block, from what you could see. Lots of people dressed like characters from the books, shuffling their feet in excited anticipation.

There were at least a hundred people in the line, and after a minute or two, a couple dozen more had filed in behind where you stood. You pursed your lips for a moment, scanning the crowd until your eyes met Spencer’s.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, inclining his head to the side.

You shook your head. “Nothing,” you said. “Just… lot of people.”

Spencer nodded understandingly, then reached down to take your hand. Your fingers twined with his and he squeezed his palm against yours. “I’m right here,” he reminded you. You didn’t love crowds. They always made you feel anxious, perhaps even a little claustrophobic. You and Spencer had gone to a fairly crowded French film festival a few months ago and there hadn’t been an organized line to enter; rather, it had been a cluster of people, all pressed together. And you had felt like you couldn’t breathe. Spencer’d had to pull you to a seat off to the side so you could catch your breath, and you’d missed getting a seat up front like you’d been hoping for.

Right now, you were okay, though. There were people in front of you and behind you, but they weren’t flush against you like they had been waiting for the film festival to open. And Spencer was holding your hand, and you were outside, with the cool, spring morning breeze hitting your face. It was fine. You were going to be fine. You inhaled deeply and exhaled, then nodded your head, feeling the anxiety dissipate. “I’m good,” you told Spencer, looking up at him.

Spencer nodded. He squeezed your hand once again before letting go, only so he could wrap his arm around your shoulders and tug you so you leaned against his chest. He kissed the top of your hair. “It’s going to be just fine,” he promised you, and you just smiled to yourself.

About ten minutes later, the store opened. You only knew that because the line started moving, and more quickly than you thought. You squealed in delight and matched the pace of the people in front of you, Spencer by your side with an amused grin on his face. He loved books just as much as you did, if not more, but this outing was definitely just for you. He’d read the other preceding books in this series (literally just because you asked him to and it took him an hour, tops), but he wasn’t a total geek for it like you were.

You finally made it inside the bookstore, a small business, a local place. You’d been inside several times before, but you hadn’t realized just how small the building actually was until you stepped in now. It was two stories, but everyone was tightly packed, with the people and the bookshelves crowding around you as you made it fully inside the store. There was even a line to go up to the second floor, like a queue at an amusement park.

There was little to no breathing room. Everyone was talking as they waited their turn to grab a copy of the new book, and the sound seemed to bounce off the walls and the ceiling and smack you right in the ear. The air felt thick despite the front door and handful of windows being opened, allowing the cool spring breeze to ruffle the pages of the paperbacks on display.

But it wasn’t refreshing. Rather, it was another stimulant that caused the neurons in your brain to fire even faster. You felt your palms get slick. You felt your heart start to pound, and your knees wobble as you shuffled forward in the line. What were you even waiting in line for? You momentarily forgot, blinking a few times before looking up at the man beside you. Spencer was engrossed in looking around the bookstore, the corners of his mouth quirking upward as he seemed to find something amusing. But when his eyes came full circle back to you, they were immediately filled with concern. “Y/N?” He asked softly, placing a hand on your shoulder.

You couldn’t even hear him. The sound of his voice just bounced off your brain, like you were trapped inside of cellophane. All you could think was trapped. I’m trapped. No way out. Stuck. Caged. Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe.

You felt your breathing go heavy, and your eyes fill up with tears. Your cheeks were red, bright red, judging from how hot you suddenly felt. “Leave,” you managed to choke out, your voice coming out from your throat. It felt like your throat was lined with thorns, like the words you wanted to say kept getting caught.

Spencer nodded. “Leave? Yeah. Yeah, baby, we can leave,” Spencer grabbed your hand, tugging you along behind him as he murmured “excuse me, pardon me,” to the other patrons, to get through the crowd. Moving against the crowd was so much worse than standing still. All those eyes on you, seeing your red face and the anxious tears trickling down your cheeks. It was so embarrassing, freaking out like this is such a public space. Everyone thinks I’m a freak, you thought. Your anxiety became not about the crowd, but about your anxiety, about how you were being perceived. Your breathing picked up, quickened, and by the time Spencer led you out into the morning sun, you were fully hyperventilating.

The thoughts in your head were racing at the speed of light. You hated feeling nervous like this, but moreover, you hated that Spencer had to take care of you because of it. You felt like you had ruined the day because your head wasn’t on straight, because you couldn’t stand in a crowd of people and hear the cacophony of voices and tamp down your panic.

Spencer led you down the block, about twenty feet from the store, away from the crowd, and your breath was still coming out staccato, unstable as you looked down at your shaking hands. You were crying and hyperventilating and the whole world felt like it was spinning. Spencer kept his hold on your hand and stood in front of you, squeezing his palm against yours. His eyes, those light brown irises with little flecks of green, stared into yours. “Hey, Y/N,” he said, bending his knees so his face was level with yours. “Breathe with me, okay?”

You shook your head, your eyes clamping shut. You were so mad at yourself in that moment. You didn’t want to have Spencer take care of you, to have to drag you out of a bookstore because you were having a panic attack. “Baby, you’re trembling,” you heard Spencer’s voice laced with concern. “Look at me. We’ll get through this together.”

You opened your eyes slowly, and that’s when you realized your entire body was shaking. You looked into Spencer’s eyes and he released your hand so he could cup your face. His fingers anchored under your jaw, his thumbs rested on your cheeks, and his eyes were wide, full of worry, but his voice managed to stay soothing and calm. “Follow my breath, Y/N. Do what I’m doing, okay? In for four, hold for four, out for four.”

He inhaled for 4 seconds, and you tried to follow his lead, but you just couldn’t control your lungs. “It’s okay,” he assured you as your brows furrowed, presenting frustration. “C’mon, try again.” He inhaled for 4 seconds, and you managed to match him this time. “Hold for four,” you held your breath while Spencer counted. “And out for four,” you exhaled deeply. “Good, okay, let’s do it again.”

Spencer guided your breath for a few minutes, until you finally felt like you could do it on your own. And when you finally felt yourself coming down from the rush of panic that had sent you into fight-or-flight, you wiped at your wet eyes. “I’m sorry,” you croaked, and Spencer just shook his head.

“No,” he insisted, taking your hand and placing it on his heart. You could feel it beating through his long-sleeved t-shirt. “No, you don’t have to be sorry.” You rubbed your hand against his chest, finding it comforting as you hung your head. “Baby, look at me,” he requested, and you met his eyes.

“Please don’t ever apologize for having an anxiety attack, okay? For one thing, it’s not your fault. You can’t control the chemicals and waves in your brain and how your body reacts to situations,” Spencer began, his hand on top of yours that rested on his chest. You nodded, using the heel of your free hand to wipe away your tears. The crying was over, you were fairly certain, but god, did this suck. “You also should never feel ashamed for having a panic attack, Y/N. It happened, and we’re working through it. It’s a lot like boiling a pot of water, isn’t it?”

You let out a garbled sounding laugh and your brows furrowed. “How so?” You stammered out.

“Well, you set the pot of water on the stove, right?” Spencer began, and you nodded. “And then when it starts to bubble, that’s your anxiety. Some sort of external stimulant - the stove, or, in your case, the overwhelming feeling of being in a crowd - is causing the water to bubble. And when the external stimulant increases in intensity, so too does your anxiety. And sometimes, yeah, the pot boils over.” Spencer shrugged like it was no big deal. “But then you just turn the stove off, grab a dishtowel, and clean up the mess. Problem solved.”

You cracked a half-hearted smile. “So in this metaphor, you’re a dishtowel?” You asked, curling your fingers around the fabric of his shirt.

“Technically, I think it’s a simile, but yes,” Spencer grinned as he looked in your eyes.

“But the book,” you sighed, looking back at the bookstore, which was still filtering people in and out slowly. The patrons leaving the store clutched their new copies of the book in their hands, grinning and taking pictures with their phones, laughing with their friends excitedly.

“Do you want to get back in line and try again?” Spencer asked, and you bit your cheek pensively.

“I don’t think so,” you said softly, defeatedly.

“That’s okay,” Spencer said. You loved that he wasn’t coddling you, he was just feeling it out, seeing what you were up for. “Do you want to get brunch somewhere and come back? Maybe the line will have died down by then?”

You nodded, your lips curling into a small smile. “Yeah,” you agreed. You realized your hand was still over his heart, rubbing at his chest. Your movement halted and you retracted your hand, but before your arm could fall completely at your side, Spencer scooped your hand up and kissed the back of your palm. “What if we come back and they’ve sold out of the book, though?” You asked as Spencer walked with you in the direction of one of your favorite brunch places, just a short walk from the bookstore.

“There are twenty-two independent bookstores in the D.C. metropolitan area alone,” Spencer rattled off. “If this one doesn’t have it, we’ll drive around until we find one that does.”

“What article did you read that told you how many bookstores were in D.C?” You asked. You often liked to challenge him by asking him to cite his sources.

“No article. I did a search on Google Maps last night,” Spencer explained.

“What, because you knew I’d freak out when we walked into this one?” You asked him.

Spencer shook his head. “No, just wanted to have a contingency plan in case our first stop sold out before we got there.”

“Always thinking ahead, huh, Boy Wonder?”

“Damn straight.” A smirk formed across Spencer’s lips.

You shook your head. “You’re the best dishtowel a girl could ask for.”

[lisbeth-kk]

May Prompts (27) Jealousy

The Luckiest Girl in the World (chapter27)

Summary: Rosie and Timothy travel the Greek islands. An intriguing experience on Santorini, puzzles and irks Rosie immensely. When Timothy doesn't react to her liking, there's only one option on how to move forward.

Twenty-Seven Years Old

To celebrate my birthday and my new fulltime job as a political risk analyst, Timothy and I went island-hopping in Greece. Liwia and her girlfriend had done it last year, and it appealed to us both. Having nothing but the flights planned, made me feel a bit reckless but it was quite freeing as well.

The only thing we’d decided on was to stick to the Cyclades and we started our journey by taking a ferry to the small island Antiparos. Several people who let out rooms stood waiting on the quay as we disembarked. An elderly and friendly looking man caught our attention, and the room he had to offer was more than sufficient.

Our first breakfast is one I’ll remember forever. The small restaurant was situated by the seafront where the fishing boats came in with their catch. Faded coloured fishing nets hung to dry in the sun, the scent of salt weaving its way to our nostrils.

Freshly pressed orange juice and the fluffiest omelette I’d ever come across, ensured the perfect start of our day.

We hired a moped to explore a little. The trip took us through a landscape of olive trees and flowers we didn’t have in the UK. Our destination was the famous cave with stalagmites and stalactites. The stalagmite at the entrance is apparently 45 million years old, the oldest in Europe. 

We were warm and a bit sweaty after standing out in the sun, while we waited for our guide. The air inside was pleasantly chill and got even colder as we descended the 411 steps to the heart of the cave. It was a mesmerising sight, and knowing that this was the nature’s own doing, left me amazed and humble.

At a cosy taverna we ate the best Greek salad to date. The ripe tomatoes paired with the salty feta cheese, olives, onions, the rich olive oil and the homemade bread, almost made me religious for a moment.

The beach close to our quarters, was small, secluded and blessedly free of crowds. We had taken a boat to a famous beach the day before, but we’d barely found a free space to lay down our blankets, so this felt like paradise in comparison. 

Another short boat ride away was the bigger island Paros. We took the bus to the other side of the island. I don’t remember anything else from that trip than the hours we spent in Naoussa. Several boats painted in bright colours lay bobbing in the water close to the restaurants that encircled the bay. It may sound simple, but it was the most beautiful view, and I couldn’t take my eyes off it. We sat there for hours, eating seafood and drinking Greek white wine. 

***

So far, it had been a “normal” vacation, or tedious as Papa would’ve called it. That all ended when we sat foot on Santorini. Getting a room was easy enough, and relieved of our heavy rucksacks we went for a stroll in the main street of Fira. Every other shop was a jewellery shop, and the necklaces displayed bore the resemblance to what pharaohs and Cleopatra wore. Heavy, massive and ridiculously expensive. For each shop they seemed to grow bigger and uglier. We had quite a laugh at that.

The most peculiar thing happened at the restaurant we had lunch. It was a terrace with a breathtaking view over the Aegean Sea. We’d decided to stay for a while and ordered more iced tea, making ourselves comfortable under the big parasol. We had both brought a book, and for a while we read in silence. A repetitive sound of paper being ripped, caught my attention.

An elderly woman had taken up residence at the table next to ours. She had short frizzy hair, more grey than brown now, her glasses were round with a white frame. The summer dress she wore had big patterns in green, red, white, and orange. On her feet were white flip-flops. 

“Stop staring,” Timothy whispered.

He startled me and I looked annoyed at him, but averted my eyes and took a sip of my drink. The moment the sound of ripped paper reached my ears again, my eyes were drawn to the spectacle at the other table.

The woman read a book too. A paperback. The curious thing I almost couldn’t fathom, was that whenever she finished a page, she ripped it out and placed it in a pile under her plate. Why would anyone want to do such a thing? What if you needed to go back some pages to look up something you’ve missed. It could never be read by another person, since she apparently left pages wherever she sat down to read. It bore no logic, and it irked me.

“Aren’t you curious about why she does it?” I whispered to Timothy.

“Not particularly. My book is far too interesting, and you won’t get an answer unless you ask her, and I guess you aren’t inclined to do that,” was his phlegmatic answer.

Timothy’s ability to turn off the world and disappear into his reading or writing, was admirable, but now it almost made me jealous of his book. I wanted to speculate with someone, solve this odd conundrum. There would be no more reading on my part after this, so I took out my phone instead.

Want to solve a mystery for me?

Pray tell! I’m bored to death and about to shoot the wall. P

Also available on AO3

Friendly warning: after 25 years the mystery is still unsolved. Don’t be shy about suggesting what the meaning of this appalling behaviour could be 🤭

@calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @helloliriels @raina-at

More tags in the replies

[thedansemacabres]

Ares as... rooster?

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

[ID: An image of a brown-gold rooster cawing. The rooster has a large, six-pointed comb and orange-red round eyes. The background is blurry, highlighting the rooster's neck and face.]

ARES IS A WONDERFUL GOD, and there is little academia about him in particular. There is much about the analysis of him in the Iliad and function in myth, but less about his cultus and more obscure traits. While researching, I stumbled upon a very different Ares….as a rooster. So, as a quick post, here is a small bit on Ares and roosters. 

ROOSTERS IN ANCIENT GREECE 

Roosters are funny creatures. They’re very feisty, but also sometimes cowardly—affectionate, but terribly bloodthirsty. I have worked with several roosters in my time, and they’ve either been useless or fiends. Hens are often much better at their jobs. A good rooster though is priceless, and I’ll never forget the white tufted rooster at my job we used to have that would cuddle but also attack dogs if they dared step near his flock. Perhaps due to this, Ares also gained an association with roosters—he’s certainly the good kind, if he is to be compared to a rooster. 

Chickens were originally thought to have arrived in the Archaic era, aided by chickens being termed the “Persian bird.” Sacred roosters may have even appeared in temples, perhaps suggesting to us as modern polytheists to raise birds in devotion to the gods. They were not a common bird, coming in slowly from West Asia—with divine association, appearing on temples and later into Egypt in which they were connected to the pharaoh. Their ability to produce meat and eggs also made them far more convenient than pigs or cattle, along with consuming less resources. When the bird then reached the Minoans, it possibly gained martial connotations and appeared on Minoan seals. 

Chickens in ancient Greece gained many associations—naturally with Helios, but also with childbirth, Selene and her lunar cycles, Apollon and Asklepios, as a chthonian being with Hermes and Persephone, and as a symbol of rebirth and transition. 

THE MYTH OF ARES AND THE ROOSTER

There is also the story of Ares’ soldier and lover Alcetyron, who failed to guard the door to Ares and Aphrodite’s affair, allowing Helios to witness the couple: 

“Mi. Why, to be sure, I have heard something like this before about a cock. It was the story of a young man called Alectryon; he was a lover of Ares,—used to join in his revels and junketings, and give him a hand in his love affairs. Whenever Ares went to pay a sly visit to Aphrodite, he used to take Alectryon with him, and as he was particularly afraid that Helios would see him, and tell Hephaestus, he would always leave Alectryon at the door, so that he might give him warning when the Helios was up. But one day Alectryon fell asleep, and unwittingly betrayed his trust; the consequence was that the Sun got a peep at the lovers, while Ares was having a comfortable nap, relying on Alectryon to tell him if any one came. Hephaestus heard of it, and caught them in that cage of his, which he had long had waiting for them. When Ares was released, he was so angry with Alectryon that he turned him into a cock, armour and all, as is shown by his crest; and that is what makes you cocks in such a hurry to crow at dawn, to let us know that the Sun is coming up presently; it is your way of apologizing to Ares, though crowing will not mend matters now.”

This story is then better explained by An Argument for a Bronze Age Introduction of the Cock in Ancient Greece by Jorrit M. Kelder: 

Perhaps the bird served a double purpose, both as a symbol of ‘transition’ (including the various stages in the cycle of life) and virility. This double connotation may be reflected in the story of Alectryon, a companion of Ares, whose failure to warn his master (who was having an illicit affair with Aphrodite) of the arrival of Helios resulted in his transformation into a cock. The story, first attested in Lucian (Gallus 3), may well be a late one, designed to explain the name and manifold associations of the cock. None of these associations can with certainty be identified in Bronze Age Aegean iconography, though the presence of an altar on the Zakros sealing indicates that the bird could (also) serve some purpose in the religious sphere.

This dialogue continues on and the rooster reveals himself to be Pythagoras after thoroughly roasting the man he was speaking to. 

ARES AS ROOSTER 

Continuing on, paper I was reading explored slightly on the topic of gods as birds or bird-hybrids, such as Athene the owl, Hermes the chicken, and Ares the rooster:

This likely represents Ares the fighting rooster—a symbol of virtuality, and extended to his son Eros with eroticism and ancient Greek homosexuality.  Cockfighting was a common sport in ancient Greece, likened with ‘masculine’ prowess in sports and even appearing on Panathenaic amphorae. 

Admittedly, I found this most comedic and wonderful. I’m not completely sure what to do with this information beyond associating Ares with roosters, but it is a fun tidbit on him indeed. Roosters and chickens overall have a vast lore behind them, whether that is with the sun or as a symbol of death. Today, chickens are such a common aspect of life—we can simply go out and buy some eggs and chicken meat. However, two thousand years ago, I could imagine someone being beyond excited to finally be able to have a chicken in their life. From this small research spree for Ares, I have gained a new appreciation for chickens. Perhaps that is the blessing that he has given us in being a divine cock. 

wordpress link

References 

Allinson, F. G., Fowler, H. W., & Fowler, F. G. (1906). The Works of Lucian of Samosata: Complete with Exceptions Specified in the Preface. American Journal of Philology, 27(4), 455. https://doi.org/10.2307/288891

Eckerman, C. (2012). Cockfighting and the Iconography of Panathenaic Amphorae. Illinois Classical Studies, 37, 39–50. https://doi.org/10.5406/illiclasstud.37.0039

Kelder, J. M. (2021). AN ARGUMENT FOR A BRONZE AGE INTRODUCTION OF THE CHICKEN IN GREECE. Mediterranean Archaeology, 34/35, 1–14. https://www.jstor.org/stable/48691680 Spier, J. (2010). Most fowl: athena, ares, and hermes depicted as birds on engraved gems. Pallas. https://doi.org/10.4000/pallas.11101

[empressofmankind]

POKER FACE (Part I)

[Crocodile x Shivs (F!OC)]

Mature - Murder but no sexy times (yet) - 1.5 k / 5 pg

(A/N) - I felt like writing about what Shivs gets up to when she isn't dealing at the poker table. After all, that is what she does for fun. Not what she does to keep the wheels of Crocodile's machinations going round and round.

This story is set around the same time period as ‘The House Always Win’ and 'On The First Day of Christmas', in Alabaste at Rainbase, mostly in and around their casino, Rain Dinners.

Tag(s): Mafia shenanigans. Graphic violence. Murder. Do I tag these reversed gender roles? It feels stupid. Buy men flowers, gdammit. Mildly diabetes inducing romance.

🐊 🐊 🐊 

Night never truly came to the City of Dreams, for Rainbase was ever lit by the fickle fluorescence of its nightclubs and casinos. Even now, as the evening advanced, the major thoroughfares and the grand boulevard were bright as if mid-day and bustling with diners and gamblers and bingers alike.

Not that it didn’t have quiet spots, darker corners, should you have need of them. The oasis walkways, for example, whose plank paths snaked through the prettier side of Rainbase lake. Early in the day, tourists jostled along the sight-seeing points, hoping to spot the Bananawani basking in the morning sun on Rain Dinners’ rear deck. In the afternoon, locals came here for their lunch breaks, to jog or read a book. Later in the day, lovers would come to watch the sun sink behind the lake.

After sunset, quiet soon settled around the walkways for with the evening came the desert night’s chill, felt here on the edge of Rainbase first and most. Darkness followed in its wake, for no permanent lighting was allowed: it’d disturb the great reptiles.

The waters were still, reflecting the moon high in the sky. The walkways were quiet, if not deserted. In the lee of the tourist boat house, someone moved. The red cherry of a hand-rolled cigarillo illuminated the underside of a fedora, high cheekbones, and glinted in one impatient eye. A brown leather eyepatch engraved with winged boarding saber covered the other.

The runner was late.

Minutes crept by as they waited, watched the Bananawani settle in for the night on the rear deck. Two of the juveniles were still swimming in the oasis, ignoring the matriarch’s curt calls.

“Don't make mommy come and fetch you,” Shivs muttered around her smoke, dry amusement clinging to her words.

“You say that to all your runners?”

That was not the voice she had expected. “What brings you here on this fine evening, Alessio Brando?”

“Can't a bloke drop by for company?”

She noticed the bag he carried, one she knew didn't belong to him. It was their runner's satchel.

“Meddling in our business, are you?” she said, blowing out smoke.

There was tension in his shoulders. “I know what you and the Crocodile are up to.”

“People have gone the way of the Pharaohs for less.”

��I am thinking this item is worth more than you let on to your runner," Alessio said and gave the satchel a little shake. "Sloppy man, I might add. Left himself wide open.”

“You plan to keep it?”

“I could be persuaded to let you have it.”

Shivs pursed her lips, paused before replying with a note of due reluctance. “I can double.”

“Can you?”

“I'll add it to my Sphinxx tab.” A smirk tugged at her lips, fire briefly reflecting off of teeth. “He won't squint too hard over a little unexpected bump in expenses there.”

“Triple it.”

Shivs crooked an eyebrow, surprised by the amount of balls he was showing. “You know it will be a chore to sell that to anyone else.” She took a lengthy draw from her cigarello before catching his gaze. “Particularly when potential buyers learn this specific piece has gone missing from his private collection.”

She could tell from the way he shifted she had him. “How? No. That is impossible. This is a new acquisition.”

“Back up plans within back up plans, handsome” she said as she tapped the ash from her smoke. “So, double it is, then?”

“Fine. Deal.”

“You are smarter than you look, Alessio.”

He eyed her. “You have the money with you?”

“I do,” Shivs said as she beckoned him closer and reached deliberately slow inside her jacket.

He leaned towards her, though paused when she suddenly cast an alarmed look across his shoulder. Was there someone coming? As his gaze flicked away, he saw her draw something from her jacket that glinted in the moonlight. Reacting on instinct alone he twisted out of her hold, narrowly avoiding the switchblade.

Cussing, he reached behind his back and drew a pistol from the back of his pants.

“Bringing a gun to a knife fight?” she said, regarding the barrel with little concern. “Rude.”

"And I'll use it, too," he threatened.

"Let's do this again." She twirled the knife between her fingers. “Come over here, so I can stab you and relief you of what is already ours.”

“Like hell I will,” he said as he deliberately cocked the gun. “Hand over the money, you scaly cunt.”

“No can do.”

He stared at her, uncomprehending.

“I don't have any with me,” she said with a little shrug. “Now come here and let me stab you, my husband hates loose ends.”

“Don't come any fucking closer, or I'll shoot.”

“Defying me by a body of water? You’re not that smart after all.”

“It has seastone bullets.”

Her eye squinted with amusement as the tides rose within the confines of her ribcage. “You’ll have to fire it first.”

At the wet click of the gun, she actually laughed.

Alessio backed away, eyes widening as his breath came up short. And shorter. And shorter. The gun clanged to the floor as he clawed at his throat, chest. Heaving water onto the planks as he collapsed onto his knees.

"You shouldn't have meddled." Shivs sauntered over and crouched beside him as his face marbled blue. “He really hates loose ends.”

She sat down on the planks and lit another cigarillo as she waited for the convulsions to stop, the twitching limbs to still. It was a convenient way, sure. Next to impossible to differentiate from genuine drowning.

But it was slow.

“Slower than yours, anyway,” she muttered as she gazed up at the gilded backside of Rain Dinners.

When he'd been still for some minutes, she patted his shoulder and rose. With an annoyed sigh, she rolled up her sleeves and grabbed the larger man by the jacket, hauling him towards the water. Sweat beaded on her forehead. Once there, she dropped him, straightened and rolled him into the lake with a shove of her boot.

A splash, and then he sank. Slow, but convenient. No air, no floating.

On the other side of the oasis, the rebellious juveniles slid from under the snoozing matriarch’s attention and into the water.

“I could eat too,” Shivs muttered. Turning away, she picked up the leather satchel and jogged up the steps to the boulevard, disappearing into the evening crowd.

Stopping my a flower-stand, Shivs bought a bouquet with blue lotus.

“A good choice, ma'am,” the florist said as Shivs lifted it from its stand. “She will surely like it.”

“I know he will,” Shivs said, watching the florist scamper to recover as she signed the receipt.

“The blue lotus is a traditionally masculine scent, combined in this bouquet with the-.”

Shivs stopped listening, uninterested in their lukewarm attempt to be inoffensive. She had chosen them because of Nefertem, the flower of creation from whose yellow centre the sun rose every morning and set to every evening. The one whose epithet was ‘He Who Is Most Beautiful’.

Hoisting the satchel over her shoulder, and cradling the fragile flowers in her arm, she made her way back to Rain Dinners.

🐊 🐊 🐊 

As she came down the stairs into the high rollers VIP lounge, Shivs saw Crocodile was already there. And not at her table. His attention shifted from his cards as she approached, putting them face down on the table to free his hand and draw her to his side.

The waistcoat was new; shades of olive stripes with a few subtle lines of gold stitching. He'd combined it with a dusty mauve dress shirt that brought out the warm undertones of his tan skin.

Shivs pursed her lips, shifting the flowers onto her other arm. “Playing at someone else's table, huh?”

A light squeeze at her waist as his gaze flicked up. “You weren't here, honey.”

She leaned down to press a peck against his lips. “Should I do the same when you aren't here?” She wondered just below her breath and savoured the shift in his gaze. “I said I would deal tonight, didn't I?”

“It's eleven thirty.”

“Still tonight,” she quipped. She saw it before it slipped away, a hint of amusement making his bottom lip tug at his cigar.

“Join me,” he said, pulling her closer.

“Let me change into something nice, then,” she said as she leaned towards him for another kiss.

“I don't hate this,” he rumbled against her lips in Alabastan as he tipped her fedora straight. 

“I know,” she said as she switched as well.

It had annoyed her he hadn't waited, he could tell. His fingertips lingered along her jaw. “Are those for me?”

“Who else, habibi?” Shivs said as she gave the flowers to him. The way he removed his cigar and took a moment to smell them made her smile.

A server came over with a vase.

"Did you acquire the artefact?" Crocodile asked as the server arranged the flowers.

"I have."

Her tone gave him pause. "Difficulties?"

Shivs pursed her lips, irritation flitting across her face. "Alessio sleeps with the Bananawani."

"Good," he said, and watched his reply mollify her pinched expression. “Don’t be long,” he added as he caught her hand, stopping her from leaving just yet.

Shivs let him reel her in for another kiss. “I won't,” she muttered against his lips, squeezed his hand as she rose and let go.

He took his time to watch her leave before returning his attention to his cards. They'd come full circle around the table, but knew better than to complain.

🐊 🐊 🐊 

[jamneuromain]

Obviously 🤤 + 😳 with Ari Levinson dear Jam.

HOE-KAY! So I'm picturing you and your friend thirsting over this hunk of a man...

Hearty-eyes

Ari Levinson x Reader (You)

Warning: Diving Coach!Ari, Tourist!Reader, getting caught... sort of?), sentences in Italic is spoken in another language.

Summary: You are sure you can't be heard, or at least, understood when you thirst over a man in your native language.

"I can't believe you decided to spend our vacation on another beach." Your friend Asteria sighs, lying back under the warm sunlight, "Still, this resort is not half bad, where did you find it?"

You push the sunglasses over your head, turning lazily in her direction, smirking, "Not many results left after I type in Egypt+beach," reaching a hand to the small table between the two chairs, you grab your drink and sip the cool coconut water, "Plus, you had your share of camels and pyramids and sand in the first three days."

Asteria is a huge fan of ancient history. She selected Latin and Culture and History of Ancient Egypt in her undergraduate years, even if her major was East Asia Studies. While you got bored of this elective focusing on pharaohs and zig-zaw drawings on ancient stones quickly, Asteria followed the whole course and took another elective on Mayan civilization.

This is why when you ought to settle on a destination for your vacation, Asteria booked the first three days of a trip in and out of the desert, when you booked the next three days of one Red Sea Diving Resort.

Which accidentally comes with the hottest diving instructor you have ever met in your entire life.

"Psst, incoming alert." Asteria clutches your arm and shakes so violently, that your drink almost spills from the glass, her eyes rounding like a light bulb, "Hot coach at ten o'clock."

Coming from one of the smallest countries on the planet, you know that your native language is spoken by a small number of people. And at special circumstances, for instance, this hot coach named Ari, you naturally speak your mother tongue so that you could thirst over him with the benefit of no one could ever find out - except for Asteria, who spent four years studying it.

Sharing the same awe-struck expression as Asteria, you lower your sunglasses to have a better look at this brunette Adonis out of the water. He pushes his hair back, with the water beads falling from his chiseled chin and his large hand, dripping wet, not to mention the chest peeking from his diving suit -

"Oh my fucking God, he's looking this way." You squeal so high that you are close to out of air. Even using your native language, you can feel the shyness and nervousness bubbling from your heart and surfacing on your skin. Your face aflame by a simple look he delivers in your direction.

"Oh my - holy fuck, he's coming this way!" Asteria raises her glass to her lips, just to cover the huge grin on her face, "He's so fucking hot. Coach BDE."

"Fuck me." You exclaim, blocking your sight with the local newspaper you took on the way to the beach, because you damn well know that your heart is practically jumping out of your throat if you spare one more glance at the sex god.

"You really should." Asteria tempts you like a rightful friend would, "And tell me if his dick is actually as big as we imagined."

You hiss at her, seeing Coach Ari approaching your direction, "You are a horrible influence - not that he looks unfuckable. Hell, he looks so fuckable with the broad shoulders and the long hair." You whine in the most pathetic voice as he walks past you, "Fuck, I think I'm more soaked than he is."

"Then go talk to him!"

"I can't!"

"Of course you can!" Asteria nudges you in a particularly ticklish spot on your waist, "Go before Coach BDE disappears!"

"What if he says no!"

"You don't know that!" Asteria turns to look at the hot coach, "Great. Now he's gone." As if he has just disappeared on plain sight.

The lingering feeling of your face heating reminds you of the fact that merely with Ari's presence, you are flushed from head to toe. You can't imagine talking to him without embarrassing yourself.

Asteria rolls her eyes and pokes the ticklish spot on your waist again, "I swear, if you don't fuck him, I will annoy you about this for the rest of our lives."

"It's not like I don't want to fuck him!" You huff out in annoyance. Although with Ari gone, for now, you are deep in your thoughts so that you are still talking in your native language, "You know I'm too scared to ask him. I can't exactly go and ask, ' Hi Ari, my friend Asteria said you could be great in bed. May I fuck you?' "

A shadow looms over you. By the looks and widening eyes of Asteria looking at someone behind you, her eyes nearly popping, and the faintest wiggle of her eyebrows, you turn your neck to see the hot coach TM standing behind you, getting a whiplash as a result.

"Yes, of course." Ari simply says. A small smile tugging the corner of his lips, making the fact that he has understood your thirsting conversation painfully obvious. Ari has changed into a blue shirt and shorts, leaving his veiny arm and thick thighs in plain sight. Even though he isn't dripping anymore, you sure as hell still do.

You stutter for a moment, before hastily apologizing, "I'm so sorry, my friends and I were just talking, we didn't mean-"

"Of course, she means that." Asteria doesn't even pretend that she wants to leave the place for you and Ari, "Oops, I've got something going on. Laters babe!" Blowing you a kiss, she snatches her purse and dashes out of sight.

There is nothing smug about Ari's posture as he sits down on Asteria's chair, watching you with his clear blue eyes as you nervously drape the thin bath towel over your bikini. "Sorry about barging in on your conversation. My apologies for eavesdropping." His sharp canines bite into his plump lower lip, those mesmerizing eyes search for any sign that you could've felt offended by his movements.

"No... I should be the one to say sorry." The blood rushes to your cheeks again, you could literally ignite a match with your burning face, "... about ... um, what I've said."

"Please. I'm flattered, if anything," Ari takes a deep breath. If you were looking closely enough, you would realize the tip of his ears is painted with a faint color of pink, "Have you had dinner yet? I know a great place that cooks squabs."

The refusal is almost on instinct, but you think of the encouragement (and the threat) Asteria made before her departure, and the words roll off your tongue, "I'd love to."

Find Jammy's 500 Follower's Celebration here 👈

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[angel-of-the-moons]

Nothing Is Lost

Khonshu x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Nothing really!

A/N: This chapter will mostly be some exposition from Khonshu's point of view, and a few flashbacks of his. Also, because sources vary depending on what universe of Marvel Khonshu is from, I took some liberties to do whatever with his familial ties. After all, mortals don't ever truly know all the relationships with their gods, do they? And they have many forms.

Taglist: @drinkingwithkhonshu @astrosphereblog @themostegotisticalgirl124 @patchesofwork @lialiwasneverseen

Chapter 15:

Old Friends

Khonshu gently laid you down in your bed, stripping your wet jacket and shoes off and covering you with your blankets.

Your face was twisted with distress, your voice leaving you in weak groans. The words "please" and "help me" the most consistent he could make out as your face flushed and you began to sweat, the vein in your temple thumping visibly beneath your skin as tears slipped past your lashes and dripped down to your pillow.

What were you dreaming of? It was growing tiresome; you not telling him what he so readily wanted to know. And even more accurately, that Jezebel, one of his more than trusted followers was not telling him the answers.

But... Jezebel knew him very well. Khonshu knew that she knew he had not had such a puzzle presented to him in... Well. Longer than he'd ever care to admit aloud. A simple challenge, as opposed to hunting Ammit and Harrow, and having Jake Lockley taking the both of them out permanently.

A simple puzzle as opposed to the greatest one he's never been able to solve...

He would enjoy unraveling the mystery that surrounded your being so readily.

He was half tempted to get into your head himself; to pull the information out of you and be done with it. But that was no fun, and it was wrong, in this right.

It was different with Marc, Steven, and Jake. Even Yehya and Jezebel; who had let him into his mind willingly.

Learning of Jezebel's memories had filled him with a brief joy he hadn't felt flutter to life within him in thousands of years. It brought a warmth to his weary existence knowing he at least had someone he once knew returned to him; she was one of the only individuals he felt any scrap of true joy or humor in the world with these days. Even if it was miniscule.

"Hmm." He hummed aloud, crouching by your bedside to stare as you twitched and flailed in your sleep, crying out for aid he could not give.

Joy and humor. A puzzle.

If he could, Khonshu would have smiled.

His eyes traced the stars, drawing the shapes that the mortals had transcribed to make sense of the glowing celestial objects.

"Khonshu?"

"Hm?" He hummed boredly, sighing as he sat up on his elbows to look at her.

Hathor snorted with a smirk, her soft round face creasing as she did; briefly running her hands through his feathers, "You are not paying attention."

"Fah. These festivals are always your source of entertainment. You know I prefer the silence of the night. Not all this... mirth." He said, looking down from where they sat, sweeping his arm in a broad swath; invisible to the mortals below as they danced, sang, drank, and played amongst one another in celebration of the first successful harvest and the fact that the Pharaoh's army had crushed would-be invaders towards Egypt, securing their power yet again.

"Hmph!" She huffed indignantly, her ears clapping in distaste at his remark, the sound of her jewelry tinkling as she turned away from him stubbornly. "Khonshu, you are--I swear it--even less unenthusiastic to be around than your father."

"Amun is only as enthused as he is to be around you is because he wishes to sleep with you." Khonshu laughed, "Which I doubt will ever happen."

Hathor swatted at him, knocking his nemes askew and into his lap. "Oh, hush! Now, make your move. I have been waiting an eternity, you doddering bird."

Khonshu laughed again and sat up straight, fixing the position of his headdress and fixing it back into place, his dark feathers puffing up slightly in offense before smoothing it down as he looked at the game board.

It was a simple game--mehen, the mortals called it--the board carved in the shape of a coiling serpent. This particular set was painted to look like Apep (or Apophis as the mortals also named him). Khonshu's pieces were marbles carved of obsidian, whereas Hathor's were ivory-carved lions.

He plainly moved one of the marbles, skipping ahead of two of her lions, making her groan in defeat as she had to reposition them. "You--youuuu--!" She sputtered.

Khonshu huffed a short laugh, "I like to gamble, you know that, Hathor. And you should know I'm very good at it."

"Well one day that streak of yours will fail, you know." She snorted, resting her chin on her knuckles as the other firmly clasped her knee in her palm, her eyes studying the board.

"But that day is not today, my dear." He says, his tone rather chipper as he carefully sipped his wine.

"Honestly, why don't you walk the streets a little? It will do you some good. Distract you from the dreary task of your Fist performing his duties." She sighed, looking down at the mortals below once again.

"I worry about you."

Khonshu rolled his eyes, "Hathor, I am fine. We all have our duties. Mine lies with justice, yours is all of... this." He opened his hand to gesture to the festivities below.

"You forget how closely our divine powers are linked!" Hathor says, looking at him with a sly expression.

"Am I, now?" He mused.

"Yes," Hathor laughed gleefully, moving her lions piece ahead a few steps, getting ever so close to the head of the snake.

After Khonshu grumbled, staring at the board as he tried to sort out where and how to move next--piecing the puzzle of his next move together carefully--he looked at her as she pointed to the sky, right at his moon.

It was thin, a nice glowing crescent of light.

"You forget what that tends to mean. Your powers flow during this night, and of course link with mine. I bring joy, music, ecstasy and children into the world. Your moon, in its current state, helps their livestock and land become fertile... and as well helps their women conceive children. And this continuously brings joy, mirth," She says the word mockingly and with the same tone he had used before, "And fertility. Yes, you help dispense justice. But you also heal and give life, Khonshu. Enjoy it. Don't wrap yourself in a shroud of stars and leave it at that."

Hathor finished off her goblet of wine and grabbed her harp, beginning to pluck the strings in a wonderful melody that soothed him. He recognized the song well, it was one her priestesses played during prayer sessions, typically when mortal women would pray to her for the gift of a child.

"Embrace the mortals you protect... don't just keep them at an arm's length. Yes, you have your Fists... but you also have your arms. It will not kill you to wrap them around them from time to time."

Khonshu fell silent, turning his gaze to the mortals below as Hathor began to sing, a smile on her plump, plush lips.

Perhaps... she was right. He wouldn't say it out loud, of course. He knew she would simply poke holes in his own ego and toy with him with the facts.

Khonshu then rose to his feet, grabbing his staff.

"Hm? Where are you going?" Hathor asked with a smile, continuing to play her harp.

She formed her statement as a question; yet she already knew the answer to it.

"For a stroll." He merely said, disappearing in a blur.

Hathor grinned to herself, plucking her harp as the ushered prayers of women during moments of intimacy as well as the simple gatherings below whispered in her ears on the wind.

Khonshu walked, standing in the shadows as he watched the mortals dance and sing. There was something rather... infectious about the joys the humans were showing.

He had even entertained a toddler as they hobbled up to him, babbling nonsense and trying to hang from his robes even though his parents could not see him for their own eyes. He rubbed the child on his head as his mother kissed his cheek and carried him back over to where a roast bull was being portioned out with bread and wine.

Men and woman alike danced with one another; the instrumentalists and singers flowing like silk to match the nearly nude women who danced with Hathor's name painted on their bodies, gold hanging from them and glimmering in the firelight.

He continued to walk through the streets, peeking in to watch the more reserved and family-centric gatherings many held in their homes; feeling the warmth and life and innocence they were all so blissfully existing in. One home he had surveyed was hosting a celebration as a young mother gave birth to twins--a rare and dangerous occurrence for certain--a very, very welcome and celebrated occasion.

Khonshu had taken a moment of his time to reach out and soothe the pains the woman and her son and daughter felt, touching each of them imperceptibly and watching them relax as her husband cried, holding the three of them in his arms as though they would vanish in an instant.

After that, he trailed the streets some more; feeling the exuberant life slowly give way to the silence of night as he approached a funerary temple. It seemed, he realized, that even on a night of such joy and life... death was still ever-present.

"Bakenkhonsu." He greeted civilly, watching respectfully as his priest was tending to and beginning to embalm the body of a woman with tender care.

"Father." He greeted, his voice strained and heavy with emotion, his head hanging low and his usually bright eyes downcast and sad.

Upon closer inspection, he recognized this particular mortal. Bakenkhonsu had been the one to prepare her youngest child for burial not too long ago. It seemed her grief, in the end, took her away to be with her son once again.

"She passed away early in the morning." He explained. "Her husband was still grieving the loss of their son, but stayed strong. His daughter... oh, her daughter."

He looked up at Khonshu, his eyes full of tears, "Why is it that someone as young as she have to see so much death in such a short time? She blames herself for her little brother's death. And in that regard, feels responsible for her mother's death..."

Khonshu laid his hand on his priest's shoulder, his gaze softening in sympathy.

"Death is never an easy thing, nor can it be fair. But it is important that we understand that it is a fact of life. And in the end, they will all be together again."

"I... I understand. But..." Bakenkhonsu turned, carefully beginning to wrap her body up in soft linen; a red-dyed shroud nearby. Her coffin was beautiful and ornately painted, the gold leaf mask that awaited her surprised him. She was nobility, high status.

She tended the Queen, and the inscriptions on her coffin told how her husband was close with the Pharaoh.

Ah. That explains it. The Pharaoh being so close to her family undoubtedly felt grief in his heart as well, maybe even the others in his house. So out of the kindness in his heart, he likely paid to have the finest burial items to be laid on her body before being placed in the coffin.

"I know," Khonshu said to him softly, his palm resting on the young man's head. "But she was a good woman. Anubis and the others will welcome her with open arms, her son will greet her as soon as she passes into the Field of Reeds. She will never need to fear him drowning in the Nile, again."

This seemed to lighten the burnden on the poor man, his body straightening up. "Benerib made offerings to most of the gods. She would go to every temple as she could often get to and leave prayers and offerings to you all. I think this is what drove her daughter to seek knowledge."

"Her daughter? She is a scholar?" Khonshu asked, stepping away so Bakenkhonsu could resume his task.

"Of a sorts." He chuckled, his tone tainted with bittersweet fondness. "She wishes to learn the ways of the gods, to teach them to other mortals even long after she passes on."

Khonshu chuckles softly in turn. A very ambitious goal, if not an unattainable one. Very few of his brethren--save Hathor and a short bundle of others--got past arm's length with the mortals, "That may not happen."

"But even so, it is a noble goal." Khonshu sighed, looking up towards the night sky through one of the high skylights above. "Even if she does not learn what she wants to... She will still learn and pass on things to her descendants."

"Yes... That is what I told her." Bakenkhonsu smiled, looking up at him once more, his hands pausing in their delicate wrapping of the body of this once sweet and loving woman. "But she just smiled at me, and accepted the challenge. She apparently likes puzzles."

Khonshu chuckled. "Ah, I see. It would seem--"

Their heads both snapped upwards, towards the door of the room as the sounds of sobbing reached their ears, carried on the wind as it whistled into the temple.

Khonshu looked at his priest, and once again the atmosphere changed as he heard words--both accusatory and pleading--carry his name on a soft voice.

"The daughter--"

"Yes." Bakenkhonsu replied quickly, his jaw tensing. "She has been... I--I left her to her grief back in the temple. It was like nothing I said would bring her comfort... Sometimes, we need to be left alone to pour our feelings out."

Khonshu heaven a heavy sigh, his grip tightening on his staff for a moment as he took a pace of a breath to think.

His hand extended and he weaved a spell over the body; so that nothing could ravage her in the time Bakenkhonsu would be away.

"Don your armor, my Fist." He orders gently.

"Yes, Father."

And without hesitation, Bakenkhonsu pressed his fist to his chest and bowed his head. The Moon Disc on his chest glowed, his eyes glowing as white as the stars as linen and fine armor began to enshroud him; the holy armor of Khonshu's Fist now in place of his ceremonial robes.

"What... Will you do, Father?" He asked quietly.

"I will speak to her." Khonshu said, vanishing in a blur as Bakenkhonsu's body lurched slightly before stiffening back up again.

And now, with his patron God controlling his body, Bakenkhonsu receded into blissful complacency as his feet softly dragged through the streets as he marched his way to his temple, away from the sad aura of preparing the bodies of the dead.

He approached his temple, regarding the other priests with cordial nods as the bowed in respect to him as they went about their business.

The temple was well-lit, given how thin the moon was it could not shine into the large stone house of worship to illuminate pathways. But he knew. He always knew the way to his altars.

And as he approached the main chamber, he saw... her.

She was laid at the feet of one of his statues, her face buried in her arms as her body was racked with sobs. The sight touched him, made him feel the waves of guilt and pain flowing from her body as she muttered things meant only for the gods to hear.

And they did reach his ears, at least.

He approached her, gently resting his hand on her shoulder, and began to speak.

"She did all that? On her own?" Yehya gasped softly, setting his cup of tea on his desk.

"Yes." Khonshu replied. "With my guidance, in the beginning. But, she got caught up in the moment and snapped a man's neck."

Yehya frowned thoughtfully, his brows pinching as he linked his fingers together, his elbows resting on the desktop. "And... Jezebel wouldn't tell you anything more about her?"

"About as much as you have, Yehya." Khonshu admonishes with a sigh.

"I'm sorry, father, but..." The god silenced him with a hand in the air.

"I understand, my son. This is a mystery I must--and will--solve myself. I haven't had such a challenge in a long time." He said to him, "I relish the challenge, even if that little whelp is an annoying pest."

Yehya Badr laughed, the corners of his eyes creasing as he looks up at him, "Is she that frustrating?"

"Like a fly that will not stop buzzing in my eye." Khonshu grunted, stamping his staff on the floor, shaking his head.

"You will figure this out. You always tend to." The mortal man replied, adjusting the cuffs on his suit. "From what I have seen from interacting with this woman... She is rather slow to trust. And... Surprisingly ready to throw the first punch. But, given how she has been the victim of so many crimes..."

He shook his head and sighed, his smile faltering, "But it is... good, that she was so responsive to your guidance."

"She complained even more than Marc does." He groused; his voice dripping with irritation.

"Speaking of..." Yehya said, looking up at him. "Has the Ennead called another meeting to discuss what happened with Ammit and Harrow?"

"Yes, however our Avatars were not present for this one." He snorted dismissively, saving his hand. "Though... I do not believe they have replaced them as of yet anyway."

"It's a pity, what happened with Hathor's Avatar. Yatzil was a good woman." Yehya murmured, "From what little I knew of her from our first meeting, she was a kind and gentle soul."

"It is their fault for ignoring Ammit's imminent release," Khonshu reminded him. "Their Avatars did not need to die, yet through their inaction, the gods they worked for signed their death warrants. As well as the souls Ammit devoured prematurely."

"I only wish I had been present. Had I been, maybe Harrow..."

Khonshu walked over to him and placed his hand on his shoulder, "I needed you here, Yehya. There is much evil and injustice here. Marc Spector and the others served me well in other avenues. Your value is here."

He nodded, his lips pressed in a thin line as he thought. What would they all do once Khonshu found out about who you may very well be? Will you remember who killed you? Would that bloody chapter of history and unsolved pain come to a close?

More importantly, how would Khonshu feel about the one person he truly loved with all his being being reborn into somebody entirely new?

What would this mean for the future?

He could only surmise and place bets on hypotheticals with Jezebel; nothing was certain. Yehya was but a man, and he had to admit, the mysteries of reincarnation were still very much alien to him; despite what Jezebel had drip-fed him from what she had experienced. It wasn't something so simple as to be placed in words. Far from it...

"Is she still asleep?" He finally asked after the room fell into a ringing silence.

"Yes. Though she tosses and turns and cries out," Khonshu muttered. "Crying for saving from what, I do not know. She will not tell me what her dreams are, either."

"She will. I know it." Yehya replied resolutely. "I know that one can only keep such things contained inside for so long, before dying to cut the seal and let them all out."

"Indeed."

Khonshu walked towards the window, looking out onto the city streets. "Yehya, I want you to patrol tonight. There is a sickness on the prowl, and I want it cured before any others are harmed by it."

Yehya stood, pressing his fist to his chest and bowing his head. And for a moment, Khonshu could see Bakenkhonsu right then. He could see many of his previous Fists with that gesture of loyalty.

"On your will, Father." He swears solemnly.

"And... when I am indisposed, I want you to keep an eye on that little pest for me. Let me know if something changes about her."

He nodded again, his eyes shifting to an eerie white glow as his body was wrapped in his own variation of Khonshu's divine armor. The god rested his hand on his head, bowing his own: "Be swift, my Fist. Strike them down."

Hunter's Moon left, his cloak fluttering behind him as he went out to fulfill his mission. Khonshu looked out the window and up at the sky.

It was a crescent moon.

Chapter 16: Link

[five-rivers]

Life's Great Lie 12

AO3

.

Loki was shaking.  He was furious.  He was excited.  That boy had been so powerful.  Unheard of for a human.  By Loki’s estimate he was about the same age as his boy.  Amassing something like that in less than two decades was…  astounding.  And the way he used it!  Truly, Loki had rarely met a more kindred spirit. 

It complicated everything immensely, especially when coupled with the disappearance of Barton.  After all, no Barton meant no materials.  And they needed those materials, or, at least, the energy source.  Everything else was being labored over by Dr. Selvig and the assistants Loki had procured for him. 

On the other hand, the fight in Amity Park might have been enough to get Earth’s defenders to really hate him.    

No, that wasn’t what he’d been trying to do.  He was trying to divide them.  Divide and conquer, as they said, and Loki would conquer them.  They were divided.  They…  The boy, the pharaoh, he would be against Iron Man, if nothing else.  His boy’s other young friends didn’t seem terribly enamored of the heroes, either.  Likely, they would spend as much time getting SHIELD’s way as Loki’s in an attempt to get their other friend back. 

Not as good as crashing their ridiculous airship, but not terrible, all things considered. 

“That was stupid,” said the boy.  “That whole thing was stupid.  If you’d just waited—”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Loki.  “We still have the original plan.”

“Which was terrible.  Maybe…”  The boy glanced at where Selvig was working and licked his lips.  “What if we spliced into the power cable in the ocean?  Keep everything out of New York?  If the army you’re bringing can deal with space they can deal with water, right?”

“They can do many things,” said Loki, vaguely.  “But we cannot breathe underwater.”

“I don’t need to breathe.”

“And the rest of us?”

“We can steal a boat.”

Loki raised an eyebrow.  “I must commend your dedication to…” he trailed off.  Thanos’s herald was plucking at the strings of his mind.  He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.  When was the last time he’d slept?  He’d have to meditate and see what the irritating and impatient creature wanted. 

He wanted- He needed—

Ice, invigorating and incongruous, washed over him, sweeping away the pull on his mind.  He breathed in through his teeth and rounded on the boy. 

“What did you do?”

“I helped you.  Mind control is unfriendly.”

Loki snarled.  “Boy, do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“Yes.  But my name is Danny.”  He tilted his head.  “I’m pretty sure I’ve told you that before.”

“That is my contact with my army!”

“It isn’t really yours, though, is it?”

Loki raised his hand, intending to strike the boy for his impudence, but…  He dropped it.  There was no point to it.  Loki would merely have to find some way to instruct him not to interrupt the connection again without subverting his other, more important orders. 

Later, later.  Unless he was contacted again, it wasn’t a priority. 

“We could try to contact Jazz again.  I’d bet they took the equipment I asked for with them.”

“We are not talking to your sister.  We do not need any of that so-called equipment, regardless.”

“Yeah, sure, and do you really need an army from somewhere else?  I don’t want to tell you how to do your job, but look at everything you’ve already done all by yourself!”  He spread his hands to either side.  “Why not just keep doing this?  I’m sure that by the time whoever is really in charge of that army gets here, you’ll have gotten Earth to the point where it can more than match them.”

“Stop,” said Loki.  That was all irrelevant.  It was meaningless.  He could not—No.  Fighting Thanos was impossible.  All he could do was this.  All he could do… 

But the boy’s suggestion had merit.  Somewhat.  He had—He could—

His skin felt like it was crawling off.  Memories of—

He had made a mistake, and it would be—

There was much a god could endure—

Falling—

Danny put his hand on Loki’s arm and ice pricked at his skin.  It was like holding the Casket of Ancient Winters.  It was like touching a blizzard.  It was like the chill in his own blood. 

He put a hand on the boy’s shoulder, gently.  “Danny,” he said, voice soft, “this is the only way.  This is the only choice.  Everything else… is worse.”

“Sometimes, the right choice only seems worse.  Sometimes, the worse choice is the only one you can live with making.  The only one that won’t haunt you forever.”

“Then you understand me perfectly.”  He patted Danny on the shoulder, then turned away.  “We are going to Stark Tower.”

.

“Like some kind of prisoner exchange?” asked Jazz. 

“No,” said Tucker.  “Because of the whole HYDRA thing, they don’t want the really awesome people who are partially famous for being nazi haters to be here.  But they need a place to deal with the alien problem.”

Well, they weren’t the only ones.  Jazz would even say that the alien problem was her top priority right now, right after not bleeding out or crashing.  She looked back at Barton. 

“And you’re sure arrow boy isn’t a nazi?”

“I’m not sure,” said Tucker.  “But based on what I’ve seen behind the curtain, I doubt it.  Unless he’s one of these codename guys.  There’s… a lot of double, triple security on everything and some of it is in languages I don’t speak.  They didn’t put sensitive stuff where the GIW could get it easily.  I guess the GIW were sort of the idiot cousins in all this.  Too loyal and know too much to completely brush off or take out when they have so few people comparatively, but too incompetent to put on anything they thought was real or important.”

“And no one believes in ghosts,” said Jazz. 

“You’d think that people would be more credulous, considering the whole super-soldier thing was decades ago and Thor is, you know, around.  Existing.  All those aliens.  Oh, and they’re not even—” He broke off.  “Okay, yeah, I know you don’t want me to talk about it, but who do you think was the first person I showed when I hacked you?  Get off my back.  There are so many other aliens.  There are even shape shifting aliens, just living here.  Like a Men in Black situation.”  Something in the background of Tucker’s call got very loud and annoyed looking. 

“And you’re sure none of these people are nazis?”

“Pretty sure.  The one woman is Russian, though.  Maybe.  Her accent is really good.  And Thor’s…  He’s not actually Scandinavian.  It’s whatever.  Look, I’ve only met, like, Stark.  And the Russian.  So, you aren’t exactly getting a personal vetting, here.”

Jazz sighed.  A personal vetting probably wouldn’t be all that useful, anyway, given the circumstances.  These were spies that could fool other spies.  Not people who would have trouble fooling Tucker. 

“But they’re all those heroes, right?” asked Sam.  “Not people that are coming out of nowhere.”

“Except the Russian.  And I’m not sure Dr. Banner really counts as a hero.  Except in, like, the pioneer in the field of science sense.”

“I don’t know,” said Sam, “there were some things on the internet way back.”

“Yeah,” said Tucker.  “I think we can at least be sure Captain America isn’t some kind of sleeper agent.  Or Mr. Stark.  I mean, whatever plan would involve making a really awesome weapons dealer billionaire in their pocket dump the weapons part and give eighty percent of his income to charity and spend his spare time tracking down terrorists and curing malaria would have to be really convoluted.”

“The malaria thing wasn’t actually me—”

“And, like.  Thor’s an alien.  So maybe he’s whatever the space equivalent of nazis is, but at least he’s not an Earth nazi, and—”

“Okay,” said Jazz.  “Tucker, you’re rambling.”

“Right, I don’t think these particular guys are HYDRA.”

“Great,” said Jazz.  “So, what do they actually want?”

“Like I said, they don’t want the, uh, the Avengers to be around the potential nazis.  Probable nazis.  HYDRA agents.  Whatever you want to call them.  But they still need a place to work.  They want that place to be the Ops Center.”

Jazz bit her lip.  She wasn’t enthusiastic about letting a bunch of heavily armed strangers who were buddies with the guy who had shot her into their space.  But while they could use the ops center to track Danny if he was using his powers and capture him with the onboard equipment and shields, if Loki had more people like arrow boy and the weaponry to back them up…  Jazz didn’t think the ops center would do all that well against, say, a grenade launcher.  It wasn’t built with that kind of weaponry in mind. 

For that matter, it wouldn’t do all that well against the GIW if they decided to attack.  They didn’t have Danny to drive them off this time. 

(And Loki had held his ground against Tucker while he was in the full grip of Duulaman.  Danny had trouble with Duulaman.  His power couldn’t be dismissed.)

“How many of them are there again?”

“Five,” said Tucker.  “Not counting arrow guy.  Barton.”

Then they’d outnumber her, Sam and Tucker by two to one.  And three of them were soldiers trained to fight, another could pull a Cujo if he got even the least bit annoyed, one was armed to the teeth, and one was at least the inspiration for a god. 

“Oh!  And Valerie is here.  Not sure why, but.  You know.”

“Well that’s something,” said Jazz.  She wasn’t thrilled about Valerie being involved, and she didn’t know what side she’d come down on in a fight, but…  Yeah.  It was something. 

“She knows.  Actually, all of these guys do.  About Danny.”

Jazz closed her eyes.  She’d known that, but getting it confirmed had a different effect.

There was a way to even those odds, at least a little bit.  She didn’t like it. 

“Where do they want to meet?” she asked. 

Tucker rattled off a set of coordinates.  Jazz started shaking her head before he was done.

“No,” she said.  “Tell them to meet us at Lake Eerie.”

.

“Are you thinking it’s a trap?” asked Sam. 

“No,” said Jazz, “but the GAV still has to follow roads.  Mostly.”

“Oh, no,” said Sam. 

Jazz shrugged.  “We don’t have a lot of options.  Mom and Dad…  I don’t even know what they know.  They’re working for SHIELD somehow, too, so they probably know.”

“They might still be okay with—” She looked at arrow boy.  Barton.  Annoying guy.  Whatever.  “With the whole molecule by molecule thing.  More than okay with it.  We don’t know.  We can’t bring them into this situation.”

“Yeah,” said Jazz, “but they’ll defend us.  We’re the ones who’re here, and to help others you have to take care of yourself.  We can cross any other bridges when we get to them.”

Sam wasn’t so sure about that.  In fact, she was the opposite of sure about that.  “I don’t want them to be in a situation where shooting at Danny while knowing he’s Danny is something they have to do.  I don’t want them…”  She trailed off. 

“I get what you’re saying.  I do.  He’s my brother.  They’re my parents.  But… I don’t think they will.  Not like that.”

“If I can put my two cents in,” called Barton from across the room.

“No,” snapped Sam. 

“I did meet the Fentons.”

“Great,” said Sam, “so have I.  You’re not special.”

“Yes, but I have a bit of an outside perspective.  You know how that goes.  I’ve met Danny, too.”

“Did you shoot him, too?”

“Sam…”

“No, that’s a good point.  But no.  I met them, and the only thing they talked about more than their work was their kids.  Maybe not the best thing to do when you’re being hired by spies, but…”  He shrugged, the motion cut short by the handcuffs.  “They care.”

“That was never in doubt,” said Jazz, as cold as Sam ever heard her. 

“Hey, we’re on the same side, now, right?  I’m just trying to be helpful.  The more comfortable you are, the better.” 

“The better to ambush us, you mean?”

“Still not helpful,” said Jazz.

Sam crossed her arms and tapped her foot.  She was just trying to look at all the perspectives.  Danny loved his parents.  But there were reasons that, despite everything, he hadn’t trusted them.  And anyone who worked with SHIELD could by HYDRA.  Anyone. 

If it were just up to Sam, she wouldn’t work with any of them.  Danny had allies in the Ghost Zone.  If nothing else, his enemies wouldn’t like him being occupied.  They were awfully territorial over him sometimes.  They just had to, you know, make a portal…  travel through the Zone…  hope the portal opened somewhere useful… find the necessary ghosts… convince them to come back… make another portal to a useful place… the porta-portal and Fenton Bazooka portals didn’t last that long, after all. 

Yeah, that was totally doable. 

Absolutely workable despite Jazz’s arrow wound, the assassin/hostage, Sam’s relative inexperience with the technology they had on hand, and the lack of Zone-ready transportation. 

Yeah, right. 

She couldn’t even say all that stuff in her own head without it sounding sarcastic. 

Even if they could do all of that and got an army of ghosts, Loki could bring his army over first.  There was no guarantee that an army of ghosts could beat an army of aliens.  They didn’t even knew how big Loki’s army was, except that he expected it to be able to conquer the planet with it.  They needed backup, regardless.

“Okay.  Fine.  Call them.  We’ll meet up with the superpowered boy band, too.  But you know what people who are used to being in charge are like.  This is going to go wrong, and it’s going to go wrong fast.”

“And then you’ll say I told you so?”

“And then I’ll say I told you so.”

[bluewavesofchange]

The guardians of the Pharaoh

Rebirth of ancient secrets

I don't own Yugioh or it's characters

Warning for violence, blood and swearing.

Chapter 6

Lillian stared at her little brother in disbelief. He had a few leaves in his hair and dirt on his clothes, “Wha…what the hell are you doing here?!” she glared at him as she pulled him close and started to remove the leaves from the kids hair. Yugi had a blush covering his cheeks as he held still, “I um…I saw you sneak out and followed you. I…I thought you were running away again.” He spoke in a soft yet and concerned voice. Lillian sighed as she caressed his cheek, wiping away some of the dirt on his cheek. “I wasn’t running away Yugi. I just…had something I needed to check out.” She pinched the bridge of her nose before pulling away before turning back to the door way, she couldn’t send him home on his own. She was impressed he got here on his own.

The short teen followed his sister deeper into the manor, he looked around, finding no photo’s on the walls, no personal items to indicate who lived here. He looked at Lillian as she slowly scanned the rooms as they passed them. Yugi cleared his throat as they reached the entry hall with a grand staircase leading upstairs, “Um Lillian…why are we here? Whose home is this?” His sister glanced back at him, well they were already here, and she might as well come clean. “This is…the Kaiba manor.” Yugi’s eyes widen and was about to shout when Lillian covered his mouth with her hand. “Shhh!” She glared at him before turning her attention to the ceiling, listening carefully as she narrowed her eyes…she could hear faint footsteps coming from above her and hushed voices…there was someone else here.

She placed her finger over her lips, a sign for her brother to stay quiet. The teen wanted to ask what was going on but nodded, keeping silent. Lillian motioned for him to follow her as she ascended the stairs. Was it stupid taking him with her? Absolutely. Should she have taken him home when she discovered he was there? Probably. Should she tell him to go call the police? Maybe. But there was no turning back now. It was nice having an extra set of eyes and she would rather keep him close if trouble were to arise, she could protect him more easily that way.

The siblings reached the top of the stairs, and walked slowly through the empty hallway, Lillian noticed the light in Seto’s office was on. She could hear voices coming from inside. She reached back and pulled her brother closer, “Stay close.” The boy nodded as he held onto his sister. He would admit that he was frightened, he didn’t understand what was going on or why they were even there…but he trusted his sister and was determined to help her.

Lillian moved closer to the office and peered inside, there were four suited men busy going through Seto’s things, the office was as mess, papers lay scattered everywhere, books had been pulled from the bookshelf and was strewn everywhere. And in the centre of the room was Roland tied to a chair, he had blood from his nose as it looked broken, his one eye was swollen shut, his lip was busted and bruises covered his face. It looked like he had gone a few rounds in a boxing ring with Bruce Lee. Lillian felt bad for the poor man, she had to find a way to help him.

One of the suited men walked over and grabbed the front of Roland’s dishevelled shirt and yanked it up, forcing the beat up man to look up, “Where is your boss? You arrange everything for the kid, surely you made plans for his trip.” He pulled out a gun and pressed it against the personal assistants head, “Either you tell us what we want to know or we splatter your brains all over these walls.” Roland glared weakly at the man before spitting blood in his face, F@%& you.” The thug growled as he tried to wipe his face clean before hitting the poor assistant, knocking him over, sending him crashing to the floor.

Lillian needed to think fast before Roland ended up dead and she also needed to get her brother to safety. But how? She looked back at Yugi, “Listen, I need you to go get help. Go out the way you came in and go get the police. I’ll distract these guys long enough for you to get out.” She whispered. The short teens eyes widen before he shook his head, “No way. I’m not leaving you. You could get hurt.”

“Yugi please, I’m begging you, just go.”

“I said no. I want to help.” he had a glint in his eyes that Lillian had never seen before, she saw courage. He was no longer that scared little boy she met at the orphanage so many years ago. She caved and nodded, “Alight. But we need to come up with a plan…”

The men continued to search the office and found nothing, no clues as to where Seto Kaiba had disappeared to. Their boss wasn’t going to be happy. Suddenly they heard something shattering downstairs, the leader of the group, frowned and looked over at one of the other men, “Keith go check what’s going on.” The lackey nodded as he headed out of the office, making his way to the stairs, not noticing the wire going across the floor. His foot catches on it, causing him to trip and tumbled down the stairs, landing at the bottom with a thud…he didn’t move but he was still alive. Lillian moves out from her hiding spot and ties the man’s hands behind his back with cable ties. One down, 3 to go.

The leader started to get worried when Keith didn’t return. Something wasn’t right. He turned to the other two guys, “Frank and Manny, go see what’s going on.” They nodded as they pulled out there guns and headed out. Unfortunately the siblings already had their plans set up. They reached the stairs and noticed Keith lying unconscious at the bottom of the stairs. Manny sees the wire and stops Frank from meeting the same fate as Keith.

Once downstairs, they split up, Manny heading to the kitchen while Frank headed to the garage.

Yugi was responsible for taking out Frank which was a simple task. He waited until the man was inside the garage before pulling the door shut and locking the man inside. The teen was feeling pretty proud of himself. Unfortunately when he turned around, he froze when as a gun was pointed at his face.

Manny slowly walked into the kitchen, not noticing Lillian was standing by the door, a pan in her hand. She waited for the right moment, once the man entered the room; she slammed the pan into his hand, knocking the gun away. Manny is quick to action and tries to grab the girl, but she’s too quicker, ducking under the man’s arms and elbowed him in the side. He bends over as he winces, holding his side as Lillian spun around, kicking the man in the side of his head, spending him crashing into the counter, knocking him out. She watches as the man falls to the floor. She pulls out a second pair of cable ties, tying the man’s hands behind his back. Yugi should’ve dealt with the other man by locking him away in the garage. It was the safest plan she could think of.

She stood up and looked around for the man’s gun and instead found the leader standing in the doorway, his arm around her little brother throat and holding a gun to his head. Behind the man stood his other lackey who he probably let out once he had apprehended the small teen. Yugi looked at his sister, fearing for his life and hers, “L…Lilly I’m sorry…” she glared at the man who held her brother before looking at the small boy, “It’s ok Yugi, you did your best…Let him go. He has nothing to do with this.”

The leader smirked, “Not a chance girly.” He motioned for Frank to move over to her. The man nods as he makes his way over to the raven head, grabbing her arms and pinning them behind her back, pressing his own gun against her temple, “You’re the one that broke into Kaiba Corp a few nights ago. Our employer’s business partners have been looking for you, they put a bounty on your pretty head and you just fell right into our laps. And as for you…” he peers down at the tri-coloured haired boy, “…You are a matter of interest to Mr. Pegasus. I wonder how much trouble I could save him if I put a bullet in your head.”

“NOO!!” Lillian yelled as she threw her head back slamming it into the man’s nose, disorientating him and causing him to stumble back and hold his face as blood started to run from his nostrils. Once free she tries to grab his gun but it proved to be more difficult than she though. They struggled for a moment before the man managed to throw Lillian off him. She fell back, her head hitting the corner of the counter, causing her to lose consciousness and collapse to the floor.

For Yugi it felt like the world was moving in slow motion…he watched as his sister fall…ending up on the floor, a wound on her head that started to seep blood. This felt…familiar to the young teen, like he had witnessed this all before. A vision of another woman lying on the ground with the same head wound…her skin was tanned and she wore strange clothes, like those in ancient times…her eyes were glazed over and lifeless. The vision disappears as Yugi is once again looking at his sister…fearing she was dead. Despite how terrified and horrified he was, he could do nothing…he felt a dark presence rising up from within his puzzle as it started glowing…the boy once again losing consciousness.

The room is slowly filled with shadows, a murky mist filling the air. The leader realizes that Yugi was no longer in his arms, instead the kid was now sitting on the kitchen counter, his arms folded over his chest, one leg crossed over the others. A smirk played over the kids face, his eyes red, some of his blond bangs were standing up running along his black hair, his facial features looked sharper and he looked creepy as all hell.

The leader stepped back thinking what the heck was going on, he wanted to raise his gun to shoot the little freak but found his weapon was missing.

“Looking for something?” the teen spoke in a deep voice, sending shivers down the man’s spine as he noticed his firearm was now in the kids hand, “You can have it back…if you play a little game with me.”

The spirit of the puzzle had sensed his hosts distress and immediately took over, wishing to protect him. It was east to lure the two fools into a shadow game, manipulating them into showing the true parts of their souls and losing the game. Normally he would punish them with a penalty game and drive them mad…but they had tried to kill his angel and harmed his little ones family and that would not stand…so the two men ended up with bullets in their heads, their bodies fed to the shadows, leaving behind no evidence that they were ever there.

He commanded the shadows to retreat and was about to return to the puzzle when he noticed the necklace that hung around the unconscious girls neck, the blue stone felt…familiar to him…he would have to find out more later. For now he was exhausted as he had used a lot of his power to play this shadow game…

Yugi came to and found himself sitting beside his sister. Moving quickly he started shaking her, “Lillian?? Wake up…please wake up!” to his relief a groan left the girls lips as her eyes slowly opened, “Your too loud…” Yugi felt tears of joy filling his eyes as he helped her sit up before hugging her tightly, starting to sob as he clung to her. She put her arm around him and gently rubbed his back to calm him down, “I’m ok…I’m ok.” She whispered trying to reassure the poor child…she never wanted him to have to experience something like this again.

A while later…

Yugi had gone upstairs to free Roland, his hands shaking as he undid the ropes. Roland thanked the boy as he helped him to get downstairs to the kitchen; Lillian was sitting at the kitchen island holding a bag of ice to her head. She had cleaned up some of the blood that had seeped from the wound. She was confused and the headache she was experiencing wasn’t helping…what had happened to the two thugs? It’s like they just disappeared. Did Yugi have something to do with this? He couldn’t have dealt with them on his own…he was too small. Did…did he use the Millennium puzzle to save them? What kind of power did her brother have hanging around his neck?

She looked up when she heard Yugi and Roland coming in; she’s relieved that he’s alright. The assistant was surprised to see the girl but he was none the less grateful. He would be dead if it weren’t for these kids. He didn’t care that one of them was the reason for his employer leaving. Yugi helps him to sit down and went to get more ice from the freezer. He looks at Lillian and tried to smile, “It’s good to see you Ms. Lillian.” The girl smiled back, “It’s good to see you too…even if you look like shit.” The comment made the man chuckle before wincing as Yugi handed him a bag of ice. The thanked the boy and held the bag to his head. Yugi looked at them both with concern, “We should call an ambulance.”

Roland shook his head, “There isn’t a need for that. I can call Mr. Kaiba’s private doctor. She’ll be happy to help and he will keep what happened here a secret.” He managed to stand up and walked over to the phone that sat beside the kitchen door.

As he was making a call, Lillian noticed her brother was still shaking. Getting over she went to heat up the kettle and prepared some tea from them all to calm there nerves. She handed the small boy his cup, he looked up at her as she stroked his cheek “It’s camomile. Seto sometimes gives it to Mokuba when he’s restless and can’t sleep.” She said before sipping her own tea. Yugi stares down at the hot liquid before speaking, “Lillian…how do you know the Kaiba brothers?”

Lillian took a seat as she tucked some of her hair behind her ear, “It’s a long story…”

“We’ve got time.”

Lillian shakes her head before wincing but she keeps a smile on her face, “Well…I’ve known the Kaiba brothers for years…they were in the same orphanage I was in…the day they arrived Seto saved my life and we became friends. He took care of me and treated me like family until he and Mokuba got adopted a year after they arrived…and then a few weeks later I met you.” She thinks back, remembering a time before everything got so complicated, “Seto taught me that I could be happy and he renewed my hope of having a family…he taught me to be brave and showed me what it meant to stand up for others…if it wasn’t for him, I don’t think I would’ve had the strength to save you from Markiato.” She looked over at her brother as he listened to her, it was hard for him to believe what she was saying after his experience with Seto…he had just known as this cold and egotistical guy that thought himself better than everyone else…he hurt his grandpa and destroyed his treasure.

But it seemed his sister had known him a lot longer…she had a look in her eyes as she spoke about the billionaire…a look of fondness and admiration…maybe something more. ”But he hurt grandpa and destroyed his card…”

“I know Yugi…Seto is…complicated. There’s a lot that he’s been through…things that would horrify anyone…things I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy…”

“How do you—“

“I was there Yugi…after I found out the first time that his step father was hurting him, I would sneak out of the house and come see him, to make sure he was ok…to support him the same way he supported me when we were in the orphanage.” Saying that Gozuburo hurt his son was an understatement…the man destroyed the boy, he ruined his life…Lillian had witnessed things that still haunted her to this day and she will take those memories to the grave…she would never let anyone know of the humiliations her beloved had to endure during his life.

“I’m not saying that what he did was right…believe me I’ll make sure he apologies to you and grandpa…but all I ask that you give him a chance. There’s good in him, it’s just hard for him to show it.”

Maybe Yugi could…after all he had forgiven Joey and Tristian and given them a chance…maybe he could do the same for Seto. Speaking off…

Lillian looked up at Roland as the man came sat back down, “Dr. Ling will be here in a few minutes. I believe we have some matter to discuss before she arrives.”

“I agree.” Lillian says as she sets her cup down, “First, where’s Seto? I know Mokuba’s been taken…I overheard a conversation at Kaiba Corp when I went looking for Seto…Something I’ll tell about later.”

Roland nodded before looking at Yugi, “Mr. Kaiba left for the Kaiba holiday house 2 days after his Duel with Mr. Muto. He said he needed sometime away from everyone and everything…he didn’t specify why. He just stated that he…messed up badly.” Lillian looked at him shocked, “He admitted he screwed up? That’s new. Pigs would fly before Seto Kaiba would ever admit that he was wrong.”

“I would agree but that was before he found out that the boy and old man he had duelled…was your family.”

Lillian felt her heart break…this wasn’t how she wanted them to meet…Yugi reached over and placed his hand on hers, squeezing it gently, “It’ll be ok…we can all talk this over once everyone is home safe.”

Yugi was right. She looked back at Roland, “It seems that this Mr. Pegasus and the board members of Kaiba Corp are behind all this. We have to find a way to get Mokuba and grandpa back.”

“Well from what I gathered, Mr. Pegasus is hosting a duel monsters tournament on his private island in a weeks’ time. He has invited some of the top players in the world…one of which is you Mr. Muto.” Roland says as he looks at Yugi. Lillian narrow her eyes, “Something doesn’t feel right about all this…there has to be more than just a corporate takeover…we’re missing something.”

“Whatever it is, we’ll figure this out together.” Yugi said with an encouraging smile. Before anymore can be said, the doorbell rang, “That should be Dr. Ling. We’ll continue this discussion later.” He states as he stood up to go answer the door.

The more answers she got, the more questions Lillian had…

[gildinbainas]

"You mean more to me than anyone else." (from the priest)

Accidental Declaration of Love starters

:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆ || @shachou

He  needed  to  clear  his  head.  Sparring  upon  the  sands  did  little  but  frustrate  him.  Karim  wiped  the  floor  with  him  the  entire  session,  eventually  conceding  by  using  the  king's  expression  as  an  excuse.

❝You  look  tired,  my  lord.  Perhaps  we  should  continue  another  day.❞

No  doubt  Karim  wished  to  spare  him  the  humiliation  yet  he  did  so  with  the  tact  that  was  expected  of  a  high  priest.  While  Atem  could  have  taken  honest  critique,  he  but  nodded,  dropping  his  daggers  in  the  sand.  Looking  to  the  skies  proved  easier  said  than  done.  With  sand  beneath  his  feet,  he  could  think  only  of  his  back  lying  in  the  warm  cushion  of  it,  his  purple  eyes  gazing  upon  striking  blues  he  sought  to  avoid  these  days.

Shaking  his  head,  he  slipped  away  to  find  the  next  best  distraction.  There  were  quite  a  few  letters  upon  his  desk  in  need  of  answering  but  words  were  not  the  best  idea  given  his  state  of  mind.  He  needed  something  more;  something  to  take  the  edge  off  and  if  sparring  wouldn't  do,  the  other  thing  surely  would.

Normally  he  stood  opposite  his  cousin,  but  it  was  Mahad  who  insisted  on  testing  his  prowess  alongside  his  apprentice.  A  two  on  one  would  make  for  a  test  of  strength  and  so  Atem  agreed  without  question  as  they  took  their  duel  below  ground.  Spirit  after  spirit  drew  forth  from  the  tablets,  the  clash  of  monsters  causing  the  ground  to  quake  beneath  them.  The  battle  lasted  several  minutes  with  the  two  mages  eventually  bowing  their  heads  in  defeat,  but  with  a  smile.  For  every  duel  their  pharaoh  won,  it  made  him  look  stronger  as  their  king.

Atem  let  lips  curve  into  a  smile,  the  first  all  day.  Despite  his  growing  anxiety  about  the  palace,  nothing  failed  to  earn  a  smile  quite  like  a  victory  in  battle.

Atem  made  to  step  forward  so  that  he  could  congratulate  Mana.  She  had  come  so  far  and  he  was  impressed  by  her  stamina  this  round  except…  except  things  suddenly  went  dark  and  by  the  time  he  came  to,  he  was  lying  in  bed  looking  around  his  chamber  in  confusion.

❝My  lord?❞

Atem  blinked,  sitting  up  in  bed  as  Seto  rushed  to  his  side.  He  looked  around  in  confusion  because  what  even  in  Ra's  name  had  happened?

❝I  don't…  understand.  I  was  dueling  and  then---❞

❝You  fainted,❞  his  cousin  explained  softly.  ❝Mahad  said  you  were  walking  towards  them  and  all  of  a  sudden  you  fell  forward.  Luckily  Mana  broke  your  fall  in  time.  I  know  just  how  fussy  you  can  be  about  your  face,❞  he  teased,  his  attempt  to  lighten  the  mood  proving  successful.  The  king's  lips  curved  into  an  easy  smile  although  it  is  short  lived.  The  idea  of  actually  fainting  after  a  duel…  He  often  passed  out  in  bed  after  dueling  Seto  but  fainting?  Out  there?  He  shuddered  to  imagine  what  the  vizier  had  to  say  about  it  all.  No  doubt  he'd  wish  to  ban  him  from  dueling  at  all  for  a  while.

❝Shimon?❞  Atem  questioned.  ❝Did  he…say  anything?❞

❝Only  that  you  are  banned  from  dueling  for  a  while.❞  Seto  paused.  ❝And  I  actually  agree  with  him  for  once.❞

Atem's  head  turned  quickly,  staring  at  his  cousin  in  disbelief.  He  could  not  recall  a  single  instance  when  Seto  FULLY  agreed  with  the  old  man  about  ANYTHING.  Even  during  court,  they  have  oft  agreed  to  disagree  for  the  sake  of  moving  things  along  but  this?  This  was  new  and  it  had  Atem  feeling  rather  affronted.

❝I  am  fine,  Seto!❞  he  huffed.  ❝I  went  into  this  duel  underestimating  Mana.  I  did  not  think  she  would  push  me  as  much.  I  know  better  now  so  surely  you  wouldn't  side  with  the  vizier  when---❞

❝---it  was  about  more  than  Mana,  my  lord.❞

Atem  looked  upon  his  cousin  with  a  puzzled  expression.  Did  he  think  him  a  liar  about  it  all?  Or  did  he  truly  suspect  something  else?  ❝I  do  not…  understand.  It  was  two  on  one,  Seto.  I  was  pushed  to  my  limit---❞

"Precisely  the  vizier's  point,❞  he  added  quietly.  ❝It  is  unlike  you  to  allow  anyone  to  push  you  so  far.  Mahad  is  formidable  enough,  but  even  when  dueling  opposite  myself,  you  have  never  once  fainted.❞

❝I  was  tired---❞

❝---again,  proving  my  point.❞

Atem  opened  his  mouth  to  speak,  but  then  closed  it  just  as  quickly.  As  he  mulled  over  everything  he  realized  that  he  could  say  little  that  would  not  make  his  own  argument  even  weaker.  Fact  is,  he  had  left  the  sands  after  a  terrible  sparring  match  restless  with  his  mind  on  other  things.  This  anxious  energy  caught  up  to  him  after  the  duel  and  all  energy  exerted  nearly  led  to  him  faceplanting  in  the  tomb  below.  He  folded  arms  over  his  chest,  looking  away  from  Seto  like  a  petulant  child  who  was  receiving  a  very  well  deserved  punishment.  Except  it  wasn't  a  punishment  ---  not  really.  It  was  his  people  protecting  the  well  being  of  the  pharaoh.

❝Pharaoh---❞

❝You  can  leave  now.  I  am  quite  tired.❞

He  laid  back  down,  rolling  over  on  his  side  away  from  Seto.  This  was  very  much  him  sulking  about  the  whole  ordeal  all  because  he  didn't  want  to  admit  that  maybe  his  vizier  was  right  about  something  for  a  change.

❝As  you  wish  my  lord.❞

Atem  could  hear  his  cousin's  footsteps  as  they  got  farther  and  farther  away  from  the  bed.  There's  a  pause  near  the  door  and  the  words  to  follow  had  the  king  clutching  his  quilt  tighter  in  an  effort  not  to  look  his  way.

❝For  what  it  is  worth  my  pharaoh,  you  mean  more  to  me  than  anyone  else  in  this  place.  I  am  always  on  your  side,  but  I  musn't  neglect  my  duties  either.  I  am  to  keep  you  safe;  look  out  for  your  well  being  at  all  times.  Sometimes  it  means  bringing  a  frown  upon  a  face  that  I've  no  right  to  look  upon  softly,  but  know  that  my  intentions  are  in  the  right  place.  Would  that I'd  be  a  lesser  servant  were  I  to  agree  with  you  always.❞

Atem's  breath  caught  in  his  throat  as  the  door  finally  opened  then  shut,  signaling  that  he  was  very  much  alone  again.  Emptiness  washed  over  him,  but  more  than  that  was  a  guilt  that  settled  into  the  recesses  of  his  heart.  The  last  thing  he  wished  to  do  was  push  his  cousin  away  yet  he  somehow  felt  that  he'd  accomplished  as  much.  But  that  was…  a  good  thing  right?

He  pulled  the  covers  over  his  head,  burying  his  face  within  his  pillow.  All  of  a  sudden  he  felt  a  crippling  sadness  while  his  body  reminded  him  of  just  how  right  Seto  had  been.  Body  aching  from  head  to  toe,  his  dueling  days  were  over…  for  the  time  being  anyway.

[bansheeoftheforest]

Senet And Sunrise [Carter x Anubis]

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Chapter 1; Senet and Other Distractions

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I am back at it again with my agenda of turning this entire series into a bunch of homosexuals. This time with a 3-chapter fic for the most obnoxious main-ish characters of tkc <3 Not yet sure when the next two chapters will be posted, but I will most likely only post chap 2 on AO3 as it is. For the standards of what I've posted before. SpicyTM.

Also, Carter is like. 19+ in this <3

(also also, this is not the project I've been refering to in certain MemesTM)

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Wordcount: 3762

Fanfic summary: After a particularly weird conversation and game of senet, Carter Kane starts to question his sexuality. Luckily for him, Anubis is more than willing to help him figure out his identity.

CW [for this chapter]: None that I can think of!

[Ao3]

------

Chapters (links):

[1] [2 only on AO3] [3]

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Carter Kane had a small problem.

  ...Okay, quite a large problem. 

  Surprisingly enough, the last four years had been a walk in the park for the young pharaoh. The Nomes were well looked after, new impending apocalypses nonexistent, and the initiates of the Brooklyn House were well trained. During the school years, Carter and his peers had attended a nearby high-school and were now a few years into college, and while non-magician school grades were, in all fair honesty, quite useless, he still did very well. So, really, life was good, right? 

  Well, it just so happened that he had the brilliant idea to attempt to get closer to a certain god. 

  “Get closer” was a strong term- in reality, it was more like “stop avoiding”. Anubis was -as far as the magicians of Brooklyn House were aware- the last Egyptian god on earth, and he was of course hosted by none other than Walt Stone, who happened to be Carter’s best friend. During the first three or so years since they- Carter and Anubis, that is- had met, the pharaoh had a strong suspicion that the god disliked him. Quite actively, too. It was as if he reeked of something so impossibly foul that it made a man who stuffed his nose into corpses all day to sneer with disgust. The outward hostility had lessened after the god had taken on the curse of Walt, and Carter himself had stopped hosting Horus, but they never really interacted despite sharing both home and friend group. Carter had attempted to put a stop to that- if anything to make it less awkward for Walt, who was constantly put in-between the two. After all, they had technically known each other for almost seven years, and so it was high time they tried to actually get along.

  He had started small. A few conversations here and there, not shying away from being with the god alone if no one else was there- small stuff, which had apparently confused the god greatly, although he didn’t seem to be upset or offended by the sudden changes. He had narrowed his eyes and titled his head a few degrees but otherwise responded positively. The problem came a few months after the first changes. Carter thought they had made quite a bit of progress, to the point where they could actually hold conversations with each other, or seek each other out to play games like senet, as no one else in the House seemed too interested. He could honestly say that he was actually starting to like the other, even if his jokes were awful and his humor drier than the Sahara itself. Yet it was during one of their rounds of senet that the topic turned from small-talk to an actual involved conversation, mostly about school. After all, while the god was currently in his own form, he was often in the back of Walt’s head and was still involved in his host’s education, as he experienced what he did. The college they attended had decided to host a ball to celebrate the end of exam season, and so that is where their conversation- as silly as it was- had ended up. 

  “Walt told me you were thinking of taking Miss Chandler to the dance.” Anubis remarked, having thrown the sticks and moved his first token two spaces. Carter grimaced.

  “Her name is Hannah, ‘Miss Chandler’ makes her sound like a teacher.” Carter threw the sticks himself, moving one space, and then threw them again, moving three spaces and ending up in front of Anubis. “But yes, I was considering asking her out.” 

  Hannah Chandler was in the same math class as Carter and Walt, and so he was not surprised that Anubis knew about her. 

  Anubis accepted the sticks that were handed to him and continued with his turn. 

  “I’m not entirely sure what you see in her, honestly.” He shrugged. “I mean, I must assume she is attractive, but I thought you’d go for someone more...” 

  He stopped for a moment, as if he considered his words while he moved his piece, before continuing. 

  “I don’t know... Intelligent?” 

  “She is intelligent,” Carter immediately shot back, although not defensively enough to pause the game, as he threw the sticks, this time landing on the Ankh. “She is just not... very intelligent.” 

  Hannah’s intellectual potential began and ended with her math skills. She was bright only if you considered equations, but seemed to lack any considerable social skills or the ability to hold a conversation not related to algebra. Carter didn’t really mind; after all, he also liked math and she was pretty attractive. 

  Anubis leaned back into his chair as Carter threw the sticks another time, choosing to move another piece. 

  “I’m not going to judge a man for the women he goes for, but it does feel surprising you didn’t go for someone else.”

  Carter huffed, but handed off the sticks for Anubis’ turn.

  “Oh? Like who?” 

  Anubis thought for a moment, turning the sticks over in his hand as he once more considered his words, speaking as he finally threw them.

  “What about Dylan?” he asked, “He is quite smart.” 

  Dylan, Carter and Walt shared a biology class. Much like Hannah, Dylan was a gifted student, but he also seemed to be quite well-liked and socially adept. Since biology was Anubis’ favorite subject, it was no surprise that he was biased.

  As he looked down and moved his piece, he missed Carter’s gaping expression.

  “Dylan?” He repeated, “Anubis- Dylan is a guy- I’m not even gay!” 

  Anubis looked up, eyebrows furrowed. 

  “...You are not at all interested in men?” he asked, throwing the sticks again. “I mean- at all?” 

  “Do I look gay to you?” Carter blurted out, then realized how bad that sounded and started to backtrack. “I’m- yeah, no, I am not interested in men. I don’t know why you would think I was- I mean-...” 

  The god’s eyes narrowed momentarily, although the expression quickly vanished as he shrugged.

  “If I am going to be entirely honest, I just thought everyone was.” He said, quite nonchalantly, as he tried to hand over the sticks for Carter’s turn. The pharaoh just continued to gape. 

  “Why would you think that?” he asked, “Like, I mean- how many queer men can you have met to think that’s the standard?”

  The god stopped for a moment, this time actually looking properly confused. 

  “Most gods swing both ways. I thought that applied to mortals, too.” 

  Carter finally took and threw the sticks to continue the game, although he remained quiet for a moment.

  “Oh. So… You, uh- you like both too, then?” 

  Anubis seemed taken aback, although he soon realized that that is, indeed, what he had implied. He smiled sheepishly.

  “No, no. I’ve… Well, I’ve never had any interest in women.” 

  “Oh.” The pharaoh blinked with some confusion, “So... I mean, you’re gay?” 

  “If that is the term you want to use, I suppose.” 

  “Oh.” 

  Carter swallowed dryly, and yet they stayed quiet for a moment. He wondered if it would be considered too rude to stop the game and go hide in embarrassment. Anubis simply took the sticks and continued with his turn, getting his first piece to the ibis-marked square, but remained in silence. 

  The game had continued as such. Neither seemed particularly comfortable with the topic at hand and both seemed unsure on how to fix it, or what else to speak of. As they had finished their round, they had both agreed that that was enough for that evening and separated. As Carter watched Anubis leave, having insisted he could pack up the senet board himself, a gnawing feeling had manifested itself within him. At first he had thought it was shame, or guilt- a manifesting embarrassment over what he had said and how had reacted, even if it wasn’t bad, per se, just... Awkward. But as he went to sleep that night and his thoughts continued to be filled with his senet companion, he realized that that wasn’t the case. 

  It was the next morning when the problems really began. 

  Head still swirling with the events of the night before, Carter went to his morning classes feeling... Odd. The morning had been spent looking over himself in the mirror, trying to see if there really was something about him that made him seem... not- well, straight. Once he and his peers had gotten to school, he did what most boys his age would consider tempting death, and looked longer than necessary at the other guys, trying to figure out if he felt anything at all when his gaze lingered. He wasn’t interested, of course!- At least that is what he told himself, but it was like he was trying to solve a puzzle, one that he really should’ve had an answer to by now. Much to his chagrin, he couldn’t help but feel like he was looking at Dylan somewhat differently, and Hannah barely interested him.

  The confusion continued, and continued. Every day, it was like he became more and more unsure, like when a word is repeated to the point it doesn’t feel quite real. Had he perhaps thought about his sexuality to the point he forgot that he was straight? Was that even possible? Or had some tomfoolering god or goddess decided to make all the guys look... Actually attractive? Was it attraction he felt, or was it more of a respectful acknowledgement that guys could look good, too?

  No, something had to be wrong- or at the very least, he really needed some help to figure out what was going on with his brain. Too bad he would rather eat his own spine than admit anything about this to Sadie or Walt. And while he wasn’t necessarily fond of the idea... He could go to the source, he supposed. The one person he knew who might understand what he was experiencing. 

  Gods... This was going to be embarrassing. After all, they had barely spoken since that night, and it wasn’t like they were particularly close before that...

  Well... New day, new tries. 

  It was a calm day in the House of Life- as calm as it could be, at least. The ankle-biters were busy training with Sadie and Zia, who had insisted that they required no assistance, and so the boys had little to do today. Walt had seated himself in the Great Room, by the couches and the TV, as he experimented with his amulet making. Anubis, as usual, was with him. The god was lounging on the couch and he watched intently as Walt’s hands worked, mostly ignoring the sports his host had put on. Carter was close by, sitting on the pedestal of the statue of Thoth while attempting to read a math textbook. He had tried to do homework, he really had, but the thoughts and the confusion had distracted him and his eyes kept drifting off of the page and over to the other two. Walt was rambling about something- something regarding the different magical properties of clay- and Anubis made an occasional remark or placed a question which got his host to ramble even more. Anubis’ voice kept distracting Carter even further, like a fire alarm that kept ringing in random intervals.

  Walt suddenly stood up. Carter could see a tray filled with different amulets made of clay, which Walt conveniently stated that he would move over to the room where he kept his kiln. As Walt left, Anubis stayed. Carter tried to ignore it and tried to return to his textbook, at least looking like he was engrossed in it, while he actually tried to figure out a way to talk to the god, ask the embarrassing question he wasn’t sure he wanted answered. 

  “Hey.” 

  The voice of the other startled him, and Carter jumped in his seat by the statue. Anubis, in what felt like a millisecond, had gone from the couch and was now in front of him, head tilted ever so slightly as he peaked at the textbook. Carter could feel his heart beat faster. 

  “I- uh- hi,” was all he could stutter out. Anubis felt very close- was he really so unaware of personal space? Or did he just feel a lot closer than he actually was? “What are you- uhm-” 

  “I just wanted to see how you were doing,” the god made a shrug-like gesture with his shoulders, although it was short, “Also, you’ve been looking over to me and Walt like a kicked puppy, so I wanted to see what that was about.” 

   Carter felt his heart drop to his stomach. 

  “I didn’t look at you!” he blurted out, “I was just- uh-...” 

  Anubis’ head titled further. Gods, Sadie was right- it is adorable when he does that- No, pull yourself together, Carter!

  Carter took a deep breath, then closed the textbook in his lap. He looked around for a moment, just to make sure Walt had not yet returned. 

  “Look- Uh-... Could we like... Talk? In private- uh, later?” His voice was merely a whisper and clearly desperate. It got Anubis’ eyebrows rise in actual surprise, dark eyes peering down at the slightly panicked pharaoh.

  “Oh? Very well,” he said, equally gentle, “where would you like to talk?” 

  Carter hesitated. 

  “Uhm... My room, later tonight?” 

  This time, the god’s eyebrows furrowed- not in discontent, more like he was trying to figure out Carter’s agenda. The pharaoh swallowed dryly, but before he could say anything else, they heard Walt’s footsteps coming closer. Anubis’ slightly pointed ears seemed to twitch at the sudden noise, head moving ever so slightly.

  “Very well.” He whispered back, “I’ll meet you then.” 

  With that, he returned to the couch just as Walt came back with an empty tray and more clay. Carter fought the urge to hit himself with his textbook, and was quick to pack up his things and leave the room in embarrassment, wishing for nothing more but to find a place to hide.

...

  A few hours later, after the daily activity in the Brooklyn House had stopped and dinner had been eaten, Carter came back to his room. Between the chaos which had erupted once Sadie’s and Zia’s lesson was over and his general weariness, he had almost- keyword almost- forgotten about the conversation he had with the jackal-headed god just a few hours earlier. The sudden realization made him even quicker in turning on the lights of his bedroom to reveal any shadow-lurkers, knowing the god often liked to appear and disappear through darkness. Nothing. He squinted. Walt had gone back to his room quite a while ago, perhaps Anubis was still with him. Soft, hesitant footsteps moved him further into the room. 

  A cold breeze came from behind, making the hair on his body stand on edge. He whipped around, and leaning against the closed door with his arms crossed stood none other than Anubis himself. It was quite the nonchalant pose, Carter couldn’t help but feel himself blush. 

  “You wished to speak to me, Carter Kane?” 

  The god’s overt politeness successfully got Carter on other thoughts. It had been a topic of conversation before, when they had attempted to ‘bond’- the god’s habits of respect was effective on other gods but honestly just silly to anyone else, and so Carter straightened himself and sighed.

  “You don’t have to use my full name, y’know. That is just obnoxious.” 

  Anubis merely smiled, although it was barely noticeable. 

  “And you are quite obnoxious for a pharaoh.” he retorted.

  Carter rolled his eyes and sat down on his bed with a huff.

  “I doubt I am the most obnoxious pharaoh to ever exist. Actually, I think I am quite humble compared to most of them.” 

  Anubis titled his head slightly and raised his eyebrow, although this time it was the sign of a challenge, not confusion.

  “Did you merely wish to call me obnoxious, or was there something else you’d like to speak to me about?” 

  The realization hit the pharaoh like a truck, and he immediately tensed. He was glad for his darker skin, as he hoped it would be hard to see his blushing. 

  “I, uh...” All articulation in his tongue seemed to disappear. He had to look away from the other. “I... I need advice.” 

  Despite Carter not being able to see it, surprise hit the god. One of his crossed arms moved so he could point a slender finger at himself, in a silent ‘from me?’. 

  “Advice?” Anubis repeated, “What kind of advice?” 

  Carter moved his hands to his face, as if to hide. He slowly dragged them off as he tried to get some sense into himself. He hesitated, tried to figure out where to start, or if he should simply say ‘nevermind, get out of my room’.

  “Uhm... Y’know last time we played Senet?” 

  Anubis raised his eyebrow. 

  “Yes?” 

  “Well... Ah... I just... I’ve been thinking, right? About what we said then, and I... Uh-” Gods, this was embarrassing- Carter swallowed dryly as he tried to continue without more stuttering. “I just wanted to ask, like-... How do you know if... If you... If you like- like like other... Well, other guys?” 

  Anubis tilted his head further. 

  “‘Like like like’ other guys?” He repeated. 

  Carter made a pathetic sound of embarrassment and hid his face in his hands again.

  “I thought you said you were sure you didn’t like men?” The confusion was evident in the god’s voice as he spoke. “Why the sudden change?” 

  Well, Carter could at least be glad Anubis was smart, or at the very least spoke idiot enough to understand what he meant. The pharaoh placed his hands on the bed and took a deep, perhaps slightly shaky breath before he explained. 

  “I thought about what you said and then I couldn’t stop thinking about it,” he said, letting go of the little dignity he thought he had. “Like, all of a sudden I wasn’t sure anymore. And now I don’t know what I feel.” 

  The god stayed silent for a moment.

  “Is that what you need advice on?” He asked, “How to figure out what you feel?”

  Carter nodded. Anubis remained silent once more. 

  “I don’t know what it is you are going through.” The god finally said, coming closer, and then sitting down on the other’s bed. “At least not on a personal level. I’ve- Well, I’ve always known. I’ve never felt any interest in women, the way I had for men. I’m sorry I cannot be of further help on that matter. But I’m willing to listen, if it would make you feel better.” 

  Carter felt a tinge of disappointment at the other’s words. He took another deep breath as he processed what had been said, refusing to look at the god.

  “I just...” Carter had started to fiddle with the hem of his shirt, “I never had any interest in... Well, other guys before. But lately it feels like... Like I never liked women to begin with, y’know?” 

  Anubis nodded, although he really did not know.

  “I... I don’t know if I am attracted to men, or if I’ve just confused myself.” Carter concluded. He sighed and let his back hit the mattress, placing his forearm over his eyes; less embarrassment and more exhaustion over his own mental dilemmas. 

  The bed shifted, and Carter guessed that Anubis got closer. As he peaked, he saw that Anubis had laid down next to him.

  “I mean, you could always test around.” Anubis suggested. “I know modern people tend to put emphasis on virginities and firsts and all- or “purity” or whatever-, but if you are confused, it could do you good to do some testing. Then you can see if you like it or not instead of just guessing.” 

  Carter felt his heart beat harder- he really hadn’t thought about anything sexual yet, and the realization made him even more nervous. 

  “I don’t have anyone to test with,” He mumbled weakly. “And, frankly, I don’t feel like trying to hook up with a classmate or a stranger in some bar.” 

  Anubis hummed in thought, letting the silence linger for a few moments as he considered the other’s options. 

  “...It isn’t much, but... I would gladly experiment with you.” Anubis finally said. Carter tensed in shock and moved his arm to look at the god next to him, which quickly got him to continue. “I mean- assuming it would feel better for you than a- uh- classmate or stranger, that is.” 

  “...What?”

  “I understand that you don’t want to, of course-” Anubis was quick to add, actually seeming flustered, “I am just saying, if you get no better option…” 

  He trailed off. Carter swore he could see some red tint the god’s cheeks- which momentarily confused him, as he was certain that Anubis’ blood wasn’t red. 

  “For real?” was all Carter got out, immediately cringing at himself. 

  “...If you are up for it, yes.” 

  Carter was almost, almost sure that he would startle awake from the dream that this had to be very soon. After all, here he laid, in his bed, together with a god, who was offering himself to him. Way too good to be true, even if it was incredibly awkward.

  “And that is- like- okay with you?” Carter’s voice was clear with disbelief.

  “I would not have given the offer if I wasn’t.” Anubis huffed slightly. “I mean, I like men, and I’m experienced- it would be cruel if I left you to your own devices now.” 

  ’Agreed’, Carter thought, ’it would be incredibly cruel’. 

  “Can I... Can I think about it?” Carter asked, slowly realizing how awfully intimate this already felt- the two of them on his bed, turned towards each other... His blush worsened. 

  “Of course.” Anubis immediately replied, sitting up. “Take however long you need, you know where to find me.” 

  He stood up from the bed and stretched slightly. Carter couldn’t help but sneak a peak of the almost golden skin which became visible where the black shirt rode up. 

  “Was there anything else?” 

  Carter was startled out by Anubis’ voice. Yet he quickly shook his head.

  “No- uh- that was all.” He hesitated. “And, uhm... Thank you.” 

  Anubis smiled. 

  “Of course. Good night, Carter Kane.” 

  With that, the god turned around and left, for once through the door and not the shadows. After Carter watched him leave, he let his head fall back against the mattress. 

  ...Good gods. 

———————————————————

[ofglories]

So, first things first about Lancer Arthur: as stated in his bio he is from a timeline where things went very differently.

Rhongomyniad was his primary weapon and all that is known, of course. But there's something else that should be noted and that's that even in Camelot Arthur was dealing with Rhongomyniad's powers leaking into him and mutating him into something approaching a divine spirit. It was only thanks to his intense love for Bedivere (and help from his older brother keeping him grounded too) that kept Arthur human. And yet still the changes were already there. So when Arthur took that mortal blow when striking down his enemy, when Bedivere then failed to return Excalibur to the Lake and let him die...

Rhongomyniad's magic flared and grabbed the barely living Arthur's humanity in basically an endless sleep ostensibly to protect him but such is how magical weapons work.

The Lion King that stepped into the singularity that would become the Divine Realm of the Round Table was far more ruthless. With his memories of Bedivere and even Kay (beyond Kay's role as Seneschal) locked away by Rhongomyniad, he was truly a Divine Spirit, one of war. When he summoned his Knights and told them of his plans to preserve humanity Arthur then also offered them a choice akin to what Lancer Artoria did: join me, or return to the Throne by any means.

In essence "you will live if you support me, if not then die in the manner you deem best".

No forced duel to the death for his new Round Table versus the old. It wasn't necessary in his eyes since those who stood against him would all die regardless. Still, most stayed and fought trying to force their fellows who remained loyal to the Lion King to see reason. And it was a bloodbath, as Arthur restricted the use of their Servant abilities.

"If you wish to duel for the fate of this world, then fight as you were in life."

In the end those who stood against the new Round Table were almost all slaughtered, most hesitating against killing their friends and fellow knights. Or kin, in some circumstances. Gareth, at the orders of Kay, grabbed a few others who opposed the Lion King and fled, while Percival, Kay, and Gaheris remained behind to give them time to escape. Dinadan, sadly, lost his life fighting against Tristram, but left a wound with a curse to force his friend to falter when he needed his arm the most.

And so it went.

From there, Arthur destroyed the walls reinforced by the Crusaders under "Lionheart" (the false Richard) and their defenders with them. But the Grail he sought had already been claimed by the forces of the Pharaohs Ozymandias, Iskandar, and Nitocris.

Thus began a long and bloody conflict between the two forces, with the people of the era caught in the middle with the Hassans and few knights who escaped doing what they could to aid them.

Hell on earth, basically.

Chaldea did not arrive to a land in a virtual cold war between two powers, but a field of war. And on that field they encountered Bedivere (as written by my lovely partner @toadmiretoweepover) and worked to end the war, claim the Holy Grail, and defeat the Lion King while he was still somewhat mortal.

[raaorqtpbpdy]

In the Zone (2)

Based on the Phic Phight prompts: Danny and co. go sight seeing in the zone and get lost. Maybe they have to navigate weird ghost logic/physics/laws to make their way home (from @ventisettestars). And Sam and Tucker maybe getting Pharaoh + plant powers? ecto contamination for the win ig (from @corvidspectre).

Chapter 2: The Mourning Estate

AO3 Link

[Warnings for supernatural horror elements]

Time passed strangely in the Ghost Zone. They flew in the Specter Speeder for what could have been less than an hour, or nearly a day, before they made their next stop. While Danny took a shift driving, Sam spotted a spooky gothic mansion through the window and asked to check it out. Its pointed spires and ivy-grown walls were built with stone so black it absorbed light from the surrounding ectoplasm, and there appeared to be a perpetual, swirling thunderstorm overhead.

"Okay," Danny said cautiously, "but it's probably a specific ghost's lair, so we'll knock first and politely ask to look around, and if we're told we can't, we'll leave, alright? I'm not looking to get the crap beat out of me on a sight-seeing trip."

"Alright, fair enough," Sam agreed. "But just look at that place! It's so cool!"

"Cool... isn't the word I'd use," Tucker disagreed, already grimacing at the look of the place.

"Scared, Tucker?" she taunted.

"We're in the Ghost Zone, Sam," he pointed out. "Scared is the default around here. If you're not scared, you're crazy."

"Or a ghost yourself," Danny tacked on, taking them down toward the grand, round driveway in front of the mansion. When they touched down on the gravel, an eerie sort of music filled the air.

"I really don't like this place," Tucker said.

"Oh, suck it up, you big baby," Sam told him, jumping out of the speeder with a grin.

Her heavy combat boots crunched on the gravel as she walked up to the front steps, climbing each of them with her heartbeat pounding in her ears. It was like this place was trying to make her think she was afraid, even thought all she felt was excitement. Tucker, on the other hand, was already trembling with terror. The only thing that kept him moving forward was Danny's unyielding grip on his arm, dragging him along, step by step.

A grotesque stared at Sam with ruby eyes as she gripped the iron door knocker in its mouth. She could have sworn it blinked at her as she pulled the knocker back and slammed it into the door three times. For a long moment, nothing happened. The eerie music reached a crescendo and then fell silent as the door creaked slowly open.

Standing in the doorway was a tall, thin ghost in a ratted and torn up formal suit with the tails dragging behind him. His eyes drooped, and his mustache drooped, and his shoulders drooped, and overall he just had a generally droopy quality about him. "I'm afraid the ladies aren't accepting guests at the moment," he said apologetically.

"Well, we tried!" Tucker said loudly. "Guess we should get back to the speeder and get out of here!"

"Wait!" Sam stopped him. "May I ask who the ladies are?"

"Of course." The butler nodded. "Lady Dove and Lady Shroud are the arbiters of this estate. They're in Mourning."

"Look, we just wanted to explore this place a little," Sam told him, pleading. "Would you please ask the ladies if we can see inside. We promise we won't cause any trouble."

"I suppose I can do that," the butler agreed, "but I wouldn't expect them to have you. They're in Mourning, after all." He bowed his head as he closed the door.

When he didn't return after three seconds, Tucker once again proposed that they leave, and once again, Sam stopped him. He stood there, jittering, on the front porch the whole time they waited, and jumped three feet up in alarm when the door creaked open again. The butler stood there once more, still towering over the teens.

"It seems the ladies have elected to meet with you, after all," he said, and he pulled the door further open, drifting aside with a bow to allow them entry. Danny grabbed Tucker by the arm again to lead him in since he was clearly still opposed.

"Maybe I could just, uh, keep the speeder warm for you," he suggested nervously. "You know, in case we need to make another quick get away."

"Stop being such a wuss," Sam told him.

"Please, follow me to the courtyard, and don't wander off," the butler warned.

They followed him down a long, straight hallway, carpeted in a blood red rug with intricate black patterns. The dark grey wallpaper was printed with spidery silhouettes, and the the gas lamps offered very little in the way of light. The eerie music started again, so quietly they didn't notice at first.

They took a left turn, then a right, and stopped in front of a door obscured by shadows. "The courtyard," the butler announced. When the door swung open, the eerie music was replaced by up-tempo rock and roll.

The courtyard was surrounded by a gorgeous garden. Flowers of all colors and shapes grew liberally in along the pathways, lined with white stones. A grove of fruit trees loomed in one directions, branches glimmering with peaches, apples, pears, and apricots, and probably more.

"Wheee!" A voice cheered. A girl in a white dress flew past them on a zip-line.

"Lady Dove," the butler said. "I've brought your guests."

"Really?" the girl called down, dropping from the zip-line and landing in front of the trio. When she hit the pale gray paving stones her white skirt ruffled and flowed out like mist before turning mostly solid again. She looked to be around twelve or thirteen. Her round, pink face beamed up at them. "It's very nice to meet you!" she said. "I'm Dove in Mourning."

"I'm Sam, and these are my friends, Danny and Tucker. This doesn't look like mourning to me though."

"No no!" Dove said, waving a hand dismissively. "My name is in Mourning. I'm just playing right now. Do you want to play with me?"

"Your games don't involve us getting hurt or dying, right?" Tucker asked, and Dove's green eyes widened.

"Wait! You mean you're alive?"

"Well, mostly," Danny joked.

There was a shift in the air, the rock slowed like it was coming from a broken speaker and then morphed back into that music from before. Dove started to cry. Her flouncy white hair turned black, and the color seeped down and down, dripping like oil until her dress was pitch black too, and sweeping across the paving stones. All of the soft airiness she exuded gave way to a dripping darkness. Her pink skin turned a sickly green, and her green eyes turned to red as glowing tears beaded up in them and she started to tremble.

"Alive?" she repeated, choking on her tears. "Alive. Alive."

"Lady Shroud," the butler said. "How nice of you to join us."

Shroud began outright weeping. The tiles around her turned black. The flowers wilted and withered. Only the ones right next to Sam stayed in bloom. The fruit rotted in the tree branches and fell as the trees shriveled up, becoming gnarled husks.

"Did we say something wrong?" Danny asked, stepping back from her nervously. "Should we not have told her we're..." he hesitated to say 'alive' again, not wanting to upset the ghost further.

"This happens sometimes," the butler answered. "One never can know what will set the ladies off. Lady Shroud rarely suffers visitors, so when Lady Dove invited you in, I thought her sister wouldn't make an appearance."

"Sister?" Tucker asked. "Aren't they the same person?"

"It's... complicated." The butler sighed. "It's best to leave them alone when they're like this. Soon enough, Dove will come to comfort her, and she'll calm down."

"Should we... leave?" Danny asked.

Shroud opened her mouth, too wide and too dark with needle-like teeth. She wailed like a banshee and screamed on a howling voice, "GET! OUT!"

"I think that would be for the best, yes," the butler confirmed, and they scrambled for the door back into the mansion. "I'll keep her attention. Best of luck!"

Back inside, they tried to remember which way they came from, but the halls all looked the same and each was darker than the last. When they looked in doors, each room was identical to the others, each parlor, each bedroom, all of them exactly alike. They sprinted through the maze-like mansion while Shroud's wails and sobs grew louder, almost as if they were getting closer. The tempo rose on the ominous music.

Tucker tripped over the carpet and landed with a thud in the hall. The wails grew louder. Danny swore and helped up his friend, picking him up and carrying him bridal-style, rather than wait for him to recover enough to run. "Wait! In the Ghost Zone, humans can use ghost powers!" he remembered. "This way!" With Tucker in his arms, he led Sam through a wall, and another, and another.

Finally, the wailing grew quieter as they went through the final wall and there, like a lifeboat in a storm, was the Specter Speeder. Danny set Tucker back on his feet. They were out of the mansion and home free.

"Sorry, Sam," Danny said as they walked down the front steps again, Shroud's wails and sobs still punctuating each step despite the distance between them. "We got to see some of it, at least, and we met an interesting ghost... er, ghosts?"

"It's okay," Sam said, sounding only a little bit disappointed. "The aesthetic was spectacular, but honestly, that place was kind of boring. I mean, everything being identical has a certain level of spookiness, but no real intrigue. Bit of a let down, if I'm being honest."

"Yeah," Tucker agreed, finally calming down now that they were almost back to the speeder. "No offense or anything, Sam,—but this one was a bust." He wheeze, trying to catch his breath still, even though Danny had carried him the final stretch. "I've done more running today than I have through all of high school." She laughed at him, which might've been more biting if they weren't all so out of breath.

"Don't worry," Danny assured her. "This the the Ghost Zone, right? I'm sure there will be a lot more, uh, gothy places for us to see. Ones where we'll have more freedom to explore without the threat of a ghost having a temper tantrum, hopefully." They climbed back into the speeder and Danny took them into the sky.

"Woulda been nice if you'd told us we could walk through walls sooner though, Danny." Sam gave him a pointed look.

"I'm sorry! I forgot! And anyway," he yawned, "I think we should get some sleep. I'll put the Specter Speeder in neutral and maybe it'll be somewhere cool when we wake up."

"Sounds like a plan," Sam agreed, and Tucker nodded, grabbing the sleeping bags. Danny hit the lock button, and then activated the anti-ghost shield to make sure nothing and no one messed with them while they were asleep. "To be honest, we're not off to a great start, but maybe tomorrow will be better."

"I hope so," Danny said. They all climbed into their sleeping bags on the hard, steel floor of the speeder and tried to get some rest.

Previous | Next

[nevertem]

(for the kiss a body part meme)

Wrist~

Adoration.

Nowadays, such words are used in the context of relationships--one calls a child adorable, one calls a small animal adorable. A pleasing sight to the eye. Something to be beloved the way one passes a violet on the roadside. Such a thing to be observed and forgotten--such a thing to be erased from memories mere moments later.

Such was not the case in his time.

When his hand was took, he lazily splayed his fingers--the underside of his palm rough from callouses, his fingertips rounded and soft to the touch. The pads of his fingers tipped pleasingly, nails short and polished, groomed to perfection, as all of him was. His ring and pinkie finger were embraced by gold bands--a blue gemstone on one, the other made of pure gold, warped by time to fit snugly to his hand.

The inside of his wrist was slight, as was all of him, as was the nature of his frame. The fine bone which dipped into skin, decorated by a golden cuff elaborately carved, and he allowed it to be slid over his hand, pulling in the width of his palm, and what was revealed was just as pleasing to the eye as the rest of him--the tapering of his arm to wrist, the heel of his palm which gave way to bones and sinew and tendons, and that vital piece of him--the pulse-point in his wrist.

The Ancient Egyptians believed in idol worship, of course, which is the belief that gods shall reside, for a time, in objects that are earthly in nature. Statuettes which would remain in temples, and the gods shall pass by, reside within, and shall move to the next. Festivals and feasts were had on such occasions--to celebrate the presence of a deity in stone, and such the cycle shall continue, endlessly, until the end of all time, and such was the case, of course, for Ra.

And he stood, there, and he watched impassively, confidently, assuredly. Such adoration--the bowing, the affection, the worship of his people--was not new for him. And he watched, eyelids lowered, decorated, as the sun behind him shall set, and lips will be pressed to his skin. The flutter of a pulse at that vital point signified the presence of the divine, and the warmth in his touch was the heat of the sun, and the length of thin flax was the indigo of twilight, the gold catching the rays, glimmering with light, and even his eyes were the sunset of Atem.

The evening sun, the ending of a journey, the beginning of a new one.

And the beauty of the sunset was captured in him, the presence of twilight, and finely polished nails withdrew after a moment, and he reached upward, one finger--the thumb, the base of the hand--touched the other's chin, pinching, and his eyes narrowed, mischief dancing behind them--and the viper was the guardian of Pharaoh, and present in him, of course. Ethereal. Unreal. A soul that was solid in flesh, and yet had died long ago, and that was his very nature--the nature of multiplicity.

"What a lovely gift. Very well received. Adore me more often, and I will receive it just as gratefully."

[sesshy380]

How about 'are you even sorry?' and 'jokes on me, right?' for the Bakura Atem thing?

I hope you don't mind, but these prompts are perfect to follow-up the one I did earlier.

Wordcount: 721

Atem stormed his way through the front door of the penthouse. How could he have been so stupid?!

Bakura trailed not far behind, his body now fully restored and covered in something the thief had 'discounted' while walking past an outdoor clothing rack.

"Are you seriously going to stay mad about that?"

Atem quickly whirled around, fist at his sides. "Are you even sorry?! What am I saying…of course you're not. You don't even care. The jokes on me, right? 'Haha, I managed to make the Pharaoh care about me. I actually made him shed tears for me. What a sucker'."

Bakura raised his hands in an apologetic manner. "Okay, okay…I took it too far. I'm sorry. Can we move past this already?"

Atem stared dumbfoundedly. "No. We are not moving ‘past this'. I thought-…” He shook his head in defeat. “You know what…it doesn't matter. I don't even know why I waste my time with you. I don't have eternity to throw around like you do. I don't know why I bothered to indulge in any of your madness in the first place. Get out…and don't you dare come back."

Seeing Bakura’s suddenly pained expression…hurt.

"I really am sorry, Tem. What can I do to make it up to you?" Bakura appeared ominously genuine for a change.

Atem winced at the nickname. Bakura only called him that when he was being honest.

"You let me believe you had actually died. You had the audacity to turn it into a prank. I felt helpless…again…and you thought it was funny. You can't make up for that."

Atem turned away and began to head for his room. A pair of hands snaked their way around his waist and stopped him. A head rested against the top of his.

"Please? Name it, and I'll do it."

Atem shook his head as he tried to remain firm in his decision. “No, Bakura…I can’t. This is exactly what Katrina didn’t want happening. She knew you would do something like this. As much as I hate to admit it, I should have heeded her warning and stayed away.”

The arms around him tightened their grip. “Dammit, Tem…I’m really, really sorry. I fucked up. Please. I promise I won’t do something like that again. Hell, I’ll even shake hands and make a binding contract to prove it. I’ll even let you set the terms of punishment for breaking my promise. What do I have to do? Get on my hands and knees and beg like a good little mutt?”

The arms around him withdrew, and seconds later Bakura was on his knees while staring up at him.

“Bakura, what are you-”

“Proving that I meant it. Do you honestly think I would do something so low as to kneel before you of all people if all this is just another lie?”

Atem brought a hand across his eyes, his will crumbling. “Bakura, please…you’re just making this harder…”

He felt fingers interlace with his free hand.

“I promise, I will never again do something that might hurt you in the way I just did. I’ll never make you mourn me again. No more pranks. No more jokes. I swear on my people, I will never hurt you like that again.”

Atem brought his hand down, pulling his other free from Bakura’s.

“No. I refuse to accept such a promise. I will not ask you to magically bind yourself over something like that.”

Bakura stared questioningly. “So does that mean…?”

“I’m not forgiving you…but you can stay. Don’t you dare do that to me again.”

Bakura nodded slowly, then moved to stand, but stopped while looking up as if asking for permission.

Atem's brow furled in confusion. “What are you doing? I already said you could stay.”

Bakura shrugged dismissively. “I dunno…thought since you currently had the upper hand maybe you might be up to exploring some power-play shit. You know…tell me what to do and I’ll obey and all that.”

Atem scowled. “I’m not about to sleep with you after what you pulled.”

“We could work up to it?”

Atem rolled his eyes and walked away.

“Is that a maybe?” Bakura shouted as Atem rounded the corner back to the living room.

There were many things Atem regretted doing in his life…letting Bakura worm his way into his bed on occasion was one of them.

[ardenssolis]

@tenkoseiensei said (inbox):

nerofest. even for a doppelganger, it wasn't cheating to rise through matches and various brackets so long as it remained by one's own power, shouldn't that have been so? nothing could possibly have disqualified him, distasteful as some others might have found it. accompanying the pharaoh for a dozen rounds, building trust as none other than an otherwise absent arash, who alone held every excuse and reason to withhold his self-annihilating phantasm, the likes of which not even yan qing could replicate. he's kept himself hidden like this all the way up until their current final round, wherein he winks and smiles at the other. ' i've got your back as usual,' he says, and yet the instant ozymandias has turned about, the doppelganger's fist lands a shocking blow so hard, it whirls the pharaoh right back around. rictus spreading, elation plain on his mimic features, yan qing can't help but laugh. ' just kiddin', just kiddin' ~ ! surprise, yeye! it's not exactly chivalrous, but it's better than bein' shot in the back an' through the heart with an arrow before things have even gotten started, right? ' setting into martial posture, shamelessly allowing his shape to rearrange and reveal himself, the soft returning jades of his eyes glimmer with realized mischief - and a fresh enthusiasm. ' let's do this right an' have a good one. we've helped each other along this far, but now it's my turn! hope you're ready t'feel more than just one measly bruise on your skin, old man! '

     WHEN ‘ARASH’ HAD APPROACHED him desiring a partnership, there wasn’t much thought placed on the ‘why’ from Ozymandias’ end. Who was he to refuse that bright smile that radiated warmth? Certainly not even he could turn down that Archer down. Rare was it for them to be on the same side, fighting for similar goals and the like, thus, one would have to forgive Ozymandias for being over-the-moon with excitement towards the very prospect of once again, fighting side by side. As one would expect, they rose through Nero’s little event rather quickly, easily becoming two of the top fighters as a result.

     ‘I’ve got your back as usual.’

     Those were the only words that he had needed to hear for guard to completely drop and attention to focus on the foe before him. ❝Heh, let us win this and show who the greatest warriors a--- ❞ His sentence was abruptly interrupted by the blow to his back as he stumbled forward. Mouth agape with both betray and confusion, upon hearing that rather familiar speech pattern, it didn’t take much to put two and two together. ❝Tch, using my favoritism towards that Archer to your advantage, I see.❞ They could have turned into anyone, but pointedly chose them. Quickly he turned, then, staff summoned into hand without another moment of hesitation. ❝You did rather well, I admit. Not once did I sense anything was remiss. And you…❞ he smirked, head tilting – all usual haughtiness back in place despite his rather embarrassing stumble not even a couple seconds ago, ❝just casually were able to make your way up with thanks to my incredible efforts.❞

     Shameful!

     But to be expected. A sound strategy, he supposed, albeit a monumental headache to deal with. ❝I will not go easy on you, you know. If anything, because you utilized that hero’s visage, that means I must crush you even more.❞ He pointed his staff at the other, light gleaming off the cold metal as his lips curled into a large smirk. ❝Come, then, Assassin. Do not hold back on my account…for I have little intention on doing the same.❞

[copperdaisy]

Whoops, spontaneously wrote a ficlet for an OC/Canon character pairing because I am thinking about commissioning artwork for them. The pairing has been around for a good... probably seventeen years at this point? @chappaiguardian and I were in high school when we first started playing the ship in Ye Olden Days.

Yu-Gi-Oh! canon, featuring Mahaad and my girl, Sanura, with bonus appearance from Seth. Now... I am going to bed because of work in... five hours.

===========

The interior of the palace was quiet at this hour. Morning business had concluded and visitors had been sent on their way. Sanura passed only familiar faces as she made her way toward the library. She returned smiles and greetings when they were offered but could not stop for idle conversation. Armed with a basket of bread and fruit she was a woman on a mission – a mission given to her by none other than the Pharaoh himself. It went without saying that she had no time for catching up on the latest hot topics today. No doubt Nafrini would fill her in tomorrow the first chance she got. There was little that went on in the palace that the washer woman did not know about. The amount of intimate details she could gather on short notice about even the most obscure gossip was a bit frightening. Impressive, though. Maybe the Sacred Guardians could find use for such talents.

Then again, maybe some of the Guardians needed more work to do instead of less.

Sanura heard Seth before she saw him. He was complaining again – how surprising. Resisting the urge to roll her eyes she slowed her pace and worked to control her expression. It was better to feign indifference when the head of palace security was in a sour mood than to add more fuel to the fire. She rounded the corner to find the library doors had been left ajar, allowing her to catch more snippets of his grousing along with hints of a second voice. He had a captive audience, did he? Of course he did. Shifting the basket beneath one arm she squared her shoulders and nudged one of the doors fully open with a touch more force than necessary. The bonk it made when it bounced into the wall stalled Seth's rant mid sentence. He whipped around to stare at the source of the interruption and she met his scowl with a falsely sheepish grin.

“My sincerest apologies for the intrusion.” The apology was every bit as fake as her smile and the way Seth's frown deepened told her that he knew it. Peering past him she spied Mahaad standing on the other side of the table, his jaw tight with frustration. A map of the delta was spread between them, its corners held down by clay weights.

“What do you want?” She felt the weight of Seth's glare follow her as she walked to another table piled high with scrolls. Ignoring him, Sanura set the basket down in the one clear space left and made an exaggerated show of rubbing her shoulder as if she had been carrying bricks instead.

“I was sent on an errand by the Pharaoh,” she answered before turning around, arms folded across her chest as she leaned against the table. Something flickered through the priest's expression and his glower wavered for the briefest second. Before he could rally again she continued. “He was very specific in his wording that I was to remain here until I saw the errand completed, which it is not. You may take the matter up with him if you object.”

Seth's glower persisted, his gaze flicking between her and his fellow Guardian. Clearly whatever he had been making such a fuss about was not something he wanted her to overhear. Finally, he grit his teeth and turned on his heel, cape swirling behind him with a flourish. “We will discuss this more later,” he growled at Mahaad, then stormed from the room. The door slammed behind him.

“Dramatic exit,” Sanura said into the ensuing silence. Mahaad sighed and removed the weights from the map, letting it roll into a loose scroll.

“You shouldn't antagonize him,” he muttered while rolling the map tighter and tying it closed.

“I wasn't antagonizing him. I only told him where he could direct his complaints,” she countered, studying him as he returned the map to its place on a shelf. The tense set of his shoulders betrayed his agitation and she felt her own annoyance flare hotter in response. No one could test Mahaad's patience quite like Seth and interactions between them tended to leave him stressed and worked up for several hours afterward. She hated it, but there was nothing she could do about it either. It fell under Court matters, and it was something for the Pharaoh to intervene in if he saw fit to do so. Maybe she could convince Teana to say something to him…

“That counts as antagonizing.” Mahaad joined her at the table once his hands were free. For a long moment he said nothing, his face unreadable as he stared down at her. Slouched as she was she barely came up to his shoulder. Hoping to soothe some of his irritation she reached up and cupped his face between her hands. Bit by bit he relaxed, eyes closing as she gently rubbed her thumbs beneath them. Breathing out a long, steadying sigh he pressed his forehead to hers, the golden disc of his headdress cool against her skin. Part of her ached to pull him closer into a proper embrace but he was wearing the Ring. He would never abide her touching it.

“If that is so, my only regret is that the door did not hit him when I opened it.” The joke earned her a low chuckle before he pulled away, pausing only to bestow a fond kiss to her brow. The chaste gesture of affection distracted her for a few seconds, long enough for him to grab another scroll and settle himself on the stool beside the table. She blinked once, twice, then remembered what she had been sent to do in the first place. Reaching over she plucked the document from his fingers and swatted them away when he made to grab for it again. “Ah, no. I actually was sent here on an errand by the Pharaoh. One that pertains to you.”

“Me?” The confusion in his voice was genuine. Sanura hummed an affirmative and patted the basket beside her, carefully tossing the scroll onto the pile with the others. She caught a glimpse of the runic language of magicians as it fell, an elegant script but one entirely indecipherable to her . Mahaad frowned and eyed the basket with some level of suspicion.

“I was told to make sure that you eat lunch today, and I am not to leave until you have done so.”

“I don't need supervision...” He opened the basket and poked around at the offerings it held, looking none too impressed. Whether that was because of the food options or because she had been ordered to ensure he ate something she could not say.

“A little bird tattled and said that you did not eat lunch the last three days and instead spent time studying the tomes again. Pharaoh thought that this was the more… diplomatic answer. You wouldn't turn down the chance to eat lunch with your wife, would you?” She pouted and gave him the saddest look she could muster without dissolving into laughter. He had the grace to look chastened while breaking the bread loaf in half and pulling out the jar of honey.

“Little bird, huh? I wonder who that could be...”

“I do wonder. A little bird that has a bad habit of forgetting her spells, maybe?” Now openly grinning Sanura jumped to her feet. The many charms decorating her clothing jangled with the movement. Before Mahaad could react she yanked the headdress off his head and danced out of arm's reach. “Your headdress is off, which means that you are incapable of doing any work or study. Those are the rules!”

“I am quite certain that those are not the rules. I have never heard of those rules.” Mahaad was scowling as he stood but there was a gleam of good humor in his eyes. Sanura laughed and skipped another few steps away.

“Pharaoh granted me the power to make the rules when he told me to do whatever it takes to make sure you remember to eat. As I told Seth, you are free to take your complaints to him. If you want your headdress back you know what you must do.”

“Now who is the one being dramatic?”

Her husband's easy smirk almost made up for him comparing her antics to Seth's recent departure. Almost.