#a cour of silver flames

[shirefantasies]

Thorin’s Company When You Tell Them the Legend of Brísingamen (F!Reader)

Tagging @welikeimagines-andfandoms for the idea inspiration, thanks love 😉 Warnings: suggestive of course given the nature of this legend 😂 but no explicit acts described

"In my world, dwarves are but the stuff of legend," you told your company, all rapt at your words and the sight of your features flickering in the fireglow as they rose into a little smirk, "In fact, one of my favorite legends involves a group of dwarves." "Well, go on, then!" Gloin encouraged. "Tell us!" "Yeah," Ori agreed, eyes shining, "What are you waiting for?" "Dramatic effect," you teased with a grin, "But I shall tell you the legend of Brísingamen. Known as the necklace of flame, Brísingamen was the most beautiful piece of jewelry in the world." "Crafted by dwarves no doubt!" Bombur chimed in. "Of course," you nodded, smiling softly, "Four dwarves forged it: Alfrik, Berling, Grer, and Dvalin." "Sounds a lot like..." Nori teased, elbowing Dwalin. "Indeed!" You agreed, nodding the tattooed dwarf's way. "Maybe it's a relative, huh? Well, Brísingamen was not just beautiful, but magical! Its protective magic attracted the goddess Freya, who offered to purchase it with great riches of silver and gold. The dwarves, however, had no need for her treasure. Rather they offered a different form of payment: they would give her the necklace if she was willing to spend a night with each of them." "They didn't!" Nori burst out, smiling devilishly. "Well," Balin countered, "Even if they did, it doesn't mean-" "And that, my friends," you cut him off with a wicked grin of your own, "Is the story of how Freya acquired Brísingamen." Uproar overtook the camp, shouts of triumph, applause, laughter, outrage, shock from Bilbo, and you loved every minute of it. One particular reaction stood out to you, however....

Balin

"Ah, lass," Balin teased you, shaking his head, "What've you gone and filled their heads with now?" "Old stories," you answered with a shrug and a look of mock-innocence, "Myths, really. Tales I thought they might get a kick out of." "A little too much of a kick, I daresay," Balin replied, nodding toward Nori, who looked you up and down with a smile. "I'm not so easily bought as Freya," you told him, "I would give myself only to the one who has my heart." At that, Balin arched a bushy white brow. "And who might that be?" Involuntarily your jaw dropped at his question, eyes staring into his as anew. "You mean you do not know?" “You mean you want me like I want you? How?” Balin’s brown eyes shone so sincerely your heart all but broke, save for a select phrase that played over and over again, turning your fluttering heart back over and curling your lips back into a grin. “It wasn’t only their heads I filled with ideas, was it?”

Dwalin

Shaking his head, Dwalin gave a little snort. "All that over a necklace." Dropping back down onto the log at his side, shifting on its rough surface, you gave him a teasing smile. "You wouldn't do it, then?" Rather than a verbal answer, the dwarf gave you an exasperated glare you laughed heartily at. "Would you?" He asked in gruff incredulity. "Four's a lot to handle," you joked, "Even if it's not at a time. Think I'd just pick my favorite and go with that." "Oh, you've favorites, then?" "I quite liked one of them. What was his name again?" Putting a finger to your chin, you kept teasing. "It was very familiar." "What makes you think he'd spend the night with you?" "I can be very persuasive," you replied, lowering your voice and leaning closer, your nose almost brushing his. "He's going to need you to persuade him a little harder than that." "That can be arranged," you told the tattooed dwarf, a hand falling to his knee as you planned to make him ever regret asking.

Thorin

“What was the point of you telling that story?” Thorin. Off to the side, not sitting down, hands folded at his back. Serious. Of course. “Just for a bit of fun,” you told him with a shrug. “Fun? Is that what you want with us? All of us to-” “Skies above, Thorin,” you waved both hands defensively, “Is that what you think of me? I only told it because I knew they would like it. I want to help you, you know. I care about you.” At that, the king-to-be shook his head, some black locks loosening and falling to his shoulder with the motion. “You’re right. That was unfair and I am sorry,” he apologized, blue eyes wavering from yours, “I don’t know what came over me, I just-” Something flashed in those fierce icy eyes as he trailed off, something that had your lips quirking upward. “Wait, were you…jealous?” A full grin graced your face, teasingly glinting at Thorin. “You didn’t like the thought of me spending the night with all the others, did you?” The dwarf shook his head at that, but you caught the smallest of smiles playing upon his face as he did so. “See? I got a smile out of you!” “You simply never cease to surprise me,” Thorin told you, resting a hand on your shoulder.

Oin

"Did I hear that right?" "You sure did," you told him, elbowing him as you settled against his side, the warmth of the healer's coat. "Well, aren't ye a saucy lass?" He laughed heartily. "What was that Freya thinking?" Shrugging, you told him, "I don't think it was her idea. Remember, those naughty dwarves would not accept her treasures.” “I would say they did!” Oin burst out into another laugh, putting his hands up. “But I guess you caught me there. We know how to have a little fun, us dwarvenkind!” “Do you now?” You asked, leaning forward with your chin resting on your fist. For all his hearing difficulties, Oin didn’t miss a beat that time. “Come to the healer’s tent for a little checkup and I daresay you’ll find out.”

Gloin

Gloin had laughed with the rest of them, but now he was snorting to himself. Taking a seat at his side, you asked him what that was about. “So they denied the treasure of a goddess? Bloody fools those dwarves were!” Hands on your hips, you leaned in closer to frown right at Gloin. “Some romantic you are!” “I don’t think romance had anything to do with it,” he pointed out with a sardonic smile, “But if it did? Oh, I would give every jewel, every coin in the kingdom to be with my One for but an hour! Time like that shines brighter than all the wealth of the mines!” Lips parting wordlessly, you stared at the auburn-haired dwarf, blinking once, twice. “Well, how’d I do?” He asked with a grin, resting a gloved hand gently upon your knee. “Enough romance for you?” You licked your lips and nodded, prompting him to connect the space between your lips. “Good,” he said in a low voice as you separated, “That story gave me a couple ideas. Four nights and all. I don’t fancy sharin’, though.”

Bifur

Chuckling to yourself, you made to look for a seat, noticing many members of the company parting rapidly to make room for you but choosing the spot next to Bifur, who smiled at you as he whittled. "Did you like that story?" You turned and asked him. Looking up for just a moment from the round shape he was carving, Bifur nodded eagerly, smiling at you beneath his braided mustache. Chuckling, you just settled in, your arm resting against his. "Well, good." Sparing glances at his whittling between other conversation, you caught a series of interconnected shapes and finally inquired as to his creation. "What are you making?" What he said you could not understand, but the small series of connected circles were held above his head and down, pantomiming draping it around his neck. "Is that... a necklace?" Gaze opening even bigger, you smiled wide and wicked into Bifur's hazel eyes. Lips quirking upward, he nodded and made to hand it to you before playfully yanking it away. What could you say? He knew what he wanted.

Bofur

“Well, well, well!” A weight and a warmth settled at your side after you’d selected a seat, one conveniently without any of the neighbors eagerly waving you over. Just the one you’d been hoping for, in fact, the sight of Bofur next to you with eager eyes and raised eyebrows brought a smile to your face. “You can’t go running off after a story like that!” “Where would you have me go, then,” you asked, “My dear Bofur?” “If I’m being honest, to bed with me, but I haven’t a single pretty thing to offer you. Just my toys and my trusty hat.” His words were joking, but his voice was almost…sad? “You think I want all that? I’m no goddess, Bofur,” you replied, “I like my campfires and saucy tales. I like a good night with someone I care about. And most of all, I love your toys and your hat.” “Really?” He leaned forward, hands gripping the log at his sides as he grinned, eyes darting this way and that over you.” “Really,” you answered, “Now are you going to kiss me or do I have to?”

Bombur

Bombur addressed you softly as you settled at his side, accepting him as your neighbor due to him being one of the few you trusted after a tale like that. Not to mention him being the most comfortable one or how sweet he was. Sure enough, his voice was as warm as ever, but gentler as he asked you, “Those dwarves must’ve been pretty dashing, eh?” “Something like that,” you answered, eyes sliding away from his teasingly. “What d’you suppose they might’ve looked like?” “Oh, great beards for sure,” you told him, “No doubt about that. I like to imagine them with fiery hair but hearts that burn with a much more tender light.” “That the kind of dwarf you could spend the night with?” Bombur asked, hazel eyes glowing with hope. “Indeed,” you answered with a smile, “I think I could.”

Dori

"So she really went through with it?" Glancing up from the steam curling out of your tin cup into Dori's blue eyes, you shrugged. "According to the old tale." Nose wrinkling, the dwarf sat next to you, careful not to disturb his own warm mug. "That's disgusting! Where is the respect?" The dwarves' for Freya or Freya for herself you were unsure; either way your reply was the same. "They offered, she accepted," you answered with a shrug before gazing back up at him, eyes sliding over the flutter of his lashes as he took a sip of evening tea, his lips gripping the mug's edge, "And besides, maybe she had just been waiting for an excuse to be with one of them." At that, Dori lowered his drink and fixed you with an intent look. "What are you saying? Do you mean to imply that-” “Yes,” you cut him off, “Yes, I am.” “I don’t have any necklaces,” Dori told you, raising a hand almost defensively. “But what,” you asked him, pushing the mug in his other hand gently down below his face, “Might you do if you had?” “I- I don't suppose I would need it that badly. If- if you liked it.” Eyes darting rapidly to your lips, Dori gave you his full attention.

Nori

"Nice night, isn't it, Freya? Oops, I mean-" Covering his mouth with his hand, Nori feigned innocence and correcting to your name, eyes sliding very deliberately to yours. "What's this?" You shot back, crossing your arms. "Are we dreaming again?" "Come on," Nori procured and swigged from his hip flask, an arm thrown casually over the rock at his back, "You can't deny there was some, shall we say, subliminal messaging in your little faery story there?" “Perhaps you were just projecting,” you countered, lowering into the seat at his side. “Twasn’t I who felt the need to tell us all about some lass ‘n her love of all things dwarfkind. And I do mean all things.” He added, punctuating his statement with a wink. “Are you trying to convince me your folk have some tricks up their sleeves?” "Not exactly up our sleeves." "For Mahal's sake," Gloin called out, "I'll give you the bloody jewels myself if you two just throw a blanket out in the woods and get this over with yourselves!" At that, Nori simply cast out an arm like a humble servant, although his expression could only be described as that of an eager housecat when you smiled back at him.

Ori

Twas Ori that came to you, taking you by surprise at his look of eager questioning. "So when you say Freya spent the night with them, you mean she..." He didn't need to go any further; you simply nodded as he trailed shyly off, brown eyes drifting down to the earth. "As the legend goes." "Those aren't real dwarves!" He replied, knitted gloved hands curling into fists as he looked back up. "Real dwarves would respect a lady far more than that! They would offer her gems in gratitude and celebration of one so fair." All teasing melted from your face in favor of a wide, soft smile. "Oh, Ori, any lady would be lucky to have you by her side. You're a gem in and of yourself." "You really think so?" He beamed. "I know so," you answered with a nod. "Wh- When we get to Erebor, I’m going to find you the biggest jewel I can get my hands on!” Ori burst out, hastily amending it. “Besides the Arkenstone, of course. Thorin would get jealous seeing how much prettier you are.” His earnest tone had your heart fluttering, let alone the way he smiled at you. "Well, then it is I who is luckiest."

Fili

“I would not be so confident, brother. Isn’t that right?” You’d hardly been listening until you heard Fili address you by name, head snapping up the blonde prince’s way instantly. “What was that?” “See? She ignored you,” Fili quipped to his brother before facing you again. They’d both been sitting casually by the fire, legs thrown apart and boots resting slightly raised on rocks or other forest debris as they conversed. The moment you chimed in, though, the brothers leaned forward with their full attention focused on you. “When we arrive at the Lonely Mountain, we’ll both be picking something out for you,” Fili continued. He couldn’t mean…. “Well… thank you?” You answered, hesitating slightly. Every trace of hesitation, however, melted away when the prince added the next comment. “Necklaces. Unless you’d prefer a ring?” “Necklaces are fine by me,” you answered, fully confident in your understanding, “But aren’t you a little bold assuming I’ll want two?” “That,” Fili replied without a moment’s hesitation, grey eyes glinting, “Is why you’ll have to choose.” “Don’t worry, my gems will be a much more impressive cut! Just as you might expect,” Kili chimed in. “But mine will shine much brighter,” Fili retorted, turning back to you, “What do you say?”

Kili

"Oh," Kili spoke your name, "Just wait until we reach the Lonely Mountain, you'll see." "See what?" You asked, raising a brow at the eager-faced dwarf prince. "How much bigger our jewels are. Much bigger than any Bringer-Men." "Brísingamen," you corrected with a laugh, shaking your head at Kili's excitement. "You'll see. When the light strikes them just right, they shine like the very stars in the sky. No, brighter still. They shine almost as bright as your eyes.” Feeling a flush rise to your cheeks, you frown slightly at the black-haired prince. “What is all this?” “I’m saying if you want a necklace, I can find you one,” Kili replies in a low voice. “Oh,” you answer, smirking, “It better be the biggest one you can find.” "You know that's what I have waiting for you: the biggest one you can find." He was proud of that one. You could tell. All you could do was smile widely and shake your head... At least, that was, until Fili approached you. "Oy, bugger off," Kili called, "She's already getting a necklace from me!" "Not if I get one first." "Who says? I'm faster. Mine'll be bigger!" "Says who?" "Says Kili," you chimed in with a smirk. "See? She wants one from me!" You could have chimed in with the reminder that you were not the goddess Freya, but watching the brotherly spat complete with a budding slap fight was too entertaining. Sitting back with satisfaction, your eyes darted over the metaphorical carnage, the only thoughts in your head being of how flattered you were as the subject of the princes' fight.

Bilbo

"So," Bilbo started awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck, "All those dwarves, eh?" "For Freya, I suppose," you replied, shrugging and taking up the stick to stoke the fire before looking back up at the hobbit, "I am sorry if I made you uncomfortable. It was just a bit of fun for all them. I knew they'd all have a laugh." "No, no, it was good," Bilbo shook his head and put up his hands, an aura still as tense and searching stretched across his sweet, warm features, "Very- very funny. I especially liked the way you told it. Riveting. You really are good at it, you know. Storytelling." "You heard all that and the foremost thing you got," you asked, "Was me?" "Well," Bilbo fidgeted, hands wringing as the trees suddenly got very fascinating, "I just couldn't stop thinking about- That is, I suppose I was wondering if you told them that in hopes that they would, you know. Want to... act it out. And I have no doubt they would." Bubbling up from your chest before you could stop it was a laugh, one great and high and sharp laugh of pure disbelief. "Well, perhaps they would, but you wouldn’t catch me taking them up on it in an age! None of them are exactly my sort,” you replied. “And here I thought you were thick as thieves! If you don’t mind my asking,” Bilbo inquired, pulling his pipe from a pocket within the folds of his coat, “What is your sort, then?” “Are hobbits good craftsmen?” You asked in response, leaning forward with another grin.

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[crypticslytherin]

Rescued || Sebastian Sallow

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Parings: Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Summary: A few years after Sebastian was sent to Azkaban, you couldn’t bare for him to be there anymore. You felt guilty for his imprisonment, and your love for him had never truly left.

Word Count: 2805

This is my first One Shot AHHH I hope you like. C:

⚯͛▕⃝⃤ ⚯͛▕⃝⃤ ⚯͛▕⃝⃤ ⚯͛▕⃝⃤

"What have I done?" you whispered to yourself, standing amidst the ruins of Feldcroft, once a lively hamlet now reduced to ash and bones. The air was heavy with the scent of burned flesh, blood, and smoke, a grim reminder of the recent battle between villagers and goblins. Weapons, tainted with goblin silver, lay about, silent witnesses to the violence that had unfolded.

Before you stood the remains of the Sallow home, a mere shadow of its former self. Books lay scattered among the rubble, their pages torn and tattered, while scraps of fabric bore witness to the ferocity of the flames. A tear traced its path down your cheek as you clutched your wand tightly, half-expecting some lingering threat to emerge from the devastation around you.

If only Sebastian were still here. He would have known this was happening when it happened. But he wasn't, and you couldn't shake the guilt that weighed heavy on your heart. Ever since Sebastian murdered his uncle Solomon, you'd felt guilty. You had helped and encouraged him in his quest to find a cure for Anne. You never could have imagined it would lead to such darkness.

When Ominis suggested turning Sebastian in to the authorities, you remained silent, paralyzed by indecision and fear. He was sent to rot in Azkaban. Now, years later, Sebastian's haunting cries echoed in your dreams, accusing you of betrayal, of abandonment. He pleaded for your help with tears in his eyes, and you found yourself suffocating.

You loved Sebastian, fiercely and unconditionally, and the thought of him suffering tormented you to your core. You knew what you had to do, what you should have done long ago. You would find a way to make amends, to seek forgiveness for your silence. You would tell Sebastian the truth, apologize for failing him when he needed you most.

And you would do whatever it took to make things right.

As you stepped back, the click of your feet echoed along the pavement, filling the heavy silence around you. With your wand clenched firmly in your grasp, you drew in a deep breath, the crisp air filling your lungs. Closing your eyes, you felt unsure without a precise destination in your mind. All you knew was that you would reach Azkaban, though Sebastian's exact location remained unknown. You conjured a vivid mental image of the fortress's interior, a place you had visited once during your fifth year.

"Apparate," you uttered softly, your wand tracing a swift arc through the air. Instantly, a sensation of pressure enveloped your body as you hurtled through space. As the disorienting spin came to a stop, you felt the solid ground beneath your feet transition to cold, unforgiving stone. The once-brilliant sunlight vanished, replaced by a darkness that seemed to swallow the very essence of light. A wave of nausea briefly washed over you, prompting a hand to press against your chest as you steadied yourself. Your eyes adjusted to the dimness as you gazed down a wide, shadowed pathway.

The walls were lined with cells on both sides, the desperate screams of prisoners echoing off the cold stone, sending a shiver down your spine. Gathering your courage, you took a hesitant step forward, knowing all too well what awaited you.

Dementors, the guards of Azkaban, began closing in on you.

As they drew nearer, you could feel the chill of their presence enveloping you, draining the warmth from your body. Their hooded figures glide effortlessly, their eerie movements sending a sense of dread through your veins. The air grew colder, and a thick mist seems to swirl around them, obscuring their ghastly forms.

With trembling hands, you raise your wand and summon the courage to cast the spell. "Expecto Patronum!" you shout, the words echoing through the oppressive atmosphere. A silvery mist bursts from the tip of your wand, taking shape and form. It materialized into a powerful Patronus, a radiant shield against the darkness.

The Dementors recoiled at the sight of the Patronus, their spectral forms shrinking back from its brilliance. They let out unearthly wails, their icy grip weakening as they retreat from the protective barrier of light. With each passing moment, the threat diminishes, until finally, the Dementors fade into the shadows, defeated by the strength of your Patronus.

"Revelio, Sebastian Sallow," you whispered, wand poised as you hurried down the pathway. Inside their cells, prisoners' wails echoed, a symphony of despair. Above, a faint green outline materialized on a higher floor, pacing restlessly. Sebastian. With cautious determination, you navigated the corridors, the air thick as inmates hurled profanities at you. Some resorted to self-harm, slamming their heads against the stone as their desperate cries fillied the air.

The environment was suffocating, the weight of Sebastian's presence in Azkaban bearing down on you once more.

How could you have let this happen?

The staircase stretched seemingly endlessly as you continued to cast Revelio, refusing to lose sight of Sebastian. Finally reaching the correct level, a metal door blocked your path. "Alohomora," you whispered, the lock yielding effortlessly to the flick of your wand.

Your heart raced as you cautiously navigated the dim hallway, the atmosphere just as somber and bleak as the last one. The chilly air caused the hairs on your arms to stand on end. Approaching Sebastian's cell, doubt gnawed at you. Was coming here a mistake? You wondered how he might appear after all these years in Azkaban—whether he'd be a mere shadow of himself or if the glimmer still remained in his eyes. Your breaths grew unsteady.

"Oi! What are you doing here?" A grim voice pierced the air, and you turned to see an elderly man to your left, his hands clutching the steel bars of his cell tightly. His eyes were sunken, the darkness beneath them almost consuming, and his head was bald, his prisoner garb stained with sweat and blood. His gaze drilled into you like black holes. A predatory hunger gleamed in his eyes as he licked his lips, sending a shiver down your spine. "You'd make an excellent toy."

"Silencio," you whispered, flicking your wand toward him. His head jerked back, hands flying to cover his mouth, rendering him unable to utter another word. Pressing forward, you approached Sebastian's cell.

Standing beside it, you leaned against the cold stone wall, uncertainty flooding your mind. Your heart pounded against your chest, your palms growing clammy with anticipation. Each step felt heavy as you moved to the front of the steel bars, peering in cautiously.

There he was, pacing back and forth. As your shadow cast across the floor on the other side of the bars, his restless movements ceased. Sebastian's gaze met yours, a mixture of surprise and recognition flickering in his caramel eyes. You let out a soft breath of air.

Sebastian stood tall, his figure appearing slender within the confines of the cell. His once vibrant auburn hair now hung in unkempt and greasy strands, a stark contrast to its former lively tussle. Despite his exhaustion, there was a lingering trace of his former charm. His eyes, still resembling caramel, held a weariness that spoke volumes, yet they retained a glimmer of their former warmth. Freckles adorned his face, their playful dance seemingly unaffected by his  state of despair

As you gazed upon him, a surge of conflicting emotions washed over you. Relief mingled with sorrow, and the guilt pressed even harder. This was the consequence of your actions, of the choice that led Sebastian to this desolate place. Yet, there was a flicker of hope. You believed that perhaps, with your help, he could become himself again.

With trembling hands, you reached out to touch the cold steel bars separating you, the barrier that had kept him imprisoned for far too long. There was a palpable ache in your heart, a silent plea for forgiveness.

Sebastian's lips parted as if to speak, but no words emerged, silenced by the oppressive atmosphere of Azkaban. His shoulders, once squared with confidence, now slumped. You could sense longing in his expression, the yearning for freedom that mirrored your own.

Taking a steadying breath, you reached your arm out to him, your voice barely above a whisper. "Sebastian," you said softly, the weight of your words hanging in the air between you. "It's time to go home."

 Slowly, almost hesitantly, he extended his arm, fingers trembling as they reached out to touch yours. For a moment, his hands lingered in the space that separated the two of you, then bridging the gap. In that fleeting instant, it felt as though time stood still, the weight of your shared history heavy in the air.

With a gentle squeeze of his hand, you offered him a small smile, a silent reassurance. His hands felt like ice, and as you stroked the top of his hand with your thumb, you could almost feel his skin defrosting.

"Hold on tightly, Sebastian," you whispered, quickly glancing around to ensure no one had approached. He tightened his grip on your hand, his eyes never leaving yours. "Apparate."

The familiar squeezing sensation of apparition enveloped you as you whisked away to a new location. Your feet touched down on wooden floors, your hand still firmly clasped in Sebastian's, reluctant to let go. Shaking your head lightly to dispel the brief wave of nausea, you opened your eyes.

There you both stood, in the comforting surroundings of your cottage nestled in the hills of Clagmar Coast. The familiar scents of firewood and pumpkin pastries filled your nostrils, and the warm, cozy environment provided a stark contrast to the bleakness of Azkaban. A crackling fire danced in the hearth, casting a comfortable glow over the room. 

You glanced at Sebastian, noticing the toll the apparition had taken on him. It seemed he hadn't traveled that way in a long time, if ever. Guiding him gently, you led him to the worn sofa by the fireplace and helped him settle down. Grabbing a folded knit blanket from the back, you draped it over him, providing comfort and warmth.

His eyes met yours in the soft light, revealing the paleness of his complexion and the exhaustion etched in his features. His cheeks were hollow, and dark circles marred his under eyes, evidence of sleepless nights endured in imprisonment. As the nausea subsided, his gaze held yours as you knelt before him, your hand resting gently on his lap.

"Sebastian, I am so sorry," you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion as you poured out the thoughts that had weighed heavily on your mind for years. Tears welled in your eyes as you blamed yourself for his suffering. With a tender touch, you cupped his cold, hollowed cheek in your hand, his eyes closing as he leaned into your touch. 

"When everything happened, I froze. I didn't know what to say to Ominis..." Tears began to stream down your cheeks. "So I said nothing. I could have prevented this, but instead... I was a coward."

Sebastian softly nuzzled his face against your hand, finding solace in your comforting presence.

"This is all my fault," you whispered, swallowing the lump in your throat. "I couldn't bear for you to suffer any longer. I had to do something. I had to get you out of there."

Sebastian tenderly lifted his arm from beneath the blanket, gently placing his hand over yours that rested on his cheek. A soft smile graced his lips as he closed his eyes, breaking the heavy silence with a whisper. "Finally," he murmured, his words carrying a hint of disbelief. "I'm free. I've made it to the afterlife."

-

Your heart wrenched at his words, realizing the depth of despair he had endured. Swiftly, you reached your other arm out, gently clasping his other hand in yours. "No, Sebastian," you murmured, your voice filled with compassion. "You've not gone on. You're here, with me. You're still alive."

Sebastian's eyes fluttered open, and you felt a pang in your heart as you gazed at the man you loved. The man who occupied your thoughts every morning and every night. With a tender squeeze of his hand, you rose from your kneeling position and settled beside him on the couch. He turned his fragile body slowly to face you.

"I can't be?" he whispered, disbelief coloring his voice.

Taking a deep breath, you moved closer to him, your leg brushing against his. Releasing his hand, you gently reached out, running your fingers through his disheveled hair and letting your hand rest on the side of his neck. He lifted his arm, placing his hand on yours as it extended toward him.

"You are, Sebastian. This is real. I am real."

Sebastian's expression softened, gratitude and wonder shimmering in his eyes. Slowly, he leaned into your touch, his hand tightening around your arm as if anchoring himself to this newfound reality.

"I never thought I'd see you again," he confessed, his voice choked with emotion. "I thought... I thought you couldn't bear to look at me. After... what I did." His gaze fell to your lap, tears escaping his eyes, leaving wet paths along his cheeks. "I'm a monster," he trembled.

"No, Sebastian," you said firmly, stroking his cheek with your thumb, gently wiping away stray tears. "That is so far from the truth. You are not a monster."

Drawing closer, you locked eyes with him, determined to make him see himself as you did. "You are incredible," you began, your voice soft but unwavering. "You're funny, and intelligent. You have a heart of gold, and you've shown me kindness and compassion like no one else ever has."

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips as you continued. Feeling the bones of his shoulder beneath your hand as you moved them, you gripped him softly. "You're the best person I've ever known, Sebastian. I have missed you so much. Every day. I should've rescued you sooner. If anything, I'm the monster. For not stopping Ominis. For letting this happen to you." Choked up, you stared at the broken man before you. "Merlin, Sebastian. I cannot tell you how horribly I feel."

"Stop," Sebastian whispered, his eyes flicking back up to meet yours. He released his hand from your arm, and with shaky fingers, he reached out to touch your cheek, mirroring your gesture. His touch, though cold, was comforting. You felt warmth spread over you, relishing in the moment you thought would never happen. He was here, with you, in your home. "You are no monster, Y/N. This is not your fault. Thoughts of you were the only thing that kept me sane in that place. You consumed me. You were my light in the darkness. I love you, Y/N"

The lump in your throat returned, and tears relentlessly began to stream from your eyes. He smiled softly, a smile you thought had disappeared forever. The sight of it sparked a rush of emotions within you — relief, joy, and an overwhelming sense of love. It felt as though a weight had been lifted from your chest, and you couldn't help but return his smile, your heart swelling with affection. "I love you, Sebastian."

As you gazed into his eyes, you felt a wave of tenderness wash over you. Every feature of his face seemed to hold a lifetime of memories — the curve of his lips, the sparkle in his eyes, the lines etched around his eyes from countless smiles shared between you. In that moment, you were overcome with gratitude for his presence, for the chance to hold him close.

Without hesitation, you rose slightly from where you were sitting, your movements guided by a yearning that had lingered in the depths of your soul. Moving your hand back to the side of his neck, you savored the coolness of his skin beneath your touch, the sensation grounding you in this moment of raw vulnerability.

As you leaned in to press your lips to his, you felt a surge of longing flood your senses. His kiss was like a balm to your wounded heart, a reminder of the depth of your connection and the strength of your bond. Despite the chill that lingered on his lips, you were enveloped in a warmth that radiated from deep within you, filling every corner of your being with a sense of completeness.

His hands found their way to you, one resting on your side, the other tangling gently in your hair. With each caress, each tender touch, you felt a rush of emotions — passion, desire, and an overwhelming sense of belonging. In his embrace, you found solace.

As you melted into him, the boundaries between you blurred, and for a fleeting moment, you were lost in the intensity of your connection. It was as though time stood still, the world falling away around you as you surrendered to the embrace of your love. And in that moment, as your lips moved together in a silent dance of longing and desire, you knew that nothing in this world could ever tear you apart again.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

A Glitch in the Matrix

This is a Shroud brothers age swap AU that I’ve been wanting to write for a long time!!

Idia basically has the same backstory (except Ortho is the dead older brother and Idia is just a bratty like… 10 year old) 😂 This model of Ortho is significantly older (think late teen) because I’m operating under the assumption that kid!Idia built a version of his brother “grown up” so he can have the experience of growing up with him. Slightly different coping method than the OG, but I thought this would be something cute and silly to explore.

Young children are notoriously known for being brutally honest and lacking a filter, so kid!Idia is even sassier than OG!Idia. As for adult!Ortho, I kept him being sneaky, but I also made him super big brotherly!

This is meant to take place during episode 1 of the main story (more specifically, the scene when Trey is explaining the different dorms to Yuu and co)! ^^ Yes, the joke is that Diasomnia’s introduction is forgotten about because they get caught up on Ignihyde—

Imagine this…

“Hey, who are those guys?” Grim pointed at the far end of the cafeteria. “They feel kinda different from everyone else.”

Your eyes followed his paw, landing on a lone table that had been maneuvered to the farthest corner of the room.

A few students—pale as death and donning blue vests—hunched over it, their frames made so small that they barely registered as people. A veil of gloom seemed to cling to them like spiderwebs, hollowing their faces and darkening their eyes. It was like they had been unearthed from their graves and unceremoniously dropped into the school.

“Oh, them?” Trey chuckled faintly. “They must be from Ignihyde. Students from that dorm have a strong grasp on magical tech, but they aren’t exactly the most sociable guys. A lot of them can’t handle talking face-to-fa—”

“Hello!!”

“Whoa…!”

Everyone at the table startled as a blur of blue and silver bounded into view. Forks and spoons clattered, food leapt up from its trays, some of it catching onto clothes and flecking onto skin.

“Sheesh, don’t scare us like that!” Cater groaned, wiping a dot of applesauce from his cheek. “Riddle-kun will have our heads if even one hair’s out of place!”

“Ehehe, sorry! I was just so excited when my visual receptors picked up on unfamiliar faces!”

"M-Myah?! Wh-What the heck, this guy came straight outta nowhere!!" Grim cried.

“Who’s…?” Your voice trailed off as you took a closer look at the stranger.

Sapphire flames in the place of hair danced upon his scalp, a stark contrast to his pallid face. His amber eyes were so striking, so bright, it was like electricity coursed through them. Everything about him was sharp, as though he had been cut out of something tougher than diamonds. But his body—

It was decidedly not that of a human.

Perhaps the most “human” thing about him was the pair of headphones casually slung around his neck—an accessory to pass as a teenager. The rest of his tall, lithe frame was carved out in a silvery white metal, glowing blue lines running down his torso. The joints at the young man's fingers, knees, and elbows were visible, and where his heart should have been was another haunting blue flame.

His feet were particularly strange; too chunky to be made of flesh and bone, but formed like platform boots. And then you realized why his initial appearance had been so odd: he had not walked, but rocketed over. He hadn’t even touched the ground.

You assumed that he smiled at you—you couldn’t tell for certain, as his mouth was concealed behind a black guard of some sort, a skull-like pattern printed on it.

“You are…?”

“Ortho. Ortho Shroud.” He pulled down his mouth visor, showcasing cobalt lips arranged in (as you had suspected) a grin. It was both innocent and mischievous, as though he had a secret yet to be unleashed. “It’s always nice to get to know the new blood~"

“You’re a student too?” Deuce asked excitedly. "Oh...! That would make you our upperclassman, wouldn't it?!"

“Duh, of course he is,” Ace said with a roll of his eyes. "What else would he be, a janitor? The local handyman?"

You shot him a sideways glare for the jab.

“Better a janitor or a handyman than a kid that got put in time out,” you shot back, gesturing to the enchanted collar chaffing Ace’s neck.

He frowned.

“I am present at Night Raven College to monitor and to support my younger brother during his studies,” Ortho replied. "He is a first year in Ignihyde."

His response, you noticed, didn’t fully answer the question.

"What, so there's another big guy lumberin' around campus with his hair on fire?" Grim snickered at the thought. "Must be real easy to spot him in a crowd then!"

"Heheh. Wouldn't you like to know?"

There was an ominous undertone to his words, sending the ghost of a chill crawled down your spine.

"Alright, alright, that's enough of that. You didn't come all this way just to tease the freshmen, right?" Trey adjusted his glasses knowingly. "If I know you, Ortho... you're looking for something."

"Foiled me already, huh? You're no fun." He stuck out his lower lip in a playful pout. "But yes, that is correct. I wanted to ask a little favor of our new friends!"

"You’re already charming your way into getting free labor from your juniors? So mean~ What kind of heartless monster would do such a thing?"

Trey raised an eyebrow at Cater. "I seem to recall someone shirking his unbirthday party duties and dumping the workload onto the underclassmen."

"Ehhh, are you seriously putting me on the spot?"

"Better watch out, Loosey Deucey," Ace smirked to his classmate. "If you're not careful, Cater-senpai's gonna work you ragged!"

"I wouldn't fall for something like that!" Deuce stopped, reconsidering "... Unless they really, REALLY needed me! It's the duty of an honors student to lend a helping hand when asked to!"

"Dude, you're making it too easy to dupe you.”

“I-I’m not easy to dupe!! I could turn down any request if I wanted to!”

“Grim? Prefect? Back me up here.”

You tensed at the suggestion of being tricked. You'd been fooled once by cruelty disguised as kindness—Ace's taunts masked as friendliness—and you wouldn't be fooled again.

"Sorry, senpai. I'm not sure if there's anything I can do for you. I'm just trying to focus on learning the campus and my schedule, so..."

"There's no need to worry! I am at least 20.8% less deceptive than the general student populace of Night Raven College."

"Where did you pull that statistic from?" you wondered, suspiciously eyeing Ortho.

He accepted it in stride. "I am an advanced artificial intelligence. I'm able to run a number of advanced calculations in seconds. There are several other functions only I am capable of—so please believe me when I say that if there were a method for me to resolve this issue alone, I would have."

You hesitated.

The argument Ortho provided was compelling. Maybe too compelling.

"... What do you want?"

Ortho stared directly at Grim.

"H-Hey, what're you lookin' at me for?"

You felt Ortho’s smile under the visor widening. "I'd like to play a game of cat and mouse."

“You can’t find your little brother?”

You briskly walked by Ortho's side, the two of you traversing a hallway which opened into a sunny courtyard. A squirming Grim was tucked under your arm.

The furry gremlin had been taken against his will, whisked out of the cafeteria and away from his plate of mashed tuna, abandoning the Heartslabyul boys to the remainders of their own meals.

"I'll help you, Prefect!" Deuce had promised, only to be shut down by Ace's teasing. ("Oi, what happened to 'I can turn down any request if I wanted to'?")

Not that they would have been of any use, you thought. A statue set on fire, Ace trapped under a cauldron, and a shattered chandelier dancing in your mind.

By now, Grim's loud whining had (thankfully) eased into unhappy grumbling.

Ortho nodded. "I would regularly be able to locate Idia-san by running a campus-wide scan for all living organisms, then isolating by biometrics. However, I can't seem to find him no matter how many times I run the program. He must be using a device to jam my detective capabilities from afar."

"Really? You look... complicated," you commented carefully. "Your brother sounds like some kind of a genius if he's able to pull that off."

"He is," Ortho said sunnily.

"... Well, that's putting you in a bind right now, so I don't think we should be happy about his big brain cells."

“It shouldn’t be an obstacle. Idia-san may be highly intelligent, but I have a trump card now thanks to you!” Ortho snuck a peek at Grim and graced him with a firm head pat. “A cute kitty cat!”

“I’m NOT a cat!!” Grim protested, swiping at Ortho’s metal hand.

“Because you said your little brother likes cats?”

“Yes. I’m sure that we’ll be able to lure him out with this!” Ortho waved a hand into the courtyard. “This would be an optimal spot. It’s a relatively wide open space, so it would appear more innocuous to set our trap here.”

You slowed your pace and scanned the outside, seeking out a blue fire that matched the android's. It was notably empty, with most students away for their lunch break.

“Oi, can ya stop talkin’ about me like I’m your bait?!”

“Quiet, Grim,” you shushed, setting him down in the grass. “You are our bait. Now get your tail out there and try to act natural!”

With that, you rushed to hide yourself behind a column. Ortho chuckled to himself, joining you behind an adjacent one.

“Grrr…”

Grim begrudgingly got on all fours and padded onto the lawn. He glanced around the courtyard and cleared his throat. “Uh… ‘meow’?”

There was silence.

"Meow, meow, me-ooooow!"

The silence grew staler.

"... Okay, that's enough of a stain on the great Grim-sama's reputation for one day!" He stood on his hind legs and stretched his arms to the sky. "I'm headin' back to get my fill of fish!"

"Not yet!! Try doing something cute like licking yourself or playing with a ball of yarn!"

“Not if you’re gonna watch, minion!!”

"I can look away if you're embarrassed."

"That's not the problem here!!"

"What is the problem then?"

"Shh! Wait—” Ortho gasped. "I'm detecting movement from the opposite side of the courtyard. There, in the bushes!"

You looked where he indicated.

Indeed, one of the shrubs seemed to be quivering, causing a few of its leaves to dislodge and fall to the ground. Seconds later, there was a flicker of light, and a small boy clutching a handheld console emerged, followed what appeared to be a floating skull.

He was dressed in a frumpy, oversized black and blue striped sweater. The rest of his outfit was just as comedic and childish, with a pair of pants sporting many pockets and a pair of sneakers splattered with the colors of the night sky. Colorful characters and shapes adorned his footwear: three eyed green aliens, stars, spaceships, and astronauts.

But most importantly, he was just like Ortho. Eyes the same color, fiery blue hair that fanned out behind him, mouth a shade of cyanide poisoning, and skin that looked like it hadn't seen the sun in years.

"That's your brother? Your first year brother? He doesn't look any older than an average elementary schooler," you hissed to Ortho.

"Genius, remember?" He shrugged. "Night Raven College made a special exception for a child prodigy to enroll in its ranks."

So Idia is a child prodigy... and Ortho's a supercomputer that's supposed to babysit him? Wait, how can a robot and a human even be related? Can a human even have fire for hair? Just what kind of a family dynamic is this?!

Your brain hurt from trying to fit the details together. They were like puzzle pieces that didn't quite connect.

A strangled scream resounded in the courtyard.

You snapped to attention, leaping out from your hiding place. Horror clenched your throat, your stomach—

Idia had Grim trapped in a death grip, smushing the poor creature against his face. The little boy wore a silly, toothy grin, revealing that his teeth were pointed like an imp's. His console was shoved into one of many pockets, long forgotten in favor of the cat.

"Hihihihihi, it must be my lucky day," Idia mumbled to himself. "I thought some annoying normie finished stuffing their face with food early and started stomping and shouting, but no! It turned out to be a talented talking widdle kitty witty interrupting my private gaming session... It's okay, I'll forgive you cuz you're seriously sooo fluffy and cute!!"

"Be careful, you're hurting him!!" you called out, charging at the child. You were but a few feet away when Idia noticed you, and his excitement waned.

"E-Eep!! Are you the kitty's owner?"

"I'm NOT a cat!!" Grim moaned desperately.

"Er, no... yes... maybe..." You paused. "It's hard to define, but we live together, so that means I have a say in how he's treated!!"

Idia's expression immediately twisted into a look of total disgust. "Ew. Gross. Go away. No one asked to see your dumb face. I found the kitty, so he's mine now. You should've kept a better eye on him if you cared so much."

"Wh-What..."

What's with this sassy lost child?!

"Now you listen here, mister—“

"Idia-san!!”

Ortho flew right by you, stopping your tirade before it could even start. He practically tackled Idia, smothering him in a hug that was warm and hummed like a generator.

(Grim let out another scream as his body was compressed between the two brothers.)

"O-Ortho nii-san...!?"

"Thank goodness I found you! I was so worried when you disappeared on me!!" Ortho released Idia, but kept his hands firmly on the young boy's shoulders. "It was bad of you to run off and go into hiding like that. My circuits almost fried from the shock!!”

Grim fell to the ground in a furry heap and scrambled into your arms. “G-Get me away from that crazy kid…!!”

You held him to your chest and stroked his back comfortingly, warily eyeing Idia and anticipating another smarmy remark.

He bashfully stared down at his shoes. “………………….. S-Sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

Huh?! Since when was he all shy and innocent?! His personality did a complete 180!

“It’s alright! What matters is that you’re safe and sound.” Ortho happily ruffled the flames on Idia’s head. “But promise me that you won’t do that again. I know you’re anxious since it’s your first week of school, but that’s no excuse for holing up for the day.”

“… I-I don’t wanna go to class or eat in the cafeteria,” Idia whined stubbornly, clinging to Ortho’s arm. “I saw. Th-There’s too many people.

He vigorously shook his head. "But I don't want to. I only wanna hang out with you, Nii-san... and the kitty.”

“You know that’s not healthy,” Ortho tutted. “There’s a big, bright, beautiful world out there, full of lovely people waiting to meet you. You won’t be able to experience that if you keep to yourself all year.”

"S-Sounds scary..."

"It's not scary at all! Look, your big bro met these nice people today." Ortho indicated you and Grim. "They helped me out when I was in a pinch. It's because of them that I was able to find you."

"Uh, hi?" You awkwardly waved.

Idia shuffled behind his brother's leg, glaring at you from behind it.

"Don't be like that." Ortho's eyes glimmered with cheer. "Hey, I know! Why don't you introduce yourself to them?"

"D-Do I really have to?"

"Would it help if they introduced themselves to you first?"

Idia said nothing, but his stare turned expectant. Ortho looked at you hopefully.

You sighed and relented. "... I'm the Ramshackle Prefect, and this is Grim."

"That's the GREAT Grim-sama to you, minion!"

"......................... I-Idia. Idia Shroud... I'm a first year in Ignihyde... a-and its dorm leader..."

... Huh?

"I'm sorry, what did you just say? I swear I must have misheard you." You laughed, cupping an ear.

"I'm dorm leader."

... HAH?

"Y-You're... You're a kid though?! And didn't you literally just start school at NRC? How's it possible that you became dorm leader so fast?!"

"Feh!!" Idia smirked, tapping his temples. "Unlike you simple-minded noobs, I've got the brain of a genius inventor up in here! There's nothing I can't achieve, hihihihi!"

He sealed the deal by blowing a raspberry.

Am I seriously being talked down to by a grade schooler?! You took a breath to calm yourself. No, I'm better than this. Don't get mad. Be the bigger person.

"Now, Idia-san... Bragging isn't very kind," Ortho gently chided. "Still, I'm proud of you for managing to get through giving your introduction!"

The android clapped, his face lighting up with excitement. "Since everyone's acquainted...! That makes us all brand-new friends!"

"I don't know if I'd go THAT far," you muttered. "It depends on how loosely you define 'friend'... though it sounds like your definition of it is very loose."

"Friends are friends!!" Ortho insisted. "And do you guys know what friends do?"

Oh no.

There was that odd smile of his again, clearly visible in spite of the visor hiding it. Half innocence, half mischief.

Your stomach sank. You had a bad feeling about this.

"Friends hang out together on their lunch breaks!"

... You should have listened to the warning signs Trey had pointed out.

“Alright, who wants snacks?"

Ortho placed several large bowls before you, each offering up something sweet or salty. There were chips in various flavors, candies in all colors, popcorn, and plain pretzels with a variety of dips. It was a rainbow of treats, definitely an upgrade from all the canned tuna and tap water you had been living off of for the past few days.

"Take your pick of drinks too! Plenty to go around." He pointed to a pyramid of canned beverages as he settled in comfortably next to you. This close, you could sense the heat radiating off of him, could see your reflection in his shiny coat.

"Myah?! You sure are livin' the high life!! You have so much stuff!" Grim crawled around on a fuzzy carpet, his eyes darting around, taking in all the shelves of games and merchandise, the consoles arranged in front of a large television.

"I-I have a kitty... I have an actual kitty in my room...!!" Idia looked like he was going to pass out from happiness. A first for his seemingly bloodless self. "N-Ne... d-do you want to play a game? C-Can you play games...?"

"Can I? Don't underestimate the great Grim-sama!!" He stood up and put his paws on his hips. "I won't go easy on ya just cuz you're a lil' brat! Name your game, buster!!"

“Ahhhh, I get to play with a kitty…! Th-This is pure bliss!!”

“For the last time, I’m NOT a… Oh, whatever!! Show me to your games already, I’ll fish out the best one!”

The duo dug into a cabinet, tossing out several discs and cartridges. Grim’s pitchfork-shaped tail sailed in the air as he rifled through titles. The tips of Idia’s hair were tinged pink.

You bit into a chip as you watched the scene unfold.

Grim’s acting like a little kid himself. All Ortho had to do was dangle toys and food in front of him and he instantly caved…

A cold wetness came upon your cheek.

You startled, relaxing only when you realized it was the sensation of a cold bottle being pressed against your bare skin.

“Living organisms such as yourself need to maintain adequate hydration levels for proper functioning,” Ortho advised. “Please do take care.”

“Thanks.” You cautiously accepted the drink, keeping your eyes trained on him.

He’s more cunning than he seems. Ortho talks himself down, but orchestrating all of this takes some serious computing and forethought.

Dangerous, you concluded. He’s dangerous.

“… Oh? You’re staring.”

“No, I’m not.”

“I can tell,” Ortho chirped. “Your iris and retinal activity indicates that—”

“You definitely tricked us.”

Without missing a beat, he nodded. “Yes. Are you upset that I did?”

“How much of it was planned?” you demanded, pointing the water bottle at him accusingly. “Was there really a jamming device preventing you from finding Idia on your own? When you stopped and said the courtyard was the perfect place to search… did you already know he was there?”

“Hehe. When I saw you and Grim-san in the cafeteria for the first time, I saw an opportunity to make use of our meeting, so I took it!

“My brother would have such an easier time opening up to a creature of the feline variety. I formulated a believable excuse to acquire the target.” Ortho chuckled, coy with his words. “I’d say it was a successful mission. Wouldn’t you?”

“Why didn’t you be honest with us? We would have helped if you had just…”

“I wanted it to be as close to a naturalistic simulation as possible.”

You blinked, taken aback by the immediate and blunt response.

“In a simulation,” Ortho continued calmly, “we imitate a situation in a controlled environment. Multiple factors are considered in the process. By running multiple simulations, we can collect more data and come closer to accounting for a simulation which is most closely related to the randomness that is a real-world system.

“In this situation, it was the inverse. I wanted a scenario in which less information would yield a more natural outcome.”

“You… wanted it to feel ‘real’ for Idia,” you said slowly. “It wouldn’t have worked like that if we knew what was going on and pretended like we were there by chance. You needed us to be in the dark.”

“Correct.”

Ortho had confessed to his guilt, but try as you might, you couldn’t detect any malicious intent.

“Idia-san is special—but he’s socially anxious and has a hard time getting along with his classmates. They don’t like that a young child has been enrolled at this school, or that he has taken on such an important role at it.

“As the one that has been assigned to oversee his school life, I worry. I would like Idia to enjoy his time here to its fullest, yet… the year has barely begun, and I’ve already been instructed by the headmaster that firing a laser is ‘not an appropriate defense protocol’ for dealing with bullies and other instigators…”

“… Crowley’s right about that part,” you interjected.

Ortho laughed, and the fondness and the fluidity of it stunned you. For a second, you forgot that he was not human at all, believing that he was a real boy.

“This will be the first step of many for Idia-san. I hope to be there for the rest of that journey.”

“Ortho-senpai…”

“I’m glad that our paths crossed, Prefect-san.” He flashed a winsome smile. “Thank you and Grim-san for helping me—and for indulging him.”

“… It’s no problem, but next time you’d better not pull another dirty trick like you did today.”

“Next time?” The smile turned slightly cocky, and you vaguely regretted your reply.

“I assume we’ll be seeing you around campus, not necessarily hanging out.”

“Aww, it’s not nice of you to snub your new friends like that~” There was a nip of wickedness to his teasing tone. “… I’m not a formal student, but you might still see me hanging around my little bro. Come by and say hi again sometime, will you?”

You blinked. “You’re not a student?”

Ortho gave no response. His eyes trailed over to Grim and Idia, who had seated themselves before the TV, controllers in hand.

The screen sparked to life with color and light and sound. A night sky speckled with stars blinked into view, along with bombastic blue font.

Star Rogue ~The Road to Being a Hero~

Traced by the glow of the game, the uncanniness in Ortho’s appearance became apparent. The lack of pores in his rubbery skin, the sharp metal sheen of his body, the abnormal lines running in his irises. Even his fire was just a swaying projection, a trick of the light.

Beneath his mask, fake lips moved, producing a close approximation of a human voice.

“… I can be at Night Raven College because of Idia-san.” He cupped the flame that burned in the place of his heart. “That alone… brings me happiness.”

If Ortho was a flame burning brightly, then he had dimmed to mere embers, his voice but a contemplative whisper. Cold, hard logic had been dispelled, leaving only the ashes where a feeling had once been.

Pressure welled in your chest.

I… shouldn’t pry further than this.

“N-Never mind that!” You cracked open your bottle and took a big swig out of it. Slamming it down, you wiped a stray dribble of water from your chin. “Let’s watch the game!! How does it even work, anyway?”

“Star Rogue? Oh, it’s a classic.” Ortho crossed his legs and leaned back against Idia’s bed. “You go…” He pointed a finger at you and pantomimed a firing, then a kickback. “Pew, pew!! And everything in your way explodes! You shoot down the boss and save the galaxy!

“Er… You have way more of a casual attitude on violence than you initially let on.”

Ortho shrugged. “Like I said, the headmaster forbade me from firing lasers on campus. This is the next best thing.”

“Well, as long as you’re not obliterating any real people... I guess that’s fine.”

“It’s better experienced than explained. We should go for a round after those two!” Ortho inclined his head towards Grim and Idia, eyes glued to the television and caught up in an intense round of button mashing.

You chortled. “Okay, you’re on.”

“Great. Prepare to get crushed and left in my space dust!” His eyes twinkled like the stars on the screen, the traces of sadness that had once been there gone.

So human, so real.

The feeling behind them.

Almost like his entire being was lighting up from the inside out.

Huh, so he can smile like that too.

“Hey,” you said slowly, “Ortho-senpai?”

His eyes cut to you, the alien features in his profile still illuminated. “Yes, Prefect-san?”

“I may not entirely understand your circumstances, but for what it’s worth… you have a big heart.”

He looked at you fully, pupils dilated. The fire of his hair and in his chest flared up, as if expressing surprise.

“Really,” you stressed, your brows upturned sympathetically. “Anyone would be lucky to have someone like you in their lives.”

Ortho's gaze sharpened, carefully analyzing you. Your features, your feelings. Contemplating the sincerity behind them.

After what seemed like an eternity--but was surely just a few seconds in real time--he spoke. It was a single, simple word as sweet as the taste of victory.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it." You gave him a playful light tap on the shoulder.

With a soft laugh, he returned the favor. When his fist made contact with you, you could feel the warmth emanating from him.

The wires and electricity running through him. His heart pulsing.

“… But don't think this means I’ll take it easy on you,” Ortho warned. “I can get super competitive when it comes to games, you know!"

“Wouldn’t dream of it, senpai.”

[jokin-izar]

BALANCE TRIMESTRAL INVIERNO 2024

- - - LIBROS - - -

   “Compañías silenciosas”, Laura Purcell.    "El hijo olvidado”, Mikel Santiago.

   “El Universo en tu mano”, Cristophe Galfard.

   “Holly”, Stephen King.    “La asombrosa tienda de la señora Yeom”,     Kim Ho-Yeom.

   “La dama de los muertos”, Bernhard Aichner.

   “La llama en el viento”, Carlos Sisí.

   “Luces tenebrosas”, Crayson Deads.    “Naturaleza muerta”, Emilio Bueso.

   “Papel mojado”, Juan José Millás.    “Un lugar soleado para gente sombría”,     Mariana Enríquez.

- - - SERIES - - -

   “1883”     "Asesinato en el fin del mundo"     “Avatar: La leyenda de Aang”

   “Beacon 23” 

   “Berlín” 

   “El problema de los tres cuerpos”    "Expatriadas"    "Extrapolations: Un futuro desafiante"    “Forst” 

   "Hay algo en el bosque"    “Los asesinatos del Valhalla"

   “Los enviados"  T1-T2    “Mr & Mrs Smith"    “Poquita fe"

   “Reina Roja"    "Separación"

   “Sin novedad"    “True detective: Noche Polar"

- - - PELÍCULAS - - -

    “20.000 especies de abejas"    "Alita”    "Awareness"

   “Blue Beetle” 

   “Cementerio de animales: El origen ”

   “Cuando acecha la maldad”    "Dejar el mundo atrás"   "El hombre del saco"   "Guardianes de la Galaxia Vol. 3"   "La guerra del mañana"   "La quinta ola"   "Megalodón 2. La fosa"   "Misterio en Venecia"   "Monsters"   "Rebel Moon"   "Silver"   "The Creator"   "Umma"   "Viejos"

  - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - MÚSICA - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  - - 

Enero 2024

CASSIDY PARIS - "New Sensation"  (2023) DAEDRIC - "Mortal"  (2023) PR3 - "Aradia"  (2023) NEMOPHILA      - "Oiran - Extended" (2021)      - "Revive"  (2021)      - "Seize The Fate"  (2022) CITIZEN SOLDIER - "ICU"  (2023) LORD OF THE LOST - "Weapons Of Mass Seduction"  (2023) LISABÖ - "Lorategi izoztuan hezur huts bilakatu arte" (2023) ASTRAY VALLEY - "Midnight Sun"  (2023) WARGASM - "Venom"  (2023) BLACK STONE CHERRY - "Screamin' At The Sky"  (2023) THE FAILSAFE - "Toxic Hearts"  [EP]  (2023) GORKA URBIZU - "Hasiera bat"  (2024) MURSIC - "Oblivion"  (2023) EL RENO RENARDO - "Regreso al Metalverso"  (2024) CARTESIAN GHOST - "Lux Arcana"  (2024) SAXON - "Hell, Fire And Damnation"  (2024) RYUJIN - "Ryujin"  (2024) PEYTON PARRISH - "Soul"  (2024)

Febrero 2024

GREEN DAY - "Saviors"  (2024) FAN RAY - "Cuento del mar"  (2023) MÄGO DE OZ - "Alicia en el Metalverso"  (2024) THE GEMS -"Phoenix"  (2024) MIND DRILLER - "The Void"  (2024) EMIL BULLS - "Love Will Fix It"   (2024) ANKOR - "Stereo"  [EP] (2023) THE RODS - "Rattle The Cage"  (2024) EMERGENCY RULE - "The King of Ithaca"  (2024) TEMPTRESS - "The Time Traveler's Continuum" (2024) COMBICHRIST - "Planet Doom"  (2024) IN VAIN - "Back To Nowhere"  (2024) NEMOPHILA - "Evolve"  (2024) STONEMAN - "Goldmarie 2.0"  (2024)

Marzo 2024

APHONNIC - "Crema"  (2024) TAKIDA - "The agony flame"  (2024) ILLUMISHADE - "Another Side Of You"  (2024) MINISTRY - "Hopiumforthemasses"  (2024) AMARANTHE - "The Catalyst"  (2024) ABSOLON - "The Blood Seed"  (2024) BRAINDRAG - "Coure Roent"  (2024) BASABI - "OMA"  (2024) JUDAS PRIEST - "Invincible Shield"  (2024) ENMY - "Breaking Down"  (2024) KOMA - "Una ligera mejoría antes de la muerte"  (2024) CROSS CHAINS - "Deathgrip"  (2024) SEVENTH DAY SLUMBER - "Fractured Paradise"  (2024) LORDS OF BLACK - "Mechanics of Predacity"  (2024) PLUSH - "Find The Beautiful"  (2024)

[tiefthieves]

Not on One Strand are All Life's Jewels Strung

Born out of both boredom and desperation, Sikah’s hobby of repurposing jewelry started when she was a callow runaway. She found thrills in pickpocketing haughty nobles as they walked with noses high down the uneven cobble of the Lower City. With their forgotten scraps of gold and silver, the young rogue would craft new treasures, polishing what could be salvaged and selling what scrap was beyond help. Such escapades were quick to evolve into a habit, and from habit to hobby. Sikah would spend days reimagining discarded jewels and metals into something original, peddling on the streets her handmade bijouterie for extra coin. Even as her adventures took her to places far from Baldur’s Gate’s streets, she continued practicing her craft. It became a nostalgic respite for the tiefling, bringing her back to reality when her mind would wander in the night. 

With heavy pockets, Sikah took refuge in her tent at camp. It was strange to travel with a party again; she had grown accustomed to wandering alone, scavenging food scraps from city stalls, and sleeping on forest floors with one eye open. The first few nights of traveling with her newfound companions she spent recluse in her bedroll, watching and listening as the ragtag group of Nautaloid escapees conversed. She heard them whisper about her, question her isolation, wonder if she would stay around. Sometimes Sikah herself would ponder the same. Still, every night Gale would knock on the closed flap of her tent and offer a warm meal with a smile, reminding her that she was always welcome to drink with the party by the fire. Eventually, Sikah found herself giving in, and like a cat coaxed from its burrow, she slowly began to fraternize with those she traveled with.  

“Well, well, look who finally decided to emerge from the shadows,” Astarion smirked while raising his chalice of presumed wine to his lips. 

Sikah pursed her lips while crossing her arms over her chest. From where she stood over the makeshift seats by the fire, she could easily kick the elf’s indulgence out of his hand and onto the floor, but she resisted the urge. 

“Don’t mind him,” Shadowheart rolled her eyes before gesturing to the empty seat between her and Karlach. “Come, have a seat. I’ll pour you a glass of wine.”

“I don’t drink around strangers, but thank you,” the tiefling declined her offer while cautiously sitting between the two women.

“I’d hardly say we’re strangers, with the tadpoles connecting our consciousnesses and all,” Gale piped in from where he stood, tending to the pot over the flame, “but suit yourself.”  

Despite traveling with the lot for months, Sikah still felt estranged from those fighting beside her. Her companions seemed to trust her enough to lead them through such a crucial journey, yet they hardly knew anything about her; did they know anything about each other? They all seemed to have some semblance of mutual trust, whether it be out of goodheartedness, convenience, or desperation. Sikah had allowed herself to trust before, but doing so reaped no reward. She couldn’t allow herself to be deftly tempted again. Perhaps it was the tadpole wheedling her into susceptibility, but, she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of yearning. 

“You know what, Shadowheart? Pour me a glass, will you?” She moved to sit more comfortably in her seat, coiling her tail around her crossed legs.

Sikah met Karlach’s smiling gaze out of the corner of her eye as she gladly caught an empty cup Wyll tossed her way. Maybe opening up wasn’t a bad idea after all.

There were still nights spent alone in her tent, heating tarnished metal with her Asmodeus flame, resculpting abandoned cabochons into new designs. She found herself incorporating elements of her companions' personalities and prose in the pieces she forged, drawing inspiration from their encounters. Perhaps one day, when the battle was won and the tadpoles were but a fleeting worry of the past, Sikah would have the courage to gift the accessories to those who inspired them. But for now, such vulnerable ornaments remained hidden amongst other valuables in her hoard.  

[sicklesun]

The World of Throne of Glass Narrater

In an interview, Sarah J Mass said that “The World of Throne of Glass” is narrated by “a cranky old librarian”

What if it’s the cranky librarian is the priestess Merrill in ACOSF.

Merrill is a librarian in the the Court of Dreams AND she it is revealed that she is researching the different worlds. She also could be taken as cranky based on how she treats Nesta and Gwyn.

We know that the A Court of Thorns and Roses and Throne of Glass rhelms are connected when we see what appears to be Rhys and a heavily pregnant Feyre in Kingdom of Ash.

We know that “The World of of Throne of Glass” is a guide that included interviews of characters after the war, Perhaps it is Merrill’s study of the world, to better understand the religion, society and people who live there.

[nestasgalpal]

Epilogue

Fixing ACOSF part 12

Masterlist | A03

Summary: There is only one more thing Nesta needs to come to terms with before her new life can begin.

A/N: I hope reading this helped you cope with the book as much as writing it helped me. The story wasn't what I expected (we were led to think it would take place in the Illyrian Mountains to star with lol), but with some editing it could have been a lot more enjoyable. In my mind this is canon, and I think it sticks to what happened in the book enough that I can keep pretending it is as I read the next books that are coming out. Thank you to all of you who read it <3

Tagging:  @gwynriel​ @gwynberdara​ @zoyaslai​ @clolikescloquetas​ @amelievrstr​ @saltydreamcollector​ @lordlorcan​ @esrahiba​ @queenestarcheron​  @jemstan300 @nessiantrashh @azrielsgirl  @mireillemystique @pataytayo​ @968sunflower968 @caram267 @jainadurron @darkshadowqueensrule @finae-bookshelf @niytavia @brainlessfruit @dontgetsalmonella @messyhairday-me @sunsummoner  @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @wannawriteyouabook @psychoticminx @misswonderflower @drielecarla @silvernesta @k0ombayamylord @quinlars @arinbelle  @itsforeverinnocent-blog @moodymelanist @sv0430 @my-fan-side @loveamarij

A home.

The House of Wind, Velaris, this court… they finally felt like her home. The thought kindled a kernel of light in her chest that had not extinguished, even in the months after the Rite.

That kernel was still flickering as Nesta faced that day’s task. The task that was so long overdue.

Feyre left the ornate black carriage at the base of the grassy hill, carrying Nyx as the three of them scaled its soft slope. The city spread before them, glowing in the summer sunshine, but Nesta’s eyes remained on the lone stone atop the hill.

Her heart thundered, and she kept a step back as Feyre knelt before the grave marker, showing Nyx to the stone. “Your grandson, Father,” she whispered, voice thick. And then Feyre bowed her head, speaking too low for Nesta or Elain, standing at Nesta’s side, to hear.

After a few minutes, Feyre rose, letting her tears run, as holding the babe kept her hands occupied. Elain went forward, whispered a few things to their father’s grave, and then both sisters looked to Nesta, smiling tentatively. Feyre had asked this morning if Nesta wanted to come to show their father the baby.

And there had been no answer in Nesta’s heart except one.

So she nodded to her sisters to go on ahead, and they obeyed, easing back down the grassy hill as Nesta lingered by the gravestone. She searched for the words, for any explanation or apology, but nothing came.

The sun was a warm hand on her shoulder, like the one that had prevented the last of her power from vanishing, as if telling her that the apology, the begging for forgiveness … it was not needed. Her father had died for her, with love in his heart. Thus loving his memory —honoring it, would be enough. To love him back without any shadow of resentment. To choose to let go the anger that consumed her for years.

Nesta's gray eyes scanned the stone that marked where his father rested under the earth. No apology would make sense. No forgiveness was needed from any side now.

So instead, Nesta made an oath.

"From this moment and on, Father, I swear I'll be the daughter I could have been, had our lives been any different. I'll be the older sister to Feyre and Elain that I always wanted to be, and never dared. I will be the female that I was meant to become from the moment I emerged from the Cauldron —when my mortal body died. For the rest of my life, I will be brave."

Nesta had to take a long breath to continue. Her mouth dried out as her eyes became watery.

"If it wasn't so sad that you are gone, it would almost be funny, don't you think? Isn't it ironic, how for so long I thought you would only leave mistakes behind you when you died and became dust, yet nothing has made me stronger than the lessons I learned from your absence? I think it is. I think it's funny now to think how I was every single thing I despised about you, and only after realizing it, now that you are gone, I could start to love myself. To see the flaws clearly and fix them one by one."

Nesta let one of her hands rest on the stone, warm because of the sun hitting it from above.

"It was hard to make peace with your absence, Father. I didn't know what to do with all those feelings. I didn't know how to forgive you and love you with you being gone. But I forgive you, and I love you. And I want you to know that you left a good legacy that I will gladly take and learn from. I will learn from your mistakes and make the best out of them."

A swift shadow passed overhead, followed by a whisper of wings, and Nesta didn’t need to look to know who sailed high above, making sure all was safe. That she was safe.

Busybody. But she blew Cassian a soft kiss, too. Her mate. Her love. Her friend. The light within her chest brightened to a radiant sun.

"I will love my kids so loudly that there won't be room in their hearts to ever doubt my devotion to them. I will love my mate. And I will love myself. I will love myself so ardently that there won't be room in my heart to ever forget that being alive and happy is what I deserve. Because I've fought for it too hard to give in. For myself, and for you —for all of us who have been cowards at some point but stood up when we were truly needed, I will fight every day of the rest of my life."

Some days might indeed be difficult, but she’d do it. Fight for it. For happiness.

Her father had died for her, with love in his heart, and Nesta held love in her own as she pulled the small carved rose from her pocket and set it upon the gravestone. A permanent marker of the beauty and good he’d tried to bring into the world.

Nesta brought her fingers to her lips, pressed a kiss to them, then laid her hand upon the gravestone. “Thank you,” she said, blinking back the stinging in her eyes. “Thank you.”

She found Feyre and Elain waiting halfway down the hill, Nyx now dozing peacefully in Elain’s arms. Her sisters beamed, beckoning her to join. And Nesta smiled back, her steps light as she hurried down the hill to meet them.

[spartanxhunterx]

Home Support (part 3)

Tags: @elmokingkong, @kuroko26, @votederpycausemufins, @redscarlet95, @amayakans, @yin-390, @susiej1118, @toodaloo-kangaroo

Her arms ached, her brow was dripping with sweat and the Akuma was hot on her heels. So much so that she could feel the heat they were emanating on her back, if it wasn't for Tikki's protection, she probably would have burned up by now.

She was trying to push the Akuma closer to the seine, closer to water, where she hoped to be able to dunk the Akuma into to combat the flames that engulfed them. Only then would she stand a chance. If only the Akuma didn't keep bringing up massive walls of flames to block her path.

At the very least, she had managed to scout out the Akuma's abilities. They could only being up one massive wall at a time, so as long as she didn't trap herself in (which is kinda hard when you can vault over every building around) then she could keep up with their game of cat and mouse.

Speaking of cats.

Chat Noir was following behind the Akuma, slightly off to the side. Normally this wouldn't be a problem but the damn cat was choosing to just watch from a safe distance, instead of trying to ambush Hawkmoths victim of the day.

She was so having choice words with him later.

She swerved to the side as a fireball flung past her head, she was certain that a few hair had to have been burnt from that. She had yet to see the extent of that move yet, but she would deal with it later.

The Akuma took priority, she swung around a corner, pulling herself up and over the building before her before touching down into a sprint that resulted in her jumping over gaps between buildings and streets. The Akuma left growing flames everywhere they went, leaving the fire department severely overworked and undermanned as they tried to fight the flames for the sake of the civilians.

She could see the seine just over the cusp of the buildings, feeling her determination grow she put all her effort into getting there as soon as possible.

It seems, however, her ladybug luck could only last so long.

As she flung her yo-yo onto a lamppost a blast of flame hit it, melting it instantly. She had already been lifted into the air slightly when it happened, expecting to simply vault to the closest building. Instead, she took a sudden dive towards the ground, hitting it full force as she skidded across the tarmac.

Thank Kwami for the magic that protected her.

as she turned to look up, she saw the Akuma hovering above her, the sharp symbol of Hawkmoth over their pure white glowing eyes. Without a word the Akuma raised their arm and pointed it at Ladybug, a large stream of fire escaped from their Palm and was heading her way.

She was frozen to the spot, unable to move, her yo-yo was too far away for her to use, having skidded away from her during her fall.

"LADYBUG!"

She was certain she was hearing Chat shouting her name but couldn't pinpoint its origins.

Just before the flames got to her she felt a massive hand grab her shoulder, pulling her backwards effortlessly as something big and round was planted in front of her.

The flames hit it, spreading around it as it was forced to come in contact with the... Thing... The tarmac around them began to bubble. After a few more seconds of the onslaught of flames, they stopped. The light of the flames had left her momentarily blinded, yet she felt... Safe.

She's stood as her eyes adjusted back to normal, before her stood a very large and very broad man. He was wearing large thick green boots, a thin dark green undersuit was covered with near black coloured sections around the thighs, shoulder and wrists. His stomach was more a yellow green giving off a pattern similar to... It clicked.

her eyes darted to large shield in His hand, to the turtle miraculous on his wrist then to the man's face where it was shrouded by the dark hood and goggle like mask.

There was fondness in those eyes that she couldn't immediately place. There was only two people who knew where to find the miraculous and only one of them were like the man before her.

"Papa?"

He, her father, smiled at her in that way that she knew meant that she was loved and cared for.

"Hello my little macaroon."

Marinette was about to open her mouth when another person, her Maman no doubt, landed next to them both. She would honestly admit to everyone around that she was jealous of her mother's attire.

Sabine's suit was designed like a hanfu dress, the deep red colour was accented by the shiny silver lines that made the entire suit look scaly. Sitting in the centre of her chest was a dragons head, wide open as if ready to bite, between the teeth was the three elemental symbols for water, air and lightning. The dragons neck when up and around her mother's neck where it went back down, seemingly under the head and towards her right hip.

The body of the Dragon circled around her waist until the tail hung loosely off her front. The large sleeves were designed to look like Dragon wings but clearly were unable to hold any real weight. Sabine's eyes had gone a golden yellow and sliced like a reptiles, the red mask that covered her eyes gave off the impression of an open maw, there were two horn like additions to each side of her head, almost looking like a crown.

She looked glorious and Marinette was jealous that her mother got to showcase her heritage better then she could.

"Perhaps it time we get a little... Lucky, ladybug."

Sabine jolted her head to behind them as she returned Ladybugs yo-yo to her, giving a quick look back she spotted Alya hiding behind a trashcan, phone trained on the three of them.

Great, Just.... Great.

"Protect me." She stepped back as her father pulled his shield up in front of them both and her mother drew the sword from her back, it look no different from the one Ryuoko used. "Lucky Charm!"

From the cloud of Ladybugs emerged a... "Fire blanket?"

" figure it out, " Her mother spoke fiercely. "I'll handle them for now." Like that she was off the ground, jumping from outcrop to outcrop while trying to get close to the Akuma.

Her sword would swing at them as she got close, forcing the Akuma to drop lower down or move back. Her mother was a little too fast for the Akuma to keep up with.

Ladybug scanned around her, her vision darkening as she tried to figure out a solution. There wasn't much to go off of right now just...

Her eyes darted to her father, then her mother, to the blanket and then the fire hydrant down the street, where to Akuma had been forced back towards.

"I got it." She quickly tied the blanket to her left arm, not wishing to lose it. "Help her push the Akuma back and down more, be ready to activate Shell-ter on my mark."

Her father gave her a nod before he ran down the street, not nearly as agile as the two of them. She was quick to fling her way to the hydrant, wrap the wire around the end and brace. Then she waited.

She watched her parents fight, her mother tried to stay as airborne as possible, bouncing back and forth between buildings and truly looking like a dragon.

Her father stayed down, drawing the heat - literally - to himself. Just a little closer.

"Hey bugaboo, look a little busy there, need a hand?"

She groaned internally, not letting the irresponsible hero get under her skin. "Not now Chat, talk later." She heard her earrings beep once and ignored the weight that was out on her shoulder.

A little more now.

"So, patrol tonight?"

" Can't... Family business. " Which for once would not be a lie.

"You can keep playing hard to get all you want MyL-"

"Now!" She pulled back on the hydrant , breaking it and allowing water to spray upwards. Directly into the Akuma.

they were put off by the force and their flames dulled due to the moisture but they didn't extinguish. They hit the ground close to her father, as he raised his shield up, her mother dropped next to him.

"Shell-ter!"

The large dome encompassed the three of them, leaving Ladybug and Chat Noir outside it. Despite this it still seemed impossible to retrieve the Akumatised object as it had to have been below the flames, they couldn't see it.

"Hold your breath." The two adults looked at each other in understanding. " Water dragon! "

As quickly as one could blink the dome filled up with water, it filled the flames until they extinguished and even then the water stayed a short moment after. As her earrings beeped a second time ladybug unwrapped the blanket from her arm, she knew what she had to do.

As quickly as it started, the shield dropped and the water flowed everywhere, leaving her parents both standing above the Akuma. Ladybug wasted no time in trying their hands together with one end of the blanket before she used the other end to pay down the Akuma still hot body.

there were cracks running up their body like magma was trying escape from underground. She quIckly found the object, a fancy looking lighter, before she smashed it on the ground under her foot.

She untied the blanket before repainting into the air. "Miraculous Ladybug!" Like that all the damage was reverted, fires where extinguished and the hard working rescue services could relax once more.

As the corrupted magic dissipated off the victims body ladybugs earrings beeped a third time, this time she brought a hand up to them before she turned to her parents.

"Go, we'll handle this." Her mother was already kneeling by the victim, trying to comfort them.

" purr-haps I should take you home Milady? We still need to have tha-" Chat Noirs words were interrupted by his yelp of pain, caused by her father dragging him backwards by his tail.

"Actually," the larger man spoke, putting an arm around the feline hero. "Why don't you help us speak to our... Dedicated reporter." He gestured to Alya as Ladybug Yo-Yo'd away, greatful for her parents.

After a few minutes of gushing and - with somewhat scornful looks sent the man's way - asking questions they ended off on the important one.

"So, what done a call you two?"

"Fēilóng." The Dragon weilder spoke, authority and power coursing in her voice.

"Tortue." The turtle weilder spoke with pride in his own voice, a sound that made others feel at ease and safe around him.

quickly the two of them jumped up to the closest roof, gave each other a sparing glance before parting ways, as if they didn't know each other. Leaving a grumbling cat and slightly disgruntled reporter behind.

-

Later the family was sat at their dinning room table enjoying their dinner, as they spoke about pleasant nothing's. As if the three of them had never gone out and fought a magic enhanced villain with the help of magical mini-gods.

said Mini-Gods were sat in the centre of the table enjoying their own food and even tea from their miniature cups. Marinette had been more then willing to allow her parents to keep the miraculous, both so she could have back up and so the Kwami themselves could enjoy the world more thoroughly.

She knew Wayzz needed more time before he got over the loss of master fu, what better way then to find with someone new?

She's knew he wouldn't be decent for a while and she didn't blame him for it at all.

"Tikki?" The tiny red God looked up to her chosen not noticing, or choosing not to acknowledge, the glint of mischief in her yes.

"Yes Marinette?"

" Could not be possible to... say... Pass a message onto Plagg for me? It's important. "

"I would have to visit him personally and inform think that's wise. "

"Well," the bi-racial girl started. "I don't think we'll get an Akuma tonight, so it should be safe. I just need you to ask Plagg How he feels about his holder and what he's doing to correct his behaviour, he was pretty game today after all."

" Very well, do you wish for me to depart immediately or later? "

"Soon. It would be best so we can get to sleep early tonight, I'm exhausted. "

"Very well." Despite her size , Tikki was quick to pick up a cookie and carry it with her. "I shall return as soon as possible."

She went through the open window , unable to phase through it while holding her sugary treat. Her parents looked at her oddly and she was quick to withdraw a box from her bag, pulling the miraculous out of it she didn't flinch at the bright golden light in front of her. She clipped the comb to one of her ponytails before facing her parents.

"Lets go get the ring back. "

[aph-honk-kong]

Soaring Gold

After one successful marriage comes a very unsuccessful engagement. [A continuation of this.] [Very late for day six of @aphasiaweek with the prompt of “culture”.]

Peninsula Hotel, Hong Kong

  “Wah diuuuu, you tried to ask out a Diocesan alumni? I bet she turned you down before you could say ‘five double stars’.”

  “I finally got that apartment in Qatar! It cost an arm and a leg, but it was worth it. Do you think I should go for a place in California, next?”

  “Hold on, which province did you say your sister moved to?”

  A million conversations seem to be happening at the same time, a cacophony of voices filling Harald’s head as he tries to find his table. The dining room is massive, at least three times as big as the entirety of the Dragon Room back in London, and he has no idea where he’s supposed to be sitting.

  “Babe!”

  Leon grabs him from behind and presses a not-so-sneaky kiss to the tip of his ear. He can feel his ears getting warm. “I was wondering where the fuck you’d gone off to. Come on, our table’s right next to the happy couple’s.”

  He’s lead to a table near the centre of the room, covered in a pure-white tablecloth and set with elegant porcelain plates. Ling is already sitting there, deep in conversation with the blonde next to her. Also at the table are Lauren, Berwald and his husband.

  “Why the fuck are you grading papers?” Leon exclaims incredulously.

  “Because I care more about my students than this massive dinner that’s probably going to last three hours, that’s why,” Lauren shoots back. “Heaven forbid some of us actually have to work for a living.”

  He presses a hand to his chest in mock offence. “Oh wow, so hurtful. I feel deeply wounded.”

  Rolling his eyes, Harald sits down. Next to him is Berwald’s husband, who smiles at him. “Well, hello again!”

  “Hi.”

  “I don’t think I’ve introduced myself yet.” He extends his hand. “My name is Timo Väinämöinen. This is my husband Berwald.”

  Berwald shakes his hand next, saying quietly, “I believe I know your brother?”

  “My brother-in-law, actually,” Harald corrects. “Henrik says you’re the reason he and Stell got to come here.”

  “Speaking of Henrik,” Ling cuts in, “is nobody going to talk about how he looked in that suit of his? I may be a lesbian, but hot damn.”

  The woman next to her scrunches her face up slightly in dissatisfaction.

  “Don’t be jealous, Nat.” She giggles and kisses her temple. “The man’s a pancake, unlike you.”

  “A pancake?” Nat rolls her eyes. “He’s a crepe.”

  Harald chokes on his water. 

...

  A few tables away, many-named Arthur is sitting with Francis, Roderich, Erzsébet, Jo and Niklas, nibbling daintily on the pig’s-ears biscuits served before the banquet is due to start. He occasionally throws a glance towards the married couple’s table, where Vicente and Madeline are practically sitting on each other’s lap. “Goodness gracious, how much do you think they spent on this wedding?”

  “Including the chapel, the after-ceremony lunch, the Rolls-Royce that drove them here, this dining room, the banquet, the complimentary party favours, the lucky draw involving twenty-four-karat gold jewellery and however much it took to get Mr. Edelstein to perform, I assume the entire thing cost at least two million Hong Kong dollars,” Niklas pipes up. He snatches the last biscuit before Arthur can and crunches it loudly. “Give or take a million or so.”

  The adults all stare at him in shock. Roderich leans over to whisper to Arthur, “see, this hip new Scandinavian education system that treats kids like human beings lets them pull things like this. But again, he’s not even wrong...”

  Francis smiles and pats Niklas on the head. “You were very close. The wedding actually cost five million. Five million Euros, that is.”

  His eyes widen. “Euros!?”

  “Oui, Euros. I am pretty sure that’s more than the GDP of some countries.”

  Jo looks around them, big eyes taking in every bit of the room’s extravagance. “If I ever get married, I’m going to do it in a park or something. The guests can wear whatever they want and the only food we serve will be the wedding cake.”

  “Nonsense, I’ll organise your wedding in St. Stephen’s Cathedral.”

  They blow a raspberry at their father. 

  Erzsébet points at the table next to the couple’s. “Say, isn’t that Vicente’s brother?”

  “That’s Leon, all right.” Francis takes a sip of white wine, swirling it around the glass. “He even brought along a common boy. Poor Yao, can you imagine what he’s thinking?”

  “Nothing good, that’s for sure,” Roderich tuts. “At least Leon’s not trying to marry him. The continent would go up in flames.”

  Arthur clicks his tongue disapprovingly. He’s looking at another table, where the more famous guests are sitting. “I know his brother, who attended my luncheons while on tour in England. The two of them are fine fellows, I must admit, but unfit to marry into the Wang family.”

  “That guy dresses funny,” Jo says. “At least, he doesn’t dress like the rest of us. Nik thought he was the usher when we got to the chapel.”

  “Sounds about right!” Francis laughs. “Nobody would expect somebody of his upbringing to know how to dress.”

  A group of waiters enter the room, holding a number of steaming dishes. Roderich sits up straighter and elbows his child sharply. “Put that tablet of yours away, now. The banquet is starting.”

...

  “This is incredible,” Harald says for what feels like the millionth time. Course after course has been served, each plate presenting a clever fusion dish he never would have thought of. Nothing at the Dragon Room could ever compare.

  “Vic hired two of Asia’s best chefs to make tonight’s banquet, plus their wedding cake.” Leon nibbles at a forkful of buttery Arborio rice before setting it down on his almost-finished plate of white-truffle garlic butter and Hangzhou shrimp risotto. “The desserts are going to blow you away.”

  He nods gratefully at the waiter who takes his dish away. “I want to meet the chefs behind this one day.” The next dish is placed down, and Harald stares down at it. On the plate is a mini sculpture made of sorbet, shaped like a rosebush with tiny candy flowers and caramel branches. “You’d have to be some kind of genius to think of this.”

  “I think you’re plenty genius yourself,” Leon quips. He swallows his first bite of sorbet before kissing him briefly. His lips taste of mint.

  Soon, dessert is over and a pair of waiters wheel out the massive wedding cake. The icing around it is pure-white, topped with narrow grey-pink filigree patterns. At the very top of the cake is a sugar butterfly, holding two thin sheets of rice paper covered in thin writing, inked with chocolate sauce. Harald peers closer and realises it’s Vicente and Madeline’s wedding vows.

  “Amazing, huh?”

  “Yeah,” he breathes. 

  Leon stands up the moment they receive their slice, holding his plate and his dessert fork. “Grab your plate, too.”

  “Won’t people notice?” Harald protests.

  “They would, on most cases.” He winks at his brother, who smiles back while balancing the caramel butterfly on a plate. Vicente stands up, hand in hand with Madeline, and lift the plate up. A crowd of photographers surge forward, cameras at the ready, to capture the moment. Leon grabs his hand and tugs. “But not today.”

  Holding on to his plate, Harald follows him out of the dining room, up grand staircases and past jewellery stores until they reach the topmost layer of the hotel. Leon opens the door, revealing a stunning rooftop garden. 

  Nobody is there, and the only sound is that of leaves being rustled. He leads him to sit down on a cushioned loveseat that overlooks the streets and Victoria Harbour. On the other side of the Harbour, Central glows radiantly. 

  “Isn’t this a better view than that stuffy dining room?” Leon eats his first forkful of cake.

  Harald cuts into his slice and pops it into his mouth. It turns out to be a rich red velvet cake, dotted through with pieces of vanilla fudge and lemon crumble. He smiles. “This is good.”

  “We’ve been going to parties all weekend, so it’s nice that we get some time alone.” He reaches across the loveseat to hold his hand. “I’m almost dreading going back to London. What would I do without all my crazy friends?”

  He lets out a short puff of laughter. “‘Crazy’ is an understatement. No sane person would spend so much money on a wedding!”

  “You said once that you’d prefer a simple wedding if you ever got married,” Leon reminisces,” and I gotta say the same. I’d go nuts organising stuff like this!”

  Slice of cake finished, Harald shifts closer to snuggle up to Leon, shrugging his suit jacket off. “I love you,” he mumbles.

  “Love you too.” He drops an absent kiss on the top of his head. “I actually have something to tell you.”

  “Hmm?”

  Leon pulls a small box out of his pocket and shows it to him. Harald’s breath hitches.

  “Normally guys would get down on a knee to do this, but I don’t want to stop cuddling you so here we are.” He drops his gaze for a moment before returning it, strong and sure. “And, uh, I just love you so much and I’d like nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with you.” He flicks the box open, revealing a simple silver ring. “So what I want to know is... is if you want to marry me.”

  Harald’s cheeks prickle with heat. His heart is thudding wildly in his chest. “I - “ he sputters. “Of cour - “

  “STOP!”

  The door leading back to the hotel swings open. Standing in the doorway is Yao, arms crossed and glaring daggers at them. Leon glares back. “What are you doing here?”

  Yao marches towards the loveseat. “I know what you’re doing,” he says. “Ka Long, I know you’re planning to marry Harald. And I’m here to say that you can’t. I forbid it!”

[emptynarration]

The Spirit of Elvin

Once upon a time, a single tree grew by a lake. From that tree, a little spirit was born. Slowly over time, that spirit grew, just like the forest that was growing around the lake and their tree. Humans came, and humans went. Friendships were made, and lost.

This is the story of Elvin's life.

~

If you find out some more about Elvin, as well as his (some day he picks up male pronouns) appearance: (here) I hope you enjoy this! Just a "little" something for my baby uwu

[Read on AO3 and leave a comment <3]

~

uuhh @lamiasluck and @alvie-ashgrove and @ferociousfangirlofmanyfandoms and @flower-vixen if any of y’all want smth about my baby oc <.<

~

The sun reflecting off the water's surface made it shine like the iridescent wings of an insect. The water's surface was rippling slightly from the gentle breeze, making it shine and glitter, like million little stars were scattered on top of it.

The young spirit's eyes were drawn upwards from the sound of rustling leafs, taking in the sight of the small tree behind them. The bark was a dark brown colour, the leafs a luscious green, with a shape the young being couldn't begin to describe. The wind played with their hair, making them aware of their own body. Curiously touching the dark brown strands of hair, looking at their hands, the light colour of terra-cotta. Their clothing was simple, loose dark brown pants, a cotton shirt, and a greek-styled chlamys with golden stitching. A pin of a gold and a silver leaf crossed held it closed on his shoulder.

Everything was new, to this newly born spirit. The way nature sounded around them, how the wind played with their hair and clothes. It was occupying their entire mind, slowly understanding everything by simply standing where they were and taking everything in. They knew without knowing, the wind whispering words into their ear, teaching them words and feelings as they stood there in existence.

Sitting down at the trunk of their tree, they simply sat there and watched. The sun slowly setting, changing the colours all around. The lake becoming a pink and red instead of its gorgeous blue, the green grass becoming a yellow hue. And even as the sun had set, and the moon was taking over shining down on the world, they sat, and watched. The stars twinkling in the sky, reflecting in the lake, showing the endlessness of the universe. How dark everything was, every colour so different in the little bit of moonlight. Eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness, showing more than at first.

They fell in love with the world, with what they could see, and hoped nothing would ever tarnish its beauty. How could someone not appreciate these wonderful sights? How could someone want to damage this mesmerizing experience?

The only things they knew about themself were things they did on instinct. Not wandering away from their tree, knowing they weren't able to. But instead, knowing to “step” into the tree, feeling it like their own self, teaching them patience. Letting time pass, days and weeks feeling like nothing, until even years could pass and they weren't aware of it. “Sleeping” in a way only they could, learning about patience and waiting, and appreciating their surroundings.

But all the patience in the world couldn't lessen their curiousity though.

Again and again, they hopped out of their tree, watching in amazement as more trees started sprouting around their own, shrubs and bushes slowly growing, flowers and plants gathering near the lake. It was wonderful, and they were in love with nature. They enjoyed just existing, hopping and jumping through their tree, happy to sit and play in the branches, and watch the world from a higher vantage point. They loved living life, and watching life grow around them. It was incredible to them, how the world worked and grew and changed over time.

One day, the spirit saw humans. Not very close-by, but close enough. They could watch them build houses and make roads, people coming to the lake to fish and get water. The little spirit had a few trees and shrubs grown around their own now, and albeit they were small, the spirit themself was small as well. They hid slightly whenever humans were nearby, but they were incredibly curious about them. But, they couldn't walk far from their tree, so they had to wait for a human to come close to them instead. So they waited, always curiously watching the humans, between waiting patiently inside their tree, to see nature change around them -and now, see the humans change around them as well.

People first came to the trees when they had grown bigger, and there were more of them. There were some critters around, and there were some bushes that grew berries -which likely had attracted the humans. The spirit had grown together with their tree, little stubs of branches growing out between their hair. They still resembled a human child though -at least from what they could tell, seeing children only rarely.

To say that they were excited was an understatement. They've never spoken before, though they knew words. They've heard the people talk, though they've never been close enough to really understand them. They could hear them as they approached the trees though, and felt like they could communicate with them. They were nothing but excited. They wanted to talk to these humans! They wanted to get to know them, what they were, who they were! They were so so curious, only wanting to learn something new. They weren't shy, didn't try to hide. They had never learned anything but what came naturally to them. They've never experienced fear, they didn't know about danger. For them, something and someone different meant excitement, and curiousity.

They didn't know what those expressions meant when the humans saw them. They didn't understand the fearful looks, the words, how the adult shielded the child. They didn't understand when they ran away. They didn't know what these humans felt.

The little spirit learned what fear was, when the other humans came. With weapons, and fire. An instinctual fear of the flame, knowing it'd hurt, knowing it'd kill. Fire may sometimes occur naturally, but humans made it their slave. And no words the little spirit knew could portray what they felt, right then and there. Faced with the fire, faced with the sharp glinting arrows, faced with such hardened, determined faces, hiding their own fear.

They didn't hesitate to turn and run.

They screamed when an arrow lodged itself in their shoulder.

They sobbed as they vanished into their tree.

They just had wanted to meet humans. They had just been curious, wanting to meet these other beings looking so similar to themself. But they had taught them fear, had taught them pain, had taught them disappointment and sadness.

So the little spirit stayed hidden in their tree. They stayed there for a long time, scared. Scared to be hurt more, scared to be feared, scared to be hunted. When they came out, it was only into the branches of their little tree, to see from the safety of their tree what was happening. But their fear made them more willing to wait. Waiting and waiting, until they could leave their tree and still be surrounded by trees. Not seeing anything around them but trees, shrubs, and bushes. And, of course, the lake.

Careful of humans, scared to see them again, they explored as much as they could. They couldn't walk far from their tree, but a little. And they loved exploring the nearby plants, seeing the different critters. Slowly, they forgot about the humans and their fear, and simply began enjoying their existence again. Enjoyed being here, being in nature, surrounded by things that would have never taught him what humans had. It made them wonder though. Was fear natural? Was being scared something normal? They've never felt fear before the humans attacked them -but they could watch animals hunt each other, kill for food. Did they feel fear when they were hunted? Were they in a lot of pain when they died? They couldn't imagine it. Watching animals hunt each other, the spirit knew that they were going to be eaten. They felt a little sad, of course! But they could stay and watch, and learn. Learn why animals did what they did.

When they could hear humans, they hid. At first they always fled, hiding away. Until they felt brave enough to stick around, hidden and blending in to the trees, often staying up in branches. They could watch the humans hunt the animals like the animals hunted each other. And when they came back, the spirit could see them wearing the animals pelts. Hunting for food, and warmth. They could understand that. Humans hunted to eat, and to not get cold. The spirit didn't feel the same cold as humans did, but they understood temperature.

Watching the seasons change and how nature changed was very interesting to them. They loved watching the flowers grow, animals waking and mating, newborns popping up all over. They loved laying in the warm sun, watching the sky, playing with the water of the lake. They loved how the colours of the leafs and grass changed to such drastic other colours, how crunchy they became to walk on once fallen. They loved the snow, the way it quietened everything, how the light reflected off of it. The lake freezing over, how they could walk on the ice, could slide around. They loved all seasons, watching everything around them, how things changed. They loved seeing the plants grow, watching the animals. As the forest grew, so did their tree, and so did they.

They kept watch of the humans when they came into the forest. They scared animals away if the humans hunted some that they shouldn't be hunting. They scared the humans when they gathered too many berries, flowers, plants.  They tried their best to keep the forest safe, and healthy. As they grew, in size, in age, in maturity, their little pin of their chlamy changed to two bigger leafs, reflective of their growth. They never really noticed that though -their own appearance never mattered much to them. Of course they noticed the branches growing on their head! They grew leafs and flowers, the leafs fell off during autumn, and they were barren in the winter. But they weren't a bother, of course -they were so used to having them, that they didn't have to think about it.

The forest grew, and the spirit grew with it. They took care of the forest, of the animals and plants within. They noticed they could walk far away from their tree, that the animals were comfortable with them around. There was this feeling of more in them, that hadn't been there before. They couldn't describe it, but something had changed in them.

One day, the not-so-little spirit watched a little group of humans come into the growing forest. They weren't hunting, they weren't gathering. They looked like they were searching. They left them alone, just watching them. They weren't sure what these humans wanted, but they looked sort of lost. Sort of helpless. And, if they dared say it, they seemed scared. So when the humans started making a home in the forest, the spirit left them alone. They kept watch of the tiny settlement these humans made, trying to scout out if they were a danger or not. They didn't seem like they were, which helped soothe the spirit's nerves.

These humans were very respectful of the forest. They hunted only what they needed, they gathered only what they needed. The spirit felt safe about these humans, so they left them alone. They watched them, sometimes, always curious. But they had learned to leave humans alone. They weren't scared of humans. They understood now, why those humans in the past had hurt them. Because they had been scared. They had been scared of something they didn't know. And they didn't want to be like that. They didn't want to be scared of the things they didn't know. So, while they didn't know these humans, didn't know why they were here, what they wanted, they weren't scared. It helped that these people respected the space they were living in, of course. But the spirit didn't want to be scared of any human coming here. They knew, that every human was different from the next.

So when the spirit, one day, saw a person lost in the forest? They decided to help. The forest had gotten quite big over time, growing slowly around the lake and further, so it wasn't a big surprise that eventually, someone would get lost. They didn't show themself to the lost man. They stayed hidden behind trees, and spoke to him. Of course the man was startled, a little frightened -but not hostile. He slowly relaxed, talking to the spirit. And they helped him back to the little settlement, and quickly the word spread. The spirit of the forest. The people living in the forest easily accepted the spirit, and that made them really happy. Finally, they got some contact with people! Some humans! They still didn't show themself, still apprehensive about being seen, but they could talk to them. When there were people going into the forest, the spirit was often there as well, helping, leading, advising.

One day, the spirit found a child. Crying, alone, lost. They couldn't help but show themself to the tiny human, helping the little girl calm down. She didn't make him feel weird about his branches, about his weird appearance. She was as curious as they had been, in the past -and still were. It made them feel so much better, to know that humans also had that same, undying curiousity. Maturing seemed scary, how much it could change people. They helped bring the girl back to her home, talking the entire way, holding her hand. She taught them things they never knew about -gender, age, how humans worked like in a way. It was very interesting! The little girl was telling them that, “you look like mommy, but you sound like daddy”, which confused the spirit as much as it taught them as well.

The concept of gender was something that never occurred to the spirit before. Animals all looked nearly the same, though they knew that there were these and those. So humans were sort of the same. Sitting by the lake, they looked at their own reflection. Their hair was long, and apparently that made them look feminine. But their voice and build was more masculine? They've never thought about these things. He? Her? Him? Her? They didn't think it really mattered. They were just themself! They were comfortable with how they were, though thinking about themself as a him or a her didn't make them uncomfortable either. They smiled at their reflection, comfortable and happy. They were just themself. That was all they ever really cared about, they decided.

As it turned out, that little girl was now very determined to meet the spirit again. Of course that led to her getting lost again, which meant her goal was quickly achieved, because said spirit she was searching for easily found her. “You're here again”, they stepped out from the trees, having the little girl -Abigail, she had said her name was- turn around to look at them. “There you are!”, she exclaimed, very proud apparently. “Were you searching for me?”, they crouched down in front of the child, smiling lightly. “Yes! You're great!”, Abigail nodded, very excited. “Aww... Thank you.”, they smiled, gently patting Abigail's head. “But you did get lost again, didn't you?”. “Nu-uh!”, Abigail pouted, crossing her arms and shaking her head. “Which way is home then?”, they asked, grinning lightly as they watched Abigal look around a little helplessly. “Uhm...”. “Come on, I'll bring you home.”, they chuckled, standing back up and offering their hand to Abigail. She was pouting, but took their hand anyway, letting them lead.

“Do you have a name now?”, Abigail asked as they walked. She had asked the last time too -learning that this spirit didn't know what names even were. “Why would I have one now?”, they asked, tilting their head as they looked down at Abigail curiously. “Maybe you picked one!”, Abigail looked up at them, “Or is your name the same like the forest?”. “The forest has a name?”, they asked curiously. They hadn't known that the humans had given the forest a name as well. “Yea! This is Elvin forest! And you're the spirit of Elvin!”, Abigail proclaimed, smiling bright. She was met with a slightly awed look, and a nod. “Elvin hm? You think I could be called that?”, they asked, looking curiously at Abigail. Elvin. It was a nice name -and they were happy their forest had gotten a name! “Sure! Elvin!”, Abigail grinned up at them and nodded. She didn't understand the ordeal of man or woman, or rather, being neither. She was still waiting for Elvin to tell her which they were.

“Elvin.”, they hummed, nodding lightly to themself. The name of the forest. The name of the forest's spirit. They liked it, they decided. “And you're my friend!”, Abigail smiled widely, and Elvin laughed softly, squeezing her hand. “And you're my friend.”, Elvin replied, smiling. Having a name was nice. Having a friend was nice also. Abigail was adorable, and they enjoyed her presence. She knows so much that they don't know, and they know things she doesn't know.

They continued walking and talking. Abigail told Elvin about how the settlement came up with the name, what they thought of the spirit and what they were doing. And Elvin happily listened, and Elvin happily told Abigail about how they had grown up here, starting small just like she was. She was clearly enjoying it, very happy. Once they got near the settlement again, Elvin let Abigail go the rest of the way alone. While she promised no one would be weird about them, they still preferred to be away. They trusted Abigail, of course, but... well, they were more comfortable this way. Abigail didn't mind though. She happily waved back at Elvin, before going the rest of the way alone. Elvin kept watch of her still, until they were sure she was safe, before leaving.

It was Abigail who gave Elvin the first gift. She said it was as thanks, for being her friend, and helping her and her people out so much. Elvin appreciated the little key she gave to them, and fixed it to their branches. They liked having the key dangle from their branches. Abigail seemed to start a trend. Other people from the settlement left him little gifts as thanks; sometimes it was a bit of food -which Elvin more than curiously tried every time- and sometimes it were little trinkets that they could add to their branches. Or even little handmade things, little wood figures and such. Elvin kept those with their tree, making sure they were safe and didn't get lost. Elvin wasn't worshipped, but they were appreciated. They helped these people a lot, always helping whoever got lost, making sure the humans lived in harmony with the forest. And Abigail wasn't the only child Elvin found sometimes alone in the forest. They helped all the children personally, to make sure that they weren't scared, and got back home safely.

One particular day, Elvin brought Abigail to the lake. They showed her the large body of water, and told her about the plants around. And they trusted her with telling her that this was the place where they “lived” -where they came from. The two of them spend their day there. Abigail taught Elvin how to braid their hair, which made them look a lot more tidy, and their hair more manageable. Plus, the two could decorate their braids with flowers! They greatly enjoyed Abigail's company, and they learned more about humans that way. Of course a child only knew so much, and had much different opinions on things than adults, but it was still a lot more than Elvin would've known on their own. And Elvin could, in turn, teach Abigail all they could about the forest. Which berries and mushrooms were safe to eat, how many to pick, which to leave for the animals.

During the nights, Elvin was alone. They didn't go into their tree a whole lot, mostly since they liked spending time with the humans. And if they just “slept” for a while, then that was no good for anybody. And Elvin had all the time in the world -it didn't matter to them if days or years passed. Most of the time, Elvin spend the time sitting by the lake, watching the stars reflect in the water. Sometimes they looked after their gifts, played with the trinkets on their branches, and took care of the gifts they had gotten. It was nice like this.

But during one night, a sudden pain shook Elvin to their core. It made them gasp, choke on their breath, clutching at their chest. This pain was different from the time they've been hit by an arrow. The arrow had hit their shoulder, making pain blossom from there, shooting up their neck and down their arm. But this pain, this pain engulfed them, thrumming through their very being. They didn't understand, they've never felt pain like this before. Shakily they got to their feet. They had to find the source of this pain. But, their tree was alright -it was still standing there, proud and tall. That was when they noticed the light, and the smoke. They could hear the humans -they could hear screams, and cries. Worry filled them, overpowering the pain, and they hurried to find the settlement, try and see what was happening.

When they drew near, they could see the fire, the settlement burning, catching surrounding trees on fire as well. They could hear fighting, metal clashing against metal. People shouting, children crying. They could see the men trying to fight off the humans that had came, had set fire to their home, while the women tried to flee with the children. Worry and the need to help filled them, and no matter the pain that was burning in them, they hurried. They stayed out of the way and sight of the fighting men, and instead focused on where there were still people trying to get away.

There was a woman still near a burning house, to which Elvin hurried. While she looked shocked to see them, there were more important matters at hand. “My baby- she's still in there, please-” “I'll get her. Get away from the fire.”, Elvin reassured, hurrying. They knew they couldn't be seriously hurt -their life depended on their tree, and not this form they took. While the fire hurt, it couldn't damage. So they went through the flames, trying to find the child. “Abby-”, Elvin spotted their friend trapped in a corner, barely looking conscious. Smoke filled the little room, and she likely had inhaled quite some of it. They hurried towards her, relieved to see her still awake. “I'll get you to your mother. Don't worry.”, they soothed softly, gently picking Abigail up, helping her press their chlamy to her face to protect her a little more from the smoke.

It wasn't as easy getting out now that they had someone who could actually get hurt in their arms, but it'd be fine. They'd manage. They had to manage. And manage they did, thankfully, even though Abigail did pass out in their arms. The pain from the fire only grew, their breathing ragged, but they couldn't stop. Abigail's mother couldn't thank Elvin enough, but all they wished for was for them to be safe, so they let them hurry away to get to safety. There were still others Elvin tried to help, tried to bring to safety. The attacking humans thankfully left eventually, leaving the burning behind. Elvin couldn't help all, though.

Kneeling with the fallen, who couldn't be saved anymore. Fire surrounding everything, burning away. They hurt. They really, really hurt. Not only physically did they hurt. The forest burning here, making Elvin's entire being hurt. The fire around them, burning at Elvin's form. But losing their little settlement, these people that had been so wonderful, so respectful. It hurt.

Elvin knelt there until the fire started to die out, and rain began to fall heavily. They knelt in the ash and soot left from the fire, surrounded by nothing but death. They hoped that everyone had made it out safe; everyone who hadn't fallen in battle. They hoped that they were safe, out there, wherever they had fled to. Elvin knew they likely wouldn't come back -those humans had came here for them.

Elvin knelt there even as the seasons changed. Nothing could make them move, even when it started to snow, burying them into the white cold. But when the snow melted, four or five blades of grass poked their head out around Elvin's form. The longer they knelt there, the more grass began to grow around them, tiny flowers appearing. Finally, Elvin focused, blinking. Life still went on, even after that tragedy. New life was growing. And while there was still destruction and pain around them, they had to keep going, for everyone good who might eventually pass through. Slowly getting to their feet, Elvin felt tired. But, they also felt closer than ever to the forest, more connected than ever. As they walked, they felt the forest respond. They could feel the life thrumming inside of it, responding to each of their breaths. They felt lighter. Instead of their usual, messy appearance, they were clothed in a finer robe in green, with dark brown highlights, mixed with golden stitching. Something had changed in them, had changed what they were. And while Elvin wasn't sure what that was that had changed, they knew their experiences would just make them stronger.

Elvin went back to their tree, sitting down at the lake with a heavy heart. Even with the lifes lost, with their friends gone, they'd continue. They'd continue taking care of the forest, and all life within. Just like they had done before. Washing themself in the lake, cleaning off the ash and soot sticking to them, they noticed their changed clothing. They curiously took it in, before shaking their head lightly. They looked fancy, but still like themself. They felt like they preferred their normal attire though. With a deep and calming breath, Elvin stepped into their tree. They needed a little break, just to rest. Process all that had happened in one single night.

So Elvin rested, uncaring how much time passed. Their connection to the forest was stronger, deeper -when one day a human stepped foot into the forest, Elvin felt it. They felt it, stepping out of their tree. Were they angry? Scared? Prejudice? Curious? They weren't certain. All they knew, was that they needed to see what human came here. What they wanted. What they were going to do. There were good humans, and there were bad ones. Elvin needed to know which kind this one was.

Purely out of instinct, Elvin stepped through the trees, finding that they could step into any and come out anywhere in the forest. It was like second-nature, even though Elvin knew they hadn't been able to do that before. They stayed hidden away, watching the person. They didn't seem to be doing anything, which Elvin was glad for. Just walking, looking around. Maybe they were trying to find something? Or maybe they were just taking a walk? In the end, the human left again without doing anything, so Elvin didn't pay it any more mind. Instead, they enjoyed their new-found power. They didn't know why they had changed, but that was just how it was. It definitely made it easier to go through the forest and check up on things. They felt much closer to the forest, much more in tune, so everything felt easier for them. Knowing what plants and animals were around, were in need, the instinctual knowledge of how to help.

Elvin easily fell into their role they had in the forest. Of the protector, the caretaker. They made sure that everything was okay, and every other day, they went back to the place of the old settlement. They made sure life grew there again, planting a tree right in the middle, to honour the ones who had been here, to honour the ones lost trying to protect their home. It was still a place of sadness, but Elvin started to feel okay with it. They remembered the people, their friends, everyone who had lived here as part of the forest. And Elvin treasured all of the gifts they had gotten, making sure everything was safe with them or their tree.

More humans traversed the forest, over time. Mostly just taking walks through it, though there were also hunters coming now and then, and sometimes there were people who gathered berries or mushrooms. Elvin still made sure that the humans didn't hurt the forest. Every time someone came, they could feel it. Every time someone hurt the forest, they felt the pain resonate in themself. Thankfully, it didn't happen often, that someone was mean-spirited and wanted to hurt the forest. And sometimes, there were people who knew of the Spirit of Elvin. People who asked for advice, people who thanked Elvin for everything they're doing. People who left him little gifts, and people who treasured every word they said, and every gift they gave. Elvin loved helping these people. Trying their best to answer questions, to lift someone's spirit. But, they didn't show themself to pretty much anyone, knowing they didn't look “normal”. But it was nice like this, they thought. They didn't lack in anything -they were happy with the forest, they were happy with the people, they were happy with themself. While they missed their old friends, they didn't miss any new company. They didn't crave new people -Elvin was okay on their own.

[thiefcat-niao]

Sand and Gold (Chapter 1)

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh!   Characters/Ships: Atem, Thief King Bakura, more in later chapters~  Rating: T Length: Chapter 1 / ?; 4000 words

Summary:

Prince Atem once found a small thief, and hid him for a time in the palace courtyard. The thief promised to return; to explain his hatred, and to have his vengeance.

The Pharaoh and the King of Thieves were supposed to be enemies, but neither is willing to abandon the tenuous bond they forged as children. Now the Royal Priests, Seto foremost among them, try to recover their kidnapped Pharaoh, unaware that Atem left with the Thief King of his own accord. Bakura has declared war in the name of his beloved Kul Elna, and yet wears the Millennium Ring that Pharaoh willingly gave him.

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Prince Atem loved the palace courtyard in the moonlight. He liked the way the sand, so dull and dry in the day, was turned to silver stardust. He liked the coolness of the air, in summer, and even the rare frigidity of the desert winters. He liked the quiet—the lack of voices, and the solitude that came with sneaking out of his bedroom window in the dead of night.

His father, the pharaoh Akhenamkhanen, knew of these fondnesses; told him to at least let a guard or two keep him company. But Atem had no desire to do so, and so did not heed his father. He felt safe, within the palace grounds, and indeed had never strayed outside the walls.

On one such moonless night, the young prince—with scarcely ten years to his honored name—walked among the carefully cultivated flowers that lined the western side of the palace grounds. His head hung back, eyes wandering across the distant field of stars above. Though his body was weary, from the day’s activities, his mind was keenly alert. He thought of his father, fondly.

The scritch-scratch noise didn’t pique Atem’s interest right away; the young prince dismissed it as desert rats scrabbling at the palace wall just outside. But it grew louder and more rhythmic as Atem walked. Eventually he slowed, pressing one ear to the stone beside him, and the sound jumped into focus. It was the sound of digging, surely, but it seemed unlikely to Atem that small animals could make such a sound. Not rats, then... a jackal, perhaps... or a wildcat... He wondered if there could be a desert lion on the other side of the wall. He’d never seen such a creature up close, though a beast-tamer had once been brought in to entertain his father's court at a banquet.

Across the courtyard, a single guard patrolled—Atem could scarcely make out the man’s silhouette, from his distance. Other than that, no living soul moved in the darkness. There would be more guards outside the palace’s perimeter, of course, but within the walls there was little need. Atem glanced back, toward the palace’s main section, and identified his father’s window high above. He could smell the palace kitchens nearby—a meaty and herbal scent that hung heavy in the air. He could hear the palace livestock shifting about in the stables.

Atem scrambled up; found the cracks in the wall with nimble fingers and bare toes. The top of the wall was carved decoratively, making it easy to scale. Atem paused at the summit, gazing out across the expanse of empty desert that flanked the palace’s westward side. The horizon was invisible, concealed by the night; where sand dunes became sky was for only the gods to know.

Atem glanced back at the palace, illuminated by the flames of torches and lamps. The stars paid the desert no such favors, and Khonsu hadn’t appeared in the sky that night.

The sound of scratching drew Atem’s attention once again, and he looked down. There was a shape near one of the palace’s rear gates, crouched just outside a circle of light from a torch mounted on the wall. It was a creature, surely, fixated on the ground. Atem tilted his head, then slithered down the wall. He felt a thrill of apprehension as his feet touched the sand—he was outside the palace.

Atem crept forward. The soft ground, still warm from the daytime sun, muted his steps. He realized that the creature was sitting upright and wondered if it might be a demon; he tried to recall the stories he’d heard of such beings. There was no telling what might’ve come out of the open desert behind the palace. Atem was scarcely a yard away from the creature.

Perhaps a demon, but perhaps not.

“Oh!”

The prince’s soft exclamation made the shape jerk; spin around to attention, and immediately stumble. It fell backwards, into the light of the torch. Atem drew a sharp breath; took a step back.

The shape was a child—no older than Atem himself, though somehow much smaller and frailer. His bones stuck out, sharp and unforgiving, casting deep shadows across his body in the dim light. But more horrifying was the wound—the festering clot of blood and fluids obscuring half his face, so swollen that his right eye was forced shut. Atem felt his stomach flip end-over-end; thought he might retch, but thought that would be horribly insensitive, and unbecoming of a prince besides.

The feral little child bore his teeth; tried to get up and failed, his legs folding like splintered twigs beneath him. His one eye was huge, terrified, and Atem, still hidden in shadow, saw when he started to tremble.

“Get away... don’t come any closer...!” The child's voice was a dry rasp, almost lost in the still night air; his narrow chest heaved. “Get away!”

Atem looked down; saw the claw-marks in the sand, and knew the boy had been digging. It took him a moment to realize why, however, and when he did his stomach twisted with pity.

“We bury things so the scavengers won’t find them,” he said softly, and the strange boy stiffened. “But you must’ve been watching.”

“Go away!” the thief spat again, managing a bit more volume. Atem did not obey, but crouched down on his haunches; stared, and thought.

The people who worked in the palace kitchens often buried inedible parts of food—gristly bits of meat, woody vegetable stalks, unsalvageably burnt bread—on the edge of the palace grounds, so that night hunters wouldn’t be attracted. But human scavengers didn’t rely on scent alone; couldn’t be fooled by a layer of topsoil and sand.

The thought of anyone eating the rubbish—dirt-encrusted rubbish, now, no less—made Atem’s throat close up.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

The other child shifted; gave a strange little whine, and again tried to rise. His legs wouldn’t support him.

“You’re sick,” Atem said, inching forward. The thief’s chest began to heave more violently. “That wound...”

The thief drew his lip back; snarled like a cornered animal, but seemed unable to flee. Atem stopped moving toward him, and again thought.

“Wait here. Please. I’ll be back. Just... wait here, okay?”

The thief didn’t reply; Atem could see the gleam of some liquid dripping down the right side of his face. The prince darted away, back along the palace wall. In his endless exploration, he’d found a gap in the stones, concealed from within by a patch of shrubbery. He crawled inside, ignoring the scrape of thorns as he wriggled back into the yard and dashed, quickly and quietly, back to the palace.

Prince Atem didn’t expect the thief to wait; didn’t expect him to still be there, when Atem returned. But he was, huddled up in a jumble of bones and threadbare clothes. For a moment, Atem thought he might not be breathing. As the prince neared, though, the thief startled to attention; scrambled up into a crouch, and again bore his teeth. Atem dropped down before he got too near, leveling their heights.

“Here. You don’t need to dig that up. See?” The prince held out a piece of cloth in upturned palms, upon which rested a small loaf of bread and a chunk of roasted meat pilfered from the slumbering palace kitchens, along with a waterskin. The thief’s eye—that one eye, glossy with fever and fatigue—widened sharply, and his fingers clutched at the dirt. He didn’t try to stand—it wouldn’t have worked, they both knew—but dragged himself closer. Atem wanted to move forward, to save him that tremendous effort, but didn’t; waited patiently, even as the thief hesitated.

“... Why?” the child croaked out, after a moment. His chest convulsed.

“You need it,” Atem said, and then placed the offerings on the ground.

Again the thief hesitated, eye flicking between Atem and the food and then back again. But eventually desperate instinct won out, and he pulled himself a bit farther forward. He fell upon the food, a starving animal, all growling and drool as he ate. Atem watched in morbid fascination, having never seen life pushed to such a breaking point and intrigued despite the nausea that threatened at the back of his own throat. Only once did the thief retch, a violent convulsion, but he didn’t vomit.

When the food had vanished, there was a moment of quiet—the thief’s wheezing breath was audible, but that was all. Then Atem inched forward.

“Come on.” Atem extended his hand. “You can’t stay here. They’ll find you if you come inside, but I’ll show you my best hiding place. Come on.”

The thief regarded him mistrustfully, his gaze far older than suited his small body. But he leaned forward; asked, “Why?” in a voice that did not rasp, but instead cracked.

“Because you’re hurt,” Atem said. “You might die.”

The thief stiffened; choked quietly and bent his head, shoulders shaking. “Because... I might... die...” he whispered, and Atem nodded.

“I don’t want you to die.”

“... I don’t want to die.”

The thief’s hand was calloused and dry, his fingers like brittle sticks. Atem pulled him gently along, guiding him through the hole in the wall and then deeper into the palace grounds, calling upon his knowledge of the guards’ routines and sticking to the deepest of shadows. At some point the thief managed to get to his feet and walk, and Atem wondered at the mysterious strength he possessed, even so close to death.

There was a massive statue of the pharaoh—of Atem’s father, Akhenamkhanen—at the rear of one courtyard. Looking up, Atem could see his own balcony directly above it. It had been peering down from that vantage point that he’d noticed the gap in the statue’s foundation, and upon exploration he’d discovered a small, natural cave within the stone construct, likely a crack that had widened steadily since the statue’s creation. It was nearly impossible to detect from the ground, and it was that spot that Atem took the tiny thief to. The thief shied away, for a moment, glaring up at the stone effigy, but then steadied and followed Atem inside.

Once they were deep within the stone, the thief dropped Atem’s hand; collapsed, his strength spent. Atem crouched beside him. In the near-pitch-black inside the statue’s base, the gruesome wound on the thief’s face was scarcely discernible.

“Who...?” the thief gasped out family, and Atem hesitated.

“I live here.”

“A... servant...?”

Atem remained silent, and the thief didn’t question him further.

“... I’m going to bring some more food and water, but don’t eat it all now,” Atem said, after a moment. “Sleep, and you’ll have it here when you wake up. I can’t see to treat your wound now, so I’ll be back in the morning, when there’s light.”

The thief didn’t speak—only watched Atem with that one shrewd, almost-but-not-quite-hostile eye of his. Atem nodded, if only to reassure himself, and then wriggled back outside. By the time he had returned—with not only more bread and water, but with bedding—the thief was unconscious. Atem gazed at him for a moment, perplexed by the turn his life had taken that peaceful night.

“Rest...” he murmured, and put the supplies down. “Rest. I’ll be back in the morning.”

... ... ...

Atem was weary, come morning, and irritated by his father’s oblivious good cheer. He suffered through breakfast and his morning lessons, then slipped away from Mahad at the first opportunity to check on the foundling stashed away in the base of pharaoh’s statue. He half expected the thief to have fled, but found the child exactly where he’d left him. The statue’s cracks allowed a fair amount of daylight into the little cave, and Atem saw, for the first time, the full extent of the damage to the thief’s tiny body. He was emaciated, the shape of each bone clear beneath his dried-papyrus skin, which was scuffed bloody in several spots. His gray hair was hopelessly matted. Most troublesome, the mass of flesh on his face was a menagerie of angry reds and purples, white ooze contrasting starkly against it.

“I brought more food,” Atem said; what he’d left the night before was gone.

The thief, while still physically shaky, seemed more alert. He accepted the parcel Atem offered; unwrapped it. He ate slowly, with relish laid bare despite his attempts to hide it, and sipped water. He didn’t speak.

“I brought medicine, too,” Atem said, after some time. “Can I look at your wound?”

“Your own pharaoh’s men did it,” the thief said, his voice muffled by bread. “To mark me as a thief.”

Atem swallowed; said, “I’d guessed. But the punishment for thievery isn’t death.”

“You’re right. I don’t die if I steal—I die if I stop stealing. I starve.”

Atem shifted, uncertain of how to reply. Eventually, he motioned to the loaf of bread. “You didn’t have to steal that.”

“You’re right,” the thief said again. “You stole this.”

“I did not,” Atem said, a bit indignant. “That’s from my own breakfast.”

That seemed to catch the thief off-guard, and he didn’t reply.

“I’m going to take a closer look,” Atem asserted, after another pause. The thief didn’t speak, but fell still when Atem leaned in. He smelled of rot, sour, and the prince struggled to keep his nose from wrinkling. The damaged area was feverishly hot, and Atem took great care in cleaning away some of the dried blood and scabbing. The thief didn’t move; scarcely seemed to breathe as Atem worked. When Atem reached the flesh itself, though, the thief’s teeth grit subtly; he began to occasionally flinch, as Atem cleaned the wound.

Once the worst of the debris had been cleared, the shape of the wound became clear: a long slash, starting just above the eye and ending at the bottom of the cheek. There were a couple of smaller, lateral tears in the skin along the sides of the main cut.

“It didn’t get your eye?” Atem asked—the first words that had been spoken since the process began.

The thief said, quietly, “No.”

Atem sighed. “That’s good.” He finished cleaning and dressing the cut, treating it with the powerful herbal poultice that his father’s magicians made. When he’d finished, he shuffled backwards. “There.”

The thief blinked his good eye; touched the dressing lightly. Atem didn’t expect thanks, and didn’t receive them.

“If I live... and do terrible things...” the thief said at last, “you’ll have to live with that.”

“Why would you do terrible things?” Atem asked, genuinely perplexed. “You mean like thieving?”

The thief shook his head. “I hate your pharaoh. I’ll kill him, one day.”

Atem felt a chill down his spine, but didn’t let it show. “Why?”

But the thief didn’t answer; stared off to the side, growing quickly listless. Atem didn’t press.

“I’m going to run off,” the thief said, after some time had passed. “I’m not going to do anything to repay you. As soon as I can, I’m just going to disappear, and you can rot with the rest of your kind.”

“That’s fine,” Atem answered, and again had the satisfaction of catching the thief off-guard. “But please don’t leave before you’re ready. You might die.”

The thief gave a little snort—almost a laugh.

“I’m serious,” Atem said. “Stay here as long as you need—or as long as you want.”

The thief didn’t reply.

... ... ...

Atem returned that evening with food and fresh dressing for the thief’s wound.

“Palace food,” the thief said abruptly, though a mouthful of meat, “is even better than I ever dreamed.” 

It was the most emphatic thing Atem had yet heard him say, and it made the young prince laugh. “I’m glad.”

“Though rotten fish would probably taste good, at this point,” the thief said, a dry note of humor in his voice. 

“Maybe, but palace food is a lot better than rotten fish.”

“True.” The thief paused; he was watching Atem carefully, out of the corner of his good eye, as Atem worked on his injury. “... You’re not going hungry, right?”

“What?”

“You said it was your food you brought me, this morning.”

Atem felt a surge of surprise. “No. I’m okay. It’s okay, really.”

The thief’s eye narrowed, just slightly. “Either you’re lying, or you palace folk sure eat richly.”

“We do,” Atem said, almost apologetically. He didn’t usually avail himself of the near-limitless food available to him on a daily basis, but for once it was proving useful. Egypt was a prosperous place, since his father had brought peace to the war-torn country with the mysterious Millennium Items, and the pharaoh and his chosen enjoyed the best fruits of that prosperity. “A little too richly, for my taste.”

The thief seemed to consider that, then shrugged and closed his eyes. “It benefits me, right now, so I’m not complaining. Judging, for sure, but not complaining.”

Again Atem laughed; finished with dressing the thief’s wound. He waited until the thief was done eating, then said, “I could bring some water, if you’d like to bathe. There isn’t much room in here, but...”

The thief nodded slowly; said, “That’d be... nice...”

Atem slipped out; fetched a couple of pitchers of water and soap. He brought some of his own clean clothes, as well.

The thief took great care to clean the grime from his skin. It seemed to Atem, observing the behavior, that he must have lived with every human dignity at some point, and that saddened the young prince. What led you to this...? he wondered, watching as the thief meticulously untangled his hair; rinsed it twice, then once more for good measure. Where is your family...? With how well you speak, how you act... you couldn’t have been raised by the jackals...

When the thief had dried himself, he pulled on Atem’s clothes; sighed quietly at their softness before he could check himself. He cleared his throat crossly.

“Feel better?” Atem asked.

“Human,” the thief answered, unwittingly echoing Atem’s earlier thoughts. “I feel human.”

“Because you are.”

“Yeah...”

For a moment, neither of them moved or spoke. Then Atem gathered up the pitchers and dirty cloth; said, “I’ll be back.”

“Do what you want,” was the thief’s muttered answer.

Atem smiled; repeated, “I’ll be back.”

... ... ...

Atem visited the thief briefly the next morning, and returned once again in the evening with a senet board tucked under one arm.

“What’s that?” the thief asked; his voice, muffled by a mouthful of roast meat, wasn't hostile, and that warmed the young prince.

“Senet. Haven’t you ever played it?”

“Have. Like mehen better.”

Atem laughed, surprised. “I’ll bring a mehen board next time, then.”

The thief looked at him curiously, cleaning the grease from his fingers with long, languid strokes of his tongue. “Huh? You want me to play?”

Atem tilted his head; he’d placed the board down between them. “I thought you might be bored.”

Then it was the little thief’s turn to laugh; it was a surprisingly warm sound, and Atem smiled. “Bored? I could eat and sleep like this for years and not get bored of it.”

“Do you want to play a game of senet?”

The thief smiled—a touch wryly, the wrappings on his face crinkling with the movement. “Sure. Let’s play.”

They played far more than a single game—they played, indeed, until the light was gone and they were forced to quit. Atem promised to bring a mehen board the next day; the thief thanked him.

... ... ...

“You’re in a good mood, son,” Pharaoh Akhnamkanon commented, smiling across the breakfast table.

Prince Atem nodded; he was busy tucking food into his pockets while still trying to sate his own hunger (as he had, despite what he might tell the little thief, been going a bit hungry). It had been nearly a week since Atem had first encountered the thief, and still he was hiding beneath the statue of the pharaoh.

“Have you got a new friend among the palace children?” the father asked gently. Atem gave a small, noncommittal shrug. “Well, I hope you’re having fun.”

“I am!” Atem exclaimed, and beamed at his father—at his pharaoh, whom the little thief claimed to hate. Atem wondered, yet again, why that could possibly be. He resolved to ask, during their game of mehen that day.

“Why?” The thief answered question with question as he rolled the dice; moved his marker and took a bite of bread. “Because this is all his fault.”

“What is?” Atem pressed, picking up the dice; giving them a shake before tossing them, and then moving his own game piece accordingly.

“You’ll understand, some day. When I’m older, I’ll come back and explain it.”

The little thief’s strength seemed to be returning, bit by bit, and his wound was healing well. Each day, Atem expected to find that he’d run off; each day, the thief was still there, waiting for his visits.

“Where do you come from?” Atem asked, watching with slight anxiety as the thief’s game piece closed in on his own. He rolled the dice; got a three.

“A place that doesn’t exist anymore.”

Atem wasn’t sure how to reply; the thief overtook him, rounding a curve in the snake.

“Your family?” Atem asked eventually.

“They don’t exist anymore, either.”

“I’m sure they’re living well in A'aru.”

“I’m sure they aren’t.” The thief’s voice was bitter, and Atem tilted his head.

“Why do you say that?”

The thief didn’t reply; moved his game-piece to the center of the board, and said, “I’m the snake, now.”

Atem nodded; rolled the dice, and set his marker to fleeing back in the other direction.

“Their ba and ka were destroyed, along with their bodies,” the thief said, after a moment, and Atem stiffened. “There’s nothing left of them to be judged, or to make it into the afterlife.”

“That can’t...” Atem murmured, and caught the gleam of tears on the thief’s cheeks. He fell silent.

“Got you,” the thief said softly, as his game piece reached Atem’s. He swept them both off the board; asked, “We’ll switch to senet?”

And Atem replied, “Sure. Senet it is.”

... ... ...

Several days later, Atem arrived at the statue at dusk; it had been more difficult than usual to slip away from his friends among the palace-folk.

“Sorry...” he gasped out, upon finally squirming into the little alcove. The thief looked up, unruffled. “It’s too dark now to play anything, I think...”

“It’s fine,” the thief said, an oddly sad note to his voice. When Atem made a questioning noise, he said, “I’ll be leaving, tomorrow.” Atem laughed breathlessly, and the thief tilted his head.

“I’m so glad you told me...” the prince murmured, and the thief looked away.

“Yeah... well... whatever...”

Atem edged forward; the food he’d brought, for once, sat untouched. “You don’t have to. If I talk to Pharaoh Akhenamkhanen, vouch for you, I’m sure—“

“No!” The thief’s voice was sharp; furious. It dropped again, though, immediately. “No... sorry, but... no. I could never... I mean... I hate your stinking pharaoh. I stand by that. I’ll kill him, one day. And everyone close to him.”

Atem felt a deep stab of remorse, but didn’t argue.

“I’ll come back, one day, I swear it,” the thief said. “Then you’ll understand. If you’re still here, at the palace...”

I’ll be here, for sure... Atem thought, with a trace of humor. What he said aloud was, “I’ll look forward to it.”

The thief didn’t respond; unwrapped the meal that Atem had brought him. The wound on his face had improved—it would leave quite the scar, but it was no longer open or raw. It would heal. He ate slowly, with relish, chewing thoroughly before swallowing each bite. He looked far less hollow than he had; his bones were still visible, prominently, but he no longer appeared frail and skeletal.

“You’ll miss the food, won’t you?”

The thief chuckled. “I’ll miss that. I’ll miss a few things.”

Atem stopped short of asking what else he would miss. The thief wouldn’t be convinced to stay, he was certain. Atem had no desire to sour their farewell with an argument.

“Do you need anything? Before you go?”

The thief shook his head; didn’t reply. Atem sat patiently while he finished his meal, and then they shared the silent stillness of the statue’s interior. When Atem made the slightest move, though, the thief reached out; caught his wrist. Atem stiffened, surprised, and met the thief’s gaze—both his eyes, clear and bright in the darkness. His grip was strong; his fingers no longer like brittle twigs.

“Stay with me tonight. Please?”

While there was no trace of vulnerability in the thief’s voice, it was laid bare in his eyes. And, although aware that it might cause trouble, Atem could do nothing but nod.

“Sure. I will. Of course.”

Atem leaned back against the stone; was surprised when the thief lay not only beside him, but against his shoulder. After a moment, the thief snuggled further into him, pressing their small bodies close.

“Is this okay?”

“Of course... it’s fine, of course...”

When Prince Atem woke, the defused dawn light rousing him, he was alone. The golden bangles he’d been wearing were missing, and that made him happy.

[pixelsandpins]

I’m on my shit again (a repost due to technical difficulties)

Something Wanting

A Yuri on Ice (Otayuri fanfic)

General, 3k words, part 1/3?

"She seemed taken aback for just a moment, then nodded with resolve before sliding off down the rink again. Spartan advice, but hopefully effective. It had been ten years and seven gold medals since his debut, but he barely felt qualified to pass out any sage wisdom on the matter. And yet Victor always sent the junior skaters to him, hoping they'd glean something useful they couldn't get from their own coach."

The Ice Tiger of Russia has cut a swathe through the skating world a mile wide in the decade since his senior debut. The ice has been good to him, but there are still things it can't bring him. Balance. Clarity. Companionship. Despite being enveloped in a small family he can call his, there's something missing. Something he can't scratch. When an old flame appears, the feelings boil over, and he can't hold onto his life as is, anymore.

"Mr. Plisetsky!" a little knot formed in the bottom of Yuri's stomach every time someone called his name like that, but he tried his best not to let it show.

You're a role model now, Yuratchka. The young ones look up to you . He could almost hear the old man in his head. Was that voice Yakov or Victor, though? It didn't matter. They had both chastised him about equal at this point. Yuri turned to the pale, freckled brunette girl who had slid along the rink to meet him.

"Mr. Plisetsky, I'm competing in my first senior division next week, and Coach Nikiforov-"

"And Nikiforov sent you over to force a pep talk out of me?" She blushed a little and turned her eyes toward her skates.

"I...Coach reminded me that you won gold your first time at the Grand Prix, and I just wanted to know if you had any tips."

"Are you expecting to 1.) qualify all the rounds to make it that far, and 2.) even stand on the podium?

"Ah...no...I just…"

"Well you should! You should always expect that of yourself. Eyes on the prize every time. Nothing short of gold should ever be truly good enough."

She seemed taken aback for just a moment, then nodded with resolve before gliding off down the rink again. Spartan advice, but hopefully effective. It had been ten years and seven gold medals since his debut, but he barely felt qualified to pass out any sage wisdom on the matter. And yet Victor always sent the junior skaters to him, hoping they'd glean something useful they couldn't get from their own coach.

"There's uncle Yurio," said another voice, thick with accent. Another name he shied away from, but at least the person who spoke it had grown on him. It hadn't been easy learning to share Victor. He'd been petulant, childish, unable to understand why he couldn't seem to get ahold of one of the few things he ever really and truly wanted. His anger and intransigence almost ruined him.

He'd had a moment of crystal clarity, though, when they all stood together on the podium a couple years later. Pork cutlet bowl wasn't going away. Not yet, at least. By the time he joined them at the altar as a groomsman, he'd come to think of Yuuri as...not a brother...but something between friend and family. Someone he'd feel the absence of in his life. Not that he'd ever admit to any of that in hundred years.

Of course, the best thing Yuuri ever did was provide the means of creating the singular best creature in all of existence. A black haired, gray-eyed three year old clung to his leg, her tiny little arms lifted to him.

"Valya!" Yuri picked up the girl and gave her a squeeze, nuzzling his nose into her tiny little cheek. "And when are you going to win your first gold, huh?"

"I just start skating!" she squealed.

"That is not an excuse, my little piglet. They have five and under competitions."

"Yes, they do, but we're not going to force Valentina to compete, you know that." Yuuri reached them at the edge of the stands. His round form dropped to the bleachers, pink and purple Hello Kitty backpack flopping down between his feet. Valentina had picked it out. He wasn't fat by any means, but the triple hit of retiring, hitting his mid-thirties, and becoming a dad didn't exactly lend itself well to keeping in triple flip condition.

"Valenka! My zolotska," cooed a silver-haired old coot, his skates slicing through the ice. "Come to papa!" Yuri held out the little girl to Victor who clamored over the railing to get to him. He planted a bevy of quick kisses all over her forehead and cheeks, chattering little endearments into her ears. "Here, go back to otousan, papa's gotta take off his skates." Victor deposited her back on the bleacher side, but she ran to Yuri instead of her own father, begging to be picked up again. He obliged as Victor came through the opening in the wall to sit down next to his husband. Victor leaned over for a kiss, and Yuri was quick to shy away. Seeing them affectionate with each other didn't gross him out like it used to, but the disgust had been replaced with a strange dull ache in his chest.

As he gazed out over the rink, he gave a hard glare to a handful of lingering teenagers, mostly girls, waiting to hopefully catch a glimpse of the legendary pair together in the flesh. They knew not to make a scene of themselves in front of their various coaches, though, and they were finally slipping off to the locker room to change.

"Is beef and cabbage okay for dinner?" It took Yuri a moment to realize he was being spoken to, too busy focusing on the retreating forms of the young skaters.

"What was that?"

Yuuri was looking up at him expectantly.

"I'm making beef cabbage rolls for dinner. Was in the mood for something from home. You're coming over, right? It's Thursday."

Right. Thursday. The weekly meal at the Nikiforov-Katsuki's. Those had started when Grandpa died and Yuri was officially all on his own. Come over when we're not traveling, one night a week, at least, for a good meal. You can't live on protein bars and instant soup. Yuri had learned how to cook properly for one in the meantime, but the tradition had held.

"Uh, sure, I like both those things," Yuri replied, taking a moment to play with the aglets of Valentina's cheetah print sneakers (a gift from his own hands).

"I dun like cabbage," she opined.

"Val-chan, you do like cabbage. We just had it last week," Yuuri responded in The Voice.

"But I dun like cabbage, now," Valentina insisted.

"Valentina, we eat the food that's cooked for us," Victor added in his version of The Voice. The little girl tucked her forehead into Yuri's neck in defiance. It was still strange to hear them speak with those tones of firm but gentle command. They weren't just fathers, they were Dads and it was still taking some getting used to.

"Kyabetsu! Kyabetsu!" Valentina had turned around to the idea of cabbage for dinner, and decided to invent a new song for the occasion. She demanded that Yuri march around the living room as part of her vegetable procession, but he'd tuckered out about half-way through.

Now he was sat on the couch, watching her babble in and out between Russian, English, and bits of Japanese. He had half a mind to record it. At the thought of it he was already doing it, tagging both her dads on Instagram. He didn't remember who came up with #borschtcutletbowl (probably Chulanont or his fiancé), but they all used it liberally, now.

Victor joined him on the couch, glass of red wine nestled between two long, pale fingers.

"You want a glass? We've also got half a bottle of vodka left in the freezer."

"I might, in a minute." Yuri leaned back into the burgundy leather sofa and caught a flash of their reflection together in the black of the TV. When Victor turned it on, it disappeared, but the image remained. Ingrained. Burned into the back of his eyes.

Victor had always been stunning. Everyone knew that. But he'd aged into something so fine and elegant it should have been illegal for him to simply exist in the world with other, normal people. Yuri had gained maybe ten centimeters at most coming into adulthood. Either he was destined to be short or all the years of ballet and salchows during his formative years really had stunted his growth. He'd put muscle on that small frame, though, despite attempting to stay trim and waifish for as long as possible. He'd only managed to maintain the "Russian fairy" aesthetic for a little while into his late teens before flowering into "attainable Adonis." The past couple of seasons he'd been working up to "your daughter calls me 'daddy,' too." It was orchestrated to hit its stride this year, and he had to admit a certain level of excitement. The end of his competitive career was creeping up on him, and if he could go out with a bang that'd be ideal.

"You should consider coaching," Victor said, in the middle of a thread of thought.

"Why the f-," Yuri caught himself. No cussing in front of the baby. "Why would I want to do that?"

"You're a multi-medalist, you can competently teach a step sequence, and you're great with the kids."

"Only two of those three things are correct."

"Valentina loves you!" Victor gestured to his daughter who'd now changed her chant to "Niku! Gyuuniku!"

"That's different," Yuri protested.

"The kids at the rink-"

"The kids at the rink are somewhere between desperate and starstruck, hoping to catch even a glimmer of fame or talent by association. They aren't even half the skater you were at that age..or a quarter of the skater I was." Yuri lifted the edge of his eyebrow smugly, but Victor pushed on, ignoring the jab.

"Well. I enjoy it. You're going to have to watch out for my Konstantin, this year. He's coming for your blood."

"So does he want the left or right side of the podium?"

Victor snorted ever so slightly into his wine.

"Don't be so quick to drop your guard," Yuuri called from the kitchen. "You've got some stiff competition coming up to meet you in the next few seasons."

"If I make it that much longer," Yuri added internally.

Valentina jumped up onto the couch, changing the course of the conversation toward when dinner would be ready and if there would be pudding for desert afterward.

"If you eat all your bites." Yuuri appeared, an apron rolled down to his waist, matching glass of wine in his own hand. Looking so domestic, it was easy to forget his post skating career was more lucrative than anyone they knew. A business degree had, indeed been an excellent fallback plan. Yuri only hoped his own post-secondary education would be so useful when the time came.

The Eastern European Cup was relatively new, only a handful of years old, but it was a good way to start the season. One of Victor's students was also competing, but the trip down to Moscow was easy enough it meant the whole family was tagging along.

The only downside to it being in-country was that he couldn't dodge the reporters with a feigned ignorance of their language.

When the microphones and sports journalists came at him on his way into the stadium, he steeled his body and mind for the onslaught. It was Valentina who came to the rescue. Her calls for "Dyadya Yuri" to pick her up destroyed the news teams with a level of cuteness none of them were physically prepared to deal with.

Within an hour, #daddyPlisetsky had overtaken all ice skating related newsfeeds. Yuri knew this because he kept getting tagged in all of them. He had to turn the notifications off on his phone just to concentrate on getting ready for his skate.

He was early, which was nice. He liked showing everyone the thing they were going to have to beat, put the fear of God into them, rustle their jimmies. He was also happy to note that his attempt at producing hyper-masculinity on the ice was effective. Checking his phone after his short program revealed that #daddyPlisetsky had quickly taken a more explicit turn.

"How'd they get so many pictures of your butt so quickly?"

Yuri jumped a little. He hadn't heard the other Yuuri join him at the top of the risers.

"Perverts screencapping the livestream." Yuri tucked his phone into his pocket. "Where's lil' bit?"

"She's down on the floor getting ready to 'help papa with coaching.' If she gets in the way, there're a couple of volunteers down there ready to watch her. I'm not worried."

"Hm…" Without thinking, Yuri pulled out his phone again, expecting his feed to be totally new, somehow, in the two seconds since he last looked at it. That was the worst part of competition. The long amounts of waiting between competitors, programs, and divisions. Yuri let out a soft groan.

"What's up?" Yuuri tapped Yuri with his shoe where they had both propped them up on the backs of the seats in front of them.

"Skate Canada is this weekend, also, and that asshole Leroy is there posting pictures and being gross."

"For someone you still call 'that asshole' after all these years, why do you still follow him?"

"I need to know what the competition is up to."

"He stopped competing two years ago."

"Not just in skating. In life-oh lord. Look at her; she's ready to pop. Why does he reproduce so much?" Yuri quickly flashed the picture of a very pregnant Mrs. Leroy to the other Yuuri who raised his eyebrows, impressed.

"Is that number two or three?" he asked.

"Four."

"Damn. Okay. That's too many. To each his own, but that's too many children in too short a time. I can't even...wooo." Yuri let out a big puff of air, perhaps imagining that many little versions of himself wandering around, clutching at his ankles.

"Everyone's getting married or having babies, right now. It's a little disgusting. "

"It's what people do. Welcome to your mid-twenties."

"I need it to be over. Also people being thirsty on these ass-shots. That needs to end, too. The sooner the better."

"You should've read the things posted on our wedding photos. It could be a whole lot worse."

"Oh, I did…I did. I even posted a few." For a moment, Yuuri went beat red, then sunk back into his seat.

"We're talking about when to look into number 2," he offered after a bit of silence.

"Another little piglet? I love Valentina, but two of you is enough."

"For the second one Victor would be the...uh…"

"Sperm donor?"

"I was going to use a more elegant phrase, but yeah. That's the idea."'

"The only thing worse than an extra piglet running around is a tinier, louder version of that creature."

The creature in question had started hauling up the stairs, Valentina in tow, pulling on the bottom edges of his sharp gray suit. A look of frustration stretched across his face, forming his heart-shaped mouth into weird contortions.

"There was some kind of error, and they've delayed the women's skate by twenty minutes. Irina's getting psyched out." Victor flopped down on Yuri's other side and sent Valentina off to his husband for a bit.

"She's tough. She'll be fine," Yuri mused, patting Valentina on the head as she passed in front of his knees. "Who all's competing? I didn't even look up the women's skate."

"Ahhhh, here." Victor pulled a slightly crumpled piece of paper out of his breast pocket and handed it over.

Yuri scanned the list, looking for names he knew. One, in particular, stopped him.

"There's a competitor from Kazakstan in the junior division. Guess who choreographed his short routine."

Both Victor and Yuuri leaned forward in their seats instantly, waiting to hear the fallout from this revelation. When he didn't say anything, the other Yuuri breathed in a sharp uptick of air.  

"How long has it been since you talked to him?" he asked quickly.

"It's not weird, is it?" Victor chimed in.

"I...is this what old married couples do? Live vicariously through their hot, single friends?"

"Yes," they answer simultaneously. He tsked at them.

"It's not...weird...alright? It's never been weird. We just don't see each other in person all that often, and the few times we do, we're too busy to catch up. And since he decided to drop out for a few seasons, he hasn't had a reason to come abroad. So...whatever. Leave it alone."

Yuri went back to his phone, not really looking at the screen, but trying to keep from looking at the idiots on either side of him. Then he saw it. It was an accident really, he hadn't even gone to Instagram stalk him, yet, which is absolutely the thing that was about to happen.

A picture of him in front of the Eastern European Cup welcome banner with a couple of young skaters.

He was here. He was here somewhere.

Another picture taken literally seconds ago from the bottom of the auditorium near the judges table.

Yuri was on his feet before his brain even knew what he was doing. The mere flutter of the idea that he might get to actually see him in person had sparked jet fuel in his belly, rocketing him down the stairs toward the rink. Around the bend, toward the kiss and cry. Just beyond that to the judges. Here. He was around here somewhere.

Then Yuri saw him. Tall. Dark. Black hair with eyes the color of charcoal. The haircut had barely even changed in all these years.

Yuri called out to him, and the man heard, turning quickly to find Yuri in the crowd. Their eyes locked with each other and the world faded away around them.

How long had it been since he'd seen him in the flesh? So long. Too long.

But here he was.

Otabek Altin.