#ice girl had a sister i think in the village she grew up in. if youve seen buffy then you can imagine how anya is with money. thats how she

[catwaifuwu]

:3 choose an OC and tell me a few facts about them!!! I didn’t know you had OCs

Well. Idk all my ocs are like ten years old but I have one who got turned into being made of ice by accidentally drinking from an enchanted fountain. She has ice powers and is constantly worried about her job despite being married to a lord

I've got another guy who is. Well he's my edgy plural anime wolf boy cyborg and I love him dearly. He broke out of the facility he was being experimented on and started travelling around with this girl he found living in the slums outside a large city

[darkpuck]

Golden Sun: The Northern Wind

Once upon a time, a child fell from the sky and landed in a small desert town. Hailed as a child of the gods, she was adopted by the mayor of the town and raised alongside his own children, protected and loved. An evil, greedy man heard of this child, and of the ruins the town protected, and kidnapped her in order to force the townsfolk to build a tower to the skies in his own honour, using their holy ruins as the foundations for his blasphemy.

But this is not that story.

The winds of fate are tricky, you see, and there is little narrative difference between a desert of sand and a desert of ice.

And so, once upon a time, a child fell from the sky and landed in a small desert town. As before, she was unharmed, but unlike the people of this town, she had no protection against the ice and snow, and might have died soon after had they been less compassionate. But no, as before she was taken into their homes and hearts, not necessarily as a child of the gods but a gift from the dragons these people worshipped.

Personally, Agatio felt that maybe the dragons should have dropped this little one off further south, where she'd be in less danger from the cold. What did a Proxian know about the needs of this little scaleless child? Only rarely did they feel the cold. So while his mother and father dithered about the fire, and how close the child needed to be to it, the young boy grabbed his sword and his bow and strode out into the wild.

He returned three hours later with a brace of rabbits and a snow fox. All were taken to the local furrier, who accepted the meat and bones of the creatures in exchange for crafting a small blanket and gown for the child of the sky. By the time the sun set, the child, named Sheba by his mother, was clad and wrapped in a fur blanket and held against Agatio's chest as he stared sullenly into the fire. He didn't even like the girl, but he was by far warmer than his parents, and it was better than seeing her pitiful shivering.

She was small and tan and scaleless, but she stared at them all with a solemn expression and shed not one tear, voiced not one wail. She didn't bear the blood of dragons as the Proxians did, but Agatio had been to the Lighthouse north of the village, near the Edge, and had seen the glyphs there. Perhaps one day she would grow feathers or gills.

And, inexplicably, she seemed to like him. She didn't wail, when he consigned her back to his mother's care, but he could feel her eerie violet eyes on him as he left to attend Psynergy lessons, and when he returned, she stared until he picked her up again. "Don't get attached," he told the solemn little thing sternly as she nestled against his chest. "I don't like you."

She looked up at him, seemed to think for a moment, then decisively proclaimed, "Ba."

Despite himself, he smiled. "Yes," he told her. "Bah."

-------------------------

Sheba grew rapidly, in the manner of small children. She was too small yet for the clothing he'd worn at her age -- Agatio had always been big -- but she wasn't the only child in Prox. He didn't particularly enjoy dealing with Menardi and the biting cackle that was her laughter, but Karst's baby scales had finally hardened, turning a darker pink than her sister's. There was clothing to be passed on, now.

He also had a sinking feeling that he would be seeing much of Menardi as Sheba grew older, and even more of Karst.

Menardi opened the door when he knocked, stared, and cackled.

Agatio sighed.

But she invited him in, plopped Karst into his arms so he could admire the hardened scaling, and whipped through the house as she searched for Karst's outgrown clothing. "Bring her over next week," Menardi said, throwing a jacket at him with the precise amount of force needed for it to cover his head.

Giggling, Karst pulled it down and proclaimed, "Pikabu!"

"Absolutely not," he told her sternly, earning another giggle, then turned his gaze to Menardi. "Bring who over?"

Menardi stopped, glared, and then hurled a cape at his face. This time, he ducked. "Your sister, snow-for-brains," she drawled.

"She isn't my sister," Agatio said, and ducked a shirt this time.

"I'm not going to dignify that stupidity with a response," Menardi told him. "Karst, tell cousin Agatio what we think of bullshit in these parts."

Karst met his eye and then blew a very deliberate raspberry.

Agatio opened his mouth, and got a pair of socks to the face for his trouble. He closed his mouth; there was no speaking to Menardi when she was like this.

[andswarwrites]

Day 2

N- is an only child.  In a way I was one too.  My brother is fourteen years older than me, and my sister is twelve years older.  So when I was young both my siblings grew up and moved out and I was left in the strange situation of having siblings and yet not having them.  A few times, especially as a teen, someone would tell me they were an only child, and I would blurt out: "Me too!" without thinking.  And my mom once said to me: "Our kids would never do something like that." 

You could say Mom and Dad had two distinct families.  They had my brother and sister shortly after they wed in the 70s.  You'd think I was a little accident, but I wasn't: my parents and brother and sister moved to Haiti, but my dad got sick so they had to return to Canada after only nine months, and my mom explained to my dad that she wanted another child.  Had I been a boy my name would have been Randall Kenneth.  Not knocking all the Randys and Kens out there, but I'm really glad I'm a girl.

My sister left home at age eighteen, so I only got to see her when she would visit.  I don't remember what age my brother was when he left home, but I do know that by the age of ten, it was just me and Mom.  Dad worked full time, so I got to see him for breakfast early in the morning, for dinner and the evening, and on weekends.  Wait, I skipped over a detail.  I only just remembered it.  What is wrong with my memory?  My sister did come back to live in a basement apartment my parents set up for her in their house. 

That's a really good memory, because if I wanted to see my sister I only had to go down a few steps, cross through the play room/TV room, and stand in the entrance to see if it was a good time to visit with her.  I remember one time she was making an epic baked potato.  Steam was rising from it, and she had melted butter inside it, and was scooping in sour cream, and if I remember correctly, cheese.  Funny the things you remember.  I remember the floor.  It was a kind of blue gray, and it was slippery smooth.

So my sister lived in that basement for a little while.  But, again, by the time I was ten, she no longer lived with us.  My brother had his own life and his own family.  I saw my sister more frequently than I saw my brother, but after my parents and I moved to the North Shore of Quebec, an eight hour drive away from our previous home, I only saw my sister when she would visit.  This was before Skype and Zoom.  And I was so wrapped up in trying out public school for the first time, I didn't have time to miss her.

That's not true.  I remember her visiting.  We went blueberry picking, we went down to the oceanside, we went for ice cream.  When she left, and I didn't know how long I would have to wait until I saw her again, and that hurt.  Living in a town with a pulp and paper mill had an effect on my mom's and my health.  Dad made the decision to move us, at first to Quebec City, and finally to the outskirts of a little village with a long name, close to the town of Rigaud.  By then I was completing Grade 9, and I was about fifteen.

Now from a period of about five years of my life, I basically forgot I wasn't an only child.  My memory used to shut down.  I'll give an example.  When I was about seven my grandmother died of lung cancer and I saw her die. I was devastated.  My uncle could see how upset I was, so he took me out of the hospital to get some air and walk around.  As soon as we left the building, I turned into a happy, hyper kid, and it wasn't until we got back through to the entrance that I remembered what had occurred.

The memory came flooding back, and with it crushing guilt about forgetting about my grief like that.  When I later told my mother about it, she told me that sometimes our mind protects us by making us forget something that we just can't handle at the moment.  And as I will reveal later in the month, my brain works in sinuous, convoluted ways; it has taken a while to become properly familiar with it.  Now, getting back to my sister and me, I was by now a teenager and she started to do something very sweet for me.

Every once in a while, she would come in her car and whisk me away to the city.  We would grab a bite to eat, go shopping for clothes, or get our hair done, something, I suspect, designed to build my confidence and make me feel pretty.  Just the drive in her car, usually with music playing, made me feel free.  To this day, when she drives over and picks me and N- up, or just me, there's something special about getting in that passenger seat. It means a change of pace, a change in routine.  It means sisters bonding and having fun.

N- is an only child, and it looks like she's going to remain one.  And yet, she has an amazing aunt.  She's getting to the age I was when my sister began to pick me up and take me out every few months, and I've given my blessing for history to repeat itself.  I want N- to have a close bond with her aunt, with her grandmothers, with women and girls of all different ages in our community.  In conclusion for today's rambling, I don't forget that I have siblings anymore.

[lazarettta]

Misthios V

Pairing (Mother Miranda x Spartan!Reader)

Rating (T)

Word Count (1.9k)

Warning (Language)

You spend your morning with Alcina and her daughters while Miranda deals with Karl and Village business.

By the time the sun had begun to peak over the mountains you'd already made yourself at home on one of the balconies of the castle with a woven basket full of croissants and mason jar full of freshly squeezed orange juice. You'd been snooping in the kitchen looking for a snack when you found the partially hidden side door. It was shielded by produce crates and bags of potatoes—you guessed it was an old service door or something, and it was probably what the help around the castle used to sneak around the castle grounds while their Mistress sleeps.

You certainly did. You took a trip to town on a whim and you were bored. You didn't have anything on you in terms of currency but you weren't one to rely on some currency to get you by as there was always a favor or two to be traded. New era, same tricks and it never failed you once. Most of the village was still asleep when you strolled through but the few farmers you saw tending to their stocks gave you less than friendly looks but you didn't take any offense. You were new and places like this didn't take too kindly to a new face, especially a young new face.

Hell, the woman in the bakery shop by the church wasn't very fond of you either until you revealed that you understood every word that she said. She turned into a different person and suddenly you weren't much of a stranger anymore, by her standards anyway.

By the time you found your way back to castle Dimitrescu, you had bruised knuckles, a basket full of goodies you probably shouldn't be eating and a decent knife now warming the holster in your boot. It wasn't tactical or as balanced as you liked but you felt a hell of a lot better with it than you did a few hours ago without it.

You had no idea who's bedroom you'd invaded to get to the balcony though you didn't really care, you saw a plush chair that was only just covered in ice and the cushions were only just a little wet, shockingly.

And that is exactly how Alcina found you, and she wasn't alone. Trailing behind her bundled up even more than you with the hood pulled up over her blonde head was a young woman with eyes that matched Alcina's. Curious that she didn't get her mother's height though—she was probably around your height, give or take.

“You missed breakfast, dear.”

“Didn't think you'd send a hunting party for me,” you smiled but in truth you hadn't realized how much time had passed since you got back to the castle. Between stuffing your face full of bread you hadn't really had in years and well, yeah, you definitely lost track of time. Thankfully there were still a few pastries left in the basket for you to offer to Alcina and who you assumed to be one of her daughters.

The girl's eyes hadn't left you since she first saw you—you knew when you were being studied but for the moment, you were too tired to actually care but not tired enough to drop your guard with these people.

Alcina waved away your offering as she took a seat in the other chair, obviously as unbothered by it's less than ideal conditions as you were but her daughter graciously scooped up a buttered croissant before leaning against the rail, her back to the gorgeous view behind her. She was probably used to seeing it and you certainly weren't a stranger to such joys either but you never really grew bored of them.

“(Y/n), this is Bela, my eldest daughter. Also my successor should anything ever happen to me.”

“Mother, stop it. Nothing will ever happen to you.” You watched as Bela ducked her head, but she wasn't blushing, she turned to you, pushing the hood back from her face slightly but she didn't say anything.

Alcina pulled her cigar holder from somewhere on her dress she was currently wearing, and pointed down at the basket sitting on the small table between you three, “It's not safe to roam around on these roads at night.”

You shrugged, “I can take care of myself, Lady Dimitrescu. A few wolves don't really scare me.”

“There are far worse things out there than death, (Y/n).”

You scoffed, laughing a bit much to the dismay and surprise of the Lady and her daughter, “I've been around long enough to know how true and wise that statement is, but I'm far too old to be scared by it anymore.”

Bela looked at you curiously, “But you don't look a day over thirty, (Y/n).”

You bit back another laugh, picking at the pastry still sitting on the napkin on your thigh. Well. You weren't going to be getting any answers if you didn't give any yourself. “Who do you think Miranda got her skin care treatment from?”

You looked up when the other two balcony occupants were quiet for too long and you realized that they were both staring at you with equally unreadable but different expressions. Though Alcina's hat always made it impossible for you, or anyone else, to gauge her moods and reactions.

“What?”

“You're being serious?” Bela asked, both of her eyebrows disappearing beneath her loose hair.

“Yeah, seriously. I met Miranda back when she was ruling her first kingdom. She thought I was a fucking Viking for the longest time.” Miranda is going to murder you and find a way to make it permanent.

“You're joking. Mother, the mortal is joking...isn't she?”

“Mortal?” you finished your breakfast and wiped away the crumbs, “I haven't been called mortal for a very long time, but now that we've all established that no one on this balcony is of average stock...”

“We can really talk.” Alcina finished as you trailed off, taking a very long and heavy drag while giving you another once over, slower this time as if she was going to find the answers to whatever she was wanting to know. She glanced at her daughter and sighed when she saw her starting to tremble a bit.

“Bela go inside and get your sisters.” Alcina said softly but her tone still held no room for argument and you could tell that Bela wanted to protest against her mothers wishes, “Have tea prepared and brought to the study.”

“For everyone?”

Alcina smiled a bit, “Yes, dear, for everyone.”

When Bela was around the corner and well out of earshot, Alcina brought her attention back to you. And you looked back, waiting for her to ask or say what was on her mind.

“What era?”

“The Peloponnesian war. I'm the last living Spartan on Earth.”

Miranda neatly folded away the paper the moment she heard the ceremony doors opening. Miranda sighed heavily when she heard Karl’s mouth down the corridor—the man's need to chatter (and argue) never ceased and Miranda was positive she would be leaving this meeting with a migraine. She'd rather be doing something more productive with her time…working on her own research, cracking you like an egg or maybe even trying a new recipe for a change.

It wasn't long before Karl burst through the doors, his prized hammer resting on his shoulders and a cigar between his teeth and in his other hand was a satchel that was holding something it wasn't designed to carry. The grin he wore grew when his eyes landed on her and Miranda sighed inaudibly behind her mask.

“Well,” he purred, sitting on the bench he normally claimed and set his hammer down next to it, “If it isn't the woman of the hour! How kind of you to meet with me today.”

Miranda didn't care too much for his charming tone—his charisma was impressive but Miranda had never been a true fan of it, and Alcina outright hated him forcing Miranda to often play the role of a mediator every time there was a faction meeting which almost always ended in chaos and bloodshed. Thankfully it was only once or twice out of the month unless it was an emergency.

“Your message said that you have something of importance to show me, Lord Heisenberg, get on with it.”

“Oh, someone's testy today,” he mumbled under his breath but just loud enough for her to catch his words and Miranda's jaw clenched, “As requested, one head of a troublesome villager only searching for his beloved little girl. Maybe do your job and tell that supersized bitch to keep her brats on a leash next time.”

The satchel landed on the floor at Miranda's feet. Miranda's eyes narrowed in his direction, barely glancing at the satchel that narrowly missed touching her, and Karl felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise alarmingly fast, “Do not forget your place here, Heisenberg.”

Karl snarled but he quickly conceded—he's proved himself to be the biggest Alpha in the region time and time again but he wasn't stupid enough to think that he could challenge Miranda evenly. Miranda relented, accepting his surrender but she didn't buy it, she never did.

“All I'm sayin' is that we don't hunt in the village for this very reason—”

“I understand that, Heisenberg. And it's been taken care of. Lady Dimitrescu will see that it never happens again.”

Karl grumbled but thankfully he didn't push, this time, “There's something else too that I think you should know. There's a stranger in the village, probably owns that cute little camp my lycans tore apart a few miles outside of town.”

That caught Miranda's interest though she did not let it show—it wouldn't do to have a man like Karl have even the slightest bit of leverage over her. He was still too useful for her to kill.

“A stranger?”

“Yeah,” he smirked, relighting his cigar and taking a long pull, “Tall, real tall and quite a looker too...I'm here to officially claim her. If she's as tough as she looks, I'll—”

Miranda's wings fluttered when those words left his hairy lips, he didn't have to go into detail for her to know who he was talking about and Miranda felt the edges of her claws trying to grow beneath the veil of her dark wings.

“No.”

“No!?” he sat up quickly, setting both of his feet down on the ground, “What do you mean no?! Aren't those your laws for fresh meat?!”

“Yes, and that woman is off limits. Defy my word, it will not end well for you. If that is all Lord Heisenberg, I will see you this Friday at the faction meeting.”

“You gave her to that zombie in the castle didn't you!” he called after her when Miranda transformed into a flock of birds and left through the rafters.

Karl pulled his hammer to him as he jumped to his feet and he destroyed the bench he was previously sitting on but Miranda was already gone by the time the splinters where she had once stood, “I never get anything nice around here! Always scraps this and scraps that ever since that bitch took over!” he turned and threw his hammer, nearly slicing a pillar in half and he was half transformed before he caught himself.

Karl dusted himself off with one hand while the other brought another cigar from an inside pocket of his oil stained coat and picked up his hammer on the way out of the ceremony room, his temper simmering down. He took one last look at the damage he caused, and smirked.

“Have fun cleaning this up, mother. ” He didn't care what she said, the woman in the village he saw this morning was his game.

[isolemnlyswearpevensie]

12:45 AM | Sirius Black x Reader

Warnings: major character death, angst 

Time/Era: Marauders era, Age 20 (and a smidge of 18)

Word Count:  2.8k 

Summary: Sirius will never forget that one night when he looked at the clock and saw 12:45 am. 

Request: yo, can I request a story where Sirius is dating Lily’s sister (twin/younger) and he realizes he likes her and they start dating and eventually get married and they’re both in the order but she dies on a mission and at the funeral Lily tells Sirius that she was expecting? Wow I’m kinda evil.

A/N: Thank you for the request and patience! Enjoy!

masterlist | sirius black playlist | read on ao3

“Evans!” James yelled, running towards Y/N. Y/N sighed, holding her books tightly to her chest and turning around. His Gryffindor tie flew across his chest as he came to a sudden stop. 

“I’m not Lily, Potter. Honestly, if you’re going to date my twin you need to be able to tell us apart.” 

James throws his head back with a loud laugh before shaking his head. “No, no, I know you’re not Lily. I just needed to talk to you,” He leans his hands on his knees as he struggles to catch his breath. “It’s insulting you think I can’t tell you apart. No offense, Y/N, but you don’t have the same….oopla that Lily has.” 

“Oopla? What is oopla?” Y/N asks, amused. Even after seven years of being friends with James, she never quite got over some of his strange analogies. 

“Something Lily has, don’t you listen?” James straightens his back and twists, cracking his spine. “It’s not that you don’t have oopla, it’s just different oopla.” 

Y/N shakes her head. “You know what, I don’t even want to know. Why do you need to talk to me?” 

“Talk to you? Why do I need to-” A lightbulb goes off in James’ head. “Oh! I know why I need to talk to you! Sirius was looking for you. Something about after graduation plans or something. I’m not quite sure, I didn’t ask.” 

“Do you know where he is?” 

“That’s another thing I don’t know,” A goofy grin filled his features as he spoke. 

“You don’t make for a very good owl, Jamesy.”

“Good thing I’m not an owl then,” James said, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Do you know where Lily is?” 

“No clue, you would know better than me seeing as you have a map and all,” Y/N’s grin matched James’ and she started to walk down the hall. 

“Don’t you have twin telepathy or something?! Just use that and tell me where she is!” 

“Bye, Potter!” Y/N called over her shoulder while walking towards McGonagall’s office. She remembered vaguely that Sirius had a career counseling session with her today, so she figured that the small chance of bumping into him there would be worth her while. 

Y/N pattered across the floor as quickly as possible without running. Thoughts swirled in her mind about what Sirius may need her for; they weren’t the closest of friends, nothing like him and the other marauders, but recently their relationship has grown rather flirty. Her stomach fumbled over itself as she thought of Sirius, but her feet only sped up towards the classroom. As Y/N rounded the corner, Sirius walked out of his meeting with his pearly white smile blinding all who could see it. 

“Oh, just the lady I’ve been looking for! Hello, darling,” Sirius said, walking down the hall with various papers clutched in his fingers. 

“Hello, Sirius. Career meeting?” Y/N asks with a subtle gesture to the papers. He waved the papers in the air with a dramatic flourish. Each paper held some grand title about being an Auror and going to the Auror Academy. 

“Good! Apparently Dumbledore put in a good word for me, so the Order is recruiting me!” Sirius seemed to bounce on his heels, the rubber souls of his shoes squeaking on the wooden floors. 

“I’m so happy for you! Oh my god! Congratulations!!!” 

The grin on his face grew exponentially, “You know what would make my day even better?” 

Y/N hummed. 

“If you snuck into Hogsmede for a drink with me,” Sirius leans in to whisper in her ear. “Unless you’re too scared, of course.” 

Y/N sucked in a harsh breath through her nose in an attempt not to focus on his hair tickling her cheek, or how his lips almost brushed her ear. She cleared her throat and nodded. 

“Not scared if you’re not, I suppose,” Y/N croaked. “I’ve done it, like, a million times.” 

Sirius pulled his head away, making Y/N yearn for the smell of his shampoo. “I can think of one time, and you were latched onto my wrist the entire time, rambling about how we could get expelled for skipping class.” 

A harsh red stained Y/N’s chest, cheeks, and ears, which only made Sirius’ smirk grow. 

“I was a different person then,” Y/N countered lamely. 

“Yeah? That was four months ago, love.” Sirius’ hands worked on his papers, folding them four times before shoving them into the pockets of his skinny jeans. Y/N’s eyes followed his teasing fingers, her gaze accidentally lingering on his pants. “Eyes up here, Y/N.” 

The boy made a small tsk noise, wrapped his arm around Y/N’s shoulders, and his hips swayed slightly as he started leading Y/N to the entrance to the Honeyduke’s cellar. His fingers found the bottom of her hair and started twirling it in and out of his middle and pointer fingers as if it were a cigarette. 

“I’m a different person than I was 4 months ago, aren’t you?” Y/N hesitantly snaked her arm under his leather jacket and wrapped around his waist. This was definitely further than they had ever gone in terms of flirting, and Y/N couldn’t wait for more. 

“Perfect four months ago, and perfect now.” Sirius laughed playfully placing a big kiss on Y/N’s temple. “I’m just taking the piss, love.” He turned to the statue blocking the tunnel and said the secret password. “Ladies first, darling.” 

Y/N hesitantly walked into the dark tunnel and cast a simple lumos charm; the damp pathway illuminated in front of the two teens before twisting into the darkness. Sirius returned to his spot next to Y/N and began to lead her down the path. 

“So, I was wondering,” Sirius began, kicking a rock into the wall. Y/N noticed this was a habit of his. “We’ve been friends for a long time,” 

Y/N snuggled into his side, the warm cotton of the inside of his leather jacket brushing her soft skin. 

“And we��re graduating soon…” Sirius let his voice trail before pulling lightly on Y/N’s hair so she would meet his gaze. “And I was wondering if you wanted to spend some special one on one time with me after we graduate?” 

“Special one on one time? Like,” Y/N took a deep breath and took a leap into the unknown. “Hooking up? Is that what you mean?” 

Sirius chuckled lightly, “Not exactly, but I guess that would be a part of it,” Sirius’s cheeky smile was illuminated by the light of Y/N’s wand. “I mean becoming official. I know there’s something between us, and I know you feel the same way, so it makes sense.”

“So, you’re asking me to be your girlfriend?” 

“Precisely. Will you be my girlfriend?” Sirius stopped walking and looked at the girl under his arm. She smiled happily and lightly punched his stomach. 

“I can’t believe you asked me out in the middle of a dark tunnel!” She laughed happily and brought her arms up to his neck to hug him. 

“Hey! I thought it was a good place! Is that a yes, babygirl?”  

“Yes, you idiot, I’ll go out with you!” 

~

Sirius and Y/N’s relationship blossomed quickly after the tunnel; after graduation, they moved into a small flat right in the middle of London’s hustle and bustle. Sirius loved to go out and explore every inch of the city with his girl, which usually resulted in a lot of adventures and long nights. During these times, the couple really took the time to grow their relationship and become closer as a pair. 

Sirius proposed to Y/N in the middle of an ice skating rink on December 13th, 1978. It was perfect; the snow was floating down, gracefully sticking to Sirius’ hair and eyelashes, soft Christmas music was playing in the background and the entire atmosphere of the event was magical. It was a rather simple proposal, but it was more than enough for Y/N. The couple then had a stunning double Summer wedding with the Potters. 

Sirius did amazing in the Order, which Y/N later found out all the marauders had joined. Y/N grew used to Sirius being gone during the nights and coming back injured; this was something she would never wish on her worst enemy. The anxiety-ridden nights and the unbearably silent flat took a toll on Y/N’s mental health. The only thing that got her through these was her twin sister, who was in the same situation. 

The two girls often spent these lonely nights together in attempts to share the burden. The two waited into the early morning nights for something, anything, to ease their tired minds and let them know their boys were safe. Usually, one would send a patronus message or Remus would reach out with cryptic plans and whereabouts. Still, this didn’t completely resolve the paranoia in their minds. 

Sirius and James noticed this early on in their new careers. Sirius suggested they invite the two to join the Order, as you didn’t need to be an Auror to join. But, James disagreed with this idea because Lily was his world and he didn’t want her to get hurt. Without Lily, there was no James and he couldn’t risk losing her. Sirius countered that he felt that way about Y/N too, but keeping the two women in the dark was just harming their relationships and causing a mental decline in all four. It took some convincing, but James finally agreed. Thus, Lily and Y/N joined the Order. 

The two were brilliant additions to the group; both were extremely talented witches and they were beyond smart. They quickly grew to be vital members and went on increasingly more dangerous missions as time went on. The two were an unstoppable pair, and their near-identical looks only proved to be an advantage. That was until Lily got hurt. 

Lily and Y/N were on a mission to stop a group of death eaters from invading a small muggle village just outside of Cardiff. Lily got caught between the crossfire of two wizards and had a huge chunk of flesh taken out of her leg. Y/N had to make an emergency backup call and the two were apperated back to headquarters. That’s when James and Lily decided as a couple that Lily was not going to go on any more missions. 

Y/N, however, only increased the amounts of missions she went on. Specifically, she was after one person in particular.

“I don’t care, Y/N, you can’t go,” Sirius pleaded angrily from the couch. “You can’t go on a mission every day of the week. Just one night, love. Stay with me for one night.” Sirius stood and walked to Y/N, wrapping his arms around her waist and placing a kiss on her forehead. 

“Babe, I am so close to capturing Bellatrix and putting her in Azkaban. Please, I have to go.” Against her better judgment, Y/N placed her head on his chest. She wanted nothing more than to curl up in her husband’s arms and let his soft voice lure her cramped body to sleep. Y/N noticed she seemed to be more fatigued lately, but she placed blame on her heavy work schedule.

 “I need you here, with me, baby. Between your schedule and mine, I barely see you. I miss you.” Sirius’ hands massaged her hips as they talked, all anger and annoyance disappearing from his voice. 

“How about this, we both take the next two or three days off and lounge around here together.” Y/N pulled away from Sirius’ warm, inviting body and began to gather her things. “Please try to get some sleep tonight, I’ll be home by dawn.” 

“I promise, my dear. I love you so much.” 

A ghost of a smile played on Y/N’s lips. “I love you more.” 

~

Sirius was awoken by James’ magnificent stag patronus entering the flat to find him. Rubbing his eyes and sitting up, unable to distinguish what words James’ voice was repeating. Sirius looked at the clock: 12:45 am.

“Can you repeat that?” Sirius’ voice was gruff with sleep.

“Pads, there’s been an accident. You need to get to headquarters immediately, it doesn’t look good. We need you to make some calls.” James’ voice was filled with more panic than Sirius had ever heard in his life, and there was the faint sound of a woman crying in the background. The patronus disappeared as Sirius jumped up and magically changed into some clothes. 

“Thank merlin you’re here,” James pulled Sirius’ arm into the next room once he appeared. He had blood splattered on his face. 

Upon entering the room, everything started to fade. Y/N was laid on the floor, a large gash in her shoulder and head, with healers all around her preforming different spells and CPR.  To her left sat Lily, her fingers coated in the red substance and gripping Y/N’s cold hand. She was crying, more like sobbing, while she watched the healers work on her sister. Sirius didn’t know whether he wanted to cry, puke or faint. All three, his body screamed.

 On the outside, no emotion covered Sirius’ face and he stood frozen near the door. He felt as if he was watching the situation happen from outside his body, almost like he was playing a video game or watching a movie. 

“She’s not going to make it!” One of the healers yelled, preforming compressions on her chest. The healer to his right, who was working on the head gash, cursed loudly and punched the floor. 

“She’s going to make it, god damn it! I’ll be damned if she doesn’t!” 

James nudged Sirius with his elbow, and his soul felt as though it returned to his body. Jumping to her side, he grabbed Y/N’s hand and squeezed. 

“Y/N, I love you so much,” Sirius said through his suffering. 

Her gorgeous green eyes that were focused on Lily rolled to see him and her lips mouthed, “I love you too, Sirius.” 

Sirius swore a smile ghosted her lips as her eyes closed and a final gasp exited her lips. 

~

Sirius stood in front Y/N’s grave in a slightly wrinkled black suit.

 The funeral service had been beautiful; all of Y/N’s friends, family, and casual acquaintances had been in attendance. Her close friends spoke of her adventures and funny stories, her family spoke of her character and strong will, and her professors spoke of her intelligence and quick wit. It didn’t click for Sirius that she was really gone until Minerva McGonagall had asked him how he was holding up, and if there was anything she could do to help. Sirius had responded that no, there was nothing she could do and that he was currently staying at the Potters’ for company. 

Sirius looked at the grave in front of him; it was littered with flowers, chocolate, and everything in between. He looked to his side and found Lily, staring down at Y/N next to him. Her eyes were red and bloodshot, and her nose was rubbed raw. 

“I could have saved her, you know. I was trying to talk her out of going. I should have tried harder.” Sirius mumbled, his voice cracking every other word. 

“This isn’t your fault, Sirius. You couldn’t have done anything,” Lily sniffled. She had no tears left, but if she did, she would be crying. 

Sirius takes in a big gulp of air and stares down at the grave in silence. 

“This might not be the right time,” Lily took a deep breath and looked at her friend. His eyes were dry and his nose wasn’t red, but Lily knew how hard he cries at night when he thought James and Lily were asleep. “But you need to know.” 

“Need to know what?” 

Lily paused for a moment before reaching in her bag and pulling something out. 

“When James went to your flat to grab your clothes, um, he found this in the bathroom.” 

Sirius reaches out his hand for Lily to hand him the mysterious object. 

It was a muggle pregnancy test. A positive muggle pregnancy test.  ~~~

General Taglist: @petalevans @modern-m-a-g-i-c​ Harry Potter x Reader Taglist: @strangerpilot011 join my taglist!

[musictelevision]

The Sun and the Moon ☯

     “Tell me the story about how the sun loved the moon so  much, he died every night to let her breathe.” 

Emotional Tether Folklore: Two people, preferably benders, who are connected through spiritual interference. They are chosen at birth by two specific spirits. Throughout life, they both will experience feelings and visions from each other. This is a rare occurrence, it only happens every 100-200 years. Together, the two are powerful. Apart, imbalance will occur.

Summary: Y/N is the older sister of Sokka and Katara. Once their mother died, she step forward and watched over her siblings, even though she was only just ten. Years later, Y/N is travelling with her siblings, helping the avatar master all four elements. During this adolescence adventure, will she discover mysteries about herself she’d never imagined? All her life she has resented and ran from the Fire Nation. Now, could she possibly connected to the Prince of the Fire Nation himself? 

A/N: I’ve really gotten into ATLA in the past few weeks, so this happened. I really couldn’t just sit back and not write a Zuko fic. This will be multiple chapters, and will have semi-slow updates. A masterlist and helpful links for a smooth reading experience will be added. I am going to try to make it as accurate as possible. I hope everyone does enjoy, feedback is always accepted!

Warnings: violence, fighting, death, sad elements, cussing, blood, gore, adult themes (later on, will be warned on what chapter if it occurs) !!

Themes:  relationship developments, self love+hatred, acceptance, forgiveness, friendships, adventure !!

Soulmate AU?/Slow Burn/Connection (Unspoken)/Zuko x F!reader

Chapter One :  Beginnings  ☯

The Southern Water Tribe Village ☽

“My love, you should go to bed,” Gran-Gran whispered across the room. Sokka and Katara cuddled together in peaceful bliss, she did not want to wake them. Their father had left earlier in the morning, it had been an eventful day to say the least. With her father left, she couldn’t shake the fact that he would never return. In some ways, you could say, they were orphans. It only brought her thoughts to one sole person: Kya. It had been a few months since the deadly attack. She could still picture the beastly man looming over her mother. 

“Where is the water bender!” He forced once more. Y/N hid behind her mother in fear. They had been inside doing chores when the ships reached shore. Y/N shut her eyes pretending she was somewhere else, maybe penguin sledding with Sokka. Anywhere but here. He became more hostile, roughly moving closer towards the two.

“Where is the water bender.” They knew where the bender was, in fact she was in the same room, hiding for dear life behind her mother. The other, hopefully still alive, was outside with her brother. 

Y/N felt paralyzed. The big man pried even more, making some blows at Kya. Y/N could feel herself starting to bubble inside, her emotions were something to be reckoned with. She’d almost destroyed the entire village over a temper tantrum years prior. Though she was much older, her bending was not under control. It grew from emotion. Y/N noticed the ice around her cracking at every blow he made, Kya did too. 

He stood tall once more, shadowing over the two. Y/N thought death would be different, that she would die of old age. She hadn’t even lived to see the northern lights. 

“Mom!” Katara ran through the door only to be taken back by the large man in their home. The fire nation solider turned towards her, fury in his cold ember eyes. He seemed like he was getting impatient.

“Just let them go,” Kya finally said desperately, “and I will give you the information you want.” 

“Mom-” Y/N pleaded. She was in shock, would her mother really turn in her own daughters? Y/N wasn’t ready to go, but if it meant saving the tribe, she’d be willing to do it. 

“You heard your mother, get out of here!” the man hissed. Tearfully she ran over to Katara, holding on to her for dear life. Being her big sister, it was her unspoken responsibility to keep Katara safe. 

“Mom I’m scared,” the younger girl cried. Their mother looked at them, and smiled. 

“Go find your dad sweetie, I’ll handle this.” Kya spoke before facing the man once more. Y/N practically dragged Katara away from their childhood home, running as fast as they could to find their father. 

“DAD,” Y/N screamed. The ice she stood on cracked under her feet, yet she couldn’t care. The imagine of her mother’s fearful look swarmed her mind, it made her feel sick.

“Mom is in trouble there is a man in our house,” Katara shouted. Y/N held her hand tightly, making sure she didn’t loose her grip. They were the last water benders in the tribe. The two were vulnerable and easy targets, but she would never let Katara know that.  

“Kya!” their father cried out as he followed them back to their home. Sokka followed close behind. 

Her mother’s dead body laid on the floor. 

She didn’t want to remember the rest. Her father left to fight for their tribe after the devastating invasion. He seemed more, cold. Y/N couldn’t help but notice just how much Kya’s death changed him. Maybe his coldness was directed towards herself. She couldn’t bring herself to ponder that thought.

“Dad isn’t coming back,” Y/N remarked. Gran-Gran paused, calculating just the right thing to say. Sokka rustled in his sleep slightly, before settling once again. 

“I can’t shake the fact that he’s going to end up just like mom. Besides I am the reason mom is dead. No wonder Dad left, he can’t even look at me.” Gran-Gran shushed Y/N quickly. Sokka and Katara did not know the reason Kya died, and Gran-Gran wanted to keep it that way. It was Hakoda’s wish.

“Come child,” she waved the young water bender out into the crisp midnight air. Y/N followed the elder eagerly. The moon, full and bright, lit the entire village. The stars shined brightly, she thought of her mother. Kya always told her the magic of the night sky, how the moon and stars worked together so gracefully. Gran-Gran stood at the edge of the water, patiently waiting for the young girl to join her side. 

“When you were born, your mother suspected you would be a bender. That was a dangerous thing to be,” she paused with a long sigh. “However, the moon spoke to your mother the night you were born. The moon was the brightest it had ever been that night, the whole village awoke from its light. The moon shinned for you, and Kya knew that.” 

Y/N smiled to herself. She’d never known this much about herself before. It still didn’t make her feel better, why was Gran-Gran telling her this anyway? It didn’t change anything, her mother was still gone and her father still hated her. 

“But,” Gran-Gran continued abruptly. “The sun rose early that morning, bright as ever. It was as if the balance had returned for a day. We thought maybe you were the avatar.” They both sat in silence pondering her last statement.

The avatar? What a joke. Y/N had begun to believe such a thing never even existed in the first place. 

“I’m sorry I’m not,” Y/N muttered keeping her eyes fixated on the moon.

“No child, that is not your destiny. Your mother knew that you would be apart of restoring balance to the world, but just not in the way. The moon spoke to her. The great spirit told her to protect you from all harm.” Y/N’s eyes filled with tears, but she did not dare let them fall. Her mother was protecting her, she knew that the day she met her end. But to protect her over some prophecy a moon spirit said? It made her blood boil. 

“Of course, you won’t be alone in this.” Gran-Gran smiled to herself, leaving Y/N only to formulate more questions.

“Why would the moon find any sort of balance in me? Why would the sun react with the moon? How will I ever find another person to help me? This is so stupid, how do I know If you’re even telling the truth?  Gran-Gran this is ridiculous. No moon spirit cares about me! If they did they wouldn’t let her die or let dad go!” 

The eldest villager didn’t answered. She knew it was impossible to know. It was the truth, but it would take Y/N years to accept that. 

“Do not dwell on the unknown, it will be revealed when the universe allows it. What you do with this information is your choice,” Gran-Gran slowly confirmed before making her way back to her respected residence. 

“Ugh,” Y/N belted. She waved her hand towards the water before her in frustration. The water reacted with her swift movement, sending a wave towards the horizon. The sadness and confusion hit her, almost like a punch to the chest. 

She chose to never speak of the information Kanna gave her. It still plagued her mind every so often, but she ignored every aspect of it. In her eyes, she was a normal southern water tribe citizen.

But in the back of her mind she knew, that was far from true.

That night at the Fire Nation Palace ☽

Ursa had done what she had to. It was for him, her son, Zuko. She had protected him his whole life, just as she was instructed to. The sun spirit made that clear to her on the day of his birth. This incident was no different, just more drastic changes would have to be made.

She quickly made her way through the palace halls, her frail body still humming with adrenaline. Killing the fire lord, what was she thinking? Leaving now would only make it clear just who did it. Was being on the run from the crupt fire nation worth saving Zuko? A million times yes. Stopping to catch her breath, her attention caught by the bright orb in the night sky. It always gave her peace of mind, the moon. 

Azulon had instructed Ozai, her husband, to kill her first born. If only Ozai hadn’t spoken in such a heartless arrogant way, this wouldn’t have happened. To kill his child? It was horrible. He would do it though, if it meant keeping his honor. Ursa questioned why Ozai was so empty and power hungry. It was an answer she’d never know.

Some servants scurried pass her, bowing in the process. Did they know? They would soon, everyone would. She had to make herself scarce before then. The paranoia was sinking in ever so quickly. It was the only way to save herself, leaving. But, Ursa couldn’t help her mind race to Zuko. 

Zuko. 

The room he occupied was dark. There the young prince laid sprawled out on the crimson-colored king sized bed. Snoring slightly, he peacefully slept. The moon light coming from the window lit his raven colored hair perfectly. It felt wrong to wake him, he looked so content. But, it had to be done. For all she knew, it could be the last time she would ever lay eyes on her son. It was a little past midnight, in the morning the whole world would know. 

She sat on the corner of the bed next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Zuko had never been a heavy sleeper, especially with Azula as a sister. Her unless torment made him keen and aware of his surroundings, a good habit. 

“Mom,” he muttered groggily. Why was she here? His mind was still fuzzy.

“Zuko,” Ursa urgently spoke. Ursa quickly grabbed him by his sides, lifting her son up to face her. He blinked a few times, trying to focus with his tired eyes. 

“Please, my love, listen to me,” this made him try to focus more. Her voice was hoarse almost like she had been crying.  

“Everything I’ve done, I’ve done to protect you,” with this statement she pulled him into a hug. The last hug. She squeezed tighter than normal, he did not question it. 

She finally pulled away after what seemed like minutes. He was such a beautiful boy, how could she leave him? Would he parish without her? Would he be taken advantage of? Only the spirits could know. Footsteps could be heard in the hall outside his chamber. 

“Remember this Zuko,” she started facing him once more. Her voice was more stern this time, like she wanted to send a message. 

“No matter how things seem to change, never forget who you are,” her voice said in a whisper tone. Ursa hoped he’d listen, and take those words to heart. It was all she could do for him. From now on, Zuko would be on his own.

The prince watched her in tired confused as she turned towards the door. He wanted to say something, question why she had come, but he couldn’t. The tiredness was overwhelming, taking over before he could object. She sadly looked back once more, before pulling her cloak over her head. 

Hastily she ventured back trough the halls, leaving swiftly without a trace. By the time the fire nation caught word of their deceased leader, she was long gone. Just a memory. Ursa’s life she once knew was far behind her.

She looked up to the two spirits in the sky. The setting moon and the rising sun. Their harmonious relationship was on display in the sky. How wonderful the colors of the night collided with the morning sun, she thought to herself. 

“Watch after him,” the woman pleaded to the two spirits that occupied the sky.

“He will make you proud.” 

[omgrachwrites]

Tell a Tale of You and Me - Chapter One

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Summary: You knew that making a bet with Sirius Black was like making a deal with the devil but you just couldn’t help yourself. You had never been a heavenly woman.

Warnings: fluffy fluff, the gang being bff’s, Remus being adorable

Words: 1920

A/N: Hope you guys enjoy, please let me know what you think and if you would like to be tagged, I might make a playlist for this series! I love you all very much! xxx

Chapter One

You smiled in slight surprise as you walked into the bright kitchen and you saw your brother, Finn out of bed. He was actually smiling as he poured himself a glass of homemade pumpkin juice, his thick curls bouncing as he moved.

“Good to see that you’re out of bed, kid,” you grinned, ruffling his hair

Finn pouted at you before smiling himself, “I didn’t think that it was such a good idea isolating myself in bed, there’s nothing that I can do about my … problem,” the way he spoke made him sound much older than his eleven years, “and Dumbledore sent an owl to mum, telling her that I’m still allowed to come to Hogwarts.”

You smiled at him proudly as you too poured yourself a glass of iced pumpkin juice, you couldn’t wait to be sitting in the sunshine outside The Leaky Cauldron with your friends, “well, you’re braver than me and of course, Dumbledore would never turn anybody away. You belong at Hogwarts.”

You were pretty surprised that your mum had confided in Dumbledore about your brother’s affliction. She had kept it a well-guarded secret from the rest of the village; she was worried that it would affect her and your dad’s job at the Ministry. They were highly respected Aurors. They were nowhere to be seen at the present moment so you fixed your brother some lunch – a cheese and tomato sandwich with the crusts cut off and you cut the sandwich into triangles, it was the only way that Finn would eat it.

As Finn ate it, he looked at you, “are you going to be on the Quidditch team this year, Y/N?” he asked and you scoffed, sipping your pumpkin juice.

“I don’t think so, I’d love to but my stage fright would never let me, you know that,” you smiled at him cheerfully; you couldn’t feel too down on such a beautiful summer’s day.

Finn pouted at you, his eyes going round, “oh, I thought it would be pretty cool, going to my first Quidditch match and my sister being on the team.”

You grinned at him, he was your biggest supporter and you appreciated that more than anything else. You were saved by replying, for your parents walked out of the living room with a beautiful woman. She was beautiful but she had hard, sharp features, it was her grey eyes that marked her, though they had none of her son’s warmth.

“Ah, Y/N L/N, you definitely grew up in beauty and grace,” she smirked at you; there was no playful glint to it. It was quite menacing to be honest.

“Mrs Black, it’s good to see you,” you lied through gritted teeth; you would never forgive her, not after what she did to Sirius.

It seemed that Mrs Black picked out your lie because her smirk widened, “so, it’s you is it? You were the one who used to pine over my eldest son.”

“A lot has happened since then,” you bit back in a defensive tone, and it was true, a lot had happened since fourth year, that was three long years ago, “I’m going to meet the gang, so I’ll see you later, you little monkey,” you kissed the top of Finn’s head and you bade goodbye to your parents, ignoring Mrs Black.

You walked over to the white marble fireplace and flung your Floo Powder down carelessly, “Diagon Alley!” you shouted clearly and you disappeared in a whirl of green flames.

When you had reached Diagon Alley, you brushed the soot from your summer dress as you carried on towards The Leaky Cauldron. You grinned, shooting a wave at James and Lily who were sitting out in the warm sunshine. Lily’s hair shone like blazing fire in the sun. They had started dating at the end of the previous school year and they were the best couple that you knew.

You walked inside the cool pub – it was alive with many people and there were even creatures such as hags, you also saw some of your Hogwarts schoolmates – and you spotted the tousled hair boy at the bar. You smiled and made your way over to him.

“Hey cutie,” you grinned, standing on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. Remus flushed a bright red colour across his scarred cheeks, you loved flirting with Remus but the both of you knew that you would only ever be good friends.

“Hey Y/N,” he grinned as he pulled you into a side hug, “how is your brother doing?”

You smiled, it was so sweet of him to ask, “he’s doing great thank you, and he’s taking it all in his stride. Much braver than I could ever be.”

Remus nodded, “he seems braver than all of us but it’s good that he’s doing well. If I can be of any help, you just let me know.”

You beamed, jumping slightly as you felt two strong arms wrap around you from behind, “looking as pretty as ever, Y/N,” Sirius said in your ear.

You giggled and turned around to give him a proper hug, it was so weird to see him not wearing his usual leather jacket, “you’re still a flirt I see,” you had once hated his flirtatious behaviour but you had recently realised that it was no use. He was never going to change.

Sirius smirked at you before his warm grey eyes looked at something in the distance, and he whistled beneath his breath, “I’ll catch up with you guys, yeah?” he flounced off without waiting for a reply. You and Remus rolled your eyes and shook your heads fondly before taking the iced Butterbeers outside. Iced Butterbeers sounded like a weird concept but it was surprisingly delicious!

“Hey lovers,” you grinned at James and Lily as you pulled out a chair and sat down, “where’s Wormtail?” you asked.

“He’s still on holiday, I think,” James started, sipping his Butterbeer, gaining a foamy moustache in the process, “he’s been pretty secretive lately, but I suppose it’s only to be expected now that we’re getting older,” he sighed, “where’s Sirius?”

Remus snickered around his glass, “annoying some girl, knowing him.”

Moments later, Sirius came wandering over to the table, slamming a box of chocolates down in the middle of the table before he slumped into the free seat with a glum look on his face, “Marlene rejected me,” he muttered before anybody could ask.

You and Lily exchanged amused glances; the both of you knew exactly why Marlene had rejected him. Though, you did feel sorry for Sirius, he probably hadn’t been rejected by a girl before, and if he had, you couldn’t remember it. You glanced at the box and saw that it was a box of chocolate cauldrons, the ones with the Firewhisky centre. They were both yours and Remus’ favourites.

“Well, how about we share them? It’s not as bad as it seems Sirius, trust me,” he looked up at you, giving you a grateful smile that only served to enhance his handsome features.

Your idea seemed to be a good one as the five of you filled yourselves up with iced Butterbeer and chocolate cauldrons; you all laughed and joked with one another. You all lamented over the fact that this was your last year at Hogwarts and reminisced about years gone by. That afternoon was one of the best in your life. You wished that you could all stay that way forever, young, and seventeen. Though, you knew that summer couldn’t last forever.

---------------------

Sirius tapped his quill against his forehead, almost in an attempt to knock the answers from his head, he did kind of regret not doing it at James’ – he’d been living with his best mate for the past year and he couldn’t be happier. He had wanted to make the most of his last summer of freedom; he had spent the best part of it playing Quidditch with James. Sirius looked outside the compartment window at the rolling hills to distract himself from writing his essay.

The compartment door slid open and Y/N came walking in with a relieved smile as she sat down next to Remus, “everything alright?” Remus asked, not once looking up from his book.

“Yeah, everything is perfect,” she smiled, gazing out of the window.

Sirius sulked as he felt a twinge of jealousy; Y/N had been talking with his younger brother, Regulus. It had looked like she was really confiding in Regulus about something and Sirius just couldn’t imagine why she hadn’t talked to him. She wasn’t even friends with Regulus.

“What were you and Regulus talking about?” he narrowed his eyes at the pretty girl that was sitting opposite him and he ignored Lily’s smirk.

Y/N looked over at him with a mocking grin, “if you must know, your mum came over to my house over the summer to speak to my parents. I thought that Regulus might know why. I would have asked you but I think it’s plainly obvious that you wouldn’t know. I know how much you hate your mum.”

“Oh,” Sirius said lamely, the jealousy disapparated from his body, leaving him feeling pretty stupid.

“Were you jealous, Black?” Y/N smirked, causing Sirius to scowl at her.

“In your dreams, Y/L/N,” he muttered.

Lily laughed at this interaction as she leaned over James to speak to Y/N, “never mind about him, how is Finn feeling about his first year?”

Y/N sighed happily, “oh, he’s so excited, he’s just worried about getting put in Slytherin, I think he’s more worried about my reaction. So, I told him that no matter what happens, it’ll be okay and he’ll always be my little best mate.

“Well, Slughorn was a Slytherin and he’s a nice enough fellow, he didn’t go bad or anything like that,” Lily commented reasonable, causing Y/N to beam and nod at her.

“Everything really will be alright Y/N,” Peter spoke up, taking the words right out of Sirius’ mouth.

“Yeah I know, thank you Pete,” she gave him a pretty smile.

It seemed like all too soon that the six friends were sitting in the magnificent Great Hall as they waited for the sorting ceremony to start. While they were waiting, Y/N engaged Nearly Headless Nick in conversation about his summer. Nick was complaining that his request to join the headless hunt had once again been rejected. Sirius thought that it was very sweet of Y/N to take the time to speak to him. She tried to speak to all of the ghosts, even The Bloody Baron.

The boy’s marauding plans were interrupted by the start of the sorting ceremony; all six of them seemed to be holding their breath when the Sorting Hat was placed on Finn’s little curly head, “Slytherin!” the hat called out, and little Finn looked so nervous as he wandered over to the cheery Slytherin table.

Fury rose in Sirius as Lucius Malfoy looked through the sea of people to smirk at Y/N as Finn sat down next to him, “I’m sorry Y/N.”

She shrugged, smiling at him as Gryffindor gained their newest student, “well, it was definitely the worst case scenario. In a perfect world he’d be a Gryffindor,” she sighed and Sirius wrapped an arm around her shoulders, “as long as he doesn’t hang around with Malfoy then I’ll be pretty happy, thank you though,” she giggled and grinned as the sorting ceremony ended and the golden plates were filled with mountains of delicious foods.

--------------------- 

Taglist: open

@approved-by-dentists​

[scribeofmorpheus]

Himmeløyne [21/?]

Pairing: Loki Odinson x Reader

Catch Up Here | Masterlist

Warnings: None

A/N: Nothin’ to report Cap’n

Taglist is open! Reblog, comment or leave a like please ☺

~Odin

The Allfather conjured old memory and returned himself to it; the last moment he ever conversed with his old counsel, Mímir.

“The boy must know of his lineage. He is the only one who can end this war. Bridge the sides. This rift was formed by lies, and lies will only pry it further.”

“Silence!” the younger Odin shouted, his stave burrowing into the floor from his surge of emotion. He was always quicker to temper before. Thor and Loki were still babies, Odin had yet to taste what truly came with fatherhood. Fatherhood would give him the burden of a different kind of love, of temperance, but in this moment, he was still ignorant to it.

"I know why you do this. You think by keeping this a secret, by refusing him his past, you will stop the inevitable, but not even you, old friend, can stop the Fate of the Gods.”

“I said silence!” Odin’s shout shattered the glass in the throne room. Mímir’s detached head simply blinked his outburst away. "You think yourself clever because you can see fate's web? Tell me, Mímir, can you see with only on eye?"

Odin loathed that condescending stare. It made him feel obsolete, limited. Without thought, rage bubbled to the surface, filling his vision with red. Then there was blood on his thumb, and  Mímir screamed. The fluid of an eye coating his thumb.

“You truly are your father’s son,” Mímir spat.

“Twilight will never be!”

“I know what you will do. I have seen it. This will be my final gift to you: the truth will crumble at the price of your father’s belt.”

Odin returned to his older form, now realising that the last words Mímir spoke had been misconstrued. He had sworn never to wear it, never to use his father’s belt even if he was to face a formidable foe. But Mímir had tricked him, manipulated him into locking it away. Locking it in the one place is was meant to be taken from, ironically.

A knock interrupted his thought.

“Who is it?”

“You sent for me, My Liege. It’s the Captain of the Guard.”

He sighed. As much as he yearned to see his son conscious again, to find where he’d hidden Frigga, he dreaded the outcome of such a success even more. No matter what, he had to get his father’s belt back, and stop Y/N at all costs. “Enter.”

  ~Heimdall

He watched Y/N get drawn into the light. The mirror screamed, but Y/N did not react to its piercing shriek.

Sif folded hunkered low from the pain, hands pressed to her ears. A mangled scream poured into the room, but her mouth never opened. The sounds, the shrieks, they were a thousand disembodied voices, all coming from inside the mirror. He felt unease, a desire to pull Y/N away from the harrowing sounds in the light. Then she was gone, and everything turned as silent as a graveyard, the mirror shattering into dust.

“We should have stopped her,” Sif wiped the blood from her ears onto her trousers. “That was Jotun magic. Forbidden magic!”

“I know,” he stood upright.

“Fascinating,” The Collector clapped his hands as if he’d seen the most impressive performance yet. “I’ve never seen anyone survive entering the Mirror of Fate.”

“You’ve never what?” Heimdall’s actions were quick, his large hand finding the uncollared space of The Collector’s neck.

The Collector laughed, a streak of lunacy to the twitch of his lips, bearing his teeth as though it’d been aeons since he had found something amusing. “I’ll be honest, it was never the belt that I was interested in.” He turned to look at Y/N’s eye in the crystal skull.

Heimdall lifted The Collector off his feet, “Explain yourself!”

“Have you ever seen an empire built on the bones of lies crumble?”

“I will not ask you again!” Heimdall struck The Collector into a wall.

Sif grabbed his arm to try and calm him, “You won’t get anything from him if he’s unconscious.”

“Someone’s coming,” Hogun whispered before disappearing behind a column.

A shadow grew larger by the entrance. Sif followed after Hogun to try and counter manoeuvre whoever was closing in. Heimdall didn’t care, he wanted answers, his grip on The Collector’s neck growing stronger.

“Why is it, as of late, we’re always getting tangled in one misadventure or another?” Fandral asked, arms on his hips, a devilish smirk pulling his hideous moustache closer to his nose.

“Fandral,” Sif let out a sigh of relief, closing in for a hug. “Am I glad to see you.”

“Don’t be too happy just yet,” he straightened out, his tone turning for the graver. “Odin said you stole something from his vault?”

“It’s a long story,” Sif said.

“As I’m sure. You’re lucky I managed to convince him to let Volstagg and I get the lead, but we don’t have time. His guard will not be far behind. We must leave, get you back to Asgard before you are apprehended as prisoners, so you can plead your case to the Allfather.”

Hogun side-eyed Heimdall, “It’s not that simple.”

 “Speak,” Heimdall demanded, ignoring the commotion around him.

“All I did was keep a promise to an old friend,” The Collector revealed.

“Who?”

“The one who placed that amulet in my care,” he wormed around Heimdall’s grip. “She told me someone would come for it, and when they did, I’d finally get to see the fruits of her labours.”

Suddenly, the skull began to glow. Runes appearing all over. Heimdall recognised some. Y/N’s eye acted as refraction material, displaying a doorway built into a mountain into the space of the emporium. The ground was the sky and the mountain had no base. The peak glistened with ice, a beautiful sunset presenting itself in the orientation of a sunrise.

“How do I get her back?” he slammed The Collector into the wall a second time.

“Gahhh! Never took you for a man able to relinquish control, anger suits you.”

“I won’t lose her,” he could feel his heart racing, thrumming in his ears. “Tell me!”

The Collector glanced at the skull, “To enter Verdenspeil, a spell is required. A two-part spell. The first half is the sacrifice of sight. The second was to recite the words of the Giants. The entry is one way. Every other person that’s ever sought out the mirror has never managed to recite the words. Until now.”

A torrent of light, heavy with every streak of colour, poured in the streets outside. Heimdall could feel the magic of the bridge, someone had opened the Bi-frost.

“That’s not good,” Fandral stated.

Sif and the others moved into position as several of the Allfather’s guard came wielding weapons with shields drawn.

“Heimdall!” Sif warned. “We’re running out of time.”

“Then buy me what little you can,” An agitated growl left Heimdall, “How do I get her back?”

“There—” Hogun shouted, “—pull that lever!”

A loud thud echoed into the room. A large, golden gate descended as a barricade. A red dot grew larger around the barricade, melting the metal.

“Did Odin send The Destroyer too?” Fandral’s jaw dropped. “What in all the Nine did you steal?”

“What madness have you gotten us into?” Volstagg demanded.  

Heimdall was close enough to The Collector’s face to see that there was no fear in his eyes, only the dilation from oxygen starvation.

“If she makes it passed the maze, the doorway will open, there,” The Collector pointed to the apparition coming from Y/N’s eye in the skull.

“I’ve seen this peak before,” Hogun closed in on the apparition. “Recently.”

“The runes,” Sif pointed out, “They’re the same as the ones that were drawn on Y/N. Wait… Heimdall, that’s Gjallarhorn!”

“Gjallarhorn?” Fandral backed away, terror in his eyes. “Then… that means… this is connected to the Twilight of the Gods.”

Heimdall set The Collector down, the eccentric man laughed between coughs. He ignored him and walked closer to the doorway that Sif, Hogun and Fandral stared at. One rune, in particular, made Heimdall’s veins turn to ice.

“Jotunheim,” he said. “That doorway is in Jotunheim.”

“But there's no snow, the sky isn't darkened. It doesn't resemble Jotunheim in the least."

"Jotunheim wasn't always the desolate place you know today. The Great War took more than just lives."

"How can you be sure?” Sif asked.

“Because, only one other has ever possessed Gjallarhorn, and Odin tasked me with his imprisonment. That is where I hid Mímir’s head.”

Sif pieced everything together, “Mímir? Of course! This all makes sense now. Then the Mirror of Fate—”

“Is his invention, yes.”

The Destroyer had made it through the door, its face covered the hole and a second burst burned a scorch mark across the floor. The Collector rushed to a display case and pushed it aside, there was a hidden lever there. He pulled it revealing a false wall.

“In here, there’s a dais in the level below. Take the skull, it is the key to opening the portal.” The Collector ushered them closer.

Heimdall frowned, “Why should we trust you?”

“I don’t think you have much of a choice. Whatever that girl is connected to, it has cause to make Odin worry. And, it seems, it was designed to happen exactly as it has. I have fulfilled my promise, now I get to watch chaos unfold. For someone as old as I am, there are few things as joyous as seeing order fall to chaos.”

Sif grabbed the skull and the apparition dissolved into the air like steam.  

Heimdall waited for Sif and the others to head for the lower level first, then he turned to The Collector to ask one final question: “This old friend of yours, was it Mímir’s sister?”

The Collector smiled, warm and affectionately, an odd emotion to see on his face. “It was.”

  ~Y/N

Birth. A child’s first steps on steps of stone. Runes drawn into the snow. Blood on ice. A village on fire. Pieces of a home, blackened by soot and ash. Wings in the light. An arrow whistling through the air. Clear. Sweet. The rush was more than images layered over one another, morphing into one another, it was sensation too. The feel of the cold on the stone steps. The muscle memory from tracing the rune. The drip, drip, drip of blood streaming down a frost sword and splattering on ice. Heat from flames. Smell of ash on the throat. These moments were yours, animated and swishing around in this viridian green atmosphere. You had made it into the Mirror World.

You spun around, searching for a path or a marker of some sort. There was nothing but thick, green fog all around you.

“Hello?” you asked the expanse. It didn’t echo. No one replied. “Oracle?” you called out for the whisper that you conversed with in the emporium.

You shouted out again and again until you heard a reply.

Child of the Sky, welcome to Verdenspeil. 

You spread your fingers over the fog, the memories were torn like seams, visions dissipating and then reappearing. “What is all this?”

The Nexus of Fate. Your fate. Once you step out, you will be subjected to all fates intertwined with yours. 

“How do I know what to look for?”

Desire. Search your mind for desire. It will light the path to the answer you seek. 

 “And my desire will lead me to the answer I seek?”

Yes… and No. Nothing in this realm is as it appears. This world is not meant for the living. It will try to coerce you. Lead you away from the root of its power. 

“Root of its power?” you were distracted by a glimmer, then the memory of you and Loki’s first meeting by the balconies came to life. Then you thought of the kiss on that very same balcony, and suddenly the world reshaped itself to project that memory. You realised then that the world wasn’t just showing you fate, it was feeding off your memories too. A give and take. “This world isn’t real is it?”

Real is a matter of perception. But yes, this world is ancient, a thread within the fabrics of all the universes, tapped deep into Yggdrasil. 

“What is its purpose?”

Cause of effect. This world is a maze. I am the effect, but I cannot see beyond my bindings, see to its cause. I do not know what lies in the centre. All I can do is mark a path. Follow it to the source. Free me, and I will make this world show you what you seek.

You focused on what you desired. Flashes of Loki came to life I the fog, but so did images of your mother.

“We will see each other again,” your mother’s voice spoke through the fog.

The rune on your palm burst with red light. Glowing, iridescent like eels, it lit the path ahead of you. The second rune on your forehead rippled, almost as if it were an appendage. Trembling fingers reached for it and were greeted by the aqueous of an eye—a third eye. You gasped, shocked at how real the runic eye felt. You closed your one human eye and tried to see through the third.

Runic vision was strange, the Mirror World was all reflections and memory, and the expansion and contraction of matter. The rune on your palm acted as a torch in darkness, revealing the world that was previously magically concealed. Branches, stretching endlessly, all intertwined and meandering, were revealed. Each branch glowed with a different colour, some colours you’d never seen before. To your immediate left, a branch absorbed the colour of your hand’s rune. 

“Follow the path,” you reiterated.

With your human eye closed, you walked as if a blind woman, letting the magic guide you, letting it see for you. The walk was long. It felt like the seconds had rushed to hours and hours faded to days, but your muscles didn’t give in, they didn’t even feel like they were moving. Air raised your chest, but your lungs seemed as heavy as rocks.  

Yes, you are close. I can hear it. The beginning of my name. I can hear it! A little further!

Over the edge of the path, to the right, there was a branch that looked to be severed. The only singular branch untouched or intertwined with others. A coldness prickled at your skin.

“What is that place?” you shuddered. 

There was a brief pause, a small voice in your head told you to turn towards the edge and look over it.

I… I do not remember. 

“It’s calling to me…”

Child of the Sky! Do not stray from the path!

But it was too late. That same pull you felt to the light was drawing you towards that severed branch that led to a drop.

“I have to…” you took your first step away from the red of the path. The colour of the world began to leech away, all turning to that viridian green. The fog of the world covered the tree slowly, returning everything as it had been.

“Be careful!” a stranger’s voice shouted, her dialect foreign to you, yet you understood it.

“By the Gods!” you gasped in shock. Except, it wasn’t you. You hadn’t opened your mouth to speak. It was your voice, in the same dialect as the stranger’s, coming from the edge.

“Look at the size of him!” the stranger continued.

Then there was an animalistic cry, creature-like and deep. And the whoosh of rushing water. And a rumble in the earth.

“Stop! Don’t hurt him!”

“Hurt him? He displaced half the ocean!”

“Trust me!”

“I hope you know what you’re doing!”

“So do I…”

Your foot reached the end of the path, a whirlpool sucking up the air where you stood. The voices stopped too.

“That was my voice. What was that?” the real you asked the Oracle.

I suspect, something yet to be, or something never to be. 

A trance came over you. A need to step over the edge. Deep in your bones, you knew that stepping off the path needed to happen, that it was fate leading you to the whirlpool at the bottom of this universe.

“Y/N?” Loki called your name from below, but he did so in a manner a stranger would. "Never heard of you..."

“What happens if I stray from the path?” you peered into the spiralling clouds sparked with thunder and lightning. Watched the whirlpool tear those clouds apart like dandelions in the wind.

I… I do not know. The maze is endless. Getting lost could be a life sentence.

“Then it’s a good thing I’m mortal,” you took a controlled breath and dove off the edge. 

Half mortal.

The whirlpool opened, the crack at its centre allowed darkness to slither through. A tendril touched your skin. Then another. The darkness spread like the drench of rain. Soon, you and the darkness were one.

[skylxft]

Precious. « a SessKik fic »

Her hands were masterpieces to behold.

They were delicate, gentle in touch and providing comfort in the simplest of caresses. With a brush of her fingers, tears were wiped away, lives were mended, and pulses would quicken. He had witnessed it time and again — when Rin or village children would cry, when she would heal the sick, and when the (lowly) human men would gaze at her in longing.

Her hands were powerful.

There was no one alive — human and demon alike — that didn’t know of her strength and skill. Years of work, years of fighting had hardened her hands and strengthened them. It spoke of her fearlessness and her dedication — to protect, to do what was right. A bow, no matter its quality, turned into the deadliest of weapons in her hands. An enemy wouldn’t stand a chance against her.

Even he, the great Lord of the Western Lands, found it hard to stand against her.

For different reasons entirely.

(Not that he would ever admit them aloud.)

“Lord Sesshoumaru, look! Lady Kikyo taught me how to make this!”

At the call of his name, he turned to look at Rin. A warm fondness filled him at seeing her bright smile, at the way she bounced in excitement and her eyes sparkled. Not a moment later, she presented him what she held in her hands: a crown of yellow flowers.

“Isn’t it beautiful? Lady Kikyo said she used to make them for her sister all the time when they were smaller,” Rin hummed, staring at him expectedly.

“It is.”

Although his answer had been short, it seemed to be enough for the young girl as her smile somehow managed to grow. Truly, the sun couldn’t compare to the shine and warmth of her smile in that moment.

"Oh, oh! I can give it to A-Un to wear! I'll make another one with Lady Kikyo! So they each have one!" Rin studied the little crown, practically bouncing again before stopping, looking up at him again. "Is that alright, Lord Sesshoumaru?"

His answer was a simple nod, a whisper of a smile tugging at his mouth. All at once, Rin threw herself at him, giving him a tight one-armed hug (as to not crush or ruin the crown he supposes), before running off, a bounce in her stride and laughter in the air. It stunned him momentarily, still so unused to the (now frequent) displays of affection the young child would give him.

She had gotten bolder, more sure of herself. There were still traces of the frightened child that would hide behind his leg every once in a while, but it was different now. Now, with the added help of Kikyo and her daily lessons, she was blooming into a surer Rin. And if the demon lord was honest, it was endearing.

Kikyo was a good influence on her.

It was… amusing when he looked back on things.

They started as strangers (or enemies, really) that simply tried to do what was best for Rin. Kikyo was certain that it would be better to not have her constantly at risk by staying at his side; that she would thrive better living in a human village. He, however, trusted no one to protect Rin as he would. Unsurprisingly, given both of their stubbornness, they came to an impasse.

('How could you possibly think it is safe for a human child to stay by your side when demons are constantly attacking you? How foolishly stubborn you are.')

Begrudgingly, they began traveling together for the most part. Sometimes Kikyo would drift off on her own, only to come back a few days later with new supplies and things for Rin. Other times, Sesshoumaru would be the one to wander off, leaving Rin behind with the priestess as well as Jaken and A-Un. Upon his return, he would often find them near a human village where Kikyo would be tending to the sick with Rin in tow.

Eventually, it grew to be their normal, their routine.

Rin genuinely seemed to enjoy having the priestess around — happy to have someone to talk to and teach her things. Kikyo would tell her stories and teach Rin all that she knew in return. And on nights where Rin would wake from nightmares or when her fear of being alone crept in, Kikyo would take the child in her arms and soothed her. At any point in which Rin needed her, Kikyo was there. It was almost as if the affection that they had for one another was familial — almost like a mother and her child.

(He was a bit jealous.)

As for how they treated another now, it was… a bit strange.

The demon lord wasn't quite sure when it happened, but there was an emptiness inside that would rear its (wholly unwanted) head during the moments in which he wandered alone. It wasn't surprising that he sometimes felt something similar when he left Rin alone with Jaken and A-Un, but this was different. This emptiness he felt was something else entirely. Almost as if something was gnawing at his heart, gnawing at his very being when he thought of the priestess during these times.

As if there was something that was missing — something that his heart was longing for...

How ridiculous.

The Great Lord Sesshoumaru, Lord of the Western Lands, would not long for a human priestess of all things. And he most certainly wouldn't long for someone like Kikyo. Certainly not.

(Or at least, that's what he would often say to try to convince himself.

...It wasn't working.)

The scent of bellflowers and rain filled his senses then, her familiar aura a gentle (and welcoming) embrace as the priestess drew closer. A shiver ran along his spine, settling into his heart as she walked through the trees. A hint of a soft smile still lingered on her face — one that he often associated with times she spent with Rin.

(Oh, to have that smile directed at him one day…)

"I see Rin has gotten her way again. Poor Jaken has been strong-armed into helping her find the perfect flowers for A-Un." There was a crinkling of laughter in her deep brown eyes, of fondness. The demon lord rather liked that look on her.

"Mn. Jaken is hardly a match for A-Un, much less for Rin."

The chimes of her laughter were quiet, stifled behind a hand as she tried to keep her composure. Her eyes were like jewels in the sun, glittering and brilliant. She was smiling. Truly smiling.

She was beautiful.

(For a human.

...okay, she was beautiful.)

A comfortable silence fell on them then, soft and warm and familiar. They weren't always very verbal when it was just the two of them — even if they were on much better terms now. When they first started traveling together, they would exchange biting quips and frosty words of provocation whenever they did speak, caring little for one another and yet trying to rile the other up. But now was different. Now, they would spend most of their time together like this, in the comfortable quiet as they went about their business. They would exchange words now and again as well as quips, but there was no real bite to them. They were… friendly. Kind even.

Her company was certainly better appreciated than the mindless squawkings of Jaken. Heavens know how he lasted as long as he did listening to the rambles of the little imp.

No, this was much better.

"Sesshoumaru?"

Another shiver coursed through the demon lord at her voice, relishing the way she said his name. She was one of the few (aside from his annoying brother and his brother's human) that dared to directly call him by his name alone, but she was the only one who called his name like this. Like it was something important — like something to behold and treasure. She called his name so rarely, so each instance that she did managed to sear itself into his very being.

"I believe Rin would appreciate it if you were to join us in making the crowns." A smirk pulled at the corners of her mouth, clearly teasing. "I don't expect you to make any yourself given that it's not something that a great demon lord such as yourself would likely be interested in."

He wanted to wipe the smirk off her face.

(And if he was honest, preferably with his mouth.)

Instead of answering Kikyo, he simply began to walk in the direction whence she came, following Rin's scent of sunshine and blossoms. Behind him, he could hear her stifled laughter carried on the wind.

He felt impossibly warm.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

He was beautiful. Anyone with eyes could see that. For all his venom and ice, he was virtually otherworldly in terms of beauty.

Sometimes — mostly during the times she would see him in the moonlight — he managed to take her breath away because of it. The priestess was nearly sure he was aware he did so.

He had to know; the way he would look at her at times spoke of something. What the something was, she wasn't sure. But it always burned deep within her when he would look at her that way.

It made her want things. Things that she perhaps would’ve wanted as a normal human woman.

(Not that she would exactly admit that. Not even to herself.)

For now, those thoughts would remain under lock and key, and Kikyo's focus would be on the scene before her. 

There was something so endearing seeing a proud demon lord like Sesshoumaru sitting down in a field of flowers with a human child, attentive and present as Rin prattled on about something. It was perhaps one of the loveliest sights Kikyo had ever witnessed. Heartwarming, really.

There was a bounce to the way Rin moved when she was around him, a pleased sort of excitement that just oozed from her. As if all she wanted to do was to be in his presence and have him be pleased with her.

It reminded Kikyo of how a child would be with her father.

(And if it made her curious about how Sesshoumaru would be with his own child, she wouldn't say.)

"Rin, there is no need to bother Lord Sesshoumaru with your useless squabbling!" Jaken stomped his foot, steam practically radiating off of him. Meanwhile, the demon lord himself rolled his eyes ever-so elegantly.

"It's not useless!" Rin's lip jutted out indignantly, her little arms crossing. "Lady Kikyo told me that you could use some flowers in salves to help cure wounds! Right, Lady Kikyo?"

The priestess was almost sure her heart melted a little more each time Rin looked at her with those eyes, warm and expectant. She gave warmth like the summer sun. It was impossible to not love the child.

She'd defend Rin with her very life if necessary.

"It seems you've taken our lessons seriously. I'm proud, Rin." At her response, Rin smiled while Jaken bristled and set off, dragging along A-Un and muttering as he went (and surely cursing her no doubt). Despite this, Kikyo quietly chuckled to herself, knowing well that Jaken would be back soon after and bickering with Rin yet again over something small.

Just another typical day traveling together.

"Rin, are you going to show Se—Lord Sesshoumaru how you make the crown?" Calling him by his title always felt strange — distant even. Like they were complete strangers and hadn't been traveling together for some time now.

He didn't seem to like it either given the momentary crease in his brow. And if she hadn't known better, he glanced at her when she had. Had she blinked, she would've missed it.

Or maybe she was imagining it? Maybe it didn't matter to him at all. Perhaps to the demon lord, nothing between them had changed much and he was merely tolerating this? Whatever this was.

Maybe this tentative friendship — this companionship — didn't mean anything.

(She prayed it meant something.)

Rin, none the wiser, proceeded to explain the process of making the crown to Sesshoumaru, buzzing with enthusiasm as she did so. With every step, she would show and explain it to him much in the same way Kikyo had done with her. In return, he would nod and add a 'mn' here and there. It was the same cycle until Rin finished another crown.

It was cute.

It warmed her heart all over again.

"Look, Lady Kikyo! I did it!" Rin quickly ran to her to show her work, a bounce in her step and eyes sparkling as she went.

"It's beautiful, Rin. You're learning so quickly. Job well done," she smiled at Rin, gently caressing the side of her face. It didn't seem to be enough for Rin, however, as she threw her small arms around Kikyo and hugged her.

"Thank you, Lady Kikyo! I love you!" Her voice rang with happiness, nuzzling into the priestess' neck before stepping back from the embrace. "I'm going to show A-Un the crowns! I bet they'll be excited!"

And with that, Rin skipped off after Jaken and A-Un, leaving excitement and giggles in her wake.

And leaving both Kikyo and Sesshoumaru stunned all over again.

It wasn't the first time that the young girl had said that to either of them. No, in fact, it was more common to have her confess it to Kikyo than the others (with the exception of A-Un). Regardless, every time Rin said it, it sunk deep and filled in cracks that none of them knew they had.

Like being filled with molten sunshine.

(If Sesshoumaru wasn't in front of her, she'd perhaps tear up just a bit.)

"I'm glad that Rin enjoyed the crowns that much," Kikyo thought aloud, staring after Rin's direction, not really expecting conversation. But he was looking at her; she could just feel him watching her intently. Her skin was buzzing with it. "Perhaps she enjoyed it more because we were here with her."

It was quiet for a moment, the humming of insects and the occasional rustling of animals the only sound between them. But there was something in the air between them. It was almost tangible.

Like feathers whispering against skin.

"Thank you."

Everything in her froze at his words.

Did he really just… thank her?

"What ever for?" She hoped her voice was even; still and calm like an undisturbed pool of water. Within her, however, she was anything but still. Her heart was practically thrumming in her throat, in her ears.

A quick scan of his face held no answer, but he was looking at her and there was something in his gaze that she couldn't quite place. Something in his molten eyes that made her feel like he was going to consume her.

There were shivers crawling along her spine because of it.

(In a good way.)

"Rin is pleased to have you here." Sesshoumaru's gaze drifted off towards the direction of the others, looking but unseeing. There was something unspoken, something on the tip of his tongue and the priestess knew it. But what was it?

"Only Rin?" She scoffed then, a small laugh on her lips. "Surely A-Un and Jaken have warmed up to me after all this time. A-Un sometimes seeks me out to pet it, and Jaken… well, he no longer calls me 'troublesome wench' anymore."

He took a quick exhale of breath then, and Kikyo knew that he found it amusing to some degree. But still, he wasn't looking at her.

Why wasn't he looking at her?

If only she could coax him into speaking of his thoughts about her. Of how he saw their comfortable companionship. But words were never quite easy for her when it came to emotions, so how could she expect it from him?

They were both so quiet, so used to being alone in that way. To open up in that sense — to be honest and willing to share those parts of themselves — would be far beyond what either of them were comfortable with.

(Oh, to be as free as Rin and to talk of her affections as flippantly as other human women…)

"I enjoy being here. And I love Rin as well." There was more she wanted to add to the confession, but this was safe. It wasn't a lie, but the whole truth was so much deeper than it.

Just a singular drop in the ocean.

But bearing her heart on her sleeves hadn't always been the smartest nor safest choice for her. It had never been in her to give her heart so easily to begin with; it was more of a guarded treasure really. No, she was careful, mindful of who she let hold onto it.

If the demon lord asked for it, however, there would be a chance she would give it over easily. It sickened her as much as it frustrated her.

(Not as if Sesshoumaru could possibly feel the same.

She was a human…)

The sound of Rin and Jaken bickering (again) caught Kikyo's attention then, A-Un trailing behind the two with crowns of flowers sitting atop its heads. For all the chaos that would follow, it was a welcome distraction from her thoughts and this… interaction with Sesshoumaru.

She stood up then, brushing off her clothes as the darkness of her thoughts slipped away, slithering back into its box.

"Lord Sesshoumaru! Master Jaken said A-Un looks ridiculous with flowers!"

"Stupid girl! Don't bother Lord Sesshoumaru with such a troublesome complaint!"

"I'm not stupid! Lady Kikyo says I'm a quick learner!"

A smile settled on Kikyo's face as the two kept up their petty squabble, a laugh bubbling at the back of her throat at how suddenly exasperated Sesshoumaru looked. The demon lord was quick to end the fight, declaring it time to set camp for the night before wandering off to patrol the perimeter. Just like all the nights before, she would be in charge of setting up camp and everything that came after.

They would eat, Kikyo would tell Rin a story before bed, and right before the young girl would fall asleep, the demon lord would return and bid her good night. 

How strange it is that this could fill her with so much warmth. That this little family (because she was willing to admit that's what they were) could put her at ease. That this routine would make her feel a part of something.

They were her home now.

Sesshoumaru was another case entirely, but it wasn't time for that. Those thoughts were for another day, another moment in time.

Perhaps one day, they could speak on it. And if words failed them, well… there were other ways.

Maybe one day.

[nestasgalpal]

Folklore (Nesta Archeron Fanfiction)

The lakes

This fanfic is pure Nesta angst. Each chapter is inspired by a song from Folklore, as if Nesta was composing/playing/singing the song while having the moment I narrate in mind. This first chapter was inspired by The Lakes, which reminded me to what Nesta might sing to her friend Claire.

“Take me to the lakes, where all the poets went to die/ I don't belong, and my beloved, neither do you” meaning the true form of their relationship, and “A red rose grew up out of ice frozen ground/ With no one around to tweet it/ While I bathe in cliffside pools with my calamitous love/ And insurmountable grief” being about how she misses not only her but how she made her feel.

I would like you to listen to the son after you read the chapter and check for yourself if it makes sense. The piece she sings in the begining of the chapter was also inspired by this cover of Sodier, Poet King.

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There will come a soldier Who carries a mighty sword He will tear your city down, oh lei-oh lai-oh Lord Oh lei, oh lai, oh lei, oh Lord He will tear your city down, oh lei-oh lai-oh Lord

Nesta’s voice was like silk as she sang to them. Elain and Claire were dancing together with their feet on the edge of the pond to the rythm of the song, and Nesta was reclining against a tree close enough for them to use her music as their own personal orchestra. The summer afternoon breeze stirred their dresses, and the sun made Nesta’s blond hair shine like gold.

There will come a poet Whose weapon is His word He will slay you with His tongue, oh lei-oh lai-oh Lord Oh lei, oh lai, oh lei, oh Lord He will slay you with His tongue, oh lei-oh lai-oh Lord

Her sister and her friend started singing the last verse with her. It was a well known poem, an all time favourite for the Archeron sisters and now also one of Clare’s even if it was only because of the memory she would keep of their summer afternoons, the three of them together.

There will come a ruler Whose brow is laid in thorn Smeared with oil like David's boy, oh lei-oh lai-oh Lord Oh lei, oh lai, oh lei, oh Lord Smeared with oil like David's boy, oh lei-oh lai-oh Lord Oh lei, oh lai, oh lei, oh Lord He will tear your city down, oh lei-oh lai... oh

Their village was too cold and too close to the Wall for troups to come in the winter or even in autumn, but at least one made an apparence during the summer, and the three girls went to see their spactacles in the plaza. Nesta and Clare were 16, Elain a year younger, and boys were starting to look at them with a special shine in their eyes. A young musician had fallen in love with Clare this year, and the girl, who wasn’t very fond of the boys she had at her disposal in the village, had enjoyed the way the rad-haired musician followed her around. He wrote a poem for her, admiring her short brown hair and olive skin, and ultimetly had asked her for a kiss, which Nesta’s friend had been delighted to give.

Her first kiss.

Nesta had never had one.

That was the topic of the day. How did it taste? And what was one supposed to do, anyway? Were you supposed to stand there and be kissed or was it perhaps more difficult than that?

“I’ll show you” Clare had offered, tired of Nesta’s questions.

With a chucke, Clare cuped her friend’s face and pressed her lips softly against Nesta’s. She was delicate, careful and sweet, and Nesta knew right in that moment that no other kiss she receibed in her lifetime would compare to that one. When they separated, Claire’s eyes were dreamy, while Nesta’s were muzzy. Both of them laughed nervously, their faces still close and Clare’s hands still caressing Nesta’s cheeks.

They broke apart when Elain cleared her throat, mad she had been forgothen in the pond. Claire laughed and let Nesta’s face go to stand up and run towards the other one. She extended her arms and Elain took her hands to run back to Nesta together.

The three of them sitted in the green grass, trying to cover their heads with the shadows the trees projected. The meadow was full of daisies and dandelions, an the pond’s water was clear. That’s why Nesta’s favorite season was summer. It rarely rained, so the dirt in the pond’s bottom wasn’t shaken by it and the surface didn’t become muddy.

“So... Elain” Clare’s smile was hussy and big, like she knew she was about to get some good gossip “Soldier, poet or king... which one would you pick?”

Usually Nesta didn’t feel comfortable talking about boys. Not yet. She kept it to herself so she didn’t look childish, but she still dreamed one day their father would gain back their fortune and she would be able to find a better man than the ones she could find in the village. But this time it was different, since it was just the three of them picking a character from a song. It was just an inocent pick. There were not soldiers, no poets and no kings there, so it meant nothing.

“Easy” said Elain “The poet is for me, the soldier for Nesta, and-”

“And the ruler for me?” Clare compleated, excited and already laughing at the idea. “I don’t know about that...”

Elain, who enjoyed this kind of games a little more than Nesta did, noded, also smiling, but with a glimpse of superiority in her gesture. “The ruler is for Feyre, dear” Her words came out sweet, but with a clear intention: to put Clare in her place. Her sister loved their friend as much as Nesta did, but sometimes she could get a little jelous if the two of them came too close and left her behind. Nesta coud understand that, it was only fair, so she allowed her to say this kind of things from time to time just to make her happy.

This time Elain was speaking the truth, though. Since they first heard the poem, the soldier had been for Nesta, a knight to protect her in her adventures. She used to play with the idea of the ruler as her pick, but she would never be satisfied with a throne that was given to her, she would rather take it herself. That’s why she needed a knight and his armies: to help her.

Then Feyre, who was the youngest and hadn’t got mutch of a personality when Elain and her became obsesed with the song, would marry the ruler and be queen. Easy.

“Finally, I would marry the poet, who, just like your musician wooer, would write a thousand poems and songs about my beauty and kindness” Elain explained to their mutual friend the story they had made up a long tme ago, when their mother was still alive and they enjoyed singing.

Now Nesta hardly ever did it, only when she felt comfortable enough to do so. With her sister and her best friend, she did, she felt safe.

“Nah, that would never work” Clare complained, taking Nesta out of her daydreaming.

“What part?” she asked.

“You and the soldier, silly!” she thought it was funny, but Nesta didn’t. The oldest of the Archeron frowned. “You could never be happy with a soldier, Nes. They work for kings, so his loyalty would be to someone else, not to you. Never to you.” Clare, who was sitted in the grass and leanin in one hand, lay down on the soil and rested her head on Nesta’s lap. “I know you, Nes, and you need someone you can always rely on, otherwise you won’t be satisfied. You don’t need the kind of safety a sword provides, you need reliability, and you would never find it in the soldier”.

Nesta’s brow was still frowned. She really didn’t like talking about boys.

“What do I need, then?”

“A poet, Nes” Clare’s voice was so  blissful she couldn’t help but relax her face. She ment no harm, she was not trying to ridiculize her by bringing up the subject. Clare didn’t even know she was so insecure about it. “You need a sensible soul to feel your pain and help you carry it. You have a wonderer soul yourself, so it would be a perfect match.”

“Is Tomas your poet, Nesta?” Elain asked, bringing herself back to the conversation. This hurt Nesta a little more, since Elain did know about it, but she let it go. It was just one of those moments of jelousy she felt sometimes.

“No” she replied. Tomas was none of the three. Not even close.

“Promise me, Nesta” Clare asked. She had her eyes closed and the breeze fluttered her short hair in Nesta’s lap. Years later, The oldest Archeron sister would go back to that exact moment and wonder if she had actually been that beautiful or it was just her brain tring to keep a good memory of her dead friend. But in that moment, she actualy saw her as a sleepy angel, gifting Nesta her heart. A blessing. “Promise me you won’t settle with the soldier and you will find a poet who makes you trully happy and is devoted to you”.

In that moment she thought her friend had Tomas in mind as “the soldier”, but now Nesta fantasized with the posibility of Clare talking about Cassian. Had she known something? Like a vision sent by a forgoten god from the mortal realm? What would her friend think if she saw her now, alone in a tent, cold, curled up in a tiny matress in the Illyrian Mountains, lost in her own pain because she had wanted to trust in the soldier’s word and he had failed her? He told Nesta they would have time and he would always find her, but Claire was right and his loyalty had never been hers. What had she done? What would she do from now on?

“I promise” a youg version of herself answered.

Clare smiled and pulled Nesta’s face close to her to kiss her again.

[otterskin]

Finnesang - Prologue : Two Birds, One Song

All published chapters on AO3 - but here’s Chapter One, just to hook you.

Blurb: Odin is missing a raven. Without Muninn, Odin isn’t quite who he used to be. The only thing more dangerous than a man with secrets is one who can no longer keep them.

After a near-perfect Coronation years ago, Thor's become exactly the kind of king he believes his father would be proud of - if his father were still the man Thor thought he was (if he ever was).

Loki knows his place - servant of Asgard, advisor to his brother, and caregiver to his ailing father. Important roles, defining ones - and yet he feels forgotten. Sometimes literally.

Being forgotten is fatal when all that you are is someone else’s lie.

PART ONE:

UNMADE

ᚲ ᛟ ᚹ

The RAVENS

Once we were ravens, and that only.

To be ravens is a good thing. Ravens can fly. The Sky belonged to us when we danced in it. At night we'd steal the stars away when our black bodies blotted them out. We did not belong to the Earth or the Sea, though we took the bounties of both. Some would call us thieves for that, but we were ravens only, and accountable to no-one.

And yet we were not content. We wished to have more.

We wished to be more.

When we heard it first, we could put no name to it. It was a sound, many of them, wound together in a tangle - and yet it could be followed.

So follow it we did.

We soared through rain and thunder, through blazing sun and piercing wind. Always, it moved forward, as living things must. We followed. We could not bear to live again in silence.

We beat our wings in time with its tempo and our hearts beat in time with its base. There was nothing but the song and the journey to possess it.

We followed it through forests, through villages, through cities and out into the sky again.

We saw a figure walking through clouds. He looked like one of the people who lived below - he was covered in scales like them, had four purple eyes like them, dressed as they did. But at once we saw that he was not one of them. None of them could walk the skies as easily as we flew in them. None of them sang as he did. He was a new thing, and we wanted to have him.

We danced about him, and he laughed in wonder at us.

He paused in his song to call out to us, as raucous as any lowly crow, “What are your names, then?”

We jeered. Play the sounds, creature.

He took up the thing of sticks and strings from around his neck and strummed it.

We ventured nearer, needing to feel the pulse of the tune. One of us landed on his right shoulder. One of us landed on his left. Through our toes, we could feel the rumble of his flesh, the rumble that became the sounds we would soon learn to call ‘music’.

"Hearing, I ask, from the ho-o-ly races

From Norn’s eyes, watching high and low

I will soon relate, to this tree of faces

Old tales remembered from long, long ago…”

We did not yet know what words were, but still we jittered to encounter them. The scales that disguised the singer as one of the people of below fell away, revealing pale, pinky flesh and worm-like toes where wing feathers should be. His eyes were now only two, and they were very, very blue.

"Have you no names, then? I’m between names myself at the moment. A fair number of them just…did not work out. Perhaps you can help me think of the next one.”

Before we could berate him for stopping, he continued to sing.

"I asked for companions, the Norns sent me birds

I asked them for names, but they gave me none

I suppose since I am the master of words

It falls to me to give them both some!"

He reached out to stroke our chests with a finger. It was warm. We didn’t dislike it.

“I may have made those lyrics for you, but the tune is not mine. I really should not be singing it. Yet lately, I cannot seem to get it out of my head…

“My father was a fine singer himself,

Though only when he sang with my mother.

They sang this for me when I was my first self

When I still had a sister and brother.”

The music ended. We looked at the creature. He stared hollowly out across the green skies as if he did not like the colour of them.

“It seems that no matter where I go or what I call myself, I am burdened with memories and thoughts. Not just of what was, but what could have been. Do you know what that is like, my feathered friends?”

He seemed unhappy. That was no good - his song had brought us joy, and it would not do for him to have none of his own. We called his music to our minds and cawed to it best we could, harsh and throaty.

His eyes brightened. “You are very clever, aren’t you? You’re different from the birds on Asheim. Though not so clever that you’ve yet to realize what sordid company you’re keeping now.” He strummed his instrument with a grin. “I’ve thought of names for you. You shall be Huginn and Muninn - Thought and Memory. But names are not free, my corvid companions. Upon your wings I will settle a burden, so that I might journey lighter…”

He touched a wing-toe to his head. It began to glow, bright and silver. When he withdrew the toe, it came away with a long strand of silver. It broke free from his head, and at once began to wiggle like a worm. We could not help but swallow eagerly in anticipation. He offered the worm to the first of us on his right shoulder. Without hesitation, it was devoured. He put his finger to his head once more, and this time drew out a golden worm. This he offered to the second of us, on his left shoulder. Once again, it was devoured.

He continued in this manner until we were full to bursting. The silver and gold writhed in our guts, hot and cold, filling us with emptiness and sorrow, with warmth and joy, all at once. It was only then that we realized we were no longer only ravens.

Our minds were pulled away from our bodies, away from the green skies of our home. We were taken into another body, under a different sky, in a distant time.

There, we were a boy. There, there was a garden…

It was a beautiful place.

A tall, red-bearded man held hands with a woman. Together they worked the land, pulling and pushing earth and water. Beside them were two children, a boy and girl. The girl coaxed plants from the soil, and the boy called animals to live in them.

The eyes we ravens watched from were distant, hovering far above the scene.

The man looked up at us. He opened his mouth, perhaps to call us down, to join them -

But all that came out was a terrible, wailing scream...

ᚼ

The ravens awoke, groggy with sleep. The baby’s wails echoed down the dark hallway, piercing even the great golden doors meant to shut away the rest of the world.

Thought looked at Memory. Memory looked back at Thought.

“You go,” croaked Thought.

“Muninn went last time,” complained Memory.

The wailing grew louder. It was a noise somewhere between a wolf having their teeth pulled and a crash collision between two speeding metal boats, complete with the two pilots arguing over whose fault it was afterwards. It was the very opposite of music.

“Huginn turn,” insisted Memory.

Huginn huffed, puffing up his feathers and shaking the sleep off of them. He flapped down off his golden perch and onto the bed. There was only one occupant, still slumbering on one side. On the other, the furs were flicked open. Huginn thought to look at the remaining shoes. The slippers were still there, but Frigga's boots were gone. Muninn remembered that she often went to the Garden at night - the only time she really could. She would not be back until sunrise.

Huginn hopped over to the remaining lump of furs. He pulled back the edges of them, revealing Odin’s face. He looked so very different from the creature who had walked the skies of the ravens’ homeworld. The red colour had long leached out of his hair, and his soft face had sprouted a grey beard and moustache to match it. At least his eyes had stayed the same - until a few nights ago when even one of them was taken from him.

Muninn recalled that he’d told them it was a trade of sorts. An eye for a baby. Huginn thought that was a rubbish trade. Odin's right eye had never screamed at them, which made it better by far.

Not wanting to waste any more potential sleep time, Huginn pecked near the newly-empty eye socket. At once the lump of furs erupted with a curse, sending Huginn flying into the air.

Odin attempted to insult his birds again but was drowned out by the baby screaming its boat-crash-wolf-yelp cry. So instead he sighed, beckoning to his birds to follow him as he lumbered out into the hallway.

Muninn tried to hide his beak under his wing and pretend he hadn’t seen the gesture. Huginn circled back and harassed him mercilessly.

“Need both,” Huginn tutted. “Always two ravens.”

Muninn relented, and soon both birds perched on Odin’s shoulders: Huginn on his right, Muninn on his left. As light as they were, Odin still moved slowly. He’d had very little sleep since returning from the final battle. The war itself hadn’t been particularly relaxing either.

Huginn felt the thought bloom in his mind as it occurred to Odin. How easy it seemed when I first took the child. Just seeing a friendly face after being abandoned had been enough to quell its cries.

They entered the nursery. Immediately the cries doubled in volume.

"Shhh-shhh-shh-sh.” Odin attempted, but the child only stopped its tears to hiccough loudly and suck in more breath, ammunition for further cacophony.

Hastily, Odin seized at a bottle waiting in a basket of ice and tried to stopper the babe with the bottle’s teat. Its mouth clamped shut and refused the milk, turning this way and that to escape.

“Still?” Odin asked it wearily.

I thought I saved you. But if you do not eat, all I have done is prolonged your death.

The thought tasted of hopelessness. It was not a favourite flavour of Huginn’s.

The babe reached out, seizing at Odin’s hand even as it ignored the bottle it held. Odin scooped the child into his arms, jostling the ravens as he patted its back. Nothing seemed wrong with it; its changing cloth was clean, its guts clear of gas. It was not even alone anymore - and yet it still would not stop crying.

“Go outside?” suggested Huginn.

“Remind baby of home,” agreed Muninn.

Odin nodded, eye still droopy with sleep.

They stepped onto the balcony. The night was clear and brimming with all the lights of Yggdrasil. As hoped, a chill was in the air.

And yet the baby still cried, digging into Odin’s beard as if trying to crawl away from the cold.

The old god sighed. “What am I to do?” he asked his ravens.

“Always, Odin ask only himself for counsel,” chided Muninn.

“I tried to turn to Frigga,” Odin protested half-heartedly.

Muginn cocked his head in judgement. The raven did not need to remind Odin of what he had done to Frigga. A flicker passed through both their minds: the memories of her face when he’d returned, bearing a strange infant to replace the one she so recently lost. She’d been waiting to share their grief - and Odin had instead asked her to disguise it, much like the false child he’d pressed to her breast.

“Odin did not think that one through,” observed Huginn.

“No. He did not,” agreed Odin, rubbing at the gauze over his socket again. He sighed.

Even Frigga’s reaction had been a friendlier welcome than he’d gotten from his own son.

I don’t know why I expected a warm welcome on my return - how could he even recognize me? He was but a babe when I left. But to see the boy instead glare at me with such suspicion, to insist on standing between his own mother and father...

But was the boy wrong to try and protect Frigga from me?

The first thing I did on my return was to break her heart.

“I am a wicked man,” Odin sighed.

"You are required to be a good king above being a good man. The two are often mutually exclusive concepts.”

Odin turned his head slightly to frown at Huginn. “That voice…”

The babe kicked him hard in the chest, trying again to squirm free of Odin’s grip.

Without thinking about it, he started to hum, bumping the child up and down as he did so.

Miraculously, the tiny creature quietened. Unscrunching its face, it peered up at him and his ravens. It seemed mesmerized by the tune.

Odin would have been glad of it, had he not recognized just what he was humming.

He stopped.

The babe immediately crumpled up again and began to fuss. Huginn, too, dipped his head in disappointment.

Despite his audience’s clear call for an encore, Odin did not pick up the tune again. Instead, he summoned the milk into his hand and tried again to feed the child. “Come on, boy,” he muttered, trying to turn its face back out from his chest. “I know it’s not as good as giant’s milk but we haven’t had any volunteers.”

His attempts jostled the ravens about on his shoulders, causing them to flap and squawk. Huginn wondered how comical they would appear to anyone walking in on the scene. Odin, King of Asgard, Conqueror, feared throughout the realms, encumbered by clingy ravens and an obstinate baby.

“Eat - the damn - milk,” Odin muttered, accompanying each word with the jab of the bottle.

“Baby liked that song,” Muninn recalled.

“Sing next time,” urged Huginn, a spark of independence clashing against Odin’s clear reticence.

“I don’t know that I can," the man muttered. “I haven’t sung in years,”

“Odin sang for many years before,” Muninn said slowly. “Muninn would know if Odin forgot how.”

“See? So sing now!” demanded Huginn.

The other raven looked away from his brother. “Muninn doesn’t like that song. It hurts.”

Huginn looked over at Muninn, scandalized. “We ravens like the song!"

But Muninn just fluffed his feathers again and wouldn’t meet Huginn’s beady eye.

The babe knocked the glass bottle from Odin’s hands. It hit the stone floor of the balcony and broke open.

Odin nearly cursed again, catching the ugly word with one syllable already hanging out of his mouth. Spending years around soldiers instead of the Court and his family had roughened his vocabulary. That was what he used his voice for, crass words and orders to make war. Not song. That belonged to a version of himself he’d long put behind him.

He would go and get a nursemaid and damn the consequences, he would go and fetch Eir and have her diagnose the child, he would go -

The baby detonated with a keening scream, piercing his eardrums and threatening to further shatter the glass bottle with its ferocity.

He would go mad if he didn’t do something right now.

Well, go madder. He must have been mad already to have taken this child in the first place.

It shouldn’t have come as easily as it did. For one thing, his voice had deepened significantly since he last said these words, and it strained at first, trying to hit the notes that used to be within easy reach. But even before he dropped to the next octave down, his seidr was stirred, flowing outwards with the euphony. In many ways, this had been how he’d first learned magic - how he first learned to speak with the air and sky, and all the intricate veins that threaded the universe together. A thousand strings to be plucked and molded into melody.

“Hearing, I ask, from the ho-o-ly races

From Norn’s eyes, watching high and low

I will soon relate, to this tree of faces

Old tales remembered from long, long ago.

Of old was the age when Ymir yet lived

No sea nor waves, nor sand was yet there

Earth was not yet, nor heavens forgive'd

All that was was the gap to nowhere.”

Muninn shifted uneasily. Memories of millennia were tangled inextricably in every bar. But to the babe, it was merely noise, clean and new and without connotation. Spellbound, it fell still in Odin’s arms.

“Lead me home, my mothers of yester

Lead me to my heart and its way

Free me from a body that festers

Free me from the urge to yet stay.

Take me from this o-ode to slaughter

Take me from Hel, though I may belong

Lead me to my sons and my daughters

Lead me home to the heart of my song.

Shield-time, sword-time, we enter the gold halls

Wind-time, Wolf-time, ere the world falls.”

Muninn thought of Bor, Father of Odin. He once said this was a sad song.

But did it have to be so for everyone who heard it? Odin wondered. Could it not be something else for this babe?

It could mean safety, comfort. It could mean that this child had a home…at least for a little while.

“Little while?” Muninn croaked. “How cruel.”

The All-Father ignored him and continued to sing.

“I remember yet the giants of yore

Who gave me bread in days gone by

Nine worlds I knew, Nine worlds at war

Nine voices became one battle cry…”

There were many ways this story could go. If it weren’t for me, this babe’s tale would have ended shortly after it had begun. What could be less cruel than the gift of possibilities?

“Muninn cannot remember the future, only past,” Muninn scolded. “Odin cannot know if saving baby means good or bad. It just is.”

“Even bad better than nothingness,” Huginn dissented. “This good deed.”

“Deeds have reasons why done,” Muninn muttered. “Were reasons good?”

Huginn turned his back on his brother, disgusted with his treachery. “Odin not parley with ‘good’ or ‘bad’. Odin just is. Muninn play silly games.”

“Only one rose from the sea of blood

Broken were oaths, words not what they seemed

Before the breath of liars, we scud

Shaped, like clouds, by forces unseen..."

“Odin make promise by taking baby,” insisted Muninn.

“Odin makes no promises,” Huginn hissed.

“I know the horn of Heimdall, well-hidden

As lost as the things it’s meant to return

What would I ask, if it were mine to be bidden?

Would I make new or ask to unburn?

Alone I waited when the Old One sought me

The Terror of Gods gazed in mine eyes:

‘What dost thou want? What comest thou to see?’

Dost thou look for something living or died?

‘Before thou ask, be aware there is cost -

An eye for an eye, a thought for a thought

If I am to return that which you lost

Be aware that the price is the same as the bought.

'Would you know yet more?

Knowing that wisdom is weight?

Would you know yet more?

Knowing no knowledge will sate?

Would you know yet more?

If you knew that knowing meant a forever war?’”

The babe was staring at Odin with rapt attention as if there was nothing in the universe more awe-inspiring than an old man mumbling his way through a doom-stricken ditty.

Odin tended to be the most powerful person in any room - or planet - or galaxy, really - that he happened to walk into, and so he was used to rapt attention. But there is nothing quite like being the end-all, be-all centre of existence in the eyes of an infant. For one thing, people tended to get nervous when the most powerful person in the galaxy walked into the room. This babe just wondered. It would have marvelled at him just the same if he were a moderately-successful goatherd.

This child knew so little of the world. So little about Odin. Hardly any different from most grown men, in that respect. How precious that ignorance was. How unfair that after all the world had done to this child in his short life that that innocence should be placed in Odin’s hands.

Moved to pity, Huginn bent down to preen at the babe’s few dark hairs. Muninn took off from the other shoulder, heading back inside.

“Lead me home, my brothers of yester

Lead me to my heart and its way

Free me from a body that festers

Free me from the urge to yet stay…

Take me from this o-ode to slaughter

Take me from Hel, though I may belong

Lead me to my sons and my daughters

Lead me home to the heart of my song.

Shield-time, sword-time, we enter the gold halls

Wind-time, Wolf-time, ere the world falls.”

The song was nearly complete now, and Odin was surprised to find himself slowing down, as if unwilling to let the moment go. Each time he returned to the chorus, there seemed to be some strange reciprocity from the babe. Though it could not sing, its fledgeling magic nonetheless reverberated with the melody, like the threads of a spider’s web plucked by the breeze.

"The serpent is bright, but now I must sink

My father of yester is leading me home

The sky becomes light, no more must I think

of old tales remembered from long, long ago.

It didn’t seem till now...

...so long, long ago."

It was done.

Muninn returned, bearing with him a fresh bottle of milk. He dropped it into Odin’s waiting hand. The babe seemed loose, almost liquid in Odin’s grasp, though its eyes were still bright and alert. It didn’t fight the bottle this time - but neither did it suck at the teat. Odin sighed.

“Did I ever know what was in giant’s milk, Muninn?”

The raven considered, then shook his head.

“Can you think of anything that would convince the child to drink, Huginn?”

The second raven considered, then shook his head.

“Fat lot of good you both turned out to be, eh?” Odin sighed, but there was a smile in it.

The king tried to return the babe to its crib, but its fists had knotted painfully in place in his beard. It was no use; he’d just have to take it to bed and hope it would behave until morning.

When he settled back into his half of the mattress, another pang of guilt crossed his chest.

I should be with her.

Instead, he pulled the blanket back up over himself and carefully tried to lie down without disturbing the infant.

“Give her time,” he said, though the babe was already deep in sleep. “She’s a warm heart and love to spare. She just needs time to say goodbye.”

The babe gurgled. Then, unmistakably, it hummed. Clear as the skies when Thor was in good spirits, it was the song Odin had imprinted on him, already echoing back. He listened to it make its way through the tune. At points it would stop, as if waiting for something; it took Odin a little while to realize that, even in the depths of sleep, it was waiting for a response. He’d hum back to it, sometimes along with it, creating a strange little harmony.

“We’ll make a proper Asgardian out of you yet,” he chuckled, and for a moment he could imagine that Frigga had merely gone to freshen up, that the babe was everything Odin was pretending it was, that his family had been spared their latest tragedy and all was, for that moment, well. He could forget all the inconvenient parts of reality.

The world could just be him and his borrowed boy.

He could stop the crying.

He could make things right.

“Could. What a damning word that is.”

Odin cracked open his eye and saw him in the corner of the room. Wrapped in shadows, and just as immaterial. His beard was a deeper red than it ever had been in life, and the curve of the downward-pointing horns of his helmet outlined his harsh face.

“Could is a word for regrets. Regrets are the stories we wished we lived. You were always too fond of stories. Stories are not real.”

Odin shut his eye. “Neither are you, Father.” He didn’t need to open it again to know that Bor would no longer be there. It was just a passing thought.

But the spell had been broken.

The bed was cold. His wife was still gone to the Garden to mourn over her true son while he coddled a painted imposter in what should have been her sanctuary. And even then, the babe was still sickly, still hungry, and he had nothing to fill him. He had made nothing right, only forgotten that everything was still wrong.

“Huginn - Muninn,” Odin called. “Go to Jötunheim and observe the children there. Learn what they require to suckle and grow, and return soon.”

The ravens bobbed their heads in acceptance of their task. They took flight.

The skies of Asgard roiled with starlight, but the clever birds knew which precise point of light was Jötunheim’s sole sun. Together they flew, side by side, into the ether. Light streaked, sound ceased, space bent around them, and they tore through -

We tore through…

We did, didn’t we? We ravens went to Jötunheim. We did - we saw and learned and we returned…The child lived, thanks to us…So why, why did the light and the sound continue, becoming darker, malevolent, angry? Why did it shout and accuse and become oh so terribly sad even as raging fire swept about us, between us, blackening the blackest of feathers and consuming, consuming, it was in Muninn’s mouth, it was in his stomach, it was devouring him from the inside out and he was in pain, such terrible pain and I, I the raven needed to go to my brother, needed to save him, but the moment we became I it was already too late.

Muninn was gone. A hole where a raven should be. I screamed for him, but a raven’s voice is not music, and it could not call him back.

I flew on.

My thoughts were dark.

Such angry, grieving thoughts.

My blood was dead. Taken from me. Stolen. By an enemy beyond my reach.

But not all my enemies were so.

Where was I going?

Somewhere cold, somewhere far away - and why?

To see the giants, the red eyes in the blizzard.

To Jötunheim, to the giants, to war -

As Asgard had done time and time again.

Yes, to war!

To war!

ᚼ

Huginn awoke with a start. Red light was streaming through the window behind him, courtesy of the sunset. He looked across from his golden perch to the empty one on the other side of the bed. As it had been for decades, it was empty.

So was the bed.

Huginn blinked at it. The sheets had been flung from the bed with force.

The door remained shut, likely still locked. But, as the breeze from the open window reminded the raven, that was not the only way out of this place.

With a flurry of greying feathers, Huginn took flight. He passed out the back of the golden room and felt the wispy touch of shattered spells try to catch at his feathers, to no avail.

The rook circled Asgard, wings straining, searching, searching.

He heard him before he saw him - the whistling of wind around the corners of the city and the low, dull roar of the stars as invisible strings drew from their raging hearts. Footfalls echoed mightily off the golden buildings, and at once Huginn knew they could not be dissuaded from their path.

There was nothing a raven, even one who was not only that, could do.

There was little anyone could do, really, but there were some who would try anyway. Inconveniently, today had to be the day they weren’t on Asgard.

Huginn braced his aching pinions, fixing his beady eyes on a star in the sky the way other ravens fixed on the glimmer of a mussel in the water.

He flew into the sky, following the faintest sounds of a half-remembered melody.

***

This and the rest on AO3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21638704/chapters/51598693

[astraeagreengrass]

Right Where You Are, That’s Where I Am

Sometimes, finding yourself means finding someone

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 1.904

Warnings: Angst, allusions to violence and PTSD, fluffy ending

A/N: This is my submission to @wkemeup​’s 4K Writing Challenge. My prompt was “Mariner’s Apartment Complex” by Lana del Rey. Thank you Kas for having me and congratulations on such an impressive milestone! ♡

Disclaimer: I don’t own Bucky Barnes or any other fictional characters mentioned in this story - they are property of Marvel Comics and Marvel Studios. The title belongs to Lana Del Rey. The plot is my own creation.

You lose your way, just take my hand  You're lost at sea, then I'll command your boat to me again

The plane left you in the border of Burundi.

From the muddy, narrow airstrip to the meeting point it took you four hours in a 1977 Jeep CJ-7. The air-conditioner was broken, forcing you to roll down the windows hoping for some breeze, but no such luck. Your hair was stuck to your nape and your skin collected mosquito bites as you drove through the heart of Africa, trailing the Mwiruzi river, guided only by an old printed map and a vibranium compass.

You reached the village at nightfall. Less than twenty houses formed a semi-circle around a tiny square, a well right in the middle of it. It was similar to hundreds of other villages you passed through on your way, but a rune drawn in white paint on the door of the house closest to the road gave it away as the right one.

You parked the Jeep beneath a Tamboti tree, tucking the keys under the passenger’s side seat cushion. Taking your backpack and a black duffel bag, you exited.

Nakia was waiting for you at the porch of the seventh house, a fussing baby in her arms. She was trying to soothe him with a lullaby sung in xhosa, her melodious voice the only sound apart from the crickets, but the child was insistent. Realizing she wouldn’t acknowledge you until the child was calm, you sat in the rickety wooden porch step, tucking your head between your knees. You hadn’t slept in over two days and finally finding Nakia gave you some unexpected relief that allowed the exhaustion to creep in.

“We’re leaving in the morning” she announced a few minutes later, when the baby surrendered to sleep. “You can rest until then.”

You wouldn’t, but it was nice of her to offer.

“It’s safe here” she added and you just nodded. That wasn’t enough guarantee to let your guard down.

Nakia sighed, only minor frustrated. Your behaviour annoyed her, but she knew she couldn’t demand much from you, even if you did look dead on your feet.

“Come on” she said, mentioning with her head for you to follow her inside. The house consisted of a single room, a kitchen, and two long, pic-nic style tables. It was relatively full, which immediately startled you, but your deft gaze was quick to assess that these people were more suspicious of you than you were of them.

There were no adult men, only women and children. The oldest boy appeared to be around twelve, and was carefully tucked to his mother’s side. There were other babies like the one Nakia extended to a girl sitting by the door, before exclaiming in igbo:

“Ayo! The milk is here!”

Ayo was a middle-aged woman mixing food by the stove. She nodded, but made no move to step away from her careful cooking.

“Are you hungry?”

You were, but it didn’t look like you were welcome. Regardless, Nakia mentioned you forward. Taking the black duffel bag from your hands, your host started taking out the cans of milk formula you bought in Johannesburg.

The request seemed odd to you at first: why did Nakia, the Kenyan heiress turned Wakandan spy, needed dozens of cans of milk formula somewhere in Tanzania? It looked as though this room was the answer.

Ayo wordessly placed a bowl of githeri in front of you. It was delicious and you didn’t hesitate when she offered you seconds. While you ate, Nakia and the cook stacked the cans in neat piles on the cabinet under the sink. You were still eating when they finished.

"We'll take your car to Mukigina" Nakia stated. "Someone will get us there."

"When?"

"In sixteen hours."

"How long from here to Mukigina?"

"A little over seven hours if we go off the road."

You shrugged. You've been going off the road for a while now.

"Can I ask you something?" she leaned closer to you. Nakia could easily be mistaken by one of your sisters, with her flawless features and deadly skills. But the gleam in her eyes, still present after all the terrible things she's seen during her undercover work as a War Dog, set her apart from the daughters of the Red Room. She wasn't broken, battered and bruised on the inside like you were. And all the horrors she'd witnessed weren't caused by her. "How did you know he was in Wakanda?"

You met Nakia at an underground casino in Busan right after the fall of Hydra. She was following a lead on a poacher of and you were following a lead on him. When the poacher  turned out to be more vicious than she expected, it was your bullet in his head that solved the problem. You never met again - until two weeks ago, when you saw her standing next to the Wakandan king at the United Nations.

"My sister was with your king in the summer" you explained. "In Germany."

"Oh" her eyebrows rose so high they disappeared under her headscarf. "Romanoff?"

"Yeah."

"That explains how you know him."

You snorted.

"How did you think I knew him?"

"I don't know..." she trailed off. "Honestly, for the past two years I've thought about you constantly. You saved my life and I couldn't even say a proper thank you before you disappeared. I thought maybe you were an Avenger, but you're too squirmish for that. And none of them wear black, do they? They love their bright colors."

You laughed, the first real one in a long time.

Nakia patted you on the shoulder gently.

"I meant what I said earlier. You should get some sleep."

"Sleep isn't really my thing" you muttered.

"Every single girl in this village was rescued from the Boko Haram. We secured this location a couple of months ago because these men, these terrorists… They don't care about the women they steal, but they do care about their children. Especially if they're boys. So don't be ashamed of your nightmares, 'cause we're used to them around here."

You scanned the room. Most of the girls had left, but there were still three huddling by the stove, listening carefully to Ayo's instructions. They didn't look a day older than sixteen. At sixteen, you'd already killed more men than you could count with both hands. You wondered if they'd kill their kidnappers if given the chance.

Nakia's room was in the house next door. Moonlight filtered in through the curtainless window, bathing the small chamber in silver glow. You were asleep before your head hit the pillow.

In less than a day, you'd gone from old cars and dirty roads to spaceships and hover carriers.

Birnin Zana - The Golden City - rose miraculously under the savanna sun. Skyscrapers as high was the eye could see, a protective dome and cutting-edge technology - all of it coexisting in perfect harmony with nature and ancient traditions.

Nakia placed you in a hut in the outskirts of the city - close enough that you could visit Princess Shuri’s laboratory everyday but far enough that the locals wouldn’t be bothered by a foreigner’s presence.

The first week was torture. Blurry recollections of your past haunted your dreams, leaving you gasping for air, staring out the window until the first light appeared behind the trees. From dawn to dusk you'd stay at the lab, guarding his frozen body like a ghost.

It finally got on Shuri’s nerve.

“That’s it. I'm kicking you out."

She sent you to the Dora Milaje. Their leader, Okoye - tall, gorgeous and intimidating - was apparently looking forward to meet you. On a grassy field overlooking the river she handed you a wooden stick.

"Let's set how you fight without a gun" she said with a smirk.

It was disastrous. Okoye and the other warriors were graceful, silent and fast like cheetahs, meanwhile you were a hippo in heels, scrambling with the wooden stick. Madame B's voice taunted you, like the devil on your shoulder, seething everytime they bested you. On the fourth day of training your demons finally caught up to you and you broke down.

Okoye held you, whispering in soft Yoruba that you were safe.

A month later you braved the market. Manioc, okra and tomatoes in a booth, turmeric, cardamom and nutmeg in the other. The smell was intoxicating, swirling in your brain in gormandize like never before. You left chewing on a ripe piece of watermelon, pink juice staining your lips, with a pot of African violets cradled in your arms.

The violets were placed in your kitchen table - two seats, one for you and one for him when he came. Soon afterwards they were joined by a banana bunch, plucked from the tree in your yard.

The discovery of the banana tree made way for lettuce, eggplant and pumpkin. The seeds were gifted to you by Queen Ramonda herself and they took to the soil like sand to sea. When you noticed the first green leaf sprouting from the earth, you wept. Your hands, once made for killing, were now giving life.

The food welcomed the children. They'd play in your yard, sidestepping the flower beds like a dance. When they grew tired, they barged in, all five or six of them demanding lemonade and strawberries and questions.

"What does snow feels like?"

"Do you miss Russia?"

"Is it true the Americans think Africa is a country?"

Like ground ice. No. Some of them do, yes.

It was late December when Shuri gave you the news.

"We're ready to wake him up."

They placed his sleeping body on the bed, saying that he should rise by himself in a few hours. Suddenly, you were fourteen again, waiting behind bulletproof doors in a secret facility in Siberia, waiting to meet him for the first time. Only he wasn't the Asset or Soldat anymore. He had a name, a history, a mind of his own.

You'd killed for him. Tortured innocents. Thwarted governments. Broke a thousand rules just to be closer to your forbidden lover. Schemed and lied looking for his freedom, uselessly. Lost yourself trying to find him.

"Come with me" Natalia pleaded. "That spy I was supposed to kill in Budapest… He spared me. Said he can take us both to America. S.H.I.E.L.D. will offer us protection."

"I can't" you refused. "I can't leave him."

"You'll die before you save him."

Your sister was wrong: you survived. And now, halfway across the world, fate gifted you with another chance.

The children woke him. They scurried out of the house, laughing and chanting. Emhlope ingcuka, they called him. White wolf.

James Buchanan Barnes found you gazing at the horizon beyond the lake. Slowly, testing his legs, he walked over to your side.

"Good morning" you smiled.

"Good morning."

"How are you feeling?" you asked.

"Good."

You turned then, eyes catching his in the warm daybreak. A breeze ruffled his hair and your skirt, a gentle reminder that it was real. You were real.

"James?" you tried, hesitantly.

"Bucky" he declared in triumph.

"Bucky" you liked it. It suited him. "It's nice to meet you, Bucky. I'm sorry it took so long."

His right hand squeezed yours. Callus and scars met callus and scars. Your rough edges molded into his in a perfect fit, in this new land that took you in as its own.

You were home.

My masterlist

Everything taglist: @scentedsongrebel​ @youclickedthislink​ @thegetawaywriter​

[mrs-i-have-too-many-biases]

{1} Sorry, there goes your image >> S.C.

Scenario: *BREAKING* Youtuber couple Seo Changbin and Y/n Y/l/n are going viral! And that all because our favourite gamer girl has exposed her dark rapper boyfriend to be an actual softie! Type of content: Headcanons AU: Youtubers!AU || Dark Rapper Youtuber!Changbin || Wholesome gamer Youtuber!Reader || Tropes: Best friends to Lovers Genre: Fluff/ Humour Pairing: Seo Changbin X Female Reader Word count: 4K Special Credit: Shout out to @klynvan for helping me setting up the story

Introduction <> Next

AU Masterlist

“AAAH!”

ゞ◎Д◎ヾ

“WHAT?” Changbin yelled

As he hurried into her room

“I GOT AN ISLAND WITH PEACH TREES!” SHE SQEUALED

⊂( ・ ̫・)⊃

Whilst waving her Nintendo switch

(❀｣╹□╹)｣*･

In her best friend’s face

He sighed

And shook his head

Whilst smiling fondly

Y/n and Changbin had known each other for years

They went to school together

And people could always see

A huge aesthetic gap between the two

Changbin loved to wear black

(;¬_¬)

Sometimes there would be a bit of red

or any other dark tinted colour peeking through his outfits

But the dark aesthetic matched his image as rapper

He never talked to anyone

And he always seemed to have a frown

Plastered on his face

He was pretty much an outcast

And people were bothered by that

Y/n on the other hand

♥(ˆ⌣ˆԅ)

Was known as the lovable girl

who everyone seemed to be crushing on when she started to

hang out with Changbin

Before that

She was quite geeky

She still is

But back then

Nobody seemed to be actually interested in her

She was usually alone

Y/n was known to be shy besides

People thought she had ‘weird’ interests such as

Her huge love for flowers and plants

Video games were also something Y/n had always loved

And now

Boys loved the fact that she was obsessed with video games

She especially loves Mario games,

Minecraft,

animal crossing,

the sims series and many others

They would ask her to play games together

But no one seemed to be actually interested

to approach her

Mostly because her best friend

Changbin

wouldn’t let them

People just couldn’t wrap it around their finger

the fact that

a girl like Y/n was spending most of her time

with a guy like Changbin

Girls were jealous of Y/n

Thinking that she acted the way she acted

to get Bin’s attention

Changbin was hot

No one could deny that

Boys envied Changbin’s muscles

He was often seen at the gym

Where he would be working on his biceps

Making the girls swoon who were there at the scene

Y/n would be there sometimes as well

Usually she was cheering him on

And holding onto his water

She admits that she looked kind of goofy

But Bin loved having her around

And she loved being around him

He would have her try to pick up one of the dumbbells

She was quite strong

(ง •̀_•́)ง

And was able to lift weights

But she couldn’t compete with the muscles Changbin had created

They both remember

It clear as day:

The day when and how they met

Changbin was strolling through the halls

Minding his own business as usual

He heard some voices echoing through the place

But he shrugged it off since he was in a public area

He recognised the voices

They were the jocks of the school

And if Changbin heard it clearly

They were bothering someone

“Can I go through?” A small voice was to be heard

“Oh she can talk! Such a pretty voice, you should talk more for us sweetheart.”

One of them smirks as they caressed Y/n’s cheek

“Please leave me alone.”

“But we want to get to know you better-“

“She asked to be left alone.” Changbin had interrupted

as he decided to interfere

“And who the hell do you think you are?”

“Someone who doesn’t harass other people.”

Changbin replied smartly,

Catching the jocks off guard.

Y/n in the meantime was shaking and

on the brim of tears

The jocks eventually scoffed and walked off

Leaving Changbin with an overwhelmed Y/n

“Are you alright?” He asked her carefully

o(╥﹏╥)o

“N-NO DON’T CRY!”

“HNNG I’M SORRY!”

｡･ﾟ(ﾟ⊃ω⊂ﾟ)ﾟ･｡w

Changbin couldn’t hold up his act as dark and mysterious

As soon as he came in contact with her

He was taken back when she pulled him into an embrace

As she continued to cry

And he didn’t know

What else to do

Except patting her back comfortingly

And that was the very beginning of Bin realising that he

Indeed had a soft spot

And that spot was specially reserved for

Y/n and Y/n ONLY

(ﾉ≧∇≦)ﾉ ﾐ ┸━┸

Time passed and

Their time at school sooner but later had ended

They two had graduated together

Around that time

When they had their finals

And basically had to decide 

what they wanted to do with their lives

the two had been joking about beginning a YouTube channel

People around them would laugh at them

And were certain of the fact that they would fail

That they shouldn’t even bother to try

The inseparable pair would share a look

And often shrug other people’s comments

About their new shared dream

This made people think even more differently of them

The two outsiders

Who want to do something with their life

That hasn’t have a guarantee of having a stable financial state

Later on in their life

They all just thought they were insane

Changbin’s parents thought so too

His older sister joked and told him to do it

(￣ω￣)

Mostly so she could be the ‘success’ of their family

She never meant it in a harmful way

She loved Y/n

So did the rest of the Seo family

Y/n had a very sweet and wholesome effect on Changbin

Which was something they hadn’t witnessed

Ever since he turned 14

His sister supported him through thick and thin

And eventually helped their parents support him as well

Y/n hadn’t had any difficulties talking to her grandmother

About her change in career path

Her grandmother,

who she grew up living with,

wanted Y/n to be happy

To enjoy the little things as long as it last

She would always tell Y/n that

even if she wanted to simply

a dog walker for the rest of her life

because she likes it

she wouldn’t dare to stop supporting her

she loved her too much for that

｡ﾟ(*´□`)ﾟ｡

And so

Y/n and Changbin’s journey began as youtubers

The beginning of their career

Was quite awkward and tricky

As they didn’t own any big platforms yet

One day

Changbin had decided to put his rapping skills aside

For one video

To cover a song

He didn’t think too much of it

But sooner enough the video went viral

“Dark rapper with multiple talents”

He couldn’t believe it

And Y/n couldn’t be happier for him

♥｡･ﾟ(ﾟ⊃ω⊂ﾟ)ﾟ･｡♥

Not much later

As Y/n was streaming whilst gaming

He appeared into her room

To check up on her

“CAN YOU STOP FUCKING SCREAMING-“

( #`⌂´)/┌┛

“HDHBAF DON’T SWEAR I’M STREAMING-“

(((ง’ω’)و三 ง’ω’)ڡ≡

“WELL STOP SCREAMING THEN”

“BUT THEY’RE KILLING ME!”

“THEN KILL THEM BACK!”

“IT DOESN’T WORK LIKE THAT!”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN?”

“I’M PLAYING MINECRAFT!”

“OH!”

(ノಠ益ಠ)ノ彡┻━┻

…

“and did you kill him?”

“no I had to respawn”

｡ﾟ(ﾟ∩´﹏`∩ﾟ)ﾟ｡

“MOVE I GOT THIS!”

y/n: (づ￣ ³￣)づ

A couple days later yet another article about them was written

As this time

Y/n’s stream went viral

To people loving their banter

They saw the clove in between their aesthetics

And the public became obsessed

And that was only the start of their success

Y/n had gained thousands of followers and subscribers

Changbin did as well

People now were actually appreciating

And cheering onto Changbin’s music

He felt happy that there now were finally others

Beside his family and Y/n who loved the music he produced

Y/n was also gaining attention

Due to her lovable personality and sweet interactions with her fans

She loved talking to them as she streamed

or whenever she catches them on social media

People felt included

and they loved that about her

And because so many people had requested

To Y/n and Bin to make videos together

They started their shared channel

Where they actually rarely uploaded on

“GIVE US A VIDEO TOGETHER”

“WE NEED MORE BINXY/N VIDEOS”

“DO Y’ALL ACTUALLY LIVE TOGETHER?!?

BECAUSE IT SURE ENOUGH DOESN’T LOOK LIKE IT”

….

Y/n:

Bin:

*A-cup-of-Y/n notification*: Watch me look for my favourite animal crossing villagers!

*Seo Changbin notification*: Trying to produce a rap in an hour *STRESSFUL*

Fans: (」ﾟДﾟ)」

They loved the content anyway

“Y/N! WE’RE OUT OF COFFEE!”

┻━┻ミ＼（≧ロ≦＼）

“SEO CHANGBIN PUT THAT TABLE BACK ON HIS PLACE!”

“BUT COFFEE-“

“CHANGBIN!”

‎(ﾉಥ益ಥ）ﾉ ┻━┻

Bin: (つ﹏<。)

Y/n: =͟͟͞͞ =͟͟͞͞ ﾍ( ´Д`)ﾉ

“AAAH YOU BIG BABY WE’LL GET YOUR DARNED COFFEE THEN”

Bin: ☆*:.｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆

And so the two of them went to their closest café

To give Bin his addition to his caffeine addiction

Bin was smiling like crazy

As he waited impatiently for his best friend

To get her stuff

“CAN YOU BE ANY SLOWER?!”

(˃̥̥ω˂̥̥̥)

“CAN YOU BE ANY BRATTIER?”

(((c=(°ロ°;q

(」゜ロ゜)」

“HUSH I NEED CAFFEINE”

“WELL IF YOU DIDN’T CHUCK THE ENTIRE THING LAST NIGHT

TO PRODUCE ON YOUR STREAM

WE WOULDN’T BE IN THIS POSITION RIGHT NOW!”

@(。・0・)@

“HEY THE SONG TURNED OUT TO BE A BOP!”

((งง •̀•̀__•́•́))งง

“AND YOU WOKE UP SO LATE TODAY I THOUGHT YOU DIED!”

o(╥﹏╥)o

“ENOUGH TALKING LET’S GET COFFEE!”

There was one thing Bin forgot

Since it was 2am in the morning

And there was almost certainly not any coffee made at this hour at most café

They had to travel half across the city

To finally stumble upon an unknown café

Changbin stormed in and didn’t hesitate to order his usual:

An iced americano

Y/n chuckled slightly to herself

As she watched her friend

Who couldn’t be more delighted with his coffee

“Wait? Y/n?” A sudden voice called out

Snapping Y/n out of her thoughts

She made eye contact with the barista

and recognised the old classmate

“Hey! I didn’t notice you!

How are you?

Aren’t you tired?

It’s almost like three o’clock!”

Y/n bombarded him with questions as she smiled brightly

Changbin looked up from his phone

And looked back and fort

between Y/n and the guy behind the display

Changbin also recognised the guy

And recalls a sudden memory of him as well

He was one of the people who dared to call out

his and Y/n future failures

he was one of the few people as well who

liked to pester them

with the idea back then that they wouldn’t be able

to make a career out of it

Changbin wanted to shove it in his dirty little face

‘HA LOOK WHERE WE ARE AND WHERE YOU CERTAINLY AREN’T

WE’RE OVER HERE BEING LOVED BY THE WORLD! SUCCESFUL AS EVER

AND YET HERE YOU ARE STANDING SADLY BEHIND A COUNTER,

DOING PROBABLY NOT MUCH WITH YOUR LIFE!’

ヽ(#ﾟДﾟ)ﾉ┌┛Σ(ノ´Д`)ノ

Is what Changbin would have loved to yell into his face

But the universe had something else in mind.

“Look, I don’t know if you remember, but I was a dick back in high school. I said some terrible things to you guys and I wanted to apologise. I hope you can forgive me for my unthoughtful and foolish acts back then.”

He said.

Changbin didn’t buy it

But Y/n felt like everyone deserved a second chance

Her heart was simply too big

And too willing to forgive

“That’s okay, we were all young once,

we all made mistakes and if you learned something from it

and if you cringe when you think back about it,

that only means you’ve grown.”

(＾▽＾ʃƪ)

Barista: 

╥﹏╥

“WHY ARE YOU SO NICE!?!?”

(」｡≧□≦)」

“doesn’t everyone deserve a little act of kindness?”

Barista pt2:

ಥ_ಥ

In the meantime Bin was watching his friend comforting

Their old classmate

He shook his head slightly

‘You’re too good for this world.’

He said to himself

“(>ლ)”

But he was sure that many people knew as well

That Y/n had a heart of gold

The barista had told them to wait for a little longer and sooner enough came back with a hot cup of hot chocolate for Y/n

“It’s on the house, I’m sorry once again.”

“Hey you were mean to me too back then? Don’t I get a free drink?”

Bin asked with his head cocked to the side.

“Y-you already paid for you drink.”

(´ ˙○˙ `)

He stuttered

Still clearly intimidated by Changbin

“I can give you a cupcake?”

“Will do.”

The pair were setting up their equipment

To shoot a QNA that had been highly requested

They realised that they never really had sat down

And talked about their school years together

So they went on their Instagram and asked their fans

What they wanted to know about them

Sooner enough the two were sat in front of the camera

And laughing at the questions they received

‘What is something that everyone looks stupid doing?’

“WAIT WAIT”

（〇o〇；） ！！

Y/n started

Bin looked at her in horror as he knew what she was going to say

He had his face already hidden in his hands as she began to speak

Or well more rant

“this one time

When we were still in school

And we were on our winter break

This bean was too lazy to go out

And get a hair cut

And he didn’t wanted anyone to do it for him

Because he was too scared that someone would mess it up

So instead, he grew it out.

It grew so long in such a short time that he could wear it in a ponytail.

This kid,

He put his hair in a ponytail and I watched him do it

And it looks so stupid

Like why do we bend over so far to do it

It looks idiotic

AND THEN

He comes out of the shower with his pants on and his towel wrapped

On his head

Like most girls or other people with long hair will do, but

I realised how dumb we actually look

It’s honestly even funnier when you see him do it-

Wait I might have pictures-“

“JAFDJGBKF ENOUGH, NEXT!”

（三・o・）

“BUT I-“

“YEAH YOU’VE EMBARRESED ME ENOUGH AND NEVER AGAIN.”

(┛◉Д◉)┛彡┻━┻

‘What is your best high school memory together?’

Y/n thought for a while before sharing a look with Changbin

They smiled at each other as they exactly knew

“Okay this is another story

Our year was obsessed with the idea of having a prom

And since we live in South Korea

It isn’t much of a thing over here

So, we all saved up and had a prom in some rich kid’s backyard

Because he didn’t live in an apartment like most of us do.

The ‘prom’ was quite fun to be honest.

People looked gorgeous and everyone seemed to be having a great time.”

“Yet we weren’t.” Bin chuckled

“Yup, we weren’t really enjoying ourselves.

As you guys know,

we were pretty much the outcasts.

Nobody was talking to us

Or even looking at us

We were fine and trying to enjoy ourselves

But we decided to get out early

Even though we put our own money into the event.

Bin and I would’ve gone to the nearest subway and took it to the park

Where we just sat in our formal wear

We laughed

We ate

And we just had a great time

With just us being together as a pair

We got some weird looks from bystanders

But we didn’t care

I think big crowds were never really something meant for us

We just enjoy each other’s company the best

And that’s what made that night so memorable.”

‘Who is the bigger foodie?’

“Have you seen this muscle pig-“

三ヾ(ヽ*ω*)┌┛★

“EXCUSE ME”

“BOI HAVE YOU SEEN YOURSELF

YOU NEED FOOD TO GROW-“

“STOP INSULTING MY HEIGHT-“

“I WAS TALKING ABOUT YOUR BICEPS!’

ヽ( ･∀･)ﾉ┌┛Σ(ノ `Д´)ノ

The video went on with some more questions

And even a small promotion of Changbin’s rap/ produce unit

3RACHA

He would tell the viewers to check out his livestream

that he was planning on streaming later this weak

after the QNA had uploaded

The day it came out

There were thousands of people watching him

produce new music for the unit

He was deeply concentrated

And asked people for their opinion

as he was carried away in the process

Until Y/n suddenly bardged through the door

with a hot plate of cookies in her hand

That she had made for her own channel

“Y/n, I’m busy- are those COOKIES?”

(*⌒ڡ⌒*)

She laughed as she set the plate in front of him

Before taking a seat closely next to him

She asked what he was up to

And he proudly showed off what he had up to now

As he was showing off

A coupe of fans’ true colour shined through

As they began to send toxic words into the comment section of the stream

Sooner enough Changbin had noticed and read them

(WARNING: VILE WORDS AHEAD PURELY FOR FICTION PURPOSE ONLY)

‘Such an attention seeking whore, why is she even living with him? I bet she’s just doing it for clout.’

‘Pathetic bitch, are your views low lately? Is that why you appear in our Binnie’s streams?’

‘Gtfo we’re not here to see your ugly pathetic face, you’re lucky Bin outshines you, or else everyone would be gagging.’

‘So pathetic to see someone act innocent and cute when she in reality manipulates everyone for clout and views. She’s doing this all for the fame people, don’t be fooled!’

Changbin had enough and couldn’t read anymore

He had sat back and wrapped an arm around Y/n

“Alright, we’re going to stop right now with the fucking hate comments.

I will report them all and ban you from this site.

Leave her the fuck alone, am I understood?”

Bin’s tone was deep and intimidating

and immediately stopped the toxic.

Fortunately there weren’t just toxic people watching the stream

But there were many people

Who loved Changbin’s and Y/n’s dynamic

They loved the contrast between the two

And they admired Changbin’s passion for music

And Y/n sweet, soft and supporting personality

They complimented each other so well

And the fans couldn’t get enough of them

Fans were also quick to defend Y/n

And her kind image

Spreading loving words to her

As they had noticed the sadness in her eyes

They knew she had read the comments

Bin knew she had read the comments

｡ﾟ･（>﹏<）･ﾟ｡

“Don’t listen to them, you know you’re worth so much more.”

He whispered into her hair a he hugged her from the side

Making the comment section freak out

At their bond

The stream would end soon after

Since Changbin didn’t had the concentration anymore

And he felt like he needed to be comforting Y/n right now

She had moved to the couch and sat there sulking

Bin felt his heart ache a little

He’s so used to see Y/n in a glee

That he rarely saw her upset

He tried to cheer her up by teasing her a little

Squishing her cheeks

Ruffling her hair

Doing funny faces

You name it

But nothing seemed to work

But then he knew it

“You want to go out for dinner?”

Her head shot to his directions

(;•͈́༚•͈̀)

As she looked at him with big glossy eyes

Cutely nodding yes

Before they walked out the door

Not much later they were sat at a nice restaurant

Munching on some dumplings

Y/n had her face stuffed with them

Making Bin laugh cutely at her

“You want some more dumplings, Dumpling?”

Y/n almost choked at the sound of her old nickname

Making her lean back and whine cutely

(⊃‿⊂)

“NOOOO~”

(((ೕ( ･ㅂ･)و )))

“YESSSSS~”

They would fall into a fit of laughter again

(ノ＞▽＜。)ノ(ノ＞▽＜。)ノ

Before they continued to eat

He was relieved that she felt a little better

But he knew that her mind was still on the toxicity

that the comments had left

After dinner

She assumed that the two would go home

But instead

(。･o･｡)

Changbin had grabbed her wrist

And pulled her to their favourite arcade hall

She shot him a smile

And hugged him

Whispering a ‘thank you’ before they ran off to have some more fun

The two would kill it at a dancing game

They would drum their ears off at Taiko no Tatsujin

Changbin also won themselves a price by getting a new high score

As he tested his strength

They also spend half of the money they brought on claw machines

Y/n won something as well

Which she was super excited about

♪((└|o^▽^o|┐))

“I WON!”

“at what cost? You spend like 20 bucks on that thing, we could’ve gotten that in a store for 15-“

ヽ(*´∀`)ﾉ┌┛

“BUT WHAT’S THE POINT I EARNED THIS.”

“Whatever you say.”

He chuckled

The two would walk on and Y/n’s attention was caught

By a big duck that was laid in an extra-large claw machine

Changbin had noticed her staring

And he knew that she wanted the duck

But the two were quite tired after a long day

And he also was aware of her not having enough money on her

To actually be able to win it

“Y/n, can you get us a drink?”

He asked as he almost shoved the money into her hands

( ¬_¬)

“What is there something wrong with your feet?”

She sassed back

“No, but I don’t want to interact with other humans~” He whined

Making Y/n roll her eyes

“Fine.”

She took the money and left to find a vending machine

As soon as she was out of view

Changbin took out his card

He swiped it on the machine

And got ready to play

But to his surprise

He got the duck in one go

(ﾉﾟοﾟ)ﾉ

He just stared at the shining ‘winner’ sign

And laughed loudly to himself

Before he quickly took out the huge duck that costed him less than 5 bucks.

Y/n was back

But sooner enough greeted by not Changbin

But a big fluffy duck that almost hid Changbin entirely behind itself

“Hey sorry, I went to the toilet as well,

I just had to post this cute win on Instagra-DAJADGA BIN?”

She squealed out in surprise when she met eyes with a big ass duck

“Behind it!” He said with a muffled scream

Before he turned

So they could look each other in the eye

ლ(^o^ლ)

…..

“WHAT EVEN-“

“I saw you looking at it, I knew you wanted it.”

‧˚₊*̥(∗*⁰͈꒨⁰͈)‧˚₊*̥

“YOU WON THIS FOR ME?”

“of course, why would I want a duck?”

‧˚₊*̥(* ⁰̷̴͈꒨⁰̷̴͈)‧˚₊*̥

“KJFHGDFBGSFDJGDNFGD”

“Was that a thank you?”

ෆ╹ .̮ ╹ෆ

“JKGTHANK YOU YOU’RE THE BEST HNNNNG!”

She squealed before she ran up to him to side-hug him

‘Everything for you.’

´͈ ᵕ `͈ ♡°◌̊

Gifs aren’t mine

Introduction <> Next

AU Masterlist

[fericita-s]

Mating Season (Chapter 1)

This is a Kristoff/Anna story that takes place in an AU where Anna grew up Northuldra in the Enchanted Forest with her family.  Kristoff is from a nearby tribe and comes to the forest for a reindeer exchange. It’s the same universe as All is Found, which @the-spastic-fantastic and I wrote together, and a big thanks to her for helping me develop this and for beta-ing. This is part one of three; I’ll post the next tomorrow and the next Wednesday.

Chapter 2 Chapter 3

***

It was no surprise to Elsa that Anna saw Kristoff and immediately claimed him.  Wanting an epic love story was something Anna was always dreaming about and talking about and sighing about. Elsa suspected it was more for entertainment than an actual need for love, because Anna quickly tired of the men she spotted and cooed over.  Sometimes before ever even talking to them. 

She  had ruled out every man in their Northuldra tribe.  “Yuck! They’re all like brothers or uncles or cousins or feel that way even if they’re not.  It’s alright for you; it was very romantic that you surprised everyone including Honeymaren by liking girls.  Maybe I’m like Papa.  I’ll have to go somewhere else to find it.”

But on their trip to Arendelle when Anna was sixteen, she dismissed the entire kingdom by saying “I do like how tall most of them are, but wow are they obsessed with saunas.  It would never work.”

Elsa had laughed to hear that the one trait that made Anna, a daughter of Northuldra, incompatible with Arendellian men was sauna usage and not, say, living entirely indoors or leaving the magical enchantments of their forest behind.

Once a young man with red hair had stumbled into their lands, asking for help and claiming to be escaping the ire of his brothers.  Yelana had turned him out immediately, though Anna had said he seemed handsome enough to warrant a hearing before the elders.

Yelana had refused. “There’s something wrong with him.  I can just tell.”

At first, Anna’s parents had worried about this obsession she seemed to have with love, but when it didn’t manifest into her doing anything crazy, they relaxed about it.  Her mother even intimated that she should be more patient with the men who were clearly interested in her.  Anna had wrinkled her nose and shook her head.

“No! I want a story like you and Papa.  It’s so romantic.  You almost died for each other! I’d get too bored loving a man from here.”

Iduna had stroked Anna’s hair, pulling her close before she spoke. “How could love between two people ever be boring? The person you most admire admires you the most.  That's a miracle.” Iduna stroked her hair again, grateful that even at twenty, Anna still enjoyed cuddling with her.  “Like boska keeping sickness away or reindeer all calving within ten days of each other.  It’s common, but that doesn't make it less beautiful.    It’s a daily sacrifice, sometimes of small things and sometimes big.”

So when Anna had seen Kristoff shake Yelana’s hand and told Elsa that he was hers, Elsa had laughed and rolled her eyes.  Walking back towards the village, she and Honeymaren had talked about how long it would be until Anna found him “too something” as well.

***

Gathered around the fire, the people of the Black Mountain huddled in small groups.  Anna noticed they seemed tense, the lines of their mouth not turning into smiles even when Bruni showed off by lighting torches that had been set in a pattern honoring the tribe’s antler symbol.  The ones holding walking staffs gripped them tightly and their eyes were alert and sharp as they watched the festivities. They stayed at the edge of everything, rather than joining in with the singing.

“They probably don’t know the songs. Not everyone knows Northuldra chants,” Elsa said when Anna pointed this out. “Besides, don’t pretend you’re watching more than just their leader.  Kristoff.  He’s more dour than them all. Some of the others are having fun.”

She pointed at one young boy who Ryder lifted onto a reindeer, showing him how this particular one liked to be scratched behind his left ear. “See?  He’s having a good time.”

Anna looked at Kristoff.  She had been doing so most of the evening and had stopped bothering trying to hide her glances.  He wasn’t paying attention.  He was glowering into the fire, eyebrows knit together, arms crossed. “He’s sad, not dour.  And I’m going to find out why.”

Elsa linked her arm through Anna’s. “He’s not a wounded ptarmigan or lame fox you can nurse back to health.  He’s a grown man. He seems to be doing just fine leading his people.  He might just have a different way of doing it than we do here.”

“So that’s a ‘no’ from you on extracting ice memories from him?”

“They’ll be here for several months. I’m sure you can get him to talk to you at some point.  Taking his memories seems a bit rushed.  And unethical.  And possibly crazy.”

Anna pulled her arm away from Elsa’s.  She crossed her arms over her chest and stuck her tongue out at her sister.  “I’m not crazy.  I’m curious.  Aren’t you?”

Elsa looked to where Honeymaren was showing a group of children how she could toss a crowberry in the air and catch it in her mouth.  Anna followed her gaze.

“Oh fine.  Go join her and leave me to my skulking.”

Elsa laughed. “Good luck.”

As Anna watched Elsa sidle up to Honeymaren and hold her hand, her mind wandered to her earlier attempts to talk to Kristoff.  He had given two word answers to all of her questions about the Black Mountain (“It’s beautiful.”) and their reindeer (“They’re strong.”) and their strangely shaped saws (“Harvesting ice.”).  Even telling him about her sister’s ability to make ice from nothingness just elicited a raised eyebrow in reply, no marveling wonder or eagerness to see it happen.  And when she had offered him some dried elk, he had refused, saying that his people had brought their own supplies and wouldn’t start their time together by taking from the food stores of the Northuldra.

Perhaps that was why he was sitting alone now. The Northuldra had been preparing food and drink for the welcome celebration for weeks, but Kristoff was not partaking at all. He sat on a log by the fire.  He had his pack resting next to him and there was a reindeer nearby with its head tucked into its side, looking sleepy. There, Anna thought.  If a reindeer thought he was kind, he must be. Reindeer were very good judges of character. Anna cleared her throat and walked over to him.

 “Would you like to lead the next round of singing? I’ve noticed Black Mountain voices haven’t been joining in with ours.  But if you started a song your people knew…we could join in.”  Anna smiled at him and he looked up. The reindeer did too and nudged something out of Kristoff’s pack, pushing it forward. Anna saw what it was, clasped her hands together and sat down next to him, thinking that his reindeer seemed friendlier than he did.

“A lute! Do you play? Oh you should play for us! That will be just the thing to make this party seem even more like a party.”

Kristoff picked up the lute and shoved it back into his pack, giving the reindeer a reproachful look. “No , I don’t think I’ll play tonight.” He scratched his reindeer under its muzzle and Anna thought it seemed like an apology for his earlier glare. What a strange man, to be so polite to reindeer and so rude to humans.

“He seems like a special reindeer. Does he always sit next to you during celebrations?”

Kristoff didn’t answer, but she continued talking, looking at the reindeer and extending her hand for him to sniff. “My parents used to let me sleep with the baby reindeer, especially the calves who needed extra care after a birthing where the mother was lost. They would joke about the smell, but I always liked it. Kind of a homey smell, like smoke and sun and dirt and cold. But they never let us keep any as a pet, really. Too hard when we use them for meat and furs. I was six when I realized that herding reindeer meant occasionally slaughtering reindeer and I cried so hard about it that my mother took me on a gathering trip to let me cry without bothering everyone else.  Just the two of us. She showed me where she and my father had their first house, or cave, really, and where the best cloudberries are, and how we depend on plants and animals to make us strong, and that we should be grateful for the gift they give us of their strength. It was thrilling to be with only her and not share her with my sister. Sleeping out in the open under the stars with someone you love – I don’t think there’s anything better.” She fell silent, beginning to stroke Sven’s velvety ears, and remembering those baby reindeer she had cuddled through spring nights that had a sharp edge of cold to them despite the hint of summer in the daytime.

“Sven is more of a friend than a pet.”

Anna almost continued talking without realizing he had spoken. She had started to feel like she was telling a fussy toddler a bedtime story, not trying to have a conversation. She tilted her head and looked at Kristoff. “Sven?”

“Sven.  Yes.  My reindeer.  This reindeer.”

Anna put her hands on Sven’s ears, stroking the soft skin.  “Sven.  I’m very pleased to meet you. Thank you for coming all this way, and I hope you enjoy your time here with the Northuldra.”

Sven grunted and tucked his head back into his side, once more looking like he was ready to sleep.

“Thank you.” Kristoff was looking at her and she was so surprised by his words she couldn’t think of anything to say in return. He didn’t seem to know what to do with the silence either and reached a hand to scratch at his beard, repeating himself. “Thank you.”

Anna thought about asking what he was thanking her for – talking to his reindeer? Not thinking it weird that he named his reindeer and called it his friend? The celebration? The welcome into the Forest? Not minding that he’d refused all hospitality and wouldn’t sing? For sitting next to him? But she stilled those questions, saving them to consider with Elsa later.

Instead, she smiled and said “You’re welcome,” rose, and left him at the fire, still wondering why he was so alone even surrounded by his people and why he was so sad even surrounded by a celebration. 

***

“So, Anna.  Is she…” Kristoff scratched the back of his neck as he crouched down next to Ryder, both of them feeling the lichen to see if it was wet enough for the reindeer to graze there later.

Anna talking to him over the past few days always happened suddenly, went in a direction that surprised him, and left him feeling slightly out of breath and confused when it was over. Sometimes that was because of the fantastical things she told him, like her sister being able to make ice and the very mountains moving at their request. Sometimes it was because of the way she looked at him, with a curiosity and compassion that was as disorienting as the Northuldra Wind Spirit. He lost his bearings whenever he looked at her.  

Also, she was beautiful.  Her hair and eyes were bright. Her animated demeanour seemed to make her whole body vibrate, all the time.  She was captivating.  His eyes hurt from making himself stare at the fire instead of at her during those first few days.

“Is she always so…”

“Friendly? Funny? Good with reindeer and telling stories? Yeah. She’s the best.” Ryder stood and wiped his hands on his sleeves. “Let’s go get the herd.”

***

Yelana had noticed Anna’s interest in the leader of the Black Mountain, and had given her a word of warning about it. “Most men are too emotional and he certainly seems to be ruled by his, sour as he comes across. There is enough to keep us busy these next few months as we mix the herds; I need you tending to the reindeer and not the men.”

Anna gave a dismissive wave, continuing with her work with the mortar and pestle.  “Oh I’m not interested in him anymore.  He’s too irritable.”

***

The next few weeks were a flurry of movement. Teams of Northuldra and Black Mountain took the reindeer to different lichen meadows and streams every day. 

Preparing meals for so many, while not a strain on their resources, did create more work than normal. When her work with her mother was done, Anna was often sent to gather or harvest or catch something to add to the night’s meal. 

Ryder and Honeymaren stayed with the reindeer.  Elsa circled the herd on Nokk, able to quickly spot and rescue those that were losing in the mating dances and clashes.  As the new animals were introduced to each other, there were some injuries that needed tending – both on people and on the reindeer. 

Anna helped her mother as she prepared salves and wrapped bandages and directed others in gathering the boska necessary to supplement the diet of reindeer who were expending lots of extra energy during this season.

“Should helping reindeer find mates be this – difficult? And bloody? A lot of them seem to be getting injured.”

Iduna laughed. “Ask your father about that.  I think he would tell you that finding a mate is sometimes very dangerous.”

Anna smiled as she smoothed balm on a cut near a tired looking reindeer’s antler. Most of the reindeer were too skittish to be touched by anyone right now, but they had always loved Anna.  Her father had said it was because the reindeer could tell Anna loved them. 

Anna hummed and sang as she worked, making up silly stories about reindeer who flew all over the world, looking for carrots. At the end of one such tale, she wiped her hands on her work apron and saw Kristoff nearby.

“Nice story. Did you make it up?”

“Not really.  Parts of it are from a poem our father read to us as children.” She gave the reindeer a final pat and stood up.  She was surprised that he had come to talk to her, but tried to keep her amazement out of her voice. It seemed so out of character for him.  He had never initiated a conversation before.

“Ryder told me you were the one to ask.  Sven has been acting strange and I can’t figure it out.  Could you come?”

Anna looked to her mother who nodded her assent. “We’re fine here for now.  No new injuries other than the one you just tended.”  They hugged and Anna reached for her bag, checking to be sure it had some of the medical supplies she was likely to need.

As they drew close to the Black Mountain encampment, Anna could hear distressed grunting noises.

“Is that Sven?”

“It is.  He hasn’t stopped making that sound.  It’s like he’s scared of something, but I can’t figure out what. I tied him up over here so he wouldn’t run off.  He’s not as hardy as the other reindeer, he depends on me to help him out.”

Anna reached for the length of rope and began to unwind it from the tree. “Let’s get him to show us what’s bothering him.”

Kristoff reached for the rope, but she moved it out of his grasp. He frowned at her, speaking in low tones that wouldn’t startle Sven. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

She had already unwrapped the rope and as soon as he was no longer tied to the tree, Sven bolted. Kristoff and Anna looked at each other and then ran after him.

“I told you not to do that! He’ll hurt himself for sure now!”

She shouted as they sprinted through the undergrowth. “Well good thing you have me then, I’ll know how to fix him up!”   Kristoff stayed silent as they ran. Thankfully, Sven’s path of broken branches and trampled leaves were easy to follow.

They both spotted Sven at the same time. He was at the edge of a stream, looking towards a curve in its path.  Sven grunted, stretched his neck towards the unseen spot, and then shuddered.

Kristoff reached him first and put his arms around the reindeer’s middle, murmuring calming words into his ear.  Anna walked past them both, ignoring Kristoff’s glare which was sharper than any of his ice saws, to reach the bend in the stream.  As she looked toward the place that seemed to be equally terrifying and intriguing to Sven, Kristoff watched as she visibly relaxed, leaned back with a breathy laugh and said “Oh! It’s just you!”

Walking out from the hidden spot, a very round, very white, and very alive snowman came into view. Sven was now shuddering and grunting even louder and Kristoff’s first instinct was to kick at the snowman, which he did, right in the head. The head flew into the water, and Anna ran for it, scooping it up and walking back towards Olaf.

“Oh no! Olaf! Are you alright?” Anna gently put the head back on the snowman’s body and adjusted his carrot nose, giving it a light tap.

Kristoff recoiled and, in doing so, lost his grip on Sven, who ran off in a new direction.

Kristoff drew back again and then began to run after Sven as the snowman said “I’m fine! But goodness.  It sure is hard to make new friends.  I’ve been following that one for a while and he just won’t say hello to me to matter what I do.”

Anna looked to where Kristoff was disappearing into the woods after Sven and gave Olaf a quick kiss on the head. She turned and ran, and shouted over her shoulder. “I’m so sorry Olaf, but I better go help.  Let my parents know, please?”

Olaf adjusted his head as he watched Anna run into the trees, the leaves and and branches parting to show her the way.

***

Anna found Kristoff easily enough, but not Sven.

From the welcome Kristoff gave her, it seemed he would have preferred it if she hadn’t come after them.

“Just leave.  I don’t need your help.  Your help is what created this problem to begin with.” He was looking at the ground, crouching low and searching for footprints and other signs of Sven.

She rolled her eyes and crouched down next to him. “I know these woods better than you. You’ll probably throw a grappling hook into an Earth Giant’s eye or insult Bruni with your flint so your fire never lights.  You need me.”

He rocked back on his heels and looked at her, mystified. “I have no idea what any of that means.”       

“Exactly. And I bet you don’t know that the Wind Spirit helped me find you just now, opening up paths that I wouldn’t have noticed except for her guidance.”

“I still have no idea what you’re talking about.” He stood and kept searching for any sign of Sven’s path, turning over leaves and looking at trees for scratch marks.

Anna cupped her hands around her mouth and sang a series of notes. “Wind Spirit? Can you show us?”

Kristoff felt a gust of wind ruffle his hair and he looked up to see a new path open in the forest. A bit of Sven’s harness lay on the ground. Kristoff ran to it and picked it up. “It’s his!”

“I know.  So trust me that I know these woods and if you want to find Sven, you need me.”

Kristoff looked at her, sighed, and nodded. They began walking on the path that the Wind Spirit cleared for them. Anna watched as his hands clenched the harness.

***

It was dark and they still hadn’t found Sven.  Anna spoke to Bruni and got a fire going. At Kristoff’s questioning look,  she explained that the light might attract Sven.

“I’m sure he’s fine.  I’ve asked Bruni and the Wind Spirit to look out for him and they’ll let the Earth Giants and Nokk know as well.  We’ll find him. But for now, rest.  It’s too far and too dark to go home tonight.”

Kristoff had been leaning on a tree, tired from the chase through the woods and worried about his friend. He walked closer to the fire and sat down with a sigh, rubbing his hands over his eyes. 

“Olaf can sometimes be over eager to make new friends.”  She looked at Kristoff and felt a heat rise in her face. “Olaf and I can both be over eager to make friends.  I’m sorry that Sven was frightened.  And that he ran when I untied him. And I’m sorry that you’re stuck with me when you clearly don’t want to be.“

Kristoff looked at her as she opened her bag and searched through its contents. “I’m not sorry.”

Anna looked up from her bag and gave a small laugh. “I know.  You seem very happy to be rude and angry. Not that I don’t understand your worry or anger, but try to remember that I am helping you.”

Kristoff rubbed his hands over his eyes again and shook his head. “No, no, I mean I’m not sorry you’re here, helping me.  I’d be lost in these woods without you.  It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before.” He opened the small bag that had been strapped to his back and pulled out some pieces of thinbread, offering her some.  Anna reached for it, staying quiet.  After her continuous monologues during their search and his silence, he finally seemed willing to talk.

“So much of this year has been like nothing I’ve ever seen before.”

He paused, and Anna hazarded a small “Oh?” hoping he would say more.  After a bite of the thinbread and a wipe of his mouth on his sleeve, he continued.

“I wanted to expand our trading routes. We get great ice near the Back Mountain and I had the idea that we could bring it further south to towns and villages we've never traded with. We're so far north - we've traded reindeer with Northuldra before and some with the tribe that used to be near the North Mountain, but never Arendelle.  Never on the coast.” He reached into his bag again and pulled out a skin of water, offering it to her. She took a sip and then handed it back.

“I’ve been there, it was such a bustling port with so much to see. It was my father’s home once. Did you like it?”

He shook his head, and took another bite, chewing a bit before he continued.  “Well no, not exactly.  Too many people.  But I did show my father that ice was as big of a business as reindeer. Reindeer herding has good years and bad, but the ice is more dependable. We sold what we had and brought back a lot in trade.”

Anna stayed silent, hoping he would say more to fill the empty space around the fire, the absence of Sven and both of their tribes making the forest seem larger and quieter than she was used to.  She also wondered at his reference to his father – the father that would be the leader of the Black Mountain if he was still alive.  Her heart thudded as she realized what that meant.

“We brought back a lot, including a sickness we'd never seen before. Our healer died while treating people. Almost every family lost someone. My parents both died and suddenly I was the leader. The leader who had caused the problem in the first place.  And now we’re at the mercy of others.  And asking for help all the time, and…” He trailed off, and shook his head again.

Anna covered his hand with hers and squeezed. “Kristoff, a sickness like that, it's unpredictable. Maybe you would have spared your people from it that year without trading.  But coming to trade with us could have been as big of a risk.  Someone could have brought it to the Black Mountain without you ever leaving. It's devastating, but that doesn't make it your fault.” He looked at their joined hands, but not at her. She could see the steady rise and fall of his shoulders as he breathed, but she couldn’t see his eyes.

“And asking for help isn’t a weakness.  It’s a strength.  My father says that all the time.” He still wouldn’t look up at her, but the silence felt comfortable.  The sounds of the fire crackled and Anna thought about how so many people, like her Uncle Lemek, seemed angry when really they were just sad.  And Kristoff had a lot to be sad about.  She wished there was a way she could comfort him and distract him from his worries before she realized she had just the thing. She rummaged through her bag again and pulled out a book.

Kristoff looked up to the sound of pages being turned. “A book? You rushed after me and Sven, but took the time to pack a book?” He sounded amused, and Anna was glad her distraction was already working.

“I always have a book. This is the one I keep in my medical bag in case I get bored during a long vigil.  My father usually has several on him at all times. It’s like always having a friend nearby.”

“A book.”  He laughed a little, surprising her with the sound.  “Well, I supposed a book is no stranger than a reindeer for a friend.”

Anna smiled, accepting this kindness. “Yes! And don’t you like stories? Here I’ll read one, let me know if you like it.”

She began the story, using all of her best voices and right as she got to the ending, they heard the low grunting of Sven. 

If reindeer could look abashed, this one did, bending his antlers low and pawing at the ground. 

Kristoff ran to him and hugged him around the middle. The sight of it made Anna smile. She walked slowly towards Sven, not wanting him to startle again, and checked his hooves and fur for signs of injury.  Aside from a few scratches that she rubbed ointment on, she declared him to be in perfect health. 

“Thank you!” Kristoff sounded happier than she had ever heard him, the pinch of worry between his eyebrows was gone and she smiled in response to his happy grin. He grabbed her hand in both of his and she felt a rush of pride and a thrill at the touch of his hands, so broad and warm as they held hers. She looked into his eyes, then down at his hands, and pulled away abruptly.

“Your knuckles! They’re bleeding!”

Kristoff opened and closed his hands, suddenly empty. “Oh. I didn’t notice.  It’s not bad, probably just from the scrub and underbrush.”

“Still, anything that breaks the skin can draw in poison if you don’t treat it soon enough. That’s why I checked Sven, you don’t want a small cut to become a big problem later.”

Anna pulled out the same jar of ointment and used a cloth to scoop out a small amount. She picked up one of his hands and began to smooth the salve over the bleeding knuckles, and then switched to the other.

“Isn’t that...for reindeer?” She couldn’t tell if he was really worried, or just complaining about the fuss, so she smiled reassurance in case he needed it. 

“It’s for anything that bleeds.” She finished her ministrations and lightly rubbed her thumb along his palm, and he gripped her hand once again.

“Thank you.” 

She laughed, turning away from him. “You know you seem very ungrateful most of the time, but you’ve said ‘thank you’ four times since we’ve met.  I might need to start reconsidering my opinion of you.” She found herself surprisingly short of breath when she walked back to her pack, putting the jar and cloth away.  The rapid beat of her heart didn’t still even as she sat down by the fire; if anything it was getting faster.

Now, looking at him from this vantage point, she could see that he was smiling, the slight curve of his lips higher on the right than the left. “Oh? What else do you think about me?” He and Sven came closer to the fire and settled down, Kristoff leaning onto one side of Sven, and Anna the other.  She could hear Kristoff but not see him as he spoke.  Not seeing him, she felt bolder.

“You obviously care a lot about your people, but you don’t seem to enjoy them at all. You’re too serious, too irritable, too sad.  You should have fun sometimes.  When you can celebrate and laugh and smile again, that’s when the hard year you’ve had will start to recede. When everyone will start to be joyful again. You might have to fake it for a bit first, but then you really will feel it. And your people will too.”

She could hear Kristoff breathing.  It sounded steady, like he was considering her words instead of being angered by them.  She began to pet Sven on the ears as she waited for his reply, enjoying the soft feel.  Sven seemed to like it too, and gave a soft grunt of appreciation.

“So I should plan a celebration and then everyone will forget about the people we lost?”

She shook her head even though she knew he couldn’t see her. “No, of course not. But give them something joyful so they have new memories too.”

It was quiet again, and Anna was getting used to these pauses he took during conversation. The quiet he needed to hear before he could fill it with words.

“We didn’t do the ice games this year.”

“Ice games?” 

“Competitions to carve and cut as quickly as possible. Sometimes there’s even ice racing.” She could hear him adjust his position and Sven lifted his head and huffed a bit before settling back down.

“That sounds great! We should do that!” She sat up, looking over Sven at Kristoff, who now had his hat over his eyes, one hand on the hat, and one hand on his stomach.  She was glad to see the ointment still shiny on his knuckles; he hadn’t wiped it off.

He spoke, eyes still covered and sounding slower and sleepier as he did, even though this idea was making Anna feel wide awake. “How? You don’t have a lake here. Definitely not a frozen one.”

“That’s true.  But we do have my sister.”

“I-” he yawned. “I don’t know what that means.”

Anna watched as his breathing steadied and he slept.  And though she thought about ice games, and what she would need Elsa to do, and what she would need Kristoff to agree to, her last thought before falling asleep was how it had felt when Kristoff had held her hand.

***

“Elsa, please, just drink something.” Honeymaren was extending a guksi, brimming with water, but Elsa waved it away.

“I’m fine.  I’m almost done. Just a few more layers.” Elsa pushed both of her hands down and away from her body as the ice she was standing on slowly rose.  

Ryder cheered. “Why did we never think to do this? A whole field covered in  ice - this is great!” He was sliding around on the top layer, hitting his boot against a pinecone towards Anna who was also trying to skate in her regular boots. She kicked it back towards him and did a clumsy spin.

Honeymaren sighed and shook her head. “We never do this because it’s completely impractical and it freezes up  good grazing ground that the reindeer would otherwise use.  And even if she’s telling me she’s fine, this woman needs to drink more water.  For the Spirits’ sake, Elsa, you can’t shoot that much ice out of you and not need to drink something!”

Elsa, satisfied with her work, walked over to Honeymaren and took the guksi, looking at her with eyebrows raised as she drank. Honeymaren sighed again.  “Thank you.”

“Oh Elsa!”  Anna clapped her hands together.  “It looks perfect! I think this is exactly what he was talking about; just wait until the Black Mountain folks see it!”

***

Anna had been right.  Anna had been right, and Kristoff told her so, which made her feel proud and satisfied in a way that surprised her. 

The People of the Black Mountain unpacked their saws and picks and sang chanteys and cut for speed and sculpted for beauty and challenged the Northuldra to races along the length of the field, which often ended in piles of collapsed runners with no clear winner, all laughing and scrambling to try again. 

Anna stayed on the outskirts of the ice, ready to tend to any injury. She scanned the ice field, but often stopped to watch Kristoff, who was lifting massive blocks of ice with tongs and then throwing them into perfect piles several feet away. He grunted as he worked, and she could see the lines of sweat running down his face, the pleased nods and smiles he gave as others complimented his harvesting. 

After doing most of the harvesting in leathers and boots and furs, he stripped to the waist for the last round. Anna watched as the cords of muscle in his back tensed and constricted as he lifted ice out of the field and into the sled for storage.  She swallowed, feeling tense as well, like her muscles were also pulled tight. 

As the day grew dark, Elsa magicked the ice away except for the winning ice sculptures and a few perfectly formed cubes that were taken to a storehouse for preserving food.  The two tribes continued to laugh and talk and occasionally sing around the bonfire, now roaring and blazing into a dark sky.

“Thank you for that.  Thank you for making that happen.” Kristoff walked up to Anna, pulling his loose shirt back over his head.   She reached for his hands. 

“Just making sure you didn’t reopen old wounds.”  She smoothed her fingers over his knuckles as he startled at her touch.  “And you’re welcome.  That’s two more ‘thank yous’ from you.  I believe I’ve lost count now.” She smiled and dropped his hand, and for a second she thought he might reach for her hand to hold it, just hold it and look at the fire together. She wondered if she wanted that.

 “We, uh, we leave in a few days’ time.  And I thought….”

He stopped talking, and Anna watched as he took a breath and tried again. “We lost our best calver. Ryder said you’re good at it – small hands, patient heart. Would you consider coming with us? Back to the Black Mountain? Through the end of the birthing season?”

She should have thought about it more, perhaps.  She could have talked to Yelana or her parents or Elsa. She could have asked more questions. Instead, she looked at him, smiled and answered the way she wanted to in that moment, with the fire pulling out sparks of yellow in his eyes and his breath still heavy from his earlier exertions.  The dampened hair on his head and the way his shirt opened at the throat to show his chest and the way her hands still mourned the loss of his touch.  She had to admit that was part of why she answered the way she did.

“I’d love to.”  

Chapter 2 Chapter 3

[phantom-antagonist]

song of hope

commissioned by @slaygoldponyboy

A roar of cheers met the ears of the adventuring duo as they passed through the town's gate, people surrounding them on the edges of the street and tossing small coins their way. Tanith enjoyed the small clinking sound they made as they bounced off the hide of the beast she dragged behind her. She saw the mayor of the small town run down the street to meet them, intercepting Makilia in the middle of the road a few feet ahead of her. 

Tanith watched them exchanging words, the mayor smiling brightly in contrast to Makilia, her hood drawn low and her cloak wrapped tight around her shoulders. She wanted to run forward, place her hand on Makilia’s back and tell her that she was there, she’s there, but the townsfolk were surrounding her and the small children were asking how they managed to slay the drake that had been plaguing the local farms. She watched as the mayor wrapped his arm around Makilia and led her into the tavern, the hooded woman turning around in time to catch Tanith’s eyes before passing through the doorway.

Tanith made her way back to the inn room late into the night, humming a tune that the villagers had taught her over pitchers of wine. They were a kind people, giving her and Makilia a room in the inn for free that night, a night of rest in warm beds before they continued on their quest the next day.

Makilia had slipped out of the tavern after a bit of the festivities, assuring Tanith that she was just tired. The bags under her eyes were heavy, and Tanith decided not to push her too far, knowing how hard she fought against the beast a few mere hours ago. She squeezed her hand once after holding it a beat too long, watching her walk up the stairs before returning to the young man who had been asking about her adventures.

Tanith pushed the door open gently, wincing when the hinges shrieked, calling out that she was heading to bed so late. She slipped through the small crack she made before closing the door behind her.

The only sounds in the room were the faint crackling of the fire and the laughter of the townspeople through the floor below. Tanith couldn’t even hear Makilia breathe, but there she was, laying on her side, the blanket over her slowly rising and falling with each silent breath. She crossed the room, sitting down on the empty bed. For a moment she just rested, looking at Makilia. Her face was so peaceful in sleep, the near constant furrow in her brow gone from sight. Her hair covered the entirety of the pillow she laid upon, looking like spun threads of gold in the firelight. There was a tight feeling in her throat, similar to the pain when she had her first drink, the choking she felt her first time playing in front of a crowd, the catch in her breath just before her first kiss-

Makilia’s voice broke through her haze of thoughts. “Have an enjoyable evening?” 

Tanith shifted her focus back to reality and saw Makilia staring at her, eyes shining in the low firelight. She sat up on the bed and the blanket fell to her waist, showing off her arms decorated in numerous scars, crawling up her shoulder and down her chest. 

“I always do.” Tanith’s voice seemed too loud in the room, too loud for how soft Makilia was before her. Tanith cringed inward at the noise but Makilia just smiled, her eyes scrunching up as she did so. Her smile was warmer than the Drake fire that brushed past Tanith’s skin that morning, her eyes glittered like silver coins in the firelight. She was the most beautiful woman Tanith had ever seen.

“Sorry I wasn’t very good company this evening.” Makilia’s voice cut through the fog in Tanith’s mind. She returned her attention to her companion and saw her eyes were downturned, the smile gone from her face. Tanith found herself moving forward, reaching out for her friend. She moved to the other bed and sat alongside her, resting her clawed hand over Makilia’s smaller one. 

“You are always good company,” she said, her voice now the proper volume for their quiet room. “But something does seem to be bothering you.” Makilia did not answer, her head hanging low. Through the curtain of her light hair, Tanith could see the small charm on her neck, a small, hollow horn resting against her skin. The wood was dark and scuffed in places. Tanith had never seen Makilia take it off in the few months they had been traveling. She believed she remembered her saying it was a gift, a good luck charm from her sister given to her long ago.

“This village reminds me of my own,” she started, pausing as if she was weighing her words carefully. “It’s larger than where I am from, but the spirit is the same. They're simple people. Innocent.” She moved her hand out from under Tanith’s, who bit down her disappointment at the lack of contact, and touched the charm on her neck, wrapping her fingers around it tightly.

“What do you mean?”

Makilia sighed before continuing. “My people were the same. We were simple farmers and hunters. We had no defenses, there was no need for it. We looked after each other.” She lifted her head, and Tanith swore she could see tears glistening in her eyes despite the small smile on her face.

“We actually had a festival every year, on the longest night. The entire village would gather and craft a great bonfire. We prepared a feast for everyone, my mother, she was a great cook, would make a stew that could melt an ice giant's heart, and the neighbors would bake the sweetest bread you ever did taste. There was an old man, his name was Nolan, and he would play the lute as the children danced around the flames. My sister loved him so.” She laughed slightly at the memory, and Tanith’s stomach did a flip at the sound.

“We would stay awake the entire night, until the sun rose. Any leftovers were sent to homes with the most children and those of us that were younger would clean up the debris and the charcoal from the fire,” she trailed off, a far away look in her eyes. The smile that had been growing through her story slipped away into a frown as the tears spilled forward.

“But last year... Last year it rained, which was so odd, it never rained in the winter. We put up a tarp over the fire and the food, to try to salvage it. Nolan was under the shelter of his doorway, still playing his lute.” Her voice caught, a sob crawling its way out of her throat.

“Someone shot him. Arrow through the chest. Everyone went into a panic. Trying to hide the children, trying to find where the shot had come from, find anything that could be used to defend ourselves.” Her breathing was catching, chest heaving.

“It was hopeless. We didn’t stand a chance. A group of men marched in, and they cut down anyone that got close to them. One of them, he-” Her body shook with the cry that overtook her, and she fell forward into Tanith’s arms. She held the girl close, rubbing her back. She wanted to console her, tell her that it was alright, but the words died on her tongue. Instead she just hugged her closer, praying that Makilia understood all the words that she couldn’t express at that moment. 

Eventually her sobs stopped, and then her tears, and Tanith felt her body relax under her fingers. She was entirely sprawled out in her lap, the only time she truly looked at peace. Tanith smiled down at her, before settling back against the wall and allowing herself to fall asleep.

***

Makilia was quiet as they left the town, unwilling to look her partner in the eyes. She hadn’t meant to confide so much the night before, almost ashamed that she had let go so much. She expected Tanith to leave, or tease her, anything. Instead she was greeted with warm smiles when she dared look at the tiefling and a tight feeling in her chest, like she momentarily forgot how to breathe.

They continued on their path, heading down the road and on the trail of the bandits Makilia had been tracking for close to a year now. The days were getting shorter, and often they had to rely on Tanith’s magic so they could see what was around them. Nights were spent curled around their campfire, rotating who kept watch. As the nights grew longer, Makilia found herself growing restless, staying awake longer. She sat with her back against Tanith, crossbow in her lap and her finger on the trigger, exhausted but unable to relax enough to close her eyes. 

“What troubles you?” Tanith’s voice cut through the fog in her mind, bringing her back down to reality. She could feel warmth radiating from Tanith through their clothes, a sign of her infernal heritage. She welcomed the heat, a solace from the cold winter night that surrounded them. 

“I keep thinking of home. Of the bonfire, of my family.” Makilia felt her throat catch. She could almost see the flames in her mind's eye, violent and spreading despite the torrential downpour. “What if they don’t light the fire this year? What if they stay in the dark?” She didn’t voice her true fear, but she was sure Tanith had understood: What if they have lost all hope?

Makilia felt her companion shift against her back, and then her hand was covering Makilia’s own. She let herself relax slightly, smiling when she felt Tanith squeeze her hand.

“I wish I could answer that question for you, my friend.” Her voice was quiet, a whisper of wind against the leaves around them. The hand on her own disappeared, the cold night air sweeping in and leeching out all the heat Tanith’s touch had left.

A chord from a lute broke though the quiet murmur of the night, startling Makilia for a moment. Tanith’s voice then joined the night air, low and beautiful, singing in a tongue Makilia did not understand but knew intimately at this point. Makilia felt herself relax, nearly melt against Tanith, slowly drifting, all the while wrapped in her voice.

Just before she drifted to sleep, in a lull of Tanith’s singing, Makilia asked a question that had been resting against her lips.

“What song is that?” It was a fairly common question on her end. Tanith’s knowledge of music seemed to be boundless. She knew shanties from her time at sea, drinking songs in nearly every language, famous tales passed from bard to bard about heroic adventures. She managed to never sing the same song twice.

All was quiet, save for the lute, quietly chiming into the night air. Makilia felt herself drifting deeper into sleep.

“A song of hope,” was the last thing she heard before she drifted off.

***

Tanith slept soundly at the end of her watch, fingers curled around her lute on her bedroll next to their campfire. Makilia was quiet the next morning, offering a small smile before they continued on their day, the way they always had. They repeated the same pattern for a few days: traveling as long as the light allowed, setting up camp just after dark, and Tanith singing her companion a song to lull her to sleep each night. They were approximately 3 days from the nearest village when the darkest night had arrived.

Tanith had been keeping track of the days on her own since they had left the previous village. She had seen how exhausted Makilia had grown as the night grew closer, how anxious, withdrawn. Tanith felt herself growing nervous as the time got closer, worried her plan would go over poorly with her companion. But she knew she had to take the chance.

The day passed quickly, even with them moving just before the sun had risen. They didn’t talk much throughout the day, just a few words about the state of their rations and Tanith playing a few chords throughout the hours to keep the mood as light as she could. It seemed harder and harder to do as the sun climbed through the sky, Makilia seeming to shut down before her eyes.

When the sun finally set, Makilia halted dead in her tracks. They had just crossed through a thick patch of trees and were on the edge of a small clearing, The sky was surprisingly clear, moonlight filtering through the dead branches and highlighting the ground. On the other side of the clearing, through the trees, Tanith believed she could see a road. 

“We can set up camp on the edge of this clearing, safer than staying in the center.” Makilia dropped her pack as she spoke, laying out her bedroll and bringing out her rations. Tanith gripped the strap of her pack tightly before setting it down next to her companion. 

“I’ll gather some wood,” she said before scurrying off into the woods, handaxe at her hip. Her voice seemed too loud again, like her nervousness was attempting to escape her body. She considered her plan once more, gathering up as much wood as she could. What if instead of consoling her, it only made her more distraught? Doubt crept up her throat, choking out what hope she had been holding on to. She decided she wouldn’t attempt it, instead just staying awake with Makilia without saying a word of her original thought.

Cementing her resolve on the situation, she returned back to camp, wood overflowing in her arms.

“Tanith, what’s all this?” she heard her companion say. When she shifted so she could see past the pile of wood, she noticed Makilia had set up her bed roll for her. She was sitting on the ground, and in her arms was the gallon of mead Tanith had bought in the last village and a pack of sweet bread, wrapped to preserve it longer. Tanith felt her face flush, busying herself with setting down the wood before she responded.

“I, uh, I bought those before we left the village. I…” She tried to think of a reason that wasn’t I bought them to celebrate your holiday with you because you’re miles away from your family and I felt bad and you’re friend and also because I believe I am falling for you. She didn’t want Makilia to think she pitied her, or that she only did this out of a desire for romantic affection.

She stood up and faced Makilia, ready to lie slightly and say there had been no reason, or it was a good price, or a drunken purchase. But when she raised her head and looked at Makilia, her soft eyes and light smile, how the moonlight bounced off her skin now that her hood was down. Her eyes were wide, brighter than stars and looking directly at Tanith, and she knew she could never lie to her.

“They’re for you. I know I’m not your family, but I have grown to,” she paused, attempting to find the right words, “to care for you, on this journey. And if you’ll let me, I would like to partake in your traditions. Starting tonight.” Tanith’s voice trailed off the longer she talked as she fought to keep a tremor out of her voice. 

Makilia was as silent as the night air around them, like the forest was holding its breath along with the two adventurers. A grin and breathy laugh broke the stillness, and Tanith watched her friend’s face light up brighter than the moon as her grin widened. She stepped forward, and Tanith could see moonlight reflecting the unshed tears in Makilia’s eyes, and then those eyes were impossibly close and slipping shut, and there was a warmth against her lips, feather light, the sigh of a promise.

And then she leaned forward and Makilia’s lips were on hers, impossibly warm against the night air and it just felt right. Her hand, so soft, rested against Tanith’s cheek and she felt her smile against her lips. Makilia pulled away and rested her forehead against Tanith’s and she giggled, the sweetest sound in all of existence, and Tanith nearly fell to her knees.

Makilia pulled away, grabbing Tanith’s hand and pulling her closer to their bed rolls before sitting down. Tanith continued to stand, blinking rapidly and trying to gather her bearings.

“Am I safe in assuming this means that you also... care, for me?” she heard herself ask, watching as Makilia began preparing their fire.

“You would be correct,” she laughed, and Tanith sat next to her companion, moving closer to kiss her once more. 

Her lips were soft and tasted of honey, and she smelled like the air did before it rained. It was more intoxicating than any drink, and it nearly pained Tanith to pull away after so long of aching for this. 

She settled on her bedroll, shoulder to shoulder with Makilia as the fire grew. Once it was stable, Makilia reached for Tanith’s lute and started to strum a familiar tune. It took a moment for her to realize that Makilia would hum this, under her breath in quiet moments of their adventure. Tanith watched her fingers dance over the strings, slow but familiar. She looked up and smiled, pushing the lute into Tanith’s hands and pressing a small kiss on her cheek.

“If you want to understand our festivals and traditions, it probably would be best to start with the music.”

[agent-ccarter]

home for christmas. bill weasley.

Request from @ourquicksilvered  

Request: I have an imagine idea if you're up for it :) The reader is Charlie Weasley's American friend and coworker that also works with him in Romania. Since she couldn't afford to go back home for the holidays, she comes back home w/ him and his brothers (especially Bill) develop a crush on her. She's outgoing, confident, and totally into grunge (it IS the 90s). Appearance-wise (it'd be so dope if she could be black) she wears band tees, ripped jeans/shorts, flannels, and has hidden tattoos. Thanks! 

Warnings: none!

A/N: Yes, I KNOW its September. I KNOW its far too early to talk about Christmas. But it’s not really that christmassy, the request says holidays and I bloody LOVE christmas, OK! No judgement here!

“Charlie, this still feels rude!” You stopped, kicking your pumps into the cobblestone street, leaving them even more scuffed up then they were before.

The red-head grinned at your fear, “Don’t be ridiculous! You can’t be at home on Christmas, Y/N! Plus, mum won’t care, she has this incredible ability to treat anyone who steps foot into her home as a member of the family.”

You chuckled slightly, “She sounds like a lovely woman.”

“She is, and she will love you. Ginny could do with another girl in the house too. You aren't;t intruding in the slightest, now hurry up we need to leave!”

“One second,” you stopped dead in the road, spotting a small shop nearby, “I may be broke, but I can't turn up empty-handed.” Charlie groaned as you walked quickly towards the shop, avoiding the odd patch of ice on the ground, and as you entered the threshold, the warm scent of cinnamon and cloves welcoming you like a warm hug. The walls were covered with wreaths of holly and ivy, elves re-stocking the shelves with vials and jars of herbs and spices. You had barely pulled the gloves from your hands when you saw Charlie pick up a glass bottle from a shelf.

“What’s this?” He asked; your status as a muggle-born meant you often had to explain muggle objects to the boy. Sure, it was a wizarding store, but the village was a mixture of both.

You studied the table, using your little knowledge of the Romanian language to translate it. 

“Mulled wine,” you said, grabbing a bundle of cinnamon from a jar and taking the bottle from Charlie, “and it’s delicious.” You took it to the counter before he could protest, and you pulled the few gold coins you had in your bag out, counting them in your hand. You were about to pass them to the woman, but she waved her hands, smiling and telling you it was a gift in her broken English.

You could’ve cried there and then; not only from her saving you from spending the last of your money but also for her saving you the embarrassment of turning up to the Weasley Household empty-handed.

The cold air hit you as soon as you stepped outside, seeing Charlie dramatically leaning against the wall, his large cardigan ( from last Christmas, worn mainly in an effort to appease Molly) slouching over his shoulders and attracting frost from the brick wall. You scooped up some of the snow from the side of the road, throwing it straight at the red-heads face. He gasped in horror, wiping it off himself and searching the ground for the snow to reciprocate the attack.

“Stop!” You shouted, “We are going to be late, Charlie. Ceasefire.”

He huffed angrily, “Fine.” You smiled softly at him giving in so easily, and before you knew it, he had grabbed you dark hand in his calloused one, and you had apparated away.

****

England was far snowier then Romania had been, and the Burrow looked like the front of a muggle Christmas card. A short lady wearing a large cardigan, big fluffy slippers and gloves was stood in the doorway, and you quickly assumed it was Molly by the way she shouted Charlie’s name.

“Stay their mum,” he shouted, noting her preparing to run out into the snow, “you’ll catch your death.” She smiled widely, and as soon as he got to the doorway she practically leapt into his arms.

“Charlie,” she said between kissing both of his cheeks, “it’s so good to see you. And you must be y/n!” You were slightly taken aback when she pulled you into a hug.

“Charlie, why didn’t you tell me you were bringing a guest! I’ll have to set another seat at the table, that's no bother though. Come in, you must be freezing.” Charlie motioned for you to enter first, showing gentleman-ly qualities that were clearly an effort to impress his mother.

“This is for you, I know it’s only small but it’s just to say thank you for having me.” You passed Molly the bottle, who looked as if she might burst into tears there and then. 

“You didn't need to do that dear! No one needs to be alone at Christmas.” She motioned for Charlie to take your bags upstairs, telling you that you’d have to share with Ginny, which you, of course, didn't object to. She began to give you the tour, and you were particularly captivated by the clock on the wall.

You heard a mix of voices coming downstairs, and you looked up the middle of the staircase to see multiple red-haired heads peeking over.

“Who’s that?”

“Is that Y/N!”

“Yes!”

“She looks even better than-”

“Shut up George!” You heard Charlie’s familiar voice shout. 

“What? I didn’t-”

“Mum, did you need any help with- oh, hello, you must be-”

“Y/N, yes, hello.” You stuttered over your words, somewhat flustered.

“I’m Bill, well, my real name is- just, call me Bill.” He stuttered over his words, pink rising quickly up to his cheeks. He looked you up and down, taking in your curled hair, red flannel shirt peeking out under a leather jacket, ripped jeans and converse. 

“Is Bill trying to flirt?” The boys face grew even redder at the shout from a voice you believed to be Fred’s; luckily for you, Charlie had told you all about his brothers so you weren’t particularly surprised by their forward personalities. Footsteps came pounding down the staircase, and you quickly realised how much you stood out. The family all wore various knitted garments, and the number of items that were either far too big or too small clearly indicated that they were hand me downs; if only Charlie wore what he usually did you wouldn't stick out like a sore thumb.

“Food! ” Molly shouted from the kitchen, and Charlie pointed you towards the table that all of his siblings scrambled towards, muttering an apology for the behavior of his siblings (not that he needed to, because you couldn’t deny that Bill was rather attractive.)

****

As the month of December continued on, you found yourself loving the Weasley family even more. The snow fell so heavily that yourself and Bill could hide in the snow and enchant snowball’s to hit Percy whenever he left to go to work, sniggering as he angrily turned round to see no one there.

Your wage came in too, but you couldn’t say that you wanted to leave, so you decided to stay; Charlie knew, of course, but didn’t bring it up, seeing that you were having a great time, and he loved getting to spend so much time with his good friend, even if you were far more interested in his older brother.

“Y/N, hurry up!” Ginny shouted from downstairs, wrapped up in her big scarf and jacket, “all the shops will be closed!”

“I’m coming!” You shouted back, making your way down the staircase in a pair of weather-appropriate non-ripped jeans and a large flannel coat, paired with large black boots. Bill and Ginny stood at the door, Bill practically having to hold his sister back from running.

The small village 10 minutes away from The Burrow was all decked out for Christmas, and before you knew it, Ginny had dragged you into a small jewelry shop to look for gifts for her school friends and Bill had wandered off looking at books. You found small gifts for the whole Weasley family, and larger ones to send home to your own family. Ginny, meanwhile, spent an awfully long time examing necklaces.

“Y/N,” you turned to see Bill, clutching a small bag in his hand, “Can I borrow you for a second?” You smiled and nodded, telling Ginny you were just stepping outside for a second and followed after the much taller boy.

“I got this for a girl I like a lot, and I just wanted to know if you think she’ll like it.” You opened up the bag, taking out a small back box which contained a gold necklace, initialed with what happened to be the first letter of your name.

“I think she is a very lucky girl. She’ll love it.”

“Good,” he smiled, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, “because, it’s for you. If you’ll have it, that is, because if not that’s fine too-”

“Bill,” you stopped him, both of you with red cheeks from the cold and awkwardness, “I love it. Thank you.” And before you knew it, your lips were pressed against his cold ones, hand resting on his long red hair.

You only stopped when Ginny walked out of the shop, muttering “About bloody time.”

**** Hope you like lovely!!