#ishtar writes

[solsticelosthermind-ao3]

Of Knights and Princesses by Ishtar12 (words: 13,094) Shin Sokouku || Akutagawa Ryuunosuke/Nakajima Atsushi (Bungou Stray Dogs) No Archive Warnings Apply— Emotional hurt/comfort but also very soft—inspired by ch119 leaks

Summary:

Jinko requires no protecting. Gin has not needed him in years. Stoker’s princess is safe. Regardless of the way Stoker’s final edict continues to thrum within his bones, his duty has been well and truly discharged.

Behind him, the weretiger scrambles onto the roof with a huff that morphs into a groan, joints cracking back into human shape.

Tension melts from Ryuunosuke’s shoulders despite the renewed question: why? Why would the weretiger set out to find him? Why did he wish to be found?

Or: Akutagawa struggles in the aftermath of Bram Stoker’s possession. Atsushi refuses to let him run.

[solsticelosthermind]

I’m a very smol author but I’m pretty pleased with this. I posted 7.5 works so far this year— the half is bc forgiveness on your lips was technically begun at the end of last year but wrapped in January of 2024– and if I’m lucky I’ll get this Winterhawk done in time to make it 8.5 (I will not be lucky lmao but one can hope) It’s nice, realizing my stories were read by nearly 12.5k people over this year alone. I’m gonna hold onto that when I’m feeling down about my work.

Like, 12.4 thousand. That averages to 34.2 people a day. Every day, somewhere out there, 34 people were choosing to sit down and read something I wrote, 34 people sat down in a little cafe and hung out with me and I didn’t even know it. It’s nice, seeing that maybe I’m not talking to myself after all.

Hi!

I know this is very random, but I love your 2023 AO3 Wrapped graphic and was wondering if you were going to do one for 2024 because my friends and I love to play these sort of tag games (and one of my friends specifically asked me to tag her in any ao3 wrapped tags/games) and I would love to be able to share this with her and with my mutuals (with credit to you, obviously).

No pressure to answer, of course, I was just curious

Oh, I completely forgot about this!

Here's the 2024 version. Please @ if/when you use this version. I love to see everyone's stats. <3

For anyone else wanting to do this, to find your own stats:

Go to your ao3 dashboard

Select “Statistics”

Click on the “2024” button

[nyanbinaryrose]

I spent an hour on this and I will not be explaining myself

[hereforthefunnyguys]

I'm finally DONE with this thing it took me like four months on and off cause i kept on losing inspiration and then finding it again. Anyways i hope yall enjoy a glimpse into my genderbend Yugioh au i think about all the time every day

Edit: please click on the image I’m sorry the quality is so bad </3 should’ve cropped this better smh

[everyrishidpanel]

[solsticelosthermind-ao3]

One day I will actually post my stuff to the writing blog first and not suddenly remember it exists like an hour later. Today is not that day.

Am I poking through wips to remind myself I am not, actually, shit at words? Yes. Did I make the mistake of flipping through an extremely long sterek WIP I abandoned (redacted) years gone due to “this is at least two books, fuck my life, how do I untangle this to make it coherently two books instead of cramming it all together” insanity only to realize I still love this idea so much I wanna bite things? Also yes.

Am I sharing a chunk that doesn’t even have stiles or Derek in it? Yes again.

Anyway. Here’s uhhh a little over 2k presented with no context other than my brain is itching:

Sheriff’s name is John- Hints of prior John/Chris. Absolutely unbeta’d and unedited because if I start that I’m gonna end up chin deep in the wrong wip again and I! Am! Resisting!

John settled a hand on Scott’s shoulder. “Alright, kid,” he said on an exhale, rubbing at his chin hard enough to stretch his mouth. “One more time, okay?”

The kid nodded at his own feet, fingers twisted in the dirty, torn hem of his shirt, but didn’t turn to the map until John took a half step to the side.

Crossing his arm would only intimidate the kid further. Leaning against the desk, projecting as much calm as he could, might’ve been one of the most difficult things he’d ever done.

His hands ended up in his pockets as Scott studied the map spread out on the desk for the umpteenth time.

It’d been bad enough when Alice and Jorge came in to declare Erica missing. Knowing that somewhere out in the Preserve, his idiotic, impulsive, big-hearted son—his fingers curled into fists inside his pockets to keep them in place.

Not that shaking him would really give any answers. Scott, for all he might as well be John’s second kid, wasn’t Stiles. He couldn't explain anymore than John himself.

And truthfully? John should have known Stiles would hare off after her the second he found out. Self loathing felt an awful lot like heartburn.

One light brown finger tapped a black line, drawing him out of his useless head. “We went this way,” Scott spoke hesitantly, glancing up at John as his finger followed an old access road. “And parked around here.”

“Looks about right,” John agreed, laying his own finger on a secondary gray line, perpendicular to Scott’s. “We found you over here, ‘bout half a mile away from the Jeep.”

Scott nodded, standing taller with John’s confirmation, face crinkled in concentration. Good. A confidence boost would mean a clearer head.

The boy walked John through their path through the woods, pointing out the general location of all the places they’d looked for her. He indicated the rough areas where they’d found her jacket, her bag, the shelter. But no matter how John phrased his questions, Scott couldn’t come up with any other places Stiles might take her.

“No other forts?” John asked again, already knowing the answer. “Fire pits or whatever that you think you’ll get in trouble for?”

“No, sir,” Scott repeated, firm as his gaze tracked over the map and its maze of pins. “But Stiles knows the trails better than me.”

That stalled him. “Really?” Stiles had all but lived in those woods as a kid, always wandering off with Claudia or Erica. Why wouldn’t he share that with Scott, too? “You boys don’t hang out in the woods?”

Scott shook his head, fluffy hair flying. “I’ve only ever been to the swimming hole behind the Lacrosse field, really. But Stiles was pretty confident out there, so maybe he knows a place that I don’t.”

A quick rat-a-tat-tat on the door jam accompanied a deputy lurching into the room. “We got a ping!” Diana announced, waving a paper in the air.

Throwing a hand up to quiet her, John turned to Scott. “Thanks, son.” He managed to scrounge up a smile that sat wrong on his face, but Scott didn’t seem to notice. “You did good, I’m proud of you. Why don’t you head on home, I’m sure Mel’s half out of her mind by now.”

Scott winced and stepped away, before pausing.

“We’ll find them, Scott. Do me a favor, and stay out of the woods. I don’t need to go looking for more teens, please.”

With a nod and a wave, Scott was gone, and John turned to snatch the paper from Diana’s hand. “Get Summers to give the kid a ride to make sure he actually goes home this time,” he ordered, waving her out of the office. It took a few minutes to track down the right coordinates on the map, but once he’d stuck a bright red pin into the spot, he sagged into his chair.

Knuckles rapped on wood in a familiar pattern- two fast, tiny pause, one.

Everything in him froze. Cursing himself for the tightness of his shoulders and cursing Diana’s inability to shut the damn door, he raised his head. No matter how blank he fought to keep his face, the wry twist at the edge of Chris’ mouth marked it a wasted effort.

He let his own mouth curve, more grimace than smile as he sat up and pushed away the strangeness seeing Chris always brought up. He was a father first, everything else came never.

Across from him, Chris settled into the visitor’s chair, a clunky wooden thing picked for its uncomfortableness, and dropped a white takeout box to the side of the map.

“Uh?” It smelled good, and John’s stomach gurgled.

Chris didn’t bother hiding his grin. “Knew you hadn’t eaten. Figured I might as well get something on my way.” He nodded toward the container. “Bacon burger, no tomato, extra fries.”

Just like that, the tension lingering in his shoulders dissipated. It’d always been hard to stay at odds with him. Well. Until it wasn’t hard at all.

“Don’t think I can eat,” John confessed, even as he pulled the box closer.

“You need to,” Chris said mildly, only a hint of steel in his voice. Two cups appeared on the desk next, one beside Chris, and the other prodded closer to John with one long finger. “Coffee. From the little bakery on Oak.”

When was the last time someone had taken care of John? Not Stiles, not the kid who should’ve been worrying about pimples and grades instead of John’s alcohol intake, but an adult. An equal.

John pulled the coffee to himself, feeling as though it was something larger than a cup of caffeine.

“Walk me through this,” Chris said, getting up to push the food closer to John as he leaned a hip on the edge of the desk, his eyes roving over the map.

Before he quite knew what he was doing, he’d downed the entire cup and stuffed half the burger down his gullet, between catching Chris up to speed. He tapped the red pin, shoving the remaining food away with his other hand. “This is the last time his phone managed to make contact with a tower. But it doesn’t make any sense. This is miles away from where Scott left them.”

“Stranger things have happened,” Chris murmured, shifting to get a better look at the map. It brought him another inch closer to John.

For his part, John snorted, and couldn’t decide if he wanted to throw Chris out of his office just for daring to exist, or bury his head in the man’s lap and scream.

“There used to be a homeless camp here,” Chris added after a moment, brushing at a point not too far from where they found the Jeep. “And a huge tree house thing…” He trailed off, eyebrows pulling together as he thought. “Over here. And the dogs brought me to this junction,” Chris tapped at an unmarked part of the map, not too far from the bridge the boys had crossed. “Plus, the river loops in that area. They might’ve gone there, for water.”

Wordlessly, John added a few green pins, before letting one hand drop to the desk. The other rubbed at his temple. The Preserve was enormous. They could be anywhere.

“Hey.” Fingers ghosted along his arm, pressing close only to pull away and leave John feeling more alone than before. “Look at me.”

Bright, clear blue eyes pierced straight into his core when he mustered the strength to obey.

“We’ll find them,” quiet but fierce, Chris’ promise wound into his soul. “I’m not giving up. Ever. We’re going to bring them both home, John. I’ll find your boy.”

Snared in the endless sky of Chris’ gaze, John’s resolve crumbled. “It’s my fault,” he managed to force out, his fingers digging into the desk. “I should’ve known he’d go after her—”

“Stop,” Chris turned to John, his coffee settled down out of the way. Callused fingers, so different from the ones John used to know, slid over his wrist. The cautious pressure of Chris’ thumbs along his skin proved as grounding as ever, and he couldn’t help his shudder, or the way his eyes slid shut.

When he managed to open them, Chris’ face blurred at the edges. He blinked until Chris came into focus, distracting himself for a moment by comparing this new face, with its creases and graying hair, to the one he’d had engraved on the inside of his eyelids since he was fifteen years old. It wasn’t fair that Chris remained as regal and beautiful as ever, the only one of the two of them able to compare to Claudia.

All of the worries and strain in John’s life turned him into a bloodhound, tired and full of jowl.

“That’s my baby, out there,” he found himself saying. He hadn’t meant to, but once he started he couldn’t seem to stop, too caught up in the crystalline understanding, the ghost of something he’d once taken for granted, in Chris’ somber eyes. “That’s my—he’s all I’ve got left, I can’t—I can’t lose him—”

A shadow crossed Chris’ face, breaking the spell. John turned away, his eyes on his desk as he struggled to regain his composure. That wasn’t Chris’ role in his life, hadn’t been for longer than he’d been a father. He couldn’t afford to make that mistake again.

When the rough hands on his wrists fell away, John closed his eyes and breathed through the ache. Stiles needed him. Stiles came first, always. He wouldn’t let this man shatter him a second time.

But then one hand slid into his hair, smoothed the strands back as it made its way down to curl around the nape of John’s neck. Heat along John’s side meant Chris had slid closer, his fingers pressing on the knobs of John’s spine.

Against his will, he gave a splintered noise, somewhere between a whimper and a sob. Another press of Chris’ fingers, and he shattered, curling until his forehead rested on Chris’ thigh.

“You’re not alone,” Chris murmured, holding tight to his nape, as his other hand scraped soothingly over his scalp. “Not anymore. I’m not going anywhere.” Chris gave an uneven inhale. “Not again.”

It was a promise he couldn’t trust, but one he hadn’t known he craved until he realized the wetness under his face came from his own tears, soaking into Chris’ jeans.

Neither of them mentioned John’s breakdown, or Chris’ careful, vehement declaration. They sat, pressed together, Chris’ hands steady over John’s skull and spine, until his breathing evened out and the need to scream, to break things, to rage until the world resumed its order, passed.

He pulled away first, scrubbing at his face and clearing his throat. Wordlessly, Chris slid off the desk, and settled back into his own chair. He’d always been uncannily good at that, reading what John needed. Sometimes before he’d had time to figure it out himself.

“That’s my boy,” John repeated, exhausted. “God, Claudia would—” He closed his mouth on the rest of his sentence with a click of his teeth.

Chris’ next breath was shaky, and his voice wasn’t quite right when he spoke, but the intensity, the sheer scope of Chris’ ability to invest himself was clear. “She’d be proud. Of both of you.”

When John chanced looking, Chris’ eyes were far away and sad. “Your son went out and found the Reyes girl, and it sounds like he was doing his damndest to take care of her. Kid sounds just like his old man. Claudia—” It was Chris’ turn to clear his throat. “—Claudia would’ve been a damned peacock. Once she was done murdering you both, anyway.”

Those sharp, too knowing eyes lanced straight into John, pinning him into place with a wealth of things John couldn’t parse. “Between Stiles, the BHPD, you, and me? We’ll bring him home, John. Trust me.”

“Always have,” John murmured, rubbing at his temples to relieve the ache in his eyes. “Even when I shouldn’t.”

There was a beat of silence, and then a cool voice he’d hoped to never hear again. “Good to know, Johnnyboy, since us Argents know that land better than the trees themselves. We’ll find those kids, one way or another.”

John sat up in time to catch Chris’ eyes rolling. “Not helpful, Dad.”

Gerard ignored them both, stepping into the office uninvited to peer at the map. One gnarled finger touched the red pin. “Near the old Hale property, isn’t it?”

John grunted his agreement. “Close enough. City tore it down after the fire, though. Nothing there now.”

Gerard hummed. “Well, guess we’ll see in the morning. If that boy has half the sense you two think he does, he’s hunkered down for the night. We’ll head out with daybreak. Let’s go, Christopher.” The old man turned to go, pausing on the threshold to eye his son, both eyebrows raised.

Staring Gerard down, Chris rose, before turning his back on his father to lean over and run careful fingers through John’s hair, smoothing it back out. “We’ll find them,” he repeated, low, blue eyes nearly black as his hand cupped John’s neck.

When he left, John put his own hand over the spot that still bore Chris’ fingerprints. They’d find his kids. There wasn’t any other acceptable outcome.

[kujakumai]

There are a lot of potential Marik ships but I think part of my ethos on shipping Marik is that I believe he has terrible taste and would only date people who are at least a little bit of a weird loser failguy. Anyone who is too normal or consistently competent will give him ego threat or not compel him enough. For example I was considering whether he and Honda could do gay biker shit together and I was like, no that can't work because Honda doesn't have enough deeply wrong with him for Marik to be interested beyond a platonic level. It's gotta be someone who kind of sucks that he wants to study like a bug

[superspecial-awesome]

It's genuinely super fucked up how few people care about the female characters in yugioh despite how cool and well written so many of them are

[sesshy380]

Yellow, Indigo and 16? I'm really curious what'll come out of this one XD

You pulled angstshipping with the following prompt:

Results below the cut!

Ryou backed away until his back met the wall. He was trapped.

“You have no power over me,” he said defiantly.

“Oh?” said the blond that sauntered towards him. “You sure about that?” he asked with a sultry smirk as he pressed the head of the Millennium Rod beneath Ryou’s chin.

Ryou tried to bring his head back and away, but the best he could do was turn his head. The tip of one of the wings brushed tight against the underside of his jaw…then a section of it detached and fell to the floor.

Both men paused in their role to look down at the chunk.

“Dammit,” Marik said in exasperation. “I guess we should have just printed a whole new piece,” he said while shaking his head and stepping back to allow his partner some space.

Ryou bent down and picked the piece up.

“It should have held. Maybe the bonding resin needed longer to harden before I repainted it?”

“It doesn’t matter. This is the fourth time we’ve tried to do this, and each time something has to go wrong. Maybe we should just scratch this idea off the list,” Marik said in a defeated manner.

“You had no way of knowing your sister would be stopping by unannounced last time.”

“Yeah…talk about an even bigger mood-killer. This might not have gotten broken if I hadn’t panicked and stuffed it beneath the sofa cushions like that.”

Marik set the printed copy of the Rod down on a nearby table.

“Well, it didn’t help that I didn’t realize that’s where you hid it when I sat down either,” Ryou said with a chuckle.

“It wasn’t quite what I had in mind when I said I wanted you to sit on my rod,” Marik said while laughing at the irony.

Ryou joined him in laughter for a moment before walking over by his partner with the intention of placing the broken piece with the rest of the makeshift relic. Just as he was about to set it down, an idea came to him.

“How would it work if two people had a hold of the Rod? Would there be some sort of power struggle if they tried to issue commands at each other, or would it all get canceled out?”

Marik blinked a few times before raising a curled knuckle to his chin in thought.

“Honestly, I don’t know? I never ran into that situation.”

Ryou smirked and gave his partner a knowing look.

“Maybe we should find out…”

Mystery Prompt Game

[liberationwasboundtohappen]

Headcanons -- Proposals

Boundshipping -- Bakura does a close recreation of how his father asked his mother to marry him (at least, based on the stories that he remembers): he saves up to buy a house, and tells Yuugi that he'd like to share his home with him for the rest of his life. Needless to say, Yuugi cries, says yes, and insists that they have multiple game rooms to fit their respective collections. In that order. Kleptoshipping -- Bakura kind of just stuck an engagement ring on Yuugi's finger when he was sleeping one night, and when Yuugi questioned the ring, he sneered at him: "What, am I not allowed to stake my claim on what's mine?" Yuugi responds by doing the same thing with Bakura a week or so later. Bakura acts like he doesn't notice or care, but he preens and smiles at it when he thinks nobody's looking. Fragileshipping -- Atem, openly nervous and far more awkward than one would expect, asks Ryou to go to KaibaLand with him to test out the new dueling arena. He gives Ryou a deck that he "wants him to try", though the poor guy nearly fumbles handing it to him at least twice. Ryou thinks something's up, but doesn't say anything...until he realizes the deck Atem gave him was a custom variant on the Destiny board/occult deck that Bakura used at battle city. A wedding-themed variant, specifically. The win condition involved the player to spell out the words: "I WILL". The moment Ryou realized what was going on, he hopped off the platform, ran to Atem, and pulled him into a kiss so long and passionate that they both had to break for air. ...Before accepting with a cheeky "I will," of course. Liberashipping -- Marik had a really elaborate proposal planned. He was going to take Yuugi on a moonlight picnic, wait until the moon was brightest and then propose with all of the debonair charm of a romance novel hero. But then...right when Marik was about to propose... Yuugi went down on one knee. "Marik Ishtar," he said, "Would you do me the honor of letting me be your wings, and take your family name?" Marik wasn't sure whether to laugh at how cheesy that was or cry because Yuugi wanted to become an Ishtar. He did both. Riftshipping -- Polygamy isn't exactly legal, but a little thing like that wouldn't stop TKB from asking his partners to be with him forever. ...At least, that's what he thought, but Ryou and Yuugi beat him to the punch. They set up a private 'wedding' in their shared house for the three of them, complete with dancing, vows, and a "Honeymoon suite" that Ryou spent at least a month making the props for. Then they went on their actual honeymoon: A several-month long trip around the world (paid for by Kaiba as his 'wedding' present to three of his most useful employees AND NOTHING ELSE) where they played games, tasted new foods, and enjoyed their time spent with each other.

[bakawitch]

I wrote a silly little ramble for an au version of that one nutcracker au @ninjam117 expanded on in this post where Yamima and tkb get to lay hands on Atem before he could zap Malik away XD

I wrote this in a franzy, and I did not bother to clean it up, so it's not perfect, but at least I wrote something that I actually posted for once in awhile lol

Four Can Fit

"Mouserkin," Malik murmured, testing the odd name on his tongue as he kicked his feet over the armrest of the makeshift lilac throne Ryou gifted him.

"Bakura Mouserkin. That's your name?" He echoed back with a bewildered expression, casting a suspicious glance at the decrowned rat loitering behind his well cushioned chair.

"Yep," came the unceremonious response from above him in the same lethargic tone Malik has gotten used to from the rat- or, well, Bakura, he supposed.

"That makes no sense. You're a rat, why would you be called 'Mouserkin' of all things?"

An amused snort left Bakura's lips at Malik's very justifiable question, beryl-like eyes blinking open from behind the iridescent palmette. The ex-king lowered his arms down to the splat of the throne, hoisting himself over the very top in a way that his entire body weight was supported by the spacious back of the throne with his feet dangling beneath him. As intimidating rats could be, Malik found that despite their bravado, they were still quite small with the tendency to be adorably silly, even in this dream-like world.

"I'll have you know that I've had many squirrel siblings, and they were all called Mouserkin as well," Bakura announced with a self-assured leer as he hung suspended above Malik, an occasional swish of his hairless tail hinting at some kind of mischief in the making.

Malik could only blink at the oddly positioned man breaching his personal space in frustrated confusion.

"How is that even possible...?" He grunted, trying to logic his way through a feasible explanation of how a rat could have squirrel siblings, keeping the possibility of Bakura just outright lying to him for shits and giggles headfirst in his thought process.

"Y'see- when a mommy mouse is feeling especially promiscuous one night-"

"Eww- no! I don't want to hear that!" Malik shrieked, swiping at Bakura for even daring to make him think of such a revolting thought, incredibly missing the cocksure rat by a margin, causing said dethroned rodent to burst out in an uncontrollable cackle fit.

Malik glared at the manically giggling rat, internally cursing whichever fairy made him miss. Definitely Atem.

Luckily for Bakura, before Malik could unleash his full fury on him, a faint noise was heard from across the double door leading into Malik's audience room. Bakura's flat ears wiggled at the familiar sound, instantly cluing Malik in on the lovely source of the sound. The grand marble door's right wing slightly cracked open, revealing the reinstated Prince's kind face and ethereal eyes that always made Malik's heart skip a beat.

Bakura immediately pulled himself up from his previous position into a sitting one on top of the palmette, his ears fully stood up from the sight of Ryou's appearance alone. Malik couldn't blame him. Ryou tended to have that kind of effect on people when he walked into a room since his curse was broken. Though he could faintly recall the ex-Rat King looking at Ryou the same way when he saw him still as a Nutcracker and that ugly bat's influence was fully burst.

"Hi," Ryou whispered silently, slipping into the room quiet as a mouse, the heavy door falling mutely shut behind him.

"Hi," the rat murmured back with an almost shy giddiness and a small wave, which was fondly regarded by the Prince.

"Why are we whispering?" Malik grinned, speaking at the same volume as Ryou gracefully strode up to the pastel throne.

"I'm hiding," Ryou confessed with a guilty smile. "It turns out succession is quite exhausting. Room for one more?"

Malik's feet moved before he could will them to, readily making room for Ryou next to himself on the throne without the thought even fully entering his mind. Ryou gratefully beamed at him, making himself comfortable next to Malik on the soft cushioning.

"Thanks," he sighed, leaning into Malik's side, letting weariness take over him, and his limbs go lax.

"Which part about being a literal pince is exhausting exactly?" He asked teasingly as the Prince lay his heavy head on his shoulder, comfortably curling into him even more. Malik could feel the scarlet piercing gaze aimed at the two of them from above, but he decided to ignore it as it didn't feel malicous.

Ryou sighed, "All of it, I suppose? I have so many things to do now... The duties, the lessons... it is quite a lot to get reacquainted with. As a vagrant I definitely didn't have to deal with this much nonsense."

"You're literally the only one in line for the throne. Can't you just not do things you don't want to? It's not like anyone could do anything about it," Malik offered as he weaved his fingers into Ryou's long silky hair. Even its texture felt different from when Ryou was still the Nutcracker...

"As nice as that would be, I still need to fulfil my duties. If I am going to be crowned King soon, I need to be in the know-how about my kingdom and my responsibilities," Ryou explained, though he did not seem all too enthusiastic about it as he sunk deeper against Malik.

"Pff- I didn't do any of that when I overthrew your father," Bakura piped up for the first time since Ryou took a seat next to Malik, still sitting above them. "I just made the mice deal with that kind of busywork." Why he phrased it like something to be proud of was unclear, but in some superficial way, Malik found himself agreeing inwardly.

Ryou's nose scrunched up at the rat's words as he shifted his head to look up at him.

"That's exactly why I need to do this. Because you and your mice ruled the kingdom into the ground."

Bakura visibly flinched at Ryou's words, withdrawing from the conversation by letting his upper body drop down behind the throne, his legs keeping him anchored to the crest rail. His tail completely stilled, perhaps out of guilt, perhaps out of disgruntledness. The rat was more often than not hard to read.

It took Ryou a good couple of seconds to register what he had just said and its true weight. Penitent, the Prince's head sprung up from Malik's shoulder to seek Bakura out.

"I'm sorry, that cane out wrong... I'm just very tired, I didn't-"

"No, no, I did do all that," Bakura firmly cut him off before Ryou could finish, his voice small, almost quivering as he protested Ryou's tact in the matter.

Ryou apologetically sighed, reaching a hand up to gently grip the tip of Bakura's boots.

"Bakura... I didn't mean it like that... It wasn't all your fault. Zorc took advantage of you, you couldn't have-"

"But it was."

Malik couldn't help but feel incredibly awkward right then and there in that situation. The whole conquest and conquering subject was an incredibly touchy subject for both the Prince and the ex-Rat King, and Malik often witnessed them tiptoeing around the topic in conversation. Since he was never directly involved with the incident, it never really did feel appropriate to involve himself in these discussions. But on the other hand, the pain in Ryou's and Bakura's voices always affected him, made his heart ache. He really wanted them to just move past it, but he understood that it wasn't that simple, there was more nuance to it than a simple 'sorry' and 'I forgive you'.

Malik's inner musings were suddenly stalled by a determined huff from Ryou, seemingly all his tiredness leaving his crystalline eyes for the moment as his grip tightened on Bakura's boot.

"Listen to me, Bakura," Ryou started, determination ringing clear in his voice. "I know what you did. But I also know why you did it. I know it was very difficult for you with my father around... Malik told me about what he wanted to do with you."

If it was possible to grow stiffer beyond the level of tension already freezing Bakura's body, then it happened.

"You... know about the execution?" The rat almost rigidly croaked out from behind the throne.

"Sorry," Malik sheepishly whispered, feeling a little burdened for not keeping Bakura's secret.

"I... I know there wasn't anything either of us could have done", Ryou continued. "You we're ambushed, and my father and his soldiers never gave you a fighting chance! It was cruel and unjust, and you only did what you had to for survival's sake. Your heart is not fundamentally evil, and I know you would have never accepted Zorc's deal if it weren't for the dire situation.

"I know that if our roles had been reversed, I would have made very similar if not the same sacrifices and choices you made." The Prince solemnly spoke, his free hand coiling around Malik's for support.

"They were very bad choices," Bakura admitted, his tail anxiously shifting behind his frozen feet.

"At least you can admit they were bad," Malik grumbled under his breath.

"Malik's right. If you can admit they were bad choices, that's already one step towards betterment," the Prince affirmed, his clasp on the rat's feet tightening again.

Bakura stayed silent for a moment, maybe what they said helped a little, but knowing how stubborn he was, Malik had a feeling the discussion wasn't over yet.

As if on cue, Bakura spoke up again.

"But I don't regret them. I don't regret any of the choices I made," the rat growled, pulling his boot away from Ryou's hold and sitting up again, his distraught eyes betraying the anger in his tone.

"I don't regret killing your father," he snarled with furrowed brows.

"I don't think anyone would regret that," Ryou chimed in.

Seeing his point wasn't getting across, Bakura continued.

"I don't regret taking over your castle, I don't regret chasing away the faries, I don't regret taking all seven of your crowns-"

"They do look better on you," Ryou shrugged with a serene smile on his lips.

"I don't regret stealing Master Ginger's rod, I don't regret fighting with him, I don't regret going into the other world, and I don't regret stealing Malik!" He inished with a heaving chest, his face red from hardly breathing throughout his tirade.

A few moments of deafening silence ruled the room as Bakura waited with baited breath for the condemning words to come. But they never did. Instead, Malik's laugh rang across the bright room, which was soon joined by Ryou's chiming one.

"Bakura-" Malik managed to choke out between giggles before he could calm down and finish his sentence. "I don't think anyone here regrets you shrinking me, least of all me!"

"You really should have picked a better example to finish with..." The Prince chuckled in unison at Bakura's flustered expression.

Grumbling, Bakura could only hide his red face in his palms, claws digging into his ratty mane in frustration.

"I hate how little you two hate me for the things I've done..."

"We love you too," Ryou smiled, bidding at Bakura with an inviting finger. "Now stop excluding yourself and join us. This throne is big enough for three," he winked.

"But-"

"We can talk about the other things later, but I don't have the energy for that conversation right now," the Prince promised, leaving no more room for argument.

Peaking out from his hands, the rat tentatively stared at the two of them for some time, like a skittish rodent. It took Malik to provocatively poke his tongue out in a childish manner, for Bakura to finally hop down on to their lap, knocking the air out from both of the men sitting on the throne, but neither of them complained as Bakura flumped down on Ryou's lap extending his feet and tail onto Malik's thighs.

They sat like that in comfortable silence, forgetting all their troubles for the time being.

"Do you think we could make room for a fourth person on this throne?" Ryou mused with a giddy smile. "I invited Chuncho for the afternoon, but I don't really want to get up..."

"He's too tall. We'd have to make him our communal pillow for that to work." The outlander deduced, comfortably placing his arms over the defeated tyrant's legs. "I don't think he'd mind if Ryou asked."

"I could wrestle him down on to the throne for you if he refuses Ryou's princely orders." The rat confidently declared, seemingly over his episode now that he was with the two of them.

"He'd probably enjoy that," Ryou chuckled, contenly settling down next to his favourite people on the throne.

[solsticelosthermind-ao3]

“Aya-chan’s father surrendered custody today,” Jinko says mildly. He’s curled up, elbows on his knees, forehead resting on his clasped hands. Ryuunosuke hums. “Funny thing, though, is that he brought her right to Kunikida-san at the agency, paperwork all signed and ready to go. Guy couldn’t leave fast enough.” There’s a pause and then the jinko, somehow, finds a laugh. “Probably a good thing, since the minute Kunikida-san realized where the bruise on her cheek came from—ah. I’ve never seen him so angry. Whole agency’s out for blood, honestly.” A shining silver head raises just enough to allow ridiculous purple eyes to peer at him. “Gonna go out on a limb here and assume you don’t know any thing about that at all, right?” “He dared strike the princess,” Ryuunosuke replies, the words forming strangely in his mouth. “He ought to count his blessings I did not take further umbrage.” He frowns, tongue running over his slightly too sharp teeth, and tries again. “He’s lucky I didn’t kill him myself.”

Am I literally in the middle of writing the last scene of (Anything) For You? Yes. Should I be working on that? Also yes. Did I open that post119 doc instead and claw at the walls for a bit? Maybe. “Why do you take so long???” I ask myself like I don’t know it’s because I have a terrible habit of re-writing as I go which means I write things fifty times and also I keep starting new things like an idiot.

[antaresr]

Ok, but listen (and welcome back to another crazy analysis that I came up with out of nowhere because I had a lot of free time)

The Ishtar as representations of the Egyptian gods.

Bastet's mission was to protect the home and symbolizes the joy of living, as she is considered the deity of harmony and happiness. She is the personification of the warm rays of the Sun, she is the representation of femininity and elegance.

Marik was supposed to be the leader of the clan and protect it, but he wanted to be happy and be out of the tombs, he wanted to live, he wanted to be under the sun's rays, plus his hair is blonde, a color associated with the sun, He is handsome, he is masculine and elegant.

Plus his eyes look like cats' eyes if you ask me, with his outlined like the stripes of tabby cats.

But he was traumatized and filled with anger and wanted revenge, so he created Yami Marik.

She was a symbol of strength and power. She was considered the goddess of war and revenge, but also the goddess of healing, she was the protector of the pharaohs and guided them in war.

In some cases she was considered an ally and protector of Ra, since she killed those who dared to confront or attack the divine or earthly monarchy.

She had an insatiable bloodlust, to such a degree that she did not distinguish between allies or enemies.

Like YamiMa, he is powerful, the representation of Marik's fight and revenge, he protected Marik from everything that could harm him to keep him safe, he caused death/coma to those who stood in the way of Marik's wishes (Jounouichi , Mai, Rishid, his father).

Plus we've all seen the thousands of references to YamiMa's hair to a lion's mane and both YamiMa and Sekhmet have many names.

And YamiMa only calmed down when he saw Rishid.

She represented music, dance, joy, love, sexuality and maternal care, and acted as consort to various male deities and mother to their children. These two aspects of the goddess exemplified the Egyptian conception of femininity. She served as a wet nurse for the king and his court, and in this way she fed all the people of Egypt since the prosperity of the country was closely linked to the health, well-being and stability of the king.

She was part of the divine entourage that accompanied Ra as he sailed through the sky in his boat.

Rishid was a fundamental part of Marik's upbringing, he was like a father to him, replacing the biological father as a wet nurse, he wanted Marik's happiness, he loved him like a brother and took care of him like a father, he took the punishment when Marik and Ishizu came out of the tombs, and he wanted to take Marik's place in the ritual to avoid the pain and trauma it would cause him.

He was also part of the Ghouls to continue with Marik, after leaving the tombs, we can assume that he was the one who was in charge of maintaining his mental and physical health.

But his role as a father was also slightly overshadowed by Ishizu.

She is typically depicted as the generous and selfless mother, wife, and protector who puts the interests and well-being of others before her own. She was considered the divine mother of the pharaoh, who was identified with the god Horus. She as well as the most powerful sorceress Egypt ever saw. With this power she managed to save her son Horus, but she also became the patron goddess of people who practiced magic.

Ishizu is the selfless mother who fulfills the role assigned to her, fulfilling her duty to the pharaoh was important and almost a priority, however when it came to her brothers, mainly Marik, she did not mind leaving her duty relegated in favor of hera brother's well-being.

Just like Isis, she sought help from humanity (Yugi and company) to unite the pieces of her brother and return him to normal.

She is feminine, selfless, protective, maternal, she took care of Marik when they were children, stopping living her own childhood so that Marik could be happy, she helped him see what it was like outside the tombs because that is what he wanted to do.

Furthermore it is quite clear that she is Isis when we remember that her past life in ancient Egypt was called that.

[gae-bolg-alternative-dot-exe]

It was a bold move by fgo to continue releasing archer servants after Ishtar

[nyanbinaryrose]

Siegfried gives Malik a quick blowjob on the way home.

(18+ only, Siegfried being a throat goat, plus a bit of accidental exhibitionism for fun)

god i love writing siegfried von schroeder as an eager little cockslut. fuck it, i've found my niche

[rosalind-hawkins]

Title: Almost Real Life

Rating: G

Ship: Seto Kaiba x Ryou Bakura x Marik Ishtar

Words: 427

Tags: Fluff, Short One Shot, Established Relationship, Crossover, Pokemon, VR Game

Fic Summary:

Kaiba is letting his boyfriends beta test a VR Pokemon game that KaibaCorp is making. They all love it.

Doubtshipping for @ygorarepairweek Day 5: Crossover.