#so long as you have the magical and rare ability to reply to messages in a timely manner and show up when you say you can

[three--rings]

God that last one. I haven't even DMed a single game yet. I've spent FOUR MONTHS trying to corral the people who originally convinced me to DM for them.

I should not have to act like your parent to try to make you show up somewhere and reply to texts and do your character creation homework, while also doing all the DM work.

Like guys I want to DM here but this playing mommy shit is fucking killing me.

I now understand why in my regular game, my DM kicks out anyone who is at ALL flaky in attendance. It's a privilege to play with a good group and fucking with the DM's time is the #1 way to not get invited back IME.

I cannot emphasize enough that if you dream of having a group like the actual play ones you see on the internet, the number one thing you have to be is reliable and respectful of the DM. I've known so many Very Good Players that people like personally who are not invited back to tables because they piss off the DM.

D&D 5e supposedly has a GM shortage and idk maybe if the player culture of the game didn't treat GMing as a thankless job and the rules of the game as an issue to be fixed by the GM maybe things would be better. Ah well, who knows. Maybe a couple hundred more "we ruined the GM's campaign on purpose" memes will make people enjoy running the game better.

[honourablejester]

Homebrew Thief Deity

A little bit of an expansion on one of the homebrew gods from this post, building him and a few of the others into a bit of a history and a pantheon. A god for rogues, thieves, urchins, exiles, travellers, and clerics of the grave, trickery and twilight domains:

OREM, THIEF GOD OF THE BOUNDARY

Alignment: True Neutral/Neutral Good

Domains: Grave, Trickery, Twilight

Symbol: A Hooded Lantern

A gentle shadow padding silently through the twilight, his hooded lantern held aloft, Orem is the thief god of the grave, the boundary and the night. Believed to have once been a mortal man, he is the guardian of lost souls, all those who die alone or in dark places, the dim light of his lantern guiding them to their rest. He is the messenger between the lands of the living and the dead, and may be implored to carry messages past the bounds. He is the god of thieves, watching over all who find their comfort and their livelihood in the shadows. He is the gentle warden of the outcast and abandoned, granting shelter and comfort to any who pray in desperation. Orem is the god of the in-between, the guardian of all that is lost or fallen through the cracks of the world, and all who seek them.

TALES OF THE THIEF GOD

God of Thieves

Orem is the god of thieves, and believed to have once been a thief himself, when he was still a mortal man. He is the god of shadows, of seeking, of hidden places and forbidden things. He encourages exploration, trespass and the seeking of knowledge. He protects those who making their living in the shadows. Thieves pray to him for luck, for protection, for that wisp of shadow or sudden noise from another direction that will keep them safe from discovery, and he is often known to grant it. Many a thief has a tale to tell of a desperate kiss pressed to the sign of the lantern, and a sudden stroke of luck that kept them from the eyes, the prisons or the knives of their opponents.

Nor does Orem shy from theft himself, even still. Of knowledge, most particularly, and of opportunity. The Thief God travels the planes at his will, and suffers no power to keep him out. He has walked the planes of the dead and brought secrets and mementoes back to those who seek them. He has walked the hells and the abyss and stolen souls and knowledge and some more intimate things from devils and demons alike. From Oromasdes, the Lord of Wisdom, the Holy Fire, he stole a tiny, flickering flame of magic, and taught it to his chosen, granting them the small but necessary magics of thieves, the slender wisps of illusion and see-me-not. Oromasdes, curiously, was not offended by this, for the Lord of Wisdom is rarely opposed to those who seek and spread knowledge. Had Orem kept that flame for himself, perhaps the Light of Truth might have judged him more harshly for it, but Orem chose to teach it instead, and thus did Oromasdes forgive him. After, it is said, reminding the Thief God rather gently that he could have simply asked instead.

To which Orem is said to have replied, but where would the fun be in that?

God of the Grave

Orem is the god of lost souls and those who die alone, their shepherd and guide to what lies beyond death. He is fiercely and dangerously protective of this duty, and a hidden, implacable enemy of those who would steal souls for their own use. As such, he and his chosen people are ferociously opposed to liches, necromancers and other soul-stealers.

It is said that once, in the early days, when Orem was only newly a god, a great and terrible archlich sought to devour enough souls to fully destroy the boundary between life and death and unleash a plague of undeath across the planes. While the other gods and champions took up arms and stood to fight this black menace, Orem instead took a more secret path. While the lich stood against his fellow deities, blazing with necrotic power, Orem sent a small, fragile party of his own champions to seek the archlich’s phylactery instead. Though almost all of his champions died in the attempt, the last managed to seize the object and bring it to her god’s temple, bleeding and near death herself. Safe and reunited with her fallen companions under the shadow of the Grave God’s cloak, she watched as Orem reached into the phylactery and drew forth and reconstructed every soul that had ever been fed to it, slowly and viciously unmaking the lich to repair all the damage he had caused. When the lich had been broken and siphoned down to only the tiny, stained remnants of his own original soul … Orem gathered it up, quietly and carefully, and stowed it in his own lantern, there to be kept safe and warm for all eternity. His three champions, who had died for his cause, he gathered also, and tucked them gently into his cloak to take them wherever they need go. Even, along with all the souls the lich had stolen, back to the realm of the living, if they wanted to.

It is unknown how many souls are stored in the Grave God’s lantern. Only those that he wishes to keep close, either for their own protection or for the protection of everyone else. The lantern is not a fearful prison, however. Orem is the god of lost souls, and there are none more lost than those who seek to destroy others. Perhaps he hopes that in time, in his company, seeing all that he sees, in the dim light of his hooded lantern, they will come to think as he does.

God of Outcasts

Orem is the god of the outcast, the abandoned, and all those who have fallen between the cracks of the world. He is the god of the lost, both living and dead, and all who have lost their way in the world or in life may pray to him, for the dim light of a god’s lantern to guide them onto the path once more. Even those who do not venerate Orem himself, those who despise him as the God of thieves and the lawless, sometimes tell tales of a light in the darkness when they were alone and terrified, and a tall, grey figure who guided them to safety. Of a grey cloak, warm and welcoming, that draped over them where they scrabbled, freezing and abandoned, and brought them warmth enough to survive that little bit longer. Those who survive where they should have died, who walk away from swamps and battles and slums and mass graves, often whisper of the quiet god who helped them, who warmed them and sheltered them and showed them the way to freedom.

It is also said, however, that there are other entities, spirits and demons and creatures of illusion, who have used the God’s image falsely over the years. Will-o-wisps who have used the hope of his lantern to lure travellers to their deaths, demon lords of illusion who have taken his guise to sow false hope and entrap souls into their webs of deceit. There is nothing, save perhaps the trapping of souls, that will earn the Thief God’s enmity faster. There is no demon he hates more than the Lord of Lies, who has used Orem’s image far too many times to betray those Orem would protect, and done so knowingly, with aim to taunt and wound him. Only the lords and masters of undeath are as antithetical to him, and he hates them with equal passion. If there is one creature in all the planes that the Thief God has sworn to see destroyed, it is this demon.

Those who wield the Thief God’s powers, therefore, those who have learned the magics of illusion and the turning of eyes from him, must be careful to what purposes they put their powers. He does not forgive those who use his power, his lantern or his image to betray those he protects. For this reason, among others, certain fey and demons remain extremely cautious of him.

God of the Boundary

For all else that he is and was and will be, however, Orem is first the God of the Boundary. Between life and death, between light and darkness, between danger and safety. Orem is the god of trespass, of exploration and intrusion, of crossing the line, and there are few beings in all creation as conscious, therefore, of where those lines actually are.

Once upon a time, the story goes, a mortal man met a trapped and dying god. A god of death, who could not die. An ancient, desperate being, alone and in agony. The name of this god is unknown, long lost to time, remembered only by Orem and by those gods who mourned or despised its passing. That god pleaded with the mortal man to take its immortal soul from its body and carry it beyond the bounds of death, into the quiet lands where it could, if not die, then at least know rest. The man was a thief, you see, a wily, dauntless creature, and the god knew that if anyone could find a way to free it from these immortal chains, it was this tiny, curious, fearsome little man. Duty demanded that the god stay, endure, but desperation and despair pleaded that it be allowed to rest. Against all the laws of good and all the forces of evil, it pleaded with this man to bring it rest.

So the man named Orem took the god’s soul, its divinity, and hid it in a lantern, the better to carry it unseen across the dividing line. For who looks for a hidden thing in the light? Who looks for a secret thing in that which reveals the darkness? Orem hid the god’s soul in small light of a lantern, and smuggled it gently into darkness. Into peace.

And when he returned, that thief, from the lands of the dead, he found himself changed. A piece of the god he had helped to die had remained in his lantern, and a piece of the god’s divinity had remained in him. Not a god the dead, not fully, but a god of the boundary. Of the line, of the gate, and of the ability to move across it. Orem became the god of the boundary, the god of lost souls, the guide between the lands of the living and the dead. He became the god who carries those who need it into rest, and the god who, sometimes, allows those who deserve it back to life. The god of thieves, yes, the god of outcasts, the god of the dead, all of these. But first, and foremost, before all things, the god of the boundary. The god of the in-between.

And here, in this, he has his allies. Even among the lawful. He has a strange and special relationship with those other gods who guard the boundaries, who endure when nothing should be forced to endure. Elaia Siveth, who offers respite, healing and death in equal measure, whichever should offer freedom from suffering faster, and who approved of the actions for which he became a god. And Yorm, the Unyielding, who guards the light against darkness, who fights demons and devils, who protects the vulnerable beneath his shielding cloak and his watchful remaining eye. They have a strange bargain, those two. Yorm, bound by law, turns his blinded eye to where Orem needs to tread unseen, and will not leave him to die undefended should the thief be caught. And Orem will not leave Yorm to endure alone, nor Yorm’s people to be ravaged after death. The souls of all Yorm’s paladins who fall to demons are ever safe in Orem’s care.

Notes:

There’s a lot of inspiration from Hermes in this, god of thieves and travellers and guide of souls, with a little bit of Prometheus as well. Oromasdes is taking a lot of inspiration from Ahura Mazda, while Orem and Elaia Siveth have a bit of Janus to them. And I threw in Yorm from this story, because they felt like a nice fit, two gods of the boundary, one lawful, one not, but united in a common purpose. Also, I like the rogue/paladin dichotomy. Heh.

And I like the lantern imagery, the hermit from the tarot, the god carrying souls in his lantern, the thief smuggling things in the light, because who goes looking in what you look with. I can’t remember what book or story I came across that concept in (possibly Discworld?) but it stuck like glue. Not least because I remember an episode of Wild Wild West where the shoddy lighting on that show threw a shadow of a lantern that a character was holding, and that was supposed to be throwing the light, against his shoulder, accidentally highlighting the fakeness of it all. Playing with light and dark and reality and illusion is a bit of a theme for me

[corinnesamuels]

Guarding the Gates, Chapter 9: Discretion is Such a Valuable Tool

Shoutout to the AMAZING @the-dream-team for creating this for me! Gives the fic a lil razzle dazzle, don’t you think?

A good old patronus soul mate trope to get the blood flowing, Remus has a hard time, and Lily and Sirius confront old friends.

In the weeks following James and Miranda’s breakup, there had been speculation amongst the gang about what that meant for Lily and James. For the two people in question, however, there was no indication that anything would be changing. They laughed at the same jokes, and the time they spent in person still had the same cadence. They were  friends , and the two of them reinforced that dynamic whenever asked. Secretly— irritatingly —Lily reinforced it with herself every time she saw that lopsided grin, which seemed to be making more and more of an appearance lately. 

It was as if the breakup had broken a dam inside of him, and now he joked more and laughed with less reservation. The glint in his eye that appeared when he was contemplating mischief had reappeared. Every day he became more and more like the version of him she’d once known. Sirius had made similar observations, saying how great it was to have his friend back at full force. 

Lily had loved getting reacquainted with James when she returned to England, but to see those parts of his personality return warmed her from the inside. He seemed happier, more free. Lily loved the way it looked on him. Except for when she didn’t. This more robust version of an adult James was a lot for Lily to take in. His personality was simply overwhelming some days, not because he was being obnoxious, but because it was almost impossible not to be drawn to him. It threatened to disrupt the precarious balance that her emotions currently maintained. Lily couldn’t risk disrupting that balance, so she made it a point to carry on the same life she had been living, and her occasional recreational dalliances helped a great deal.

Except for when they didn’t. Like today, when Lily realized that she’s going to have to let go of Terry.

It’s a shame, really. He’s a nice bloke and gets the job done well enough. But Lily has noticed that he seems to be straying from their original arrangement. He usually either left first thing in the morning after their liaisons or stayed just long enough to make and wolf down a quick breakfast. Lily had appreciated it because, as her friends love to point out, she’s terrible at cooking.

But lately, he’s attempted, thrice now, to stay into the afternoon. While Lily doesn’t want to be rude or harsh, this just isn’t what they signed up for. Especially not on a day when she is already running a little late to an Order meeting. He jokingly asks why she seems like she’s in a rush and hints at not believing that she really had somewhere to be. 

It takes everything she has to remain calm.

“Nothing about our arrangement requires me to share my daily schedule.” She’d said at close to noon that day as she hastily put on her shoes. She waved her wand toward his belongings, and they began hurtling at him faster than she’d intended due to her irritation, but he’d gotten the hint after that.��

When she arrives at the meeting a few minutes late, she waves off Marlene and Dorcas’ concerns with a “don’t ask” and a resigned rise and fall of her hand before jumping into the agenda.

The Order of the Phoenix functions well. Dumbledore has instituted a complex but subtle system for meeting locations, dates, and times and spends early meetings going over spells and skills that might be useful for the days ahead. Dumbledore picked most of them because they had excelled during their time at Hogwarts, but certain forms of magic were usually beyond what even the brightest seventh years managed before their time at school ended.

And so, they found themselves assessing the talents of the group and ways to maximize them. It was a well-known fact that The Marauders were good at stealth due to their ability to cause mischief as students. So Dumbledore tasked them and the Aurors of the group with assisting the rest in learning advanced magic related to stealth and concealment. “You lot must not have been too good at being stealthy if you got caught so often.” Dorcas quips during one meeting. The four men looked at each other and grinned. 

“Meadowes,” Sirius tuts. “We very rarely got caught on accident, love.”

“You can’t be legendary if no one knows your story.” James chimes in with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Sometimes you have to let yourself get caught for the greater good.”

“The most legendary thing about the two of you is your detention records.” Marlene smirks, looking over to Lily before rolling her eyes. 

“Was that supposed to contradict what I said?” James asks with a laugh. Remus does his best to cover up a laugh of his own.

Lily, Marlene, Caradoc Dearborn, and Elphias Doge led the group in potions making. In addition to maximizing stores for members to have available to them, Dumbledore also had them work on potions whose brewing processes made Lily feel as if she’d run a marathon once completed.

Little by little, Lily began learning the strengths of various members of the Order of the Phoenix. Most everyone in the group was an accomplished dueler, particularly the Prewett twins and Edgar Bones. People like Hestia Jones, Sturgis Podmore, and Emmeline Vance were able to navigate Ministry circles to subtly gather information that employees were too afraid to say around Mad-Eye Moody, Frank, and Alice. But nothing surprised Lily more than discovering that the slovenly thief Mundungus Fletcher was a member of the group  because  of the fact that he was a thief.

“Dung was dead helpful while we were in school.” Peter says in Mundungus’ defense after one meeting. Lily, Marlene, and Dorcas let their eyes travel from Peter to his friends with raised eyebrows, waiting for confirmation.

“Let’s not go into the details, Peter. They aren’t necessary at this juncture.” Sirius cuts in. When Lily’s face still holds traces of mild judgment, Sirius rolls his eyes. “Oh, don’t look like that, Red, you were a spy. Surely you saw worse than a thief.”

Lily had, of course, seen much worse. “Yes. Usually, the kind that were sober while on the job.” 

“It’s helpful to have someone in a group who can acquire…things of questionable origin.” Remus says diplomatically. “Especially information.”

“Yeah, it makes sense for Sturgis, Hestia, and Emmeline to do reconnaissance at the Ministry.” James replies. “But they can’t very well walk through Knockturn Alley and ask pointed questions without looking suspicious, can they?”

“How do we know that he’ll even remember what he learns from poking around in Knockturn?” Lily asks skeptically as she watches Mundungus falling asleep in his chair. “Surely you don’t think he’s going to go sober?” 

The gang takes a moment to observe Mundungus with her. It is a valid question they hadn’t considered.

“Pensieve, probably.” Sirius says finally. 

“Ah.” The others hum and nod in agreement before going back to their tasks.

In one particular meeting, Dumbledore decides to cover communication methods between members.

“I am sure you will find that we need ways to communicate with each other that owls and the Floo won’t be able to accommodate.” He says. “You may need to send a message quickly, and with the way Lord Voldemort’s ranks are growing, we may soon find the Floo Network being monitored surreptitiously. Muggles have a delightful invention called the ‘telephone.’ You pick up a receiver and can be in conversation with an old friend in mere seconds.”

Lily and Dorcas exchange grins, thinking of the summers they spent in the muggle world, on the phone with Mary, giggling like the schoolgirls they once were.

“It inspired me to create something similar,” Dumbledore continues, “and after perfecting it, I am ready to teach it to each of you. How many of you are familiar with the Patronus Charm?”

Various sounds of mild shock reverberate across the room as members of the Order exchange confused looks with each other. “Sir, I’m sure most of us have heard of it, but from my understanding, Patronuses don’t talk, do they?” Lily asks, voicing the confusion of the group.

“Not until recently.” Dumbledore replies. “As I said, I’ve perfected the method.”

A shocked James lets out a huff of air before catching Lily’s eye. She knows that his thoughts echo her own.  How in the fuck was Dumbledore so good at magic? Who would even think to take that charm and make it twice as useful and three times as difficult?  Lily shakes her head and lets out an exhale of her own, and he grins at her. 

It takes more effort than it should have for her to pull her eyes away from that grin.

“There are fully-trained Aurors who can’t even pull off a corporeal Patronus.” Frank says from the back of the room. “And you’re saying that you’ve amended it in some way?”

“I am.” Dumbledore says patiently, as if the people in front of him aren’t intimidated and shocked by the idea of performing this level of magic.

“Stop gawking and get a move on.” Moody growls from his section of the room. “Being afraid of a charm isn’t going to help you learn it.” He mumbles about the lack of gumption witches and wizards show nowadays.

At this, and with looks of slight trepidation over their shoulders toward Moody, the members of the Order of the Phoenix began working on casting the Patronus charm. Lily, who had always been adept at Charms, was able to produce a slight mist by the end of the session. Frank, Alice, and Moody could already produce non-corporeal Patronuses and worked on getting them to take shape before they left to return to the Ministry.

“Duty calls.” Alice says with a wave as they leave. 

Lily is still working on producing more mist when she sees James frustratedly struggling to produce even that. She smirks at him as she lets her mist float into his line of sight. “And to think you used to say you were better at Charms than I was.”

James cuts his eyes at her, irritated at not being able to gloat at the moment. “I used to say I was  just as good  as you at Charms, Evans. And I am.”

“We’ll see.” She says with a shrug before turning back to her Patronus. 

James rolls his eyes. “Professor Dumbledore, what transfiguration-related spells do you have for us?” 

“Grow up.” Lily retorts.

“Get a room.” Sirius grumbles with an eye roll of his own. Marlene laughs from her place next to him. 

“If they start acting like they did in sixth and seventh year, I’m going to bring up the idea of shoving them in a broom closet again.” Marlene says.

“And this time, we’ll actually do it.” Sirius replies dryly.

Lily’s words lit a fire in James that he hadn’t felt since playing Quidditch before his mother died. He always had thrived on competition. So after the Order meeting, he goes to three different bookstores and buys all the books he can find on the theory behind casting Patronuses. Sirius scoffs at this initially, but he, Remus, and Peter soon end up joining James in the sitting room of the manor, pouring through books and pages. They hadn’t made this much of an attempt to learn something from a textbook since James, Sirius, and Peter became animagi. And while the others may just want to learn because Dumbledore requested it, James is not only determined to produce a corporeal Patronus, but to produce one before Lily does.

To his frustration, Lily just barely beats him. 

They had been reviewing the spell at the beginning of an Order meeting, and they’d both been producing dense mists, just starting to take shape before dissipating. James closes his eyes, calms his nerves, and takes a deep breath to regroup before attempting the spell again, but before he can focus on his happy thought, he hears her excitement across the room. Knowing that it could only signal one thing, he curses under his breath before turning to see the inevitable.

He curses again, audibly and disbelievingly this time, when he sees the Patronus ambling across the room. Four legs, hooves, ears upright. In his shock, he doesn’t realize the strange looks he’d gotten from the people standing closest to him.

“Are you alright, James?” Peter asks.

But James is back in time, recalling a passage he’d read in one of his books while feverishly trying to pin down the charm—the one he and Sirius had joked about before ultimately ignoring it and going back to working out the incantation. 

  There is a belief amongst wizards that similar Patronuses are shaped by deep feelings one may have for another. Indeed, many agree that witches and wizards with the same or similar Patronuses may even be soulmates.

  James doesn’t answer Peter as he watches Lily’s doe move about the room and returns to her. She looks at it fondly and drifts her fingers along its silvery glow before it bows and disappears. He notices that Lily still has that look about her that she’d had when she was introduced to new magic in school—reverence mixed with the pride of accomplishing something new. He can’t help but grin at her across the room, nodding his head in salute as she smiles back and shrugs one shoulder before hugging Dorcas happily. It reminds James of all those days he used to watch her in classes…when they’d joke during their rounds…how she’d hugged him and smiled in a way that lit up the room after Gryffindor had won the quidditch cup during their last year…

He’d known it would work this time before he even recited the incantation. “Expecto Patronum!"

Read the rest at ao3!

Start from the beginning

[little-mad]

Little Jackpot Pt. 8

~ Previous Part ~ Next Part ~

It had taken around thirty minutes of wandering around the city before the pixie dust showed any type of reaction. Once it did though, zeroing in on Ambry’s location had been fairly swift. That is, assuming the dust was reacting to Ambry and not some other pixie. As far as Sebastian was aware at least, there was only one pixie in town and that was his companion.

Once the increasingly vibrant glow of the pixie dust had led him to a house that positively reeked of magic, Sebastian was sure he was in the right place. The residence looked innocuous enough to the untrained eye, and Sebastian was sure the normal human neighbors didn’t find anything unusual about it. However, any witch with a decent grasp of magic sensing would be able to tell that the building was coated in various charms and enchantments.

Sebastian approached the front door of the house. He didn’t think politely ringing the doorbell was the appropriate response, which meant he’d need to break through the sealing charm that held the door firmly shut.

Exchanging the vial of pixie dust for the wand in his pocket, Sebastian pondered the best approach to break the seal. Thankfully, he knew himself to be quite skilled at breaking the spells of others, but it was crucial that the correct process be followed so as to not cause the seal to tighten itself even further.

Taking in a deep breath, Sebastian aimed his wand at the door and began to mutter a string of incantations under his breath as he moved the wand in a precise series of movements. After about a minute, a small burst of shattering light indicated that the attempt had been successful. Sebastian didn’t allow himself any feeling of pride, not when his companion still wasn’t out of the woods yet.

It was unsurprising to him when he found that the front door, despite having been magically sealed, wasn’t even manually locked. Unlocking charms were rudimentary for most any witch, so if anyone managed to get past the seal, the lock would likely be child’s play.

Carefully pushing open the door, Sebastian stepped into the house. Immediately he noticed that there was no one currently present, however; that didn’t mean they weren’t somewhere else in the building.

Quietly, Sebastian snapped the front door shut. He would keep his presence hidden as long as possible, the element of surprise would serve him well. He had no real idea of how skilled this witch would be, although, from what he had seen so far, it seemed likely that they were considerably talented. Sebastian was beginning to wonder if not waiting for backup had been the best idea. He’d messaged Adrien the address as soon as he was sure he had found the right place, but when his friend hadn’t replied immediately, Sebastian had decided to press on by himself.

“No, Ambry needs you now.” Sebastian argued with himself mentally. It was true that getting to the pixie sooner rather than later could mean the difference between her losing her wings or not. There was no time to wait around.

Moving with silent fluidity, Sebastian made his way through the expensive looking home. He checked the kitchen, a bathroom, and a dining room with no luck. He then moved towards a shut door at the end of the house. A bright glow suddenly began to shine through the fabric of his jacket. The pixie dust was reacting stronger than ever, which meant Ambry must be just through that door.

Sebastian tightened his grip on his wand, took in a steadying breath, and then shoved open the door. His eyes immediately found her. She was sitting in the middle of a golden bird cage, her piercing yellow eyes staring back at him in shock. A wave of emotions flooded through him all at once. There was a warm glow of relief at seeing the pixie looking mostly healthy, wings still attached and all. Then there was a fresh stab of guilt and regret. But perhaps most powerful was the burning rage that came with seeing his small companion locked up in some cage meant for an animal.

It was then that Sebastian’s gaze shot over to the room’s other occupant. The dark haired witch had gotten to his feet and was looking at Sebastian with poorly concealed surprise. It only took a moment for Sebastian to connect the face of this man with one he had seen in the Council’s “Most Wanted Criminals” bulletin. Ambry hadn’t been abducted by just any run of the mill rogue witch, she’d been taken by Kole Miyazaki.

“Well, well, well, color me impressed.” The leather clad witch remarked after having schooled his expression into one of sly amusement. “I really wasn’t expecting you to track me down.” Kole began to walk towards the center of the room, placing himself in between Sebastian and Ambry.

Kole Miyazaki was wanted for a battery of crimes, most involving thievery, but what had landed him on the Most Wanted list was his associations with the magic blackmarket. The witch was known as one of the blackmarket’s top sellers due to his ability to get his hands on some of the rarest magical items in the world. Obtaining pixie wings could have been Kole’s most impressive feat yet.

“Release her, now.” Sebastian ordered. He was not interested in any chit-chat. And as much as he wanted to curse this asshole into next week, he knew his first priority needed to be getting Ambry out of there with as little chaos as possible.

The opposing witch gave a light chuckle. “I’m sorry, Sebastian, but no can do.”

“So you know who I am.” Sebastian said dully, unsurprised and unamused.

Kole grinned. “Of course. You’re Sebastian Altalune, a young witch with promising talent who fairly recently was assigned a cute little pixie for a companion.” Sebastian’s free hand formed into a fist. He didn’t even want this creep mentioning Ambry. “You’re good with potions and general magical knowledge, but your combat abilities...leave something to be desired.” Kole went on. “So I hope you don’t plan to challenge me. Not only do I have a couple years of experience on you, but combat magic happens to be my specialty.”

Sebastian took a step forward. He wasn’t about to allow himself to be intimidated by this thug. “That’s fine, I don’t need to beat you.” He calmly stated. “I just need to keep you busy until my coven comes along with the Council Police.”

This caught Kole’s attention. The man’s eyes narrowed, some of the previous casualness leaving his stance. “Getting the police involved was a bad move on your part.” He said, a darkness tinting the nonchalant tone. “Now I’ll just have to break you quickly before making off with your former companion.”

There was no time to react before a blast of energy suddenly exploded out from Kole, throwing Sebastian back several feet. He landed painfully on his back, a dull throbbing instantly starting up in his tailbone, which had taken the brunt of the impact.

Clearly Kole hadn’t been lying about his proficiency with combat magic. The guy had just effortlessly pulled off an advanced spell, and wandless nonetheless. “Fine, so defense is the name of the game.”

By the time Sebastian had gotten his senses together again, Kole had made his way over to Ambry’s cage, which he was now holding tucked under one arm. Inside the golden prison, Ambry was clinging to the front bars, eyes glued to Sebastian’s downed form. Seeing the fearful look on her tiny face was like a gut punch. She was usually so confident and strong willed, fear was something she rarely revealed to others. It was all the push Sebastian needed to jump to his feet and face his opponent.

An instant before Kole could send out another blast that would send Sebastian back to the ground, he threw up a ward spell. A translucent field of energy formed in front of him, effectively blocking the spell Kole had cast. The ward wasn’t unbreakable, but it would hold so long as Sebastian was able to keep his focus.

Instead of the frustrated or defeated look on Kole’s face that Sebastian had been hoping for, there was a conniving little smile. He aimed his hand at the ground for a moment before abruptly pulling all his fingers into a fist. The result was a rolling tremor that headed straight for Sebastian. He was forced to jump out of the way of the cracking floor, causing the ward he had been holding to drop.

“Gotcha.” Kole purred. Sebastian let out a grunt of pain as magical chains suddenly materialized, tightly pinning his arms to his sides. He clung tightly to his wand, but his movements were so restricted he would be unable to cast any spells with it.

Kole had begun to make his way around the room, collecting various items and placing them inside a large black backpack. All the while, the witch refused to put Ambry’s cage down. Sebastian could only watch as the pixie was carelessly shaken and jostled inside her prison, powerless to escape what was no doubt a stomach churning experience. He grit his teeth. He wanted nothing more than to get her out of the hands of that piece of shit.

“I’m going to be taking a financial hit losing out on this place.” Kole commented as he continued packing up. “Thankfully, the wings on this little one will more than make up for it.” He crooned, shooting Ambry a little smile before returning to digging through a dresser drawer.

“You’re not going to touch her!” Sebastian spat, a fury rising up in him that he hadn’t known himself capable of. Before he himself even knew what he was doing, the silent, wandless spell had been cast. It wasn’t until the magical chains had disappeared in a cloud of smoke that Sebastian realized he had just successfully wandlessly performed an advanced spell. He didn’t pause to celebrate though.

With a swift wave of Sebastian’s wand, a ring of blue fire formed around Kole’s feet. The spell was one of Sebastian’s own invention, meaning it would require some trial and error for anyone to figure out how to cancel it.

Kole lifted a foot, as if intending to step over the fire. However, the moment he did, the blue flames climbed higher, not returning to normal until Kole had given up his attempt at escape.

The frustration and annoyance had finally presented itself on Kole’s face. Sebastian had clearly gotten to him. Unfortunately, Sebastian had failed to recall what happened when an enemy became desperate. He could only watch on in confusion as Kole unlocked Ambry’s cage. The confusion quickly turned into rage as Kole grabbed hold of the captured pixie, dragging her out of the birdcage before tossing the golden container to the side.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Sebastian hissed, moving towards where the dark haired witch stood.

“Ah, ah, ah.” Sebastian froze in his tracks as he realized what Kole was doing. The man’s left hand was wrapped around Ambry’s bottom half, meanwhile, his right index finger and thumb were poised in front of and behind her neck.

Seeing the effect his actions had had on Sebastian, a pleased grin spread across Kole’s face. “Great, now we can make a deal.”

[obeyme-kaidii-writes]

Levi Lost

Leviathan x gn!MC

Words - 2038

Content Warnings - tiny bit of angst, lots of fluff, platonic relationships, BFF Levi

Prompt/Inspiration - retelling of the in-game chat of the same name “Levi Lost”, also includes references to the Devilgram “Love, Friendship, and Justice”

Summary - You’re enjoying a quiet day to yourself when Levi begs you for help - he’s lost. 

AO3

You were sitting in your room one lazy Sunday afternoon, enjoying the peace and quiet as you read one of your new favorite books that Satan had recommended to you. It was so incredibly rare for you to have a moment to yourself, but everyone else was occupied with other things:

Mammon had a modeling gig; Asmo was on a shopping spree after seeing a new collection from his favorite designer had been released; Lucifer was with Diavolo presumably to have tea (though you had your doubts that was all he was up to); Satan had gone to check out a new bookstore (or so he said, you figured there was a cat involved somehow); Beel had sports practice at RAD; and Belphie of course was asleep in the attic after a very filling lunch. You hadn’t heard from Levi yet, but assumed he was asleep as well after staying up all night gaming.

DING

There goes my peaceful afternoon, you thought as you reached for your DDD with a sigh to check your incoming messages. You figured it was probably Mammon finishing up with his gig, letting you know he was heading to your room so you better be there and let him know how awesome he looked today.

But it wasn’t Mammon at all. In fact, it was Levi, and he had sent you a rather odd message.

“I have sad news. I’m lost.”

Lost? How could your favorite otaku be lost? He hadn’t even left his room yet. You didn’t want to just dismiss him though, on the off chance that something was in fact wrong.

“Are you okay?” you replied.

His response was almost immediate, and he had already sent through a flurry of additional messages before you had even finished typing out your own response.

“I went for a walk. I’ve been walking around for so long now. I wanna cry. Save me.”

Oh shit. He really was lost. He had left his room! You couldn’t figure out what would possess him to go out and exercise alone, but then you remembered the couple other times he had asked you to help him get into shape. Perhaps that’s what this was too?

Your instincts were to tell him that you’d be right there, and not to worry. But as you were typing you realized that you had no idea where he was exactly. And he didn’t know enough about where he was either to allow you to find him. If you went out on your own, you would doubtless get lost before you even reached him.

“What about your brothers?”, you asked instead.

“My brothers would only make fun of me.”

Right. You knew that all too well. Even though there was no doubt about their love for each other, they wouldn’t miss the opportunity to tease him. And besides, they were all still out for the day. Except Belphie, but he was probably the last one you should ask.

Just then you heard the familiar click of the front door as it closed, and steady, heavy footsteps ascending the stairs. BEEL! He’d be perfect. He should have no trouble finding Levi, and he certainly wouldn’t tease him for his predicament, at least not maliciously.

Wasting no time, you flew out of your room and caught the Avatar of Gluttony right as he reached the top of the stairs.

“Beel!”

“Hey,” he said as he looked you over, trying to figure out what could have sent you dashing out of your room in such a rush. He knew you had been enjoying a quiet day by yourself, as he had decided against inviting you to watch his practice earlier to make sure you’d rest, so he wasn’t quite sure what could have happened while you read a book.

“I need your help. Please. I’m supposed to meet Levi, but umm, I’m not quite sure where he is. I think he might have gotten a bit turned around too.”

Even though you knew Beel wouldn’t have said anything to his brothers, you weren’t sure exactly what Levi was up to and why he went out, so you did your best to cover for him and offer a plausible explanation for why he wasn’t in his room where he should be.

“Sure. Of course,” Beel replied with a smile. He didn’t believe you for a moment though, you were way too flustered to just be meeting up with Levi. And if all you needed were directions, you could have easily called up any of his brothers to assist you. And why would Levi be out of the house without you anyways? He rarely left his room as it was, and whenever he did these days it was always with you.

Ah. That must be it. Levi had gotten lost. Perhaps he was trying to surprise you somehow, and his plan backfired. It didn’t really matter though, Beel would help you out and get you to Levi, no questions asked.

“You’ll need to buy me a burger. I’m starving after practice.”

“Deal!” you agreed, “Just let me grab my shoes and let Levi know I’m on my way. I’ll meet you downstairs in just a sec.”

Without waiting for Beel’s response you spun on your heel, returning to your room to get dressed. Since you would need to make a stop to grab Beel his food once you got into town, you decided to grab something for Levi too. Something that you were sure would put a smile on his face. Quickly, you began typing out a reply to Levi, hoping you could soothe some of his anxiety while he waited.

“Hey. I’ll be there soon. Don’t move,” you hesitated for a bit before sending the next part, unsure if giving him a heads up would make things worse or give him a chance to prepare himself. You decided it was best to warn him so he wouldn’t be too surprised and flustered when he saw you, “Beel is coming with me.”

———

“Beel is coming with me.”

Levi let out a groan as he collapsed on the ground. Could this get any worse? It was bad enough he had to let you know just how much of a loser he was, getting lost while trying to exercise, of all things. But now Beel was going to know too? Why did you have to tell him?

No, he couldn’t blame you. It wasn’t like you were all too familiar with the Devildom yourself after all. Levi had lived here for over a thousand years and he still had managed to get lost. He couldn’t expect you to fair any better than him, as pathetic as he may be. And out of all his brothers, Beel was probably the safest choice. Belphie would have teased and mocked him mercilessly, and he didn’t even want to think about how obnoxious Mammon would have been. Yeah, Beel was fine.

Propping himself up on his elbows, Levi took a look around to see if he could make out any landmarks or familiar buildings. He appeared to still be in a park of some kind. The walking trails hadn’t seemed too popular or well used when he found it initially, which is precisely why he had chosen this location. Less of a chance of someone seeing him, which really had seemed like a good idea at the time.

For a moment he thought about getting up and walking some more on the off chance he’d be able to escape on his own, but then he remembered your instructions to just stay put so he settled back down, and turned his attention to the sky overhead.

It wasn’t often Levi got to enjoy the stars since he spent most of his time inside. Looking at them now, he could see why Belphie liked to take naps in the planetarium so much. The vastness of it all was relaxing, and the longer he laid there, the smaller and smaller his problems seemed.

He thought about how he had wanted to impress you, which is what led to his current situation. You always were happy to see him, and as far as he could tell, you were genuinely excited about the thought of spending time with him.

But he envied how easily Mammon could just scoop you up and carry you away. Why was he so fast anyways? And he saw how you lit up when Satan had danced with you so gracefully and managed to dip you just right, like something out of a romance movie. And Beel...well there was no point in comparing himself on that front. He’d fall short across the board, in all categories.

And yeah, he might be able to over power most of his brothers when it came to magical abilities, but that didn’t exactly help when it came to doing things you enjoyed. It wasn’t like he could summon up Lotan just to join you when you wanted to explore the Devildom.

So the first step, naturally, seemed to be to get into better shape. Running had proven too hard for him when had tried it with you previously, so he figured walking would surely be much easier, something even a shut in like himself could manage. And oh boy had he been wrong. So very very wrong.

———

As Levi laid in the grass, gazing out into the sky, you couldn’t help but smile at him. He was safe, and didn’t appear too worse for wear. You weren’t sure how, but Beel had managed to lead you to the right spot, much quicker than you had thought possible. You guessed it wasn’t that surprising though, Beel exercised regularly so he likely knew all the paths and routes around here. And even though you didn’t really tell him the truth as to why you needed help finding Levi, he seemed to have worked it out on his own.

“BOO!”

“Ahhhh!!”

Levi let out a high pitched squeal and you cackled as he floundered on the ground, scrambling to right himself.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you said, wiping the tears from your eyes as you regained your composure, “I just couldn’t resist.”

But Levi didn’t care. You were here now and he wasn’t alone anymore. To say he was relieved to see you would have been the understatement of the century. No, millennia probably. You looked like an angel to him.

“Oh, what’s that?”

Levi gestured to the large, heavy basket hanging from your arms. It looked suspiciously like a picnic basket, but he had no idea why you had one with you. He could see Beel standing a bit behind you, it appeared he was carrying two as well.

“It’s our lunch, obviously. Or would it be “linner” now?”, you shrugged, “Anyways, I made sure to pack a bunch of your favorites so we could have a nice picnic together. I included bentos too.”

His eyes lit up at that. What was this? Had he fallen asleep and was now in some dream world? Maybe he actually never left the house this morning and he was in fact trapped in a dating sim this whole time? Not only had you come to his rescue, but you managed to get there in what he was sure was record time, and brought him food to boot.

“And don’t worry. Beel has a couple baskets of his own, so they’ll be plenty left for us.”

You flashed Levi a smile and handed him your basket, before grabbing the picnic blanket you had packed and smoothing it out in front of you. As Levi moved to join you on top of the blanket, you leaned in and whispered to him,

“I hope you don’t mind, but I told Beel we were having a picnic. It was the best explanation I could come up. I’m not sure he bought it though, but he didn’t ask any questions at least.”

Levi could seriously kiss you right now. Or at least he would if this was actually a dating sim. And if Beel hadn’t now joined the two of you on the picnic blanket. So for the moment he’ll just settle for enjoying your company.

[hermionemonica]

The Road to Us, and Everything in Between: Chapter 1

I have been working on this AU for over a year now, and I finally decided to share this with y’all on the occasion of reaching a new milestone (500 followers yayy!). I hope you all like this!

(This is a no magic AU. There is no existence of the Miraculous or the superheroes in this universe.)

Dedicated to @marshmeowllowmuffins who has been so excited about this for so long!

AO3 | Chapter 2

.

A winter night. A familiar chime on her phone.  

Marinette unlocked her phone to find a text from her boyfriend of three years, Nathaniel.  

"There’s something we need to talk about. It’s high time you know everything about me. Tomorrow. And please, Marinette, don’t misunderstand me."  

The tone of the text carried an ominous message. What could Nathaniel be talking about? Did he not love her anymore? Did he want to break up with her? Was he dying? Marinette had the worst eight hours before class the next day, her mind endlessly playing all the worst scenarios over and over again. She couldn’t afford to lose Nate.  

And even with all that overthinking, the truth turned out to be something she had not expected at all.  

"I am gay," Nathaniel mumbled under his breath.  

At that moment, Marinette was probably too shocked to actually process what her “boyfriend" had just said, and what exactly it implied. Her response to it was “It's okay! I still love you!"  

"You don’t understand!" Nathaniel retorted, a mixture of embarrassment pain and irritation on his face. "I don’t love you, at least not the way you thought. I never will be able to!"  

Nathaniel sat down, and Marinette followed suit. She was still in a state of utter confusion and shock, but she instinctively did what she always did whenever Nathaniel was in anguish. She took his hand into hers, as he told her about the person his heart belonged to. Marc Anciel. Whom Nate had called his "best friend", and who turned out to be "the love of his life".  

Nathaniel wasn’t publicly out yet, and Marinette was the first person he had trusted with his secret. Not even Marc knew. Hell, Nate wasn’t even sure if Marc liked him the same way.  

It was a totally different thing that every word uttered by Nathaniel was driving a knife through Marinette’s heart. What exactly was she supposed to feel right now? She kept quiet as Nathaniel went over every incident with precise detail, which left nothing much unclear. Except for one part. Unable to hold it in anymore, she blurted out "Then who am I to you?"  

Nathaniel wasn’t quite able to meet her eye. But his voice was sincere when he said "You are my best friend, Marinette. Don’t get me wrong, I have always loved you, and I still do. Just not in the way you expected of me."  

“How long have you known?” Marinette asked.  

“Almost two years, actually,” Nathaniel replied in a low voice. “Please don't get angry that I hid it from you.”  

‘Angry’ was not even close to what Marinette was feeling.  

Nathaniel continued. “I didn't know at the time when we started dating. I wasn't very comfortable being close to you, but I guessed that was because it was my first relationship, and I was nervous. But time passed and I didn't even get the courage to kiss you. And then when I met Marc, I felt all those things that I was supposed to feel for you. There wasn't much left to figure out after that.”  

Marinette took a deep breath. "So, what happens now? You, me, this relationship, where does this go next?"  

"I leave that to you,” Nathaniel wrung his hands. “After everything, you deserve the right to decide for yourself. I promise I’ll be okay with whatever you decide. I trust you."  

As if the revelation hadn’t been enough for her brain, now it was her responsibility to handle it. "I think I need some time." She stood up.  

"Sure, let me know when you feel like," Nathaniel said, fearing the worst, and feeling defeated. "Just, keep this between us for now, please?"  

Marinette turned to look at him. "Not even Marc?"  

"Not even Marc."  

"Alright. I’ll text you later."  

After Marinette got home, she cried her heart out. Marinette had never been what they call homophobic, but it was one thing to support her friends like Juleka and Rose, and a whole other thing to have her own boyfriend come out to her as gay. No matter how much she pretended it was okay, she knew that this changed everything. Everything she had, or rather she thought she had, was a lie, was something that never was. Her first love, the person she had believed to have reciprocated her feelings, never even thought of her that way. All the stolen moments, holding hands, secret glances, cute messages – none of them meant anything. It was all a big lie. What was the truth then? What assurance was there that her entire life wasn't a lie?  

Her thoughts flitted back to the beginning of her relationship with Nathaniel. How she had fallen in love with the shy kid who sat in the back of the class, drawing away in his sketchbook. She had been only fourteen years old at that time, and the red-haired boy had stolen her heart. She had never thought something could happen between them, because she was too shy. But Nathaniel had noticed her. And when he had asked her about it one day, the colour of his cheeks matching his hair, Marinette hadn't been able to deny. And just like that, they had started dating. In the beginning, they had tried to keep it a secret, because Nathaniel had been scared of all the gossip. But Marinette had been too obvious; they had managed to keep it hidden for no more than six weeks.  

And then happened something that Marinette hadn't really been expecting. Everyone had warned her against Nathaniel. They had said he was “weird". Her friends had said that he was not the right guy. But Marinette had stood her ground. Yes, she had definitely ended up forging distances with her friends, but she had thought it was worth it. One time, she had punched a guy right in his face, because he had called her boyfriend a “fag". Nathaniel had texted her that night, saying how grateful he was that Marinette stood up for him, and how proud he was to have a girlfriend who trusted him.  

It was around then that Marinette had begun to realise why Nathaniel was so shy and introverted; it was because of how everyone else would treat him. They would mock him because he had feminine tastes, and make fun of him because he did not indulge in the kind of things that the other boys did. Marinette's heart cried for the poor boy. She had decided that she would do anything to help him build back his confidence. So she had begun to encourage him to pursue what he was good at: art. Bit by bit, she had brought out the real Nathaniel. At first, he had opened up to her, showing her his sketches. Marinette had discovered that Nathaniel’s artistic abilities were very versatile. He could sketch and draw and paint. His subjects also varied largely, starting from portraits to landscapes to mythical creatures and superheroes to scenes from daily life. Nathaniel had also let her into his other talents, ones no one knew about. Like singing; Marinette had had no idea Nathaniel had such a sweet voice. One day he had offered to do her hair and makeup, and when he was done, Marinette had never felt more beautiful in her life. When Marinette had visited Nathaniel's home for a sleepover, he had made her such excellent pasta that she had wondered if it had been brought from some restaurant.  

Gradually Nathaniel had begun to shine out. Marinette had encouraged him at every step of his life, and she had been there to see him evolve. And for this Nathaniel could never thank her enough. But Marinette would always say that Nathaniel's smile was the biggest gift for her.  

Nathaniel had been very reserved with showing his affections. And Marinette never had a problem with that, because that made the rare moments even more special.  

Sure, Nathaniel and Marinette's relationship was not like her other friends, but she loved what they had. And she loved him.  

And now, it was all over. No, it had never existed. It was all a pretension. Nathaniel had never been in love with her. This was a make-believe game, only Marinette had mistaken it all to be real.  

Now that she knew, it did seem to her that she should have figured it out sooner. After all, she had always known that Marc had a special place in Nathaniel's heart, maybe even above Marinette. But she had trusted Nathaniel too much. And besides, she had always felt it was wrong to think of it as anything else, when Nathaniel had himself insisted that they were “best friends". Well, what did it matter now? The ground was slipping away from under her feet, and there was nothing that could make it better.  

She knew that she needed to get it together. She was not at liberty to talk to others about what had happened, nor was she ready to weave any more lies. The only way was to look and behave normally. Which meant she would have to pretend that everything was okay between herself and Nathaniel. She had never thought that this relationship would be a burden to her, but there it was.  

Marinette stayed in her room all evening and thought it over. She loved Nathaniel, and she could not imagine her life without her. Nathaniel needed her, but he was not in love with her. Nobody could know what changed in their relationship in the past few hours. Taking all of it into consideration, it left only one option to her.  

Marinette realised it would be difficult for her to talk to Nathaniel directly, at least for the moment. So, she wrote him a message.  

“Nathaniel, I have loved you and I still do. You said you have loved me as well, just not in the way I did. I believe you. And I don't hate you, neither do I feel disgusted by you, nor pity you. Because this is who you are. I fell in love with the person, Nate, not the identity.  

“I have come to a decision. I am not leaving you. I am not ready to face that or provide others with any explanation for that. I guess neither are you. So we have to keep on this pretension of a relationship, at least till both of us are ready. If you are okay with it, of course.  

“I promise nothing will change between us. Except maybe my expectations. Now that I know and understand, you can trust me.  

“You said I have been the best friend you've ever had. All I ask is that you let me continue to be your best friend.  

“And lastly, thank you for trusting me. Thank you for believing that I am worthy of knowing. And thank you for having given me a chance.”

Nathaniel’s reply came in the form of a message too.  

“Oh Marinette, I knew you would find a solution! What have I ever done that I found such an angel like you! You are so amazing Marinette, any guy would be lucky to have you. And yet, the person you chose to be with turned out to be someone who could never love you the way you deserve to be loved. I am sorry Marinette, I am sorry for all the pain I have caused you and am causing you even now. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me, if not now then at least someday.” 

“Never apologise for being who you are, Nathaniel,” Marinette would tell him, and Nathaniel would say that was the most beautiful thing anyone had ever told him.  

Things slowly fell into place after that. Marinette made her peace with everything, convincing herself that no matter what, she could at least be around Nate, be a presence in his life. And their friendship just got stronger with the increased trust. They were happy. Marinette was happy. Almost.  

If not for the gnawing thought in her mind that she had voluntarily given up her chance at happiness in order to pretend to be in a relationship with someone who would never love her that way. Yes, Nathaniel was a wonderful person and Marinette loved him so much. But it was so difficult to pretend, to lie to everyone, to hide the truth. As for Nathaniel though, he seemed so much happier. So carefree. Now that Marinette knew his secret, he had found someone he could share his innermost thoughts with. Marinette was glad she could bring happiness to the person she loved. Nate’s smile was the only thing that kept her going.  

When they finished high school, Marinette obviously decided to pursue Fashion, while Nathaniel opted for Graphic Design. Naturally, they had to split their ways. But they made it a point to keep in contact. After all, they had grown too close to let go of each other so easily.  

On her first day of university, Marinette received a surprise. She came to know that in the same university, in the Fashion Business department, studied the one and only Adrien Agreste!  

Adrien Agreste was the son of Gabriel Agreste, the once-famous fashion designer. When Marinette was in high school, she had idolized Gabriel Agreste. But a few years ago, his secretary, Nathalie Sancouer, had revealed to the public that Mr Agreste was mentally unstable, and had physically and psychologically abused his son and his employees on multiple occasions. Several lawsuits and public scandals later, the Agreste fashion company had been removed from his hands, and he was taken into custody by the psychiatric unit. It was all over the news. Adrien was only seventeen years old when he became the CEO of Agreste Fashion. However, Miss Sancouer had decided to manage the company on behalf of Adrien, at least till he finished his studies and became qualified enough to take over the controls.  

When Marinette was a young girl, she had had a celebrity crush on Adrien. It was hard not to, Adrien had been into modelling since early teenage, and he was understandably gorgeous. Marinette had been through a phase when she used to have posters of Adrien all over the walls of the room. But then, Nathaniel had come along and Marinette never had eyes for anyone else.  

Marinette had been surprised to know that Adrien Agreste was studying in the same university as she was. Then again, it had been quite some time since the lawsuits, and Adrien was anything but a celebrity now. But that didn't stop her from gawking her eyes out when she first lay her eyes on Adrien. Marinette had always thought he was handsome, but now she saw that puberty had done wonders on him. No photos could ever do justice to how absolutely gorgeous he looked in real life, even without all the make-up or expensive clothes. Marinette couldn't help but be intimidated by him, and so she tried to look away whenever they crossed paths.  

At first, Marinette didn't think it was a matter significant enough to tell Nathaniel. Adrien was just another student, someone Marinette had never even talked to. Nathaniel had never been very keen about fashion and modelling, and Marinette doubted if he knew about Adrien's life. She had never told him about her past celebrity crush, so there was that too. Nathaniel probably wouldn't think this was anything important. And after all, with their separate lives now, they couldn't talk about every single thing that happened in the little time they could make for each other. At least that was the justification she gave to herself.  

The unexpected turn came one day when she saw Adrien sitting by himself on one of the benches near the sports compound. Her first instinct was to turn the other way round and run away, but something made her look closer. Adrien looked sad and at the same time, agitated. Marinette was already done with her classes for the day. The empathetic side of her took over her, and she went up to him.  

“Is anything wrong?” she asked.  

Adrien jumped up at her voice, as if he had not expected anyone to catch him there. Once he calmed down though, he was surprisingly willing to talk. It was almost as if all he was waiting for was someone to listen to him. He had a presentation due in the next period, he said, and he had accidentally ripped his jacket.  

“It is my lucky jacket, and it, umm... has memories associated with it.”  

Marinette would later learn that the jacket had been a gift to Adrien from his late mother.  

“I don't have enough time to go home and change, and I don't know how to mend rips.” Adrien sounded really helpless.  

“That's it?” Marinette asked incredulously, but immediately toned down, realising that it might come off as rude. “I can help you there.”  

“Y-you would?” Adrien asked with disbelief, as if it was the strangest thing in the world to be offered help.  

“I'm a Designs student, and being pretty clumsy myself, I am used to such situations.” Marinette offered, taking out her emergency sewing kit from her bag.  

When Marinette was just about to begin the first sew, Adrien touched her hand to stop her. Reading his worries from his face, Marinette assured him, “Don't worry. I won't ruin it. The stitch won't even be visible, because I happen to have thread of the exact same colour as your jacket. Trust me.”  

Adrien relaxed considerably on hearing that.  

After the stitching was done, which took barely a few minutes, Marinette held it up for Adrien to see. Marinette had not expected to see such an expression of surprise on his face. Adrien had been associated with a fashion firm for all his life, surely a simple stitch couldn't be that impressive. But as it turned out, Adrien was hugely impressed.  

“Thank you so much, you have no idea how much it means to me.”  

Marinette felt her cheeks on fire. “It was my pleasure.”  

And then, suddenly, Adrien looked awkward. “How-how much do I have to...” He stammered with his hands fidgeting in his pocket.  

Marinette was aghast at the implication. “Oh, please no. Please don't even think about paying me or anything.”  

“But...” Adrien objected.  

Marinette smiled inwardly. Oh these rich people, she thought, used to paying for everything in money. Adrien certainly had a long way to go in social interaction still.  

“Just think of this as a favour from a friend,” Marinette explained.  

“A friend?” Adrien asked in a soft whisper, almost surprised.  

Marinette couldn't fathom why a blush spread over his cheeks at that word. She flashed a grin at him. “I think so.”  

“So, umm, do you think we can exchange phone numbers?” Adrien asked awkwardly. “No, no, don't get me wrong,” he continued hastily. “Not for any more favours! Just, you know, I haven't really had many friends before.”  

“Well, you sure have one more now, Adrien,” Marinette replied with a smile, taking her phone out of her bag.  

But when she looked at him, he was staring at her with a quizzical expression on his face. Seriously, had this guy never had a conversation before, that he had to react like this at everything she said?  

Marinette stared right back at him, her eyebrows raised in question.  

“You know my name?” asked Adrien. “But I don't think we've met before?”  

Marinette couldn't hold back her laugh. Was he for real? “Who doesn't know you, Adrien Agreste?”  

Adrien smiled at that, but Marinette didn't miss the shadow that passed over his features. Did she say something wr- Oh shit. He was thinking that Marinette knew him from the scandal, wasn’t he? Oh no, this poor boy, what was she going to say now?  

“I-I mean, Miss Delacour isn't really that non-vocal about one of the most promising students she's ever seen, as she likes to put it,” Marinette managed as much of light-hearted sarcasm into that line as she could.  

To her relief, Adrien visibly relaxed; he seemed to have bought it.  

Marinette let out a breath discreetly, and handed her phone to Adrien so that he could type in his number. Adrien accepted it, and handed his own phone over for the same.  

While returning his phone, Marinette said with a smile, “Marinette Dupain-Cheng, from the Designs department.”  

Adrien's eyes lit up, as he squealed, “Oh I've heard about you! You're pretty much of a celebrity in your own line, you know?”  

Marinette looked away to hide her blazing blush.  

“Guess I'll see you around then?” asked Adrien, as he picked up his bag and turned to leave.  

“Sure,” replied Marinette with a smile.  

There could be no satisfactory explanation for why Marinette had refrained from telling Nathaniel about the conversation with Adrien. When Nathaniel asked her how her day had been, she intentionally left out the part when she had talked with Adrien and struck up a friendship with him. Why? Marinette had no answer to that.  

Since that day, Adrien and Marinette had often run into each other in the corridors, and even had conversations in the cafeteria or in the common room during free periods. Although they weren't exceptionally close or anything, Adrien's face always lit up on seeing Marinette. Marinette, on the other hand, often felt her heart flutter when she talked to Adrien. Nathaniel, on the other hand, was unaware of this growing friendship. There was no reason why Marinette would hide such a trivial thing as a new friendship from her boy-er, best friend, given that they had got used to sharing every little thing, but even then, she couldn't bring herself to, for some unexplained reason. Although this baffled Marinette, she guessed it was for the better. That way, she could stop Nathaniel from teasing her about Adrien, and also, she wouldn’t have to lie to Adrien about her “boyfriend".

[dennou-translations]

Kagerou Daze VIII: Chapter 13

Summer Time Record -side No.7-

Please feel free to message me about possible corrections. If you can, consider supporting the creators by purchasing the official releases in Japanese or in English. In case anyone is feeling generous: Ko-fi | PayPal. ( ╹◡╹)っ’･*

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Certain groups of people would often compare their lives to others’ and try to immerse themselves in the thought that “come to think of it, I’ve come pretty far”, but I could affirm one thing. That there was probably no one who had come as far as me. After all, I was in a “parallel world”.

However, if this was a parallel world, I wanted to be provided with at least a sword, magic, an elf maid, big boobs and big boobs. Right, there was not enough romance in this world. The so-called romance that would make my soul beat fervently...

“What were you thinking just now?”

“About our comrades. About how they were... good guys.”

I put on nihilistic airs, yet perhaps having seen through something, Ayano knitted her eyebrows, looking dubious, and puffed out a “huun”.

Ayano and I were merely walking on a pathway made by the Kagerou Daze. Kagerou Daze reflected scenes that existed inside each of our hearts, was what Haruka-senpai had told me, but the scenery projected by my heart was quite tasteless. After all, it was just the school route from our high school days, exactly how it used to be.

Even as I tried to look back on it, I couldn’t find any happy memories from going home from school, and for starters, when I thought that this scene was my life’s number one remarkable scenario, it made me realize that my life had been lacking in color, if I could say so myself. Still, I didn’t get it very well but Ayano seemed to have taken great liking of that scenery and was grinning a lot. Really, I wouldn’t understand the minds of women until I died. No, I had to take that back. Even after dying, I couldn’t understand.

“They made their decision, huh. To reset, I mean,” Ayano said as if it were nothing, kicking a rock on the side of the road.

“Yeah. Well, I did think it’d turn out like that.” I accepted the rock as if receiving a pass from Ayano, kicking it away with the momentum of my pace.

We didn’t manage to win.

Although nobody could feel it, the fact that we had prevented the unreasonable retrogression of this world might also be considered “saving the world”, in a sense. That being said, no matter how much we raised our voices about it, not a single person would believe us. From the perspectives of others, things that couldn’t be proved were nothing but “fabrications”. Even if many people were to believe it and treated us like “heroes”... even then, it would be for naught.

After all, what we had ultimately chosen was to “reset the world” – the very same deed that Clearing had been planning.

The conception that this world would have reset even if we had left it alone anyway and that we should go with it since no one would find out was truly the worst. As if we were pushing the “reset” button of a video game, the world would go back to zero after this, without anyone knowing. Just like that, Clearing’s scheme would bear fruit.

“Was there... any meaning to our fight?” Ayano spilled out intermittently. When I looked at her face, as expected, it didn’t seem like she was saying that due to hesitation.

“I think so,” I replied to her words while kicking a newly found pebble. “We knew ‘despair’ because we ended up finding out that the world is gonna be over.”

“You’re... right. If we didn’t know, it would’ve reset without us noticing anything.”

“Those who didn’t know that the world was gonna end might think there was no meaning to this fight. But for us, who found out that the world was ending, there was meaning in our fighting, is what I think.”

The pebble sprung up and rolled down into the gutter.

“We’ve had this talk countless times, haven’t we?” She laughed as if to indicate how stupid this was.

“We’ve had it hundreds of times. It’s weird but I don’t get tired of it.” Enticed, I also gave a smile.

We moved forward, heading toward the unsetting sun. On a path that would surely lead us nowhere, no matter how many days or years we kept walking.

“Clearing didn’t want to disappear, huh,” was what suddenly leaked from my mouth. “He had an ‘identity’ of his own. But he’s an Ability. They disappear when ‘wishes’ come true.”

“Probably, yeah. That’s why he tried to do a retrogression and prolong his ‘wish’. Because he can live for as long as the wish isn’t fulfilled.”

“Yeah. Meaning that, most likely... we’ve already fought like this for hundreds of thousands of times and reset the world each time. Otherwise, there’d be no coherence.”

Ayano’s walking halted completely. “Did you... ask Clearing about that?”

At her anxious way of talking, I pulled up the corners of my mouth. “Aah, that might be good too. The guy he’s possessing... is a friend of mine.”

“Even if this is the end... I’m against dangerous stuff.” Ayano puffed her cheeks.

As expected, I took pity upon her and said it was a joke, then started walking once again.

Walking after me, Ayano said while trying to match my pace, “How rare, Shintarou, for you to say ‘friend’ so straightforwardly.”

“Ah? Ah~, indeed, that might be true.”

“T-Then... am I... your ‘friend’?”

Even though the sun had not yet set, the end of summer was closely approaching. Would I still remember this feeling until the next summer came by? Our memories would definitely not stay with us. But for some reason, I had a conviction similar to a vision that “there’s no way I’d forget”.

I wouldn’t forget this fight. I wouldn’t forget those guys I met. I wouldn’t forget that we had sworn not to forget, even if I died.

Ayano urged for my answer.

I replied listlessly with a “who knows” and resumed walking.

[autisticchicc]

Autism and Love

TW: Mentions of physical and emotional abuse, drug-related metaphor

Love and obsession, for me, are separated by a very thin line. Even if I weren’t autistic, I know I would still love fiercely, but I also know that autism has a profound effect on the way that I feel and express love.

In my life there have been numerous occasions where I thought I was in love, and I often still debate with myself about whether I have ever been ‘in love’. Nowadays I tend to take the view that love is something very personal, and just because it doesn’t last doesn’t make it any less valid. Being someone who is still on good or even great terms with all of my ex partners, I’d say I absolutely loved them at one point in my life. Maybe I still do love them, but I live a strictly categorised life. That love is now a purely a platonic love that comes from knowing and trusting someone for a long time. That ability to categorise so strictly is something some of my exes have had a hard time coming to terms with, I am quick to move them into the platonic love category and keep them there. Once someone has been placed in the platonic category, they do not leave. I don’t get back with ex-partners, and I don’t actually think its possible due to that strict categorisation.

My very first boyfriend sent me a message the other day asking if I ever still think about him. I replied honestly and said that I do not. I think that this comes from the strict categorisation too. If you are my friend, I think about you, but not that often. I have a lot of things happening in my head at all times, a sensory cornucopia that is exhausting to sort through, a conscious stream of five or six trains of thought, and my special interests. Special interests are a really intriguing factor in the context of autistic love, because I believe that the intense focus and adoration we treat our interests with absolutely translates to the people we fall in love with.

Anyone who has been close friends with me while in a relationship knows how insufferable I am when I love someone. I talk about them at any given opportunity, for longer than the other person probably cares to hear about it at times. When I love someone, they become a source of great inspiration, I find the characters I write resembling them, I could spend hours editing pictures and videos of them, my artwork is littered with their image. Love, for me, is an all-encapsulating thing. It invades every aspect of my life, consciously or subconsciously. They become the most beautiful person in my eyes, I drink in their image as though dehydrated. Curiously, even things I perhaps did not like about them before suddenly become things I look at fondly. Something about that shift from like to love, it is a very powerful shift for me.

Ironically, I’m not very forthright with my expressions of love. After mulling it over for years, I’ve realised that I’ve been conditioned to believe that love and pain go hand in hand. When you love someone, you must expect them to hurt you. At least, that’s what I thought until I deconstructed why I thought that. I had become accustomed to people weaponising my love for them, using it to blackmail me emotionally or to excuse physical abuse. As such, although I feel so deeply for the people I love, I am always very anxious about showing it in ways that can be used against me. I don’t show them the story or the art that I created inspired by them, for fear that they might think me obsessed for spending so much time on something pertaining to them.

I get very embarrassed when performing acts of service for my partners. I enjoy tidying and cleaning a lot, and I often want to do it for my partners to make their lives easier, but I get scared that they will think I’m being subservient and that they can take advantage of me. When I see my partner enjoying something or fostering a talent, I desperately want to invest in it, buy them tools and find resources so that they can develop it further, but am scared that they will think me strange and over-enthusiastic. I’m the kind of partner that loves extremely hard, and wants to express it as such, but I cannot quite get over the shame.

I have only recently been able to engage in non-sexual physical touch without flinching. Learning that touch is your love language when you have been shying away from it for years is a strange thing. It almost feels like a betrayal of sorts. Why was I denied this thing that I love for so long? And the reality is, it was a part of that fear. I have to be vulnerable with someone in order to allow them to touch me. Vulnerability has never come easily for me, although I always desperately wanted it. Finding someone that I can entangle limbs with, that I can kiss and hug on a whim, that I can show physical affection in my ‘weird’ autistic ways with has been very therapeutic for me. For the first time, I feel like I can have vulnerability and touch without it being thrown back in my face. It feels desired and reciprocated, not only do I want to touch and hold this person, but they want to touch and hold me too.

Another lesson within that has been ensuring that while I maintain my tough, outer visage, I am honest about needing to be soft and fragile sometimes. I have always been forced into being strong and resilient, it was never a conscious choice that I made for myself. I was forever pushed to be strong for other people, constantly making sure that those that needed me didn’t have to see me struggling or breaking under pressure. I never had someone I felt I could truly cry in front of, ugly, drunken sobbing type of crying. At least not without feeling judged or treated like a flight risk. Having someone I can be unapologetically sad in front of and they don’t force me to be strong for their own comfort feels so alien to me, but the relief it fills me with is immense. I am no longer pretending, and I am no longer embarrassed to be fragile. I can break down in front of this person and they will never question my strength.  

While crying and vulnerability are certainly an obvious hurdle for plenty of people in relationships, for autistic people there is the added stress of getting used to unmasking in front of a partner. I didn’t get diagnosed for a very long time, which will tell you just how good I am at masking. As a Hispanic girl, a lot of my behaviours weren’t reprimanded too much. Being loud and aggressive is normal in Spanish culture, and oftentimes isn’t even interpreted as aggression the way it is in the UK. Conversely, I did terribly with the tactile nature of social interaction in Spain and among Hispanics. I didn’t want to kiss strangers or even family members on both cheeks, I didn’t like having my cheeks squeezed by old women, and I didn’t like people touching, grabbing, or shaking me. But I was unfortunately forced to do it for my own survival. I don’t know if the sentiments around disabilities have changed in Spain, but the way I remember it in the part I grew up in was that they weren’t talked about. I didn’t even know what disabilities were until I came to the UK.

In England, pretty much every aspect of my behaviour was reprimanded; my loudness, my ‘aggression’, my opinionated disposition, my lack of a filter, my inability to understand my classmates’ feelings… The list goes on and on. At a certain point, I learned to just hold in a lot of my personality until I got home. What I didn’t realise that I was actually holding in some instinctive behaviours in privacy as well, I would flinch and stop if I noticed myself stimming, my face would go red when I couldn’t verbalise properly, and I often found myself practicing facial expressions in the bathroom mirror because I was self-conscious that I wasn’t doing them ‘correctly’. I started my own personal journey so to speak about a year ago to completely unmask, alone. I still cringe when I catch my arms pulling up into ‘t-rex’ form or if I start verbally/physically stimming, but I’m slowly becoming less ashamed of myself.

Consequently, unmasking in front of someone else has been incredibly nerve-wracking. The ‘issue’ (I say issue but it’s quite the opposite) is that I’m so comfortable in my partner’s home that I unmask without even realising it. Something I’ve noticed however, is that half the time they don’t. When my fingers twist and rub against each other, I glance up nervously to see if I’m being watched. No one has even glanced at me. I stammer and mess up my sentence, or my mouth fails halfway through, and yet even then no one laughs or looks at me strangely, they just wait for me to rectify or finish the sentence. I wonder if part of me still thinks I’m under the ultra-critical gaze of my secondary school peers, expecting to be torn to shreds verbally over my quirks as I always was, but it never happens. I have to constantly remind myself that I am well liked here, and my quirks are something people are fond of now.

Overall, love as an autistic person is intense and difficult, but an experience that is so all-consuming it feels almost like you’re on some kind of drug. I’m a very logical, science-based person, but love is one of the few things that still feels remotely magical to me. It can draw me out of my cold, black and white world and into an illogical whirlpool of emotion. I rarely act on emotion alone, but love is something that certainly has the power to make me do so. It embarrasses me a lot, it makes me feel out my depth, it makes me behave in ways I normally wouldn’t, but I’ll endure those feelings any day for the reward. I still have a long way to go before I can properly express myself to a partner, but one day I’d really like to be able to show them all my projects inspired by them, and the true level of sappiness I’m capable of (lol).

[lilikags]

Aluxia Fanris OC Backstory

Disclaimer: we don’t know much about fontaine so I’ll scrap her if canon makes it difficult for her to exist Q_Q

I’ve written a lot for her, so this’ll be broken into many different parts [see links to other parts below!!]

link to picrew

Introduction | About | Personality | Likes/Dislikes + Appearance | Backstory | Vision Backstory | Combat Abilities | Trivia | Voicelines 

Aluxia always thought that if she was going to get a vision, it’d be a pyro one. After all, her view of herself always consisted of using sheer will to get through difficult situations. Anemo, I would’ve never thought. Am I looking for freedom? Or am I simply trapped… The thing she never noticed was how everything she did was related to her father. He himself had nothing to do with it; it was all Aluxia’s doing, trapping herself in the chains of revenge against a man who did nothing but leave. 

No one suspected anything at the time. After all, to everyone, they seemed like nothing but a happy family, content with what they had and what they were doing. Their only child smiled brightly and was always welcomed within the neighborhood. Everyone loved her. That family smiled a lot; they held lots of parties for every occasion, inviting their friends for each. The child smiled at everyone, and she laughed when adults and children alike wanted to play with her. In some definitions, it could be considered the perfect family.

 Aluxia grew up around her father. She followed him around everywhere, and he held her hand wherever they went. He even took her to work sometimes, when he had a job as an accountant. She sat in the office quietly, drawing on scrap paper meant to go to the garbage. After all, if it could be reused, it should. She spent a lot of time with him on the weekends too, when they went to hunt animals. She’d stay behind with Alencia and watch from afar, and when Antonin would come back, she’d run up to him and hug him. 

When Aluxia was with her friends and Alencia went to pick her up, she’d ask, “Where’s Papa?” He seemed to be the center of her life, the idol she wanted to be like. When she was asked what she wanted to be when she grew up, she said, “I wanna be an accountant! Like my Papa!” When people started joking about what she was going to do when she got married, she’d respond, “I’m not gonna get married! I’m gonna stay with Mama and Papa forever!” and stuck her tongue at them. So innocent.

When Ainos and Elma were born, Antonin spent his time with the newborn babies rather than Aluxia. After all, the younger the child is, the more attention you’d generally need to give them. Additionally, there were two of them, so both Alencia and Antonin were busy and couldn’t spend as much time with Aluxia than before. Aluxia accompanied her father everywhere she could, even moving back into her parents bed just to be with them more. 

The day Antonin disappeared, Aluxia had gotten up early. She wanted to cook breakfast for the family; she was going to show off her way of making sunny side up eggs and bacon and bread. She swore to herself that she was going to impress everyone, and they were all going to be so proud and happy. When she got up, she noticed her father wasn’t there. It was strange; she was always the first one up. 

“Papa…? Where are you going?” she asked, rubbing her eyes.

He turned around, facing the young child, “Oh, I’m just going out to buy something. I’ll be back later.”

“Later? When later?” Aluxia showed a worried face. She hated the word “later”. It was so indefinite; it could mean “in the next few minutes” or “in a few years from now”, and without clarification, no one would know. 

“Just later, okay? I’ll be back, don’t worry,” he gave her an awkward smile, different from any other smile he had shown her. Aluxia just stood there, in a daze.

“Okay…” she replied, not knowing he wouldn’t come back. 

Aluxia waited for him, for a very long time. Every day, she awaited his return, but to no avail. He was nowhere to be seen. The longer he was gone, the more Alencia would refuse to function. They had sent the police to find him, but when they came back with the report that they found no one, Alencia simply wept. She was still pregnant with Celen, and when he was born, all she did was take care of him to take her mind off Antonin. She could not. With both of the family’s sources of income gone, Aluxia had to do it herself. There were expenses to pay and ends to meet, and the only one remotely capable of doing so was her.

At first, Aluxia tried to enter competitions to pay for the things she needed. She quit school and entered these competitions, but the money they provided didn’t match a job. A job was what she needed. The government was able to provide aid for them, as well as their loving neighbors, who were shocked by Antonin’s disappearance as well. Perhaps, they felt they had to repay Alencia for all she had given them.

Quickly realizing she had to make real money, she turned to performing on the streets. No one would hire a young child for any real job, so she’d do something that didn’t require being hired. She spent days and nights in her room practicing, her mother bringing food to her door. That was the only thing Alencia could get herself to do, when she realized that her daughter could hurt herself trying to work for the family. Alencia did try to do things herself, but the guilt from being distraught only kept her inside the house. 

The first few months were rough. Aluxia started performing in the winter, and she rarely got any tips. Especially because it was so cold outside, people wouldn’t even bother to see any kind of performance. It was terrible timing. Once spring came, more people came by, and Aluxia constantly honed her skills in magic tricks. People knew a stage personality when they saw one, and once Aluxia was in the mindset, she wouldn’t get out until she reached home. 

Aluxia started singing too, and people enjoyed it at all times of the year. Her songs were well received, and she did a mix of covers and original songs. She would invite some people “onstage” and have them sing with her, and this gave a very positive effect on her career. Because of the popularity she gained, multiple agencies tried to sign a contract with her, and many sent letters to her home. While she had been struggling, she had lost the home she used to live in and was now living in an apartment. Alencia didn’t want to give it up, but they didn’t have a choice. With a good contract, though, Aluxia could buy the house back for her mother. 

“Aluxia, you have a lot of mail for you,” Alencia noticed, as she opened the mailbox. Perhaps it was fan mail; she didn’t know. She handed her daughter the messages, and the young teenager opened the letters in her room. She looked through all of the offers, and she spent the night reading them over and analyzing them. She told her family the next morning, and they were all ecstatic.

After she received her vision (info below in extra cred), her popularity soared. Her manager, Rosaire, saw the potential in the vision and begged her to learn how to use it to make things float. She did; Aluxia went on a hiatus for a year to learn how to properly use her vision. It was trial and error; she learned everything herself. When she returned, her debut performance was nothing short of spectacular.

[pendragonfics]

Set It Up

Paring: Leonard McCoy/Reader

Tags: gender-neutral reader, no pronouns, Starfleet Academy era, Starfleet, post-Star Trek (2009), co-workers, mutual pining, requited unrequited love, medical professionals, emotionally hurt Leonard "Bones" McCoy, whump, hurt/comfort, eventual fluff

Summary: You've known (of) Doctor McCoy since the Academy, but keeping to professionalism, you keep those feelings to yourself. Captain Kirk, tired of seeing two idiots dancing around their feelings, intervenes.

Word Count: 3,318

Current Date: 2019-12-22

Requested By: @karasong​

It was years ago, the first time you ever saw him. You were sitting in the group study area of the Starfleet San Francisco student library. It was your fourth year, and the semester was almost over. But exams were yet to come. You, having organised the study group for your fellow fourth-year medicine students, sat idly as they brainstormed on what you had already learned, and memorised.

While they discussed non-human anatomical diagrams, you were people watching, idly. Your eyes grazed throughout the bottom floor of the study area until you caught sight of him. Dark hair, eyes, and the look on his face drew your attention. Frown lines, and unused but etched out smile-lines beside his eyes.

Just as you began to ponder further, your friend Christine walked and gently smacked you with the underside of her thick textbook.

“Ouch, what was that for?” You whispered, cursing a string of words. Hushed of course for the library’s volume limit. You weren't an animal.

“Oh, it won’t leave a mark, don’t be such a baby.” She admonished you, perching in the empty seat to your left. "That’s what you get for gawking at boys when you’re supposed to be studying.”

“__________’s actually running the group,” a member of the study circle piped up to your defence. “Did you know they already like, memorised the xenobiology textbook back to front?”

Christine chuckled. “Yeah, so have I, but I’m not staring at James Kirk like a brain-dead bug.” She nudged you gently, and added, “no offence but I’m just saying, you could do better...and you know, not on study time.”

"I was not-," you protest, rubbing the back of your head. "Is this because of second year?"

"He's like that with everyone," another member of your study group spoke up, softly. "Don't take it personally."

You didn’t have the guts to correct them, nor stir the pot at the mention of Christine's one-sided romance-slash-one-night-stand with Cadet Kirk. Unlike many of the people in Starfleet academy, you were not interested in James T. Kirk in that way. Sure, he had the manners of a country boy, but he also slept with anything that had legs, and the ability to consent.

So not your type.

No; you were not looking at James Kirk, the golden boy with hair that matched the sun. You were looking at his closest friend, the gruff man with inky midnight hair. His friend, a mystery to you.

---

Captain James Tiberius Kirk was not a laid-back man for simple reasons. Sure, he had the stress of organising safe passage for over two thousand people at a time and orchestrated the wills of Starfleet for their mission. On top of that, he had the problems of a regular man, be that in family, money, love and friends. He rarely saw his half-family back on Earth, and money wasn't a problem when he was paid the generous salary of a captain. Sex came as it did, mostly not so often while he was commandeering the Enterprise.

That was what shore leave was for.

But as a good friend, Jim Kirk was not one to fool around on the clock (too much). Scotty had Keenser, Spock had Uhura, and while he didn't have any long-term interests in settling down, he knew that his friend Bones surely did.

The poor bastard had been divorced and stripped of all he had before they met, and then with everything else that came with the job of being CMO on the ship, he had the gall to stay being a year-long Grinch. Jim's mind had been set since Bones' reaction to the second one night stand that he'd had back as a cadet. But now it was a thing: by the time that mandated shore leave came to an end, he would have Bones with someone.

---

His reputation, while not as prolific as some of the faces that he kept as company, still preceded him. At first, you only knew him as the ‘gruff man that flanked Captain Kirk's side’, but as time went on, you learned his name.

Doctor Leonard McCoy.

If it wasn't for the fact that you were transferred by Admiral Pike, you perhaps wouldn't have had the opportunity to be on the same starship as each other. Let alone working beneath him as Nurse.  But still, it was an honour, and whenever your paths crossed, you kept your professional face forward. No matter what, you would keep to your oath as a healer, and those feelings would come second.

While in the Medbay, he was curt, quick to the jump, and a furiously good worker. Not that you believed that Captain Kirk was one to get into trouble - he was - or that he often endangered the crew with those actions - anyplace was dangerous, and it was a fact - but it seemed that the work in the Medbay was never finished. There was always an engineer with a pinched nerve, a scientist with an adverse reaction to alien flora, and because of this, the immersion into your work was both a blessing and a curse.

Maybe because the closer you came to your superior, that crush from years ago would flare up, and you’d have to work extra hard to keep your work ethic up. It didn’t help that half the time that you and Doctor McCoy were on shift together, he was doubly grumpy, and you’d have to circumnavigate that as well as your own feelings.

But that was fine. You were a professional. Keeping your feelings to yourself in order to keep to Starfleet code was easily done. It wasn’t like you were denying yourself anything - if anything, your needs were still there. Waiting. On the back burner.

That was fine. Everything was fine.

---

In time, you were alerted, like the rest of the crew, that the USS Enterprise was to approach a Federation planet for among other things, structural maintenance, restocking, and such. It also meant that everyone working on the Enterprise would get time to themselves while docked. It was your first ever shore leave, and excited, you idly planned things to do with such freedom. But while your co-workers chatted eagerly about the chance for some time away from the Enterprise, you kept quiet, and to your duties while on the clock.

Not that Doctor McCoy also being on shift as the news broke had anything to do with that.

"Oh, you -" he acknowledges upon entering the Medbay. "Nurse -,"

"__________," you supply, perhaps too quickly, "What can I do to be of assistance?"

He pauses in the doorway, swaying where he stands. Your keen eyes swept over his form; though he had just arrived on shift, you could see hints of fatigue; the bags beneath his eyes, the slowed movement, the deep frown upon his face.

He doesn't reply and approaching your superior officer, you ask again, "Are you feeling well, sir? Should I -,"

"It's fine, Nurse __________." He snaps, brushing past you.

It's a very rare day with no patients in the room, and you watch him as he goes toward his small office in the rear of the Medbay. He closes the door behind him and flicks the old-style Earth blinds over the glass on the door. You bite at your lip, chewing in earnest. What could be the matter?

---

By the time that Jim found out that Bones wasn't going to be on-planet for shore leave, it was too late to reschedule things so there would be an excuse for his friend to go and have fun. Not that Jim needed any reasonable excuse for that to happen.

He'd once orchestrated a fake wedding between Spock and Uhura to try and get Bones to stop working so damn late (but that had fallen through, mostly because it turned out that Spock was actually thinking about proposing to Nyota, and Jim's intervention had apparently been a "disaster" to Spock's carefully planned proposal). Jim had even once pretended to be sick in his quarters to have Bones inspect him personally (Jim had planned to trap him inside, watch holo-films and drink whiskey) but then Doctor M'Benga came instead of his friend, and he was forced to get the vaccinations that he'd been avoiding.

But now Jim had the perfect plan. He'd seen how Bones acted around that Nurse he always worked with - Nurse __________. Jim could have sworn that his friend chose to work alongside her because the man had driven every other person of her rank away. But, nonetheless. Jim had a plan. While not exactly a connoisseur of true love, Jim knew how to make it all pan out.

He could go about it like his other tricks, make something that was memorable, perhaps borderline disastrous, but his friend deserved the best. It wasn't a prank if someone was at least consenting in some way, right? And as far as Jim knew, both parties certainly were.

He saw how the pair of them looked at each other on the security footage. Like lovesick children! Like kids who had no idea how to communicate the finer details of their feelings to one another! Like two medical professionals too immersed in their careers to see beyond their noses!

That was where Jim came in, and smirking to himself at his brilliance, Jim went to reply to the message that had come into his communicator and make some magic.

---

The fact that Christine called you up out of the blue, and then set you up on a date should have seemed fishier than it was. But to you, your fellow Nurse was just a close friend, looking out for your pitiful love life, and even being assigned to a separate Medbay to you wouldn’t stop her from reaching out. But you trusted Christine, perhaps with your own life, if it ever came to it. Her judgement was (nearly) law, and so, you buzzed throughout the day, a mix of trepidation and excitement keeping you going.

You were supposed to meet the person at five at the entrance of the main mess hall, but there wasn’t anyone there. Confused, and a little betrayed, you messaged Christine for answers, but all she said was that he worked with you and that she’d kick his ass if he stood you up. You wouldn’t wish her wrath on anyone, and instead of feeling upset, you decided to find the mystery date yourself.

It was a quick walk to the Medbay, and though it was the off shift, the current nurses greeted you kindly. But when you asked about anyone who wasn’t supposed to be working being in the Medbay, all that one nurse who wasn’t wearing his nametag said was, “I don’t know about anyone, but the CMO is still in his office.”

Was Christine setting me up with…? You wondered.

There wasn’t a reply as you knocked at the door, and walking in, you saw why. Laying face-down on the desk, arms cradling his head, was Doctor Leonard McCoy. His hair was crisp in a way in which needed washing, from either from being carded through or lack of a care routine to it. He slept soundly as you closed the door behind you and made your way to his side of the desk, creeping around the papers that littered all the surfaces of the room.

A pit settled in your stomach as you regarded him.

Sleeping, he looked like a different man from the one you worked with. His frown-lines were unwrinkled, demeanour relaxed, and for a moment, you felt your heart jump at the sight of your long-time crush, and senior officer before you.

Ever since you were a little kid, your favourite type of person was someone that had two faces; one to the world, and one hidden beneath that one. That was perhaps because your favourite fairy- was Snow White & Rose Red. When you were seven, you spent a weekend seeking out the bears in the forest in search of a fairy-tale prince that was cursed to be one. Your parents quickly put an end to that, and ever since, you were left with one type of love on your mind. The kind where you would sift through, searching for the hidden prince beneath.

Maybe that’s why, after all this time you still liked him.

He stirred as you placed a hand on his, sitting up when you started to make sense of all the papers that were everywhere. You didn’t realise that he’d been awake until you looked over your shoulder, his papers in your hands.

“Hi,” you greeted, “uh, Doctor McCoy. Sorry to wake you.”

He blinked.

---

Jim was having a not very good day on the bridge, what, with Spock and Uhura’s latest spat over something that he didn’t care about. He excused himself, leaving his duties to his first mate, and made his way to the Medbay for something for the headache. Hopefully, he’d be administered something that wasn’t in a shot.

But when he got down there, he couldn’t see Bones anywhere. Records on his PADD said that he hadn’t clocked off, and yet, he wasn’t in the main area. Curious, Jim let himself into the back room, only to find -

“Nurse __________,” he greeted, looking between them, and his friend, “Bones!”

“Jim,” Leonard gritted out. “What are you doing here?”

“I want something for the migraine. Or at least, it feels like one. Don’t diagnose me, just give me the good stuff.” He prattled, looking through a first aid box that sat on one of the tables beside the desk. “I see you two are hitting it off. I thought tonight was your date, Nurse __________?”

“Uh -,”

“Jim, you have no right to pry into the private lives of my staff,” Leonard spoke up.

“Speaking of, why aren’t you at your date?” Jim added, finding what he needed in the box, and popping the paracetamol into his mouth, the captain of the Enterprise swallowed the pill dry in one go. “Sorry. I shouldn’t pry, bye!”

At that, he left the pair of them to their confusion, and waltzed back to his post, confident he’d ride out the headache.

---

“You have a date?” You heard Doctor McCoy ask you, a flush of heat growing on his pale face. Suddenly, you felt barer than you did five seconds ago when your captain and personal nuisance had waltzed in and exposed your private life. “Why aren’t you - what are you doing here?”

“They didn’t show up,” you reply, softly. “My friend - Nurse Chapel - she said they worked here, and I came to give them a piece of my mind, but then someone out there said you were still here, and I -,” you felt a wave of embarrassment flash across your face, and somewhat mortified, you stopped speaking.

“I’ll give that guy a piece of my mind.” He grunted. But as he went to stand, he sat almost immediately back down, in an unceremoniously simple way in which made you hear sirens. “…but not right yet.”

You blinked, placing all the things together that you’d observed over the last few days. “…sir, I think you’re experiencing fatigue.” You tell him, placing your wrist against his forehead. He recoiled, but just as you thought, he was burning up. Rescinding your hand, you began working on finding something to get him enough energy to rest in his room. “At least tell me you had plans that you’re missing, so I can feel better about missing out on mine.”

He snorted. “…Jim set me up. The bastard doesn’t realise what today is to me.”

You paused, looking to your superior. “If you don’t mind me asking, sir…what is today, to you?”

Doctor McCoy paused, and, softly, as if he’d never said it aloud in the first place, he told you, “It’s my daughter’s birthday. She’s eleven today, and I promised I’d be - I’d be back home for her.”

You looked to your hands. You'd never think of him having a daughter, and yet...you could already picture her. “I can see how that would tear you up.” You empathise, the words slipping out as fast as they come to your mind, no time to filter them at all. “…although I’m glad I missed out on my date, too. I don’t have a good experience with it at all.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, Nurse - __________…?”

“Oh, well…the last time I went on a date, it was back at the academy, about fourth year? He was a quite nice guy, studying computer engineering. A looker.” You tell him, not sure why you feel so comfortable saying all this to him. “He turned out to be very much in love with his ex-girlfriend and he told me all about her all that night.”

“Did you call him back?” Doctor McCoy asked you humourlessly.

“Stars, no. And I haven’t gone out with anyone else since. Well, until…” you trail off, turning back to your supervisor. “I can’t find anything in here to give you, so I’m prescribing you the old-fashioned treatment of rest.” You tell Doctor McCoy. “I’ll even walk you back to your room so that I know you make it there.”

“My hero,” he said in his dry, Georgian accent.

Once you helped him to his feet, you got Doctor McCoy to walk out surreptitiously without your help. But once you exited the Medbay, you reclaimed your hold on him as so to keep his status in the workplace and got to talking. You spoke of how you knew of his friend the Captain, and how you were to meet the date at five o’clock. It was then he paused.

“I was supposed to meet my date at five.” He said.

You frown. “The one you said Captain Kirk set you up on?” you asked him.

Doctor McCoy nodded. “Yep, that’s the one. I was supposed to meet them at the mess hall, the big one, but -,”

“Oh my -,” you realise, looking at your feet like you just realised that they were attached to you, feeling something new in your chest, a rush of surprise, and exhilaration, “I think you’re my blind date.”

There was a strange noise, and looking to the man beside you in curiosity, you realised quite quickly that he was laughing. Quietly, of course, and in a way that sounded like a snuffle, or a chuckle, really. But he was laughing.

“Of course,” he smirked. “No wonder Jim was in our business like that. And your friend, Chapel, I’m sure she hates Jim but would do anything for you -,”

“Very true,” you retort. “It’s just…quite funny that it’s come to this.” You gesture toward Doctor McCoy, leaning on your tiredly as if he’s from the old Earth film Weekend at Bernie’s but is very much alive. “…I’ve always had a thing for you, you know.”

“Sorry, I…sorry I messed up your date for you,” He replied sheepishly, and added softly, looking your way, “…and I like you too. Have done for a while.”

“Would you go out with me?” you ask, hopefully. “Doctor McCoy?”

He grinned and pecked your cheek with a kiss. The five o’clock shadow tickled you and left you tingling after he rescinded from your proximity. “’course I’ll go out with you. Just not while I’m like,” he gestured to himself, just like you did before.

“Let’s get you to your room, doctor.” You chuckle, walking him on his way once more. Working together, you both made short work of it and made it to Doctor McCoy’s private room in good time. “…rest up, sir.”

“Thank you, __________.” He nodded, turning toward his room.

The door was about to close, but placing your hand in the way, it waited, and you met his eyes. “Good night, Doctor. And a happy birthday to your daughter.”

[artesque]

One day, when your mind is a little clearer and you listen to what is in your heart more than the physical feelings happening in your body, the whispers of the strangers around you, or the mental jungle gym you refuse to climb down from..

Maybe you’ll realize all that you actually gave up.

That the cheap excitement and lust and temporary giddiness of feeling wanted by someone new - someone different - in the corporal world can be had with anyone. That sex and orgasms are a dime a dozen. That these fade with time and age. But that the intense connection that went further, the one that we had, was something spectacular and rare. That you had someone who loved the deepest parts of your soul, but who also loved and desired you fully - who wanted every square inch of your mind, body, and spirit. Who wanted to devour every ounce of both the bad and the good in you. You were my one and we were absolutely meant to last, you just stood in your own way. You had someone who waited for you to get it together for an entire decade, yet who still felt as deeply about you as day one, and you shut them out. I saw you at your worst and still saw you as the best.

So you can do whatever you think you need to do. You can give in to your body, your lust, and your fear. Give in to what is easy, accessible, and requires no work. You can lie to your mind that our time has passed and you can’t ever get back. You can distract yourself. You can do what you are doing right now where you stop checking on me, stop responding to me, forget I even existed. One day in the tangible future, I might not even exist and it will be simpler for everyone. But your heart never will truly forget, because I knew all its paths and cracks. I left my breadcrumbs down every road. No matter how much you tried to ignore it and push me away, I still started sparks every time I said your name, so I know the fires our passion and love could’ve kept igniting if you had let your heart give in.

I am still hurting, because to me you aren’t easily replaceable or even something to replace at all. You aren’t something I can bleed from my system in a week, let alone two months. I don’t give my body or my heart freely to any person willing to have it. I want it all to really mean something when I do. My heart isn’t like yours. It is unable to be anything but soft, full, raw and open. I can face the hard things because of it. But you have never had the guts for goodbye.. so instead you disappeared on me once again. You sprinkle small bits of hope that maybe you care enough to even just be a friend to me, so I finally relent, and then you steal it away instantly. Why the cruelty to someone whose only crime was loving you? I spent an entire decade of being by your side through every challenge, yet I wasn’t worth even a reply from you.. to a message you initiated three times. I didn’t believe it at first but when you sent me the third message, I let myself trust that you did really care to talk to me but then I just got another set of iron gates slammed in my face.

This time, I am going to accept that you moved on and fully let me go (or at least are dedicating yourself to that endeavor), and that I will probably never hear from you again. I will prepare my mind again that there is no chance of anything there, even friendship, and I will accept a lifetime of your absence. There is nothing easy about that. And yet, still, it doesn’t matter what happened between us.. I still hope one day you get all you wanted and all you deserve despite it. Because I love you, I care about you, and I want those things for you, as much as I wanted them to be with me. I laid my armor down for you and surrendered to my love for you.. I refused to run from you or cower out of fear, and so in that respect, I already won here. Experiencing our love once was already a gift from God that I didn’t deserve, and loving you still - alone - is a gift from God that lets me know that my heart is never capable of fully closing down. I will continue to hurt for a long time, but I will heal. I will never be the same, but God will carry me through and he has so much goodness in store for me with or without you by my side. And all the while, I will still pray every single night for your healing and your happiness and that you find new versions of the things that meant the most to you:

- A close, tight knit family you will instantly belong to. To celebrate holidays with, to laugh with, to feel at home within, to feel accepted and seen by. Family game nights and outings. Tiny nephews and nieces to play with, to inspire, to share your wisdom and magical moments with.

- A few dogs to become another fraction of your family, to curl themselves at the end of your bed and warm your feet, to put in silly costumes, to pose in your Christmas cards the way we constantly planned once we got dogs, to become your bestfriends, to live long lives by your side.

- A home you can call your own, with your own space and the real freedom to do anything you want with it. To not live by anyone else’s rules. To spread your limbs and feel fully comfortable in. To make both art and love in. Somewhere to decorate for the holidays and share kisses under the mistletoe, to hang photos of your trips abroad in the hallway. Somewhere to slow dance in the dark of the kitchen with your love, somewhere for them to hold you from behind while you wash the dishes together. Somewhere to laugh and slip and kiss in the shower together.

- Feet and a heart that are always sturdy and grounded, but have the ability to experience every adventure this life has to offer you. The ability to travel to all the places we planned, to truly live and take in all the beauty in the world.

- And the woman of your dreams. Who loves you without abandon, who will never make you guess if it was real. Who will always stand by your side, who will fill your life with passion and happiness, and a real thirst for life. Who will make you feel rooted, who will make every single holiday and event something truly special for you. Who will make you wake up every day with a grin and kiss you despite bad morning breath. Who will look at you like you are magic. Who would give anything to just see you smile and look into your eyes. Who will hold your hand through every fantastic adventure and terrifying difficulty. And whose wildly burning heart is only yours, forever.

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Dragon Dancer Chapter 6: The Walking Dead

Deep down we all know our lives can change in an instant. We all hope it will change for the better. We hope that we’ll find that dream job. That girl we’ve been searching for will show up, smile at us, and agree that she’s was searching for us too. That some prince will come and whisk us away from our problems.

We also know that things can change for the worse. In that same instant, our lives can be taken, as if by some strange magic, and everything we’ve been working for crumbles to dust. All we can do is pick up the pieces, start over again, and be grateful we survived.

When I woke up at the hospital, I couldn’t talk about what happened. Nono, at my bedside, tried to get me to say something about it, but my mind could not form the words to describe the chaos I remembered. If I focused on the memories too much, they overwhelmed me the way the strongest emotions do. They were pure sensation, coming over me faster than my intellect's ability to register them. 

There were details, focal points that my mind latched on to after the world went blurry.

The shocked look of a young man’s face when he realized he was going to die the instant before he did. The pulsating waves that were visible when blood oozed from a severed artery. The life and death struggle of a living person between my hands. Despite the clarity of these memories - or maybe because of it - their horrific nature stunned me into speechlessness.

When Nono was unable to get me to answer her questions, she said, “I think we need to get you some help.” She stood up and left me alone in the room.

I laid on my side picking at the thin threads of the soft pillow case. When the door creaked open and footsteps approached, I didn’t turn to look.

“I am Doctor Toyama.” A gentle male voice greeted me.

When he didn’t say anything more, I turned my head to see if he was still there. He had light brown eyes in a young face and a thin well manicured goatee that traced around his upper lip and chin. He wore a lab coat with a tag hanging from his pocket as an identifier. He held a notebook and pen.

That much acknowledgement of his existence was enough to make him smile. “I have a few questions for you. You don’t have to say much about this incident. The College is well aware of many details about Isaac and his… activities here. It’s unfortunate that it had to end up this way.”

He pulled up a chair and sat next to my bed. I averted my eyes from him as he continued to speak. “You’re probably blaming yourself for what happened. I’m here to tell you that it wasn’t your fault.”

He didn’t wait for me to respond. “People here all have a certain percentage of dragon DNA. The higher the percentage the stronger they are. But there is a cost.” He kept his tone soft and clear.

“If someone’s percentage of dragon DNA is too high, it begins to overwrite the human. It grows, much like a cancer and they cease to be recognizable as a human. They turn into what we call a death servitor. That is what happened to Isaac.”

“It happened to Isaac because of what I did though,” I whispered. My throat squeezed shut. My lip trembled. I could feel his eyes on me, but I couldn’t return his gaze.

“Oh? How so?”

I chewed my lip and pressed my face into the pillow.

“I’d really like to know. There are surveillance cameras in the library. As far as we can tell after watching the footage, you walked into a conference room together. The rest is hard to make out but it’s clear you disappear. You went…” He let the sentence hang.

“I wanted to see my family.” I said shakily. Tears wet the pillowcase around my eyes.

“Why? You were only here a day. You miss them already?”

I nodded.

“Hmm…” I hear his pen click. “Did you inform one of your class advisors?.”

“Yeah. He told me that… I couldn’t see my family because the rules said I had to stay on campus… I couldn’t even call them.”

“Ah… I see. You’re very close to them then?”

“Mhm…”

“You must be  if you were willing to follow a stranger into the dark on the off chance you might get to see them. Tell me, what do you plan to say to them?” There was genuine curiosity in his voice.

“Everything here is secret… right?” I peeked up from the pillow.

“That’s right.” He's writing in his notebook.

“Well, I’d … tell him that there’s a lot of boys here. And they make me nervous.”

He stroked his goatee. “Ah… I see. What else?”

“Everything is really extravagant… and I don’t think I’ll fit in. And that I failed my first exam.” Now that I’m looking at him, he offered me a tissue box. I sat up to accept it.

“Very good.” He made a few more notes  “I’ll submit this to the board members and see if they can make a bit of an exception for some forms of communication. It’s… rare we get people like you. Who actually come from loving non-hybrid homes.”

He clicked his pen and put it back into his breast pocket. “But since you still have so much to say to them, that means you didn’t go back to your home, did you? Where did you go?”

“I don’t know where it was. There were others too. They were dressed in Japanese clothes. So maybe Japan?” I blew my nose.

“Japan? Hm…” He made a note. “That’s … odd. Why do you think he would take you there?”

“Maybe that’s where his family lives?” I looked to him for confirmation of my guess.

“His family? I thought you were going to meet yours?” He raised his eyebrows.

I explained.  “He said I shouldn’t have failed my test. He said he wanted to test me… before I went home.”

“There was no way you could have known what that meant.” He told me. “You must have … fought hard to escape.” He looked at me expecting me to fill in the blank, but I fell into an abrupt silence. My eyes were downcast. My fingers kneaded at the pillow case.

“Alright…” He said quietly. “What’s one thing you can tell me. Just one.”

My continued silence stretched on.

“Just one thing? I promise, I won’t ask any more questions.”

I didn’t reply but Doctor Toyama continued to sit and wait. My mind remembered, indexed and sorted what happened into a large pile of secrets. There was one memory that I felt comfortable revealing.

“He saved my life. I would’ve died. But when he held me, my wound healed. He brought me back before he turned into that monster.”

He watched me wipe away tears, keeping his expression neutral. “I see. Thank you.” He made another note. “I’ll leave you now. Feel free to contact me any time.” He left his card on the table next to my phone.

After he was gone, I examined the card. His title was Campus Psychologist. My phone lit up, attracting my attention. It displayed an overwhelming number of notifications. I ignored them in favor of visiting my social media page.

At the top of the feed, the official administrators had pinned a message.

This page is now restricted, only those with access may view it. If you have questions about the restriction or feel you’ve been blocked in error, keep it to yourself because you haven’t been.

Below that stretched a long string of posts by other Cassell students.

“How does one kill a servitor in a single hit?”

“Well, this new student is promising. Anyone get her number?”

“Wish she’d left some of that fight to me.”

“How can I date her please.”

“DMs are blocked :(“

“Anyone have her phone number? What about email?”

“How do you even get that strong?!”

“10/10 would watch again.”

My heart dropped to the pit of my stomach. I didn’t want to talk to or meet any of these people.

In my notifications, I found a text from Nono. “Hey, hope you’re feeling better. You’ll be getting a message from the Principal soon. Don’t be nervous, just do your best. If you need me, just call me alright? Please, if you want to talk, don’t hesitate to call me. I know you miss your family, but you can’t go back to them right now. Not without talking to him.”

The phone sang its jaunty ringtone. The caller ID was just ‘EVA’. “Hello?”

Her voice was cheerful but her words were to the point. “You passed your E3 exam with a high level of resonance with a draconic cipher. This along with your unique dragon ancestry puts you at Rank S.”

“What do you mean I passed? I didn’t write anything?”

“Most record their ciphers. In your case, this was not the correct medium. Determining your ability will take further research. Therefore, we are admitting you. Welcome to Cassell College. I’m EVA, the school AI butler. Let me know if you need help or have questions."

“AI…? A computer…?” I stammered but couldn’t form a complete sentence so she continued.

“Your meeting with Principal Anjou is in half an hour. I’ve sent Mingfei Lu to guide you there. Your uniform is there in your room. Please dress and get ready to meet him. Don’t worry. He’s very nice.”

“Wait! Who is…?”

The phone beeped to tell me there was no longer anyone on the other end. I returned it to the nightstand and slid my legs over the edge of the bed to get up. I found my purple and black uniform on a hanger in the open closet across the hospital room.

When I put the uniform on, I examined myself in the room’s bathroom mirror.  The open collar displayed my pendant over my collarbones. I turned my back to see if there was any sign of where that man had knifed me. There wasn’t.  My heart began to pound as I remembered the spear of light impaling my attacker, how his jaw dropped open in shock. I started to wonder how much of that really happened, hoping some of it was a dream.

A knock on the hospital room door frightened me so badly I stumbled backwards into the wall. Trembling, I peeked outside the bathroom to see a gangly young man with brown doe-like eyes and a mop of messy brown hair.  He gives me a cheerful wave. “You must be the newbie!”

He slowly lowered his hand when I didn’t echo his enthusiasm.  “Don’t be shy! I don’t bite! I promise!” He gave a little nervous laugh. “I’m not good at this…” He mumbled.

“Good at what?” I asked him.

His eyes snapped back to mine. “Huh? What? D...did I say that outloud?” He looked at me for confirmation so I nodded. ���Sorry. Um. So, You can just call me Lu. I’ve been here for a little less than a year.”

His shoulders sagged at my silence, “So…” He steeled himself, forcibly perking himself up. “My roommate happens to run the gossip column at school. He told me what happened. It was pretty incredible. Where’d you learn to do that?”

I closed the door again, wondering if he was one of the people who posted on my feed. I leaned against it, glaring at the ground. “I wouldn’t say it was ‘incredible’.”

His voice sounded from the other side. “I know it's hard but I can help you. I… I know what it’s like okay? Just bear with it. You’ll do fine!”

I took a deep breath and cracked the door open. “Sorry…” I whispered.

“You’re fine okay?” He said, peering through the small space, his voice trembling with nervous laughter. “We just need to get you to the principal’s office. You don’t have to do anything. Oh and don’t forget to grab your coat. It’s pretty windy out there.”

As we walked down the campus paths, Lu kept glancing down at me like he wanted to say something but didn’t know how to start. “So… what’s your name?”

I felt a chill run down my spine, recalling the results of using my childhood name. “I don’t like my name.”

“Oh… then… what do you prefer to be called? I feel bad just calling you, newbie.” More nervous laughter.

“Newbie is fine.” I told him. “But if there’s a name you like, just call me that.”

His nervousness turned to surprised dismay. “What? I can’t just call you whatever I want! What if someone else calls you something different?”

The corners of my mouth turned down. “You’re Mingfei Lu, right? You said, just call me Lu. Does everyone call you Lu?”

“Ah… good point.” He rubs his chin in thought. “But… What if I call you something you don’t like?”

I chuckled. “Then I’ll tell you. Like I said I didn’t mind, ‘newbie’.”

He rubbed the back of his neck but didn’t continue to object.

The administration building grew larger into view, fronted by a stone staircase. People hurried up and down, anxious to get out of the cold.

Once inside, Lu led me to the main office. We paused at the wooden door carved with the word ‘Principal’. Lu knocked before going in. Like most things at Cassell, the principal's office was larger than it needed to be. It was fancy, with black mirror tiles and a sleek glossy desk. Behind it sat Anjou who greeted me with a sympathetic grin. I couldn’t bring myself to smile back. That man fooled me into coming here and denied me access to my family. This was all his fault.

Johann and Caesar stood in front of the desk. Johann crosses his arms at my dour expression.

Caesar was bemused at my silent snarling. “It’s good to see you up and healthy. We are all grateful you made out alive.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” I mumbled, my shoulders rising to my ears.

Johann's soft voice echoed in the roomy interior. “That’s Mingfei, he’s our other S-ranked student.”

“You’re S-ranked too?” I turned to him in shock.

Mingfei Lu held up his hands in self-defense.“ Don’t look at me like that! I’m just ranked as S! I don’t actually have any abilities at all.”

Anjou stood up from behind his desk, as tall as I remembered, smoking a cigar. He paced, massaging his beard as he began. “Now that we’re all here. We can start the mission briefing.”

My eyes lifted at the word ‘mission’, glancing at the others.

“Our intelligence is reporting the signal of a dragon embryo off the coast of Japan. This signal may be what we have been dreading. Analysis indicates that it is the signal of a first generation dragon lord. So we’re sending you as a team to meet with the Cassell College Japan division.”  

He took a drag of the cigar and let it out slowly. “This mission is Grade SS. We will need all of you."

My hand tentatively rose but he ignored me and continued.

“Our Japan branch is very secretive. This situation calls for the utmost discretion and sensitivity. However, I have maintained contact with Masamune Tachibana. He welcomes our assistance. Please, view this as a stepping stone for bringing our branches into closer cooperation.”

Filling with dread, I recalled Isaac’s Japanese companions and wondered if there was some connection to what I had done.

“Caesar, you’ll be the one leading on this mission.” Anjou nodded to him.

Caesar opened his mouth to speak but Johann responded. “Of course, that’s for the best.”

Caesar scowled at him. “Don’t steal my lines!” He cleared his throat. “We’ll complete the mission in no time at all, Principal Anjou! With time to do some souvenir shopping!” The blue-eyed hybrid waved a hand at me and flashed a smile, “In fact, I’d like to outfit you in the finest silk kimonos…”

“If that’s what you want to do.” I replied, reluctantly smiling back.

His eyebrows rose to his hairline. “This is your first mission as part of our team! That’s surely something to celebrate.”

“Wait… I'm going?" My smile turned to confusion. Somehow, I’d passed my E3 without writing anything. I killed my fellow students the night before. Now, he assigned me to work with top students and sent me to Japan.

While I struggled to grasp my new reality, silent seconds ticked by. Johann cleared his throat. Caesar glared at him. “You have something to say?”

Johann returned his gaze with a calm expression. “Nothing at all.”

“If you have something to say, you should say it!”. Caesar turned to fully face him.

Johann looked at me instead. “I promised you I would show you a frozen dragon specimen. But now you’ll be seeing the real thing.”

“When was this?” Caesar demanded of him. "Don't ignore me, Johann Chu!"

I looked between them both, baffled at Caesar’s sudden aggression. Lu hid his face behind his hand in embarrassment.

Anjou puffed on his cigar chuckling. “I have to interrupt.” He addressed me next. “My dear, your performance in the library tells me that you qualify for this dangerous mission.”

I frowned at his use of the word performance. “But I…” I couldn’t finish the sentence, my voice trailing off.

He turned to the others. “I’d like to have a private word with our new student.”

As they walked out, Caesar continued to menace an unflappable Johann. “Keep in mind that it was Nono and I there at her arrival here…”

Lu followed them, glancing over his shoulder at me in worry before he was forced to jog after them to catch up.

Anjou sat down and gestured to a chair for me.

“You know,” he said. “Of all the recruits, you have outstanding resilience. You come to my office after everything you’ve been through.  After you hear that I’m sending you on a dangerous mission after this incident, you don’t immediately object.”

“Do I actually have a choice in any of this? You’re just throwing things at me and I’m trying to just survive here!” My voice shook. “You’re not going to let me leave, are you?”

He settled his cigar down on a silver ashtray. “Your talent is a Class S… the strongest kind. But it is extremely unstable. The injection Johann gave you is a temporary experimental measure. I’m hoping that the Japan Division might be hiding research that can aid us in preventing you from turning into a monster like Isaac.”

“What are you talking about?” My voice lowered to a whimper.

His uncharacteristic seriousness lent weight to his words. “What happened to Isaac could just as easily happen to you. I am committed to preventing that. You’re here to today because of that effort. Had you turned servitor after the injection, we would have had no choice but to eliminate you. You did not. So there is still hope.” He said this frankly, looking into my eyes. His expression turned grim. “I cannot keep you here against your will. I can only tell you the truth. Your chances of survival are slim outside of Cassell College.”

My self-protective sense of humor faltered and I found my desire to contact Robbie lessened. If this was to be my fate, then it would be better that he never saw me again. “And if there’s no cure?” I asked quietly.

“Let’s take courage and hope. We’re working on it.” His positivity returned.  “You remind me so much of my friend Manecke. When I look at you…” He took another puff.  “I see brilliance. Something will come up.”

My throat started to close and my eyes burned.  “Can I go?”

He nodded. I stood up and rushed out of the office.

Lu was waiting for me, but I pushed by him before he could say a word.

I managed to make it back to my apartment before I gave in to the shattering grief inside. My shadow twin appeared, kneeling next to me. She tried to catch my tears but they fell through her hand to the carpet. I wished I had never accepted the offer to come to Cassell. But if I hadn’t accepted, who knew what might have happened? Had I blissfully gone through life, I might have suddenly turned into a beast. I imagined myself as a ballerina, graceful and elegant, only to morph into a horrible monster a few years into my career. Maybe even on stage. It would have been awful.

My emotions began to subside and I picked myself up off the floor. Packing for the trip wasn’t difficult. Most of my things were still in my suitcase. As I went through my belongings, I wondered what I wanted to wear on my last few days on Earth. ‘Whatever felt comfortable on a plane’ won out.

I wrote in my school notebook what I wanted people to find after I was gone. I confessed that I hadn’t just killed Isaac, but possibly six or seven other people. I was a waste of everyone’s time and effort, especially Robbie and Mom’s.

My phone buzzed. Nono was trying to talk to me but I didn’t want to anymore. It was better if she forgot I ever existed. I turned the phone off.

My heart beat fast all the rest of the day and into the night.  I spent most of that night pacing around my apartment. The racing pulse made it impossible to sleep and robbed me of my appetite in the morning.

The next morning while I was turning out the lights and getting ready to meet the others to go to the airport, someone knocked on my door.

I opened to Nono, her crimson eyes narrowed. “You know, I don’t take it lightly when someone ignores my messages. Especially someone I’ve tried to be nice to.”

My shoulders lowered and I sighed. “Nono, I…”

She cut me off. “No, you need to listen to me. I know what happened was hard. Maybe even harder than most. But you have got to pull yourself together.”

“Life as a hybrid will never be fair or easy. Not one of us has had an easy and happy life. You’re one of us now. So buck up and do what needs to be done!”

I shrunk under her stare, swallowing hard.

“You’re going on a dangerous mission with Caesar and the others. And I can’t have you getting into a funk, slipping up and then someone else dies because of it.”

When I stood silently she took a step forward, her voice rising. “Do you understand? Do what you have to do to stop moping. If something happens to Caesar, I won’t forgive you.”

“Yes ma’am.” I whispered.

She turned, her heels clicking against the tile as she departed.

Previous Chapter

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Go back to the Beginning

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @laumeidelfin!

I tried to incorporate as many of your likes as I could, and I hope I succeeded! Happy Holidays!

Read on AO3

*****

Catching little words (wouldn't know where to start)

Stiles is seven when he discovers that he has magic. His mother is equal parts delighted and terrified. Delighted, because she comes from a long line of Polish witches, secretly having hoped that some of her talent will show in her son, and terrified, because it means that her son is in danger. Emissaries are rare and thought after, she tells him. Any pack would be stronger with one, and an alpha taking an emissary as his mate is the easiest way to ensure that power stays with them. So Claudia warns him to be careful, to never reveal his secret, not wanting her son to be liked for only his ability and have his choice in partner taken away from him. She teaches him in secret, introducing him to spells and potions, and making sure he has the tools to hide himself. Sometimes, she talks of the Hale pack too, of how she has started a tentative friendship with Talia, and that maybe they can be trusted, and Stiles starts paying attention to them whenever he sees them, thinking that it might be nice to have friends he could share secrets with.

But then his mum gets sick, and the fire happens, and suddenly, Stiles is on his own. Of course, he still has his dad, and while he knows about his wife and son’s abilities, he is only human, and they never talk about the supernatural much. So Stiles practises alone, with the help of his mum’s books and an online community that he has found through his grandma in Poland, and though it is not the same as having someone by his side, he learns a lot and his magic gets stronger every day. Therefore, when Scott gets bitten, Stiles knows a lot more about it than he should, but of course he can’t let that on, and pretends to be clueless, gently steering Scott in the right direction, who is fortunately too preoccupied with his situation to notice anything.

And then Derek Hale is back in town and Stiles has a revelation: He is most definitely attracted to men too, and it seems that Derek is exactly his type, and isn’t that slightly worrying? He remembers his mum telling him about the Hales, and what a wonderful pack they are, hoping that one day they can trust them, and Stiles desperately wants too.

Of course, everything turns out to be a little more complicated, with Derek being accused of murder, and Stiles hiding him, and Scott falling in love with a hunter of all things. But the more he gets to know Derek, the more he realises that his mum has been right. He is a wonderful alpha, even under the circumstances that have made him one, and under his gruff exterior, he cares deeply, and he is thoughtful and smart and altogether amazing, and Stiles is aware that he is falling for him, not that he would ever admit that. They keep expanding the pack slowly, with Erica and Boyd and Isaac, even Lydia and Jackson belonging somehow, maybe more so than Scott these days, who only stops by occasionally, too busy mooning over Allison to notice much else. And Stiles never thought he’d say that, but it doesn’t feel like they’re best friends anymore. That title now goes to Erica, who is smart and fun and has so much in common with him, and he’s really glad they found her. He considers telling her, he really does, but then maybe she’d tell Derek, because he is her alpha after all, and Stiles really doesn’t want him to find out. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Derek, of course he does, he’s put his life in his hands more times than he can count, and saved Derek’s in turn, but that’s not what this is about. He knows that Derek would do just about anything for his pack, and having an emissary would severely strengthen theirs, but he cannot bear the thought of Derek choosing him just for his powers. And he can imagine that Derek would, sacrificing his happiness for the good of the pack, and Stiles cannot let him do that. As much as he wants to be with him, he does not want him like that, Derek only being with him because of his magic, and not because he actually wants him. And since that will never happen, Stiles knows that he hasn’t gotten much else going for him, why would Derek, strong, amazing, wonderful Derek, even look twice at him, he keeps quiet, keeps pretending to be just human, even when it’s hard sometimes. It’s not only that he feels like he’s betraying his friends more and more, it also gets more difficult to come up with excuses as to why he knows certain things, or why some research doesn’t take him much time at all, and saying “the internet” only gets him so far. Especially Lydia keeps looking at him thoughtfully, but fortunately, she hasn’t said anything yet.

Then Derek gets the message that Cora is in Mexico, and he goes to spend time with her, saying that the pack will be fine without him for a bit, that there’s no immediate threat, and that Stiles can take care of them. He actually winks at him when he says that, and Stiles thinks about it for days. Of course Erica teases him about it approximately two seconds after Derek has left. “So, you’re the pack mum now?”, she sing-songs, grinning widely, and Stiles flushes. He tries to pretend that he finds that idea embarrassing, but in truth, he’d of course like nothing more than to be Derek’s partner and take care of the pack at his side. He sighs. “That’s not what he meant.” Erica must hear his dejected tone, because she throws an arm around her shoulder and gets more serious. “Ah come on, we all think you’re awesome, and everyone knows you’re pretty much keeping the pack together!” If only. Stiles shrugs. “Would you let it go?” “But..” “Erica, please?” He really doesn’t want to talk about it. “Of course.” She hugs him a little closer and suggests to watch cartoons, but Stiles knows that she’s concerned, but he figures that as long as she doesn’t tell Derek, he can handle that.

When Derek gets back a few weeks later, he’s even more beautiful than before, not that Stiles thought that that was possible. It’s just that there’s a confidence about him now that wasn’t there before, and Stiles feels himself falling a little deeper. Cora has come with him, to see the pack, and Stiles finds himself liking her a lot. She fits with the pack seamlessly and brings out a playful side in Derek that they hadn’t seen before. Just when he thinks that Derek couldn’t get any more attractive, he discovers that he speaks Spanish. They’re in the kitchen, and Derek says something to Cora, and she grins and replies, and then Lydia chimes in, because genius that she is, of course she speaks the language, and Stiles is aware that he’s staring, but he can’t help himself, because how did he not know this, and why is it so hot? Derek turns to him, noticing that he’s quiet. “¿Pasa algo, cielo?“ „Huh?“ Stiles blinks, still too caught up in Derek speaking Spanish, and Derek actually blushes at that. “Oh sorry. I was just asking if something is wrong?”, he explains, and Cora smirks at that, while Lydia just looks smug, and Stiles feels like he’s missing something. He vows to learn Spanish after that.

He never gets to it, because they get news that another pack will be visiting. Apparently, they’re from Canada, on the way through, and want to meet. Everyone is understandably nervous, and Stiles tries his best to calm them down, without giving away that he has of course asked his magic community about any information they have, and confirmed that they’re a good pack, widely liked across the continent. When they arrive, everyone is introduced, because Derek insisted that they need to make a good impression, and Melinda, the alpha, seems slightly amused, but pleased, until Stiles is introduced as human. Her eyebrows shoot up and her nostrils flare, and he gets the impression that she knows, panicking instantly. She doesn’t say anything though, but the glances she keep shooting him do nothing to settle his fears. All in all, their stay goes over well, until it’s time for them to leave. “I have a proposition”, Melinda starts, and Derek nods for her to go ahead. “You need to strengthen your pack, that much is obvious. I’d be willing to give you Katarina, or Ben, or both even.” She pauses, and Stiles is entirely sure it’s for effect, and he sees Derek frowning, picking up on it aswell. “In exchange for Stiles”, she finishes then, and there’s an immediately flurry of activity. Erica and Boyd both throw their arms around him, Derek’s frown deepens considerably, Lydia and Isaac both step in front of Stiles, and even Jackson tenses next to them. Only Scott looks contemplative. “That’s not the worst idea”, he says then, and everyone stares at him. Stiles feels his heart drop. While it’s true that they’re not as close as they used to be, he would have never imagined something like that. “What?”, Derek manages, sounding furious, and Scott shrugs. “She’s right. We do need more power. And Stiles is just human.” Erica’s arm tightens around him, and Lydia looks like she wants to strangle Scott, but it’s Derek who finally addresses Melinda. “Thanks for your offer”, he starts, sounding anything but grateful. “But no. Firstly, I don’t understand how you can just offer up your pack members like that. Secondly, I don’t give mine away. Even if Stiles is just human, he’s important, and we need him. I need him.” Stiles’ heart flutters at that, and Erica shoots him a look, them nervously turns back to Melinda, afraid that they have ruined their good relations now. But the alpha is smiling. “Very good answer, Derek. You’ve confirmed that you’re a great alpha. Caring for all of your pack is important. We should stay in touch.” She looks directly at Stiles when she says that, and has the nerve to wink at him, and he’s positive now that she knows. And sure enough, she texts him a few days later. “They have no idea, do they?” “How did you?”, he replies, curious and terrified. “I can smell it. Magic makes you different”, is what he gets back, confirming his fears. Before he has chance to reply, another text comes through: “You should tell them. Derek at least. It’s obvious that you can trust him.” Stiles sighs. “I know. It’s more complicated than that, though.” “I see.” And Stiles has the feeling that she really does. “Let me know if I can help.” And just like that, Stiles has added another person in the know, and since at least the pack knows about her, he can pass off some of the information he gets from his community as having it from Melinda.

A few weeks later, they are, unsurprisingly with the way things are going, in a fight for their lives with a flock of very aggressive harpies. Stiles only knows a little about them, and there’s no time to research with how fast they attack. Him and Derek get separated from the others early into the fight, somewhere in the woods, and there are four harpies still advancing on them, and Stiles can see how exhausted Derek is, his healing not quite strong enough to keep up with his injuries, but he still firmly places himself in front of Stiles, and he knows that this is it. Derek has little chance of winning this on his own, and even if it does, it would cost him greatly, and Stiles does not want to see him hurt any more. Taking a deep breath, he closes his eyes and summons his magic. He has never used it in a fight before, but he knows that to protect Derek, he can do anything. When he opens his eyes, the air is charged with electricity, and Stiles focuses, striking the harpies with lightning. They fall to the ground, probably dead, but Stiles doesn’t go to check because Derek whirls around to face him, wide-eyed. “You have magic?”, he manages, sounding strangled, and Stiles really can’t blame him. “Surprise?”, he tries, going for light and missing by miles. Derek blinks, and slowly steps closer, and Stiles finally notices that his side is still bleeding, and rushes forward. He figures that since he’s already revealed himself, helping Derek is the least he can do. He gently channels his magic to support Derek’s healing powers, and he gasps at the feeling. “You’re… That’s why you smell different! I always thought it was...” He breaks off, and is he blushing? That can’t be right. Stiles withdraws his hands, now that Derek is no longer bleeding, and nods slowly, remembering what Melinda told him. Derek’s thoughts must have gone in the same direction, because he frowns. “Melinda knows?” Stiles nods again, and Derek’s frown deepens. “So that’s why she wanted you. You should have gone with her then.” “What?” Stiles is sure his heart is breaking at that. He always thought that if he ever revealed his magic, it would make Derek want to keep him, not send him away. “Since obviously you don’t trust me”, Derek elaborates, sounding hurt and a little angry, and as difficult as this conversation is going to be, Stiles can’t have him think that. “Of course I trust you”, he says firmly. “I didn’t tell you because, well, I didn’t want you to feel like you had to be with me because of my magic.” “What?” Derek is still frowning, and Stiles sighs. “We all know that that’s exactly the stupid, self-sacrificing thing you’d do. Emissaries strengthen the pack, even more so as mates to the alpha, and you’d do anything for the pack. I didn’t want to put you in that position.” He doesn’t say that the pain of knowing that Derek only wants him for his powers would kill him, because this is painful enough as it is. “You think I’d ask you to be my mate because you have magic?”, Derek asks, and Stiles didn’t think that his heart could break more, but it does. Derek sounds absolutely disgusted by the idea, and Stiles doesn’t know how to handle the pain. He knew that Derek could never want him, but having it confirmed like that is almost too much. Not wanting Derek to see the tears that are threatening to fall, he turns around, but Derek quickly grabs his wrist. “Stiles, cielo, wait! What I meant was, I’d be honoured to be your mate.” “What?” Stiles whips back around, sure that he can’t have heard that right. Derek looks a little sheepish, and he’s definitely blushing now, but his voice is firm when he says: “I don’t care about the magic. I mean, it’s fantastic and amazing and all that, but I always thought you are fantastic and amazing. You’re so smart and kind and funny, and you keep the pack together, and you make me want to be better, and could never hope for a better mate, a better partner, but obviously you don’t want that, and that’s okay. I just need you to know how amazing you are.” Stiles just stares at him for a moment, overwhelmed, is heart beating frantically, the tears now falling freely, then he shakes his head. “Derek, I’ve been in love with you for ages! Of course I want to be your mate. There’s nothing I want more.” Now it’s Derek’s turn to look overwhelmed, then he chuckles, stepping closer and lightly placing his hands on Stiles hips. “Guess we’re idiots?” “Yeah.” Stiles grins, then leans up to finally kiss Derek, who responds immediately, pulling him even closer, and it feels like fireworks, and rainbows, and coming home all at once. When Derek starts kissing down his neck and whispers “mi cielo”, Stiles pulls back though. “You’ve said that before. What does that mean?”, he questions, and that adorable blush spreads over Derek’s cheeks again. “It’s an endearment. Literally my sky. Because you’re my everything. And also...” He leans in again, a glint in his eyes that makes Stiles feel hot all over, and places a gentle kiss just behind his ear. “Because I would love to trace all your constellations.” Every word is punctuated with a kiss, and when Derek whispers “Te amo, mi cielo”, Stiles doesn’t need to know Spanish to understand what that means.

[anistarrose]

Dog is an Elf’s Best Friend (TAZ Graduation)

Summary: The summer before our series is set, two brothers search for the cure to a curse and are led to the Unknown Forest.

Word Count: 4100

Warnings: very brief eye horror

AO3: archiveofourown.org/works/21436063

I can’t be completely sure because I can’t read Travis’s mind and I don’t know what canon is going to do, but this is probably an AU. Some parts are based of a theory I think is pretty plausible, but other parts are bigger stretches.

***

Each year, when the hottest months arrive and the students leave their Wiggenstaff dorms to visit family or pursue summer employment, there are exactly four faculty members who remain on campus. One is Hernández, who stays to take care of the resident animals, and the second is of course Groundsy, whose true motivations remain an enigma to all but is ostensibly present to repair the tower and maintain the grounds as needed.

The third is Higglemas Wiggenstaff. They say you have a better chance of catching him outside of his office in the summer than you do during the school year, but it’s still a rare occurrence. Most rooms in Wiggenstaff’s, and in the Annex in particular, get so hot in the summer that they’re practically suffocating — but rumor has it that Higglemas can and will open a portal to the Plane of Air itself, if that’s what it takes to ventilate his office and keep it at a liveable temperature.

(Most students — especially the magic users themselves, who know just how much skill it requires to open such a portal — take this rumor with a grain of salt. Higglemas has been locking himself away like this for years, but has yet to emerge from his office with any grand innovation or discovery to show for it — how competent of a wizard can he really be?)

Unbeknownst to all but Higglemas himself, the fourth faculty member is Higglemas’s dog.

At first impression, and even second and third impression, nothing seems unusual about the collie that wanders the halls of the Annex — at least, nothing more unusual than what would be expected from a pet of Higglemas’s. He’s a well-trained dog, usually aloof but occasionally willing to accept bribes in the form of food, and he seems intelligent, but not uncannily so.

But this impression of mundanity, while incorrect, is a testament to the dog’s ability to keep a secret. And as luck would have it, this ability just so happens to run in the family.

***

Today, there are two deliveries for Higglemas waiting at the wrought-iron gate to the Annex. When the dog fetches them from the courier and brings them to his office, Higg immediately tears off the brown paper covering the larger of the two packages and begins leafing through the book in search of its section on polymorph spells. He hunches over the his desk, ignoring the second package, and presses his thumb to his middle finger to stem the flow of blood from a papercut he’s given himself in his haste.

“Hrm. Smoke from mahogany wood, that might be worth investigating…” he mutters, sloppily underlining a passage in the ancient tome with a ragged-looking quill pen. Then he cross-references his notes, and scowls. “No, what am I thinking? We’ve tried mahogany wood twice now!”

He slams the book closed. “We’ve tried every type of wood by now! We’ve tried every damn combination of components in all of Nua — and none of them have done a single thing!”

The dog whimpers, nudging the second package closer to Higg. It’s a small burlap sack, containing several loaves of bread and sugary pastries ordered from the bakery in Last Hope.

The dog cannot speak, but his message is clear: You’ll never find the right components if you forget to eat and collapse from starvation.

Higg reluctantly breaks off a tiny piece of crust from one of the loaves, popping it into his mouth as he pulls out another book. Unsatisfied, the dog leaps up onto the desk, trampling all over Higg’s notes and setting the bag of food down directly on top of the book, where Higg can’t possibly ignore it.

“Oh, fuck off, Hiero!” Higg snaps. “Do you want to be stuck like this forever?”

Hiero huffs and jumps down off the desk, storming off to disappear behind one of the office’s many bookshelves.

Higg sighs. “Okay, fine! I’ll eat — look!” He magically slices two pieces of bread off of the loaf and puts a piece of cheese between them, then takes a bite and makes exaggerated chewing motions. “See, there it goes! Down the pipe! You don’t need to get all sulky on me!”

Hiero doesn’t emerge from behind the bookshelf.

“I didn’t mean to snap at you like that, okay? I’m sorry.” Higg puts his head in his hands. “It’s just — it’s been five fucking years, and I haven’t come up with anything, Hiero. I don’t know how much longer I can do this. Someone’s bound to figure us out sooner or later…”

He swivels around in his chair, pulling open the curtains covering the office’s sole window and gazing outside towards the Unknown Forest with unfocused eyes.

“Everyone knows you would’ve saved me a long time ago, if I’d gotten cursed,” he whispers. “But I’ve tried every idea I can think of, every single spell component I know, and you’re still a dog…”

Hiero pokes his head out from his hiding place just in time to see his brother abruptly lean closer to the window, a smile suddenly spreading across his face.

“So that means the missing piece of the puzzle must be unknown to us, so to speak…” Higgs muses out loud.

Hiero barks so loud that it startles a bird flying by outside. You’d better not be planning what I think you’re planning! You’re just going to get yourself killed!

But Higg is already on his way to the door, throwing on a cloak and dusting off a longsword that hasn’t seen use in decades.

“Quit being such a worrywart, Hiero. I’m going to the Unknown Forest, I’m gonna burn some of the shit I find there, and then I’m going to get you back to normal.”

***

The smoke is the most vital component of a potent True Polymorph spell, on that much all sources agree. A cloud of smoke can change shape unlike any other substance, responding instantaneously to even the gentle guidance of a faint breeze. It represents impermanence and entropy, and the delicate act of channeling something fluid into a different, yet recognizable form.

But Higg has found all sorts of differing accounts on what type of smoke works best. Not all of them are contradictory — some recommend burnt driftwood specifically for a transformation into a sea creature, and others endorse candle smoke with a dash of copper sprinkled in for bats and other nocturnal creatures. Others still swear by a piece of parchment with writing on it, ideally a few words that evoke the creature one is trying to transform into.

But there is no recorded precedent, much less a scientific consensus, on how to reverse a curse and turn one’s brother from a dog back into an elf, so Higg has resorted to simply trying every possible combination of components he can think of. He still consults old texts from time to time, but neither research nor trial and error have resulted in even the faintest hint of a lead.

Hence his current plan: walking straight into the deadliest forest on Nua. Somewhere in between storming out of his office, and finding himself in the northeast corner of the campus green, he’s come to accept that it’s one of his worst plans ever — but it’s also the only plan he has left, and there’s no plan that’s worse than not trying anything.

He notices that Hiero is trotting after him, lagging behind by a few dozen feet. As much as Higg hates the idea of Hiero following him into the forest, his presence is oddly reassuring, because it tells Higg that even despite their earlier spat, his brother does still worry about him charging off to his death.

We really have flipped our old hero-sidekick dynamic on its head these past few years, haven’t we…

“You’re not heading to the Unknown Forest, are ya, Wiggs?”

Groundsy’s voice makes Higg jump — the groundskeeper, despite his impressive height and lumbering gait, always seems to appear out of nowhere even when Higg is completely expecting to run into him.

“I am heading in, but not so far that I lose sight of daylight. I’ll hurry back out at the first sign of trouble, I assure you.” Higg’s impression of Hiero’s voice is flawless, as is his disguise spell. (It has to be, in order for him to run the school in his brother’s place while he puzzles out the polymorph curse.)

“Well, what in the world for? You’re about to take quite a risk here, Wiggs — what reward are ya hoping to reap from this little expedition?”

Higg summons every ounce of elfin disdain he can muster as he replies: “Need I remind you, Groundsy, that you are in my employ — and so accordingly, I don’t have to justify myself to you? With my unmatched wisdom, I selected this particular site for my school out of nearly a hundred alternatives, and I have lived in the tower above this forest for over two centuries! If anyone knows what is or isn’t worth venturing into the Unknown Forest for, it would be me — the astute and frankly legendary Hieronymous Wiggenstaff! So put a bit more faith into your headmaster and let me go about my business uninterrupted, would you?”

Hiero’s ears twitch with a fair amount of elfin disdain of his own as he listens. This is no longer an “impression” of me. This is flat-out caricature.

Groundsy doesn’t seem too bothered by so-called-Hieronymous’s scathing rebuke. “Well, if ya find yourself in trouble, ya can always call for help!” he reminds Higg. “I won’t come in to rescue ya, but it’ll make the story more interesting when I tell everyone how the legendary Hieronymous Wiggenstaff met his match!”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Higg replies dryly. He puts his hand on the hilt of his sword, about to march into the forest, but Groundsy speaks up again:

“Oh, that’s a new sword, isn’t it?”

“My usual blade is out being resharpened by an expert smith,” Higg fibs. “I’m borrowing this one from Higglemas — since we have about the same build, and he certainly never uses it.”

“Borrowing his dog too, I see! Will you be using him to lead you through the forest by scent?”

“The dog goes where he pleases. I don’t have any say over it.” Higg turns around to give Hiero a glare. “Though I hope he has enough common sense not to follow me into the woods. He has no magic, no sword — he wouldn’t last a minute in there.”

“Oh, I’ll keep an eye on him for ya! Groundsy’s great with animals!” Groundsy kneels down to pet Hiero, who backs away and growls.

“Try and get along for just a few minutes, you two,” Higg tells them. “This shouldn’t take me very long.”

And if it does take longer than a minute or two, you’ll have more pressing concerns than each other’s company.

He casts Light on his sword as he steps closer to the woods, holding it out at arm’s length to illuminate the uneven terrain beneath his feet. He passes several jagged, half-buried boulders and treads across dead and gnarled old roots left behind by a long-gone tree, then warily comes to a halt a few feet away from the forest’s edge. Behind him, the sun is just as bright as one would expect from a cloudless summer day, but in front of him, it’s dark like midnight on the night of a new moon.

He hears Hiero whimper from a safe distance away, but he doesn’t turn back. There is a sapling at the edge of the tree line, bearing only a dozen or so leaves on each of its wiry branches, and he confidently strides towards it, gripping the thinnest-looking branch in a gloved hand and preparing to snap it off —

It doesn’t break. The branch is as rigid as steel, and feels deathly cold even through the insulation of his glove.

“Damn it, why didn’t I just bring a fucking axe?” Higg shivers, reluctantly raising his sword. He’d hate to damage it trying to chop down an unnaturally hardy tree, but collecting branches by hand wasn’t working, and he won’t let this perilous trip turn out to be for nothing.

Hiero barks as Higg swings his sword down, and Higg jumps, missing the sapling entirely.

“What the hell was that about? Don’t do that when I’m holding a bladed weapon —”

Hiero barks again, more urgently this time, and a realization dawns on Higg a second too late.

The tree roots he’d mistaken for dead have come very much alive — now they’re coiling around his feet, snaking up his boots, constricting his legs. As Hiero let’s out another frantic howl, they jerk violently, yanking Higgs off balance and dragging him backwards into the Unknown Forest.

“Fuck!” Higg swings his sword wildly, desperately trying to cut his feet loose, but it bounces straight off the bark of the roots. Its light dims as he’s carried further into the woods, and every other second he either gets a faceful of prickling branches or feels his head slam into the trunk of a tree, leaving his face bloodied and ears ringing.

Who’s going to save Hiero if I die in here? No one else even knows the truth —

He plunges his sword into the ground, miraculously finding a narrow chink between two immobile, iron-hard roots and piercing deep into the cold earth beneath them. The force at his feet keeps pulling, but his grip on the hilt of his weapon stays firm, and he doesn’t budge.

“Take that, you abducting arboreal bastards!” he spits, pulling his wand from his pocket and blindly aiming a freezing blast of wind towards his feet.

The roots immediately convulse, jerking upwards and hoisting Higg and his sword vertically out of the ground — only to stop moving a second later, leaving him suspended in the air. They glimmer in the light of his now-freed blade, and he realizes with a smile that he’s frozen every damn inch of them solid.

“Good riddance,” he growls, and strikes them once more with his sword — and this time, they shatter into thousands of icy crystals.

He feels less triumphant after tumbling to the ground and landing a bit less gracefully than he’d like — and what’s more, he realizes he’s somehow lost his grip on his wand.

“Shit, shit, shit…” He swings his sword in wide arcs, trying to illuminate as much of the surrounding forest as he can. None of the trees here seem to be as mobile as the roots that captured him, but he still flinches every time he feels something brush against his ankle. Once he finds his wand, though, he’ll be able to just levitate above the treetops and fly back to safety…

He glimpses a familiar polished marble rod atop a pile of ebony-dark leaves, but before he can pick it up, a chattering squirrel darts past and snatches it up beneath its teeth. Luckily, the creature doesn’t run far, instead opting to scamper up a tree and perch atop a low-hanging branch. It still holds the wand beneath its teeth as it stares at Higg with accusing eyes.

“I know I’m intruding on your territory, but I promise you, it wasn’t intentional,” Higg says softly, slowly stepping towards the squirrel and holding out an outstretched hand. “Now, I’d really appreciate it if you could just drop that wand you’re carrying…”

The squirrel’s tail erupts into purple flames and it snaps the solid stone wand between its teeth, chattering with delight as it stuffs the two halves into its mouth and gulps them down.

Higg hastily steps back, tightening his grip on his sword, but the squirrel darts away without another glance at him, and the forest falls eerily silent.

“Hiero?!” he shouts. “Groundsy? Can you hear me?!”

There’s no reply. And even worse, it dawns on him that he has no idea which way he came from — if he’d broken any branches or left any sort of trail while being dragged in, the plants have already regrown to cover it.

If he dies here and leaves Hiero stuck as a dog forever, all because he didn’t recognize Hiero’s own warnings in time, then… well, that sure would be an appropriate way to cap off his miserable, failure-wracked life, wouldn’t it? Really, he should’ve seen this result coming from the first moment the idea of entering the Unknown Forest popped into his head —

Think, Higglemas. Don’t give up, think. What would Hieronymous do to get his bearings?

He gazes up towards the blanket of pitch black leaves overhead, through which only a few tiny pinpricks of starlight reach through…

The stars, that’s it! Higg is no scholar of astronomy, but he does know the major constellations, as well as the approximate geographic layout of the Unknown Forest as a whole — with the stars in view, he can surely deduce the fastest route back to safety. Rather than sheathing his sword and blocking his only source of light, he ties it to his belt, and he selects a climbable looking tree — offering a sturdy trunk, ample branches for handholds and footholds, and most importantly, roots that don’t come alive even after giving them an experimental poke.

But almost as soon as he begins to scale the tree, things go wrong. The bark is unnaturally slick, and initially stable footholds melt away beneath his boots, sending him sliding back down the trunk to land on his rear in a pool of foul-smelling oil.

“Damn it!” Higg takes a running start at a different tree, leaping for the lowest-hanging branch, but it liquifies in his hand, and once again he tumbles to the ground.

So much for the stars saving me…

A bush a few feet away from him rustles, and Higg freezes.

But the forest goes quiet.

Concluding that his imagination had worked against him, Higg lets out a sigh of relief — then the bush rustles again.

(Is it the same bush? Or was the sound closer this time?)

He draws his ever-dimming sword, and from the bush there comes an eerie creak, like a footstep on a floorboard. But at least it isn’t advancing towards him anymore — he can work with this.

He’s about to take the first of what would hopefully be many slow steps backwards, away from the rustling creature, when he hears it. Somewhere behind the bush, a dog is barking, and though it’s distant and muffled, Higg recognizes it instantly.

“Hiero! I’m coming!!” he shouts, and charges towards the bushes.

Between the cover of the plants and the cover of darkness, the being that lurches forward to meet him is difficult to perceive, but Higg glimpses it in brief flashes as he swings his blade —

At least four spindly arms, probably more. Fingers whittled into points.

Ash-grey bark peeling away to reveal eyes, so many eyes. Pulsating black pupils, surrounded by spiderwebs of crimson veins.

A cavity between two forking branches, in which rows of fangs drip sickly-sweet sap.

Higg lets out a guttural roar and skewers the beast through its torso, casting its hollow body aside and sprinting onwards to the source of Hiero’s barks. But a stray vine trips him, and his heart skips a beat in his chest as he feels it ensnare his ankle in a familiar death grip —

Hiero springs out of the shadows, a terrifying bundle of momentum and determination in canine form, and barrels into the vine with so much force that even Higg gets jerked a few feet. The vine doesn’t release him, but it goes just limp enough for Higg to slip out of his trapped boot, and Hiero darts to his side as the two of them break into a run again without a single word exchanged.

If Higg didn’t know better, he would’ve sworn his brother had done this before. Hiero keeps his tail close to Higg’s legs and his nose close to the ground, barking and swinging his tail every few dozen feet to signal for Higg to turn. When they finally breach the tree line, they skid to a halt and whirl around to face the forest — Higg with his sword drawn, Hiero with haunches raised and teeth bared — and wait several terrifying seconds before finally collapsing to the ground, confident that no creatures will follow them out of the woods.

“Well, I’ll be a unicorn on the barn roof!” Groundsy begins to applaud, rushing to Higg’s side with a huge smile on his face. “Ya made it out in once piece, both you and your dog!”

“He’s my brother’s dog, not mine —” Higg begins, before looking down at his hands and clothes and realizing that his Disguise Self spell is, of course, long gone.

“Oh, don’t ya give me that schtick! Your secret is safe with me, Higgsy!” Groundsy tells him with a wink.

Higg breathes a temporary sigh of relief, mentally debating the ethics of looking into a memory-erasing spell later. Unless huts are involved, Groundsy’s secret-keeping abilities usually leave much to be desired.

“From the looks of things, ya almost did kick the bucket in there,” Groundsy goes on. “I hope ya at least got ahold of whatever it was ya went in for?”

Higg plucks a few pointed twigs from his cloak and pants, holding them gingerly and cupping his free hand beneath them to catch the oil that they drip.

“Well, not quite in the way I wanted to. But I’m thinking this’ll suit my purposes just fine.”

***

Hiero sits impatiently at the center of a room that has seen many explosive fires and failed rituals, waiting for Higg to finish his preparations. There are circles of chalk that must be drawn, dust from previous failures that must be swept up, and most importantly, oil from the Unknown Forest that must be burned.

Higg watches the flames turn an unnatural purple color, pointing a freshly obtained wand at the bowl of oil and concentrating on channeling the smoke. As he directs wisps of it past his face and towards Hiero, he’s somewhat put off by how normal it smells — it has a slightly more earthen scent than the usual flammable components he uses, but there’s nothing particularly otherworldly about it. Nothing to indicate that this might be the breakthrough he’s awaited for years.

“Ready?” he asks Hiero, pushing his doubts to the back of his mind, and Hiero nods, sitting up on his hind legs. They’ve always speculated that a bipedal posture might help reversing the polymorph — though of course, it’s not like they’ve had any success to show for it.

Hiero holds his breath as Higg surrounds him with a plume of smoke and begins to chant, carefully enunciating words in a long-dead language that even most elves don’t remember. The room quickly darkens in a way that it never has before, as the smoke absorbs the ambient light and begins to glow in an inconsistent shimmering pattern that evokes stars scattered across a deep indigo sky.

Higg, too, holds his breath as thin wisps of that smoke coil around Hiero one at a time, slowly blending together and changing in shape. The obscured silhouette of a collie transforms, snout shortening and legs elongating — and then it all disperses with a sudden clap of wind, leaving behind an elfin man who instantly collapses to the floor.

“Higglemas?” Hiero croaks, staring down at his trembling hands. “Did we —”

He coughs up a cloud of acrid red smog, convulsing and arching his back.

“NO! WAIT! Do something, Higg! I can’t —”

Higg dives after his brother, eyes stinging from the fumes as Hiero’s voice breaks and distorts back into a howl. Higg wraps his arms around a thrashing collie, and Hiero goes limp, red-tinged foam still dripping from his mouth as his younger brother whispers:

“We’re getting so close, Hiero. Don’t give up on me now, not when we’re so damn close.”

Hiero whimpers weakly, hanging his head.

“We have a lead now,” Higg continues, summoning all the optimism he can muster into his voice no matter how sick he felt watching Hiero revert. “And in just a few weeks, we’ll have a new class of students, too — odds are one of them will know their way around animals and shapeshifting.”

He gently pats Hiero on the back, running his hand over fur until he can feel that Hiero has stopped trembling. “We’ve got more to go on than ever before. We’re going to figure this out one way or another, I promise.”

Hiero’s eyes close as he rests his head on Higg’s knee. I hope so.

***

(End notes:

Thanks for reading, comments are always welcomed!

While I genuinely believe the Hiero Dog Theory as a whole has a lot of weight to it, certain parts of this are certainly going to get proven wrong sooner or later, but it was still extremely fun to write! I am historically a huge sucker for grumpy old men with hidden depths, so I got invested in Higglemas right away.)

[childoftimeandmagic]

Burning for You

Klaroline AU Week 2019 is here, catch me sneaking this in under the wire. Thank you @itsnotacrimetoloveyou for getting my author juices flowing again. 

Read on AO3 

               Growing up when giants walked the earth Caroline often felt older than she truly was. That being said being reborn often made her feel exactly her age. Stranding slowly, her head fuzzy with the details, she glanced around her store and groaned. The scorched tile and ashes of where her store had been made sense. Feeling her chest, she felt the healing wound on her chest. Bullet wound, wood by the fact she’d rebirthed so quickly. Humans had the most entertaining toys to play with, holding out her hand she absorbed the residual flames and heat back into her body. If anyone had been around to notice it, they would have seen the briefest glimpse of fiery wings rising behind the naked blonde.

           Taking a deep breath, she started moving through the rubble of her jewelry store for anything of value to take with her. Since she’d most likely be considered dead from a mysterious fire, it was time to leave Mystic Falls. After recovering a hundred pieces of gold and silver gemstone encrusted pieces, she took a deep breath and in a swirl of blue fire disappeared from the rubble, just as sirens started to pour in.

           Unbeknownst to Caroline someone had been watching her stumble through her former store. Someone who had been looking for the being that couldn’t be killed by a weapon of man nor flame of the gods. A man who was bent on controlling or killing the powerful beings in creation. Someone who believed himself to be the most powerful creature to walk the earth. Klaus Mikaelson stalked from the shadows across the Mystic Falls square his suspicion confirmed.

           People had murmured his entire immortal life of the powers of rejuvenation and destruction a Phenix controlled. A nice bedtime story for those who needed a miracle or a plea of vengeance. Then the alters had started popping up, about six hundred years ago or so. Whispers saying that if one left a vibrant gemstone, or something of equal beauty the Auroral Phenix would answer their prayer. Klaus had dismissed it as the blithering tales of human’s hell bent on praying for anyone to save them or protect them.

           Then his minions had started pouring in stories of villages being burned down the day after an opal or precious stone had been left at one of these alters in the woods. Soon more stories came in of the sick miraculously healing. Abusers of women and children, catching fire spontaneously while walking through the town after a doll from a little girl or toy cart from a little boy had been left with pleas for help. Yet no one saw anything but a burst pretty petite blonde near the location of every occurrence. Soon his interest was piqued, Rebekah and Elijah had amused his curiosity to an extent.

           Caroline reappeared five thousand miles away in her villa ruins of Despotiko. While she could have reappeared anywhere, her family home was were her body always pulled following a rebirth, over the last two thousand years she’d given up on resisting the pull. Despotiko was protected and a national archaeological site for the Greeks. Whether or not they’d ever actually owned it or not was of little matter at this point, the ancient history of man and nymphs lost to time. Once islands across the Mediterranean had been known to be sanctuaries for the children of the gods. Walking through the broken pillars to where she could look out over the bay, she closed her eyes.

           Lots of mythos surrounded her people but, in the end, she was the last one left. Shapeshifting hadn’t protected them as much as Helios and Hephaestus had hoped. Man was a cruel race willing to destroy anything it didn’t feel it could control or conquer adequately. Rolling her shoulders, she walked over to her mother’s chest, that she had here masked by magic and careful misdirection. There were sentimental things, like her mother’s molting plumage which never faded, an aquamarine pendent in the shape of a tear, as well as practical things like clothes and weapons. Grabbing her gear, she got dressed quickly. Placing the gems and jewelry she’d recovered from the remnants of Rising Jewelers ashes into the box she placed her hands on the chest and said a prayer to her father to protect her from whatever was chasing her.

She like her mother, was child of an air nymph and the sun god Helios. Nymphs who bore a Phenix didn’t survive the birth, so most Phenix’s lived with an older member of the flock until maturity which was between six hundred and eight hundred years old. While they rarely stayed in human forms, their avian forms in the end had been their undoing.

As humans had realized that they were demi-gods or the grandchildren of a titan and a being of Gia, the desire to control grew. Phenix’s could neither be controlled or tamed, they also couldn’t be recreated through interbreeding. Then the age of iron had come, and with-it man’s weapons grew stronger. Unbeknownst to her flock or her father, to prevent them from growing too strong, Zeus had cursed his cousin’s children to be burned by the touch of iron. As such they could only be killed by iron through the heart or brain.

While man had destroyed her culture 1200 years ago, her god father had spirited her away from the blood bath and placed her with cousin Hephaestus in the volcanic chasms underground until she’d reached maturity of six hundred years old. Carolina as she’d been known then had trained as a jewel smith under her god cousin, who was amazed at her ability to focus and her attention to details.

The old gods slumbered now though, their worshipers far and in-between, not enough to keep them awake. Caroline drifted through the world of man taking time to help innocents here and there. Caroline missed her flock often especially after a traumatic rebirth, but life moved on and with time so did she. Man was impressionable though and with a few well-placed whispers and alters popping up on every continent she thrived.

 She pulled a replacement phone from the chest and plugged in the password to unlock it. Walking around the ruins of her old life, she ran a security check on her various properties across the globe. Everything was fine except her store front in New Orleans. Rolling her eyes, she zoomed in on who was sitting on her counter. Niklaus Mikaelson. He had been sniffing after her tail feathers for six centuries. Still her deal with Kol Mikaelson not to engage with his older brother was the reason; why his overzealous murder happy brother wasn’t a crispy critter her to consume.

Growling low in her throat, she felt the fire rise within her. Taking multiple deep breaths didn’t keep her phantom flame wings from unfurling behind her, scorching the points of her shirt where her real wings would have come out of her back. Spinning on her heel she walked back to the chest and grabbed her favorite leather jacket. If Klaus Mikaelson wanted to fuck with her, he was about to find out that getting too close to an open flame got you eaten by the last daughter of the sun.

  Klaus was hoping that his minion wasn’t wrong otherwise he was sitting in gorgeous jewelry store that had been closed for five years. In fact, the store according to his minion had closed the day after he and his siblings had returned home. Klaus looked around the store from his spot on the counter impressed with the amount of gold and gems left just sitting on display. Was this woman really so powerful that she felt comfortable leaving such expensive things behind in her absence.

“You know getting ass sweat off of glass is a lot harder than people assume,” a crystal voice startled him out of his thoughts, “get off the furniture hybrid.”

Spinning he looked for the source of the voice, standing behind him was the slight blonde beauty who’d burned and the reformed in the rubble of a small-town jewelry store four nights previous. “So, you aren’t a myth?”

“No very much real now if you want to continue to terrorize your section of the supernatural realm, I suggest you leave now,” the blonde replied, barely looking at him. In fact, it looked almost like she was bored. Snarling he flashed forward only to meet heat and smoke. Turning on his heel he froze as he felt a burning pain on his back. “I told you to leave Mikaelson.”

“I’ve been looking for you,” he breathed through the pain trying to ignore the searing pain that burst forth from her hand on his back.

“You have hmmm, I don’t remember you calling me up or sending me a message on twitter,” she pushed more heat through her hand feeling the flesh start to burn under her hand, the shirt long gone.

“I didn’t think you’d take me call.” he wheezed flashing away finally giving up all pretense that it didn’t hurt to feel her touch.

“Oh, but breaking into one of my stores seemed much smarter,” Caroline was growing impatient. The predator in her wanted to eat him in one gulp, people forgot that some birds weren’t herbivores. She felt the fire from her hand itch to come out and play.

“I wanted to know if the stories were true, if you were the Auroral Phenix incarnate,” he said, shifting his shirt off to look at the scorch marks her hand had left. Only the marking looked more claw than fingered.

“So why not just ask, one apex predator to another?” she asked, looking around her store, and Klaus paused.

Up close he was amazed there weren’t more stories of how beautiful this blonde woman was. Eyes that made him feel he was staring into the deepest pools of water, and hair that could only be described as spun gold. “I never heard tale of a Phenix’s kill, or destruction until you started burning whole villages down as you pleased.”

“It’s not my fault man built their homes out of such flammable material, if they couldn’t handle a little heat then they shouldn’t beat their wives or children,” Caroline stated, as though the thought of not burning down a tinder box of a wooden home hadn’t occurred to her. She was working ridiculously hard at focusing on his ches-no eyes. God why did immortality tend to happen to the only physically gifted individuals of the world.

“So you only ever burned down villages of people who deserved it?” Klaus asked, stepping closer.

“Sometimes a rebirth went wrong, or my heart too heavy to contain my flame,” Caroline sighed, she was growing bored.

“It’s true though, all the stories about your kind though?” he asked, pushing closer when she made no move to stop him.

“Depends on what you’ve heard, though I doubt any of it was actually correct.”

“You don’t cry healing tears, nor journey to the ends of the world to die and be reborn?”

“Maybe yes, but maybe no,” Caroline answered, moving around her store looking to check if he’d stolen anything, always keeping one eye on the man in her store.

“Don’t play games girl,” he growled.

“Girl, that’s rich, I was in my first thousand years when your people hadn’t yet learned how to make swords.” Caroline spun on him so quick he felt off kilter. In a thousand years he’d never met anything or one who made him feel weak. Her hair glowing an almost auburn kind of gold, the color of molten metal. “Either tell me what the great Hybrid wants with me or be gone!”

“Madam,” he cleared his throat. “I merely thought that us powerful creatures should get to know one another better.”

“Bullshit, those words might work with the witches, and fae queens you’re used to dealing with, but my magic is older than the magic of man and far less forgiving Niklaus Mikaelson,” Caroline felt her body aching to change and devour the abomination before her. Stealing the monster inside herself she remembered the teachings of her mother and her people.

“It’s actually my sister Rebekah, she’s been poisoned by something and withers away day by day, I was looking for you because Kol told us that only you could save her,” he relented, stepping back.

“You came to ask a favor, or did you think you could force my hand Niklaus Mikaelson?” she said, eyebrow arched as flame wings glinted behind her reflecting off the gold and silver pieces hanging around the store.

Klaus was at a loss for words, if this was her half transformed, with wings of flame, it belied a beautiful creature in her natural form. He could see shades of reds, blues, and yellows, rippling over her hair and through the flames behind her. “I wasn’t going to take no for an answer.”

“Bring me the thing you value most and I’ll give you the gift to save your sister,” she said, stalking forward and holding her hand out to him. Taking it, he hissed as the heat seared his palm. Pulling away he saw a scar on his palm in the shape of swirling smoke.

When he looked up, he was alone on the roof top of One Shell Square, alone. Spinning around he saw a faint sparkle of something flying off into the night sky a thousand yards away from him. Growling he flashed home to see how Rebekah was faring in his absence.

 Two days passed and Klaus had not come back to her shop. She was calmer now, the heat of the rebirth finally worn off. Sighing she turned back to her styling and sculpting of the vial that she would use to hold her tears. A phenix’s tears gained their healing ability from the lost souls that they cried for. Crying allowed them to protect and preserve themselves and their flock outside of rebirth. Even if Klaus didn’t come back, she would leave the vial on Rebekah’s bedside. She need only drink the tears and all curses, maladies, and pain would leave her body.

Standing she walked to the garden outside her workroom, she knelt down and placed the vial at the center of the sundial design in the tile. Finally, she allowed herself to shift into her natural form. Deep red and yellow plumage spilled out as her bones thinned and shifted to become her real self. Shaking out her tail feathers, she let out a low mournful call, which startled every bird within a half mile out of their nests and into the sky.

Crying drops the color of molten gold, she angled her head so as the tears dripped down her face, they rolled off her beak and filled the vial below. She cried for all the women lost to anger, the children dead in the name of greed, and the loss of her family a millennium twice past. When the vial was full, and her heart felt as light as her bones she shook out her plumage and looked up into the sun which was highest in the sky.

“Thank you, father,” she silently prayed.

“Caroline?” he was here, curious she turned her head 180 degrees to look at him. Standing in the doorway of her work room was the hybrid empty handed. Cooing she looked at him eyes wide. Shifting back into her sun-dressed human form she shook off the few feathers that clung through the transformation. “Has anyone ever told you that you look like a fairy princess transforming in a gust of wind and flame?”

“I tend to eat most beings who see me transform, so no,” Caroline said softly, looking up at him as she knelt to stopper the vial. “I believe the deal was what you value most, in exchange for your sisters cure.”

“I thought about this for two whole days Nix, and I couldn’t come up with anything,” he said slowly, “my sister actually figured it out first, you want me to give myself to you in exchange for her.”

“I wanted the offer, but I’ve never left a woman to suffer,” Caroline laughed, and tossed the vial to him.

“Dinner on the gulf?” he offered, snatching it deftly out of the air.

“Our pact is fulfilled,” she answered, walking over and leaning up to kiss his cheek lightly. “Don’t be late.”

[sweet-lil-psycho]

You can hear me? - Post-death Kyle - AHS Coven - (1)

Dedicated to @slightlyvicked for her amazing contributions 

Summary: The newest guest of Miss Robichaux's Academy is a powerful witch, but on of her powers is something Kyle had only dreamed of.

Word Count: 2891

(Authors Note: I know I said this would be up tomorrow, but I got super excited and ended up finishing the whole thing today. I really loved writing it and added a number to the title in case anyone wants me to write more and turn this into a series.)

You walked through the front gate of Miss Robichaux's Academy for Exceptional Young Ladies and immediately knew someone was watching you. It was a primal skill that most witches had forgotten or discarded over the centuries, but you had learned to harness it just as the old witches did. The person, you could already tell, did not match you in magical skill and posed absolutely no threat, so you happily ignored it. Why wouldn’t you? You were a lioness and they were... a bunny rabbit, yes, that seemed about right.

Your suitcase dragged close behind you up the walkway, propelled wholly by magic. As you stepped up to the front doors, they opened for you. Clearly the house knew better than to make you wait. They parted widely and once you, and your suitcase had stepped over the threshold, shut softly behind you. 

There was a thing about thresholds that most witches didn’t know. They keep track of all the magical beings who pass through them. It was as if you had been presented with a registry of all the witches in the house the moment you walked in. Not by name, of course, but a display of the skill level and aura of each magical being which you would easily be able to pair with the witches of the house upon meeting them. 

Nothing special, you noted with a small smirk, perhaps Miss Robichaux's Academy’s young ladies were not as exceptional as they thought they were.

You didn’t bother calling out your arrival, the witches of the house were expecting you... or at least the ones who mattered were. Instead, you were fast at finding your way to their library of magical texts, curious to see what books they had acquired since your last visit.

Despite all your attention being in the yellowed pages of The Witches Guide To Advanced Spellwork; Volume 4, which you were finding quite amusing, the intended entrance of a familiar witch did not slip your witchy senses. She must have been about to cross the archway of the room when you spoke

“Cordelia! What a pleasure!” You said with a large smile, only now looking up from the dusty and quite trivial tome.

“Y/N, what an absolute honor and pleasure it is to have you with us at Miss Robichaux’s.” Cordelia greeted you warmly

“I couldn’t possibly pass through New Orleans without dropping by.” You told her as you opened your arms for a hug

You and Cordelia went way back. Well...as way back as a 19 year old could go with someone. You’d briefly met and studied with her mother, the Supreme Witch, Fiona Goode, before deciding your studying efforts were best spent elsewhere. A decision which lead you far from American soil and on a long string of adventures. In the time you had known each other, you had been quite close.

“Well, we are delighted to have you stay as long as you would like.” She assured you “I’ll send Spalding to carry your bags and show you to your room.”

“No need,” you said simply “I’m quite capable.”

The bag followed you as you began to walk out of the room. Cordelia followed and watched the bag in amazement. You’d definitely learnt a few new tricks since your last meeting. As you ascended the stairs, the suitcase began to float over the steps and you could just barely hear the small laugh Cordelia gave.

You vaguely recalled the layout from your previous visit, which was enough to allow you to find the room with ‘Visitor Quarters. Not for student entry’ on the door. You couldn’t contain a laugh as you touched the doorknob and surveyed the room with your witch senses.

Predictably, the students were huddled on the bed and floor discussing some nonsense speculations about your arrival. The movement of the doorknob was enough to hear them loudly scramble and whisper ‘hide’ to one another. Generously...or perhaps cruelly, you allowed them enough time to conceal themselves before opening the door.

The room was the grandest in the house, complete with a crystal chandelier and golden velvet curtains, which seemed unnaturally lumpy with outlines of very tactless witches. The lights in the room were out and you wondered how much more obvious the hiding of the students would be once you illuminated the room.

“It’s so dark, should I open the curtains?” You wondered aloud, which was met with an audible ‘shit!’ from the direction of the lumpy fabric.

“No need” You added, snapping your fingers and watching every candle in the room light.

You could tell they were watching. Eyes boring into your skin with the telltale spark which let you know they were witches. If they want to watch, give them a show, you thought.

The suitcase threw itself onto the bed and began unclipping and unzipping. You started pulling out all your packed goods from inside the small, black suitcase. Your clothes for a start, which soared out of the bag, unfolded, and began hanging themselves in the closet, the door of which was flung open. You didn’t need to look to see the absolute fright which flashed on the face of the student who had chosen to hide in there. It made you smile, but still you played oblivious. 

Next, you hoisted out the high candelabra out of the bag and allowed it to settle in the darkest corner of the room, adding to the glow of torches. Then came your armchair, which squeezed it’s way out and scuttled across the floor to a lovely spot in front of the fireplace.

“What the hell is this?” you heard a voice whisper from the curtains, promptly followed by “shh!”

Then your trunk, your vanity table, the tall, pedestal birdcage which housed your raven, Corvis, some trinkets and rarities from your travels, a large mirror with pitch black glass, and finally your cat, jumping out from the still half-full suitcase and stretching out her black body after the nap you surely woke her from.

Once she finished, she meowed loudly and walked in circles, indicating there were people about.

“Oh I know Salem, they’ll come out when they’re good and ready” You told the cat, who then decided to curl up in the center of the bed.

“Is she talking about us?” A voice whispered, “Shh!” 

"You really should come out, you know. You girls are really making fools of yourselves.” You announced

They all came out and you laughed to yourself, they thought they could hide from you. The young witches were similar ages, but had no where near the experience or magical level that you possessed. Finally you were able to place each magical identity the threshold had given you to it’s owner.

“You should have warned us, Nan!” One of the girls huffed

“Warn you of what? Her mind is blank.” Nan replied

“Not blank, simply unavailable to the likes of you. I’m not too fond of little witchlings prying through my thoughts” You interrupted

“This is all your fault, Madison, I told you we shouldn’t be in here! We’re going to get in so much trouble!” One of the girls snapped at another

“Shut up, Queenie!” Madison snapped back

“Surprise! Welcome to Miss Robichaux's Academy” Nan said with an innocent smile

“She’s not an idiot, Nan. What’s wrong with you?” Madison said viciously

“Hey! Don’t talk to Nan like that!” Another girl defended

“You shut too, Zoe!” Madison added 

“Don’t tell me to shut up, you shut up!”

“Yeah Madison, why don’t you shut your mouth for once!”

“This is all your fault anyway, Madison.”

“Yeah, she’s right”

“Shut up, Nan”

“Shut up Madison!”

“Yeah, shut up Madison!”

“All of you shut up!” You raised your voice and it echoed around the room

All the girls went quiet, not by choice, but because their voices had left them entirely. This seemed to enrage them more and they started mouthing louder at each other in an attempt to continue their argument.

“Now when you’re all done blubbering like fish, let’s get a few things straight.” You said and watched them quiet down, realizing they weren’t going to get their way by fighting each other soundlessly

“First of all, this is the last time any of you come into my chamber uninvited. Secondly, Cordelia will be hearing none of this from me so long as you little witchlings show me a bit more respect from now on. Third, no more bickering...it is unpleasant and frankly, very unbecoming of all of you. And finally, any more of this kind of nonsense and you will regret the day you ever met me. Am I clear?”

Madison noiselessly muttered some snarky comment which made Nan break out into a grin

You flicked your wrist and Madison’s eyes widened as her hair was violently tugged backwards.

“Am I clear?” You asked again, waving your hand over them so they could speak once more

“Crystal clear.” They all said in a dreary unison, probably habit from Cordelia asking them the same question so many times 

“Right then. If that’s everything” You said and the door swung open behind you, inviting them to leave

“You can come out now Kyle, she caught us.” Zoe called out and a final figure emerged, this time from under the bed.

How could you have missed this?...Hang on, he’s not magical...or human..., you were puzzled, which was rare, especially when it came to magic.

“Kyle?” You said, feeling the name in your mouth curiously

He didn’t speak as he went to stand behind Zoe. He was tall and muscular looking, almost the frat-boy type if it wasn’t for his vacant expression and strange, detached way about him. 

“Kyle” You said again, softer this time as you tried to understand what he was and how you hadn’t detected him

“Yes, I’m Kyle”, a voice wrung inside your head clearly, your telepathic abilities picking up on his response

It’s nice to meet you Kyle, you sent the message telepathically, wondering if he could hear it. You’d never met anyone like this before and had no idea what his capabilities were.

The girls had begun to file out of the room, but Kyle stood in place, his dark eyes locked with yours, thinking.

“Come on Kyle” Zoe called him

He didn’t move and you stepped closer to him without acknowledging her, waiting for a response

“Who are you?” he asked, he sounded almost scared

I’m Y/N, I’m not going to hurt you, you transferred the message into his mind.

“How can you hear me? No one can ever hear me.” 

“Kyle, come on!” Zoe called him once again, this time tugging at his arm

“No.” He said, still not looking away from me

“What are you doing to him?” Zoe demanded, moving away from Kyle and coming up to me

“No!” Kyle shouted more urgently, stepping forward to pull Zoe back, but you beat him to it and flung her back with a magical force which sent her stumbling to the ground

“What the hell!” Madison exclaimed after watching her fellow witch get tossed aside. She walked back into the room and heading towards Kyle, no doubt to try and drag him out. “Come on, Kyle. We’re leaving!”

“No! No! No!” He shouted

“That’s quite enough” You groaned tiresomely, growing more and more irritated by these little witches.

With a sweeping gesture of your hand, the girls were thrust out of the doorway and the door closed loudly after them. The lock on the door slid over and fastened into place, preventing them from reentering, though they still tried.

Kyle still seemed agitated and you put your hands up gently to calm him

Everything is alright, Kyle. They’re gone now, they’re not going to make you leave before you want to

“I didn’t mean to yell, I really didn’t” his voice came softly “I just get so angry some times that I can’t stop what happens.”

It was like his consciousness was trapped in a body which couldn’t contain it. His emotions were unable to regulate themselves as they traveled from his mind to his actions. His mind seemed perfectly intact and developed, it was almost as if the connection between his mind and body was damaged in some way.

It’s okay Kyle. Why don’t we sit down?, you suggested, sitting on the bed where Salem watched curiously

“Sure, why not.” he came and sat on the bed, his eyes finally leaving mine in order to look at Salem

“Salem, this is Kyle, he’s a friend.” You told the cat

Salem immediately let her guard down and she rolled on her back, displaying her stomach for belly rubs

“I like cats. A big tabby named Monty used to live on our street, he was such a fat cat, always rummaging through people’s bins for scraps.” He smiled at the memory and began to pat Salem

“Why can’t the others talk to me like this?” he looked up for a moment, there was so much sadness in his eyes

I’m a very powerful witch. I’ve studied my whole life and learned from the best teachers all over the world. Telepathy is a tricky skill on it’s own to master, but for some reason it’s more complicated with you. Usually there’s just a locked door leading right into someone’s consciousness, but with you, it’s like there’s a labyrinth. It was true, his whole consciousness was locked away by this elaborate protection. The more you learned about Kyle, the more interested you became.

“Oh...How long are you staying?” His voice held a tone of worry at the thought of you leaving. You knew you would be the same if the only person who could truly talk to you was only passing through on their own travels.

I haven’t decided yet, Kyle. I didn’t think I’d meet someone as interesting as you, you told him and he smiled in such an effortlessly charming way that you had to stop yourself from swooning.

He was cute, to say the least, and in the moment where his more human side came out, he made your heart pound so loud you were surprised he couldn’t hear it.

Kyle moved his arm to further pet Salem and you noticed a severe looking scar on his neck.

What’s happened there? you pointed at the mark

He instantly moved to hide it, pulling the neck of his t-shirt higher, which only loosened it and made the mark more visible.

“It’s nothing. Nothing at all, really.” he replied quickly

Kyle please, is it a scar? Let me take a look? you asked him telepathically and he didn’t answer

“Please, Kyle. I’m not going to hurt you or anything. I just want to see.” You said aloud

Hesitantly, Kyle moved his hands away from his neck and allowed you access to the deep scar-tissue. It looked incredibly painful, but when you touched it gingerly, he didn’t flinch. Upon closer inspection, the mark went entirely around his neck and you gasped.

He immediately pulled away and tried once again to cover it up.

It’s okay Kyle, really. I just...it looks like it hurt a lot, you said, suddenly teary for some reason.

Kyle noticed the sudden redness of your eyes and stopped pulling away.

“It didn’t really. I hardly felt it.” He told you.

You wondered how that could be for a second and then the answer hit you hard. A lot about Kyle rapidly began to make sense and you realized why Kyle was so unlike anything you had come across before.

May I? you asked him, holding your hand up to touch the scar once more.

He moved himself closer to give you better access to the wound, silently complying with your ask.

Once again you placed your hand on the scar, this time channeling it with a skill you had learned in small town Romania.

“arătați-mi” you whispered

Your eyes glossed over with a pale film of white and you began to see Kyle’s life unfold before your eyes. The good, the bad, and the just plain tragic.

It was blurry, but as you came closer to the events which led to the scarring, it became clear. You saw his time at Kappa Lambda Gamma, the party, Zoe, Madison, the party bus, Madison and Zoe’s sloppy, infantile attempts at a complex post-mortem revival spell, Kyle’s struggles with his new life.

“Oh my gods above and forgotten... what in the name of Hecate. Someone had better slap those girls from Venus to Neptune.” You whispered to yourself “I am so sorry this happened to you, Kyle.”

You cupped his face in your hands and rested your forehead against his. He stiffened for a moment and then relaxed, putting his hands on your waist so gently, as if he were afraid of hurting you.

“You don’t...hate me, do you?” he asked after a few seconds of silence

Hate you? Kyle, why would I...how could you think I would hate you?, you were baffled by it, he’d been put through so much and he thought you would...hate him for it?

“Fiona always says I’m disgusting and unnatural. I’m like Frankenstein's monster.” He told you

“First of all, Fiona’s a bitch. Second, I always did like Frankenstein.” you said aloud, placing a soft kiss on his cheek.