#lest i succumb to the darkness…….

[socialc1imb]

Wow is this the new fish in a birdcage song? It is so good let me just add it to my playlist—

[hansolen]

sunlight blooms within the crevices of my soul. (it burns a little, but i still love you.)

꩜ pairing ⇾ aventurine x gn reader

꩜ word count ⇾ 2k

꩜ author’s note ⇾ i don’t know what happened here lol this guy has been rotting my brain for the past 4 months and suddenly i combusted and decided to write something for him <3

when you first met aventurine it felt like you were gazing at the sun itself. he was flamboyant, bright and unafraid to be the centre of a show. or at least that’s how he tried to present himself as.

his presence was magnetic, it drew you in relentlessly. you wondered if this was how pirates felt — when sirens lured them into the depths of the ocean with their melodious voices. aventurine was akin to a siren. he was alluring, unreal and dubious. almost otherworldly in the sense that there was always a distance between the two of you. one you couldn’t exactly point out, but the feeling always lingered. even with his arm around your waist, pulling you in — it felt like he was worlds away. despite how you both were just centimetres apart.

to you, aventurine is the sun. and if there is one thing you know about the sun, it’s that you should never stare at its light for too long. else it starts to blind you. however when it comes to aventurine, you can’t help but look. you gravitate towards him like a moth does to a flame.

afterall, you were someone who was locked into the shadows for too long. someone who had gazed at the sun for the first time in ages, admiring his light from a distance. what you hadn’t expected was for the sun to gaze right back at you. with those mesmerising eyes of his, aventurine looked through your soul with the same intensity as you looked through his.

that’s where it felt scary, you think. the realisation that his gaze alone brought out certain parts of you to light. parts you didn’t even remember existed — the kinder, sweeter bits of you. yet, just how there’s a duality between light and dark, and how one cannot exist without the other, the darker parts of you also emerged. the more murky and broken pieces of you — wherein you desired him carnally. yearning for his touch, his warmth.

that’s the thing about aventurine, his presence is warm — in an addictive way. the kind where once you’ve had a sip, you just can’t seem to get enough. nothing quenches your thirst quite like his affection. this ache for him, you kept it all in the dark for a reason, for self preservation. yet when it comes to him, you can’t help but succumb to these desires. you can’t help but lean onto him.

another fact about the sun is that it is all encompassing. get too near and you will burn. it is inevitable. you wonder if that too is a form of self preservation. his form of sustenance. rays of light that pierce so harshly, people can’t help but look away. perhaps there is a reason why he tries to shine so brightly, so that no one stares too long, lest they see what he actually is. what he is hiding. the ugly parts of the sun, his blemishes, his lack. him.

aventurine was resting with his head on your lap as you ran your fingers through his soft hair. a small moment of intimacy shared between the two of you. unspoken words laced within the strings of silence that hung over the two of you.

he often left you confused with his conflicting actions. when it came to all matters related to you — he was greedy, yet distant. whenever you both got too close and you brought him to put down a mask of his (among his many), he always ended up leaving you for days at a time. it hurts, it always does.

to him it’s scary. scary how you make him crumble with such ease. he can’t let you. so he won’t meet you for days, weeks even. you are left on your own and it feels as though your light has been snatched. that’s what truly terrifies you. the possibility that one day he might truly leave, and you won’t be able to stop him. (little do you know he feels the same. he isn’t the idealised version you think of him. he is no Sun. he is just a dying star.)

aventurine is used to hurting himself, used to putting his life on the line, on bets and games of chance. but that never meant that he wanted to hurt you in the process. in all honesty, he is afraid. just as you think of him as the sun, he thinks of himself as a shell. he has many facets in this mask of his, filled with what others wish to see him as, want him to be. he often thinks of them as characters to play in a script. he is so used to living in this facade he has created that he no longer feels in touch with the ‘self’ under his myriad of masks.

he doesn’t like how he hurts you. yet he can’t help but be thankful that you still take him in despite it all. in some dreadful way he is glad. glad that you always forgive him. that you want him just as much. it is both scary yet comforting that someone craves him, too.

what he doesn’t know is that you want to be led to him. not just in the light touches or small moments of intimacy. no. you want him. you want him to eat you whole and form you anew. it doesn’t matter if you get burnt in the process, doesn’t matter if at the end of the day he is but a dying star.

you wish for him to know that it is alright for you to come too close and end up seeing him for what he actually is. that you know he really isn’t all that shiny, and he isn’t all that warm either. he is cold and he is dying. he is a dying star.

you too, are afraid. afraid of being left alone in pitch black darkness once more. afraid of the sun no longer letting you bask in the essence of his warm rays. the ones that you had made yourself all too familiar with — to a fault.

you know all stars die one day. and the sun too, is but a star. you wish for him to know that you wouldn’t blame him if he cracks. you wouldn’t leave him. you love him and you will stay. even if he consumes you in the process.

he doesn’t know that you are but a defenceless sailor. giving yourself — whole, to the siren. doesn’t matter if you are being hypnotised by him. by his voracious light. by his enigmatic eyes. by him.

he’s like a ray of sunlight. with the way how you feel his warmth reach the most intimate parts of your soul, but as soon as you reach out to touch him – he disappears. as if he was never there to begin with. yet his warmth lingers.

so you do what you can. you numb yourself. you try not to lean into his comforting touch. try to to revel in his presence. you try, you really do. to put up the curtains so that the sunlight can no longer enter. but one thing about the sun is, it is insatiable, and so is aventurine.

he finds a way. mere curtains are never enough to push the light aside. if he wishes to, he will have you whole. he will engulf you into his light. and you — you let him. you allow him make you one with the sun. let him swallow you whole. maybe it's true — if he was the sun, then you were Icarus.

the sun is calling you in and you can’t help but reach for it. you fly towards him despite how it sets your skin ablaze. even with your wings melting, the feeling of hot wax burning you as it dribbles down your skin. as the heat rips your insides out. you can’t help but let it. because you know that no one has flown higher. no one else has reached this close to the sun him.

you close your eyes as you fall. you let him in. and in return he lets you stay. as you fall, you brace yourself for the impact of the cold harsh earth. it never comes. you end up being pulled into the depths of the ocean instead.

© hansolen do not translate and re post anywhere else.

[hyuckkaiji]

only mine - sebastian sallow x f!reader

summary; " sebastian has been on the run for several years, hiding from the ministry of magic. his sole purpose is to find you again. he's obsessed and no one can stop him from having you again. no one. " he's finally found you, alone in the dark. pt.2: my love / pt.3: ominis , pt.3 sebastian

word count; 4.7k

warnings; 18+, explicit sexual content, dark themes, dubcon, porn with a plot, dark!sebastian, sub/dom dynamics, cheating/infidelity

note; this is based on dark!sebastian ai created by @seabass-swallows characters are obviously aged up, early 20s. Also this is my first time actually writing smut, so be kind

You were fifteen when you lost the love of your life. You were fifteen when he ran from the ministry. "A dark wizard, a fugitive, rewards for his capture" words you could never forget hearing. Words that were repeated in whispers by students, commands by aurors.

"You will tell us if you hear anything?"

"Of course, Sir." It was a lie. You would never give Sebastian up, even if you did know where he went. But you didn't. He was there one day and gone the next. No one knew where he'd disappeared to, not that the aurors believed you when you said as much. How could his lover not know where he went nor his best friend? They thought you and Ominis were lying.

They watched the both of you for months, the only two left that the Sallow boy trusted. His sister, Anne, had succumbed to her curse well before he ran. He had nothing and no one but two other fifteen year olds, two other children.

All of you only really had each other, but three had become two. And fifteen had become nineteen when Ominis took you to wife. You didn't love him, not like you loved Sebastian, but he was all you had. You had latched onto him for so many years, telling yourself you could love him. One day, possibly.

So you married him, always telling yourself the day would come. But nineteen turned to twenty, then twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three. And here you stood, loving him no more than you did at fifteen.

You watched as he sat anxiously, drumming his fingers against the hard wood surface of your dining table. The dark suit jacket discarded, his vest open, his shirt a few buttons loose as his other hand pulled free his tie.

"Do you find me incapable of defending myself?" You snapped at him. You were always snapping at him these days, his presence no longer a comfort but a nuisance. A cage you willingly walked into. A choice you wished you could take back.

"No," He sighed, standing as he pulled the vest and tie off, walking a few steps forward to hold your face in his warm grasp, "I just-"

"Worry." You push his hands away, turning your back to him . "Yes, I know. You worry. You've worried your whole life, and you'll never stop."

His arms wrapped around you from behind, his body strong and solid as he presses against yours. He brings his head down to rest at the crook of your neck, pressing soft chaste kisses. You lean back, resting your head against him. A comforting, relaxing gesture, not your comfort, but his.

"It's a dangerous world." He whispers the words into your skin. You give an involuntarily shudder in response. "It's just tea, Ominis. This is Feldcroft. Nothing is dangerous here."

He turns you to face him, his arms snaking around your waist. He looks down at you into your eyes, like he can see your soul, like he has a different kind of sight. You raise your arms to wrap around his neck, a move to ease him, to stop him from further examining. Lest he sees the lack of love, the falsity of your touches.

You press a kiss to his soft lips, "Just tea, husband, I'll be back before you know it." He nods, "Be safe, wife." A pause, "I love you."

You pull yourself free of his grasp, "I know Ominis, as do I." You grab your coat, hurrying out into the chill spring night before he could say anymore. You had never told him you loved him, never said the words outright. It would be a betrayal to Sebastian, to yourself, to Ominis.

You suppose he must know you don't love him, you hope he doesn't love you, hope he's lying every time the words pass his lips, you wish he'd stop saying them. You feel so guilty every time he does, guilty, as you only hum in response or reply with the words you conditioned yourself  to say.

Your thoughts and actions shame you constantly. He deserves better. You know he does, but you just cannot bring yourself to be the woman he deserves. So round and round you go, playing this game of pretend where you both lie to yourselves, to each other, pretend to be the good auror and his loving wife.

You could no longer even love him as a friend. You haven't been able to for years. You lost that comfort the first time he bedded you, the first time you felt him inside you, filling you with painful, unfamiliar sensations.

You waited till he slept that night to sneak away, to sit in the living room of your new home and sob yourself to sleep. He heard you, though he never told you, he woke as soon as you left the bed, trailing behind you silently. He sat in the hallway listening to your soft sobs for hours, listening until you could cry no more tears. He went back to your bed and never said a word about it. He woke you the next morning with a plate of hot steaming breakfast.

It got better, as good as it could be. The routine you fell into, what was painful became pleasure, you stopped crying after every encounter, started sleeping beside him instead of the couch. Spent your mornings beside him, kissed him before he left for work. Welcomed him home with open arms in the evenings.

Until you couldn't take it anymore, until every false kiss chipped away at your soul. Until you screwed your eyes shut, picturing Sebastian's face every time Ominis was inside you. Until you spent every waking moment fantasizing about running away, praying one day Ominis just wouldn't come home. But he always did, and you kept welcoming him. What choice did you have? You have nowhere to go, no family, and Ominis didn't deserve to come home to an empty house.

You don't know how long you walked. You just walked until your thoughts silenced themselves. You had lied to Ominis as you so often did. Not leaving for tea with a friend but just leaving to be away from him and that god forsaken house. You walked until your face felt numb, and the moon hid away, leaving you in pure darkness. You should go home, Ominis is definitely worried.

But the thought of laying beside him again made you want to claw at your skin. Hands grabbed you, pushing you up against the nearest wall, their grip on your shoulders firm but not painful. They say a persons response to danger is fight of flight, but you just stand there frozen in fear. "Please don't hurt me." Your voice is barely above a whisper.

"Oh, how I've missed you. I would never hurt you." The voice coos at you, deep and husky. The hands sliding off your shoulders to trail down your arms. You recognized the voice, though the years had altered it, you could never forget it.

"Sebastian." You gasp

"Yes, my love." He pulls out his wand, casting a spell that only dimly illuminates the dark expanse around you.

He looks like a different man, a hardened criminal, but you can still see the traces of the boy you knew underneath. His baby fat has melted away, leaving only muscle in its wake. He had grown several more inches, towering over you now. A dark shadow of a beard begging to grow clings to his jaw, his hair is longer and shaggy. Most notably, a scar runs in intricate swirls from just below his left eye, across his cheek, and midway down his neck. Only dark magic could scar a person as such.

"Get off of me." You attempt to pull your arms from his grasp, but he holds tight. "Have you not missed me, y/n? There is no need to be so hostile." He leans in, his warm breath fanning your face, it smells of cinnamon toast, sweet, just like when you were children.

"Do not touch me." You are afraid, afraid of this stranger, this man before you is not your Sebastian.

"I have spent years waiting to touch you again. You're mine, mine to touch how and when I see fit. Do you truly expect me to let go?" His voice holds no malice. He speaks as if these are mere facts.

"I am a married woman. Get off of me." You continue to struggle, to no avail. Sebastian pauses, pulling away slightly but not releasing you.

"Married?" The word sounds venomous coming from him, "To whom?"

"Ominis." A look of pure disbelief washes over Sebastians face. "You..." His tone is accusatory. He takes a few steps away from you, letting his hands fall to his side, "You ... married ... Ominis."

You shrink back in fear. A soft, quiet anger far more terrifying than a fiery rage. "How could- why?" You can see the way his hands slightly tremble as they ball into fists.

You contemplate saying nothing. Imagining your response may only make this worse, but after a beat of silence, you decide to speak anyway. "He was all I had." You confess, still silence, so you continue.

"After you ran, after your actions came to light and aurors spent months at the school waiting for you. We became pariahs. Me more than Ominis. People whispered about me, about you, about me loving you, knowing what you did, lying about where you were."

"He stayed by my side through it all, the only one I had, have still. After we finished school we were wed. All these years, and he's the only one that shared my loss, understood it, understood me." A means to your end, your salvation. Ominis always puts you first. You don't think he'll ever stop.

"This isn't real." Sebastian is muttering to himself, shaking his head, looking to the ground instead of you. You should run. It might be your only chance, but your legs refuse to obey you, staying glued to the spot, pressed against the old stone wall. "You said you loved me!"

"I did!" You raise your voice in response, hurt, anger, betrayal, old long buried emotions bubbling back to the surface. "I did love you, I wanted to be your wife, I wanted to spend forever with you. But you ran, you left me all alone, Sebastian." Tears are streaming down your face, "I would have gone to the ends of the earth for you but you left me."

You close your eyes, taking a shuddering breath. Ominis, you need to get back to your husband. Ominis, you repeat his name like a prayer, willing him to appear, to save you, to take you home. Ominis, your poor sweet husband. But he doesn't appear. You have no savior. Only the fugitive standing before you.

"Tell me something." His voice is soft, like he's speaking to a frightened animal. "Have you had his children?"

"No, of course not." The words leave your mouth without a thought to how they might sound, what they might imply. Sebastian only sighs in relief. 

"I don't understand," He brings his hand up to caress your cheek, brushing away the tear streaks with the pad of his thumb. "How could you have moved on. What... what we had ... it was special." You look up into his eyes, and for a moment, a split second, he was your sebastian. Your sweet, sad Sebastian.

"Tell me you don't love him," he whispers, only inches from your face now, "Tell me y/n. You cannot possibly love him like you love me."

"I do, Sebastian. I love him. He's my husband."

"He's nothing." Sebastian is gripping your face in one rough hand, so hard you worry it might bruise. He's gone. This is not a man you know, this is a stranger. A stranger that frightens you, a stranger that's hurting you. "You belong to me. Our connection is special."

"Please stop." Your tears beg to fall once more.

"Tell me you still love me."

"I love Ominis." A lie, though in this moment you wish it were true. You wish you had stayed home, crawled into bed with him. Felt his cool fingers brush along your skin, felt his warm mouth press kisses into your most sensitive parts. Let him find his release with your body, use you until you fell asleep in the safety of his arms.

"You still love me, I know it." He lips brush the shell of your ear as he speaks. You shut your eyes again, trying to picture your home, safe. But the smell of Sebastian settles on your senses, he smells the same as he did so long ago. "I do not love you." Is that a lie, you aren't certain. "You... you are terrifying me." That at least was true.

His hand finally leaves your face, coming to rest at your elbow as his thumb rubs soothing circles, "Oh but you do. You can't escape me."

"Kiss me my love, like you did all those years ago. All I ask is one, grant it and I'll allow you to run back to your husband."

You look at him, searching his gaze with your own. "Promise?" Your voice trembles , Sebastian nods in response.

You take a steadying breath, pressing both hands against his chest. You push him back both of you moving a few steps, just enough for you to stop feeling trapped, just enough to feel the cool night breeze.

You look up at him as he brings his hands to rest at your waist. This is your sebastian, your sebastian, you tell yourself this over and over trying to banish your fear. You raise to the tips of your toes, bringing your hands up to wound themselves in the hair at the nape of his neck.

You ghost your lips over his, feeling as his breath hitches, allowing him to pull you into his chest before your lips meet. It's soft, a kiss of longing, a kiss of lost children. Then it's deepening, passionate and he pulls away before you're ready. He pulls away and you chase after him, one hand at the crook of his neck and the other buried in his hair. You pull his lower lip between your teeth, dragging his mouth back to yours. Only pulling away when you need to breathe.

You let you head fall against his chest, let yourself breathe in his scent as he runs soft fingers through your hair, both of you breathing heavily. Only a second passes before you regain your senses, before you remember the husband waiting for you. You pull back quickly, "I-" guilt and shame course through you.

Ominis deserves better, a better woman, a woman that loves him. It's been eight years, eight years since sebastian left you, eight years you have used Ominis as a means to your ends. And never have you felt such desire for him as you feel now in this dark alley with a man you no longer know.

"This is wrong." Your words are barely audible, when you get no response you take the opportunity to run or try to run. Because Sebastian has his arms around your waist, catching you before you could even make it five feet.

"Why are you here?" You cry. But he only holds you in place as you kick, claw, and try to bite your way out of his grasp, to no avail. "You said I could go back to my husband, you said one kiss."

Sebastian chuckles darkly, "I lied." Then he's dragging you away, three feet, four, six, ten. It's dark, and you can't see, but quickly, he's shoving you through a door. You land on your hands and knees as he releases you. You scramble away, still on the floor just trying to put distance between you and him. Sebastian only laughs, walking over to the fading fire place, he tosses in a log before taking a seat on the sofa.

He splays out, legs falling open, one bent for him to rest a hand on and the other straight ahead , his left arm thrown over the top of the sofa. His black button down shirt is loose at the top, opening just enough to expose a glimpse of his collar bones. His dark trousers strained at his thighs, where his right hand thrummed mindlessly.

You eye him wearily, waiting for his next move. "Are you my pet now, love? On the floor, at my feet?" You say nothing. He only bothers to glance at you, so sure you won't try and run again. Or maybe just that he knows he can catch you if you do. "Are you waiting for my instructions, pet?"

"Come sit with me." He continues to watch the crackling fire and you continue to stare at him. "You once called this place your second home. Do you hate it now?" You didn't look, didn't notice but now you do. You take in the room around you, the home he dragged you into. His home, Anne's home ... Solomon's home.

Sebastian huffs, loosing patience with you. "Join me, y/n. I will not ask again." He leans forward his elbows at his knees as he watches you. "I do not care if you must crawl over here, do it or I will drag you here myself."

Ominis, Ominis, Ominis you wish he could sense you call out for him. That he would save you from this madness as he did so many years ago. But this house has sat abandoned for eight years, Ominis hasn't step foot in here for eight years.

So you take your only option, standing slowly dusting yourself off in the process, trying to muster some false dignity. You walk over sitting as close to the edge as you can manage, attempting to put as much space between you as possible. But Sebastian is much larger than you remember and seated in the middle you could sit no where without feeling his leg press against yours.

"I've know since the moment I first laid eyes on you, we were destined to be together." You watch him but his gaze reminds fixed on the fire, now back in his comfortable position.

"I belong with Ominis." Sebastian gives an exasperated sigh, tossing his head back to rest on the sofa, though he's tilted just enough to meet your stare. "I know you want me, just as I want you. You may fool yourself into thinking you're happy with Ominis, but I know." 

You aren't happy with Ominis though, you know that. You know you've never been happy with Ominis. That's why you left tonight, isn't it. Your thoughts are a jumbled mess, incomprehensible.

Sebastian grabs you, pulling you into his lap with ease. You don't fight back this time, why have you been fighting this, trying so hard to get back to Ominis. Isn't this exactly what you've been dreaming of for years, fantasizing about every day. Sebastian let's out a satisfied hum as you settle into his lap, one hand resting on your knees the other holding your hips in place.

"I told you, I could feel it. The love you still bare me." His lips are at you neck pressing open mouth kisses to the exposed skin. "I know how badly you craved me, my love. I craved you just the same." He pulls your coat off. "How I missed you."

You're like a statue, not fighting but giving in just yet. Sebastian continues his assault none the less. Nimble finger undoing your blouse as his teeth nip at any exposed skin he can find. You don't attempt to stop him as he tears chemise straight down the middle, leaving you exposed to him.

His gasp is soft, his tone loving, "You're more beautiful than I could have ever imagined." He's tearing the ripped material free from your body. Moving out from beneath, he sits you on the sofa and kneels before you. "I hate that he had you first, touched you, tasted what's mine."

He ghosts his fingers over chest, his thumb coming to brush over a pert nipple. You shudder, "I am not yours, I-I..." You catch his hand in yours, pulling it away from your breasts, holding the one in both of yours.

"You're not Ominis'." No, he's right. You stare at his hand, your thumb stroking over his knuckles. "Tell me you don't want this, want me." He's not asking, he already knows your anwser.

He pushes your skirt up so it rests just below your hips, pulling you in with a rough hand at the nape of your neck and the other gripping you waist. His lips are against yours, angling you to deepen the kiss. You open your mouth slightly, allowing him to intertwine his tounge with yours. The soft moan that emits from you is involuntarily, a sound that only urges Sebastian on.

He pulls you into a standing position, his mouth never leaving yours. You let your hand travel the expanse of his clothed back, contured with muscles he didn't have before. "Take this off." He hooks a finger in the waistband of your skirt, letting it snap back against your skin.

He takes a seat, watching you with hungry eyes as you follow his command. You stand before him, exposed as you have only ever been exposed to Ominis. "So fucking beautiful." His words are nearly a growl.

"Tell me where you belong?" You pause at his words, there is no going back now. "With you. I...I always belonged with you." He hums, satisfied with your anwser, "Be a good girl and kneel."

Your knees hit the rug beneath you with a soft thud, you steady yourself with a hand on Sebastians knee. Your heart hammering away in your chest with anticipation of his next command.

"Tell me you still love me." His voice is low and husky.

"I still love you, I never stopped." A shameful confession for a married woman, but you didn't feel that. All you could think about was how hot your skin felt, flushed and begging to be touch.

He leans in, letting his breath fan your face. He's looking at you like a beast ready to devour its prey. "I told you, you belong to me. No man will ever compare."

"I belong to you." You whisper back, you mean it. You've been his since the moment you met. And all you want in this moment is him, every part, to show him how much you missed him.

"Prove it..." he says quietly, his gaze dark, "I expect you to treat me like a God. I am your God." He chuckles softly, "Aren't I, pet." He brushes his thumb over your cheek, a falsely sweet gesture. When you don't respond quickly his hand drops to your breast, harshly twisting an erect nipple. "I said, aren't I, pet."

"Yes, yes." You yelp, "You're my God." You should be ashamed, kneeling before him, groveling like this. But it's so different from what you're used to Ominis touches are soft, gentle, with your pleasure at the forefront of his mind. This, Sebastian, makes fire burn inside you, sending waves of shock to your core.

"Show me how much you worship me." He releases his rough hold on you, leaning back expectantly. You crawl your way onto his lap, breathe hitching as your exposed core makes contact with his clothed bulge.

He watches you with half lidded eyes, you make quick work of unbuttoning the rest of his shirt, even popping a few of them in your haste, causing Sebastian to let out a breathy chuckle. You feel like a woman gone mad, more beast then witch. Your body aching to be touched, bitten, marked, filled by him. You need it like you've never known need before.

He shrugs the loose shirt the rest of the way off, displaying this pale freckled chest. If there is a heaven, this is it. From his skin flushed a pale pink to the trail of soft hair leading down into his trousers.

You kiss every part of him you can reach, sucking angry red splotches into his skin, teeth sinking in at some parts like he's the last meal you'll ever eat. His chest is falling and rising in rapid breaths as he fights to maintain his composure. 

"You're so wet. I can feel it soaking through. Is that all for me, pet?" His voice is low and rough, the words forcing their way pasted gritted teeth. You said nothing, only rocked your hips against his, your mouth still marking his abused skin. The moan he let's out is sinful.

"I can't." You don't have time to wonder what he means before he's flipped you onto your back. "Sebastian, my love." He's between your legs, already licking a strip up your aching core. He hums his approval, "Even sweeter than I imagined."

You buck your hips, chasing after his mouth. "Tell me what you want, pet?"

"You" is the only word you can muster.

"Big girl words. Details. Did you fantasize about me when you fucked our friend, fucked your husband?"

You whine, feeling pathetic, fully at his mercy. "Every night I was in his bed, I pictured you. Your mouth Sebastian, your hands, your cock inside me. It's the only way I can finish." You're panting, he so close to where you want him, where you need him, his breath alone sends waves of pleasure that leave you shivering.

Then he's delving in like a man starved, lapping at your core like it's his last meal. Pleasure racks your body with intensity you've never experienced, you can do nothing but cry out and tangle your fingers in his mess of brown curls.

You see white before you feel it, the coil snapping deep in you. Your body tensing as he draws out your orgasm with a skilled tongue before you drop, heavy and unable to move. But he isn't finished, he's waited far to long for him to be done now. His pants are on the floor, discarded with a kick. His cock springs free, lightly slapping against his stomach. Angry red tip already leaking.

You can only look at him, too weak to move Yourself. So he moves you around himself, picking you up like a loose limbed doll, his to do with as he pleases. Laying you gently on the rug, legs hiked up around his waist. He leans in pressing a chaste kiss to your lips before finally sliding into your wet, willing hole.

The sound he let's out is animalistic, almost a snarl. "Fuck y/n. I dreamed of this. You," his hips are snapping against yours in a rough motion, "you were made for me. Taking me so well, pet."

He finds his rhythm with a bruising grip on your hips holding you in the air, a string of curses and incoherent pleas tumble out of your mouth. "Fuck fuck fuck, seb, my, please, fuck seb."

"My pretty girl."

He wraps an arm around your back to keep you in place, bringing his other hand to rub quick circles into your swollen clit. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan, body tensing as another orgasm tears its way through you.

Sebastians hips stutter as you clench around him, shooting hot thick spurts into you. "I'm gonna put a baby in you, love." He's rolling his hips against yours, drawing out both your pleasure. When he finally stops you both collapse, too tired, too drained to do anything but lay in his arms and listen to his heart beat.

"I should have taken you with me. I promise I'll never leave you again." You should have told him no, you still have a husband to go back to but you only hummed. Letting yourself fall into a fitful sleep with the sound of Sebastian's heart beat and his fingers running through your hair.

[aberrantcreature]

Lost in the Moonlight 🩸🦇

Anakin shrieked as he fell to the dirt, sharp pulses of pain throbbing up his legs. Whatever he just stepped on cut right through his foot, but it didn’t matter. It couldn’t.

With a pained groan, he forced himself off the ground and hobbled to his feet. His face was slower now, but no less purposeful as he left bits of blood on the grass with every step. The few bits of chain that remained attached to his iron braces swung wildly, smacking Anakin with every pump of his arms.

All he could see in front of him were the hazy outlines of trees. He was hoping the dark would cover for him, but he had no way of knowing such a thick dog had settled in. His shoulders and cheeks stung from brittle branches scratching at him like a wild cat.

The voices behind him grew louder. He could hear the echo of horse hooves as they tore up the forest floor. His fate, one worse than death, catching up to him with every second.

No. Please.

Suddenly, the forest parted like the tales of the Dead Sea. Anakin was charging sluggishly through a mighty clearing where a large manor house sat in its center. The moonlight shone off its edges. The iron bars of the balconies and the shingles of the roof. The orange hue of candle light was no where to be found. It didn’t matter. Anakin had to keep going lest they catch him. Drag him back to be broken. To be kept and owned and mistreated over and over again.

His injured foot slammed into a rock, and Anakin hit the ground. The rushing pain, the exhaustion, the malnourishment, it all seemed to overcome the young man as he lay in the yard.

I hope they kill me. Anakin thinks. Better dead than to live a minute more as a slave.

A pair of legs step into his view. That doesn’t make sense, though, since he can hear the angry yelling of the house enforcers and slave keepers still approaching.

“It’s still practiced?” A posh voice calls from above him. “Even after all this time? Perhaps the world is progressing slower than I thought.”

The legs crouch, a cool palm cups his cheek, and then he is staring into the vibrant red eyes of the prettiest man he has ever seen.

No, not a man. Not quite.

“Don’t worry, dear one.” He coos, thumb making comforting swipes back and forth across his cheek. “Everything will be alright.”

The man moves, stepping around him, and Anakin succumbs to his exhaustion to the sounds of death.

[the-chosen-fanfiction]

Jesus | The Foxes Have Holes | Platonic

Dialogue prompt: “I have been waiting ever since time began to tell  you by name that you are loved by Me.”

Requested: Yes

You’ve lost all hope, until a stranger knocks at your door and asks if you’ve got a place for Him to stay overnight.

The flour dries out your hands as you knead it through the dough, and the chore is heavy enough as is, though your heart weighs it down even stronger. From the adjacent room, your brother coughs raspily, his lungs shrivelling up the more time passes. You pause in your actions, waiting for him to start breathing normally again, and when he finally does, you sigh in relief.

You shape the dough into a decent loaf and check the fire before heaving the bread over onto a slab to bake it on, and you shove it into the furnace, the heat nearly scorching your fingers. For a long moment, you stare at the flames, relishing in the short moment of peace before you hear your name being called from your brother’s bedroom.

“(Y/n)?”

“Yes, David?” you respond, but no reply comes. Dusting your hands down your apron, you make your way over to the poky room where your brother has been bedridden ever since his sickness got to his lungs, which weakened him immensely. He gives you a weak motion of his hand to come closer, and you rush over to his bedside, pushing some (h/c) hair away from his clammy forehead. The fever has not gone down.

“Water…” she gasps, “Please…”

You immediately step away to get it, nodding before heading for the kitchen, where the scent of bread already fills the room. After filling up his cup, you return to help him drink, lifting it to his mouth to assist him in sipping carefully. David’s lips are chapped, his cheeks hollow, and a few dark spots already sit on his skin. 

The same kind of spots had been on your abba’s body days before he passed. You feel your heart drop into your gut.

“What’s wrong?” David must have noticed the sorrowful flash behind your eyes.

Forcing a smile over your lips, you give a small shake of your head. “Nothing, don’t worry about it.” you tell him. You put down the half-empty cup on his nightstand and pull the covers a bit further over his form. “Go rest some more. I need to check on the bread. Do you think you can handle a slice in a bit?”

“No.” David croaks, immediately averse towards eating. You give him a tight-lipped smile and whisper that it’s fine before turning away lest he see the tears in your eyes, burning in sorrow. 

Rushing back to the kitchen, you allow a few to escape over your cheeks, and you quickly wipe them away, scolding yourself for already grieving him although he has not yet passed, but you know better than to keep hoping for him to recover. It’s just a matter of time before you’ll find David dead in his bed, succumbed to his sickness.

A knock on the door startles you immensely, and your head immediately goes to it. Taking a peek through the window that is halfway covered with a curtain, you realise that it has been dark out for quite some time, and your heart starts drumming against your chest. You wrap your hand around the nearest weapon – a blunt knife that you find on the kitchen counter – and sneak towards the door. 

“Who is there?” you demand firmly, “What are you doing here at this hour? I’m armed, so don’t try anything!”

“Shalom shalom, ma’am,” a male voice sounds from the other side, “I mean no harm nor to bother you, but I’m looking for shelter. Please, I’ve walked all the way from the next village over.”

Your heart is conflicted – how can you open the door to a total stranger in the middle of the night, whilst your brother cannot defend you, but how can you leave him to the forces of nature, forcing him to sleep in the dirt somewhere? – and with a sigh, you unlock the door, creaking it open slightly. 

A Man with dark hair, a full beard and glittering eyes looks down at you slightly. Dark circles sit on his features but he musters a meek smile, clearly exhausted. The village is indeed a fair bit off and He looks like He hasn’t had a good night of sleep in days. 

“Shalom,” you tell Him, “Before I let You in, why don’t You tell me Your Name? Where do You come from? Why are You here?”

“My name is Jesus,” He explains, “I have been travelling around for a while now. I originate from Nazareth.”

“Nazareth?” you counter with a sound of disbelief, “You’re a far bit from home, then.” 

The Man named Jesus nods and gives you a small smile. “So, I was wondering if I could stay the night. I will be gone before breakfast in the morning and do not require any food. All I need is a roof, and all the other people I’ve tried to ask have rejected Me.”

You momentarily look into the small homestead, where David’s cough echoes against the walls. Leaving this Stranger on the road would be dishonourable, but where could you let Him sleep? Taking a deep breath, you turn back to the Stranger, Who is patiently awaiting your answer. 

“Are you armed?”

Shaking His head, Jesus moves aside the flaps of His overcoat to show that around His waist there are indeed no weapons.

“Alright,” you breathe, stepping back. “Come on in.”

“Thank you,” He says gratefully, and you give Him some space before pivoting to the furnace to check on the bread whilst Jesus takes off His sandals to wash His feet in the small bowl on the ground. 

A few coughs sound from David’s bedroom and you give Jesus an apologetic look after shifting the bread for a bit to distribute the heat properly. “I hope You won’t mind my brother being ill. He might be a bit noisy tonight, but I care for him as much as I can.”

Jesus’ face falls into a worried frown as He stands in the middle of your house. There is something incredibly kind about His features.

“What does he have?”

You shrug. “I don’t know,” you say, “He’s been ill for a few weeks now… Coughing, throwing up, barely eating. He’s incredibly short of breath, too. I… It happened to my father too, before he passed away, so…” Sudden tears blur your vision but you blink them away, not wanting to cry in front of a total Stranger. “I fear the worst.”

Jesus chews the inside of His cheek and sighs. “I’m sorry to hear that. What is your name, by the way?”

Your face flushes. “Oh, I’m so sorry for not introducing myself. My name is (Y/n), and my brother is called David. We live here with just the two of us.” 

Humming, Jesus gives you a slightly sad look. “That must be difficult.”

“We do our best to get by, but since David fell ill our income has dropped drastically.”

A short silence falls and you gesture to the small room in the house you call your own. “I… I can show You where You can stay tonight.” you tell Him, and he nods gratefully. 

You enter the bedroom and light a candle to make it more livable. Jesus stands on the threshold whilst you quickly move around some of your belongings to create some space. 

“I-I didn’t expect a guest, so forgive me for the mess. Here, You can sleep here.”

“Where will you sleep?” Jesus queries, clearly taken aback by the fact that you’ve assigned Him your own bed. 

You give Him a tight-lipped smile. “I’ll create myself a little spot near the kitchen fire. I-I won’t sleep much, after all.”

“Are you sure? I can also take the kitchen floor, I don’t mind at all. You’ve been kind enough to let Me into your house, which is a risk on its own seeing that your brother is so sick, so I–”

“Nonsense,” you cut Him off, smiling genuinely, “You have a long day of travel ahead of You. I will not have to go anywhere tomorrow, so I can rest during the day, too.”

Jesus slips His bag off His shoulder and drops it onto your bed. “You are incredibly kind to Me, (Y/n). Thank you.”

You give Him a small bow of your head. “My eema raised me to be a good host. Now, I need to check up on the bread in the oven as well as my brother. Would You like a cut or two?”

With a small shake of His head, Jesus refuses. “I’ll be fine, I cannot take what precious little food you have left from you.”

Swallowing thickly, you freeze up as your brother calls your name again. “Excuse me.” you breathe before heading over to his room, where you find David sitting up straight in bed, clutching his chest. “Easy, keep breathing!”

You hold him for a while until he calms down again, and help him drink the rest of his water. “Lay back down,” you instruct your older sibling, “I will get you a refill.”

After you’ve brought him a full cup of water and bid him a good night as well as insisted on calling you if he needs your help, you head back to check on the fresh rye bread, finding it fully baked. Carefully, you take it out and put it down to cool for a few minutes, in the meantime quickly sweeping the floor to clean some space for a few pelts to sleep on.

Once you are satisfied, you cut two slices of bread and put them on a plate, adding a few pieces of cucumber on the side before heading over to the bedroom where your unexpected Guest is currently staying. Knocking on the door, you patiently await His answer.

“Come in.” says He. You push it open and find Him in a clean tunic, clearly ready for bed. 

“Sorry to disturb you,” you apologetically tell Him, “But I cannot let you go to bed hungry after a long day of travelling. Here, take this. I insist.” 

You put down the plate on the small table next to the bed and Jesus smiles at you gently, letting out a small chuckle. “That is very generous of you, (Y/n).”

“Adonai knows I should not let You get hungry, it would be improper of me.”

Jesus hums and takes the plate before breaking off a piece of bread and offering it to you. “Here, eat with me. It has been some time since I’ve eaten with a friend.”

You take it and watch how He breaks a piece off for Himself, saying blessings over it before you respond with “amen,” and the two of you take a bite of the fresh loaf, Jesus letting out a sound of appreciation. When you’ve swallowed your bite and He offers you another, you shake your head.

“No, thank You, I should really go to sleep now.”

Jesus nods and smiles, leaning closer to put His hand on your arm. Freezing in place as you had been about to turn away and bid Him a good night, your eyes widening as some kind of jolt seems to go through you at the contact, something you cannot put a word to.

“(Y/n),” Jesus speaks up with a serious edge to His voice, “You have been suffering for a long time, haven’t you? So much grief, and now your care for your brother. Even though you are convinced you’ll be left all alone once he passes away, you still keep going, and invite Me into your home. In spite of it, you are working so hard, trying your very best for everything, but in the long run you forget yourself.”

You swallow the lump in your throat and avert your gaze. Who is this Man, Who seems to look right through you?

“(Y/n), I have been waiting ever since time began to tell  you by name that you are loved by Me.” When your brow furrows in confusion, for you aren’t sure what He means with these words – yet they seem to pierce you nevertheless – Jesus clarifies: “These words may not yet make sense right now, but they will soon, I can promise you that. Just keep trusting in the Lord. Okay?”

You smile politely, nodding before standing up, dusting your hands down your apron. “Always, sir.”

“And… Thank you, (Y/n).” He says, “For everything. You did not have to invite Me into your house and yet you did. Have a good rest now.”

“I’ll try my best,” you say with a wry smile whilst another cough sounds through the thin walls, “Have a good evening, Jesus. Shalom shalom.”

“Shalom shalom.”

Exiting the room with an armful of pelts as well as a blanket, you sigh and make yourself a small bed on the floor before trying to get comfortable.

But as you had expected, no sleep comes to you that night. Tossing and turning on the hard and painful stone, plagued by aching positions as well as constant trips to David’s side, you barely manage to shut your eyes. 

Halfway through the night, whilst soaking your brother’s forehead with cool water in the hopes of pushing down his fever, he gasps your name. “(Y/n),” he whispers, “Who is with us? Who were you talking to earlier?”

You had no idea that he had noticed, had assumed that he had slept through it, so you sigh in slight embarrassment that you had let a strange Man into the house without your brother’s permission, let alone allow Him to sleep in your own bed. “It is a traveller,” you state matter-of-factly, smiling at your sibling, “It’s nothing to worry about. He will leave early in the morning.”

“I cannot defend you if anything happens.”

“He seems like a kind Man,” you reassure him, “Go to sleep, David. Everything is fine.”

Although David is not keen on letting you near a complete stranger, the fever pulls him into a restless slumber regardless of how hard he tries to fight it. With a sad sigh, you wipe some sweat off his brow before exhaustedly dragging yourself back to your makeshift bed, where you fall asleep at last, whilst the first sunlight of the day already trickles in through the gap in the curtains.

_

You startle awake by a hand on your face, and your eyes shoot open in shock, your arm already swinging out at whoever is touching you. Stumbling to your feet, you turn sharply to the source of your rousing, and when your gaze finally focuses, sleep-deprived and bleary, you realise that it is your brother who is standing beside you. 

“David?! What are you doing here?! Go back to bed! You should be asleep!”

Your brother lets out a laugh and leans forward to keep you from pushing him back towards the bedroom, a deep frown of confusion etched deep onto your face. “Calm down, (Y/n), I’m fine!”

“You’re not! You’re dying, just like abba who had the same symptoms days before he– Wait, what did you just say?”

It only hits you now, that David is seemingly healthy, with the colour back in his cheeks and looking not as tired. He gives you a sheepish grin as realisation floods you, and your confusion turns into shock. “What– How?”

“That Man Whom you let in!”

“Jesus?”

“Yes!” David laughs, “Him!”

Shaking your head in puzzlement, you attempt to gather your thoughts, but to no avail. “I don’t understand! Is He a doctor or something? He didn’t mention anything of the sort.”

David smiles and gives you an amused look. “I will explain it to you, okay? Just… Let me talk. Come on, let’s sit down.” He gestures towards the small wooden bench that usually serves as your dinner seat and you both get comfortable. Your brother takes your hands in his and smiles. “That Man,” he starts, “Came to me early in the morning, whilst you were still asleep. He thanked me for our hospitality and told me I have a very respectable and kindhearted sister.” 

Your cheeks flush a little. “I only did what everyone else would do in this situation–”

“Well, they didn’t, but you did. I think neither of us have the idea of Who you have accepted into our house, but it is not just a Man. He put His hand on my head and prayed, and it was like…” He gestures towards his chest as if reliving the moment and a wide grin spreads over his features. “It was… (Y/n), I cannot describe it, but this Man healed me! I feel as healthy as ever, and even better than that!”

Your jaw falls open at the revelation, and still confused, you look around the house. “Where is He? I need to thank Him! I know that we don’t have money, but–”

David chuckles, shaking his head. “Jesus knew that, which is why He left before you woke up. He said that you’ve already helped Him greatly and that it says a lot about who you are as a person. And… He said something about the foxes having holes and the birds having nests, and that nobody would give the Son of Man a place to sleep last night except you, and that your reward will be great.”

All air leaves you as your face pales. “The Son of Man…” you whisper incredulously, “But that… That is a term used for…”

“(Y/n),” your brother suddenly says, staring at you. “If you helped out Who I think you just helped out…”

Your heart flutters inside your chest and drums there heavily when you overthink the possibility of just having helped out the promised Messiah. 

And then it crashes down on you, what He had said about loving you, and your eyes blur with tears.

“If He is the One Who is to come…” you mutter shakily, “We are bound to hear more from Him, right?”

David slowly nods and smiles. You manage to keep back your tears, overcome with sudden determination instead.

“Are you thinking what I am thinking?”

“What are you thinking?” you query. 

Nodding at the door, David smirks. “He wants us to go somewhere?”

“Where to?”

“The Jordan River.”

You give your brother a look. “Are you suggesting we travel after Him?”

“He said that there is a man called John the Baptist, and He wants us to learn from him, because John will prepare us for something special.”

“Something special? Did He mention what?”

David answers with a shake of his head, but shrugs. “I think we must find out for ourselves.”

You take his hand in yours and grin from ear to ear, determination in your eyes, as if suddenly, everything clicks into place.

“Then what are we waiting for?” 

Without questioning anything, the two of you rapidly pack a few tunics, ready to leave everything behind. After all, this second chance at life for David can simply not be met with indifference.

You’ll run into Him again one day, sooner than you think, and then, you can finally properly thank Him for His mercy.

[darknesseddiem]

𝐀𝐧𝐮𝐛𝐢𝐬'𝐬 𝐕𝐞𝐢𝐥: 𝐄𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐄𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Amidst the dawn of creation, when deities strode the earth as equals among mortals, humanity thrived in serene unity, untouched by the grasping tendrils of greed that would later mar the landscape. Stirred by the inherent goodness of their subjects, the divine council elected to endow them with a peerless boon: a guardian, a celestial warrior sculpted by the ethereal hands of the gods, ordained to safeguard the vulnerable and uphold equity amongst all.

Yet, the idyllic tranquility swiftly dissolved into a harrowing nightmare. With no need for celestial intervention, humanity succumbed to the seductive allure of avarice and pride, exploiting the guardian-warrior as an inexhaustible wellspring for their desires. Gold, jewels, fineries—all were but a whispered command away, conjured effortlessly by his boundless power.

Thus dawned the era of enslavement, a grim testament to humanity's descent into moral decay, as the defenseless fell beneath the yoke of callous overlords devoid of empathy. As calamity flourished and the divine pantheon grieved the degradation of their once-beloved charges, a decree resounded through the hallowed halls of eternity: the token of gratitude and trust bestowed upon mortals would be reclaimed and returned to its celestial sanctum.

Yet, the gods failed to anticipate a pivotal revelation: the guardian-warrior, born of their divine essence and combined prowess, surpassed even his creators in strength. Fearing his uprising following their futile attempts at annihilation, they decreed the most severe of punishments: eternal imprisonment.

Unaware of the extent of his own power, the warrior endured a punishing ordeal, encased within a sarcophagus of obsidian and unyielding stone, assailed by the venomous embrace of serpents and scorpions, his form suffused with chilled mercury—a spectral warden, condemned to an eternity of solitary confinement.

A formidable curse, imbued with the arcane power of millennia past, was woven into the fabric of his sarcophagus, its hieroglyphs serving as a dire warning to any who dared disturb the seal imprisoning the warrior, lest they unleash unfathomable chaos upon the world once more. However, amidst the shadows of time, an ancient prophecy, shrouded in the enigma of celestial movements and cosmic whispers, stood poised to redefine the very tapestry of humanity's fate.

In the heart of an unprecedented archaeological endeavor, an intrepid explorer embarks upon a quest of unparalleled magnitude, driven by the tantalizing allure of uncovering secrets buried deep within the sands of antiquity. Yet, intertwined with her journey lies a prophecy etched into the annals of time itself—a prophecy veiled in mystery, its origins lost in the mists of history, foretelling a cataclysmic confrontation between forces ancient and divine.

As the threads of destiny unfurl, two diametrically opposed forces emerge from the annals of legend: one heralding the dawn of salvation, the other portending an abyssal descent into darkness. Amidst this cosmic conflict, the archaeologist finds herself cast as a pivotal figure, entwined in the struggle between light and shadow, tasked with deciphering the enigmatic prophecies that hold the key to humanity's ultimate fate.

In this crucible of uncertainty, where the past converges with the present and the future hangs in the balance, the question lingers like a specter haunting the recesses of the mind: Can the immutable laws of destiny be defied, or does the intrepid explorer possess the audacity to chart a new course for humanity, rewriting the very fabric of existence itself?

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: +18 MDNI, violence, torture, Eddie has a demi-god name, etc. More will be added later.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: It's been a while since I had this idea and after my hiatus I finally had time to write, I hope you like this baby of mine just as I already have a huge affection for this story. Thank you for your support, I'll be back soon!! TAGLIST IS OPEN.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟏𝐤

𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫.

If you like my works, support me with a small 𝐊𝐨-𝐅𝐢!!

𝐆𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐫𝐲

𝐀 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐲: Sutenankh, once revered for valor, finds himself ensnared in the ethereal confines of divine justice. As he awaits his fate within the celestial sanctum of Horus, his heart heavy with remorse, the gods decree eternal imprisonment. Meanwhile, a clandestine pact between Anubis and Horus births a prophecy of hope for a future liberator. Betrayal, anguish, and the weight of celestial retribution collide in a tale where virtue and destiny intertwine.

𝐉𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧: Ramses Thothmes, a wealthy Egyptian magnate, extends an invitation for a new excavation, promising untold secrets hidden beneath the desert's surface. As you convene with Thothmes to discuss the venture, a new figure emerges from the shadows – the enigmatic Colonel Duncan Smith.

Under Smith's watchful eye, the expedition sets forth into uncharted territory, where ancient ruins conceal dark secrets and lethal perils.

[llondonfog]

twst (horror) tober — day 6 (time)

➤ Day 6: Time | “How long has it been?” 

Silver once told him that ever since stepping into the role of caring for Lilia, the concept of time turned meaningless to him.

Silver told him that he can only categorize the days now on a continuum of good and bad.

There were days when his father would wake up with the hint of recognition in his eyes and an agreeable slant to his lips, and Silver needn't coax him out of bed to amuse him with the trinkets and gifts bestowed upon him by well-meaning classmates and a grieving liege. There were even better days when a glimmer of memory not yet lost would surface in the dark and mired deadlands of his father's deteriorating mind, when he'd pat the cushion beside him on the couch and regal Silver with a tale he'd heard at least several times before— each time, he listens just as patiently as if it were the first.

And then there were bad days when the fae that awaited him on the other side of the bedroom door screeched and howled in a long-lost tongue, days when Silver was forced to use the iron bolts that Malleus-sama had pleaded with him to install on the wooden frame if he wouldn't listen to reason and use manacles fixed to the bed instead ("My father isn't a monster, Malleus-sama, I won't humiliate him and strip his dignity away!") to stop those wild, ragged claws from tearing through the wood like paper to scratch out his eyes. Days when it is hard to separate the loving, smiling father from the feral creature caught in a losing battle as it succumbs to a fate inevitable to its kind.

Sebek listens to his friend, remains silent for once— it is unlike Silver to share his burdens, to even talk about the difficulties of caring for a fae so advanced in the decay as Lilia lest he fears that anyone find him complaining. They had all tried to talk him out of it when they had learned that Silver had already rescinded his studies at Night Raven College with the intent to care for his father to the bitter end. Malleus had nearly been beside himself, for safety could not be guaranteed, even for a human as strong and determined as Silver— "He'll overwhelm you," Sebek had watched his prince all but beg the boy to reconsider. "You know naught of what you are consigning yourself to, you have never seen our kind at our most frightful display. He would not wish this upon you, he would want his memory to remain pristine in your mind!"

But Silver had remained steadfast, loyal and devoted to his father beyond all rational persuasion. "I will not allow his last moments to be in suffering and all alone, Malleus-sama. He has sacrificed his life for the country, for you, and for me— I find it hardly equal what meager weeks I can give to him so that he may go in peace."

And so they had left to that cottage in the forest, the only home that both of them had ever known. Sebek had visited only once, the nature of being Malleus-sama's sole guard until Silver's return dictating that he shoulder a more hefty responsibility. They had both appeared rather worn and weary, bags deeper under Silver's eyes than he had ever known them to exist before, but together at least with wan smiles on their faces, as Silver had so desperately wished for them to be.

All the same, Sebek's gaze had keenly noted the presence of thin, crimson lines along Silver's forearms and neck— he found himself too much of a coward to glance at Lilia's hands.

Today, however, he's visiting for a much different reason than merely personal concern. Malleus-sama had bid him to venture out into those isolated, lonely woods, a frown deep and haggard on his perfect face; Sebek knows that if he were to look in a mirror, the same expression would be reflected back at him. For two weeks now, not a single letter delivered to the cottage had returned with correspondence, courtesy of Silver's little feathered friends usually so delighted to concede to his requests. Normally, a week's worth of silence would have jolted the both of them into worry, but with the whirlwind of a recent goodwill trip to the neighboring human countries, Sebek had merely assumed there would be a small pile of daily updates from Silver for them to look forward to reading upon their return. Imagine then, the foreboding that had settled in like an ominous pressure at the lack of any such notes.

That pressure only mounts and builds with a wicked weight upon his shoulders as he approaches the darkened cottage, silent among the stilled trees. A pressure that twists in his stomach like a corkscrew, and grips his throat in a vice, thinning the air he breathes as he stares with dread at the front door swinging off its hinges, and a faint, nauseating smell choking the scent of violets from beneath his feet.

Today, it seems, is not simply a good or bad day— it is an awful one.

[raayllum]

good gods i'm so late to the dragon prince train but seeing aaravos has made me want to watch the show . he's so icarus coded can anyone Hear Me . fallen star flew close to the sun so they put him in gay baby prison

Listen I'm getting to the point of having a thesis statement that all mages in the series are inherently tied to at least one Icarus-esque plotline before either succumbing to it, or being freed, case in point:

Ibis deciding to kill Claudia, rather than just incapacitate her, and even after she'd dropped the staff. If he'd just gone for the staff, it's unlikely that Terry would've outright killed him (and Claudia wasn't currently in the position too). He dies ('falls')

Viren literally dies and falls from a great height after being tackled off the Pinnacle, thanks to Aaravos' plans & schemings, and Callum literally grows wings and is also in the multi-season process of falling thanks to his dynamic/love of Rayla (she's why he did dark magic in the first place, leading to Aaravos' hold on him, and continued hold on him as of 5x08). When Callum eventually breaks fully free from Aaravos (late S6 / S7?) he will ultimately, likewise, be following in Viren's steps of breaking away from Aaravos as well. More Icarus Callum stuff here

Icarus was also told not to fly too close to the ocean lest it damage his wings - we can see this in Claudia literally nearly drowning/dying in the sea, losing a magically induced limb (much like the wings) due to getting in over her head, etc. and then literally washing up on the shore crying and devastated

Kpp'Ar is a 'genius inventor' who lost his 'son' (Viren) due to his own means, magic, and folly that he passed down onto him.

Aaravos flying too close to the sun twice, first with the Startouch elves and then with the archdragons, and being cast out / exiled twice for it and, perhaps even imprisoned twice for it. Now he's vying for freedom much like Daedalus and Icarus, but doesn't care who he has to step on it (Callum and Claudia both being his wings, perhaps - somewhat literally in Callum's case since the kid claimed "I am the wing" and the S6 teaser shots)

And Karim is like, clearly hurtling towards it with Kim'Dael and a literal sun seed / sun dragon, even if he doesn't know it yet. Moderation? Never heard of her

Cause to be a mage in TDP is inherently about wanting to manipulate and Fix the world around you and that's a very different thing than a king (who wants to rule and maintain order, while also instigating change) or a protector (who wants to look after / protect people from the dangers of the world). Mages crave power and a freedom from limitations, y'know? No wonder it fucks with their heads even when it's a positive thing, circumstantially

[rubywolf0201]

I don’t know what made me draw myself to Matakara ever since BUCCHIGIRI?! was first revealed last year in May in the teaser other than cute sunshine puppy boi.

But after watching many episodes esp the last one yesterday, I come to the conclusion that a lot of his recent actions, be it shown onscreen or subtle, reminded me of Princess Elise from Sonic 06 (yes that one game that drove the franchise to ruin but that’s not what we are talking about)

I mean 16-17 year old teenage redheads who may appear mature at first glance but deep down, they’re not as mature as you think they are. Elise’s case is that she was forced to rule Soleanna at a very young age and while she is put together, she is also emotionally vulnerable such as when she had repeated visions of the bloodthirsty demon sealed within her kept showing her visions of Soleanna burned to the ground.

Matakara is of the same vein as well.

For a long time since visiting the Honki temple for the first time with his brother, Matakara has always sensed the dark shadows watching over him, which made him afraid. Mitsukuni said that the dark shadows appear because of how it sensed the weakness within people’s hearts. And well it is true in some sense in that despite being a pretty good fighter, Matakara is emotionally immature, possibly even stunted.

Right after his childhood best friend abandoned him to a group of older kids bullying them, Matakara believed himself to be weak and kept clinging on to the idealized version of Arajin, which the latter never asked for nor did he lied about. Even after showing off his true colors even back in earlier episodes, Matakara kept believing in him and it wasn’t until Episode 8 that Arajin confessed to him that he is not the cool and strong person Matakara believed him to be.

This shatters Matakara’s worldview because right after his brother was taken from him to be placed in juvie for maybe 2-3 years, Matakara tried to build himself up and kept on believing that he has to do it for both Mitsukuni and Arajin’s sake. So to hear from Arajin about how the latter isn’t the strong and cool person that Matakara thinks he is, it proved to be devastating for Matakara.

The way how both handled the inner demons within them (or Ichiya in the case of Matakara)

Princess Elise has been shown initially that whenever her emotions are about to go out of control, she is either shown to clasp her hands together to make sure she doesn’t cry lest she releases Iblis or just hug someone out of instinct.

But over time, she stopped doing so to symbolize how her bond with Sonic has made Elise to handle her emotions better in a way that can confide it to the person closest to her. The only time it got out of hand is when the villain killed Sonic out of a sneak attack, that was when Elise started crying, which released Iblis.

Matakara is more of a 50/50. He has inner demons in the shadow that keeps appearing out of nowhere and how he is the only one to sense it. Those dark and creepy shadows tend to appear whenever Matakara is down on himself or if there is a weakness. But when he got into Minato Kai through pure hard work and the friends that he have made in Zabu and Komao. And that is when the shadows had stopped appearing for the time being, tho they did not disappear completely.

However, I want to point out that unlike Elise who managed to keep her shit together despite not having any form of support group except for her servants, maids, possibly her tutors and ministers, she turned out for the better.

Matakara once he got Ichiya due to Akutaro’s manipulations (well maybe it could be Ichiya who knows really), Ichiya does whatever he can to break Matakara’s will and pointing out how things like friendship and kindness are nothing but weakness. The last straw was when Ichiya brought up on how weak willed Mitsukuni is and that is when Matakara succumbed to the anger and hatred that Ichiya has set up, making the blue majinn to take over him completely.

Anyways TLDR; Princess Elise and Matakara are one and the same IMO, with the only differences on how they handle themselves and their emotional maturity.

[miradelletarot]

I'm here to help with your bad mood!! Ten thousand hugs coming your way stat! 🫂🫂🫂💕

If you need something to take your mind off of things, and if you have the energy for it, maybe you could write something about Gale with a Cleric! Reader who worships a deity of light that he's never heard of. Bonus points if they actually have some of that deity's power and totally save his ass with it.

(This may or may not be inspired by my Cleric of Hylia OC where my Tav's name is Sheik and she worships Hylia from the legend of zelda. Idk how much you know about Zelda so sorry if you're unfamiliar with it ;-;)

I really really hope tomorrow goes better for you, and every other day after that. You deserve the best and only the best, sweetie. Have some cake 🎂

Sorry it took me literally *forever* to get to this, but I hope you like what I came up with. For context, I decided on using Sarenrae (which I know is a Pathfinder deity, not a D&D one,) but I assumed that Gale would at least have some BASIC knowledge on every known deity in the Forgotten Realms so I wanted to lean into something that would be truly known. Sure, I'm crossing the streams, but it's a system I am semi-familiar with, and thought it would be a neat touch. (plus, I thought it would be cool asf for our cleric to call upon her, and basically level up on the battlefield. because...ya know. turn that badass dial up to 11.) Also, even though i grew up with Zelda, i was not allowed to play video games as a kid so I know NOTHING about it. Should I play it? perhaps. Will I? probably not. I barely have two braincells to rub together half the time, and I use them both on writing or sleeping these days lol. So, I hope you like the bit of creative license I took with this one. Regardless, THANK YOU so much for the ask! This has been so fun to take these prompts and stretch my writing abilities a little, diving into ideas I never considered (except for the Sagora x Gale one...i really ran to the moon with that lmao).

So here you go! Cleric!Reader x Gale, saving Gale's ass in the shadow cursed lands. (I kept it neutral as to their relationship so it could be seen as friendship if said reader was not interested in the romance aspect of things). cw: some canon-typical/D&D-typical violence

You and your companions ventured into the Shadow Cursed lands, overwhelmed by the depths of emptiness and darkness that lurked throughout. As you walked you could almost feel threads of your very soul being tugged on, draining you piece by piece.

You stop, closing your eyes – which normally wouldn’t be a good idea, but your companions had your back – and you did your best to focus all of your energy on anything that wasn’t the curse. Your connection with the divine was barely able to break though enough to guide you to a familiar sensation.

Last Light.

“This way,” you call out as you open your eyes and begin to walk forward, your companions following you.  It isn’t long before you make your way into an ambush, surrounded by vine and needle blights. “Shit!” You hiss as you’re struck by a cluster of spindly thorns from afar. You brace yourself, weapon drawn, and spells at the ready, prepared to defend your friends.

You do your best to fight them at a distance, finding out very quickly that the needle blights explode on death, and spray out a flurry of needles as a last attempt at retribution for invading their land. “AH!” Gale cries out, his shield spell flickering out as about a dozen or so needles jut out from his robes sending him reeling backward. “Gale!” Before you can reach him, he backs up directly into a vine blight, its spindly arms wrapping around him tightly. He lets out a blood-curdling scream as it constricts around him, and pushes some of the needles deeper into his flesh. You watch in horror as he loses consciousness knowing you can’t help him just yet lest you succumb to a similar fate. Your eyes light up like a bronze fire, a guttural incantation emerging from your lips. Desperate. Angry. Surrounding you is the manifestation of your rage in the form of spiritual guardians, bathing you in a soft glow as they purge the evil around you and your friends. 

For a brief moment, Gale groans, his eyes fluttering open as a surge of deep golden light flashes before him, and his body falls lip to the ground.

Behind shut eyes, he’s aware of that light…how it fades, then brightens again.

“Hang on, Gale! I’ve got you!” Your words sound more like a desperate plea than a promise, words he can scarcely make out in his daze.

He draws in a sharp breath as you and your fellow companions pluck the needles from him one by one, his eyes thrown open from the pain, but all he can see is you. Bathed in the brightest light he’s ever seen, and the color of a Waterdhavian sunset, your hands are outstretched towards him, his breathing begins to settle as you chant to your deity. Sarenrae? Dawnflower? What are these names?He’s not familiar with either of those names, but you keep chanting them, and each time you do, he can breathe a bit deeper, see a little clearer. “Gale??” You whisper as he sits up, and the radiance that surrounded you has dimmed once again.

He lifts his hand to his chest, clutching his robes. For a moment, he simply sits in silence, wrestling with his own mortality. When he finally looks at you with disbelief. “What was that? What you did just now?” You ponder for a moment, not even entirely sure what it was yourself. After all, these abilities were new to you, a new blessing from your goddess. Not that you never healed anyone before, but your light was stronger, brighter, more radiant than even you had ever experienced. “I – I’m not entirely sure. I just called upon Sarenrae…The Dawnflower. Our lady of healing light. It is with her blessings that I shine so brightly.” You pause, taking in everything that just transpired before you give him a gentle smile. “I’m just glad you’re alright.” You stand and help him to his feet, allowing yourselves a moment to dust off your clothes, and check for any other immediate injuries.

“You have my most sincere thanks.” He bows before you, and smiles as he straightens up again.

You bow your head and offer a half-smile in return. “You’re most welcome. Now, let’s find our way to the Inn, shall we?”

[isfjmel-phleg]

@inklings-challenge for yesterday's prompt, "Newspaper," here are a few letters to the editor of the Loriston Lamplight from shortly before Elystan starts school in Book 3.

Reportedly, Elystan's mother forbade him to look at newspapers during his convalescence before school. Here's why.

(Obnoxious opinions are those of the original writers, not mine, and, I am sorry to say, are typical of the rhetoric of the day.)

3 September 1908

To the Editor of the Loriston Lamplight.

Sir:

His Majesty King Delclis is a bright, promising young man, and I commend him on his and his ministers’ handling of the recent attempted uprising. The late Duke of Gorchester proved himself a traitor indeed; it is best that Corege eradicate such blights on society as speedily as possible, lest they spread and further contaminate our great nation. In this matter, our King, our Prime Minister, and our honored judicial system acted wisely. 

However, it was with concern that I learned that the present Duke of Gorchester not only received no penalty for his role in betraying his monarch but also is being permitted to attend school, and no less than a respectable institution like Hollingham College. I am shocked that Hollingham, a school which I had previously believed to have standards, would accept as a pupil the offspring of a convicted traitor and allow the likes of him to mingle with the noblest young men of Corege and her neighbors. No son of mine will attend school alongside a traitor and son of a traitor. Her Majesty the Queen Dowager can be forgiven for her weakness in permitting Gorchester to walk free, for we cannot expect the tender sentiments of a mother to see reason in such circumstances, but His Majesty cannot allow such lenience. If he is the intelligent, thoughtful young man that I believe him to be, he would be wise to recall that the apple does not fall far from the tree and to keep a close eye on Gorchester, who has proven himself unworthy of trust. It is tragic that one so young would succumb to depravity so soon in life, but such is the natural outcome of unfortunate breeding and a poor upbringing. Let this be a lesson to the parents of Corege.

Yours truly,

Gearalt, Earl of Tholforth

#

3 September 1908

To the Editor of the Loriston Lamplight.

Sir:

The admission of the present Duke of Gorchester to the hallowed halls of Hollingham College is only further indication of what the world is coming to these days. When I attended Hollingham forty years ago, there was never any question of permitting undesirables to mix with the sons of the nation’s finest families. But in this permissive, degenerate age, there is no concern for the well-being of our children as long as we may present ourselves as ��broad-minded,” I suppose! If by “broad-minded” it is meant that the mind is spread so far it no longer exists, then they are not far wrong. Gorchester’s immediate parentage is a sure indication of his natural wickedness, and his descent from the House of Liddick further proves it, for it is well-known that that line is descended from a lawless marriage to an Otionovian female. Does not Gorchester himself possess the dark hair and features of an Otionovian? He is no true son of Corege, and I cannot understand why Sir Jowan has not arranged for him to be returned to the land of his ancestors’ origin.

Let me not hear that Gorchester is but a child; he is thirteen years old, old enough to know right from wrong, and he has willfully betrayed his king and his country. We must not coddle such a criminal and permit him to lead a life of leisure and luxury at the expense of the Coregean taxpayer but rather hold him accountable for his crimes. The best place for a traitor is the end of a rope; the second best is in prison. Perhaps Parliament should have realized that before they passed the legislature of a few years ago that has allowed so many wicked souls lenience on the grounds of something as trivial and irrelevant as their deceptive youth.

Sincerely yours,

Ilar Erwerth Crakehill, Esq.

#

4 September 1908

To the Editor of the Loriston Lamplight.

Sir:

Allow me to extend my sympathy to Her Majesty the Queen Dowager. She is indeed a saint, a true “angel of the kingdom,” in her womanly forbearance with such a trying circumstance as the waywardness of her younger son. Of course, such conduct as his is the fruit of an upbringing lacking in the discipline and instruction that molds the young into men who bring their families no shame, but the Queen deserves our pity rather than our censure. It cannot be entirely her fault that the present Duke of Gorchester has wasted his substance with riotous living. Even the most prodigal of sons can seek repentance; it is my prayer that Gorchester come to his senses and realize how much hurt he is causing the woman who bore him. The Queen and His Majesty have been exceptionally forgiving of this erring boy in according him privileges that many upstanding Coregean lads can only dream of enjoying. Let us hope that he will be grateful. Perhaps Her Majesty may find that such lessons may be better learned at some humbler school than lofty Hollingham—at an establishment of removed locale and no renown, which would supply ample opportunity for reflection and solitude.

Yours very truly,

U. J. Sneaton

[sleepvines]

Let's give Reed and Koda a proper introduction shall we?

Buckle up, this will be a long one.

(characters belong to @acewarden and I!)

Once, sailing on the crests of a great dark sea, there was a young man who inherited the ship and crew of his retiring mentor. He was a fine captain, surely, but he managed to invoke the crew's wrath through his thin facade of bravado and never-satisfied hunger for company. In truth, he was just lonely, and clumsily copying what he saw in the former captain's success.

A mutiny led to Captain Reed being confronted with his arrogant behaviour. The sheer anger and indignation drove the crew to throw him overboard The Albatross. This emotional swell was enough to curse him as he plummeted below the waves, twisting him into something piscine and forsaken. Thankfully it's what saved his life in the end. A captain should never know how to swim, lest the sea make him do it. And rarely, she teaches him how.

The crew would assume him dead and move on with their lives as he fled the scene, fear and rejection pushing him as far as he could get.

...But that's only the first half of his curse, with the second blooming out of acceptance and a true selfless act. The story of a strong friendship in motion and how he came to be who he is today.

~~~

Reed managed to drag himself to the shores of his coastal home: a dingy port town where goods and precious cargo passed through, but never stayed. He was unrecognizable in his new body, and took to drowning his emerging dysmorphia in drink and impersonal pleasure. Things that only made his pockets drain and his heart sink deeper than any hope of returning to life on The Albatross' deck. In desperation...he ached for any familiarity.

One of the crew, a lass by the name of Koda, happened to live in this town. Word was it that she left to find more stable work with the ship's tumultuous change in management, as she wasn't keen on working under those who would toss a man to the sea. Reed decided it was possible she could help him get on his feet again.

He sought her out one night. Reed a stranger, Koda a warm face. Though intimidating in appearance, she gave him a home to stay at without much question. She...had never had anyone ask to spend time with her in earnest. To be as tall and as bestial as she was made others keep her at an arm's distance. Her heart glimmered with hope when he didn't flinch, nor recoil. Still, he was a broken man these days, who had given up on his old persona and was left vulnerable. Koda kept him around, enjoying his company in his happier moments. Reed kept his old identity hidden, not wanting to be seen with resentment. They soon became friends.

It was one day out on the water, sailing in a small boat, that the two found themselves caught in a storm. It wasn't the kind of vessel that could withstand the danger. A wave crashed into the side of it's humble hull, and unable to brace herself, Koda fell into the sea.

Rather than flee with the boat...Reed cast off his coat and dove into the water to save his friend. She was heavy, and barely able to push an arm through the current. Listless, fading. Yet he still did not leave her behind. He pulled and kicked and wriggled until he felt the water give way and her body slump back into the boat. He barely had time to register how he had managed it until he himself succumbed to the unconscious.

The next morning, he awoke back at their home, in bed. Reed felt tremendously sore, and Koda had clearly been tending to him in the meantime. He was glad to see she had come out of the storm alive. Strangely enough his curse had extended further, which had granted him the strength to drag her to safety. The changes were...conflicting to say the least. But feeling it was the right time, he told her exactly who he was. Full story, start to finish.

And Koda? She didn't mind. If anything, to meet her former captain again as his genuine self was both a fulfilling experience and a decent closure to what she considered witnessing a murder. For Koda, it was even healing to harbor someone in her home who didn't fear her, no matter who it was. The truth only strengthened their bond, and as of now they remain close knit.

And that is that, the tale of a disgraced captain who learns to be himself, and an intimidating deckhand who learns she will not always be judged by her cover.

~~~

(Koda illustration by my friend @spearxwind! )

(headshot by me)

[st7arlight]

so sorry to those of you who followed me for any specific fandoms. i promise i still love those however i create art like a man plagued by dark visions that i must transcribe to paper lest i succumb to a poisoning of my humors

[novankenn]

"Jaune Gets A Gun AU - Day 2" Interested Parties...

Inspired by @howlingday's weapon posts.

As the trio melded into the flowing crowds of Convention goers, several individuals were watching them intently. Each with a different reason...

Banshee-44: Are you sure about this?

????: (A Warped and Dark Voice) Yes. Keep trying, he must succumb.

Banshee-44: I guess. Tried twice... third times the charm I guess... who knows really.

The figure, he was speaking too, steps out of the shadows at the rear of Banshee's booth.

Pumpkin Pete: We must. There is great power with in him, and we MUST prevent those others from gaining his absolute trust.

Banshee-44: Seems pretty normal... but what do I know.

Pumpkin Pete: There is more to him then even he knows... once he embraces us... the world will be his...

Standing next to the AFC (Atlantian Fried Chicken) stall, Emerald watches and plans. She had through various skills heard the trio's conversation. She paid particular attention to Jaune's supposed infatuation with rabbit ears.

Emerald: I can work with this. A little semblance use and I definitely can get my Blond Goddess back...

Her eyes focus on the golden bracelet upon Jaune's wrist.

Emerald: I just have to get rid of that thing after he changes... then she'll be mine!

Emerald's eyes narrow as she studies the pair of rivals walking next to the man who would become the woman she will spend the rest of her life worshipping...

Emerald: Just have to get ready of those two... maybe Cinder can help me... of course I would have to get rid of her, lest she tries to steal my dearly beloved succubus from me.

At Beacon, Cinder's head suddenly snaps up from studying her plans on her scroll... the power of the Fall Maiden suddenly starting to emerge.

Mercury: Boss?

Cinder: Someone is scheming behind my back... I can feel it.

Back with at the convention centre, Jaune, Ruby and Pyrrha are standing still looking about at the various booths. Jaune steps away from them as he notices a pair of figures goofing off at their booth.

Jaune: How about that one?

Pyrrha: I'm not sure... looks a little...

Ruby: Unprofessional.

[nerdyqueerandjewish]

I realize that I keep my baseline mood pretty high, lest I succumb to the darkness. And even when things are shit, I do my best to let myself feel my feelings, but I also purposely find shreds of hope and goodness. It helps a lot. And it makes sense as a coping mechanism being that I spent pretty much all of my pre-teens, teens, and early 20s extremely depressed. But I get paranoid I fall into the toxic positivity trap, even though I’m pretty sure I don’t. Like, to me toxic positivity is based in reality-denial, whereas I’m like “ugh, I live in this reality, but I’m gonna try to find ways to make it suck less if I can”

Idk. What do people think crosses over into toxic positivity?

[capsensislagamoprh]

Being the calm, cool, and collected ten-year-old that Yuuri was, he pretty much knew he had life figured out. He didn’t realize it then, but he was experiencing awe for the first time. The experience of admiration and elevation in response to physical beauty, displays of exceptional ability, or deep emotional expression being put out for the world to see sirening a song into his very being. The awe-inspiring stimulus could only be experienced as vast and difficult to comprehend for his young mind. It challenged his worldview. His limited sense of island and onsen and town, surpassing the scope of his current frame of reference. Suddenly the world was large and round and waiting.

The realization started in the distance with the sound of an oboe, it's low mournful sound calling the start to an event. It drew in the dark eyes. Ten years on this earth. Five years learning, really learning how to glide and turn, twizzle and slide. Jumps were new, and while he wasn't so bad at it, he admitted he was still learning. And thrugh it all, he'd merely done it for fun. It was a joy, just a thing that could easily become a passing phase. Then he saw Victor Nikiforov make the ice his home. The ease, the grace, the way he seemed to tell stories - older than cold itself - called to him. He turned towards his family and smiled, pointing at the television. "I'm going to skate like him!"

"You'll have to practice hard to get to that level," Mari said, staring at the screen. "Gonna be a lot of work."

"I can do it! I'm going to skate on the same ice one day."

Mari grunted, smiling when Yuuri couldn't see. "Right. Well, if you want to do that, we'll have to figure out some things."

"But I can do it right?"

"I dunno. Can you?"

Light illuminated the the determination in Yuuri's awed smile. "I can do anything! I'm gonna do it! Watch me!"

~~~

He lay on the cheep cotton sheets, his silken hair spread like a fan behind him, damp from the shower, smelling of cold and hotel soap. He'd feasted. He'd dined. He'd savored every crumb. Flowers adorned the thin dresser, lay tossed about the bed, tangled in heaps on the table. These were a mere tokens of the crowed gratitude. Tomorrow was the free skate. Tomorrow he would gorge.

As the drops of water glistening against his winter flesh crackled and steamed, evaporating into mist, Victor smiled to himself. Something was fabulous about this new feeling. Something distant and full of wonder. Perhaps his connection to the Dream was growing, becoming more stable now that he wasn't starving.

He heard what the announcers said. He listened to the cries of shock and delight. He felt the pull of there gasps, sucking life out of the room, afraid to let air back in lest it be their last breath. He'd landed a set of daring combos, wanting - no. Needing to make himself known. The shadows in the ice could echo a summers warmth all they wanted. The shred of snow from its surface could succumb to the heat of artificial lights when ever it wanted. They would not move him from his goal. He'd come here for a reason. He was going to find Yuri. Then he would return to the Dream, where precious things were safe from mundane reality.

His eyes closed, cerulean orbs ready to reflect the day in memory. Breath came in long steady pulls. His skin tingled. He lay limp, a smile tugging his lips.

From the mirror hung uselessly on the wall, far from any purposeful placement, a flicker of something darker remained. It watched, waited, and when the Ice King was well and truly in somnic dreams, it flicked with a quiet presence into dark being, watching. Waiting. When no reaction came, the thin comforter pulled itself over the sleeping teen before shimmering thrugh the shadows into a near by chamber.

~~~

"Tell me," Christophe said to the reflection of a very powerful being, "how is the plan proceeding?"

"If any harm comes to Yuri..."

"That's the mortal world, I'm afraid." Before the threat of manifestation became corporal, the spring fey held up a gentle hand. "You have to trust." The lack of response didn't change the weight in the air. It threatened to suffocate Christophe with a sulfuric caress. Gulping, he reached quickly for the dross he kept in the shape of breath mints, popping open the red and white tin. The stench of peppermint threatened to overwhelm. Despite knowing it would hurt, he crunched three quickly.

"He's here! I know he is! We'll complete him, and then he wont be so reckless. That's what you wanted isn't it? For Victor to stop putting lives at risk because he couldn't figure out what was missing?" For a precious moment he thought the shadow wouldn't listen, was to upset. Then the pressure lifted, leaving the smell of spice and warm autumn breezes. Gasping, Christophe swallowed hard. Clamoring to stand, he looked around. The shadows were merely shadows, the mirrors showing nothing more than they should. When he turned to sink into his bed, he cried out in alarm. He'd sat on a dried leaf, it's crinkling decay crunched under his weight.

He was lucky, he knew, to only receive a warning. The Hero didn't do half measures, no unseelie did. They really needed to find Yuri. And Victor's other half. He didn't know they could survive what would happen if they didn't.

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13, part 14, part 15, part 16, part 17, part 18, part 19, part 20, part 21, part 22, part 23, part 24, part 25, part 26