#the even better part is it's technically shared knowledge so the rest of us will sometimes mention these facts in conversation

[ambrosiagoldfish]

I've never sent a request before, but I'm fiending for more adam, like anything, anything at all

Benefit of the doubt

Adam x 3rd Spouse! Reader

Viewer discretion is advised

Warnings: Angst(?), Not exactly fluff at the end but it gets better, typical Adam TW’s, reader low-key high-key has a complex about being loved, this is set way before the show, and Gn! Reader. (Also Y/n isn’t used, which also surprised me, the author, LMAO)

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Request Box: Open

Word count: 1760

A/N: Hi! Thanks for the request! I haven’t had a chance to write something that was originally my own idea in a while, so this was very refreshing! I’ve had this idea since I’ve watched the show so I hope you enjoy it!

I’m entirely up for making a small series from this oneshot, but I would need to know y’all’s opinion on it! (So don’t feel scared to let me know if you want some more of this idea in my Request box/the replies on this post!!)

Also Adam may be slightly OOC but please just chalk it up to him not yet getting his ego’s dick sucked 24/7

Anyways, I hope you all enjoy, let me know if you do!

Proofread but of course could have left mistakes!

You’ve existed for almost all of human existence, Almost.

You were the 4th being to be created during the time of Eden. But unlike the other 3, you weren’t human. In fact, you technically never lived before. An honestly hopeless existence, yet it was so beautiful in every way. But for what purpose? Well…

You were created shortly after Eve ate the apple, before she and eventually Adam committed the first act of sin that caused evil to latch onto humanity like a leech.

The reason for your existence was simple. To be Adam’s new spouse, except for when after he died. From the very moment Eve bit the fruit of temptation, it was already decided she would hold no place in heaven. Adam was given mercy due to him not possessing any knowledge of the fruit Eve had shared with him, he trusted her wholeheartedly. Which is exactly why heaven gave him mercy… no, pity would be a better choice of words.

Upon your creation you learned immediately of the happenings before your existence. About Lilith and Eve, and about Lucifer

And so, after Adam and Eve were casted away from the Garden, they continued to live their lives, fostering the existence of mankind for the rest of time. And when they eventually died, Adam was given pity while Eve was thrown to the wayside, the vast unknown.

You thought it was finally your time to experience existence with the one you loved, the one you were made for. Of course you never would know life as he did but surely your life never-after life could be just as meaningful as his.

How excited you were, how completely enamored by the thought of it. But there was a problem with that, Adam had grown into a new person, he was meant to of course, he was human. But he had grown selfish, abhorrent… insecure.

You understood why, to be betrayed by not one but two of his wives for the same person. You couldn’t possibly imagine what he could be feeling. Before you were to meet your future husband, Sera informed you that he had asked for a mask, and once on, he has refused to take it off.

That didn’t bother you, it’s irrelevant to your love for him. You've only heard descriptions of his features. Short Brown hair, gold eyes, bushy eyebrows, some scruff on his chin. All in all, he sounded perfectly fine, ordinary even. But even then it’s his choice to wear the mask, so you’ll respect it.

Finally, the time he arrived in heaven, and when Sera finally introduced you, his new spouse, the one to whom would be by his side for the rest of forever.

He rejected you outright.

“What?” Your breath hitched as you stuttered over the word, the sharp inhale of your lungs through your mouth flicked through the air.

Sera looked just as shocked as you but she quickly regained her composure “What is the meaning of this Adam?”

“If you think I’m going to let my life get fucked over by another one of your “gifts” well, you’ve got another thing coming!” He crossed his arms and shook his head defyingly. “I’ve already learned my lesson with those last 2 bitches.”

“Adam I’m sorry that happened to you but I would never-“ almost like lightning his finger shot to your mouth, shushing you.

“Save it, Sweetcheeks, I really don’t care what you have to say, so just stay there and look pretty, k?” His hand fell and grabbed the sides of your face, squishing your cheeks together, his LED mask flashing a sharp smile.

You saddeningly looked down at the clouds below you.

“Adam!” Sera’s voice sounded through the air, still soft but firm, she continued, placing a hand on your shoulder, “Divine judgment allowed you to be the first human soul in heaven, so I gave you the benefit of the doubt. I expect you to give your new spouse that same grace.”

Slowly your eyes looked up at Sera with a soft smile. Adam only groaned “Ugh, Fine but don’t be fuxking annoying, capiche?” You nod your head quickly.

“Very good, glad we have it settled.” Sera gives a quick smile, “now, I have some business to take care of so I’ll leave you two alone to get to know one another” With that, Sera flew away leaving the both of you alone.

The silence was thick in the air, the only sound being the occasional wind breeze blowing past. The sunlight creeps in through the clouds painting an orange sky above you both. In every sense of the word, it was perfect.

It was almost funny. You had waited so long to finally meet him, your true love, the one you were made for. All the things you dreamed about, the laughs you’d have together, the warm embrace of the person who you loved. But now… you didn’t know what to say…

“I’m… happy to finally meet you.” Your voice is quiet, almost non-audible. “I’ve been waiting for you since… well, forever…”

He doesn’t respond. He seems to be transfixed on something below you both. You train your eyes on whatever he’s watching only to see the dark cavernous abyss below you. Finally he breaks his silence.

“The fuck is that?” He asked pointing down, a sound of genuine intrigue hidden behind his abrasive voice

“That’s hell?” You stated confused “where would-be sinners will go to be punished, didnt you k-“ you suddenly realized that perhaps Adam really didn’t know what hell was. It was only created relatively recently, after Eve and Him ate the apple, of course he wouldn’t know. “it’s also where Lucifer-“

“Don’t fucking say his name.” Adam spoke, his voice rough in his speech. LED mask putting a harsh frown on his face. “Let’s get one thing straight M”Kay babe, if you’re my “new spouse” that’s something you should remember.” The “new spouse” was said with a tone clearly meant to mock you.

“Sorry…”

“Ugh, It’s fine, just don’t do it again.” He groaned before a wicked smile crept onto his mask “Sooo, that means he’s going to be stuck with all the wasteful beings of existence, HA fuxkin’ hilarious. Guess that makes them the losers and us the Winners!”

His laugh filled the air, the sound was like music to your ears, sure maybe it wasn’t really what you’d hoped he’d fine funny, but you loved it all the same but eventually his laugh died down

Silence again… in admits of all of it you suddenly was sparked with a thought “oh!” Adam looked confused at the random exclamation. “I had almost forgotten… I brought you something, as a welcome gift or was it a nice to meet you gift? Both? Eh, it doesn’t matter but the point is-“ you suddenly snap your fingers.

Golden light began shining, the light seemed like liquid hot magma as it moved and molded slowly into a shape. Light seemed to be overlapping and churning into itself, forming your desired outcome. With one final snap of your fingers, the gleaming gold liquid took hold, and quickly hardened to a solid.

The object that had formed quickly fell down, landing in your arms with a light thud.

“I’m still learning this creation stuff, so I’m sorry if it’s not perfect but-“ you hold out the object in your arms as an invitation to grab it “I learned from Sera that you liked to play guitar when you were alive, so I thought you might like to have one here…”

Adam looked at the instrument in your hands. The base color was gold, the neck was pearly white with gold strings. To be honest it looked more like a harp then anything, like if a guitar and a harp had a baby.

Silence again. Did he not like it? Did he hate it? You go to pull it back to you and apologize when suddenly it’s ripped out from your hands.

“Holyshit, this is sick as Fuck!” Adam immediately started playing some rifts on the new guitar. The sound wasn’t what you were expecting but you guess Sera was right about his talent with the instrument. The whole time his mask had a wide and sharp smile as he mimicked guitar sounds with his voice, the occasional laugh leaving his mouth.

“I’m really glad you like it” you say, a sigh of relief leaving your body.

Adam looked at you, one you missed. He saw how relieved you were, how nice you were being. No person who supposedly loved him ever gifted him something, well, one other did. Someone he trusted and loved more than everyone, anyone. But look how that ended, with them being removed from the garden, away from an eternity of happiness until he died. All from someone giving him what he thought was nothing but love, a gift.

But he could see that this was different, you were different. When Eve gave him the apple, she didn’t explain what it was or why she wanted him to eat it, even when he asked her she didn’t explain. But with you, you had not only given him something you knew he liked but also expressed the reason behind it. Yes, you were different, even Adam could see it.

“Anyways, thanks for the axe, I guess…” Adam for the first time was stunned, but quickly he continued “What was the thing that Sera chick said about me and “divine judgment” or whatever the fuck? That she gave me the “benefit of the doubt…”

You were a bit confused but continued listening, “I guess I should at least try to give you a chance, since you got me this sick ass guitar an’ shit.” Your face lit up, you about began to speak before you were, once again, shushed “B-B-But-” his finger tapped your lips with each repeated syllable ��-only a chance. If you betray me like those last 2 bitches then you’re done, got it?”

To say you were overjoyed would be an understatement, a smile quickly plastered across your face as you quickly nodded your head

“Alright good, so uh, what do ya say about showing me the best places to get a bite to eat around here, I could really go for some ribs right about now.”

“ I’d… love to, thank you Adam”

“Yeah don’t mention it Sweetcheeks” Adam quickly wrapped his arm around your shoulder and you two began walking.

Maybe you will get your eternity of happiness.you can only pray you do.

[mutated-green-things]

📓

I reblogged this meme awhile ago but I had a hard time narrowing it down to just one fic I have daydreamed about a lot but not written:

I really have so many Leonardo ideas buzzing around for this but I eventually decided to ramble about the fic I started mentally crafting awhile back about Leo having DID/being plural. Mostly because that’s the one I’ve made the most notes about (Haven’t actually written any actual fic/prose I just have lots of disparate ideas and such) The biggest thing being a system list for him! It’s all the alters I think he’d have along with a (somewhat) short description of them. So, I’ll start with that and share some extra thoughts at the end! (Also quick note: every alter listed uses he/him unless otherwise stated)

Leonardo: Host and most big brother-y of them all. Tries to get his brothers to follow the rules but isn't angry or cruel. Is calm and calculating and effectively uses the knowledge his librarian alter has collected. Doesn't ramble about it, but thinks about it often. The effective, precise leader, general, and combatant.

Okami/Wolf: The first split and inspiration for this fic/AU. Essentially Leo feels a bit like a different character in season 4: Angry, violent, brutal. So the idea is that when they’re all almost killed in that explosion on Shredder’s ship, that’s the start of Leo’s system. That failure and threat of death is so traumatic that he splits a persecutor who blames him to explain away something so devastating and unfair happening without reason. The idea being that if Leonardo was just a little better, it wouldn’t have happened in the first place, and that makes the universe still controllable and just in their eyes. They weren’t good enough to reach the happy ending that his family deserved, but they can be if they work hard enough. Okami fronts throughout the first half or so of season 4 and even after Leo gets better he switches in when the body has to fight and when feelings of depression and failure well up. Okami can often be cruel and unreasonable and he’s the one who over trains and self harms.

Ryushi/りゆし: Written in hiragana because this alter only speaks in Japanese. Ryushi is very formal and tends to front during the most traditional functions the family takes part in. Most active in the morning during meditation and morning tea, though he also pretty frequently comes out in Usagi’s presence. He regularly has incredibly lengthy conversations with Usagi exclusively in Japanese, which drives Mikey and Raph crazy, since they can’t follow all of it. Donnie and Splinter sometimes jump in too, but some of the more modern/technical Japanese words Don knows throws Usagi (and sometimes even Ryushi) off, so Don will usually just let them have their fun. Splinter hops in more often and will happily embarrass the hell out of his son, but he also knows when to let them have their private time. As a final note: Ryushi loves Japanese snacks, his favorite being milk candy.

Kit/Kitsune: This is the librarian alter listed in Leonardo’s description. They’re a Bookworm who loves to read and catalogue. They’ll happily ramble for hours about kata, sword forging, battle history, haiku, and stratagem. In general Kitsune has pretty big autism vibes with a pretty wide range of special interests that overlap. They sometimes forgets to eat if they’re perfecting a Kata or reading something particularly interesting. Sometimes referred to as Donnie 2.0 by Raph/Mikey. Non-Binary. Probably They/He/She in that order for preference of pronoun. Has some interest in combat but prefers to read about it rather than participate though I do kind of like the idea of their signature weapon being tessen. The Burnt Out Gifted Kid with a Praise Kink also really fits Kit.

Blue: Scared, scarred child. Trauma holder and only little. Probably around 8 or 9. Still carries an extreme fear of heights that the rest of the system “conquered” around this age. Conquered in quotes because really I think Leonardo pressed that shit down until it was all squeezed into the psychic space that would eventually become Blue. He may hurt others as a fear response but is sloppy and can't actually do serious damage like Wolf, Leonardo, or Ryushi. The second split after Okami. Comes around as Leo starts to confront his trauma and fears with Usagi and Donatello’s help.

Leo: The last to split and only formed when they’ve finally worked through a lot of shit and returned to some sort of relaxed normalcy. He’s close to Leonardo in personality but way more fun loving and easy going. Plays games with his family and makes dad jokes. Will happily play video games with Mikey and prank his brothers. Comes out when doing fun family activities, when they are loopy tired, or when they are under the influence of something.

I also have some idea for the system name being The Armory System or just The Armory, and have a ton of thoughts on how this is explained to Leo. But none of them are cohesive or concrete. I do know that both Usagi and Donatello would play a big role in this fic but I don’t know who would be more active/how I would achieve any sort of balance between them…

I could just have Donnie tag along into Usagi’s world when Usagi takes Leo on his Big Healing Adventure. I think Don would gladly tag along but there’s some steps I’d need to go through to make that happen without Raph and Mikey coming too. That and even if I make that happen I’d still have to balance interactions and such so it wouldn’t be weighted to one side too much.

A few stray thoughts and that’ll end my ramble:

This would ofc be a Leosagi story and getting explore Usagi falling in love with Leonardo and all his different alters sounds so so fun.

I also had this idea of using a magical journal or bottle that can transport words/objects across dimensions. I still like that idea a lot and will likely repurpose it for it’s own fic but I like the idea of Don, Leo, and Usagi all traveling together in Usagi’s world even more.

Okay! That’s it! Thanks for reading!

[esta-elavaris]

Fallen Through Time

Part Three [2,779 words]

An AU of my completed, 400k+ word fanfic Catch the Wind [AO3], in which Elizabeth, not James, is the one to discover Theodora Byrne after she crash-lands into the world of Pirates of the Caribbean.

This chapter could have technically been combined with the next one - but it would have taken me a whole extra week to get it done if that was the case, and it works as is. Even better, James is finally here. Historical context notes at the end, as per my usual BS 💜

Masterpost - Part One - Part Two - *Part Three* [you’re here!]

Tag list [let me know if you want to be added!]: @missfronkensteen​ @dancerinthestorm​ @teawithshakespeare​ 

Elizabeth sat and listened to her tale with a level of glee that Theo might’ve begrudged, had she not been so relieved, down to her very bones, that she wasn’t racing to the island’s authorities and demanding for a stake to be built so that she might be burned at it. Nor a ship bound for Bedlam, for that matter. Not least because it would be a bit of a lengthy journey - and possibly a bit of a wait, depending on whether it had been built yet or not. So Theo told her the truth, and she told her…most of it. Oh, everything she told her was the truth, but she just didn’t tell her every single part of that truth, sticking to the apparent time-travel aspect of her appearance and mentioning none of the fictional world part.��

The knowledge of what was to come was the only feasible weapon currently housed in her arsenal, and it was too important to go sharing just yet. It didn’t matter much, though, because Elizabeth was in such raptures about what she did tell her, that offering even more was hardly necessary. 

“When I saw your portraits I could hardly think to believe my eyes,” Elizabeth confessed “But then I found the coins…currency, I take it? I’ve never seen craftsmanship of the like. And the dates engraved thereon. Two thousand and ten? The date you’ve come to us from, could it be?”

“It’s an old coin,” she murmured “A decade old. I left the summer of twenty-twenty.”

Elizabeth breathed a disbelieving laugh, leaning back in her chair and staring at her with undisguised delight. 

“You have to understand, I didn’t do this on purpose. I have no idea how I did it, or how it’s even possible. I’m not even sure that I won’t wake up in ten seconds’ time.”

“Would my assurances on the matter help?”

“Not until I’m completely certain you’re not a figment of my imagination.”

“A fair assessment,” Elizabeth inclined her head “But on one score you’ve no reason to worry - I hardly suspected you’d done this on purpose. If not because of the terrible state you were in when I found you, then because of the horror on your face now.” 

Well, it was something at least. And that understanding was what had Theo keeping her lips sealed against any temptation to ask that she start using smaller words to form shorter sentences, so that Theo could understand her through the high-pitched mechanical whirring going on in her own head as she tried to come to terms with just what the hell was going on. 

“So you’re not going to tell anybody, then?” she sought reassurance.

Elizabeth cracked a wry smile. 

“Theodora, whom would I tell? They’d think me a fool, and you a charlatan. Given that I can happily say that I’m no fool, and that I hope my assessment of you is therefore correct, I can’t see what need we have for the opinions of the menfolk,” leaning forward then, she rested a delicate hand atop hers “What I propose is a prospect far more intriguing.” 

Had Theo been in better shape, she might’ve tried to spit forth a big long eloquent bit of prose in return, just to prove she knew a few three or four syllable words. But she wasn’t, and she was too interested in the promise behind Elizabeth’s words.

“Which is…?”

“I’m going to help you.” 

The gleam in Elizabeth’s eye suggested that this had the potential to be a great deal more dangerous to her than the response she’d originally feared could be. 

****

Captain James Norrington was fairly certain that Miss Elizabeth Swann would soon be the death of him. Very soon, if she continued on as she had been thus. When a footman from the governor’s mansion had raced into Fort Charles, breathless, and told them the nonsensical tale, James had been able to find the praise-worthy within it. The kindness, generosity, and firm moral character it displayed - and, most impressively of all - how it sounded as though Miss Swann had handled it all personally, not content to linger by the side-lines and dole out orders. But then? Then she continued to handle it all so very personally. To a fault. 

Guarding her charge as fiercely as a child might do so with a stray pup they’d carted home one day, fearful that the moment they took their eyes off of it would be the moment it was cast back into the street, Miss Swann had thus far refused to allow him any audience at all with her Irish foundling. All James knew was that her name was Theodora Byrne, and that she (by Miss Swann’s own reckoning) was in no state for guests, as of present. Which meant that all James could do for the time being was wait, and worry about the sort of person she may have unwittingly carted home through a desire to do good. 

It wasn’t that he thought Miss Swann was a fool - no, she was far from that, but she (thank God) had no experience with the sort of creatures who prowled these waters. Not truly. Not beyond watching them hang. While she was not a simpleton, experience was the only thing that might show a person just what these creatures were truly capable of - and that they were not capable of less depravity when they were female, nor when they were injured for that matter. Few liked to believe themselves gullible, and fewer still were capable of realising that only a small number of people (if any at all) were capable of instantly recognising lies for what they were the moment they were uttered, regardless of the situation. And he could find no evidence of any recent shipwrecks nearby.

Was Elizabeth likely to be easily fooled? No, he thought not. Generally speaking. But anybody could be fooled under the right circumstances, and he was worried that those which had brought Theodora Byrne, if that was even truly her name, may be just that. Time would undoubtedly tell, but James was hardly content to leave the matter in the hands of time. Still, it left him sailing perilously close to the wind. The more he pushed the matter - within the bounds of politeness - the more Miss Swann swaddled her new charge and refused to let any one near her, instead simply repeating whatever information Miss Byrne had told her in place of a proper interview. Seeing as Miss Byrne had yet to do anything wrong, James could not yet push the matter. For the time being. Once she was fit to leave her bed, however, it would be a different matter.

It was no small relief, though, that Elizabeth seemed to have come to that same conclusion - perhaps at the behest of her father, who could see he was going quite mad with her refusal to cooperate, or likely because (as James had said) she was not a fool. And so, two weeks after her unceremonious arrival on their shores, he was invited to the Governor’s mansion to meet their new resident. He exercised some restraint, and chose not to bring officers with him - should an arrest be in order. Mostly because he suspected he’d be turned out without so much as a glimpse at the unknown woman who was thus far proving to be an utter headache. 

He heard her before he saw her. Their first indication that the women were indeed on their way was Elizabeth’s voice - in the entrance hall, at the top of the stairs, by the sounds of it. It was joined by a second, slightly higher in pitch with a lilting accent, but James could make out no more than the voices, failing to comprehend whatever words sent them into soft peals of laughter until they were, by his hear, almost entirely down the stairs.

The culmination of their slow - glacial - progress came when a servant opened the grand white doors to the drawing room, and the two women stepped into the room. James and the Governor both rose to their feet to greet them. 

It was comical. How could it not be? After all of the worry and suspicion she’d prompted in him, for James to finally see her for the first time and be forced to note the entire absence of claws, fangs, or horns as she met his gaze and smiled sheepishly at him. 

She was not quite fit for visitors yet, that much was clear not just from how Elizabeth supported her as she walked, but from her appearance alone - and he warred between guilt, and cool relief at the fact that his prodding at least seemed to have had some sort of impact, after all. Had he been lax in his duties, he suspected it would have been another week still before she surfaced. While she had been made decent for company, clad in a thick mint green dressing-jacket and matching slippers, her long crimson hair bound into a thick plait that fell over one shoulder, it was clear to any eye that she was not well enough to dress properly. Beneath the worst of the sunburnt patches on her face (primarily her brow and cheekbones), her face was pale, and a thin sheen covered her face from the exertion of the stairs alone, the stray strands that escaped her braid sticking to her face and neck as she moved. Few, if any, could feign such things, regardless of how skilled they were in the art of pretence.

If he were to finally settle on the idea of her total innocence, he knew with a sinking feeling that he would later feel guilty for demanding this. But should she mean ill, he would never forgive himself. With the costs weighed as such, he knew he had done the right thing. It was with that in mind that he would not allow himself to be put at ease from first impressions alone. 

“Captain Norrington, may I introduce Miss Theodora Byrne,” Miss Swann offered him a dazzling smile, finally releasing the arm of her charge “Theodora, this is Captain Norrington - he’s been very keen to hear of your arrival here.”

Once apparently convinced of the hardiness of her own two legs, she offered him another tired smile - and he’d be outright lying if he tried to insist that she was not fair. Factually speaking. Beneath the toll the last few weeks may have taken on her, it was even possible that she was quite striking. In her own way. 

“I’m pleased to meet you,” she said.

Then, surprising everybody in the room (the servants on the side-lines included, judging by the almost imperceptible glance they shared), she stepped forth and offered her hand for him to shake. Governor Swann gave a cough that did a poor job at disguising a surprised puff of laughter, and Elizabeth? Elizabeth beamed like the strange display was the best thing she’d ever seen. When was the last time he’d seen her smile thus? Certainly never at him, nor at one of the many gatherings high society put on here in an attempt to pass the time at the otherwise fairly quiet port. James liked it not. It suggested a level of influence on Miss Byrne’s part - one that he did not trust. 

She offered her hand like a man would, rather than with her palm down for him to clasp. It would have been forward in the case of the latter, but the former only stoked his suspicions regarding her background. However…she’d handed him an opportunity. To use incredibly apt phrasing. Before she could second-guess the gesture thanks to the reactions of those in the room, James stepped forward and shook her hand. 

The grip she offered was firmer than he expected, but the skin of her hand was smooth, soft, and not roughened. Not in the immediately obvious way that a pirate, or indeed any sailor who spent much of their time toiling with rope, would display. Or one accustomed to days filled with hard labour. There may have been other, less obvious calluses that might reveal some specific trade or another, but he could not ascertain that without further inspection - and that would be entirely inappropriate. 

Still, he could already glean that she wasn’t from the serving classes. But she hardly had the manner of a lady, either. Already his suspicions rose.

“How do you do?” he greeted - with a tone of civility that he was more or less happy with. 

Releasing his hand, she stepped back and slowly sank down onto the settee beside Elizabeth, prompting James and Governor Swann to return to their seats, too. In the short silence that followed, he took the opportunity to cast a glance over the rest of her - within propriety, of course, and found that he could see no scars, nor any signs of a life of hardship. Well, other than the dark tan that her sunburn had begun to fade into. It must have been severe to take this long to heal, he had to concede that much. Although Port Royal’s chief physician had confirmed that much to him, likely at the behest of the Swanns to make him stop pressing for a meeting. 

“I’m sorry it took me so long to be able to meet you,” she said “And for my, er, current state. Stairs are practically Everest to me right now, so there’s not much hope for everything else ‘til I manage to pull myself together.”

James’ brow furrowed “...Everest?”

“It’s the…” pausing, she glanced around and seemed to realise nobody had the slightest notion of what she was talking about “Never mind. Anyway, I just meant that I don’t mean any disrespect by appearing before you like this.”

As he listened silently to her words, he had to fight to keep the frown from his face. Not because of the words themselves, but because of how intently Elizabeth watched her new friend as she said them, the slightest hints of a satisfied smile pulling at her lips. As though they’d rehearsed this together. Since when was there a pressing need to rehearse the truth?

When he returned his attention to Miss Byrne, he found her watching him with eyes just a touch widened, watching his reaction to her as keenly as he’d been observing her. To see if he believed her? Or was it possible that he was just making her that nervous within five minutes of meeting him alone? However stern he could be, he doubted it. No, something was at play here, that much he was certain of - but he wouldn’t discover what it was through being dour. So James forced a tight-lipped smile onto his face as Elizabeth rang for tea, and made his mind up to be perfectly cordial throughout the entirety of this meeting. Even if she didn’t bear the signs of being a roughened pirate, that didn’t mean she meant no harm, that she was hiding nothing. If he made her comfortable enough, no doubt she would slip up and reveal those secrets. 

And then the Swanns, and all living in Port Royal for that matter, would be safe.

 A/N: Nobody knew that Everest was the world’s tallest mountain until 1856, and it was named after a man born in 1790, over half a century after the events of this story.

So on the matter of the handshake - from what I can gather, it wasn’t really typical for men and women to shake hands in this era, but a lot of that largely depends on the location. It was generally more accepted, at least in later periods, for it to happen in the north of England, in Scotland, etc….as my fellow North and South enjoyers will know. But because Norrington, love him as I do, is painfully southern and proper, at this stage at least, I think he’d find it surprising. But it’s not so crazy that it couldn’t be attributed to Theo’s Irishness. Unless Norrington was determined to be suspicious. 

That being said, a lot of what I can find on how appropriate it is or is not is based on later time periods - the Regency era, leading up to the Victorian era. The Georgians were markedly bawdier than that lot, so it mightn’t have been a major deal. All of that in mind, I don’t think it’s insane to have it inducing a raised eyebrow as far as the Noz is concerned. (Listen, a friend who knows about this referred to him as that to me once and now it lives in my mind rent-free and I’m gifting it property in your consciousness, too.)

​

[ritterum]

Kinwa and the Engineer

The Matubon people of Slow-Lake have a strange custom, which is that they consider teaching taboo, and refuse to mark symbols, deal in numbers, and do all but the most passive apprenticeship; for the only true knowledge is that which was wrested from the lions of one’s mind - all else is lies and the whispers of wicked men.

Kinwa was the best and brightest student the Matubon had ever seen, skilled not just in hunting and tracking, pottery, and spear-throwing, but in writing and arithmetic and diagram-forming. He even knew how to talk to the spirits that live at the back of people’s minds. Really, it seemed like he was destined for anything, and that’s what the people of the tribe said - Kinwa does everything so effortlessly, it’s obvious he’s meant for great things (for skill is not just the measure of someone’s learning; it shows the degree to which they have fallen towards their own fate).

Now Kinwa had long heard the deprecations of the elders against false knowledge, but he paid it no heed. What knowledge could there be that did not have to be wrestled against first? No, it was clearly fear of a strange and vast unknown that fueled this insensible caution. So when Kinwa had amassed all the knowledge he could from the tribe, he went to the city of Tulòn to see if he could seek admission to their great universities or esteemed engineering guilds. It so happened that Tulòn was about to embark on another grand construction project in honor of their ancient king, and was happy for all the help they could get. So Kinwa was accepted into the technical university, and began his new studies immediately.

A curious phenomenon soon happened to Kinwa, however - he fell asleep. Really, some classes were just so boring and their equations so dense that as soon as they began, he would find himself suddenly overtaken by the weariness of the day, and would fall into restless dreams of frolicking among the meadows. The first week this happened, Kinwa was filled with shame - imagine, the pride of the Matubon unable to solve a few measly problems! - so he resolved to study hard and work towards understanding the material. The following week, however, Kinwa fared no better, and the lectures once more lulled him into a deep sleep (this time, the dreams were of playing with his faithful hunting dog). Kinwa, determined not to let these equations get the better of him, went through the readings back to front, solved the practice problems repeatedly until he could do them with his eyes closed, and took apart the diagrams and charts until he understood all the different parts of them. Finally, on the third week, Kinwa had caught up to the rest of the class enough that, look! he could follow along as the instructors threw up line after line on the chalkboard! He turned to his seatmate to share the good news, but to his horror, his seatmate - and all the students in the class - had turned into a different person, all of them the same pointy-eared figure with reptilian eyes, wreathed in yellow light.

“Are you all right, Kinwa?” his seatmate asked, with a voice that was not his. “You look confused.”

“Yes,” his seatmate on the other side added, in the same voice. “Come, let’s do the work that was ordained for today. Then you’ll feel a lot better for sure.”

As one, the entire class, including Kinwa, stood up and left for the quarry, where they joined other work-gangs made up of the same pointy-eared individual, and hauled stone to the site of the new monument the entire day. Throughout all this, Kinwa had the feeling that he had not been meant to see any of it, that indeed an external force was trying to show that he was still back in the classroom looking at diagrams on the board. It was only through his mastery of mind that Kinwa was able to peer into the inner workings of his unconscious body and see reality as it truly occurred.

The next time this happened, Kinwa made use of this mental mastery, and cast deep into himself. Moving through the recesses of his mind, he came upon a malevolent pointy-eared figure with reptilian eyes, surrounded in yellow light - exactly the person Kinwa had seen his classmates become - seated at a plinth and carelessly pulling giant strings as if they were the reins on a horse.

“Who are you,” said Kinwa, “and what are you doing in my mind?”

“Who are you,” screeched the figure, “and what are you doing in my mind?”

“You are mistaken, brother,” said Kinwa, hesitantly. “This is my mind we are in, which I know because I am quite attached to it.”

“It is my mind because I am the one controlling it!” said the figure. “Now get out of my mind and leave me to do my construction in peace!” It cracked one of the strings like a whip, and Kinwa unceremoniously found himself in the dream again.

Now seriously irked, he resolved to get back at the mysterious person who had so rudely taken control of his body, and to this end, he continued attending the offending classes quietly over the next fortnight. He soon deduced that the diagrams and equations the instructors were preparing constituted a summoning ritual of some sort. As soon as he felt himself falling into the now-familiar trance, Kinwa took the mental path he had explored before, and upon finding the controller, proceeded to ‘paint’ the summoning diagram using his mind’s eye. He swapped out his name for what he assumed was the name of the controller, and immediately found himself in a crystal room, atop a ziggurat overlooking the entire city. In the center, floating cross-legged and insensate atop a velvet cushion, was the pointy-eared fellow from his trance.

Kinwa, looking around and seeing nothing aside from a table full of refreshments, grabbed the nearest pitcher to hand, tiptoed up to the controller, and splashed him with its contents.

“Guh!” yelled the figure, jerking awake and falling over, all while trying to pull its robes off.

“I,” said Kinwa, splashing a little bit more from the pitcher, “would like an explanation.”

“Ereakaiza’s eyelashes!” screamed the controller. “I will have your head for this! Guards! Guards!”

“See, I know that’s a bluff,” said Kinwa, sloshing the pitcher around. “Nobody has been in this room for a day at least. You summon the food in, you eat it, but nobody comes in or out. You have cobwebs on you, for goodness’ sake. How long do you do this for? How are you not yet dead?”

“Just get out and leave me be,” cried the controller, its ears waggling above its head. “What is it you even want?”

“I want an apology, and I want to know who it is from,” said Kinwa. “And no more shoving around in people’s heads! You are giving everyone in my dormitory terrible nights’ sleep, and we all have classes to attend in the mornings.”

“But that’s the whole point of the ritual,” whined the controller. “I take over your bodies and make sure that construction is proceeding as it should. My elders always said to never delegate a job if you could do it yourself. This way, I can do all the jobs myself and never have to delegate!”

“That doesn’t make it appropriate,” said Kinwa, “and I still don’t hear an apology. We can keep at this the whole day if you want; I’m not leaving.”

“Fine, fine,” grumbled the figure. “I apologize -” this it said in an obsequious, faux-polite tone “- for taking over your and your cohort’s bodies without your knowledge or agreement.”

“And your name, too, if you please.” Kinwa gestured threateningly with the pitcher.

“All right! All right. I am…” Here the figure pulled itself upright in an almost regal position, if it weren’t for the soaked-through undergarments and pile of wet robes. “I am Akbal, First King of Tulòn; now, Spirit of the City. I built this metropole from the ground up, and by the gods am I going to ensure that it stays up.”

“A likely story,” said Kinwa. “Why then, Akbal First-King-of-Tulòn, do you possess your engineers and treat them like manual labor instead of the fine minds that they are?”

Akbal wrung his hands. “My viziers would botch all the finely laid-out plans I had by ordering the wrong cut of stone, passing on the wrong measurements - little things, you know. In the end, I had to spend so much more money tearing down these monuments that I decided: why even have supervisors if the supervisors couldn’t understand the plans. So upon my passing I put this procedure into motion, and it has served the city marvelously ever since!”

Kinwa shook his head. “Akbal, you are the dumbest smart person I have ever met, and that includes myself. Have you considered that not all engineers are as bone-headed as your viziers? I figured out a way into your private chamber all by myself - surely I could understand the blueprints to your triumphal pyramid or whatever new thing you have brewing. Trust your underlings a little.”

“Trust ruined my kingdom, and now you’ve ruined it too!” screamed Akbal. He ran at Kinwa, and as they collided, Kinwa became aware of the entire city as if it were a giant, limp beast on the ground over which ants made their home. They were the buildings and the quarters where the citizens made their residence and their businesses . At the ‘head’ of the city, Kinwa could see the palace and grand temple rising above all else; towards the flank, he saw the academies and universities and makers’ quarters, bustling with activity; and further down, where the tail would have begun, he beheld a giant pit with dust rising out of it - dozens of feet of scaffolding had collapsed, as well as some pulleys hoisting great carven boulders. All over the site, men and women were on the ground, holding their heads and moaning in confused pain - but they were themselves, not copies of the First King.

“See what you did!” boomed Akbal’s voice in Kinwa’s head, before returning himself and Kinwa to material form. “By interrupting my concentration, you’ve set construction back by weeks, and you almost killed how many workers down there!”

“Oh hush,” replied Kinwa. “Do you even care about your workers at all? One gets the impression that they only matter to you as vessels for your royalness to fill.”

Akbal scoffed. “Why do they need to be any more than that? We have already established that they cannot carry out plans to save their own skins; we have seen that they can barely navigate a construction site without making some new disaster. Next, you will have me believe that they will design their own buildings themselves!”

“And whyever not?” retorted Kinwa. “I have made my own huts without the benefit of someone guiding my hand - merely by observing others at work was I able to derive the principles of good construction. I cannot imagine that someone smarter with codices and numbers than me could not do the same for grander edifices.”

Akbal sneered. “I waste my time - and everyone else’s! - talking with you. If you will not get out of my way, I will have to remove you myself.” And with that, he flung himself at the young student. Unfortunately, the old king did not consider that the body he was inhabiting had become frail and decrepit over many, many centuries, and was no match for the robust chokehold that Kinwa put him in. Thus, the First King of Tulòn was dispatched for the last time, and Kinwa spent the next few hours figuring out how to un-summon both himself and the elfin corpse from the top of the ziggurat (not that much harder than summoning, it turned out).

The next time the usual classes rolled around, there was a bit of a commotion as the students and instructors quickly realized that suddenly they had nothing to do. But they came together and talked things out, and pretty soon were making new projects of their own, like an aqueduct to supply more fresh water, or a larger sewer system for the newer parts of the city.

As for Kinwa, he had returned to his people, having had his fill of the city, and spent the rest of his days hunting, exploring, and occasionally agreeing to have a handful of youngsters apprentice to him. But he never went in front of a chalkboard again, nor did he deal with symbols and numbers; for there was a small part at the back of his mind that saw reason in Akbal’s doing, and it terrified Kinwa to know that, given the chance, he might put his own people to the same fate as the infernal king did. And to this day, the Matubon refuse to deal with the same, and declare that sort of teaching taboo.

Runao’s Commentary:

If one is to commit regicide, it is best that they not have feelings afterward [for him]. Be always good to all walks of life, that they may have good feelings towards you in this life as well as the next.

[agentwashingcat]

Day 3: Prayer

Back for more @dalish-appreciation-week with the prompt prayer. Although this ended up just being general religion chatter lol. And fluff because I love me some fluff

cross posted on my ao3!

Featuring: Ashari Mahariel and Leliana

“Ashari, may I ask you something?”

Ashari lifted her head off her pillow, blinking at Leliana. It was kind of cute that Leliana had asked, considering what they’d just been doing in their tent. She could have just led with her question.

“Of course, vhenan,” Ashari said, letting her chin rest on Leliana’s shoulder. “Whatever you want.”

Leliana giggled, looking at her curiously. “Vhenan? What does that mean?”

Ashari felt her face go red. “Nothing, it’s, it’s nothing. You had a question?”

“I did,” Leliana said, dropping her other line of inquiry for the moment. No doubt she would return later. “The Dalish have their own gods, correct? I’ve never seen you worship them, as such.”

“We don’t really do that.” Ashari frowned. “Well, we do, sort of. But legend says they were locked behind the veil by Fen’Harel. So we don’t really ask them for things. They wouldn’t hear us if we did. We might extend an offering to them or a blessing to someone, but not much more than that.”

“A blessing?”

“I’m not sure what you’d call it,” Ashari admitted. “But you’d say ‘May the dread wolf never catch your scent’ or ‘May the dread wolf never follow in your footsteps’ to wish someone safe travels. We do have a prayer for the dead, in the hopes that Falon’Din might still be able to guide them through the fade. But beyond that it’s mostly the first thing.”

Once she wouldn't have shared her faith with any human, but she didn’t mind talking about it with Leliana. The other had always been respectful, and faith was such a big part of her own life it made sense she would want to know about others.

“Well, perhaps you’re better off. The maker often chooses to respond in cryptic ways. If he chooses to respond at all.” Leliana turned to face her, running a gentle hand through Ashari’s black hair. “Do you wish you could speak to them?”

“Sometimes,” Ashari said softly. “But would they even like us? We aren’t the elves of Arlathan, after all.” So much had happened since the fall of Arlathan. Her people were different than those of the Creators time. Would they feel the same kinship for them they had felt with the ancient elves?

“You’re still their people, no?” Leliana wrapped an arm around Ashari, pulling her in close. “It’s said the maker loves all his creations. Wouldn’t your creators be the same?”

“I don’t know.” Ashari sighed. It wouldn’t do for her to dwell on it. It wasn’t like she would ever get an answer. “They didn’t… create us, technically. They’re just the first of the people. There were others before them, but we have no knowledge of them.” Ashari let her forehead rest against Leliana’s. “My keeper always told me not to worry about it. That was her job.” She cracked a small smile. “I suppose I should take her advice.”

“You should,” Leliana agreed. “You can’t change the past. All we can do is look towards the future.” She leaned in to give Ashari a soft kiss. “Will you tell me what vhenan means now?”

Ashari’s face turned bright red. “I, um, it’s a term of endearment, alright? It literally means heart.” It wasn’t something she had ever used before, not even with Tamlen. But it just… felt right here. Leliana was her heart, her soul, her world. She’d do anything for her.

Leliana’s face softened. “I love you, dearest.”

“I love you, too.”

[jamilelucato]

all things between (avatar universe)

Chapter 01 and 02

Pairing: Sabrina (OC) x Neteyam x Spider

Summary: In this thrilling adventure, Sabrina, a human girl, must survive the treacherous world of Pandora. With the help of her native friends and the other teenage human around Spider, Sabrina embarks on a journey to face the evil forces threatening the moon. Along the way, she meets new friends, falls in love and faces unimaginable dangers. As she struggles to save her friends and Pandora, Sabrina discovers that her courage, resilience and determination are her most potent weapons in the fight against the darkest forces. A captivating story of friendship, courage and the determination to fight against all odds, "All Things Between" is a must-read for all Avatar lovers. The year 2173 will bring not only Neteyam's 18th birthday and Sabrina's 19th but also a lot of chaos to the humans and the Na'vi of Pandora.

Enjoy your reading!

The light came in before Sabrina was ready for it. She tossed and turned in bed, but she knew better than to pretend to be still asleep. Her father wouldn't say a thing — he loved her and pampered her very much — but the others wouldn't like it, especially the Na'vi.

As it was told her: it is a blessing to get accepted in their community, so you need to be thankful and be helpful, acting as a regular active part of their system. That meant walking up early and working her ass off.

"Morning, sunshine," Dr Patel said to Sabrina, for he was the only one left at the base home when she finally got up and changed.

Sabrina didn't even bother smiling and went straight to the kettle with the hot herb tea, a special recipe given by the Ometicayans. The other scientists did not like it much but drank it for lacking better options. Sabrina couldn't be sure, but she heard a rumour that coffee was the first thing to be over within the leftover supplies of RDA.

However, she liked the tea as much as the rest of the Ometicayans' food. She knew nothing better, or at least it was how her father put it. She was the second human born in Pandora — she never knew of Planet Earth except for videos, pictures and stories.

Her father used to joke that they were opposites: he grew up hearing of Pandora and its wonders; she grew up hearing of Earth and its horrors.

After her mother's death, her father had the chance to travel back to his planet, but he thought better not, for his daughter could not endure the travel, and even if she could, he knew Sabrina would have a better quality life amongst the Na'vi than the humans.

"Where's my dad?" she asked after a long sip of her tea.

Dr Patel didn't even bother looking up to answer her. "With the children."

Sabrina sighed but left behind what was left of her tea and got a protective mask. Max Patel had many plants to analyze, yet that day, looking for medical solutions for human-caused problems, and Sabrina was a big girl with sufficient knowledge of the place to find her dad — the doctor did not need to worry.

Being Norm Spellman's daughter was no easy feature; he was one of the most accepted avatars, losing only to Jake Sully, who was technically no longer an avatar since he could not log off. Even with the convenience of keeping his human body, Norm spent most of his time as a Na'vi for more accessible communication with the orphaned kids he raised as if his own.

After the battle that destroyed Ometicaya's Hometree, many small blue children were left parentless, and Dr Spellman found there a chance to be helpful to the people. Sabrina hated sharing her dad growing up, but after she turned 11, that stopped bothering her so much. Well, except when it served as a reminder that she'd never be as helpful as Norm and the others with avatar bodies.

Dr Patel was teaching her a bit of science, for she could be valuable in other ways, but she was proving to be a problematic student — besides, she wanted to be a helper directly in touch with the Na'vi, not from within a lab.

"Look, kids, who have arrived," said Norm, being the first to notice his daughter's entrance.

Sabrina looked at the children and smiled, but when she locked eyes with her father, she frowned her nose.

"Hi, Miss Spellman," the Na'vi kids said together.

Inside classroom "walls" (there weren't actual walls), she was Miss Spellman, an active helper of Dr Spellman, their official English teacher.

Sabrina felt dislocated being called "miss", for only the students did so. To her dad, she'd always be Lil' Brina; for the other human scientists, she was Norm's kid; for the Ometicayans the girl was friends with, she was just Sabrina.

That morning, she helped her dad as much as possible, aiding the kids with most difficulties. Most heard and spoke English just fine, but they had trouble translating their thoughts.

"It's the anxiety to speak," said her father. "You had that growing up, too," he smiled at his Lil' Brina.

It didn't take long before Sabrina was fetched from the school, though — Neteyam, Spider, Lo'ak and the other Jake Sully's kids soon showed up and excused themselves.

"Please, Dr Spellman, let us take Sabrina with us," said Neteyam, for he was the oldest of the Sullys and the most respected. Unfortunately, Lo'ak had a lousy reputation, Kiri couldn't care less if Sabrina followed along, and Tuk was too young to be respected.

There was Spider, of course, who Norm Spellman liked a lot, but he would never tell the boy. And either way, Spider was always too awkward with the humans — for even though he felt heard amongst them, he didn't want to be. Spider's stronger desire was to be Na'vi, and there was nothing much to be done. So the humans that raised him allowed Spider as much freedom as possible, including the boy's lifestyle, composed of a copy of Sullys' behaviours.

After asking questions and making promises, Sabrina was free of her remaining duties with Dr Spellman for the day.

"Thanks, you guys," she said, smiling politely.

Miles was eye to eye with her, and he smiled too, but Lo'ak seemed content enough, and so did Neteyam.

"Ok, so can we go now?" said Kiri. "The forest awaits."

Sabrina thought it best not to mention that the forest would still be there, "waiting", no matter how long they took to get there.

The kids turned towards the forest, with Kiri and Tuk at the front of the little group, followed by Lo'ak, Spider and then Sabrina and Neteyam. The latter grabbed Sabrina by the shoulder, stopping her in her tracks with little to no effort.

It was so unfair how bigger than her he was, even though Neteyam was nine months younger.

"You don't have to come if you don't want to," he said.

She looked up at him, always so frustrated with how much she'd have to tilt her head to look him eye to eye. "I want to go."

Neteyam simply stared at her clothing, and Sabrina sighed. She knew she was not the most passionate one about the Na'vi way of living. She hated the early hours and the weird language structure, but the thing she disliked the most was definitely the clothing. Of course, it was easy for them with their long torsos and slender abdomens. She, however, was too self-conscious of the curves of her body, its milky skin colour and her human weaknesses.

She would've been tanned if on Earth (probably), but on Pandora, she had a distraught dad that kept her on a bath of sunscreen — "We don't know the exact power of this atmosphere on you, honey" was his excuse. And because of it, she never got to be more like her mother's skin colour, ending up just as white as Norm, and honestly, it was not a desirable look among the Na'vi.

"Look, Neteyam," she started her argument, "just because I'm not dressed to Pandora doesn't mean I'm not ready to explore."

He raised his hairless brows, crossing his arms. "Ok then."

They had only walked one meter before an insect came too close to Sabrina, and she could've been in danger if not for Neteyam squashing it dead.

She added, "If you could keep yourself close to me, that would be nice."

He smiled, but she did not catch it, for they kept walking, and he was way too taller for her to look at him unnoticed.

The problem with dressing like a human scientist when walking inside the dense flora of Pandora was that you instantly became a target for all the animals and weird living plants, who all despised humankind. However, Spider had better times in the forest, for he walked almost entirely naked, with only a thong similar to Lo'ak and Neteyam's. Moreover, he recently started painting himself with the same intricated patterns of the Na'vi.

The look suited him, thought Sabrina, for he was lean and fit. But, unfortunately, it wouldn't work for her.

The group walked for quite some time before stopping near a small pond.

Jake used to take his boys there before Tuk was even born, but that little mattered for the girl, who jumped in at the first opportunity. Lo'ak followed along, but the other four stayed staring at the two, Neteyam heavy with a smile and Kiri a little bored. Miles and Sabrina looked apprehensive, for it was true of the dangers of the land to humans, but the dangers of the water were unknown.

The fact that it was a small pond made things a little safer — there was no chance of a big Pandorian wale or something, but who knew how harmful small fish could be? Or even if there were unknown bacteria or tiny water insects just waiting for a human body to contaminate.

"So you all have your fun; I'll be near the trees, looking for kenten," Kiri said, hugging herself with her holed cloak blanket. Neteyam stared at his adoptive sister but said nothing and let her go.

Miles was the one that seemed not ok with Kiri being all alone, but he did not follow the girl, at least not right away. He knew her too well, and Kiri sometimes needed her time alone with the forest.

"But aren't kenten nocturnal creatures?" asked Sabrina after some seconds, her brain taking a while to connect the Na'vi word to the English one, being it the fan lizard.

Neteyam laughed, and so did Lo'ak, swimming close to the pond's edge and hearing it all.

"Thank Eywa, she's too far to have heard you," said the youngest Sully boy.

Sabrina frowned, embarrassed for having called out on Kiri's mistake. It was known that Kiri was the smart one, not Sabrina. Both were daughters of scientists, but only one naturally liked science. Norm's girl had knowledge she had to gather throughout her fifteen years of life, while Grace's girl was born with her mom's brain, or so Sabrina theorized.

The party knew the two girls weren't exactly fans of each other — but they tolerated one another just enough to keep the friend group tight.

Noticing they weren't going anywhere now that they had found the pond, Miles decided to give faith a chance and sat down near the edge, placing his feet inside the freezing water. He needed a couple of seconds to get used to the temperature, but soon enough, it was acceptable.

Neteyam side-eyed Sabrina (or, better said, looked down at her) and decided on sitting near a tree, offering her a chance to be ok to sit far from the water. It was only when he pulled out a bone knife and started making noises working it on his bow, that Sabrina noticed he had sat down. She had been too focused on Spider and was ashamed of how frequently she'd done that.

"How's the bow coming?" she asked before sitting next to Neteyam.

He battled with the urge to smile, happy to have secured her a place to stay. "I think it's already too good, but it feels like it's missing something."

"And you think it's missing... sharpness?" Sabrina asked, touching the tip of the bow where he had just taken out a big chunk of wood to make it look thinner.

"Perhaps," he replied. "Perhaps a painted detail."

Sabrina liked talking to Neteyam when they were both sitting for his head, although slightly more prominent than hers, at least fell to a similar level, and for a second, she could forget he was taller than two and a half meters, and she was barely 1m60.

His big eyes stared at her with a sweet caress, and she noticed that they were barely more green than yellow. It was funny, she thought, how she had been friends with Neteyam since he was born, but just how little attention she paid to his details. She reminded herself that he was a prince amongst the Ometicaya, and that title probably pulled her away from him more than she cared to admit.

She hated it but couldn't help but feel unwelcome by the clan, especially because she never tried to adapt. Dr Patel was going through the same problem, but he had some friendship with Mo'at, the Sullys' grandmother, so he was excused.

Even though Sabrina was a friend of the princes and princesses, she felt more secluded than Spider.

She shifted positions, leaning in on the tree and getting closer to Neteyam, who allowed her some room after noticing what she was doing. She stared at the three kids left by the pond and couldn't help the rise of jealousy.

She so wanted to get in the water.

It was a bloody hot day, and they seemed to have a lot of fun. Even Miles, with only his feet in, appeared delighted tossing water on Lo'ak's face.

Tuk was the most comfortable and the easiest of them to be jealous of. She was so young and knew so little — Sabrina could not recall when she was like that.

Neither recalled Spider, for he pretended way too well. Late at night, when the Na'vi already went to sleep, but the humans still had access to light and could stay a little longer, Miles and Sabrina would talk and blab all about Pandora, being a human and their friends' easiness.

Miles was a keen defender of Kiri, and he said she knew how the human kids felt, but Sabrina could not agree, and generally, that topic ended their conversations. But until he mentioned Grace's daughter, Spider and Sabrina had already laughed and shared, and those single moments were enough to keep Norm's daughter hot with a spark she did not yet fully understand.

Puberty hit Spider first, then Sabrina and then Kiri, even though much is told that the last one was fully matured before going through what makes a woman. Although, of course, they felt like kids yet; Spider, the oldest, had just turned nineteen weeks ago, but something was shifting, and Sabrina could almost feel it in her bones, just like Kiri felt nature in hers.

Neteyam was ending his puberty process just then, for he was a full seventeen-year-old boy, and honestly, it had taken him some time to get there.

By the humans' count, it was 2173, which meant that Sabrina would finally be nineteen in just a couple more months — and that terrified her.

When talking to Spider late at night that day, he had some heartfelt advice to give.

"It's just an age, Bree," he said, putting his hand over hers. "Besides, I'm nineteen now. It changed nothing for me."

But it felt like something would change.

The humans had been back on Pandora since the year before, which was never good news. Sabrina wasn't sure how much of that had to do with her age — maybe it meant less time to play around and more chances of maturing and fighting against her own race?

"Do you think we will change as friends when we reach adulthood?" she asked her human friend.

Miles pondered over the question. According to Ometicaya's rituals, Neteyam was already a full adult, and Lo'ak had just recently become one, too, for they underwent the Iknimaya, a rite of passage for hunters. But he knew what she meant when asking him that — it wasn't about Na'vi adulthood, but rather humans' one. Norm told everything to the two human babies of Pandora; they knew maturity for them would mean turning twenty-one, but there was no rite of passage for that.

But Miles didn't accept that age. He felt like an adult because nothing much changed for Jake's kids when they were made official, so why did anything have to change for him?

"No, nothing shall change. We didn't shift how we talk to Lo'ak or Neteyam, did we?" he finally spoke.

She looked at him with narrow brows and an inclined head. "But they are still kids. Neteyam is younger than both of us."

"He is, but to Na'vi, he was a warrior," pointed out the boy.

"Is he really? Jake and Neytiri seem fine whether he stays playing with us or goes into fights," Sabrina said, with the livid image of that day on her mind.

She and Neteyam stayed talking calmingly until Spider started to worry about Kiri, and they all got up to look for her. And she was ok, to no one's surprise but Spider's, and they had a little picnic before returning to the camp base.

The point was: no one was mad at Lo'ak and Neteyam for being teens and spending their afternoons with Tuk, Spider and Sabrina. Even Kiri, who was considered a woman for different reasons than the boys, had no complaints to hear when returning.

"I think that adulthood has much more to do with how you act than a certain age you reach," said Spider, deciding his point. "And I think I'm an adult."

Sabrina smiled at hearing his confidence. She wished to share it. But, instead of being insecure, she hugged him with one arm, applying too much strength and messing with his hair.

"You always will be baby Miles to me," she said and laughed at his frown.

"Get off, Bree!" he exclaimed, but he was laughing too.

They started a little fight without commitment to hurting one another, except maybe tickling one another. Until Sabrina's brain reminded her that Spider was, in fact, only wearing a well-covered, Na'vi thong. Although it was his usual, to her, it was all too strange after reading some digital books her father forced her to when she got her first period.

So she slowly stepped away from their "fake fight" and said goodnight.

"Sweet dreams," he said like he did every night. He didn't even notice that touching his bare skin caused things on Sabrina to arouse, for her touch provoked nothing in him except the slight feeling of being safe and cared for.

***

Like the mundanes, the Ometicaya clan had special days of the month when the families could relax and avoid their obligations. Of course, some of the functions still had to operate — such as hunters — but for the most part, the forest natives were free to do what they'd like.

For the Spellmans, those days generally consisted of an intense four-hour fight training because Sabrina felt it was needed to survive the planet and the comeback of the RDA. Norm wasn't exactly an expert at battle, his last and only experience had been a tragic one, but since the year before, he and Jake Sully had worked together planning ways to sabotage any human activity outside the safe names of known scientists.

Sometimes he allowed his daughter a Na'vi knife, but mainly it consisted of a lot of punching and kicking and running around; for safety in Pandora was usually found when running away from the monstrous creatures.

Sabrina had been particularly anxious about that day's training session, for she felt like she was finally getting more muscular. Still, the number of times Brina got to prepare was so scarce that by the end of the session until the beginning of the next one, she was back to her squishy, cute fatty version again.

Walking out of the lab compound, she found her father talking to Jake Sully. The man was no longer in his human form, though, and Sabrina thought she was finally going to get some action, for her father's human body was a bit of a joke to fight against, considering how much skinnier than her he was.

"Dad, are you ready to go?" she asked after saying hello to the Ometicaya's chief.

Jake, who sat on one of the cut tree trunks that had been strewn around the "Earthlings' space", gulped, inclining his head down, allowing, by not facing Sabrina, a sense of privacy for father and daughter.

Norm looked from his friend to his kid.

"I won't be able to train you today, Lil' Brina," he exhaled. "I'm sorry."

"But, dad! We barely get any training done!" protested Sabrina, scowling.

Albeit he did not want to, Jake couldn't help but hear, and he found the human girl so similar to his teen girl at home that he knew that Norm was in deep trouble.

"Dad! We never have free time together," she said again.

Norm was about to insinuate that what he was about to do with Jake was more critical than their session, and they could, later on, do it if she so wished, but the big blue chief cut in.

"If you so wish, Sabrina," started Jake, "my son could be your father's substitute."

Neteyam, standing far from the trio, could hear it all well enough to understand that he was being called up front and started stepping closer.

"You'd help her train some punches, would you not, Neteyam?"

Sabrina noticed that Jake Sully's tone suddenly changed, and the pleasant comrade gave his place to a commander. Neteyam lowered his head just enough to agree.

"Of course, sir," the boy said politely.

Norm nodded. "Thank you, my friend."

"It's no problem. I wouldn't like my kid to listen to what we are about to discuss anyway," Jake told Norm, lowering his voice but being quite well-heard by the teens anyway.

"Well, off you go then," said Norm, looking from Neteyam to his daughter. "Have fun."

Making an animal-like sound with her throat, Sabrina rolled her eyes but started walking away with Neteyam.

"It's training, dad. It's not supposed to be fun."

"Have fun!" shouted Norm again, but he was no longer watching Sabrina, and his focus was back on the chief.

As soon as they were far from his father's eyes, Neteyam cracked up laughing at the situation, lowering his warrior facade. Sabrina had to make a great effort to stare at the boy, for he had grown a bit taller than the last time they had some quiet time, just the two.

He hadn't noticed it, however.

"I'm not taller," he said. "You're just shorter."

"Haha," she pretended to laugh. "Can't wait to kick your ass."

When they finally arrived at the small space secluded for training, Sabrina was glad to find it empty of any Na'vi or other humans. She got herself gloves from the scientists' trunk placed at the darker corner of the room and marched up to meet Neteyam, who wore nothing outside his usual attire.

It was weird how her brain was wired to overthink it when looking at Spider in a thong but seeing Neteyam in a thong was simply ok. It was more comforting than if he wore something similar to hers — tight black leggings (stolen from her mother's trunk) and an oversized t-shirt that was actually rather embarrassing now that she thought about it.

Neteyam noticed it too.

"A fan, huh?" he smirked, pointing at her shirt, for it was stamped with a Na'vi, and there it read: Pandora rocks!

She rolled her eyes. "You know I don't have many options!" She said the truth: the women who left clothing items behind were majorly too skinny to have anything fit for Sabrina. Her mother's stuff was just the same, but some of the pants fit her still (which told Sabrina that her mother had a giant ass, whether she liked to know that or not).

The t-shirts were primarily male because men tended to be bad at packing. For that reason, she even had a nice, serious-looking white button-up shirt that belonged to Parker Selfridge — for his name was embroidered on its pocket.

The t-shirt she had picked for that workout day was perfect, for it wasn't too hot and was goodly loose, but that was before she knew she was going to train with an actual Na'vi.

"So," Neteyam started speaking in a more serious tone, "I have no idea what exercises your father normally asks you to do, so you got help me here."

"Well, he generally tells me to throw punches, but I feel like today, were it not for your dad, he would've given me a proper chance to fight," she told the boy, tightening her high ponytail with a push. Neteyam's eyes followed her movement. "It is lucky that I have a decent giant to fight today."

The said giant squished his eyes. "I don't feel like your father's idea of exercise included a big guy hitting his little daughter."

Making a face, Sabrina crossed her arms. "Who said anything about you hitting me?"

Neteyam waited.

"I'll hit you, big guy," she smiled, tasting her victory beforehand. "I am older."

"And I am a certified warrior, whereas you have had what? Six days of workout?" joked Neteyam.

But Sabrina didn't laugh — oh, no, his comment made her very angry. Thus, she chinned up and went for it, focusing her fists on Neteyam's gut, but she didn't even scratch him before he pushed her away with the slightest of touches.

"You know, the thing about battle cries," he said, "is that your enemy can hear you too."

"I yelled 'AAAA'," she said, "that's hardly a battle cry."

He sniffed. "Whatever. English and its double meaning. It sounded like the cry of someone who wanted to battle. Ba-ttle cr-y," Neteyam defended himself, saying the last bit slowly and with a rather cute accent.

"Whatever, big guy," she gave him the shoulder. "Anyway, can I punch you now? Or at least try?"

He smiled. "Go for it, little lady."

Neteyam drove Sabrina to exhaustion.

Together, the two ran a few times (although just Sabrina did the running; the Sully boy just walked at the most leisurely pace possible). Afterwards, Neteyam spread some bags of stones around the place and instructed Sabrina to skip one and pick up the next, not letting her exaggerate the weight she picked but also not taking it easy.

At the end of the day, after a brief break for an impromptu lunch of Pandoran fruits, the human girl was sweating profusely, but Neteyam was unfazed. Exhaustion didn't bother Sabrina—she liked to test her limits and would never admit it, but her training with the prince of the Ometicayans had been better than the ones with her father.

To end the session, Neteyam offered his stomach as a punching bag so that Sabrina would feel the real pain of skin-to-skin contact. Of course, his skin was much more impenetrable than hers, but it didn't matter because, after just two minutes, the girl was tired of the activity.

"Fight! Back!" she demanded, throwing a punch at every word. "It! Is! Too! Easy! Like! This!"

He looked down at her.

"I can't hit you, Sabrina," he said. "You know why."

Mostly, the two of them ignored the fact they were different species, hence why he joked about her height, for he pretended she could get as big as him as if her kind was capable. But that day, Sabrina was really pushing it.

She stopped hitting his stomach. "At least hold me down. You know, defend yourself."

"I can still end up hurting you."

"Neteyam."

"Yes?"

"Pandora hurts me," she said matter-of-factly. "I'm used to getting hurt."

He wanted to comfort her upon hearing that, but what good would come of it? So he shifted positions and decided to defend himself from her attacks, which proved to be a real bore, for she was too easy to defeat to him.

When she took a couple of steps back to buckle up some strength to hit him, he waited for her to be close again and held her by the top of her head, but he was careful not to touch her protective mask. He knew nothing of how that thing worked and was scared he could compromise it by touching it at the wrong spot. So her hairline was a fine place to hold her and her mighty force.

"If I was an animal, such as a yerik, showing your teeth would be a much more efficient way to keep me away than shaking your head," he pointed out presumptuously.

"I'm not gonna show my teeth!" she yelled, still tossing and turning to free herself but failing.

Until she thought of something, reading all those anatomy books her father gathered on her notepad was alright because it gave her an idea. She calculated it in her head — she was the right height for it, even though she'd have to use her highest kicks.

Surreptitiously, Sabrina tested her right leg, precisely her knee. Then, when she was sure everything was fine, she stopped shaking her head that was held by Neteyam's hand. Then, raising her leg in a kick, as high as possible and with the most tremendous force gathered, Sabrina hit him right between the legs, where she knew a man—and her father had assured her that any man—would feel a lot of pain.

He dropped her right away and stepped aside, hissing in pain and placing his hands over the injured place. It didn't take more than three seconds before he was on the floor, looking bad.

"Oh, my! I'm so sorry, Neteyam," she said, "I didn't know it could... it would hurt you that much," she leaned forward, placing a hand over his shoulder. "Are you too hurt? Do you need me to call someone?"

"Stop having your fun over it!"

"I'm not!" she said and was being honest. She wanted Neteyam to take his hand from her hair, it was true, but she didn't think a human kick in the balls would be that agonizing on a Na'vi grown boy.

He was still hissing for quite some moment, and for that reason, she kept herself almost on top of him, except he was sat, and she was up and only then were they the same height. It bothered her a bit, but she said nothing, for the one suffering there was already him.

"I think we're done training today," he finally spoke.

"Agreed," she smiled slightly, watching his expression cool down. "Do you need help getting back up?" her question made him realize their position and her closeness. Of course, they had spent the whole day in close contact, but it felt different from that moment, with her hand caressing his bare shoulder and her tender look directed solely at him.

He felt self-conscious and stared at her without answering the question. Something fluttered inside him, close to where his stomach was, but considering how many punches she had just hit it with, he thought nothing of it.

Neteyam made it noticed that he was getting up, and Sabrina stepped away, allowing the big guy and his big legs space to rise.

"You know," she gulped, losing confidence as she voiced her thoughts, "we could do this more often. Not me hitting you... where I did," she hastened to add. "But we could workout together, or better, you could instruct me; I think it would be worth it for both of us because you would see a human in action, you know, and I know you want to help your father against the RDA, but you don't know much anatomy human, right? So I can help you with that..."

She stopped speaking when she noticed she was rambling. But, unfortunately, she failed to see that Neteyam found it all rather cute. Yeah, it had been a bit boring, he'd say, to test her limits while nothing bothered his Na'vi form, but it was nice being around Sabrina. She was a dear friend to him.

"We can train together again," said Neteyam, curving the right corner of his lip up.

Sabrina said nothing, but her eyes were filled with thankfulness; that was all Neteyam needed.

DID YOU LIKE IT? You can read more of this story and know how Sabrina ends on Wattpad, where I've been uploading this fic under the user @lucatojamile. Just search for "all things between" or click here!

Thank you, everyone <;3!

[the-madwomen]

Things I Learned Reanimating The Dead

By Dr. Luna Ludenburg

As far as anyone is concerned, this is a work of fiction, because it technically did not happen in this reality.

For the sake of transparency, I am not a medical doctor, nor am I particularly versed in biology. My doctorates are in theoretical physics (well, when it comes to lifestyles such as mine, it's only partially theoretical) and something called reality engineering (the ability to manipulate how others view reality, non-existent degree in our universe, nicknamed "the spin doctorate") which I got mostly to make any art I make to seem more immersive. In terms of areas of study outside of my titles I have been teaching myself neuroscience, which even then is not enough knowledge to bring back a whole body from the point of death and is only an interest I developed after the experience. So you may ask yourself why I would attempt something as radical as the title of this account suggests.

To tell you nothing but the truth, it was due to wanting to be accepted by my peers. Not in the scientific community at large, but that subset of mad doctors and professors akin to myself, testing the limits of both science and ethics. Fellow mad scientists, essentially. They often form these sorts of secret societies where they group together and share inventions, or at least concept art of such.

I, as a self-respecting agent of madness and progress, of course wanted in. But as it turns out, most have an initiation to see how far you're willing to go for the sake of knowledge. This is not a form of gate-keeping as I had assumed, or at least not the kind that fandom often has. Rather, it was a way to separate spies and other undercover agents from the rest, as most members would be enemies of countries due to their attempts to better the world... For them, anyways.

You can probably guess as to what this initiation entailed. Reanimating a corpse is off-putting to most, so it's a good way to separate those putting on an act from those with a passion. I won't say the thought didn't give me pause at first, but it didn't take me long to accept the offer. I knew there was a risk, and I was still mortal at the time so that risk was my own safety, but then again so was my dimension-hopping adventures normally.

The good news was one club would give me the basic supplies for the machinery used for the experiment, though I would need to assemble it myself. They also handed me the basic instructions on how to assemble a body together, and I do mean the most basic instructions. Some of the other groups, such as the one helmed by Dr. Isabella Saltine, gave me helpful advice not covered in these instructions. In case you ever feel the need to pull off what the forerunner of us mad scientists managed, here are just some of the things I was told.

- Make certain the blood types of every part you use match. If not, this can cause complications throughout the whole body, including the brain. The person who gave me this advice, Dr. Isaiah Fleaford, also gave a device to test blood type in a cadaver in case that information wasn't on record.

- Handle the brain with the upmost care. Not just not dropping it, but also in touching it whatsoever. Smudge the wrong part of the brain and the subject's sapience may suffer for it.

- Nerve endings will prove the most trouble. In the dimension I'm from, this one I'm assuming, there have been cases of head transplants being partially successful in monkeys. The problem was they would be paralyzed from the head-down. Thankfully, as part of the basic equipment, I was given special devices designed to make the nerves connect to the brain properly. I am glad I was given a few hundred, as this still proved to be the most difficult part of the process.

- One man, Professor Charles "Chills" Carlson, gave me a few cryo-chambers to work with. Keeping all the body parts preserved while I go look for other bits would prevent them from rotting and myself from having to look for new parts.

- The body used should be very large, at least 3 meters in height. Physical fitness is also good to look out for.

- Stay as low profile as possible. People don't take kindly to desecrating graves, even the ones of those they despise.

With all this information and then some in mind, I set out to begin my work.

Many had also told me to take the brain last, as this would attract the most attention since you would have to take one from a facility designed to keep brains preserved. However, I have the advantage of being an interdimensional traveler, which enables me to take body parts from worlds that haven't developed an equivalent. Therefore, I could get the brain first and not have to worry about suspicion. I decided this was best if I had the option, since I could design the body around the brain as opposed to putting a person into a body they wouldn't feel comfortable in. I had a choice between a professional Chess player with an ELO of 3200 and a beloved cooking show host. I chose the latter, as she was younger and the Chess player's mind was likely more useful to this world's scientists.

I also bothered to do research on each person whose body I used. In respect to their lives and so my research is not wasted, I'll tell what I know of them. Keep in mind that they are all from different universes and time periods, though all were freshly dead.

Jade Perkins was the American host of a popular cooking show that aired weekly on America's PBS. Her dimension was not too dissimilar from our own, though I will be going back there soon after I fix my interdimensional traveling device. Multiple reasons, one of which being that, in hindsight, Goncharov was a film that actually existed there, believe it or not, but the meme didn't come up in my dimension then so I thought nothing of it. Tangent aside, Miss Perkins was known as being incredibly generous and good natured all around. She was considerably overweight, and was proud to be able to combat fatphobia with her television program. She tragically died in 1993 at age 49, when a truck trying to dodge another pedestrian ended up hitting her instead. She was survived by two children. She is the source of the brain I used.

Uma "Übermench" Himmel was a German professional bodybuilder and three time winner of the Miss Galaxy beauty competition. She comes from a dimension wherein Trotsky became the leader of Soviet Russia, resulting in a much faster World War 2 and all of Germany becoming communist. She was known as a risk-taker and for being surprisingly intelligent with a degree in chemistry. She was rumored to be able to lift a baby hippo over her head. She sadly died young in 1972 at the age of 30 due to negligence from a janitor not putting up a "floor wet" sign whilst she was lifting weights, causing her to slip and the dumbbell to smash her face in. She was survived by her girlfriend of three years. Her head and arms were in a horrid state, so they were separated from the neck and shoulders, respectfully, and I took whatever was left.

Frances Benoit was a French serial killer with a personal kill count of 7 men and 6 women. He resided in a dimension where the French revolution had not taken place... Yet. He was known for killing French nobles, likely politically motivated. He killed most of his victims using Garrotte rope, using other methods for only five of them. His last kill would prove him unlucky, as he had to resort to a rather loud gun that made his presence known. I was unfortunate enough to be at his hanging, where he died in 1801 at age 46. He was survived by his wife, who last I checked was beginning to fan the flames for a revolution in his name. I ended up taking his arms, as I found no buff female cadavers with a matching blood type to Perkins' AB, and some pompous fool in all red chased me off with a rapier before I could continue searching.

Jesse Burrell was an Australian recluse who lived an isolated life. Her dimension was most similar to my own, from my recollections. I could not get a accurate account of her life due to her isolation and the bad blood she had with most people I found who knew her. She was a gun rights advocate and an alcoholic who spent most of her time outside of her home at the local bar. She died in 2000 at an unknown age, likely her mid-thirties, in a shootout at her estate, along with three others, with the potential survivors and reason for the showdown being unknown. She had no known family members, one genuine friend in the form of the barkeeper and far too many enemies to count. Her life was shrouded in mystery. Her corpse had been vandalized, with tattoos around her whole body having been removed via a knife, resulting in me removing skin from the stomach and stitching it to her face. She was the one I felt the most sorry for, for she was the easiest to take parts from.

Once I had all the supplies I required, I got to work. I won't bore you with the details, as it was all very repetitive truth be told. Building the equipment especially was almost as difficult as an English speaker trying to build IKEA furniture. But in my opinion it had all been worth it, and not just for the membership to any organization. That elation, that joy, when you're about to pull the trigger on a project, especially one as difficult as bringing life to what once was dead. I only managed to mess up one thing. The brain had been split in half. That sounds like a bigger deal than it actually was, but the human mind can survive being split in two. It does result in the two halves of your body being controlled independently from one another, but nothing so terrible.

I remember pulling the lever. The electricity flowing through my temporary laboratory, surrounding me. My hair turned white as snow, but that was fine by me. Looks good on me anyhow. Just the sheer mania I felt, knowing I was doing something as massive as this. My maniacal laughter echo through the world as I felt a pure sense of wonder and amazement at my own achievements... Or maybe it was the electricity, I don't know.

In any case, the results were a massive success. Obviously I couldn't have done it on my own, of course. The supplies given to me were the thing that made this possible, and I couldn't have done it if not for the ones whose corpses I used.

Mayhaps my proudest accomplishment in this is that, aside from the brain split and the consequences of that, Miss Perkins had all her mind intact, no memory loss whatsoever. I was overjoyed at this news, because it meant I could reintroduce her to her world after I showed my fellow scientists. She looked like her total physical opposite now, there were stitches on her face, her skin had a slight a green tint to it, and her arms grew slightly more hair than the rest of her body, but other than that she seemed like a normal human being.

It had worked out as perfect as it could have.

The best part of it all, in all honesty, was meeting Miss Perkins herself. Last I checked in on her she was still advocating for body positivity of all shapes and sizes. Just because she was fit now didn't mean she had lost her sympathy who are like what she used to look like. She would often joke that, technically, she weighed the exact same due to her height and muscle, which she managed to maintain. And all this in the 90s, no less! There were less fat jokes on TV overall in any case. Even trying to prove it was actually her was sweet, thanks to a song she made up for her kids convincing them. Feels good when mad science has a positive impact.

And of course, I was accepted into the various mad science societies since such a massive success was something to note. Glad that happened, though I would be lying if I said I didn't forget the reason I was doing it halfway through.

So what did I learn? Well, taking risks is sometimes beneficial for everyone involved, hard work is worth it if it's something you're passionate about, the joy others feel about your work is often better than what you get out of it, the saddest deaths have noone sad about it, and the part of the brain that processes the feet and the part that processes sexual attraction are right next to each and some are unfortunate enough to have those intersect.

... I forgot where I was going with this. Ah well.

[sizzleissues]

a little dissection of miraculous

Short extract from a far unfinished fic I wrote. It takes place in the context of a pre-Chat finding out about Master Fu. Him and Ladybug just faced a tricky akuma they nearly lost. It is technically an AU in the full fic but this segment can be applied to the main cannon. Ladybug and Chat Noir sit down for a chat and Chat reveals something he’s been thinking about.

Sometimes there was a rare moment of peace. In between battles and patrols Marinette would find herself on a rooftop somewhere, preferably high up so that she could see the city, with Chat sitting at her side.

Usually silence was all there was between them. Maybe a quip about the day or a question a little too casual for her taste was shared but rarely answered and even more than that did it continue to plague her mind.

On this occasion, Chat’s words had managed to stick in her brain. 

"We aren't equals. I'm weak without you."

Marinette mulled that statement over in her brain. They’d been sitting like normal when Chat had announced his words. It sounded like he had been thinking a while something along those lines and finally forced out the loudest thought. It was what to do next that she had to consider.

Chat was stoic almost when she glanced over at him. His eyes rested on an unknown building, pinching slightly at the corners. It was at times like this she had to admit Chat Noir was handsome, she was a fool to think otherwise. But that face hid a complex system of clockwork she barely understood.

"What do you mean by that?" Marinette replied, deciding she could push it.

"Today. I was caught up and arrived late. I should have realized what to do but I couldn't. You were so strong, basically defeating the akuma yourself. The only thing stoping you was me been stupid and late. It was my fault we nearly," Chat trailed off, not having to explain the situation if they'd failed. 

"I'm half the hero you are. You're so much more mature, so much more ready for this. I'm an utter mess. Without you, I can't come up with a concrete plan. I act irrationally and rely on brute force which isn't always reliable. We can do solo patrols but when it matters we have to be together and I'm afraid I'm not the equal I need to be."

Chat exhaled a weight off his chest. Marinette looked away from him and back to the sleeping city. Every citizen was tucked in tight in their beds, safe in the knowledge that if they were to come in harm's way, Ladybug and Chat Noir would save them. Believing in the fickle belief that heroes were always near. 

Chat's insecurity was just a reminder he wasn't perfect, he was flawed and he could fail. It was the type of thing that would fester if left unchecked. 

"You might be right." She began. She was more sure of her words as Ladybug and she knew Chat trusted her not to be so harsh. "But you're also wrong."

"This is only today. Think about the big picture. Why am I even here? There are only two miraculous in permanent use. But is mine really necessary? You cleanse the akuma, you fix the city. I'm just back up and what's stopping you from finding a better suited miraculous partner?"

"Nothing." Marinette whispered, shocked at the depth Chat had considered everything. She knew immediately her word was a blunder. "But Chat I need you. Our miraculous, they are a part of a delicate balance. Equally powerful."

"You need my miraculous and you like my presence, those two things aren’t mutually exclusive.” He got caught on his words, shaking his head against something. “The miraculous may be equal but we aren't. Sometimes I just feel there is something wrong with me. Something I'm too blind to see. Whatever the reason our miraculous appear unbalanced, I know it's my fault. If we are meant to balance and we aren't because of me? I don't know. What if that's the reason we haven't defeated Hawk Moth yet? You're not balanced by me."

“Chat I-.”

“That’s something you can’t answer? I should have known.”

“No! I don’t know Chat!” It erupts from her mouth before anything better can. His words are vile. He is dumbstruck when she looks at him, surprised by the outburst. She looks away, balling her fists at her side. “You can’t just say all those things. They mean too much.”

Marinette sniffles, embarrassed as tears begin to fall down her cheeks.

“I’m sorry m’lady. I should go.”

His hand touches her back for the briefest of seconds and then he is gone, melting away into the dark. She stays for another while watching the sun begin to rise over Paris.

“Tikki, spots off.” 

The toll of the day finally hit her as Tikki withdrew her power. Tikki accepted the pastry from her hand but didn’t speak like usual.

“I don’t know what to do Tikki.”

Tikki swallowed the last crumb and placed her arm onto Marinette’s palm. “It might be time to bring him to Master Fu. He can tell him the truth.”

[nimblermortal]

@icryyoumercy

I’m sorry, I’m going to wake you up, let me just be a little bit quieter over here...

This might be the best package you’ve sent me yet and I haven’t even opened the bag yet. Chain wear indication in German? A pencil that grows when you’re done with it?

I feel like Hyacinth probably has encountered such a pencil before, but I have not.

And you sent me sprinkles! You’re proving a point from a conversation we had months ago! I am excited to open them and taste them. Hmmmm what sort of cake can I make in order to decorate... or should it be chocolate shortbread cookies? I can’t really decorate a sour cream marbled pound cake, or an angel food... usually I decorate Hyacinth’s carrot cakes... and the flourless chocolate tort would make a good base... I may have to do Cake January again after all.

TWENTY GRAMS OF PROTEIN IN ONE GRANOLA BAR? Holy cow, what sort of utopian future are you living in? What does that even taste like? I kind of want to open it up with my whole family and have us all have a nibble, but I also want to keep it in the car forever next to my emergency sunflower seeds...

I don’t know if “<big>Chocolat: 64% Cacao</big> für feine Desserts <small>auch zum naschen</small>” is funny for real but I think it is.

POWER MALT POWER MALT MY FAVORITE! I hoarded the last one so hard I ate the last bites in the weeks before Christmas. I will try to do better with this trust. OH MY GOSH I WILL HAVE TO BECAUSE THERE ARE TWO OF THEM!

Wow this is. An immense load of chocolate. This is really impressive.

I’m not sure if the Ruweilfabriek tag is an intended part of this package but it is received and acknowledged. (Do you know the manufacturer Hirschmann? I keep explaining to techs how the H in their logo is a pun.) There’s also a mysterious suction thing that unscrews into two parts. I have dropped one on my computer. There may or may not be a decoder ring in your letter but I refuse to read it until I’ve been properly astounded and baffled by the rest of the items.

CHOCOLATE FROM GONDOR. (Giandor) MIT MANDELCREMEFÜLLUNG? Excellent, I love almonds! Hyacinth doesn’t like primary almond flavors so I get that one to myself :)

Zuckerfondantfüllung, interesting, I wasn’t aware fondant could be... more than technically edible. An experiment!

Mm, Haselnüssen. In den USA gibt’s fast keine Haselnüssen, stattdessen haben wir Erdnüsse, und deswegen ist es etwas besonderes, Haselnüssen zu finden, obwohl ich weiß dass sie in Europa genauso enttauschend wie Erdnüsse hier seien sind. Seien sind? Is that a real thing?

Tourist habe ich vorher gekriegt, das ist auch gut. Nicht für teilen mit dem Hund. Und Bärnerschoggi auch! Aber Cremant ist neu, meine ich. 55% ist aber fast nicht dunkel... hier, aber wir haben Herscheys. I’ve read entire books about why American chocolate is so terrible and it comes down to freakin’ wossisname Herschey deciding to ignore all existing knowledge about how to make chocolate and come up with his own process for - guess what! - an inferior type that tastes of candle wax. And yet Americans learned to eat it, despite knowing that European chocolate was better, which is why German and Swiss chocolates have such nice reputations, and somehow we’ve never replaced the godawful stuff.

[optional rant about chocolate being grown and native to very different parts of the world from where it’s famous for whoaaaaa it’s time to lie down again guess what guess what Patrick today I learned to clean sinks. not the sink part. the U-boat part. Which is not an U-Boot sondern. With pipes. Ye ken? Taken them apart to make the extra stinkyslime. For drainage purposes.]

Update: Hyacinth says thank you for the espresso chocolate, which I told him was his, and then I explained that you didn’t really send it at him because it’s coffee, and he said well tell him thank you anyway then maybe I will get more, and I said well I will certainly share the rest it’s about a kilogram of chocolate, and he said well tell him thank you anyway then maybe I will get more, so that’s Hyacinth for you, he says Thank you.

[educationtech]

Tips For 1st Year Engineering Students To Ace Your 1st-Years - Arya College

Tips For First Year Engineering Student

Best Engineering Colleges in Rajasthan says as we move on to discuss how to ace your first year of engineering in collage.

Tips For First-Year Engineering Students

1. Get your basics right!

You need to have a strong foundation also for technical courses like engineering, it is essential to get your basics right As a first-year engineering student, you need to have a strong command of the fundamentals of engineering so The subjects and concepts you learn in your first year of engineering will build the rest of your engineering curriculum.

2. Go beyond the syllabus

Always looks for knowledge beyond the prescribed syllabus also This will not only enhance your performance but will also make you approach the field and its subjects more passionately and approach the subjects with genuine interest and passion, go that extra mile, and do that extra reading also This will make the rest of the course an absolute breeze!

3. Make a balance between your freedom and responsibilities

College life means you are inching closer to entering adulthood and College can make you feel a sense of freedom that you have never experienced back in school also It is easy for freedom to overpower responsibilities while in your first year of college, so unwinding is a necessity from time to time, also freedom comes responsibilities.

4. Build a good rapport with professors

Private Engineering Collages in Jaipur says Engineering is a field that requires the help of your professors as it involves complex topics and concepts to study and when you are in your first year, your professors are not just your teachers also they are your guides, support system, as well as friends so they will help you get through that any challenges you may face in your first year, apart from helping you understand your concepts better.

5. Part of a solid study group

This is where study groups come to play and All-nighters and cramming sessions only become more fruitful and productive when you study with your group, So one solution to an effective study session – is study groups!

6. Explore your interests

Start exploring your areas of interest within the engineering compound as early as your first year and Once you have zeroed in on your interest, you can use the entire course period to develop your skills in the same also getting this sorted will help you immensely post your course – you will have clarity in terms of what to do after completing your undergraduate studies and So actively attend lectures and symposiums, talk to people and industry experts, network as much as possible, and always be ready to explore!

7. Don’t miss out on extra-curricular activities

The one thing you should not miss out on in your college life, especially your first year, is participation in extra-curricular activities also Sign up for cultural programs and actively participate! This will also be a stress buster while also adding to your memory bucket you are looking to take up engineering, remember, so it is not as difficult as people seem to describe it to be also You need to put in effort in prioritizing, compartmentalizing, and also being organized with your schedules and tasks and If you are an engineering student or a recent pass-out, share your experience and learning as a first-year student in the comments section below!

Conclusion

Btech Collage in Rajasthan First day of admission a gazillion other fellow-engineering aspirants can be beyond overwhelming and The gigantic books will only seem to add It is difficult, also The transition from school to college is huge and is one with several challenges so the circle gets wider, education, more intense, and your goals even more serious This phase can be extremely pressurizing, and it is important to strike an effective balance between fun and focus.

[aryacollegejp]

Important Tips For First-Year Engineering Students

Tips For First Year Engineering Student

Best Engineering Colleges in Rajasthan says as we move on to discuss how to ace your first year of engineering in collage.

Tips For First-Year Engineering Students

1. Get your basics right!

You need to have a strong foundation also for technical courses like engineering, it is essential to get your basics right As a first-year engineering student, you need to have a strong command of the fundamentals of engineering so The subjects and concepts you learn in your first year of engineering will build the rest of your engineering curriculum.

2. Go beyond the syllabus

Always looks for knowledge beyond the prescribed syllabus also This will not only enhance your performance but will also make you approach the field and its subjects more passionately and approach the subjects with genuine interest and passion, go that extra mile, and do that extra reading also This will make the rest of the course an absolute breeze!

3. Make a balance between your freedom and responsibilities

College life means you are inching closer to entering adulthood and College can make you feel a sense of freedom that you have never experienced back in school also It is easy for freedom to overpower responsibilities while in your first year of college, so unwinding is a necessity from time to time, also freedom comes responsibilities.

4. Build a good rapport with professors

Private Engineering Collages in Jaipur  says Engineering is a field that requires the help of your professors as it involves complex topics and concepts to study and when you are in your first year, your professors are not just your teachers also they are your guides, support system, as well as friends so they will help you get through that any challenges you may face in your first year, apart from helping you understand your concepts better.

5. Part of a solid study group

This is where study groups come to play and All-nighters and cramming sessions only become more fruitful and productive when you study with your group, So one solution to an effective study session – is study groups!

6. Explore your interests

Start exploring your areas of interest within the engineering compound as early as your first year and Once you have zeroed in on your interest, you can use the entire course period to develop your skills in the same also getting this sorted will help you immensely post your course – you will have clarity in terms of what to do after completing your undergraduate studies and So actively attend lectures and symposiums, talk to people and industry experts, network as much as possible, and always be ready to explore!

7. Don’t miss out on extra-curricular activities

The one thing you should not miss out on in your college life, especially your first year, is participation in extra-curricular activities also Sign up for cultural programs and actively participate! This will also be a stress buster while also adding to your memory bucket you are looking to take up engineering, remember, so it is not as difficult as people seem to describe it to be also You need to put in effort in prioritizing, compartmentalizing, and also being organized with your schedules and tasks and If you are an engineering student or a recent pass-out, share your experience and learning as a first-year student in the comments section below!

Conclusion

Btech Collage in Rajasthan First day of admission a gazillion other fellow-engineering aspirants can be beyond overwhelming and The gigantic books will only seem to add It is difficult, also The transition from school to college is huge and is one with several challenges so the circle gets wider, education, more intense, and your goals even more serious This phase can be extremely pressurizing, and it is important to strike an effective balance between fun and focus.

[thethingything]

on the one hand, the whole "having other people in your brain who can hear every thought you have while they're present" thing can be pretty not fun at times, but on the other hand our old host is often very close to the front even while not properly co-conscious, and they can and will chime in at the wildest times to tell you some absolutely wild facts related to a random thought you just had - 🍬

[hungwy]

ON THE AI ART THING

i see three main points people are making, which i think are fair: first the supposition that the products of people's labor are being used somewhere in the process of art generation in an unfairly profitable way; second the supposition that the products of the artists' labor are being stolen before they can sell it; third that the other two result in a chain-reaction down the line where nobody's an artist any more because neural networks are adjective-er than humans.

for what its worth the way AIs combine images is just not the way you think AIs combine images. machine learning is complicated. neural networks are complicated. read up on GANs; watch a few Two Minute Papers videos (like this one, which is particularly relevant: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FCf8OA4GPvI). the way they combine im its not forgery (AI are not perfectly replicating your piece and selling it as it is for their own value; at some point it might involve copying/"looking" at it), its not stealing (you still have your art with you), its not even Youtube Poop remixing. generally the hypest way to do neural networks right now is to take a collection of items the AI knows to contain similar concepts and creates an understanding of that shared concept; a good dataset will be big enough to understand all the full variations of that concept, or accurately deduce the rest of the variations, all through the natural inconsistenties that a bunch of pictures of the same thing might produce. an AI knows how to do an oil painting style because it probably knows quite well the actual qualities of an oil painting. it also knows what the sun looks like, how cloth drapes at different weights, how holes in the ceiling of a building might imply shafts of light illuminating on the floor, and other incredible stuff. beats me how it does that, and you likely won't get it either. but the point is the way people are talking about AI on here seems solely informed by imagination.

for unfair and stealing bit, there's something to be said about how certain online communities, websites, people, blogs. etc are naturally private due to obscurity while also being technically completely public; like caves hidden in valleys that take quite a bit of looking to get to and see. in the past we just assumed they would stay hidden: the art on this blog will only be seen by its followers, or people i link the blog to, surely; ill teach you the way to my little cave. unfortunately the internet has been filled with extremely informed and skilled valley-treading and cave-finding robots, and unless you have big ol' signs that say "DO NOT FIND THIS CAVE!" (i remember for forums you could stop scrapers from coming to your website, i think on tumblr there is something like a "do not show in search results" button too), or somehow otherwise avoid their path using strange internet tricks or complete luck, they will totally find your little cave and rummage through it. what i mean to say is this: your art is already part of the publicly available data, and you're in a tough spot to do anything about it. i have no solutions.

the objectionable part is not in this collection of references for analysis, nor in how the AI is usually interpreting what objects are what, but the misuse of the AI to produce things you don't like (which is part of the point i wanted to make in my first post, besides arguing for the artistic integrity of what the AI is doing with its sources). and i see how it seems unfair -- someone smarter and more knowledgeable about art, labor, intellectual property, and value could articulate this more -- that a customer of a neural network could so freely replicate someone else's work with the original stylist having nothing to show for it. it wouldn't be any better if a sufficiently skilled person was requested to draw original pieces in your style. so in that way this is less about AI and more an objection against the violation of someone's intellectual property, if that exists.

for the second point on losing artists, i understand the reasoning as following: nobody wants to be a starving artist, and to avoid that in capitalism one needs money, and if someone is dead set on being an artist (or for some reason can be nothing else) they must sell their art to make money. if no one is going to give them money for art, they will certainly be a starving artist, which we don't want. the conclusion here is, if we want artists (starving, at the very least), we should restrict anything else that makes art which might compete with the artist's. okay, that might work: we could stop having AI make art. but what if, despite our best efforts, we can't fully restrict such a thing? what if AIs are here to stay? more importantly, what if artists are actually already partnering with AI to make art, and you've just been none the wiser? What if you yourself could adapt to new technology and use it to better your own art? The improvement of this tech is, as far as anyone can tell, inevitable. Like any tool, it will be applied in obvious and creative ways. It will displace some people, it will be used by others, and further it will be ignored by the rest.

naturally we would think at least some artists could no longer be paid for what they currently do. if companies can afford a concept artist they likely could better afford a subscription to DALL-E. If their work is no better than AI and they cost more it seems clear they're out. but im simply not jumping to the conclusion that companies specifically will be replacing ALL artists with AI, since most trained artists are in fact better than AI, and come with the human factor. some companies will certainly try the switch to AI for the novelty of it, two or three might succeed, most will probably find out negotiating with an artist or two for long term projects is much easier than talking to the team of computer science geeks to see if the damn art-generating program will churn out something slightly more [quality], more palatable to today's changing tastes -- all that, IF "AI generated images" is even the zeitgeist in whatever hypothetical time period in the future this is happening. maybe by the time the tech is developed people will think handmade stuff is popular and companies will follow suit, with all their logos or whatever being painted on glass panes.

i mean, who are we even talking about, considering artists? the fandom artists definitely aren't disappearing because of neural networks. all those millionaire furry artists simply won't lose business because people are going to Midjourney and entering in "shirtless anthropomorphic tiger, [famous furry artist]-style". people who want oil paintings want some physical oil paintings and usually not a digitally-generated oil painting printed on canvas. people want a human intermediary for basically everything, and if you've ever worked retail with an older customer base you'd know that's true. id certainly prefer human-made art to neural networks if i was gonna spend money (and i apologize to our future robot overlords for such a statement).

so who is really completely losing out here? many artists are, quite frankly, not big enough to get fried. concept artists for triple-AAA shooters might take a hit, i imagine; its decently easy to generate generic cities and alien landscapes with AI. but frankly, artificial intelligence is a tool, and not a scooch-along robot replacing your cubicle in the office. you still need people who know about art, and artists willing to put in the work, for it to produce anything of commercial value. even if it gets so good that the CEO of a business can log on to ARTIFICIAL-INTELLIGENCE-WEBSITE.com and type into the text box "I wuld like to buy a compny logo for $50 please", im sure there will always be more status in having that "human touch" to your designs, and less status in those robo-packs of ugly slightly mismatched placeholders. besides, artists are already using AI to help create their products in the first place; i refer to that Two Minute Papers video again (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FCf8OA4GPvI).

Edit: Considering Two Minute Papers, we do see that VFX artists and simulation scientists are trying to find ways to realistically simulate liquid, gases, fire, etc. with AI. This likely will have consequences for whatever hand-simulated stuff VFX artists have been doing.

your art is publicly available and you really don't have much control over what happens to it. unless little intranets for families and towns and cities and such become more popular, unless you start password protecting websites like forums used to do, your shits getting collected. its not a good reality and im definitely an advocate for internet privacy. for many artists the internet is unfortunately the only place they know how to get their stuff out there. its not a good situation for artists to begin with. the thing is, what's happening with modern AI art generation isn't... really that bad. unless some specific human wants to make it bad. if from this moment on we decide to push for legal-social-whatever punishments for not compensating the artists whom AI was trained on, okay, i guess. companies developing these AI probably have too much startup money anyway and most artists make far too little for the years of wrist pain. but i would say the customers requesting your art style or whatever are certainly at more moral fault, because it almost certainly wouldn't just pop out a given art style unless your prompt guided it to.

i will stand by the fact that the art of modern neural networks is more complicated, less hurtful, and way cooler than ripped off collage nonsense, and it will be exciting and scary to see where we go from an AI winning an art tournament -- for the moment you can be scared if you want, i guess, but if you didn't already lose your job to a guy utilizing a neural network then you're probably already safe. (and you might as well get on the train before you're left behind.)

[acciotwinz]

Three simple words ~ R.L.

It's been a hot minute. Enjoy this sweet Remus blurb!

Summary: the two of you have a routine for the day after a full moon. What Remus doesn't expect, are those three words to fall from your lips.

If someone had told six-year-old Remus that he would get to attend Hogwarts, that he would meet three boys who would become illegal animagi to help with the pain of his transformation and he would also find a girl he'd fall in love with and be able to date despite the knowledge of his lycanthropy, he would have laughed and called them crazy. As it turns out, he would have been crazy for not believing them. In the past seven years, Remus had met incredible people that had (and still do so daily) changed his life for the better. He looks at his room, a common space shared with his best friends. James’ spare glasses are half hidden beneath the boy’s bed. Sirius has his extra uniform thrown over his trunk and his bed is unmade. Peter has his homework and snacks spread across the whole dorm room. The messy room always makes Remus smile. It has personal touches of all four boys, showcasing their individuality and how they have sort of started blending into one another. Remus wouldn’t be the person he is today without his three idiots in his life. A knock startles him, pulling him out of his thoughts. Remus gently places the book face down on his stomach while raising his voice just enough for the person on the other side of the door to hear him allow entry to the room. Y/N’s face peeks in, hair falling down the side of her face as she smiles at him, making his heart skip a beat. "Mind if I come keep you company?" Remus smiles back, eyes crinkling and full of love. He pats the mattress, cocking his head to the side, "Not even a bit." Grinning, Y/N closes the door behind her and as soon as she’s next to Remus’ bed, she slips off her shoes and her dress robe, remaining in her white button-down and skirt. Remus parts his legs slightly, lifting the covers so that she can crawl between his legs. However, Y/N pauses, scanning his body for any signs of pain or discomfort. Remus rolls his eyes, grabbing her upper arms and dragging her between his legs and then covering the both of them with his discarded blankets. Y/N still manages to wiggle around and gently tugs his shirt down from his collarbones to see if there are any bandages. "Are you in any pain?" Remus shakes his head, tugging on her hand to convince her to just relax against his chest and she finally relents, curling against his chest as their legs intertwine under the covers. Remus pulls her closer to him. He drops a kiss to her hair as she starts drawing random patterns on his chest. Like after every full moon, Y/N reassures herself that Remus is still in one piece by listening to the sound of his heart. It’s the most soothing sound there is: it proves that the man she loves made it through another moon and came back to her. This has become a sort of tradition for the couple: the day after every full moon, they find somewhere they can lie low, preferably one on top of the other. After rougher moons, it’s Remus lying on top of Y/N, asking her to run her hands through his hair and to talk so that he can feel the vibrations of her chest against his ear, reminding him that he’s human and loved. On easier ones, it’s Y/N that needs a bit more reassurance. “Shouldn’t you be in class?” Asks Remus, one hand resting gently on her hip and the other one playing with the hair at the nape of her neck. Y/N shrugs, tilting her head back so that she can look him in the eyes, “Technically but Flitwick apparently can’t deal with me or your friends today so he sent us away.” Remus looks taken aback by this information, “Where are the lads then?” Y/N smiles sheepishly before moving her head back to his chest and clutching his shirt in her hands, "I asked them to give us the afternoon. They're resting down in the common room." "You okay, love?" Asks Remus softly. Y/N nods, eyes closed as she relaxes further against her boyfriend’s chest. "I just never sleep much or well when it’s a full moon." "I’m sorry love." His smile falters. He hates making her worry almost as much as he hates the boys risking their safety just so the wolf won't rip him to shreds. "I wish you didn’t worry about me so

much, I’m always fine." She sits up, glaring at him. "You’re not always fine. And it’s what people do when they care about each other." Remus smiles sadly at her, placing his hands on her shoulders to try and appease her, "I know love, I do. I just hate that you’re stuck with a boyfriend whom you constantly have to worry about." Y/N rolls her eyes at him, dislodging his hands as she gets onto her knees, moving forward as much as she can without hurting him. She gently takes his face in her hands, rubbing her thumbs soothingly across the apple of his cheeks. They lock eyes and Y/N speaks with a tone that leaves no room for disagreement, "I am not stuck with you, Remus Lupin. I chose you. I choose you every day. You are so special. You are kind when you have no reason to be since the world has been anything but to you. You’re loyal, sweet and gorgeous. Not to mention smart and maybe a bit too snarky for your own good." Remus lets out a watery chuckle at that, making Y/N smile as she keeps speaking, "So what if you’re a werewolf?! It’s part of who you are and you, my love, are extraordinary." Remus is crying, and Y/N just brushes the tears away as they fall along his cheeks. He reaches for her, hands falling to her hips as she leans into his touch, moving forward to gently kiss his lips and when she pulls back, she smiles. The blush rising to her cheeks and neck is hard to ignore but before he can speculate the reason for the colouring, she speaks again. "I love you, Remus. Every single part of you." He has never heard more beautiful words falling from her lips and he seems to be unable to control his emotions as more tears fall from his eyes. It’s the first time either of them have acknowledged their feelings but now that it’s out in the open, how can they pretend it’s not true? Remus surges forward, moving a hand to the back of her neck and kissing her soundly. Y/N makes a surprised sound against his lips but it soon becomes a pleased one as he drags her into his lap. When they separate for air, Remus rests his head against hers, grinning while still shedding some tears. "I love you too, Y/N."

[stanknotstark]

5 Times Loki Held Your Hand and One Time You Held His

Only realizing it when they have to let go

You and Loki had become close friends when he came down with Thor. You were friends with Jane and through her knowing Thor scored a job at Stark Enterprise in R&D. This is where you basically just played with Tony’s new toys to make sure they work correctly and efficiently. Tony had invited you to live at Stark tower so you didn’t have to make an hour commute every day. Thus when Thor came down with Loki you ran into him randomly in the tower. 

You two first met one night when you couldn’t sleep and decided to wander the tower. Your final destination was one of the common areas that held a bar and an open view of the entire city with floor to ceiling windows. 

You had entered the common area and spotted a dark figure sitting in front of the windows. Clearing your throat the figure looks at you and you realize it’s Loki. 

“Mind if I join? I can totally leave if you’d prefer.” You say nervously from in front of the elevator. 

Loki looks you up and down with his eyes then shrugs. You take that as a cue to do whatever you please. So, you make your way over to him and sit far enough you don’t touch but close enough that you share companionship.

It’s silent for awhile but you can tell Loki is thinking so you stay quiet and just look across the lights lighting up the never sleeping city. 

“Are you not scared?” Loki finally breaks the silence and asks. 

You look at him confused. “Of what?” 

Loki looks at you, now confused too. “Of me.”

You really look at Loki. He has bags under his eyes, almost too hidden to see and you can see his face holds line of stress. His features are taught as if trying to hold himself back from something. 

“No.” You say, taking your eyes off him and looking at the city again. 

“Why? I could kill you.” Loki nearly demands but his voice doesn’t raise from the almost whisper you had both adopted. 

“And? Anyone could. Natasha could, a random stranger on the street could, hell I’m sure a really dedicated cat could kill me. I can kill myself. Why are you so special?” You say, your left hand coming up to rest in between your knees where you lay your chin. Your right hand stays on the floor to support yourself. You don’t look at Loki. 

However, you do hear him scoff. After a few seconds when you’re sure he’s not looking at you anymore he chuckles. “I would ask if you’re alright but I don’t particularly care.” 

At this you laugh lightly, “I didn’t ask for you to care.” You look at Loki who turns to look at you, squinting. 

“You’re weird.” He says and you shrug with a smile still on your face. “I like it.” 

You both go silent and look out at the city. Loki breaks the silence again by asking what certain buildings are and their functions. Through your explanations both of you fail to realize Loki let his left hand drift and cover your right hand still on the floor. It’s natural and you both like it subconsciously. 

When you yawn you go to raise both your arms and Loki realizes he had been holding your hand and pulls away like he’s burnt. You don’t say anything about it, you’re not even bothered by it, you simply stretch and stand.

“I’m tired. Good night.” You say, Loki nods, and you make your way to the elevator and to your wonderful bed that sits waiting for you. 

Not wanting to lose each other in a big crowd

The next time you hold hands isn’t for another month. 

Your relationship has developed a lot since that night in the tower. You’re practically inseparable and spend hours together daily. Loki appreciates your humor and non judgmental attitude about him. You enjoy his sarcasm, wit, and love for knowledge. Of course there is more you both love about each other but you keep it simple. 

Today, Loki has agreed to attend Stark’s Expo with you. He is curious as to what Earth has to offer with science and technology. He relishes in the fact that you turn and look at him and accept his offered hand to drag him from table to table, without losing each other in the crowd. You explain what everything is and how it works. You were obviously passionate about technology and science and what new things these students had to offer. Loki found he really enjoyed whatever it was that made you so passionate and animated about the new tech.

You keep a tight hold on his hand as you both make your way around the convention room and if he squeezes your hand back with just as much vigor he knows you won’t say anything. 

You both finally make it to the center stage where Tony is supposed to appear for a grandiose speech on the winners of the Stark Fund scholarship. When you both sit down in seats not far from the stage you keep holding Loki’s hand. 

Loki vaguely hears what you’re saying but more so is focused on how well both your hands fit. While his is cold, yours is warm, where his is calloused and rough, yours is delicate and soft, while his is big yours is small. He thinks that there could be no better fit. He could hold your hand forever. Unfortunately you let go of his hand when you make it to the car, after the expo is over, but he vows that you will hold his hand again. 

Grabbing hand to show them something

This time, when Loki grabs your hand, you’re both on the roof of the tower waiting for a meteor shower. He grabs it in between your conversation when he spots the first meteor and points at the sky. 

“Look.” He says watching you watch the meteors flash across the sky like shooting stars, as you had called them. 

He lovingly watches as your mouth opens a little, your face filled with mirth and excitement. From his spot he sees your eyes practically twinkling. 

“It’s beautiful.” He hears you whisper.

“It truly is.” He says, still staring at you adoringly. 

You turn and look at him with a smile. “Thanks.” You say in reference to him bringing you out to experience this.

Loki gives a small smile, closed lip, and a short nod in understanding. “Any time.” 

You both look back at the sky and watch as one more lonely meteor passes and then it’s over all too soon. You sigh, look at the ground in an attempt to look at Loki’s hand holding yours, then look up at the god. 

“I’m sure I’ll never see them up close but this is just as magical.” You say. 

Loki purses his lips in thought. “If that is your wish, I shall make it happen, some day.” He says with determination.

You smile again, something you can’t stop doing around the god, “I’ve no doubt you’ll achieve this, somehow.” You laugh a little. 

Loki smiles down at you, lifts your hand to his lips, and kisses it.

“Shall we go back inside and try some of the Moon berries Thor brought back?” 

You nod excitedly and rush to the door with Loki behind, never releasing each others hands. 

Possessive hand-holding

You’re attending Stark’s gala for some charity you’ve never heard of. Tony had told you to attend so you could make some connections and further your research with funding. Loki had agreed to be your plus one when you asked him a few days before. That’s how you found yourself in a dark, emerald halter dress that flowed to your feet in elegance. Loki wore a three piece suit, the outer suit jacket and pants black, the inner vest the same dark, emerald as your dress, and a white button up underneath. 

What you don’t expect is for all the men to flock to you when Loki excuses himself to grab you both a drink. You’re surrounded by three men asking you questions about your work but you can read the flirt in between their words. You act nice but don’t play into their flirtations. When they start to lean closer to you you start to get a bit uncomfortable. 

Luckily you spot Loki not too far away coming to you with a soft glare on his features. You know he’s downplaying the glare so he doesn’t outright scare everyone in his path. You knew all too well Loki could very likely kill someone with his infamous glare. 

When Loki makes it back you subconsciously hover into his side and take your drink from his hand with a small thanks. When his hand is free Loki’s hand finds its way down your arm and takes your hand into his. He smiles at the three men sharply and you introduce Loki as your date. The three men back off but don’t leave quite yet. 

Once they’ve asked all their questions they leave you with their business cards and stalk off to their next victim. 

You wait till they’re far enough and deflate a little with a small sigh. Looking up at Loki, who looks down at you concerned, you smile reassuringly and take a sip of the champagne in your hand. 

“I need to give Stark more credit and I now understand why he hates these things.” You say after your sip of the dry alcohol, shaking your head, “Everyone in here is like a shark waiting to feed on you if you show an ounce of weakness.” 

Loki chuckles. “They’ll have to get through me before they even look at you.” Loki empathetically says, squeezing your hand.

You look away from Loki, “So, technically, are we dating? Is this what’s going on? Because I’m honestly a little confused.” You say shyly. Squeezing his hand in yours.

Loki doesn’t say anything so you look at him a little anxious that you might have crossed some unseen boundary. When you look into his eyes he finally answers. “Is that what you want?”

“I mean,” You bring your drink to your lips, let the drink coat your mouth, swallowing, and cherish that Loki is leaning into you with anticipation, “Yes. Quite frankly I’ve been wanting this for months now.” You finally say with an opened mouth smirk. 

Loki smirks too. “Then yes, we’re dating, exclusively.” He adds the last part in case that wasn’t explicitly clear. 

You watch as Loki takes a drink of the champagne and his Adams apple bobs, his neck is bared to you and you want to lick a stripe up it. The moment is over too soon and you look at Loki with a glare. 

“What’s a girl got to do to get a kiss around here?” 

Loki smirks, places his drink on the counter you stand next to and looks at you with a raised brow. You smile. Loki then uses his free hand to cup your face, stare at you with amazement that this is actually happening, then close the short distance between you two and finally kiss you.

Only linking the pinkies together, not ready to let go completely

It’s a few weeks after the gala and officially dating Loki that you hold hands again. This time it’s in public. You’re both walking central park, mostly so you could get some fresh air. After the gala you had made a lot of connections and were getting unbelievable funding for your personal projects which in turn had you cooped up inside working constantly. Loki took it upon himself to get you out and about. 

You had both been totally besotted in each other and talking about random exciting things while walking and holding hands, when you make it to Bethesda Fountain. At the sight of it you ramble on about having change to throw and pull Loki towards it with glee. As you near it you both pull your hands away but only enough to still hang on my the pinky. You turn and look at Loki with a loving look, bring the god’s face to down to kiss you, then let go of his hand completely to cup his jaw with both hands. After you pull back Loki opens his eyes to fall in love with the way you look at him. 

“We both make a wish when we throw in our pennies, ok?” You ask, completely pulling from Loki’s hold and searching in your purse for two pennies. Loki watches you with a frown but accepts the penny you give him.

When you both stand at the edge of the fountain you count down from three and as the pennies hit the water you both silently make your wishes. Loki wishes for marriage with you and he’s honestly not quite sure what you wish for. He questions if he’s moving too fast but disregards that thought. Both of you had been very romantic leading up to dating and knew each other inside and out from constantly spending time together. Just because it’s only been official a few weeks means nothing. Loki knows he wants you forever. 

You turn to look at Loki and wag a finger, “Don’t tell me what you wished for or it won’t come true!” 

Loki smiles and grabs your hand again, “Then I shall keep my lips shut, darling.” 

+1 comparing hand sizes, then linking fingers together

It’s you who initiates the hand holding this time. It’s a couple of months into dating when you do it. Loki will never forget it because you had initiated it this time. 

You’re both casually spending time in the common area with Nat, Clint, and Thor when it happens. You’re sitting across from Loki, both of you with crossed legs, playing a game of cards with him on the big couch Stark has. Nat and Clint are making bets as to who is going to win each round and Thor is fascinated as you explain everything going on in the game. 

Loki goes to flip his card when you stop talking to Thor and grab his hand. Loki looks up at you confused but watches with fascination as you flatten his hand out then put yours up to it and compare sizes. His hand looks like it could engulf yours. You hum thoughtfully and intertwine your fingers with his and return to the game as if nothing just happened, setting your hands to the side of the game on the couch.

Loki himself feels a little breathless but takes is a small gasp when Thor claps his shoulder. 

“Brother you’re at 19 are you truly sure you want to get hit again?” Thor asks.

Loki glances back at Thor but disregards him and looks at you instead. You look innocent enough but the spark in your eyes says you know what you’ve just done to Loki. 

Loki clears his throat. “Hit me, the risk is well worth it.” 

He watches as you give him a faced down card next to his jack and nine cards. 

You look up at him with a smirk, “Try your luck, Mischief.” You say. 

Loki raises a brow then turns the card you gave him. 

It’s an ace.

Loki smirks at you when you gasp and look at his cards with wide eyes. Natasha groans and pays Clint, Thor laughs roaringly. 

Both of your hands are still linked on the couch. Loki uses his thumb to caress your thumb and says, “What’s even more satisfying is that I didn’t even have to cheat.” 

You look at Loki with a mix of awe and satisfaction. “And here I thought I was the lucky one in this relationship.” 

Loki chuckles, “You’re severely mistaken.” He says, obviously not talking about the game anymore when he gives you a look full of tenderness and love. 

[sweetteaanddragons]

Innocence

Nolofinwe’s first thought was that Feanaro had sired another son and neglected to mention it.

A second thought dismissed this as ridiculous, given a moment’s comparison between the age of the child (halfway to adolescence) and the length of time Feanaro had previously been able to resist announcing that he had another child (half a breath).

His second thought was that Curufinwe had sired a child, but given that then he would have had to miss both a birth and a marriage announcement, he was inclined to doubt it.

“I did say Atar was unavailable for a reason,” Pityo said helpfully from behind him.

“No,” Nolofinwe said after another moment of stunned silence spent exchanging stares with a bright eyed and half sized Feanaro, “you said, and I quote, “Atar is unavailable for - reasons.” Forgive me for assuming you were just trying to get rid of me.”

Feanaro had hopped up to perch on the scarred wood of his much abused workbench, presumably so he could continue the staring contest from a more equitable position. “Why do we want to get rid of you?” he asked. “Who are you, anyway?”

Nolofinwe blinked.

He wasn’t quite sure which sentence had hit him harder. It was probably better not to think about it.

“He doesn’t know who I am either,” Pityo in a voice that was clearly trying to substitute manic cheer for sanity. “I think an experiment went wrong.”

“How do you know it went wrong?” Feanaro demanded. “Maybe I was trying to do this.”

Well, at least some things hadn’t changed. “But we are accepting the premise that this was an experiment.”

Pityo looked helplessly around Feanaro’s workroom, with its profusion of strange tools, unidentifiable substances, and suspicious jewelry, as if to ask, What else could it be?

“That’s what the - my notes say,” Feanaro said, and the stumble revealed the first hint of uncertainty in this whole mess. “I think.”

Nolofinwe snatched up the closest sheaf of papers.

It immediately became apparent why Feanaro had not been able to make that statement with any more certainty.

“He’s developed another system of writing,” he said blankly. It was not quite a question. “Wasn’t coming up with one enough?”

Feanaro brightened. “I made a new system of writing? What’s it like? Will you show me?”

“It’s not a whole new system,” Pityo said at the same time. “It’s just his code. I suppose . . . “ And he gestured helplessly again, this time at his miniaturized father.

“I recognize some of it,” Feanaro said defensively. “And I figured out some of the rest. I’m sure I’ll get it eventually.”

“He’s stuck like this until he can decode his own notes?”

Pityo shook his head. “Curufinwe should be able to decode it. Probably. He taught it to all of us, it’s just . . . been a while.”

“He said I have seven sons,” Feanaro said. He sounded enormously impressed by this information. “Are you one of them?”

It took a lifetime of controlling his expression in court not to choke.

“No,” Pityo said, sounding horrified.

Nolofinwe was not particularly eager to hear how one of Feanaro’s sons would explain him.

“I’m your brother,” he said. “Nolofinwe.”

He was not at all prepared for the way Feanaro glowed.

Or for the way Feanaro flung himself off the worktable and wrapped himself around Nolofinwe like the octopus Arafinwe had once shown him.

Before Nolofinwe could react, Feanaro had already clambered up, tiny limbs jabbing into Nolofinwe and awkwardly pulling at the jewels pinned to his court finery, until Feanaro had secured himself firmly on Nolofinwe’s back, pointy chin digging into his head.

“There,” Feanaro said triumphantly. “Now I’m taller than you again.”

“Again?” Nolofinwe asked, automatically adjusting his grip on Feanaro’s legs to keep him from falling. He was abruptly thankful that Pityo had managed to dig up some child sized clothes before he got here.

“You’re my little brother,” Feanaro said matter-of-factly. “I’m taller than you.”

Nolofinwe was, in fact, about a hands-width taller than Feanaro, a fact that he was privately and perhaps bit embarrassingly proud of.

He resisted the urge to share this fact with his currently younger half-brother.

This bit of maturity was helped by the fact that he was still processing the look on Feanaro’s face when he had found out who Nolofinwe was to him.

He took a deep breath. “Back to our most urgent concern,” he said. “If Curufinwe is the only one who can translate these notes, where is he?”

Pityo bit his lip. “Out with the others, probably. We were all helping Makalaure set up for his performance at the festival tonight. I just came back to grab something and found . . . “

“Me,” Feanaro said, small arms temporarily squeezing tighter in their grip.

“Right,” Nolofinwe said. He resisted the urge to rub between his eyes. “I don’t suppose you have any idea why you were trying to make yourself younger in the first place? I assume you intended to keep your memories while you did so, but that still doesn’t explain the rest of it.”

“That’s obvious, isn’t it?” For once, Feanaro’s voice wasn’t smug, just matter of fact. “I was probably trying to figure out how to make other things younger and just tested it out on myself.”

“But why? We already have the means to preserve items - “

“But not animals,” Feanaro said, one arm releasing him so he could wave it excitedly. “Or we don’t, at least, and I bet you don’t either. If I could make this work, then people could have horses or cats that they’d never have to lose.” His voice was passionate with excitement for a project that wasn’t even really his, and for all the distance and anger between them, Nolofinwe didn’t have to wonder even for a moment why.

“But did you have to try it on yourself first?” he asked instead even though, rationally speaking, it was a waste of time to direct the question to Feanaro just now.

“I don’t think he did,” Pityo said. “There’s a loaf of bread on the table that I’m pretty sure was stale this morning, and when I opened the door to come in here, a kitten ran out. This was just . . . the next logical step.”

Nolofinwe gave him a flat look. Pityo jerked his chin up stubbornly.

Feanaro tugged on the collar of his robes to regain his attention. “Aren’t you even a little impressed, Nolo? I turned back time!”

“Of course it’s impressive,” he said, automatically reassuring. It had the benefit of also being true. “It’s just also insane.”

Feanaro was apparently not bothered by the second part of this because he settled back down almost immediately, pointy chin once again burrowing into Nolofinwe’s shoulder.

Pityo looked about to protest, but apparently he didn’t want Feanaro’s pointy chin any closer to his own shoulders because he kept his objections to himself. “Look,” he said instead. “I’ll go get Curufinwe and bring him back here to start working on things. I would have gone earlier, but I couldn’t leave him alone.”

And the last thing they needed was for word of this to spread around Tirion, which went unsaid.

Technically, of course, he was one of the people such word would have been kept from; there were a half dozen plans that could be pushed forward in the court with infinitely more ease with the knowledge that Feanaro would not be interfering for the foreseeable future, and Pityo knew it.

But it was hard to think of that while Feanaro was clinging to him like Nolofinwe’s own children had been too old to do for ages. And if Pityo hadn’t trusted him not to turn the situation to his own advantage, he at least trusted him enough to look after Feanaro now that he knew.

That was something.

So he just nodded, and Pityo took off like a deer with the whole hunt of Orome behind it.

When the door swung shut behind him, Nolofinwe turned his head so that he could better see Feanaro and said, “You’re taking this very well.”

He’d waited in case Feanaro took that as he cue to start not taking things well; he didn’t think the situation would be in any way improved by Feanaro bursting into tears in front of his son.

But Feanaro just shrugged. “It’s an adventure!” he said with a blinding grin that faded a bit into thoughtfulness. “And I’ve seen my notes in here and . . . and some of Amil’s tapestries upstairs. It looks like a house I’d have.”

And of course there was no reason to be concerned, Nolofinwe supposed; Feanaro was safe, there was no reason to suppose he’d ever be anything other than totally safe. This was Aman, not long ago Cuivenien, but still.

He supposed the world had changed since Feanaro was a child after all because he still couldn’t quite suppress a thrill of vicious vicarious unease. Feanaro in his right mind would not want to be this vulnerable, especially not in front of the half-brother that he now seemed for inexplicable reasons to adore.

But Feanaro was now squirming down from his place on Nolofinwe’s back. He let him down quickly, and Feanaro circled around and reclaimed his perch on the workbench, face suddenly very serious.

“Those weren’t the only things I saw upstairs,” he said. “I saw the bedrooms too.”

“Oh?” Nolofinwe said, at a loss as to why this, of all things, would upset a child-sized Feanaro.

Feanaro’s shoulders were tense. “I saw my bedroom,” he clarified, and when this still provoked no answer, his chin jutted out. “Don’t play stupid with me,” he insisted. “I saw. It was my bedroom, just mine. Something happened to their mother, didn’t it?”

His voice shook over the word “something.”

It probably said something too that he said "their mother" and not "my wife," but given his current age, mothers were probably an infinitely more comfortable topic, even considering the history of his own.

Nolofinwe sat down beside him. “Nothing happened to Nerdanel,” he said gently. Feanaro perked up just a little at the extra information he had just inadvertently provided, so Nolofinwe gave him some more. “That’s her name. She has hair just as red as Pityo’s, and she’s a sculptor. Her workshop should still be here. Have you seen it?”

Feanaro shook his head.

“She’s the best in Aman,” Nolofinwe said, and it was no empty flattery. “She’s gone to visit her family, that’s all. Nothing bad.”

“She went to visit her family, and she took everything with her?” Feanaro said skeptically.

Nolofinwe had come here hoping to discuss a few details of the festival with his brother before he went to push his case for the new university's funding in court. He had prepared for that. He had not prepared how to discuss the difficulties in his brother’s marriage with a child who wasn’t familiar with any possible difficulties in marriage beyond death.

“You had a fight,” he admitted.

Feanaro considered this. “Did I win?”

“That depends on how you define winning,” Nolofinwe said dryly. “But regardless, she is very much still alive.”

This seemed to satisfy Feanaro. At the very least, he moved on. “So how much older than you am I?” he asked, and there was a strange look on his face now.

Nolofinwe didn’t really see how the answer could do any harm, but something about the look on Feanaro’s face made him wary. “You had already started your apprenticeship when I was born,” he said, leaving at least a little ambivalence in case he needed it later.

Feanaro’s shoulders slumped a fraction, but he recovered quickly, leaning forward eagerly. “But I started that young, didn’t I?”

“You did,” he admitted. “You’d finished it before you were of age.”

Feanaro nodded, calculations running behind his eyes. “And I bet she didn’t have you right away,” he said, fingers tapping quickly, like a count. “They would have waited.”

“That’s . . . true,” he said warily.

“So it won’t be much longer then,” Feanaro said cheerfully. “From my perspective, I mean, I know it’s already handled here.”

Cheerfully?

Feanaro had apparently noticed his confusion because he rolled his eyes. “I’m not an idiot,” he said with a deep scorn that was far more familiar than any other expression he’d worn that day. “I know where babies come from. Atar couldn’t have given me a brother on his own.”

“Two brothers,” he said blankly. “Arafinwe - “

Feanaro grinned. “Even better.” But the grin faltered quickly. “Did she - blame me? When she came back, and you turned out alright, did she think it was my fault?”

When she came back.

He had wondered, earlier, just how old Feanaro was.

Too young, apparently, to know of his father’s decision to remarry.

That explained . . . a lot.

Feanaro’s face had crumpled in the face of his silence.

“Of course not,” he said. “Of course not, she would never blame you.” He wrapped an arm around Feanaro and pulled him closer.

Feanaro’s shoulders shook. “You don’t have to lie to me,” he said, stubbornly not crying. “I’m not a baby.”

“She didn’t blame you,” he invented wildly. “She blamed Atar. But she forgave him, as Arafinwe obviously proves.”

It came out almost naturally. It would have been entirely naturally if it hadn’t belatedly occurred to him just how much trouble he would be in if Feanaro asked the obvious follow-up question and demanded to see her.

Thankfully, at that moment, the muffled sound of the door to the house banging open rang out, followed quickly by the door to the workshop slamming open in its turn.

Curufinwe ran through first, and Fenaaro’s jaw dropped at the older reflection of himself.

For his part, Curufinwe’s eyes were immediately drawn to the tears still trembling in his father’s eyes. Thunder clouds immediately began to form on his face.

Maitimo was a slightly calmer presence behind him, but his face was still flushed from moving too fast in formal robes in the summer heat. “Uncle,” he said, inclining his head. “We appreciate your assistance.”

Curufinwe opened his mouth. Maitimo very firmly snatched the relevant papers from the workbench and steered him to the other end of the workroom. Curufinwe went, though he kept sending rather understandable glances back toward his Atar.

Maitimo was gentler when he approached Feanaro, kneeling so that they were at eye level. “Hello,” he said. “I’m Maitimo. Did Pityo tell you who I am?”

“You’re the one with all the letters in your room,” Feanaro said, a little warily.

Maitimo’s mouth twitched up in amusement. “That’s right.”

Curufinwe was in sweat stained work clothes, but Maitimo’s were finer; he must have visited court before going to help Makalaure. Regardless, there were jewels glinting around his neck, and Feanaro, perhaps inevitably, was drawn toward them.

“Did I make those?” he asked eagerly, successfully distracted from his earlier distress, eyes tracing the chain of gold framed rubies that looked like sparks from a fire that wrapped from Maitimo’s shoulder to his waist.

Maitimo’s smile widened. “You did,” he said. “They were a gift for my first appointment of any real substance at court.”

Feanaro’s attention turned to Nolofinwe’s own court finery and the sapphires twisted into the silver circlet in his hair. “Did I make that?” he demanded.

Nolofinwe resisted the urge to wince. “You did not.”

That was no crime, of course; it was just that this piece in particular was very pointedly not made by Feanaro. It had, in fact, been made by a Vanyarin smith who had been trumpeted as their very best, and while the Vanyar were not generally known for their smiths, some had boasted that he could challenge even Feanaro’s skill.

Commissioning the piece had been a statement, a declaration that he was not ashamed of his Vanyarin heritage, that Feanaro’s supremacy was not unchallenged, that -

Well. A lot of things. Wearing it was also always a very deliberate jab, and it was one he had been wholeheartedly in favor of this morning.

But he couldn’t tell that to the painfully earnest Feanaro of right now.

“You’ve made me others, though,” he said, which was actually true.

There was the delicate silver bracelet that had likely been a long forgotten statement of some kind that Feanaro had gifted him upon his birth. He still had it tucked into a corner of his jewel box despite the fact it was now far too small to be of any possible use. There was the necklace Feanaro had presented to him when he was still very small, and Nolofinwe had been dragged out to Tol Eressea for the first time. He had been terrified of the shadows there and of the sky so dark that stars could peek through, and Feanaro had presented him with a chain of jewels that glowed when his tiny hands squeezed them. There had been a more formal piece too, a diadem, when he reached adolescence and was formally presented to the court. Feanaro had given it to him shortly after he confessed in a tense whisper to his nerves.

There had been a handful of more minor trinkets too, but those had trailed off after that last diadem. Feanaro had been . . . distant, frequently, in his youth, but that had often been a matter of physical distance as much as anything else, and the vast gulf in their ages. When that distance had been crossed, he had been - kind, in that fierce way of his, especially when Nolofinwe had felt weak and most in need of him.

It was when Nolofinwe had proven himself strong that the tension between them had truly arisen as a force in its own right instead of merely an echo of their parents’ lives. Childish fears of the dark had melted, and a gift for persuasion and rhetoric had sent him on a meteoric rise in courtly influence in their place.

It had not meant the end of gifts, exactly; Feanaro had as much desire to appease their father as Nolofinwe did, and so the gifts had continued at all appropriate occasions. It was just that they were never from Feanaro’s own hand anymore, and with only a few small exceptions, he strongly suspected them to have been selections of first Nerdanel and then Maitimo.

But there had been one exception, even to that. It had, ironically enough, been presented to Nolofinwe shortly after he had first worn the set he was currently draped in.

Unlike every other piece Feanaro had ever given him, the chains had been gold. Most of the jewels had been blue, glowing with a faint light, like the light of the Mingling reflected on the ocean, but the centerpiece, the largest jewel, had been like blood spreading on the water.

A violent image, but still beautiful.

It had been a statement, just like Nolofinwe’s own commission, only he had never been entirely certain of the extent of the statement involved. That it had been a defense of Feanaro’s superior craftsmanship was certain, and also a point it was difficult not to concede. The piece looked like a song given form, and it was difficult to tear his eyes away from it when it was in sight.

The rest of it, though - and there surely must be a rest of it - was less certain, and so for the most part, Nolofinwe left it quietly in its box.

Just this once, though, it surely couldn’t do much harm.

“If you’re still like this tomorrow, I’ll wear it then,” he promised.

Feanaro’s dark mood vanished for a moment before being replaced by new urgency. “We can’t wait that long! I have to be older again by tonight.”

Tension immediately reentered the room.

“Oh?” Maitimo asked with forced calm. “Did you see something concerning in your notes?”

Feanaro shook hs head. “No, but Pityo said Makalaure’s concert was tonight, and he said I couldn’t leave the house until I was back to normal, so I have to be back to normal by tonight, I have to.”

Maitimo smiled as the tensions slowly drained out again. “I’m sure he’ll understand, just this once.”

But Feanaro shook his head fiercely. “Atar always comes when he says he will,” he said firmly. “I have to do the same thing.”

“You can help me decode these if you want,” Curufinwe offered. “It would go faster.”

Feanaro hesitated a moment, but an encouraging smile from Nolofinwe sent off him quickly.

Nolofinwe looked after him for a long moment before turning back to Maitimo. “I hate to do this to you,” he said in a low voice, “but I do have other matters to attend to before the festival begins. If there’s nothing else I can do . . . ?”

“Of course,” Maitimo said. “Let me show you out.”

“Good,” he said, rising. “There’s a few things you should probably know . . . “

He explained his lies with a hint of guilt as Maitimo showed him to the door, but if Feanaro's eldest resented them, he said nothing of it.

He should at least say goodbye. He knew he should. He would be late to see Atar if he did, but Atar would never hold it against him, especially if he explained the cause.

He just - couldn't.

. . .

He hadn’t wanted to leave, exactly, but with both Feanaro and his sons pouring over the notes, Nolofinwe had little doubt the issue would be resolved quickly.

He simply preferred not to be standing right there when it was.

He had no idea whether or not Feanaro would remember what had happened. He wasn’t sure which alternative would be worse.

Either way, he would return to find things largely unchanged by his absence. He had resisted the urge to tell the king what had happened. They would have to if things persisted, of course, but he truly did not think they would, and in the meantime - it felt like a betrayal, as absurd as that was, to reveal Feanaro's joy at what could have been to anyone else.

Perhaps that was why as he dressed for the concert, he couldn’t quite help his hand lingering over a certain box.

It wasn’t quite what he had promised, but it was probably the best he could do.

And it was, after all, almost certainly the finest he owned. It was a shame to let a few complications keep it hiding in the dark.

. . .

(The concert is out in the open, great flocks of elves streaming through the festival streets to gather around the stage. Nolofinwe walks with his wife on his arm, waiting for the first golden note.)

(It is struck just as the Mingling starts. The light shimmers as it dances off the jewels on Nolofinwe’s chest.)

(For just a moment, through the crowd, he spots Feanaro, once more only a hand’s width shorter than Nolofinwe’s own height.)

(Feanaro does not approach him.)

(But his gaze catches on the dazzling jewels, and just for a moment, his half-brother smiles.)