#i. aesthetic. » she was fire and light and ash and embers. «

[kaces-graham-crackers]

Twelve Tolls 'Till Midnight - (Part 1: The Wish That Wouldn't Burn) - Christmas Special

Wednesday Addams x Reader

Summary: Nevermore’s Yule Log tradition is simple—write a wish, burn it in the fire, and let the embers carry it away. But when one wish refuses to burn, Y/N finds it perfectly intact among the ashes. At first, it’s just a mystery. A harmless, unanswered question. But then, strange things start happening. And with each passing day, you can’t shake the feeling that something—or someone—is watching. And the clock is ticking.

Word Count: 3.1k

Snow had dusted the grounds of Nevermore overnight, clinging to the stone pathways and blanketing the ancient rooftops in a thin, icy sheen. The air held the chill that bit through coats and scarves, turning breath into fleeting ghosts in the evening air.

Despite the cold, warmth thrived inside the common rooms, where the academy was fully immersed in the holiday season. Wreaths hung from the doors, golden ribbons were draped along the railings, and the crackling fireplace illuminated the sprawling parlor in a flickering orange glow. A vintage Christmas record played somewhere in the background—a jazzy, eerie rendition of Carol of the Bells that somehow fit Nevermore's unsettling aesthetic.

It wasn't an official school event, but the students had made their own tradition out of gathering in the weeks before break. Some strung lights across the bookshelves, others sprawled across the couches in clusters, indulging in hot cider, peppermint bark, and whatever holiday treats had been smuggled into the dorms.

I stood off to the side, arms crossed, watching as Xavier struggled with a particularly tangled set of lights. His frustration grew as the string looped around his wrist for the third time.

"Are you winning?" I deadpanned.

Xavier huffed, tugging at the cord like it had personally wronged him. "If by 'winning,' you mean slowly losing my will to live, then yes."

Next to him, Ajax—whose idea of 'helping' was offering unsolicited advice while eating a candy cane—grinned. "Bro, you gotta work with the lights, not against them."

Bianca curled up in an armchair near the fireplace and scoffed. "If you had to deal with Xavier's questionable decorating skills every year, you'd know that's a lost cause."

Divina chuckled from where she sat, nestled comfortably against Yoko's side. "Maybe we should let the artist stick to painting."

Yoko smirked. "Or make him the Christmas tree instead."

That earned a laugh from the group, even as Xavier shot them all an unimpressed look.

I leaned back against the wall, hands shoved into the pockets of my flannel. Despite the easy comfort of the moment, I felt the faintest tug of something… off. It wasn't the Christmas cheer—it was too easy to get wrapped up in the warmth of it all, in how my friends naturally fit together like pieces of an unspoken tradition. No, it was the presence of someone sitting in her usual corner of the room, untouched by the festivities but watching them all like she was collecting evidence.

Wednesday Addams.

She was perched on the arm of the couch, a book in her lap, and her posture was rigid despite the casual setting. Her dark gaze flicked up now and then, scanning the room, lingering in places longer than necessary. She was too perceptive for her own good, and I knew it was only a matter of time before her curiosity sank its claws into something.

"Hey," Yoko's voice broke through my thoughts, and I turned to see my dormmate watching me with a knowing look.

"I think it's time to start the important discussion of the night." Yoko nudged her drink toward me in mock seriousness. "You confessing your undying love for Wednesday."

I choked on my cider. "Excuse me?"

Divina sighed, shaking her head. "Yoko. Subtlety."

"What?" Yoko gestured vaguely. "It's Christmas. Confessing is like, a thing."

I exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of my nose. "It's also a thing to not embarrass me in front of an entire room of people."

"Pfft, they're all distracted," Yoko waved off. "Besides, me and Divina are the only ones who know, so chill."

I shot them both a pointed look. "Enid knows, too."

Divina lifted a brow. "You think she told Wednesday?"

My stomach twisted at the thought. "No. I trust her."

"Okay, but why haven't you told Wednesday?" Yoko leaned in. "Be honest."

I hesitated, gaze flickering toward Wednesday's usual spot, only to find her already staring in our direction. Of course.

I turned back quickly, exhaling. "Because she wouldn't care."

Yoko made a tsk sound. "See, I know you're smart, which is why it baffles me that you're being so dumb."

I shot her a glare. "Gee, thanks."

Divina shook her head. "Y/N, Wednesday likes you. Enid sees it. We see it."

I scoffed. "Wednesday doesn't like anyone."

"Correction," Yoko smirked. "She tolerates very few. You're at the top of that list."

I rolled my eyes, refusing to engage further. "I don't know why I even talk to you two."

"Because we're right," Yoko sing-songed.

Across the room, Enid was having a very similar conversation with Wednesday.

"I think you should tell them," Enid said, voice light but firm.

Wednesday, still watching me from a distance, didn't look up. "Tell them what?"

Enid sighed dramatically. "That you like them."

Wednesday's eyes flicked to her roommate, expression unreadable. "That would be unnecessary."

"Would it?"

Wednesday went back to her book. "They wouldn't be interested."

Enid groaned, dragging her hands down her face. "You know they like you, right?"

Wednesday's brow twitched. "You're speculating."

"I'm not. Yoko and Divina literally know."

Wednesday hummed, flipping a page. "That sounds like gossip."

"That sounds like me being right and you avoiding your feelings."

"Feelings," Wednesday repeated flatly. "A fascinating concept."

Enid gave her a deadpan look. "You're impossible."

Wednesday smirked. "And yet, you persist."

Before Enid could further argue, the lights in the room flickered suddenly, the warmth of the common area dimming as a draft rolled through.

I straightened. "Huh."

Wednesday's fingers tightened around her book, gaze flickering toward the fireplace.

It shouldn't have been possible—the fire had been crackling brightly all night. And yet, as they all turned toward it, a single piece of parchment sat in the embers, untouched by the flames.

"Uh," Xavier blinked, stepping closer. "That's weird, right?"

Enid frowned. "Did someone throw a wish in late?"

Slowly, I stepped forward, crouching down. Carefully, I reached for the paper, my fingers brushing the surface.

It was smooth. Unburnt.

And written in ink darker than the shadows was a single sentence.

A wish.

Someone's wish.

And for some reason, the fire refused to take it.

My fingers brushed against the slip of paper nestled among the embers, its edges still intact, untouched by the fire. 

A perk of being a Flame Atronach—I was unharmed.

That wasn't right. The Yule Log tradition was simple—write your wish, burn it, and let the flames carry it away. But this one refused.

Curiosity got the best of me. The fire was still going, flickering orange and gold, yet the paper sat there, defiant against the heat. Carefully, I reached in, feeling the warmth lick at my skin but never entirely burn. It was strange—almost as if the fire itself had decided to spare it.

I plucked the paper from the ashes, brushing off the soot as I went to unfold it. The handwriting was neat, precise, and immediately familiar.

Before I could read a single word, Enid practically tackled me.

"Whoa, whoa—what do you think you're doing?" she yelped, grabbing my wrist before I could fully open the paper.

I frowned. "Reading? Someone's wish didn't burn. That's weird, right?"

Enid's eyes widened in horror as she snatched the paper from my fingers. "You can't read it! That's like… like, instant bad luck. It definitely won't come true if you do!"

I blinked, taken aback by how serious she sounded. "You actually believe that?"

"Yes," she said, deadpan. "Do you want to be responsible for some poor soul's wish going up in smoke? Well, not going up in smoke, but—" She shook her head. "You get what I mean."

I hesitated. A part of me wanted to brush it off, to open the paper and solve the mystery. But Enid looked genuinely distressed, and despite my skepticism, I wasn't cruel enough to stomp all over whatever holiday magic she believed in.

With a sigh, I reached for the fireplace again. The flames curled around my fingers, warm but strangely harmless. I tossed the paper back into the fire, watching as it landed among the embers.

It didn't burn.

Enid chewed her lip. "It's probably just some weird mishap," she decided, but her voice hinted unease.

I couldn't blame her.

As the flames flickered, failing again to consume the wish, I couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't just a random fluke.

But, like the others, I let it go.

That was mistake number two.

Later that night, The strange incident with the wish should have faded into the background, drowned out by the usual Nevermore chaos. But as the night wound down, something lingered.

It clung to the air like the scent of smoldering wood, like the faintest trace of something just out of reach.

By the time I got back to my dorm, the warmth of the holiday gathering had been replaced by an unsettling chill I couldn't quite shake. Yoko was already sprawled across her bed, scrolling through her phone, earbuds tucked in, vibing to whatever playlist she had on rotation.

I tossed my jacket over my chair and exhaled as I sat at my desk, the dim glow of my lamp casting long shadows against the walls. But even as I tried to push the thought aside, the memory of that unburned wish gnawed at the back of my mind.

I should've paid more attention to that feeling.

Because by the time the clock struck midnight, Nevermore had already started to change.

At first, it was subtle.

I wasn't a light sleeper, but something stirred me awake—a shift in the air, a wrongness that hadn't been there before. I blinked against the darkness, the room bathed in nothing but moonlight filtering through the window. Yoko was still asleep, her breathing steady and undisturbed.

Then I heard it.

Tick.

It was distant, almost deafening, like an old clock shifting gears after years of neglect. I sat up, frowning.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

It was coming from outside.

Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I crept toward the window, pressing a hand against the cold glass. The Nevermore courtyard stretched below, silent beneath the dim glow of lanterns.

And that's when I saw it.

The old clock tower—the one that had been broken for years—was moving.

I watched, frozen, as the massive hands jerked into motion, slow and deliberate, like something that had been trapped in stillness was finally waking up.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

The sound rattled in my bones, deep and resonant, like a pulse thrumming beneath the skin of Nevermore itself.

I didn't realize I was holding my breath until another sound broke the quiet.

A whisper.

It came from directly behind me.

I spun, pulse hammering in my throat, but my room was empty. Yoko was still asleep, undisturbed. The shadows in the corners of the room sat still, unchanged.

Swallowing hard, I glanced back at the window. The clock continued ticking, slow and steady.

I didn't know why, but I had a sinking feeling this was only the beginning. Meanwhile, in Wednesday's dorm, Wednesday knew something was wrong.

She had felt it the moment the first ember sparked.

Sitting at her desk, a candle flickering at her side, Wednesday's fingers hovered over the spine of a book she had long abandoned reading. The air in her dorm was… off. It wasn't tangible. It wasn't something she could pin down with certainty. But there was a shift in the very fabric of Nevermore—a pulse of sorts.

The anomaly of the unburned wish nagged at the back of her mind, an unsolved equation demanding resolution. Wishes were nonsense—foolish sentiments wrapped in superstition, meant to be reduced to ash. And yet, one had refused. Defied the flames entirely,

That was not a coincidence.

She hadn't believed in the tradition, of course. The very idea of wishing for something was as repulsive to her as cheerful holiday music or Enid's excessive use of glitter.

It had been meaningless.

At least, it was supposed to be.

Now, she wasn't sure.

A memory flickered in her mind—the moment the slip of parchment left her fingers and landed in the fire, the flames devoured it instantly.

And then… the clock tower had started ticking.

That old thing had been broken for years.

She tapped her fingers against the desk, deep in thought.

What did the others say earlier that night? That a wish refused to burn?

Her jaw tightened slightly.

If a wish had survived the fire, then logically, it had to be connected to whatever this phenomenon was.

The clock. The feeling in the air. The change.

She closed her book with a quiet snap, her mind already working through possibilities.

Something had been set into motion. 

The following morning, Breakfast at Nevermore was its usual mess of clashing personalities and half-dazed students. The dining hall buzzed with conversation, forks clinking against plates, the occasional burst of laughter breaking through the hum.

I slid into my usual seat, still feeling the weight of the night pressing against the back of my mind.

Across from me, Enid was already halfway through a muffin. "Morning, sunshine! You look…" She squinted, tilting her head. "Okay, not to be rude, but kinda haunted?"

I huffed out a laugh, rubbing my temple. "Great. That's exactly the aesthetic I was going for."

Yoko dropped into the seat next to me, sunglasses firmly in place despite the dim lighting. "Yeah, you were kinda twitchy last night. Bad dreams?"

I hesitated, my gaze drifting to the others across from me where Bianca, Xavier, and Wednesday sat.

Wednesday, as always, was absorbed in some old tome, her usual resting murder face in full effect.

"No," I admitted, lowering my voice slightly. "But something weird happened."

Yoko raised a brow. "Weird, how?"

I hesitated before saying, "The old clock tower was working."

That got their attention.

Enid's eyes widened, her muffin forgotten. "Wait—what? That thing's been broken forever."

"Not anymore," I murmured. "It started ticking again last night. Right at midnight."

Yoko frowned. "Okay, weird, but maybe they fixed it? You know how Weems is. Probably had maintenance finally patch it up or something."

"Yeah. Except…” I exhaled. "I swear I heard something after. Like—whispering."

Yoko's expression didn't change, but Enid visibly shuddered. "Nope. Absolutely not. We are not starting ghost season right before Christmas."

"I mean… it is Nevermore," Yoko pointed out. "Ghosts kinda come with the territory."

"Still," Enid huffed, crossing her arms, "it could be anything. A creaky old building making noises? Drafts? Your imagination?"

"Could be," I said. 

At the same time Wednesday sat:

The dining hall was its usual mess of noise and movement, students scattered in their usual places, laughing and talking over plates of food.

Wednesday barely registered any of it.

She sat at her usual spot at their table, her mind still tangled in speculation, barely listening as Xavier attempted (and failed) to hold a conversation.

It wasn't until Y/N walked in that something shifted.

She felt it—a tug, a sharp pull of attention.

She didn't look up at first, but something in her instincts twisted, that same sensation of something being wrong settling in her chest.

Then, a voice.

"I swear to God, if Enid calls me 'haunted' one more time, I'm throwing her into a snowbank."

Wednesday stiffened.

The voice had been clear. Too clear.

And yet—no one had spoken.

Her gaze flicked up, sharp as a blade, locking onto Y/N.

Y/N had just sat down across from Enid and beside Yoko, placing a tray on the table.

Wednesday's frown deepened. She had heard… something.

But Y/N hadn't said a word.

She clenched her jaw, shaking it off. Perhaps she had misheard something in the noise of the dining hall.

And yet—when she looked back at her plate, her ears still buzzed.

A few minutes passed.

Wednesday focused on her food, tuning out the useless chatter around her. She had almost convinced herself she imagined it—until it happened again.

"What is she staring at? If I have something on my face, someone better tell me."

Her fork stilled against the plate.

Her grip tightened around the handle.

Slowly, deliberately, she lifted her gaze—straight to Y/N.

They weren't speaking.

They sat there, sipping coffee, not saying a single word.

But Wednesday had heard her.

Loud and clear.

Her breath stilled.

This time, she knew she hadn't imagined it.

The realization settled like cold steel in her gut.

She was hearing Y/N's thoughts.

No. That wasn't possible.

That wasn't how telepathy worked. There was no logical precedent for suddenly understanding someone's thoughts.

And yet—there it was.

Her hands curled into fists.

The sensation wasn't constant. It didn't come in waves. It came in bursts—only when she focused on Y/N.

Her mind was a fortress, yet something had torn a hole in the walls.

For the first time in a long while, a flicker of frustration ignited in her chest.

She hated things she couldn't control.

"I guess Enid's right…it must be my imagination..." 

In the present: 

She suddenly dropped her fork, pushing her plate away.

Bianca arched a brow. "You good?"

Wednesday stood abruptly. 

And that's when Wednesday spoke.

"You're wrong."

Her voice cut through the conversation like a scalpel.

Enid jumped, startled. "Jeez, Wednesday—do you always have to sneak up on people?"

Wednesday ignored her, stepping into place at the head of the table. Her gaze locked onto me, studying me like a puzzle she had already started solving.

"The clock tower. When exactly did it start working?"

I hesitated. "Midnight."

A flicker of something crossed her face—calculation, recognition. Interest.

She already knew something was happening. 

Later that night, Enid sat cross-legged on her bed, tossing popcorn into her mouth while Thing lounged beside her, flipping through an old magazine.

Wednesday stood by the window, arms crossed, eyes narrowed.

Enid squinted at her. "Okay. You've been in a mood all day. What happened?"

Wednesday didn't respond immediately.

She should have kept this to herself, ignored it, and buried it in research until she could make sense of it.

But something about this wasn't normal.

Finally, she spoke.

"Something happened."

Enid groaned, flopping backward. "Care to elaborate, or are you gonna keep being cryptic?"

Wednesday turned, deadpan. "Would it matter?"

Enid pouted. "Probably not."

Thing tapped against the bed, prompting her to continue.

Wednesday inhaled slowly.

"It started this morning."

She didn't mention specifics, and she didn't tell Enid that every time she looked at Y/N, a voice whispered into her mind.

That she could hear things she shouldn't.

She understood Y/N in a way she had never done before.

And the worst part?

The voice was infuriatingly distracting.

Wednesday clenched her jaw, pulling her sweater tighter around herself.

She had a growing suspicion that whatever was happening…

It was only going to get worse.

[raisoramizu]

Hazbin Hotel NSFW angst Fanfic - Golden Ashes

Fan Fiction Radioapple: A Seven-Chapter Series for the Luciangstweek2025.

Lucifer's move to the Hazbin Hotel after the clash with Adam doesn’t seem to help with his depression. The void left by Lilith’s absence and his growing frustration with managing Hell lead him to develop a form of masochism.

However, the worst human soul residing at the Hotel seems to notice.

Thanks to @Sberryradio for the cover art. CHAPTER 1 (Loss/Alone): The Void of Solitude

After Adam’s complete destruction of the old structure, the Hotel had been entirely rebuilt. Bigger, grander, ready to welcome all the sinners who would come from now on. Charlie was convinced of that. She was full of hope. The kind of hope I lacked. The kind that had faded over the millennia and had vanished completely in the last seven years. She was my light. Given all the darkness clouding my heart now, I didn’t think I could ignite another flame—but I did. Of course, it wasn’t all my doing.

At first glance, Charlie was my physical twin, but she had a lot of her mother in her too; that rebellious energy, which she insisted on keeping dormant in her naivety, had come out during the last extermination. She was a seemingly harmless ember, still smoldering, waiting to ignite at the right moment. My little ember. And I, like a moth drawn to the flame, had ended up here.

Despite promising Lilith I wouldn’t interfere with the Hotel, here I was.

We could’ve done better with the structure. I definitely would’ve done better. But I chose to let Charlie and her friends decorate the Hotel as they saw fit. There’s a piece of everyone in there. A piece of me, too. But there’s also...

“Mmh.”

An irritated groan snapped me back to reality, and I turned toward the kitchen entrance.

“What is that disgusting smell?”

His voice alone was enough to set my nerves on fire. I felt a heat rising from my chest, flaming up into my head, dizzying me.

There he was. Artasos, Arlatos, Aristos, Alastor—whatever the hell his name was—that damned sinner with the vintage deer aesthetic. He stood still under the doorway, lanky, smug, dressed in his frayed red suit and black slacks, with his hands clasped behind his back, gripping his microphone-topped staff. The staff was clearly broken, held together by thin strands of his greenish sorcery.

I stopped what I was doing and turned to him, throwing him a glare.

The kitchen was massive, one of my designs, with a few pointers from the maid... Niffis, Miffy, Niffty—whatever! That tiny cyclopean psychopath. The floor was a black-and-white checkerboard, with red stripes along the walls that connected to the wall-mounted lamps. It was fully equipped: double ovens, sleek modern decor, adorned with flourishes reminiscent of my beloved circus.

It was obvious that sinner didn’t appreciate the decor. He lazily tilted his obnoxious, sharp snout toward the ceiling, scanning the room with a judgmental air.

I adjusted my footing on the stool I’d been standing on—for better reach at the stovetop—and leaned toward him, wearing my most inflamed expression.

“I’m making pancakes!”

“Oh ~ I can tell. You must’ve drowned them in a sickening amount of maple syrup. The stench reaches all the way down the hallway.”

He shot back, staring at me with those crimson eyes, full of so much detachment and arrogance that I wanted to jam my fingers into them. But I noticed something different. Unlike when we’d first met, his eyes were rimmed with a strange weariness. I only picked up on it because there was something off about his voice—it was sharp and insinuating as usual, but... something was missing.

“...”

I hesitated, furrowing my brow and parting my lips slightly, but a pang in my gut snapped me out of it.

“Don’t worry! These are only for those who fought and helped rebuild Charlie’s Hotel—not for cowards who got their asses kicked and ran off with their tails between their legs. Ha!”

I exclaimed, so worked up that I lost control of my tone, which echoed obnoxiously through the room. I puffed out my chest, placing my hands on my hips, still standing on the stool, feeling triumphant as the other let out another irritated groan.

Think of the devil, and he grows horns. But hell, buddy, I’m the devil!

When I looked at him again, his crimson eyes had sharpened with anger.

I bared my teeth, saliva dripping as I lit up my own gaze with a fiery red glare, leaning toward him—still on the stool—rigid and ready for a fight.

“Alastor! Dad!”

But Charlie’s voice defused the tension that had swelled in the room.

I instantly wiped away my demonic scowl, relaxing my shoulders. My surprised expression shifted to Charlie, who was peeking around Alastor’s shoulder.

He hadn’t turned around, still staring at me with that damned smirk and an exhaustion-lined face, tinged with an annoyance I couldn’t quite pinpoint.

“Oh, what’s that burning smell?! Something’s on fire!” Charlie gasped, covering her mouth with both hands.

“!”

In an instant, I realized the disaster. I whipped around toward the stove, where a dense, irritating black smoke was billowing from the skillet holding the last two pancakes.

“Oh, crap! Crap!!”

I panicked.

Grabbing the skillet handle, I yanked it off the heat, snapping my fingers to summon the magic needed to fix the damage. In a blink, the smoke vanished, and the pancakes returned to their perfectly golden state.

"Ah-ah-eh... ah! All done, no problem!" I exclaimed with a nervous chuckle. I turned on the stool to face them, proudly showing off the frying pan with breakfast. I squinted one eye, glaring at Alastor again—that bastard had noticed it was burning and didn’t say a thing.

"Oh, perfect! Great job, Dad!" Charlie exclaimed, clapping her hands together enthusiastically. "They look delicious!" she added before turning to Alastor beside her. "Are you joining us for breakfast, Al?"

That question struck a nerve.

"No," he answered cordially, curt. That’s what his voice was missing—that embarrassing radio filter. "Thanks, Charlie, but I think I’ll step out for some fresh air. Wouldn’t want to get poisoned." He turned and started to walk through the doorway.

Charlie looked puzzled. "Poisoned?" she asked, but he didn’t answer. Then she looked at me, seeing the fiery glare I had fixed on him—fire that instinctively flared between my horns.

Poisoned. He really thinks I’m capable of something so pitiful? As if I’m on his level—on par with the hordes of mad, degenerate sinners, dishonorable murderers polluting my realms. He knows nothing about me. If I wanted to end his miserable existence, I wouldn’t need cheap tricks like that. A single look would be enough to reduce him to ashes.

The look I kept fixed on his bony shoulders as he disappeared from my sight.

"Dad..." A soft voice, accompanied by the light touch of a hand on my shoulder, shattered the darkness gathering in my mind. That simple gesture destabilized me more than any blow could. Charlie, so much like her mother, with that ability to dissolve my torment with just a glance or a touch. Yet the weight of her concern pierced me like a blade. I didn’t want to be the cause of her pain.

"...Please. Can you try to get along with Alastor? He fought for the Hotel; he got hurt. What else does he have to do to earn your trust?"

Her words stabbed straight into my heart. Hurt? Oh yes, he had been hurt. My eyes widened as I glanced again at the doorway where the Red Sinner had disappeared. Is that why he looked so battered? Of course. Who cares. He’d be better off dead anyway.

He’s just manipulating my daughter, scheming for some twisted reason. Maybe he wants to make a deal with her, to use her when the time comes, or... violate her? Oh hell no, if he even thought about laying a finger on her, I’d string him up by that tiny excuse of a manhood he probably has between his legs.

"Yeah, I don’t trust him, Charlie. Be careful with sinners, okay?" I sighed, letting my free hand rest on the back of hers, which was still on my shoulder.

She stared at me, her expression growing more intense.

Damn it. Don’t look at me like that, like you pity me. I’m here to support you, to protect you, not to make you worry.

A lump formed in my throat, and a strange pressure weighed down on my chest. My anxiety was rising, dangerously so. I couldn’t break down into a panic attack right now. I suddenly jolted, forcing the best smile I could muster, and with an annoyingly high-pitched voice, I shouted, "LET’S EAT!"

I quickly flipped the pancakes in the pan, narrowly avoiding them crashing onto the floor. Damn it.

"..." She looked at me, almost puzzled, then smiled. "Okay, Dad, I’ll go get the others!" She stepped away, leaving the kitchen.

I stretched my grin from ear to ear, keeping it plastered on my face until she left the room. Then I nearly collapsed. I let out a long, defeated sigh and dropped the pan onto the counter with a metallic thud, my hands trembling as I tried to keep some semblance of control. But the pressure on my chest tightened, like invisible claws gripping my ribs, and my shoulders sagged under the weight of an anxiety I wouldn’t even admit to myself. The ruler of Hell, reduced to trembling like a pathetic mortal. Shit.

My eyes widened, my mouth refusing to close. I started gasping heavily as the crushing sensation in my chest tightened like jaws around my ribcage. Shit.

I turned pale, chills running over me. It was freezing, but I was starting to sweat. Shit.

I swallowed hard, once, twice, three times. Calm down. I’m going to have breakfast with Charlie. She’s so happy I’m here with her. I’m with her. Calm down.

I was drooling. Swallowing wasn’t helping. I licked my lips and wiped my chin with the back of my hand, leaping off the stool. I staggered to the sink, conjured a glass of water with magic, and gulped it down in one go. Charlie asked for my help. I’m helping her.

I don’t know how I managed to calm down enough to avoid raising suspicions and sit through breakfast with everyone. Somehow, I kept up appearances: only a stray lock of hair out of place and my bow tie undone, but my shirt and waistcoat remained perfectly neat. I spent breakfast laughing and basking in Charlie’s smiles, in her joy at having me there with her in a moment that almost felt like family. Like what we’d lost so many years ago.

...But despite it all, my anxiety never left me. The whole time, I felt it scratching away deep inside. A sense of dread, of unease I couldn’t quite place. I knew exactly where it came from. But right then? Damn it.

In the end, everything went smoothly, and I found myself walking through one of the grand upper hallways alongside Charlie and her girlfriend.

"We’ll get ready, and then we’ll meet in the Common Room for the morning redemption activities. If you’d like to join us... I’d really love that, Dad!" Charlie said, so sweetly. Her partner, Vaggie—I immediately remembered her name—was wrapping an arm around Charlie’s waist as we walked toward the crossroads of the two wings of the Hotel. They brushed against each other with their hips. Charlie was taller, but the other one had a more confident, proud air about her. You could see how much she cared for Charlie and how willing she was to erase herself to protect her. My Charlie, my little girl, had found sincere love, a pure connection that I couldn’t help but admire.

In that moment, my anxiety settled, as if their happiness alone could disarm my inner demons. But then that thought hit me like a blow: the image of Lilith, her face, her voice… and the emptiness she had left behind clawed its way into my chest again, demanding space. I stopped suddenly after the last step, standing at the center of the crossroads between the two wings. Ahead of me was the staircase leading up to my room on the Hotel’s highest floor.

I placed a hand on my chest and stared at the floor, my eyes wide. “Are you okay, Dad?” Charlie asked.

“Oh, yes!” I blurted out, snapping my head up with a massive smile. “I’ll come! I’ll go freshen up too!”

“Great, see you later, then!” she exclaimed, turning and starting to walk toward her room, still wrapped in her partner’s embrace.

I stood there, motionless, watching them. Charlie extended an arm to encircle Vaggie’s waist, and I saw them exchange sweet words, giggling together, cheeks flushed, before sharing a small kiss as they disappeared down the corridor.

Sighing, I moved my arm in a sweeping motion, conjuring the golden portal that transported me directly into my room. I wasn’t about to climb all those stairs. I needed to get away. To escape. To flee… or to lock myself away even further?

That’s exactly how I felt when the portal spat me out into my suite. I stumbled out of the golden arch and collapsed to the floor with a thud as it closed behind me.

Before I could even plant my feet firmly on the ground, I felt all the tension I’d been holding onto unravel into a frigid wave. I found myself crumpled on the plush white carpet, my palms pressed against it as I succumbed to a full-blown panic attack. My breathing was erratic, matching the frantic rhythm of my racing heart. Eyes wide open, I stared at the saliva dripping from my parted lips, forming dark stains on the floor beneath me. I was paralyzed.

The jaws were devouring me from within, clawing at my lungs and making my head spin. My muscles tensed instinctively, cords straining under the thin skin of my neck and the backs of my hands, while my loosened bow tie swung wildly with each convulsion of my body. Crap, crap. I clenched my teeth, furrowing my brow, as my eyes burned with the heat of the combustion flaring inside me. I needed to get out. A window. I needed air, but I couldn’t move. Crap, crap!

I was used to this. How many times had I endured and survived these kinds of attacks? I’d never died. I wasn’t going to die now... though it felt like I might. Maybe this time, there really was no way out. This time was different. Because I wasn’t just feeling that unbearable tightness; there was something else. Anger.

I could feel it rising, bottling up in my throat like a boulder that choked me. My breathing grew more desperate. My skin felt icy, and sweat trickled down my face. “Find a fucking way, Lucifer.” There was no way. I was alone. Alone in a room half-draped in shadows. Despite its spaciousness, thanks to its circular design and the countless tall windows lining its walls—the ones visible from the Hotel’s exterior—despite the modern, bright furniture, the white-and-gold walls, it felt like I was trapped in a vise tightening around my body.

It was all dark. I was alone.

Charlie needed me, but for how much longer? I couldn’t focus on happy memories or comforting thoughts. She had friends; she was a grown woman. She had built the family I had never truly been able to give her. A family made of damned Sinners. The most wretched souls, those who had turned Free Will into sticky tar, into absolute evil. And Lilith was gone.

Her beauty, her smile, the warmth of her voice… all gone. She was no longer there to calm my storms, to hold me up when I faltered. I could no longer touch her skin, taste her lips.

I realized my tongue—red and forked—was hanging out of my mouth, drooling onto the floor. Was this how I would die? Petrified in such a humiliating position? Oh fuck, if I died, at least I wouldn’t feel this shit inside me anymore.

My gaze felt heavy. I tried to lift it, and for a moment, my eyes rolled back, sending my head spinning. But then I focused on the room. The outlines of objects blurred and wavered, as sweat streamed down my face.

The fireplace by the entrance. Above it, a small painting of the Royal Palace. A yellow rubber duck, mundane.

Then my gaze moved to the cabinet next to the bedroom door. A messy pile of rubber ducks. And a photograph, mounted on the wall: Lilith and me. I was laughing, my mouth wide open in pure joy, while she looked at me with affection and understanding. Gorgeous. Unreachable.

I mustered the mental strength to pull my tongue back into my mouth to avoid biting it off as a growl erupted from me, my jaws clenching so tightly I tasted the sweet, metallic tang of my divine blood. My claws dug into the floor, leaving deep grooves behind.

And then, I exploded.

With a desperate scream, I leapt to my feet, arms wide open. A shockwave tore through the room, lifting chairs and objects, ripping the photograph from the wall. Before the small frame could hit the floor, I’d snatched it midair. Completely transformed, my body radiated the searing light of fire—flames igniting between my horns as my wings blazed, filling my body and the room with spectral eyes. They were everywhere, yet not as fiery as the glowing red embers of my pupil-less eyes.

Clutching the picture frame, I crushed the glass in my grip. Then, with a furious snarl, I hurled it at the wall. The glass shattered, fragments scattering like shards of rage.

I screamed. A raw, guttural howl that made the windows tremble. My hair, soaked with sweat, clung to the hands gripping it tightly. And once again, I froze. Panting, I stared down at the fallen photograph, now a broken memory among the shards.

I’d let it out, but the cold crept back in, the weight of what I’d just done crashing over me.

My eyes widened, brimming with tears. Through the shards of glass, I saw the photograph. "Lilith!" I cried out, lunging desperately toward the memory. I stumbled, my body heavy and awkward. When I finally grasped the photo, I collapsed onto the ground, my body returned to human form.

The glass from the frame crunched beneath my knees as I cleared the photo of fragments, lifting it against my chest with trembling fingers. I hunched forward, shaking with sobs. "Oh, Lilith, I’m so sorry!" I whimpered, crying. "I miss you so much!" My voice was thick with emotion, my face burning, irritated by the salt streaking my skin. "This is why. I’m sorry... Why is this more important than me?" I shouted, my voice cracking uncontrollably. "I can’t wait for you anymore, see? Don’t you see... I’m so pathetic!"

The last words escaped in a broken whisper as I crumpled again, pressing my forehead to the floor among the shards of glass. I held the photograph beneath my chest, my hands trembling, my heart feeling like it would implode.

"Lilith…" I whispered, an unbearable, primal need taking over.

I licked the saliva mixed with tears from my mouth, while my left hand, still wearing my wedding band, slid toward my groin. A wave of raw desire hit me, swelling my cock against my pants until it was visibly straining. I lifted my forehead slightly, clawing at the carpet as my other hand pressed against the tightening fabric. Each touch heightened the tension, forcing me to seek relief.

Tensing slightly, without shifting position, I raised my hips and started massaging the hard need through my pants. Pre-cum soaked the fabric, and my movements grew faster.

I rubbed, the rustle of fabric mingling with my increasingly ragged breaths. My heart still pounded wildly, but now it wasn’t panic or anger—it was lust. Perversion. Arousal. It pressed against my balls, tightening them as impatience drove me to free my cock and take it in hand.

What a pathetic creature I am. For centuries—and the past seven years—I’d dug into my heart to find the source of this pain. I knew it stemmed from my Fall. Though I never sought forgiveness, I’d never accepted it. I thought I could manage it. She was there. She’d always been there. But now, she wasn’t. Something else mattered more than me. How arrogant I’d been to think I’d remain the center of her thoughts as she has always—still today—been the center of mine. Human souls are fickle; they grow weary.

With fevered movements, I unfastened my pants, grabbing myself firmly. A groan escaped me, releasing part of the pressure consuming me. My mind emptied; the world around me vanished, leaving only the photograph before my eyes and the wet tip of my cock emerging between my fingers.

Everything else faded, but I remained in a bubble. Around me, there was nothing but that photograph. My muscles felt numb, but I needed it. Needed to rub, to stroke.

Each motion brought louder, raspier gasps. I needed release, and only this would grant it—rough, violent strokes, heedless of the tears drying around my swollen eyes.

And I stared at her, Lilith. My movements became frantic, the strokes quicker and more erratic. The raw sound of flesh against my groin filled the room, blending with my labored breathing. Each thrust was a silent scream against the suffocating pain inside me.

The blond hairs surrounding my groin grew damp with the pre-cum coating my cock, soaking my pants. I wiped it off the taut skin, spreading it again, faster, in increasingly erratic motions, matching my ragged breaths and heated moans.

I was created to bear Divine Light, and I brought Darkness instead. And I couldn’t even handle that. A king without a crown, with an unwanted kingdom, forced, shackled. A naive creature with lofty hopes, crushed under the weight of them.

I didn’t care about the sweat soaking my clothes, the saliva dripping to the floor, or the ring scraping my skin. I wanted to feel that pain. I wanted it to hurt, to punish my sin, my failure.

I gripped too tightly, pain coursing through me like a jolt, shooting up my spine. I cried out—a guttural sound that accompanied an explosive orgasm. Pleasure overtook me, silencing every thought, every torment. My spasms spilled in hot streams, striking the photograph, covering Lilith’s face.

Her visage, once so radiant, was now obscured by my shame. Even my most cherished memories tarnished under the weight of my existence, as though everything I touched was destined to decay. I whispered her name again, as if saying it could mend the wound carved into my heart. But the only response was the silence of the room, so vast, so empty.

I didn’t even glance at the mess I’d made. The release had emptied me, leaving only the echo of my torment. And yet, in that forced quiet, I found a flicker of peace. It wasn’t enough—it never would be—but for now, it was all I had.

I collapsed fully onto my back with a thud, amidst my filth and the shattered glass, too exhausted to rise.

I didn’t want to rise. I fell asleep that way, on the floor, finding a brief reprieve in slumber after years of torment. At last, the darkness came to save me. It wasn’t the redemption I sought, but a temporary oblivion. And perhaps, just perhaps, there, I wouldn’t feel the weight of her absence.

[firehcart-archived]

—  𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐒 :  𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑹𝑨𝑺𝑬𝑵.

and at long last, aelin ashryver galathynius was home.

[zcldrizes-a]

tag drop oo1.

[dnpanimationstudioclone]

Ember McLain Redesign Discussion🔥

Ember McLain is very iconic especially her design. I wanted my design to not differ too much from her OG style. Tbh I feel like she'd be wearing different outfits a lot. I’ll probably have her enjoy experimenting with her fashion and change time to time.

Made her outfit more modern. With her whole motive of wanting to be remembered I figure she'd dress what's relevant to the times but at the same time wanted to keep the iconic 70's KISS aesthetic many people see her design have! Especially if she died in the 70's.

Implemented the fire more in her outfit🔥

Went more for a punk rock aesthetic. Pretty popular.

Added tears to her pants. Gave her a belt with an E buckle. E for Ember!

Added a sleeveless jacket vest.

Gave her a shaved side and added white into it.

Incorporated purple more in her design💜

Also added blue into her clothes💙

Made her eyes as well as tongue more teal.

Made her skin more grayish white than grayish teal to separate from her more blue outfit. Talked to @tachvintlogic​ about that. Tach gave really good notes. This is some concept art.

OG Ember Color Scheme-tealish blue, black, light teal, purple and gray

My Ember Color Scheme-Bright blue, black, gray, light gray, purple, teal, dark teal

Gave her piercings.

Gave her a smaller midriff.

Gave her bracelets on both of her wrists.

Gave her boots more for her fire theme🔥

Added more muscle on her.

Gave her an eyebrow slit.

For this certain picture I gave her her cool swirl makeup again.

Gave her a half heart necklace. It was a gift she got from an old flame when she was alive. It was found in the ashes...

What do u think? How would u redesign Ember? I'd love to know💖

[toxictrannyfreak]

I wish to hear about infernal king

Oh damn I didn’t expect anyone to actually do this! Ok!

So, Infernal King was, like a ton of my stuff, a deconstruction of individualism and how toxic the idea of heroism and total self-sufficiency really is, with a lot of the revolutionary, fiery aesthetics of 21st century breakdown, which I was listening to a lot when I came up with it. I never nailed down a ton of plot or character stuff for it, but I had a ton of worldbuilding I really loved. Unfortunately without the character stuff it kinda fizzled out so I’m on hiatus for it while I work on stuff I think I can write right now. So here’s what I got:

Worldbuilding:

So the original idea was, like, a world that has eternally burning fires instead of oceans. They basically surround all the continents, so cross-continental travel/exploration is very expensive and limited, but it is possible through

Magic! Flame magic! Basically the idea is that everyone has some small amount of fire magic in them, called an Ember. As with most magic systems, the amount of magic a person has (the size of their Ember) is just random and inherent—some people can only light candles, others can make, like, self-sustaining massive fire sculptures or whatever, and very, very few naturally gifted and extensively trained people can control the flame-oceans, parting them with their minds to allow exploration

There are some flameless tunnels through the ocean. Most are manmade, with giant flameproof walls constructed from stone and permanent flame-mages on duty to keep the fires out. They connect the mainland to various islands. A couple are natural, just mysterious dead zones where the fires don’t burn, and those lead to nowhere. They just randomly end miles into the blaze. No one knows why, and no one knows how they got there.

The fire mages had a really complex magic system that I never ended up writing down, but basically there was this massive hierarchy of fires that started with normal fire that anyone could control pretty easily and slowly went up in difficulty to summon and control. Some burn hot, some burn cold, some are self-sustaining, others are all-consuming, and some, especially the most difficult ones to summon, are just plain weird. The smoke shows you things that don’t make sense, the flames dance in incomprehensible yet identifiable patterns, the ashes never leave your skin.

People are born able to use normal fire, but to use the magical ones, they need to have an ‘awakening ceremony’ where weird religious people do some weird religious stuff (never actually figured out what) and then light a small piece of wood with the eternal ocean fire stuff and hold the burning wood on whoever’s being awakened’s chest for a while. Sometimes people die but mostly people come out ok and can now use magic fire

Some people don’t have enough Ember to ever be awakened—no one’s quite sure what’s up with awakening but people with embers below a certain force always end up burning up, so it’s clearly related somehow, and they just are never able to used advanced fir magic

The weird religious people are members of this very big, main religion that basically worships this ancient figure, the God-Empress, who supposedly lived in a time where the fires raged across the land as well as the ocean-basins and who was supposedly such an incredible fire-mage that she was able to permanently consign the fires to the ocean, allowing humanity to thrive, but killing herself in the process

One problem with that: the fires have been very slowly advancing for generations, getting hotter, higher, and closer. Several tiny unimportant islands have already started burning, but the church is big and enormously powerful so they've been hiding it bc the idea that the fires Cannot Advance is like. an absolute core tennant of their religion and they's lose a ton of their power if that got out. this is also why they conveniently have not mentioned that both the rate of deaths from Awakenings have increased and that the average Ember of humans has massively decreased, seriously handicapping humanity's ability to control and fight the fires when they need it most

I can't find a way to organizally slip it in but I really liked the worldbuilding I came up with for names so I'm just putting it here/ Basically, the idea was that people have 2 names, one that is entirely theirs and that only they know and one that everyone else knows but that one's a title basically, based on their accomplishments and what they do and stuff so that one changes all the time and is only like. final on their death when their family and friends and stuff get together and look at all their accomplishments and what they did and decide what best encapsulated them and that's the name they're remembered by

Characters

again, this stuff is significantly Less than the worldbuilding because I never quite figured out what I wanted to do with them, but I essentially had two main characters:

The Infernal King. Title character, except he’s not an actual character, like, at all. Never got a concrete name, or any interests or character traits at all (you can see why I stopped with this I’m guessing) but the basic idea was that just around the time the church was starting to lose control of the whole fires advancing/more deaths from Awakenings/less Ember overall fiascoes they find this kid somehow (religious groups have orphanages. Idk) and he’s incredibly powerful, tons of Ember, way more than anyone on record, except maybe the God-Empress…

Yeah the church guys get REAL excited because here’s an easy solution to all of our problems: new God-Empress who will be firmly under our control and do whatever we say! (Hmm I wonder if this could backfire? Nah!) and basically they raise this incredibly powerful child to vanquish the flames and become a puppet leader for the newly restored church. Which causes several problems, especially considering that he actually cannot push the fires back at all. So there’s this incredibly powerful teenager with a god complex who cannot do the one thing he was literally raised to do. So naturally he runs away to find the power he needs to ~fulfill his destiny~ and that’s about where I lose the plot but like the idea is that he eventually goes rogue and forms a rebellion and like starts a giant civil war while the world burns down around him. Allegories!

And The Flameless Scribe, who was supposed to be revealed as the narrator of the whole story at the end. The thing with her was that, as the name suggests, she basically has no Ember at all. Like, she can’t even light a candle, which is kind of a major disability in a world where the norm is that even an unawakened person can pretty easily summon a campfire. She was actually expected to die pretty early because people without a lot of Ember don’t usually make it, but she survived and became a scribe for the church people, and was eventually sucked into the whole fake chosen one thing. She became the Infernal King’s best friend and confidant throughout the series, though it gets really toxic and conflicting at the end and she leaves him behind to find an actual solution for the fires

And yeah, that’s all, you can probably see why I put it on hiatus. There’s a lot here that I do like, but I think I’d have to completely rework it to actually write it, and I’m working on other stuff now. Maybe I’ll come back to it one day.

Sorry for waiting so long to respond, I have a lot of Thoughts on this and it took a while to get them down. Thanks for asking!

[solinarimoon]

Fireflies, Embers, and Ash

Fireflies, Embers, and Ash

A/N:  This is my entry for @lauwrite1225 500 follower challenge!  Congratulations on such a great milestone!  You’re work is superb and you deserve all the praise and followers! I split the lines for my song up a little bit, so I hope you like it!  My lyrics are from Forest Fire by Brighton. The lyrics will be in bold.  I haven’t actually listened to the song at all yet, so now that I’ve written this using just the words from my lines I am going to listen to the whole thing! Also, I changed the season of when the events in this story take place to fit the aesthetic in my mind.  

Warnings:  Rape trauma in line with what a slave would endure in the eights/ninth centuries.

Word Count: 1477

She stumbles along the cold, hard floor of the forest.  Her feet bare and her toes numb.   Ash streaked tears smear her pallid face and her eyes sting from the suffocating air.  The moonlight is eclipsed by the haze of smoke.  Embers from the flames float down like rain mingling with the gently falling snow. 

The woman wanders.  She does not know where. What she does know is that Beamfleot is burning.  The nightmare of her capture was alight in flames and she was free once more.

A crash of boots traipsing through the woods to her right startles her.  She stands, stock still.  A doe frozen in fear.

A man, a Dane, steps into the light of the flames filtering through the trees.  He is followed closely by another man, one hard to distinguish.  He may be Dane or Saxon.  But her eyes stay fixated on the Dane, his hammer of Thor and his warrior’s look.

“Sihtric, what in the bloody hell are we looking for in these frozen woods?” The Dane’s companion, now recognizable with his Irish brogue, complains. 

The Dane slows his strides to come to a stop as he spies the woman.  

“We should be back on the clearin’ helping Uhtred and clearing the field…”

But the words are stilled as Finan glances at Sihtric and then follows his gaze.

The woman still stands frozen.  Tall and willowy, in a linen shift, she is poised to run.  Her foot takes a step back, but she is stopped at a word.

“Don’t!” The Dane entreats her. “We will not harm you.”

She says nothing.  She does not run.  She does not relax.  

But she does not run.

Sihtric can see the fear and panic rising in the woman.  

He raises his hands.  A gesture of calm.  Trying to show they are no threat.

“You were at Beamfleot? A prisoner?” he questions.

The only answer the woman gives is in the stiffening of her jaw.

Sihtric takes in the woman’s appearance.  Her torn and ragged shift.  Dirty with soot and grime.  Feet bare and hair a wild mat of knots.  Her face...her eyes haunted and scared.

Finan takes a step forward, raising his hands mimicking Sihtric’s, “Lady, we mean you no harm.  But you must come with us.”  He stops, Sihtric’s hand on his arm.

They look to see the women’s posture shifted, poised to run again.

“She does not trust us, Finan.”

Sihtric brings his hand back from Finan’s arm, but his eyes never leave the woman.

He is transfixed by her fragility.  

“We must get her to Thyra.  She will be able to help her where we can not.”

Recognition dawns on Finan’s face. 

“Aye, Sihtric, but Thyra is in Winchester.”

“But Beocca is here,” Sihtric remembers.  

“Lady,” Sihtric called across the distance, “we have just defeated the Danes at Beamfleot.  You are safe and you are free.  We are Lord Uhtred’s men. We have rescued Lady Aethelflaed and,”

Sihtric stops short when he notices the woman’s recognition of Aethelflaed’s name.

“The lady is in the clearing behind us. Safe with her father and his army.”

The woman watches as Sihtric struggles to find his next words. She stares as his jaw works and he licks his lips. 

“You will freeze out here,” he settles on. 

“Follow us back, keep your distance if you must, but come back with us and we will find you aid. I have seen what can happen to Saxon slave women. You will not be harmed by us.”

Sihtric’s words fade to a low whisper that still carries on the wind towards her ears. 

She watches as he slides a long knife out from a sheath at his back to lay on the ground at his feet. 

The embers still fall and the snow still drifts through the trees.

Slowly, Sihtric and Finan back away, turn, and head towards the field.

Several heartbeats follow before the woman takes slow steps forward.

Shaking fingers pick up the knife and feet numb with cold, she follows the warriors.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Loris walks slowly in the cool Autumn air.  Her feet know this path.  They travel there often.  In the quiet hours of the night.

A field on the edge of Coccham that is still littered with fireflies late in the season.

Resting her arms atop a fence rail, Loris gazes at the scene.  Something so calm and serene, yet with it bringing images she no longer wishes to remember.

“Could you not sleep, Loris?”

His words startle her out of her thoughts.

“Sihtric,” She gasps while turning to find him standing several feet from her.

He chuckles in that way she loves.  Deep in his chest and ever so familiar. Comforting.

“I am sorry to startle you, Loris.  May I join you?”

She turns her body round to gaze at the field once more, “of course you can, Sihtric.  I would be glad for the company.”

After a moment, she can feel his presence coming closer.  He perches his arms on the railing, following her stare.  Long minutes pass in a comfortable silence.

“What has kept you from sleep?”  His voice is hushed.  Soft.

Loris sighs. “A desire to keep my dreams at bay.”  Her feet shift in the grass as she turns to look at him. “But I find myself coming here and all it does is remind me…”

Patiently, Sihtric watches as Loris bows her head then turns to gaze at the fireflies dancing once more.

“I am happy here. In Coccham.  I have friends, a job. It is simple but I enjoy it.  And still there are nights where my mind takes me back to Beamfleot.  In my dreams, in my mind I never left. I am trapped there.  Terrified and broken.” Loris breathes in the fresh night air, pausing as she wipes away stray hairs from her face before she continues, “The fireflies are like the embers from the flames, drifting down from the sky that night.  I keep imagining those flames that did rise and blackened up the sky.”  

His voice stays low and calm.  Soothing as he remembers, “The light that showed you barefoot in the snow.”  

Loris turns her face only enough to notice Sihtric is watching her now, waiting for her to go on.

“Then the fire started building up inside, exploding, blinding lights. Now,”  Sihtric watches as Loris squints her eyes shut and purses her lips.  “I'm the one left screaming through the night. In my dreams I scream, I fight, I try to run but it is all for naught.  They trap me in the fires with them.  Pawing at me and forcing themselves on me while the world burns.” Her breaths have begun to go erratic and a terror is rising in her voice.

“Hey, hey, Loris.  It is all just dreams.” Sihtric reaches his broad hand out to rub soothing circles across the woman’s shoulders. “Finan and I found you in the forest. Amongst the ash and the snow.  Scared but alive.  You are alive.  And you survived.”

When his words do not succeed in soothing the young woman, he shifts to a different tactic.

“I used to have nightmares too at times.”

Loris opens her eyes but does not turn to meet his face.

“Of my time spent being my father’s hound and of how he treated my mother.  Then after his death they grew worse.  But, upon waking, I would find something, anything to focus my eyes on and to ground myself.  In the truth of the moment.  So, look out at the field Loris.  Focus on the light of the fireflies.  They are real and so are you.  Here in this moment, safe.”

While listening to him, Loris’ breathing had slowed.  Sihtric watches as the tension lessons on her brow and the line of her jaw softens.

“I know you are no Christian, Sihtric.  But in my prayers, I thank our God that it was you who found me in those woods.”

Sensing that his words had worked to calm her mind some, Sihtric brings his hand back from her shoulder to rest on the fence, arm touching hers.

Slowly, he weaves his fingers into hers and whispers, “I never told you or Finan what brought me into the woods that night.  But it was a Raven.”

“A raven?”

“Yes. To a Dane, a raven can be a messenger, a sort of protector and helper.  I was drawn to follow it.  And it led me to you.” Sihtric stares at her hand in his, his thumb rubbing gentle circles against her skin.

Slowly, Loris steps closer to him and rests her head against his arm.

“Whether it was the work of your gods or mine, I do not care.  I am thankful for you all the same.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[radicalbillie]

Love at first bite

Pt 5

It had been a long time since Ashe had gone through a fabricated dream, and not just a simple jaunt through solid memory.

It's not as if she never had a proper dream however, this one felt different somehow. She could consciously feel herself, her real body laying down, asleep and aware of that fact. Her limbs were heavy though, as if worn from overuse and incapable of so much as a twitch.

The air around her felt hot, dry and ashen. There was a stale smell and her eyelids refused to open. She tried to raise her head, but only succeeded in turning her neck slightly to the right.

The next thing she could perceive was a dark and enigmatic voice, one that was familiar to her as a matter of fact. It was calling out, to someone;

"Where are you?" Distant, only a far off whisper.

Her head now pounding, groggy and heavy she managed to open her eyes at last. This wasn't the dream anymore this was reality, and everything was really stiff.

The next thing she saw was a big pink nose, pressing down to her face sniffing furiously. Pulling a heavy hand out from under the cover Ashe layed a palm on the cats head.

"Hey you..." she croaked.

"You don't usually sleep that long." The tiger spoke through licks of affection.

Her barbed tongue waking the elf up a bit more. Looking around she could see the dawn just beginning to chase away the dark. The fires had died down to pale red embers but it seemed everyone else was still asleep.

The Ranger managed to pull herself to a sitting position despite feeling like lead. She looked into Nyla's reflective eyes-

"Wana go fishing? I'm thirsty..."

Ashe was still too woozy to stand on her own, so she pulled herself up onto her companions back. She stayed in a laying position as the tigers powerful legs began a careful stroll down to the riverbed, and away from the camp.

In the ever growing glow of the dawn Ashe eventually found her strength, letting her clothes fall to the rocky riverside. She placed a hand against the closed wounds on her neck, standing naked out in the soft gold light and watched the sun finally break the horizon.

Letting a haggard breath out she stepped into the cold water. Nyla had already waded into the flowing current and was enjoying splashing about and chasing away at nothing in particular. Even a massive cat, was still a cat. The fresh water shocked the elf's skin; waking her senses and clearing her head. The clean clear fluid only went to her knees at its deepest point however so with a slight shiver, she sat down emersing herself to the neck.

Her companion had held her own head under for a minute, only for Ashe to let out a chuckle when her striped face emerged with a flailing fish clasped in her jaws. And finally she took the plunge, taking a deep breath and laying back into the water.

Still, on her back and eyes closed the crystal torrent washed over her, along with her thoughts, all at the same rate. That had definitely been a familiar voice in... she was hesitant to even call it a dream. For the life of her though she could not place a name or face to it.

Was it the slug now happily gnawing away at her brain? The thought made her grimace like one might upon smelling something foul. Then there was that... pale elf to consider. That for all intents and purposes it had in fact been a rather intamate moment they shared.

His touch, his heartbeat... she nearly choked thinking back on it; her head splashing upward with a gasp of air. She put frustrated hand to her forehead.

"Oh get a grip girl he's not even that..." she stopped short, just noticing she was speaking aloud.

Looking to the shore it seemed Nyla was working her way through a fourth or fifth fish, looking to her Ranger friend... still head bent to the side, mid chew.

"He's not... aesthetically displeasing, I suppose." She reasoned at the tigress.

But she had never been much for conversation while she was eating. Ashe hugged her knees to her chest, suddenly feeling hot and bothered.

He was also rather charming, at times... in his way. Even when it was spoiled by him acting like a horses ass.

"Godsdamnit!" She spat, flopping back beneath the water.

Gale had emerged from his tent into the golden dawn, giving a stretch in his deep blue robes before taking in the campsite. The first thing he saw; a white haired elf, clad in red and dark brown leather, peering down at the ground in front of the fire pit.

"Good morning Astarion." He smiled, his usual manners taking over.

"Hm." The elf grunted, seemed lost in thought.

The wizard joined him in his gazing, shoulder to shoulder they stood. He had been looking near Ashe's bed roll, both of them thoughtful hands on their chins, eyes following the trail of large tiger tracks leading away from the camp. But no others along side them.

"Hmm..." Gale pondered aloud.

Astarion's eyes followed the prints leading down to the rivers edge, and disappearing amongst the rocks.

"Guess she's off for a ride." Gale shrugged.

The mage went off to his make shift desk-boulder, still unaware of the true nature of his undead companion. The others would all wake soon...

Had he taken so much of her she was unable to walk? The nature of his condition was about to slip, along with last nights actions.

"Goodness sake..." he muttered tursley. "Why must actions always have bloody consequences?"

He threw his hands to his sides stomping back to his own tent.

[sabraeal]

The Sword Between, Chapter 2

Chapter 1

The second fic of the Holiday Rare Pair series! Hakizana was the second most popular pairing you all voted for, and choosing this fic really came down to the wire-- but here it is!

Morning comes far too soon.

If she were to consult only her own memory, Haki would posit, with no little confidence, that she had not, in fact, slept a single wink during the night. Instead, she had lain awake, the ghostly pressure of Lowen’s hand warm upon her palm, and attempted to die from mortification.

She had been bold-- brazen, truthfully. Acting in a manner unbecoming of a lady. Not that she could pinpoint the exact moment they had crossed from their usual witty rapport to a-- a flirtation. But they had. And they had because she wanted to, from the moment he had walked her to her door and followed her inside. Her hands itched to take that mask he wore and crack it down the center, as if the barrier between them were no more than the shell of an oyster, waiting to be pried open and be plundered for its prize.

Even now she could feel his breath fan across her lips, the way his eyes had fixed upon them, growing dark as a cat stalking its prey. And she, she--

She had leaned in. She had closed her eyes and waited for a kiss than never came.

A mad laugh bubbles up from her belly. If only her dandy of a prince could see her now. Even he would turn her away; too impure a woman to make a wife. Or perhaps--

Well, perhaps he would find her quite a match indeed. At least maybe then they could presume upon each other, instead of the innocents in their employ.

Her hand blindly slaps the bed beside her, swiping over the flannel of her sheets until she finds it-- a pillow, plump with down, plush to the touch-- and promptly smothers herself, groan and all. To think, if she suffocated here and now, she wouldn’t have to face Lowen and his implacable mask in the cold light of morning. What a pleasant thought.

It’s not to be. If only her problems could be so simple as to be solved by a very convenient yet tragically aesthetic death.

Chill settles into her fingers, joints stiff and numb as she fists them in the silk. Strange; the last she checked, the fire had been burning merrily in the hearth. And yet, when she finally pries the pillow from her face, it’s easy to see through the wrought-iron screen that the fire has died.

She had slept, it seems. And Ami had not seen fit to come start the fires this morning. Silly girl.

No-- she’d told her it wouldn’t be necessary. That Sir Lowen would be staying the night, and she could take a late morning, so long as she arrived to dress her in time for breakfast.

Heat licks up her neck; not the pleasant spark and smolder that kindled when Lowen’s fingers brushed hers, oh no, but the scorching scourge of shame. She might have made a good show as a seductress to a lord as inexperienced as herself, but to a man of the world-- well, he must have had a hearty laugh on the way back to his rooms. The silly duke’s daughter, making herself ridiculous over him.

Cold palms clap to flaming cheeks, and Haki expels a full-bodied groan. There’s nothing for it; she’ll just have to get up and soldier on as if nothing untoward occurred at all. And hope that Lowen would oblige her.

The cold stings her even through the flannel of her nightgown; she levers herself upright, blankets and furs pooling around her hips. A shiver settles just beneath her skin, waiting for her to move, to bare enough of herself to earn it. It’s clear: if Ami isn’t going to light her fire, she will-- unless she’d like trembling hands to tie her corset.

A chill wafts off the stones of Wirant like ice itself; her soles hover indecisively above it, toes curling before she sets one out to snag a slippers. They are not the fashionable sort; a southern lady might encase her feet in silk, sleek and delicate, but here Haki wrangles wool and fur and still hisses as she sets them on the ground.

It’s best to keep moving; ice forms from still water, not streams. An easy thing to say when it’s an academic proposition, less so when she is hurrying across the stones, trying to find where Ami squirreled away flint and steel. It’s not obvious-- the embers are supposed to be regularly stoked and fed, not allowed to burn out completely, and when they do, Ami is quick to pinch a coal from the kitchen’s hearth-- but there’s always a set, just in case. And though some ladies consider themselves above such tasks, Haki would rather dirty her hands than lay abed, helpless.

“Curse you, you clever girl,” Haki grumbles, pitching up to her toes to search the mantel. “The point isn’t to make it impossible, it’s to-- ah!”

The sharp scrape of stone pricks her fingers, and she wins her prize free: flint and a metal curve, hidden inside a sweet porcelain shepherdess. The stone itself rattles out with little issue, but the steel protests, fixing itself in every awkward angle it can devise to keep from being prized out of its hideaway.

So of course that’s where Lowen finds her, fingers two knuckles deep into a hole, trying to coax her wayward hook from a shepherdess’s bottom. How else would her day start but with this.

“Good morning, Lowen,” she murmurs with great indifference, affecting a pose to imply that if he found anything amiss, it was his own personal failing. “I trust you slept well?”

“My...lady.” The words are mild and even, savoring of both reverence and wryness in equal measure. The way he usually speaks, as if he sees nothing wrong with the tableau before him. As if nothing has changed between dinner and this very morning.

And if she does not look up, it could remain so. But therein lies the rub, doesn’t it? The hero always peeks.

Lowen is not the sort of man who wear his emotions as a badge on his sleeve; were she any other lady, she’d think nothing of the polite mask he wears. But she is accustomed to his face now, of the way it sits when he’s truly at ease, and oh, she cannot miss the slight rise of a single brow, or the way the corners of his mouth subtly twitch.

She lifts her chin with an imperious tilt. It’s impossible to look down her nose at a height like his, but Father does not raise quitters. “Is there something you need, Sir Lowen?”

“Oh no,” he rumbles. “It seems that my lady has everything well in hand.”

His gaze dips pointedly, and if she hadn’t been aware that her housecoat was still slung over the winged back of a chair, she certainly is now.

“I was trying to light the fire,” she mutters. “This is where Ami hides the flint.”

He hums, impassive, but Haki does not miss the way incredulous creep of his brow. “I came to bear a message from your father, but I suppose I might start the hearth, if my lady wishes.”

Her hands hurriedly press the figurine into his. “If you insist.”

A corner of well-formed lips curls. “I suppose I must.”

“It would be the gentlemanly thing to do,” she advises, skirting out of his way as he steps past. She’ll never admit it, not where he possibly might hear, but there is something quite pleasing about the way he kneels on the hearth. His own long finger slips inside the shepherdess, and quite suddenly Haki is taken with the pattern on the settee.

“W-what was it my father wished to say?” she asks the small foxes prancing across the silk. “He must have told you.”

Lowen hesitates. “No.” The word sits heavy on the air for a moment before he adds, “Only that he wanted you to see him.”

Mercenary though he might be, Lowen did not tell lies-- he merely said just enough truths for the mind to paint a different picture of it. As he was doing now, though for what reason Haki could hardly fathom. “Now?”

He takes a moment-- not the fetch the steel, but rather to unfold the knife from his pocket. His long fingers coax the steel blade from its nest in the handle and-- ah, yes. The flowers on the throw are quite last season. She’ll have to have that replaced.

“He did not stipulate a time.” He strikes the flint, sparks jumping into the air like stars; still not enough to catch the tinder. “Though it was implied sooner would be preferable to later.”

“Am I to take it you’re to dress me as well?”

Steel skips over stone, clanging onto the hearth. “Ah--”

“I meant because Ami hasn’t-- she isn’t--” Haki refuses to clap her hands over her cheek, but that doesn’t help with the heat kindling there-- “I can dress myself.”

“Haah.” If Lowen were the sort to laugh, she’d say that sound was the beginning of one. His hand reaches out to pluck the handle of his knife from the ashes. “I take your meaning just fine, my lady.”

One last strike catches the tinder, and with a deft hand, he sets it into the hearth’s. His back bows as he leans it, mouth rounding gently to blow--

“I should do that,” she blurts out uselessly, turning her back to him. “Dress, I mean. Since father wants me presently.”

“It would be prudent.” She chances a glance over her shoulder and catches his grin. “Not that anyone would mind if you roamed the halls in your nightgown.”

Her mouth opens, rounds, and then, with no other sound, she flees behind her screen. The water at her vanity is ice cold, but there is nothing for it; Haki strips down to her skin and muffles a hiss as the cloth touches her.

“You know,” Lowen calls out, strangely loud in the silence. “I do not think I have ever noticed this shepherdess. Is it new? A gift from one of your admiring suitors?”

Haki blinks, grimacing as she scrubs off the night’s leavings. “Perhaps you have not heard, sir, but I am engaged to the prince of Clarines. There are few men who would dare to compete with him.”

“But not none.”

Her hand hovers over the chemise left out for her, linen soft against her fingertips, and remembers how the wool of his coat had scratched her palms, how his breath had washed over her face--

“No,” she agrees, wishing she could sound less breathless. There was no need to stroke this man’s ego, when he was so adept at doing it himself. “Not none.”

He hums, thoughtful, and stone rattles against porcelain. She shrugs on her chemise, ignoring his playful perusal under the guise of rolling on her stocking.

“It’s not new, anyway,” she informs him loftily, once she’s finished. “It was a gift from my fiancé, upon the occasion of our betrothal.”

The rattle quite suddenly stops.

“Is that so,” he says. Somehow, it’s not a question. “It must mean quite a lot to you, if you keep it--”

“I hate it.” A hand claps over her mouth, but it’s too late, the words have already escaped her. “I mean, Ami is the one who chose her hiding spot, not me.

He’s silent again, and she reaches for her corset, eager to have some armor around her if they are going to speak like this, forever circling closer to what they mean to say. She pulls the laces, working them closer and closer until the boning sits snug against her body, protecting all her soft parts from the world outside.

There’s a soft thunk, the sound of porcelain settling against wood, and Lowen says, “Where is your woman this morning? I don’t imagine the duke will be happy to hear I’ve been playing lady’s maid while she’s been laying abed.”

“It’s not her fault!” Haki insists, steadfast. “I told to to take the night--”

Her teeth click down hard, but even bitten off, her words lay thick in the air between them. Or rather, the implication does.

“You told her...?” Lowen’s quips are always quick, but when he speaks the words run like treacle from his tongue. “...Last night...?”

“If I could borrow your hands,” she says, too high, too quick, dragging a gown on over her head. “I would...”

Ah, but what she had just said-- and following the moment before-- and now--

Well, the connotation is certainly different. “...I cannot button the back myself.”

A sound not unlike a laugh but kissing cousins to a sigh bursts from his lips. “Haah. Yes. Of course, my lady.”

Lowen always walks softly, the sort of man who moves more like a ghost than a mercenary, but every sense of hers is attuned to him now. The clack of his boot heels might as well be canon fire for the way her breath jolts with every step. She’s all nerves when he rounds the screen, his shadow swallowing her whole.

“You know, of course,” he murmurs, conversational, “that I am always your servant.”

He touches her, tugging at her gown. Haki is not a small woman, but against her back his hands seem enormous. They do not touch her, not more than is necessary to pull the wool tight around her and button it closed, but every shift of fabric is hesitant, intimate, as a caress. Her hands flail out to grip the vanity; the only thing that keeps her upright as her knees fail beneath her.

“There.” He’s far too close, voice far too low. “How is that?”

Not enough.

“Fine,” she pipes, too loud for the space between them. “You make an admirable lady’s maid.”

“Good to know.” He steps back, and she dares to face him, heart fluttering at the wry curl to his lips. “I’ll be sure to apply for the position, should it ever open. Perhaps, after this morning, it will sooner than I thought...”

“Father won’t do any such thing,” Haki huffs, pushing past him. “I’ll explain it to him, in--”

“Full?” Lowen offers, and oh, she should know better than to glance back, but she does, she does--

If she imagined the heat in his gaze last night, then her madness is complete, for there is no missing it in the light of day.

Her fingers tangle behind her back, trembling. “As much as needed. Come along, sir. You know how Father hates to wait.”

Father isn’t known for a comely face, though Haki has never found much wrong with it; he is not known for his piles of dir nor vast tracks of land. He has not made himself a reputation as a leader of men or as a courtier concealing a knife, a dandy or a miser, a fool or a wiseman. In no way could any man say that Arleon was a man of extremes.

Instead, he has built his house on prudence. On knowing the exact moment to act. Many a lord would rally to the Bergatt’s cause, should Father join them. Rugilia knows it. And Rodatrad.

And Wisteria.

“Finally.” Father glances up from his parchment, and ah, yes, there is the other thing he is most known for-- his stare. Even used to it as she is, Haki’s heart leaps into her throat as steel gray pins her in place, as fast as any blade. “Sit.”

He waves his hand vaguely toward the chairs in front of him. At least, the only one left-- her brother has dragged the other to abut the domineering expanse of his desk, already glowering from his perch.

Her stomach twists, but she keeps her legs, alighting to the cushion with an elegant pace that sets Makiri’s teeth to grinding. “As you wish, Father.”

The hard veneer of her father’s mask cracks, a sigh softening the lines of his face. “There’s no need for all that. There’s been news.”

“News?”

“Yes.” His eyes dart up, mouth bowing into a frown. “Lowen, you stay.”

Haki dares a sly glance from the corner of her eyes; her guard lingers at the doorway, wide-eyed.

“My lord,” he says, stilted. “it isn’t necessary for me to--”

“It is.” Father’s thick fingers knit above the dark wood of his desk. “Your insight on this...situation will be invaluable.”

Lowen hesitates, gaze trained longingly on the hall beyond. “If that is what you wish,” he manages, closing the door. “I am ever your man, my lord.”

In the spare light of her father’s study, shadows cling to the circles beneath his eyes, haunt the hollows of his cheeks. His skin has always had the look of painted porcelain, just like her shepherdess-- delicate in appearance though not in skill, her father had said when he first bested Makiri years ago-- but as he takes his place behind her, he has never looked more pale.

“We’ve had a letter from Wistal.”

Her attention snaps back to her father, taking in his stiff posture, the way her brother lurks sulkily next to him, like a gargoyle placed on a particularly unnoticed buttress.

“Ah.” She allows her lips to take on the slightest hint of slyness as they cant. “So my fiancé has finally deigned to send his regrets?” A stubborn silence takes hold, and she ventures, “Or shall I take from these dour countenances that he means to evince himself at last?”

“No.” Father’s mouth twitches; unlike with Lowen, it is never a sign of good humor. “It did, however, pertain to the marriage and its...particulars.”

“Strange that His Majesty would be so eager to move forward with the arrangement,” she muses, ignoring the strange pang of disappointment that shoot through her, “especially when the groom cannot be produced for any price.”

Father stills, and so does her heart, right where it used to beat in her chest. Oh, this cannot be-- he cannot mean--

“Unless...” she begins haltingly, dread dragging at every word, “you mean to tell me that our understanding is to be...dissolved.”

Father does not answer, not with anything more than a tightening of his lips. Truly, that is answer enough.

She should be elated. She’s never wanted this betrothal, never wanted to be a prince’s wife. Every morning since its announcement, she had prayed that today would be the day it would be dissolved, that the next few hours would deliver her from the clutches of her marital misery.

Haki doesn’t remember when she stopped. When being the first prince’s betrothed became a part of her, like being Arleon’s daughter or Makiri’s sister. When the thought of her freedom could leave her so bereft.

Freedom. That’s what she should be thinking of: no longer tied to the throne, able to cast her gaze elsewhere--

It’s no surprise that it lands on Lowen. Lowen, whose eyes are not alight with heat, whose gaze is not even on her but wrenched away, eyes shuttered and closed. His breath hisses from his nose, pained.

Ah, so that-- that isn’t all.

“The king does not wish to lose the alliance,” Father says, “merely change the object of it.”

Her eyes fix on her father, wide as coins. “To who?”

“The second prince. Prince Zen.”

There’s no air in her lungs. Zen. “He’s a child.”

“Three years difference,” Father says evenly, “the same as Prince Izana and yourself.”

It’s true, but still-- Haki suddenly understands why Izana might have chosen to go on a continental tour rather than meet the child he was promised to marry.

“You can’t be serious,” Makiri scoffs. “He’d need a stool to kiss her at the wedding.”

Father grunts. “And what say you Lowen? You served in Wistal.”

Lowen hesitates. “It has been some time, my lord.”

“There’s no need for false humility in this.” Father’s fingers drum absently on his desk. “A man like you must have taken the opportunity to get the boy’s measure. I’d like to hear it.”

“I...” His mouth works, and oh, she had never though to see Lowen at a loss for words, not like this. “He is an idealist, obsessed with the tales of chivalry his nursemaid would read to him before bed. The sort of child that thinks all of a kingdom’s problems could be written off as easily as a storybook’s end.”

Father nods, mouth taking a thoughtful bent. “A fool, you mean.”

“No.” The word comes out loud, so forceful even Lowen pauses to blink. “I mean only that he is inexperienced, my lord. He has not yet learned to bend the way a leader must. But he is fair, even to a fault. He believes that a king is meant to serve his people, even at risk to himself. He is...”

Lowen laughs. Not in the bombastic way of her father’s men, or the quiet snicker of a lord, but-- a soft, self-deprecating chuckle, only meant for his own ears. “Prince Zen is everything a commoner thinks of a prince. A character straight out of a children’s tale.”

Haki stares at him. “Is that all you have to recommend him, sir?”

His mouth ticks up as he stars down his long patrician nose. “He’s pretty too, if you care about that sort of thing.”

She sniffs, turning her chin away to hide the sting. To think he would believe her vain and shallow, and not--

Ah, it doesn’t matter. At least, not to him.

“So.” Father observes Lowen carefully, palm running at the beard on his chin. “You think it a good match.”

She’s not watching him, or at least not closely, but even she can see the green that colors his pale face. “There are...worse ones, my lord.”

Father hums. “Interesting. In any case, it is His Majesty’s desire that the boy join us for your birthday fete.”

Lowen nearly jumps from the wall. “What?”

Haki only barely restrains from doing the same. “But that’s in days! The guests have already begun to arrive--”

“Which means His Highness is almost certainly on his way,” Father says, even. “I expect that his arrival will follow swiftly. There is no reason to give us more time to prepare out arguments.”

Her fingers knot in the fabric of her skirt, her breath rasping from her chest. “Arguments.”

Father spares her a knowing look. “I presume his visit can only be to force us to accept him in his brother’s stead.”

It shouldn’t matter. She never wanted this, after all. She hasn’t even met Izana, and he’s certainly never shown an interest in her. But still-- “I haven’t agreed to this.”

“Oh, my daughter.” Pity blooms in her father’s eyes. “I am afraid your opinion hardly matters at all.”

[fvaleraye]

Ashes and Dust

Heyyyyyy, would you look at that... another Scintillam chapter. Ngl, I hit a creative block super hard for a while. I had several WIPs that I wanted to do, but... like, once I started them, I didn’t really feel it, y’know? So, I decided to start fresh, and just. Work on something chill. So I did! This is gonna be another Charthos chapter, I’ll probably swap back to the gals pov soon, but I’m just feeling my old cranky pyromancer man rn Also, I would like to give a big shoutout to @artnerd1123 for proofreading the chapter for me, and helping fix some stuff that i missed/didn’t think about. Tyvm, Belle... I appreciate you... Anyway, I hope y’all enjoy reading...

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The month of the Blazing Moon meant long days, and short nights. A dreadful heat washed over most of the land, as the name implied, save for the ever-chilled northern mountains, of course. The farmers across the land harvested their summer crops and prepared for the coming of fall. Though travel wasn't exactly booming in the suffocating summer heat- unless the travel led to a coast or someplace cooler- there were many who were unbothered by the temperature. The lizardfolk especially thrived during these times. On the other hand, pyromancers considered the Blazing Moon to be a holy month, if for no other reason than the fact that it preceded the coming of the Embered Moon, when the Rite of Embers would take place. To see a pyromancer out of their lands during these months was a rarity, but one could be seen walking the roads. An old, tired pyromancer. Charthos had been travelling for weeks. Magna Terra was not small, but the place he searched for was. Just a modest little hamlet in the middle of nowhere. In the Great Plains, no less- one of the biggest open spaces of absolutely nothing on the whole continent. It was easier to navigate than the Ashen Plains. No waist-high ash to trudge through. Roads were still sparse, though. And every direction looked equally identical. At least the sun was visible, that helped. And he had a passable sense of direction. And he remembered the little town from many, many years ago. It had something resembling sentimental significance for him. Something like that. Still wasn't easy to find. There weren't exactly towers scraping the clouds to tell him when he was getting close. If he was visiting one of the cities, this wouldn't be nearly as difficult. He huffed, embers and sparks leaving his old, splintered body. He watched the little sparks of life fall to the earth. At least this grass isn't dry yet. He mused. That would cause issues for the Uncharred 'round here, huh... He let out a quiet little chuckle. For a people who didn't use fire for much more than lighting the dark or warming things up, they sure did live in some flammable areas. A few suns pass, more of the same. Eventually, hints of brown wood, stone foundations, and gray smoke from chimneys started to peak over the horizon. Thank the fucking Traveller, I'm finally here. Or, well, close enough.

Another few minutes of trudging slowly on the path lead the pyromancer to the town square. It was a quiet town. Or, at least, it was supposed to be. There was a decent crowd gathered in the middle of the square, seemed like the whole town, or near enough. They were gathered around a woman in strange garb standing on a small makeshift stage. She was not a short woman- even if she was level with the crowd she would probably still peek over their heads- but she was still clearly human. At least, from what one could tell. She wore a pale dress with no sleeves, and ribbons circled her arms. Her face was covered but a wooden mask, the face of it painted with a fierce, purple visage, with horns protruding from the sides, her brown hair braided underneath it. Around her on the stage were a few other similarly dressed individuals, though, unlike her,  they were silent. The woman was yelling and gesturing with all the fervor and energy of a young, opinionated priest. But she wasn't a priestess. At least, not like one he had seen. He stepped closer to the edge of the crowd to better hear what had the strange woman up in arms.

"-nd one day, they will return! The great, scaled beasts of time immemorial!" She cried. "The dragons will return, and the skies shall darken beneath their great wings, as they take back what was once, what has always been, theirs, and destroy those who presume to own their lands, their world!" She began pointing to various members of the crowd. "All of you, all of us, will be wiped from this world, like footprints washed away in a rainstorm, as the fury of nature itself descends on us, and we will all be but ashes and dust! Unless we supplicate the great scaled ones as we once did! Mayhaps, they will even see fit to elevate us to their greatness! You need only-!"

Charthos began to walk away after realizing that the one he was looking for wasn't among the crowd, as well as getting tired of the woman's screeching, and the looks from the crowd. Doomsayers. Dime a dozen nowadays... He thought, given an exasperated sigh. He stepped away from the main square, and began making his way towards the residential area of the little town. He glanced over each home as he walked, looking for one in particular. They were all very similar; wooden walls and roof, at least two windows, chimney, stone foundation raising it above the dirt... the differences were aesthetic. Some had nice curtains. Others had cleanly painted roofs, or walls. A few had flowers, whether gardens of them, or simply a few on the window sill. It was downright pleasant. What I wouldn't give to live like this again. Even if only for a time. He brushed off the sentimental thoughts as he turned to one house, practically near the end of the edge of town. It was simple, like all the others. It had purple curtains, and rather... exotic looking plants growing in a side garden. He walked up the steps, and gave the door a small knock. There was some silence, and then he knocked again, this time louder. Footsteps started approaching the door, the sounds of several locks being undone sounded past the wooden surface. After a moment, a pair of gray eyes peeked past a crack in the door. They looked over the demon-infested, wooden man, and closed the door to undo another lock. The door creaked open, revealing a tired looking woman in patchy clothes. "May I come in?" Charthos asked, hesitantly. The woman just motioned him inside, and locked the door before turning to face him.

"What do you want, old man?" She asked tersely, leaning on the doorway of the dimly lit, but still rather charming abode.

"Hello to you too, Penelope." He replied, his tone jabbing at her.

"If you're going to be like that, get out." She spit, her tired voice laced with venom.

"Aw, I feel so welcomed. Every grandfather's dream." He sighed, crouching down in front of the fireplace. "I need a favor from you, dear."

"Of course you do." She let out a spiteful laugh, still leaning on the doorway. "You never write, let alone visit, unless you need something from me."

Uncomfortable silence settled over the room, the tension in the air thick enough to choke on. The man simply stared into the roaring flame in the stone fireplace, lost in his own head for a moment that felt like eternity. He didn't want to reply. He couldn't reply. Not with anything she would want to hear. Nothing he could say would make up for anything. Even if he wasn't facing her, he could feel her gaze piercing through him, bright and furious, like a bolt of lightning.

"Are you going to say anything?" She said, her frustrated tone slicing through the silence like a dagger.

"What do you want me to say?" He spat back, glancing over his shoulder. "I'm sorry? I've said that. I've said it so many times to so many people it's lost its meaning. Want me to say I was wrong? Well I was. Too late to change anything. What can I say that'll make you happy?"

Silence settled again. No answer came. She couldn't think of one. She just gave a long, tired sigh.

"Yeah, that's what I thought." He mumbled, turning back to the fire. "What are you cooking in here?"

She raised a brow at the question. "Excuse me?"

"What are you cooking in this fire?" He gestured to what was seemingly open air above the fire. "You're not warmin' up. Not in the middle of bleedin' summer. What are you cooking?"

After a brief moment of indignant hesitation, Penelope stepped away from the doorway, and waved a hand at the fire. The once orange and yellow flames turned black and purple, and all light they once produced vanished. In the center was a now visible deer's skull, being slowly and unnaturally devoured by the flames. Black magic. The pyromancer gave a small chuckle. "You really are like your mum." He said, tilting his head at it. "... how's she doin', by the by?"

"She's fine." The witch replied, tersely.

"... I'll take your word for it." He sighed. "How's your deadbeat pop?"

She returned with a sigh of her own, before giving an answer. "Hell if I know."

"I figured as much."

The two continued to stare at the dark flame in silence, as it casted dark and unnatural shadows over the room. The shifting shapes whispered indecipherably, in dead languages. Neither were very perturbed by it, but the girl was the only one really listening. That's why it was there, after all. After about half an hour of silence, the deer skull was gone, completely devoured by the flames, and with that, the black flames were gone near instantly, as well as the shapes, and their whispering. Light returned to the room, but silence was still dominant. Eventually, it was broken by another long sigh from the young witch. "I'll say it again. What do you want, old man?" He stared quietly at the open space where there was once fire. There were no embers. No smoke. It was as if it wasn't even there. An absolute void of space within the stone fireplace. Pristine. As if it had never been used once. He took a long, deep breath. He wanted to berate her. Tell her to maybe not make dealings with these things, but it would fall on deaf ears. Same as her mother. And besides. He wasn't one to talk, really.

"I need a coal." He said, finally. His request stilled the air in the wooden home.

After a moment of silence, the witch simply leaned over, reaching a hand into the fireplace, as a dark, viscous substance started to bleed from the stone. It wormed and writhed to the space where her hand rested, and formed into a small stone-like object. Darker than black, it seemed to suck the light out of the area around it. She handed it to him wordlessly, and he took it, stuffing it into a bag at his hip. With that now in his possession, he stood up, and looked to her. "Thank you, dear." He whispered, stepping towards the door. "I'll be going now. I know when I'm not wanted." He stepped out the door, and it was shut behind him. No goodbyes were exchanged, nothing more was said. Nothing more needed to be said. As he stepped down from the porch of the humble little house and back onto the dirt, he glanced back over his shoulder. "... I love you, dear." He said, wistfully. "You and your mum. I always did. The only flesh and blood I got left." He looked to the ground, his branches swaying a bit in the wind. "... and you." He added, seemingly to no-one in particular. Seemingly. "If any harm comes to her on account of you, I will know. And I will find you." With those final, ominous words, he started his trip out back out of town, a shape slipping out of his shadow as he left, to his next stop on this little journey of his.

[kcystotheheart]

{🍎} I don’t feel like i got all of them but MASSIVE TAG DROP/DUMP

♡ Home is where the Heart is... {IC}

✧ I foresee the end of all I know... {Ava}

#☪︎I'm howling with the wolves {Fida}

#✦ Breaking Traditions {Sub Alt V.} ⚔︎

#☮︎You are the future; the hope of this world... {Hope}

#♟Hidden from the rest of the World… Until now {Wandering V.} ✧

#🍎of someone's eye {Mun}

#✎ We may feel out of place; but we fit together so perfectly... {X Ventus} #♔♡ Eventually we all return to it... Kingdom Hearts {S A V E D} #⚖︎ I will keep a just and fair eye... {Invi} #♘ They look to me for Guidance... {Ira} #Heartless; Dusks; Unversed? All the same {Anon} #❥ ANSWERED

#✎ He's a work in progress and that's what matters! {Vanitas/tenebrxsus}

#✎ The Light to my Darkness; he makes up what I lack... {X Vanitas}

#✧ He may be all brawn; but he has the biggest heart {Aced/ursaced}

#✧ You wouldn't hurt me; I know... {X Aced} #✦ The Beginning of it all… {Past V.} ♙ #➳ All right; No more playing around! {Hayner} #♡ It's time to strike {Open Starter} #♔ Beyond the realms... {OOC} #♥︎ I'll find my way... {Riku} #✎ Let's make a promise; To hold each other through it all {X Riku} #♤ I won't fade away so easily! {Lingering Remnant!Vanitas} #♠︎ Different from the rest... {Springy/Hareraiser} #♥︎ Once a Somebody... now a Nobody {Nobody V.} ♤ #✦ A little Generosity never hurt nobody~ {Cari} #✦ He thinks he's sooo good; but I know he's bad~ {Indus/ursaced} #✦ Momma I'm in love with a criminal; I'm the bad guy duh~ {X Indus} #♡ We'll never let the darkness consume us... {Queue}

🎲 May Lady Luck be on your side~ {Fortune} 💘 No matter what happens i’ll always be by your side {Faith} ⚔️ That was undeniable proof that we totally owned you lamers! {Seifer} ⌨️ Cracking the {Code} 🌱Rough around the edges by soft on the inside [Jagged} 🌿 My Strength will help support them… {Aced} 🌟 I will always help the weak {Starlight} 🍃I’ll sweep you up and leave your head spinnin’! {Wind} 🛡 I will always defend them {Keeper} 🃏 Care to take a Gamble? {Luxord/Ordul} 🎵I can drop a beat {Demyx/Dyme}  🎼 Let me play a song for you~ {Arpeggio}

⚠︎ You make me feel things I thought were lost {X Lauriam} ♟ More alike than you know {Rei/solaimaginem} ✎ Even after all this time… we’re connected. {Terra/willfulwayfarer} ✎ We’ll find new secrets to discover… together! {Pence/dxgstreet} ✎ I want to capture this moment {X Pence} ➸✮ Blessed or Cursed with magic that runs within him {Magia} #🎐My Lazy Companion {Sir Snugglesopholis the Flood} #♝ I will prove my worth... {Xionort} #𝒳 No one will know... {Subject X V.} ⭑ #No longer Lost {Naminé; Vanitas & Repliku } #✎ We've had tough pasts but we can move forward {Aiden/lethargic-hunter} #♟We've cut our own strings and now we're free {Xion & Repliku} #Made a sacrifice {Repliku} #Always busy saving everyone else... {Aqua} #☯︎ Disciplinary Committee {Fuu; Seifer & Rai} #yOU leFT mE... {Nightmare Chirithy}

#Why does everything involve running? {Pence}

#Not your Typical Princess... {Kairi}

#Fun and Playful; Strong and Powerful {Ventus}

#♠︎ A little noisy... {Skitters/Flood}

#☓ Always watching; always seeing~ {Master of Masters}

#⭑ How bright is the future? {Skuld}

#♚ Stuck in Between Worlds... {Lingering V.} ♤

#✨I'll learn to use my magic for good {Apprentice V.} ✎

#✎ He understands me like no one else does {Max/pageofgoof}

#🍀I've got a present too; for all of us! {Olette}

#He once wandered the darkness seeking light; only to find he was the light {Riku}

#His smile brings about other people's happiness {Sora}

#👁‍🗨If only I could stand in her light... {Ava/verumheart}

#👁‍🗨If I could begin to be; half of what you think of me I'd do about anything {X Ava}

#🍀She sits by the Seashore {Kairi/thalassicradiance}

#✎ I'll never forget you; promise? {X Sora}

#♜ We all have our Roles to Play... {Foreteller V.} ♠︎

#♗ I have made mistakes & have more regrets than you could imagine {Master Eraqus}

#One of the strongest wielders there is {Terra}

#🎐My lovely little Pearl... {Kairi/thalassicradiance}

#♡ Something that simply resonates with me... {Aesthetic}

#➦ Portal Time {Shooter}

#➥ Eagle Eyes {Sharp}

#🌪Whispers on the Wind {Gale}

#♤ The Nobody that never was... {Kuxir}

#🎐When things are tough; I'll always welcome you home... {Ansem/afoolelopedindarkness}

#✦ I have to complete my role... {Sacrificed V.} ✧

#♡♔ Kingdom FARTS {Crack}

#♟No longer just a vessel... {Xion}

#♣︎ No one would miss me... And yet... {Roxas}

#☀︎ I always keep my promises... {Axel}

#⌁ I have to uncover the truth... {Gula}

#⚠︎ I will find a way to rewrite my Fate {Brain}

#☆⭒ A lost little Star {Strelitzia}

#♚ The Darkness has consumed us… {Alt V.} ♥︎

#{Headcanons}

#☁︎ Where there's rain; there's a storm {Rain}

#🌸As Pretty as a Flower but twice as Dangerous {Song}

#✴︎ May the Tears of Heaven hear my call... {Sterling}

#❅ Her Colours are a reflection of who she is {Aurora}

#✵ Hear my prayer O'Morning Star {Ivory}

#♾You'll never hear their name on the wind... {No Name}

#⚡️The Eye of the Storm {Tempest}

#✑ You write down your feelings on paper {Memoire}

#☆⭒ A Light in the Dark... {Roxas/aftrliight}

#👁‍🗨 It's a heavy burden to carry... {Luxu}

#♥︎ He has every right to be mad at me; but i had to do it {Roxas/caelumobscura}

#♥︎ Twilight and Dawn... What an interesting combination {X Roxas}

#☘︎Oh Look- Nope it's just them... {Dani}

#♣︎ There's just something about him that i hate... and i love {X Riku}

#✎ You remember me; the way I remember you {X Roxas}

#☆⭒ He gives me the courage I need; she is always so kind... {X Roxas}

#☆⭒ Let's go to the garden... {Lauriam/lordofoblivion}

#✘ There is always something worth fighting for... {Kohaku}

#♡ No longer just a Copy... {Repliku/Kouki}

#⚙︎Just because I'm not a 'True' Keyblade doesn't mean I can't kill you {Void}

#♥︎ You and I; were intertwined from the start... {X Kairi}

#♡ These will make anyone laugh! {Memes}

#✬ Here to help! {Chirithy}

#🌼You'll never learn from your mistakes if you don't make them {Ayaka/Roxas' mom}

#♔♡ The Mark of a Master~ {P R O M O}

#✿ Thinking of you wherever you are... {Hana/Sora's Mom}

#♤☆ When the Light embraced the Dark... {Mending Hearts V.} ★♠

#✎ He wants to break the mold {Roxas/serendimpetus}

#🗝🖤The Kingdom's Protector and the Original Blade {Chi}

#♔ Mirrored Reflections; Two in the Same {Twin V.} ♡

#★ I'll be there to hide your light when you need it {Dusk}

#♻︎ I'm not even the real thing...And yet in my soul it says otherwise {Soul}

#✩*~ I'll unlock the mysteries of the world {Ephemer}

#♠︎ Made completely out of Darkness {Vanitas}

#✩*~ We'll meet where the darkness meets the light {X Vanitas}

#➳ Skateboard tricks and Sea Salt Icecream... {X Roxas}

#♡ Let's line up the pieces... Together {Main V.} ♔

#❁ He'll always be my little Sprout... {Kasumi/Riku's mother}

#❁ To trust or not to trust is the question... {Xemnas/potestasaeterna}

#♘ He trusts me to look after everyone; but who's going to look after him? {X Master}

#♘ Always one step ahead... or two- or three {Master/masterxmasters}

#☾ The path between Night and Day... {Dawn}

#♡ A Watchful eye... {Dash Commentary}

#☯︎ Total Annihilation {Fuu}

#✎ Don't forget me... {Naminé}

#☄️ I will always rise up from the Ashes {Libra}

#🔥Better watch out because I always bounce back {Ember}

#💥I will burn Eternally {Flame}

#♕ Together we'll protect the world! {Kiki}

#♛ We'll free their hearts and consume the world in darkness... {Heart!Kiki}

#🍨Not just a sweet treat~ {Sweetie}

#♜ I'll protect you from the Shadows {Oblivion}

#♖ Just follow my Light {Oathkeeper}

#♥︎ No matter the Nightmare; I'll be there {X Ventus}

#♠︎ A little noisy... {Skitters/Flood}

#🎐When you feel it in your heart; you know that your home {Mitsuki/Kairi's Grandma}

#❁ He's my stubborn Rock. {Roxas/aftrliight}

#💥She rises with the moon {Luna/verumheart}

#♧ Even in your dreams... {Dream Eater V.} ♥︎

#🍡 Cheeky Cheel {Leche}

#❦ There's more to Light than meets the eye {Young Eraqus}

#❦ And that's checkmate I win; Hold on it's still my turn {X Young Xehanort}

#The Copycat Trio {Repliku; Vanitas and Xion}

#Created with a purpose {Vanitas}

#🐶Watch out for the Mad Dog~ {Mady}

#➸✮ Reliable and Sturdy as the Shield he carries {Aegis/verumrook}

#➸✮ I shouldn't feel this way but I do... And I don't want to stop {X Aegis}

#✘ ...I will protect his light with my life... {Artemis/keyfamilia}

#✘ I don't know what he sees in me... but i'm grateful {X Artemis}

#🗝🖤A shroud of Mystery and Darkness {Master of Masters/eyesofparoxysm}

#🗝🖤The one who compliments me; who truly understands {X Master of Masters}

#✧ He's a good listener and a good friend {Luxu/gravitasfatum}

#✎ What did I do to deserve you...? {Riku/darkheartedprince}

#♔♡ It rests now within us all... {Drabble}

#💚As playful as a breeze; but as strong as a gale wind {Ventus}

#💫Not even the Night Sky could contain her Light... {Astraea}

#🍏A Bad Apple spoils the bunch {Negative Thoughts}

#☀︎ Set me ablaze; start a fire in me {X Terra}

#☀︎ He's my pillar when I'm not strong {Terra/willfulfwayfarer}

#🎐Just like the Stars; He will burn long after... {Yen Sid/omnipotentmxster}

#☀︎ Never expected to fall for a flower {X Marluxia}

#☀︎ Every Flower has it's thorns and he's full of them {Marluxia/lordofoblivion}

#✿ My Little Sparrow {Sora/lightheartedwarrior}

#❁ My Little Sprout {Riku/darkheartedprince}

#🎐If we keep each other in our hearts; we'll always be strong {Young Mitsuki}

#🎐The Stars align when he smiles... {Young Yen Sid/omnipotentmxster}

#⚚ I'm sending a message to you and I hope that it makes it through {Hermod}

#⭑ He could light the sky with his colours {Sora/valorxdrive}

#⭑ He's my knight and I'm his princess {X Sora}

#⭑ We both just wanted a friend... {Blaine/virusplanted}

#⭑ The future may be uncertain; but I'm certain of us {X Blaine}

#🧶Tying the knot {Married V.}

#♔ In another World; another Time or another Place {AU V.} ♡

#⚖︎She moves with the beauty and grace of her namesake {Aqua/theheartstreasure}

#⚖︎I certainly don't know what I did to deserve you; but i'm grateful {X Aqua}

#⌁ The only one I'll always trust {Ava/starshold}

#❀ Careful the Flowers have ears {Foxglove}

#☆⭒ He's my bookworm... {Blaine/virusplanted}

#☆⭒ One day I saw him there and couldn't help but gravitate towards him {X Blaine}

#♔ A World without Magic... {Modern V.} ♡

#🎐An old friend and fellow Master {Eraqus/eraqus-the-defender}

#❦ I wish I was enough to keep you from the Darkness... {Young Xehanort/iuvienis}

#🌕A place where all hearts are one... {Kingdom Hearts}

#🔮The Mistress of Darkness {Maleficent}

#🐚Overcame the Impossible {Maryllis/Kairi's Mother}

#🌊I will do my duty to protect the people {Nalani/Destiny Islands Mayor}

#🥀Poison runs through their veins {Vera}

#✩*~ He's the smartest guy I know {Brain/virusplanted}

#✩*~ We'll always be connected; no matter where we fly too {X Brain}

#🐚His Majesty and My King {Ansem/afoolelopedindarkness}

#🐚Two halves of a whole {X Ansem The Wise}

#✩*~ Flowers can be strong so long as you let them {Lauriam/lordofoblivion}

#🐚My Precious Treasure {Kairi/thalassicradiance}

#🐚Like Mother like daughter {Maryllis and Kairi}

#🎶Listen to my Melody {Maestro}

#Before Summer Vacation is over; we should go to the beach! {Twilight Town Gang}

#♘ More important than he realizes {Kage/thechessboard}

#✩*~ I use to think Dandelions were just weeds; I think they're beautiful {X Lauriam}

#📓Don't always believe what you see... {Lexicon}

#🌹Strong and Elegant {Rose}

#⚠︎ Infuriating and yet... He's Mi Rosa {Lauriam/rxsoideae}

#✧ She's as strong as she is beautiful {Aqua/theheartstreasure}

#✧ She makes me feel like a princess; she gives me hope {X Aqua}

#✎ We will always have each other's backs {Naminé and Aiden}

#☆⭒ Wallflower friends {Luxu and Strelitzia}

#The Darkness gave us purpose... {Dark Repliku; Vanitas & Xionort}

#Let's go to the beach {Axel; Xion & Roxas}

#⚔︎Childhood rivals to lovers {X Hayner}

#⭑★ Fallen Hearts turn to Dark Stars… {Darkling V.} ❤︎♥︎

#⭑ ...Unknowingly My Protector... {Braig/freeshooterxig}

#🍀We're stronger than we look {X Kairi}

#♟He isn't all darkness... {Vanitas/unversedshadow}

#✧ My precious Snowflake Dandelion... {Theo/keytosolidarity}

#✎ She was my light; He was my knight {X Repliku}

[boldandbookish]

Some aesthetics I made to celebrate two of my favorite badass leading ladies from Throne of Glass.

Aelin Ashryver Galathynius

“She was fire, and light, and ash, and embers. She was Aelin Fireheart, and she bowed for no one and nothing, save the crown that was hers by blood and survival and triumph.” -Queen of Shadows

Manon Blackbeak

“But perhaps the monsters needed to look out for each other every now and then.” -Queen of Shadows

[firehcart-archived]

—   𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐒 : 𝑪𝑹𝑬𝑺𝑪𝑬𝑵𝑻 𝑪𝑰𝑻𝒀.

there was once a girl known by everyone and no one.

[zcldrizes-a]

tag drop oo1.

[moonlit-void-to-the-far-unknown]

Like fire (Mgg x reader smut)

AN: Sup so idk what all this is, I'm super tired and yeah so enjoy this. 

Tagging: @litandexciting @tortillachildalyssa @dontshootmespence @bookofreid

 Relationships were like fire, and distance was like air, it could fan the fire into a raging burning flame or it could extinguish it, and leave ash and embers in the wake. you were lucky that for him the fire raged when together or apart, you often saw the tweets or messages, articles when you and him were out together of how much it seemed the handsome nerd was a real cougar dating someone half his age, but he always made the fire in you burn with excitement and happiness, and to him age was a number of learning years, and that he loved you weather 18 or 35 you were what he loved…what he wanted….

How you had met Matthew was by sheer luck, he had come into you work ordered a simple coffee and that was it seemingly, you knew who he was, criminal minds was a guilty favorite of yours, but slowly he seemed to come in more and more, often when you were working, he would smile at you and when the not so subtle coworker hit on him he would just politely decline and before leaving smile to you.

It took 3 weeks of him coming in for you to finally sit across from him and ask him what was up, and he stuttered his words of asking you out, to dinner, you had sighed you had known he was at least 16 years your senior, being 21 and him 37 it seemed odd for him to want to date someone so young, someone much less experienced in the world of dating, seeing as dating was never on the top of your list of things, but you agreed and even the butterflies in your stomach and heart couldn’t stop the doubt in you that he only wanted a young girl to keep his sexy status up, though you could see he didn’t care in the slightest about anything like status’s in Hollywood.

So when the night came and he picked you up, looking very handsome and you looking as nice as your clothing options allowed, you took his arm and let the butterflies rage when he kissed the back of your hand in the car. The restaurant was beautiful, and the night was spent laughing and sharing stories, ending in you staying at his home, waking up passed out on his chest his fingers running through your hair, you knew no actual sex had happened but you felt the sweet morning butterflies and when he leaned down kissing you it was an explosion of fireworks and tingles.

That was almost eight months ago and now you sat at the small vanity mirror he had gotten you as a welcome gift when you had agreed to move in with him, after telling him horror stories of your room mate he had been trying to get you to move in. So when you did he had built and set up a small vanity area for you, it was vintage in aesthetic and you loved it.

So now sitting here getting ready for your first real red carpet event with him, you hadn’t been able to make it to his premier of 68 kill, your work schedule washer crazier then normal around exam season, college kids and teachers galore, but now you were sitting getting ready for the premier of season 13 of Criminal minds, you were nervous and tried to still your shaking hands as you brushed on your make up. Closing your eyes you sighed breathing to try to still the butterflies in your stomach, jumping when familiar hands brushed over your shoulders “Sorry I didn’t mean to scare you, you look….wow….amazing” you smiled looking at him he was dressed in a suit for once, and his longish hair was nicely brushed and done, his glasses on, he was the image of a model, standing you looked at him turning around for him “I hate dressing up but I do love feeling all glitz and glamour” laughing his hands came around your waist pulling you into him, his lips pressing against yours lightly “You could be wearing a potato sack and still be glitz and glamour” laughing you sighed.

It didn’t hit you again until you saw the flashing camera lights and could hear the muffled sounds of a crowd of people, Matthews hand squeezed yours leaning down to press a kiss to the spot right behind your ear, “Stay by me, just follow me okay, it’ll be okay” once on the carpet it was flashing bulbs and yelling reporters, you stayed by Matthews side, his arm securely around your waist, kissing your temple every so often to help calm your nerves.

You sighed following Matthew over to a reporter, his hand in yours as he spoke to the woman “So seems you are off the market, though we never really know with you, seems the good Dr is a bit of a cougar,” you frowned at that not bothering to really listen to the rest of what she said, through the corner of your eye you could see Matthews jaw clench, finally focusing again “Well I like to keep my relationships privet, and I can’t stop what others say, woman I have been with can say what they feel but I don’t really like talking about what happened between us,” with that you were being pulled away finally making it inside the venue.

It was a night of dancing and drinks, but you knew something was biting at him, on the way home you decided to break the silence “Whats wrong, since that reporter you’ve been….all….tense, having fun, but tense, anytime someone looked at us you got all….possessive Matthew,” sighing his hand rested on your thigh his thumb stroking agains the skin “Its just people are always so worried or interested in my relationships or the girls I dated, all because one decided to speak about issues that were between me and her, I don’t….it never bugs me but, I don’t know, people don’t seem to get my relationships are meant to be privet, between me and you.” Sighing you nodded, it was true you had seen messages and tweets sent to you by people of his ex talking about things that happened in there relationship. It never bugged you.

Once home you sighed walking in and kicking your shoes off, yawning. Turning to face Matt his eyes were on you, scanning down your body, he dress was tight and hugged you in a damn near perfect way, he walked slow like a hunter cornering it prey, the first time you had seen this side of Matt it was after a girl had non stop flirted with him even after saying he was taken, he became tense and agitated, his hand never leaving yours, his dominant side coming through as soon as you entered the house.

You yelped slightly as his hands found your waist shoving you against the wall, his eyes blown dark with need, his lips inches from yours. “If they knew what I felt for you, what I do to you, how I could worship you for hours and never get bored, how you are the drug I will never kick, because you are the rehab….if they knew how I could stay in bed with you all day, hearing you moan and beg for me, how seeing you writhe and squirm…its all I need….” His lips slammed against yours, One hand moving to press against your neck, his thumb pressing in slightly.

His lips felt like fire against yours, burning you, pulling back he attacked your neck, biting and marking you as his, his tongue running over the bites, soothing the now bruised skin, you felt your heart speed up, small whimpers escaping from your throat. “The sounds you make for me, I could listen to forever and never get tired of them”

His hands moved quick unzipping your dress sliding it down your body, his hands gripping at your waist, teeth nipping at your collar bones, your hands tangling in his hair, it wasn’t long before you found yourself bent over the couch arm, panties around your ankles, his fingers rubbing your slick folds voice rough in your ear “You’re so wet, for me….all for me” moaning you could feel your walls clench.

It was seconds later that you moaned out hands gripping onto the couch under you as he thrust into you, hips snapping roughly, “fuck….shit…Matthew” his fingers slid up your spine causing goosebumps to raise as her scrapped down your back, his thrusts fast and rough. “Fuck you feel so good, clenching around me, already so close” he was right, he had a talent at that, he could make you cum 4 times before he was close to it.

Arching back you cried out as you clenched around him “Fuck baby….god” you felt your body shake as he pulled you up slightly by your hair, thrusts growing sloppy as he reached his peak, his climax causing the your second to shoot through you, crying out you stiffened fingers digging into the couch cushions, falling forward as you both came down.

Picking you up he cradled you close to him, laying you down softly, wrapping himself around you, “I love you….so much…no matter what anyone says…you are mine and I’m yours” sighing you smiled curling into him. “I love you too….so so so much”

[hollowshadowwolf]

Misffle Superhero AU; Superhero Pyrokinetic Clara and Supervillain Cryokinetic Missy (Aesthetic Set and Drabble)

In public, they hate each other. Constantly fighting for the upper hand, and wilfully drawing blood as they struggle for dominance; though the hero usually comes out on top.

In private, they love each other. Constantly fighting for the upper hand, and wilfully drawing blood as they struggle for dominance; though the villain usually comes out on top.

Hero and Villain. Enemies by day. Lovers by night. Clara will happily win the battles on the outside if it means losing the war against Missy inside.

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“Your OTP having fire and ice powers based on their personalities. Whenever Person B (fire) gets pissed off and riled up, Person A (ice) gives them a tight hug that douses the flame and calms down Person B in a hiss of steam.”

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“Ugh, I cannot believe him!”

Missy watched from her perch on Clara’s sofa - the same perch she’d been in since sneaking into the hero’s flat after their battle that morning and waiting for her to come home, which she had with a slam of the door and a throwing of her leather jacket onto the nearest chair – as her puppy paced back and forth, arms folded tightly across her chest, rage radiating off her body and her adorable face set in an angry mask. Missy sighed slightly as she leant her cheek on her fingers, icy eyes follow the hero’s back and forth lazily but closely.

“What’s the old owl gone and done now?”

Clara clenched her jaw, eyes gleaming for a moment, before biting her lip, worrying the split in it from that morning subconsciously, as she inhaled and then exhaled in a shuddering breath, trying to get her rising anger under control.

“He found out about us. I don’t know how. I mean we were careful, weren’t we? We didn’t do anything overt in public, and even anything suspicious was always out of surveillance view.” Clara ran a trembling hand through her hair as she rambled, her other arm hugging her chest, her agitation mounting again as she continued to pace. “But he did.” Missy smirked.

“Well the old Doctor is a smart man, we should know that by now. In fact I’m surprised it took him this long. Then again he is generally clueless over personal relationships and obvious signs of flirting so perhaps not. He and his eyebrows have always been more interested in science and machines.” Missy idly moved her gaze back to the book in her lap – Jane Austen again, why did her puppy always have this out and why didn’t Missy ever find one of the other many book’s the hero had instead of always gravitating to this stupid collection – though her focus was still on Clara as she spoke her next question as nonchalantly as possible. “So what did he say?” Clara scoffed, her other arm unfolding for her chest so she could gesture wildly.

“He had, the audacity, to tell me to stop seeing you.” Missy raised a brow, her gaze remaining falsely on the open book, while Clara barked an obviously fake laugh, voice dripping with sarcasm as she continued. “Oh no I’m sorry, he didn’t tell me to leave you. He, advised me to.” Her shaking hands clenched and unclenched into fists at her side. “How hypocritical is that!? I mean what about him and his relationship with River?”

Rage wasn’t the only thing radiating off Clara. From the corner of her eye as she continued to pretend to read the words on the page in her lap, she could see the waves of heat coming off Clara’s body as her anger rose – much like when looking off into the distance across the desert sand or down a long road on a hot day. Missy shifted slightly and exhaled softly. Adjusting her legs that were situated under her, she loosened herself from her curled position on the couch should she have to suddenly stand and intervene. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that, but she needed to try and diffuse her puppy’s anger to prevent an embarrassing incident.

“Well it’s not exactly the same,” Missy pointed out with a half shrug, turning the page as Clara gritted her teeth while still pacing, “He’s not a hero and she’s not exactly a villain. More of an anti-hero if we’re honest. Vigilante.” Clara stopped finally stopped and faced the villain.

“I know but still!” Clara flung one arm out in indignant gesticulation, sparks flying out of her open palm. “He can’t tell me what to do. I’m not his student anymore! I can make my own life choices damnitt.” Missy chuckled and looked up at the hero.

“Even if it’s a pretty bad one.” Clara glowered at the other brunette.

“We’ve been over this Missy,” the hero growled low and threateningly, Missy unable to keep the amused and aroused smirk off her face at the sound. Her puppy was always so adorable when she tried to take charge, even on the battlefield. “Just because we have to fight on the outside doesn’t change how I feel about you. No matter how hard I try. Yes, I’m a hero and you’re a villain, something everyone reminds of at every turn. And frankly I don’t give a fuck.”

Missy stared wide eyed at the hero standing across from her. While Missy was often adept at hiding her emotions and keeping her classic, and horribly clichéd but oh so enjoyable to portray, ‘ice queen’ façade; Clara wore her emotions on her sleeve and on her face, the pure rawness of it all, much like a building after a blaze, always left Missy a little breathless. She’d laugh at the irony of their power sets matching their personalities if it hadn’t already been painfully pointed out in every news article and magazine editorial to cover their long standing public feud.

However, here and now Clara’s emotions were getting out of control. Missy could see thin tendrils of smoke rising off of the hero’s shoulders. Occasional embers were falling from her violently shaking hands, the villain positive she could hear the tell-tale crackle when the hero’s fingers moved. The thin cut that lay atop the bruise along her cheek bone, another injury Missy had given her that morning – unintentionally of course, their clashes were legendary in there destructiveness to both the environment and each other, Clara bearing the brunt most of the time however, though with very few civilian casualties at her puppy’s insistence – seemed to flicker, like looking into the cracks in molten lava. Most importantly of all, the eyes that always captivated Missy’s attention were practically glowing as if reflecting fire light but from the inside out. Missy knew the grey jumper Clara was wearing was her puppy’s favourite and if she let this outburst carry on and the hero spontaneously combusted… well those big eyes would be awful sad when all that would be left of it would be ash and charred strips of material. And Missy couldn’t have that.

With an exaggerated sigh and eye roll, Missy closed the book and dropped it onto the side table next to the couch, finally uncurling and standing tall, walking towards the hero with purpose. Clara frowned when Missy stood, talking a slight half step back as the villain came towards her, hands clenching into tight fists, the knuckles white, as if sensing what was coming and refusing to let go of her justified anger just yet. However her puppy let the inevitable happen as Missy reached the hero and wrapped her arms around Clara’s tense shoulders, trapping her upper arms in her strong grasp and pulling the other brunette’s head into her chest and resting her chin atop.

There was a loud hissing sound and a wave of steam rose off the pair. Clara sank into the tight hug with a shuddering breath, tension rolling off her small form with the steam, as she brought her arms up and around Missy’s waist, unclenching her fists before gripping handfuls of the villain’s purple blouse at the small of her back.

“I’m sorry the mean old owl made my puppy mad, but mummy’s here to make it all better,” Missy murmured against Clara’s hair before dropping a soft kiss to her hero’s head. Clara burrowed deeper into the villain’s chest as Missy lay her head against Clara’s and began to hum, rocking them both from side to side as one hand came up to stroke her puppy’s hair.

They stayed like that for a few minutes as Clara began to calm down, the indicative heat that had permeated her skin fading to its normal, though still higher than a normal human, level. Missy smiled into the hero’s hair as she felt the change.

“Better?” Clara nodded into her chest. Missy’s grin grew as she pulled away from the hero, gently moving her hands to Clara’s shoulders and pushing her upright, her puppy’s hands leaving Missy’s back to fall at her sides. The villain could see some tears staining her puppy’s cheeks so moved her hands to cup the join at her neck and wipe them away with her thumbs, careful of the wounded one. With that done she made sure Clara’s eyes locked with hers for a moment as she spoke again. “The Doctor just wants to look out for you poppet. You might not be his student but he still cares about you greatly, and I thank him for that. Even if he does still send you unnecessary trouble.” Clara huffed and shook her head.

“You’re the one usually causing that trouble.”

“I know but still. He only wants what’s best for you. But no matter what he says or suggests, I’ll always be here for you. If that’s what you want.”

Clara smiled and closed her eyes as she nodded within Missy’s grip. She blew out a long breath and looked back up at the villain with those large doe eyes shining, this time with only regular emotion.

“Thank you Missy.”

“Anytime. My Clara.”

After a pause Missy licked her lips and moved her hands from Clara’s face to trail down her arms, brushing lightly over the still intact grey material, before taking Clara’s hands in both of hers.

“Very well then Hot Head,” Missy said as she slowly walked backwards towards the couch, tugging Clara to follow, “What shall we do with our free evening?”

“You’re the one who snuck in here Ice Queen,“ Clara retorted with an eye roll, “I hadn’t planned on anything.”

“Well that’s good,” the villain happily as they reached the edge of the couch and stopped, letting go of Clara’s hands to place one on her waist and the other on her shoulder, flashing her trademark predatory grin. In an instant Missy snuck a leg around Clara’s and pulled, throwing the hero off balance before using her momentum to turn and drop the other brunette onto the couch.

The hero landed with a soft and surprised ‘oof’ before a second later it became a gasp as Missy settled into her own position of straddling the younger woman. Missy moved forward so her lips brushed Clara’s, the hero’s free hands finding their place on the villain’s hips.

“Because I have a few of my own,” Missy purred against Clara’s lips before not wasting another second and capturing them in a crushing kiss. Clara clung to Missy, trying to pull the villain closer despite their bodies already being flush. Missy grinned and nipped at Clara’s bottom lip, tasting the addictive smoky tang of the hero’s blood.

Missy pulled away all too soon however, leaving Clara to try and chase her, the move causing the villain to chuckle. Both were already breathless and the fun was only just beginning. Missy moved her hands so she could run one thumb along Clara’s bottom lip and the split in it while the other caressed her wounded cheek. Clara leant into Missy’s touch and whined a little when the villain moved her hands back to the hero’s shoulders.

“It seems Mistress has some making up to do after playing a little too rough with her puppy when trying to rob that bank this morning huh,” Missy said with a pout. She rolled her hips against Clara’s, the move causing the hero’s eyes to flutter shut and mouth to drop open silently. Missy grinned wide. “Wouldn’t you agree poppet?”

Clara’s eyes slowly opened again, pupils blown wide and what was left of the iris glowing faintly as a lazy smile graced her lips. Her puppy managed a brief nod before Missy buried a hand in the hero’s hair and surged forward again.

Cold met hot in a possessive clash of teeth and tongues, and as an affront to science ice would be the one to melt fire. Though fire would get their own back later. Ice would make sure of it.

 (Happy birthday @evilqueenofgallifrey! I hope you enjoy this and have/had an awesome birthday. Love ya bud.)