#Righteous Fury WIP

[gemmahale]

Y’know what? If I’m going to be writing Scottish family members and such for Righteous Fury, I should have someone Scot-pick it. (This is a play on @pfhwrittes’ Brit-picking he helps me out with.)

I know I want to include Scots, because it’s a language that deserves more exposure, and it makes sense for the MacTavishes to speak it, I think. (We canonically know Soap slips terms into conversation, so he’s not unfamiliar.)

I’m drawing a blank on who might be able and willing to help me with this. I’m more than happy to negotiate a price, because expertise deserves compensation.

I don’t know that knowledge about the CoD characters is necessary. Probably gives an advantage though.

Help an author out, friends?

I want this to be done right, not by the seat of my pants.

[noswordinourlake]

I was just going through my WIP folder and found a Jiuyuan pre-canon AU I started and then totally forgot about. Since I doubt I'll be able to work on this for a hot minute, posting the bit I do have here.

The premise is "Shen Yuan, transmigrator and rogue cultivator, with the righteous fury of an internet gremlin who never let anyone get away with being inaccurate in his lives, becomes Shen Jiu’s reviewer #2.

[Everyone disliked that]"

—

A-Jiu, his shizun had said, a scholar must build their name.

A-Jiu, his shizun had said, a scholar must share their knowledge.

A-Jiu, his shizun had said, a scholar must publish.

Well. Fuck his shizun anyway.

—

Shen Jiu had been developing his thesis on the effect of strong spiritual and demonic fields on the development of spiritual beasts for several years (only partially influenced by the Incident with the luminescent bat beetles in the Ling Xi Caves and how close one had come to eating the disgusting Liu brat’s leg. Such a near miss. A tragedy) when his shizun cornered him at his favorite reading table in the Qing Jing peak library.

His master was holding the latest draft of his work with a look on his face that boded no good to anyone, but particularly Shen Jiu. He had the smile of a Bodhisattva and the eyes of a two-tailed eagle shark that had scented blood in the water.

“A-Jiu,” he said, rolling over the moment where Shen Jiu failed to rise or greet him, “This master was looking over the latest copy of your work and I really do think it's time—”

“This disciple disagrees!” Shen Jiu snapped. Like hell was he sending out his treatise to get picked at by idiots who couldn't tell a yao from a feral cat. Not that he could say that. “Shizun, it surely needs further revision.”

His teacher's smile grew wider and more serene. “The pine tree grows because of the wind and the rain, not despite them.”

Shen Jiu was silent for a moment to see if this would be followed by words that made sense to anyone not his shizun—sometimes these statements were. Not today though.

His shizun didn't seem to need a response anyway. He flapped the stack of papers in his hand in Shen Jiu’s face in farewell and left the library with that infuriating smile unbudged.

—

Shen Jiu only realized his shizun had circulated his treatise among his network of old students and acquainted scholars when the first absolutely infuriating letter made its way into his hands.

[the-californicationist]

Guile & Guilt changed meeee. It was so cute. I absolutely loved it. Do you have any ao3 recs/authors?

Thank you so much for reading it! <3 I'm glad it made an impression. It changed me, too. 😅

So, I posted a fic rec list a while back. But, I have to add on a few new favorites as well.

Ever since reading @fireya-x and her keep me breathing Price saga, I've gobbled up everything she's been putting on the table for us. That one and @gemmahale and the amazing Johnny fix-it fic Righteous Fury just give me the best AU COD vibes. Lots of action. The warfare is there, but so are the feels.

If you want more Johnny, I'm going to have to plug Trainspotting by @bitterrfruit. She's a word wizard, and everything she makes turns to pure gold. Seriously, all bangers. And, if you are lucky enough to speak some Spanish, Fearless by @pricesugarwife is absolutely stunning. Like, it'll change your life.

But, if you are looking for some Ghoap instead, that Cedar Beam, Pine Rafter fic by @/joesoef was a real heart-stabber. Very well-developed and well-written.

Obsessed with this Gaz fic by @pricegouge. I think about it once a day, it feels like. lol maybe not, but i am beyond obsessed with it.

Me, lately? I've been into the bear shifter vibes because of my current WIP, Ursa Major. @/LotharWinchester's Just in My Nature and Bare Necessities are scrumptious. Like how many times can I reread them? Idek. Amazing. Also Warm by @/3sa is a total banger. It's shifter o'clock around these parts, truly.

For wolf-shifter vibes, though, it's gotta be The Day is My Enemy by the fabulous @deadbranch. Masterpiece. Iconic. No notes. It's seriously such a rewarding read.

There's so many more. I wish I could plug them all, but I hope this keeps you busy, anon! Please be sure to check out my AO3 bookmarks if you are feeling brave enough.

[theheartmold]

WIP WEDNESDAY

i was tagged by @flowersforthemachines and lol it's technically not wednesday anymore for me but oh well! i'm attaching a scene NOT from the contracts eight fic but set just afterwards, with andrea and viago. unsure if it will make it into the final cut but i couldn't NOT write it. so here u go!

"It's disappointing, Andrea." Viago didn't look up at them. He was too busy thumbing through their report on the Rialto job. Andrea was too busy staring out the darkened window behind him, hoping against hope that the Maker would suddenly reveal himself. If he was merciful, he would have smited them by now. It's never too late for mercy.

"How the hell did the entire estate end up in flames?" He slammed the paperwork down, and Andrea only lazily drew their eyes over to him. Viago had no idea what they'd been through—what they had to do just to survive. They didn't feel particularly inclined to share. They had never quite liked living before. It seemed a near-death experience was all that it took to change. "Andrea. This was exactly what I was hoping to avoid."

"I killed him," Andrea drawled, "Didn't I?"

Viago scoffed. He leaned back in his chair, and Andrea could tell by the twitch in his brow that he was trying not to yell at them. They almost wanted him to. Anything would be better than this, sitting and waiting for his judgment to pass. Let it come, all wrath and righteous fury, and let them be parted from his gaze forever.

"Indeed. And you took everyone else with him." He took in a shaky breath. The silence carried for several heartbeats. Andrea didn't try to fill it. "As…. unfortunate as your dismal performance in Rialto may have been… there is still other news."

Viago reached for something else on his desk. He raised it up where Andrea could see; an envelope, thick, already opened. A wax seal, red as blood and depicting two crows in flight, was still stuck to the lip. Andrea sat up. They'd seen that seal before. That's…

"House Dellamorte sends their regards." Viago raised his brows at them. "You seemed to make an impression on Illario. He spoke highly of your work. As did your client, who said that you both exceeded expectations in meeting all of her… 'additional requests'." He quoted the words in the air with his fingers before setting the envelope down in front of Andrea.

They stared at it silently. Andrea leaned forward after a beat passed, reaching out to trace their fingers over the wax seal. Something wicked in them wondered if it had been Illario's hand to do so. Something worse reminded them of how it felt when he brushed his thumb over the scar on their cheek.

Thankfully, Viago didn't seem to notice their muted agony, because he continued to speak.

"She added an additional ten thousand andris to the contract payout."

Andrea looked up, the envelope suddenly heavy in their hand. "What?"

"Illario also insisted that be split with you, half and half like the rest of the payout." Viago exhaled, massaging his temple with one hand. "I don't know how you managed to weasel an equal split out of the Dellamortes. I thought I was going to have to get you a contract negotiator."

Andrea didn't have an answer for him either. They stuttered helplessly, looking down at the papers they'd pulled out. It was just as Viago said, and all handwritten in Illario's elegant scrawl. They'd come to know it so well by now.

"He also insisted that this extra payment, as it were, be paid to you directly rather than considered with the house fees. Given that I don't let anyone tell me how to run my house, much less Illario Dellamorte, I considered writing back myself. I didn't."

Andrea waited for another one of Viago's sighs, but it didn't come. Instead they thumbed through Illario's letter themself, their eyes jumping from word to word. The parchment crinkled under their touch as they turned from one page to the next—although it was to their eyes still a debrief, there was nothing but praise for their work to be found.

Andrea slowly looked up at Viago, whose expression was twisted into a scowl. They swallowed.

"What the hell am I supposed to think, Andrea?" Viago ran a hand down his face. "On the one hand you have one of the Dellamortes singing your praises—and on the other… whatever happened in Rialto. And don't think for a second that I believe what you wrote in your debrief."

Andrea winced. "It was a—"

"A change in plans," Viago finished for them. "So you've said. You're not the only one who has had to make them lately. Andrea, I was going to recommend that your work go to Velabanchel, especially after seeing how the Rialto job went."

They froze. Velabanchel. The Crow prison—trapped in stone, against the sea, nothing but them and prisoners and torturing, day in and day out, no way to track the time in the thick stone walls. Their breath was caught in their throat and they couldn't choke it out. "You—"

"Won't." Viago's tone was icy. "Not after this letter, from the house of the First Talon. Like I said, it seems that you made an impression on Illario. For now, you'll stay in Salle until I find another contract suited to your talents."

Andrea stood up to leave, the letter still gripped tightly in their hand. They paused, mouth open, as if to thank him, before they frowned. What did they have to thank him for? Not sending them away? Instead, they bowed their head and turned to leave.

"Andrea." Viago called out to them just before they reached the door. They bit their tongue instead of expressing their frustration. He always waited until just before they were free. Andrea turned their head to look back at him, waiting for another chastisement.

"The work with Illario. I wasn't sure how you would handle it." He leaned forward, resting his arms on the desk. "It was a risk. It paid off. Lucanis and Illario both rarely work anything but solo jobs, and when they do partner up, it's usually exclusively with the other. What you've done is impressive."

Andrea could sense something venomous in his words. It made their throat feel like acid, dripping upset into their churning stomach. "Thank you, Viago." It was the nicest thing he'd said to them in years. It was still pleasant to hear. Bittersweet.

[sunnyx07]

Chapter Six

Warning: 

The Following Story is entirely out of my imagination, I do not mean harm when writing this story with any religion or culture.

That being said, BNHA does not belong to me, any other character beside the main character does not belong to me.

English isn’t my first language, please be kind <3

main list < Previous chapter Next chapter >

“This isn’t good.” A god like present closed a small screen, overseeing the situation that has happened the last few days. Small locks of hair floating across their face, as they gently pushed it out of the way, tucking it behind their ear. Suddenly, an Angel that must have been 5 feet shorter than the being before her, quickly came running towards her. 

“Your Majesty!” She spoke in a hastily tone, her breath has quickened as she had been flying as fast as she could. “It’s her! She found out-!” Quick to wip their head, they summoned the one they were talking about. Suddenly, white chains surrounded a screaming woman, as they have trashed around. 

“LET ME GO!” She demanded, her hair getting caught in the chains, burning it off. “YOU SAID SHE WAS DEAD AND MADE IT TO HELL.” She yelled, scratching her knees as she launched herself at the inhuman being, who was looking at her with pity. 

“I didn’t think she was. He hid her well.” They spoke in a monotone voice, pulling up an monitor again, smiling at themselves. “Doesn’t mean I can’t kill them yet, she isn’t human after all.” “YOU MONSTER! THAT’S MY DAUGHTER!!”

The woman spat, as the godly being stomped their foot hard, silencing them. “SHE IS THE DEATH OF HEAVEN AND EARTH. She must be stopped, or would you rather have your precious husband find out with who you had an affair with? He will not take it so kindly as I did.” 

“So what? I never loved him, I was only made to be a toy. I can be so much more than that, but YOU never gave me the chance. I sinned but i’ve been forgiven but I still live in this FUCKING PRISON!” She ran at it, but got caught back by the chains.

 “ENOUGH.” The deity stood up, hovering over her. It looked slightly to the right, where one of its right hand looked directly at them. “Michael. Get one of the executors to sign up and get down at earth, you know what to do.”

Michael vanished in a cascade of golden light, leaving only a faint shimmer in his place. The divine presence turned their gaze back to the woman bound in searing white chains, her eyes filled with both fury and despair. “You will regret this,” 

she hissed through gritted teeth, her voice raw with pain. “You claim to be righteous, but all you do is destroy what you fear. You are no god—just a coward behind a throne.” The deity’s expression remained unreadable. Slowly, they descended, their feet barely touching the celestial marble beneath them. 

Their presence alone was enough to make the woman’s body tremble, the sheer weight of their power pressing down on her like an invisible force. “I am what is necessary,” they said, their voice devoid of emotion. “And you… you are a mistake that should have never been.”

“HE WILL FIND YOU. SAMAEL WILL—” Suddenly, a loud smack echoed through the kingdom, silencing the defiant cry. The force sent ripples through the celestial halls, as if the very foundations of heaven trembled in response.

“Do not bring up his name.” The deity’s voice was low, dangerous. Their hand shot forward, seizing the woman’s jaw with an iron grip, forcing her to meet their gaze. “Know your place, Eve. First woman of men kind.”

Eve panted, her breath ragged, yet her eyes burned with defiance. The deity’s grip did not loosen. Instead, they leaned in, their expression cold, detached.

“She will die,” they whispered, their tone like the final toll of a bell. “She will die because she is a venom to heaven. She will never exist again.”

Eve thrashed against the chains, her body trembling with rage and grief. “You… you’re making a mistake,” she rasped. “If you do this, nothing will hold him back. Nothing.”

The deity released her with a shove, letting her collapse onto the marble floor. “Then let him come,” they said, turning away. “Samael has no power here. And soon, neither will she.”

———

“Are you dumb or are you actually playing with me?” Bakugou grumbled annoyed, as his pencil ticked against your paper. “There is no way you think this is the correct answer.”

You rolled your eyes, finding his attitude more exhausting than anything. “Oh, I’m sorry, are you suddenly a math genius now?” you shot back, crossing your arms.

Bakugou scoffed, his crimson eyes narrowing. “I don’t need to be a genius to know you messed up basic algebra, dumbass.” He tapped the eraser of his pencil aggressively against the mistake.

After the incident a couple of months ago, Bakugou and you weirdly grew slightly closer. Oh, you two still went head-to-head over everything, but you also felt that Bakugou could at least tolerate your existence now. Maybe even respect it, in his own gruff way.

You huffed and snatched the paper back. “Alright, smartass, why don’t you show me how it’s done then?”

A cocky smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “Watch and learn.” He leaned over, quickly scribbling the correct equation down with almost unnecessary force. His shoulder brushed against yours, and though it was unintentional, neither of you moved away.

“See? Not that hard.” He shot you a triumphant look, waiting for your reaction.

You stared at the numbers on the page before sighing. “Yeah, yeah. Fine. You win this round.”

“Damn right I do.” He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed smugly, but there was something softer in his expression now, something almost amused.

You looked up and chuckled, throwing your eraser at his head, which he dodged with ease. “Get that smug smirk off your face.”

Bakugou scoffed, reaching for the eraser where it had landed. “Tch. You’re just mad I’m right.” He tossed it back at you, hitting you square in the forehead.

“Ow!” you glared, rubbing the spot as he smirked triumphantly.

“That’s payback.”

Despite yourself, you couldn’t help but grin, shaking your head as you turned back to your paper. Maybe studying with Bakugou wasn’t so bad after all.

Just as you were about to refocus, a shadow loomed over the two of you. Aizawa stood there, arms crossed, his tired eyes fixed on you both.

“You two. Training ground. Now.” His voice left no room for argument.

You blinked. “Huh? Why?”

“Private session,” Aizawa said simply. “And Bakugou, you’re coming too. You’re the only one who can snap her out of it if things go south.”

Bakugou frowned. “Tch. What do you mean by that?”

Aizawa didn’t answer, already walking away.

You exchanged a glance with Bakugou, confusion and a bit of unease settling between you. Training wasn’t unusual, but this felt different. More serious. And the way Aizawa had said ‘if things go south’ didn’t exactly ease your nerves.

With a sigh, you stood up. “Guess we better get moving.”

Bakugou clicked his tongue, shoving his hands in his pockets. “This better not be a waste of my damn time.”

But as the two of you made your way to the training grounds, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to change.

When you arrived, Aizawa was already waiting, arms still crossed, his usual tired expression laced with something more serious.

“All Might will be here in a second,” he said, eyes flicking between you and Bakugou. “Since it was proven my quirk isn’t able to stop you from going crazy, pure strength will have to do.” He gestured for you both to change into your hero suits.

You swallowed hard, exchanging another look with Bakugou before nodding. Whatever this was, it wasn’t just another training session. Something bigger was at play.

Moments later, clad in your hero suits, you stood across from Bakugou in the designated training area. Aizawa gave a simple nod before stepping back, letting the two of you take center stage.

“Alright, you two,” he called. “Nothing lethal. Control is the goal here.”

Bakugou cracked his knuckles, smirking. “Hope you can keep up, dumbass.”

You grinned, fire flickering at your fingertips. “Just try not to get burned.”

The moment Aizawa gave the signal, Bakugou lunged forward, explosions propelling him towards you. You sidestepped, barely dodging his initial strike, and retaliated with a burst of flames, forcing him to leap back. The heat radiated around you, more controlled than before, the fire curling around your arms without scorching wildly.

“You’re not flailing like last time,” Bakugou noted, blocking a fire-coated punch with his gauntlet. He shoved you back with a controlled explosion, enough to send you skidding but not enough to knock you off your feet.

You smirked, rolling your shoulders. “Maybe I’ve been paying attention.”

“Doubt it.” He shot forward again, this time feinting to the left before blasting up, aiming to come down with a powerful strike. You responded instinctively, flames surging beneath your feet to propel you upward, meeting him midair. The clash of fire and explosions sent a shockwave through the training ground, but neither of you backed down.

For the first time, you weren’t just reacting. You were fighting with precision, your fire bending to your will rather than raging uncontrollably. Bakugou noticed it too, his smirk widening as he deflected another burst of flames.

“Not bad,” he admitted begrudgingly. “But you’re still not beating me.”

You laughed, feeling the exhilaration course through your veins. “We’ll see about that.”

Aizawa watched from the sidelines, arms still crossed, his sharp eyes catching every movement. Alright arrived a few moments later, looking over at the two fighting. “Are you sure we should let her train so soon?” He questioned, worry definitely readable on his face.

“For some reason, bakugou keeps her grounded.” Aizawa answered him back. “I don’t know why, I don’t know how he does it, but he really does it.”

Aizawa’s eyes narrowed behind his capture weapon as he watched the spar unfold. Every movement was precise—refined. Your fire, once unpredictable and wild, now curled with intention. Controlled heat. Purpose.

But it wasn’t just the fire. It was you.

You didn’t hesitate like you used to. You didn’t let fear or doubt lead your steps. And every time your focus wavered, even slightly, Bakugou was there—charging, countering, snapping you back into the moment like a human anchor forged in explosions and spite.

“Tch,” Aizawa muttered under his breath. “I’ve seen pros with less chemistry.”

All Might leaned on the railing beside him, arms crossed, a contemplative look in his eyes. “I always knew Bakugou had raw potential… but he’s changed, hasn’t he? It’s not just about strength anymore.”

Aizawa gave a slight nod, watching as Bakugou barked something at you mid-air, the usual edge to his tone slightly dulled by—what was that? Encouragement?

“Whatever it is,” Aizawa said, “it’s keeping her from losing herself. That’s worth something.”

Your feet landed hard against the ground, heat pulsing up through your legs. Smoke curled around you, the aftershock of your last clash with Bakugou crackling through the air like static.

“Focus!” he shouted, voice cutting through the haze. “You’re drifting again!”

You snarled but nodded, brushing sweat from your brow with a swipe of your wrist. “I’m fine, damn it.”

“Didn’t look like it,” he muttered, already launching at you again. His explosions were tighter now, less destructive and more directional, meant to challenge—not hurt.

You ducked a blast, then twisted around him, flames lacing through your fingers as you skated the edge of control. The fire was hotter than ever—singing with adrenaline—but it obeyed.

Barely.

Bakugou turned mid-air, landing hard in a crouch. “That’s it,” he barked, breathless. “Make it yours. Don’t let it control you.”

You charged him, heat building at your back. A ring of fire burst outward from your feet, surging in his direction like a tide. Bakugou leapt above it, and the two of you collided mid-air again—your flame, his blast—a perfect storm. For a heartbeat, all the world was heat and light.

You crashed onto the ground with a roll, coughing but laughing under your breath. “You know,” you said, looking up at him, “for someone who acts like they hate me, you sure shout a lot of motivational speeches.”

He stood over you, hands on his hips, hair singed at the edges, sweat glistening on his forehead. “Shut up,” he said flatly. “You just suck less now.”

You snorted, flames flickering harmlessly at your sides. “That almost sounded like a compliment.”

“It wasn’t.”

But he offered a hand to help you up anyway. You took it.

His grip was firm, grounding, and when you were back on your feet, he didn’t let go right away. Just for a second, his eyes scanned your face—checking for something. Fear, maybe. Unsteadiness. You didn’t know what he found, but he grunted, finally letting go, stepping back.

“Tch. Don’t get soft on me now.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled, brushing your fingers through the smoke in the air. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Up on the platform, All Might smiled knowingly. “I think she’s found her anchor.”

“No,” Aizawa replied quietly. “She found her equal.”

——

The crackling of fire and explosions had softened now, echoing faintly across the charred training field. You and Bakugou stood a few feet apart, breathing heavily, the adrenaline finally beginning to settle in your veins.

The edge of your vision shimmered from the leftover heat, the scent of burnt ozone lingering in the air. Embers drifted lazily to the ground like falling stars, and the world felt still again. For a moment, it was peaceful.

Too peaceful.

Bakugou glanced toward you, brushing ash from his gauntlet. “You’re getting faster,” he muttered, not quite a compliment—but coming from him, it might as well have been.

You grinned, about to throw some snark back when—

BOOM.

A blinding light tore through the sky.

Golden. Blistering. Divine.

It didn’t come like thunder—it was thunder. The force slammed into the ground just a few yards away from where you stood, cracking stone and sending dust and heat flying outward like a shockwave. Your instincts screamed as your flames flared to life without your permission, reacting to the sudden surge of unnatural power.

Bakugou whipped around, shielding his face with one arm. “What the—?!”

From the center of the impact, the golden light took form—elegant yet inhuman. Wings folded sharp as blades behind a tall, armored figure. Silver and gold etched down their arms like glowing veins. Their presence was holy—but cold, suffocating. Divine judgment in humanoid shape.

They didn’t speak at first.

They didn’t need to.

The pressure in the air told you everything—this being wasn’t here for a visit.

They were here for you.

“Designated target acquired,” the figure finally said, voice vibrating not just through the air—but through your bones. “Your presence defies order. You will be removed.”

There was no time to speak.

No time to question.

The moment you locked eyes with them—they moved.

Faster than human sight.

A burst of golden energy shot forward—and they were already on you.

You threw up a wall of flame, barely reacting in time. It held for a second—then shattered like glass as the being crashed through it, sending you flying backward across the field. You slammed into the dirt, rolled hard, and barely pushed yourself up before another strike came.

Bakugou launched himself into the air, roaring, “BACK OFF!”

A concussive blast shot toward the figure, forcing them to sidestep—graceful and calculated, like they had rehearsed every motion long before it happened. Still, Bakugou’s interference gave you a second to breathe.

“Move!” he shouted, landing beside you, panting. “This one’s not here to train—they’re here to erase you!”

“No kidding,” you spat, flames roaring to life around your arms, hotter than before. More alive. Your eyes glowed with heat, something primal starting to boil in your chest. This wasn’t just a fight anymore—it was survival.

The figure lifted their staff—or sword? It shifted with light—radiant, lethal, impossible to define. The glow at its edge intensified, humming with divine resonance.

In an instant, they moved again—straight toward you.

But this time—you met them head-on.

Your flame burst outward with raw force, clashing against the searing divine light of the intruder. Heat and holiness collided, scorching the battlefield in a vortex of color and energy.

Every strike from them was precise, meant to end. Every movement from you was instinct, raw power barely held in check. You ducked under a horizontal slash of their radiant weapon and let fire erupt from your feet to launch upward, twisting midair and releasing a jet of flame that crashed down toward them like a meteor.

They countered effortlessly—but the speed at which you moved now shocked even them.

You suddenly felt a piercing stab in your arm, as you we’re bleeding. You looked at your arm, but instead of the red blood you were used to, it was pitch black. “W-Whats..happening to me..”

Bakugou turned sharply, catching the way you staggered. “The hell’s going on? What happened—did he hit you?!”

You looked at him, lips trembling. “I… I think something’s wrong.”

The golden-armored attacker paused mid-step, eyes narrowing. Their blade lowered ever so slightly, their voice laced with contempt. “That isn’t human blood…”

A chill crawled up your spine.

You stared at the black fluid still dripping from your arm—and then you felt it. A flicker. Something twitching beneath your skin, like claws dragging along bone. The pain faded… but it was replaced with pressure. Your heart beat faster. Something inside your chest stirred.

“Heh…” the figure tilted their head. “It’s beginning, then.”

Bakugou was suddenly in front of you, his tone sharp. “What the hell does that mean? Beginning what?!”

The figure didn’t answer.

But your body did.

Your fingernails began to sharpen—subtle, not enough for someone untrained to notice, but Bakugou caught the change. Your eyes burned faintly, a soft crimson glow ebbing in and out like breathing embers. You could feel something inhuman curling at the edge of your mind. Unfamiliar.

A faint voice echoed inside your skull—not in words, but in emotion. Mocking. Ancient. Yours… and not yours.

“I—I don’t know what’s happening,” you whispered, grabbing Bakugou’s arm. “Something’s—inside me.”

“You’re not turning into anything,” he snapped. “Stay with me, dumbass. You’re stronger than this.”

But the figure was moving again.

They rushed forward, blade glinting with divine light—but Bakugou was already launching himself at them, fists exploding mid-air to intercept.

“You want her,” he growled, “you go through me.”

You fell to your knees behind them, clutching your arm as the black blood began to sizzle against your skin. The pressure in your chest was rising. You could feel it in your bones, in your breath—in your soul.

A part of you was waking up.

Not fully. Not yet.

But it was there now.

You clawed at your back, a scream coming out of your body as the bone snapping sound of something revealed two beautiful set of black wings. You stood there, like before, eyes pure black as you were about to pounce onto the angel, you got stopped.

Not by bakugou, not by Aizawa, no.

By something that felt like a little piece of home for some reason.

A claw held your arm, big black horns coming into view as it looking up at the angel. “Camael, I don’t appreciate you hurt his majesty’s daughter.” The creature spoke to the angel, Camael.

“Nothing personal Drax.” He spoke back, eyes full with hatred. “But she had to go. She’s a threat to Heaven.”

The mention of Heaven made your chest tighten, the words like poison on your ears. It didn’t matter what you’d become, or what you were now; the angel’s words stung deep, igniting the flames of rage inside you. But you couldn’t act on it. Not while this powerful being held you in place.

Drax’s eyes never left Camael. There was a cold, unreadable expression on his face as he stood his ground. “She will not be harmed,” Drax stated with finality. His voice was thick with authority, as though it was a decree, not a suggestion. “You’ve been warned.”

Camael scoffed, stepping forward slightly. “You think you can stop me, demon? I am a warrior of Heaven—”

“You are nothing more than a pawn,” Drax interrupted, his voice unwavering. The tension in the air thickened, crackling with a dark energy that seemed to swirl around him. “I won’t say it again. Leave.”

For a moment, everything stood still. The two beings, one of light and one of shadow, locked in an unspoken battle of wills. The ground beneath you seemed to tremble as the dark energy from Drax met Camael’s celestial power.

But despite the angel’s fiery glare, Camael didn’t make a move. There was something in Drax’s presence, an undeniable power that was not to be challenged. For all his arrogance, Camael knew when to retreat.

The angel’s wings flickered as he finally stepped back, unwilling to engage any further. “This is not over,” Camael spat, his voice seething with hate. “You cannot protect her forever.”

Drax didn’t flinch, his gaze unwavering as Camael spread his wings and took flight, vanishing into the sky with a blinding flash of light. Silence fell in the wake of his departure, leaving you standing, your body trembling, caught between two worlds.

As the last of the angel’s light faded, you blinked, the dark energy within you slowly simmering down, though it still burned beneath the surface. Your wings twitched again, the black feathers glinting ominously.

The dark figure—Drax—turned to you. His eyes softened slightly, though his expression remained stoic. “Are you alright?” he asked, his voice much gentler now.

You were silent for a moment, still in shock from everything that had just happened. The angel, your transformation, the sudden appearance of this demon—everything felt so surreal. But as you stared up at Drax, something about his presence, the way he was unwavering in his protection of you, made you feel an odd sense of safety.

“I… don’t know,” you muttered, your voice shaky. “What… what was that? Why did you help me?”

Drax's gaze softened ever so slightly. “I’m here to keep you safe, Princess,” he said simply, his tone devoid of emotion but carrying a weight of experience. “You have much to learn, and there are forces that want to see you destroyed. But you are not alone.”

The word Princess struck a chord in you, the significance of it making your mind reel. You had no idea what it meant, but the way Drax said it—the quiet authority in his voice—suggested something far greater than what you had imagined.

Bakugou stepped forward, a tense expression on his face. “Who the hell is this guy? Why is he calling you ‘Princess’?” He looked at you as if expecting an explanation.

You shook your head, still dazed by the events unfolding. “I… don’t know. But I don’t think he’s our enemy.”

Drax’s eyes flicked briefly to Bakugou, sizing him up, but he said nothing. His focus remained on you, the same unreadable expression on his face.

Your eyes wondered to Drax again, as allmight slowly stood behind you. “..Who are you..?”

He bowed deeply, his hand laid on top of his own heart. If he even has one.

“My name is Drax, I am the right hand man of the one who controls hell itself.” He looked up again “and you, your highness, you are the daughter of Lucifer Morningstar.”

---------

taglist:

@graythecoffeebean @slovesyouuu

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A/N: A very late birthday post! My birthday was this Monday and I also lost the original document where I store this story so I'm sorry for the delay! Do let me know what you thought of this chapter :DD

[gremlins-hotel]

[wip] hetalia dndverse - alfred, the chosen of lathander // there will come a soldier who carries a mighty sword // there will come a poet whose weapon is his word // there will come a ruler whose brow is laid in thorn

terrifying and beautiful is the righteous fury of the rising sun, so new and full of hope yet blazing with the passion of youth. upon sullied marble marches the golden paladin of the morninglord, his unwavering faith tempered by doubt and the long, dusty road of discovery. scourge of dawn, may the broken rally behind your banner and the unworthy of the mistress of pain be cleansed by holy fire, as is your god's whim. your eyes, the sun; your hands, a shining spear.

@wickedwanchii this was only meant to be thumbnails...but please enjoy this wip of an on-the-fly idea from our dndverse au. aasimar paladin, alfred, the golden son of lathander, showing the scars of his journey.

[queenie-ofthe-void]

Writing Patterns

Thank you @ataliagold and @devondespresso for the tag!

rules: share the first line of your last ten published works or as many as you are able and see if there are any patterns!

~~~

“Led Zeppelin? Never heard of them,” Steve lies, like a liar. All of My Love

Eddie’s not usually a teacher to bitch about his job. Tiger Club

“Okay, Munson. What’s your fucking problem?” Hear Me Out, Keep Me Guessing

He’s never quite sure how it happens, seeming to always sneak up on him. Stuck

Eddie and Robin were just finishing filling the snack bowls and mixing drinks when they heard a knock at the door. Confessions

“Stevie, baby, please answer the door,” Eddie begs just as the front door bursts open to reveal Robin Buckley in all her righteous fury. A Desperate Fool

“Max, go get your stuff.” Steve’s voice comes out sterner than he means to, but he’s exhausted after a long day of running errands. Promises

Steve knows his house is quiet, even though all he can hear is the ringing in his ears and the pulse throbbing behind his eyes. Gentle Noise

~~~

Not all of these are on ao3 and a few are prompts. But I've included all of my long fics and a few of my favorites!

Patterns:

5/8 are Steve POV buuuut Stuck is technically dual POV

50% dialogue -> I definitely like to start in the middle of a scene, and I think dialogue is an easy way for me to do that

Confessions, ADF, and Promises all take place in a doorway which is weird. HMO,KMG isn't a door but Steve's still walking through the trees into the picnic area, so it's like an entryway of sorts. UPDATE: My WIP The Babysitter Chronicles is a 5+1 and EVERY SINGLE CHAPTER starts at a door and so does each chapter of ADF. I have a problem

I try to set the tone from the first sentence. So if it's an angst fic, it's an angsty first sentence. Or if there's going to be swearing, etc. I think Tiger Club is the only exception, and maybe Promises since it's hard to tell it's a h/nc fic from the first sentence.

This was fun! Can't wait to finish uploading my stuff to ao3

Tags if you'd like to play and no pressure if you don't <3

@carolperkinsexgirlfriend @runninriot @lingeringmirth @eriquin @cuips-not-cute

@paperbackribs

[sidesteppostinghours]

WIP wednesday

tagged by @thecryptidenthusiast! this is on wednesday! dont. dont look at which wednesday it is. its on wednesday thats whats important here.

uni projects were absolutely kicking my Ass this past week so i havent been able to do much, but i do have these:

Ortega stares at the file in front of him. The new villain stares back.

Puppeteer.

Not Heartbreak. Not anymore, at least. He rubs his hands against his face, sighing. It doesn't make sense. He still remembers the jolt that went through him the first time he heard that name. Had the decncy to introduce themeself before they started breaking his bones, but in hindsight, he wishes they hadn't. His blood ran cold, and maybe his reactions did, too. Yeah, that's it. The name was a distraction; that fits with the way Puppeteer operates. That has to be the reason he lost that fight. Heartbreak: 2, Ortega: 0. But if they're looking for a reaction, why change it? Go so far as to mess with people's memories of what their name used to be? He's only grateful that the rest of the Rangers seem to remember everything the same he does. If it got bad enough to affect the team, he'd have to call in Cyrus, and he'd probably swear at him again.

was having thoughts about the "there are some perks to being a telepathic body snatcher, after all" line in the sewers when you consider potentially disliking the name picked out, and how ortega would feel about that.

"Thank you for showing me it doesn't have to be horrible." Mirlene's chest muffles your words, but you can feel her mind lighting up at them anyway.

"What?" she asks, but she is already adding up the dots. At least you can't see her face with your eyes shut and you curled in on her. "Mon couer..." "It's fine. It was a long time ago," you lie. You can feel her consider her next move, a slow, deliberate process at odds with how she normally thinks. It's no surprise when she reaches a hand out to you, and only slightly one when she leaves it hovering an inch or two above yours. Asking permission. That was always the difference between her and the scientists at the Farm. Treating this simple touch as if it's just as important as the places she put her hands on a few moments ago. You take her hand and squeeze it gratefully. "I'm sorry, mon couer," she whispers. "You should never have had to..." She can't quite finish the sentence, trailing off at the end. "I did, though." This time, you look up. There's a furrow in her brow. Too worried for something that's already passed. The kiss she places on your knuckles is gentle enough to nearly break you, though her thoughts are anything but. You can feel her fury, bubbling in the background of her mind in a muted flurry of [righteous anger and] protectiveness, but it's a feeling she puts to the side because they are secondary. Secondary to you. You are what's important to her. You are her first priority. Will the novelty ever wear off? You don't think so.

got brainblasted when i realized that theres likely eventually going to be a "thank you for showing me it doesnt have to be horrible" scene with mortum and took so much psychological damage i had to make my own take on it. MCBODY MORTUMSTEP PLEASEEEEE IM WAITING FOR YOU LIKE A LOVER LOST TO WAR

tagging uhhhhh @hyper-pixels @firststrikerr @reapersmarch andddd @glass-warehouse if yall are up for it?

[siderealscribblings]

Ao3's down, have some NeuviFuri WIP

__________________________________

"I see…and you're certain there are no survivors?" 

Furina paused outside Neuvillette's office, hand raised mid-knock as he heard a grave voice come from inside. 

"We aren't sure," a voice said softly. "The members of the derelict order seem to have perished in the explosion and the agents sent to apprehend them have not reported back…I fear we may have lost the squadron entirely." 

Furina's guts twisted as she stepped away from the door, quietly ducking into the library next to Neuvillette's office and locking the door behind her. When she occupied Egeria's old quarters, the first order of business was to make sure each room had more than one way out. Call it paranoia, but Furina didn't like to have her back against the wall without a way out. It was not, as Neuvillette suggested, because of her obsession with crime novels; just because The Adventures of Detective Ladybug had a secret door in nearly every installment did not mean that Furina redesigned her palace on a whim because of a light novel. 

(Though she would be lying if she said she didn't get a kick out of pressing a hidden switch behind a bookcase to open a passageway into the back of Neuvillette's office.) 

"Have you informed Lady Furina about this yet?" The other voice asked, his voice muffled by the wooden panel behind the bookcase in Neuvillette's office. 

"No…not until we have something more than dead bodies to report," Neuvillette said. "She has plenty on her mind with the centennial approaching; I'd like to know more before we take our findings to her." 

Oh you sneaky lizard! Furina silently huffed, bottling up her indignation to release properly at a later time. How many times must I tell you not to keep things from me?! 

"I understand; I’ll leave informing Lady Furina to your discretion,” the other voice said. “For now, what shall my squad do?” 

“For now, maintain a perimeter around the Beryl Region and detain anyone who attempts to enter,” Neuvillette said. “I will see to this…disturbance personally and see if the Phantom agents are still alive.” 

Phantom agents? Furina thought. What is he doing dispatching the Marechaussee Phantom out without discussing it with me first?! 

Furina managed to keep her fury contained until she heard his office door close. Summoning all her righteous indignation, she grabbed the handle of the secret door and wrenched it open. “Ah-ha!” 

Thunk! Furina’s grand, dramatic reveal was thwarted as the sliding library door jammed, freezing on the tracks after only opening about a foot. 

“I thought I heard something scurrying around in the walls,” Neuvillette sighed, watching Furina grow more and more frustrated as she tried to force the stuck door open. “Do you need help with-” 

“N-No, you just sit there and think about what you’ve done!” Furina grunted, shoving her shoulder against the bookcase. “I’ll, mngh, be with you in…just…a moment…” 

Neuvillette sighed quietly through his nose, leaning back in his chair to watch Furina give up on opening the door and settle for trying to wriggle her way through the narrow gap between the wall. 

“Thought you could, ugh, hide things from me did you?” Furina crowed as triumphantly as one could while squeezing their way through a narrow bookcase. 

“I take it you heard most of that conversation just now?” Neuvillette said, bending down to pick Furina’s hat off the ground as it rolled off her head. 

“Just the treasonous bits,” Furina grunted, her hips sticking in the frame as she glared impotently at Neuvillette. “I should have you disbarred-” 

“You will have to get through the door first,” Neuvillette said, weathering her withering glare with a patient smile. “It would be easier if you go out and come back in the front door, you know.” 

Furina had the same thought, but now that Neuvillette had suggested it she was even more determined to wriggle her way through the narrow crack under her own power. She was mortified enough that her ass getting stuck in the crack was the only thing preventing her from confronting her Iudex for his indiscretion; she was not going to back out and admit she made a mistake now. 

“I thought I made it clear that I detest it when you lie to me, Neuvillette!” Furina grunted, settling for glaring at him with her torso sticking out of the bookcase. 

“Have I lied to you or have I just not discussed this with you yet?” Neuvillette asked, tenting his fingers as he watched her wriggle with a little more success. “There was nothing to discuss until a few moments ago-” 

“Oh, but there was enough to dispatch the Marechaussee Phantom under my nose?!” Furina snapped. 

“I believe I informed you that the Phantom was investigating increased Primordial Seawater concentration around Elynas’ remains,” Neuvillette said. “I distinctly remember putting it in with the usual crime and law-enforcement reports-” 

“You know I don’t read those!” Furina growled. 

“Well, if you had, this wouldn’t be such a surprise,” Neuvillette said as Furina finally admitted defeat and slammed the bookcase behind her as she slipped back into the passage. Neuvillette heard her furious footsteps echoing in the passage, listened to the library door bang open and waited for his not-Archon to stamp her way back towards the door to his office. 

Bang! The door flew open as Furina stormed through, hair messy and coat covered in dust and grime from the passageway. Were she an actual Archon, Neuvillette might have divine retribution to fear; as it was, she could only scowl at him. 

“Explain…yourself,” Furina panted, snatching her hat back from him as he offered it up to her. “Before I have you put on trial!” 

“I don’t believe the sitting Iudex will rule against me in this case,” Neuvillette sighed, leaving Furina to fume in front of his desk as he got up and locked the door. “Seawater concentrations have ebbed and flowed over time; per your request, I have taken it upon myself to dispatch research teams to investigate whether or not these surges are anything to worry about before sounding the alarm bells.”

“Well now that people have died, can we start ringing the bells or do we want to wait for a tidal wave to drown us?” Furina grumbled, brushing herself off. “Details; now.” 

"They were in the report-" 

"You know I trust you to handle everything law-enforcement related in Fontaine; I haven't had the urge to double-check your work in fifty years!" Furina spat. "Although apparently I should have!" 

"If it gets you to read my briefs in the future, a little treason would have been well worth it," Neuvillette said. “You are aware that some refugees from the defunct Narzissenkreuz Institute have taken to conducting independent research into the upcoming deluge?” 

“Don’t say upcoming like it isn’t avoidable,” Furina hissed as though speaking it aloud would bring on the floods. “Yes and I thought we agreed to let them do what they will? The more brainpower put towards our problem, the better, no?” 

“No, as it turns out,” Neuvillette sighed. “We have reason to believe the members of the so-called Narzissenkreuz Ordo have gone a bit mad as scientists do from time to time. We secreted some Phantom agents into their ranks, as you suggested, to keep an eye on their goals…which turned out to be fairly grim.”

Neuvillette held out a crumpled sheet of paper for Furina to read, hands clasped behind his back as he studied her increasingly horrified expression. 

“S-Sweet Egeria's ghost, what have they been trying to do?!” Furina hissed, growing more incensed the more she read. “Holy Blade of Narzissenkreuz?! Circle of Four Orthants?! Tree of-what is this drivel?!” 

“The barkings of a pack of mad dogs,” Neuvillette said. “I dispatched the Phantoms to bring the Ordo in for questioning but…well, there was a violent explosion in Elynas recently and we seem to have lost contact with our agents. I was planning on departing for Elynas tomorrow to investigate but…I don’t think we’re going to find anything good.” 

Furina’s indignation ebbed away as she tossed the report back on Neuvillette’s desk. Things were too grave to be picking fights with Neuvillette at the moment; she could get huffy and bent out of shape all she wanted until lives were on the line. “Right…best to see for ourselves what this is all about. When do we leave?” 

“I hope the we you’re referring to doesn’t include you,” Neuvillette said.

“Why wouldn’t it?” 

“Why would it?” Neuvillette sighed. “A derelict order of mad scientists may have performed unspeakable atrocities on the bloated corpse-island of a relic from the Calamity in a misguided attempt to survive the apocalypse and you want to take a day-trip?” 

“Seeing as how my retainers have taken to hiding things from me-” 

“Hiding things from you by including them in reports placed directly on your desk?” 

“-it seems I must take to the field myself to ensure the safety of my people,” Furina barrelled on. "As a good Archon should." 

“How gallant of you,” Neuvillette said dryly. “And what if we encounter maniac scientists or gods know what else on that island?” 

“That’s where you come in,” Furina said brightly, patting him on the shoulder. “I have every confidence that you are equal to the task of protecting me from danger.” 

“The surest way to do that would be for you to remain in Court,” Neuvillette pointed out. 

“I was tasked with preventing this calamity,” Furina said. “If the Queen doesn’t lead, how can she expect her subjects to follow?” 

“As much as I admire your willingness to lead by example, can’t you just take credit for my work once it’s over?” Neuvillette asked in all sincerity. “You know I’m happy to let you have the limelight; just say you rode in on the back of a mighty white stallion and vanquished the oppressors or…something like that.” 

“Your skills as a playwright need a little fine tuning,” Furina sighed. “And what if you happen to die like the Phantom agents might have?” 

“I think I’m more difficult to kill than unenlightened mortals,” Neuvillette said. 

“Okay, fine; there is no earthly reason why I can’t stay behind while you poke around Elynas’ corpse,” Furina said, folding her arms. “Oh wait, no, I thought of one; I don’t want to.” 

Furina had once been reluctant to play the I’m Technically The Archon And I’m Technically In Charge And You Technically Need To Do What I Say card; how Neuvillette longed for those days. “Furina-” 

“Wh-what if some deranged maniac from the Ordo takes advantage of your absence and sticks a blade in my ribs?” Furina said, fumbling for a plausible excuse to tag along. “Maybe this is all a ruse to lure you away from the capitol to make an attempt on my life!” 

“Not even you are that paranoid,” Neuvillette said, folding his arms. “Speak your mind.” 

Furina’s lips twisted in a small pout, glaring away from Neuvillette. “...I don’t like being the only one of us not doing anything. And don’t say I do enough by keeping up appearances; not when you’re ankle-deep in seawater and fighting mad-scientists on my behalf.” 

“I’m the only one of us capable of that-” 

“Well maybe I would like to be capable of that as well!” Furina snapped. “I’m starting to feel useless and I don’t know how much longer I can go on feeling useless before I go crazy! I haven’t left the Court since Rex Lapis decided to sneak into our country and if I have to look at one more embroidery pattern for the stupid tablecloths for this stupid centennial celebration I am going to drown myself in our swimming pool!” 

Furina finished with a stamp of her foot, glaring up at Neuvillette as she fully expected another exasperated sigh. Instead he caught a glint of something that looked like admiration, his lips pursed as he seemed to be weighing her request. 

“Rumors about what these Ordo loonies are doing will make it back to court sooner or later,” Furina said, looping an arm through Neuvillette’s and looking out the window towards the horizon. “What better way to convince the people of their Archon’s strength than riding out to meet them in battle with Iudex Neuvillette? You and I both come out looking good, I get some fresh air, and we handle this without involving any more casualties.” 

“So long as you are not included in those casualties,” Neuvillette said, fidgeting with the corner of his cloak. “...if we are attacked-” 

“I have no shame running and hiding like a terrified pomeranian,” Furina promised. 

“You must do exactly as I say for a change,” Neuvillette added. 

“I will be the picture of obedience, my Lord,” Furina beamed. 

“Even if I tell you to abandon me to my death and save your own life?” Neuvillette asked. Furina hesitated, chewing on the corner of her lip before answering. 

“Not happily, but, if you ask me to leave you behind to die…I will,” Furina lied. 

[gemmahale]

Last Line Tag Game!

Rules: share the last line written, tag some peeps, have some fun!

Tagged by @391780. Thanks Early! 😄

From Righteous Fury: Chapter 3

John frowns, looking down at his closed journal. “Nae yet. Maggie’s been blowin’ up mah phone, but -” he trails off, shrugging. “Y’ken how it is.”

Who's Maggie? You'll have to find ouuuuut. 😇

Tagging....hm. @the-californicationist, @maggiemayhemnj, @dwarvenales, @deadbranch, and @glossysoap! No pressure, obviously. 💚

[blarfkey]

💥Is there a chapter, scene, or WIP you're most excited to write? Share a snippet or tell us about it! From the writer asks

Oh I was hoping someone would ask this! I've been cooking a Solas x Dwarf Rook fic. It's definitely still way to early to post soon but I do have a solid beginning.

“You don’t remember me, do you?”

The first time they spoke in the Fade, Rook didn’t expect him to. She barely recognized Solas herself. The face remained the same, but the demeanor — the sneer, the derision, the anger — had twisted it into something almost unrecognizable. He had none of the serenity, empathy, or wisdom that Varric had described and none of the tenderness and righteous fury she remembered.

But now, as they enjoy their third little fade social, it’s becoming painfully obvious that their first encounter, which burns so brightly in her memory, doesn’t amount to so much as a flickering candle flame in his. It would be insulting if it didn’t also provide another opportunity for her to needle him. Solas hates not being the one who knows everything, having to rely on her for information of the outside world.

Solas narrows his eyes at her. “Is this an attempt at humor? As if I would forget the the lunatic who released two blighted elven gods on the world.”

Katya laughs at that. “As opposed to the lunatic who wanted to unleash the entire Fade’s worth of demons on the world.”

“As I said, many times, I had plans in place — ”

“To mitigate the damage. Yes, yes yes. So you say.”

She wishes she could be closer to him, if only to see if he had a vein throb on his temple. He certainly looks irritated enough for it.

“And yet you still don’t understand,” he says.

He does not understand but she is quickly learning that pointing this out does nothing but make him dig in his heels like the stubborn jackass he is. Right now she needs to pivot to a productive conversation instead of just volleying pointless insults at each other.

“What I don’t understand is your fucking Crossroads,” she says. “Why is everything in the Fade needlessly complicated? This is why dwarves stay out of it. I don’t have time to figure out nonsense.”

There’s a flinch, at that. Almost imperceptible, but Rook’s gaze never leaves his face. She files it away to ponder over later. If she has time. So much of his man is an infuriating tangle of opposites.

[a-writing-otter]

WIP Wednesday on a Tuesday

Astarion weathers his lower lip between his teeth as he gazes across the fire. Karlach is sitting close to Wyll, regaling him with her side of a famous clash with the Blade of Frontiers as he, for everyone else’s benefit, corrects with the actual events.

This little… whatever of Astarion and Karlach’s isn’t so weak that it flickers at the fact she’s talking to Wyll with an arm around him, that’s just Karlach. No, his attention is far more rapt on the story she’s telling or, rather, the way she tells the story.

He sees her bare her teeth and flex her arms, her tail thrashes about and it’s the first time that Astarion considers that that too can be a weapon as deadly as her axe.

Karlach’s opinion of her time in the hells ranges from moment to moment. There’s certain consistencies he’s picked up: anything about Zariel makes her flash her teeth and her ports sputter with flame, even now that her engine’s been tuned up; taking on demons and devils tends to get her also ramped up, but for different reasons and there’s a mania he recognizes to his core and associates with a maw dripping of blood and a metallic tinge on his tongue; any talk of liberating tieflings makes her glow like an ember (and if he’s honest, his initial feelings of annoyance at her whole ‘savior’ nonsense has fizzled slightly and he maybe finds it endearing). It’s not without reason, all of it. Astarion knows she had a nightmare of a time in the hells, scraping by as she was treated as Zariel’s plaything and enforcer. All things considered, it’s a feeling that Astarion knows intimately. But whereas Astarion flourishes in his cruelty (or, well, he supposes it’s less these days), Karlach shies away from it. He’s only caught it in glimpses—her rage in battle, her fury towards Gortash, and that righteous sort of fire when it comes to the fates and struggles of her friends.

Their friends.

Astarion didn’t think there was a person alive who could hate Cazador more than he does, but, occasionally, Karlach makes him second guess that. It’s nice, admittedly, someone getting heated for his behalf. Even a few weeks ago, it’d pissed him off, a reminder that she and everyone else was too little, too late—where the hells were they when he actually needed someone? Why was it only now that literally anyone cared about him, about what he’d been through?

…but maybe he’s learning it’s not that simple. And even if it’s late, it’s not all bad.

Or something like that.

He watches Karlach throw her head back with a guffaw and he feels his dead heart twitch pathetically.

But while her warmth and her smile is effecting him rather positively these days, it’s not her joy she’s focusing on.

A couple flaggons of beer down and he sees something he recognizes—they’re talking about an attack on some demon camp in the hells and he sees it. There’s a brightness in her eyes, a shine to her teeth, and for a moment, he understands—she really was the fury of the Avernus.

He’s seen her so tame in the time he’s known her, other than the occasional bouts of anger she gives herself to in the heat of battle, but that’s a whole other matter entirely.

She’s never been like that with him, only ever kind and sweet and giving and…

Astarion drags his tongue across his lips as he watches Karlach bare her teeth at Wyll in a smile that’s a touch too bloodthirsty for her usual banter. While breathing isn’t a necessity, Astarion still feels his breath hitch slightly.

While he’s been rather formidable foe for near every person he’s cornered, it’s not a new concept that he can’t win every fight. And he knows, objectively, he might lose a fight against a number of his cohorts, but looking at her…

Karlach, Fury of Avernus, Advocatus Diaboli, could slaughter him and that concept makes his skin prickle, his throat feel dry, and something ache in his pants.

[muse-write]

Character poll

Saw @griseldabanks' post and wanted to join in!

Pick one of my characters that sounds interesting, and whichever one has the most votes will get a full description!

Then create your own poll of characters from a WIP/story idea and tag more people to do the same. Characters can be from fanfiction or original, they don't necessarily have to be a character you made up--the point is to have fun describing them. ;)

I've included characters from my fanfictions as well as my original wips, some of which I've elaborated on more on my sideblog, @writersome. I may end up doing multiple of these--I have so. Many. Characters.

[slayerdurge]

💫 WIP WEDNESDAY 💫

Tagged by @illusivesoul! (Thank you!!) Still an hour of Wednesday left in my time zone, so fuck it, I'm claiming it's still Wednesday.

Gonna overshare again because that's what I do! First, let's start with a bit from the post-ending DA2 fic I'm working on ft. my pro-templar mage with a blue dominant personality Marian Hawke (aka the walking plague of eldest daughter syndrome).

Carver cleared his throat pointedly. Marian turned towards him. She could feel her cheeks burn warm—she’d completely forgotten he and Aveline were still standing there.  “Carver!” she exclaimed. “There’s a guest room for you too, of course, if you need it.” “That won’t be necessary,” he replied. There was a stiffness to the way he addressed her that she’d never heard from him before, but she supposed it was inevitable after so many years apart from each other. “I’ll be heading back to the Gallows. The other templars will need me tonight.” “Of course,” she replied quickly, hoping that her voice didn’t betray the disappointment she felt. “It was good to see you again.” “You as well, Marian,” Carver said, and he even sounded like he actually meant it. “You surprised me tonight. I didn’t expect to ever fight side-by-side with you again, and given the circumstances, I was afraid…” He didn’t finish the thought, but Marian knew what he meant. He was afraid he would have to fight against her. “That would never have happened,” she said firmly.  “Of course not,” he said. “I just meant… considering the sides we’re on…” “We’re on the same side, Carver,” she insisted. How could he doubt that, after tonight?

And... I gotta share some Durgetash, obviously. Here they are being supervillains. From a future chapter of "A Deal with God". They cause so so much harm together. 💖

They stepped out of the portal and onto the top floor of Ramazith's Tower. Enver froze as soon as he saw what she had to show him. “Well, well, Dark Urge,” he said. “Aren't you just an endless fount of pleasant surprises?” “The traitor returns!” Dame Aylin declared bitterly from beyond the barrier of her soul cage. Her eyes shifted to Enver, assessing him with a cold and righteous fury. “And you bring the Tyrant’s Chosen. Why am I not surprised by the vile company you keep?” “Hush now, Aylin,” The Dark Urge said, speaking aloud. “The grown ups are plotting.”  She waved her hand and cast a sphere of silence over the cage, channeling an extra surge of her magic into the spell to extend its duration. Perhaps that was wasteful, but she had exactly zero interest in listening to Aylin’s rants.  She turned to Enver, who was watching her celestial prisoner with the same look a wolf might've given to a wounded deer he'd stumbled across in a darkened forest. “You're acquainted?” she asked him curiously, switching back to their private mental link. 

All right, now for my tags... @merge-conflict, @shadows-aflame, @andrewknightley, and @luvwich! Anyone else who sees this who wants to participate is invited too! No pressure ofc, and doesn't have to be specifically writing you share, if you prefer to share some other kind of WIPs.

[fellow-travelers-fic-recs]

Fics with winter and holiday themes as the main theme and/or setting.

Be sure to show the authors plenty of love with your comments, kudos and reblogs!

❄️ More fic recs can be found at the fic register, here. Not quite what you're looking for? Tell us what you had in mind, here! -> 💌

Snowed In, Cold Weather & Winter Blues Baby, it's cold outside! Grab yourself a cuppa, curl up by the fire and dive into these cozy winter reads.

❄️ Hot Water Bottle by@carrotcakecrumble | LuxLox [T, 1K] “Hawk?” He calls, the sound rubbery and weak, like a first step into fresh snow.

The latch answers, knocking back on the wood solidly, scraping and hissing. The door yawns half-open, Hawk standing in the hollow of its lamp-lit throat. He doesn’t say anything, he looks wet, almost dripping. A lock of hair collapses into his eye. He doesn’t blink.

Or, Tim goes to Hawk’s apartment in the middle of winter.

❄️ When You Know, You Know by sockka19* [G, 2K] “For me?” He looks at Hawk with the biggest doe brown eyes. He chuckles as Tim begins to plant small kisses all across Hawk’s face. Who would Hawk be to ever deny those beautiful eyes? “Okay fine, tonight.”

And there Hawk stood, staring at the ice skating rink, wondering what the hell he got himself into.

Or, Tim and Hawk go ice skating.

❄️ In Sickness and Health by Kimora_V* [G, 1K] Sets in modern times, Tim gets ill just before Christmas, and Hawk is there to take care of him. As his boyfriend.

❄️ A Joy, Hard Learned by @partialresonance | partialresonance [E, 12K, WIP 4/6] Tim and Hawk get snowed in together.

Later, Tim comes back from the war a changed man.

☃️ Christmas Fluff If you're still in the holiday spirit or just missed them the first time around, here are a few fics to make you wish you were under the mistletoe.

❄️ This Year's For Me and You by @bluebellsinburbank | ConsumingLove (Bluebellstar) [G, 1K, WIP 1/2] It's Christmas 2023, and Hawk has a surprise for Tim.

❄️ It's That Time Of Year (When The World Falls In Love) by @bluebellsinburbank | ConsumingLove (Bluebellstar) [G, 3K] Tim had to admit that he loved this time just as much as he did the sleepy yet energetic celebration of Christmas Day. This brief snippet of time between walking through the door Christmas Eve and curling himself around his slumbering partner, snug and warm, upstairs in their bed.

Or, A Christmas Eve in the Laughlin-Fuller household.

❄️ Cheek to Cheek by Iviviendo* [NR, 1K] A special guest arrives unannounced at the Laughlin house on Christmas Day in 1953. ❄️ Christmas Dreams by @palfriendpatine66 | palfriendpatine66 [E, 3K] Tim dreams of a Christmas spent together with Hawk in New York after their Christmas gift exchange shown in Season 1, Episode 4 "Your Nuts Roasting on an Open Fire"

❄️ The Fairy Tale Of New York by Cozy_coffee* [G, 815] A fill for the comment_fic prompt: any, any, you will get a pleasant surprise.

❄️ 'tis the damn season by @satelarry | satelarry [M, 16K] This year's Christmas celebration isn't like the others because Tim invites his closest friends to celebrate it with him and Hawk.

A lot of unexpected things can happen before that. ❄️ Sure As The Stars Shine Above by @bluebellsinburbank | ConsumingLove (Bluebellstar) [G, 1K] Modern AU. Hawk misses his Skippy.

❄️ I Guess I've Got The Christmas Blues by @jesterlesbian | captainquint [E, 5K] Tim Laughlin stood in front of Hawk, one hand still raised as if to continue banging on the door, his tweed jacked dotted with snowflakes. Water droplets were trapped on his glasses, maybe from melted snow. But with how red-rimmed his eyes were, there might have been teardrops on his glasses as well.

Hawk’s slightly intoxicated reflexes took a moment to spring into action upon seeing Tim. “Skippy,” he grinned, “what, did you miss me that much? I’ll still be here after New Year’s.”

Tim’s face screwed up in a look of righteous fury that Hawk knew meant an argument was coming. And before he could react, Tim was shoving Hawk backwards and into the apartment, slamming the door behind them. “You absolute ass!”

Or, Tim confronts Hawk about his being investigated by the M Unit.

🥂 New Year’s Eve

Crack open the bubbly, find someone to kiss at midnight, or better yet, stay home and catch up on these New Year's Eve fics.

❄️ Now I Know What A Fool I've Been by sockka19* [G, 3K] “One.” They both say at the same time before Tim pulls him in for a death defying kiss. Tim wraps his arm around Hawk's neck to deepen it, while Hawk gladly obliges. They stay in the kiss, neither one wanting the moment to end. Hawk reluctantly broke the kiss apart to say something, but not before he placed another kiss on Tim’s nose. “Happy new year, Skippy.” “Happy new year, Hawk.” Tim couldn’t wait to see what the new year brought him. Or, the New Year's fic I needed because they didn't spend Christmas together. ❄️ Love Light and Tenderness by @bluebellsinburbank | ConsumingLove (Bluebellstar) [G, 1K] Before they can run away together, Hawk has a little surprise for Tim. Part 2 of Bravery

❄️ I Will Not Ask You (Neither Should You) by procr_stination* [G, 2K] "I could have made that my New Year's resolution," Tim told Frankie a few days ago in an apologetic tone. "To meet more people?"

"I'd tell you what your resolution should be, but you'd get defensive," he responded, not even looking in his direction. Yet, Tim knew he wasn't getting out of this conversation before Frankie spoke his mind. "It starts with 'Stay away' and ends with 'from Hawkins Fuller."

"I am not—"

"See? Defensive already."

*Authors: If your tumblr (or other socials) isn’t linked, and you'd like it to be, let me know and I'll be happy to add it. Or, if you are linked, and you'd rather not be, please contact me and I will remove it.

[kaylinalexanderbooks]

One to five

Thanks to @willtheweaver here, @drchenquill here, and here, @leahnardo-da-veggie here, and @mk-writes-stuff here!

Rules: follow the prompts about your WIP

Gonna use TSP here:

One word to describe your WIP:

Chaotic

Two lines that are your favorite:

[After Liam has ranted about how Muenster cheese is "objectively" the best cheese]

“Well, Mr. Canadian,” said Robbie, “how come you’re super passionate about an American cheese?” “You lost your rights to call anything American cheese after your processed product that has the same texture as the plastic-wrap single it comes in that you have the gall to call cheese!” ***

“Have you ever thought about how cereal is like the skeleton of milk?”

Three times you cried while writing:

I don't cry while writing, actually. But I'll just pick sad moments--

1) the penultimate chapter of Part One >:)

2) the last two chapters of Part Two >:)

3) this scene in Part Three where I'm giving myself the challenge to make Parker cry (which is difficult) >:)

Oh yeah and I want to avoid spoilers >:)

Four feelings from your characters:

#1- (Maddie POV)

“Oh, by the way—” she reached into her backpack and pulled out a crochet tiger. “Ahaha!” I laughed excitedly as I snatched the tiger from her. “—as requested, I made you that.” “Thanks! Amigurumi, right?” Kelsey beamed when I remembered the term for the stuffed animal. “So you like it?” “He’s adorable. His name is Wilfredo.”

#2- (Lexi POV)

“Ash?” I said, standing abruptly. I looked around in all directions. “Ash?!” I said louder. No response. I wrung my hands through my hair, my eyes burning, as they did when stressed. I had no idea what was happening, and frankly, if whatever was happening even was happening. I had to be dreaming. This didn’t make any sense otherwise.

#3- (Gwen POV)

Yet I’d do anything for them. All of them. They were my best friends. Even if they didn’t view me the same. Thinking about them filled a deep, righteous fury as Dr. Asghar reached for the door. She let go of my left arm, so I jabbed my elbow into her gut. She yelped and I broke free. The time I spent running paid off when I shot down the hall, the balls of my feet carrying me across the gray tiled floor.

#4- (Kelsey POV)

I worried that Aunt Kamryn would forget that Roni would want to read a book aloud before brushing her teeth. She usually practiced her reading with me. Hopefully Mom or Aunt Kamryn were a good replacement. I was worried about Maddie still. How could mere boredom cause me to not worry? God, I was terrified.

Five tropes featured:

1. Found family

2. Cool gateway/portal

3. Magic and powers

4. Coming of age

5. Everyone is super (with exceptions)

Tagging @awritingcaitlin @cherrybombfangirlwrites @chauceryfairytales @talesofsorrowandofruin @frostedlemonwriter

+ ANYONE ELSE

TSP intro

TSP tag list (ask to be +/-): @thepeculiarbird @illarian-rambling @televisionjester @finchwrites

@nebula--nix @literarynecromancy @honeybewrites