#her flames get hotter when she rages.

[morrigan-sims]

🔥Cyra🔥

fire genasi / barbarian (path of the storm herald) / she/they

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Can you do a touya/Dabi fic with shotos twin sister and just had one quirk which was fire so she was tossed aside so she resented her dad and somehow she met dabi/touya and he made her his little spy but she also desperately clings to him at times when she reports to him and stays close since she never got that affection (Btw for outfits she usually wears tank tops and bootcut jeans) please and thank you

Warnings: sorry this took forever for me to get out, been meaning to get to it cuz i miss writing for dabi x todoroki!reader, tons of trigger warnings, sibling incest, siblingxsibling relationships, betrayal, manipulation, resentment, overall dark themes, dysfunctional todoroki family ft, mind the tags, don't read if you don't like the subject matter 🖤

Inhaling deeply before letting out a slow, steady, breath, you pull open the large front door of Endeavor's agency. You could survive a few hours in the presence of your father. Or rather, lingering in the background like the little ghost you were.

No one would dare to say it out loud, but everyone and their mother knew you were the spare twin compared to your slightly older brother Shoto. He was the pride and joy of the Todoroki family, unlike you. At first you believed it to be unfair. You were in the womb at the same time as him. Why didn't you get a ice and fire quirk?

Was it really because he was the first born? That couldn't be it.

Your white flames, while hotter than even your father's, did little to impress him.

You didn't turn any heads when you enter your father's personal floor of his agency's building. This task was easy. Stealing information and sending it to your older brother and his crew became a normal thing for you.

"See, I told you we should have her around." Dabi argued in your defense while caressing the side of your face. "She's a good girl who listens to her big brother, aren't you?" Some would call his tone degrading. You felt the tenderness in his hand though as it delicately angled your face upward so he could look into your mismatched eyes. One the hue of a storm in the sky, the other the color of a raging sea. That’s what Dabi always said before you closed your eyes to go to bed.

Shigaraki and the rest of the League were less thrilled about you being anywhere near them. While you weren't popular like your father or Shoto, many still knew your face. Having you around could be more of a risk than the League were willing to pay.

You just wanted to make him happy, to keep his eyes solely on you. If it involved betraying the other members of your family (including your twin brother Shoto) then so be it. You would let Dabi’s words consume you entirely, making you his mindless slave.

The rest of the League members could chalk it up to Dabi simply using sweet words to manipulate you. He didn’t care about anything. Especially his family. What made you different?

Now that was a secret that Dabi would not utter. His praise filled words were genuine when it came to you and Dabi would be damned if he had to give you up again because of Tomura. He'd make sure you'd make yourself indispensable to the League. They'd have to let you stay.

You were just as determined as Dabi was to keep your place. You hated to even pretend to be under allegiance to your father or any superhero for that matter. They'd always looked down on you for not being like Shoto. Never being enough for them or their world. But you were enough for Dabi.

Slipping the flashdrive up your sleeve, you leave just as you had arrived: unseen. Just in case the cameras hidden throughout the building were focused on you, you'd nonchalantly picked up some of your father's paperwork in appearance of tidying up his workspace like the good daughter you were.

It made you sick to your stomach thinking that not too long ago, all you'd ever wanted was Endeavor's attention and approval. Shoto suppressed his fire ability for years, associating it with his abusive father so you thought you had a shot. You spent hours upon hours practicing with your flames to make them hotter and hotter and finally to where they could melt anything and everything. Leaving not even ash behind.

When you hand Shigaraki the flashdrive, he grudgingly accepts it with a stiff nod. He didn't want to admit that you were providing them incredibly valuable information that all other villain groups lacked.

He ignores Dabi's smug grin as he slung his arm around your shoulder, giving the top of your head a peck. "Knew you could do it." His brings his hand up for his fingers to brush against your cheek.

You felt it again.

The world stopping and all breath departing from your lungs. You wanted Dabi to brand you with his palm, to use his blue flames and scorch your skin so you would always have a piece of him.

Then Dabi leans down, lips caressing the shell of your ear and in his husky tone he calls you "Good girl."

Blushing and highly aware of how Dabi simply towered over you, you shyly duck your head. "Ha. . . it was nothing."

Everyone learned to simply avert their attention when Dabi's affections for you walked on the razor's edge of what was appropriate.

You'd proven to be their perfect spy. Shigaraki couldn't wait to see you in actual battle. That would really be the test of your usefulness.

[scuttlingcrab]

Too Close for Comfort

I was inspired to write a quick scene after I saw this amazing piece, which I can't stop thinking about. I wanted to try something new and fun and hopefully on brand.

Summary: What happens when Tav gets a little too close to the devil? (Raphael POV x Female Tav)

(Image via red-dead-sakharine)

“You halfwit.” 

Tav was sprawled out on the ground, clutching the burning wound in her stomach. No matter how hard she pressed, the blood found its way through her fingers, staining the ground beneath her.  

Raphael stood near the campfire, holding an infernal weapon that dripped with her blood. He could stab that creature again. He summoned the blade away as he approached her, clenching his fists. His dark eyes were full of fire and rage. 

“No wonder this realm is in disarray, you mortal buffoons don’t know how to conduct yourselves.” 

Tav shifted her head to grin at Raphael as he got closer, coughing up blood. 

“Can’t… can’t really take you seriously right now… you might want to wash yo-your face.” 

Raphael grew hotter, his temper about to reach a boiling point; he was on the verge of erupting into his cambion form.

Tav had summoned Raphael that evening for a private meeting, pulling him away from his work. She insisted it was urgent and he was cursed to entertain her. Raphael had wasted hours lecturing these creatures about what's at stake but they never understood, never cared to listen. He was on the cusp of greatness; he could practically feel it tickling his fingertips. He could taste the triumph on his lips that he’s craved for millennia, and yet this inept group of heroes continued to be his final roadblock.

The moment Raphael stepped through his fiery portal to indulge Tav, she pounced on him like a cat in heat. She had taken Raphael’s head into her hands, tousled his hair and released a fury of kisses across his face; the final blow was that horrid wet kiss on his lips. 

“Have you no decorum!” Raphael roared. 

Flames exploded from his hands as he summoned his infernal weapon. He lunged it deep into the pit of Tav's stomach before shoving her away. She landed on the ground with a cry, the creature too stunned for even one of her annoying quips. 

He was still peppered in those damned kisses, her taste lingered on his lips. He violently snapped his fingers, removing the evidence from his face, putting his hair back into pristine condition once again.

Tav let out a pained laugh, she was beginning to shiver. Her face getting paler with every passing second.

 “Oh? Still find this amusing?” .

“It… was worth it.” Tav smiled again, blood lining her teeth. 

“If it wasn't for your antics our business together could’ve been concluded a fortnight ago! I have no time for these mortal games, little mouse.” Raphael growled. 

He glared at Tav and watched as her chest rose and fell like a passing wave, her movements getting slower and slower. She was struggling to keep her eyes open, alternating between long staggered blinks. He knelt down and grabbed her bloodied chin in his hand, squeezing it.

“You’re an exasperating creature, dare I say the worst kind.”

Tav forced a final smirk before her eyes flickered shut. Her body grew limp and that damned smile finally faded from her lips.

Raphael let out a long sigh, clearing all the air from his lungs. He looked up into the sky; there were no clouds tonight, the stars were glistening. An otherwise beautiful evening had it not been soiled thanks to that little mouse.

He thought hard for a moment about leaving her there, in a pool of her own blood. Let her companions discover the body, that would teach them all a fine lesson. But alas, they had a deal. He rolled his eyes as he picked up Tav's cold body.

A blazing portal crackled into existence in front of Raphael and he stepped through.

[the-fiction-witch]

A Visit P2

Media House Of The Dragon

Character Daemon Targaryen

Couple Daemon X Reader (Named Alyssa Targaryen. Sister of Rhaenyra and Daughter of Viserys)

Rating SMUT

Incest (Niece X Uncle)/ medieval marriage discussion/ Underage (Characters are over the age of concept but discuss times when underage)/ sexual discussion / Fingering/ nudity/ breast play/ eating out

Part One

Daemon’s mind began to shut off as the only thoughts that remained were of their passion. He felt his body growing hotter, as his breathing began to grow heavy as they continued their sensual kiss. He fell under her spell, as any semblance of composure he had had now left it entirely. His heart was thumping in his chest like never before, as the way she kissed him now began to touch every nerve in his body. His mind became hazy, as the kiss went on and on. She moaned into the kiss now, the only sound in the cold dragon stone room was the fire cracking and their kisses clacking, she shuffled to wrap her legs around his waist still sitting in his lap with her chest against hers and slowly she began to move her hips grinding herself on him with wicked desire. Every new movement she made made him feel a new level of excitement. The heat now began to increase as they kept kissing each other. Like true dragons their passion burned with the heat of dragon flames.

Daemon's thoughts became lost to pure desire now, as the way she moved her hips on his lap filled him with even more pleasure. His hands gripped her hips harshly attempting to be the one to control her movements but all he did was guide her exactly as she had planned.

She pulled back and giggled "Oohh when Father finds out he's gonna be very upset with us,"

"Let my brother Stew in rage, We belong together. Just you and me."

She happily moaned with joy as she hugged his chest, she squeezed her body against him filled him with an intoxicating sense of love. Her touch also made his desires and passions grow greater and greater, as he couldn't get enough of her physical affection. Their bodies fit together in such a natural way as well. "I love you,”

He looked down at her with a sweet look filled with pure love, Her tender words were like music to his ears, he whispered quietly in her ear so not a soul other then her would hear such words from his lips, "I love you too Alyssa."

“Will you marry me? I like you always promised?”

"I was thinking of taking you into the Gods-wood. We can get married under a heart tree like many of the old kings and queens of the north did. We can be married in the presence of the old gods and the seven and they can bless our union. Then we'll have a massive feast One that everyone in the Seven Kingdoms will talk about for many years to come."

“Much to do and plan then,”

"I will have my servants plan such an event to be the greatest the realms has ever seen. You would not have to lift a finger. My men will take care of everything." He explained as he ran his fingers over her hair, “But for now I want nothing more than to spend every waking moment with you. I want to be with you all day long and I just want to love you. Do you wish to spend some time together now? If you'd like I can carry you to my bed chambers, spend some time showing you how much I love you."

She blushed bitting her lip and she nodded, He smirked and began rise to his feet, while making sure to pick up his new love and bride in the process. He then carried her in his arms to his bed-chamber, where he would make up for all the time they had lost by being apart from each other. As he carried her His lips kept pressing against hers, as their bodies were now starting to grow closer towards each other. She felt so natural in his arms now, as if this was truly where they belonged. They could stay in this embrace forever, letting the time just slip away.

Daemon placed Alyssa down on the bed, as their bodies lay inches apart from each other. His hands began to slowly wander around her body, caressing her skin in a delicate and slow manner. His soft kisses were now filled with a deeper level of passion, as the heat in the air was only growing greater.

"much cosier than my bed in the red keep.”

His fingers now began to gently caress her face, as his kisses began to grow more and more passionate as his lust for her began to overflow in a glorious manner. She giggled her hands stroked down his body until she held his hips and shifted their weight so she could sit on his lap so she could straddle him on the bed, his hands began to grip her waist and began to shift her hips back and forth in her spot. It was like her hips were in constant motion now, shifting against him in a way that seemed to never end. Moans fell from their lips as it only grew more intense silenced only by their kisses, his fingers now began to knead her back, his hands moving in circular motions as she moaned and made noises of satisfaction.

Daemon himself felt as if she was sending him into a new state of existence, as he was filled with such euphoria.

Alyssa briefly stopped only to tug off her dress ties and slip them off her body kicking her dress off and her corset leaving her sitting on him completely naked sat over him, he was still fully clothed but that didn't stop his desires. She was far far more than the little girl he fondled while she developed in King's landing this wasn't a girl. This was a woman. His woman.

He pulled her forehead to his own and gasped against her lips as his voice was thick with desire. "I want you like never before. I desire every inch of you, as everything about you is now perfect. I want to touch, kiss, and love you all over." He demanded forcing her down on her back. 

He now began to slide his hand down lower from her waist petting her mound, as his body was now pressing tightly against her own. His other hand wrapped her into his grasp, as he began to kiss her neck all over. She squirmed under him moaning for his attention, Her moans turned him on immensely. His other hand rested softly on her stomach just above her hips and mound keeping her still so her hips couldn’t squirm and he loose his pace, he began to softly moan as his hand slipped down and he mercilessly began to thrust three fingers inside her his thumb rubbed her mercilessly, Alyssa began to scream his name soaking his bed and fingers as she desperately arched her back,

He growled enjoying her like this, His fingers now rubbed in a circular motion against her at a faster pace she pulled him into a kiss making out heavily before she pulled down his neck and suddenly squealed his name at the top of her lungs arching off his bed, soaking it as she did, her body shaking as she reached her orgasm and collapsed against the bed gasping,

He watched her with a dark look in his eyes he slipped his hand away and licked it clean as he made eye contact,

"uhh... I remember the last time you did that, I don't remember it being as good as that was .." she blushed gasping hard,

“It has been a while,” he smirked, “I remember the first time… Humm you screamed like a dragon,” he growled, as he moved his hands to her breasts He began to squeeze them and fondle them,

She giggled, "do you remember sneaking into my room and doing this before? I was only a little thing then they were half the size they are now"

Daemon had to stifle a laugh "They might have been smaller back then but… I wasn’t complaining then, or now. I think it's more than fair to say you have some truly spectacular breasts, Alyssa.”

"I think it's your fault there so big"

"Is that so? So it's my fault your curves are so tempting and attractive? It's my fault your body now drives me crazy with desire? Do you really think I could stay away from those breasts now that they're so... mature?"

"Sneaking in my room every night and playing with them for an hour. I think it encouraged them to grow big for you"

"They grew well for me, as it seems they're a perfect size for me to enjoy."

"I wonder if they'll get even bigger one day, when I get pregnant," she teased,

He growled under his breath bit his lip hard at the thought about her being pregnant with his child, as her words now made him desire her even more. The thought of her breasts growing bigger while she carried his child was almost too much for him now, but he could not hold his desire back any longer. His lips suddenly came down to kiss her again. He kissed her lips before trailing off down her jaw and neck he kisses along her neck and continued to lower and lower, his lips now reaching around her breast where he began to gently kiss her there. He began to kiss her upper breast, using her moans and giggles as encouragement to continue. Her words and reactions filled him with so much satisfaction, as he began to kiss a little more vigorously and deeply. His tongue began to circle around her nipple hardening it and gently biting it, he suckled and licked flicking her nipple with his tounge before he moved to the other and did the same He would switch back and forth with that rhythm, taking his time to enjoy her. She arches her back and squeals his name for his kisses her hips bucking up off the bed in her desperation for attention,

Daemon began to kiss her even more vigorously and to rub more of her body grinding himself against her as he teased her breasts before he grabbed her thighs kissing down her stomach until his lips met her clit he kissed her, sucked on her clit, teased her labia and clit with his tounge all, while she continued to buck her hips up towards his lips, scream his name, squirm her body against his bed, He even teased her dripping cunt with his tounge.

Alyssa screamed and moaned desperately "Daemon! Please!"

Couldn't help but grin at the sound of her screams and cries, as he began to feel like he had already won. He continued as she screamed for him,

"noo! Please! No More No more No more!"

He held her thighs and hips down on the bed so she couldn’t resist him only becoming more intense teasing her to the very edge

Daemon Targaryen

Daemon chuckled at this request now. Her screams and cries of desperation were such a turn-on for him, as he was just eager to keep making her experience all this pleasure.

"Please Daemon! Enough!"

Daemon smiled at her plea, as this only made him desire her more, He began to kiss her again with renewed intensity, as he wrapped his arms around her and pushed her back hard against the bed so she was completely at his mercy, as he continued to kiss her clit all over with increased ferocity. His fingers moved to slip inside her thrusting with equal speed as he continued to passionately kiss and lick her clit.

She screamed his name loudly enough to echo through DragonStones halls, her body trembling and shaking, her head thrown back against the bed, she immediately soaked his bed completely and tears flooded down her face before she collapsed on the bed gasping for breath muttering his name over and over as she reached her second orgasm

Her screams of his name sent shivers down his spine, as her whole body shook. Daemon was now a bit overwhelmed with pleasure himself as he gradually slowed to keep her in her pleasure as long as he could, as she suddenly collapsed back onto the bed and her body went limp. He stopped, as he was left gasping and breathing heavily from watching her.

Daemon pulled back and sat over her with his cocky smile, "Tell me what you want Alyssa." He demanded,

She blushed her face red, her breasts bounced as she gasped desperately, all she did was grab him by the belt and pulled him short and fast so his hips met hers so his erection would rub against her dripping pussy.

"Right answer." He smirked pinning her arms on the bed and kissing her lips with a firey passion. 

[weirdmorefics]

Angels May Escape The Flames But Witches Never Do- Crowley X reader

A/N- Aziraphale X Crowley X Reader if you squint. This is kind of the same reader/witch as one of my other Crowley one-shot but they both can be read by themselves. If you want to read more with the witch reader click here or my masterlist

Pronouns- She/Her

Hurt/Comfort

TW- Fire, Emetophobia, Concussion

Word Count- 1,232

Summary- The reader gets stuck in the bookshop when Sergeant Shadwell sets fire to it.

I was in the back of the bookshop organizing the shelves because the shop was a mess, which is understandable since we are literally entering armageddon.

I heard Aziraphale shout uncharacteristically loud "You stupid Man!"

I peeked around the shelf to see what the problem was when I saw a blue light followed by Aziraphale screaming the F-bomb if the situation wasn't so dire I think I would have found myself dying of laughter.

I see Aziraphale vanish into the light and the man looks as shocked as I do. He shouts, "Hello" then turns for the door. I ran after him "What have you done!"

"I just saved you from a nasty witch," he smiles proudly.

I scowl deeply at him, "Aziraphale was no witch! I think you also may need to check your prejudice. We are no longer living in the era of witch trials, burnings, and hangings."

He gasps, "I should have known witches always travel in covens. You are one of them!"

I should have known to not mess with a so-called witch-hunter considering many of my ancestor's pasts but I was filled with rage over what happened to Aziraphale. So I venomously spit out " What if I am a witch? What are you going to do about it!" I expected some witty comeback or some exorcism but he shocked me when he ran full force into me knocking me to the ground.

I hit my head so hard off the wood flooring my ears were ringing and I felt the air knocked out of my lungs. There was a crash behind me and he seemed to smile at the result. "Now you will go out in true witch fashion." He shouted while slamming the door behind him.

The loud slam of the door left my head ringing even louder. I tried to sit up but the ringing in my head became so loud I lurched to the side and vomited. I reluctantly had to lay back down because it seemed moving was not an option. It started to feel very hot and I wasn't sure if it was the fact that I just vomited my guts out or the concussion I so obviously had received. I moved my eyes to the side to see the unfortunate cause of the heat. It was a fire growing rapidly I would do anything to save the books, to save Aziraphale's legacy but I was becoming increasingly tired and my eyes fluttered closed.

I keep going in and out of consciousness as the fire gets hotter and hotter. My last concussion definitely did not take this long to wake up from but that one was not during a rapidly growing fire. There was no way I was getting out of this it was getting progressively harder to breathe and I could not use any spells in this state not that any of my ingredients were going to survive this mess. Maybe all witches were meant to die like this burning in the great flames of their ancestors.

I hear the doors fly open with a bang which scares me for a moment because that is how the witch hunter left. Then I hear Crowley's voice Crowleys beautiful voice, "Do I look like I run a bookshop?"

He shouts Aziraphale's name and mine repeatedly. I want to shout that I am here but I can't manage to get a word out. He starts rambling about where the Heaven/Hell are you two for God's sake or whoever's sake.

I try so hard to get anything out but all I can manage are weak coughs and wheezes. Maybe it really is too late for me...

Water shoots through the glass window shattering it and landing Crowley on the floor and for once the fates have smiled upon me. He lies face to face with me.

He smiles brightly at me and cups my face his glasses are knocked off and I am glad that I can see his beautiful yellow eyes one more time.

"My sorceress I... I thought you were gone," He whispers and holds my face like I might slip away if he loses his grasp.

My voice is very hoarse and hardly understandable, "Your eyes," I struggle to breathe, "I wish I got to see them more." I wheeze once more.

Crowley had always told you how much he disdains his eyes but at that moment he kissed your head, "You will sweetheart! you will!"

He goes to pick me up and I swat at him and he looks truly hurt, "Forget me," I gasp. "you don't have time!" tears spill from my eyes "Take the book it is all that matters. Save the earth," I think I have used all my air at this point I cough and I can't stop. Wet ashes coat my hand as they are expelled from my lungs.

Crowley looks utterly enraged at this statement. "If you think earth means anything without you and Angel you are sorely mistaken," he seethes.

I have no energy left to fight I close my eyes as I feel myself lugged over his shoulder. His shouts make the ringing ever so louder as he shouts for a medic. I want to tease him as I always do when he has that worried face but this time he has a right to be worried.

I am laid down so gently on a stretcher that I know it is Crowley because he has always been afraid I'll break since I am not an immortal being like them. I hear Medics shout things like grade two concussion, rib contusions, and severe smoke inhalation. Even though my head is still extremely foggy and my throat burns like hell I lift my oxygen mask off to speak.

Crowley forcibly places it back on, "Shh, darling don't speak. Save your energy."

I roll my eyes and ignore him and breathe deeply sounding like a sixty-year-old smoker, "Crowley, Azi is still alive. He was put in this blue-white ray. Save the earth for Aziraphale and me so we have a place to come back to... to be together again."

Crowley smiles brightly, "He's alive!"

"The book everything is in the book, please tell me you have the book." I wheeze.

"Sir, please tell her she needs to keep the oxygen mask on!" The medic yells annoyingly loud.

Crowley forces the mask back on me, "You really think I was going to forget the book you would risk your life over sweetheart." He does a wink and a smirk that instantly makes my heart monitor embarrassingly spike.

The medic looks at me concerned and asks if I am having palpitations which makes me blush harder. Crowley smiles at this and I am sure he is cataloging this memory in his brain to bring up constantly.

Crowley kisses the top of your head, "I am off to save our angle and our home."

Crowley takes his shades off and looks at the medic who scrambles backward knocking over medical supplies. "If you do not make sure she comes out of this in top-notch health there will be hell to pay!" He sticks out his forked tongue and I am scared the medic may die of fear before he can even fix me up.

He gives me one last kiss on the forehead "Until we meet again darling."

[mycadences]

"I ship Elain and Azriel because Elain likes Azriel and I'm pro Elain" is the WORST argument I've ever seen. Let me give you an analogy (with an ending we all know so we don't have to debate over the hypotheticals). If we go by this argument, when Feyre thought she was in love with Tamlin, despite ALL the red flags, we as readers should continue shipping her with Tamlin because he was the man she fancied herself in love with and we should respect her choice... Like, what?? 🤡

So if you see your irl best friend dating a douchebag and they think they're in love with this asshole, you would continue to root for them enthusiastically while waving pompoms in the air because "it's their choice"?? (Forget about the fact that right now we're discussing fictional characters so technically the only choice we need to respect is SJM's... Anyway I digress.)

I'm not saying Azriel is Tamlin. But Azriel and Elain would be toxic together like Feylin was. Examples:

Elain: "I am not a child to be fought over." (*this line is SAID IN FRONT OF AZRIEL AS WELL*) Azriel: Later arrogantly declares to Rhys that he will defeat Lucien in a blood duel over Elain with little effort

Elain: "You can’t have it both ways. You cannot resent my decision to lead a small, quiet life while also refusing to let me do anything greater." (*again, Azriel HEARD her say this*) Azriel: "There is an innate darkness to the Dread Trove that Elain should not be exposed to."

Azriel was the one who called their almost-kiss a mistake which HURT Elain, he regifted the necklace she returned him (I'm pro Gwynriel but from Elain's POV that would have been OUCH), to him she's just "the third [Archeron sister]" LIKE YO IF MY CRUSH CALLED ME "THE THIRD" I. WOULD. RAGE (another person likened it to a chicken wing and now I can't unsee it), when Rhys asked him about his future plans with Elain he admitted in his mind THAT HE HAD NONE BEYOND HIS SEXUAL FANTASIES OF HER, should I continue?

Just like how Tamlin wasn't the one for Feyre, Azriel isn't the one for Elain. They would crash and burn so hard that their entire ship would go up in flames hotter than Lucien (a near-impossible feat, let me tell you) 🔥

Also I still believe that Azriel is Elain's rebound from Graysen (plus the shock of finding out she's Lucien's mate) and Elain is Azriel's attempt at moving on from Mor. Because let's be honest, Elain is a beautiful addition to the IC for the first time in centuries who is not a mate of his brothers, aka a readily available female whom he can allow himself to get close to because she (probably) won't be betraying the IC.

You don't even have to ship Elucien to be anti Elriel and pro Elain. But really, between Azriel and Lucien it's EASY to see that Lucien is the better male for her. He gives and respects her space, he doesn't press her about their mating bond, he BELIEVES in her (volunteered to go look for Vassa based on Elain's visions alone, btw Azriel was also there and he did no such thing, in fact he was dissuading Mor from volunteering herself lol), he looks at her with longing, he's sunshine personified and she needs it like air, they match SO WELL (they're both more gentle and hate violence, quite sociable, love traveling)...

I know this post sounds very anti Azriel, but it's in truth it's just anti his relationship (or lack thereof) with Elain. Because as someone who is pro Azriel, likewise I ship him with Gwyn as she makes him feel calm ("something restless in him settled" in the BC), she banters with him and makes him feel amused, his shadows (his eternal companions) like her, when he's around her he doesn't feel unworthy of himself, she displays similar interests as him (fighting and singing), she challenges him and I like the person he becomes when he is around her, and more importantly I think Azriel does to, instead of coddling her he trusts her (his faith in her during the Blood Rite), etc.

I rest my case. For now.

[agent-calivide]

Having some swap au brain bees, so, enjoy

Solaris and Fabricator

Solaris is an abstract artist that likes to make elaborate laser displays that show the sheer power and beauty of light refractions. Unfortunately, she was ostracized due to her art having the unlucky side effect of semi-regularly burning down the museums they were displayed in. She now works for Crane as an engineer so her lasers can be truly appreciated in death traps

Fabricator is a total physics nerd that is passionate about the logistics and running the numbers that making death traps entails. Her favorite part of working on a new death trap is figuring out how to calculate the perfect angle to lob an agent’s head clean off- OH- or maybe she could try that one trap that goes for an artery in the legs to see how efficient death via bleeding out is- OR OR- Oh la la- so many options! So many tests!

Prism and Juniper

Roxana Prism is a Hollywood practical effects star, she’s known for her amazing inventions that have revolutionized film stunts for decades to come! Rather than actors being shot at by firearms specialists (yes that’s really how they did that for a window of time) they now are able to safely do stunts with harmless pyrotechnics and simulation devices, all with the help of her test dummy companion, CrashBot! But eventually, her device’s improvements weren’t being appreciated. As she tried to advance her techniques, she was told that the originals worked well enough, and now she was just being greedy. A scam. A one-trick pony that contributed what Hollywood needed and could go back to her corner now. This filled her with indescribable rage, and when Crane approached her with the chance of a lifetime, to show people just how good her inventions were on an international broadcast, well. How could she refuse?

John Juniper was once a high ranking EOD agent, known for his special skills in deceit and espionage. With his charming charisma and having lying down to an art form, he was integral to the EOD’s ability to work eyes and ears into secure facilities all around the globe. Unfortunately, he was too good at playing the game, to the point there was lack of trust in him to tell the truth when it came to work. This stung, as he had done nothing but give to the EOD, and when he was gently let go, he found Crane more than willing to put his… assets to good use. It was only when he realized that switching sides was getting many of the very people he personally trained up killed that he realized this wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted to be respected, acknowledged, but not at the cost of hundreds of thousands of others.

Caliente and Hivemind

Caliente is a passionate pyro, his favorite past times consist of experimenting with how he can develop more potent lighter fluids and made flames burn hotter than ever before. He has a massive collection of lighters that he meticulously maintains and is not above a good arson pun before killing someone. He doesn’t think much of Crane, so long as he has stuff to burn he’s happy.

Hivemind is gruff, harsh, and will kill you if you make a bee pun around him. He uses killer hornets and views them as simply a means to an end, he’s much more interested in the control aspects of the creatures as tools than he is raising them like animals. While he is interested in his hornets more than other creatures, he understands that his bee research is merely a means to an end to Crane, and respects that as such.

Zor and Crane

Zor is a handler that’s been at the EOD for a while. They’re rather cynical, but in truth it’s a way to hold people at an arm’s length away. They don’t like people getting too close or knowing too much about them, they actually use a voice modulator when talking to their agents to keep things from getting too chummy. They were good friends with Juniper before he betrayed the agency, but even despite his betrayal they trusted that he wouldn’t reveal their secrets. He wasn’t like that. Of course, their walls only work for so long, as eventually a certain someone worms past their defenses and reveals the heart of bronze underneath. Not gold, they’re not that nice, but they care and that’s all that matters.

Crane is a renowned corporate billionaire who is known for his corporation, Cranaxis. Despite the fact the EOD is well aware of his legal name and full identity, they have a hard time pinning him down. Between his cheery disposition and reflective humor, people are inclined to trust him even to their own detriment. He’s very fatherly, giving support to people who had their passions rejected and giving them a new chance to forge the life they want. Of course, this is all an act. He couldn’t give a damn if they live or die, he just wants results. And if he doesn’t get them, well, he always has another operative lined up on the chopping block.

Ulanova and Ollie

Anna Ulanova joined Cranaxis in hopes of making a difference! While she struggles with juggling her passions with work, Crane pushes her to try and do both. She mostly works on Cranaxis’ image, vocally supporting them whenever she’s asked what’s helped her journey with her music the most. Crane is just such a kind, patient man after all.

Ollie is an exhausted marine biologist that was forced into shackling the giant squid. He didn’t want to, the actions were abhorrent, a crime against nature, and he knew in that moment he had to get out. Unfortunately, when he tried to defect he was locked away in an underwater lab and left to rot. It was only with the help of an EOD agent that he managed to escape.

Sans and Phoenix

Phoenix is Crane’s right hand op, they’re known for their knowledge with not only arson, but infiltration. EOD buildings burn down overnight with not a scrap of evidence left behind on how it started, defectors vanish without a trace, somehow Crane knows things that only EOD agents should be aware of, and it’s all thanks to a little Birdy telling him. Phoenix really truly sees Crane as their father, but it is unclear if the feeling is mutual.

Sans is an elite agent known as the Chemist. His innate knowledge with not only chemistry, but biology makes him quite the unique force in the field, able to start fires with compounds that nobody would think of and having the capabilities to subdue an operative with attacks he has innately honed to go for weak spots in the body. His unique approach to problems got him to be a top-ranked field agent, even though he really wonders if he should have gone into forensics. At least they have dental… his dynamic with his handler is a strange one, an odd, cold distance between them that made it hard to communicate. But over time, Zor opened up to him, and to this day he’s one of three people who know Zor’s real voice.

[okiedoketm]

Unfortunately, Azula’s first memory is Zuko.

The details are hazy. She is two, maybe three years old. Holding something. He quickly snatches it from her hands. Pushes her forcefully into a bow, head to the floor.

Then Father is there. He grabs the object Zuko took from her. Raises his voice. Smacks Zuko. Leaves. Zuko cries.

It’s a rather dull first memory. Not even about her.

~ ~ ~

Her second memory is much better.

She is almost four, watching Zuko’s lessons. She’s figured out how to firebend for a few weeks now, but hasn’t told anyone. Instead, she is watching. Waiting.

Zuko runs through the same kata he’s been trying for days. The same steps, same motions. Azula can see acutely where he falters. Can see Father’s eyes narrow, his mouth mangle in distaste.

She hops to her feet and strides onto the field, beside Zuko. Father barks her name, but she ignores him.

“Like this, Zuzu,” she says, and performs the motions, but turns her foot where Zuko keeps it planted.

Fire bursts from her hand, a perfect blast.

When the light dissipates, Father is smiling. Father has never smiled before. A thrill rushes through her.

~ ~ ~

Azula is five the first time she realizes just how stupid her brother is.

Unlike Zuko, she has never been struck by Father. It’s actually quite simple. If you make Father happy, he won’t be angry enough to hurt you.

Zuko, for some reason, still hasn’t figured that out. And he’s had two years on Azula to get there first.

They’re at family breakfast. Zuko drops his fork under the table. He crawls under the tablecloth to get it. Father scowls.

“I’ve mastered my intermediate forms, Father,” Azula says, “I begin advanced training today.”

Father turns his gaze to her, a smile forming.

There’s a thud. The table shakes. Father frowns, and puts a bored hand over his glass. Azula does the same - quick and calm enough that it seems she did it on her own.

Zuko scrambles out from under the table, holding his head where he undoubtedly hit himself.

“But I’m still learning the intermediate forms!” He says desperately. Azula fends off a cringe. She just played the biggest card in her hand to make Father happy, and Zuko is wasting it.

“Zuko,” Father says sharply. Zuko flinches. Azula wants to strangle him; he should know that Father hates displays of fear.

“It’s okay, turtleduck,” Mother says softly, but urgently, “Sit down.”

Azula wants to strangle her too. Father hates-

“What did you just call the boy?” Father asks, voice dripping with venom.

Idiots. Azula thinks fiercely. Shut up.

“It’s nothing, Ozai,” Ursa says placatingly. Azula wants to tackle her and melt her lips closed. “Zuko just-”

“Zuko,” Father cuts her off, “Needs to behave himself at the table. Or else he won’t be allowed to eat at all.”

He stares at Ursa with hatred that could melt steel without fire. Ursa, to her credit, doesn’t buckle and blubber like Zuko would. She nods tersely and returns to her breakfast, only shooting a discreet look of urgency to Zuko.

It’s messy, but passable. Azula would have actually responded with words, and with dignity, but Azula would never let herself draw so much ire in the first place.

Zuko finally, finally takes a hint and starts to return to his seat.

“Azula,” Father turns back to her pleasantly, and the slight tension in her shoulders vanishes. Her card is still in play. “Perhaps I will join-”

SCREECH

Azula snaps her head to the noise. Zuko is frozen in place, halfway through scooching his chair on the marble floor like a fucking dog-monkey.

“Father is speaking,” she practically spits at him.

Zuko’s eyes widen.

“Azula!” Ursa exclaims. Azula whips her head to her, too, fresh vitriol ready on her tongue.

“ENOUGH!” Father’s voice booms, echoing off the high ceiling.

The table shakes, more violently than before. Azula primly covers her glass with her hand. There is a searing flame of rage in her chest, hotter and fiercer than any chi she’s ever had. She had been crafting this moment for a week, and Zuko ruined it with his incompetence.

“Take the boy and get out of my sight,” Father orders Ursa.

She stands and gathers a petrified Zuko, scooping him up gently from the chair. Like she has all the time in the world to-

“Now,” Father growls, and Ursa drops the gentleness, practically dragging him from the room.

“Should I leave as well, Father?” Azula asks.

Father sighs.

“No,” he says tiredly, cutting into a sausage and popping it into his mouth. “Someone should remain to enjoy the morning.”

He puts the cutlery down and dabs at his lips with a napkin, despite the fact that Father has never let a stray crumb or droplet of any kind touch his face since the day he was born.

“I was hoping to watch your lesson today, but it seems like I will be too busy teaching the boy manners.”

Father stands, dropping the napkin atop his half-eaten food.

“Perhaps tomorrow, Azula.”

“Of course, Father.”

When the doors close behind him, she is alone in the massive room. After ten seconds, when she is sure he’s gone, she snatches a piece of toast off Zuko’s plate and coats it in searing flame, burning it to a puck. With a shout of pure, unadulterated rage, she throws it at the wall. It shatters into a shower of burnt gluten and embers.

The hall is silent, and her angry heaves of breath are deafening.

Then she remembers herself. Azula is five years old and a princess, not a tantrum-throwing toddler. With a wave of her hand the debris are smothered, and she shoves away from the table. The chair doesn’t so much as squeak.

“Clean that up,” She snaps at a servant. “Bring a fresh plate to my room.”

~ ~ ~

Read the Rest on AO3

[corn-producer69420]

OMG... so I saw that you are doing mha now and i am currentlyre watching it (season 4 woohoo) and I was thinking as a request what if (shigaraki x reader)

One day y/n gets kidnapped and blah blah when he finds her he returns back to the league before ignoring them locking y/n and him in their room before breaking down saying how he was so sorry and he will never let that happen again as he inspects her wounds or somethn

Nothing too big but just an idea :) keep at ittttt

😳... why me this is so good😭

Okokok good thing I was already writing up 1

Shigaraki x Reader

In the depths of the League of Villains' hideout, amidst the shadows and whispers of dark intentions, Shigaraki, the blue-haired enigma, found solace in the company of another villain, known only as (Y/N). Their connection was unconventional, born not from shared ideals or ambitions, but from a mutual understanding of the chaos that bound them together.

Their love story unfolded in the clandestine exchanges of letters, passed between secret meetings and covert operations. For a year, they danced around their feelings, their emotions hidden behind veils of villainy and deception. Yet, with each letter exchanged, their bond grew stronger, until it became undeniable.

The other members of the League of Villains observed their relationship with a mix of annoyance and amusement. They couldn't understand why Shigaraki and (Y/N) didn't simply declare their love openly and be done with it. But Shigaraki, with his stoic demeanor, and (Y/N), with her unwavering resolve, kept their affections veiled, their hearts guarded against the world.

Then, one fateful day, (Y/N) disappeared. Kidnapped by a rival faction seeking to strike a blow against the League of Villains, she found herself in the clutches of darkness, her only solace the memories of Shigaraki's touch and the promise of their love.

Shigaraki's world shattered when he received news of (Y/N)'s abduction. His facade of indifference crumbled, replaced by a consuming rage that burned hotter than the flames of his disintegration quirk. He tore through anyone who dared stand in his way, leaving a trail of destruction in his wake as he pursued the only thing that mattered to him.

Finally, he found her, battered and bruised but alive. In that moment, surrounded by the wreckage of his fury, Shigaraki held (Y/N) close, his hands trembling with a mixture of relief and guilt. He returned to the League of Villains with her in tow, ignoring the curious glances and whispered gossip of his comrades.

Locking themselves away in their shared room, Shigaraki inspected (Y/N)'s wounds with a tenderness that belied his villainous nature. Tears welled in his eyes as he apologized, his voice raw with emotion. He swore to never let anything harm her again, his heart laid bare in the aftermath of their harrowing ordeal.

As the days passed, Shigaraki and (Y/N) emerged from the shadows of their past, their love stronger than ever before. Though their journey was fraught with danger and uncertainty, they knew that as long as they had each other, they could weather any storm that threatened to tear them apart.

And so, amidst the chaos of their villainous world, Shigaraki and (Y/N) found a love that transcended boundaries, a beacon of light in the darkness that surrounded them.

[lazerswordweilder]

What, those aren’t in the same universe- yes they are. <<<the thoughts running through my head when I made a crossover of Marvel, Star Wars, Danny Phantom (Dannys stays in Amity and never leaves though, he literally just happens to become a halfa) and DC.

(Its important to note this was written in 2024)

A fact known to Anakin and Anakin alone is that Obi-Wan was reincarnated to take part in Star Wars. He was born in the year 1849 on earth, it was the earth we exist on today, only the future differs. His name was John Kyle, an archeologist who is a retired medic from a long forgotten war but also had unofficial diplomatic and fighting training from various tight spots. Years ago John found a child lying in the desert.

Anakin however has simple been alive all those years. He was born in a desert to a human mother captured by scientists ahead of their times, the experimented on her, and he was born from it. He lay on the desert dying for years, his unwelcome powers keeping him alive and suffering, this sparked his hatred, of the desert, of the sand, of the scientists. The only thing he remembered were his mother’s dying words “Anakin, you’ll- you’ll be so great, you’ll walk the skies.” as she succumbed to her wounds after giving birth, at least he remembers his name Anakin.

Anakin grew up under John, John becoming the father he never had. By the time he was 20 the war had ended but it scarred him, he never forgot the screams. By the time he was 25 he had stopped aging, blaming the scientists and not explaining his past to John out of fear of rejection. By the time he was 34 and John was 52 John thought he had connected the dots, his apprentice had stolen an artifact they’d both been hunting for and it had carried an ancient plage or power that slowed him down from aging! One day while exploring a volcano it turned active, John saw his chance and pushed the boy in and ran.

Anakin burnt alive, his anger roaring up inside of him the same time a natural portal to the ghost zone opened up in the volcano. Anakins eyes turned fire red, the blood in his veins turned to lava, his rage burnt hotter than the lava ever could. Anakin becomes an oxymoron, even beyond the fact he’s half alive half dead, he died in lava yet his weakness is water (guy never learnt how to swim, after being held underwater and nearly drowned he never really got over it), all ghosts hate what killed them and have weaknesses to it, Anakins death is his power. He takes on an apparence which is basically what he looks like normally but with fangs, sometimes his eyes reflect light or glow though, and when he gets mad his skin heats up, turning charred and what should be exposed flesh turns into lava below the charred skin, also his hair starts to turn to flame. Anakins obsession is revenge and his core is permanently stained with rage.

By the time Anakin gets out a grip on his powers World War 1 starts drafting with the year being 1914, Anakin (despite technically being dead) immediately decides that’s a good idea for blowing off steam and also a way to get actually military experience to murder John with. He hacks a comuptor and signs himself up, putting in his photo, his medical stuff, experience, and everything else on the form, then as he stares at the name box he remembers he’s meant to be dead, he choses a fitting name, Achilles. Achilles wrath matched Anakins rage, Achilles heel matched Anakins weakness to water, and hopefully Anakin will be able to bring the name Achilles some more modern glory.

He gets his dog tag and as sits in a cart heading to war with the rest of his team, Anakin runs his finger over the ingraving in it, careful not to melt it, Achilles. As bordom sets in he remembered other stories of ancient greek, more specifically Aphrodite Areia, Areia was an epithet meaning war like and it seperated Aphrodite Areia from her more commenly known version Aphrodite. He supposes he needs one to if there are to be two great Achilles, in his head he starts referring to himself as Anakin Achilles.

After 4 years at war and another year spent wandering the contry Anakin comes back to where he knows John is just to find out he died of old age around the time the war ended at 68, despite this being quite impressive despite modern medican Anakin promptly decides to go jump into another volcano. It is like a warm bath. But it cheered Anakin up- seriously, who knew volcanos were so nice when you weren’t burning alive?

After this he grabs the blackest clothes he can find and knows will be easy to move in, some fabric which he wraps around his face from nose to chin, tucks his dog tag safely into his clothes, and walked into the nearest bar he knew had shady dealing going on. He promptly intoduced himself as an assasin looking for training and gets pointed to a table full of tough looking people.

Two years later he’s been an assasin apprentice for years, under someone he thinks is called Ra Ah Ghoul. Anakin serves the guy for another 4 years despite thinking he’s kind of an asshole, then runs away. He’s learnt enough to avoid most of Ghouls traps and makes it out with a minor stab wound, he doesn’t really have organs anymore so he’s not worried.

He does take a moment to sit on someones roof top and stare at the stars, he thinks back to his first memories and remembers with a small laugh, the one you give when you’re shocked and in awe and a little breathless but happy, he knows his full name now, his birth name, Anakin Skywalker. He thinks fondly about it and feels like a child for the first time in years, staring up the the stars with the last thing his mother gave him, his name, just for a moment Anakins rage is fully forgotten.

Suddenly he feels to small, he looks down a sees the chubby hands of a baby, he actually physically blinks at that. He can work with this, his life is over due for a bit of normal anyways, he stores his dog tag (the only thing he has attachment to) inside his rib cage using a helpful bit of intangibility and floats down to the door step. He can hear a young, kind, childless couple inside.

Anakin- now named William, danced with his wife, Julia Lotis. He was so truely smitten with her and for the first time in so long he loved the domestic life style, Julia had finally quited the rage always simmering in his core, she was his Angel. He brought Julia in for a kiss and admired her, her long chocolate hair, her warm brown eyes that seemed like cozy fires during the winter rather then his uncontrolled rage. He swung her around in a circle and reached out to catch her when her eyes went wide, he caught her lifeless- pulseless- breathless- body and stared.

He stared at her for a long time, trying to hold back the cracks in his core, but it was like reading a book when the ending was so obvious. He conculded he was going to kill everyone within the city once he got out of shock, Anakin dropped his Angel to the floor, moving to the cupboard on autopilot, he grabbed his darkest clothes and put them on, the knifes he had hidden away just in case were quickly hidden in the folds of his outfit, he pulled out his dog tag, letting it’s reasuring weight lay heavy on his chest.

He walked all the way to Gotham, he didn’t even move as it hailed and stormed, as the ground shook and trees collapses. He walked to Metropolis, it was 1975, anyone who knew anything knew the Justice League was looking for new hires, he wasn’t looking for a job but if he could get to one of the interviews then he’d be immediately be recognised as a threat and subdued.

He stormed into the daily planet building where he knew at least Superman was holding interviews, he scared everyone out of the elevator with a death glare and walked straight into the room he could hear Superman talking in, he pushed open the door “Uh, interviews are over.” Superman abruptly paused, probably taking in Anakins disheveled and disassociating self, Anakin ignored the knife that dropped to the ground “Are you- here for an interview?” Superman asked. Anakin glared at him and jumped Superman as red over took his vision.

Anakin woke up in a cell, a wary Superman stood in front of him dripping his lava “If- you could’ve just said you had fire powers.” Superman said, Anakin sagged down into the chains and Superman looked at him for a second before realisation hit him “You weren’t here to show us your powers, you’re here so we could stop you.” Superman was suddenly no longer hesitant “Sounds like a hero to me, I think we’ve got your powers down, but if you want a spot in the League I only need your name.” It doesn’t take him a second to answer “Achilles.”

By 2002 it was doomsday, for the third time this month. The hero thing certainly wasn’t boring, and various other heros had helped Anakin gain an appreciation for technology, he was a technopath. Any

This is getting way too long, also I accidentally queued it so I’ll just reblog with more.

[tabitha42]

The Wizard's Apprentice - Chapter 17

Saffron is just a lowly apprentice with barely a successful firebolt to her name. So what chance does she have with the arch mage she's slowly falling in love with?

Gale x Tav, slow burn, eventual smut

Chapter 1 Previous chapter Next chapter

After a long, philosophical discussion, it was decided to let Shadowheart stay. Even though she clearly had a very different outlook on life to the rest of the group, she posed them no threat, and they all knew they needed her. 

Eventually the subject moved back to the day’s events and onto the plan for the next day. It was decided that Wyll, Lae’zel, Shadowheart and Astarion would head to Ethel’s house. Lae'zel had said she wanted to see the looks on their face when they realised that this was yet another waste of time.

After dinner, Saff helped Gale clear away the cooking supplies as the group retired. 

“You know, I think it’s unfair that the ones who did the cooking should also have to clean up. We should get some of the others to do it today,” she complained. 

“As much as I wholeheartedly agree with you, I think convincing some of the others of that might be difficult,” Gale said with a chuckle. “Besides, the washing up doesn’t take that long.” 

“That’s true… but if we leave now, we’d be able to watch the sunset,” she said with a playful smile. The sun was just beginning to dip below the trees, and their usual spot further down the river would give a beautiful view as the river stretched out west. 

“Hmm… you make a good point… I’m sure Wyll and Karlach would be willing to take the cleaning up for today,” he said with a smile, looking forward to sharing such a view with her. 

A sudden wind whipped at their robes. They ignored it at first, until another gust of wind so strong it nearly blew them off their feet swept through the camp. The rest of the group were taken by surprise too, wondering if a sudden storm was brewing, until they saw black tendrils of smoke blowing along the ground. The tendrils began to converge at a single point and the smoke grew, a strong charge of magic in the air. Anyone standing near it stumbled back as the smoke formed a circle that suddenly burst into flames, and a figure of what appeared to be some sort of black ooze began to rise out of the portal. 

The group watched in shock and confusion as this played out before them - all but one, who had known this was coming and had been dreading it. 

Wings suddenly unfurled from the figure and the ooze coalesced into the form of a devil. 

Gale and Saff had spoken before about the lives of warlocks, bound by an unbreakable contract. Saff was horrified now to see first hand the consequences of breaking that contract. 

Before they knew what was happening Wyll was left forever transformed, and with another flash of magic and fire the devil disappeared, leaving camp in silence once more. 

“Wyll! Gods, are you alright??” Karlach gasped, running to his side, trying to look at him but forcing herself to remember not to touch him. 

“I… by the Hells, what has she done to me…” he whispered, looking at his hands. He turned them over, seeing the ribs and markings in his skin. 

“I swear, next time I see her I’ll remove that smug head from her neck!” Karlach swore angrily, clenching her fists, her fires starting to burn hotter. 

“Careful, Karlach,” Gale warned. “Save that rage for when she’s here next.” 

She closed her eyes and tried to calm herself down, but it was no easy task. 

“So… what exactly just happened?” Astarion asked, still at a bit of a loss as to what he just watched. 

“That was Mizora. My patron,” Wyll explained with a deep sigh. “I vowed to slay Karlach. I broke that vow - and this is my punishment. She has turned me into one of her own. A devil.” 

“You’re a devil now?” Astarion asked, sounding a bit too excited for just about anyone else’s liking. “Do you have a devil’s powers, too?” 

“No. Just the appearance of one,” Wyll explained. 

“Oh. A pity.” The glare Wyll gave Astarion at that moment could have killed, and it was only made worse by the red and black eye he now had. Even Astarion flinched at the glare, but Wyll sighed and looked away before he took the threat any further. 

“Gods damn her back to the Hells!” he growled, deciding to turn his anger against her rather than Astarion. “I did what was right, and she made me pay for it. I’d be hunting devils and demons, she said. Traitors and hypocrites. But not… not Zariel’s victims. Not innocent tieflings.” 

He shook his head, looking down sadly. 

“Wyll…” Karlach said quietly, her rage turning to sadness as she saw the pain in his eyes. “I… I don’t know what to say. Other than thank you. No one’s ever stuck their neck out for me like that before. And… sorry…” 

“Don’t apologise, please. This isn’t your fault,” he said quickly. “If this is what it takes to see you escape Zariel safely, then so be it.” 

Karlach smiled, touched by his kindness. She knew that it wasn’t specifically for her, of course, he would make such a sacrifice for anyone innocent. And that made her like him even more. 

Saff and Gale joined her in staying with Wyll after that, comforting him and listening as he spoke of all he could regarding his history with Mizora. He admitted he didn’t want to go back to the grove tomorrow, fearing how the others would react. Karlach offered to take his place instead, which he thanked her for. They suggested that maybe Halsin would have some way of helping him tomorrow when he arrived at camp, though they all knew that was even less likely than him being able to help with the tadpoles. 

It was late by the time Wyll decided to call it a night. He thanked them deeply for being there for him - he wasn’t sure how well he’d have handled this had he not had such good friends to help him through it. Gale and Saff spoke to Karlach for a bit afterwards, about how she still couldn't believe he did that, how grateful she was, how happy she was to be travelling with someone like him. Eventually she headed off for bed too, saying that even though tomorrow should be a reasonably easy day if all they need to do is talk to Auntie Ethel, she should still make sure to get some rest anyway. 

Gale and Saff slowly walked back to their tents. The camp was quiet now, the fire down to just the embers, moonlight illuminating the river. It was beautiful, but neither could appreciate it right now, their mood heavy with the knowledge of Wyll’s suffering. 

“I suppose we’d better get some sleep too,” Gale said as they reached their tents. “Sorry we didn’t have time for a lesson tonight,” he said, knowing she’d been looking forward to that as much as he had been. 

“I’m sure we’ll have time tomorrow,” she said with a small smile, trying to find some hope in their current bleak situation. “Though… I want to stay with Wyll as much as we can. He’s clearly struggling.” “I agree,” he said with a nod. “I can’t imagine what he’s going through. We need to be there for him.” 

They heard footsteps next to them and were taken by surprise by Astarion, who seemed to appear out of the darkness. Even when he wasn’t trying to be stealthy he couldn’t seem to help it. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” he said, sounding… somewhat sincere. “Saff, I… was hoping to take you up on your offer.” 

Gale narrowed his eyes slightly. 

“You want to feed on her?” 

“Well, Wyll had originally offered, but… it feels a bit impolite to ask him now,” he explained. Gale sighed, reluctantly agreeing with that logic. 

“Wyll offered?” Saff asked in surprise. “I thought you were only going to feed on people staying in camp?” 

“Yes, well, that came down to Gale, whose blood is poisoned, Karlach, whose blood is on fire, and you, who gave me blood last time. He didn’t want you to have to do it twice.” 

Saff felt a pang of guilt knowing that Wyll had offered his blood so she didn’t have to, especially when he’d potentially have had to fight while dealing with the consequences. Gale had similar thoughts, and was cursing his affliction that he couldn’t take some of the burden himself. 

“Alright, let’s get on with it then,” she said, turning to head to her tent. 

Inside the tent they set up her bed roll and a few furs and blankets, which she lay down on. Astarion knelt to one side, while Gale knelt on the other, there to make sure he didn’t get carried away again. 

“Ready?” Astarion asked. She felt Gale take her hand, and gently squeezed his hand in thanks. 

“Ready,” she confirmed. 

Astarion leant down, lingering over her neck for a moment, before she felt the pain again. It didn’t get any easier the second time, just as sudden and intense. She squeezed Gale’s hand hard and let out a whimper of pain, then felt as he began drinking. 

Gale watched carefully. He could feel her squeezing his hand, knowing how much this hurt. Astarion drank, and just as Gale had been about to tell him to stop, he pulled away. 

“Ahh! Wonderful,” he said, licking his blood-stained lips. “Thank you, again.” 

Gale pressed a cloth to Saff’s neck as she opened her eyes and looked up at Astarion, giving him a small smile to say he was welcome.

“I will leave you to rest. See you both in the morning,” he said, then stood up and left the tent. 

Saff closed her eyes again, waiting for the worst of the nausea to wear off. She felt Gale clean up her neck and put the cloth aside.

“I’d best be off too, let you get some sleep.”

She looked up at him, her head spinning slightly. It felt not too dissimilar to being drunk, though less pleasant. Given what she said next though, it seemed to have the same effect on her inhibitions. 

“You could stay…” 

He looked at her in surprise. Gods, he wanted to say yes. Every single fibre of his being was screaming at him to say yes. But he knew he couldn’t. Not only because of the orb (that even now simmered threateningly in his chest at just the thought of spending the night by her side), but it was clear from the way she spoke that she wasn’t exactly fully with it - her speech a bit slurred, a slightly glazed over look in her eyes. Had this been from alcohol he certainly would feel it wouldn’t be right to say yes, and delirium from blood loss felt like it shouldn’t be treated any differently. 

“A tempting offer… but we both need to rest, and I fear we’d be up talking all night if I stayed here.” 

She looked at him with an upset, almost pleading look, which took all his willpower to resist. 

“Another night,” he promised her. That finally brought a smile to her lips. 

“Another night,” she confirmed. She looked so beautiful in that moment, smiling up at him, illuminated by the soft moonlight through the tent door. He could feel the orb stirring as he let himself get lost in her beauty, reminding him of the consequences if he didn’t leave, but he wanted to stay just a moment more. He still held her hand, and gently he lifted it up and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles. He saw her face light up with both surprise and happiness as he did that, and he wasn’t sure if the rush of excitement he was feeling himself was from the kiss or from seeing her reaction. 

“Goodnight, Saff,” he said softly, holding her hand there just a moment more, before finally lowering it back down to the bed and leaving the tent. Once outside, he took a deep breath to calm the orb that now burnt inside his chest. He knew the orb had reacted to strong negative emotions before, but he was now sure it reacted to strong positive emotions, too. He just hadn’t had any positive emotions strong enough to make it react before meeting Saff. In that moment though, he didn’t care what the orb tried to do to him. He let himself get lost in thoughts of her as he headed back to his tent. 

Saff’s heart fluttered and she felt giddy from excitement. It had been so unexpected, but so sweet and romantic… she almost had to laugh at herself for getting so excited over this, like a teenager getting excited because her crush said hi to her. She let herself feel it though. With all that had been happening to them, they deserved happiness wherever they could find it. 

[blackjackkent]

Back to camp, because after the fleshpit adventures, everyone is fucking wrecked.

Karlach, of course, has stuff to say, because she wasn't present in the meat basement for the big Gortash reveal.

(I tend to subscribe to the headcanon that everyone left at camp is able to view what's going on with the main party through the tadpole connection, and I feel very bad for everyone else who was in camp with Karlach while that reveal was going down. There are absolutely scorch marks around the camp and splattered supplies from her throwing things around.

I'm also thinking I'm going to go ahead and kick in the full-party mod once we hit Rivington. I was waiting until we hit the Bhaalspawn reveal to try and avoid bugging some things out but that's further away than I expected and I really wanna have Jaheira in the party ASAP. I *think* it will be okay, but if the cutscene in question doesn't pop as planned I can always remove the mod again.)

"You saw Gortash, didn't you? What the fuck was he doing down there? Is all this because of him? The tadpole? The Absolute? HOW?!"

She sounds so agitated. :(

"I don't know how this plot fits together yet," Rakha says curtly. "But we *will* stop him." Her vengeance against Ketheric kept her going this far; now, it seems, it's Gortash's turn - for her own benefit and for Karlach's.

Karlach is barely listening, still caught up in her own anger.

"I was his bodyguard. I looked after him with my life. I trusted him more than anything," she snarls, her teeth bared like an animal as she looks back at a string of miserable memories. "He gave me away to Zariel just for kicks. He ruined my life just when it was starting! And now he'd use up the entire Sword Coast."

Fire flares around her body, a puff of heat blasting into Rakha's face. "He has to die," she roars. "And I'm gonna be the one who kills him!"

Rakha has an uncharacteristically sad sort of look on her face during this little speech.

It's interesting, really - her seeing this from Karlach, and coming on the heels of the destructive rage she saw from Aylin against Ketheric's dead body.

These are not people she sees as like her, generally. Aylin is an emissary of a goddess of light. Karlach is eternally good-natured, kind, generous - all things Rakha by nature is not.

And yet both of them have moments of incandescent, destructive, murderous rage, when pushed to it sufficiently by circumstance.

Perhaps the beast in her head is not so unique as she thinks. Perhaps everyone has one, but they slumber more deeply while Rakha's wakes at the slightest sound and destroys everything in its path. She isn't sure if this makes her feel less broken or more so.

Whatever the case... this is, at least, something to which she can turn her bloodlust with purpose.

"We'll do it together," she says, her voice a quiet rasp in comparison to Karlach's roaring fury. "Whatever it takes."

"He can't get away with what he's done," Karlach growls. The flames around her body start to ease a little, though her eyes still pulse with it. "To me. To us. He won't get away with it!"

A pause. She groans softly, rubbing at her chest as the engine's flare slowly dies down. "I can feel it," she mutters bitterly. "The engine. It's getting hotter. Louder. It's going to blow, if we don't find another way to fix it."

She scowls. "You know, Zariel may have put the fucking thing in, but Gortash gave her the go-ahead. You expect this shit from devils, but not from the people you care about..."

She trails off, rubs at her head. Rakha can see her struggling for control, for her usual jocular good nature. But it is isn't in reach just now, and her jaw works with tight, visceral fury.

"Let's get to the city. Got business there I'm highly fucking keen to attend to."

[browneyedgirly93]

Like An Autumn Breeze

(Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three)

Summary: You are the youngest Archeron sister only 16 years old when you are shoved into the cauldron along with your two eldest sisters. You quickly learn that you are mated to the heir of The Autumn Court. 

Eris x Reader

Warnings: fear?

Word Count: 1562 A/N: This is my first multipart fic! I hope you enjoy it, I know that this premise has been done a ton but I hope you enjoy my rendition of it! :)

Part One

I was grabbed by two of Hybern’s guards and dragged towards the cauldron so much rage was coursing through my body, I began clawing at the soldiers bucking wildly trying to get out of their grasp. Nothing was working, they were much stronger than I was. If I hadn’t been gagged I would have spit in their faces. I continued flailing and bucking as I was lifted up and dropped into the water. 

I tried to grab the side of the cauldron but the soldiers pushed me down into the freezing cold water. Suddenly it felt like a fire had erupted in my heart and in that instant, I knew I was dying. I could feel my limbs extending with excruciating pain, it felt like every muscle was being torn. The fire was pulsing through my veins and I couldn’t contain it any longer. I watched as flames shot out of my hands in firey ribbons, mixing with the black inky water it began swirling around me. It was beautiful and terrifying all at once.

“The youngest of the sisters, your soul burns with rage and fear” an ancient voice filled my head as the fire swirled closer around me the temperature getting hotter. “This fire is not ordinary fire, it burns brighter and hotter than the rest.” The fire engulfed me burning me to my core. With that the cauldron tipped and I was dumped on the floor gasping for air. Feyre rushed to my side reaching out to me she pulled her hand away looking down to see a burn mark, looking down at me I met her eyes. 

“It burned me” I rasped out as everything went black.

It had been a month since that awful day in Hybern when my sisters and I had been made Fae by the Cauldron. I was living in The Night Court in the House of Wind with my Elain, Nesta and Lucien while Cassian and Azriel looked after us. I had been watching as Elain wasted away to nothing and Nesta watched over her, neither one of them even bothering to ask how I was feeling. 

I was so angry, I felt like I was going to burst into flame at any moment. I didn’t feel like myself anymore, my entire body was different I was taller and my limbs were longer. My face was more angular and sharp, with pointed ears, my eyes seemed bigger than before and my hair had changed shades. Instead of the golden-brown hair my sisters and I had shared, mine had changed to a more orange tone. I didn’t recognize the female in the mirror anymore and that made me so angry.

I needed to do something with all this pent-up anger, I needed to turn this rage into something positive or it would eat me alive. Before I could change my mind I went searching for Azriel, asking him to winnow me to the townhome. He did so without any questions and then immediately faded into the shadows.

I walked to Rhysands office, beginning to feel a bit nervous. I raised my hand to knock and before my knuckles hit the door I heard him calling. “Come in Y/N!” I pushed open the wooden door and walked in. He was sitting at his desk watching me with a feline smile plastered on his face. “What can I do for you today?”

I sat down in one of the leather chairs facing his desk and placed my hands in my lap, taking a deep breath I said “I want to help with the preparations for the oncoming war.” 

“Is that so?” he asked a hint of amusement flickered in his violet eyes as he leaned back in his chair stretching out his legs in front of him and placing an ankle on his knee. I stared into his eyes nodding. 

“I don’t have many skills, but I am willing to learn” I said trying to hold the gaze of The High Lord of The Night Court, his face unreadable. Silence filled the room and I fidgeted slightly, he was either in deep thought or having a silent conversation with someone from the Inner Circle. The silence was nearly deafening, I could feel the flame flickering to life inside of me. “Please Rhys I need to do something, I can’t keep sitting around in that house anymore.” I pleaded.

“Alright, you begin training with Cassian and Azriel tomorrow morning. Have you been experimenting with your powers?” he said simply. I shook my head as fear flittered across my eyes and I watched his face change, he looked at me with such sympathy. “Have you tried to use your powers at all?”

“No, I’m too afraid” I sighed looking down at my hands ashamed.

“Y/N I know you’re afraid, but we need to start working on learning about your powers. Not just so you can learn to use them, but so nothing happens to you because of them.” he lets out a puff of air. “I would never forgive myself and I know Feyre would murder me if anything happened to you.” 

“How?” I whispered.

“We will work together to figure it out, in the afternoons after you’ve finished working with Cass or Az I will meet with you and we will start learning about your powers. If I cannot be there I will send Mor or Amren in my place.” he smiled softly at me. “On days we are not training your magic you will be learning to read and write, if Feyre was neglected in her studies I can only assume you were as well.”

“Yes” I nodded raising my eyes to meet his, his gaze was filled with sympathy. “Thank you Rhys!”

“I will collect you after lunch tomorrow and we will begin our first lesson.” There was a knock on the door and Cassian joined us. Rhys explained the plan for my training and Cassian was excited to see what I could do. 

I had stepped away from the sparring ring to gulp down a cold glass of water and turn to find Cassian stalking over to me with a smirk on his face.

“Please tell me you’re not gonna make me train for longer” I said while crossing my arms across my chest. He shook his head chuckling at me.

“You’re in luck this time, Rhys wants you down at the Town House.” he said grabbing my hand gently and lifting me into his arms.

“Cass, what are you doing?” I shrieked as he took to the skies and we flew through the skies causing him to roar with laughter. I squeezed my eyes shut as hard as I could not wanting to look, another shriek left my lips as I felt us falling and suddenly we were floating down slowly. My feet hit the ground and I opened my eyes, whirling on Cassian my fists already raise he was already on the porch of the Townhouse holding the door open for me.

“Ladies first” he said bowing slightly, I glared at him.

“I hate you” lifting my hand and pinching him in the arm, his yelp quickly turned to laughter as he followed me through the door. 

“No you don’t” he smirked and walked over to the couch and flopped down. I stomped further into the house to see Rhys and Feyre waiting in the living room.

“Y/N” A smiling Feyre looks up at me, her lips thinned into a grimace as she looked at Cassian. “What did you do?” 

“Absolutely nothing” he smirked stretching his legs out on the low-lying coffee table and placing his hands behind his head.

“Nothing!?” I scoffed throwing my arms in the air dramatically. “I’m afraid of heights Cassian!” The three of them burst out laughing and I can’t help but join in.

“I’m sorry Y/N” Cassian says getting up and patting me on the crown of my head, I swat at him as he scurries away. I walked towards my sister and her mate sitting down in a large velvet chair across from the couch they are occupying.

“So what’s up?” I ask.

“We have a mission for you of sorts” Rhys smiled at me, I lift an eyebrow in question and he continues. “As you know we are working to form an alliance with the Autumn Court and specifically with Eris Vanserra the eldest of Beron’s sons and his heir.”

“In a few days we will be going to Hewn City for one of our regular visits, and we would like you to join us.” Feyre took over from Rhys. My stomach tightened, I had not been to the Court of Nightmares yet but had been told about it. They could both sense my fear. “You will be safe Y/N!”

“We ask you to come because Eris will be joining us that evening and we would like you to entertain him.” Silence filled the room as they both watched me, my gaze was shifting between them.

“Why? What’s wrong with him?” I squinted at them.

“He’s an arrogant, obnoxious asshole. But I’m sure you’ll put him in his place.” Rhys winked at me with a laugh as Cassian bounded back into the room with a bottle of wine, four stemmed glasses appeared on the table in front of us.

[weirdestbooks]

British Michigan Oneshot

Anger At The Sight of You (Wattpad | Ao3)

America could feel nothing but anger. It burned through his body, hotter than the flames that had consumed his capital. It burned and consumed every part of him.

The anger was choking, and it was sorrowful. Under the haze of red that consumed his mind, it was hard to feel anything.

The anger was directed at many people and things, most of which America could do nothing about, not anymore. The war had ended, and America could no longer fight Britain or Canada, hurt them, and make them bleed and pay for what they did.

America couldn’t get his son back. Michigan was gone. 

It was hell.

And America was angry.

There was only one thing he could do to satisfy the anger, one thing he could do to get some sense of justice for his son.

And that was to execute William Hull for surrendering Michigan to their enemies without so much of a fight.

The others had been arguing about it for days since America gave the order. James thought it went too far, that they shouldn’t—couldn’t execute Hull for it. Rebecca, who rarely agreed with James on anything, thought the same: Hull didn’t deserve the punishment he earned. She believed that Michigan was better off in the hands of Britain, and America hated her for it.

If America could have her executed as well, he would have.

The territories were more divided and didn’t voice their opinions on it as much. They had become quieter since losing Michigan, especially Indiana and Illinois.

There were a few other voices offering opinions, voices America didn’t have names for. He ignored them, and he ignored anyone who said that executing Hull was a bad idea.

Because Hull’s death would bring justice, and for now, this was all America could do to get that.

America watched as the godforsaken man hung, hoping the retribution would do something to satisfy the anger clawing at his chest, allow him to feel something other than rage. But he just felt empty, like the anger had burned away every emotion he had, leaving him numb and hollow.

The target of all his anger was gone, and now he was empty. He stared blankly at the swinging body, a void in his chest.

“I told you it wasn’t going to help. Killing William Hull was never going to bring him back.” James muttered. America scowled.

“He deserved it.” He muttered back quietly, trying to muster the same anger he had been feeling for months. But he couldn’t summon much emotion in his voice, which was as hollow and empty as his chest. James scoffed and became quiet.

America swallowed thickly, a lump building in his throat. How could one feel so empty in a moment that was supposed to be so vindicating? How could he feel so numb? He should still be angry, still full of hate, of all those emotions that he would direct towards Britain in order to make him pay for what he had done.

How could he get justice when it was impossible to feel anything? America needed that anger. He needed it so he could get justice for Michigan.

“Michigan wouldn’t want you to kill people for him,” Illinois murmured. Shooting one last look at Hull, a confirmation that the man was really dead, America returned to his home.

“I’m not just killing him for Michigan, but for the safety of all my children. We’ve been over this. Hull was a threat to our safety because he had no sense of loyalty and was willing to sacrifice children because he cares more about personal safety than his country and the people under his protection,” America said, sitting down at his desk and taking off his glasses, rubbing at his eyes with two fingers.

“Hull…was far more complicated than that,” Rebecca said, “And we both know it.”

“What’s done is done. We can’t change it,” America said, tears welling up behind his eyes. “We can’t change anything. Now we have to move forward and hope…”

America cut himself off with a sob before breaking down into tears. Now that the anger was gone, and…and the numbness seemed to be fading, America was hit with an all-consuming choking sorrow.

“IT’S NOT FAIR!” America yelled, grabbing the inkwell of his desk and throwing it at the wall before slumping down to the ground, “It’s not fair. He was innocent. He…he doesn't…” 

America was cut off by another sob, louder and roughly, stealing away his break for a moment as the tears raced down his cheeks, coating his tongue with their salty taste.

“Britain’s never dealt in fairness. Only power. If he can take something, he will, and since he can’t get you back under his thumb…” James cut himself off, probably realizing that his words were not going down a helpful road.

“I know that James. I know…I just…I wish there were a way for it to have been me instead of him. A way for me to become Michigan, so I could make sure he stays with his family,” America said, wiping at his face.

“Then we wouldn’t have had you. Ideally, we’d all be here. In a perfect world, we would have gotten Michigan back,” America heard Ohio’s voice say. 

“But in a better one, you’d still have your brother either way,” America said.

“Just because Britain never saw you as anyone important doesn’t mean your children do,” James said kindly, his voice painfully understanding.

“Cut this out, America. You’re falling back into bad habits, and unless you want to be returned to our Father, you’ll do better. Father needs a colony that can function properly, not one that wants to kill himself because he doesn’t want to accept the order of things,” Rebecca snapped, jarring America back into reality as he sucked in a breath through his teeth.

“That’s enough!” James snapped, sending the two into a heated argument as America covered his ears, trying to block out their voices.

“There’s no winning with that either. I don’t want to lose either of you, Dad. Not Michigan. Not you.” Ohio said, another voice to the cacophony of noise he was experiencing. America let out a little whimper, headache growing as he fought back the urge to retreat inside of their mind.

It was all too much.

“Can you all please…please be quiet,” America whispered, eyes squeezed shut. The noise quieted, and America could feel Rebecca move back further into their head.

“I’m sorry, Dad,” Ohio said, pulling America into a side hug, one that America leaned into, “But you’ve been…different since the war ended. No one can talk to you anymore. We all miss Michigan, and I know it’s harder for you 'cause he’s a part of you…but…you’re still here, and it still feels like we lost you too.”

America opened his eyes, staring up at Ohio’s blurry face.

“I’m sorry. I just…I don’t…everything feels wrong and messed up in here, and we’re all…not coping well. We’ve been fighting a lot. It makes it hard to think.” America said, unsure how to convey to Ohio how terrible things have been for them.

“We’ve all been having a rough time. But…we’d have less of a rough time if we all got through it together,” Ohio said. America cracked a small grin.

“When did you get so wise?” he asked. Ohio shrugged, and through his blurry vision, America thought he saw a faint trace of a grin. 

“I picked up a few things here and there. Now, you wanna join the rest of us? Penny’s making pannhaas for dinner, and I don’t think I’ve seen you eat in a while,” Ohio said. America sighed, looking down at his hands, hating how useless he felt. But he nodded and stood up, grabbing his glasses and putting them back on.

“Okay. I’ll get something to eat, and then I’ll check on everyone else. Thank you, Ohio,” America said. Ohio gave a crooked grin before walking over to lean against America’s side. America threw an arm over his son’s shoulder, leaving his room.

America felt guilty about eating instead of spending every waking moment trying to get justice for Michigan, not trying to do something to ease his suffering. 

But Ohio was right.

America had other kids that needed him.

And he refused to fail the rest of his children.

[shadowfoxsilver]

Secrets untold of light and dark (Part three)

(Part two)

“I will protect her no matter what she is.”

The fighting was so intense the two beings ended up moving it to the ground as to ensure the tree wouldn’t be destroyed. Darkness had shifted into Light so he could have more of an advantage against Chaotic. But even then he wasn’t able to easily land a blow. The chaotic deity of sorts was far too fast and almost always teleported out of harms way if he could. That’s not to say he didn’t get hit at all. Even with his extreme speed he was still getting smacked with light blasts and claw swings at every turn. Light was just as fast in the air as he was on his feet; This was shown when he’d take flight then dive down shooting blue flames from his palms which did occasionally scorch the fur on Chaotic when it made contact. Yet no matter how well he moved, Light was still no match against the creator of the Nega Crystal.

“Light!” SFS shouted as Light was slammed into by Chaotics talons from a forceful kick and tumbled for a bit before he stopped and lied there covered in scrapes.

Light winced as he stumbled back to his feet shakily, opening his wings to balance himself upright. Chaotic laughed coldly when Light fell back down forward in a heap. He was so sore…It hurt to move.

“Don’t you get it, you ignorant fool? Me and my sister…..We’re simply clones of Shadow the Hedghog!” Chaotic beamed proudly as he landed on the ground and chuckled darkly with a sinister smile. “You stand no chance against me. Winning is impossible!” He cackled, wings on his back fluttering slightly. “There used to be many more of us, you know. So many more of us. I was supposed to watch them all. But that was boring.” He growls as he steps forward, markings glowing as the air grew hotter. “Those at that facility deemed me a failure, but I was far too strong for them to deal with.” He stopped in front of Light.

“They could have stopped. But they didn’t!” Tears seemed to form in Chaotics eyes, though some turned to steam before they could touch the ground. “I was there for it all. Every creation onward that didn’t succeed for what they wanted. Clones who were abandoned, discarded, or even left to the wilds of the planet….” He clenched his hands angrily. “I tried to care for them. But what was the point? They were bound to disappear anyway. They either escaped or died there. I was just too strong for them to get rid of me personally.” He sneered, tears streaming down his face as he turned away with a deep sigh.

“And then they made her. My sister.” He turned back around to look up at SFS who looked very distraught up in the higher branches of the tree. “She was small. Sickly. Maybe even weak at a glance. I didn’t want to care about her…Why should I? She would have just fell like the rest. I was tasked with watching over her when the…Other babysitter…Birdy?…Went missing. Maybe it was for the better.” He grumbled softly. “I didn’t want to bother with it. What was the point? And then…You came along.” He looked back down to the injured Light as the air grew hotter.

“You stole her. Meaning one of the clones had a chance to grow up. My chance at being the only one left and praised was ruined. And I can tell you’ve never let her fight. Is that why? Because you knew where she was from and feared her abilities?” Chaotic continued as he leaned down to Light with a smirk. “Well, too bad. I won this battle and now you get to see my power.” He laughed as he got back up and held out a clawed hand as fire and electricity began to gather around it aimed at Light. “And your weakling of a sister can’t stop me.” He laughed .

SFS felt herself…Grow full of rage. She clenched the branch tightly in her claws, wings opening slightly. She also felt lightheaded as the air around her began to grow colder as if to counter the intense heat. She didn’t mean to use her powers of cold, but she didn’t want her brother to be harmed further. She had to save him! But Chaotic was right..Her brother never let her fight. But she needed to! She felt so mad, but so hopeless…Until she noticed faint red markings began to illuminate from her arms and softly glow. The patterns lit up from her legs as well, and then one somewhat hidden by the scar over her eye. It was the markings she had when she was younger, but now more elaborate. She smelt a lavender scent drift from nearby and she glanced up at the highest points of the tree branches. And she saw someone!

It was..Birdy! She didn’t speak, but she was looking straight down at SFS. She just smiled assuringly, waved, and then nodded as if giving her permission to defend Light. But how was Birdy still alive after all that time?

SFS smiled back, then disappeared after grabbing her stop sign after freezing the air.

Chaotic tried to fire the blast, but it puttered out in the cold that had formed. He looked extremely confused.

And then he heard it.

“Guess you’re right. He can’t beat you.” That was SFS behind him. “But I’m not him!” And then she struck.

THWACK!

The metallic noise from the stop sign was quite loud, and also hurt quite a bit as he hissed and stumbled away from Light in confusion and turned around to glare at SFS. “How dare you.” Chaotic twitched his eye slightly.

SFS tossed the stop sign to the side, her own markings glowing a vibrant red as she opened her claws and took a fighting stance of her own with her wings opened wide and a cold chill drifting in the air mixed with a faint scent of lavender from somewhere with the source unseen once again.

“Light is still my brother. It doesn’t matter what I really am. You want a fight? Then fight me.” SFS narrowed her eyes. “And we’ll see who’s the strongest of us both. If that’s what you came here for.” She added, tails swishing behind her.

Chaotic was quiet, then grinned as he took his own fighting stance with his tail spines spread and his talons crackling with chaotic electric arcs and his claws holding the same electrical charge. “You really think you can win against your real brother?” He scoffed.

“I can try.” SFS retorted.

And so the fated fight began..With someone keeping watch just out of sight followed by a scent of lavender.

[middleearthpixie]

Living Proof ~ Chapter Three

Summary: When he puts himself between the Uruk-hai and Merry and Pippin, Boromir knows it means sacrificing himself. But it also means redemption for his near betrayal of Frodo and the Fellowship, and so it is a price he is more than willing to pay.

Kaia has been on her own for as long as she can remember, having escaped a terrible life in a village not far from Mordor. When she hears the sounds of battle, she knows what it means and when she ventured forth and finds a gravely wounded man lying amongst the leaves and debris, she takes him in, not knowing he is actually the son of the steward of Gondor.

Angry at himself and faced with a long road to recovery, Boromir does not make things easy on Kaia and it is only through her own sheer will that she does not give into the urge to hit him over the head with something on a daily basis. That refusal to give up brings about changes neither one of them could have foreseen.  She just wanted to save him. She never thought he would save her in return…

Fandom: The Lord of the Rings (AU, Boromir lives)

Pairing: Boromir x ofc Kaia 

Warnings: none

Rating: T 

Word Count: 3.2k

Tag List: @sotwk @fizzyxcustard @evenstaredits @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms @emmyspov @finnofamerica @lathalea @ass-deep-in-demons @quiall321 @mistofstars @justfollowtheroad @guardianofrivendell @glassgulls @doctorwhump @kmc1989 @estethell @emrfangirl

Author’s Note: While I do thoroughly research any medical scenes to the best of my ability, I do sometimes have to take a bit of poetic license with treatments, wounds, etc. This might be one of those times… 

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here.

Leaves scuttled all around as he dove at the hobbit, but Frodo was too fast, darting out of reach as Boromir leapt. Still, Boromir was determined and dove again, this time pinning the hobbit beneath him. The Ring. All he wanted was the Ring. He needed it. 

His fingers tightened on Frodo, who fought with a strength belied by his size. The Ring glinted in the fading sunlight. He was so close to snatching it. 

So…

…close 

Then, the halfling disappeared. 

Fury scorched through Boromir. He couldn’t let Frodo get away. Couldn’t let the Ring get away. 

He gave chase, sweating despite the chill air, leaves and other debris clinging to his hair, his clothes. The sun burned bright through the treetops. Fury made him hotter still. Everything burned inside him. Sweat dripped from him. 

Arrows came from all directions. Merry. Pippin. They were on the other side of the clearing, stunned and staring as he emerged over the ridge. He shouted at them. Told the fools to run. And they did. 

No, they didn’t. 

He didn't know who fired the first arrow, but heat of anger, of desperation that flooded him already burned hotter as the arrow found its mark. Searing hot pain sliced through him. Again. And again. He tried deflect the arrows, but the heat raged into an inferno and his arms and legs failed him, refused to do it bidding.

Flames licked his legs, climbed up across his chest, threatened to immolate him where he stood and no one seemed to notice. His blood roared through his temples. Pain wracked his entire body. Death nipped at his heels and he cared not. It would be a relief from the relentless burning, the relentless heat, the relentless fire.

“Oh!” The fireball burst, sweat prickled along his skin and when he jerked awake, it seemed every fiber in his body screeched in protest. 

The clearing. The hobbits. The orcs. They all vanished as if swept away by some invisible force, leaving him alone, on his back, staring up at the exposed beams of a strange room, drenched in sweat and breathing as if he’d run from one end of Middle Earth to the other.

But he had no idea where he was or how he’d come to be there.

The pain radiated through him, but not nearly as hot now. It made his stomach clench. Made bile rise in the back of his throat. And while he continued to sweat, a shiver came close on its heels. 

He lay there, trying to will away the hot sting that centered on the left side of his torso, his left thigh. Little by little, breathing grew easier and the pain faded to a dull ache, but he still had no idea where he might be or how he came to be there at all. 

Silence greeted him as the dull roar of his blood rushing in his ears quieted down and his heartbeat slowed as well. He felt no need to panic, as he lay there on a somewhat lumpy sofa, although he did wonder how he’d come to be very nearly naked beneath the worn quilt drawn over him. A threadbare chair stood on the far side of the table before him and on it were his surcoat and the cloak given to him by the lady Galadriel. He wore his small clothes still, but his tunic and trousers had been removed. His wounds had been treated and dressed as well.

His wounds.

Remnants of his dream still swirled through him. He’d been struck down by orcs. Hot shame swirled through him, and he squeezed his eyes closed as it flooded him like a mighty river. Whoever dragged him away from that clearing should have left him there to rot. It was that simple. He deserved no mercy, no kindness. He certainly deserved nothing but scorn and fury and shame.

And yet, someone had taken him in, had cared for him. Why?

A door opened somewhere behind him and footsteps sounded softly against the floorboards. Whoever it was sang softly to themselves as they came int the house, their voice low and husky and almost soothing, although he understood not a word of what was being sung. 

The floor behind the sofa creaked and he gently craned his neck to see a woman standing over him, her mass of dark red curls wild about her face and tumbling about her shoulders. A hint of a smile lifted her lips as she said, “Well, a good morning to you. How are you feeling?”

“Who are you and where am I?”

Her smile faded as she skirted the arm of the sofa and moved to sink onto the table before him. “I’m Kaia. And this is no place special, but it’s home for now. How are you feeling?”

She leaned over as she spoke and to his surprise, pulled back the quilt to his hips. Without thinking, he snatched it back, hissing as fire shot through his chest from his hips upward. “What are you about?”

She met his stare easily. “Who do you think sewed you back together again, sir? Now, let me see how they’re healing.”

He tightened his hold on the quilt’s binding. “I’ll do no such thing. The last thing I want or need is your father coming in and seeing this and demanding I marry you.”

Kaia sat back on the table and just stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. Then, she shook her head, replying, “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me. Where are my clothes? I need to go.”

“You are not going anywhere. At least, not on that leg. As for your clothes? I had to cut your tunic and trousers away to treat your wounds. And as for the lunacy that is you thinking anyone is going to demand I marry you, well… that’s lunacy, indeed. I have no father and the only one who will decide whether or not I marry is me. And trust me, I am not going to be looking to marry you.”

A hint of idiocy swirled through him. “What?”

“You heard me. Now, will you let me check your wounds or not?”

“Not.” He met her glare with one of his own. “And what do you mean, you cut my clothes away?”

“What part of that do you not understand?” Her hands dangled between her knees. “You were wounded in the leg, middle, and chest, as you can at least feel, if not see. How was I to get to the wounds, if they were buried beneath layers of clothing?”

“So you took the liberty of cutting them off?”

“I did. It was that or let you die. So, I made what my stepfather would have called an executive decision and I cut them from you. And you’re welcome, by the way.”

He broke his stare to focus on the exposed ceiling beams instead. “You ought but have let me die.”

“Self-pity is an ugly trait, you know.”

“Ask me if I care.”

She stared at him for a long moment and he waited, bracing for her argument. But to his surprise, she didn't argue at all. Instead, the look she offered up was one that bordered on amusement. With a slight smile accompanying it. Whoever this girl was, she was infuriating, to say the least. 

“Suit yourself.” 

With an almost lazy shrug, she rose and disappeared around the sofa to go into whatever room was behind him. He waited for her to begin muttering to herself, most likely just loud enough for him to hear as she moved about whatever room it was she was in.

But instead of muttering, she resumed her singing. 

Singing.

Once more, he realized he understood not a word of what she sang, but it reminded him of the lament he’d heard in Lothlórien, after Gandalf fell into shadow and flame at the hands of a balrog when they were in the mines of Moria. 

His eyes closed of their own volition and he tried to will away the thoughts he had no desire to dwell upon. But they kept coming just the same. The Watcher in the Water that tried to snatch Frodo, Merry, Pippin, as they thought to retreat from Moria and find another way around in their trek to Mordor. The cave troll. The countless number of orcs they’d battled.

The balrog itself. 

His gut churned harder with each vision that slid before his eyes and no matter how he tried stave it off, the nausea worsened. A brackish taste flooded his mouth and with icy cold dread, he knew he was about to be sick.

He swallowed hard against the rising tide as he lifted a shaking arm to reach for the bucket tucked just beneath the table’s edge. The wood screeched against the floor as he tried to pull it closer, but his strength failed him and the bucket tipped onto its side.

Kaia was there in an instant, though, righting it to pull it close and no sooner had she, when his stomach emptied itself. Every muscle locked, went rigid as he coughed and gagged and to his surprise, Kaia remained where she was, a hand on his back, her voice soft as she whispered, “Easy… don’t fight it…”

At last, he sank into the cushions, the feeling of having done this already washing over him as she stroked his hair away from his forehead and murmured, “I have birch and mint if you wish that tea now.”

He sagged back, his eyes closing, and had just enough energy to whisper, “What tea?”

“I told you earlier, birch for pain, mint to settle your stomach. So far, you’ve refused it.”

“You’ve offered me nothing.”

“Of course I have. More than once, actually. You simply do not recall.” Her hand came to rest on his forehead, her touch still as gentle as a breeze. “Your fever has broken, and that’s good. You’ve had a rough few days.”

“I remember nothing.”

“Really?”

He nodded slowly. “I recall no offer of tea.”

“Well, I did offer. And I offer it again. But, let me get this taken care of before the entire cabin reeks.” 

He cracked one eye to peer up at her. “I tried to stop it.”

“Impossible. Not to mention foolish. Let nature do what nature does. Are you always so stubborn?”

She didn't wait for him to reply, but carted the foul bucket out and left him there, with both eyes closed once more. 

He must have fallen asleep for when he opened his eyes again, it was dark, the cabin lit by a single lamp on the table and it was so quiet, he wondered if he’d imagined Kaia after all. If he had been with fever, it would explain conjuring up this odd girl.

Of course, that wouldn’t explain the cabin and that was how he knew he was absolutely awake now. 

With that, he tried to sit up, moving very slowly as he did and the sutures holding him together pulled slightly. He paused. A painful rumble rolled through his gut. He waited.

It receded and he managed to come upright, although it tired him out and sent a fresh sweat prickling across his bare back. Three strips of linen wound about him, and he wondered how she’d managed it without waking him. But then again, if he’d been unconscious from the pain, it most likely made her task that much easier. 

Each wound ached, but he didn't think they hurt as badly as they had earlier. Then again, he had no way of knowing how long he’d been on that sofa, in this cabin, under her care.

And why had she brought him here?

The cabin door opened and Kaia stepped over the threshold with an armful of wood that she brought into the kitchen. That was the room behind the sofa and from his vantage point, he saw a fire already crackling on the stone hearth, a kettle hanging over it, and cupboards lining the far wall, broken up only by the washbasin and a small icebox of sorts. 

“How are you feeling?” she asked without turning toward him.

“Better.” He swallowed hard against a rogue rumble in his gut, then added, “How long have I been here?”

“Four days.”

He just stared at her for a long moment. “What?”

She nodded. “Four days. I found you on Sunday. And today is Thursday. Four days.”

“But… I remember none of it.”

“You were in terrible shape when I found you, so I’m not surprised.” She finished stacking the wood, then wiping her hands on the seat of her trousers, she came over to the back of the sofa. “Do you remember anything?”

He let his gaze wander about the cabin as he tried to gather his thoughts. If he didn't know she lived there, he would think it had been abandoned for years before he woke in the great room. It had that abandoned feel about it, one that went beyond its meager furnishings and lack of personal belongings. It simply felt… empty. 

Slowly, he shook his head. “No. As I said, I remember none of it.”

For a moment, it seemed she might challenge him on that. But then, she said, “Perhaps in time it will come back to you. Now, will you let me check on your wounds, or are you determined to remain stubborn about it?”

It would give him an excuse to lie back down again, and that was what he wanted more than anything, so he sighed and nodded. “Yes. I mean, you may, of course.”

“Good. Because I was checking them either way.” 

She came around to sink onto the table and folded the quilt away from him. Warm air skittered along his bare skin as she unknotted the topmost strip of linen, holding the bandage in place over the wound below his left collarbone. Unlike the others, this bandage went up and over his shoulder and he wondered at how she managed it without waking him.

Then her voice cut through wondering as she explained, “This one was the deepest, and you were lucky that it went in straight and did not angle downward. It would’ve nicked your heart and if it went a bit more to the center, your lung. It is the perfect spot to be struck, if such a thing exists.”

“Lucky, you say?” He shook his head as he stared up at those dark exposed beams once more. “I’m afraid I don't feel quite so lucky.”

“Well, no, I imagine you don’t. But,” she looked up just as he looked down and met his gaze, “you are.”

“I’ll not argue it. I’m alive.” He sucked in a sharp breath as she probed at the wound. “Take care, if you’d not mind!”

“I’m sorry,” she replied, laying the bandage back over the wound, “I’ll try to be more gentle.”

“Dare I ask how it looks?”

“It looks ugly. And it will for some time still. But, it’s no longer bleeding at all and that’s a good thing. I only have the barest of supplies, since I don't come across many wounded men and I’m not often having to patch myself back together.”

“You live here alone?”

“I do.”

“Where are your people?”

She didn't answer right away, but unknotted the linen lower down, halfway between the first wound and his hip, but more center. “This one was not as deep. You must have turned when it was fired, for by rights, it should have skewered you. I mean, far worse than it actually did.”

“More good luck.”

“Exactly.” 

“You didn't answer me, you know.”

She looked up at him. Her eyes were green. Green and direct and she nodded. “I know.”

He waited for her to continue, but she turned her attention back to the wound. He gritted his teeth at the soft, prickling sting that accompanied her examination, and sighed with relief when she slid the linen back over the bandage and re-knotted it. 

The last one gave him pause, for it was just above his left hip and while he still wore his small clothes (and he’d rather not think about how long they’d been on him, if he was honest with himself,) they were of thin muslin and he barely knew this woman.

But, she apparently did not feel the same hesitancy, for she shifted down along the sofa, saying, “I think the arrowhead here glanced off your hipbone. Again, probably you were turning away.” She looked up at him once more. “Why were you in the clearing? And who were the halflings I saw? I mean, they were halflings, weren’t they? I’ve never seen any but have heard of them.”

He nodded, trying to stave off the hint of embarrassment swirling through him as she unknotted the bandage, then carefully eased down the waist of the small clothes to lift it away from him. “They were, yes. The orcs took them, didn't they?”

“You said they did. They took the little ones were your exact words. But why?”

He offered up a long, level look even as a hot sting swept through him from her prodding. “Are you certain you wish to know? They were taken by orcs.”

She stared at him for a long moment, then her eyes went wide and she brought a hand to her mouth. “Oh, no…”

He nodded slowly. “So, perhaps I should be on my way. I might be able to find them before it’s too late.”

“You can’t go anywhere just yet. I pulled two arrows from your left leg as well. I’d be surprised if you could stand on that leg just yet. And besides, you could start with another fever and if you are out in the forest alone and that happens? You would stand no chance against anyone, never mind an army of orcs.”

“An army… you saw them?”

She nodded as she turned back to his wound. “I did, yes. I couldn't even hazard a guess as to how many there were. But they marched straight through and have not come back. Not even to bury their dead.”

“They don't bury their dead. They don’t grieve. They don’t care.” He let his eyes close once more and sighed as she re-knotted that strip. “Let me guess, it looks good.”

“Good is a bit optimistic, but they look better.” She slid the waist of his small clothes back into place. “You do sound better as well. Not so tired now.”

“I hide it well. I’m exhausted.”

“I’m not surprised.” She lifted the quilt from his left leg, folding it back over his right. “Sleep, then. This shouldn’t take long and I will try not to hurt you.”

He nodded slowly as the drowsiness crept over him once more. He had to get back on his feet, had to find the others and rejoin the quest. 

But most of all, he had to find Frodo. He owed it to him, owed it to the Fellowship to see the Ring brought to Mount Doom and destroyed. 

Still, he couldn’t tell this woman any of it. He barely knew her, let along trusted her. He would remain where he was only as long as he absolutely had to and once he was certain he could bear weight on his leg and his wounds would not open up and bleed again, he would take his leave and go in search of the rest of the Fellowship.