#Ch.3 Fire and Fury

[dovahkiin796]

Poppy Playtime: CH 3 (What-if)

John watches in horror as dozens upon dozens of the Mini–Smiling Critters he has been dealing with ever since he found himself in the Playhouse. Crawl out of the walls and toward the hanging DogDay. The giant version of the toy screams out in panic when seeing the little monsters.

"Leave me! Please! Save yourself!" Every fiber of John's being agreed with what the humanoid dog said. But John couldn't get his legs to move.

He was too caught up in the horrific sight to even twitch a finger. But eventually his brain screamed at him to go, and John responded.

Though instead of running away to get to safety. John fired a few flares at the Mini-Smiling Critters. Like the other times they reared back in fright at the bright fireball.

However, this time, not all of them were backing away. Some continued to crawl toward DogDay. Their feral nature being more powerful than their fear. So, with only one option left. John starts bashing away the plush toys with his GrabPack arms.

"What are you doing?!" Asked a confused DogDay. "I told you to leave me!" John ignored him and continued his assault. One of the Smiling Critters manages to get onto DogDay's head, and it seemed it was about to crawl into his head by his large, black eyes,

John stopped this from happening by actually using his own hand to grab it and then punch it in the face with his other hand by turning it into a fist. John heard a sickening crack, but he pressed on and threw the dead thing away.

In quick speed John was able to free the large dog from his straps and have his arms wrap around his neck for support. "You're a fool for doing this. You're going to get yourself killed."

John could only grin. If that was the case, then at least he died trying to save someone. The Mini-Smiling Critters, angry that their food supply was now free. All snarled in anger.

John didn't bother to wait and see what they'll do and ran back the way he came. But when trying to run through the cell doors, wooden planks that were put in place to cover a large hole in the floor. Collapsed by the combined wait of John and DogDay's.

They fell to a floor beneath the holding cells. Clearing his dazed head from the sudden fall. John sees an open tunnel. Up above he can hear the little Critters coming to where he and DogDay fell.

Wasting no time, he crouch runs down the tube till coming to another tunnel and taking it. It was series of running, taking sharps turns, running up ramps, waiting for shutter doors to open up, and taking a slide down. But eventually John spots their salvation. An elevator that was behind a gap that led to a bottomless pit.

Switching to the purple hand and with what little adrenaline he had left in him. John sprints toward the gap, "Hang on! This won't be an easy landing!" Just as his foot touches the purple hand pad. John fires the hand on it and both he and DogDay launch high in the air.

Fortunately for them they were able to make it. Though John ended up not sticking the landing. He lost his footing and fell to the ground. The giant Smiling Critter rolled off of him, only being stopped by the elevator railing.

Without his choice John's body happened to land on his side where his front would be facing the open doorway he just came through. He can see the horde coming for him and DogDay. He wasn't actually sure if they would make the jump or not. He prayed that they didn't. But he wouldn't be able to know as the shutter suddenly closed before any of them could even make the attempt.

From behind the door, he could hear the little beasts roar and snarl in absolute fury. Crashing their little bodies against the metal in hopes of breaking through it.

Though the door wasn't budging in the slightest. Letting out a much-needed sigh of relief. John turns to DogDay to see if he's alright. "Are you ok?" John asked. The Smiling Critter coughs a little before asking why he saved him. John was silent for a few seconds till saying. "Because this place already has enough death occur in it. It needs at least one life that was saved in these walls."

DogDay took a second to digest what he heard. He lets out a ragged snort. "You really are an Angel. Something this place really needs."

John snorts too. "By the way. The name is John." DogDay said the name sounded too generic and will continue to call him Angel. Rolling his eyes. John picks up DogDay and steps onto the elevator and pushes the button. The contraption heading upward that led them to another slide. With no other option they took it, and it actually took them outside the Playhouse.

"It's been so long since I've been outside. I honestly can't believe that I'm truly free." Said DogDay. "Well believe it, you'll no longer be someone's dinner."

After a phone call from Ollie and telling him what to do next. John first takes DogDay to the elevator where Kissy and Poppy were last seen using.

When reaching it John sees the elevator was still raised up. He calls out for either Poppy or Kissy to lower the elevator so DogDay can be safe with them.

For several long seconds he didn't get a reply back. He was worried that maybe they were no longer up there. But his worries were put to rest when he heard and saw the elevator descending.

The elevator finally reached the bottom and John rested DogDay against the railing. "I don't know about this. Can you trust them?" The Smiling Critter asked. A hint of worry in his voice.

Despite what DogDay said to him back at the Playplace about he and Poppy being the only ones to stop the Prototype. John doesn't blame him for it. For years he was at the mercy of toys who he thought were his friends. And after all those years, he's finally free, only be at the mercy to a different set of toys. John reassures him that that they'll keep him safe while he deals with CatNap.

Pressing the button so the elevator can go back up. DogDay says, "Please don't die, Angel. I don't want to lose any more friends in this place."

Promising he won't. John turns around and heads for the counselor's office to bring more power to the generator.

[thestrangepoet]

The Furrcinating Adventures of Champion, the Archives Cat | The Magnus Archives Fanfiction | Ch 3/?

Based on @ultramarinaa’s Cat!Martin AU. I was going to post this one tomorrow, but Ultra convinced me of the greater need. So here you go; two chapters in one day!

CONTENT WARNINGS: None

DISCLAIMER: As per usual, this is an unedited first draft that I haven’t proofread. Forgive any typos and roughness around the edges – I tend not to go back over fanfics, as they’re just a bit of fun writing for me. (I am a full-time professional writer, and if I start telling myself I need to edit and proofread my fanfics, it’ll cease being fun for me.)

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Jon managed to unfasten Champion’s paws from his forehead in time to see the door before them open. 

Champion, meanwhile, embraced his feline fury. With a courage he didn’t know he possessed, Champion leapt forwards – earning a yelp from Jon as he springboarded off the poor man’s head – hissing and spitting at whoever or whatever was trying to corner them in the tunnels. 

A sharp screech of shock from the door had Champion reassessing his attack, and he landed in an inelegant heap on the floor with a loud thud. 

“Jesus Christ, Jon…Did you just sic the cat on me?” a familiar voice asked from the doorway. 

Jon scrambled for the flashlight, turning it towards the door to reveal their visitor to be no one more threatening than Sasha. “Ah, S-Sasha? Erm, no, he, err…he did that on his own, I assure you. I-I-I think you just gave him a bit of a fright.” 

Sasha stepped into the room, though she took care to keep her distance from the pile of fur that was Champion on the floor. She arched an eyebrow, keeping her arms folded tightly around her torso. “Seems like he wasn’t the only one a bit jumpy. Speaking of, Elias sent me. He figured you’d do some loophole jumping regarding Champion having to go into the tunnels, and he’s sent me to fetch you.” 

The head archivist collected himself just as Champion did, though only one of them needed to shake themselves to get the dust off. 

“Well, you can go back upstairs and tell Elias that I am not to be fetched unless Champion is too! I’m not leaving him down here on his own, Sasha. It’s cruel.” Jon got to his feet, heading over to Champion and picking him up off the floor. He held the cat out at arm’s length towards Sasha, who flinched backwards from the marshmallowy sight. “Look at him. Does he look like a mouser to you? He’ll be traumatised on his own down here!” 

Champion – or Martin – did his best to look incredibly un-hunter-like. He most definitely did not want to be relegated to the tunnels for the rest of his feline lives. But something in the air caught Champion’s attention then, ruining his great display of looking as soft and sad as possible. His nose twitched once, twice…What was that? A stranger? 

“Get that thing away from me!” Sasha yelped, hopping back and swiping at Jon and Champion. “I’m…I’m allergic, all right? Elias said you’d throw a strop, so he said you could bring Champion back up to the archives too, but he has to stay out of Elias’ office and away from me! And if Elias finds even one mouse in any of the storage rooms, he says he’ll fire Champion officially.” 

Jon let his arms relax, moving a dangly ragdoll of a Champion away from Sasha. “You’re allergic?” 

Bit late in the day to bring that up, Sasha, Martin thought to himself. Odd too, given Martin had heard Tim mention past cats he’d owned, and it was no secret that Tim and Sasha had a bit of a thing for each other at one point. He’d have thought one of them would have mentioned it if Sasha was allergic. 

Martin didn’t have time to develop his conspiracy theory any further, however. Jon had taken the chance to have both out of the tunnels rather swiftly, hoisting Champion over one shoulder like a furry roll of carpet, his bag over the other, then scuttling his way towards the trapdoor. 

As they walked by Sasha, though, Martin couldn’t help but sniff at the air a few more times. 

Weird. He couldn’t put his paw on quite why, but he was sure something was off about the way Sasha smelled…

──── •✧• ────

“Back from spelunking in the tunnels, Boss? Oh, and Champion! That’s who I was most worried about, obviously. C’mere, Champ!” 

Tim burst into Jon’s office – without knocking, Martin noted, as Tim swept him into his arms. He waited to see if Jon would tell Tim off for that, but seeing him barely arch an eyebrow at the matter sent Champion into a huff. 

Oblivious to the double standard that had upset him, Tim snuggled the cat in his arms, scritching the annoyed cat’s ear. “Did you have to protect little Jonny boy from the demons in the tunnels, eh?” Tim rearranged Champion in his grip so that he could hold him out, facing the cat as though in serious conversation. “Or did you find out that the real spooky horror that Jon needed protecting from was himself the whole time?”

“Stop scaring the cat, Tim,” Jon drawled, finally looking up from his work. “What do you want? Other than to harass Champion.” 

Both Tim and Champion turned to look at Jon, then back at each other. Wriggling in Tim’s hands, Champion managed to clamber up his arms and across his shoulders, settling himself there instead. Did he spot a hint of annoyance in Jon’s eyes at that? Probably wishful thinking, Martin told himself gently. 

Tim smirked, swaggering over to Jon’s desk and dropping himself down on the chair in front of it, keeping Champion balanced expertly on his shoulders. “Just back from my lunch. Figured I’d swing by Martin’s place at lunch instead of after work, y’know, ‘cause…it just doesn’t sit right with me. He wouldn’t just disappear without a word.”

Champion’s ears pricked up at this. Tim had gone to check on him? 

He leapt down from Tim’s shoulders and into his lap, miaowing at the top of his lungs and trotting in circles. However, instead of highlighting the point – Yes, Martin is missing, guys, and a random cat showed up, figure it out! – Champion’s theatrics only served to derail the conversation for a moment. Tim tried to calm him down by petting him, chuckling at the cat’s antics. “Oh, yes, see, even Champion is worried! You’d love Martin, Champion. He’d give you the best hugs, honestly, and I bet he’d sneak you way too many saucers of milk.” 

“No one should be sneaking Champion saucers of milk,” Jon noted curtly, earning him a shocked look from Champion. “It’s not actually good for cats to drink milk. 

Hypocrite! Martin thought, you’ve given me loads of saucers of milk! 

“See, that’s why he’d like Martin more,” Tim teased with a grin. “Anyway, back on point – no sign of him. Flat’s locked up, no lights on, and I channelled my inner Sims enough to snoop the windows and letterbox. Junk mail piling up. It’s like he’s gone on holiday and forgot to tell us. Which, you know, isn’t entirely out of character, but…”

“But we really should alert the police at this point.” Jon sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Hell, we should have informed them long before now, but Elias has been particularly keen not to involve the Institute in this. If an employee goes missing, the police will want to investigate.”

Tim’s eyes grew wide. “R-right, but…Martin’s missing, soooo…fuck the Institute, tell the police, yeah?”

“In so many words, yes, I think we may have reached that point.” 

Champion, still standing on Tim’s lap, looked from Tim to Jon and back again. He’d been a cat for nearly a week now; he’d assumed someone might have informed the police already, but no. No, no, apparently not. 

Huffing and puffing out his chest, Champion leapt down from Tim’s lap and stormed off. It was easier to look angry than sad as a cat. 

Cats couldn’t cry, after all. 

──── •✧• ────

[rosanna-writer]

Out of the Woods (2/3)

An AU that diverges from canon after Rhysand leaves a head spiked in the garden. Aware of the unsnapped mating bond and unwilling to get between another High Lord and his mate, Tamlin hands Feyre over to Rhysand. Panicked, shocked, and desperate, Rhys scrambles to gain Feyre’s trust, find her a hiding place, and cover his tracks before returning Under the Mountain. And then learns the hard way that Feyre Archeron can never leave well enough alone.

Another update for @officialfeysandweek <3

Some text is lifted directly from both A Court of Thorns and Roses and A Court of Mist and Fury, and just a note that I've chosen not to use warnings for this fic.

Ch. 1 | Read the second chapter Here on AO3 or under the cut.

Sweat dripped from my brow. A muggy, heavy, oppressive heat blanketed the woods, the sort of weather I fantasized about on the coldest winter nights, then silently cursed when the seasons changed. Warm weather meant long days covered in bug bites and desperately hunting to save enough coin to tide us through the next winter.

This wasn't the temperate warmth of the Spring Court. This was summer.

But I could hardly complain. I passed enough bushes with plump red berries to put a damper on my gnawing hunger, and I had plenty of daylight to burn while I searched for a place to sleep.

I'd need to eat something more substantial eventually. But I'd starved enough to know I had until morning to get my bearings before the hunger pangs became too severe.

The trees looked no different from the ones below the Wall. Older, perhaps, more gnarled and covered in moss, but familiar. I spotted a few ordinary birds and squirrels in the branches, but…far fewer of them than I'd expect.

As if something routinely picked them off.

Around mid-afternoon, I came across a deer carcass, reduced to nothing more than bone. Hardly unusual—bugs and rot came for everything eventually. But when I crept closer, I noticed scorch marks on the ribs and antlers.

I didn't stop to examine it—more urgently than finding food, I needed fresh water. And though my pack was full of tools courtesy of Rhysand, he'd neglected to leave me with a map of this place. I'd have to locate a stream on my own.

Once, I passed a crumbling stone tower, the sort with long, narrow slits for archers to shoot through. The last remnant of something, though the ivy-covered stones were so worn down that I couldn't say what. A few hours later, I passed it again, though I was absolutely certain I'd never doubled back.

And I could've sworn I spotted a face peering down at me from the top.

I bolted through the trees and didn't stop running until I nearly collapsed in a heap. My ragged breathing echoed in the too-quiet forest, and I nearly vomited onto a patch of toadstools. But I was still utterly, blessedly alone.

A few hours later, I found the stream. Later than I would have liked, but the water ran clear and cold—at first, I assumed, due to the snow capping the mountain peeking high above the trees to the west. But strangely, it ran towards the mountain and not away.

I didn't question it. A few fish swam in the water, and if I wanted to catch a few to cook for dinner, I needed to hurry up and find a sharp stick to use as a makeshift spear. The sun had nearly dipped below the horizon. And then I'd need to start a fire and find a flat place to camp, ideally with a boulder to block the wind…

I hadn't missed this. The Spring Court had been a welcome reprieve from sunburn and my undershirt sticking to my back and too many tasks to complete before darkness fell. I hated feeling cooped up inside, but I preferred the safety of the manor's walled, manicured gardens to the harsh woods.

Rhysand had said to keep hidden, and a fire might as well be a signal flare. But I needed to eat, so I risked it.

A strange, suspicious mist descended the moment the kindling caught the spark. I shivered. All day, the sky had been a clear, cloudless blue, no signs of rain or fog.

My stomach growled, and I busied myself with coaxing the campfire to life, ignoring the tang of magic causing the hair at the back of my neck to rise. I'd learned from other hunters that no good ever came from acknowledging any spirits in the woods.

When lights began to dance in the distance, playful and inviting, a promise of treasure if I followed them deeper into the trees, I ducked my head and dutifully ate my fish. Something called my name, and I pretended it hadn't.

By the time I'd cleared away the bones and ash and made myself comfortable in my bedroll, whatever was out there had stopped trying to bother me. Perhaps it was reckless, but I kept the tent in my pack and slept in the open that night to see the stars.

It had been so long since I'd had a chance to admire them.

I let the sight of it soothe me as the full weight of my exhaustion and grief and the terror of the day finally hit me. The Spring Court had become my home, a place where I'd found true happiness. With Tamlin, I'd had peace and stability, more than just a comfortable bed, a full belly, and time to paint.

I might even have fallen in love with him.

But he'd handed me over to Rhysand without a fight. Cast me out, as if—

You can call me Rhys, you know. No one uses my full name besides my prisoners and my enemies. No invisible talons, this time—his words floated into my head as if they'd been carried on a night-kissed breeze.

It was as gentle as an intrusion into my mind could be, but I still sat bolt upright in shock. My hand flew to my chest. "What the hell?" I hissed aloud.

I'll teach you to shield to avoid this in the future.

You'd better, I grumbled, laying back down. But how did it go? Are you alright?

She believed the lie, though it disappointed her to hear she'd lost out on an opportunity to torture you to death. I had to…cheer her up. For quite a while.

My blood ran cold. I wished I had something better to say or a way of thanking him for bothering to save me and enduring that bitch's touch. But all I had was, I'm sorry.

Could I trouble you for a favor? If you don't mind me looking out your eyes, I'd like to see the stars.

I nodded, then remembered he wasn't actually here with me and said, Alright.

I braced myself for slashing talons, but again, they never came. Instead, I felt Rhys's mind curl up against mine, as if he'd slid into the bedroll with me. I'd never been close to someone like this, our very souls sharing breath.

We couldn't hide from each other like this. It was deeply, painfully intimate to feel him brushing up against the very core of who I was. But…I wasn't afraid.

Thank you, he said, and pressed this close, along with the words, I could sense his gratitude I'd let him in, his homesickness, his exhaustion from keeping up a charade for so long, his shame that he'd allowed Amarantha to bring him so low and hadn't fought back.

And guilt—so much guilt—for all the lives he hadn't been able to save.

I'm glad I could help.

We stayed like that for a long while, silent and intertwined as we stared up at the moon together.

I know you have questions, Rhys said eventually. Just ask.

What does it mean to be mates? I know we have a….a bond. But I don't understand why that makes Tamlin so afraid of you. Or why'd he just let you walk into the manor and take me.

In the Night Court, it has been illegal for millennia for a male to kill anyone who makes advances towards his mate. Other courts, like Spring, aren't quite so modern. You are your own person, with every right to reject the bond after it snaps into place. But in the eyes of many faeries, you belong to me, and our kind have gone to war for less.

I hadn't realized a mating bond could be rejected. Perhaps Rhys was merely biding his time, ensuring he knew where to find me so that when it finally snapped, he could be rid of me as quickly as possible.

A High Lord wouldn't want a human girl. Especially not one so…prickly as me.

A harsh, bitter laugh echoed in my mind. The world believes I rule over and delight in a Court of Nightmares, and beyond our borders, my people are hated. I wouldn't expect my fated equal to be particularly cheerful.

It did seem absurd when he put it like that. I'd known Rhys for hardly a day, but he moved like an apex predator, terrifying even with mere scraps of power at his disposal. I couldn't imagine him with someone soft.

I wouldn't have expected my fated equal to exist at all. And not merely because I was human.

The next words were so quiet, I almost thought I'd imagined them. Neither did I.

We went silent again. I squirmed in my bedroll, utterly undignified as I tried adjusting it to let in a bit of the cool night air without taking my eyes off the stars. But still, it was easier than talking.

I should let you rest, Rhys said eventually, the words laced with reluctance.

I didn't want him to go. Not because I'd miss him, but because I didn't want to be alone in this strange forest, sharing the dark with creatures intent on drowning me or eating me or or both. Since coming to Prythian, I'd never felt farther from home.

Stay a little longer?

Alright. Until you fall asleep.

I rolled over, trying to get comfortable on the hard ground. Sweet dreams, Rhys.

Sleep took me before I heard his reply. Exhaustion, perhaps—it had been quite the day—or he'd used his powers to ensure I drifted off quickly. But regardless of which, my sleep was dreamless and restful, enough that when the sun rose, I dragged myself out of the bedroll without too much trouble.

Another breakfast of foraged berries, and then I broke camp and continued to wander. If it rained, I'd need to build a shelter; I didn't relish the thought of finding a cave to huddle in. The Mother only knew what kind of creature I'd have to share it with if I did.

Around midday, I'd found an ash tree and perched in it as I used a sharp rock to fashion a few branches into stakes. The jeweled hunting knife that Lucien had gifted me was probably still in my bedroom in the manor, and I was cursing my stupidity for leaving it upstairs during lunch when a talon brushed against my mind.

I bit back a surprised shriek and nearly fell out of the tree.

Plotting my demise, Feyre darling? The words glittered with wicked delight—as if the thought of me attempting to kill him was exciting.

Scare me like that again, and I just might.

Something in him…dimmed. Like a star winking out. I didn't mean to frighten you.

You said you'd teach me to shield myself, I said pointedly.

I know. Amarantha doesn't trust me enough to allow me into her meeting with an emissary representing her king in Hybern, so while we have some time together, start by shoving me out.

I didn't know how. Yesterday, he'd speared my mind so completely, his talons digging into me from every possible angle. He'd surrounded me from the inside out.

At least make an attempt. No mate of mine should go down without a fight, he hissed.

I imagined planting my palm on his face and wiping away a smirk as I pushed him far away from me. And to my surprise…it worked. With those claws at a distance, I took a shaking breath.

Not yet—I can still get back in. A retreat isn't over until you've blocked the enemy out entirely.

Rhys wasn't my enemy; he'd said that last sentence like a rule that had been drilled into him over and over. He hadn't sounded like a High Lord, but like….a military commander. A trained warrior.

Lucien had said he wasn't old enough to have fought in the War, but…was Rhys?

I'll answer that question if you put some gods-damned walls up, he said.

Right. He could still hear me. I imagined a wall of adamant snapping down, black as night and a foot thick. His claws scraped against it but did not find their way through.

I pictured a crack in the wall, just thick enough for my voice to pass through. Good enough?

An excellent start. The words were ribboned with pride as they passed through the opening I'd created for him.

I couldn't remember the last time anyone had been proud of me.

My shields had either kept that thought from Rhys, or he'd chosen to ignore it and said, To answer your question, yes. I began training in a war-camp at the age of eight and later commanded a legion in the War. I was quite young—for a faerie, at least—when the fighting broke out. My father was still High Lord then.

If I thought too hard about how old that must have made him, I'd end up with a headache. And I couldn't imagine how he must have felt, an ancient immortal mated to a teenager who'd grow old and die in the blink of an eye.

Not that I would have asked because an even more horrible thought occurred to me. You were one of the faeries who fought alongside the humans, right? Not…the others?

The Night Court was part of the mortal-faerie alliance. Was that not part of your history classes in school?

Perhaps it would have been if I'd ever attended.

I could practically feel him go still in that preternatural way faeries did. I said nothing, just waited for something horrible and judgmental, some cruel comment about ignorant humans.

But it never came.

Apologies. I shouldn't have assumed.

He'd said he was sorry twice in as many days, far more consideration than I'd ever expected from a High Lord. I had no choice but to trust him, but…he still seemed intent on earning it anyway.

Before I could respond, Rhys swore to himself and said, I have to go. She's summoning me. Keep practicing—raise and lower your shields until it's second nature.

He pulled out of my mind without saying goodbye. And in this strange, still forest, I didn't even have the wind for company.

***

The days blurred together after that. I spent most of them on my feet, mostly concerned with finding enough food. Fish from the stream and a few foraged plants would sustain me in the meantime, but I needed something more permanent than a tent if I wanted to fell a deer and preserve the meat.

I stopped flinching each time talons knocked against my shields. Rhys slipped into my mind at every opportunity, even if it was just a few minutes alone. In those brief snatches of time, when there was only time for a single question, he only ever asked if I was alright.

It was the most anyone had ever fussed over me in years.

Most nights, we spoke mind-to-mind for longer. We didn't talk about the fact that Amarantha usually slumbered beside him when his talons brushed my shields, but I could sense it. Though I'd eventually made a lean-to for shelter, I crawled out of it to let him see the stars through my eyes.

It helped, I think.

Enough that I figured he tolerated my questions as a thank you. I peppered him with them at every opportunity, interrogating him about magic and the Night Court and what the other High Lords were like. When he finally deemed my shields strong enough, he showed me memories of a hidden city nestled deep in his territory.

Velaris, the City of Starlight. A place of peace and prosperity and so much art that I wanted to weep. I missed painting.

Before long, a summer thunderstorm rolled in, the dark clouds blocking any decent view of the stars, and—damn my luck—it was a new moon. I huddled under the roof I'd fashioned of branches and brambles, curled up in my bedroll and desperate to stay dry.

There would be no tracking the constellations. And I assumed that meant I wouldn't hear from Rhys, either. But to my shock, invisible talons caressed my mind anyway. Always the tone of surprise with you, he said as he slipped through the opening I'd made for him.

I can't show you the sky tonight. I figured you'd rather rest than stay up just to talk to me.

Have you considered that speaking to you is one of the few things I like better than watching at the stars?

I hadn't. At best, I was a complication that made his already miserable life Under the Mountain more difficult. And I spent my days wandering around the woods in search of food, which hardly made for scintillating conversation.

We have a magical thread tying our souls together. You don't need to bother trying to flatter me.

I'm not. You think in textures and colors, and I could listen to you talk about it for eternity.

He meant it. And for an immortal…eternity wasn't an abstract concept. His mind nestled closer to mine, the closest thing he could manage to blocking the howling wind with his body.

So on my darkest night in the forest so far, I showed him the paintings I dreamed about—the images I'd collected and hoarded in my memory, keeping them safe until I had canvas in front of me again.

But I couldn't continue on like this forever. The days were still long, but they'd get shorter soon. And the weather would turn.

On occasion, Rhys managed to send me supplies that appeared in the lean-to—a canvas tarp, a lantern, another flint, all conjured from thin air. Even if he got his hands on winter gear, I doubted it would be enough to get me through the winter without losing a few fingers and toes to frostbite. I'd be alright, perhaps, if I managed to make myself a bow and the cold spared the fingers I used to draw back the string.

There was still time—the leaves on the trees hadn't yet begun to turn. But we needed a new plan.

I'd been mulling over possibilities when I'd stumbled upon my answer, as if the forest knew just what I needed. In search of more plants to forage, I'd wandered deeper into the trees than ever before.

I emerged in an unfamiliar clearing. A perfectly circular clearing, one that must have been made deliberately.

Because a small, whitewashed cottage with a thatched roof and half-crumbling chimney sat in the center. Ordinary—almost mortal. There was even a well, its bucket perched on the stone lip, and a wood pile beneath one of the round windows of the cottage. No sound or light within—not even smoke puffed from the chimney.

I should have turned back. The few birds had gone quiet, the insects no longer buzzing. As sure sign of a predator lurking nearby.

This place was a trap. But I was growing desperate, and I longed for a bath and a bed and a proper roof over my head. So I took a few cautious steps down the path.

I could hear faint singing, the voice bright and clear. The lyrics that I could make out were horrible ones, something about sisters drowning one another. I paused.

The voice, honeyed and beautiful as it was, didn't seem to be luring me in. I took a cautious step back. Nothing tugged me forward. I tried again and made it all the way to the trees without any difficulty.

If I had to guess, whatever lived in the cottage could be reasoned with. It—she, perhaps?—wasn't a mindless beast. Still quite possibly intent on eating me, but…maybe not, if I could prove my worth or make a bargain.

Gathering my courage, I started down the path again. I raised my fist to knock, but the door swung open soundlessly. Practically inviting me in.

From the threshold, I could see shelves piled high with junk. The cottage was practically stuffed with everything from books to pottery to dolls to jewelry to taxidermied birds.

An immortal hoarder probably had winter survival supplies somewhere among the mess…

My gaze landed on the spinning wheel next. The humming, I realized, came from the steady turning as the cottage's occupant worked the thread. Her dark hair gleamed in the afternoon sunlight, but her hands were just a few shades too pale to be human.

She'd probably kill me if I stepped inside without permission. I took a breath, steadying myself, then rapped my knuckles on the weaver's door.

[daenysthedreamer101]

Daughter of Steel and Bronze ~ HOTD

Ch 3 - Dragonstone

HOTD x Targaryen!OC, eventual Targaryen!OC x Harwin Strong

Warnings: none, does scary Vermithor count lol?

Masterlist

"In 107 AC, after the first day of Princess Rhaenyra's name day celebrations, she and her cousin, Princess Daena, went to the Dragonpit to visit Rhaenyra's dragon, Syrax. But instead, they were met with the sight of Daena's father, Prince Daemon, and his blood-red dragon, Caraxes. Daemon took Daena to the ancestral seat of House Targaryen - Dragonstone. It was said he took her to the dark, grim caves below the castle. Nobody truly knows what happened down there. But what is known is that on that day, Princess Daena proved to everyone the strength of her Targaryen blood by claiming the dragon of the Old King Jaeherys - Vermithor, the Bronze Fury."

(Fire & Blood, Being a History of the Targaryen Kings of Westeros, by Archmaester Gyldayn)

~

It was the most amazing feeling in the world. As Caraxes flew over King's Landing and headed toward Blackwater Bay, Daena could see the entire city. She could see the Red Keep, the Dragonpit, and the Sept. Her father held her with one of his strong hands. 

"Embrot!" (Down!) Her father commanded and Caraxes dipped down. Daena screamed, not expecting it. Her silver hair whipped in the air and she could feel the wind whipping at her skin, but she didn't care. She felt alive. She felt happy. She felt free. If this is how she felt flying on someone's dragon, she could only imagine how it would feel if she had her own. As they flew over the Blackwater River and out into the sea, she realized where they were going - Dragonstone. 

Soon, she was able to make out the island of Dragonstone. Thankfully, today was a bright and sunny day, even above the usually gloomy island. The sky was blue and clear, with no cloud in sight. As they flew closer and closer, Daena could now clearly see the sharp edges of the castle. A grim place, Dragonstone was built by Valyrians with arcane arts, fire, and sorcery. 

"Tegot!" (Land!) Her father said and Caraxes started to descend. They flew down and made a circle around the castle. They landed on one of the beaches. 

"Kesīr iksi, dōna riña. Zaldrīzesdōron." (Here we are, sweet girl. Dragonstone.) Her father whispered in her ear as he unfastened all the protective belts and chains that were keeping them safely seated on the saddle. He helped her down. She did most of it herself, but quite clumsily. Daemon chuckled as Daena almost tripped and fell, but he caught her. 

"Kepa... ȳdra daor sōpagon rȳ nyke!" (Father...Don't laugh at me!) Daena huffed, her cheeks red from the flying and embarrassment. 

"Forgive me, sweet girl. You just look so adorable when you're angry." Daemon jested. Daena huffed and turned her head dramatically. They were soon greeted by some of the knights who lived on Dragonstone and the castle maester, Gerardys.  

"Prince Daemon...Princess Daena. We were not expecting you here. We were told you were in the capital, celebrating Princess Rhaenyra's name day." Maester Gerardys said in a soft voice. He was an elderly man, though not as old or bald as Grandmeaster Mellos, Daena noticed.

"I came here for business, not for pleasure." Daemon bit back, already annoyed with the maester. 

"And what would that business be, my Prince?" The maester asked. Daemon wanted to curse him off, but remembering his daughter was with him, he held his tongue.

"Getting my precious Daena a dragon, of course," Daemon said with a wide smile. Daena whipped her head up to look at her father. She didn't know! She had no idea this was happening. 

"Really? Father, do you mean it?" Daena asked, shocked. Daemon nodded with a smile reserved only for her and took her little hand into his. They were now heading for the castle. If Daena thought the castle was dark and grim from the outside, once she entered it, she realized the inside was even darker. 

~

After supper, she was shown to the room she would be residing in. It was a cavernous place, that looked more like a cave rather than a room, but she liked it. She put her hand on the hard, stone walls - they were warm. There was a large bed, a chest of drawers, a closet, and a big window high on the wall that let the sunlight in.

She lay on her bed and just enjoyed the ambiance and warmth of Dragonstone. She thought of her father's words - that he was going to get her a dragon. It seemed almost impossible in her mind, you don't just get a dragon, you have to earn the right, and you have to bond with one. But she knew one thing was true, her father was a man of his word and would try his best to help her claim a dragon.

She didn't even notice falling asleep. The bed was warm and cozy, how could she not? She slept a dreamless sleep. The sun set and darkness fell upon the island. Daena could feel herself slowly waking up. She was in between two states - sleep and reality. While her mind barely clung to sleep, she felt something tugging at her consciousness. Something was calling for her. A distant roar could be heard. Suddenly the image of the Old King's funeral came into her mind. But why?

She was a mere toddler back then. All she remembers was the sadness in the air and how quiet it was. But the feeling in her heart told her it wasn't that. Then, she remembered - a great, bronze creature came into her mind. 

"Vermithor" -  the dragon of her great grandfather, King Jaeherys. She remembers him burning the Old King's funeral pyre. The second largest dragon in Westeros, he was a formidable beast. Yet even back then, at the tender age of three, she was not afraid rather she was fascinated. 

Daena woke up with her heartbeat hammering in her ears. Her hands were clammy and her face was covered in sweat. Her feet were numb and she could barely see a thing. Only one thing was on her mind - "I need to see him! I need to find Vermithor!". 

She slowly regained control of her body and realized it was the middle of the night. There would be no more sleep for her that night, so she decided there was only one logical thing to do - sneak out to the caves and find the Bronze Fury. She quickly dressed back into the black riding suit Rhaenyra lent her the previous day. Not bothering to braid her hair, she hastily ran through it with a comb. 

Putting on her leather boots she nervously approached her room door. How would she leave unseen if there was a guard in front? Praying to the gods above under her breath, she carefully opened the door. She looked around - the hallway was empty and dimly lit by a few torches. She exhaled in relief. 

"Now, all I need to do is find a way to the caves...and then hope I don't become dragon food." Daena thought as she silently walked through the hallways. The castle was deadly silent, almost to an uncomfortable degree. It was eerie and dark, like something out of a scary ghost story her mother used to read her back at Runestone. She knew she couldn't leave from the main exit - she would get caught instantly. Therefore she went to the kitchens, which were also thankfully empty. She slipped out of the back door and closed it carefully. 

She turned and saw nothing but darkness. The wind was cold and whipped her hair around. She had no idea where she was going but her heart guided her anyway, and she made sure to listen to it. Making sure to avoid any busy spots, Daena somehow ended up in front of the caves.

"This is it...Now or never." She whispered to herself as she took in the scent of the salty air around her. As she entered the cave, she swore she felt a deep rumble reverberate through her chest. Soon, her life would change forever.

~

With no torch in hand, she was practically blind - it was pitch dark in the caves. She had to rely on her instincts and pure luck. Surprisingly, it wasn't cold in the caves, on the contrary, it was warm and the air smelled of ash and burnt flesh. She took many blind turns and hit many dead ends. After a while, Daena felt herself becoming frustrated and she started regretting leaving her room.

 "Father is going to kill me...If a dragon doesn't snatch me first." She thought darkly as she hit another dead end. She slumped against the rigid walls, now starting to panic. She was lost in a dark cave full of dragons. She closed her eyes, not allowing her tears to spill. In that moment she felt the same sensation she felt while asleep - a dull ache deep in her chest. Then, the ground trembled. 

What surprised her the most was that she wasn't afraid - the rumble only made her more determined to find what she was looking for. Taking a deep breath, Daena focused on the ache in her heart. 

"You're calling me...You want me to find you...I will find you." She spoke to the great beast that was calling for her. In a trance-like state, she walked slowly and followed the invisible string connecting their hearts. She walked and soon came upon a giant stone door. In front of it were two torches, lighting up the hallway. She somehow managed to pull one out of the brazier. 

She then walked toward the door and touched the handle - "I have to do this! It's the only way...I have to prove the strength of my dragon blood!" Daena told herself and then she pushed the door open.

The door creaked loudly and the sound made her cringe. Holding her torch high above her head, she walked carefully and observed the room she was in. She couldn't see far away but she could see high stone pillars all around and a large staircase that led up toward a stone platform.

Determined to prove herself, Daena went up the staircase, step by step. Once she reached the top, the ache in her heart disappeared and was replaced by a warmth that spread through her body. She put the torch down on the ground. As she moved closer to the edge of the platform she would meet eye-to-eye with the Bronze Fury himself - Vermithor. 

Vermithor shot a blast of fire through the air, lighting up the entire cave. Daena was in awe. Awe and shock, that is what she was feeling. He was a fearsome beast of almost a hundred years, only bested in size by Vhagar herself. He roared in her face, the sound reverberating through her entire body. Her eyes were wide with fascination and respect. 

He had scales that were the color of bronze and great tan wings. Her lilac eyes met his amber ones. He took a whiff of her scent, blowing her hair back. The only thing she could hear was the sound of her own heart beating loudly in her chest. She took a deep breath and in a soft voice sang in the language of her ancestors. 

"Drakari pykiros, Tīkummo jemiros, Yn lantyz bartossa, Saelot vāedis.

Hen ñuhā elēnī: Perzyssy vestretis, Se gēlȳn irūdaks, Ānogrose. 

Perzyro udrȳssi, Ezīmptos laehossi, Hārossa letagon, Aōt vāedan. 

Hae mērot gierūli: Se hāros bartossi, Prūmȳsa sōvīli, Gevī dāerī. "

High Valyrian:

Embrot! - Down!

Tegot! - Land!

Kesīr iksi, dōna riña. Zaldrīzesdōron. - Here we are, sweet girl. Dragonstone.

Kepa... ȳdra daor sōpagon rȳ nyke! - Father...Don't laugh at me!

The song lyrics: 

Drakari pykiros, Tīkummo jemiros, Yn lantyz bartossa, Saelot vāedis.

(Fire breather, Winged leader, But two heads To a third sing)

Hen ñuhā elēnī: Perzyssy vestretis Se gēlȳn irūdaks Ānogrose. 

(From my voice: The fires have spoken And the price has been paid With blood magic)

 Perzyro udrȳssi, Ezīmptos laehossi, Hārossa letagon, Aōt vāedan. 

(With words of flame With clear eyes To bind the three To you I sing)

Hae mērot gierūli: Se hāros bartossi, Prūmȳsa sōvīli, Gevī dāerī. "

(As one we gather And with three heads We shall fly as we were destined. Beautifully, freely)

***

It finally happened! In the future chapters, we'll see how grandpa Vermy and Daena bond.

Hope you liked it, and thanks for reading! ❤❤❤

If you have any opinions feel free to comment!

[tomtenadia]

Detours to You - Ch 12

Good weekend everyone!!! Ready for an another chapter?

MASTERLIST

Two days had passed from the fire and Rowan’s house had been transformed quickly in a chaos of toys. Although Maya was good at tidying up at night before bed, during the day his house was mayhem. And he was happy. His two girls were still recovering from the shock. Aelin had taken a couple of days off work after Elide and Lysandra had forced her to. Maya had been quieter than usual and that worried him. Both of them were struggling to sleep and in the past two nights he had found himself sandwiched between them. Maya would climb at his front and just cling to him, while Aelin played big spoon and rested against his back. He knew they were both struggling. He would have loved to stay at home with them but there was so much to do and he was helping the police with the investigation on the building fire. The previous day he had gone and collected the last few belonging boxed in the flat and finally closed that chapter of their lives. Rowan hated not being with them but he knew that Aelin was going back to work and would take Maya with her. They had called the school and explained the situation and Rowan had gone to the school to get Maya’s homework and the last lessons she had missed. Being in primary school it was still basic stuff but he felt that it was important and he and Aelin had been helping her at night.

That morning he was standing outside the tall block of flats and waiting for Captain Falliq and the chief of OFI. They were meant to go inside the building and try to find more proof of what caused the fire. They had the mechanics but now they had to discover the why and Nersys was positive it was arson.

Connall Moonbeam was the first one who met him. He was Fenrys brother. They had all done the academy together. Fenrys was still on active duty at station 3 but Connall had to retire from active duty after an accident during a fire that left him with bad lung problems and a problematic leg so he found a permanent position in the office for fire investigations and slowly made his way up the ladder.

“Morning Con,”

“You really are back, I thought Fen was taking the piss.”

Rowan laughed “Yes, I am.”

“And Chief nonetheless. Good, we did need a change of leadership.”

The both remained in silence while they waited for Nersyn to arrive.

“Do you really think it’s arson?”

“Nes thinks so.”

Connall sighed “You know how hard it is to prove and from what you told me this building was badly managed anyway. I need to make sure that the actual cause is human intervention and intentionally caused.”

“I know, I did try and explain to her but she believes Hamel was trying to get rid of this residential building to transform it into a business one,” he added with restrained fury “Apparently flats are not profitable. No matter that the monster charges an extortions for rent.”

Not long after, the captain emerged from her car and Rowan smiled at her wearing safety shoes and a hard hat. He had explained her the risks of entering a building after afire.

“Good morning guys, Sorry I am late but I was checking an anonymous tip we got about this fire. The person believes this was intentional. Apparently someone else had eyes on this building to make it commercial.”

Rowan was furious. Where were people meant to live if every rich bastard decided that buildings in the city centre were only good for business?

The three of them entered the building and slowly made their way to where overhaul had identified the origin point. 

Rowan walked to the main switchboard and with his torch illuminated the panel “It originated here,” he showed them the scorch marks of the origin point. Slowly he removed the panel and showed them the mess of the cables.

“That is not safe.” Added Connall, staring at the mess of badly tangled cables, they all looked ruined by years of bad maintenance but there was nothing pointing to arson.

Rowan would definitely jail the bastard just for negligence.

“Rowan, go back there, please?”

He pointed the light back to where Connall had indicated and they spotted a cable with a clean cut “This has been snapped with tools. And see the protective plastic around? It’s peeled back to expose the cables but it’s far too perfect and neat. This was deliberate.”

“Do you think they keep maintenance logs? Any trace of who was the last person to come down here? Only technicians have access keys to this panel.”

Nesryn took some notes “I am sure I will be able to find that for you.”

Rowan walked around the ruins of the place until his feet ended up in a puddle “Water, the guy had mentioned water too.” With his torch he followed the trail and noticed that the wall had all the marks of an internal water leak. With his axe he hit a specific point and water burst out with force, beneath it the electrical wiring was fried. Connall helped him to open the hole a bit more and with their torches they inspected the inside “If I remember the blueprint correctly, this is just below the flat that was the epicentre.”

“Shall we go upstairs?” Prompted Rowan, while already moving. The other two followed suite. As per protocol the flat had been boarded up but Connall and Rowan were two people who had the authority to go in so they slowly took down the boards and stepped in. The flat was a mess of burnt items. He could still see the signs of a family living there. A mother and her eighteen years old daughter. Their dreams, their hopes. All destroyed because of one man’s greed.

According to the report from his men, the fire in that room had been brutal. The kitchen had gone up in seconds and for the two women there had been no escaping. Rowan and Connall moved the appliances and found traces of sparks too and then water. They inspected the building for a good hour while Nesryn followed them in silence and took notes of their theories. The cut cable was a definite proof of a deliberate act, but the rest seemed like gross misconduct. Now it was her turn to piece all the details together and build up a case strong enough to jail Hamel forever.

When they finally exited the building the cop took a deep breath of fresh air, while Connall removed his white face mask to prevent him breathing dust particles that would cause him issues.

“This was very interesting and I have collected a lot of images and notes to help with my investigation. I have the copies of your reports as well so hopefully I will have something more solid soon.”

They thanked the cop and both men remained alone “This was sick.” Added Connall.

Rowan’s stare was on the top floor where Aelin and Maya lived. A barrage of what ifs crossed his mind. They had been quite far from the fire but still… If… If… If… Now that flat lay empty and his two women were safe at his house, he had to concentrate on that, for the sake of his sanity.

“I will send you and Nes any updates as soon as we analyse the samples I took.”

“Keep me posted, please.”

The two men said goodbye and Rowan jumped back in his pickup and drove to the bookstore.

*

Working helped. Aelin felt much better after a whole morning surrounded once again by books and her two friends. Maya had been in a better mood too and spent the morning in the children section or helping her mum shelve books.

She was busy helping a customer when she spotted the white shirt and dark jacket of the chief of the TFD entering the premises and Maya’s scream of joy at seeing her father.

“Dad!!” She ran to him and Rowan lifted her up effortlessly.

“Hi munchkin, how are you?”

She lifted Elf “we have been helping mum with all the books.”

With Maya still in his arms, he walked to the counter to greet Elide and Lysandra.

“We kept an eye on them, being busy helps a lot.”

“Dad, I fixed the kids section.”

“You did?” He kissed her “Show me.”

Father and daughter walked towards the back of the shop and Aelin joined her two friends.

“He is so adorable with her.”

Aelin stared at Rowan listening to what Maya was saying and agreed. Rowan was amazing with her.

“Lorcan asked me if I want one too.”

Both women squealed “What did you tell him?”

“Yes, of course as long as they are not a grumpy little thing like their father.”

“Now we have to convince my cousin Aedion to pop the question and make Lys a married woman.”

Lys rolled her eyes “If he doesn’t get a move on I am going to propose.”

Elide clapped her hands happily “Look at us responsible women.”

“Rowan needs to pop the question too.”

Aelin stopped “Rowan and I… it’s complicated.”

“In what universe? You already have a daughter and now live together too. You are basically married without the paperwork.”

“And didn’t you kiss the other night?” Added Elide.

“It was just to comfort me. It was sweet but it had nothing sexual about it.”

“Sure, but it moved something, eh?”

It did. Old feelings had started to come back quickly and being in the same house with him was not helping. She was torn between the version of five years before who was madly in love with him and the new version who was still struggling with his return and was scared of trying again.

“Maya is the most important thing just now. My needs can wait.”

“Until you two are alone in that big house of his and he can finally have your way with you and make you scream so hard you scare the squirrels.”

Aelin burst out laughing “Lys, you definitely read too many romance books.”

“No such thing.” She added quickly.

“We are just saying that the sexual tension between you is thick and we are expecting fireworks when you finally decide to stop being stubborn.”

Rowan came back with Maya half holding three books in her hands “dada bought me some books.”

“You are a bad influence,” joked Aelin, while taking the books from her daughter.

“As long as she is asking me to buy her books, I am happy to indulge her.”

“Also, I come here with an invitation,” he started “The annual hockey game between TFD and PD is on the 22nd. I know you are closed like all the shops for a couple of days and you are invited.” He turned to Lys “Aedion is welcome too if his job at the academy allows him to.” Aedion had been in the army for a very long time and when he retired he was offered a job as trainer for the recruits.

“It’s a good thing that you are back. We have been loosing for the past few years and Westfall has been a dick about it and brags to no end.”

Aelin glared at Elide for the D word and the young woman froze.

“Mama what is a dick?”

The adults froze “Maya, auntie Elide meant a stick.”

The girl seemed to accept the answer and went back browsing her books in silence.

“I will let you know all the details and give the tickets to Aelin.”

Rowan then kneeled beside Maya “I have to go back to work, but you keep company to mum and I will see you tonight.”

Maya wound her arms around his neck “Thank you for the books,” a kiss on his cheek.

Rowan kissed her back then stood and then pulled Aelin to him depositing a soft kiss on the crown of her head “I should be home by six.”

In response she leaned against his chest and nodded “be careful.”

“Always.” He pulled back, saluted the women and disappeared.

“Sure, no feelings.” Added Elide.

“He is totally disgusted by you.” Continued Lysandra.

Elide lifted Maya on the high chair “What do you think, little one? Your mum and dad like each other?”

The girl nodded energetically “Yes. Mum is happy.”

Aelin stared at the door where Rowan had disappeared and thought about her daughter words. Yes, since he came back she had felt happier. She had found herself craving his presence.

Maybe she was too afraid for nothing.

taglist

@rowaelinismyotp @swankii-art-teacher @whimsicallyreading @elentiyawhitethorn @aelin-bitch-queen @bruiseonthefaceofhumanity  @mis-lil-red @thegreyj @sailorsassley @leiawritesstories @clairec79 @morganofthewildfire @sv0430 @heartless--aromantic @autumnbabylon @rowanaelinn @backtobl4ck @susumaus98  @gracie-rosee @mybloodrunsblue @tanvee1231 @avenrebekah @whoever-you-choose-to-love  @theywillnotsingforme @universallytreepost @black-daisy-water @goddess-aelin @whispers-in-the-darkest-heart @lovely-dove-zee @athena127

[cartoonfanaticmonsterrobotalien]

Solar Opposites in Mighty Solars Issue #41: “Stolen” Pt. 2 Ch. 3

Cut to the Silver Blade’s cave where he waits for Qourra to enter her State. Qourra finally enters the state, creating a dome of water around her.

Maverick: Now destroy the last southern water bender!

Qourra: STAY AWAY FROM ME!

Aqua sends an ice shard to Qourra, who destroys it by breathing frost. Qourra struggles and pulls off the chain on her right arm, swinging it toward Maverick, followed by Aqua. Maverick dodged the attack, but Aqua was caught off-guard and slammed against a wall, losing her water appendages in the meantime. Bullet erupts lava toward Qourra, who swings the chain around her arm before directing the lava flow with water bending back to Bullet, causing him to retreat to avoid the lava. Qourra rips off the chains on her legs and waterbends herself away before propelling herself with bloodbending to rip off the final chain. She lands in front of Maverick and bends four boulders and circle them around her before bloodbend in to push the boulder away. The three Silver Blades retreats to avoid the attacks. Qourra breathes ice in fury while the Mighty Solars and their friends enter the cave.

Yumyulack Solar-Opposites/Vil-Gil-An-T: WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING?!

Terry Solar-Opposites/Mighton: Holy shit! We gotta stop them!

Qourra ice fires toward Maverick, who dodges the attacks and flies out through the open roof. Qourra propels water from her feet and gives chase.

Cheery Smithers/Bloody Sympathy: Aw man! I think Qourra has definitely lost her mind!

Qourra: ENOUGH OF THIS SHIT!

Phoebe MacCarthy/Starburst: [Blocks Aqua’s attacks with her lasso] Look out!

Quasarblast gasps.

Korvo Solar-Opposites/Quasarblast: Mighton, Starburst, Mighty Pupa, you took on Bullet! Vil-Gil-An-T, Fung-Irl, Lightspeed you take on Aqua! Venus Tip, Nighthowler and I will go find our friends!

Terry Solar-Opposites/Mighton: Are you sure?

Korvo Solar-Opposites/Quasarblast: We’re the Mighty Solars! We got this! Together! We’re a family! And our weirdness is what makes us strong! No matter what! So Mighty Solars, let’s roll out!

Mighton smiles tearfully and kisses his husband's cheek

Terry Solar-Opposites/Mighton: I love you you brave fuck.

Korvo Solar-Opposites/Qausarblast: And I love you too.

The two alien husbands kiss and then the heroes out their hands together and break.

Korvo Solar-Opposites/Quasarblast: Mighty Solars, roll out!!

All: Right!

Maverick flies out of the cave with Qourra giving chase. Maverick sends two boulders toward Qourra. Qourra dodges the attacks, but is pushed off by Maverick. Maverick grabs Qourra and tosses her away, slamming her against a column, while the trapped humans in the tube witnesses the fight.

Miss Frankie: What the fuck is happening now?!

Randall: Shit! WE'RE GONNA DIE!

Then, one of the Silver Cops presses a button and then each different types of slimes appears underneath each separate tubes with Miss Frankie, Principal Cooke, Ms. Perez, Randall, Mia, Jamie, Darcy, Kevin and Sherbet inside as they gasp.

Jamie: Jesus Christ!

Darcy: Eew! Gross! I just bought these shoes!

Ms. Perez: Uh, Darcy, now is not a good time for worrying about fashion!

Darcy: Sorry!

Jamie: It's okay, babe. I love you.

Darcy: I love you too! And Frankie, I love you too! And you two girls and-

Miss Frankie: Aw Darcy! I love you guys too! I’m sorry we all grew apart after graduation if from college!

Kevin: I love my kids and wife! And you guys!

Mia: I love you guys!

All: We love you too Mia!

Principal Cooke: slime is almost reaching I love you guys and… uh what does the slime in my tube spark red lightning-

Suddenly, Quasarblast, Nighthowler and Venus Tip arrived and knocks out five Silver Cops while a few other Silver Cops ran away screaming. Nighthowler then got about her labtop and puts on a microphone on her her ear as she hacks into the tubes’ system.

Sonya Solar-Opposites/Nighthowler: Okay! It’s done!

The slime then drains away as the tubes open up and frees the Solars’ humans friends as they embrace Quasarblast and Venus Tip.

Korvo Solar-Opposites/Quasarblast: Thank goodness you’re all okay!

Miss Frankie: And Thank God you guys are alright! Now let’s get the fuck out of here!

Korvo Solar-Opposites/Quasarblast: Right! Come on, we have to move fast!

The gang then head about the temple as the rest sees them.

Kevin’s Daughter: Daddy!

Kevin’s Son: Dad!

Kevin: Hey! You okay? No one hurt you?

Kevin’s Wife: Uh huh. Everyone is okay honey.

Louise: Guys, you look like a mess what happened?!

Miss Frankie: Aw man, you don’t wanna fucking know.

The scene then cuts to Mighton, Starburst and Mighty Pupa fighting Bullet who throws metal stars but luckily Mighton is able to smash some of them. Starburst even uses her lasso to smash them to the ground.

Terry Solar-Opposites/Mighton: What are you smiling about?!

Bullet: I was remembering the last time we fought!

Terry Solar-Opposites/Mighton: Yeah well a lot has changed inside then!

Then, Fung-Irl uses her plant powers to create a vine and throws Aqua towards Bullet as they scream.

Aqua: Stupid fucking little brat!

Mighton kicks Bullet in the face.

Terry Solar-Opposites/Mighton: It’s over bitches! You messed with us long enough!

Monica Miller/Lightspeed: Yeah! That’s what you get for blowing up Earth!

Bullet: We did what we had to!

Phoebe MacCarthy/Starburst: Give it up you two bitches! You can’t win!

Bullet: We’re going to prison. If we’re going down today, you're coming with us!

Bullet punches the floor, causing rocks to fall down. He melts the walls around him and Aqua and directs it downward as it burries him and Aqua alive!

Pupa Solar-Opposites/Mighty Pupa: Hang on!

Mighty Pupa creates a platform through his telekinesis and the rest of the Mighty Solars ride out of the cave, where they watch the cave collapse. The fam run out of the cave. Cut to Qourra grunting resisting the poison. Maverick zooms past her multiple times to fully knock her out.

Qourra: N-no….

Maverick: The poison has done its work. It’s over you lose….

Qourra cries. Maverick starts to suffocate Qourra, when he feels a sharp thorn in his leg. He turns to see a huge thorny vine created by Fung-Irl approaching him. Cut to the surface where the rest of the Mighty Solars made it out, of the cave while Quasarblast and Nighthowler embrace their family with Venus Tip and Mighton and Quasarblast kiss Cut to Fung-irl nodding at Staburst for the signal in the center. Cut to Qourra, no longer held by Zaheer's bending, tumbles over. Maverick flies out to grab Qourra and tries to fly away, but is slowly being sucked in by the vortex. After multiple failed attempts to escape the vine, he drops Qourra and flies off, only to be caught by Starburst who flails her rope and manages to catch him by the ankle. Starburst drops down and flings Maverick with Qourra. Fung-irl then turns the thorn into a huge flower as she giggles. Stacy G blushes. Qourra succumbs to the poison and collapses. The citizens runs up to Qourra, while the rest of the gang look on with worry. Quasarblast and Mighton trap Maverick in an electric rope as blood trickles from Qourra’s nose.

Maverick: No! No! You don’t understand! You Shlorpians are supposed to be afraid of us!

Terry Solar-Opposites/Mighton: Grrr! You shut…shut…

Korvo Solar-Opposites/Qausarblast: gasp in joy Come on Terry! Say it you brave strong man!

Terry Solar-Opposites/Mighton: SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH YOU CORRUPTED SILVER BITCH!

Mighton then punches Maverick unconscious as Qourra is taken away to the paramedics. The asylum cops then take Maverick and takes him away to the asylum. Mighton pants

Korvo Solar-Opposites/Quasarblast: puts his husband on the back You did good honey. You did good!

Mighton groans. Then, he falls into Quasarblast’s arms as he looks up and smile at his husband.

Terry Solar-Opposites/Mighton: Thanks baby…

Then, Mighton touches Quasarblast’s cheek lovingly.

Terry Solar-Opposites/Mighton: You very brave today you beautiful invisible stud. Thanks for not giving up on us! Because you never do! That’s what a true hero is! He looks out for the ones… I love you…

Korvo Solar-Opposites/Quasarblast: I love you too…

The two superhero aliens kiss and moan lovingly. The kids then ran up and hugs their dad along with Phoebe, AISHA and MAX, which ends up surprising Mighton, Fung-irl, Lightspeed and the rest of their human friends.

MAX: Hi.

Mighton yelps in surprise.

Terry Solar-Opposites/Mighton: Another AISHA?! Where did he or she come from?!

AISHA: This is MAX. Korvo’s sister sent him to join us. It’s a long story.

Mighton gasps.

Terry Solar-Opposites/Mighton: Janiz sent you?… Oh Korv… I am so sorry… you still miss your big sister, huh?

Quasarblast nods tearfully as Mighton wipes his hubby’s tears away and comforts him as Quasarblast breaks down in tears.

Korvo Solar-Opposites/Quasarblast: I wish I could see her again.

Mighton wipes his hubby’s tears as he smiles at him.

Terry Solar-Opposites/Mighton: Don’t give up. I’m sure you will see her again one day. I promise…

Quasarblast tearfully smiles and embrace Mighton in a kiss as they moan lovingly.

Korvo Solar-Opposites/Quasarblast: Mmm, oh my sexy Mighton. Yess…

[sapphire-writes]

wip updates

A Song of Flames & Fury Ch. 15 ~ 2/1

Down In Flames part 2 ~ 2/3

Playing with Fire part 3 ~ 2/5

and I have some requests to keep you fed in between, trying to bust out as many as I can so I can open requests again! 💚

[sunnydaleherald]

The Sunnydale Herald Newsletter, Sunday, December 24th

Holland with a forced laugh: "No one's going to die here. This is just a friendly get-together amongst colleagues. We're all on the same - side."

~~Reunion~~

[Drabbles & Short Fiction]

Frenemies by veronyxk84 (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

Upon a Wishing Star by TheAcidQueen (Buffy/Spike, Dawn, E)

Swan Song by HollyDB (Buffy/Spike, E)

Online and Offline by RavenclawSlayer (Buffy/Faith, E)

A Cozy Little Christmas by Maxineeden (Buffy/Spike, R)

Tears of Faith by Willow25 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Seeing Black by VoronaFiernan (Buffy/Spike, Adult Only)

Party Clothes by Desicat (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Dessert by scratchmeout (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Hooker by Rea (Buffy/Spike, PG)

True Love finds a Kiss beneath Fresh Mistletoe by Tessa (Buffy/Spike, R)

Call Me Ace! by JoshuAB (crossover with Space Ace!, Xander/Willow, oneshot not rated (T?), collection rated FR21)

[Chaptered Fiction]

The Return of Lost Love - Chapter 1 by fandom_lover_101 (Buffy/Riley, T)

In Case You Haven't Noticed... - Chapter 1 by Sdhuskerfan (Buffy/Giles, E)

Buffy...4.0?ish? Ch. 9 by Sweetbutnutty (Buffy/Spike, G)

Bound, Ch. 56-59 by RavenLove12 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Destiny or Choices Made? Ch. 37 by charmed4lifekaren (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

Hell Hath No Fury, Ch. 5 by the_big_bad (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

A Vampire and a Slayer Walk Into a Park... Ch. 8 by holetoledo (Buffy/Spike, Adult Only)

Hello, Darling, Ch. 3 by Spikelover4ever (Buffy/Spike, R)

Let Me Count the Ways, Ch. 1-3 (COMPLETE!) by though_you_try (Buffy/Spike, R)

Fate Plans and We Laugh, Ch. 19 by Hermionetobe (Buffy, Dawn, Faith, FR15)

Out For A Walk... Bitch, Ch. 5 by MaggieLaFey (Buffy/Spike, Adult Only)

The Plunge, Ch. 20 by Harlow Turner (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

A Very Summers Winter, Ch. 24 by VeroNyxK84 (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

Last Hurrah, Ch. 9 to 11 by ClowniestLivEver (Buffy/Spike, R)

You Kiss Me, Ch. 9 by scratchmeout (Buffy/Spike, R)

Closer, Ch. 7 by all_choseny (Buffy/Spike, R)

Friends of a Friend's Cousin, Ch. 2 by ClowniestLivEver (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

Other, Ch. 1 by Grief Counseling (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

[Images, Audio & Video]

Vid: soldier poet king by raisedbythetv89 (Spike/Buffy, Spike & Dawn)

Digital drawing: Those Who Hold With Fire by Dirtyaim (Buffy/Spike, R)

BtVS sleeve tattoo by Nikita from MyStory studio via RichPatience4292 (Faith, Willow, Spike, Buffy, worksafe)

A Saint Willow candle by Elle___driver (worksafe)

Kali and Buffy by LobbyRinth (RWBY crossover, Kali Belladonna & Buffy, probably worksafe - skimpy outfits)

[Reviews & Recaps]

Just finished Buffy and here's what I think by FeatheredDrake

i just watched once more, with feeling for the first time by likeshinythings

[Recs & In Search Of]

Spotlight Saturday: Spangel fic recs and vid recs by februaryfangfest

Roleplay: 21+ female anon looking for RPs from different fandoms (including BtVS) that are mostly nsfw

[Community Announcements]

Delay/Outstanding Pinch Hit at buffyversesecretsantaex

Just a few ships that count as rarepairs at otherwordlychemistry a.k.a. btvscrackships (join on AO3, LJ or Discord)

[Fandom Discussions]

the running bit of chao-ahn pisses me off so much by iateabunchofsmartiesandnowimdumb

Spike is a wet cat in every sense of the word. He is hissing at me... by just-browsing1222

Mayor Wilkins... would NEVER have left his murder daughter to struggle alone with debts and a sister by the-crooked-library

If Wesley had returned to Sunnydale in season 7 who would he get along with...? by LightBlueSky55

Is there an episode of Angel… [where we can see it's Christmas time or just December]? by JellyfishDry9464

I hate the fact that Fred was villainised and judged for wanting revenge... by GoblinQueenForever

Would Adam have known that Dawn was fake? by DifficultRice7075

Isn't 'big spoon little spoon' with a sexy vampire sort of like snuggling with a corpse? No body heat... by chrisabraham

You wake up and find yourself in Sunnydale. What's the first thing you do? hosted by shukii89

Which episode from Season 1-4 would have changed the most if Dawn existed? by DifficultRice7075

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Join the editor team :)

[tavtime]

What the Harvest Hopes For

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3 Rating: M Chapter: 2/? Words: 4.7k/11.2k

Ships: Astarion/Tav, Shadowheart/Tav, Halsin/Tav, Lae'zel/Tav, Karlach/Tav, Wyll/Tav, Gale/Tav, others tba

Additional tags: Polyamory, Novelization, Canon-Typical Violence, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, others tba

Summary: There is nothing like impending doom to make you realize how casually the powerful play dice with the lives of the small. Unfortunately for them, Sura Tav has decided she doesn't appreciate being used as currency, and she is no longer playing.

Read ch 2 below, or on AO3

The warnings about goblins proved gruesomely accurate. 

As their group moved further north, the scent of fire and torn earth that rode the air near the crash faded. Instead, a new smell overtook Sura: underneath the forest scent of loam, these trails stank of drying blood. She began to sight disturbances in the landscape. In places, branches had broken or been torn from trees near ground level, bushes had been trampled, and the forest wildlife that would have ordinarily moved through the periphery of her awareness as she hiked was conspicuous in its absence. As they neared their destination she even saw the occasional little body, slicked in gore and dirt and left to rot where it fell; apparently, goblins cared nothing for collecting their dead. Violence had touched this place, and recently. She pricked her ears up, alert for any sound. 

It was no surprise, then, that she heard the attack before she saw it. As they approached the grove the sounds of running beat down the road, heavy footfalls in soldiers’ boots, interspersed with the strangled shouts of pained men. With a hsst! and a wave of her hand, she dropped into a crouch, and bade the others to do the same. 

The path to the grove’s entrance split at a rocky knoll and meandered around it to either side. Sura motioned to Lae’zel and Astarion, pointing with her chin. They took her meaning and split off from the group, around the base of the hill to the west. Astarion trailed Lae’zel into the shadows, daggers appearing in his hands. 

Keeping low, the rest of the party crept up the hill. At its crest Sura crouched behind a boulder, and peered down at the clearing that lay before the gate.  

A tiefling—not one of the pair they’d encountered earlier—stared down from atop the wall at three humans waiting at the foot of the gate. The humans appeared to be mercenaries, or adventurers, perhaps; well armed but lightly armored. One of them crushed a rag across the tricep of her sword arm, seeping with blood. Another held a shield from which protruded two crude arrows.  

“Zevlor!” shouted the third, his face flushed with fury. His entire body shook. “Get your bloody arse over here and open the godsdamned gates! Hurry!” 

Even as he said it, it was too late. A rising cloud of dust was visible back the way the mercenaries had come along the road, gaining ground. Whoever had given chase would be on them in seconds.  

A second tiefling appeared on the wall next to the first. This man was older, spine stiff; he held himself with authority. “By the Hells, what is—Aradin! You led goblins here?!” His voice rose in pitch as he spied the approaching cloud of dust. He began to form a command: “Open the—!” But an arrow whistled past his head, and he ducked down behind the cover of the parapet.  

A wave of goblins broke over the clearing. They poured in from every direction, seemed to erupt from the very ground. Gate solidly closed and to their backs, the humans tried to form a defensive line. An act of desperation: their foes outnumbered them three-to-one. Their leader raised a club, his face grim and determined.  

One of the smallest goblins, faster than the others, closed on him. The creature leered, displaying its many wretched, pointed teeth, and brought its jagged blade up to strike. 

Before the mercenary could so much as raise his weapon to attempt a parry, another man vaulted over the wall and landed between him and the oncoming attack, brandishing a rapier. The man’s left eye emanated an otherworldly greenish hue. With a twist of his hand, the edge of his rapier took on the same ghoulish glow. He ducked the goblin’s swing with a graceful, low half-pirouette, and ran it through at the throat. Blood fountained from the creature when he shook it free of the blade. 

Enough! Sura heard Lae’zel cry in her mind. Htak’a!  

There came the pull of magic behind her. Gale...? But it was prayer, not incantation, that echoed in her ears. Shadowheart stood in the center of the hill, palms extended to the heavens, face and arms swimming in oily shadows. Thick strands of blackness oozed out of the air. They curdled in her mouth, and she smiled at Sura, gone to darkness.  

“Benedictus,” she rasped, and splayed her arms wide.  

It felt as though she was cut free of gravity, untethered from the ground. That was the only way to describe the sensation that passed over her. Sura had been on the receiving end of clerical blessings before, but those? Those were pedestrian things. This was akin to being cradled in the cupped palm of devotion itself. Shadowheart pulled the darkness of the world into herself; she was a great sink of it, a ravenous well. Her fervor resounded out of her: 

may we brandish your triumph and your blessed shadows as a mighty blade—your power be my shield—your will my dagger  

Shadowheart tore blackest night out of the fabric of brightest day, and drank it down and down and down. Power torrented forth to fill the void left behind. Sura felt herself honed, furious as an arrow, all her senses alight. Her pulse pounded in her ears—her own, and her companions’. The flex of Lae’zel’s shoulders as she brought her greatsword down to cleave the skull of a snarling worg sang gloriously in her muscles. Gale’s magic crackled along her skin. And the man before the gate, who slashed his rapier through the air in great lightning arcs—she felt him, too, dimly on the edge of her awareness, but there he was. His magic was brimstone and rot on the back of her tongue; warlock’s magic. The worm in her head heaved, trying desperately to connect with the parasite she understood at once he must also bear. 

Her fingers itched for a weapon she did not have. 

As though he understood this yearning before she expressed it, Astarion bounded up the side of the hill, and skidded to a stop in the dirt next to her. His eyes blazed with what she felt as wild exhilaration, as intimate as her own. Blood coated his hands, slashed across his cheek and down his face. Not his own blood, as it turned out. Under one arm he carried the limp body of a goblin archer, and in his other hand... 

Into her lap he dropped the most hideous bow she had ever seen—ill-used, poorly strung, the size and tension wrong for her. He cast the goblin’s body at her feet, and she saw the quiver full of arrows strapped across its back.  

She could have embraced him for the ecstasy of it. Joy burned bright in her veins. It crawled its way up her throat, tore free in a whoop. She snatched up the bow, and dove for the quiver. He bared his teeth to her in a vicious grin, free and unrestrained. She understood at once that this was the first genuine smile he had offered since he met them. 

His teeth were very sharp. 

Good hunting, he offered. In her mind it came to her as a growl, a joy to mirror her own, and then he was off again, dashing down the hill and wading back into the goblins at Lae’zel’s side.  

In truth, the fight was all but over. The humans huddled at the foot of the gate, wounded, but not mortally so. The final goblin staggered toward them. The stranger with the rapier had shattered its right kneecap, and its leg below the knee was a gruesome mess. Yet it advanced, wielding its blade as though to ask a desperate, fatal question.  

There was only one answer to be given to such a query. Sura rose to her knees and drew an arrow from the quiver in one continuous motion. Her hands moved of their own volition, unburdened by thought or decision, guided by instinct and the psychic whisper of Shadowheart’s benediction. She let the arrow fly, watched the arc it described as if in a dream. The blessing flickered in her mind, one last caress before fading away, and she knew it would strike true for what seemed like ages before the tip of the projectile buried itself between the beast’s shoulderblades. 

In the aftermath there came an unnatural stillness. It did not last. A sob broke the air: at least one of the goblins’ initial volley of arrows had found its mark, and a woman atop the wall fell to her knees next to the now-still body of the tiefling who had been stationed at the crank. 

Zevlor’s head and chest reappeared over top of the battlement. He called out, “Open the gate! Damnation take us all, get inside before more come,” and the gate began its creaking ascent. 

“Come on,” Gale said. Sura turned to find him supporting Shadowheart, her hands clutched unsteadily at his forearm. 

Sura’s eyes flitted over her for injuries, but found nothing. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing.” Shadowheart inhaled deeply, held it, and exhaled forcefully. She shook her head, and then stepped back from the wizard. “Just a bit dizzy, that’s all. It’ll pass.” 

“Is that... normal for you?” Sura intended the question as simple concern. Her voice grated as she asked it, though, and she got the sense that it had come out wrong. 

Shadowheart glared. “I’ve had a long day.” She started down the hill. 

Sura shot Gale an inquiring look, but he only shrugged. Together, they set off after her. 

-------------------- 

“What in the Hells do you think you’re about, leading them straight to us?! There are children here, you incompetent fool!” 

“I’d like to see you do better with a horde on your arse! But that’d require you to take a risk, Gods forbid—” 

“I have a duty to those in my care! A concept that is apparently beyond your grasp!” 

“As though you’d ever care about anything but your rotten hide.” 

The gate had barely closed behind them when the shouting started.  

“What a cordial reception,” Astarion remarked drily. “They must get scores of visitors, with hospitality like this.” 

“If that man is the leader of these—these teethlings, then he will know where to find the one we seek,” Lae’zel growled. She brushed past them all to the front of the group. Blood still dripped from the end of her sword, trailing wet splatters in the dust behind her. “He will tell me what I wish to know.” 

“Well, he might,” Sura started. She had to jog forward three paces to catch up to Lae’zel, and laid her hand on her shoulder. Lae’zel turned her head to glare at the hand, but she stopped to listen, which Sura chalked up as a tentative success. “He might also respond poorly to threats, and call a campful of terrified people down on top of us. Hold back for a moment. Show his people we stand together. It will make moving among them easier, and faster.” 

Behind her she could feel—if not see—a scowl darken Shadowheart’s face. Lae’zel searched her eyes and said nothing, her mouth pressed into a thin line. Then, with a single, affirmative jerk of her head, she fell into step at Sura’s shoulder.  

The source of the commotion was not difficult to find. A path led from the gate deeper into the grove. Zevlor and Aradin stood chest-to-chest in the center of it, snarling invectives.  

“You had one responsibility to this grove and everyone in it, and you failed it,” Zevlor said. “We were secure because of one man. One man! And you lost him to your ridiculous overconfidence!” 

The skin over Aradin’s knuckles strained bone-white, his hands balled into fists. “Overconfidence? What would you know of overconfidence, you cowardly bastard? You almost got us killed!” 

“Yet you’re very much not dead,” Sura interjected, sidling up to them. “Considering the alternatives I think that perhaps warrants a little civility? Just a touch?” 

“What Aradin knows of civility would fit in a thimble with room to spare,” Zevlor fumed. He leaned forward, menacing the smaller man. “You bring death to our doorstep, and have the audacity to—” 

Sura put herself between them, ignoring Aradin’s outraged harrumph at finding himself presented with her back. She raised her hands, palms out, and spoke quietly. “Peace. Your kin need you, ydvyr, more than you need to best a bull at a contest of stubbornness.” 

Zevlor’s shock at being so addressed washed over him in a wave. He took a deep breath, and let it out through his nose. He seemed to deflate.  

“Of course,” Aradin said snidely, over her shoulder. “Of course there’s no arguing with a foulblood except in the language it—” 

Sura spun on her heel, her face a mask of sudden fury. She brought the back of her hand swinging toward his face with her momentum as she turned, freezing a hair’s breadth from his cheek. 

Aradin blanched. His whole body flinched away from her.  

“Walk,” she breathed. She was in no doubt that he heard her. “Tend to your people... somewhere else.” 

He staggered backwards. Her companions parted around him as he receded. Gale raised an eyebrow at her. She turned back to Zevlor, feeling abruptly sheepish. 

“Apologies,” she said. “I forgot myself.” 

“No, my friend, the fault is mine,” he replied. “In all honesty I’d almost forgotten what it was like to be offered such grace by a stranger. Aradin’s an ass, but there’s no call to compound his stupidity with my own.” He shook his head, then offered her his palm. “That’s twice now you’ve intervened on my behalf. You have my gratitude. Call me Zevlor.” 

“Sura Tav,” she answered, grasping his hand in her own. “And these are my traveling companions.”  

“Adventurers, eh? I’ve met a few of those in my time. Though you’re among the more... exotic.” He eyed the group speculatively, gaze coming to rest at Lae’zel. “A strange company, to be sure, but it takes all kinds, doesn’t it?” 

“Funny you should say so. Forgive us our haste, but we need your aid. On our way up the path we met a pair of your people who said we could find a healer in this grove. My... companion is also in need of information.” She jerked her head in Lae’zel’s direction. “We think a man named Zorru might be able to help us. Can we find him here? It’s urgent." 

Zevlor’s brow clouded over, thinking. He turned away, and began walking the trail further into the grove. He motioned for them to follow. “Zorru should be helping to take inventory of our supplies. You’ll find him in our camp”—he pointed west, along a branch of trail that led down into a wide cave mouth—“in the grottoes among the cliffs. As for the healer, well. I only wish I could be of more help. There was a healer here: the archdruid, Halsin. But he went off with Aradin and his men on their expedition, and didn’t make it back with them. Halsin had an apprentice, Nettie. You could try to sneak in and speak with her. She’s retreated to the inner grove, with the rest.”  

“Why would we need to sneak?” 

Zevlor sighed. “They’ve named a new archdruid to act in Halsin’s stead, but she’s an unpleasant woman, as like to strike you down as say hello. Her name is Kagha. She blames us for the attacks on the grove, and not just the goblins—the roads in the area have been befouled with beasts for days, perhaps weeks. Not our doing, of course, but there’s no convincing her of that. The druids are preparing a ritual to seal the grove. We’re being pushed out. I don’t imagine they’ll let you stay long, either. If you leave the walls, go armed.” 

“Where will you go?” Shadowheart put in. 

“No idea,” Zevlor said. “We can’t go back the way we came. We were headed for the Gate, but... most of us aren’t fighters. We’re not likely to make it far.” 

“Where are you coming from?” 

“Elturel,” he replied gloomily. “We’ve no home left there any more. Not after... recent events.” 

“I’m sorry,” Sura said, bowing her head. 

They drew to a stop at a cross-path, and Zevlor nodded to her once more. “Again, thank you for your help. For what it’s worth—it was good to find a friendly face here.” 

“Take care of yourself, Zevlor,” Sura said. 

Immediately upon his departure, Lae’zel stepped forward. “We know our destination,” she said. “I will question this Zorru at once.”  

“Haste may serve us less well than we think in this matter,” Gale interjected. “If the roads are as perilous as we’ve been led to believe, we’d do well to gather what information we can about the journey before undertaking it. It may be that this Nettie can help us after all—and if so, she’s undoubtedly the quicker option, given that we’re already here.” 

“If she’ll see us,” Shadowheart said. “Zevlor seemed to believe that a lost cause.” 

Sura shrugged. “Won’t know until we ask.” 

“We waste time!” Lae’zel said. “There is but one cure, and the path to it is within our sight. Action, not discussion, is required.” 

“All right. What if we split up?” Sura proposed. “Lae’zel, go and find Zorru. Learn what you can. You should...” she looked around. “... someone should go with you.” 

“I volunteer,” Astarion said. His grin as he said it twisted his lips in a way that gave Sura pause. 

“Any particular reason?” 

He batted his eyes at Lae’zel. She scowled at him. “What can I say? I like her! She puts on a good show.” 

Behind her eyes she felt a headache building. Sura rolled her neck left, then right, wincing. “Right. The three of us will see if we can find this healer, and whether she has anything to offer us. Meet back here as quickly as you can. We’ll need supplies for the journey, as well. Eyes sharp for anything useful.” 

-------------------- 

After Lae’zel and Astarion had vanished into the mouth of the cave, Gale wandered up beside her, and said without preamble, “I didn’t know you spoke Infernal.” 

“You don’t know my favorite color, either,” Sura responded, shoving her hands into her pockets as she walked. “Nor how I take my toast.” 

“Fair point,” he said. “We’ve known each other for all of an afternoon, and these are hardly conducive circumstances to sharing oneself deeply. I simply appreciate learning where I encounter it. What gave you cause to study the language?” 

“Didn’t study anything. Picked it up at home.” 

“Ah,” he said. She offered him nothing further. He looked at a loss for what to do with the information.  

At the base of a rocky outcropping that rose to overlook the water, a shout pierced the air. Sura’s head whipped around, seeking the source of the noise. 

“Up there!” Shadowheart pointed up the path to the top of the hill. 

“At my flanks!” Sura huffed. She sprinted out in front of them without awaiting a response. Gale and Shadowheart scrambled to keep up. 

Atop the hill a tiefling woman was laid out on her back in the dirt. A bugbear stood straddled over top of her, brandishing an axe. The woman howled and tore at its legs, but fruitlessly: though her claws drew blood, the bugbear seemed not to notice, or care.  

Sura didn’t even slow down. She dropped her shoulder and threw herself against the creature’s chest, sending them both sprawling. They rolled to a stop in a bush, Sura astride the bugbear in a tangle of limbs. The creature howled out its rage and surprise, flailing with its axe. It opened a bright stripe of blood along her forearm as she went for her knife. She hissed in pain. But the knife was in her hands, and she brought it up in a flash, and drove it down into the bugbear’s throat with all her weight behind it. It gave a horrible, strangled gurgle; she felt its spine give, with a sickening crunch. And then it moved no more. 

“Are. You. Crazy.” Someone’s hands scrabbled at her forearm. She came back to herself to find Shadowheart gawking at her, eyes wide, face pale. Her hands tugged at the sliced sleeve of Sura’s tunic, ripping the material further back and away from the gash. “Aren’t you an archer? What were you even—though, no, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Of course you would tackle a bugbear. Why wouldn’t you? You’ve thrown yourself headfirst at everything else.” 

The fussing was... unexpectedly touching, if brusquely delivered. Sura batted her away, and rose to her feet, pausing only to wipe the gore from her knife on the bugbear’s ratty fur. 

“Leave me be, I’ll be fine.” She gingerly inspected her arm, then pinched the fabric closed around it. “It isn’t even that deep,” she lied. 

“Are you all right?” Gale asked the tiefling. He knelt next to her, helping her to sit up. She held a palm to her forehead, and winced, but nodded. 

“I think so... thanks. Glad you came along. Another minute and I’d have been a goner.” She looked from one to the other of them, and wrinkled her nose. “Hold on, I know why you’re here.” 

“... you called out for aid?” Gale said.  

She shoved herself away from him, and clambered to her feet. “Come off it, you reek of the Hells. You’re here to get your devil mistress’s prize back, aren’t you?” 

Sura sheathed her knife. “Helm’s honor, we’re not looking for anything of the kind. We’ve had a long day, and it did include a jaunt to Avernus I’m truly not keen to repeat, but we were only passing by when we heard you.” 

“Nobody takes a ‘jaunt’ to Avernus.” 

“Unfortunately,” Shadowheart said, “we also wish that were the case.” 

The woman considered them with narrowed eyes, then shook her head. She sighed. “I suppose if you really wanted it, it would’ve been easier to take it off my corpse.” She fished her hand under her collar. From some interior pocket of her shirt, she withdrew a disc, palm-sized and metal. “Damn thing’s brought me nothing but trouble. Hells, the bugbear could probably smell it on me. It has power, though. Take it, if you like.” 

As one the three of them leaned forward to examine the object. Gale sucked in a breath. “That’s a soul coin,” he murmured. “However did you come by that?” 

“Don’t ask. Do you want it, or not?” 

Sura recoiled. She had never seen one of these before, but she knew them by reputation: currency dearly coveted by the worst of men and devilkind alike. An accursed reliquary for a single damned soul. Contacts had tried to tempt her with them, once or twice, when no other price would move her to do the invariably reprehensible work they desired of her. She had always refused them.  

Gale made the decision for her. “That’s very generous of you,” he said. He took the coin delicately between his fingertips, and brought it up to his eyes. It flashed dully. He examined it a moment, then secreted it away into a pocket among his robes.  

“Just... take care with it. And with yourselves,” the woman said.  

As they turned their backs on the woman, Sura thought she felt a whisper of magic in her mind. The coin was a weight at the edge of her awareness. She had spent the vast majority of her life balking at any involvement with soul-magic, and for good reasons. Though... she had also never played host to a mind flayer parasite before. She wondered if this was an advantage they might need, considering what lay before them.  

She wondered if that justified it. 

-------------------- 

“That wound will sour if you don’t look to it.”  

“It’s fine, really, I swear.” 

“At least clean it!” 

“And reopen it? Look, the bleeding’s stopped already.” 

“Unbelievable,” Shadowheart muttered. She’d bothered Sura about it all the way back down the hill. “If your arm falls off I won’t be held responsible.” 

“Look on the bright side. If we don’t find a cure, a one-armed illithid is easier to take down.” 

“ Unbelievable .” 

Their way led them high up along the edge of a ring of standing stones, which Sura presumed to be the grove proper. They followed the outer ridge of them down and to the east. Just within the gated entrance, the path had been narrow and overgrown at the edges, but as they passed into the hollows beneath by the cliffs, it opened out, became wider and flatter.  

At a low bench to one side of the path, a halfling had established a perch for himself. Trinkets and artifacts of the grove’s daily existence surrounded him in piles on all sides; a magpie among his nest.  

“Ho there!” he greeted as they approached. “The heroes of the hour! Come here a moment, I’ve something for you.” He dug into a great canvas satchel by his feet as they approached. After a moment’s rummaging, he triumphantly produced a corked bottle of violently green liquid, which he pressed into Gale’s hands. 

Gale peered at it. “A tonic of some sort?” 

“Restorative,” the halfling smiled. “One of the archdruid’s own concoctions. In case your good deeds have left you in want of a pick-me-up.” 

“Much obliged,” Sura said. “Who can we thank for the courtesy?” 

“Call me Arron,” he replied. “Pardon my saying so, but you seem lightly equipped, for adventurers. I’d be willing to trade for anything you’re in need of, if you’ve anything to offer.” 

She held out her hand. “Sura Tav. And my companions, Gale of Waterdeep and Shadowheart.” Formalities completed, she swung her pack off her shoulder and plopped it into the dust at her feet. She crouched next to it and began digging out the day’s accumulated oddments and gold. The pile was smaller than she’d have liked, but she pushed it toward him all the same, grimacing. “I know it’s not much, but we’re in odd circumstances. We need hiking packs for three, bedrolls for five. None of it has to be nice, just functional. And a rough map of the area, if you can.” 

He looked from the pile, to her, and back to the pile. He raised an eyebrow. “Odd circumstances indeed. You brave the roads with so little?” 

“We aren’t gifted with an abundance of choice,” Gale said. “The area is truly so dangerous at the moment?” 

“Far more than usual,” Arron said. “A goblin horde has set up to the west of here; you’ve already met a few of them. They’ve been sniffing around. We’ve killed all that have come near the walls, but it’s only a matter of time until the bulk of the horde figure out where we are. There’ve been other things, too, things we’ve never seen hereabouts... ogres. Drow. All manner of unpleasantness.” 

“And you’re content turning the refugees from Elturel out into the midst of that?” Gale snipped. 

A dissatisfied grumbling sounded from the man’s throat. “Content? Certainly not. But Silvanus demands that we defend the grove, at all costs. We pray that they go forth with his protection.” 

From further down the path, there came a clamor of raised voices, the sounds of a scuffle. Sura stood and refastened her pack across her shoulders. “What’s that?” 

Arron groaned. “Doubtless another squabble between the refugees and Kagha’s aids. There’s been nothing but grief since master Halsin departed. They’ve been asked to stay out of the inner grove.” 

“Do you know of a way for us to get in there?” Sura asked. “We were told you have a healer, and we badly need her consultation.” 

Arron shook his head. “You could try speaking to the guards at the entrance, but I suspect you’ll find no luck. Here.” He dug into his pack again, and pressed another bottle of green tonic into her hands. “I’ll gather the supplies you requested; return for them in an hour or so. And may the Oak Father keep you.” 

-------------------- 

[littledreamling]

Golden Heart - Ch 3

*Laughs nervously* Hey guys, it's been a while! *checks the note cards in my hands* It's uh... been... good lord, it's been almost two weeks

I really didn't mean for this to be as delayed as it is, I just very busy with school, Fluffbruary, and life in general. I cannot make any promises that the next chapter will be any more prompt in its arrival. Sorry! I hope 6k words of smut and love confessions will make up for it!

It was nearly midday by the time he trudged back into camp. As predicted, he had had to retrace his steps, following the meandering path that he had woven between nearly every tree in the God-forsaken forest. The fires were already in full blaze, cooking whatever fresh meat the scouts had managed to bring down with their limited ammo allotted to the task, the rest heating rations to make them marginally more palatable. Hob could see the hounds running loose between the tents, bowling each other over in their exuberance, wrestling to grab what appeared to be the worn-out sole of a shoe, and it brought a smile to his face. 

“Mr. Gadling,” called one of the soldiers. “Captain Endelas has been looking for you.”

Hob felt the grin slip from his face as he nodded his thanks absentmindedly. He couldn’t begin to fathom what Morpheus would have to say to him, but it couldn’t possibly be good, especially after Hob’s own spectacular display of idiocy that morning. He mentally prepared himself to be given a proper dressing down, or worse, fired, as he approached his tent.

As soon as he drew back the flap, Morpheus rounded on him, all of the fire and brimstone of hell itself in his eyes. Distantly, Hob noticed that he had been pacing, his hands clasped tightly behind his back, but his focus was caught by the sound of Morpheus’ voice, awash in fury.

“Where the hell have you been?” He snarled, his face a landscape of rage. The force of it knocked Hob back a step as he physically recoiled and defensive stone walls rapidly fell into place. He’d need to fight fire with fire, he knew, but he couldn’t let Morpheus get under his skin in the meantime. Defence and offence were equally important when dealing with such vitriol. At least this was familiar territory. Long hours had been spent just like this, raging at each other in the quasi privacy of their tent, trading insults like gunfire. Hob could hold his own on this particular battlefield.

“I went for a walk, is that bloody illegal now?” He shot back, his lips turning numb from the venom dripping off of every word. “Do I need your permission for every step I take, Captain ?”

“Seven hours, Mr. Gadling!” Morpheus shouted. “Seven bloody hours, you were gone, without a word to anyone-“

“Why do you care?” Hob retorted hotly. “All you care about is your stupid birds! They’re the only living creatures who could possibly be given any space in the block of ice that you call a heart.”

“I would like to remind you,” Morpheus said coldly, “that we are currently surrounded on all sides by enemies, any of whom could have followed your trail directly back to camp. Additionally, you chose today of all days to actually adhere to the dress code. Your red coat makes you visible for miles around without a single weapon on you-“

“I had my revolver.”

“You could’ve died, Hob!”

Read the rest on ao3!!

[keicordelle]

Not a Champion, Just a Knight, Ch. 3 (So Goes the Darkness)

Fandom: FFXIV Rating: M Pairing: Past F WoL/Haurchefant Greystone Word Count: 4.4k Archive Warnings: Major Character Death, Graphic Depictions of Violence Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Haurchefant Greystone Lives, Angst, Tragedy, Dark, Grief/Mourning, Body Horror, POV First Person

Summary: You have ever been my hero. Now, you must be the world's. I pass my mantle to you.

Atop the Vault after racing to save Aymeric, Ser Zephirin hurls his Spear of Fury and Haurchefant is not fast enough to save the Warrior of Light. As she lies dying in his arms, she makes one final request of him: that he take up her title and become Eorzea's new hero. Overcome with grief, he vows to avenge her death, and sets his sights and his rage on Thordan and his knights twelve. Even so, he is not the vaunted Warrior of Light, and he cannot face these challenges alone.

-

The door to the Lord Commander's office banged loudly as I threw it open, the guards that might once have impeded my warpath having long since abandoned their post. Barely contained rage simmered under my skin, feeding the dark flame until I felt it might pour out of me if I weren't careful, and I swallowed down as much of the emotion as I could stomach as my eyes landed on Aymeric, head in his hands as he sat behind his desk. He hadn't so much as looked up when I entered, and that needled at me. He ought to at least have the decency to look me in the eyes and face the consequences of his actions.

(He looks like a man on the brink of despair, the voice of reason whispered in the back of my mind, but it was just as quiet as the voice of darkness had once been, smothered behind a sea of injustice, and I couldn't find the compassion within me to offer him right then.)

"Aymeric. This has gone on too long. Honoroit is on death's door this morning because of your rumors! They beat him and left him for dead on our doorstep; he's lucky to even be breathing. This has to stop! Innocent people are getting hurt because of us!"

"What do you suggest we do, Lord Haurchefant?" he asked without looking at me, voice low but surprisingly strong. "I can think of naught I might do to aid the innocent, and we are at last on the precipice of change."

"We are on the precipice of civil war!" It came out as a roar, and at last he looked up, startled, his pale eyes darkened with misery.

"I don't know what to do anymore," he admitted, more candid than I'd ever heard him. Gone was the proud man who'd taken up the Lord Commander's office in hopes of bettering his country; all that remained in its place was a broken knight, weighted by tragedy. I peered at him, pushing aside my anger to truly take his measure for the first time. Exhaustion shrouded his eyes, dark bags speaking of little sleep and great stress. He cheeks seemed sunken, the angles of his face seeming too sharp, and he looked to have lost weight. His shoulders drooped, and his lower lip was red and torn from the worrying of his teeth against the soft flesh.

"Short of abandoning the city to the church and handing myself over for public execution, I know not how I might resolve this chaos," he continued. "Though I fear even that would not stop the cries for blood at this point. The Holy See will not be happy unless we are all four of us eliminated. But even if my death were enough to put an end to all this, I would not see the city left undefended before Nidhogg's might. With the Warrior of Light and Estinien both fallen, there is none but us who might stand a chance at-" He cut himself off as the pounding sound of heavy boots against marble sounded, his lips drawing into a thin line as he looked past me to the Temple Knight who burst in, fully armored and breathing hard.

"My lord! Apologies for the intrusion, but there has been a development in the conflict with the church. Riots and fires have broken out across the city, and the streets are in chaos!"

-

Read the rest on Ao3!

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[rosanna-writer]

we said hello and your eyes look like coming home (22/?)

Summary: A canon-divergent AU where the bond snaps for Rhys on Calanmai, Feyre unwittingly accepts it, and Fire Night magic proves to be more transformative than anyone bargained for. Feyre drags a mate she hardly knows out from Under the Mountain, then puts him back together as war with Hybern approaches. Warnings: dubious consent, canon-typical sexual violence, canon-typical violence Rating: Explicit Chapter Word Count: ~3.6k

ch. 1 - 10 | ch. 11-20 | ch. 21 - i wouldn't marry me either | ch. 22 - burn all the files, desert all your past lives

This fic turns one year old today!!! Thank you to everyone who's been reading, commenting, and kudos-ing; it's been wonderful to have you along for the ride <3

Some text in this chapter is lifted directly from both A Court of Thorns and Roses and A Court of Mist and Fury.

Read on AO3 or you can find the twenty-second chapter below the readmore.

Rhys wasn't back by the time I woke up the next morning. I'd expected it; we'd spoken through the bond throughout the long night handling the aftermath of the attack on Sangravah, and by the time I'd been unable to keep my eyes open, he'd still been working. I knew Rhys—if he'd slept at all, it had been in his office in the House of Wind, when he'd been too drained of energy to fly home.

The townhouse felt too empty.

It wasn't cold, but like a sentimental fool, I slipped on the dressing gown he'd left on the chair in my room the other day. The fabric was midnight-blue and the size far too big for me—the silver-embroidered cuffs extended several inches past my fingertips.

I padded downstairs, only to be hit by the smell of something baking. Bread, perhaps. And…cheese? Definitely not Rhys.

I crept towards the kitchen. Perhaps I should have been more worried about an intruder, but I trusted that Rhys's wards still kept out anyone who wasn't allowed inside. It was probably Cassian here with food.

Around the corner, I spotted a dark-haired female with her back to me—the first time I'd ever seen her fully corporeal. Nuala.

Cauldron boil me, the last time we'd seen each other, she'd been painting Illyrian markings for luck and glory all over my naked body. I had no idea what to say to her.

But before I could run back upstairs, she turned at the sound of my footsteps. I froze.

She smiled and said warmly, "You look well."

I caught the flicker of recognition in her eyes at the sight of me in a dressing gown that obviously belonged to the High Lord. If it had been someone else, the words might have sounded sarcastic or suggestive. But she really did sound pleased to see me.

My cheeks heated anyway, which was utterly ridiculous. The bond might have been a secret, but it wasn't as if Rhys and I made much of an effort to keep our hands off each other in public—his tongue had been down my throat on the banks of the Sidra more than once already. And yet I still felt…caught out.

"It's good to see you," I said after several moments of painful silence.

Nuala nodded towards a plate of chive-and-cheese scones that I hadn't noticed were sitting out on the table. "Those are still warm, if you're hungry."

Awkwardness aside, I still didn't have it in me to pass up food, so I sat and nibbled on a scone. It was warm, soft, and buttery—I was tempted to scarf it down like an animal but managed not to.

And it was a relief to have something to with my hands and a reason not to say anything. The oven was still on, and Nuala went back to stirring something in a bowl on the counter.

"My sister is gathering intelligence on the soldiers that attacked last night," she said, answering a question I hadn't known how to ask.

Azriel had said the twins were spending time with family after their return from Under the Mountain, and I'd assumed that meant they weren't working. I couldn't imagine what they'd endured during the last fifty years—I barely felt functional after only a few weeks in Amarantha's court. My appetite vanished.

"You don't have to be here. I can manage on my own." I'd run the household of our family of four with far fewer resources than I had now—it would be no trouble to take care of that for just Rhys and me, especially if it meant Nuala and Cerridwen could recover for the rest of their days if they wished.

Besides, Rhys would do his fair share of the work with far less complaining than Nesta ever had.

Nuala smiled. "Rhysand said the same thing. But after last night, Cerridwen and I both chose not to take his offer to retire from service."

"Why?"

"A court needs well-trained spies and trusted servants to remain secure. We're difficult to find on short notice."

The twins saw the storm clouds gathering on the horizon, too. And even after all they'd survived…they were here. Had chosen to be here.

I'd never forget the blanket they'd left for me in that cold cell, not if I lived a thousand years.

"Thank you. For everything."

She shrugged. "We were caught unawares and trapped there. You're the one who walked in eyes open."

We didn't speak of it again after that. I ate another scone while she baked some sort of egg dish with vegetables and a crust. When she put away the flour, I was relieved she didn't mention the raven I'd painted on the inside of the cabinet door. She must have known it was new and that Rhys certainly hadn't painted it.

When I insisted on washing the dishes before heading upstairs to get dressed, Nuala let me.

I dug the plainest gown out from the back of my closet. Not because I particularly wanted to wear it—I was most comfortable in Illyrian leathers or the silky, billowing pants and sheer sleeves of Night Court attire—but because I didn't want to cause a stir if I could avoid it or appear too faerie.

It was stifling to feel this covered up. I'd grown used to the caress of a breeze against my skin when I wasn't in leathers, and if I needed to run, I hated the thought of having to lift up my skirts to do it. Faeries—at least the ones in the Night Court—never made a fuss about bare legs or an exposed strip of skin around a navel.

I could endure this for a few hours, though. I'd been braiding my hair when Rhys winnowed in, directly onto my bed. He lay on his stomach, his head propped up on a fist and his feet in the air to keep his shoes off the duvet.

As usual, he looked aggravatingly put-together, no sign at all of the long night he'd had. Not a hair out of place, and he'd changed into a fresh tunic and pants.

Something like distaste flickered in his eyes even as he said, "You look beautiful." It was the first time he'd seen me wear a dress, I realized—or at least, the first time he'd seen me wear one of my own volition, if the scraps of fabric I'd worn Under the Mountain even counted.

"I don't," I said, voice flat, "and no one likes a liar, Rhys."

He stood and came closer, flicking my nose instead of kissing me hello. "You'd look beautiful in a potato sack."

"No one likes a cad, either."

He huffed a laugh as I tied off the end of the braid and rose from the chair. In a single absurdly graceful movement, he leaned down to kiss me properly while lifting me into his arms to fly. I let myself melt into the warmth of his solid body against mine, and for a moment, I considered getting the damn dress off and Rhys into bed for the rest of the day.

But I couldn't keep putting this off.

I held on tight as we vanished into dark wind and appeared again hundreds of feet over a vast, blue sea. Even though I'd expected it—we'd planned to slip through one of the holes that had formed in the Wall—I let out a shriek and clung tighter to Rhys. The wind roared; water rushed towards us—

Was that a scream from the fearless Cursebreaker? We're not even in free fall. The words seemed to glitter with wicked amusement as they crossed the bond.

Rhys was right, though. His wings strained against the wind but kept our descent controlled, snapping open at just the right angles so we stayed on course. I tipped my head back to take in the particular contented smile he only wore while flying.

It disappeared as we approached the Wall. I couldn't see it, but I felt the crackle of its power setting my teeth on edge all the same. Rhys gripped me tighter.

The feeling got worse as we approached. And as we swept through, there was a horrible moment where I felt ripped in half, as if it wanted to scatter incomplete pieces of me among the mortals and the fae.

But it passed in an instant.

I was back in the human lands. The home I thought I'd never see again.

There was barely time to process that before we were slipping into the space between worlds as Rhys winnowed us to the woods just outside my family's estate.

He'd offered to glamour himself to appear human and accompany me, but I'd said no. Perhaps another time, but…this felt like something I had to do on my own. So I kissed him goodbye and walked towards the manor alone.

The white marble walls and emerald roof were grand, but totally unfamiliar. I passed neat hedges as I walked up the flagstone path, and my heart squeezed at the sight of flowers and shrubs that had been planted there—Elain's doing, no doubt.

At the double doors, I rang the bell and waited, my stomach churning. Azriel's reports had assured me that all was well, but…perhaps it wasn't. Perhaps something had gotten overlooked.

A ruddy-faced housekeeper I didn't recognize opened the door. "May I help you?" she said, blandly polite.

"I'm Feyre Archeron. I'm here to see my family," I said.

Her eyes lit up with recognition at the sound of my name. That was a relief, at least; I wasn't forgotten. "Your father is away on business, but your sisters—"

"Feyre? Is that you?" Elain—Elain. Cheerful and lovely as always, untouched by the monsters and horrors I'd encountered in Prythian. Safe. Just as I'd remembered her.

I nearly sobbed with relief. But as far as she knew, I was merely back from taking care of an elderly relative, so I kept my voice light as I said, "It's me. I'm here while our cousin stays with Aunt Ripleigh to give me a short break."

The housekeeper stepped aside as Elain launched herself at me. I embraced my sister, relieved at how she'd filled out since I'd last seen her. Taken care of and eating right, then. "What a wonderful surprise!" she said.

There were footsteps on the stairs, and I looked over Elain's shoulder to see Nesta standing with a hand braced on the rail.

Staring as if I were a ghost.

I'd forgotten how cunning her eyes were, how cold. There was no reason to believe Nesta knew anything about what I'd been up to for the past few months, yet….she'd always been made of something different. Something harder and stronger.

"What are you doing here?" she said, face carefully blank.

"Visiting. It's…good to see how your fortunes have improved," I said.

Elain's brow furrowed. "I know Nesta's visit didn't work out, but didn't you get our letters?"

She didn’t remember—or maybe she’d never actually known, then, that I wouldn’t have been able to read them, anyway. But it still made my heart sink to imagine my sisters sending letters that were doomed to never reach me. If Nesta had tried to visit, though I doubted she'd actually wanted to see me, some magic must have turned her away.

I shook my head, and Elain ushered me inside, complaining about the uselessness of the post. Nesta continued to stare wordlessly, and I half-listened as Elain recounted the story of the mysterious stranger who'd appeared at their doorstep with a wildly lucrative investment opportunity and given them a trunk of gold just for agreeing.

Tamlin's doing, and it matched the reports that Azriel had given me. I'd expected this. And yet, it still didn't quite prepare me for how strange it would feel for Elain to hook her elbow through mine, apologize for not having a room ready for me, and offer to show me the rest of the house.

The manor was beautiful, if a bit…sterile. Beautiful and richly appointed, but everything was new and untouched, with none of the sense of the age that permeated the townhouse in Velaris. I couldn't help but marvel at it—Nesta and Elain were cared for, with enough money to ensure they'd never be hungry again.

Nesta fell into step beside us, a quiet, stalking presence. Her face was still impassive, and she seemed content to let Elain do all of the talking. But it was better than her flinging insults, so perhaps it was a blessing.

We had tea and sandwiches in the lush garden, which was in full bloom for the summer. After months in Prythian, human food tasted like ash in my mouth, but I didn't care. It had been so long since I'd eaten a meal with my family and had enough for all of us.

Never again would I brace myself for a fight if I dared take more than my carefully allotted quarter after hauling a carcass for miles.

It was simple enough to spin stories about reading to Aunt Ripleigh as she instructed me on deportment from her bedside. None of it was particularly interesting, and instead, I asked about the garden and the social season that I'd missed.

The purple-and-white tulips at our feet had once been bulbs brought all the way from the continent, Elain told me, beaming. She'd tended to them herself, planting and weeding in between the balls and parties and gossip of the social season.

"It sounds like you've been busy without me, then," I said, setting down my teacup carefully.

"It was a welcome respite," Elain said, a shadow darkening her lovely face for a moment. "I'm grateful our situation has changed for the better, but I'll admit this season was a bit…strange."

My blood went cold. Of course this had all been too good to be true. Something was wrong. "In what way?"

"People acted as if we’d all just been ill for eight years, or had gone away to some distant country—not that we’d been a few villages over in that cottage. You’d think we dreamed it all up, what happened to us over those years. No one said a word about it."

I relaxed again. In truth, it was a warmer reception than I thought my family would have gotten after so many years of poverty. It was better than being treated as if we were diseased.

Perhaps something had happened, though. It might explain why Nesta was so quiet. She'd barely touched her food and just stared with those piercing blue-grey eyes that were an unsettling mirror of my own.

"That does sound strange," I said. We went quiet again, and I set my tea down and turned back to my plate. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Elain staring, too. "What?"

Elain shook her head. "You just look so…different. Not in a bad way of course. It's just as if there's a…a glow about you."

I froze. The only sort of people who were ever described as glowing were ones who were happily pregnant. Gods, I hadn't inadvertently given them the impression I was with child, had I?

"Did something happen at Aunt Ripleigh's house?" Elain asked. "Did you…meet someone?"

The tilt of Nesta's head was pure predator as she added, "Did you, Feyre?"

I wanted to say yes. Perhaps I was too much of a coward to admit to my human family that I'd fallen in love with a faerie, but I could have told a few half-truths. I didn't want to subject myself to an interrogation, though.

"Just good food and rest," I said.

Nesta got to her feet, straight-backed and regal as she stared down her nose at me. "We're out of tea. Why don't you come with me to get another pot from the kitchen?" It wasn't a question.

I followed her before Elain had a chance to object or insist on coming with. As soon as we were inside, Nesta's hand clamped down on my arm, and she steered me towards an empty sitting room and shut the door behind us.

"There is no Aunt Ripleigh," Nesta said.

Cauldron boil and fry me. I could kill whoever told her. "Of course there—" I started to say.

"Don't. I saw that look on your face when Elain asked if you'd met someone. She and Father don't remember that beast taking you away, but I do. Tell me what the hell is going on, Feyre."

All these months…Nesta had known. And kept it to herself.

She'd seen through Tamlin's glamour somehow, probably just because her mind was so thoroughly her own that he couldn't have violated it. And if a High Lord hadn't been able to fool her, I shuddered to think what she made of the sentries Rhys had sent, who were supposed to have been unseen by human eyes.

There was no point in hiding the bond from her, too. I pulled the chain with my mating band out from where I'd tucked it under the bodice of my dress. "I did meet someone in Prythian."

"You're married," she breathed. The disbelief in her voice shouldn't have stung as much as it did. Nesta had never made a secret of how thoroughly she doubted any man would ever find me an acceptable bride.

"In a manner of speaking. The fae either marry or mate if the Cauldron blessed them with a soul-bound partner. I have a mate. Rhysand, the High Lord of the Night Court."

Nesta barked a harsh, bitter laugh. I didn't know what to make of it until she said, shaking her head in disbelief, "Mother expected me to marry a prince, but you're the one who's ensnared a faerie king and become his consort."

"I didn't ensnare—"

"Then what? He forced you?"

"No!" I had no idea how to look my sister in the eye and tell her a magical stag had done it. Nesta just crossed her arms and stared me down, waiting for an explanation. She said nothing because she didn't have to—there was pure command in just the way she held herself. I took a breath and continued, "Rhys loves me, and I love him. He isn't the one who took me. That was Tamlin, the High Lord of Spring. Rhys got me out and took me somewhere safe. It's a long story, but yes, I am Lady of the Night Court now."

"And this Lord Rhysand is the reason we're now…taken care of?"

I didn't want to give Tamlin the credit. His kindness rang hollow—uncomfortably transactional, in a way—when it was clearly recompense for kidnapping me. And in truth, Rhys was the reason I hadn't worried about Tamlin impoverishing my family a second time in retaliation for swearing fealty to Night. "Yes."

"Then give him my thanks and don't come back here again."

The words might as well have been a slap to the face. I hadn't expected a warm welcome from Nesta, but…I'd hoped, at least, that she'd be something closer to civil.

"What about Father?" I said. "I haven't seen him since I was taken away."

"What about the rest of us? If anyone learns our sister is a fae sympathizer, any standing, any influence we have—gone."

Nesta's hand was resting on the back of an armchair, and she gripped it so tightly that her knuckles had gone white. The set of her shoulders was stiff.

It was the closest to afraid she ever seemed to get.

She had reason to be, as much as it hurt. Our family had tumbled into ruin once, and we'd all nearly starved to death because of it. I could not blame my sister for wanting to cling to the good fortune as fiercely as possible. I knew, deep down, she only did it because she wanted to see Elain safe and happy.

"There's more I need to tell you before I go."

"Stay the night, then. We can speak privately for longer after the servants have left for the day, but you'll need to leave before breakfast."

We wouldn't be overheard in the garden either, but Nesta clearly didn't want Elain to know any of this. I had half a mind to blurt it out before Nesta could stop me as soon as we sat back down with Elain. But this was for the best.

I trusted the walls surrounding Nesta's mind; she'd keep my secrets. But anyone with daemati abilities could pluck information right out of Elain's, and the chances were too high that someone intent on hunting me down might do just that. Elain couldn't know.

"Thank you."

A single nod—downright affectionate from Nesta. "Elain bought paints for you. She'd appreciate it if you left something for her; I know she misses the decorations you left in the cabin."

"I'd like that," I said, meaning it.

There was nothing else to discuss; we returned to the garden after that and made our excuses to Elain for taking so long with the rest of the tea. The three of us spent the rest of the afternoon sitting in the sun, chatting and catching up. Nesta was still quiet, but…we didn't fight. No one insulted each other.

Even as a knot formed in my stomach at the thought of unburdening myself to Nesta later, I savored the peace as I painted foxgloves around the doorframe to Elain's bedroom.

This day had been a gift, and I was intent on appreciating it.

[ritualoflovesmemory]

The Death of Severus Snape (From Ch 3)

“Do you have any idea how many students I’ve had to comfort this year, Severus?! How many dozens of children, CHILDREN, Severus, have come to me for aid because they feared you or your Carrows would torture them if they took their injuries to the hospital wing?” A wild fury was etched onto her face as she shot spells one after another. She didn’t even bother with incantations and kept accusing her enemy as she shot another flurry toward him. “Not just my ‘Puffs, but Ravenclaws and Gryffindors, too! I’ve even patched up Slytherin first and second years who were put under the Cruciatus by the Carrows and your Junior Death Eaters! You are no teacher,” a bright blue spell flew dangerously close to his left shoulder, “no headmaster,” a sickly grey spell almost hit his right knee, “and a disgrace to these hallowed halls of education!” a pink curse slipped just under his hastily erected shield. 

Electric shocks shot up from his foot all the way through his torso. The pain wasn’t as bad as a Cruciatus, but it also wasn’t pleasant. Snape growled as he ducked against a wall, trying to regain feeling in his fingers. He would have to banish her through one of the windows… Yes, perhaps that would be enough for her to see the benefit of living to fight another day.

Severus leaped back to his feet, blocking a dark blue spell from Sprout before dodging a hex fired Slughorn from his position lying in a growing pool of his own blood. The fool had somehow summoned the will to drag himself to a position to fire the hex, which he only just noticed at the last moment. Snape fired a blasting hex at the ground near Slughorn, before returning his attention to Sprout.

A squelching sound and a spray of blood caused Severus to look downward. There, protruding from his chest, was a significant length of arrow.

Another suddenly burst forth from his chest, not six inches to the right of the first.

Snape turned to look down the hallway. His already fading vision saw Firenze galloping towards him, a third arrow already aimed at him. As he fell to the ground, the third arrow found its mark. He didn’t even have time to fully remember Lily Evans’ face before the darkness closed in.

[adriankyte-writes]

Sneak Peek

Freefall Ch 3 (Untitled and unedited)

He follows the scent of fresh air, down a corridor and around a turn and straight into a pair of guards. They’re armed, but he’s faster. He leaps, putting his superior strength into play, passing over their heads and rebounding off the wall. He slams into the first with a fatal crunch. He turns on the second, who barely manages to turn his weapon on him.

John charges the soldier who fires wildly at him. He feels the sting of the bullets as they impact they strike. One takes him in the shoulder, but the rest hit on his carapace and don’t penetrate. He hurls himself at the soldier, ripping the weapon from his hand with a vicious twist. The pain of the gunshot compounds with the pain of the torture and he is filled with a combination of fury and hunger.

With a twist of his head he sinks his fangs into the man’s throat. Blood pours into him and he devours it greedily. Hot and heady it rushes through him. His extremities tingle and his heart begins to race. Warmth floods through him, he hadn’t even realized he felt cold, until the sudden absence of cold overwhelms him. He sinks into it, luxuriates in the feeling.

He feels, and ignores the hands pushing at him feebly, striking at his back and face. He drinks, his strength flooding into him. The hands cease to strike at him and he whimpers slightly as the flow of warmth stops. He drops the corpse, watching it sink boneless to the ground.

He looks at it, pauses, he knows he should feel something. He should be disgusted at having taken a life this way. Except that he is a soldier. He has killed before, and this man was an enemy. The only difference between killing him with a bullet and killing him with his teeth is that now he is stronger and faster for the kill. He licks his lips tasting the last of the blood.

[ourbygoneage]

Ch 21: The Twelve Labors of Erzabet Verse 3

Erzabet prowled through the underground tunnels, her senses on high alert. She had infiltrated the outskirts of the survivor hideout undetected and was now searching for the others. She was worried about her friends and was determined to get them out.

As she approached the mine, she could hear the sound of pickaxes hitting coal and the voices of the survivors guarding the workers. She could also sense the presence of the cheap knockoff nanites that kept the zombies alive, but she didn't let that deter her. She knew how to deactivate them with her advanced nanites and she hummed a tune as she approached.

Finally, she saw Trace digging alongside a group of other workers under the watchful eye of armed guards. She moved quickly and quietly, her nanites doing their work as she incapacitated the guards with precision strikes. But one of them managed to fire a shot at her, and Erzabet reacted instinctively, dodging the bullet and pouncing on the shooter with lightning-fast speed.

Trace, who had been watching from a distance, rushed over to stop Erzabet from killing the armed man. "Erzabet, wait!" he yelled, pulling her away from the raider.

Erzabet snarled, her eyes flashing with fury. "He tried to kill me, Trace. He deserves to die."

"We can't just kill them all," Trace said, looking around nervously. "We need to find a way out of here without drawing too much attention to ourselves."

Erzabet growled, but she knew Trace was right. She followed him as he led her through the tunnels, keeping an eye out for any more guards or zombies. They moved quickly and quietly, and soon they were out of the mine and back in the survivor hideout.

"Let's go find Rachelle and Tailor," Trace said, his voice low. "We need to get out of here before they catch us."

Erzabet nodded, still seething with anger. She knew they had to leave, but she couldn't help but feel frustrated that they couldn't just kill all the survivors and be done with it. As they made their way through the tunnels, she hummed a tune, her nanites responding to the music and deactivating any zombies that crossed their path. She would get them out of here, she thought, no matter what it took.

[muses-darling]

Fire & Fury - A Star Wars AU  - Ch.3 Turned Around

“What do you know of your family before you came to the order Kit?” Gabriel asked.

“Only that I was born on Alderaan, that at the tender age of three I was brought to the temple and from there I was raised in the ways of the Jedi.” 

“Mmm, yes, that is true, are you aware of how you were brought to the temple? Of what lead to us discovering you and your force abilities, deciding that you were to be raised a Jedi?” Gabriel asked as they sat in the Jedi Council chamber. 

“I am not aware Master.” Kit sat frowning. 

“It was no accident your discovery. We had been in pursuit of a group of dark Jedi that had left the order, we tracked them down to the planet of Alderaan where they had chosen to hide away when we came upon where they had hidden we discovered you.”

Kit listened his face serious, “We? You mean you?”

“I was but one of those on the mission yes,” Gabriel nodded. “We entered their hideout. While searching through the rooms I found yours, you were asleep in your bed. So peaceful, so uncorrupted by the dark side unlike your parents.” Gabriel admitted. “I was given permission to take you so I did.” 

“You took me?” Kit asked. 

“It-It was for your own good Kit, you parents were becoming Sith Lords.” Gabriel assured him.

“You took me? STOLE ME FROM MY PARENTS!” Kit stared at the man horrified. “You stole me!” There were tears.

“Now Kit I know you are upset but you don’t know them.”

“You took that from me.”

“They were evil Kit.” Gabriel said. “All Sith Lords are.”

“But they could have been saved.”

“They were too far gone.”

“So they are dead?” Kit looked horrified. 

“I know not, I was only a knight then. I would assume so as I have heard nothing on the matter since. Kit, I- I only did what I felt was right at the time, what I still feel is right.”

“Stealing children from their homes?” Kit asked. “How many Master Gabriel? How many have you stolen?”

“Just you.” 

“The Order?”

Gabriel said nothing.

Kit shook with rage, standing up, “As Lord Ignis is a Sith perhaps he will have some insight on what happened to my Family. On what happened to my memories.”

“Kit you should honestly-” Gabriel began but fell silent when Kit turned upon him.

“I’m done taking your advice Master.” He glared before turning and leaving.

Gabriel watched the closest person he had ever had to a son leave. “Oh Kit I’m so sorry.” 

________________________________________________________________

Glittering lights shone above the mingling of the fabulously wealthy, the scum of the underbelly of society, and everyone caught in between. Here one could gain the fortune of their lives or gamble it away. If one was careful then one could make an excellent score, here if one was polished enough, had connections, and an exceptional woman with breathtaking capabilities each one unique involving all manner of weapons one could easily find the sweet spot of any mark.

While he could have his eyes on the many beings that surrounded them he could only keep his eyes off of her for a moment. She was so elegant her dress was one that left very little imagination to the simple onlooker, but his imagination ran wild with it. 

“Keep your eyes on the prize darling,” Honey told him pressing a kiss to his ear as she spoke adjusting his bow-tie. “You can ravish me on a pile of credits when we are done here.” 

“You know me too well.” 

“I know us too well. Now then it’s all in place, I’ll seduce the mark, you come looking for me and then we’ll get our credits.” 

“A bit more than that but yes,” Alucard smiled. “We will get what we came for.”

“Then leave all the richer for it.” Honey smiled before she pulled away with a careless laugh. 

Drac lead her to a table where they played one of the games. As the losses came Drac pretended to get frustrated before Honey made a snide comment leading him to raise his hand to her. It was all for show and something they had rehearsed, it was his least favorite part of the whole thing. 

Honey let the fake tears well up into her eyes as she left the table.

Drac drained his glass before leaving in a huff to go to his position waiting for his next cue.

Honey sobbed until she got out to a balcony noticing that she had been followed.

“A pretty lady shouldn’t have so many tears to shed.” The man said. “Not when I can make her so happy.”

Honey turned and felt a smile come to her face, easily rehearsed so that it came naturally. “Oh thank you.”

“Why don’t we get a drink?” He suggested to her. 

Honey grinned. “Oh of course.” She took his arm letting him lead her to the bar flashing her dazzling smile letting her eyes look at him up through those lashes of hers. 

At the bar he got them drinks and they went to a alcove to drink. While taking her drink she heard the commotion of Layla knocking someone out turning but recognizing where her hand was she slipped the thin dissoluble land in his drink. It was gone by the time he looked back as she sipped her own drink. “What a night.” She shook her head. 

“All the better with you in my company sweetheart.”

“Oh I’m sure.” She said watching him down most of his drink. 

He coughed and she looked alarmed. “Oh, these bartenders and their mixing drinks. Why don’t you come up with me to my room? I can mix you something exquisite.”

He set the drink down and followed her to the room he was out by the time he entered the room. Taking a look through his pockets she smiled as she found his information. “Thank you for your contributions.” She patted his head. “Not that you’ll notice, so wealthy you could spend a million credits and use another to clean up your spilled drink.” She transferred the credits to an undisclosed account that would slowly transfer the funds to other accounts then theirs before erasing all paths that lead between the two. Ripping off the man’s pants she undressed leaving her clothes here and there before dressing in her getaway clothes. 

“You know, we really need to come up with a new gambit.” Alucard told her in the waiting speeder. “I really don’t like it. I know you came up with it but-”

Honey leaned in and kissed his cheek. “does a million credits help?”

Alucard looked to her. “It isn’t about the money, I don’t want to hurt you Honey I never have and I never will again.” 

“I’ve had worse. It works so well in our favor.”

“That isn’t the point Raelia.” he never used her name, never. “I love you and raising a hand to you even if it is your idea never sat well with me.” He drove as he spoke. “I love you and I was raised to never hurt the woman I loved.”

“I know that, but if it helps after this we won’t ever need to.” Honey rested her head on his shoulder before they were made to come to a stop. “What’s-” An explosion cut her off as the speeder crashed to the ground sending them both from it. 

________________________________________________________________

The dark and dank cell was the only thing he had seen for the last few weeks especially the ceiling for most of it as he was left to lay there breathing, twitching and drooling. His body ached, and his mind wandered to the sunny golden haired lover that he continued to protect, his Kit. His mind drifted searching for even a glimpse of him in the force and found little trace of him. Something wasn’t right. Was his Kit in a coma? His hand slowly agonizingly reached for the kyber crystal around his neck, fingers lovingly wrapping around the green crystal. Where was he? Where was his Kit? These were the things that he wondered until sleep claimed him. 

Sleep did come for him, not the kind blissful sleep like when his arms wrapped around the gentle frame of his love, as he nestled his face among the dense ringlets, breathing in the soft floral scent the man wore. Lips pressed in a kiss to the man’s head as he let bliss come to him. No such comfort was here for him, and he found no similar fondness in the force. He had to get free. He had to find Kit. How? Every movement was a trial? His body needed to recover or he would be of no use to Kit. Hades lay there struggling to stay asleep to heal, Kit had taught him such a thing within the force, healing. It was odd, a year ago he would have scoffed at the idea of using the light side in his efforts to save the one who was most precious to him, or that he would have someone so precious to him for that matter. Having Kit in his life was so great an influence that he couldn’t ignore, the man had truly brought him back from the darkness shown him a new path. 

Dreams filled his mind and none of them helped him. Sitting up he came to the realization that no sleep none that was worth having was to be had. As he reached a sitting position he ignored the protest and plea coming from his body. He focused his mind instead on the force the lighter side drawing on it wrapping himself in it. His eyes faded to their hazel blues that they naturally were away from the twisted ones he wore as a Sith. Closing them he began using the force to end the aching, to heal, he had to, not for his sake, for Kit’s sake.

________________________________________________________________

Echos, thumps, groans, creaks, all other manners of unsettling sounds filled the air around the ship as Crowley helped set up a perimeter around them.

“Master Crowley I don’t really like this place,” Ben said watching something shift in the trees above them. “It feels gross.”

“My thoughts exactly dear boy,” Aziraphale glared at Crowley. “See even Ben doesn’t like this place.”

Crowley sighed, “Well I didn’t hear any ideas from you about where else we could hide from them. Until we can establish a connection to Kit, I think for the time being we should hide here.” 

Ben walked to where a piece of the ship had landed and picked it up noticing another he followed it picking up the trail till he looked up and realized how lost he was. “Masters? Masters Crowley and Aziraphale?” Arms dropping the items falling to the ground. “Hello?’

-

Harper came down, the ramp sensing something was wrong. Looking she knew it. “Guys? HEY!”

Both men ceased arguing and looked up at her. 

“Where’s Ben?”

“What?” They asked looking at each other, her, then around them. “BEN!”

Harper felt panic but pushed it down. “We are not resting till we find him.”

“Someone has to stay with Juliet.” Crowley reminded them.

“I’ll stay with her,” Aziraphale said. “It was your idea to come here.”

“Alright then,” Crowley nodded. “That’s fair.” He looked to Harper. “Stay close last thing we need is both of you lost.” 

Harper nodded grabbing her lightsaber and Ben’s. “In case he needs it when we get to him.”

“Good thinking.” Crowley nodded.

“One of us has too.” Harper said dryly.

Crowley gave her a look but said nothing as they went into the forest beyond.