#this one is flame red 1 but i believe others like it work

[solarflame33]

im loving the character I've made for bg3, she's a tiefling great old one warlock

her name is Fear

she's my edgy nice lil bean

[littlest-w01f]

Protection

Eris Vanserra x Reader

For @erisweekofficial

Eris week 2024 Masterlist

Day 1: Bonds

Summary: Eris Vanserra didn't share much with people, but the attachment he shares with you, someone who was meant to be nothing but one of his father's human slaves, is too different.

Cw: Mentions of slavery/sex slavery, Eris is touchy with his human

The new day had started quicker than you wanted, but humans were never treated well in the Autumn Court, so you stood in the kitchen, cleaning dishes and placing them in their spot by hand when the Fae could've easily used magic. But you didn't bother ranting about it to anyone, you didn't have a choice, but thankfully, none of the Vanserras had chosen you to be 'theirs', those poor humans who were chosen, lived far worse lives than you. So you quietly scrubbed away at the plates.

Eris walked into the kitchen early in the morning, his red hair wet from the bath, spotting you immediately. His eyes trailed over you, taking in your form. His expression darkened, he had always wanted to keep you as his, he felt a serge of protectiveness over you that he didn't feel for any other, even if he didn't let it show. "And why, may I ask, are you up so early?"

You paused your scrubbing, the last two weeks had been a lot on you, with the party that happened, the comments some faeries made at you and your fellow humans, and even if you knew Eris was jesting, you couldn't hold the madness that bubbled in you, you had had enough of faeries, and Eris' cheeky grin was pissing you off. "Because you sick freaks burned the maid who would've been up cause she spilt a little wine." You almost growl, remembering how one of Eris' brothers had burned her using his power.

Eris looked precisely like that brother, the middle one, the poor maid had spilt a single drop and he had charred her in front of everyone, "And don't even get me started on all the hollering you do, absolutely horrid." You set a plate down harshly before grabbing another, after every such party, you needed a few days before you could be out otherwise you always knew you would say something that would get you killed, "We're just playthings, right? Fuckers."

Eris's brows furrowed at your outburst, clearly taken aback by your sudden display of anger. He stepped closer, his amber eyes narrowing slightly as he studied your face. "Playthings?" he repeated, his voice low and measured. "Is that really how you see yourself here?"

"Playthings, toys, pets, slaves, entertainment, servants... call it anything you want, but the job description is the same." He stepped closer to you, taunting, watching as your spine straightened and you stiffened at his approach. "And I suggest you keep a better leash on your tongue, you're addressing a son of the High Lord of Autumn."

As if on instinct, you grabbed a knife from the sink, holding it to his chest. "Stay back." The knife trembled in your hand, but you still held it.

Eris's eyes widened briefly at the sight of the knife pressed against his chest, but then narrowed again as a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Well now," he drawled, not seeming particularly concerned about the blade. "Aren't you my feisty little thing?"

He took another step forward until the tip of the knife was practically touching his skin through the thin fabric of his shirt. "Go ahead then, human rebel." he purred, his voice dripping with mockery. "Stab me. See what happens because you're either brave or extremely stupid."

His eyes glittered with challenge and amusement as if daring you to actually follow through on your threat. It was clear he didn't believe for a second that you would truly hurt him.

"I haven't slept in two week cause I've been waiting literally 200 year old children hand and foot, you do not wish to test me." You scoff, turning back to your work.

The fact that this simple human was standing up to him, in his own home, it set his blood aflame, even if admittedly it was rather fascinating that the flames were burning something like lust rather than anger. "Two hundred years old children who could reduce you to ash in the snap of their fingers," He reminded you, his gaze following the movement of your hands as you worked.

"Yes, you still need branded slaves to bring you food, massage your feet, be your entertainment." You rolled your eyes, and you talk to yourself but he can clearly hear, "Oh, human press my legs, massage my back, what are you staring at? Why aren't you working? Do I need to shove my cock down your throat since you think you're on some break?"

His smug smile only grew wider at your words, though there was a hint of curiosity lacing his tone. "It seems my brother's actions have left quite the lasting impression on you," he said softly, his eyes flicking up to meet yours.

"I assure you, most of us aren't quite so barbaric," he added, leaning back against the kitchen slab casually, seemingly unfazed by your proximity and the blade you had once held dangerously close to him. "Though it's certainly amusing seeing you stand up to me."

"I'm just tired..." A sudden tear lined your eye, but you refused to let him look at you.

Seeing the lone tear track its way down your cheek, Eris frowned, momentarily losing the playful edge in his demeanour. "Tired of what exactly?" he asked quietly, tilting his head to the side as he regarded you with newfound interest.

There was genuine concern laced within his voice, despite his earlier taunts. He pushed himself away from the counter, stepping closer to you again, this time without any sign of mockery or aggression. "Talk to me, as a distraction if anything, what do you dream of? What does freedom look like to you?"

"I don't even remember..." You whispered, you knew you could talk to Eris, with how many times you had threatened him and were still alive to do it again.

Seeing your defeated posture and the raw emotion in your voice, Eris's expression softened considerably. He reached out slowly, hesitantly, as if worried you might lash out again, but placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. "Everyone has dreams, even those bound by duty and servitude," he murmured softly.

"I think you know that better than anyone," he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "Even the strongest among us crave something more than the life we lead. But dreams can be forgotten, buried beneath layers of despair and hopelessness." He squeezed your shoulder gently, offering comfort in his own way. "But I won't let you forget, not anymore. Tell me, what is it that you desire?"

"To rest..." You slump slightly against Eris, "Or something..."

As you slumped against him, Eris wrapped an arm around your shoulders, supporting your weight as he guided you towards one of the chairs at the main table. "Rest then," he said gently, easing you down onto the seat. "Take all the time you need."

He crouched down in front of you, his hands resting lightly on your knees as he gazed up at you with an intensity that made your breath catch. "As for something else," he murmured, his voice low and enticing, "Perhaps we could explore that together. I've grown quite fond of our little exchanges, haven't you? You threaten me, I laugh at your audacity, repeat."

Seeing your exhausted state, Eris decided to take matters into his own hands, or rather, use his magic to help you find some much-needed relief. With a swift motion, he traced a delicate pattern in the air, the dishes cleaned themselves up, and stacked properly.

His fingers traced idle patterns on your knee, sending tingles up your spine. "I've watched you, you know. Seen the fire in your eyes, the strength in your spirit. It intrigues me, draws me in like a moth to flame."

"You shouldn't say such things, my Lord." You gasped as his hands were behind to massage your calves from where he was kneeling, such a submissive posture, to kneel in front of someone, like he was with you, one your body too had perfected over the years.

"Eris, please," He corrected, his touch firm yet gentle as he kneaded the tense muscles of your calves. "And why not? I find myself increasingly drawn to your company, regardless of the circumstances."

His thumbs dug deeper, pressing into the knots of tension, seeking to alleviate some of the stress that seemed etched into every line of your body. "And besides," he added with a sly grin, "I enjoy making you squirm. It's quite… entertaining."

He moved upwards, his hands now caressing the backs of your thighs, applying just enough pressure to make you arch off the chair. "Let me take care of you," he offered, his voice a low purr that sent shivers down your spine.

"Take care of me how?" you ask, hesitation in your voice.

Eris's fingers trailed higher, grazing the sensitive flesh just beneath the hem of your skirt. "In whatever ways you allow me to," he replied, his voice husky with promise. "A massage, perhaps, to soothe these weary muscles of yours."

His hands slid further up, teasing the smooth skin of your inner thighs as he leaned in closer, his warm breath ghosting across your ear. "Or maybe a soothing bath, scented with lavender and chamomile, to wash away the fatigue of the past fortnight."

He nipped playfully at your earlobe before pulling back to gaze at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Of course, if you prefer something a bit more… intimate, I wouldn't object to exploring those desires as well, to give you pleasures humans only dream of achieving."

One hand crept under the hem of your skirt, his fingertips grazing the sensitive skin of your thigh. "All you have to do is say yes," he murmured, his lips hovering just inches from yours. "Give yourself over to me, and I will worship every inch of your body until you're drowning in ecstasy." His other hand cupped your face, thumb brushing over your lower lip. "What do you say, my little rebel? Will you let me take care of you? Make you mine so no one else can order you about?"

His words hung heavy in the air between you, tempting and tantalizing. There was a pull, a magnetic force that drew you in and made you consider his offer in earnest. The thought of being taken care of, truly cared for, instead of simply ordered around.

Your heart races, pounding loudly in your ears. This was madness, insanity even. You knew you shouldn't trust a faerie, but Eris had every reason to kill you, yet he actually enjoyed your company and damn if it didn't sound appealing, incredibly appealing. You swallow hard, your throat dry.

"Are you going to brand me?" You ask hesitantly, you had seen a few 'private' slaves the brothers kept, some had multiple, but you had never really seen one with Eris or Lucien.

A smirk tugged at the corner of Eris's lips, clearly amused by your question. "Brand you?" He echoed, feigning surprise. "Why would I want to do that? Unless, of course," He added, his voice dropping to a seductive murmur, "you wish to bear my mark, a symbol of ownership and affection."

His eyes glided from your thigh, trailing upward along the curve of your waist, coming to stare just below your breasts, then your shoulders. "Perhaps," He mused aloud, "A small emblem somewhere discreet, a reminder of who you belong to when I'm not near." His thumb brushed over the swell of your breast, teasing the fabric of your dress. "Would you like that, my fiery little rebel? To wear my insignia proudly, proclaiming to the world that you're mine?"

"Please, no." You shake your head, "I really would not..."

Eris chuckled, a rich, velvety sound that sent pleasant shivers down your spine. "No branding then," he agreed, his hand sliding down to rest possessively on your hip, the other playing with your neck, tracing circles. "Though, a collar might do, hmm? You're mine after all. You need to have something that tells others to fuck off."

With a sudden, fluid movement, he stood up, towering over you. His hands found their way to your shoulders, massaging firmly as he leaned down, his breath hot against your neck. His hands began to work their magic once more, tracing lazy circles along your collarbone before slipping down to tease the neckline of your dress. "Mine," he repeated, savouring the word as if it were a fine wine. "That's all I want to hear, my sweet rebel. That you're mine, and only mine. I've wanted you since the day father bought you. I should've claimed you sooner."

The sensation of his hands on your skin, the heat radiating from his body, it was intoxicating. The way he spoke, the way he looked at you, it was all meant to ensnare you, and it was working.

"Yours," You breathe out, the word escaping your lips before you can stop it. It feels right, natural, like a secret you've been holding onto for far too long. Your eyes flutter closed, savoring the feeling of his hands on your body, the warmth of his presence enveloping you.

"Say it again," He commands, his voice a low growl that sends shivers down your spine. "Tell me who you belong to, my little rebel. Who owns this body, this soul?"

His hands slide lower, gripping your hips possessively as he pulls you flush against him. You can feel the hardness of his arousal pressing against you, evidence of his desire, his hunger for you. It's intoxicating, knowing that you have such power over him, that you can reduce this powerful man to nothing more than a slave to his own lust.

"I belong to you." You whisper again, a faint smile on your lips, watching how his eyes darkened further. "And I would like to sleep."

Eris laughed softly, "Well then, your first order is to get some fulfilling sleep, and you can't rebel against me, no matter how much your firey heart desires to." His fingers traced your jaw, "Can you do that for me, sweetheart?"

"Yeah..." You nod gently before Eris winnowed you to his room, leaving you there to follow through with his command and drop on the bed.

{General Taglist - @nox-ceur @lilah-asteria @paleidiot @dee-writes-smut @adalia-jaycee @anarchiii @alwayshave-faith @velarisnightsky444 @minnieoo}

{Eris Taglist- @fxckmiup @slut4acotar @secret-third-thing @shadowsingers-mate @fieldofdaisiies @st4r-girl-official}

[enchanted-moura]

Pick a Dior Serum - How to find more inner peace?

Pile 1 - Plump Filler

Despair, poverty, sadness and hardship may have been something you've been experiencing for some time. You are only going to get out of this situation. The answer to a healing and slowly rebuilding is to tap into your magical side! Stop thinking that this reality is the only or even the one that has all the power, it is not. Sometimes our blockages and pain and come from such a deep internal place that all we can do is go to the root. Before you start casting spells of curiosity and enchantment, research spiritual work for healing, rebuilding self & coming out of dark situations. Painful situations and thoughts have to be replaced with beautiful and abundant ones. Have a look through this page for plenty of ways to add abundance to your life🛍️

Pile 2 - Glow Booster

You may have many fake friends and sneaky allies who may be disrupting your dazzling gorgeous lucky and abundant energy. You are my unique pile, intriguing, and alluring and that draws both beneficial and toxic people like moths to a flame. You have to be cautious of who you keep around you and why. What do you let influence you? What do you let have the final say in your life? Why are randoms more important to you than you? Check out my salt cleansing bath to get rid of all that energetic heaviness off your aura once you commit to getting rid of the junk! You can do this cleansing shower or bath surrounded by candles and listening to serene music, letting the stress wash away 🛁🎶

Pile 3 - Matte Maximizer

You are a sensual being! You are in a position where you are highly desired, coveted and wanted. You just have to believe it and start each and everyday with the notion that you are the most beautiful being ever! You shine the brightest,your vibrant energy is infectious and makes everyone around you feel like they're part of your fabulous, glittering world. So be sure to let yourself shine and paint the world with your unique glitz and glam! 💖

Pile 4 - Lift Sculptor

You may be at a crossroads in your love life juggling options, choices and love styles and preferences. This may be causing unnecessary stress so its time to make a decision. Love and Lust and Desire are all related so if you do not want something bad enough, you simply do not desire it and you cannot force chemistry, desire or even love. Tap into your inner Erotic Goddess and ask her what she desires from her relationships right now. Did she want to explore rotation dating? She looking for a sugar daddy? She wants to commit to a long term relationship? Is she ready for Marriage. Let go of the moralistic judgement and just feel. reflect, dream big, and sprinkle a little more clear love in your life. 🌌💖

Pile 5 - Redness Soother

My money pile, my investor barbies and future millionaires are listening to this. In the same way other piles may stress about friends and love, I feel that your financial life is causing a headache and great distress. You're glamorous af, your ideal closets are stocked with the latest bikinis, lace tops, chic skirts and couture, you desire for your home to have floating crystal chandeliers & fluffy plush carpets. You can have it all but you have to be cautious of your spending habits as well as certain career choices. Are you in the most optimal field for your financial well-being but also mental health? Are you happy in your line of work? Do you have any concrete tangible plans for your prosperity or just pipe dreams. Journal about this and see what you feel 💎👠

More pick a cards available on patreon - https://www.patreon.com/missCordoba 💗

[mochalate]

[3] new notification!

msby!atsumuxreader || w/c: 1.1k + 1 min of video (yes, video.) chocolate chip cookies are the way to a guy's heart. (everyone knows that!) a/n: wow I thought I wouldn't post anything this week, but one really good chocolate cake later, I felt alive. Perhaps Atsumu and I are more similar than I thought. 🔔Please use full screen for the video!

[<-chapter 2][chapter 4->] ||[start from intro][masterlist]

Back when you were still at university, you had a part time job at the campus gym. Legally, you weren’t allowed to call yourself a nutritionist at that point, but that’s what you did. It was never anything complicated— the hardest thing had been managing expectations. 

No, you won’t have noticeable muscle definition in a month. 

Yes, you’ll need quite a bit longer than a week to lose ten kilos.

That will give you results, but perhaps a more sustainable plan?

So yes, expectations. You’re in a career chock-full of them. You’re good at managing them. Even when it’s hard.

Or so you’d thought.

Can I keep starin’? 

(Could it really be that easy?)

With four words, Atsumu Miya had ripped open the top of that flimsy cardboard box you’d oh-so-carefully stuffed your expectations in, and now you were struggling to (convince yourself to) put them back in. For the last few hours, you’ve been fiddling with that metaphorical scotch-tape, not quite daring to believe he could be interested in you— and yet unable to let go of that fantasy.

Was it a fantasy? 

You can still picture his flushed-red face, the anticipation and anxiety in his eyes. It wasn’t the kind of look you expected from a flirty joke.

Or…

It's when Osamu has to stop you from trying to grab the piping hot handle of a cast iron pan for the second time that you realise you need to come back to your senses.

“Osamu,” you ask, timidly. “Can I ask you something? It’s about Atsumu.”

Osamu turns down the flame on the burner, and looks at you. His face is neutral— some people went as far as calling those droopy grey eyes of his ‘expressionless’, but you preferred to think of them as steady. Osamu always said it like it was. 

He’s going to give you the reality check you so obviously need.

“How stupid am I for thinking I have a chance with Atsumu?”

You brace yourself for a scathing reply. Perhaps, ‘Next time, I won’t stop ya from burning yourself.’ Or maybe, “That oaf? Sorry, the only thing he’s attracted to is balls. Volleyballs, that is.”

What he does instead, is sigh heavily, and a little exasperatedly. 

“Did ya two idiots finally figure it out?”

Your heart skips a beat. “What?”

“You heard me,” Osamu says, turning up the flame once more. He stirs the simmering broth as he speaks. “He’s been actin’ stupid all week. And you’ve been actin’ stupid around him for a while.”

Oh. Oh.

There’s no way you’re ever putting those expectations away ever again, because that stupid box is all soggy at the bottom now. Soggy, because the raging mix of relief and happiness swirling around in your chest— the weight lifted off your shoulders because you don’t have to pretend anymore—  is making you tear up. 

Osamu hears you sniffle. 

“Aw, c’mon,” he says, tapping off the broth and setting the spoon beside the stove, “you know he isn’t worth cryin' over.” There’s a cheeky grin on his face, as he brings his large hands up to your face, wiping away the tears. “Want me to beat him up for ya?”

(You think he really might be your best friend.)

“You’re just looking for an excuse to!” You say, pulling his hands away as you laugh. 

He holds them up in mock defence. “Hey, two birds and all. Are you going call him?”

You’re already scrambling inside your purse. “I… think I forgot my phone at work.” 

He clicks his tongue. “I take it back, yer perfect for each other.”

“Hey!” You say it indignantly, but his words make you feel warm. Perfect for each other. “Can I borrow your phone? Would that be weird?”

“He’d make it weird,” Osamu scoffs. “Just go over.”

“I— I should bring him something.”

He makes an amused expression. “Okay.”

“I don’t know what.”

“Are you asking me for help?”

You make your best puppy face. “Please?”

Osamu sighs. “Well, he’s been complainin’ about those raisin bran cookies for weeks now…”

“I think it would be best if you don’t say anything. Just let it blow over,” the publicist says. She’s using the speakerphone, and her voice sounds far away. Atsumu can hear the clack of keyboard keys in the background. “I mean it, Miya. Log out of everything. No, uninstall everything.”

“Don’t ya trust me even a little bit?” Atsumu asks. He tries to sound teasing, but his heart isn’t in it.

“No,” she says bluntly. The call goes blank.

Atsumu collapses back on to his bed, legs hanging over the edge. He holds his phone up over his face, staring at the ‘call ended’ until the screen turns itself off, and then sighs heavily.

It’s not that he’s worried. She was right, it would blow over. But it would happen again. And he knows that each time, it would chip off a little piece of you; and eventually leave your edges jagged and rough enough to cut.

You’d resent him for it.

Atsumu unlocks his phone. It’s easy enough to find those pictures of you and Osamu again.

You look so happy.

He doesn’t think he was being delusional earlier, he knows there was something more than plain embarrassment in your eyes when you’d looked at him; and yet, he can’t shake the thought that he’s being selfish. 

The photo is cropped awkwardly, and he knows you and Osamu are close, but he can’t help but feel disheartened, and then hate himself for feeling like that. Were you two actually seeing each other? Was he meddling in his brother’s happiness, your happiness? What did he have to offer that his brother didn’t, save for the scrutiny of strangers?

The phone buzzes.

His eyes flick up to the notification bar. It’s a DM request from one of his new-found confidantes.

(Well, it's not like I've got anything better to do.)

In that brief moment, Atsumu understands his mother, and her panic at the state of the house when guests were imminent. He even understands, as he turns a couple of the trophies he has on display a few degrees to the left, why she would go around adjusting her many throw pillows in those last few seconds. That time seemed to stretch endlessly.

And then the doorbell rings, and time seems to somehow come to a stop and rush forward at the same time.

Atsumu stumbles on the carpet as he rushes to open the door.

And there you are.

“Hey, Atsumu,” you say, fiddling with the lid of the plastic container in your hands, “can we talk?”

(Wow, he thinks for some reason. I think those are cookies.)

Osamu walked her over because the publicist was calling around to find her, when she couldn't get a hold of reader on her number. He was worried about her going alone. What a prince. Divider @/cafekitsune Tweet images edited from here and Shokubutsu Zukan (by Tsutsumi Kakeru). Had a hard time finding the source for that image lol, it's been used in SO many fic headers. Each time I reverse image searched, If found a slightly less cropped version until it ended as the full page. and then i had to google translate this russian pirated manga site. next chapter will be the last + I will post a little bonus from the osamu POV. :)

[endless-ineffabilities]

Masterlist 📝

about the author: Freyja (freɪə), 20-something, Londoner, Virgo sun / Scorpio moon / Libra rising, I write as I please about whom I please (and for you, of course, on the chance that you enjoy my writing! 🖤) ~

This is a regularly updated list of my works; all are x f!Reader unless otherwise stated. I try not to include outright physical attributes for the female lead, to leave her appearance open to interpretation.

Please do NOT copy, repost, steal, or translate any of these! My works should only exist here, on Tumblr. I have not and will not post them on any other platform, nor do I consent to any other individual doing so.

⚔️ Refer here to be tagged in House of the Dragon fics

💌 anon list

The Sandman

Morpheus / Corinthian

Ineffable (series) *on hiatus

Corinthian

Easy on the eyes (series) (18+) *on hiatus

Morpheus

Only you can set alight the fire in me (oneshot)

House of the Dragon

Daemon Targaryen

Oneshots

Without you, I would not be

She is my heart

ñuha mērī jorrāelagon

feast

rogue ink

turning red

Series / Miniseries

but daddy, I love him (chapter one - chapter two - chapter three)

this world was never meant for a fire like yours (18+)

in the shadow of your heart (part one - part two)

Aemond Targaryen

Oneshots

some jealous Aemond Targaryen scenarios

burn them all for you

a little game (modern au)

hmm (a christmas drabble)

sepār iā sylutegon (just a taste)

your heart's serrated edges are much like mine own (18+)

dragonfire

i will never say that I am in love

the sapphire and his sun

backhand stroke (tennis au) (18+)

diet pepsi (18+)

official business (president!Aemond au)

Series / Miniseries

prūmia va perzys (heart on fire) series

part one: don't you love me?

part two: and what of your love? (18+)

part three: the flames that divide (18+)

part four: the aftermath

part five: never tear us apart

part six:

part seven:

maroon (a modern au series) (18+)

sapphire-hearted (a miniseries) (18+)

of perilous desire - one: rhaenagon -

national anthem (president!Aemond au series) (18+)

Daemon and/or Aemond

A dance with two rogue dragons

If these walls could speak (18+)

midnights imagines : question...? - anti-hero - labyrinth - lavender haze -

dialogue series: King? -

Star Wars

Anakin Skywalker

As I believe in you (oneshot)

there's hope for us, yet - part 1 - part 2

MCU

Bucky Barnes

reconnaissance - one - two - three

babydoll (oneshot)

so high school - one - two

dollface (18+)

Steve Rogers / Bucky Barnes

The Bolter (series) (18+)

World On Fire

Tom Bennett

tongue in cheek (one - two - three - four )

John Wick 4

Marquis Vincent de Gramont

le marquis et le moineau - (ill)fated - first dance -

Ewan Mitchell

chemical override (series)

blue eyes so green (oneshot)

x classical violinist reader (oneshot)

sun (oneshot)

[and-so-he-rambled]

The Call

Gotham Rogue Vlad Masters (chapter 0)

Masterlist | Chapter 1

The call came at exactly 7:56 on a Tuesday night. He had been cooking an Italian dish, a tape of Packers highlights playing on the television as he puttered around the kitchen. It was large and empty, decorated to the bare minimum. He’d only just moved in recently to the castle and he hadn’t had time to settle in fully yet. He liked the lack of stuff though, the empty space that was his alone to fill. It smelled dusty and ancient in a way the hospital never did, full of history and echoes of the past.

The shrill ring of the landline startled him, the pan he was holding clattering onto the burner as the handle phased through his hand. He cursed as he turned down the heat and walked briskly towards the phone to see what idiot he had to deal with. Even almost ten years after the accident he still had mishaps, small losses of control that bothered him to no end.

He picked up the phone, slipping into a mask of polite indifference as he prepared for what drivel an investor or cold caller would dump on him.

“Is this Vlad Masters?” The woman on the other end asked.

“Speaking.” He boredly watched flames roll over his knuckles, winding it through his fingers.

“You were an associate of Jack and Madeline Fenton, correct?” The flame flared out of control before dying with a hiss, the plastic of the phone creaking in his hand as he tried to not crush it to dust. Even after escaping their shadows he wasn’t free, haunted by scars and an obsession he couldn’t control.

“Yes.” He bit out, wondering what trouble they would cause in his life now. He had forgiven Maddie in the first few years, she’d realized the error, it was Jack that had stolen his humanity, killed him where he stood and scarred his face.

“I regret to inform you that earlier this week Jack and Maddie Fenton were caught up in a lab accident in their basement and did not survive. According to their wills-“ She kept talking, but it faded out into static. Something in Vlad’s chest pulsed, something deep inside cracking until it shattered with a shockwave that traveled down his arms and legs. He wheezed in pain, bracing himself against the wall as his legs shook and threatened to go out from beneath him.

Pain, that was the only way he could describe it. Pain and grief and loss. Maddie, his dear beloved Maddie, and Jack, a bafoon he had once considered his closest friend and had swore to one day take revenge on. They were gone, dead. Did they have ghosts? Should he go looking? Did he want to?

“Sir?” The staticky voice crackled loudly in his ear. “Did you hear me?”

He forced himself to rein in his powers even as he slid to the floor, cradling the phone to his ear.

“Bad connection.” He grit out as his lungs seized and his heart beat sluggishly before finally giving up and stopping. “What was that?”

“We need to talk regarding the children, Daniel and Jasmine Fenton. They’re currently still in the hospital undergoing treatment, but you’re now their legal guardian. Could you make the trip down to Amity so we can discuss in person?”

He responded on autopilot, making a plan to make the trip down to Amity.

He’d known the Fentons had children. Jack had called him the night Jazz was born, and while he’d ignored every single call since the accident he still listened to each voicemail. It often fueled the hate in his chest, but other times he just liked to close his eyes and pretend they were back in the lab, working on projects no one believed in.

Jack had excitedly told him about his baby Jazz, how she had red hair like her mother and was six pounds, four ounces. He could hear her crying in the background and Maddie’s dulcet voice cooing to her. It sang of other lives he’d never get to live, a life where he’d been a father instead of Jack, or where he’d stayed human and been there for the birth. Jack expressed that he wanted Vlad to meet her.

He taped it onto a cassette to listen to in moments of weakness, but he never reached out. He couldn’t face the product of their love.

He instead threw himself into building a company, relying on petty thievery and lies to build his throne. He tried so hard to make it his obsession, but his core still called out for Maddie, for revenge.

He hadn’t realized a son had been born until he had fed his obsession by viewing the Fentons gaudy website and had seen the portrait of a toddler with Jacks features. Daniel Fenton. Had Jack not called him about this birth? Did he care?

(He did and it drove him insane.)

He resolved to not think about their children, about what would never be his. He cheated and lied and stole, and he definitely didn’t comb through his answering machine until he heard Jack’s grating voice excitedly telling him about his newborn son. Four pounds and eight ounces, stayed in the NICU briefly. “He’s got that Fenton spirit!” Jack loudly proclaimed, Maddie shushing him as he apparently woke the baby. A young Jazz was asking questions loudly in the background, the toddler stumbling over her words. “But not the ghost kind of spirit!” Jack added on just as loudly. “No, that wouldn’t do at all!”

He taped it and put it with the other tapes of shame, knowing it would become background noise to his lowest moments ahead.

He spent the night of the call replaying the tapes over and over, still in unbelievable pain even worse than his death. He cried despite having tried so hard to train himself out of human weaknesses, mourning his love and the past. Did he care that he’d never get his revenge on Jack? Did he miss him anyway? Curse human emotion! Curse death!

The flight to Amity was one spent in a haze, reliving memories like a movie he couldn’t stop. He was a prisoner in his own mind, forced to relive each detail of the past. He caught himself slipping several times, forcing himself to remember how to breathe and force his heart to beat. His grip on his humanity had grown weaker in the wake of his obsession break.

He leaned heavily on his cane as he made his way through the quaint town of amity, the place where Jack and Maddie had chosen to settle down.

Legal talks were boring, laying out what he already had pieces together even if it didn’t make sense. He stared at the will in front of him, reading the statement over and over that he, Vlad Masters, would be entrusted with Danny and Jaz in the event of the parents death.

They brought him to the hospital after that, leading him up to a room and stepping aside.

He opened the door slowly, bracing himself as he met two pairs of eyes.

Jasmine looked just like her mother, a sharp jab of pain shooting though his cracked core. She had the same fiery orange hair, but she had Jack’s piercing blue eyes. She regarded him with open distrust, bag held tightly to her chest.

His eyes shifted over the the boy on the bed, hooked up to machines. Static rippled across the displays as Vlad fought to control his aura as the sight. Daniel was small for his age, tiny against the bed with deathly pale skin and stark black hair. He had the same piercing eyes, but his were round with curiosity.

A case worker stood from her seat in the corner to greet him, but Jazz cut her off.

“So you’re Uncle Vlad?” She sounded unimpressed, eyes narrowed.

“I- Yes, I suppose I am.” Vlad stuttered, entirely caught off guard. He was completely unprepared for this situation, but he was also sure that no amount of preparation would have been enough.

“You’re gonna take us away?” Daniel’s squeaky young voice drew his attention back to the boy. “Now that mom and dad are dead?”

Jazz flinched, pain rolling off her in waves as she kicked the base of the hospital bed.

“Sorry.” The boy apologized, but his eyes were on Vlad still, waiting for an answer.

“Uh, yes. I’ll be taking you two to Wisconsin with me.” It was the first time he’d said it out loud, or really made the decision at all. He hadn’t made up his mind before coming, but he knew the only choice the second his eyes landed on the two children. His core called out for them, needed them safe. They were Jack and Maddie’s, their greatest inventions, he couldn’t spend the rest of his life worrying about them and not knowing if they were safe.

He was wholly unprepared for fatherhood, but he’d always dreamed of meeting Maddie’s children, of caring for them. This was a situation he never could have predicted, but life was unpredictable like that.

The Fenton house was in shambles, both kids left with a garbage bag each of their belongings.

They stayed in the hospital another night as Vlad bought them each suitcases and arranged travel and ironed out legal matters. There was a lot less involved that he thought with taking over custody of two children. His hearing even picked up the case worker lamenting to another about how lucky those children were to have a well off uncle that their parents trusted to take them in.

He picked them up as Daniel was discharged, the doctors still baffled by his recovery from complete organ failure but not questioning whatever higher power they believed responsible. Jazz held her brothers hand as they walked towards Vlad and the open door of the rented car, a worker placing their suitcases in the trunk.

“Jazz dear, you forgot your bear!” One of the nurses ran out holding a brown teddy bear with a white mustache and crazy hair.

“I don’t need it!” Jazz snapped, helping her brother into his car seat. “Those are for babies and I’m not a baby!” She slammed the car door hard in the nurse’s face.

“I’ll take it.” Vlad carefully took the well loved bear. They had warned him that Jazz was trying to shoulder all the responsibility for Daniel and be strong. They’d heavily pushed the idea of putting both children into therapy as soon as possible, which he would take them up on. While he’d never sought therapy for himself, seeing it as a sign of weakness, these children needed any stability he could give them. His parents had died when he was a teenager and he had been a proper mess, these were literal children.

Daniel’s spirit was still bright despite the tragedy, asking questions the whole trip through the airport and staring in amazement out the window of the plane as they settled in first class. Jazz was silent, on edge and watching for danger. She squeaked in alarm as food was placed in front of her mid trip, both children reeling back in their seats and staring at the meat as if it would attack them.

He had the stewardess bring them the vegetarian meals instead, which they hesitantly picked at.

They landed in Wisconsin as the sun was setting, both clearly exhausted children stumbling through the airport as he herded them towards baggage claim.

Vlad stopped walking as Daniel began to tug furiously at his pants. The boy stared at him before throwing his hands up and waving the insistently.

“He wants you to pick him up.” Jazz folded her arms in annoyance, clearly bothered by the action.

“Oh.” Vlad stared at the child, hesitantly placing his hands under his armpits and picking him up, holding him out at arms length.

“You’re not doing it right! Arm around his back, there, put him on your hip.” Jazz coached him until he had Daniel on his hip, legs around his waist and arms wrapped around his chest as he snugged in. Vlad had an arm around his back to hold him and a steadying hand on his leg.

“Good.” Jazz nodded her head, picking her bag back up and marching towards the baggage claim.

“Would either of you like a snack from the kiosk?” He was pretty sure children were supposed to snack frequently. Daniel was dozing on his chest and didn’t respond, but Jazz marched into the small store and began browsing through the shelves of overpriced goods. She picked out two bags of peanuts and a bag of veggie straws, bringing them to the register. Vlad paid for them, weakly returning the cashiers customer service smile and following Jazz as she left.

“Do you know where you’re going?”

“I can read!” She snapped, pointing at the sign ahead that said baggage claim.

“My apologies.”

He somehow managed to haul Daniel’s car seat and the luggage to the car while carrying Daniel, Jazz dragging her blue suitcase behind her with determination. It wasn’t until he was pulling and and starting the long drive home that he realized he’d forgot his cane on the plane.

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Gene Tierney (Laura, The Ghost and Mrs Muir, Leave Her to Heaven)— The class, the elegance. The way she walks into frame and immediately all focus is on her. She had a pretty lengthy struggle with mental health that she describes in her book, which I think made her all the more sensitive in portraying characters like in leave her to heaven. Also she dumped JFK so

Moira Shearer (The Red Shoes)— Moira Shearer is one of the most awe-inspiring dancers ever put to screen. Watching her performance in 'The Red Shoes' changed my fucking life. When I saw her in 'Peeping Tom' it was one of the most anxiety-inducing experiences I've ever had watching a film. Moira Shearer was not only an actress who can make you feel, she's an actress who can make you feel *desperately afraid* for her. An all-time favourite for horror, dance, and just her /presence/, man.

This is round 2 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Gene Tierney:

The entire plot of Laura is that a guy has to become completely obsessed with a woman after just seeing her portrait. This only works because Gene was cast in the role. I 10000% believe anyone could fall in love after seeing her face.

Those eyes! Just look at those eyes! She’s at her hottest in Leave Her To Heaven— I literally want her to ruin my life.

Absolute grade-A babe, she is the perfection incarnate.

Gene Tierney was beautiful, poised, intense. I associate her with roles where she was murderous or an intelligent woman being patronized to - like a woman on the edge! As far as I am concerned, she deserved to do whatever she wanted.

She had a slight overbite which was amazingly sexy, and a throaty voice that was very memorable as well. She’s terrific in Laura, which reminds me I should watch it again.

EYES!! Her diabolical acting in Leave Her to Heaven is just perfect, Rosamund Pike definitely took notes for her Gone Girl from her.

Oscar-nominated and simply one of the most beautiful women to ever walk this Earth.

Absolutely stunning. In Leave Her to Heaven, she reaches Rosamund-Pike-in-Gone-Girl levels of “holy fucking shit?!?!?!” She had a fling with JFK in the ‘40s and also dated the exes of Rita Hayworth and Hedy Lamarr (Prince Aly Khan and W. Howard Lee, respectively). Sadly, her daughter was born with a disability (during a time in which there were few good mainstream options for disabled children and their parents), likely because of a fan who was sick with measles and went out of her way to meet Tierney (who was pregnant) anyway. Topical! Sure would be good if people stayed home when they were sick! Anyway, she was also a Republican, which sucks. Laura and Leave Her to Heaven are great viewing though.

Moira Shearer:

[editor's note: if your TWs include death, body horror, or general freaky stuff, go forward with caution with the videos. Enjoy!]

Scottish flame-haired professional ballerina who made a successful move into films with ballet classic "The Red Shoes" and several other films. The best way to convey her beauty and grace is to see her in motion so gifsets are attached.

Gifset 1

Gifset 2

Gifset 3

Please check her out as Olympia in The Tales of Hoffmann, it's one of my favourite examples of automata ballet and she's so awesome in it

Her performance in 'The Red Shoes' (if you ever have the opportunity to see this on the big screen, TAKE IT.)

[littlejuicebox]

LittleJuicebox Masterlist

Click here for my AO3 account. (Converting is a WiP).

If you’d like to be added to a tag list, please DM me and I can send you the google doc link. I have decided to keep tag lists for each individual series so you only get tagged in the ones you want.

My personal favorites are denoted by a +.

GN reader is denoted by a * otherwise assume Fem reader/OC.

Titles colored red are smut or other mature themes, 18+ only.

AstarionxWren Series:

This is a canon-adjacent passion project which focuses on Astarion and Wren, a ranger half-elf with her own backstory. She is based off my first Tav. Do you like angsty slow burns where two broken people find one another and learn to love again? Then this one is for you.

Chapter 1 / Chasing birds to get high (PG) + Chapter 2 / Between comfort and chaos (PG) Chapter 3 / Sunshine and midnight rain (PG13) + Chapter 4 / Protect the flames (M/Gore) Chapter 5 / Blue and silver bonded (PG13) Chapter 6 / Remember how it feels to have a heartbeat (PG13) Chapter 7 / Give peace a chance (M/Smut) + Chapter 8 / Dancing in a burning room (M/Gore) Chapter 9 / Lavender haze (PG-PG13?) Chapter 10 / I want to hold your hand (PG13)

Midnight Chimes Series:

Your parents own a tavern in Baldur’s Gate, and Astarion was somewhat of a regular when you worked at the bar in your younger years. You don’t exactly trust him. Now you’re an apothecary owner based in Waterdeep, and when the two of you crash on the beach, you aren’t exactly thrilled to see him there, too. But things aren’t always what they seem.

1 / The Prologue +

2 / Three years

3 / Luck +

4/ Ringleader

Midwinter Carol Series:

Eirianwen and Astarion were in love before the Ascension ritual changed his behavior toward her. She refused to become a spawn, and they went their separate ways. The story starts when they run into one another fifteen years later; Eirianwen returned to the city to deliver some news to the pale elf. Meanwhile, the Ascendant had a night time visitor that convinced him to change his ways, and he believes his ex-lover might be the key. Will he be able to change after fifteen years of living life as a debauched degenerate?

1 / The Prologue +

2 / The Barrier

3 / The Carriage

4 / The Auction +

5/ The Repeat

6/ The Affliction

7/ The Interrogation

8/ The Scheme

9/ The Snake

AstarionxReader One Shots and Mini-Stories:

Mini-Stories are grouped together in order and denoted by a “Part X” in sequential order after the title. These are in general "timeline" order and follow my (admittedly self-indulgent) headcanon for Spawn Astarion x Tav but can definitely be read as OneShots. All stories are AstarionxReader, some allusions to reader having spellcaster ability but otherwise no real description apart from being female in about 3/4 of the fics.

Act 1-2:

The little things.

Before someone steals your queen

Act 3:

Drunken nights*+

The nail salon

You'll stay still, won't you, little love? +

Post-BG3:

Mermaid whiskey+

Baking Cookies*

Astarion talks in his sleep Part 1*+

My Sun, My Moon Part 2+

Glowing in the Underdark+

Reflections on one year of marriage

Highharvestide Part 1

Highharvestide Part 2

Handmade+

Dadstarion:

The wish spell worked.+

Daddy?

Little bump.

Labor and joy

Skin to skin.

Milk.+

Little lockpick.

Beach babies.+

A growing brood.

Puppy love.

Stuck.

Pre-BG3 / Random / Ascended Astarion OneShots

Midnight chimes / The Original One Shot

Pre-BG3. You’ve known Astarion for years… or at least, you’ve known of him. You think he’s a rake, but one night he changes your mind. The series "Midnight Chimes" started based off this "prologue."

A Midwinter Carol / The Original One Shot

“A Christmas Carol” but Ascended Astarion is Scrooge. He sees you after your break up 15 years ago, and then has an unexpected nighttime visitor showing him past, present, and future. Will he be convinced to change his ways? The series "Midwinter Carol" started based off this "prologue."

Naughty or Nice?

You’re Ascended Astarion’s little toy in the middle of a party. TLDR; he’s tease and a BDSM dom.

Dancing on my own

[in1-nutshell]

Bot Buddy being Swerve's older sibling on the Lost Light

SFW, Platonic, hint of romance, Cybertronian reader

MTMTE

Part 1 here

Part 2 here

After being on the Lost Light for a couple of days Buddy was still figuring out their place on the ship. Thanks to Swerve and his friends they were slowly finding their place amongst the crowd.

But Buddy hates leaving Swerve alone for too long. After spending so long in stasis and listening to his messages, Buddy figured it was a good idea to be always close by Swerve.

Swerve didn’t mind it one bit.

One was never too far from the other.

But some of their friends started to get irked by this, mainly being Whirl.

Swerve standing in front of Buddy talking their audial off as they stand stoically listening to everything he has to say.

“Look at them.”--Whirl

“Umm… why?”--Tailgate

“Look at them! If something happens to the other, ones gonna go berserker!”--Whirl

“You do have a point there.”--Skids

“But that’s not a bad thing, right?”--Tailgate

“My sweet Tailgate, you have to expect the unexpected at all times.”--Whirl

“Oh! I get it its like that one time Cyclonus wanted to—”--Tailgate

“That’s not a conversation for the table.”--Cyclonus

“Then its settled then Buddy needs some space from Swerve.”--Whirl

“This isn’t going to end well…”--Cyclonus

So, with a little help from Skids, Chromedome and Rewind, they managed to get Swerve busy giving Buddy enough time to drag Buddy off. It worked for a bit until Buddy insisted on checking on Swerve and began walking the other way.

“C’mon Buddy lets go for another round in the range!”--Whirl

“I’m sorry Whirl I’ve gotta go.”--Buddy

“Buddy don’t make me do this.”--Whirl

“Do what? Whirl what are you talking about?”--Buddy

“You’ll see…”--Buddy

Whirl had been expecting this.

It was time to deploy Plan R.

Plan Rodimus.

As Buddy was walking back to the bar, Rodimus walked up to Buddy. His job was just to distract Buddy and make sure they didn’t reach the bar until Whirl said so. Rodimus was a bit hesitant about this plan but decided that this was way better to do this than Magnus’s reports.

“Hey Buddy!”--Rodimus

“Rodimus? Is there something you need?”--Buddy

“Yes! I need a sparring partner.”--Rodimus

“A sparring partner? I would assume Drift—”Buddy

“He’s busy with Ratchet. Anyways I want to spar you.”--Rodimus

“Spar me?”--Buddy

“Yeah! Unless all that training in the Elite Guard was a hoax—”--Rodimus

“You’re on Captain.”--Buddy

Meanwhile Swerve was beginning to get anxious as it was getting late, and Buddy wasn’t around. As much as Skids, Chromdome, and Rewind tried humoring with stories and hearing his rants, it was clear that Swerve’s anxiety was starting to get the best of him.

“Hey, Whirl your going to have to get Buddy over here soon.”--Chromedome

“Why?”--Whirl

“Swerve’s looks like he is going to have a glitch if Buddy doesn’t get here soon.”--Chromedome

Whirl commed in Rodimus.

He didn’t answer.

He tried again.

No answer.

At this point Whirl guessed that Rodimus was probably dead after Buddy’s sparring session.

Something Whirl had jokingly suggested to him to ask Buddy to do. He didn’t expect him to do it.

As Whirl walked towards the door, he saw Cyclonus and Tailgate watching from the doorway. Curious he also took a peek inside.

Turns out Rodimus was still alive.

But the positions they were in…

Rodimus was flat on his back looking up at Buddy who was in a straddling position with a winning smile.

Rodimus looked at Buddy as if his optics had just seen the Matrix coming towards him.

“Looks like I win again Captain.”--Buddy

“I guess you did, huh?”--Rodimus

“What?”--Buddy

“I can’t believe I didn’t notice that you were holding back.”--Rodimus

“Yeah, if I didn’t, you’d be a smear of red paint under me.”--Buddy

“Oh really?”--Rodimus

“Absoluetly Captain. That’s just a fact.”--Buddy

“How about next round I flame up? You think you’d handle the heat?”--Rodimus

“Such little faith you have in me Captain. You’d think after I beat you all those times you’d get some idea that I can definitely handle you.”--Buddy

“Its one Buddy… as soon as you get off me… you’re kind of crushing my spoiler…”--Rodimus

“Oh! Sorry!”--Buddy

Buddy helping Rodimus up.

“Best out of 60?”--Buddy

“You think you can keep up?”--Rodimus

“Just watch me!”--Buddy

“Cyclonus…I think we came at a wrong time…”--Tailgate

“…Let’s leave them…”—Cyclonus

Whirl, Cyclonus, Tailgate walking away from the sparring room.

“Why were you guys even here, anyways?”--Whirl

“We heard a lot of slamming, and it sounded like someone was dying. Turns out it was Rodimus just getting beaten up by Buddy, during their ‘practice session’.”--Tailgate

Whirl has gained a new ship and there was nothing stopping him from making this thing work. A little bit of integration and some closets and the two will be together in no time!

Now the minor problem was telling Swerve without him glitching out…

[sonicjustbecause]

The Sonic 3 Trailer lacks of both spoiler and context, and that is about how a trailer should be. We already know what it is about. We only needed to see few scenes to make sure it might look good (or bad, it depends on what we except).

Now, I've seen a couple of crazy theories I've read and I believe both of them won't happen. I'll explain

Tom getting killed

Won't happens anything different to Tom that didn't happen before. he will be at worst knock out/neutralized and go off screen. Like in Sonic 1 (punched by Eggman) and Sonic 2 (encircled by flames)

Such happening would be the complete Shadow's assasination as character. We as fan won't forgive him and also this would push Shadow in the villains realm.

The past characterization.

Original Shadow (Adventure/Heroes/06) was very tame. There is a video on YT that analyze how Shadow behaves toward the world and underline the lack of destruction and violence in SA2, as opposite as we see in Sonic X and ShtH05.

in Sonic-X they changed slightly Shadow's personality, removing his intellectual and contemplative nature and replacing it with a more brash and violent personality. But even there, they prevented Shadow from killing Cosmo, making him acting like a cat who plays with his prey instead of being efficient (slow pace, talking, missing aim despite the short distance and when the thing failed just giving up on that). Shadow could have act smartly simply killing Cosmo in her sleep. As I say, I think they wanted to save his reputation.

In Sonic Force he indeed killed Infinite's squad. His first kill, most likely. Small fries, while leaving the boss alive, evil and stupid considering the aftermath. They saved Shadow's reputation by making Infinite lame and obnoxious and by not showing his gang at all (so we don't get attachted and we still cheer for Shadow). Sort of telling without actually showing anything.

Similar cases and why those characters have been tamed out.

Lupin III had a super rough star. His author got inspired by underground Western comics of the '60s and the original Lupin III was not a thief and a cheerful anti-hero. Lupin was originally a real godfather, a mafia boss, and despite he was mostly accompanied by Jigen and Goemon (who weren't really characterized back then) he had all underdogs, picciottos and so on under his rule. He did steal, but also he killed innocents, he raped women (includin Fujiko) and did several other hideous things.

Evil protagonists don't last long. They either get overhauled or they die like Light Yagami.

For this Lupin had to be tamed. Lupin killed less and less and more and more only with a reason and was more and more gentle with the innocents, including his main foe. And lastly he just virtually stopped to kill.

He's not the only one, many protagonists were born as unremedable villain and then they have been turned into antiheroes... or even heroes. Villanous protagonists never last long.

Shadow is beloved mostly because of his original personality. I noticed in most fan work, he is characterized the way he was in Sonic Adventure 2/Heroes/06 or Prime. Sometimes like in Sonic X and Shadow 05. Rarely like modern Shadow.

Back to Shadow

"What did you do?"

"What I had to!"

Those lines may be related to anything and everything. They might be related to Shadow's attempt to destroy the world like in SA2.

"I had to keep my promise!"

"What I had to do" suggest me something Shadow did not because he wanted to but for an external obiective. It might be world safety, keeping a promise, preventing the Sun going red giant, anything. Maybe even destroying Metal Sonic (if he appears like some rumor suggest) after Sonic convinced him to join the good side. Shadow has a long story dealing with living weapons.

Shadow stealing Stone's bike

Simply impossible. I already said Shadow's size is comparable to the size of a five years old child, about 1m tall. Stone is a 1,78m tall adult.

How Shadow would look on Stone's bike. It would be good material for the memes. And even if he would be able to ride an adult designed bike, he would be unable to do the Akira thing.

[acourtofthought]

i appreciate you keeping the eulcien flame alive, because ive been doubting since sliver flames and even more now with flame and shadow. silver flames was horrible to lulu, and cc just doubled down on the cauldron being wrong. i know mates come from the mother, but shes pushing the cauldron being wrong for some reason and its hard not to doubt. shadow boy being there to hear it felt big. feeling really unconfident that she will let elucien be. ill always ship them and think their the better pair but i don't think what i want to happen and whats going to happen are the same thing anymore.

One thing SJM likes to do is put her MMC through the ringer before they get their HEA so to me, Lucien being knocked down (again and again and again) suggests that she's gearing up for him to have a massive arc.

I imagine SHE is hating herself for treating Lucien horribly but that's how an author tells a great story. They don't protect their characters from harm, they let them suffer so that they earn that HEA.

Lucien has been a major player in this series since book 1 and you don't keep a character like that around to the extent she has if you've written him off. You don't get bored with someone you've set up to become a future HL, someone with connections to multiple courts and lands, someone with a mating bond with an Archeron sister.

No, he wasn't heavily featured in SF but that makes sense when you think of whose book it was. Lucien is not friends with Cassian. He's definitely not friends with Nesta who has hated him for multiple books (finally starting to come around on Solstice). With Feyre's POV finished, there's no real way to include Lucien in what was Nesta's healing arc but she still managed to drop some pretty big clues for us (his being permanently stationed in Spring, his possible connection to the Trove through Helion, his showing the dominance of a HL, his setting his sights on Koschei). There's a creator on TikTok, Doyle, and he made a comment about Lucien showing up for one of Nesta's training scenes, how it felt so randomly thrown in there (and he loves Lucien).

That's exactly it though, Lucien has no place in a Nessian book but Sarah still found a way to pepper him throughout because he is relevant, he's not going anywhere.

If anything HOFAS proved the Cauldron is not responsible for bonds, that they are not fabricated by people like the Princes of Hel, that those are made by a higher force. The Cauldron being corrupt does not work when it comes to these characters because Nesta and Elain were made by the Cauldron. Anyone claiming the cauldron creates corrupted bonds because it's tainted is literally saying "Nesta and Elain are tainted". You don't get to have one without the other.

As for Elucien, SJM made sure to lay crumbs for why Tamlin was not going to be right for Feyre. Where most of us once believed in their romance we eventually saw the red flags during a reread. However she has not done that with Lucien when it comes to Elain. If the author was gearing us up for E/riel, she would have started to show us why Lucien is not right for Elain and why Az is but instead we have Lucien continuing to be nothing but a respectful male to Elain, getting to know her father before his death, giving her credit for killing the king, staying loyal to her, leaving Graysen unharmed. In comparison we have Az giving Elain no credit, calling her the third, saying he hasn't thought of a future with her beyond his sexual fantasies, not caring whether Lucien or Graysen is killed, etc.

SJM is good at what she does and if she wanted those red flags to be waving for Elucien, we'd be spotting them. ❤️

[kiliinstinct]

Chapter 28:

Rating: R Pairing: Nalu FF.Net || AO3 [Ch: 1] ||| [Prev] | [Next] Thanks to @phoenix-before-the-flame for their awesome Beta work, as usual. March Post Dates: 15th and the 28th (Yes, my Birthday!) April Post Dates: To Be Decided

When Gajeel was finally questioned, it was days after he'd willingly been led through the gates and brought into the dungeons. His cooperation led to an easy time of sitting around in proper chairs and choosing his own cot to bunk in, all while Kage sulked in his renewed prison. The shackles that scraped his wrists and ankles were a formality more than anything else; One he seemed unbothered by. 

His interrogation wasn’t in the official chambers where Makarov sought counsel with Erza, Laxus and Mirajane days before. Instead, when Laxus came to retrieve him, eyes narrowed and posture full of unspoken threats, he'd been led to a small room in the depths of the keep, where the draconis assumed was their chief’s private quarters.

While this was a curious turn of events for him, what made his studded brows rise was when Laxus irritably slammed the door behind him, leaving Gajeel alone with the short chieftain and no one else. The room was cramped, too small to host many occupants regardless, but he didn't even hear the click of the door lock. 

“Have a seat.” Makarov drawled, mustache twitching as he glanced his way. He was seated behind a grand red oak desk that filled nearly half the room. Tomes in messy piles and stacked parchments littered its surface, with odd knick knacks and baubles that didn’t quite fit thrown into the mix. He casually motioned to one other seat that Gajeel had almost missed. And rightly so, it was nothing more than the tiniest of stools, splintered beyond belief and standing on rickety legs despite the ashy burn marks that littered its surface: a stool made for a child.

“Yeah, no. Not sittin’ on that,” Gajeel replied dryly, leaning against the doorframe instead, “you sure about having me in a room alone with you, old man?”

“Why?” Makarov lowered his hand, confidence gleaming in his eyes, “Do you think you pose a danger to me?“

He shrugged, “Dunno, do I?” Lifting his shackled hands he bared his teeth in a sardonic grin, “or these give ya a sense of security?“

The old man's chuckle as he relaxed into his chair made Gajeel frown. Was he missing something here?

”I didn’t take you as a man to make jokes. If you were going to attempt anything, I think you would have already. A man of your strength could break those shackles in minutes.“

'Not even that.' He thought idly, but brushed the words aside as more thoughts gripped him, ”What would you know of my strength?“

”Boy,“ There was a near irresistible urge to snarl that Gajeel swallowed in the back of his throat, body bristling in offense, ”I've three clansmen all with the blood of Draconis in them. Surely you know that they scented you the moment you came near our walls?“

A chink in Gajeel's facade was finally made. His grin faltered with his confidence. Of course, he didn't doubt they'd catch a whiff of him if he'd smelled them, but to have passed that information along already? They were quick. The element of surprise was now lost, and that disturbed him more than he wanted to admit.

”That ruins my fun,“ He snorted, arms crossing in disdain, the shackles clacked together.

Another soft chuckle left Makarov as he propped his short legs on the edge of his desk, managing to look more indifferent than the large draconis had been. “I’ve been informed of your attunement. Metal I believe? Erza’s report of your camp was quite thorough.“

His eye twitched before he could control himself: another chink added.

”So I was right.“ He whistled, watching Gajeel with a keen eye that felt as if it were seeing straight through his mind. “A fascinating element to wield no doubt.”

When speaking with Jose, their banter always felt like a dance around threats and subtle digs of information towards one another. As if the other clan leader was always looking for a way in to sniff out Gajeel's weaknesses, but he never learned any more than what Gajeel chose to reveal.

In a span of a minute, here in this dinky room standing before a geriatric who hardly came up to his thigh, Gajeel felt uncharacteristically small. He didn’t like the clever glint in the old man’s eye or how he steepled his fingers. He didn’t like how he managed to learn what even his own clansmen didn’t know. This was a sensation that made bile rise in his throat, shame fueling the tension in his shoulders as hurt pride demanded he act out.

But he had more discipline then that and stayed still while his sharpened nails dug divots into his biceps. 

“Do you fairies always spoil the fun like this?” The question was pointed and petulant, but Gajeel felt he deserved the momentary childish barb. 

”Oh we have our own ways to have fun, I guarantee you.“ The old chief finally settled down into his seat, dropping the casual attitude as one drops a burning coal, ”Now, with that out of the way, do you want to remove those shackles or keep pretending you can't? I think we both know you wouldn't get very far if you attacked me anyway.“

That confidence was one thing shared between Makarov and Jose, Gajeel noted. A grim knowledge of one's own abilities. It was an asinine trait, but having the wind torn from his sails so soon into the conversation had left the draconis feeling out of sorts as he dragged his feet to finally sit down.

A part of him was more than satisfied when he heard the legs crack under his weight, struggling to stay intact. If he couldn't keep his abilities a secret longer than a day, fine. At least he had this. 

”Fine. You got me.“ He growled, not bothering to hide his irritation. ”But we're not here to discuss what I can do, are we? You got questions and I got the answers you need.“

”Now we're to the meat of the matter, very good,“ Makarov entwined his fingers under his chin and hummed in agreement, watching as Gajeel fiddled with the shackles but made no attempt to rip them off. He'd save that for later.

“Since you've made it obvious you come from Jose's clan,” The old man continued, voice dripping with acid at the name of the other leader, “Clearly you have a reason for giving us Kage without any demands for compensation. Before I ask you anything more pertinent, let me make one thing clear: Kage's return does not give you access to the Celestial your leader has been after and she's no bargaining chip. Are we clear?”

Gajeel snorted, his grin finally returning, “Crystal. She’s of no use to me anyway.”

And now, it finally felt as if he'd regained his foothold as he watched Makarov's stern expression drop. He decided to run with it, continuing before he could start his line of questions. Gajeel leaned forward, ignoring how the stool creaked as he propped his elbows on his knees.

“I’ll let you in on a secret. Jose thinks he sent me here to get on your good side, learn your towns in and outs and buddy up with you all before dragging the girl out by those golden locks he’s so obsessed with. That was the mission assigned to me,” The more he spoke, the more Makarov's expression changed, hardening into a silent, dangerous rage that fueled Gajeel's amusement.

“He still thinks that, and while I was down for playing along for a bit, there's no point in that now.”

“... and why is that?”

Gajeel's laugh dripped something close to madness, “Let me see your other Draconis members and I might tell ya.”

.

.

.

In the restless hours between Porlyusica begrudgingly giving Natsu the go ahead for freedom and the strange draconis being led through the gates, the Draconis of Fire was not sitting still. In fact, just outside the doors of the keep, he paced, snarling and spitting fiery fury each time he was dragged back to his quarters by those who watched him.

His fellow villagers were glad to see him on his feet. But still, they couldn’t help but wish that the old hermit had ordered him more time in his home. If only to give his frazzled keepers a break now that he was set loose. Keeping him confined to his home was infinitely easier than dragging him back to it after a long walk that always led to the keep; No matter how many times they'd convince Natsu to try a different path, to entice him elsewhere, he found one way or another to lead them back to his planned destination.

It was this constant back and forth and his demands to be let in that Makarov had found him before his meeting with Gajeel. In fact, he'd gone out specifically to settle the fiery man down, who refused to be calm and listen to reason.  Having the opportunity to tell his chief the truth about the newcomer had eased him minutely, but he continued to stay close, refusing all attempts to bring him home.

“You need to eat-” Max had attempted to lure him with the promise of a meal and he looked exhausted from the conversation, ”Seriously, Mirajane promised to cook a different kind of soup this time so-“

”Can eat it here.“ Natsu cackled, ignoring the hard stare of Wendy who'd come along. She was adamant to stay by his side ensuring he wouldn’t push himself too hard. He was talking more than he should, he knew, but the parchment Lucy had left behind was long consumed by his own flames and he hadn't the patience to bring anything similar with him.

”Seriously, Wendy. He’s being difficult. Maybe I should swap with Lucy-”  

Natsu's ferocious snarl ripped from him without thought, startling the other roma to silence. He muttered a quiet apology a moment later. The mere thought of Lucy being anywhere near the keep was too much. He wouldn't allow it. Considering Kage's attempts to kidnap her and the possible ties this new draconis had to Jose’s clan, Natsu would rather open his wounds than have her near

But he didn't bother saying this outloud, his feral snarls and disturbed pacing was enough to get the point across.

”... Natsu,“ Wendy mumbled, trying to placate him, ”Makarov already knows. No one's going to let Lucy get hurt, you know this. Please calm down.“

Her tired, meek tone was almost enough to mollify him, deflating at the look of her. She'd sat upon a nearby stump, fingers digging into the bark with claws she couldn't contain any longer. Their instincts were in sync with the arrival of a new draconis to their chosen flock and the knowledge he wasn't alone was sobering.

But he dug his heels into the dirt and shook his head, ”fine, but I ain't leaving.“

She sighed, looking at Natsu's current charge in sympathy. ”Maybe you should go get your replacement. You look like you could use some rest.“

”And leave him alone to bust the door down?“ The man asked, cringing at the thought, ”No offense to you Wendy, but I don’t think you can hold him down if he starts getting bright ideas.”

She pointed to her nose, sniffing the air as her eyes gleamed, Natsu caught the motion and immediately knew she had caught something in the air he'd missed, ”It's alright, he'll stay put.“

”Pfft, yeah right. Like I won’t-“ He began, following her action to taste the air. The wind had changed direction, something she would have sensed first before him and with that came the familiar scents of not just Erza, but the one person he hadn't wanted near at all, his statement changed in an instant, snarl returning through sharp teeth, ”Why is Erza bringing Lucy here?!”

Max stiffened with his eyes going wide as he began backing down the path. “You know what? Good idea, Wendy, I really SHOULD go. Have fun with that.“

It was almost comical how fast he booked it down the gravel path, shouting for Freed at the top of his lungs. At least it wasn't Warren, Natsu thought, that man's telepathy was irritating on a good day. He would hate having his every thought broadcasted.

But with the knowledge of Erza and Freed both coming his way, the Draconis knew he'd have little time to act and wasn't about to put Wendy in a rough spot in the scant minutes he had. A conundrum that left him grumbling in annoyed dissatisfaction.

”... do you really want Lucy to see you like this?“ Wendy asked under her breath eyeing him closely. The remark felt pointed, but the reason behind it was unknown to him.

”... What, mad? She's seen me mad before. Ain’t like this is new,“ He stated, letting her question distract him from the agitation still boiling under his skin, ”What's your point?“

”Well, uhm,“ She fumbled with the hem of her shirt, brows knitted together as she considered her next words, “since you two are together now, I thought you'd want to put your best foot forward. That's all.“

The restless anger that had him pacing disappeared with the wind, leaving him rooted on the spot. Confusion made him stare at with comically wide eyes as heat burst to his cheeks. His face felt far hotter than it should have as he spluttered, voice a blank monotone, ”Since we're what?“

His empty stare must have spoken more than his mouth  as Wendy turned a violent red. Tearing her gaze away, she wrung her hands nervously as she tripped over her words, “Oh-  are you not? I just could have sworn you-“ She cut herself off again, switching sentences on a dime, ”Oh my god, I'm so sorry. I completely- I thought-!“

An awkward laugh poured from his lips, cutting her off, fighting off the rising embarrassment that threatened to steal his voice. He asked hoarsely, dreading her reasoning but desperate to know all the same. “What did you think? Who said we're together?“

”You... you were covered in her scent the other morning,“ the air draconis explained, covering her beet red face, ”so I assumed. I'm sorry!“

It all clicked at that moment. The way she refused to meet his eyes the day before, the flush that dashed her cheeks when mentioning Lucy. Wendy's odd behavior had nothing to do with some private thing in her life distracting her but rather... Natsu's jaw dropped, staring quizzically in disbelief as the younger Draconis fidgeted in her seat.

When too many silent seconds passed, she began again, ”I really AM sor-“

”It's not the first time her scent’s been on me,“ Natsu said hurriedly, cutting her off again as he regathered his thoughts, ”I-It’s been on me before loads of times. Like... this ain't known? Why would now suddenly mean we're a thing?“

Wendy whined, peeking through her fingers at him, ”All over your face Natsu?! Her scent’s never been on your face before! And when we were coming to see you she bumped into us and- and- Your scent was all over her neck! What was I supposed to think?!“ 

Her voice cracked, striking a new octave strong enough to make his ears ring. He tried to hurriedly defend himself, but words didn’t escape-  That didn’t mean anything! That was because he-

His teeth clacked at how quickly he shut his mouth as the memories of his escape with Lucy came flooding back.

He was hardly aware of himself, too tired and comfortable to argue with Lucy when she was being weird. So he did the first thing that came to his mind, sinking his teeth in her ear. He didn’t remember much after, with sleep claiming him as he rested his head in the crook of her neck. It was the most restful sleep he’d had in a while before Kage’s scent forced him awake again. 

It felt right in the moment but now, during the day, wide awake and running on adrenaline, he finally pieced together why Lucy had reprimanded the action. He hadn't meant it the way Wendy had translated it, but -

He choked out a squeak, an oddly shrill sound that made Wendy jump in her seat. If she could smell that, then that means- ”... oh god the old lady….does she…?“

Wendy could only nod and Natsu felt another stone drop into the pit of his stomach. The approaching scent of the girl in this scenario was a staunch reminder of how little time they had left to talk privately and each second slammed another fact straight through Natsu's brain. 

Why had he been so touchy? Not just then, but lately? How often did he cross that line with Lucy and not realize it?

It was too much to think about. He decided, teeth grinding, especially with two enemies currently in the keep. Changing directions, he stuffed the thoughts of Lucy into the back of his mind (to hopefully forget), and spun towards the door of the keep. There were more pressing matters at hand. Wendy leapt from her seat, latching herself to his arm. A surge of wind wrapped itself around them, gently pushing Natsu away from the door.

”No, no, no!“ She cried, face still a flaming red. He could feel her heated cheeks against his arm and guiltily looked to his feet, still attempting to walk forward, ”Natsuuu, I really AM sorry, but you can't go in there! I swear I mostly kept it to myself so-“

He froze when she did, both realizing the emphasis she put on 'mostly.' With a voice lowering to such a whisper that his own ears could barely catch it, he tilted his gaze back to her, ”... mostly?“

”Oh no!“ She flinched, burying her face into his bicep while her fingers dug into his skin, ”I didn't mean that-! Well, I mean, I did, but it wasn't supposed to happen-'. He didn't stop her rambling, but the way they both could now hear Erza and Lucy's voice down the path helped spur her to get to the point.

“It’s just the old lady right? Only she knows?” He hissed.

Wendy gnawed at her bottom lip guiltily. ”I…..may have accidentally let it slip near Gray...“

No.

Just when he thought it couldn't get any worse, she hesitantly added, “... who was... talking to Cana.”

NO.

“Oh you’ve gotta be fucki-” Horrors upon horrors fell upon Natsu's shoulders. He needed to get inside the keep to see the old man again. Or connect his fist with something solid, like the face of that strange draconis before anything else happened. His exclamation however, was interrupted before he could finish the thought.

“Natsu!” Erza bellowed, commanding voice cutting through the air. They both froze.  She was on a warpath barrelling towards them in armored fury, leaving Lucy behind to watch with unhurried steps. “If you think you can bully Wendy into letting you in -”

Wendy looked just as overwhelmed as Natsu felt, ducking behind him to hide from her wrath. She sprang into action at Erza’s accusation, peeking out to wave frantically to the angered woman, ”It's all right! He wasn't trying to go in, I swear!“

Eyes shifted to meet Natsu’s in a silent plea, making him force a grin (albeit a terrified one) and nodded, ”Was just teasing her! I wouldn't put Wendy through that, haha.“

But then his eyes narrowed, hoping his fellow draconis would catch the underlying, 'this doesn't make up for it' message behind it. Nodding, she accepted the claim, as both seemed to take on a more relaxed air with practiced ease. 

First he needed to chuck a pillow at Makarov and Freed. Now he had to noogie Wendy and prank her. How many people were going to get added to his 'be an annoyance' list before this week was through? 

”Ah, very good then,” Erza said, her approach slowing when she caught up. She eyed them both suspiciously despite their assurances, but thought better than to continue the line of thought. Rather, she examined Natsu from head to toe and frowned deeply.

“Shouldn't you sit down?” She questioned, “While I understand your need for exercise, you've been out of bed for some time now. You should rest your legs.”

Natsu rolled his eyes and snorted. Seriously he wasn’t gonna keel over if he stood up.

“I'm fine-” Natsu cut himself off, looking over Erza's shoulder to meet the brown eyes of a certain celestial Romni finally catching up to them.

“It really doesn't matter what state you're in,” She beamed, face practically glowing with her greeting, “You're still ready to cause trouble, aren't you?”

“I-” Suddenly, words became difficult all over again. As if the damage in his throat had returned tenfold, forgetting all the hours and magic put behind healing it. He couldn't find the words to reply to her and laughed breathlessly.

At Wendy's curiously wide stare, he shook his head to regain his thoughts and scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, ”I'm just... tryna to make sure no one else gets hurt. That's all.“

And that was the perfect distraction he needed, eyes narrowing as he remembered his earlier ire. At his sudden glare, Erza matched his expression and crossed her arms. ”What’s the big idea bringing Lucy up here anyway?”

”I don't see why not.”

“There's TWO good reasons inside those doors-!”

Before Natsu and Erza could continue, Lucy jumped between them with hands on her hips, eyes glinting dangerously in his direction. “I thought we got over this speaking as if I'm not RIGHT here half a year ago?”

He flinched, “Ah... but I-“

Her expression soured, “But?“ She repeated, a hint of her magic sizzling in the air.

The return of her magic threatened to pull a grin out of Natsu, but the scent of danger radiating off her made him immediately backpedal, ”Nothing! Sorry!“

”Thank you.“ 

He didn't miss the way Wendy inhaled sharply, giving him the most deadpanned stare he'd ever seen from her.

While Natsu chose to ignore Wendy, he looked to Erza who avoided his gaze. Whatever her reasoning for bringing Lucy along, it would remain a mystery.  And rather than risk angering her further, he moved to claim Wendy’s stump, flopping onto it with a dramatic huff.  His thoughts had been in disarray since leaving his home, But now this? It was too much to think about.  Not today, he could think about it another day.

Lucy, on the other hand, took the moment to question Wendy about the draconis' inability to stay home now that he'd been given permission to walk around. Recounting the tale of Natsu's exploits against the keep door had her exasperated in seconds, but her smile grew at a subtle humor as well.

Erza had fallen silent. She vaguely listened with a curious expression. Yet her eyes flickered from place to place, unable to stay focused. 

In fact, Natsu noticed once he'd broken through his own sulking, the redhead could barely stand still: feet shifted and fingers drummed along her forearm. Once or twice her gaze settled on a specific room attached to the keep before darting back to Wendy and Lucy's conversation.

Natsu knew restless energy enough to recognize it in Erza and her revealing it was fascinating enough to distract most of his errant thoughts.

“In a hurry to go somewhere?” He cocked his head and waited for a response, surprised when Erza jumped. That was... not normal. 

“Not particularly,” Her breezy reply was too controlled and Natsu didn't buy it for a second. Ignoring Wendy and Lucy's sudden silence, he hardened his gaze and waited until Erza's uncharacterized fidgeting grew even more so, “why are you looking at me like that?”

“Why are you lying?” He countered, voice cutting sharp through the cracks of his throat.

With eye twitching, her tone dropped to a hiss, “Not everything needs to be YOUR business.”

Fear shot through his system like lightning and he gulped. Abort! Abort! “Fine, whatever! I bet it's something girly anyways.”

“You're clearly trying to provoke me,“ she crossed her arms, fiddling with straps of her leather bracers, ”considering your injuries, I'll choose to ignore it: back. off.“

Foolishly realizing he'd backed himself into a corner, Natsu was stuck between pushing her buttons further or doing just as Erza suggested. Whatever was on her mind, it wasn't worth the risk, but the curious gazes from Lucy and Wendy began to crack Erza's shell as a blush crept down her neck.

There wasn't a chance to call it out, as those flickering eyes finally caught something in the distance, widening in relief. “Ah, your charge has finally arrived. Good. I can go then.”

“Wait,” Lucy chimed in, puzzled, “what was the point in bringing me if you're just going to leave-“

Her question went unanswered as Erza beat a hasty retreat towards the keep. Turning right at the entry door, she entered the side building, where Natsu realized the smell of their other stranger was currently dwelling. His eyes narrowed as she slipped inside. Odd, but not important enough to dwell on now, not when Freed and Levy's scent invaded his senses.

”Oh, that's what she meant,“ Wendy clarified, ”He was downwind and I couldn't smell him.“ And his rising voice, chatting about the inner meanings behind rune writing and enchantments, went over all of their heads except for the short romni who walked beside him eyes gleaming in excited interest.

”Tch,“ He grumbled, ”getting more crowded by the minute.“

Now how was he going to sneak into the keep with not two, but four pairs of eyes here to watch him?! He sulked so far down into himself that he slid off the stump. Some day out this turned out to be.

.

.

.

Natsu was right to question Erza's actions. She was flustered from his perceptive senses,  annoyingly sniffing out her calm ruse. But a different worry weighed heavily on her mind, one that had her hanging on the edge with apprehension. Her old friend and temporary guest was at risk of being imprisoned right along with the other two. And his fate entirely hinged on the answers he gave in the next hour.

Her intentions with Lucy and waiting for Natsu's next keeper to arrive were layered. While Freed recovered quickly and was back to his prime, even she'd noticed Natsu's penchant for calming down around Lucy. It was an effect that garnered Erza's curiosity as well as mystified her; If it meant easing everyone’s frustrations, then it was an effect she was willing to put to use.

But she had to admit to herself, there was an altogether different motive to her actions today.  

She knocked on the door to Jellal's current quarters mostly out of polite tradition, but didn't bother waiting for permission. Using it as her introduction, she entered the small room that had once been used for storage and immediately looked for the current subject of her thoughts.

She didn't have to look long.

Jellal made it easy and the size of the room gave no options for hiding either way. Seated by a makeshift table of old barrels, he pored over a book he'd brought along with him, brows furrowed in concentration. It gave the impression he hadn't heard her at all, but the subtle pause when he skipped the page told her otherwise.  

This gave her ample time to get comfortable, grabbing the nearest, rickety chair and  barring the door from other potential visitors. Silence built between them as she watched him flip through another page, clearing his throat at odd intervals. She took the time to study his profile, noting the changes from the time she'd seen him two years earlier.

His hair was a mess, shaggier than she was used to and sheared unevenly as strands of blue brushed along his shoulders. What once was a man of pale skin, now looked tan as if he'd been under the sun for months of travel, but most noticeably, was the red tattoo etched into the right side of his face.

”You didn't have that when we last met,“ She broke the silence, pleased when he paused in his reading, softly shutting the book with a finger marking his place.  

He glanced back with a light smile crinkling his eyes.  He knew he should’ve greeted her when she came in, but he was too engrossed in the pages to pull himself away so soon.

”Many members of my clan become tattooed once they reach a certain age,“ He explained, trailing a hand along the red lines thoughtfully, ”In my case, this was due to a promotion in rank, more than anything else.“

”... does this rank perhaps have anything to do with why you sought me out?“ The question was pointed, seeing no reason to dodge the meat of the matter. 

Chuckling, Jellal shrugged, ”Ah, so we're starting this so soon?“

She murmured his name in a soft warning, eyes narrowing, “I've given Makarov my faith in you, but that doesn't mean I'm allowed to avoid protocol. I need to know why you're here.”

“And I suppose wanting to see an old friend isn't a good enough reason?” He asked, voice lowering as he looked at his book, not expecting an answer, “it would be ridiculous to assume I miraculously found your location out of a drive to see you again, but I won't lie and say I didn't wish it were the truth.”

She warmed at his confession, the implication plain as she coughed into her arm to hide it, “Please, be serious. If you don't answer me honestly, I'll have no say in where you end up next. It'll be out of my hands.”

“My apologies.“ The book was set aside and he turned in his seat fully facing her. ”Then you want to know what reason could I possibly have to work with a man whose clan has made attempts on your family's life all for the sake of kidnapping a certain girl. Am I correct?“

Erza's teeth clenched and she nodded, allowing him to continue. A few seconds passed in awkward silence and she feared he wasn't going to continue, but eventually Jellal hummed and pulled the sleeves back on his hands, holding his arms to the dim light for her to see.

His hands trembled as he held them aloft from strain of a secret shame she knew nothing of, but she spied the thin faded lines of old scrapes that litterred his skin under the sickly purples of fading bruises. They coiled around his arms and fingers, and drew her attention to what he quietly wanted her to see.

His wrists were swollen with old rope burns and she bit back a gasp. She hadn’t seen them before, and bile climbed into her throat as she wondered just how they looked before Porlyusica had a look at them.

She knew immediately what he intended to tell her. “... you were imprisoned by them.”

He nodded, covering his arms with a swift flourish, “the only one I consider myself allied with is Gajeel. Even then, it's merely out of convenience. If not for him, I'd still be tied up like some animal.”

Shocked, Erza tried to put the pieces together despite missing far too many points for a clear picture, ”I need you to tell me the whole story. Please.“

Wetting his lips with a swipe of his tongue, Jellal took a second to consider and nodded. “Jose is looking for a celestial, but he’s doing so blindly. He has no idea which one he needs so any of us not hidden to the North are fair game. When I was in their camp, Erza, I heard him boasting that he'd finally found the right one. The one your clan has taken in. A girl of golden hair whose family was massacred a year ago. I’d heard of their demise and grieved deeply for them, but I had to see for myself if there was a survivor. And if Jose was right.” 

“Right? Right about what? What would he need a celestial for?” She pressed, voice growing cold.

“There are numerous myths and legends in my tribe, Erza,” he said amiably, running a finger along the spine of his forgotten book, “and I honestly can't say I know for sure, but... this book may hold the answer. Gajeel had it. Swiped it from Jose himself, I imagine. It may hold the answers you and I both seek.”

“And Gajeel?” She asked, “what's his angle?”

He fell silent, for the first time since their chat began, he looked insecure, uncertain. ”That man has many secrets and faces. I don't think he ever lays out his full hand for anyone, but he's made it clear he doesn't plan on bringing the girl to Jose. He has his own agenda.“

Exhaling, all the tension Erza had upon entering the room fell off her shoulders. She couldn't sense an ounce of dishonesty in his words, and it was more than enough for her to feel Makarov would allow him to stay.

”Then I can only hope Makarov is able to figure out his motives for the rest of us.“ There were still many unknowns, but at least this much seemed to be in their favor.

Unfortunately, he didn't share her optimism as his lips thinned into a grimace, “I can assure you that he will speak the truth when the time comes, but he'll do everything he can to avoid sharing all that he knows. I can vouch that we're not here to cause trouble, but any further than that, is a mystery.”

“Thank you for being upfront with me,” Erza was emphatic with her words, her interest now falling on the book he was carefully studying, “... would you like to meet her?”

“Her?” Jellal blinked and Erza beamed.

”Lucy,“ She said, ”you are technically cousins, are you not?”

.

.

.

Night fell quickly for those who wanted to spend more time out and about. Natsu in particular, though distracted by his friends as best as they could, fumed at the wasted day. By the time the chill started to creep into the air, he'd been whisked back to his home and the night crickets serenaded the night sky by his window.

Erza remained in Jellal's room for hours, learning what she could and catching up with her old friend. When she fell into the comfort of her own bed, her mind buzzed with information and puzzle pieces that were far too varied to connect.  

Makarov, too, rested with his mind surrounded by deep thoughts. He frowned as he recalled his conversation with the new Draconis and tossed and turned above his furs until a fitful sleep claimed him.

It was a night full of peace and restless unease teetering back and forth on scales, waiting to balance out. Even Gajeel, given a small room to rest in, laid on a cramped cot that barely held his frame. Long hair trailed down in a wild mass to brush the floor that he swept up to rest on his chest. He smirked, combing his fingers through the long locks. His talk with Makarov led him one step closer to his goals and the shackles had been removed.

But he caught the slide of a wooden board and the familiar bolt of iron latches being shoved into place, effectively locking him. And the nearest window was too narrow for him to slip through.  He fiddled with the random baubles in his pockets and studied the ceiling above him, mind abuzz with possibilities. 

His travel partner, Juvia, should have made it back to Jose by now, he figured. While the woman was more reserved, willing to follow orders than lead, he trusted she'd feed Jose the information they agreed upon and stay at the other chief's side in his absence. She could take care of it, but that left him with his other goal. He thought it would take longer to find what he needed, but everything had fallen into his lap with very little effort. 

Withdrawing his hand from his pocket, he cupped a blue gem nestled in his palm. He eyed the small orb lazily, throwing his other arm behind his head. It glowed slightly in the darkness, and it hummed with a magic all of its own that he could feel lightly tugging against him. Beautiful and rare; a gem that could be mined in the depths of his true home. He rubbed a smudge off it and snorted, glaring into its translucent surface as if peering into a far off space.

“Now I know I ain’t taking that long for you to stop paying attention to this thing,” He said dryly as one does to a person standing in front of them. “It's only been what? Four years? Don’t tell me my old man was right about you givin’ up.”

It was a tasteless barb, one that held no heat, but sparked a response in the gem. The shimmering mass of liquid inside flickered and spun itself into an image pieced together by bits of light until he saw the innards of an old cave, illuminated by thousands of gems in its likeness. It refocused on the silhouette of an older man, peering back into its depths as he growled in turn.

”Your father,“ The man said, rolling his eyes, ”has lost the bet. He thought it would take you another ten. Good to see you alive, kid.”

He cursed, already annoyed two seconds into the conversation, “Of course he did, the ass. You're looking rather alive today, have you been able to see the sun more than once a month?”

The voice in the gem grumbled, ”You're as insufferable as he is. Get on with it. I doubt you're using up the magic in your lacrima for pleasantries.“

”Gihee, maybe I just wanna string you along just to piss-“

”Gajeel.“ The voice rumbled and the gem shook violently, spiking with heat as magic flared within its depths and somehow, so did the walls of his room. Dust fell from the ceiling and onto Gajeel’s shoulders as he flew up, stiff and alert,  glancing wildly around. He strained to hear any signs of others becoming aware of the magic surge. A beat passed and he sighed. Good, no one was alerted. He refocused on the gem and squeezed it tight with a snarl. 

“Cheating asshole,” He spat. What was it with old men ruining his fun today? “Your good ol’ pal and rival has been busy makin' connections, but he ain't got what he wants yet. On the other hand, I got exactly what YOU want.”

“...meaning?”

He smirked, eyes wild with brimming excitement, “he's here. I found him.”

Another flare of heat came from the gem, strong enough to crack the surface. But the break didn’t matter as the light began to fade. The lacrima, made to send only one simple message, had lost its stored power. With his message sent and the sudden chaos of shocked shouts within the stone cut out. Chuckling, Gajeel pocketed the stone to charge it with his magic once again. Now in a much better mood than he was before.

His whistling echoed off the walls and down the hall of the keep. The balanced scales teetered once again as the uneasy restlessness was overpowered by a sudden peace.

The village settled. Stars sparkled their light along with the moon above, and somewhere far off on the edges of the Magnolia forest, another camp settled to sleep as well.

All, but one. The Phantom Chief, receiving news from a reserved woman who recently returned. Her report was given succinctly and he'd waved her off with an impassive facade.

In truth, he was holding back cackling loud into the night. It would only be a matter of time for him to get what he wanted: glorious. 

He'd have to promote Gajeel when he returned and maybe commend Kage as well: if the lowly peon managed to survive.

[avampyone]

Prompt #10: Synthesis fail

Characters: Hemlocke and Bruce.

Synopsis: Hemlocke toils to overcome the challenges of his affinity to fire.

Setting: Shirogane, Hemlocke's bar.

Warning - none.

-----------------------

A gentle meditative tune thrummed throughout the room from the orchestration phonograph settled at one end of an alchemist’s table, containing a set of many emptied bottles of unusual colors. Patchouli Incense rolled sedately through the air, heightening one’s senses and simultaneously easing them into a state of calm – like to achieve a higher state of consciousness.

One could barely make such out in the room that appeared completely bathed in darkness now apart from a few lit candles that were bundled up around the place that Hemlocke stood. Such light gave an ominous shade to his features, half covered by the black cloth that always protected him. There was a strong gleam of resolution in burned his eye, determined – He could not fail this time.

In the center of the room, there was a place in front of him that he focused his entire being upon with slender hands marked the dark colors of different magic symbols decorating his hands, lifting his arms and spreading them out in front of him causing the long black silky sleeves of his robe to sway lightly.

He sucked in a deep breath of air and slowly released, bloodied depths outlined in their usual smudge of black kohl and a shadow of red slowly opened to stare at the kaleidoscope abyss of shadows that the flickering of candles created above, “Tonight is the night, Bruce. I have been practicing for many weeks now. I am certain I can summon the strength to do this...” His regal tone spoke out reverently, a confident grin curled at the corner of his full lips. His brows furrowed when he concentrated with a soft grunt to focus on stabilizing the natural reserves of aetherical fire energy that raged through him.

Perched safety from a little shelf above, Bruce’s black ears perked up and a swivel of his head to the right, maw opening to make a high-pitched whistle – One that sounded quite doubtful, “Alright. As we discussed, a countdown 3…2…1!” Hemlocke’s flew out his hand in a purposeful motion to send a hint of aether to come to swirl and circulate in an effort to calmly inhabit the fire crystals that lay within the iron stove below.

With a tiny squeak, Bruce bravely flew down with a flap of his wings when his small, clawed hands came to curl and gently clasp the edges of the large bowl to drag along to pour something within. A thick liquid began to spread out in a circle on the heated pan below, giving off the instant scent of sweetness mixed with a hearty wheat, “By the Fury, I believe this is working...!” Only as soon as Hemlocke called this out, there was a sudden explosion of thick batter that flew out from all sides of the pan.

 All that didn’t escape instantly became burnt to a crispy in a roar of flames that he had to step away from, patting away any burnt embers that had caught on his clothing. Even his favorite bandages wilted and became crispy against his cheek with a helping of pancake batter oozing down from his hair seeping onto the cloth, “Bloody hell. That was my favorite one too…” He groaned out, never minding he would have to scrub this entire outfit later.

“On the other hand, would you not say it kept still for a good minute before the accident? I would say we are making satisfactory progress.” Shifting his hands to hips, Hemlocke nodded as if pleased with their small success and peering all but ready to try again. Back in the safety of his favorite spot on the shelf, Bruce shrieked out as if in protest to Hemlocke’s delulu, trying to shake off the bits of thick batter that clung to his wings and fur.

[theprophetizaiah]

Achilles Come Down | Chapter 1: Pain As a Motive

Summary: Crowley believes Aziraphale died in the bookshop fire. Now, he's sending the armies of hell to avenge him. Based loosely on the story of Achilles and Patroclus.

Warning: None for this chapter! (Aside from some foul language)

Word count: 1.5k (this chapter)

All chapters should be available here! (I haven't written on Tumblr in many moons please forgive me)

To read on AO3, check out my work here!

Crowley burned in the hell he imagined he’d always belonged in. Ashes rained from the heavens. Burning paper engulfed his senses. Black smoke burned in his eyes. He breathed in his dead lover. Misery. Misery for the rest of eternity.

“Somebody killed my best friend!” he was somewhere between a yell and a sob. “Bastards!” Between fury and agony.

They spent the last 6,000 years toeing the line between best friends and lovers. Dining at the Ritz, feeding ducks, saving each other from mortal peril, you know, as friends do. Crowley would know him in any lifetime. From the weight of his step, the smell of his hair, the sound of his breath (it would skip and stutter when he had thought of something clever). The air around Aziraphale was always heavy, but not in the manner of suffocation. Rather, his aura was a heavy wool blanket. Warm, grounded, homey. The closest thing Crowley ever really had to a home.

Before the apocalypse, Crowley recalled their drunken ramblings. Amidst the whiffs of red wine, he remembered how he smelled. Like earl grey, oak, and bourbon: something his barber suggested. He also always smelled a bit like paper. It made the burning around Crowley all the more unbearable. Anthony J. Crowley, fallen angel and Duke of Hell, reeling over the doing of a foreigner’s god. Certainly not the one he knew, or maybe exactly the one he knew.

He laid in the flames, thinking through his new reality. This was a rare moment of clarity for the distraught demon. Who killed him: heaven or hell? Either reality had some sense to it. Heaven could, and would, excommunicate him for working with a demon. Permanent discorporation, or banishment to hell. Hell would kill him just for the sake of it. Just to say they did. Racking his brain, he realized Hell was unfortunately, his best chance of finding Aziraphale, or at least what became of him. Crowley slowly creeped up from the ashen ground. He was unsure how much time had passed, but it seemed that the flames had slowed. In mere moments, he stared between the two escalators. He chose downward. As the escalator carried him into the dank, dark corridors, his anguish gnawed at him, clawing its war from the inside out. He allows a single tear, and immediately wipes it away. Only the damned cry in hell.

Crowley had stopped fighting for hell decades ago. In the presence of his angel, he saw no reason for it. He saw no reason to fill the world with more violence. The humans were better at that anyway. After his bout in Edinborough, he was promptly tortured for the next several decades. Crowley never saw the face of Satan, but he would give it an ethereal, firm uppercut the second he had the chance. He lost faith in his leadership, in the art of mass scale temptation. He preferred the gentle temptation of his beloved. Of asking him out to breakfast, bringing him wine, planting seeds of heavenly doubt in his mind. He thought often about the Greek myth of the origin of love. They were alone together at the edge of the universe, a body of eight limbs, four eyes, and a flutter of feathers. Whoever Crowley was, it was a product of the angel. Whoever Aziraphale was, it was Crowley’s collateral. And beautifully so, their symbiosis carried on through the centuries. The demon had the fight pulled out of him the way the angel unshelved his books. Carefully and with gentle hands. 

But now that he was gone, this was war. If he had nothing, he would still have Aziraphale, but if he didn’t have his angel, he had nothing. His fury craved battle, to make them hurt the same way he did. His wrath could summon the very same fire that had surrounded him in the hours prior. If his beloved really was gone, then he would destroy the heaven that took him.

Crowley barely managed his way through the crowds of demons slowly but surely trudging their way through the crowded corridors of hell. After passing the rest of the high offices he comes to the door of the one and only Beelzebub. For a moment, he questions if he should even knock, let alone open the door. He wonders if any of this is worth it in the first place. What if his Angel didn't care whatsoever about him? What if he didn’t need saving, or worse, he was already long gone? But in reality, he knew that wasn't the case. He’d be damned, more than he is already, if he let Aziraphale die knowing that he could have prevented it. Crowley gulps and burst open the door of Beelzebub's office. Demons were typically not known for their politeness. Inside, he sees Beelzebub sitting upon their throne, legs crossed fancifully, almost as if they were expecting him. Crowley's stomach turns at this realization. 

“How's it going up there?” Beelzebub asks. Crowley puts on his best front and looks Beelzebub dead in the eyes and lies:

 “Fantastic,” he says. “The Antichrist is mere moments from inciting the Apocalypse.” 

Beelzebub smirks. “Wonderful. Great job.” 

Crowley shudders ever so slightly. Not enough for anyone else to notice, but enough for him to feel a profound discomfort. He again looks to Beelzebub, “did you capture the angel? Is he here?”

Beelzebub looks confused. “What do you mean capture the angel?”

“Aziraphale,” Crowley starts. “The other angel that has worked in my same jurisdiction for six thousand years. Did you capture him?”

Beelzebub purses their lips, seemingly scanning their memory. Alas, still confused. “No… Why would you assume that? Why would we let him in here?” They began to look vaguely suspicious of their colleague.

 Crowley pulled something out of his ass. “I saw that the Bookshop was on fire,” he blurted out. “I could have only imagined that it was demonic intervention.” Beelzebub chuckled. 

“It's not always hellfire,” Crowley stifles a laugh, just enough for Beelzebub to think it's genuine. Beelzebub speaks up once more. “Yeah, I don't know about the angel. We don't have ‘im here.” Crowley takes a moment and a step back. He decides to tell the best lie that he's ever told, aside from the fact that he was not madly, disgustingly in love with a forbidden fruit. 

“I want that slimy bastard gone forever,” Crowley spits. “I want that fussy dumbarse to not be anywhere near God's green Earth.”

“Well, I know that much… What are you suggesting?” 

Crowley laughs disingenuously, but trying desperately to seem genuine. “I think we need to raid heaven.”

Beelzebub looks puzzled. “But why do we need to raid the heavens if we have already conquered the Earth, Crowley?” they said. “Why would we postpone destroying Earth to fight this war first?”

“That’s exactly it… they’ll never see it coming,” Crowley says. “We can start with the archangels: Gabriel, Michael, Uriel… There will be no one left to lead their army in such short order. Then we let the Earth burn, and winning their holy war will be easier than dropping the antichrist at the convent.”

His voice grows raspy. Crowley takes a deep breath. “It'll let them know once and for all that their God means nothing.” Crowley sits down in front of Beelzebub. They seem a bit more intrigued. Crowley describes a plot more ambitious than any of his plans to date: to invade the heavens. To crusade his lover’s workplace by summoning a demonic army, comprised of hundreds of damned souls. He plans to force them through the Gates of Heaven to slaughter any angels in their sight. Beelzebub loved this concept, and was almost surprised Crowley came up with it. But, he did dream up the Spanish Inquisition, after all (or so they thought).

“Honestly, why not?” Beelzebub smirks. “If we're all going to be separated for the rest of time anyway, this would be a fun way to go out. If they want us to fight this war, we ought to do it our way. Hell fights dirty.” As the flies buzzed among their crown, they grinned the way a child would when they had come up with the perfect prank. Except this wasn’t a prank. It was the end of the world. Of Crowley’s, at least.

Beelzebub grimaced. Crowley laughed. “Well, I'll go talk about it with head office, and we'll get it sorted. I want it done by the end of the day today. That sound alright?” Beelzebub nodded in excitement. Crowley seems giddy with anticipation but not in the way that you would imagine. The anxiety pulsed through his veins. He was setting into motion the divine war days earlier than was planned, all for a fussy angel he drank wine with one too many times. But at the same time, he knew this was his reality. Crowley couldn’t pretend he didn’t love him anymore. Not when he could be dead. If heaven wanted a war, they were going to get it, god dammit.

[xiv-wolfram]

WolfBahn Ship Summary - Part 2

A Realm Reborn

Part 1 - Prequel I realized the comics are... a lot. So I decided to make a short summary of my Wolfram x Raubahn ship. As I started to write I realized it was also... a lot. So clearly WolfBahn is simply... a lot. Eh, this is still way less to read than the comics, enjoy.

13 years after Wolfram and Raubahn had broken up, Wolf knew full well that he was still in love and would never move on. Frequently hearing news about the famous Flame General of Ul'dah probably hadn't helped matters. He'd made a sort of peace with it and was living as an adventurer in Limsa Lominsa, helping others in order to atone for his past. He and his friend X’Rhun Tia, trained red mages on the rare occasion they had an apprentice. Otherwise, Wolfram's time was usually spent working for the guild or doing odd jobs for the Admiral to pay the bills while Rhun traveled.

During one such job, Wolf stumbled upon a plot by the Serpent Reaver pirates to kidnap people and have them enthralled by the Sahagain god Leviathan. After saving the day, Admiral Merlwyb threw a banquet with the adventurer as her honored guest. It was here that Wolf revealed a crystal he had found to the city leader and his new acquaintance Y’Shtola. They talked about the Warriors of Light that had helped during the Calamity. He was told he held a Crystal of Light and was the vessel of a higher power. Once getting some clarification Wolfram burst out laughing. Obviously, someone tainted like him wouldn't be chosen by a powerful and benevolent goddess. Despite his skepticism, Y'Shtola invited him to meet with the leader of her organization.

After meeting Minfillia, he was relieved to learn about the Echo - it meant the voidsent hadn't been getting stronger as it had claimed. Wolfram joined the Scions to study his mysterious power and help people on a larger scale. However, he couldn't deny that another motivation for joining the was to potentially see his ex-partner again (without the threat of jail, given the Scions' political standing). Having an Echo vision of Carteneau was honestly a bit too much Raubahn for Wolfram to shake off.

Wolf spent some time getting to know his new allies whilst aiding Limsa Lominsa and Gridania. Then he found himself in Thanalan face to face with the primal Ifrit and only had a brief moment to question why he wasn't being tempered before having to fight for his life. He made it out but many of the Immortal Flames weren't so lucky. He lamented not being strong enough to protect them. While thrilled and terrified at the idea - he would apologize to their leader in person.

Wolfram entered Ul'dah for the first time in over a decade. He attended a speech Flame General Aldynn was giving. Instead of the fear he assumed would invade his thoughts - Wolf felt nothing but pride in how far the gladiator had come. His cheers were the loudest.

Raubahn noticed Wolfram in the crowd and hardly believed his eyes. He had spent years lamenting his actions, trying to move on but plagued with regrets and wondering if his former love had survived the Calamity. Even if he’d betrayed his trust, the gladiator didn’t want him dead. Finally, he knew - Wolfram was alive and well! After he was done addressing the Ul'dahn citizens he walked up to Wolf, doing his best to hide a smile, and asked if the adventurer would like a private meeting.

The General had a busy schedule but they had a few moments to speak before his next obligation. Neither could hide their happiness to see each other again. Wolf even teased Rau a bit for being surprised that Wolf hadn’t wondered about him, forgetting that he was famous. Raubahn didn't blame Wolfram for his soldiers Ifrit had taken and was impressed that the man he used to know as a simple cook had defeated a primal. He extended an invitation to join his Grand Company and Wolfram said he would be happy to join the Immortal Flames. The gladiator was relieved to know the mage was alive and well after so long wondering. Their reunion felt wonderfully strange to both of them - any awkwardness was overshadowed by their pure joy. 

After returning to the Waking Sands to give Minfilia his report, Wolf went back to Ul'dah the next day to formally join the Grand Company. Raubahn had the day off but wanted to give Wolfram a tour of the headquarters. A new recruit receiving a tour from the General himself drew notice, but most assumed it was because he'd bested Ifrit. However, those who knew him best noted an odd change in their leader’s demeanor. Wolfram and Raubahn did some proper catching up, with Rau asking the mage what he’d been up to since he’d left Ul’dah. After hearing his journey of self-improvement, Raubahn told Wolf that he would have been happy to see him earlier and that his threat had been an empty one born from anger. Wolfram told the gladiator about his new life devoted to aiding others and was surprised to receive praise for the efforts he'd made to become a better person. Unfortunately due to some miscommunication and false assumptions about the other's preference, they ended up agreeing to keep things professional and not let anyone know about their past, despite them each secretly wishing to be friends. 

For most of the events of ARR they were coworkers who occasionally fell out of formality accidentally - like when Livia raided the Waking Sands and everyone thought the Scions were dead. Raubahn couldn't hide his relief when Wolf walked into the Alliance’s meeting to discuss the Black Wolf’s ultimatum. Merlwyb even teased Raubahn in private later for the most she'd ever seen him smile in a single sitting. Whenever someone caught on to their familiarity they admitted only that they had been friends years ago but asked that the information not be spread. The Monetarists were enough of a problem already and would absolutely use it to accuse the Scions of favoring the Royalists.

Things started to change between them the night before their attack on Castrum Meridianum. Raubahn took Wolfram aside to speak privately. He hesitantly asked if the mage had enough control over the voidsent to go into a building full of Garleans. Wolf was offended, assuming Rau was worried he would hurt the other Flames. He swore he would end his own life if he felt his control slipping rather than endanger anyone else. The General explained that's not what he meant - he didn't want Wolfram to risk himself and ordered him to flee the battle if he became panicked as he had occasionally in the past. The mage was furious at the suggestion and repeated back word for word something cruel that Raubahn had said to him when they broke up. The gladiator was horrified that those hateful words said in anger had stayed with Wolf all those years and started apologizing in an uncharacteristic panic, stating that if anything he said made Wolf not value his own life he was sorry and didn't mean any of it. Wolfram calmed down and explained that he was just bothered by the hypocrisy of suggesting he take such cowardly action by someone who’d called him selfish. He told the General that his harsh words were the catalyst that had set him on the path of atonement. If he was the hero people claimed him to be - it was because of Raubahn. While tense, that night helped resolve a bit of the pain from their past they were holding onto, helping them move forward and finally become more casual with each other.

Part 3 - A Ream Reborn Patches

[andrea-lyn]

time for another rec post, multi-fandom style:

fandoms include: 4 x atla, 2 x the raven cycle, 1 x dungeons & dragons honor among thieves (link will be added to the master post!

avatar the last airbender (zukka)

i'll tell you the truth (but never goodbye) by lesmiserablol

“I was ready to fight for us. I was ready to find a way, any way for us to work. And you were the one who ran away when it got too hard!” “That’s not what happened and you know it!” Sokka snaps. “It was never going to work, and it was stupid to keep pretending otherwise! I’m sorry Zuko, I am, but just because you are the Fire Lord, just because we– we were in love, everything wasn’t going to magically fall into place.” Zuko still has a stubborn expression on his face. There are angry tears in his eyes when he says, “We could’ve figured it out. We could’ve…been us. We could’ve had a good life together.” “Yeah, well, I guess we won’t ever know.” (or, the twenty years between Zuko and Sokka breaking up and finally getting together again, shown in 5 times they don’t say goodbye, +1 time they don’t have to)

boy problems by burnt_oranges

“I accidentally signed off on an arranged marriage to Sokka,” Zuko says faintly. He sits up so fast he almost falls out of his chair. “I signed off on an arranged marriage to Sokka, and he agreed." In which Zuko suffers in a variety of ways, including but not limited to: close and constant proximity to the object of his affections, assassination attempts, and irreparable injuries to his dignity.

Yesterday is Ashes by alivingfire

Sokka takes a strategic step back, but he also smiles: triumphant, like he baited Zuko into exactly what he wanted. Like it’s a challenge. It’s the same way he looked when they sized each other up at the prison, with Sokka in chains that left red marks around his wrist, in tattered prison garb, malnourished and angry. Back then, that was Sokka saying: I see your power. I see you. Now, see me. Zuko saw him then. And he sees him now; different, but the same. I see you. Zuko lights his daos in flame. Sokka grins, back to gravel and heat. “Come on, Fire Lord. Impress me.” Zuko burns. His vision flickers with fire. His heart races. His blood sings. His body is like a magnet, pulling ever onward to meet Sokka’s. He advances. He pins Sokka to the wall, blades against his throat. Or, Zuko found Aang first, Sokka and Katara were imprisoned in Boiling Rock for trying to rescue their dad, and all Sokka knows is he's pretty sure he's not supposed to think the Fire Lord is attractive but he's never let things like rules stop him before.

in flammam flammas【火上澆火】 by ranilla_bean

Zuko scoffed. “As always, I am the author of my own unhappiness.” Sokka hummed. “Years ago, when it was just us travelling together, we came across this fortune teller. I didn’t believe any of that mumbo-jumbo. But then she said that my life would be full of struggle and anguish, most of it self-inflicted.” It suited Zuko’s life extraordinarily well, he felt. “Sometimes, I feel like I’m the only person in the Fire Nation who has a vision of what it takes for this country to get better.” Sokka turned to face him, but Zuko looked resolutely forwards. “That can’t be true.”

Zuko turns twenty-five. In spite of his best efforts, the Fire Nation seems to lurch from crisis to crisis. The firebenders have lost their flame, and the situation with the former colonies is only worsening. All the while, he's ill, lonely, and consumed by work. And on the other side of the country, Sokka has just moved in with one Master Piandao.

Raven Cycle

cool of your hand, back of my neck by grandfather_clock

Adam Parrish has been dumped for the second time ever. Ronan Lynch is a gleeful, weirdly invested observer. They drive around all night long. featuring: teenagers pretending they aren’t in love, shouting over loud music, minor arson, major arson, ronan lynch’s hand fixation, and an unfortunate amount of kiting.

getting swept away by sunmoontruth

“So. Your page. Your knight. Two different people, yes?” the psychic guesses—intuits. She points to each of the tarot cards: a girl with a golden cup, a boy with a golden cup. “Yes,” Gansey says. “But similar feelings,” the psychic says, mostly to herself. She opens her mouth. She closes her mouth. She instructs, “Last card.” Gansey draws. Death. Reversed. — Or a cross country road-trip, developing feelings, and the end of the world

DND: Honor Among Thieves

tenets of devotion by weatheredlaw

Ed leaned forward and put his head in his hands. “This is ridiculous. You know that, right?” “Eh, I think you’ve done weirder things.” “Weirder than marrying a paladin and infiltrating a cult together?” Holga shrugged. “You’ve done a lot of weird things. Don’t make me list them all.” or: xenk needs edgin's help to take down a cult. absolutely nothing can go wrong. right?