#NOT WHEN I. THE FLY IS FIGHTING THE EQUAL-IN-SIZE FLY

[slimmestslime]

played ultrakill. i hate v2

[aemondtargaryenonlyfans]

WHAT NOURISHES ME, DESTROYS ME.

Maegor I Targaryen x little sister!Reader

You and Maegor have always been a good team, but when he sits on Iron Throne after your older brother‘s death and doesn't allow you to come to war with him, you have to remind Maegor that he wouldn‘t be where he is without your help.

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT–MINORS DNI; DUB/NON CON, spit kink, humiliating, size kink, size difference, power imbalance, hate sex, canon typical incest/targcest, fighting, violence

WORDS: 2.6 K

NOTES: This was written for @fairysluna and @borikenlove and is based on the scene in Vikings season 1 episode 2 where Lagertha fights Ragnar.

Maegor was only half dressed as you stepped into his chambers. The stool he sat in looked ridiculously small underneath his bulky presence, just like the castle’s barber did. His head was tilted back, allowing the much smaller man to attend to the grooming of his neat beard, and despite his eyes being closed, the smug smirk on his lips gave away he knew it was you barging into his quarters. 

“Why must mother inform me that I cannot come to the Blackwater with you, brother?” You all but spat the words out, hands formed to fists at your sides with your knuckles already blanching. 

“It is Your Grace for you,” Maegor’s voice drawled as he did not move, voice uncharacteristically soft but still determined to put you back in your place. 

Your level of anger did not allow you to pay any attention to it, not caring enough to respect the courtesies. It was surprising that Maegor managed to keep his temper at bay, considering he was far more quarrelsome than you were. 

“This was going to be the most exciting battle of my life,” you hissed. “To fly upon Dreamfyre’s back, alongside Balerion.”

“I do not want you to come,” he said, still in the same position as before, though you could hear just a hint of irritation in his tone. “I need to leave the castle in the hands of someone I trust, and there is no one else besides you and mother.” It was a poor attempt of him to lessen your anger, but caused quite the opposite.��

Having brooded over it ever since you broke fast, your patience ran thin, and in moments like this, you felt the Blood of the Dragon coursing through your veins. 

With quick strides, you headed over to where Maegor sat and snatched the sharp knife out of the barber’s hand, pressing it to your brother’s throat. That seemed to stir him enough to open his eyes, and the familiar purple quickly flickered up to meet your matching pair. You could feel his pulse quickening through the blade, yet you did not apply enough pressure to draw some blood. 

 “I have dreamt of this many times, and in my dreams, Dreamfyre and Balerion were always together. We were always together,” you tried to reason. 

Maegor had your wrist in a painfully tight grip within seconds without giving you any chance to react. The tight impact caused you to sharply draw in some air, before you found yourself being pulled into his lap with an equally tight grip capturing your throat. 

There it was. He had snapped. 

The sharp blade clattered to the ground as you clawed at his large hand with both of yours, panic settling in your bones. “You would do well to follow your King’s orders,” his hot breath fanned across your face when he brought yours closer to his. 

In the distance, you faintly heard the door to Maegor’s chambers fall shut, indicating that the barber had left without a word. 

A lightheaded feeling spread throughout your mind with you choking for air, not getting better when his lips captured yours in a kiss that was shy of gentleness and chasity. 

When your teeth harshly bit down on his bottom lip, he released you in surprise, seizing the chance to bring some space between your bodies. Upon a closer look, you spotted a few droplets of blood on his pale skin, and your panic was replaced by pride, even if it only lasted for a few seconds. 

As his bull-like body rose from its seat and proweld towards you, your head craned upwards to meet his purple eyes. It was a good thing he was not able to see how your heartbeat quickened at his movements, and though he was your brother and twin, Maegor still was unpredictable and always in control. 

For a split second, you thought he would actually do something, however, it had merely been an intimidation tactic, a clear warning. He stopped just a few inches shy of you, crossing his rippled arms in front of his chest. 

You grabbed a hold of the closest item you could grasp–a candlestick in this case–and proceeded to try to swing it at him, but someone as skilled as Maegor had an easy game ducking and grabbing something to block your attack. 

It was obvious that he held back, because otherwise you would’ve been flung through his chambers by now. What you did not notice was that he slowly but surely backed you up against the bed, stalking closer towards you with each step, practically herding you.  

“Am I not good enough for you anymore?” You asked, swinging the candlestick at him once again. This time around, Maegor did not try to lessen your blows and just ducked. “Am I not strong enough for you?” When there did not come any objection or reaction from him, you moved to kick him with your foot, which didn’t do more than barely pushing him back. It was clear you did not have anywhere near the physical strength required to move someone of his caliber, more without his compliance. 

“Don’t you remember?” You asked–no spat. “I fought with you in the Stepstones. I saved your life.”

By the look on Maegor’s face, he seemed to find a certain liking in your outburst, not because he had not seen you like that before, but because he always enjoyed putting you back in your place after. In that moment you truly were your mother’s daughter, and Maegor loved your mother just as dearly as you. A smirk that dripped with malice was etched onto his features, sending shivers down your spine once you noticed it. 

The realization was short lived, because your next blow was seized by him getting the candlestick from you by twisting it, recklessly throwing it aside and demolishing some vessels standing on a chest of drawers. “Without me, you would not sit on the Iron Throne!” A harsh kick of him pushed you down to the bed behind you with him following shortly after and settling between your parted legs, immobilizing you. You grunted at the impact, but where quickly shushed by his proximity.

He had your throat captured once again, but not as tight as before, and allowed you to actually breathe. “How could I forget!” His deep voice rang out, resembling more an animalistic growl than an actual human’s voice. “You keep reminding me,” each word was emphasized with a tight squeeze to your throat, inevitably pushing you deeper into the mattress beneath. 

His bulky frame was looming over your much smaller one, the entirety of your neck covered by his hand though he hadn't even splayed out his fingers. Your hand clasped around his wrist with your nails digging into his skin, but he did not hiss at the pain, effortlessly keeping you pinned beneath him. 

“I am so angry with you.”

Maegor made it no secret that the whole act aroused him, and shamelessly pressed his bulge against your womanhood, causing you to take in a sharp breath, as you felt your own arousal coating the inside of your smallclothes. 

Upon seeing the smug grin that adorned his features, you had never longed more for Dreamfyre to unleash her flames, because Maegor knew you could never say no to him - regardless of how angry or sad you were. 

Your eyelids lowered as you looked up and down his stern face, trying to observe his darkened eyes. They met yours, trying to guess your next move.

“Are you sure?” Came as a reply, and within seconds, his large hands had grasped your waist and flipped you over onto your stomach. One of his hands applied a good bit of pressure to the back of your neck, while the other pushed the skirts of your dress up and pulled down your smallclothes in one motion.

As his calloused fingers dragged through your mound, you refrained from bucking your hips into his touch and opted to try to wiggle out of his grasp. Maegor just chuckled dryly at that, and when two of his digits eased into your core, every sense of restraint left your body. 

Your face was pushed into the bedcovers, though the moan you released still was perfectly audible to him. 

“That’s what I thought,” your twin replied smugly. “You would not be so wet if you really were angry with me, Y/N.”

While you felt ashamed he had noticed your body’s reaction to him, you could not deny that the silence between you was thick with tension, both of you obviously longing for more. And with Maegor being a bit blunter than you were, he had no shame wording his desires. 

“Must I fuck some sense into you, sister? Must I treat and fuck you like a common whore to remember you of your place again?”

Even with your head barely turned to the side, you could see the way his bulky frame was looming over your much smaller one, covering its entirety in a mere display of dominance. That alone almost was enough to put you into submission, but a few threads inside of you still clung to the initial hurt of him not wanting you to join him in battle, hence you tried your best not to give in to him. 

But still, his condescending words put a bright blush to your cheeks, the color even running down your neck and spreading along his large hand clasping the back of it. “There-There is no-no need for that, brother,” you stuttered, voice not louder than a whisper.

You should’ve seen it coming, but his fingers quickly were replaced by his hard cock. When the bulbous tip of it prodded against your entrance, you already tried to prepare yourself for it, but to no avail. 

Being as rough as always, Maegor practically forced himself into your tightness, causing you to cry out - but not in pain or dismay. The daunting size of his cock always rendered you speechless, though it was very much in proportion with his large body. 

The pace he set up was reckless and harsh from the very beginning, and whenever the tip of his member brushed the sensitive spot within your core, the breaths hitched in your throat, hiccuping and trying to fill your lungs the short moments he used to draw his hips back. 

Instead of being propped up on your hands and knees, you just laid on the bed, unable to move even in the slightest. Maegor seemed to relish in the dominance he held over you, and your body seemed to keen at the realization, too. 

Your bodies were an interesting contrast, despite you being twins. His broad and powerful form, even larger than your father Aegon The Conqueror, was towering over, driving into and domineering your delicate body in every possible way. 

You fisted the silken bed covers as if your life was depending on it, knuckles blanching from the force in an attempt to keep your body grounded and strong for his reckless assault. “G-Gods… be… good,” you whined through particularly harsh thrusts, your voice increasing in volume. 

The sounds of his heavy stones slapping against your slick core and the creaking of the bed probably could be heard by anyone that passed by the King’s chambers and even further down the corridor, but neither of you cared. Maegor and you were dragons, true blood Targaryens that were determined to rule the Realm together. If it was up to him, he’d take you in the Throne Room atop the Iron Throne and have everyone of court watch–or at least hear–the pair of you. 

“I am your King, and I expect you to treat me as such,” Maegor growled through gritted teeth, emphasizing the meaning of his words with harsh thrusts of his hips and a tight squeeze of his hands on yours. “Am I understood?”

“Y-Yes, Your Gr-Grace,” you stuttered out, clearly cock drunk. 

“Good.”

You were so lost in the bliss your twin granted you, that you had not even noticed your eyes squeezed shut with tears brimming in the corners–until his calloused fingers dug into your cheeks and turned your head to force you to look at him from over your shoulder. 

“Not so bold anymore, mh?” Maegor asked, though it was obvious the question was outright sarcastic, not expecting an answer from you. “Where is your confidence now, silly girl?”

As your lips parted in an attempt to hiccup something in return, Maegor seized the chance and spat a thick puddle of his saliva straight to the corner of your pouty lips. A bit of it dripped into your mouth, whereas the rest stayed exactly where he had spat it to.

The second your tongue darted out to gather the rest of his saliva, he pushed his hips into yours harshly and immediately stopped in his tracks while buried to the hilt inside of you, a loud tsking echoing through the chambers followed by a “No.” You stopped–of course you did–and only gasped once you noticed the fullness within you and the warmth of his saliva spreading all over you flushed cheeks with his thumb smearing it.

Shame rose within your body, fighting with the despair you felt at him not moving anymore. You figured it was time to take your pleasure into your own hands, and started to rock your hips against his, though your movements were far slower and much more sensual. Maegor chuckled dryly at that, and released your face in order to serve a stinging slap to your arse. 

You squealed and inevitably clenched down around him, resulting in the bull behind you drawing in a sharp breath. “Just as desperate for my cock as any of the common whores in the Street of Silk, I see,” he remarked snakily, the smirk on his chiseled features perfectly audible. 

“But I will be no cruel man,” with that, he proceeded to impale you on his hard cock, snapping his hips into yours over and over again, until the familiar coil in your belly seemed to tighten. 

There was no one else that knew your body better as your twin, and as if he was spurred on by the reaction of your body to his ministrations, he snaked his large hand flatly underneath your lower body and started to circle his deft fingers around the sensitive bud at the apex of your legs, amplifying your pleasure and your following peak. 

Your core was clenching around him so tightly with whines and moans spilling past your lips like prayers, that Maegor barely was able to declare his own approaching peak, only noticing he reached it once his warm seed filled your body and added to the overall fullness you felt.

Without another word and not even the repercussions of his peak fully subsiding, Maegor pulled out and laced the front of his breeches back up. Picking the knife of the barber up from the ground, he trimmed the rest of his beard himself, only sparing you a scarce glance through the mirror.

You rearranged your smallclothes and dress, despite his seed oozing out of your core, and slowly stalked towards him like a hunter. The emotions within your body had calmed, clearing your mind again. 

“So, I assume I am allowed to join Your Grace on his flight to the Blackwater?” You asked in the sweetest voice you could muster and even paid attention to the damned courtesies, determined to get exactly what you wanted. 

But without even turning to look at you, Maegor retorted a stern “No,” before placing the knife down as he was finished. “You are dismissed now–I have to sit on Dragonback in an hour.”

[doodle-pops]

House of Feanor | Having A Human S/O

Request: Can i request a feanorian group headcannon about having a human lover? — @misfortunateleprechaun

A/N: I couldn’t resist including a short reader in the mix because I know most of us are tiny beside these elves :)

Fëanor

Curious to learn all there is about you. Whether you’re naturally short, how you age, your life span, your features, culture, linguistics, everything, you name it. And when he does, it pushes for him to become even more intrigued with YOU.

Wants to follow you around as much as possible. Just picture a short you and a giant elf nearly 8ft trailing behind you asking millions of questions or silently observing you in your natural world.

Understands that humans are delicate and much more breakable than elves, so he treats you with the same care as he does for his jewels. You are fragile and deserve the utmost protection and care.

With that being said, you are not spared from being blessed with the great riches he is endowed with. Showers upon showers of gifts bestowed to make your mortal lifespan enjoyable and full of luxuries.

An enjoyment of his would be your vast size difference, as would all the elves when you lie, sit or walk beside him. Even when he needs to make jewellery, he marvels at the sizes and concludes that you are no larger than an elfling.

He will keep to himself knowing how you react when being compared to an elf child…or he might mention it because he enjoys your responses and phrases unheard of to elven ears.

Feanor takes great pride in having you as his S/O and accepts no criticism from anyone. He adores you with every fibre of his being and will worship the ground you walk on.

Maedhros

“Why are you so tiny, unlike other mortals I have come across?” That would be words spoken to himself upon meeting you because he’s already a freaking giant. It’s worse when you must stand on objects to meet this over-eight-foot-tall figure.

Holds out his hand and watches as you wrap your entire hand around two of his fingers. He has to bite his lip to hold back the laughter, because you attempt to guide him, and it looks like a child leading him off to Eru knows where.

Prefers when you sleep on his chest while (awake) he reads or relaxes on the balcony. Never allows you to close when you’re sharing the same bed and he’s sleeping. Do you want to go flying through a window with one of his kicks? You’re fragile babes, sleep on the floor.

Deep down, he believes that you deserve a lover who doesn’t have to place a restrain on everything they’re doing to prevent hurting you…physically. Play fights are a thing that happens rarely because you once knocked your own hand on the bedpost, and he blamed himself for forgetting your fragility.

With that being said, he gets worried about you when you accidentally injure yourself because you’re a mortal…soft, squishy and delicate. Please, don’t make him wrap you in the duvets like a burrito for your safety.

Since your lifespan is shorter than his, Maedhros’ main goal is to in ensure as much peace can be granted in your life. Takes you to the most scenic places around Beleriand or just nearby Himring and keeps you far away from his brothers, minus Maglor. Gives you a Shetland pony to ride for the kicks of it and watches as you fold.

He doesn’t seem to understand how you joke so easily about ageing and grimaces every time you crack a joke about your soon-to-be wrinkled appearance or increased fragility. You’re set to give him the heart attack instead of you.

Loves to compare your size to an elfling and jokes about having to purchase ready-made clothes in the children’s section for you.

Maglor

Humoured by your size and delicacy, and equally motherly as Maedhros. Henning over every little accident with a read-to-scold expression on his face and incoherent words spilling out his mouth about needing to cover you from head to toe.

Maglor adores your compliments when he sings for you or writes sonnets or poems. He understands that his species differ greatly from humans, hence his voice would sound ethereal to your ears, sparking grand praises. It tickles his ego and spurs him into never-ending songs because he lives for your praises.

Adores carrying you around because you’re as light as a feather and he could lift you with his pinkie finger. Sit on his shoulders, piggyback rides, cling to his legs or chest as he walks around his fort and ignores all the strange looks his servants are giving him.

He’s someone who respects humans and mortal life, so at no point would he ever allow you to feel insignificant compared to his elven nature. Hates to hear you ill-speak your mortality or even condemn the relationship to failure because of your differences.

Still hesitant when it comes to playfighting and unlike a certain brother, he wouldn’t scold himself for your injury. However, he would still engage and quickly dissolve everything to cuddles or a nap.

Sleep atop his chest and he’ll fawn because you look so tiny and feel weightless. One time you both fell asleep, however, Maglor forgot you were sleeping on his chest (because you’re so light), so when he rolled, you fell right off the bed.

Surprisingly cool with your human ageing jokes, especially the wrinkly potato ones. Sometimes he’ll cruise in with an affectionate joke to make you swoon about being his favourite potato.

Celegorm

It takes a long time to get it into his head that you’re delicate because, in his mind, he saw you performing hundreds of daredevil stunts, why stop the fun for safety purposes. Wherever Tyelko is, you are curled up under his arm like a sleeping bag being carried around on his adventure.

If he’s riding a horse large enough to carry an elf, then so are you—doesn’t matter if you’re four or five feet. If you fit, you sit. However, you prefer to ride Huan because he understands your comfort and safety more than Tyelko does.

Playfighting to the roughness degree and be prepared to end up in the healer’s room sporting bruises or a sprained joint, he’ll even lie down on you. He has an affinity for challenging you to your limits, solely because it’s thrilling to him. “Try lifting me off the bed and walking to the door.” (you collapsed under his beefy body)

As big and scary as he appears, start coughing or having a fever and watch as he crumples like a left. Clingy and never leaves your side the entire duration you’re resting or in the healer’s room.

Acts as though you’re going to die in the blink of an eye from a single sneeze and the next thing you know, he’s praying that you survive your common cold when the healers have informed him that you’re alright.

In addition, he’s the perfect teddy bear for a cold night with all those muscles he has going on. The issue is his ability to cuddle to the highest degree. You cannot escape his cuddle grip, even if you need to pee.

Tyelko has confidence that’s out of this world, so no one can attempt to shun or berate your relationship, not even mock him for choosing a human to be his S/O over an elf. Celegorm makes it clear that you’re his choice and he’s proud to have you.

Caranthir

Someone who admires you day by day and how easily you overcome obstacles without lamenting the way his race does. For a human, you are quite fiery and able to keep up with his pace of living, though he prefers that you relax while he lavishes you.

Vocal about his appreciation towards you in private as you lay in his chambers on the sofa or bed, cuddling. Like his siblings, he prefers that you lay atop him, refusing to even displace an ounce of weight for fear of crushing you.

Spoils you, spoils you, spoils you more than you could even imagine because he wants your life to be filled with comfort and luxuries before your end. Complaining about how much he spoils you is like kicking a puppy.

The only thing you cannot do is tear this elf away from his duties when he’s locked away in his studies deciding who to conduct his next trade with. He’s married to his work and then you.

This brings me to you easily clinging to his body because you wish for him to stay in bed longer. All he does is roll his eyes at your antics and continue to walk around the room while you disguise yourself as a backpack.

Sneeze and there’s a deafening silence that follows before a grumpy Caranthir paces out of the room to call for the healers. You are not permitted to go anywhere, basically bedroom arrest. You want water, food, more blankets; he’s there. Want to go for a walk, sure; he’ll walk you around the room.

As much as he admires your resilience as a human being to the harsh reality of life, many of your natural occurrences terrify him due to rumours of terrible endings for others. So, expect the protectiveness to go up a few notches.

Curufin

Everyone was surprised that he had a human lover when he strolled into a ball with you decked out in jewellery from head to toe. Poor you were trying to breathe under the weight of the gemstones breaking your neck.

Curufin isn’t any different in my dating him headcanons with the addition of his protectiveness increasing. He loves to use it as an excuse to tag along with you anywhere when he really wants to spend time together (what a tsundere).

Finds himself confused at all your human terminologies because how can “Break a leg” or “Knock ‘em dead” mean best of luck. “You humans are strange with your words, why can’t you just say what you mean.” – Curufin

Finds your excitement and expressive manner endearing given elves’ lack of facial expressions and enjoys bestowing all sorts of gifts upon you just to witness your reactions. He finds them better than the simple use of words when accepting his creations.

Less inclined to school you like his father, but still peppers you with indirect questions to learn more about humans and their odd differences from elves. If you’re female, then be prepared to blow his mind with talks of your menstruation. He considers you a brave warrior for going through that every month.

Curufin doesn’t like talks of how your lifespan is short and you’re bound to die soon, and you tend to use this to your advantage when you want your way.  “But what if tomorrow doesn’t come, and I don’t get to eat chocolate cake? You should let me eat it now, so you don’t regret not letting me.”

 (Tries) Keeps you away from Tyelko because he’s a terrible influencer and causes the majority of your injuries which sends Curufin into cardiac arrest. If Curufin has never shown much emotion in his life, it was the moment he learnt that you were in the healing rooms.

Amrod

Excited because he has someone to love him, but heartbroken about your shortened lifespan, which means he’s going to cram all his years of adventure into your lifespan so it can be shared with you.

Every morning, he walks you up with a brilliant smile as warm as the sun before dragging you out of bed to go hiking or host a breakfast picnic while the sun rises (sorry if you hate waking up early).

You are not spared from his pranks or the confusion between him and his twin when Amras decides to trick you. Aware that you are human and more breakable than elves, but he’s still going to engage in roughhousing or lying half his body atop yours so you cannot go anywhere.

As I had mentioned before, he’s touch–starved being the youngest bunch in the family with less attention being directed. So when you entered the picture, as a human, it was natural for you to be overly affectionate which stunned him. Never before had Amrod believed that he was capable of receiving so much love.

He doesn’t care about the fact that elves aren’t physically affectionate, he accepts every hug, kiss and touch you gift him. He considers them your greatest gift, second to finding you.

Already protective of his younger brother, so it’s natural when you enter the picture. Prefers being your bodyguard so he can spend every second with you, never allowing for there to be a moment when you aren’t together.

I have mentioned that he’s into woodcarving, so you can expect figurines of you and him (more you) to appear before your door in beautifully wrapped boxes. You have a collection by now and can consider it a hobby thanks to Amrod.

Amras

Prefers to spend all his time with you in tranquillity and away from his nosy and noisy family, including his twin who doesn’t understand the concept of personal space and attempts to chaperone each date.

The realisation of you being human doesn’t sink in for a long while because he’s pleased that he has someone whom he can love. Amras will be spending his dates surrounded by nature.

Waterfalls, hiking trails, rivers, ponds lakes or fields of flowers, you have seen it all in your human lifespan. Places you didn’t believe existed or could be viewed by the naked eye would be revealed to you.

Amras is more open to receiving affection from you and enjoys the lavish amounts you shower him in. He is stunned by the volume that humans are capable of delivering and how dependent they are on physical touch.

Like his brothers, Amras will shower you with tons of gifts, especially handcrafted ones. He is skilled in crocheting and competes with his brother for who can make the best look-alikes of their family. In between, you can expect to receive stuffed animals or a miniature of yourself.

Reaches out to his elder brother, Maedhros and Maglor for advice on how to date a human since they’re more aware of mortal mannerisms than him. It’s a cute sight to witness as Amras practices learning your mannerisms and culture so he can help you feel at home.

His major concern is ensuring that your time spent with him was the best years you’ve ever had in your entire life, and he was able to fulfil many of your wishes in the short space of time granted to you.

Celebrimbor

Tyelpё would like to know what he has done to inherit a significant other in the first place. Forget that you’re human, he wants to know how you can choose a person like him after the history of bloodshed his family has left.

Like any normal relationship, he’s doing his best to control his temper and be as patient as possible. He would hate to make you go running for the hills with a terrible slip-up.

Eyes of a hawk at your every move, wanting to learn as much as possible with the stark differences between you in particular and him. He’s already aware of how indifferent elves and humans are, it’s just to learn your netiquettes and mannerisms.

Like his father, you will be gifted tons of jewellery—it’s his love language—with your neck breaking under the weight of the gems. Tyelpё adores seeing you decked out and looking like a disco ball; you’re his mannequin for his pieces.

As one who spent years in the forge, he’s far from small and will crush you under his weight. Thus, he’s cautious when cuddling or any form of play fighting. The last thing he needs to hear is that he injured you from his bulky muscles.

Please hold his hands and let him fawn over the size difference. You’re only able to hold two of his fingers when tugging him about the place when you’re eager to show him something.

Did someone say standing on chairs to meet his height? Yes, that is exactly what you would have to do because he’s a giant eight-foot elf. Or even parading around in his long robes pretending to be him? Yes.

Protective to a degree, but not as overprotective as his uncles since it’s the second age and let’s assume that our buddy hasn’t shown up yet to ruin the peace. Tyelpё will gladly allow you to roam freely without worrying about your safety tremendously and would even request that you return with treats.

Masterlist

Taglist: @ranhanabi777 @lilmelily @mysticmoomin @rain-on-my-umbrella @asianbutnotjapanese @batsyforyou @ladyenchanted @mcwentfandomtraveling @involuntaryspasms @stormchaser819 @a-tong @aconstructofamind @addaigio @lamemaster @hermaeuswhora

[dandthegods]

Limitless

The Gods are everywhere, you just have to look. They’re not trapped stagnant in the myths and stories, nor in the stale histories of cultures long past. Omnipresent in their own ways, the Gods can connect with anyone at any time. 

Athena can be found walking the aisles of a Harvard library, in the study room with a first generation college student, or in between the cardboard pages of a child’s first board book. Knowledge isn’t limited to the elite or the privileged, and neither is Athena. 

Apollo can be found in the galleries of prestigious art museums, in the bedroom of an aspiring anime artist, or in the imagination of a child scribbling with crayons. He is on the stage of a sold out stadium as well as in the back row of the cheapest seats. Art and creativity isn’t limited to those with influence or connections, and neither is Apollo. 

Hephaestus can be found in the offices of any corporate building, under the machinery of a blue collar factory, or in the joy of a teenager as they receive their first paycheck. He is found in the Paralympics, boosting the athletes onward, and he is also sitting with the hospital and rehab rooms of those recently disabled. Hard work is not limited to anyone’s status or abilities, and neither is Hephaestus. 

Aphrodite can be found on the covers of fashion magazines, in the dreams of an hopeful makeup artist, and in the playfulness of a child playing with their mother’s lipstick. Aphrodite can be in the appeal of sexy fishnets or the allure of a well tailored suit. Beauty and love are not limited to one’s gender or skills, and neither is Aphrodite. 

Hermes can be found flying alongside the highest reaching airplanes, the fastest driving cars, and on a seat on public transit in rush hour. He is the luck that saves the lives of a vehicular accident, and the thrill in that first payment on a used car. Luck and speed are not limited to how far or how fancy your transportation can go, and neither is Hermes. 

Zeus can be found behind the bench of a supreme court case, in the office of an overworked pubic defender, and in the thunderous laughter of a new father. He is in the welcoming smile of a stranger to those in need, and in the homeless being invited in. Justice and hospitality are not limited to one’s power or status, and neither is Zeus. 

Hera can be found in a fabulous wedding with hundreds of guests, in the celebration of a long lasting marriage, or officiating the ceremony in a courthouse. She is in the “I love you”’s before bed, the hands held in the car after a first date, and in the hospital room of an elderly couple saying goodbye for the last time. Love is not limited to the length of one’s relationship, and neither is Hera. 

Artemis can be found in the fields and forests of nature, in the calm breath of a hunter, or in the tears of grief for a lost pet. She is the courage in the voices fighting for respect and in the cheer of progress made. Equal treatment peace is not limited to those who hold the power, and neither is Artemis. 

Hestia can be found in the jingle of a first-time homeowners’ new keys, in the shared dinner of a multi-generational home, or in the exhausted smile of a single parent. She is the warmth of a household and the love shared within its walls. Family and support is not limited to those you share blood with or in the size of your dwelling, and neither is Hestia. 

Ares can be found in the measured steps of a solider over seas, in the joyous tears of a spouse when their loved one comes home, and in the flag wrapped around a coffin. He is in the voices of those calling for change, in the recovery rooms of the wounded, and in the minds of those struggling with trauma. Safety and wellness are not limited to one’s demographics and neither is Ares. 

Hades can be found in the grief left behind after a death, in the weight of responsibility of leaders, and in the darkness of winter. He is with those who cry and fear for their lives, and in the scars left behind the pain can be too much. Loss and recovery is not limited to those strong enough to withstand it and neither is Hades. 

Persephone can be found in the joy at the first warm day, in the love bridging distance between lovers, and in the will of those daring to strive for their dreams. She is the wonderment of a child at a honeybee, and the beauty found in the darkness. Energy and strength is not limited to the times of light and color, and neither is Persephone. 

Demeter can be found in the engines of the machines in a field, in the bounty of a community garden harvest, and in the first sprouts of an amateur gardener. She is the change of the seasons and the rebirth of the new year. Change and plenty are not limited to those with capital or land, and neither is Demeter. 

Dionysus can be found on the floats of a pride parade, in the movements pushing for equality, and in the bedroom of a closeted teenager. He is both the euphoria and dysphoria felt by some in their bodies, and in the community embracing those who feel lost. Rights and identity are not limited to those who one loves or how one looks, and neither is Dionysus. 

Poseidon can be found on the decks of a ship in a storm, on the docks with a father teaching his son to fish, or in the serenity on a sandy beach. He is the joyful screams of children running from the waves and the persistence in one learning how to swim. Power and possibility is not limited to the oceans and or one’s skills, and neither is Poseidon. 

[goddess-of-graphite]

Building off of the cryptid!Batfamily universe… I propose: the Wayne family, acting freely unhinged in public because they are a rich family full of lunatics and let’s be real, this is Gotham: if even their celebrities aren’t weird as fuck can it even be called Gotham?

further, I suggest all their antics should be posted online (carefully curated, even if it doesn’t seem like it to the public). Just the batboys being ridiculous as civilians because the batfamily isn’t even perceived as human so, like, might as well? Hiding in plain sight, because surely a family so open about their lives couldn’t possibly be vigilantes.

SO! I give you: the Wayne Family, Online

The Bat Clan were professional cryptids. They were serious about their duty and intent on performing it as efficiently as possible - no wasted effort, no fighting between them, no reckless charging in alone…

So, as far as vigilantes go, they were somewhere between myth and public servants. Each trained to put aside personal grievances in the face of a greater purpose, mistakes and blunders were rare.

But, see, behind the masks and under the cowls, they were still people - each unique with their own issues, their own disagreements. And with their careful separation of their personal lives from their vigilante work, all that complicated emotional stuff had to be expressed in their civilian lives.

So the Bat’s Clan were shadowy legends spoken of in fear by criminals hiding in dark alleys.

The Wayne Family, on the other hand, were…

Well, Not That.

Twitter user RedRobin(disambiguation) posted at 5:03:

Lmao this is why social services keep getting called

[video is taken from the foot of a grand staircase. at the top, with his foot on a man-sized roll of bubble wrap, is a boy with a strip of hair dyed pastel pink in the front. a voice, originating from behind the camera, yells up, “Ready!” another voice, muffled significantly, shouts the same, and the bubble wrap roll wiggles a little. with a wicked grin and a solid kick, the boy sends the roll flying down the stairs. the muffled voice is screaming delightedly, broken by every step the roll hits on the way down. the camera backs up as the roll reaches the bottom and keeps going, the video going blurry as it turns to follow the roll. the roll hits a wall, hard, with a loud thump, and the muffled screaming cuts off with a groan. the camera shakes as whoever is filming runs over to reveal that, within the bubble wrap, is a human. he is trapped, squirming, his feet just peeking out of one end, and the camera comes around to the other end to show a young man’s face, well and truly snug in his bubbly prison. he is giggling, echoing the laughter of at least two other people, and the sound of feet running up as the boy from the top of the stairs appears and rolls the human sushi over to begin picking at the tape keeping the wrap firmly bound.

“I’m gonna have so many bruises” the bound man wheezes, and the boy trying to free him has to take a break he is laughing so hard. the camera turns rapidly one last time to show another boy’s face, teary-eyes from laughing, and it is clear that he is the one filming. “this is what happens when we’re getting along” he says and the video ends]

RedRidin’intheHood commented:

I got to kick Dick off a staircase without getting yelled at lol today was a good day

DoNotSearch”PurpleWaffles” commented:

I mean what else do you use that much bubble wrap for

TiredHimboDad commented:

You are all menaces.

PappapBabbab commented:

dis u? 

[a shitty edit of three people in a “getting along” shirt. the background is a building on fire and exploding. cinnamon toast crunch rains down around them, several pieces trailing flame. there is a trail of glitter behind them, and one of them holds a can that is erupting with colourful, clearly fake, snakes. each of the people have a different and equally ugly pair of sunglasses pasted onto them. one small snake is wielding a knife and wearing a top hat]

[thecreaturecodex]

Sartan

Still from Return of Ultraman accessed at the Ultraman Wiki here

[I am coming to the Ultra franchise pretty much cold, and am watching it in isolation from its fandom except for my girlfriend @abominationimperatrix. One of the things that I gather from her is that the monsters that stand out to me from these series are rarely fandom favorites. Like, I'm not planning on statting up Black King or Gudon or Twintail from Return of Ultraman... but this ratty anthro Snuffleupagus was immediately on my list. Part of that is how grody and gross he looks. Part of it is he has an interesting power set, one that led to my conception of the flavor text. It seems that Tsubaraya Studios thought the idea of a ninja elephant was worth exploring long before it was a joke on RPG.net about D&D 3.0's skill system]

Sartan CR 17 CE Monstrous Humanoid This creature is as tall as a building. Its features are lumpy and misshapen, with bulging eyes and sparse, bristly hair growing from its head. It has a long, elephant-like trunk, clawed hands, and a short tail.

A sartan is an interplanetary thrill killer. They travel from world to world, using their powers of invisibility to spy on people and learn who their heroes are. They then seek these heroes out and kill them for no reason other than to challenge their abilities and to cause other people emotional suffering. Sartans are cruel and enjoy collateral damage in these assassination attempts. Some powerful entities attempt to hire sartans to work for them as assassins, but sartans care little for money. Only if a target interests them, or if the employer resorts to charm spells, will they take on one of these jobs.

A sartan usually only enters combat if it suits them, whether because they have found their target, they want to lure that target into the open, or if they just feel like committing some cruelty for fun. Their supernatural abilities are mostly defensive—a sartan is invisible unless it chooses to appear, or is actively locked in combat. They can become incorporeal, which they often do in order to have mundane weapons pass right through them. When it comes to actual violence, however, sartans do it the old-fashioned way, by getting their claws bloody or grabbing a foe with their trunks and squeezing it to death. Sartans value their own hides too strongly to fight to the death. They will usually attempt to flee a losing battle, but may come back for a rematch on their own terms. 

Sartan  CR 17 XP 102,400 CE Colossal monstrous humanoid Init +13; Senses darkvision 120 ft., Perception +24, scent, see invisibility

Defense AC 32, touch 12, flat-footed 32 (-8 size, +9 Dex, +1 dodge, +20 natural) hp 261 (18d10+162) Fort +15, Ref +20, Will +14 DR 15/magic; Resist electricity 20, fire 20 Defensive Abilities evasion, ghost form, natural invisibility, uncanny dodge

Offense Speed 60 ft. Melee 2 claws +23 (2d8+13/19-20), slam +23 (4d6+13 plus grab) Space 30 ft.; Reach 30 ft. Special Attacks constrict (4d6+19), leap attack, strangle, studied target (+4, swift action, up to 4 targets) Spell-like Abilities CL 18th, concentration +22 Constant—comprehend languages, see invisibility 1/day—find the path

Statistics Str 36, Dex 28, Con 29, Int 11, Wis 17, Cha 18 Base Atk +18; CMB +39 (+43 grapple and sunder); CMD 59 (61 vs. sunder) Feats Dodge, Greater Sunder, Improved Critical (claw), Improved Initiative, Improved Sunder, Mobility, Power Attack, Skill Focus (Stealth), Spring Attack Skills Acrobatics +27 (+39 when jumping), Perception +24, Stealth +28, Survival +24; Racial Modifiers +8 Stealth Languages Aklo SQ meteoric starflight

Ecology Environment any land Organization solitary Treasure standard

Special Abilities Ghost Form (Su) A sartan can become incorporeal as a swift action. In this form, it loses its natural armor but gains a deflection bonus to Armor Class and CMD equal to its Charisma modifier. It cannot make attacks in this form, but does gain a fly speed equal to twice its land speed with perfect maneuverability. It can resume corporeality as a free action. A sartan can remain incorporeal for a number of minutes up to its Hit Dice in a day. Leap Attack (Su) As a full round action, a sartan can launch itself an impossible distance, traveling up to 1000 feet in a single bound. This movement can be vertical or horizontal, and the sartan lands on its feet unharmed regardless of the height it travels. It can make a single melee attack against an opponent in its reach during any part of this movement. A sartan can use this ability once every 1d4 rounds. Meteoric Starflight (Su) Over the course of 1 minute, a sartan can turn itself into a Medium sized hovering rock-like object, then blast itself into space. In this meteoric form, it has hardness 8, can make no attacks, and requires no food, water or air. In this form, it can fly at a speed of 300 ft. with perfect maneuverability, and can survive in the void of outer space and fly with incredible speed. Although exact travel times vary, a trip within a single solar system should take 3d20 hours, while a trip beyond should take 3d20 days (or more, at the GM’s discretion)—provided the sartan knows the way to its destination. Natural Invisibility (Su) A sartan can become invisible or visible as a move action. Its invisibility is broken when it attacks. Strangle (Ex) Due to its enormous size, a sartan can only strangle when it is grappling an opponent of Huge or larger size. Studied Target (Ex) A sartan gains the studied target ability of a slayer with a level equal to its Hit Dice. It does not gain other slayer class abilities, such as sneak attack or slayer talents, unless it takes levels in the slayer class.

[avisisisis]

@thebrainrotsreal HEY SORRY FOR TAGGING(? PINGING(? U, ITS ABOUT THE AU. I DIDN'T WANT TO MAKE THE OTHER POST THAT LONG LMAO

FLYING BEING NATURAL TO VILTRUMITES MY BELOVED

ASJDAJSD MARK TRYING TO GET AWAY W SLIGHTLY HOVERING(? IN A WAY THAT IS BARELY NOTICEABLE TO ANYONE BUT HE CAN'T DO IT WHILE HE WALKS BC HE JUST, DEFAULTS TO ACTUAL FLYING

mark and wasp are the same height, and they hate it almost as much as they hate each other. even if wasp is older than mark (read somewhere he could be 20, not sure tho), he'd still look 17 bc of the weird viltrumite aging thing

so basically they'll stay the same size for about 500 years. this is what nolan meant when he said mark would suffer...

ANYWAY. That thing abt them wanting to be taller than the other made me laugh and reminded me of a shadowpeach hc i posted on 2022(? LMAO

gonna use the same hc w them too

so. they're out as invincible (they still haven't decided on a name yet. wasp says he's stronger and therefore should be called invincible, but mark points out that he's the one in charge and also that this dimension is his. mark gets to keep it. they're still arguing about what to name wasp) ("why don't you just go by "vincible"?" "no.")

mark is talking to some gda agent or a cop or smth, when he notices that wasp (who is looking at the sky w the most bored expression he can muster, bc he genuinely doesn't understand why they have to talk to such inferior beings) seems to be just, a few milimeters taller than him (he may be shit at schoolwork, but if you hate someone enough you can notice the smallest details about them)

he, w/o stopping the conversation, answers to this by floating just a little higher, barely noticeable to the human eye

ofc, i said "human" eye

wasp notices. he flies higher

mark flies higher too

eventually he's screaming instead of talking bc of how far down the cop is

wasp laughs. now mark is screaming at him

they fight

ALSO WASP REFUSING TO STOP FLOATING AS A CIVILLAIN IS SO FUNNY AJDSHFASJ, IMAGINE THE AMOUNT OF TROUBLE HE'LL GET MARK INTO

PLS. THEM TRYING TO GNAW THEIR ARMS OFF BC THEY HATE BEING NEAR EACH OTHER SM ASJFHADJFH

most normal ppl r used to mark working alone as invincible. so since wasp really doesn't do interviews and he's usually too fast to see when he fights, no one really knows what his name even is

and everyone is used to invincible being. well. invincible. sure, the news say that when he's around this guy he gets a little meaner, but it can't be that bad!

it is that bad

wasp says smth mean n sarcastic. everyone expects invincible to answer w something equally sarcastic, but not as mean (maybe making fun of how his suit looks). they do not expect invincible to just fucking bite him after 8 of those comments

wasp keeps trying to kill This One Kid, who is either super brave or super stupid and won't stop asking him questions (they go from "what's your name?" to "what underwear do you have? do you even need underwear?" in a matter of seconds) for his weird school diary thingy

he can't get close, bc mark starts pulling the other way. besides, they're stuck together, and killing people would seem awfully annoying if it's with this guy

they can't punch each other, so wasp bites him. they bite each other a lot bc of the "no punching (or kicking)" thing

"Wasp throws a car at Mark which Mark instinctively swats away and then goes flying after it to prevent it from slamming into a building. Wasp cackles so hard it gets hit by a laser beam to the throat by some other bad guy." ASJDSAJDHDSJFAH YES THAT'S SO FUNNY

they mess w each other sm

it's funny bc they do the same things to annoy each other (wasp throwing a car at mark, mark hitting him with a tree, etc) , but lose their shit when the other does it to them

they're basically this:

mark, sleep deprived, flies straight into a lamp post

wasp laughs at him. he actually laughs so hard he runs into the same lamp post

there are a lot of compilations on youtube that is just them laughing at each other mid fight and running into things or being hit w stuff the other throws at them

they grow more wild every time

it goes from throwing cars, to throwing real life dinosaurs (mark doesn't want to talk about it) (wasp absolutely does)

"Cecil remarks Mark handled something well and he looks like Cecil just told him his entire family got slaughtered."

THISSS

"you did well today. hella efficient, quick and straight to the point. who taught you that?"

mark: D:

and also,

"oh, wow. you saved an entire family and their cat from a villain that wanted to turn them into zombies while mark was off fighting the bad guys? that's great!"

and wasp. cries

"oh no, no, you think I'm gonna help you?" THIS TISHTISHTSIHIST

this really feels like smth he'd say in canon. he'd say it w a smile, half-shocked half just pretending out of amusement

he'd laugh too

it's the same type of cocky tone of voice sinister mark/wasp used when teasing angstrom

"I gotta imagine if they tackle things separately, they are also allowing each other to do they want and like to do?" YEAH!!

it's hard 'cause wasp always wants to take the bad guys on alone, but mark also likes to fight (just not w the same brutality) and he doesn't want to be just a lifeguard

it takes wasp a while (a LONG while) to stop tackling mark when he's about to attack to get to the enemy himself, or to kick mark into the next country, etc etc etc

but eventually they settle on mark getting everyone to safety while wasp stalls the bad guy. then, after he's sure no one's here anymore, they both fight the villain together

or uh. they try. sometimes they'll start fighting each other too so it's less of a 1 v 2 fight and more of a... 1v1 V another 1 fight lol

"Mark's own reaction that truly confirms it to be true"

he gets the episode 8 levels of anger and anguish

HE'S JUST SO MAD

wasp is talking shit on tv and he just loses it

he immediatly flies off and tackles wasp into fucking space

i mean, they do say that actions say more than words, right?

mark is usually making the typical superhero noises when he's fighting, but now? he's just focusing all of his anger into This One Motherfucker

wasp loves it

it's a "see? i knew you had it in you!" type of moment

he's been longing for a real fight for a WHILE

they don't kill each other but it comes close

see, the things is. they are the same person. it's easy to start viewing them as two separate beings, but they're really. not

they're evenly matched in everything

this is why wasp likes fighting mark

this is why mark doesn't like fighting wasp (never ending battles are boring to him) ( he likes to win more than to fight. i mean it's not like he enjoys getting beat up)

we could dive deeper and start talking about the self-destructive tendency these two have to getting beat up. i mean, wasp's idea of a real, actually enjoyable fight is when the other is either able to beat him, or when he can kill ppl. and mark spends sm time out as invincible, neglecting his social life and mental health to the point he quits college, and he gets beat up a lot while doing it. so yeah--

self-destructive tendencies

"-having to confront he sees the exact thing in Wasp to a slightly different degree" i will ALWAYS love making them deal with the constant reminders that they're the same person

they deal w stuff in similar ways but to different degrees and realizing that gives them psychic damage like that magic squirrel in mca so they just preted they don't exist

unless it's to like. bring the other to their side

"you like fighting too. violence is in you, it's part of you. you're always covered in blood. all that's left, would be your hands" VS "you're me, and i'm you. we have similar thoughts, and that means i- y'know. but it means you are, too. you have a chance. and get that blood off you-- you need a shower"

COMICS!! AND!! WASP!!

yeah

HIM HAVING TO CONFRONT THE FACT THAT THE DESTROYING OF HIS WORLD HURT HIM TOO

because it is, in a way, his world too

he grew up in it. raised differently, yes, but still on earth

he was always different from the rest, getting his powers at an early age and all, but it's still the place he grew up in

not all the memories from it can be bad, right?

ANDDDDD... wasp reminding ppl of how strong he is regularly

"i could pull out your spine in a second." he says that out of nowhere, in a conversation that would've seemed normal to literally anyone else. he says it like it's nothing much. "i could kill you." you know he could, but you still wonder

would he? with how he is, with his inability to escape --- would he?

also he has fun when he watches the color drain from their faces

"Rudy has psychological profiles on all his friends he regularly updates like a diary, and he has one for himself too." NO BUT THIS IS SO IN CHARACTER FOR HIM

wasp talks shit about mark to anyone avaliable and rudy is no exception. even tho he finds him deeply annoying

honestly wasp is capable of doing p much anything to mess with mark

HE JST WOULD

the self-hatred is strong with this one too master!!! (sw ref again lol)

ASDJASJDSJAD THE BETTING POOL

wasp saying mark breathes annoyingly is such a sibling thing tho. "why are you chewing like that" "stop biting your stupid fork" "the way you cut your food is so weird" "your handwriting sucks, don't hold the pencil like that" etc etc etc

ANDD "he knew what wasp was going to say" DUDE YES??

he's talking and he gets. a feeling. and he turns to wasp, who is opening his mouth, and says "don't you fucking dare"

same w wasp. mark is annoying little shit too sometimes, he's also a teenager. so he infuriates wasp too

mark calls him a hypocrite

THE TWIN TERRORS OF HEROISM I CAN'T

imagine if ppl actually start calling them that tho

one day wasp calls mark to their? his? room and is like, "holy shit look at this" and shows him their? his computer

mark doesn't understand, until he sees the title and image of the video

"the twin terrors of heroism, terrorizing the terrorists once again" and its a picture of them kicking ass

"twin terrors of-- oh, come on, really?" "yes" "they couldnt have at least called us the invincibles or something?" "that'd be even worse" "...alright, i'll give you that" "..." "...." "they think we're like the fucking mauler twins" "oh you have got to be--"

ALSO this is so funny, them being like "mark/wasp" when they show up hurt or smth. everyone just learning to accept it. i mean what are they going to do. fight against two gods??

ha

AND YES YES YES DO TAG ME IN IT!!!! if i make anything about this au (posts, fics, drawings, u name it) i will tag u too

alcohol doesn't really affect viltrumites i think, but there has got to be something that gets them drunk

nolan could've taught wasp how to make it. if the ingredients are on earth, then he would maybe try to prepare it on mark's earth. mark shows up and sees that he's drunk. he goes "nope" and gets drunk too, maybe on accident maybe not. debbie shows up and sees her two superpowered sons sobbing over a bowl of popcorn

alternate version: gasoline gets them drunk

[widowbitessting]

Sugar Mommies Pt.16 - Season Finale

Welcome to the newest - and final - part in the Sugar Mommies Universe! Season 1 has officially come to an end but do not worry, Season 2 will be coming to you soon! 

I apologise for not letting you guys know sooner. I literally came to the realisation about 5 minutes before posting this. 😂 

So for the final time for Season 1, I hope you all enjoy! ❤️

❤️💋❤️💋

Read Season 1 here: Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.6 Pt.6.5 Pt.7 Pt.8 Pt.9 Pt.10 Pt.11 Pt.12 Pt.13 Pt.14 Pt.15 Pt.16.

It’s surreal to say the least, that not even an hour ago, you were being ruthlessly fucked by the three woman that surround you. 

And now, you’re here. 

On a date. 

In the park. 

Could it get any more picturesque?

Wanda answers your silent question by slipping her hand into your own and guiding you to walk that little bit closer to her. 

“You guys suck, you know that?”

The trio look at you as one, equally confused by your sudden outburst. 

It’s Natasha who regains composure first.

“I’m quite aware we do, you weren't complaining not long ago…” 

Carol sniggers and shoves your shoulder with her own. 

“Why do we suck, Y/N?”

“Because I said we were going out for my treat. I let you guys choose and where do we go? Somewhere free.”

“What can we say?” Carol replies, “we don’t like seeing you spend your money. Not on us.”

Now it’s your turn to playfully shove Carol away and she lets out a small laugh as she stumbles away from the group; nearly joining a different group of mother’s on their daily walk with their strollers. 

With a smile for an apology, Carol hurries back to the three of you and relinks her hand with Natasha. 

“She is half your size and yet she sent you flying…” the red head whispers up into Carol’s ear, smirking when she gets a glare. 

“I wasn’t expecting it…” Carol replies, “and I tripped over my own feet. Shut up, Romanoff.” 

“Whatever you say, cap.” The red head is grinning by the time they reach you.

Wanda is midway through twirling you around, grinning when you let out a little laugh as you trip slightly. 

“Such a clumsy girl, detka.” Wanda says, pulling you close once more. 

“Would you believe I did ballet when I was younger.” 

“Now I know you’re lying.” Wanda replies, winking as you glare at her. 

“I did!” You glance back when you feel Natasha’s free hand graze your side. “From 4 until about 6 but I did.” 

“Wow, career starting years there, baby.” Carol says. 

You only shrug. 

“I still did it though. Mom…” You pause at your own mention of your mom before you quickly snap out of it, hoping the others didn’t notice. “...dressed me in the pink tights and the pink tutu and everything.” 

Wanda wraps her arm around your shoulders and kisses the side of your head. 

“I’d pay that woman for a picture of you. I’d pay her thousands.” 

“We all would.” Natasha adds. 

“Well you’d be paying for nothing,” You say. “I think they lost the pictures of me dancing when our kitchen caught on fire.” 

“A fire?” Wanda asks quickly. You nod. “What happened?” 

“If you don’t mind her asking.” Natasha adds. 

“I dunno. I can’t remember.” You can. You remember that night very clearly as it was one the first memories of your mom and dad fighting. 

But you’re not ready to tarnish your new relationship by bringing up your rocky relationship with your parents…not yet. 

So you just shrug and awkwardly start to bite at your thumb nail.

Sensing your unease, Natasha speaks up. 

“I did ballet too.” she says, trying to pull you from your head. 

“You did?”

“Yeah,” Nat smiles, “Had pointe shoes and tutus galore.” 

“Can I pay to see those?”

“No need.” Carol replies, “I’ve got a stash safely hidden away.”

You look excitedly at her. 

“Really?”

“Yep!”

“I trusted you with those pictures, Danvers.” Natasha grumbles, causing the blonde to let out a laugh and lean down to kiss her cheek. 

“I only show them to those who matter to me.” 

That comment makes you look down at the ground, blushing. 

“So I think it’s only fair the little one over here gets to see them too. Might even let her take one home to frame.” 

“Y’know, I don’t have any qualms putting you over my knee for 10. In fact I think I’d rather enjoy it.”

“Oho, is that a threat?” 

“It might be.”

Carol goes to reply but hearing you and Wanda giggling uncontrollably draws both of their attention. 

“Is there something amusing, ladies?”

“No.” You say quickly.

“Nothing at all.” Wanda adds.

“Mhmm. That’s what I thought.” Carol says, smiling. 

The four of you lull into a peaceful silence; Wanda happily holding your hand while Carol holds Natasha’s.

When you pass a family with two dogs, Carol speaks up. 

“I’m still gutted we’ll never see those pictures of you in that cute ballerina outfit, baby.”

“There might be some in the attic but I’m not 100% sure.” 

“I will personally hand you over $2000 right now to get you home so you can find these pictures.” Carol says.

“Y’know it’d be easier for me to text them and ask them to look for it, right?”

“Whichever gets these pictures to me quicker, I don’t care.”

“We could take you home ourselves!” Wanda adds suddenly, a huge smile on her face, eyes sparkling. “Drive, fly, whichever. They live close, right?” 

“Firstly, fly?” You ask, slightly dumbfounded. “Secondly they’re close, sorta. Like a couple hours away I think.” 

You don’t miss the confused looks.

“They move around a lot.” You say quickly. “C’mon, tell me about this flying thing!” 

At the mention of flying again, Carol smiles. 

“Why do you think Captain over here likes being called that?” Natasha says, nudging the blonde with her elbow. 

“Yeah actually, why is that? I don’t  think I’ve ever asked.” 

“They got me flying lessons as a gift one year and the rest is history.” The blonde shrugs like it’s no big deal. “I’d happily fly you to your parents’ house anytime. I’d fly you anywhere you’d wanna go to be fair, princess. For a small price.” 

“Oh yeah?” You reply, “I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to pay…”

Carol shrugs. 

“I’m sure we would come to some arrangement, baby girl.” Her eyes are twinkling and you are well aware of what arrangement she is thinking of. 

“Maybe we’d join the mile high club…” Wanda says, leaning down to kiss your cheek, watching the second the words register in your head as your eyes widen.

“We…could…”

“It’d just be us four on the plane, detka. No one else.” Natasha clarifies. 

“In that case I’m definitely down for that!” You grin. “I’ve never done it on an aeroplane before.”

“I was going to say, I’d be wanting a story later if you had.” Natasha says. 

“I was pretty vanilla until I met you -- OH!” 

You’re nearly taken out by a flying furry beast as it jumps up excitedly at you, paws digging into your sides. 

You stumble back, letting out a string of giggles as you end up dragging Wanda with you. 

Somewhere in the distance, you can hear someone frantically saying, “I am so sorry! He’s just a puppy! He won’t hurt you!” 

The said puppy is freaking huge. On its back legs the thing is taller than you already and you’re struggling to keep yourself up right. 

“...help…”

Natasha and Carol manage to pull the dog off of you and keep hold of its collar tightly when it tries to jump back up onto you. 

You push your rumpled shirt back down and smile down at the puppy. 

“Hi little guy!” 

“Little guy? Kitten, that thing nearly flattened you.” Wanda says, glancing nervously at the animal who is still looking at you. 

“Aww he’s adorable!” You drop to your knees and tickle the puppy’s chin, giggling when it starts to lap at your face. 

Its owners frantically get to you, the mom hastily putting its leash back on. 

“I am so, so sorry! Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine, don’t worry! This cutie pie just took me by surprise!” 

“It’s the first time we’ve let him off the leash. One second he was with us and the next he was gone.” The mom says, struggling to keep him down when he tries to jump on you again. “He really likes you!” 

You’re far too occupied with the dog to properly hear what his owner is saying; mercifully Natasha comes to your rescue. 

“I think she likes him too.” 

“Y’know I think it’s because she looks like our Charlie, that’s why Max likes your daughter so much.” The dad says.

You quickly look up.

“I thought she looked familiar!” replies the mom. “Anyways, we best be off. Sorry again. C’mon Max. That isn’t your Charlie. C’mon!”

“Bye!” The three women smile and wave as the couple are dragged off by their Great Dane while you just continue to kneel on the floor, flabbergasted. 

“Daughter?!” 

You stand back up. 

“They thought I was your daughter?” 

“At least they were understanding about same sex relationships,” says Wanda, stroking your frown away. “Normally we’re just called friends.”

“I get that.” You reply, “but your daughter? Do I look that young?” 

“Detka,” Natasha says, taking your hand in hers. “You are young.”

“But not that young…right?”

She kisses your nose and is about to reply when Wanda gasps, suddenly grabbing your hands.

“ICECREAMWEREGETTINGICECREAM!”

“What?”

And just like that, you’re gone. 

You’re sure there’s dust versions of you and Wanda standing where you were mere seconds ago. 

Your legs struggle to keep up with the other woman as she charges the two of you towards an ice-cream parlour. 

Leaving Natasha and Carol to walk calmly behind you two. 

“Wands, slow down, I’m gonna fall!” You can’t help but laugh. 

Wanda, much to your relief, slows down.

“Hop on then, detka.”

She’s crouching slightly in front of you.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Deadly. C’mon, up you get. Ice-cream is waiting.” 

“Wands I’m too heavy.”

“Hardly. Up. Now.” 

You glance back at Natasha and Carol who are still strolling after the two of you. 

“Fine. Don’t complain though when I flatten you.” 

You hop up onto Wanda’s back where she holds you effortlessly before jogging the two of you towards the parlour. 

She sets off just as suddenly as she had when she nearly tore your hand off, and it causes you to let out a squeal as you cling onto her more tightly.

“I won’t drop you, detka!” 

You scream when her jog turns into a run.

By the time you reach the shop, you’re both giggling wrecks.

You’re sure either Natasha or Carol was filming the two of you as well, despite the unfortunate angle.

Or rather, as Carol said when they finally joined you; “the lovely angle of both your asses.” 

Wanda refuses to let you down as you all peruse the menu.

You zero in on the flavour you want. 

But then spot a classic.

“Is it ironic I want vanilla?”

Natasha chuckles. 

“What?” You ask. 

“Vanilla was the first flavour we licked off Wanda.”

You glance at the other woman who is now blushing.

“Is that so?” You ask, grinning.

“With cherry sauce too, if I remember correctly.” Carol adds nonchalantly, still eyeing the menu. “It was funny because we put cherry sauce on her che - hi! Yes we’d like to order.”

The tips of Carol’s ears are red as she looks at you and Wanda with a side smirk. 

“Care to order ladies? I’m still choosing.” 

Carol looks right at you when she says this. 

“You sure?” You ask as Wanda walks you both in front of Carol. “Oh. Well, I guess Wanda just answered that.”

“What can I get you?” The ice cream lady says, smiling at the two of you. 

“I’ll take a mint choc chip please.” 

“Cone or cup, love?”

Wanda bounces your sliding body back up on her back. 

“Cone, please.”

“Is that all? Or are you gonna treat your cute girlfriend too?”

“Always,” she smiles. “What flavour are you wanting, kitten?”

“Think I’ll just get vanilla, please.” You say. “With cherry sauce. On a cone. Please.”

The spank on your ass is so sudden it makes Wanda jump as well. 

“Such a cheeky girl.” Natasha mutters. 

The lady behind the counter doesn’t notice as she’s too busy battling with the mint chocolate chip ice cream. 

She scoops a hearty amount onto the cone and just as she’s about to hand it over to Wanda, she gently puts you back down; much to your disappointment. 

“Sorry baby girl,” she says, “I don’t fancy having ice cream in my hair.”

Wanda takes her ice cream happily.

“You just prefer it on your body, right?”

Chuckling, Wanda takes a taste from her treat before tapping it on your nose. 

“That’s right.” She says, leaning over to kiss the ice cream away. 

“Aww, you two are just the cutest!” 

You both look to see the ice cream girl watching you both, your ice cream coated in cherry sauce. 

“Thanks,” you smile, grabbing your own treat from her. 

“I mean, I don't think I’ve seen a hotter couple walk by yet.” 

You smile into your ice cream as Wanda wraps her arm around you. 

She not so subtly points to Natasha and Carol behind you and says loudly for you all to hear, “Way hotter than them two, right?”

You can pinpoint the exact moment when the ice cream girl makes eye contact with Natasha and Carol. 

Poor thing. 

“Order for us, Carol.” Is all Natasha says before she moves and grabs Wanda by the hair and not so gently guides her from the ice cream kiosk. 

“Easy, easy! My ice cream cone!”

You stay behind to pay, hand going as far as to reach for your purse but Carol’s hand stops you. 

“Put that away otherwise you’ll be joining Wanda with a scolding.”

You glance at the other two and see Natasha speaking into Wanda’s ear. The taller woman, despite probably being told off, is still smirking.

“I said it was my turn to treat you.”

“And we like treating you. So it’s three against one. Our treat, kitten.”

“I will pay for something. Eventually. Just you wait.”

“You might be paying for Wanda’s brattiness if she carries on.” Carol kisses your cheek. “Go on. I’ll be over in a moment.”

You do as you’re told, licking some ice cream off your hand as you go.

When you near the other two, you can hear Natasha finishing off her threat. 

“...now do as you’re told, parshivets, before I put you in time out.” 

Your eyes zero in on Natasha’s hand that is wrapped firmly around Wanda’s throat whilst the other still holds tightly in her hair. 

“Yes, daddy. I’m sorry.”

“Now eat your ice cream before it melts, bunny.” The two share a quick kiss and then Natasha releases her. 

Turning to you with a smile.

“Good choice, detka.” Natasha swipes her finger through some of your ice cream and licks it off. “Very good choice. Lots of fun memories with that flavour.” 

“Mmm,” you reply as you eat some of your ice cream. “What flavour have you gone for, Nat?”

“Cookies and cream, classic.” She says, eyeing you as you lick the frozen treat. “Car’s probably ordered buttered pecan or coffee.” 

You scrunch your face.

“She’s the first person I know who orders coffee ice cream.” 

“Carol has a caffeine addiction.” Wanda explains. “You wanna really get under her skin, hide her morning coffee. Does the trick every time.”

You laugh.

“The trick for what? Dying? I’ll leave that to you, Wands.” 

“Smart choice.” Natasha replies. 

The three of you make small talk while Carol pays for all of your ice creams and brings over the final two, licking at hers as she walks. 

“Told you,” Natasha says as she takes her cone from the blonde, “coffee addict.” 

“Says you, Romanoff.”

The four of you slowly make your way over to a free bench. 

“So,” Carol says around a mouth of ice cream. “I heard a word that really caught my interest.” 

“Go on.” Natasha replies, sitting down first. She pats her knee and waits patiently for you to sit there. 

Once you do, she places her arm around your waist. 

Carol and Wanda mimic you. 

“The term the sweet ice cream girl used for you and Wanda.” Carol continues. 

“Cute?” You ask, wincing when the ice cream sharply stings your tooth.

“You are, but not that, kitten.” Carol replies. “Girlfriend.” 

You look at Carol.

And then at Wanda.

Then finally at Natasha. 

“Oh?”

“If it’s not something you’re comfortable speaking about, we don’t have to talk about this.” 

“No! No, I was actually hoping we’d have this conversation…”

“Oh really?” Wanda asks. 

“Yeah. I never know what to refer to you guys as.” 

“Well, I mean Wanda is Mommy…Natasha is Daddy…”

You let out a laugh. 

“Not in that retrospect.” You say. “I just…I’d like to call you something…other than the three women I’m currently sleeping with.”

“Are you asking us to be your…girlfriends?” Natasha asks.

“In an awkward way…I am.”

The three women look at each other. 

“And, I dunno. I really, really like you guys and if this is something you guys aren’t comfortable doing because of the whole Do’s and Don’ts thing then that’s fine -” 

One slender finger comes to rest on your mouth and you stop talking to look into Natasha’s green eyes. 

“You’re rambling, sweetheart.” 

“Sorry.” You say around her finger. 

“Now take a deep breath…and ask us.” Natasha says.

“Ask you what?” 

The red head just looks at you, waiting for your brain to click. 

“Oh. Oh!” You’re blushing. You know you are. “God this went smoother in my head.”

You lick your ice cream to help clear your head for a moment.

God, why was it so hard to form words.

“She’s trembling.” Natasha’s voice calms you down.

“Will you be my girlfriends?”

 It’s Wanda who surges forward first, near knocking you off Natasha’s lap in her haste to kiss you. 

Both your ice creams and Natasha’s fall to the ground, in forgotten heaps as you and Wanda kiss passionately. 

Well, mostly forgotten. 

Natasha lets out a little, “Aww, my ice cream.” when it’s knocked from her hand.

Only to be distracted by the sight of you and Wanda making out on her lap. 

“Is that a yes?” You giggle, finally pulling away to inhale deeply.

“Yes. Yes. YES!” 

Instead of kissing you again, Wanda pulls you in for a tight hug and rests her chin on your shoulder. 

“Yes.” She says again.

“Can me and Carol get in on this or are you just gonna be greedy, Wands?”

“Greedy. So greedy.”

“Well seeing as you all lost your ice creams - and Nat is stuck under you - want me to get you some more?”

Before replying, Wanda kisses you again.

“Yes please.” 

“Same again, girls?” she asks, standing up. 

“You all reply “Yes!” and the blonde smiles as she walks back to the ice cream kiosk. 

Just as she’s about to order, the girl speaks up.

“Did y’all just become girlfriends?” 

She’s smiling. 

“Were you watching us?” Carol asks, her defensiveness kicking in.

“I was! Not in a creepy way; I just, y’all are super cute together and I knew something big was gonna happen - I was betting on an engagement ring but this is just super cute! Congratulations!” 

Carol glances back at the three of you, where you and Natasha are now kissing.

She can’t help but smile.

“Thanks.” Carol says. 

“Hey, listen. I’m gonna go ahead and just put a shit load of toppings on these and not tell my boss, okay?”

“Why -” 

“Because it’s a celebration! It’s not every day you land yourself some cute as fuck girlfriends, now is it? Now go on, get back over to your women; I’ll bring your ice cream over in a minute.” 

Carol leaves the cash on the counter and looks at you all. 

How quickly - and easily - you have fitted into the group dynamic. 

Their missing heart as Wanda put it.

Now, you’re theirs.

Their girlfriend. 

Yeah.

Carol likes the sound of that. 

Season 2 Coming Soon! 

Tag List:

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Thank you so much for reading - I love you all! Xoxo

[josefavomjaaga]

Dragon!Soult meets Ney (June 1796)

This is another contribution to @cadmusfly's dragon marshalate au. Inspired by an actual event that happened in 1796, Soult's retreat from Herborn, supported by Ney (as detailed in the memoirs of Ney published by his family). I turned it into the first meeting of Soult and his future partner in crime rider, Ney.

Dust and disappointment had settled on the men's faces in equal measures. Now exhaustion added to it, resulting in an overwhelming sense of dread. The chaotic retreat they had executed during the last hours had infuriated chef d'escadron Michel Ney. But there was little he could do, except try to keep his squadron of hussars together and in a condition that might allow them to fight back. If ever that chance arose, despite the current lack of command or overall sense of direction. In fact, this was the first time the French could catch a breath and reunite some of the troops the numerically superior Austrians had dispersed. Routed, truth be told, but Ney did not want to use this term, not even in his thoughts. He watched as some of his superiors, among them general Kleber, in charge of the vanguard, general-in-chief Jourdan and the dragon general Lefebvre, gathered for an impromptu war council. Ney dismounted and led his horse a bit closer, so he could listen in. He immediately noticed that Lefebvre was just as furious as he, his tail angrily snapping through the air, his telepathic voice clearly audible outside the small circle of generals, down to his Alsatian accent. Usually, rather large dragons like him would crouch or lie down on the ground when interacting with humans, to be somewhat on their eye level. Right now, Lefebvre was standing up, despite his visible exhaustion, seemingly unable to calm down, stomping the ground with one or several of his six claws repeatedly. What do you mean I can’t go? I may be tired, true. But I’ll still be able to fly far enough to reach those damned Austrian bastards and kill a few of them. I’ll just drop down on them and crush them when I’m at the end of my forces. I’d gladly get myself killed for that pleasure. "Don’t be foolish, old friend." That was Kléber, again with the Alsatian accent. "This would be a big loss for barely a gain", Jourdan added. "We will get back at them, Lefebvre, don’t you worry. But first we need to regroup, reorganise the troops, give everyone a chance to recover. Then we strike back." Now you’re talking! - Lefebvre now did stretch out on the ground, his large body blocking a part of the road. He didn’t seem to care. - To be honest, I could need some rest. And I’m not sure I still could fly. Not sure I could even only walk back before falling into stupor. "Please don’t do that right now." Kléber rubbed his face. "You’re our only dragon left at the vanguard. We might still need you.« Lefebvre’s head rose from his paws. - The only? Where’s the drakeling then?

"Whom do you mean?" Jourdan shook his head. "We’ve sent all dragon units back to join Marceau. Especially the young, as they were quite exhausted." Why, I mean the boy of course. Little Soult. Jourdan looked at Kléber, he seemed confused. "Are you talking about that maroon dragon who was part of your staff? The one almost your size?" He may be getting close to me in size but he’s still growing, Lefebvre retorted impatiently. - Boy barely learned how to properly use his wings. So, where is he? You had sent him to Herborn with his infantry unit, if memory serves? Where did you tell him to go? A long silence followed. The generals were exchanging rapid glances, several shrugged apologetically, somebody coughed. Are you trying to tell me that nobody told Soult about our retreat? - Lefebvre’s telepathic voice now boomed over the road, loud enough for everyone in the whole camp to hear. - That he is back there alone, surrounded by the Austrians? "Well", Kleber said sheepishly, "I kinda had assumed that you had ..." You know precisely how bad I am with all that organisational and telepathy stuff! That is exactly what I need Soult for! Besides, I only learned about the order to retreat by accident myself! The kid was not even under my command! "Could you reach out to him now?", asked Jourdan. Lefebvre's answer was accompanied by a deep, guttural growl. - As exhausted as I am, over such a distance? No way. I need to focus for this kind of thing, and right now, I can barely keep my wits together enough to not fall asleep.

The awkward silence returned. Finally, Jourdan said: "Maybe he’s started his retreat of his own accord. He and his men might already be on their way to join us." Lefebvre seemed sceptical. - What were his orders? "To hold the position at Herborn in order to cover our left flank." No conditions? No if, no until, no unless? - Then he’ll hold out until the bitter end. The boy breathes hierarchy. An order is an order. If he has not learned of our retreat and assumes that we’re still there holding the line, he will not budge. The generals were about to start arguing again but Ney felt he needed to interfere. Of course he was aware that he was overstepping his boundaries. But what use was a prolonged discussion when it was clear something had to be done? "I can go", he blurted out, taking another step closer. "My men and I had not seen much action yet before we were told to run. We’d love to bash in some enemy heads, maybe save those men and their dragon in the process if there’s still time." The generals looked at him thoughtfully. "They’re most likely already surrounded", said Jourdan. Ney shrugged. "We’ll fight our way through, then." There’s no time to loose! If the redhead wants to go, let him go! At the very least we need to see what happened to them! "Alright!" Jourdan nodded. "Go get what you need to prepare, fresh horses if you can find any. Don’t forget to restock in ammunition, as that of Soult’s men must be quite depleted when you reach them. Then set off, and bring us news. Good luck!"

- It took them almost a day to get back to where the cut-off troops were supposed to be, during which they had to alternately hide from marching Austrian corps too strong for them to fight, and sabre their way through smaller units trying to hold them up. When they finally reached the surroundings of Herborn, it was not hard to figure out where precisely to find their brothers in arms. The sound of cannon fire from a wooded hill close by was a dead giveaway. "They’re still holding out!", one of Ney’s cavalrymen exclaimed. "Those guys are crazy! Anybody with half a brain would have surrendered by now!" From their position on a light slope, they could barely make out the lines of blue French uniforms, hidden behind trees and scrubs, firing at the Austrians coming at them from all sides. And then, all of a sudden, a large dark shadow rose from the foliage, above the bushes lining the forrest, launching itself at a group of Austrians threatening to break through. The white-clad enemies froze in shock, then turned and took to their heels. The dragon did not pursue them but immediately returned into the cover provided by the forrest. In truth, he had not flown at the Austrians before. It had been more of a leap, a pounce. Presumably, he was already too exhausted to fly, or at the very least felt the need to save his strength in order to prolong the fight. His return caused some satisfaction among the men defending the hill, their cheering drifted over to where Ney and his men were holding.

"Let’s try to save the madmen", Ney commented drily. "The Austrians are busy running, this might be our best chance to get through." There was some resistance from a unit of Austrian cavalry trying to take them in the flank, but Ney’s men made it. And as soon as the beleaguered French in the forrest recognized the approaching strangers as friends, they attacked the Austrians with such well-aimed gunfire that the enemies hastily turned their horses away. Ney’s men entered the camp, welcomed by another round of cheers. "Who’s in command here?" "The dragon." A man, his grin gleaming white out of a face darkened from gun powder, grabbed the horse’s reigns from Ney with one hand and with the other pointed at a large, dark maroon mass of muscles and scales that was croaching on the ground in the middle of the camp and scrutinizing Ney from behind half-closed lids. "Greetings." Ney decided that this was not the time for lengthy introductions. "General Jourdan and general Kléber sent us to bring you the order to retreat." Glad to see you. The dragon’s voice in Ney’s head sounded dark and somewhat flat, as if deliberately held back. - I had almost feared headquarters had forgotten about us. "Actually, that’s pretty much what happened", said Ney. "You’re the only unit still holding out, the rest of the army is already retreating behind the river Lahn. I’m Ney, by the way." Soult of Saint-Amans. - Presumably, that was the dragon’s name. Or possibly an unknown curse. The situation surely was dire enough to allow the use of profanities.

Did you experience any difficulties in reaching us? Ney heard the dragon’s voice again after a moment of silence. "Difficulties? You’re entirely cut off. I doubt many others than us would have gotten through to you at all. You have enemies on all sides. We barely expected to find you still fighting." The silence returned. This dragon clearly was not of the chatty variety. "So, need any help from me and my men in order to get out of here?" We’re good. - The dragon sounded almost offended by the offer. "Oh, come on." Ney nearly started laughing. He understood military pride but this was ridiculous. "Your situation is desperate. You have gotten lucky so far but as soon as the Austrians attack in earnest, it’s over." What you witnessed on arrival was the fifth attempt by the Austrians to take our position, the dragon informed him matter-of-factly. - According to my calculations we can fight off a sixth and a seventh as well. We could possibly hold out longer. But we only have the small guns of our riding artillery at our disposition, and our ammunition is almost depleted. "Well, as far as that is concerned, we brought some stocks." I see. This help is gladly accepted. - There was another silence, then the dragon’s voice added, almost sheepishly: My thanks. Maybe this was a way of apologizing for his rude tone before. Ney suppressed a sigh. Dragons. You never knew with them. He had been told some were not much acquainted with human behaviour and common courtesy. And some were but didn’t care.

"So, how about me and my men at least create some diversion in order to facilitate your men’s escape?" Ney proposed. "If we cause enough chaos among the Austrians, and if you’re running quick enough, some of you might just be able to reach the main road leading west." I do not plan on leaving any of my men behind. They have fought like lions. They deserve to be safe. "What is your plan then?" To march out in formation, flags flying, and to fend off the Austrian attacks as we have done until now. I regret not having a full band here but the sound of our drums will replace that of ‚Ça ira’. Ney decided that these guys definitely were crazy. "That’s quite a daring plan that might lead you all right into disaster, after you managed to hold out for so long." To the contrary. An organised, slow retreat, if done well, is the only option promising success. At least more pomising than a reckless dash over open territory that might at best save a few but would give the Austrians the possibility to take us out one by one. Ney thought about how the rest of the Sambre-et-Meuse army had been routed. He admitted that the dragon had a point. "Well, I’m looking forward to how your plan will be executed. Any objections against me and my hussars tagging along?" Not at all, I’d even be honoured. - Ah, apparently the dragon could be civil if he wanted to. - You might provide us with valuable information during our march. "Ha. So you do want my help, yes?" There was a tingling sensation in Ney’s mind that accompanied the dragon’s telepathic message, something like the idea of grim amusement. Ney assumed it was the dragon’s way to smirk. Well, to be honest, our situation is indeed pretty desperate.

- They marched at first in a column, the dragon at its head, artillery, baggage and ammunition carts in the middle. For a long moment the enemy stared at them, presumably in disbelief, then they decided to do the obvious, send cavalry at them and sabre these suicidal idiots to pieces. Even Ney and his men in their hiding place sensed the dragon’s commands that, within seconds, as it seemed, caused his men to form a square. By the time the Austrian horses reached the French troops, they encountered a human wall decorated with bayonetts on every side, surrounding in their middle the dragon, the carts and the little artillery they had. Ney’s men had distributed what they could share in ammunition among Soult’s men, and those put the powder and bullets to good use. Bodies in white uniforms, now sprinkled with red, dropped to the ground around the French square, riderless horses ran free. Now would be a good time. That much Ney knew himself, no need for this annoying dragon to tell him. The ease with which Soult managed to convey his orders, and the commanding force that somehow accompanied it, astonished Ney, but mostly it annoyed him. "Let’s go!" he called out to his men. "Let’s show that oversized crossbreed of a lizard and a bat what we can do!" As they broke out of the forrest at a galopp, yelling war cries, sabres flashing, crashing into the flank of the already confused Austrian cavalrymen and sending them to flee for good, Ney sensed another emotion in his mind. And it was not his own. It felt like a bit of piqued pride, mingled with grim amusement and, a heartbeat later, surprise. Had the dragon somehow sensed what Ney had told his men? And had Ney just picked up on the dragon’s reaction to it? It seems so. I apologize, the mental link allowing us to communicate in thought must be stronger than necessary. But your emotions also were really … loud, if you allow me to phrase it like that.

"Yeah, whatever. Just stop talking to me, I have some Austrians to kill here. Smalltalk during battle is highly confusing!" I tend to agree. Both about the Austrians and the confusion. While Ney and his hussars put the enemy cavalry to flight, the dragon took another giant leap over the rows of his men, clawing at some enemies who apparently had not yet got the message. The sight of dragon claws and dragon teeth taught them quickly enough, and they started running as well. Everybody hold formation. Close ranks. We continue our movement. My sincere thanks to chef d’escadron Ney and his hussars. This time, the dragon’s telepathic message seemingly was directed at his men – and somehow at Ney’s, too. Cheering, the hussars raised their sabers in greeting, Soult’s infantrymen answered by waving their muskets. Half an hour and another minor engagement later, they reached the main road. Ney, covering the infantry’s march at a short distance to the side, barely dared to believe it: they actually had broken through the ring of enemies. It’s a first step. We’re not out of danger yet, if the area really is as full of enemies as you told us.

"Are you still reading my mind?" I cannot read anyone’s mind. I can only answer to what is directed at me. "I did not fucking direct anything at you! Why are you still in my thoughts?" Why do you keep dragging me in? Just close your mind. "How?" How would I know? Do what you did before. As far as I have learned, if you didn’t expect me to answer to your thoughts, if you did not in some way direct them at me, I would never be aware of them. This was the first time I sensed your thoughts since we came out of the combat against the Austrians, so I guess this was the first time you directed a thought at me. "I fucking didn’t!" Why would he, after all? Why would Ney care about the opinion of some stupid dragon general? I do not know but I’m glad you seem to do. After all, it is only reasonable to coordinate our movements. "Get. Out. Of. My. Thoughts." Ney could clearly sense that the dragon was still there, that he had indeed heard him. He even believed to sense something that was probably the dragon equivalent of a deep sigh. But Soult did not answer, so Ney could at least pretend that he had won the discussion. "Sir?" One of his hussars looked at Ney quizzically. "Are you feeling alright? You were talking to yourself, it seems." "I’m fine." Ney turned his horse around und clapped his spurs to it, signalling his hussars to follow suit. ‚We’re scouting the region ahead’, he thought. Pointedly.

If I am allowed to answer this time, I’ll call that a splendid idea. Thank you. Ney refused to answer or to even acknowledge the dragon’s reply. Instead, he tried to get as much distance between himself and that annoying winged reptile as he could, hoping this would break the link. It seemed to work. Or maybe it was the fact that Ney had to focus on other things. Like, not being detected by Austrian patrols, of which they saw several, though none of them were very strong. They returned to the marching infantry. Dusk was approaching, Soult’s men were setting up camp at a short distance from the road, hidden behind some hedges, in an orchard. The returning hussars could easily have missed it but as soon as Ney started wondering about where to find Soult, he again sensed the dragon’s presence in his mind. This whole dragon business was crazy as hell, he thought. May I ask if you have ever worked closely with one of my kind before? "Not really. I’ve met Lefebvre a couple of times, but only for brief interviews." Were there no dragons where you grew up? "In Saarlouis? Not that I’m aware of. Surely not in our quarter." I see. Would you prefer to come here so we can discuss matters directly, in each others’ presence? It might seem more natural to you. "We’re on our way already." -

Ney’s horse was grazing while its rider had his "talk" with the dragon, audibly crunching tiny green apples between its teeth that had fallen off the trees and now hid in the lush grass. Soult was quite happy about the information he received. I only wish we had a better grasp on the overall situation. You and your men are our only eyes and ears. Without you, we’d be marching blind into territory probably controlled by the enemy. "We’ve been doing our best but we cannot cover a larger territory. The horses need rest, at least for a couple of hours." So do the men. You have done much for us already. We shall wait until dawn. Ney hesitated. "Why don’t you do it? Scout the area, I mean. You’re a dragon. You can fly." I could. If I was not so exhausted myself. Flying, lifting a body as large as mine into the air, takes a lot of strength. I’m trying to save mine for battles. "But if we knew about Austrian troops on the road between us and our main army, we could probably avoid the battles entirely. No need to save your strength then." Soult seemed to ponder that. - You may be right. But dragons do not make the best scouts. In my opinion.

"What are you on about? That’s what they’re most often used for." And not always with satisfactory results. It’s quite easy to overlook or misinterpret things from above, especially when you at the same time need to focus on navigating thermals, wind gusts and air currents. That’s why most often, dragon scouts are given a rider. He looked at Ney quizzically, his head slightly tilting to one side. Ney put one fist on his hip. "Is that an offer? Or a challenge?" You have come to us through enemy territory, you are obviously daring. You also seem to be quite attentive and intelligent. So unless you have bad eyesight… "Nothing wrong with my eyes. I’m game if you are. How does this work?" We brought a harness and a saddle with us for such occasions. "Wonderful", Ney said. He did not feel quite as bold as his tone indicated but he would rather be quartered than admitting that in front of the dragon. "When?"

It will soon be dark. Let us take some rest and set out at dawn. - Climbing into the saddle he felt a bit awkward, and the sudden jolt as the dragon spread its massive wings and took to the air made Ney cling tightly to the saddle until his knuckles turned white. But once he had gotten used to that, he was mesmerized. He had always loved riding. The rush, the speed, the sheer power of a horse at full galopp – but what were they compared to this? "My god, we’re flying! We’re really flying!" That was the plan, yes. Wind forcefully tugged at Ney's hair. He saw the camp getting smaller under him. He had imagined he’d feel uneasy about that but he’d imagined wrong. This was not only not scary – this was great! This was the best thing he’d ever had! I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself but could you focus on the task at hand?

"Sure! Can you go higher?" I could but it would be contrary to the purpose of this endeavour. "Oh, come on, don’t be such a tightass. Just a little. And can you still go faster?" I try to organise my forces. "Go faster. We don’t need to linger here, my hussars have scouted this region already." Maybe Soult was not completely unimpressed by Ney’s enthusiasm. Or he wanted to show off. He did rise higher and he did go faster. Not much, but still. Ney loved it. Could you please start looking for Austrians now? Ney did. They followed the main road almost to the river Lahn. The bridge was still in the hands of the French, as the tricolor over the barricades clearly indicated, and Ney estimated the infantry would be able to reach it by afternoon. The road seemed to be mostly free. Except for a unit of white-clad soldiers that Ney discovered forraging in a village close to the road when he and Soult were already on their way back. "Go down! We can take them on!"

Why would we do that? "Why not?" It’s only a small forraging party, they’re unlikely to try bothering our march. "So? They could still alert their superiors and bring back the main army to block our way. Let’s attack them and teach them a lesson." But then they will surely alert their superiors and come after us. "Not if we scare them enough. Besides, they’ll probably think we came from the other side of the river." When Soult still hesitated, he leaned forward and dug his heels into Soult’s sides like he would have done with a horse. "Oh come on! I need to get some revenge for the way they routed us!" Stop fidgeting about! And don’t kick me, I’m not a mule! Also, hold on to the saddle. We’re going down.

And then they went down. - Neither Ney nor Soult ever learned about it, but their action this morning occasioned a rather distressed report two hours later, given by the Austrian forraging party to their superior officers, once the Habsburg soldiers had dared to leave their hiding places. "Yes, a dragon … a pretty big one … clawing and biting at us … and some red-faced, red-haired lunatic on his back, screaming at the top of his lungs and shooting his pistols and swinging his sabre left and right … even the dragon told him to stop that because the madman put the dragon’s wings at risk… frankly, I do not know which of those two was scarier..." - By that time, Ney and Soult had long rejoined their men. Whom they found already on the march, with Ney’s riders scouting ahead like the day before. Both units greeted them with the obligatory cheers. "Did they set out on their own?" No. I’d given orders. Right before you felt the need to attack those hapless Habsburgs.

"You really can just give orders with your thoughts to anyone like that? At such a distance? I must say I am impressed. A bit." I’ve become quite good at it. I worked and practised a lot. I used to be Lefebvre’s chief-of-staff. - The dragon sounded really proud of that feat. Ney also noticed how Soult’s breathing grew somewhat heavier as the dragon prepared to land next to the marching soldiers. "You alright?" I’m tired. I told you flying would take a toll on me. And that was without taking an utterly pointless fight against Austrians into account. Ney felt a bit bad but didn’t quite want to admit it. "Come on now, that was fun. I’m sure you enjoyed it, I could feel it. Also, I always imagined dragon powers were boundless." I wish they were. Hold tight to the saddle. - There was a big thud as the dragon somewhat clumsily touched ground, then Ney felt the dragon wings brush beside him as Soult folded them close to his body. - Alright. We made it. I’ll need to take a long nap once we’re safe with the main army.

Merde. Exhausting Soult to this point had not been Ney’s intention. He just had felt so powerful, almost invincible – there had been no way to resist that! Still, there was something in his mind that resembled a bad conscience. "Will you be able to get to the river on foot? Do you want me to get off so you don’t have to carry my weight?" To the contrary. Please stay. - The dragon hesitated once more, as if he, too, did not quite want to admit something. - I feel like your … great enthusiasm may actually help me. Also, if you ride on my back I could eat your horse in order to regain some of my strength. - Before Ney could protest, he added: That was a joke. "Good. Because you as much as look at my horse too closely, and you have my sabre in your neck. That was not a joke." Soult made a deep, rumbling sound that could or could not be a dragon laugh, and Ney turned to one of his men. "Claude? Take my horse and keep it safely at a distance from this scaly monsieur here. I will not need it for the rest of this trip." He proudly sat straight. "I’m riding the dragon."

[hollowwrites]

Possession and Obsession

Sebastian x MC

This was a wonderful little request that I lost...sorry

Summary - MC and Sebastian are off on another adventure before MC becomes entranced by some bauble

I hope you don’t mind but I went down the trance route similar to Harry and Ron with Voldemorts Horcrux

Warnings - Angst, Mentions of blood, body horror(?) death, all characters aged up 18+

Word Count - 1856

~

“Looks like a transfer to Gringotts or something” MC stated staring at the large pile of goblin bodies and equally large pile of gold.

The cart the goblins had been protecting was upturned and scattered to the wind. In no way, shape or form, would they be using the cart to transport these galleons anywhere. Coin of all sizes were littering the floor, and when MC peered over the cliffs edge to the beach below, she could see the reflection of gold amongst the waves. No doubt the sea would claim all the coin down there. No point wasting their time retrieving it.

“Or an exceptionally wealthy wizard picked a fight on the wrong day.” He kicked the arm of the only human body around, sending the wand he clutched to lifelessly, flying.

“Let’s see what we can find huh?” The sparkle in MCs eye sent a shiver down Sebastian’s spine and he smiled.

He watching lovingly as she ripped apart trinket boxes, safe boxes and satchels on the search for…he didn’t know. But she looked determined. Occasionally, she’d pop her head back up to show off a new piece she has scavenged before returning to the ruined cart. She had donned a jaunty hat and paraded around the site looking for more. Sebastian laughed loudly.

There was no denying he loved her anymore.

He’d come to that conclusion three nights ago when he removed the sickly sweet cream of a pastry from her nose before licking it off his finger.

She looked up at him with faux disgust, pushing him away before jumping up and kissing him on the nose.

Something about that interaction just…clicked.

Whether it was how comfortable they had gotten around each other, the playful fighting they often engaged in or the kiss…

Merlin, to feel her lips upon him again…

He would do anything

Sebastian squinted as his eyes were assaulted by a flash of light under the brush, interrupting his daydream. He kicked at the ground by the offending light, scattering leaves and debris across some of cascading gold.

A dainty chain held the biggest gemstone he had ever seen. He picked it up with the tip of his wand, staring at how the light refracted through the deep red stone.

“MC, come check this out” Sebastian called completely unaware she was already stood next to him. He jumped a little at her proximity. He opened his mouth to jokingly chastise her for scaring him, but she looked…vacant

“Can I have it?” She asked flatly.

“Didn’t think you were a big jewellery girl?” He smirked, but he was beginning to worry. Her eyes had not left the necklace since he had seen her. He tilted his body so the necklace dangled limply, as far from her as possible.

“I am. I want it”

“Okay well-“ his protests were cut short by her casting Accio and the necklace hauling itself at her. Before he could even move, she’d wrapped the long chain around her neck and sighed contently.

“Yes” is all she whispered, a twisted little smile across her features. Rocking back and forth, she closed her eyes, seemingly happy for the moment.

Sebastian had an extensive knowledge of Dark Relics. And this necklace seemed like exactly that.

He had read once about a potent form of dark magic where one could store a part of their soul. He had considered it as a fail safe for Anne, before realising the price she would have to pay in order for it to work. He wanted to keep Anne innocent in all of this. So this ‘Horcrux’ wasn’t an option.

But that is definitely what he was dealing with now. The soul of some treasure crazed lunatic. Perhaps the wizard who now lay dead on the ground? It didn’t matter. Their dark soul now clung to MC like a leech

“I think we’ve had our fun for today. Why don’t you pass me that necklace and I’ll keep it safe for you? I have the bag remember” he patted at his bag keeping his voice calm. His charm had worked on so many others, why not the fractured soul of a dark wizard?

“I think it’s safer with me than with you.” She jeered

“What do you mean by that?” He couldn’t help but bite.

“Well you don’t have a very good reputation for keeping things safe now do you?” MC smirked wickedly “Salazars Spellbook, The Relic…”

“They were-“

“…Your Sister…”

“She-“

“…Your Parents…”

“I was a child!” He snapped

“Tssk tssk, Sebastian. Shouldn’t be an excuse for the things you love” she opened her eyes finally and he gasped. They were black. Not just the iris, her whole eye…

“MC…” he whispered reaching for her

“Yes someone else you failed to save. So glad you can see it now, Sebby” the nickname fell from her lips with venom.

“You…She doesn’t call me that” He spat

“Oh? What would you prefer? ‘Honey’?” She stepped forward “‘Sweetheart’?” Her hands reached out to his chest, running them along his shoulder and up to his neck. “How about ‘Love’?”

This isn’t her, This isn’t her, This isn’t her

He repeated this phrase over and over in his mind, both because he wanted those words to leave her, desperately, but he wanted her to mean them.

And because he wanted to justify what he was about to do.

Squeezing his eyes shut, and pushing images of her from his head, he sent out a flurry of basic casts at his love, ending it with a Bombarda.

Her body slumped against the rock furthest from him, not even attempted once to block his offensive spells.

She twisted back up, arm pulling back at unnatural angles and cracking as they did. Her stuttering movements unnerved Sebastian as she shambled back towards him.

“See? Couldn’t look after me either” Her jaw hung loosely all the while she spoke. The laughter that left her was nothing like her normal singsongy giggle. Not only was she gurgling and choking over the pool of blood running from her mouth, the laugh itself was …evil.

He needed to do something, before he accidentally killed her.

“Stupefy” Sebastian spat, channelling his anger and pain into the cast.

He needed to knock her out.

Thankfully, the wizard, or whatever had took hold of her, cockily took the blast, and her eyes rolled to the back of her head. She fell limply to the floor and Sebastian was on her in a second, ripping the chain from her neck.

I can offer you so much. Put me on and we can use our collective means to achieve anything you wish

A voice invaded his mind the moment he made contact with the necklace. He scoffed.

“You just tried to take away the one thing I do want. So no thank you” he threw the chain as far into the sea as he could, before sending it further with Depulso

Now, to resolve the issue of his dying partner.

When he returned to her side she was spitting and gurgling and writhing on the floor. The weak little squeals that came from her chest indicated how much pain she was in.

Whilst studying to save Anne, he picked up on quite a few healing spells. He muttered the incantations over and over, setting her bones and stopping her bleeding. Amongst these healing chants he softly stroked her hair and spoke:

“I know, I know, shhhh. I’ve got you. I’m so sorry”

She murmured underneath him until she could formulate proper words. Her jaw snapping back into place with a sickening pop.

“What happened?” She asked horrified staring at the blood on her hands and clothes “Are you okay?”

“Hmph you would ask how I am” He smiled “I’m fine it was…this was…you. Just give two more seconds and I’ll be done. I promise” he smoothed her hair down brushing the stray pieces stuck to her face away.

One last Episky to her leg and she was right as rain. Apart from being covered in her own blood. His eyes scanned over her one last time before he scooped her up in his arms, cradling her back and forth. Now strong enough, she propped herself up, a leg either side of his.

“I was so scared, I thought I’d lost you” Sebastian mumbled against her neck, nuzzling further. He wanted ever last inch of himself touching some part of her. “I thought I’d…”

“Seb, what happened I can’t remember a thing. Last thing I know, I’d found a hat” she laughed, the noise escaping her easily due to the grip Sebastian had on her midsection.

“There was this necklace, it did something to you. You were taunting me and and…I-I knew I had to get it off you so I…may have…thrown you against a rock.” He pulled away from her briefly to gauge her reaction.

“What did I say?” She asked her eyes heavy with concern. Concern? For him?! He’d almost killed her and she was worried about him?! Her hands found their way to his hair, brushing it soothingly away from his freckled face.

“You called me Sebby for starters. Did not like that. You also…kind of…maybe blamed me for the death of my parents and the state of Anne” his eyes dropped not wanting to look at her. He’d always believed those things to be true anyway. But hearing her say them…hurt more than he wanted to believe.

“None of that is true.” She cupped his face and tilted it up towards her. “You know that”

“Yeah that’s what I’m afraid of” he muttered under his breath

“What? You want them to be true?” Her eyebrow raised in confusion.

“Not…everything you said was bad…” he admitted thinking of how his skin tingled hearing her call him ‘Love’

“Oh?” She probed

“You…” he sighed “You called me ‘Love’” his cheeks grew hot. A combination of his admittance and the sudden realisation she remained straddling his lap.

“Ah” she giggled tilting his face up to hers “and why would you want me to call you that, Love?”

“Don’t” he captured her wrists and brought them down off his face. He sighed “In for a knut, in for a Galleon aye?”

The brief look of confusion he saw plastered on her was engulfed in darkness as he pressed his lips to hers. He melted against her, pulling her closer, ushering the two years of repressed feelings into every movement of his lips.

He momentarily regretted the whole thing, before he felt her lips push back against his. A single moment that seemed to last an eternity. Her lips parted, drawing him further in, sucking lightly on his bottom lip. Delicate little fingers found their way through his hair and he groaned. The tender way she moved against him made everything he’d done this evening worth it.

Yes, he had broken her completely.

But he fixed her back up and his reward was well worth it.

They broke away by a hair, breathing each other in.

“How long have you been waiting to do that, Sebby?” She teased

“Too long”

Masterlist

[raaorqtpbpdy]

Amity Park Loves their Ghost Boy

For the Phic Phight prompts: Danny is used to being alone and relying on himself or his friends. When starts to lose a major fight and is on the verge of defeat, the townspeople surprise him with their commitment to their hero. (from @another-shameless-fangirl) and Amity Park loves their ghost boy. (from @underforeversgrace)

AO3 Link

[Warning for non-graphic violence]

Since becoming a halfa, a hero, Danny had learned to rely on only himself and his friends, and no one else. And with Sam, Tucker, and Jazz all attending out of town colleges while Danny went to Amity Park Community after high school to stay close to the portal, the number of people who had his back decreased to one. He'd grown used to being self-sufficient, to clamming up when anyone asked him about his bruises, to keeping everyone else out of the way. No one else had the strength to save his tail, so he had to be strong enough for everybody.

But he didn't think he was strong enough. Not this time.

The ghost was a massive brute, fifty feet tall and dressed like a gladiator, calling himself Omnipotus. He was wailing on Danny worse than Dash ever had, and he wouldn't let up. He had decided based on the stories of Danny defeating Pariah a few years ago, that the halfa was the most powerful ghost around, and Omnipotus was determined to take that title from him by force. Maybe he wasn't quite as powerful as Pariah Dark, but Danny also didn't have the Fenton Ecto-Skeleton giving him a power up this time, and even though he'd gotten stronger in the last three years, it looked like his number might finally be up.

"It's seems I will best you after all, oh Great One," Omnipotus boomed. He spat out the title with a sneer and raised his sword. "I am the strongest ghost in the Infinite Realms."

He started to swing his sword down upon Danny, who was far too tired to dodge or block, and just had time to accept his fate. He'd had a good run, if a short one. But the sword stilled in the air when a rock hit the enormous warrior in the foot.

"Stop it, you big meanie!" Omnipotus and Danny both turned to see who'd said that. "Don't hurt Phantom!"

A little girl, probably six or seven years old stood below them. She picked up another rock and threw it at the meanie's head. Omnipotus growled and made to attack her, but a woman, presumably the girl's mother, jumped in front of her. Danny gasped, and his hand shot out to help, despite knowing there was nothing he could do. Then the sword glanced off her body without doing any damage, despite its size.

"What witchcraft is this?!" Omnipotus demanded, swinging again to the same result.

"Allow me to introduce you to the Fenton Specter Deflector you creep!" The woman shouted. The little girl stepped out and threw another rock, angering Omnipotus further. "Best fifty-eight dollars I ever spent!" 

"Enough!" Omnipotus shouted, then a rock came flying from the opposite direction, and another, and pencil sharpener, and a jawbreaker. A group of teens Danny recognized from Casper High, kids he'd never even learned the names of, or spoken to, who were freshmen when he was a senior, were chucking anything they could get their hands on at the ghost. "Insolent brats!"

"That's rich, coming from a pathetic, wannabe, loser in a skirt!" One of the teens shouted back. The others hurled equally biting insults, and shoes, and pens. Some of them just straight out booed Omnipotus, and was it Danny's imagination, or was the ghost starting to shrink. "You're such a desperate moron you have to chase down actual cool ghosts just to try and get yourself some legitimacy, but by stealing it instead of earning it, you're just exposing yourself as a fraud, a wuss, and a coward!"

"Ouch," Danny said, smirking up at Omnipotus, and yeah, the ghost was definitely starting to shrink. The spectral gladiator swung his sword at the teens, but they'd all been in ghost attacks before, and had developed damn good reflexes from them. The teens dodged, ducked, dove out of the way of the sword. Omnipotus swung again, but he couldn't seem to hit any of them.

Some other little kids had joined the first girl, and they were using the mother wearing the specter deflector as a human shield while they searched the surrounding area for more rocks and threw them at Omnipotus. Most of the rocks didn't even come close, but their displeasure was plenty clear.

"Meanie!"

"Grumpy-pants!"

"Doo-doo head!"

"Dummy!"

"Fart face!"

"That's it!" Omnipotus screeched, and turned intangible so the things that were thrown at him went right through him. "I'm not here to fight some measly, powerless mortals. I'm here for the ghost boy."

"Like hell you are!" Finally some more adults joined the fray. A woman with short hair and a flannel shirt jumped out of her pick up truck with a shotgun and took aim. "That's our ghost boy!"

"Your puny human weapons can't hurt—ARGHHG!" Omnipotus cut himself off with a screech as the woman fired twice and he was hit with a spray of green gunpowder. Apparently, he hadn't been to the mortal realm in some time if he didn't know about ghost hunting weapons.

"Fenton rounds," The woman said, reloading. "No Amity Parker over the age of eighteen doesn't have at least one anti-ghost weapon in their arsenal! Ain't that right June?" Another woman in a floral sundress hopped out of the passenger seat and activated a bedazzled Fenton Wrist Ray, taking aim at the ghost.

"Sure is, May," she said, and started firing at the ghost as well. "Step away from our hero!"

Danny had heard from his parents that there was a pretty big market for anti-ghost weapons and equipment in Amity Park these days, but he hadn't imagined that so many people would have them. And even those who didn't threw rocks, and shoes, and insults. More and more kept coming, people of all ages from all over town. Some of the people already there called up friends to come take potshots at the ghost who was giving Phantom trouble.

More and more people showed up saying things along the lines of, "I heard we were beating the crap outta some ghost?"

Omnipotus, who'd once been a giant, shrank smaller and smaller, trying and failing to defend himself against their booing and taunting. Some people had set up several ghost shields to resonate into a single, larger one to keep Omnipotus from escaping. A ring of people with specter deflectors held the front line, jumping in front of people when the ghost tried to launch a counter attack.

Danny, too weak to move much, had been carried out of the immediate danger zone a while ago to recuperate and recover his strength. He watched from a distance until Omnipotus had shrunk too small to be seen over the crowd.

"You alright, Phantom?" asked an elderly man who was sitting back to watch the show as he manned one of the ghost shield generators.

"Yeah," Danny said. "I'll be fine. I just... I can't believe that so many people would do this for me."

"You protect us all the time," the old man said kindly. "It's the least we can do to return the favor when you're in a bind."

"Who's got a Ghost Trap?!" someone shouted over the crowd.

"Here!" Danny said, holding up his Fenton Thermos. A cheer went up amongst the assembly as Danny was hauled to his feet and gently pushed back toward the front.

"Let this be a lesson, you gladiator creep," a woman said when Danny arrived and uncapped the thermos. "Amity Park loves our ghost boy, and we don't take too kindly to those who try to hurt him."

"Yeah!" said a little boy, then he stuck out his tongue at Omnipotus.

It seemed that, being the ghost of a gladiator, cheering made him stronger, and booing weakened him. This particular crowd wasn't cheering for him. The once enormous ghost now stood even smaller that the little boy taunting him, and he crossed his arms and pouted petulantly. Danny activated the thermos and sucked him into it, and the crowd cheered again.

Danny was bombarded with hugs, and high-fives, and handshakes as he slowly made his way out of the crowd. Most of his energy had returned while the good people of Amity Park took over the fight, so once the ghost shield generators were turned off, he was able to take to the skies without a problem. He flew home wearing a face-splitting grin. Wait 'til Sam and Tucker heard about this.

[the-ninja-legacy-whip]

can you rank the guardians (including wojira and GD in book 2) from biggest to smallest

Well, back in 21-22, I had the idea for the Guardians to be able to change their shape and size at whim, but a) I could never figure out why this would be a thing they could do, and b) it never actually made it into a story, therefore it’s not ‘canon’. That being said, their sizes actually vary quite a bit as a result.

The Great Devourer is the biggest for, well, obvious reasons. If she didn’t have the destructive eating/growing thing (courtesy of biting Garmadon), she would’ve been equal in size to Genesis. But of course, she went from being smaller than them to utterly surpassing them.

Genesis/Wojira are next! They’re both about the same size, though they’re moreso long as opposed to being big, they still cut a rather imposing silhouette. They both drawf buildings and make people look like ants in return.

Next is technically Tawhiri. From just her head/body alone, she is the same size as Ruamoko, but her tentacles give her some extra length there. Nothing more terrifying than there being a big ol’ Lightning storm and then a giant flying octopus emerges from the clouds—

Then it’s Ruamoko! He’s pretty huge, being able to hold Cole in the palm of his hand for example, and able to catch a falling building (though that’s mostly due to his crazy strength anyway), but he’s not the size of a skyscraper or anything. As mentioned in the GD fight, he’s just a bit bigger than Eirlys and Vulcanell combined.

Next is Vulcanell, who is essentially the size of a regular lion, if not somewhat bigger. Large enough to hold/carry a few people on his back, small enough for fiery cuddles with a Fire Master.

Eirlys is also only a little bigger than the average wolf (which are actually already pretty big when it comes to potentially dangerous animals). Still imposing despite the relatively smaller stature compared to her fellow Guardians, but not above getting pets and treats from Zane (and Cole) on occasion snksnksnk.

Last is Epsilon, who for a good chunk of the story is about as big as the GD was pre-Garmadon bite. During the NRG Arc she starts to reach the size of a Boa Constrictor, and one day if she is cared for and treated well, she just might reach Genesis’ size as a proper Guardian, as her mother should have before her.

[highfunctioningflailgirl]

Damage Control - 2x15 Tall Tales

Bobby sways in the backseat as Dean takes his suggestion to get the hell out of Dodge literally, weaving the Impala down the winding country road at high speed. The old Chevy is a heavy and unwieldy car, but Dean drives it like the devil, in spite of the concussion Bobby is almost certain he sustained during the fight with the Trickster. Well - the fight with the scantily clad, voluptuous girls the Trickster had conjured, to be exact.

“Whoa! Take it easy there, son!” Bobby complains from the back seat as the car swerves through a sharp turn. “She’s not a racing car! Her suspension’s not gonna like it if you keep going like that!”

“Baby’s fine,” Dean shouts over the roaring engine. Riding shotgun, Sam seems unfazed by Dean’s driving. He leans into each bend and drift with practiced ease, like a sailor having found his sea legs a long time ago.

“Yeah, but are you?” Bobby asks, steadying himself against the backrest in front of him.

“Whaddaya mean?”

“Those girls got you pretty good. Saw you flying into that seat head first. And swaying on your feet after. That melon of yours okay?”

Dean huffs. “‘s fine.” He doesn’t even turn his head to look at Bobby.

But Sam’s picked up on Bobby’s concern and studies his brother with a frown.

“Is he right? Did you hurt your head?”

Slowing down a fraction, Dean throws him an annoyed look. “No, man, I’m fine! You saw that I was fine!”

The road has straightened out. Dean pushes the Impala above the allowed speed limit, but it’s smoother going now.

“I was kind of busy with Bobby and friggin’ Chainsaw Man, Dean,” Sam points out. “I saw that the girls were kicking your ass.” A smirk curls his lip. “But I didn’t see you hitting your head.”

“I did,” Bobby remarks from the backseat. “Twice.” He really doesn’t want to rain on Dean’s parade, and he’s not one to make a big fuss about a little conk on the head - but from where he’s sitting, the boy’s profile looks pale under his freckles, and Bobby sees a suspicious lump forming at his hairline.

“That’s a pretty nasty bruise you’re getting,” Sam, peering at Dean, observes from the passenger seat. “Maybe Bobby’s right. Slow down!”

“What?”

“Let him check you out.”

“Have you two lost your minds?” Dean decelerates the car, but only to turn his head and glare at Sam, then at Bobby. “Listen, I’m fine! Bobby! When did you turn into a freakin’ mother hen?!”

When you were six and Sam was two and your dad dropped you off at my place with pneumonia.

“Look,” Bobby says grumpily. “If you want to ride out a concussion at sixty miles per hour, fine. Suit yourself! But if you pass out behind the wheel and drive us off the road, I’m gonna be mighty pissed. And you only just rebuilt the damn car. I’m pretty sure you don’t wanna do it again?”

He can hear Dean rolling his eyes from the backseat.

“Dean?” Sam, clearly Team Bobby now, has pulled out his worried little brother look. “Come on, man. Just pull over! Let’s check you out. Humor me?“

Dean shakes his head. “This is ridiculous.” But he slows the Impala down and stops.

They’re in the middle of nowhere, in a forestry area, and Bobby makes Dean get out of the car and takes him through the motions while birds whistle around them and sunlight dapples the Impala’s black hood through the treetops.

“Headache?”

“No.”

Bobby arches an eyebrow. “You sure?”

Dean fidgets. “A little.”

“Dizziness?”

“Barely.”

“You feel sick?”

“No.”

“How many fingers?”

Dean rolls his eyes but - with a bit of squinting - he recognizes the four fingers Bobby is holding up. His pupils are equal-sized, and although the lump on his head is prominent now, he can walk in a reasonably straight line and remembers his presidents when Bobby quizzes him.

“See?” Dean grouses. “Told you so.”

“You still look a little pale,” Sam says from where he’s watching, leaning against the car. “You sure you’re not gonna puke?”

“You’re sitting beside me,” Dean answers, fed-up with their fussing. “You’ll be the first to know if I do.”

“Haha. Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

Bobby smirks into his beard without the boys seeing it. After the intensity of the last time he saw them - Sam possessed by a demon, Dean with a gunshot wound - their brotherly squabbling is a balm to his soul. For once, this isn’t about life or death. For once, they don’t have an enraged supernatural beast chasing their tails. For once, no Winchester is threatening to bleed out under Bobby’s hands.

For once, in fact, Sam and Dean are just being who they’re supposed to be - brothers, riling each other up without any of their bickering threatening the fondness Bobby can sense underneath. Their father’s death had done a number on them, and their hunt for the yellow-eyed demon is making Bobby lose sleep with worry, but it warms his heart to witness the strong bond that is forming between the two brothers. As different as they are, in spite of their old rivalry, Bobby can tell that their dynamic is shifting ever so slightly. Dean’s still the big brother - commanding and protective - while Sam’s remained the sensitive, defiant younger sibling. But what they’ve gone through has brought them closer, smoothing out their age gap and making them see more eye to eye.

“You gonna let me drive now?” Sam challenges Dean.

“Why would I? I’m good! Bobby? I’m good, right?” Dean gestures at him, looking for an ally.

“You got your ass handed to you by two juiced-up hookers and their Trickster pimp,” Bobby remarks dryly. “You’re takin’ a break from driving until that duck egg on your head comes down and you can see straight.”

“Bobby…” Dean throws his hands up in near-comical exasperation.

“Shut up and give your brother the damn keys!”

A few dark looks and mumbled curses later, Dean gives in and tosses the car keys at a grinning Sam.

“She’s as good as new, Sammy,” Dean warns him. “One scratch and I swear I’ll give you a trashing you can’t sit for a week!”

Unbothered by his brother’s threats, Sam saunters over to the driver’s side and makes a show of sliding behind the wheel. Dean glares when Sam slams the door shut with too much force.

“Hey!” Dean shouts. “Careful! Oh, and by the way, you still owe me a new set of tires!”

Sam rolls the window down and sticks his head out. “And you still owe me a new laptop!”

Huffing, Dean just flips him the bird and stomps over to the passenger side.

Smiling, Bobby opens the rear door and lets his aging bones sink into the backseat. He’s not gonna remind them that both the slashed tires and the missing computer were the trickster’s doing.

When Sam starts the Impala, pointedly revving the engine, Dean punches him in the shoulder, and Sam shoves back. Peeling back onto the road, Sam pops a new cassette into the tape deck and turns up the volume. A mischievous grin spreads across his face as the first tunes of a country song fill the car.

“What the hell?!” Dean winces, appalled. He reaches for the tape deck.

Confidently, Sam holds one big hand out to keep his scrabbling brother from ejecting the cassette.

“Uh-uh,” he says, with authority. “House rules, Dean! Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cake hole!”

Dean slumps back, hands over his ears, groaning.

Behind them, Bobby laughs.

Boys.

The Damage Control Series - Masterlist

Read the whole series on AO3 here:

[desultory-novice]

Mechalor AU Anon retuning to bring up a few things that came to mind.

1) I can imagine that Marx, due to having not gotten the Nova wish, would instead roll around on and attack with gem apples as opposed to his usual beach balls.

2) in Marx Epilogue, would the Ultra Sword sequence go differently on account of Marx not having hands? Maybe he uses a different Super Ability (Flare Beam as an example) or perhaps a different move entirely (Something based on the Crowns Cutters? A black hole akin to his splitting attack from his canon self?)

3) What happens to Nova after Magalors defeat? Its described to be "quietly whirring", so I assume it is just functioning on low power mode, but would it eventually fly away? Crash land on Popstar? Maybe it stays orbiting the planet, becoming a new background element (one that I'm sure would draw some attention from other worlds).

And 4) Would Mechalor, on account of him being reconstructed out of his magic and Nova's parts, be able to use any of his boss fight attacks without needing to deconstruct the god clock? Would he maybe even be able to make a wish on himself if given the needed power?

(Oh and 5) I feel like Mechalor "not changing from the experience" [being trapped inside Nova and having to pull himself together] seems a bit strange when Marx in canon changes from his own experience, even if it's a small amount. We don't see Marx try betray anyone, nor him try snatch up some other power source, but it seems like Mechalor still would. Idk maybe I'm reading too much into this.

6) (last one for real this time) what would the Marx Soul equivalent be? Magalors essence creeping into Nova and infecting all of it, remaking himself out of ALL of Nova rather than bits and pieces? Magalor just absorbing it's power as it explodes (assuming Kirby hits him into Nova's core just a little harder) and refusing to die, perhaps subconsciously making a wish to the last remnants of Nova? Maybe he isn't even strong enough to manifest one, and he simply *tries*, making a mess of magic, Nova pieces and himself that shambles towards Kirby, its one goal being taking them down with it.

(Love your work BTW)

More BOSS SWAP AU Time!

1) Adorable! I love it! (And I didn't even think about this but now we have Shopkeeper(?) Marx as he waits patiently (?) for the Master Tree to grow to full size so he can get the power to go home?)

...Also BEHOLD Marx's little (cursed) Master Crown hands.

2) I would say the Epilogue is the first place/time Marx begins to learn how to manipulate the Crown Gold left embedded in his body. He might not have a full on "body split" attack, but I imagine if the Crown uses its roots to try and impale Marx, finishing him off, Marx grits his teeth and forces his weak and aching body apart ju~st enough so the roots all impact the molten gold parts of him...

...Mistelteinn becomes trapped, frozen in metal that is of equal (limitless) strength to its own...and that's when the bells on Marx's hat begin to vibrate... faster and faster, building up static energy, growing to a greater and greater size until they nearly consume the screen! Marx unleashes the the dual sparks which collide into Mistelteinn, the gold transmitting the electricity (shocking Marx a little) but doing devastating damage to the tree!

It explodes magnificently and shaken Marx gets a charge of power  from the experience. (As well as a boost of confidence, once he gets his requisite good cry out, that is.)

(I do love the idea that he would specialize in Flare Beam instead of Ultra Sword, given his own hat is "Beam" like in nature)

3) I would say that yes, Nova remains a presence in orbit around Popstar for a while (similar to the Dreamstalk) however, it is currently inert and incapable of granting further wishes - this is partially because it is still in the process of "carrying out" Magolor's wish, which I speculated in another post to be something like "...immortality!" or "...that nothing can stop me" (ie: though Magolor has been crushed and effectively buried alive, he can't die. This is why I describe his "death" as gruesome btw.)

But once Mechalor finally emerges from the Nova and is no longer in the process of ~dying forever~ the Nova probably blinks out of existence and back to wherever Novas go pre-summoning.

(TLDR, the Nova couldn't leave to continue doing Nova things because it's like a computer running hot trying to run a complicated program and as a result, everything else is stalled/lagging.)

4) Hmm, I feel like Magolor wouldn't really have anything new in his arsenal, so much as he would have more tech/cyborg/robot versions of his regular moveset? Or as best as he can replicate them. Although yes, that might manifest as Nova-inspired moves! He could crush you with the pendulum-mace as opposed to using the Ultra Sword or he could throw light bulbs on the ground that explode into glass shards after a while. (Oh no! Why are his moves more violent?! XD)

5) No, no, that's fair!/pos That was mostly a sassy quip of me comparing Mechalor to the radical changes in motivations Magolor experiences going through the Epilogue! You're right in that he does change. Even though Mechalor will say he was unaffected by his experiences, it's clearly not true.

The main difference is that he never considers himself to have "turned over a new leaf." He hasn't particularly decided on anything he wants to do with his "life" (as much as you can call it that.) He hasn't remembered any dreams he once had or tried to pursue them. He's "happy" being goofy, lying pest to his friends and fellows.

(The number of scare quotes here ought to tell you how Mechalor is not really okay and definitely not unchanged, he just wants to pretend to be. Because really, his continually reoccurring/repeating death(s) inside the Nova was quite simply mind-breakingly horrific and there's no way you don't come up with any number of mental systems and loopholes and deals with yourself and whatever divine figure you believe in trying to avoid such a reality....)

6) Ahaha! Ohh boy, I hadn't even thought about their Soul form equivalents! Considering in both their cases, their Soul forms are just them but more horrible and... Oh...

Oh great... my horror brain just imagined for BossSwap!Marx Soul, the Master Crown's thorn blades suddenly start spinning, turning them into buzzsaws and it gaining a new "attack" where it basically sends a spray of damage-inducing Marx-ian blood shower and gore at you... >.> Dess's Brain, why do you do these things...?!!

Answer: Honestly, I'm probably processing too many Castlevnia games as a child... I'll admit that Boss-Swap Marx's fight was heavily inspired by my memories of being a little (a lot) traumatized by the fights with Beelzebub (SotN) and Puppet Master (DoS)

...Let's not even talk about Legion. Those damned screams...

Err, right! Mechalor Soul! Given the way the True Arena plays out in Super Star Ultra, with it taking place directly after Marx's defeat, I imagine we'd have to go the same with Magolor here, starting with him still entombed. Since these fights (at least Marx and Magolor's) are highly reminiscent of their original fights, just with new patterns, I would say... maybe something like your remaking himself idea?

Perhaps you end up with a redo of the original Boss-Swap Magolor fight, with you fighting the pieces of Nova being wielded against you like weapons, only...you can't SEE Magolor yet. It's only when you get to the second, new phase does he reveal himself from within the Nova as the controller of this fight, appearing as a half-machine, half-corpse pre-Mechalor grisly mess? (Agh, nooo, why is this AU getting gorier all the time? ^^;; It started out so simple and now it's gone full horror with blood and guts and ruined bodies... Sob...)

So... basically like a "haunted" version of the Magolor battle with a last phase added in? And if he needs an original "death scene" ala Marx Soul's being split in two and screaming, I can imagine something similar to his original loss only with a jumpscare element Instead of Magolor being pulled into the background, the awakened Nova JUMPS to the foreground of the screen (like Star Dream) while Magolor is passed out/unconscious (alternatively, while he's stunned and in complete and total terror) and clasps shut on him.

Get back in your coffin, buddy.

...

......

.........I swear I'm doing all right mentally. >.<

[yandere-fics]

Ok because I'm bored today: Pixie Darling thoughts

Abigail is incredibly protective of you. You're so small and delicate, she simply must take care of you. She gives you very sweet and tender kisses. All the time, but never lets you venture out of the house.

Theanna has a tiny throne for you on her throne's armrest. There's a bit of unrest in the kingdom over the strange marriage, she might even get you to do some spying if she trusts you enough to let you put yourself in a little danger.

Pauline is kinda mean. She makes fun of you for being so small, you must be dumb since your brain is so tiny. But she's also lovely once she lets her more tender side out, giving your wings tiny kisses before flicking your ass to make you yelp. One time you accidentally fell asleep in her palm and you looked so small and peaceful, she insists you can only nap in her hand from now on.

Ainsley adores you. She has you working as her little assistant, bringing her things and being her experiment when she needs to test things in tiny doses. She may even figure out how to temporarily grow you in size so the two of you can fuck hold eachother.

Bibi is a menace. She thinks you're sooooo funny, she simply must keep you around her at all times. She ties a string around your tiny little body and attaches it to her wrist so you can never fly away from her. Sometimes she yanks on the string when she wants a kiss. She lets you sleep in the hollow parts of her leg.

Elisha takes you on her adventures, that's probably where she met you. She lets you sit on her shoulder and chat to her, but you have to stay back when she's fighting.

Veronia is... something. You're so small and tiny she loves it, when she's in her dragon form she can't even see you. She keeps you wrapped up all nice and warm in her cave, pampering you and treating you like a little pixie princess. She has you bathe in golden goblets, wear earrings as necklaces, and in return she gets to run her tongue along your entire body from time to time, covering you in gross dragon spit and licking you until you cum.

Miriel is incredibly sweet. She loves you so much, even though there's a giant size difference she'd still have you be the dominant one in the relationship. She'd buy the two of you matching jewellery and sneaks you into work with her because she hates being away from you, one of the drawers in her desk has been reformed into a little bedroom for you to sleep in.

Eliza is a menace to society. She loves you because you're so cute and adorable. She puts you in her mouth sometimes. It's terrifying but she finds it so amusing when she spits you out and you're grasping for air covered in saliva.

Kassien sees your wings as a privelege you need to earn. If you won't behave, she'll stick you to a board with thumb tacks. If you continue to try and escape her, she'll cut your wings off, forcing her to carry you whenever you want to go somewhere. She also likes when you sit on her head and use her horns as handles. She's also still equally mean, forcing you to sit on a bullet vibrator as she turns the settings up all the way, the vibrations spreading all throughout your little body. If you cum before she gives you permission, she's gonna tape you to the bullet and leave you there for a few more hours.

Nikki is ecstatic. Her mate is so small you can be a part of her collection! Your fingernails and hair may be too small to collect, but she makes you a sealed dollhouse to live in so she can always watch and observe you, like a captured animal in an enclosure. She sits for hours and watches you, and when you get tired she scoops you up to nap with her, lying down on her chest.

I've already written how Runa acts but I want to add that she makes you roleplay with her anime figurines since you're the same size. "IT'S NOT WEIRD NOW TELL RIN-SAN THAT SHE'S YOUR BEST FRIEND"

-girlfailure

I love pixie darling so much

[five-rivers]

Little Lost Lamb

Remember how I said I was going to expand on some of the feelings from Monstrous Dreams? Here we go~

.

Usually, Danny left ghosts that weren't causing trouble alone.  Sure, being a ghost was a crime and all, but it was one he was guilty of, too, and he wasn't a cop.  He was a superhero.  Plus, he had enough headaches, including the very literal one caused by lack of sleep (thanks, Skulker) and finals stress (thanks, Lancer), without adding to them by making extra enemies.  

Unfortunately, the beginning of his superhero career had been full of dumb mistakes like that, so his reputation among ghosts was "combative and territorial."  Him showing up as Phantom could cause a fight by itself. 

Which meant that he was at a bit of a loss regarding ghosts that seemed to need help.  

Today's ghost in distress was a shepherdess.  She was tall, verging into giant, with the exaggerated proportions some ghosts seemed to favor.  Her dress was checkered pink, with a frilly, lacy ruff on the bottom, a pink vest, and an equally pink and lacy bonnet tied in a bow at her chin.  She held a long shepherd's crook in her hand, which, itself, had a bow on it.  Behind her trailed two enormous, white, fluffy sheep, each with a matching pink bow and a cheerfully ringing bell around their necks.  Except for their ghostly glow and the massive, curling, silvery-black horns all three of them were sporting, they could have stepped out of a children's storybook.

At the moment, the ghost wasn't doing anything threatening, only flying to and fro as if looking for something, her sheep trailing after her, but from the flashes of her face Danny could see past her bonnet and horns, she was becoming increasingly anxious.  Danny had a bad feeling that even if he didn't show up as Phantom, there would soon be a problem.  

He sent a quick text to Sam and Tucker, telling them he'd be late for their study session, and approached cautiously.  He didn't know how she'd react to a human talking to her, although she seemed to be ignoring all the bystanders filming her with their phones.

"Excuse me, Miss?  Ma'am? Do you need help?"

The ghost turned to him.  Her eyes were glowing gold, with a large, bar-shaped pupil, and full of unshed tears.  

"One of my sheep has gone missing, and I can't find her!  Have you seen her?"

Danny swallowed back a Little Bo Peep joke and shook his head.  "No, but I can help you look."

"You will? Oh, you precious little lamb!  Thank you, thank you!"

She leaned down and cupped Danny's face with her huge hands.  Her thumbs rubbed circles into his temples, the fabric of her white gloves whispering pleasantly over his skin, and he surprised himself by momentarily leaning into her touch.  He pulled back, startled.  

"Where," he said, before having to pause, pushing against a headache that felt all the worse for the moment of relief.  "Where did you last see her?"

"I was walking along this road," she said.  "I was trying to find the bakery, you see.  But when I got there, I looked back, and- and she was gone!"

The ghost started crying.  Danny patted her elbow comfortingly.  

"It's okay.  I'm sure we'll find her.  She's about the same size as these two, right?"  A Glowing ghost sheep that stood five feet tall at the shoulder would be hard to miss.  

The ghost nodded.  "A-and she had h-her little bow, and her- her bell.  I tie them on ev-every morning."

"Okay," said Danny, "good job."  He turned to glare at some of the cell phone people.  "Maybe you guys could help, instead of just staring?"

"You can't expect us to deal with ghosts!" protested one of them.  

"Then get out of here!  You're being rude."

"Do you really think you can find her?  People are always try-trying to steal my poor sheep.  The horns, you see…  I can't give them to just anyone."

"She can't have gone far, right?  It's only been a few minutes."

The ghost nodded tearfully and a few salty droplets landed on Danny's skin.  

"Then she'll be nearby," said Danny, optimistically.  He hoped he wouldn't have to fight some other ghost over a sheep.  "Why don't you fly up to check the roofs, and I'll look in the alleys, okay?"

"Alright," she said.  "Thank you so much, lamb."

She floated up, her sheep following her.  Danny started walking down the street, peering into alleys and down crossroads as he went.  Some of the pungent ones made him gag.  His headache must be getting bad if smells like this were setting him off.  

It couldn't have been more than ten minutes before he found a patch of bright, fluffy whiteness where it shouldn't have been.  The sheep.  Eating someone's old pizza box.  He’d thought only goats that did that.

“Hey!" he shouted up at the sky. "I found her!"

The shepherdess was there so fast Danny wondered if she had teleported.  

“Oh, you naughty little thing!” she cooed at the sheep.  She picked the sheep up, lifting it over her head.  The sheep seemed unconcerned at this development.  “You gave me such a fright!  And now you’re filthy.”  She put the sheep down, but wrapped an extra length of ribbon around its neck and tied the other end to her staff.

Danny watched her fuss over the sheep and felt his head throb.  Yep.  Headache was definitely getting worse.  

“Now, you, wonderful little lamb.”  The shepherdess was looming over him again, his face back in her hands.  

Had she gotten bigger?  She felt bigger, but that might just be the confines of the alley.  Her large thumbs circled his temples and forehead, exerting a gentle pressure.  He let her continue as she spoke, only listening with half an ear.  She was showering him with compliments, in a tone not entirely unlike the one she used for her wayward sheep, if more positive.  

“How can I repay you?”

The question brought him back to reality.  “You don’t have to.  I’m happy to help.”  And he was.  He could feel his core humming behind his headache, basking in praise for a job well done.  “But there are ghost hunters in town.  You might want to go home.”

“Oh, I think I would be going home now, regardless.  I’m going to have to give these naughty little ones a bath.  But I do thank you for the warning.  You really are a helpful little lamb, aren’t you?”  

She leaned down and planted a kiss on the center of Danny’s forehead.  A sharp zing of pain went through his head, and the edges of his vision began to pulse.  The ghost pulled back, letting go.  Danny felt tears gather in his eyes at the sudden pain.  

“I know,” she said.  She plucked a small bow from inside her pocket.  A grape-sized bell hung from the knot.  “If you ever need my help, untie this, and it will lead you to me.”

“Thanks,” he said, voice rather strangled.  

She gave him a smile and patted him on the head again, this time carding fingers through his hair.  Then she lifted from the ground, her sheep following her.  

Danny rubbed his eyes.  That had gone better than expected.  What had he been doing again?  

Study session.  Sam’s house.  Right.  

He made it there, somehow, and texted her so she could let him in without him knocking and possibly drawing the ire of her parents.  

Sam opened the door, and hung there, her gaze rapidly filling with concern.  “You look awful,” she said.  “What happened?”

“Thanks,” said Danny, quietly, unwilling to raise his voice much above a whisper.  “I’ve got a headache.”

Sam’s face twisted in sympathy.  “Are you sure you want to do this today?”

“Test is on Monday,” Danny pointed out.

“Right,” said Sam.  “Come on in.”  They snuck from the brightly-lit entryway to the blessedly dimmer, cooler basement.  

“Hey!” greeted Tucker.  “Got your text.  Why were you late?”

“Helping a ghost.”

Tucker’s eyebrows went up.  “Really?”

“Lost her sheep.”

“You were helping the ghost of Little Bo Peep?”

“More or less.”  Danny sat down on one of the beanbags and squinted at what Tucker was holding.  “Flashcards?”

“We thought it was a good place to start.  Want to make it interesting?”

“Tucker, we are not gambling on flashcards.”

Danny leaned back, listening to his friends idly bicker.  His head throbbed, pressure intense behind his eyes, and he couldn’t help but groan.  

“You okay, man?”

“I–”  Danny’s breath hitched as the pain went white and piercing.  Then, even through the pain, or perhaps because of the pain, the pressure inside his head eased deliciously.  He crooned as a sort of solid pulse ran from his brain to his core.  

“Oh my gosh!  Danny, where are you bleeding?”

Bleeding?  Danny blinked, his vision slowly returning.  There was something warm and wet on his face.  

Before he could respond, he was seized by the combined pain and relief again.  When it cleared, he could feel another pressure, this one on the outside of his head and much more comfortable.  It reminded him of the shepherdess’s touch.  

“Danny?” said Sam, her voice wavering.  

“Are you okay?” asked Danny, with a minimum of slurring.  He seemed to still be sprawled out on the beanbag.  Sam and Tucker were both hovering over him, faces worried.  There were flecks and smears of blood on their faces and clothes.

“You’re the one who randomly started bleeding from their head,” said Tucker.  There was a green tinge to his skin.  “We should be asking you that.”

“Oh,” said Danny.  

“I’ve been putting pressure on it,” said Sam.  “But I’m going to take it off now, okay?  So we can see what, um, what might have caused it.”

Danny almost nodded reflexively, but the way his head throbbed and his stomach heaved at the thought warned him off.  “Okay,” he said.  

Sam peeled something off his forehead.  It came away with the sticky, tacky feeling of cloth soaked in something that wasn’t water.  Some of the sensation of good, outside pressure disappeared with it, and he keened in displeasure.  But some, thankfully, stayed.

Tucker swallowed heavily and covered his mouth.  “Oh, jeez,” he said.  “Danny.  Dude.”

“What?” asked Danny.  

“You, uh.  You’ve got horns.”

“What?” 

“Horns,” said Sam, a little more clearly than Tucker.  “Like on a goat or something.”

Danny reached up to his face, fingers gingerly questing over his eyebrows, then to the sides.  He hit tender, sore, flesh, and then…  Then something hard, protruding from it.  Something curved and ridged with a sweetly sharp tip.  

Horns.  

Danny had horns.  

Danny, in human form, had horns.  

“Like a sheep,” he said.  “Not a goat.”

.

They managed to get Danny into the basement bathroom.  The Mansons had built it with a full bath and shower, for some reason, even though there wasn’t even a guest room down here, and Sam used the shower wand to wash the blood off Danny’s face while Tucker helped stabilize him on the edge of the tub.  

It was oddly pleasant.  He wished they’d put pressure on his head again.  He’d tried it himself, reaching up to push, but it wasn’t the same.  

“So, you think it was the shepherd lady?”

“I mean,” said Danny, trying to stay focused on the conversation despite how the pressure inside his skull was building again, begging to be let out, “that makes sense, right?”

“It doesn’t seem like a coincidence,” said Sam.  “Did your headache start when you talked to her?”

“No, already had it.”  He shut his eyes.  The bathroom lights were unbearably bright.  He wanted to lie down and go to sleep.  

“Well–”

Danny was hit with another wave of pain, but this time he rode it, holding on to his awareness of his surroundings by the tips of his fingers.  Again, the pressure eased into something bearable, and blood ran down Danny’s face.    

Sam swore.  “They got bigger,” she said.  

“Yeah,” said Tucker, “what was that, twenty minutes?”

“About,” said Sam.  “Why?”

“If they’re going to keep growing, we should keep track of how fast,” said Tucker.  

“Don’t want them to keep growing,” mumbled Danny.  

“We know,” said Sam, soothingly, “we’re going to try to stop it, don’t worry.”  She dabbed at his forehead with a washcloth, and he leaned into the touch, seeking contact and pressure.  

“Mirror?” he asked.  

“There might be one in the drawer.  Tucker?”

Tucker got up, and Danny shivered.  He wanted Tucker back by him.  Wanted to lean on him.  

“Here,” said Tucker, rejoining Danny.  Danny mumbled and leaned on him.  “Yeah, yeah, I know, you always get touchy feely when you feel bad.”  He rubbed Danny’s back, up and down.  “Got your mirror.”

It was small and ringed with a floral pattern that indicated Mrs. Manson had picked it out, but it was more than sufficient to find the inch-long silver-white-black horns on either side of Danny’s forehead.  He raised a hand to touch one, fingers first whispering over the thorn-sharp tip, then proding around the red and tender base.

“Yeah,” said Danny.  “Definitely the shepherdess.  Her horns looked just like this, but bigger.”

“Crap,” said Tucker.  “You don’t think you’re turning into a sheep?”

“How could he possibly know that?”

“I don’t know, but it seems like a relevant question, doesn’t it?  I don’t want my best friend to be mutton!”

Sam sighed.  “This is why I’m vegetarian.”

“Because a ghost might polymorph your best friend?” asked Danny.

“Does his hair look fluffier to you?  Sam, touch it.”

“It looks wet and full of bits of blood,” said Sam.  “You touch it.”

“Come on, I don’t touch his hair often enough to tell.”

“And you think I do?”

“Yeah?”

“Guys,” said Danny.  “She left me something.”  He pulled the bow out of his pocket.  “Said this would lead me to her if I needed her help.”

“Okay,” said Sam.  “Do you trust that?  She did do this to you, after all.”

“Still need to find her,” said Danny.  “Figure out what it was she did.”

“Do you think she’s still on this side?”

“Told her to go home,” said Danny.  “It’s been a while.”

“We’ll need the Speeder,” said Sam.  

“I’ll be the distraction!” said Tucker, making Danny wince at the volume.  “Sorry, dude.”

.

Danny borrowed a beanie from Sam to hide his horns.  The shape of them was still visible underneath, but unless someone already knew what it was, they wouldn’t be able to tell.  

The horns grew more on their way to Fentonworks, no less painful than before, each period of growth preceded by that awful build of pressure.  

“I think I’ve ruined your hat.”

“Yeah,” said Sam.  “I don’t really care about that.”  Her phone buzzed.  She looked at it briefly.  “Tucker says your parents are out, now, let’s go.”

Sam led him, stumbling, to Fentonworks.  Getting into the Speeder was a bit of a blur.  Sam got into the driver’s seat, with Danny laid out in the back. 

“So,” said Tucker, climbing in after them.  “Anything else happen?”

“Think they got longer.”  Danny pulled off the beanie.  

“They did.  Yikes,” said Tucker.  He made a note on his PDA.  “That’s… fast.”

“Mmm,” said Danny.  He closed his eyes and ran his fingers up over the horns.  Another half inch, maybe?  They felt solid.  Heavy.

“What does it feel like when they grow like that?” asked Tucker.

“You know how when you’ve got a bad headache and you just want to break your skull open to let it out?”

“Yeah,” said Tucker, his tone one of morbid fascination.

“Feels like how you’d imagine breaking your skull open would feel.”

“Oh.  Ow.”

“You said you had something that would show us how to find this ghost?” asked Sam.  

“Yeah.”

“You want to use it?”

“Okay,” said Danny.  “Okay, yeah.”  He took the little bow out of his pocket.  “Here we go.”  He pinched the end of the ribbon between his fingers and pulled.  The ribbon swirled in the air, lengthening, the bell growing larger.  One end looped around Danny’s neck, tying itself into a bow there.  The other end stretched away, out the Speeder door and into the portal.  

“Holy crap,” said Sam.  “That’s not ominous.  I’m starting forward.  Tell me if it decides to strangle you or anything.”

“Are you sure you’re not turning into a sheep?”

“No, I’m not, Tucker.  This came with the same guidebook as being half ghost.”

“No need to snap,” said Tucker.  He very deliberately put his hands on his knees.  

“...  You can check my hair if you want.”

“Cool,” said Tucker, eagerly reaching forward to gently rub Danny’s head.  “It is pretty fluffy.”  He pulled his hand back.  

“Mmm no,” said Danny.  “Keep going.”

“Huh?”

“Felt good.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, like a head massage.”

“Are you sure?”

“Tucker, my head is killing me.  I’ll do any–”  He moaned as the horns grew larger, thickening and curving backward, some quirk of proprioception telling him where they were.  It didn’t hurt quite as much as before, the pressure relief the larger part of the sensation.  

“Eep!” said Tucker, snatching back his hand.  “They’re growing really fast.  You know, one of my cousins did 4H with goats, and she said that they cut off the horns, so they wouldn’t hurt people…  Or grow back into the goat’s skull.”

“That is exactly the image I needed, Tuck, thanks.”

“It’s a legitimate concern!”

The inside pressure started to come back, and Danny actually found himself wishing his horns would grow, so that it would stop for just a second.  The outside pressure they exerted right now was faint, but maybe it would grow as they got bigger and heavier?

An ectoblast splashed against the windshield, followed shortly after by a missile.  The Speeder spun wildly, making Danny’s vision white out.  

“Skulker!” yelled Sam, when she got the Speeder back under control.  She slammed the auto-fire button.  

Danny knew that wouldn’t be enough.  He hauled himself to his feet and went ghost.  The light of his transformation made him waver, but, blessedly, his horns grew, easing the pain.  He threw open the door and flew out.  

It evolved that ghost fighting was very difficult when every sound made your head ring like a bell and every movement made your vision sparkle.  Still, Danny thought he did a passable job until the net.  

And the tranquilizer dart.  

.

When Danny woke up, he still had his skin attached, which wasn’t a given when dealing with Skulker.  Blearily, he surveyed his surroundings.  He was in a cage, and not a big one.  Surprisingly, the ribbon was still around his neck.  Outside, he could see numerous other cages, some filled, some empty - Skulker’s menagerie.  

Skulker himself was sitting at a table, attacking the long end of the ribbon with a pair of large scissors that emerged from a slot in his suit.  He had what looked like the remains of a lunch there (Danny decided not to think too hard about the logistics of that) and a large keyring.  

Sam and Tucker were nowhere to be seen.  Hopefully, they had gotten away.    

“So,” said Danny, hoarsely.  “You change your mind on the whole skinning me thing?”

“Not until those horns stop growing,” said Skulker.

“Why?  What do they do?”  Something the shepherdess had said about people stealing her sheep tickled at his memory.  What made these horns so valuable?

Skulker scoffed.  “What can’t they do?” he asked.  “Shape one into an instrument, and it’s a weapon of perfect sonic destruction, or a call for aid that can reach across time itself.  Grind them into a powder, and they’re a medicine that will heal all ills and ensure peaceful sleep.  Put a morsel of food or drop of drink in one, and it becomes an endless cornucopia.”  He turned away from his attempts to cut the ribbon.  “Which is why they’ll make such a great trophy.”

A digital tweedle sounded from Skulker’s arm.  He looked down at the glowing display.  “What!  No!  No!  I refuse to check out that book agai–”  Skulker’s rockets activated, shooting him up through the ceiling.  

Tucker’s work.  So, at least he was okay.  Now, Danny just had to take advantage of it.  

The keys.  One of them probably fit the lock on this cage.  Danny just had to get them.  For a human, they’d be thoroughly out of reach.

But Danny wasn’t human.  

Danny’s telekinesis was trash.  He never used it in battle.  The number of ghosts he’d used it in front of could be counted on with one hand.  It was still telekinesis.  

He stretched his hand through the bars of the cage, and reached for the keys.  He focused.  Hard.  Harder.  A green glow formed around his hand and the keys, and then–

His headache spiked, and was immediately soothed by his growing horns.   Still, he’d lost his concentration.  The keys had moved only an inch.  

This was going to be slow going.  

Bit by little bit, Danny got the keys off the table and pulled them across the floor.  The swell and ebb of his headache as he drew on his telekinesis made him feel dizzy, disoriented, and the way his horns curved solidly around the back of his skull, close enough to feel on his hair, was oddly grounding, but not in a way that helped him focus on anything but them.  The bases of the horns were huge, now, pushing back into his hairline, almost touching his eyebrows.  They were heavy, and made him one to rest his head on something.  Someone’s lap, maybe.

When the keys were close enough, Danny took off one of his boots and used it to pull them the rest of the way to the cage.  He fumbled through them, trying each one against the lock until it finally clicked open and he was able to crawl out.  

He stumbled to the other occupied cages, letting the other captives out one by one.  Sometimes, he got a whisper of thanks.  More often, he got a swipe of claws or teeth.  More importantly, the freed animals and prisoners were loud, making all sorts of calls and wrecking Skulker’s lair.  Danny’s headache built to blackout levels again, and the next thing he knew he was floating in the Ghost Zone, far away from any island.  

He breathed deeply, and felt his horns just barely brush against the corners of his jaw.  The bell at his neck jingled.  Had he heard it do that before?

Sam and Tucker… He had to find them.  But a pretty, frilly, pink ribbon stretched out in front of him, into the green.  He wanted to follow it.  It wanted him to follow it.  His head hurt so much it was hard to think.  

He started to drift in the direction of the ribbon, then stopped.  No…  The ribbon…  The ribbon was from the shepherdess.  The shepherdess who caused this.  The shepherdess who… who had given him the horns which were helping him with his headache.  The nice shepherdess, who had rubbed his head and said he was helpful.  Who had given him the ribbon and the bell.  Why shouldn’t he go to her?

But Sam and Tucker, they were out here, weren’t they?  He stopped again, trying to think.  It was hard when every thought brought with it such terrible pain.  Pain eased by the equally distracting relief and pleasure of his growing horns.  

What had they been doing?  They had been in the Speeder together, Tucker had been rubbing Danny’s head, and then…  They got lost?  Separated?  Something to do with Skulker.  Before that, they had been…  Going to see the shepherdess together.  

So, Danny should go to the shepherdess.  If they were all going to the same spot, they would meet up there.  

There was something wrong with that thought.  

Right.  He stopped flying forward.  The bell jingled again, insistently.  Sam and Tucker didn’t know how to find the shepherdess.  They had been following the ribbon together.  Plus, the Speeder might have been wrecked.  Danny didn’t remember.  

He was a bad friend.  

He reached for the weird little part inside himself that never seemed to get lost in the Ghost Zone, and bullied it into retracing his steps.  

By the time he spotted the Speeder, damaged, but still functional, puttering towards him, the bell at his neck was ringing constantly, unbearably, even when he put his hand on it.  The horns had grown up along his cheeks, looping back to almost touch their bases, taking out a fair chunk of his peripheral vision, a little like horse blinders.

He flew into the Speeder, crying, and hugged first Sam, then Tucker.  Their voices, concerned, washed over him, soothingly, but didn’t register as words.  

“Can you rub my head?” Danny asked.  “Please?”

“... Sure, man.”

.

“I think I see them.”

Danny looked up to see what Sam might be talking about, and saw, against the green, a little pink dot followed by three little white dots.  As they came closer, Danny could make out more detail.  Including the way that the other end of his ribbon was tied firmly to the shepherdess’s staff.  

“Yeah,” he said.  “That’s her.”

The shepherdess flew up to the Speeder door and knocked.  Sam and Tucker exchanged a glance, and both of them checked their weapons before nodding.  Sam hit the automatic door release button.  

“I’m sorry it took me so long to find you,” said the shepherdess, peeking in.  She was a bit too large to entirely fit through the door.  “I was almost home when the ribbon reached me, and I couldn’t hear the bell– Oh, heavens.”  Her hand flew to her mouth.  

“So,” said Tucker, tightly.  “You can see we have a problem.”

“Oh, dear.  Oh, dear.”  Her hand fluttered.  “You are the one who helped me today!”

“Mhm,” said Danny.  

“I’m terribly sorry.  I didn’t mean for this to happen.  If I had known you were liminal, I would never have risked it!  Even then…”

“Risked what?” asked Sam.  

“I noticed the poor dear had a headache, and I thought I could soothe it a little,” said the shepherdess.  “If I had known he was liminal…  It’s the conditions of the horns, you see.  One must be a ghost who eats, for the power of cornucopia, who sleeps, for the power of medicine, and has a sound based power, for the power of instruments.  How do you feel, little lamb?”

Danny felt Sam and Tucker tense.  “Bad,” he said.  “Hurts.”

“How do we stop it?” asked Sam.  “How do we get rid of them?”

“You can’t, I’m afraid.  Even if you cut them off, they will grow back.  But it’s the headache that fuels them, the first time.  They will stop when it runs out.”

Mixed feelings swirled inside Danny.  He liked his horns.  They were… nice.  Solid.  But there was a reason he shouldn’t have them.  He knew it.  But there was so much pressure in his head that there really wasn’t room for other thoughts.  

“I will take full responsibility, of course,” continued the shepherdess, “and I will make sure you two make it back home.”

“Wait, hold up, what do you mean, us two?” said Tucker.  

“The little lamb will be staying with me, of course.  The lengths some people will go to for the powers of the horns are horrible.”

“So you are trying to turn him into a sheep.”

“Only the horns are inside my power.  I only mean that I would welcome him into my home and protect him.”

“Uh, no,” said Sam.  “Danny’s going to stay with us.  He can protect himself.”

The shepherdess looked at Danny’s sprawled form dubiously.  

“When he isn’t in pain because of something you did,” clarified Sam.  “We’re not letting you kidnap him so you can take ‘responsibility.’  Either help him here or let him go.”

Something ugly flashed across the shepherdess’s features.  “There is one thing I can do.  Come here, little lamb.”  

Danny crawled to the door, evading Tucker’s hands with intangibility.  The shepherdess reached in and took hold of Danny’s horns.  She tilted his head first one way, then the other.  It was easy for Danny to be compliant, the horns acting as a kind of lever for his head.  

He felt his horns twist and lengthen under her touch, pain out of his head and into them.  It felt good.  

Then she stopped, and Danny could think again.  His thoughts were clear, if beaten, and he startled backwards.  His head felt incredibly heavy, and he reached up to feel curled horns that were at least as big as those on the shepherdess’s sheep.  They blocked off the sides of his vision, giving his field of view a tunneled, focused effect.  

“Danny,” said Sam, “are you okay?”

Sound was different, too.  Just a tiny bit muffled.  

“Yeah,” he said, weakly.  “I’m okay.  It- It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“I wish you would let me do more than that,” said the shepherdess.  She untied her end of Danny’s ribbon from her staff, and it shrunk back into the tiny bow it had been before dropping into Danny’s hands.  “But you know how to find me if you change your mind, or if the hunters become too much for you.  I would love to welcome you as one of my lambs.”  She paused, then said to Tucker, “Not a literal lamb. Until then…”  She bowed away from the Speeder, and began flying away.  

“Great,” said Sam, “now what?”

Danny gingerly touched his horns.  They still didn’t feel bad.  They felt, bizarrely, too natural.  

“Now we go to the Far Frozen and get a second opinion,” said Danny.  “If, uh.  That’s okay with you guys?  How long have we been here, anyway?”

“Long enough that we’re probably going to miss the test.  And be grounded forever,” said Tucker.  “But you can’t exactly go home like that.  What would you even say?”

“That a ghost did it.”

.

“Danny!  Sam!  Tucker!  What happened to you?”  The voices of their parents (and Danny’s sister) overlapped in near-harmony.  

Danny, Sam, and Tucker looked at each other, then said all together, “A ghost did it.”