#big ol' throne and he tiny in it

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

@steddiemas Day 7 - Mall and/or Job

pairing: steddie | word count: 1,884 | rated: G

“Munson Residence, wha'd’ya want?” Eddie groans into the receiver.

Whoever this is better be someone super fucking important to have woken him up with their damn ringing. He’s surprised Wayne didn’t wake up too, but it’d be kinda hard to hear the phone over those snores.

“Eddie! Thank god,”

Oh. Steve! Very important, actually.

“Oh, hey Steve, what’s up?”

“Eddie, can you do me a huge favor?”

“Yeah, of course, what’s wrong?” he immediately spirals into what all could have gone wrong, what could be going wrong. Everything dark blue and cold, vine-y and the flashing of red lightning—

“Nothing, nothing–well, something.. Can you please run to my place later today and grab my lunch? I forgot it this morning and I know I’m not going to be able to run back and get it and get back in time to eat it before my break is over.”

“Your lunch?” “Yeah, I packed one this morning but left it on the counter. There’s a key under the mat and everything.” Eddie barks out a laugh, “Tryin’ to get robbed, big guy?”

“I don’t care about any of the shit in that house.” Steve scoffs. He shrugs even though Steve can’t see him. “Fair enough. Sure Stevie, I’ll bring your lunch; when do you want me there?” “Dude, you’re the best; My lunch break is right at noon, can you be here just before then?”

“Got it. Five to noon at Family Video.” he drawls out as if he’s writing the information down.

“Uh, actually…not Family Video..”

A short two hours later, Eddie finds himself among a throng of people inside Melvald’s. He has to fight his way forward at first, but the crowd thins out as he gets closer to the registers.

Damn, he’s not even that far into the store and he feels like he’s ran a mile.

“Ms. Byers!”

“Oh! Hello Eddie, what brings you here?” “Steve called and asked if I could drop off his lunch to him. Do you know where he is? I didn’t even know he was working here.”

Joyce just grins at him. It’s weirdly mischievous. “Only temporarily, he’s near the back of the store. Just head back there and I’m sure you’ll find him.”

“Uh..thanks. See ya later Ms. B.”

He wanders toward the back of the store through the aisles, but stops up short when a fake white picket fence blocks his path.

The whole back corner of the store has been covered in fake felt snow, a couple of those fake plastic trees like Steve’s (though these are a normal size), a candy-striped ‘North Pole’, and dozens of paper snowflakes hang from the ceiling between what seems like hundreds of string lights.

And there, sitting in the middle of it on a throne that looks suspiciously like the one he used to use during Hellfire, is Steve. Dressed in a Santa suit. With long white beard, big ol’ belt and buckle, shiny black boots..

“Psst!”

He’s got something stuffed into his Santa jacket to give him the right shape, and even some small half-moon glasses, but those sparkling eyes, the freckles, that one swoop of brown hair stubbornly sticking out from under the fuzzy brim of his hat, that’s all Steve.

“Eddie!”

Santa Steve is fully enraptured by whatever story the kid on his knee is telling him, their hands waving every which way but somehow missing smacking Santa right in the face. Steve just continues to nod along, then gives them a hearty “Ho Ho Ho!” when they try to squeeze their tiny arms around his fake belly.

“Eddie!!”

He glances over at the sound of his name, and sees Robin waving frantically at him from her spot at old school music stand-turned-podium. She’s got on some sort of outfit that honestly looks like it was supposed to be a jester costume, where’d she even get that from?

His feet start toward her, but his eyes fall back on Steve Claus, now posing for a picture with the kid who’s smiling so wide it looks like his face will split in half.

Managing to take his eyes off Steve for a moment, he sees Jonathan behind the camera, and that Argyle kid is crouched in front of Robin, talking to the next kid in line to see Santa. All three of them are wearing matching jester costumes.

Eddie steps up to her podium after Argyle and the new kid pass in front of him to see Steve, “Family Video not paying enough, Birdie?”

She rolls her eyes, “Well, the extra cash doesn’t hurt. Joyce asked us to help out.”

He nods at her, and finds his eyes drifting back to Santa Steve.

This kid is much more shy than the last one, tilting her head down and taking short glances up at Steve’s face.

Steve is saying something to her, a low comforting sound that Eddie can only make out the tone of. His one hand covers the entirety of her upper back, and his thumb is moving up and down to try and soothe her nerves. His head is ducked down to be more level with her, looking at her over those half-moon glasses.

Suddenly, the girl’s head snaps up and Steve leans back a bit. “Yeah?” he hears him say.

The girl grins, nodding her head like crazy, then she too is squeezing Steve into a hug. It’s so unfairly endearing, he can actually feel his heart swelling in his chest.

Robin speaks up then, “So..?”

“So?” he repeats dumbly.

“So wha’d’ya think, Munson?” 

“Does he need a Mr. Claus?”

He regrets the words as soon as they’re out of his mouth.

“Uh, wait, I mean Mrs.–Do you have— is someone going to—”

Eddie chances a look over at her…she’s wearing a smug, shit-eating grin. She leans toward him conspiratorially and mumbles out “I wouldn’t mind a Mrs. Claus myself.”

She leans back, still looking smug, but there’s a note of panic in her eyes.

He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “So would he.” he mumbles out himself, jerking his chin towards Steve.

Robin only shrugs “You never know.”

“You never—what do you know, Buckley?” he asks, stepping closer and pointing an accusing finger into her still smug face.

“I know that there’s some mistletoe hanging above the breakroom door.”

He’s confused for just a moment, then understanding floods through him, “You little—”

A short whistle interrupts his incoming tirade, and Eddie can see Steve Claus moving out of the corner of his eye.

“Sorry folks, it’s time for Santa’s Cookie break!” Robin calls out over the long line of people. “He’ll be back in 30 minutes though, don’t you worry!” the smile falls off her face as soon as she turns her back to them.

Eddie follows her, Jonathan, and Argyle toward the back rooms, “I’m gonna take a nap.” She says, “Tell Santa to grab me before he goes back.” She waves toward a door as she passes it and from the sprig of greenery hanging above it, this must be the breakroom. 

Robin takes a right down a turn in the hall, and Jon and Argyle push out the back door of the building.

He expects more of the same when he opens the door to the breakroom, for Steve to huff and grouse about the kids or the parents or something, but when he does, Steve is grinning ear to ear as he combs through his (now removed) fake beard.

“Hey Santa Stevie.”

“Eds!”

“I’ve got your lunch.” he holds up the brown paper bag for Steve to see. Steve nods, and lays the beard out on an empty chair, taking off his hat and glasses too and setting them both on top before stepping forward to grab the bag. “And you have hat hair.” Eddie laughs.

Steve’s free hand jumps to his head and scruffs up the long hairs, making them stick up every which way instead of just being plastered down on his forehead.

“Better?”

“Sure, big guy.” Eddie pokes Steve’s fake belly.

Steve chuckles, then heads to a table in the corner where he dumps out his lunch bag.

“So what’d Past Steve pack for Future Steve?” Eddie asks, plopping down in a chair kitty-corner from Steve’s. “Bologna and mustard sandwich, Doritos, and half of a leftover Hellfire cookie.”

“And a Coke,” Eddie says, taking a can out of his jacket pocket, “I grabbed one for you from your fridge.”

“Thanks, Eddie.” Steve smiles warmly at him. “You want some?”

“No way dude, you gotta get your energy back after dealing with all those kids, right?” Eddie says, waving him off. 

“Eh, some of them are little assholes, but most of them are really well behaved.” he’s ripping his sandwich in half, “Gotta impress Santa, right?”

He offers him one half, and Eddie takes it.

“It’s really not a bad gig, though the beard is itchy as hell…”

Steve starts talking about some of the kids who have come by in the last couple days of them doing this, having started on that past Monday, the 1st.

There were the kids asking for baseball bats, Lincoln Logs, Malibu Barbie, Rockstar Barbie (“Barbie’s a rockstar now?”, “Barbie can be anything, I guess.”), all the usual things.

Then there were kids that asked for actual Santa stuff, “I don’t want my mom and dad to get a divorce.”, “I wish I had some friends.”, “I want my grandpa to get better.”

“Makes me wish I actually was Santa, y’know? Then maybe I could actually help them.”

Eddie’s heart is definitely getting way too fuckin’ big for his chest.

He puts his hand on Steve’s forearm where it’s resting on the table between them. “You are a good man, Steve Harrington.”

Steve’s face flushes nearly as red as his suit. “Thanks, Eddie.” he glances above Eddie’s head then, “I better go wake up Robin, if she naps too long on top of the potatoes, she gets cranky.”

Eddie snorts out a laugh, “Yeah, better get on that.”

Steve stands up and tugs on his hat, not bothering to put on the beard and glasses yet. The fuzzy white band smushes a lock of his hair onto his forehead. 

“Hold on,” Eddie stands as well, reaching forward to tuck the hair under the bottom of Steve’s hat. “Now you’ll be ready to see your adoring public.”

“Thanks,” Steve laughs, walking with him toward the door.

And of course, Eddie forgot all about the damn mistletoe until Steve’s arm stops him in the doorway.

‘Jesus H. Christ…’

He glances over at Steve, then up at the offending plant.. 

Eddie looks back down, out toward the rest of the store where they’d be clearly visible in the doorway.

“I guess you owe me one, huh big boy?” Eddie chuckles, ‘Stupid plant, stupid Robin, stupid Ed–’

His thoughts are cut off when Steve tugs him back into the breakroom, moves him against the wall, and leans down to press a kiss to his cheek. The opposite to the kiss he’d given Steve three weeks ago.

Steve leans back, a smirk on his lips and a pink flush on his face. “Now we’re even.” he winks, then turns out the door to wake up Robin.

i may have actually kicked my feet and giggled about this one lmao

also, rockstar barbie mentioned here is from the 1986 Barbie and The Rockers set

also, also, i'm getting rid of the 'pre' before the steddie up top, you all know what's happening and where this is going lol - it's steddie.

other parts! Pt. 1 (Day 1) | Pt. 2 (Day 2) | Pt. 3 (Day 5) | Pt. 4 (Day 6) | Pt. 5 (Day 7) [YOU ARE HERE] | Pt. 6 (Day 11) | Pt. 7 (Day 13) | Pt. 8 (Day 18) | Pt. 9 (Day 21) | Pt. 10 (Day 25) also on AO3! this year

[pinkrifle]

hear me out

reader is a girl n she meets princess kenny and she knows it’s just kenny, a guy but she constantly battles her sexuality over it—but eventually giving in and asking princess kenny out on a date, disregarding gender,, :3c this is gnn be a series cuz “ i aint writing allat” and nobody’s gnna read an entire 3 pages worth of this (realistically)

— tags: @trevvylovesspence

— ✦ heart to heart ♡

i stepped up to kingdom Kupa Keep to meet the newfound princess, princess kenny—never expecting her to be so majestic, beautiful, stunning, adorable.. what other words could i possibly use to describe this girl? it only makes sense how she was selected princess. boy do these people have taste,,

i started to play this new game with my class and my best friends, stan, kyle, cartman and kenny. so far i find it nice! i mean it’s kind of a better DND. but not for super-nerds. just regular nerds.

walking up to the *very beautiful* majesty i bow my head down slightly towards her, making sure i never took my eyes off (who would want to anyway :3) “hello, dear princess kenny!!” i greet her, smiling at her—fixing my hair to make sure i don’t look like a bum in-front of this adorable babe. “huhu! hello! i understand you know my name, but yours is?”

“ooh! im [namey name ;3] im sure evryone has told you, but your so elegant!” i remind her, staring into her beautiful deep purple eyes. i notice her brush off her dress, scoff and a tiny blush spread across her hooded face. “wh- well thank you! i actually don’t get that a lot, so i appreciate that :)” she retorts in an even softer tone from her normal confident and wavy voice, cupping her left cheek with her left hand.

“[namey name], why don’t you come over to my palace for some tea, if you wish?” princess kenny proposes a brilliant idea, i assume that’s a regular thing <3 “of course! i would be more than happy to spend an afternoon with Kupa Keep’s princess. :3” i silently-shriek out loud, watching all the people of the fellow kingdom stare at me in envy. “well for now, why don’t we take a walk?”

her big eyes bat her eyelashes and before i can answer wit an exaggerated yes she carefully gets up off of her throne, taking my hand in her soft, gloved, hand. i stare at her in awe and start gliding my feet along with hers across the ol backyard we stood in, i feel amazing with princess kenny with me.

it’s something i havent felt before, is it a lovely envy? is it admiration? it can’t be love, no way,, i just met this girl! i remind myself. the word girl stains my mind… girl girl girl girl. why am i feeling like this if we’re both girls? you know what.. that’s the least of my concerns, as far as i know it’s just kenny, not a real girl.

but why am i upset that he isn’t a “real girl”? i thought that if i let myself realize princess kenny was really a boy, my worries would set aside, but i only got more and more upset, confused :( i stare at the ground as i feel my body tug—“[namey name] is everything alright? what was with that sudden stop is the weather too cold?” she questions me, cara mia! how i love hearing her say my name. it’s like angels have come down from heaven and had graced me with their voice.

“oh, yeah i’m alright!i just had to think about a little something for a sec, we can continue now &lt;3” i reassure her, telling her she had nothing to worry about and i was fine with walking with her, hell i knew so well i was more than fine walking with her. “well i hope that something wasn’t making you upset! we can always do something else if you wish, you are the guest after all :)” she stops me in the middle of the sidewalk, taking my forearms into her hands—staring at me with innocent eyes. “wha?! of course not! but i would be open to do anything you want to!” i bluff. it was practically love at first sight with this girl! i couldn’t tell her how i feel right now..

as we keep walking we chat up a storm, playfully grabbing each others hands, giggling, blushing, looking away.. <;3 “huhu— [namey name]! such a flirt! who would have known a lady like you could be so charming!” she’d compliment me from time to time, making my cheeks heat up. “well look at you! who wouldn’t wanna charm such an eye candy of a prin,,,,” i’d wanna retort, but get cut off by elves swarming infront of us. “GET THE PRINCESS FIRST” i hear one of them yell, without a thought in mind i swoop princess kenny off her feet, bridal style and begin darting down the way we came.

picking up the pace i take my wand out of a pocket in my cloak and cast some spell at the top of my head, it knocks the elves back and i keep running with the maiden. huffing and almost out of breath i get back to Kupa Keep and alert the people that elves were coming to wreak havoc. setting the princess down behind a rather large tree as i hide with her i assume someone’s keeping watch of the stick. i yell to everyone that sit infront of us, rather far away from our hiding spot that the elves are coming.

“oh thank you, thank you [namey name]! for i could have gotten much more than hurt back there,,” she clamors, very faintly shaking with some sort of fear. “we’re gonna be alright princess, i promise you. these slimy elves can do nothing to your glowing kingdom.” i hesitate to say your, as i want to say our. but how could i be thinking of love in a striking time like this? who wouldn’t wanna think of loving a beautiful princess in a striking time like this.

as i hear one final shriek before the backyard goes silent, i look at princess kenny as she looks back at me. i nod and smile as i hold her even tighter, emerging from the tree. watching as a final elf gets dragged out, i set princess kenny down and we cheer in unison as everyone else in the kingdom follows along. princess kenny settles everyone down as she takes a hand and places it in my direction.

“everyone, i don’t think we would have gotten this done as fast as we did without the help of my lovely mage, [namey name].” she announces, and everyone looks at me as i have a short smile on my face, waving out to the kingdom.

UHHH THSI IS PART 1 MUEHEHE… I HOPE UUY GUYS ENJOYED!! i am so excited i finally got yhis out YIPEEEE

update log (u can ignore idk)

pdate one [writing]: 11:38 pm 6/4/23

upd8 two [finishing, publishing] 1:47 pm 7/4/23

[shinsouscatpisssmell]

𝓟𝓻𝓸𝓵𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓮

ᵐᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡⁱˢᵗ

"Y/N L/N, never have I met such a vile woman in my life. You are accused of murder, fraudulence, and treason of the Thysin kingdom." a stack of papers anf photos get thrown before your person.

The ballroom surrounded by citizens erupt with gossip and gasp full of shocked. In the center on their hands and kness with gaurds pointing sharp spears at them was you ,(Y/N).

Once a powerful and beautiful woman who stood to be feared by man and envied by woman. Now she was nothing left but a broken shell of her former self.

Hair once kept neat and primed was the equivalence of a rat nest. Clothes that were the best of the best now reduced to a burlap sack with holes that was dark with dirt and blood from the beatings that was bestowed upon her when arrested. The smooth skin that was the talk of the kingdom and compared to a goddess was now scabbed over with scars of switch marks and cuffs and chains cutting into her wrist and ankles.

"Zuku,my love I-I didn't do this. She framed me." becoming a weeping mess infront of thousands can only be described as pathetic.

"How dare you accuse my wife to be and princess of the all for one kingdom of such... such disgusting acts. How could you explain the evidence before you." He pulls the woman ,Ochako, closer making you even more defeated as the only man you loved is stolen away from you.

"See izuku? I told you, she can't even defend herself." Playing the damsel in distress act was right for her as she gets hugged and her crocodile tears get wiped away.

"By the power of king all might and my authority and my duty as the prince. I hereby sentence (y/n) (l/n) to beheading which will take place within 4 days time."

Trembling in frustration ,sadness, and exhaustion of knowing your innocence was nothing but a unleft whisper on your lips.

"oh midoriya! Can i have a few last words? Just to give her my forgivness." her brown eyes that were sparkled with innocence looked at your broken person as if a bright spotlight was shining on you.

"Princess Uraraka you are to good for this world." Deku caresses her round pink cheeks with such tender love and care as

she made her way from the throne to the center of the marble floor facing you.

Her pink dress rustles and folds under itself as she kneels down. Those big ole innocent brown eyes turn stone cold devoided of that little sparkle you saw up there next to the prince.

From her tiny plump lips leave a low icy chuckle only meant for your ears, " you were once an angel. Now nothing but lowly filth i wipe away from underneath my shoe," placing her warm milky hands on your cheek to stop your trembling form, " I saw you looking happy as you could be. I wanted it. I was so jealous. And now— and now I have it all. You dirty b-i-t-c-h."

Each syllable leaves her mouth as if it was air she took in. With some power that you had left you graves a hold of the chain that bonded your wrist and a war cry piercing the air as the metal wrapped around her throat.

The knights circle you and your captive as deku begs for you to let her go.

"Heed my warning prince izuku. For I say this once. Beg every god and goddess in the universe I do not return for when I do," you pull harder making it suffocate Ochako more, " i will extract my revenge on those who wronged me. And you who i chose to love and live for." you let her go and she falls gasping for air.

Deku runs to her side as you get tackled by the gaurds no sound of pain leaving your lips only meanacing laughter that shook the ballroom to the core as you're dragged away back to the cold rat filled dungeon that smells of bloody metallic, decaying corpses, defecation ,and piss.

The execution got pushed to the next day. People young and old gather and cast stones as you get brought to tbe guillotine.

As the sharp metal blade that has dried blood from his past victims get brought down, deku pulls ochako close blocking her way only making out her mouth down. She opens her mouth to give you the sly fox smile ' b-I-t-ch' wss the last you witness as the huge razor severed your head from your body. Fresh blood marks it's new victim.

The few seconds you're brain could register before becoming dead; was blocked by a blinding white light.

"ŋơῳ ɬɧąɬ ıʂ ą ųŋʄąır Ɩıʄɛ , ɱყ ƖıɬɬƖɛ ơŋɛ"

Taglist(o´ω`o)ﾉ🔖: (send in an ask, comment, or dm)

𝐴𝑛// 𝖨'𝗆 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗀𝗈𝗇𝗇𝖺 𝖼𝖺𝗉 𝗋𝖾𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝗎𝗇 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗆𝗒 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒 💕

masterlist//next

[somethingclevermahogony]

OC in Fifteen

Thank you for the tag @rivenantiqnerd!

I'm gonna go for good ol' Ninma for this one.

“ Was my paba a bad man, slave…I mean, Narul?”

"I can do that!" She whined as Bira valiantly attempted to wipe away the grime that caked the little girl's face.

“Uh-huh! The baths are next to each other right?” She turned to the attendant for confirmation. The woman nodded. “See, Narul? If something happens I’ll just-” At this, she took a deep breath, her cheeks puffed, “Scream!”  The shrillness of the screech made Narul’s ears ring.

“Stand still, I need to show you to Narul and then you can go home,” Ninma whispered, reaching out to grab the delicate creature. The lizard quickly skittered out of reach of her hands and came to rest on a log.

Ninma looked at Narul and then back at the spirit. She took a deep breath and puffed out her chest, and tried to rekindle that royal bravado. “ I am Ba Ninma Asherdul Ninjali, daughter of King Hutbari of Labisa”

“What do you mean broken? Narul is fine. He’s big and strong. And well, he’s not broken! He’s definitely not a dummy like you!” She could feel a grain of white-hot anger growing in her chest. She leapt to her feet, tiny fists clenched, all too prepared to leap at the strange being which hovered before her.

“Poisoned? Its a doll. I wasn’t going to eat it.”

“Shhh…shhh…its okay.” Her voice was soft and kind, just like Bira’s had been.

“Maybe I am and maybe I’m not. No one is going to believe you, if you survive that is.” Ninma said as she bound the man’s hands.

“I think he’s dead.” Ninma said. She was taken aback by just how hollow her voice sounded.

“I don’t really miss them because I don’t really remember them all that well. Its like forgetting the words to a song you used to love, you’re not going to cry over it but you do feel frustrated. Maybe it would be different if I didn’t have Narul and Otilia and all the others around. Its funny, I was with Suru for just a few days but I actually think about him more than I think about my parents.” Her eyes remained locked on her hand holding onto Jani's.

Ninma spoke up, her voice cut through the din of terror and uncertainty,  “There’s the ravine, I doubt they’ve found it. If we’re quiet we can sneak through there. We’ll be okay.”

“Narul I am a grown person, and even if I wasn’t I was running around a demon’s lair when I was five years old, I am sure I will be fine in the woods for a day or two. Gods, I don’t know what is going on in your head.”

“I don’t want the throne back! That throne has brought nothing but suffering and death! I was happy, I had someone that I loved and that loved me. Zatar took him! You stole him from me!”

"I’ve been here much longer than I ever imagined I would be...”

Tagging @illarian-rambling, @mk-writes-stuff, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @roach-pizza, and @willtheweaver

[picturesofashe]

The only throne fit for him

[slashingdisneypasta]

Hades x Reader || Drabble

Plot: Zeus comes over to visit, and meets you.

Warnings: The Olympic Family?

"And you must be the mortal that's taken my brother's interest for so long! Nice to meet ya!" You can only describe Zeus' voice as booming as it reverberates off the echoey surfaces in the Underworld, exactly like thunder. It’s not a surprise, that's what they always said he would be like, but it is rather distressing still, and you only just manage to hold your hand out for him to shake through your surprise; Eyes wide.

"Uhm... yes- "

He shakes, not exactly hard, but large and he just about lifts your much smaller form right off your feet on the up part. "Oh!" You end up much closer to the god then you intended, and he doesn't let go of your tiny hand until Hades comes up behind you and guides you back; A nasty, forced grin on his face.

"Okay, okay bro... hands off the merchandise. This one’s mine."

Relaxing under Hades' hands and no longer in Zeus', you offer a warm smile. "It’s nice to meet you too, sir." Oh- you can tell exactly how much Hades dislikes you calling Zeus sir, by the twitch one of his hands gives on your shoulder and the flicker of heat he suddenly emits, but you aren't about to disrespect the king of the gods - despite being loud and slightly creepy,- so Hades is just going to have to suck it up.

"Yeah yeah yeah- Glad to see you two finally meet, and all that. So hey- Zeus- what are you doing here?" Hades asks, almost in monotone- clearly not caring whether he sounds rude or not. You look over your shoulder and up at him with a calm down crazy, kind of look on your face- but he's too busy keeping steady eye contact, with Zeus.

Rolling your eyes, you give a sigh. Men.

Zeus doesn't seem to notice the hostility though, funnily enough, and waives Hades' question off with a large arm. "Oh, Hera's redecorating our chambers- once again. So I thought to myself, why not come visit my brother in the Underworld! Huh?"

For a good moment Hades just sputters, and you wince. Oh boy...

"Huh?" He repeats, sounding weak. He starts rubbing his thumbs into your skin out of nervousness, and it feels nice of course, but it is a dead giveaway that he's close to losing it. By shifting your shoulders subtly, you remind him that theirs a person he rather likes underneath them, and not be too brutal. "How- And um, how long is the... redecorating effort, gonna take doya think? Because, bro, I'm more than happy to help out! Send over some minions, ya know, move it along- "

"Oh, pish." Zeus gives a shake of his head, patting Hades hard on the shoulder. "Hades, you're too charitable. She's got it! Now- why don't you show me around this big ol place?? Can’t believe I've never been here! Ha ha!"

As you feel Hades start to reach a dangerously high temperature, you slip out of his hands and take the reins of the situation, yourself. "What a good idea! We could start with the throne room- "

"Do you have a possible estimate for how long its gonna take, huh? 2-3 hours? A day???" God forbid it be more.

Zeus thankfully ignores his brother this time, though, eyes not-so-thankfully- on you. "Whatever you say, mortal, I'm at your mercy. The throne room sounds wonderful."

As you point Zeus in the correct direction and he starts a jolly saunter that way, you stay back a couple feet to touch Hades’ arm and- oh, ow, shit- yes. Boiling point.

"Run me some numbers!!"

… This is going to be a long night.

[marmaligne]

headcanon in two parts, sorry. Ask does not miss it. 1.1 Oh, you know the insecticons from the tfp? Can I have a headcanon where a S/O person is on friendly terms with insecticons?

[TF PRIME] S/O Is Friends With The Insecticons

———————————————————————

* [S/O] meets them by accident quite a bit before the events of the Energon Eaters. Arachnid is still “leader” of the Insecticons by technicality as the only available ‘Queen’ for the hive-mind, however she never really patrols the area or takes care of the hive as she should, rather choosing to wander as a free mind, disobeying orders from everybody.

* You had stumbled upon the hive while taking a short walk along the side of the Jasper highway, leading out of town and to an old coal mine you liked to inhabit on your days off work. A home-away-from-home of sorts, it brought you peace of mind to have a quiet place.

* At least you thought it was a quiet, desolate area until you broke through a thinning in the rock floor of the entry shaft and ended up crashing an Insecticon tea-party.

*It was a rather awkward fall, and it had injured your hip joint on the way down, leaving you temporarily paralyzed in throbbing pains and nerve damage.

* The giant bug-like robots and their shiny, metal wingspans immediately armed themselves and aimed at the shifting dust and rockfall, growling and chittering in a language of some sort, unknown to you.

* “Is it one of those ugly-faced Decepticons ploys again?”

* “It’s too small and squishy, much sooner to be a predacons’ chew toy than any weapon.”

* You looked super confused, absolutely stupefied, completely duped, utterly incomprehensible, awkwardly awed, amazingly idiotic, a-

* Their manner of speech and vocal patterns was practically lost on you. You could pick up remnants of a language similar to broken [language], but really nothing else. In an attempt to make contact with the metallic giants to gain help, you enabled your parroting capabilities.

* Humans have the stunning ability to mimic sounds and specific noise frequencies, at levels other earthen animals, especially mammals, cannot. Using this ability, you managed to copycat the grinding and chattering noises coming from the vocal mass of bug-bots.

* [S/O]: “¿Krrt-grrut vvurrr chechch?”

* Hardshell: “¿Buzzzz vert-tet-brrrz, Erreech?”

* [S/O]: “¿Erreech?”

* Hardshell: “¡VRREE BUZZZ-EECH CLICKLICKIK!”

* The contact went well, unbeknownst to you, and the successful communication meant that you might actually have a chance at escape, or finding a hospital!

* Congrats! You are now [Tiny Bug Child]! You have no idea what they were speaking about, unaware that they were contemplating how to execute you, but you successfully managed to evade death by being cute and cuddly! People say curiosity killed the cat, but it evidently saves the naive human-who-fell-into-an-insect-cult-meeting!

* Hardshell, the Insecticon you nearly landed on top of, begins to lift you out of the rubble, and place you down upon a makeshift stone table, partially destroyed by the collapse. The others—including Wingflap, Bombshell, Shrapnel, Blockhead, and Kickback—gather closely around you, cooing and chirping in their weird language again.

* This was, evidently, how you became the new Queen of the hive, though you didn’t know it, and managed to befriend your way through the entire enclosed community and worm into the spark of every Insecticon, though they were very few in number.

* You made easy friends with Bombshell, and remained close with him up until his untimely death by Bulkheads hammer fist. He would often lay atop the Jasper cliffside with you, and make out shapes in the clouds, constellations in the stars—regaling to you tales of the Old Cybertron, when his own kind weren’t so despised, and were respected as viable assets and allies amongst those with forms like and unlike their own—until the Autobot Elitists ensured they were seen as ugly and malformed, made to hide away in the shadows and step away from society for ‘the greater good’.

* It’s how you came to hate the Autobots—and Decepticons—for all they had done, to their planet and yours, and to your friends as well.

* Your mimicry slowly turned into actual speech patterns and recognition. Repetitive sound signals were a key portion of Archaic Insecticon speech, which made it easy to recognize simple words or phrases, each indicated by a set of whirs, clicks, or beeps.

* Now that you could actively communicate with most of the hive, it was far easier to make friends with even the hardiest of bots.

* Hardshell, of course, was tough to crack. At your constant insistance, he spoke with you once or twice, and made sure to acknowledge your presence when in the room, as well as save you a seat at the underground pub every other weekend. It wasn’t actually a pub per-say, rather a dugout chamber with smooth walls and some stone slabs insert for seating, where the cons enjoyed engex they could sneak off the Nemesis from time-to-time.

* After awhile, he warms up to you, welcoming you back to the hive every day after work, standing alongside his multiple siblings, and pushing others aside to get to hold you first.

* Meanwhile this all happens, they still don’t know what a human is. Their simple understanding of earth comes only from what they’ve seen on the highway from the cliffside, or from video footage of the Autobot pests on the Nemesis. Due to their bulky size and noisiness, they’re banned from most human-inhabited areas.

* Don’t doubt that some of them have attempted to follow their [S/O] home. They have. And some of them won’t stop trying. It’s been more than one awkward encounter between you and some teens to get them to realize they could get you in trouble.

* You all eat [dessert] together sometimes, made with energon supplements for ‘The Boys™️’, with some good ol’ 25-something-kg of sugar mixed in.

* The boys were worried when you didn’t show up for a week due to hospitalization via severe food poisoning medical coma.

* When Arachnid finally returned to Earth, and her fight against Arcee had proceeded about as well as expected, she located the hive and proceeded to force them to engage in business with Megatron. She believed that by implementing her own soldiers amongst the ranks, she’d be better equipped to backstab Megatron when the time came.

* She was undoubtably surprised when Hardshell and some others adamantly refused to take part in her plans at first, until she enforced their compliance through the hive-mind.

*When she learned of your existence, and the very gauge of your importance to her former hive, she came at you with full force.

*The Insecticons were fully unprepared to deal with a fight between their small [S/O] and an extremely angry ex-Queen. In refute, they returned you to the surface without so much as a goodbye, and begged you to escape before Arachnid scented you out.

* It was soon after these events that you learned of Breakdown’s death, Bulkhead’s coma, and Bombshell’s demise due to the combined effects of a substance called Tox-En and injuries sustained during his battle with Bulkhead. It broke you inside to learn there was nothing you could have done to help, but you refused to disobey their pleas to stay away for awhile.

* At the hive, Arachnid rules supreme. Being able to control the hive-mind was a feat a human was incapable of achieving, only Cybertronians able to easily access the imbedded chain of command.

* Hardshell mourned the loss of a true friend—a small, squishy human—but a friend nonetheless.

* Wingflap and Kickback went through a collection of memories you’d left behind with them. Pictures and small objects gifted over the years, a small treasure trove of important parts of their lives, now without you in them.

* Shrapnel stims a lot more now, and has nervous tics that he believes are the result of the loss of his dear friend. He knows you aren’t dead, least not yet, but he knows that you’ll likely never come back.

* Blockhead, as dumb as everybody thinks he is, is actually very emotionally intelligent. He has a way with words he barely understands, and [S/O] acted as a big support for someone like him. Without them now, he can no longer function like normal, and now has nobody left to talk to.

* Arachnid could care less. She absolutely despises [S/O], and would smite them for all she cares. You matter little to her, and only worry her for the loyalty and capacity of her troops.

* It isn’t until the Energon Eaters appear that everything turns completely south.

* [S/O] finally builds up enough courage to march themselves back down to the mine, and demand to meet Arachnid face-to-faceplate.

* The desert is hot, Nevada is hotter, and the trek down the highway seems endless and tedious. You pass by 5 interstate signs on your way to the hive, and count the steps it takes to reach the entrance, parched by the time you make it there.

* In all your sweaty glory, you, [S/O], make your way down the carved pathway into the mineshaft, dark and cramped—just as you left it.

* But everything is exactly as it was left, not an item out of place. The entire hive was empty, including of those you cared about. Their rooms are full of memories, and their energon cubes still lie in a corner, collecting dust and grime.

* The search seems profitable, yet it leaves you with nothing, and the emptiness of the hive echoes around you, and in all the chambers, through the cavern walls of every room.

* You know they’re gone, that they have left without you, and without so much as a simple passing note.

* Perhaps someday you’d find them, hiding away in another Jasper mine, but you never would.

* In their haze of a hive mind, they barely even remember the face of the human they left behind. A long line across the moon—stretching on for miles—and a vampire on a false throne, draining the lifeblood from their veins, and the image of [S/O] from their minds.

———————————————————————

✨ Hope you enjoyed ✨

[magicman111]

A Moth to a Flame - Chapter Two

One month later

Sasha joylessly toyed with the Music Box, opening its lid like a yawning mouth.

Who’d have thunk it? She wondered to herself. This tacky little thing could cause so much calamity?

How ludicrously out of place she looked curled up on King Andrias’ enormous throne, almost like the little girl playing pretend in the driver’s seat of her parents’ car. You’d be forgiven for not knowing she’d just led the swiftest, easiest toppling of a government in this world’s history.

Big blue dummy locked up? Check. The city’s army surrendered? Check. Their toad army less than an hour away? Check. Dimension-skipping Macguffin firmly in their position? Double Check.

Not a bad day’s work for a 13-year-old.

Marcy’s oversized sparrow was tethered to the armrest by his leg. A prize she’d taken for herself so she could cruise around her new kingdom in style. She saw to it he wasn’t under any duress, and the fact he was neck deep in an industrial sized bag of bird feed told her he was plenty comfortable.

Sasha managed a tiny smile as she reached out to run her fingers through the thickness of his coat. She dunked her hand in the bag and offered him an open palm of seeds; he eyed for a moment or two before gingerly pecking at the mound.

Thank Frog no one was around to hear the ‘d’aww’ escape her lips.

Her grandmother was the one she had to thank for her secret admiration of birds. Old lady had been a birdwatcher who ‘treated’ her to regular weekend trips into the forest when she was younger. This was long before her discovery of malls and arcades. Sasha wouldn’t dare admit it to even herself back then, but the ones they spotted together on those dewy spring mornings were beautiful to behold in their natural habitat.

Herons may now be forever ruined for her, but Joe—she thought that was his name—was a mighty impressive specimen. Poor guy somehow found the strength to carry all seven of them to Newtopia, only to nosedive into the moat at the end of the flight.

Definitely had nothing to do with her asking Marcy if she could take the reins in the last stretch. She and Anne were kind enough not to draw attention to it, same as they did the day at summer camp when they discovered her crying into her pillow. They were awesome enough to go along with her story that it was only allergies. She knew she had a true pair of girlfriends that morning.

Thinking about them only soured her mood afresh. She sprinkled the rest of the feed back into the bag and slumped against the backrest, arms petulantly crossed.

Here she was in the crowning moment of her young life and she couldn’t have been more miserable.

Maybe because her friends should have been here to share in this, but no, they had to go and act all noble. What else should she have expected? She always was the only one in the group with the guts. Anne had to be dragged kicking and screaming to ditch school and join her and Marcy in celebrating her birthday. Was it any wonder she had to keep taking control of the situation?

More likely... it was because deep down she knew she didn’t really want this. She certainly believed she did after they dropped that gloryhound newt general down a waterfall and when they successfully rallied the Toad Lords after retrieving Barrel’s Warhammer. Things only started getting complicated when they needed free tickets into Newtopia in the form of her friends.

She hadn’t counted on realising just how much she missed her clumsy, klutzy Marcy. Neither how effectively she and Anne were still able to work together as a team in spite of all the unpleasantness that had transpired between them during their time here, of which there was plenty. The fact that Anne actively encouraged her in taking down that molten toad monster was the rancid cherry atop the sludge sundae. For a while back there, it looked like they might really turn a corner and start afresh. All three of them could have gone home like none of this ever happened. Except by then it was already too late.

What recourse did she have when the Plantars invited them for the world’s most awkward dinner party or when they brought the house down at the Battle of the Bands? Tell Grime and all the toads who’d invested their manpower and futures in her that sorry, she was getting cold feet? There was only one grizzly way that would end both for her and Grime and the best scenario she could imagine involved heads on pikes.

... It didn’t matter anymore. Her friends had picked their path, she’d picked hers. As her mom always said, ‘You make your bed, you lie in it’. Funny how in her short life, she’d heard that line far too many times already.

Once she figured out how the Box worked, she’d send both Anne and Marcy on their merry way and they’d never have to see each other ever again.

Everyone would get what they want.

Good thing then she’d sent her soldiers to ransack Marcy’s room for all her research about Anne’s fateful birthday gift. Girl was a pack rat. She kept notes for every exam and project they were assigned back home. The less said about her laptop jammed with files of anime fanfiction and theories the better.

Plus, it was a good way to try and distract herself.

They came back into the throne room hauling burlap sacks full of parchments and emptied their contents at Sasha’s feet.

Daaang, girl, you've been in the zone.

She scattered them over her lap and the ample free space on the seat. They actually weren’t that hard to follow; colour coordinated with plenty of cutesy kawaii diagrams. Trademark Marbles.

Apparently, it worked a lot like those puzzle boxes Marcy got as gifts from relatives in Hong Kong. All it took was knowing the right sequence of buttons and zip! You can go wherever you want in the cosmos. Just a matter of finding the code for Earth.

‘I’m done listening to you!

I’m done trusting you!’

Sasha scowled, trying to push the thoughts to the back of her mind where they belonged. She shuffled through a couple more pages until she found the one titled in glittery green and blue lettering, ‘HOME’.

Bingo.

‘You’re a horrible person!’

Ignore. Ignore.

Now all she had to do was jot it down on her palm and—

‘AND I AM DONE. BEING. FRIENDS WITH YOU!!’

She stopped. Her shoulders drooped. Then she just threw the page down on the floor and sunk into her seat further than she thought physically possible.

She normally didn’t consider herself that thin skinned a person, but man, that one hurt.

Traces of bitter tears creeped into her eyes.

What am I even doing anymore?

The sound of footsteps on crumpling paper and someone clearing their throat snapped her out of her self-pitying torpor. She fluttered her eyes dry to see Grime standing there awkwardly among the discarded parchments.

The diminutive, one-eyed former Toad Lord was hiding something behind his back. He actually looked pretty embarrassed about it too, which for a battle hardened war vet like Grime was actually kinda adorable in Sasha’s eyes.

“I, uhh, got you something,” he said, whipping out a long rectangular present wrapped in green paper and topped with a luscious red bow. “Had it made especially for this day.”

Now if there was one thing Sasha Waybright couldn’t say no to, it was a gift, especially from a trusted friend. They were the ultimate distraction from the blues and she couldn’t have been sitting upright and tearing into this one any quicker.

“Whaaat? Grimesy, you didn’t!” What she had pulled from the ravaged packaging wielded aloft her head made her gasp. “How’d you know I wanted to duel wield?!”

It was a brand new heron sword. An exquisite green second shortsword that would compliment Ol’ Pink perfectly.

She stared proudly into the smooth steel surface, admiring the craftsmanship. When she noticed the girl staring right back at her, however, her smirk vanished in an instant. The captain of the cheerleaders, the scarred swordswoman, the conqueror of Newtopia, whatever angle she looked at it, she didn’t like what she saw. Unbelievable as it may sound, even the joy of an awesome gift like this was not enough to make everything better.

“What’s the matter? You don’t like it? Oh dang it!” Grime slammed his forehead. “I didn’t get a gift receipt!”

“No no, it’s just...” Sasha weighed the blade against her ungloved palm. Talking about these kinds of things was never easy for her. “What if Anne’s right? What if I am a horrible person?”

Grime popped up like a whack-a-mole behind the armrest. “Who cares what she thinks?” he scoffed. “You and I are in charge now, and we get to do whatever we want!”

“That’s the thing... I’m not sure what I want anymore,” she admitted wearily.

For all his years of training at the finest academies, his brutal combat in the colosseum and tactical expertise earned through a lifetime of military service as his forebears before him, this one had Grime stumped. Needless to say, talking about one’s emotions wasn't exactly encouraged during their upbringing in toad culture, so naturally it wasn’t one of his strong suits. Just one of the many things he and Sasha had in common.

“Huh.”

Still, he was a pretty fast thinker and came up with a fairly good idea on the spot.

“Why don’t you help me redecorate this place?” he suggested, resting his hand on her shoulder. “Take your mind off it. Cuz this right here...” He gestured to the cluttered mess in which she’d surrounded herself. “This is definitely not—I’m sorry, can I help you?!”

Both of them turned their heads when it became impossible to ignore Joe’s cone-shaped beak lightly nipping at Grime’s cheek.

“He probably thinks your warts are seeds.”

“For the love of—I knew he was eyeing me up on the ride here! There! Get lost!” Grime scooped up a fistful of feed and flung it over the marble floor, but the winged beast persisted with pecking his face. “Stop it! MY HEAD IS NOT A FEEDER!!”

It took an exceptional effort of willpower for Sasha not to laugh at the sight of her old man being preyed upon by the family pet.

Wow, she thought. Her old man? Was that how she saw Grimesy now? Seriously?

Perhaps up to a point. Okay, considering the options she had for parental figures back home, it wasn’t exactly the highest bar to pass, but it still meant something. Anything.

Who would have guessed this would be how they’d end up, especially given how they started off with her as his prisoner? Sure, it may have taken her helping him and the whole tower not getting turned into heron feed for her to be upgraded to his lieutenant, but they really had come a long way since then. There was a lot more honor and heart to the cranky old toad than she first thought, back when she wrote him off just as another blowhard with power. Now he genuinely considered her his equal both as a friend and comrade in arms. For Sasha, the feeling was mutual. A first for her.

When all was said and done, who else did she have left besides him and vice versa?

What the heck? Let’s tear this place up.

Untethering Joe, she whistled a tweet-tweet and gave the rope a gentle tug to encourage him to follow on their ‘indoor walkies’.

A cursory surveillance of the throne room told her there was a lot of work to be done. If this toad regime was to last a thousand years, the correct decor was an important first step. Thankfully for them, she knew a thing or two about fashion. For starters, there were way too many soft blues and purples. Rust red from top to bottom! She preferred keeping the stained glass windows, but they’d need entirely new designs. Hers truly would naturally feature in most of them, one showcasing her and Grime caving that narwhal worm’s head in with the Warhammer being an absolute must. The snakes coiling the stone pillars weren’t a bad touch, if just a bit too elegant for the whole ‘proud warrior race’ vibe they were going for, but she could still work with them. Now as for the throne, they were gonna have to replace it with something much more imposing. There was that super violent dragon show she and her parents used to watch that had the huge throne made out of swords. She was sure she had a picture somewhere on her phone to use as a reference.

“I’m sorry, what the heck is this?!”

Sasha could only denounce what they were gawking at as the single biggest affrontement to tasteful decorating known to man or amphibian. Yes, worse than inflatable furniture, carpeted bathrooms, beaded curtains, glass block bathroom windows, ‘live, laugh, love’ quotes on walls, rustic hearts, mason jars and nautical accessories all combined under the same inland roof.

Tapestries had their rightful place in a palace’s interior design, but the one sweeping across a section of wall depicting a gentle hearted Andrias sitting down by a lake, surrounded by flowers and lilypads was nothing short of vomit-inducing. Gathered at his feet and scooped up in his protective arms were his wide-eyed, childlike subjects. Even the fish and a lobster were surfacing to bask in their king’s magnanimity. Here the oversized salamander was truly the loving patriarch of everything the light touched. The mawkish display could only be topped off with a rainbow streaking across the sky.

Grime felt his stomach roile. If he ever needed an example to demonstrate the difference between kitschy and downright tacky, this was it.

“Y-y-y-yikes!” he gagged. “This thing’s gotta go!”

Sasha didn’t need a second invite. Besides, what else was Joe going to use to line his nest?

A joint effort tore the offensive piece from its place and it tumbled to the floor in a heap.

Dead silence fell over the room.

Hidden beneath the tapestry was... a mural. Including such a decoration in a throne room was hardly surprising, yet it was what it contained that shocked both the human and toad, so much so that they had to take a moment to recover.

“Woah,” they gasped at once, before starting to analyse what they saw.

The mural was a chaotic collection of nightmarish images painted on a night blue wall. Wild red flames spewing out hordes of beasts and the wreckage of buildings. Mountains of skulls and bones belonging to frogs, toads and newts alike. A flying... spaceship? A castle? Whatever it was meant to be, it firied a white beam up at what was unmistakably the Music Box. Pink, green and blue lightning bolts crackled out of the Box. Mesmerising orange gemstones or, more terrifyingly, eyes leaped off the wall and burned themselves into their minds. The frightening focal point of this one-way ticket to the school therapist’s office? Rising out of the middle of the inferno was the silhouette of a red-eyed, goliath-sized beast, its claws reaching up covetously towards the Box that hung right above its crowned head.

It may as well have been lifted straight from the tattered dream journal of a madfrog.

Any ideas of redecorating the throne room were long gone. Even the revolution they were spearheading suddenly seemed millions of miles away in the face of what they’d just stumbled upon.

Peering her eyes slightly, Sasha was the first to put a face to the shadowy leviathan, and when she did, she had to swallow her heart back down into her chest.

“Is that the king?” she asked, mystified. “With the music box?”

Sweat ran down the side of Grime’s nonplussed face. “If it is… it’s a really good thing we stopped him.”

Neither of them said it aloud, but both understood the situation at once. All this time they thought they’d been playing flipwart while the king played bog jump. Oh, how wrong they’d been. It was beyond anything that even the Toad Lords discussed. They knew that they had to reconvene with them as soon as the armies had reached the gate.

She took a couple steps closer to reexamine the mural more thoroughly, missed details emerging now that the initial shock began to wear off. Circuit board markings—the same inside her dad’s outdated computer when she foolishly dared Marcy if she could take it apart—worked their way around the images, serving as some type of frame. Odd choice for a world that didn’t even have steam engines yet. She also picked up the three small geometric figures standing atop the Box’s lid. An artist she was not, but they looked pretty human-like in design.

But humans did not exist in Amphibia. The three of them were the first of their kind to ever set foot in this dimension.

Weren’t they?

Alarm bells were ringing louder than ever before. This Andrias guy had been playing Anne and Marcy for his own ends this whole time, all to get his mitts on the Music Box! What did he plan to do with it? Right now, she still couldn’t say, but it was all bad. Outside of a kickin’ rock band, fire and skulls together were never a good thing!

Even Joe’s feathers were puffing up anxiously against her back. Not turning away from the mural, she raised her hand and patted his risen crest.

“I know, big guy. I don’t like it either.”

Grime’s voice rang urgently in her ears, “Lieutenant! Get over here, quick!!”

Sasha had spun on her heels and sprinted down the room to find Grime standing the wreckage of what used to be a display of armour. He’d evidently acted on a hunch while she’d been preoccupied. Judging by his thunderstruck expression, he’d just discovered something far worse.

“What is iooooh boy!”

This new second mural reminded Sasha a lot of Egyptian hieroglyphs. If there was any room for doubt about the technicolor stick guys, there was none here. Standing tall against an indigo backdrop in a neat row were the outlines of human beings; long gangly appendages, stumpy noses and everything. Some were wearing hooded capes, others were decked out in suits of armour. The couple in the middle looked particularly regal. No prizes for guessing the little wooden box they were holding in their hands, cementing their authority as if it were the globus cruciger.

Faded inscriptions were engraved along the bottom. They were written in a more archaic amphibian dialect, but being a toad of higher education, Grime was able to give translating them a decent shot.

These great beings of magic and might

Travelled from beyond to serve the night

Bow before these children of man

Or know the wrath of the—

“... Wu Clan?” He cocked his one good eye up at her. “Iiiii’m not getting it.”

There it was. Floodlights flashed in Sasha’s head. All colour drained from her face. A million and one thoughts were now firing across her brain at once, threatening to send her into cerebral shutdown.

It was at that moment she knew she’d been played. They all had. She didn’t know whether to be absolutely furious, betrayed or impressed.

Why that conniving, devious little—

That's when they heard the BOOM outside the window.

[ask-the-clergy-bc]

Ok, ok hear me out: The papas as dads? Like maybe some good ol head cannons of the papas as dads

I’ve made a couple of these for slightly different prompts, but I wanted to link them to give more context for this! <3 

Holding their Newborns --> [Link]

Parenting a Son --> [Link]

The latter of the two is more detailed in how I envision them as parents, so this one will be more general head canons! 

The Papas as Fathers (Gender Neutral Child)

Papa Nihil:

~For a new child there is definitely favoritism. His other three didn’t work out the way he planned, so this is a chance to start again! Now that he’s also not out partying or being Papa he has the time to spend with his new heir. 

~A lot of time spent with his youngest is watching horror, old movies, and game shows. It becomes one of his favorite ways of bonding with his child! They grow up knowing every line to the Omen since they were five- oops. 

~He’s not as spry as he used to be, so his youngest has their own group of ghouls to watch over them. Nihil doesn’t trust Papa IV and he definitely doesn’t trust his own physical abilities to protect them. The ghouls give him a piece of mind.

~Unlike the rest, he DOES expect his youngest to retake the Emeritus title and Clergy. How they do that is up to them! As long as he thinks they are working to fulfil their destiny as His Chosen and restore the throne to the proper bloodline! 

Papa I:

~Will heavily train his child to be an heir to the Emeritus line. Whether they decide to be Papa/Mama, Imperator, or just a part of the ministry is up to them. But he DOES put emphasis on encouraging them to take over for the family line. 

~Surprisingly soft when they are small. He is a scary man, but children need a gentle hand when they are young. So when he is a given a toy phone or asked to read a book, you better believe he does both! 

~Prefers to teach them Witchcraft and the dark arts himself. Normally he invests in good tutors and mentors, but magic is something best left to those of the bloodline. Normal humans could never comprehend the capabilities of the chosen blooded. 

~ Thanked Lucifer the moment he found out he was going to be a father. His child is an unblessing he thought he would never be graced with. 

Papa II:

~Papa is very caring and loving towards his child, but is more open to show it when they are small. Granted, he has never been very emotional but he recognizes that his child is a tiny human who needs patience and love. When they get older he is more stoic, but he never stops caring.

~He is definitely the dad that shows love through support and providing than emotions or hugs. Like he won’t kiss boo-boos better, but he would never let his child go hungry or feel like a burden. His love is by providing them with necessities and having his door open if they ever need someone to speak to. Guidance and advice is what he’s here for. 

~Very no nonsense. Doesn’t care if they party or do dumb things, people do that. But Papa does NOT tolerate horrible behavior. Papa does not want his child to ever slack, be ignorant, or do terrible things with no consequence. And trust me, he is not afraid to deal out punishments to fit the crime. 

~Will laugh if his small child sasses his younger brother, Seestor, of his father. Makes him smile every time! 

Papa III:

~ Honestly, no one expected him to take to father hood so easily. Mainly because the history of the Emeritus family and his life style. But Papa LOVES his child and will everything for them! Whatever they want, they will get and MORE!

~Like his big brother, his goal is just to not be like his father. He wants any child he makes to feel loved and accepted no matter what. Papa knows he will never be a perfect dad, but he’s going to try his best!!

~Learned the hard way not to carry infants or toddlers while wearing designer clothes. They will get messy. Actually, he is never fully able to change diapers or clean up sickness. He has nannies and staff for that. 

~He is the happiest if his child grows up and WANTS to leave the Clergy. Papa loves his him and his mission by Lucifer, but he wants his child to know the freedom he never had. Would fully pay any tuition, rent, or expenses if that meant they could live their lives the way THEY wanted. 

Papa IV: 

~Swings wildly between firm mentor figure and embarrassingly proud dad. Yes, Copia wants his child to have a good work ethic and the best education the Clergy can by... but he’s so damn proud. 

~Absolutely %100 carries around baby pictures where ever he goes. Even though he has a ton of pictures on his phone, he also has one of those extra long accordion photo albums in his wallet.  

~No accomplishment is too small, and all will be praised by him. Alternatively, failure happens and he is good at pointing out that failure HAPPENS but it does not make his child any less. Copia likes to use losing or failing as a teaching moment to make his heir stronger. 

~Copia is mushy and sentimental, but he does NOT tolerate his children not trying. He doesn’t care if they want to be the next Papa/Mama or just go work at McDonalds forever, he just wants them to TRY. There is absolutely no slacking allowed. Breaks, yes. Doing nothing? Never. 

[squeiky]

Entry # 15 and 17

(Parenthesis are my input, for clarification only. They are not canon to the journal. Anything that isn't in parenthesis are from the journal itself.

PS: The first entry might contain hints of selfcest? But still PG. This is long post, so be ready.)

[ENTRY #15]

"LESBIAN UNIVERSE

Some magic witch school i was in or something. I dunno. Saw some mirror with another version of me in it. It (the version of me) was in red dress and was pretty freakin sexy, and i fell in love with another version of myself.

(When my other classmates found out i had a crush)

People kept teasing me, saying "ooo! Who is it?!" Untill i showed then that its myself, and the got bored."

...

[ENTRY #17]

"It was winx stuff this time. I was flora, the life fairy/plant fairy. Inspired by the live action Netflix Winx remake, Beatrix and more original looking winx fairies meet up with the black physic fox that apparently posses special powers.

The fox was said to be weak, and asked for a glass of water using its physic ability. Beatrix (no longer me) makes the remark that she (the fox) is using us.

I remark that "she's not, its just a glass of water" so i go closer to the fox and I believe I accidentally traveler into their mind with my head.

I saw what the fox saw. (This is the fox's plan)

It was all the Winx Fairies, my friends, bringing water for this fox for as long as they could untill they died. It (the fox) was on some kind of golden throne, surrounded by black walls.

I saw it and it was pissed. Beatrix was surprised that i could see what it was thinking, implying that im physic too.

The next thing I see i see is some dragon, particularly a fox dragon, battling it out w/ the black physic fox for taking advantage of my freinds

So i start raging, and then turn to project all my thoughts about what i saw and i run away. They call "GET THEM!" as im growing these sharp nails and am shrinking rather quickly, they talk about how they don't want to this again. You know how foxes lay low to the ground and its hard to catch them, he doesn't want to go hunting for this again.

(To clarify, basically as im running, the fox is hunting for me, and is stating how it despises doing this.)

So i make it outside, and it looks like a familiar neighborhood. This neighborhood appears very commonly in my dreams, actually.

Its just a few houses that's connected, a sidewalk with different attributes. One of the houses next to me was part of my halloween nightmare, where i fought off zombies in a small contained area. And the other was part horror dream btw.

So i exit the door as this tiny little fox and make it into the backyard, or side yard? Its right next to the house- but i was scared and couldn't find a place to hide, so i ran back to the door, entered the house, go one the stairs before they could grab me. I rush out the door and see this park, not the neighboorhood.

Its full of leaves, and large trees, hills. Basically heaven for little fox ol me. So i jump around and have fun digging in the piles of leaves while they try to find me.

But i get caught! Turns out people are trying to capture me in the the park too!

I meet head mistress from winx, The Netflix version of Aisha, I think Stella was looking for me as well.

As I run, so many people follow and just as I thought i lost then, i get grabbed and it blacks out for me.

Next, im in some new park, smaller, condense, better hiding spot than the flat grounds of the larger park, and the open space of the side yard. Apparently 2 foxes are here as well and Aisha and Stella are with me, guarding me from danger.

Turns out they're physic too! They have buttons on them and jewels, trinkets. They're not as beautiful and petites as the black and blue physic fox, but they look like litte children foxes. I was fully red, while they where pinkish and decorative. I find out i too have tiaras and pretty stuff now and they tell me, cause we're foxes..

That i have to hide beacuse this big blimp scary thing beams down a light on me, its going to identify me. Like taking a picture.

Luckily, I'm in a hole, and the fox gives me its tiara, while the other one stands watch. Did i mention we're behind a tree?

(Im in tiny hole, and we are all behind a tree. The light is red btw.)

Somehow the light almost hits me.

So despite being in a hole, Aisha and Stella give me a blanket. Though the beam still gets through it and i get nervous. So I try to pry the blankets upwards but it keeps coming down. (Cause of gravity) So i cover it with my.. Hand. My human.. Hands.. Shoot, now they're really going to know im magical.. I just realized my tail is showing so i cover under the blanket completely, depicts being in a hole.

Since the thing looks like a giant purple blimp with wings abd a big purple crystal that acts like an eye, that shoots light beams like a lighthouse.

I couldn't hide in the hole, and the blanket wasn't working and my hand and my tail was showing and now they will know im magical.

The blimp that was once in the ground was now flying. Its was going to attack me. I think.

So we run, i think my fairy (fox) freinds run w/ me and we try to hide. I try to access my wings that i saw on the physic vision, but no. Instead i can tranform into other animals instead.

So i hear a cow is in need of medical attention and the other varies are already there trying to help it. But i need to get red of the evil blimp chasing me. So I look at a map that the fox girl gave me and i take a giant leap of faith off a tall area. Like a mountain or something. (Yes, we are still in a park. Im pretty sure in the middle of the park was just a giant green.. Hill? Mountain Hill. I jumped off its peak)

And finally be granted my dragon wings, but im not fast enough and the blimp starts to catch up. I almost miss the mountain/hill that the cow was on.

(Im flying at this point and the blimp is flying after me. Problem is, im a bad flyer, and can only fly in curves.)

The fox fairies got there first though, and transformed into cows. 1 of them did anyways. I turn into a cow, and rush towards the injured one and start to heal it.

Tempted to bring out my game interventing- seriously it looks like it came from a video game-

(Specifically like a cop out of paper Mario. Or a yoshi world type thing.)

But anyways, the blimp might see it or catch yp ob my magic and get me. So I start to heal the cow as a foxy now, of course, with my stubby paws i start healing them. Of course, that's where the dream ends... And i wake up.

[ENTRY LOG: OVER]

Woophf! That was a loonng one haha! I hope you enjoyed these 2 stories! And thanks for asking :3

[olympusnerd]

Medea

I recently reread the story of Medea and I don’t know why but she really resonated with me. I know she doesn’t count as a Greek hero, what with all the murdering she does, but you have to admit, Medea has a way of captivating people as made evident by the fact that centuries after her death we still know her name. 

My husband bought me a new computer with Adobe Illustrator and while I haven’t used art software in over fifteen years, I gave it a go and I’m not too disappointed with my first try :D

So here is the unofficial cliffnote of Medea’s long and (in some instances savage) story: 

For back story, Medea is the daughter of King Aeëtes, the ruler of Colchis (an ancient city located around present day Georgia) who coveted the Golden Fleece (literally golden sheep wool). Jason and the Argonauts were tasked to find the fleece for King Pelias of Iolcus (Jason’s asshole uncle who made him go get it in order to inherit the throne that was rightfully his). 

So when Jason arrived to Colchis, he was given three tasks to conquer in order to win the golden fleece: tiling the land with two fire breathing bulls, plant seeds that would grow Spartanoids (inhumanly malicious soldiers spawned from Ares son who would fight to the death), and defeat the Spartanoids. He would then have to retrieve the fleece from a tree in the Grove of Ares that was guarded by a dragon. 

Distraught over these seemingly impossible tasks, Jason prayed to the goddess Hera for help. She in turn sent word to Aphrodite who used Eros to shoot Medea, the king’s beautiful daughter and devoted worshiper (and sometimes also the daughter) of Hekate (Titaness goddess of witchcraft), so that she would fall helplessly in love with Jason and help him with his tasks. 

You read that right, little cherub boy came and turned Medea into a lovesick puppy for the doofus Jason so that he could win the Golden Fleece because even the gods knew Medea was a badass. 

She helped him with every one of his tasks, but once her father realized it, they had to get out of dodge. Medea used her powers to make the dragon (yes a MOTHER FUCKING DRAGON) fall asleep so Jason could get the fleece from a tree it hung on. (Some depictions have Medea soothing the dragon while Jason gets the fleece, some have her soothing it then having to help Jason get the damn thing out of the tree cause women have to do everything themselves. Honestly how she didn’t see he was useless at this point is beyond me)

They go on their merry way when Medea sees her father Aeëtes’ ship sailing after them. Jason can tell the ship was going to catch the Argos and was preparing to battle when Medea said there was no way they could win hand to hand with her father, so she did what any good lover would do: she sacrificed her prepubescent brother, chopped him into tiny bits, and dropped him into the ocean at intervals for her father to stop and pick up ( :,) I did mention she’s not a hero, right?)

So she has Jason sail up a river away from Colchis, long story short, they get to  King Pelias of Iolcus with the Golden Fleece. He acts like he doesn’t even know they had a deal and, spoiler alert, apparently straight up murdered Jason’s parents and little brother (though some sources say he just told Jason’s father that he died and his father actually killed them all in grief but this makes for much better story telling, just assume Pelias is that big of a dick cause he is). So Medea, who has basically been brought to a whole new country just to chase dick, says don’t worry, I’ll get you some revenge and proceeded to go straight fucking Savage. 

Medea befriends Pelias’s daughters and one day mentions “Oh, it sucks your dad is so old, he’ll probably die soon. My father is older than yours but looks our age.” The girls beg to know how this could be, and Medea, sharp, lovely, conniving as she was, showed the girls a spell. She took an old ram, slit it’s throat, chopped it up, then threw it in a giant pot with herbs. She chanted, waived her arms and boom, baby goat popped out of the pot. 

The daughters excitedly go find Pelias, chop him into pieces and perform the ritual, only to find that their dad (surprise) was dead dead. 

I’m talking Dead AF. 

Pelias’s son tells his sisters they were fooled and Jason and Medea are chased out of Iolcus and landed in Corinth. They lived there for years, had three (sometimes two in different references) sons and lived happily ever after. 

Except they didn’t because remember, this is Greek Mythology and gods are involved so no one can be happy XD

Turns out Jason gets the hots for the daughter of the king of Corinth and they are set to get married. 

Yes, after all this shit Medea has done for Jason (cheated at her father’s orders, murdered her brother, abandoned her home, saved Jason and his Argonauts from certain death at least three times, reaped vengeance on his uncle, bared him children) and this mother fucker up and says, “Naw, you see, you’re just a tool by the gods for me to get what I needed to get in order to be a king. So I’m gonna merry ole faceless Corinth princess and now our sons will be kings, isn’t that rad?” 

“Super rad,” Medea would have hissed behind a fake smile. 

It was in fact not rad, as Medea then takes it upon herself to send poison laced garments to the happy bride-to-be and she died an especially excruciating death (as well as her dad cause he tried to save her, told y’all, my girl be ruthless). 

So in a final fuck you to Jason, Medea then murders their children (which I admit, puts a big pin in all the badassery she does, but in the play Medea by  Euripides she struggles with this because she says she loves her children and it will hurt her to kill them, but ultimately decides she is more angry at Jason and that she has to do it because if she doesn’t, someone down the line will. 

“I know indeed what evil I intend to do, but stronger than all my afterthoughts is my fury, fury that brings upon mortals the greatest evils.”

Like, shit, okay, I get it. You’re pissed. Do as you please. 

Again, Medea isn’t a hero, but I find it hard to completely condemn her actions. She gives her all to Jason, only to have him choose someone else who can give him the throne he always wanted while telling her that it was at a god’s behest that she help him. In some ways, I imagine that being used like that is what probably hurt the most. But it’s cool, she ends up ending the play by riding in a golden chariot pulled by MOTHER FUCKING DRAGONS that her grandfather Helios sent for her and her dead kids, so I mean? She also ends up becoming the queen of Athens, but shit goes wrong there, too, but that’s a whole other thing that makes her like the original shitty step mom (save for all of Zeus’s illegitimate kids Hera keeps trying to kill). 

And Jason is crushed to death when a piece of wood falls off his ship, so good riddance. 

It’s interesting that this story is originally Jason and the Argonauts, a tale that’s supposed to illustrate the bravery and resilience of our ‘hero’ Jason, but really as Euripedes makes evident, it is Medea who the most resilient and in the end, of all the characters, though she may not have an explicitly happy ending, she isn’t punished by the gods for any of her actions while Jason literally dies by the ship he sailed on these ‘heroic’ escapades. 

About the artwork: It took me three days and a lot of cussing, I mean YouTube videos, to get this where I liked it. I feel like it uploaded a little blurry but overall I’m content :)

[transandor]

For the passage ask thingie:

“i want you on my team,” dianite murmurs directly into his ear, and that heat returns a thousand fold.

his heart stops, gripped by that sudden flame as it wraps across him in chains. the armor suddenly feels binding, course, and heavy, trying to drag him back to the arena, and he stops where he is, trying to swallow down the fire that’s curling in his chest uncomfortably. the god of chaos chuckles quietly in his ear, dark and low, and it sends a shiver up jordan’s spine despite the unbearable warmth that’s nearly cooking him alive. the presence shifts, moving from holding his shoulders to full leaning over him, a weight against his back as arms drape over him further. if he closes his eyes he can almost see dianite back in his mock-throne, smugly grinning down at the fight for reasons no one but jordan would know‒

:3c

sniff sniff. smells fruity. smells a little- smells like some fruit salad.

no but really this whole damn fic was like teetering on the edge of that and i think the only reason i didn't advertise it like a romantic relationship was because. it wasn't explicitly supposed to be written like that? but like even in canon, man, that shit was FUCKIN something. i think also at the time of this i was like... thinkin about some uh. spicier ideas. so that might've bled into it a Little Tiny Bit. a lot. not intentionally.

really i just wanted to capture a feeling of like- heart stopping, sudden shock? i wanted to catch that moment where jordan realizes exactly what just happened, exactly what proving himself to dianite meant. i wanted it to feel heavy, i wanted that presence to be tangible- jordan was messing around with a god. jordan had basically done this big ol' fuck you to a literal god of chaos, and he's riding a high, won this fancy armor, fought a wither-

and dianite reminds him, hey :) i'm watching you, and you've made me very interested. so why don't i show you exactly the kind of power i have- and why don't you take a moment to realize what i'm offering you here?

dianite thinks he's untouchable, knows he's basically already won. he's watching the fight, sure, but tom doesn't interest him as much as jordan does- dianite already knows tom's competent. dianite already knows what his champion is capable, but jordan is shiny and new and dianite wants.

...and they're gay-

[anarchy-lives-eternal]

Charlastor Week Day 2: Human AU!

(This will be the start of a series of continuous one shots following Charlastor Week, all part of the same universe!)

Losing Your Soul (By Accident)

Contains mentions of Blood and Gore

Alastor LaCroix was having a strange night. The scene in front of him was something he never could have expected, and never thought possible. On the ground was the dead body of a corrupt official, bloody and broken. But for Alastor, that wasn’t the odd part.

No, the oddness of the night began with the appearance of a demon. Now, most people would maybe say this should have been expected, What with all the bloody symbols Alastor had carved into the corpse and drawn in blood on the ground, but Alastor didn’t believe in such nonsense. Well, he supposed he might have to now.

You see, Alastor is a killer. A good one at that. He had even gotten into the habit of carving religious symbols into his kills and drawing them around the area in order to throw the police off his trail, not that they were looking too hard. What with the fact that usually his victims were some particularly nasty individuals. He never expected anything to come of it; after all, he hadn’t believed in God or any religion really. His highest power was his craving for the hunt.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on who you talked to, on this night he was proven utterly, completely, wrong.

“Oh! This is so exciting! My very first one! Oh, I can’t wait to tell daddy. He’ll be so proud!”

In front of Alastor stood a woman. But not just any ol’ dame. No, in front of him stood a demoness, her ivory skin off set by onyx lips. She had long, wavy blonde hair parted with large sharp horns protruding from her head, and her eyes were the most unique of all: her sclera were blood red, her irises a poisonous shade of yellow, and her pupils were slit like a fox or snakes.

That’s when she jumped forward, leaning down and getting into Alastor’s face (which was strange in and of itself because Alastor’s impressive height of 6’4” was nothing to sneeze at, and it was a rare occurrence that a man could get in his face, much less a woman).

“You’re absolutely adorable! And positively human! I’ve never seen one before, so I’m very excited!”

Alastor took a large step back, he was not used to people actively getting in his personal space. Is this how others felt when he did it? It didn’t help any that the demon was a good few inches taller than him, “I’m sorry, my dear, there must be a misunderstanding!”

The demoness stayed where she was, but shook her head excitedly, “Oh no! No misunderstanding! You see these symbols here? This is you pledging your undying soul to me! Isn’t that so exciting? I mean, from the looks of it,” she looked down distastefully at Alastors kill, “You’d’ve come to Hell anyways, so really it’s no huge issue! I promise I’ll be a kind master!”

Alastor froze. The word “master” was replaying over and over in his head. What had he done? Was this God laughing in his face for murdering people? What cruel irony had befallen him!

“Anyways! What’s your name? Where am I? You know, I didn’t expect you humans to be this tall! Dad always talks about you like you’re absolutely tiny. Then again, this isn’t as big as I actually get... hmmm.”

Alastor latched onto the only concept he could process at that moment, “Dad?”

“Oh yes! It was rude of me to ask your name without giving mine, wasn’t it?” The demon laughed, embarrassed, “My name is Charlotte Magne, Princess of Hell, Heir to the Fallen’s Throne, but I go by Charlie for short. My dad is Lucifer, King of Hell, ruler of the Fallen’s Kingdom, or as we nicknamed it, Hell. Now, what’s your name?”

Alastor immediately regretted his question. Until a thought occurred to him, “Why, my name is Alastor LaCroix! Say, since I’m supposedly pledged to you, does that mean it’s in your best interest to keep me safe and intact?”

The princess, Charlie, narrowed her eyes, her wide energetic smile shrinking to one of cool calculation, and Alastor almost felt tempted to fidget. Maybe it was just the knowledge of who, and what, she was, but something about Charlie seemed to connect with him on a predatory level: like a lion and a tiger meeting.

“Well, there is no ‘supposedly’ about it, Alastor. But I suppose I can humor you. After all, now that your soul belongs to me, there is no where in the three realms you could run that I could not find you.”

Alastor still maintained his grin, despite his annoyance at the correction, “Well, darling, I don’t know the official rules, but I was hoping to make a deal with you!”

Alastor was praying this worked. He figured that as the daughter of the Devil, she would have a predisposition towards deals. He hoped.

“A deal? With me? You’ve already made one and lost your soul! Daddy really wasn’t kidding when he said humans were stupid little things, was he?”

Alastor felt his eye twitch wildly, “I take personal offense to that.”

Charlie once more stepped forward, leaning into Alastors space with her hands behind her back and a bright smile on her face again, “Fine then, Alastor. What deal do you have for me? If it’s something silly to try and wiggle out of your commitment, I would recommend not bothering. Also, know that if I don’t accept your deal, and counter it, and you decline my counter, I’ll be taking you straight to Hell with me tonight.”

Alastor withheld the urge to swallow, “Well, dear, on that note, I did have a single question to ask before I proposed my deal!”

“Then what is your question?”

He took a steadying breath, “Why, I wanted to know if you were going to kill me, or if I wouldn’t see you you again until I died naturally, of course.”

Charlie hummed thoughtfully, her hand holding her chin, “Well, it would depend entirely on what I feel like doing. I don’t have many friends in Hell, as you could imagine, and having some company would be nice. Then again, forty or fifty years really isn’t that long of a wait.”

Alastor nearly choked at that, ‘not that long of a wait! How old is she?’

“Of course, of course, my dear! However, I do recall you saying that you had never seen a human before. How would you like to meet more?”

Now this piqued Charlie’s interest, and Alastor noticed. His grin widened just a tad.

“What do you mean? Meet more?”

“Yes indeedy! How about this: if you allow me to live, and cut my time that I am pledged to you in half, I will let you stay with me here! On Earth! And you can see the sights, meet the people, really just have a jolly good time!”

Charlie tilted her head, and looked at him oddly for a moment, “You can’t cut eternity in half, Alastor.”

For what felt like the millionth time that night, Alastor froze again, “Eternity?”

“Well yes, Alastor. What did you think these symbols meant? And not only that, but that deal weighs heavily in your favor. Did you really think it’d be that easy to fool me? The daughter of the King of One-sided deals?”

Alastor scratched the back of his head with a sheepish smile, not really willing to say ‘yes, I did’.

The princess laughed, brilliant peels of laughter seeming to cascade from her black lips, “You did! Oh, you humans are so cute! Now I believe it’s my turn to counter your deal, yes?”

Charlie grins widely, showing off razor sharp teeth, eyes glowing viciously in the moonless bayou, “I allow you to live out the rest of your fated time here on Earth, and in turn, I am allowed to come topside anytime I so please to... check on you, as my investment. How does that sound?”

Alastor’s grin dimmed a bit, “That deal does not involve any mention of my time being reduced.”

Charlie smiled slyly, “I never said it would.”

Now Alastor has a choice to make: take her deal, and live out his natural life with the guarantee of her being able to do as she pleases, so long as she isn’t the one that kills him; or die and go to Hell with her right now. Regardless of his decision, his soul was owned, and he was going to Hell for all eternity at her side.

“Well, I guess I don’t really have a choice then. I’ll take your offer.”

“Good! I was actually hoping you would!” And then she leaned forward and planted a kiss on his lips. His eyes were open the entire time, so he noticed the burning red light that emitted from them when she did, as well as felt heat surround him. It felt like fire had bloomed all around them.

He reared back quickly, sputtering, “What the devil was that?”

Charlie giggled lightly, finding his flustered state rather endearing, “The deal is struck! Now, did you need any help... cleaning up? I don’t mind helping out, if need be!”

Alastor stared at her with eyes wide as dinner plates, “You would just... help me get away with murder?”

Charlie shrugged her shoulders, her smile dropping for the first time that evening, “Well, I don’t like it, and I find it rather horrid, if I’m entirely honest. But, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

Alastor was silent for a few moments, staring in wonder at this demoness, “You’re the princess of Hell, but... you don’t like murder? I was only asking because I thought you’d think it below you. Disliking it though? What wacky nonsense!”

Charlie stiffened, narrowing her eyes at Alastor, and he felt the air around them heat to near unbearable temperatures, “Did you have a problem with it?”

Waving his hands in front of him he quickly corrected himself, “None at all! Just a tad bit surprised, dear.”

Immediately the air cooled down, leaving Alastor to tug a bit at his bow tie.

“So are we done here or do you need to clean up?”

“Ah, I was done anyways, darling.”

“Sweet! Then let’s go! I want to see your world. Ooh, are we in a swamp or something? This is water? It’s so cold!”

Alastor couldn’t help the chuckle as the demoness in front of him ran wildly from one place to another, marveling at all the things she had apparently never seen.

“It’s called a Bayou, around these parts. Yes, that’s water, and it’s not cold, it’s actually quite warm for water. If I may, if you want to come with me to where all the other humans are you’ll have to blend in a little more. Suffice to say, most people aren’t used to seeing demons on the streets, sweetheart!”

“Oh yes! You are right. Well I suppose I could just change quickly!” And then she snapped her fingers and now in front of him stood a woman of average height with Blond hair, pale skin, but not the ivory white it had been, and black eyes, the sclera now a normal human shade of white. She wore a black and pink flapper dress, that Alastor could admit looked rather charming on her, and a pair of low black heels.

Alastor blinked for a moment, “Well that’ll work.”

“Let’s go!” And she grabbed him by the hand, almost literally dragging him towards Lord knows where.

“Do you even know where you’re going?”

“Well, no, but I want to see everything.”

Alastor smiled. He was still peeved that this had happened at all, but at least the gal was rather charming, and had allowed him to live.

Oh, who was he kidding? He was going to do everything he could to get out of this, no matter how adorable the princess of Hell was!

‘Wait... adorable?’

Aaaaaaand Cut scene! Hope you all enjoyed!

[theaggresivepacifist]

As I Go Wandering

Mossflower’s four chieftains have a summer reunion.  Some Songbreeze/Dannflor fluff for @myrose-of-oldredwall! Happy holidays, friend!!!😊

(And many thanks to @redwall-secret-santa for setting this up!)

         It had been many a season since Redwall Abbey was ruled by such young creatures. Abbess Songbreeze Swifteye and Abbey Champion Dannflor Reguba were wise leaders, stout warriors, and kind and cherished friends to all at Redwall, from the tiniest molebabe to the prickliest old hedgehog; they were also energetic creatures, and occasionally somewhat restless. Song in particular, used to wandering since infancy, sometimes felt a longing pull towards the woodlands, towards campfires and swift waters and sleeping beneath leafy bowers at night.

             “I can’t believe that a year ago we were fighting Marlfoxes and finding secret islands,” she observed to Dann, during one of these wistful moods. They were in the orchards, beakers of ice-cold raspberry cordial in paw, as they supervised a herd of adventurous Dibbuns reenacting the great battles of the previous summer.  “I feel like it was a lifetime ago.”

             “Or like it happened to different creatures.”

             “Younger, sillier creatures.”

             “Speak for yourself,” said Dann, feigning indignance, though the impression was undermined by the daisy crown a trio of giggling mousebabes had placed on his head.

             “And it’s been a while since we’ve seen Dipp and Burble,” Song continued thoughtfully, brushing pear blossoms from her shoulders. “I wonder what they’re up to.”

             “Probably off havin’ all kinds of adventures. It’s a wild life out there in Mossflower.”

             “I wonder if we’d still be good at adventures.”

             “Well, there’s only one way to find out, isn’t there?” said a new voice, full of gentle mirth.

             Song and Dann turned to see Cregga Rose Eyes, the ancient Abbey badgermother, lounging in the sun. She had been following their conversation with a smile on her scarred face.

             “You should go and visit your young friends. It’s a perfect summer for travelling,” she said, almost suspiciously casual. “And a few weeks to yourselves might give you a chance to rest up before the autumn harvest.”

             “We have plenty of time to relax here,” Dann protested. As if on cue, a stout young molemaid tugged on his habit hem, while a slightly older squirrel called to Songbreeze from across the Abbey lawn.

             “Hurr, zurr, Daisy be’s making mudpies an’ trying to eat em all oop. It’s an orful mess, hurr hurr.”

             “Abbess? The cook needs you straight away – something about a disaster in the larder and a whole season’s hazelnuts spilled all over the floor?”

             “Think it over, anyway,” Cregga said, still smiling, while the two conscientious squirrels rushed to their duties.

*****

             After much deliberation, and cleaning up spilled hazelnuts and mud-covered Dibbuns, Abbess and Abbey Warrior decided that perhaps a little summer reunion might be just the thing they needed.

             “Are you sure you won’t need us?” Dann and Song both asked Cregga, multiple times. Cregga generously let them realize on their own what a silly question this was to ask a former Badger Lady, former interim-Abbey-leader, veteran of multiple wars, who might not be able to see but could hear a pin drop and snap steel or iron like a forest twig. Meanwhile, Rusvul, Janglur, Rimrose, Gawjo, and Ellayo, all creatures of solid experience and good sense themselves, cracked frequent jokes about having more than enough squirrel perspective on the running of the Abbey anyway.

             “You’re only young ‘uns once,” Ellayo added sagely, in a tone that brooked no argument. “It’s high time you had a little fun, without us old ‘uns hanging around!”

             And so it was that a few days later they set out on a glorious midsummer morning—only for a few weeks, of course, but farewelled as if they might be gone for a full season.  Dann carried the sword of Martin belted across his back, and Song a light walking staff. Dibbuns, elders, Abbey brothers, Abbey sisters—all of Redwall Abbey and some from the country around—stood at the gates or on the walltops to see them off. The Abbess left them with a song, sweet and true as always, which left many a creature sniffing slightly behind cover of paw or habit sleeve.  

                           “Though this journey borrows me,

                             I promise I won’t be far away,

                            For I carry you in my heart with me,

                           In ev’ry place my pawsteps stray.

                            When you see the summer sky,

                            Or river in its royal blue,

                            Think of me as I go wandering,

                            And know that I’ll come home to you.”

             “Good ‘un, Song,” said Dann appreciatively, when they had passed beyond sight of the red sandstone walls.

             “Now you sing us one.”

             “Ah, you know me. I don’t sing.”

             “I’ll teach you. We have all the time in the world.”

               The two spent several days wandering on their own: lazily, enjoying the journey, occasionally stopping to chat with creatures who made their home in Mossflower Wood. They followed the river in a vague sort of way, and one morning reached a tranquil stretch of water that they recognized from last year’s quest.

             “Dippler and the Guosim should be somewhere close,” said Dann, searching for pawprints in the soft sand. Song had another idea.

             “Logalogalogalog!” she called, in an echoing, birdlike trill. Dann followed suit, paws cupped around his mouth.

             “Logalogalogalog!” he shouted, slightly less melodically, pacing a little farther up the riverbank. “LogalogalogaOOF!”

             Song whirled around in time to see Dannflor flattened by a blur of grey fur. She charged, wielding her walking staff, raising her voice in a thunderous cry of “Redwallllll!”, before skidding to a halt as she recognized a stout spiky shrew kitted out in rapier and colored headband.  

             “Mornin’, Dann. Mornin’ Song. What’s with all the shoutin’?” Dippler grinned, paws still locked around Dann in a bear hug, as he heaved them up from the ground. “We’ve already been tracking you for half a mile.”

             “You never,” Song protested, giving Dippler a hug herself. “Where are the Guosim, anyway? Did they kick you out already, you great rogue?”

             Giggling shrews emerged from a screen of rushes just up the riverbank, almost all of them already known to Dann and Song from the Guosim’s time at Redwall last summer. The two squirrels shook so many paws that their own paws soon felt weary.

             “Come see the new fleet of boats we’ve built,” Dippler said finally, extracting them from a shrew tussle over who would get their honored guests some cold mint tea. “I told ye we were going to make lighter craft, like the Riverhead vole tribe had, faster and easier to manage.”

             Dippler nodded to a shrew standing guard over a willow grove, and he parted a curtain of leaves to let them pass. A fleet of sleek, beautiful boats, masterfully carved from rich honey-colored wood, were docked in a shallow section of the stream, bobbing gently with the motion of the water.

             “They’re wonderful, Dipp,” said Dann, admiring the shine of the varnish and the tiny carvings of waves and flowers ornamenting the prow of each boat. “Are they sea- er, riverworthy yet?”

             “Better than any craft on water!” Dippler replied, puffing out his chest proudly.

             “Well, in that case, how about a little river journey?” Song grinned. “We were thinking of traveling upstream to visit Burble, too, and the Riverhead vole tribe.”

             “Haha, I miss ol’ Burble too. Why not? We’ve been in one place far too long. But first, you’ve got to enjoy our famous Guosim hospitality,” Dippler said firmly. “We had a feeling you’d be comin’ our way! And I want to hear everythin’ that’s happening at Redwall, too, mates!”

             They camped for the night in a lovely watermeadow, ­­­­where dragonflies flitted through the evening sky and paper-white and purple lilies floated on the water. Song and Dann and Dippler caught up together and then spent many hours retelling old tales for the amusement of the Guosim, who especially loved the ones about Megraw Eagle, the Marlfox islands, and Song’s unexpected aunt the hedgehog. Shrewcooks filled their bowls with piping hot tater’n’watershrimp stew and heaped wooden plates with hearty shrewbread and soft white cheese, generously studded with leeks and hazelnuts. When everyone was beginning to yawn, they bedded down on soft sleeping rolls beneath the stars, with the piping of frogs and crickets and waterbirds for a lullaby.

             “It’s like being in the forest when I was a little one,” Song murmured drowsily to Dann, before they fell asleep. “I’m ever so glad you came with me.”

               They spent several days on the river with Dippler and the Guosim, who were taking advantage of the warm weather and calm water to tend to their logboats and teach the younger shrews how to paddle and swim. Dippler, like the old Log-a-Log before him, was patient and kind with the youngsters. When the group agreed (after much time-honored shrew debate, of course) to embark on a visit to Burble’s tribe, he captained a boat of nervous young shrews just learning to row, encouraging them the whole way and tirelessly helping to back their boat out of sandbars and tangles of tree branch whenever the young ones accidentally crashed into the bank. By the time they had reached the end of their expedition the young shrews were keeping up with the best of them, grinning proudly, and Dippler was able to ship oars and sit at ease.

             “Comin’ up on Riverhead vole territory now,” said Dippler, arms crossed, looking every bit the sage Log-a-Log. Sure enough, in the distance they could see the ruddy glow of orange lanternlight muddling the evening lilac, and then a fleet of illuminated watervole coracles gliding a path through the reeds and rushes.

             “Is that old Burble Bigboots, Horror of the Leafwood?” Dann called teasingly from the prow of his shrewboat.

             “That’s Burble Bigthrone, Holder of the Leafwood to you,” a familiar voice called back. “An’ Commander of the good ol’ boat Swallow, yiss yiss!”

             Burble and his tribe of watervoles had soon surrounded the Guosim boats in a flotilla of their own. Shrews and voles exchanged greetings and traded favorite watersongs as they paddled ashore to the Riverhead tribe’s cavern home, where a welcome party was scraping up reels and jigs on an orchestra of well-loved instruments. Burble, once on dry land, kept shaking Dann and Song’s paws vigorously.

             “We’ve been meanin’ to come to Redwall, y’know, but there’s been so much to do here. It was a powerful cold winter, so we’ve been improvin’ our little hideout here, getting everything shipshape, y’see!”

             They recognized the Riverhead voles’ cavern, but sure enough, the place had been spruced up and made even more cheerful and comfortable than a year ago, thanks in great part to Burble’s exuberance. Cozy moss-covered arms and footstools were drawn up around the hearth; lanterns glowed in wallsconces; woven rush mats with a sweet, grassy perfume covered the floors and decorated the walls. Little trinkets from their various travels—beautiful carvings, pressed and dried flowers, pieces of smooth seaglass—were scattered throughout as decoration, giving the place a very homey feel.

             “You kept it, you rogue,” said Dann, horrified and amused, as he spotted a familiar carved chair against the wall of the cave near the dining table. “The Marlfox throne you plundered.”

             “Och, yiss, I kept it, but we mostly use it as the babbies’ high chair,” Burble burbled. “Now sit ye down! I want to hear all about what goes on at your Abbey, hoho!”

             After long hours feasting and catching up with their two friends, Song and Dann stayed up late into the night talking and toasting last autumn’s russet apples over the fire, while watervole lullabies keened softly around them on fiddle and reed flute. Burble and Dippler, propped up by the hearth, were both snoring uproariously, with Burble clutching the greenstone-topped Leafwood even in his sleep.

             “Just like old times, eh?” said Song.

             “Should we wake up early and steal a boat in the morning?” Dann said, trying and failing to keep a straight face.  

             “Oh, yes, I was hoping we’d get chased back to that horrible swampy creekbed again.”

             “Get bit by all manner o’ bugs.”

             “Fight a few ferrets and weasels while we’re at it.”

             “No, thank you, I’m happy right here.”

             Their conversation dissolved, as usual, into laughter. Burble shifted a little, pawing at his nose.          “Madbeasts, both of ye, yiss yiss,” he snuffled aloud, though still sound asleep. “You’re perfect for each other.”

                                                                                      *****

             After several whirlwind days of feasting and dancing, boating and hiking, Dippler and the Guosim set off for farther reaches of Mossflower, and Song and Dann found themselves missing the orchards and sandstone walls of Redwall Abbey, the faces of friends and loved ones, the sound of the evening bells. They bid farewell to Burble and the Riverhead voles (“visit us again!” one and all clamored) and broke camp on an early morning, haversacks filled with homecooked food for their travels, sword and staff in scabbard and paw.

             The path home stretched out before them, twining through lush groves of oak and elm and nodding willow. They stopped a moment to stare in awe of it, smell the sweet grasses and blackberry blossom in the air, listen to the sweet warbling birdsong and the soft winging of the sun-yellow butterflies through the trees of Mossflower Wood.

             “After you, mighty warrior,” Song said finally, inclining her head with grave solemnity.

             “After you, Abbess Songbreeze,” answered Dann, matching her nod with a fantastically elegant bow.

             Song gave him a playful shove. Her touch lingered a little on Dann’s shoulder, and Dann turned to her with a soft contented smile. This time it was Dann who picked up the melody of an old wandering song, surprisingly practiced for one who claimed he never sang.

                              “The road ahead is long and weary,

                            But walking it with you, my dear,

                            Though the miles go slow and dreary,

                            I feel aglow with summer cheer.

                              See the trees bedecked in flowers,

                            All alight with green and gold,

                            Oh, how I love to share these hours -

                            Let’s wander on ‘till we grow old.”

             Paw in paw, side by side, Abbess and Warrior began the journey back to Redwall Abbey.

[fangirlingincamouflage]

265 Days of Drabbles: Day 13

Title: Dreams and Prophecy Author: Rosie Dayze Word Count: 2,503 Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader Story Rating: PG-13 Themes: Angst,  Comfort, Nightmares, super powers, Disclaimer I do not own Wanda Maximoff/Scarlet Witch, nor do I make any money off of this fanfic. Wanda is the property of Marvel/Disney. Author’s Note: This fanfic assumes that you have super powers, I used a random super power website to generate a power. I kind of love it. Also, out of all of my drabbles, this is the one I’d love to make into a multi-chapter fic.

Things float when she dreams. For the first couple of weeks that you lived at the Avengers compound it was a little disconcerting. You'd roll over, half awake, and see that the glass of water you'd left on your nightstand was hovering steadily alongside your cell phone and that paperback you kept forgetting to read. Then, after nothing fell, or broke, or got slung into your face, you just decided that that's just the kind of thing that happens when a wall is all that separates your room from that of a witch.

Witch? Was it okay to call her that? It fit, certainly. But sometimes people kinda liked to make it sound like a bad thing. Sort of like, Inhuman, which, as it turns out, is exactly what you are. Not that you'd known that. You'd been going about life, mostly content with your lot in life. And then, one fateful day, your entire world changed. It had been such a small thing; inconsequential at the time, important in retrospect. Your life hadn't been in jeopardy. You weren't in the middle of some life-changing, traumatic event. You'd just been walking down the street, feeling a little lost, and wishing you could read the sign; if only it hadn't been so damn bright. And then, like magic, the light had shifted. You'd felt it like a tickle behind your eyes, a heat in the tips of your fingers. You'd chalked it up to a bit of sun-sickness and went about your way.

But then it had happened again. And again. Subtle shifts in light gave way to full-on apparations that depicted your daydreams. Nothing like everyone at work knowing that you were totally thinking about smooching that hotty from Game of Thrones.

It hadn't taken long for Tony Stark to find you, and bring you into the Avengers Homebase for testing. Light-Manipulation, he'd called it. The ability to bend, alter, and control the visible spectrum of light. He'd dubbed you The Illusionist, slapped an Avengers stamp on you and set you up at the compound. Your days were split into two parts. The first was training, where you learned how to test and push the limits of your Inhuman power. You learned how to bend light in such a way that you vanished from view. And how to change your appearance and those of others. Your strongest skill, however, was the ability to create believable, if soundless, projections. You were trained physically, and mentally, to withstand all the crap that might happen to you while opperating as a masked vigilante.

You'd been doing just fine (mostly) until they'd decided to set you up with Wanda as a training partner. The moment she'd walked into the room you'd felt your mouth go dry. Your knees went squishy. No one, you'd decided, should look that good in jeans and a T-shirt. But there she was, with her hair pulled back into a loose knot, and green eyes that seemed to stare directly into you.

"Alright," Natasha Romanoff had said. "Let's train."

You'd done terribly. Steve and Nat had taken the two of you out into the real world. He'd put you in a busy street and both you and Natasha had taken turns trying to sneak up on Wanda. The assumption, of course, was that your ability to cloak yourself, paired with the ability to bend the light to change your appearance, would make you excellent at espionage and tailing. Problem was, every time Wanda even kind of looked in your direction your concentration had cracked and you started to glow.

Glow. Seriously. Like a lightening bug. A big ol' nimbus that screamed 'look at me'.

Fan-tastic.

That had been two and a half weeks ago and you hadn't got much better. But Natasha had taken it upon herself to turn you into the best spy she could, and Steve wanted Wanda to be more aware of her surroundings. So the pair of you kept getting forced into situations together.

It was a surprise you got any sleep at all, you think as you watch the water cup continue to hover. You reach for your floating cell phone and check the time. It was almost six in the morning. Early enough that you could get back to sleep if you try, late enough that you know that someone in the compound is bound to be awake.

You don't notice the glass shaking until a drop of water fell unto your cheek. It is lukewarm and dibbles down your skin, leaving a line of sensitive skin in its wake. Curious, your eyes dart up. The water sloshes around in a tiny whirl inside the cup, like a miniature aquatic tornado. It shakes harder and harder. With a tell-tale creak, a growing crack appears to one side. You dive beneath your blanket just in time. With a glassy scream it shatters. The nearly forgotten paperback goes whirling through the room, slamming into your bedroom window. The drawers of your dresser slap and creak. High tech blinds, resistant to all kinds of damage according to Stark, bend and shake. Streaks of chaotic light illuminate your room.

Then, amidst the steadily growing pandemonium of your room, you hear the sound of Wanda's cries. Before you can even think you yank your blanket back and charge the nine steps to her door. It takes all of your strength to pull it open, revealing the living horror scene within.

You know what an inescapable nightmare looks like, and it's written all over her. She's kicked the blankets off and she is twitching and groaning. Her face is twisted up with sadness and pain. The room mirrors her fright. Drawers of red and black clothing have been tossed like phantoms across the floor. Belts slither around like snakes. Cracks decorate picture frames and glass. The bed creaks in protestation, like some great, invisible weight is pressing down on it.

"Wanda?" you take a careful step into the room, ducking as a shoe flies out of the closet. You put what training Natasha has given you to use and treat the room like an obstacle course with Wanda as the goal. With agility you didn't have three months ago you duck, bend, and weave. You kept your eyes fixed on her as you navigate your way past hair supplies and leather jackets. "Wanda!"

The bedsheet seems to spring to life as you approach. It billows and pulses like it is breathing. It seems to shimmer with the red light of her magic, casting strange and lovecraftian shadows across the walls and you. You wish, not for the first time, that your ability had granted you something that let you attack. The best you'd managed was blinding so that you could run away. that required, you know, eyes. Bedsheets were notorious for their lack of eyes.

"Come on, Wanda," you mutter to yourself. "Wake up."

The next sound she makes is so close to a tear-filled sob that you swallow your fear, dive through the creepy sheet, and land on her bed. Your knee jabs against her leg. The external pain jerks her up and out of sleep, another cry caught in her throat.

"Hey," you say as soothingly as you can manage, "it's okay. I'm right here."

She makes a confused sound. Without her magic everywhere, it is dark. At last, something you can fix. You feel the heat of your own power rise and fill you, and you send it out through the room, casting a soft warm glow across the bed. The light illuminates her too-pale face and sweat-soaked features. It's her eyes that bother you the most. Their green depths are filled with some haunted truth that you can't even begin to fathom.

"Are you okay?"

She blinks, and swallows. "What time is it?" her voice, tinged with Serbia, is cracked and dry.

"Early."

She looks around the room. Her confusion gives way to embarrassment. "I was dreaming."

"You could call it that if you want." You want to reach out, touch her, offer some paltry show of comfort. But you hesitate. You aren't sure what she was dreaming, or if she wants to be touched. You've been working with her for weeks, thought about her in ways you wouldn't even confide to yourself, but you can't bring yourself to close that single gap without some kind of invitation. “Did you want to talk about it?”

The light of your magic turns her green eyes to glass. They peer at you, cool and empty. It's a trick of hers that you've noticed, this ability to put on a mask of absolute nothingness. Usually, it fascinates you. Right then you saw it for what it really was; protection.

“I'm sorry that I woke you,”

“Don't worry about that. Can I get you anything?”

She looks away, drawing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around her legs. A little color has returned to her cheeks, but not much. Not enough that you'd be comfortable leaving her with whatever thoughts are haunting her dreams.

“I live in Stark Tower.” She says it like a curse, like it's some ugly, terrible thing. Since you don't understand it, you stay quiet, letting her speak at her own pace. “Growing up, Stark meant bad. It meant pain and weapons and explosions.”

To be fair, growing up Stark meant pretty much the same thing to you. But as you watch the way she continues to look off into the distant light, caught up in the memories of what was, you realize that the difference is that Stark, and everything that his company had stood for, had been the shield you'd been behind, not the weapon at your throat.

“He's given that up.”

“Has he?” Her gaze flicked to yours, a red light gleaming out of their depths. “He still makes weapons, he just gives them names and costumes now.” Her hand was like a phantom slicing through the air, encompassing the room and the destruction therein.

“Oh...Wanda,” you whisper. This time you do reach out and touch her shoulder. She does not move away. “You aren't a weapon.”

“Oh? Then what am I?” Her lips formed a grim line of defiance as if daring you to disagree.

You could tell her. You could use every word you know for amazing and beautiful, but it still wouldn't express exactly how you see her. Wanda has too much beauty in too many facets to be relegated to a few words. So you do the only thing you can think of.

With one hand you smooth out the rumpled bed sheets. With the other you beckon what little light is in the room and you start to twist it. A city street forms, reminiscent of the one where the two of you were paired together to fight. You recreate the people walking, the street vendors and their wares. You add in the cars and their bumper-kissing traffic. Every detail about that day that you can remember, you recreate. Then, when everything is just right, you add in a woman walking down the street. She is dressed in a pair of boots, worn to perfection, and an aged leather jacket. Every step is like a dance. The swing of her violin shaped hips is like music. Even the way the breeze catches her hair is an aria to her beauty.

“Wow,” she whispers.

Encouraged, you shift the scene. You add yourself to the moment, leaning against a light post with your face half hidden by your phone. You let the scene pick up the way you watched her that day, the fact that you couldn't keep your eyes off her. The way that the moment she turned and spotted you everything seemed to fracture and fall apart. Then you show her the next time it had happened, and the next.

“You are powerful,” you say, lost in your display, “but that's not all you are. You are also talented, kind, and smart. You could take your power and use it to rule the world ten times over, but instead, you sign up with the one and the only group that's trying their best to keep this planet spinning.” Your illusion shifts, focuses on her face. The rendering is nearly perfect. The way her eyes can go from flat and empty to angry to amused. The way her nose crinkles when she laughs. The flutter of her hair around the roundness of her lips. Every detail that has driven you mad in recent weeks. You don't even think about how honest you are being until she reaches out and touches your wrist. Her skin is cool against yours. Again, your phantom play shatters.

“I know,” she says softly, though there is an impish tilt to her lips. “I've known for a while.”

The way she says 'know' leaves no room for guessing her meaning. “Guess I've been kind of obvious. You make it hard to concentrate when we practice.”

“It's not that,” she answers. There is a softness to her. All that fear and self-doubt have evaporated. “Did you know that sometimes you bend light while you sleep?”

“Oh...oh no.” You hide your face suddenly behind your hands. Considering all of the dreams you've had about Wanda, you can only assume that she knows way too much. “I am so sorry.”

Her hand slides down your arm, tugging lightly until your fingers drop away from your face. When you open your eyes she is much closer than she had been, mere inches away. The red of her magic is shimmering around her.

“You came to my rescue tonight,” she says.

“I-”

She places a finger on your mouth, silencing you.

“I've always been the one saving others.”

She closes the distance between you slowly. You forget what it's like to breathe. or think, as her mouth presses ever so lightly against your own. Her hair brushes against your cheeks as she tilts her head, the soft press of her tongue slides against yours. You hear a moan, and are surprised when you realize it's coming from you. But when she returns the sound you melt into that kiss.

You shift your weight, pushing her down to the bed, riding her to the mattress in a slow, controlled motion. Her hand skips down your back as you taste her. The feel of her thighs wrapping around your hips sends electricity running to all the places that you like.

“Wow,” you whisper when you finally manage to pull away.

“I've been wondering.” She takes your hand, bringing your fingers to her lips, kissing the tip of each one in succession. “That heat that you give off when you do your projections...can you do that anytime?”

The weight of her words hits you like a hammer. “Well, there's really only one way to find out.”

[estelofthedunedain]

4 and 5!

4. Have you made any outright changes to the canon material in order to write your muse the way you wanted (entire scenes you chose to omit, chapters you say never existed, things you assume were never said, etc.)?

The answer to this will depend on what you consider “canon”. As for me, I don’t care what anyone else says, it’s not canon if it’s not established by JRRT himself

And that canon is the one I try to follow to the best of my ability.

If you consider the movies canon, well, my Aragorn is very different from that. The differences are all book-based but for those who need a reminder here’s the most important ones:

Attitude towards elves and humans. Aragorn does not have a dismissive view towards the race of men, and actually believes they have a future (fourth age will be the age of men, whether for good or for bad). If he had such issues in the past (and well, he probably did!), he’d managed to resolve them during the events of LotR.

Attitude towards kinghood. Aragorn was in fact more than happy to accept his heritage. This is book canon; my headcanon adds that he did have second thoughts sometimes but never to the point of trying to run away from it. He’d hoped and feared it at the same time, but his sense of duty prevailed.

Plus, book canon Elrond set Aragorn’s kingship over Gondor and Arnor as a prerequisite for letting him marry Arwen, which was an additional motivation for him (and for Arwen to support his ascension to the throne :P)

Relationship with Arwen and Elrond. According to the books (LotR appendices) Arwen and Aragorn were betrothed when he was about 49 years old - several decades before the quest for the ring. At the time of that story, this topic wasn’t disputed. This is also why I am reluctant to RP with movie based Elronds, as they are incompatible with how I view Aragorn and Elrond’s relationship.

Also, Narsil got reforged and named Andúril before the fellowship left Rivendell.

After the battle of Hornburg/visiting Saruman in Isengard. The movies don’t mention it but as Theoden, Aragorn and the others were leaving Isengard, they were met by the grey company - Aragorn’s kinsmen (as well as Elrond’s sons, Elladan and Elrohir) who had set out to help him in the war.

Dead army. I suppose more of a King of the Dead thing more than an Aragorn thing but that scene where the king complains “that sword has been broken”? Yeah, not a thing. The dead army was actually rather relieved to finally get the chance to fulfil their oath and be free.

5. What is an aspect of your muse’s canon material or canon existence that you never had the opportunity to explore but really want to?

Oh boy. There’s a whole bunch of stuff the canon hardly speaks of but I’d like to get to explore! Including:

- post-war chilling/building up friendship with Éowyn, Éomer, Imrahil or Faramir (or perhaps all at the same time)

- various kinds of threads with Arwen, both pre and post war

- interactions with the other Dúnedain, eg. when Aragorn’s only just learned of his heritage and comes to live among them for the first time, or when he comes back from Echtelion’s service and is filthy rich by their standards

- interactions with Elrond when Estel was a kid, probably mostly dialogue-based

- possibly interacting with some of Thorin’s company during their quest (Estel was 10 at the time and lived in Rivendell)

- idk something with Imrahil and/or child Théoden during Aragorn’s service as Thorongil?

also you know what I’m just gonna copy that thing I wrote in my drafts wayyy before i went on that long hiatus and never published

- Interactions with his mother, both childhood and later, preferably plotted

- Tiny bby Aragorn was brough to Rivendell and is not coping well with the ‘scary’ new environment. With an Elrond muse

- various stuff w/Elrond’s sons (together or individually), maybe they’re teaching him something? Or they’re hunting orcs together or something more complex [if the latter it should be plotted]

- interactions with Arwen from before [maybe including] the time he confessed his feelings to her (or maybe she noticed and wanted to be clear about it? the more likely option imo)

- interactions with Arwen during their time in Lórien

- anything with Arwen tbh as long as it’s canon plausible

- interactions with the other rangers when he’s young and inexperienced and has to adapt to the ranger lifestyle etc. [plotted]

- interactions with the other rangers after he returns from that 20+ year long absence (that is when he served under Thengel & Echtelion), is probably filthy rich [for their standards] and wow there’s so many stuff to tell about what happenned all those years, both from them and from him

- interactions with child!Théoden during Thorongil’s service in Rohan

- interactions with Denethor during Thorongil’s service in Gondor. I need to see the sass (even if it’s just crack.. even better)

- I know many Lego-muns like to follow the idea that Legolas and Aragorn met soon after botfa as the movies suggest, but consider this: a version in which they meet during Aragorn’s first visit to Mirkwood (which I think is during his search for Gollum)

- the not-so-fun journey with Gollum from Dead Marshes to Mirkwood

- something shortly before the fellowship sets out from Rivendell (with anyone who was there, fellowship or not)

- Meeting the hobbits at the Prancing Pony, after the war (with or without Frodo)

- Meeting ol’ Butterbur after the war [probably most awkward for him and most amusing for Aragorn tbh]

- the scenes that the books mentioned, but didn’t go into detail (with whoever was involved; basically the off-screen stuff)

- the palantír scene with Halbarad (and maybe Sauron)

- meeting his dad in the afterlife not really canon but sheeesh

- tbh one of my biggest wishlist things is (are) many short, ‘unimportant’ interactions. Perhaps with some random people he met on his journeys, talked to like once, and never saw them again kinda stuff? Or short interactions that might’ve been common (with the same person I mean) but never evolved into anything big or important. Interaction with the people who he never got to know very intimately, and neither did they know him that well. Seriously though I’d really love such things, even if said characters only appear as NPCs in other threads..