#but then it fades to blonde for more symbolism

[matrivers]

i gave one of my characters the name “Maisie” bcs i thought it was cute.

i then proceeded to forget that i frequently listened to Maisie Peters.

i also then accidentally gave her an arc very similar to the ones described in both “blonde” and “not another rockstar”

…i’m so stupid

[misctf]

Getting Over Him

Amanda wiped a few tears from her eyes as she looked into the mirror at her puffy eyes and ruined makeup. This was supposed to be a fun weekend trip with friends. But she didn’t want to be just friends with Brad. She had come to love everything about him: his kind personality, his respectfulness, and physically- he was exactly her type. But while Amanda developed feelings for the blond college jock, he never seemed to view her as anything more than a friend. But she always hoped that maybe one day he would.

“I just wish I could get over him.” She mumbled, drifting off into an uncomfortable sleep, barely registering the odd symbols glowing on the wall.  

Meanwhile, Brad sat at the edge of his bed, feeling like shit. He replayed the events of that night in his head- Amanda bringing up her feelings and him awkwardly turning her down. Brad massaged his temples. He knew she had feelings for him, and honestly he had feelings for her. But he was hesitant, worried about their friendship.

“I’ll talk to her tomorrow.” He mumbled, stripping off his shirt, pants, and boxers. He sighed as he looked at himself in the mirror, “Could use a good workout.” As he turned towards his bed, he noticed the glowing symbols on the wall around him, “What the fuck...”

He saw them when they first arrived, but didn’t think much of it given it was an older home. Now that they were glowing, his curiosity peaked. As he reached out to touch one, several glowing orbs emerged from the symbol, dancing around the room. Brad yelped in surprise, turning to leave, but suddenly finding he couldn’t move.

“What the hell? Help!” But his words were only a hoarse whisper.

“Is this him?” Brad felt a cold sweat wash over him as he heard the voice.

“Yeah that’s the one!” Another voice cooed.

“I can totally see why she’s into him.” Another voice giggled.

Brad was terrified. Sure the house was old, but haunted? There was no way. He moved his eyes around frantically, eventually landing on his own frozen form in the mirror across from him.

“Hmm but that seems to be the problem!” One of the orbs approached him, “She’s totally into blonds.” Brad watched in shock as the orbs moved through his hair, each blond follicle changing and becoming darker until settling on a dark black. Simultaneously, he involuntarily raised his arms, where a few more of the orbs tickled his pits, the hair there changing too.

“H-how?” Brad strained to ask the simple question.

“Hmm but that won’t be enough!” one of the orbs said, “She loves a clean shaven man.”

Brad recoiled as the orbs began to move across his body. Each area they touched, became increasingly itchy. He grunted in frustration as the itchiness became unbearable. However, the feeling peaked and calmed as hair follicles began to push out from his previously well-shaven body. Tiny black hairs emerged from his chest, shoulders, crotch, arms, and legs. The jock’s face was no exception as the dark hairs emerged, giving him a small beard. His body turned, so that he could see how hairy his ass and back had become. But to his horror, the hair began to thicken, covering him in a thick pelt.

“Almost missed a spot!” Brad raised his arms and the orbs worked on growing out and thickening his pit hair.

Brad felt his frustration building, “Why are you doing this?” He forced out. Brad was happy with his appearance- blond, clean-shaved, muscular- and he knew that women liked it too. He couldn’t be seen like this! And he couldn’t even imagine how long it would take to shave.

“He doesn’t seem to be enjoying it!” A voice whined. 

“Don’t worry, we can change that!”

Brad watched as a few of the dancing lights moved towards his cock. He tried to move out of the way, but his resistance faded as they began to massage him, the pleasure causing him to moan. He had never felt anything like it- the sensation as they bobbed up and down on his cock, which had quickly hardened at the sensation. He could barely focus as they continued to dance around him, the jock’s mind consumed with pleasure.

“See! He looks so happy!” The one celebrated as Brad let out another silent moan, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. His arms moved freely, as he rubbed his hairy chest and massaged his nipples, “See he’s sooooo into it!”

“Let’s focus now! Poor Amanda. Always attracted to guys with big muscles.”

As Brad rubbed his hairy chest, he felt his firm pecs start to soften. As he pushed on them, it felt like they were deflating- losing the definition he had worked so hard to get. The jock forced himself to open his eyes, doing his best to resist the pleasure. He wished he hadn’t. Brad watched as his muscular frame began to shift. His pecs had already deflated, and his abdominal muscles followed, quickly losing definition. His arms were not spared as his biceps and triceps atrophied before his eyes. The jock grunted as he felt his shoulders press in on themselves as his back muscles decayed, leaving him more narrow and lanky.

“Wa-wait, please... stop...” He said between pants. He let out another grunt though as a thin layer of fat began to cover his lanky body, a small paunch protruding from where his abs had been.

“Aww don’t cry Brad.” A voice cooed, “Just focus on the pleasure.” Brad moaned and threw his head back as the pleasure in his dick intensified.

“But while he’s definitely not her type now, there’s always still a chance.” A voice whispered, disapprovingly.

Brad felt a shift in his mind as his sexuality flip- a sudden need for cock down his throat or up his ass invading his thoughts. And as these thoughts became cemented, he felt an inward pulling from his dick. He watched as his manhood shrunk- as it did the pleasure there moved to his ass. He moaned as he grabbed his ass and explored his hole with his fingers.  

“Th-this isn’t right!” He huffed, wincing at the higher pitch of his voice. He had never played with his ass like this, yet now he couldn’t help it, the pleasure there dwarfing anything he had experienced from his dick, “Y-you can’t leave me like this!”

“Don’t worry Brady.” A voice whispered in his ear.

Brad was about to respond when he felt an intense pressure in his head. It felt like something was trying to push him out of his own mind.

“Amanda likes him for his kindness and respectfulness.” A voice giggled, “I doubt she’ll care for slutty and judgy!”

The jock became aware of a new set of memories- his time sucking off the football team, the men who bent him over, and the nights he would spend clubbing and partying. He had become a total size queen too, only caring to suck or get fucked by hung men. And as these new interests blossomed, he could sense this new personality pushing him out.

“No stop!” He moaned, “This isn’t real!” He was holding on desperately to his old memories, to who he was.

“We’re doing this for Amanda.” Brad’s eyes widened in confusion, “Just give in to the pleasure.”

Brad moaned, trying to resist. Part of him knew if he gave into the pleasure, it would be over for him. But just as he got closer to climaxing there was a knock on the door. The orbs vanished and the symbols stopped glowing. Brad fell to the ground, huffing, his small cock still rock hard and his ass throbbing with pleasure.

“Fuck.” He whispered, moving his once restrained limbs, “Need to find Amanda.” His thoughts were a mess- his old personality still present, while the new one continued to try and dominate.

The former jock threw on a pair of underwear and opened the door, desperate to find help. However, standing at the door was one of his teammates.

“Shit!” Brad said, again wincing at his voice. Nick looked at him, seemingly confused, “You’ll never believe me man but...” Brad stopped midsentence, his eyes traveling down Nick’s muscular and bare torso. His eyes landed on Nick’s compression shorts, where an evident bulge was growing. He bit his lip- what would it be like to have that python down his throat?   

“Oh uh hey man.” Nick replied, the confusion leaving his face, “You’re Amanda’s friend, right? Brady?” Brad felt his heart sink- did Nick not remember him? The concern dissipated though as Brad refocused on the growing bulge in Nick’s pants, “Uh so...” Brad continued to stare at Nick's bulge, “Uh yeah I was wondering if...”

Brad wanted to resist, to push Nick away and find Amanda, but as he stared at the growing snake in Nick’s shorts, he gave in, “I can help you with that.” Nick grinned and without hesitation, pushed Brad back into the room.

The next morning, Amanda woke up and slowly got out of bed. As she entered the hallway, she watched the door to Brad’s room open. She grew confused when a sweaty Nick walk out, a stupid grin on his face.

“What the fuck?” Amanda whispered.

“Oh hey Amanda!” Nick said, blushing, “Uh yeah, sorry.” He rubbed the back of his head, “Uh thanks for bringing Brady.”

Amanda was about to ask what the fuck he was talking about, but Nick quickly darted to his room. She narrowed her eyes and walked over to Brad’s room, intent on finding out what that was all about.

“Hey Brad, what...” Her eyes landed on a man swiping on his phone in Brad’s bed, someone who she didn’t even recognize. But before she could say anything, something clicked in her head. That was Brady, her gay best friend. He had insisted he come along when he saw the guys who would be going. Amanda sighed, this was so typical of him, “So, had fun last night?”

Brady looked up from Grindr and giggled, “Hun, you have no idea.” 

[15-lizards]

Do you guys think that as time passes Robb’s story gets turned into a folk tale…a cautionary story for children…a story rooted in truth but the real details are lost. A boy king marches south looking for justice for his good father but gets betrayed by the people he trusted too much…he gets turned into a beast, half boy and half wolf, forgetting who he is and living among the forest. The riverlanders say that you can hear the wolf king howl when you’ve been lied to, and that he scavenges the woods, pouncing on liars and betrayers. And his mother, so mad with grief, stalks riverbanks at nights, her face torn to bloody ribbons, attacking similar victims, but preferring the ones with blonde hair. Little children hear scary tales of Lady Stoneheart and the Wolf King and are too frightened to ever tell a lie. Men sit in taverns, singing sad drinking songs about a mother and child draped in tragedy. Girls sit about with their needlework, sighing at the true love the Wolf King died for, his fair queen who he put above all others, even himself. Robb Stark is betrayed, and this is true. But time twists the truth. Truth fades into story fades into legend. And he is forgotten, nothing more than a symbol in an old tale.

[kieranscaren]

i do desire we may be better strangers

i wanted to write bsf abby but just where she's so codependent. like reader is her first everything and vice versa - she can't sleep with out kissing them, without grinding into them like a dog. n reader is just so obsessed w her, just blabbering on. ⤥ tags abby x reader dt; @faiththrupain homoerotic bff! abby, sub! abby, top reader, language of flowers, shakespeare refs, abs cant sleep without kissing her bff, needy abby but whos surprised, slight?? masc reader - just not fem idk, scissoring/tribbing, light dry humping sorta, spit kink (fork found in a kitchen), religious symbolism/references. got lowkey distracted writing this... was supposed to be a drabble. mostly fluff with smut at the end.

౨ৎ ౨ৎ ౨ৎ

the stars were still kissing the clouds goodnight as you crept up to her room. autumn had been sweet kicking up leaves under your dusted combat boots once you’d left your apartment late; roommate raising a knowing brow before mumbling ‘don’t do anything stupid’. you’d tripped on your way down the stairs.

she hadn't seemed to tire of this routine. you’d been children when it had started - abby’s blonde short and twining through your little fingers, forming mermaid braids up her crown. “princess,” you’d coo into her ear before she’d succumbed to sleep. 

twenty and still sneaking out like a schoolgirl to ensure she’s rested. 

your knuckles clang a familiar beat against the wooden door to the nook abby had called her apartment. manny had tired of this faster than the blonde had - away, was he in the nights. quiet as a shadow he’d sneak into women around bases’ nighttime stories. 

she answers with her eyes just barely fluttering open. the door opens a crack with dark strands framing over her puffy face, lips pink as her cheeks now with incoming morning and water cold on her breath as she leaned to peck your lips. 

the kisses had started the same as her braid had. playground ceremonies and prepubescent poppies placed in her hair. the false reverend had declared you wife and wife - you’d pressed your lips to hers like you’d seen them do in fairytales.

"come here," beckoning you over as you slipped into the dark of her room. her lips hovering over yours once you'd fallen into the cold of her sheets, crisp air nipping at exposed skin. you'd still been in your sleep attire. stupid boxers with little green monsters on them - fading black on the waistband peeking through your fuzzy pajama pants, sweater half zipped without a shirt underneath.

abby isn't in much better attire. worn out boxers you'd gifted her like holiday candy in the dozens you'd found on patrol, her shirt is stripped off knowing she lives in your security come night, fading purple bra clinging to her small breasts, pink nipples pebbled up to the cold of her room.

you attempt to bury her into the sheets to consolidate for rousing her out of short-lived sleep to bear the cold. abby snickers and kisses you again, laying you back into her flat pillows on her side.

"hi." no reason for starting a conversation now but you do it anyway. fingers you'd forced warm by walking up here with hands stuffed into your pockets coming up to frame her face. sweet kisses returned against her lips.

"hello," she murmurs back, whispering your name against your lips before pulling away to curl around you properly. arms encircle your waist and incoming is her legs sliding into the space between yours. 

"what've you been doing all day?" ditzy in the scent of her as you leaned into her chest. she cuddles up behind you like you're more of a teddy bear, the ones once surrounding her bed gone as adulthood crashed over her.

"free day." voice muffled into your neck as her teeth come to nip at it, sorrying kisses while she attempts to pull apart before she leaves a mark. her thighs squeeze around you before she continues.

"been so fuckin' lazy. napped my ass off and now," stopping just to sigh against your throat. her pouty lips not indifferent against your smiling ones as she'd leaned up to catch them. "i got you."

canterberry grin replacing the last. she's so simple like this, curled up to her favorite person - malignant shame not swallowing her whole for once while she's pouring out vulnerability. 'wolves', the scars had called her - you'd named her a back lying cat.

"you'll always have me." platitude slipped from your lips but your friend seemed not to care for anything apart from your lips. her own take the color from the flame of her insistence in pressing her lips to yours, "fuchia," you'd cooed into the expected kiss.

'the first kiss is where all goes wrong,' abby's father had started to quote from somewhere once. you'd still been nothing more of a girl then, adolescents still kissing your cheeks. 'greed will get you once you've gotten a taste." he'd finished.

insatiate, was abby swiping her tongue into your closed lips. midnight approaches soon and maybe you still wish to save something for dawn as you pull away.

god, she'd never stopped being pouty. saturnine when you wouldn't comply. you'll blame it on the tiredness seeping into her pretty blonde head.

"abigail," full name she'd only been comfortable with you using now. it'd been owen for a bit - he'd been a blot in the distance between you then. kissless by you and utterly greedy had been sleepovers. manny had teased her as a 'cheater'. what you had was different, you swore then. 'til death do us part,' the childhood vow would stay true.

"yes?" she mumbles it out against you. annoyance clear in her tone like you'd forbade her from touching you; she'd die if you did. her breath hovers over your top lip, pulling you to face her properly.

you choose to lay her down instead. she's sitting up to get at you - hovering over your frame with only her waist twisted into the little bunk she'd called a bed. you press your hands against her chest and down she goes into the flurry of stolen pillows. she takes it as an invitation to have you on top of her.

you land half in her lap, half slipping off into the bed. her fingers creep under your sweater and live under it. hobitting herself into your skin with her palms squeezing your waist.

"go to sleep, abby." she'd sooner tire herself to sleep than with the taste of you. blood stained carnations must've been swimming up in that head of hers. you bring a finger up to her crown like you're expecting it to start leaking flowers.

"what if i don't want to?" bratty only to the whim of her fading annoyance. she sits you up right in her lap, ruining it just as quickly. her legs part under yours, sliding a thigh beneath hers - setting you up like barbies scissoring.

"then you're stupid." you snicker back into her. blonde sliding between your appendages, tugging her face closer to yours. you'd memorized her face years ago. could count the freckles on her pretty face with your eyes closed and yet you still take the time to look now. pulling in for a kiss against her lips before landing on the bump in her nose. "you don't have infinite off days."

"i just-" interrupting herself only to whine against your lips. pulling in for another kiss like the millions before this had meant nothing more. you'd defended the affection between you both to her father in the same vain you had to manny. he'd been more questioning about it then, small liberties were taken to separate you both. you'd planted maidenhair fern under her pillow every night you couldn't be together.

"want to be with my best friend, is that so bad?" muttered into your mouth now. dampening boxers pressing into your soft pants. down her fingers go to your pajama waistband - you let her strip them off.

"aw," kicking the fuzzy fabric off your feet, joining the puddle of clothes beneath the bed frame. abby only pouts at your coo - hips turning up to expose the damp spot indented in her briefs.

you catch her lips to shush her. thick walls and yet she'd never been particularly silent. you'd wondered how many more excuses you could use now - once, you'd both been teenagers curiously exploring each other. now it's just greed fueling her clit searching out your own through the fabric separating you both.

she'd stick her tongue out for your consumption - spit dribbling down her chin and catching against her chest. your fingers come easily in unclasping her bra, tracing your thumb across the pink of her nipple. she's too sensitive there, already drinking in the honey of your saliva, wet noises panted into your mouth.

"take it off." overzealous she'd been a minute ago and now a step from begging. her fingers claw at your briefs like she's nothing more than a cat at rope. how pretty she'd look strung up in the sept of your mind; weeds restraining her thick wrists and stretched out across the cross of your daydreams choosing.

the seraphites might've been religious fanatics but you figure they were on to something with the insistence of purity. white lilies, you'd planted in abby's hair on your last patrol. you'd choose chastity a million times over to feel her cunt against yours for the first time again.

abby is stripped down with less of a whisper. hair falling into her pretty face as she insisted on leaning her wetness up to your line of sight. 'for you,' her actions had spoken for her.

your sweater comes down. her fumbling fingers unclasping your bra, getting distracted as soon as she wandered too far down you torso. pleading look in her glistening eyes as you'd gotten off your briefs.

there's no point in dragging it out now. "cute." you'd murmured over her frame once she started grinding into you. reduced to her stupidest form as she'd fallen back into her pillows, hands squeezing your ass to press you further into her.

you fall into her frame. open mouth kisses across parts of her neck you could still reach - abby's free hand against your back. you'd started panting into her ear on purpose, she started rambling out praises towards you after.

"close?" you muse against her ear. cold sweat keeping her hair stuck to her neck, your fingers swiping down her throat as your lips had found her pulse point.

the gods had tested her enough, you'd thought. sweet disposition gone after your wedding night, a decade later and divinity takes it's consummation now.

ivory sticks you two together. abby had sworn to every god from saturn to jupiter while still grinding into you. cupid had struck you both with avarice-painted arrows.

she kissed you again nonetheless. your finger swiping up her cum, digit slick against your lips as you'd let your tongue clean it off. sentience seemed to be returning to her now, blinking up to meet your eyes.

"kiss?" giggled out like a schoolgirl in that pretty voice of hers.

"kiss." you’d accepted into her lips.

[babyblue711]

Little Dragonseed

Sister Story to Loyalty Aemond Targaryen (HOTD) x Handmaiden - Part 2 Summary: The young maid tries to remain discreet while in the Prince Regent's presence, but her curiosity regarding her ancestry compels her to sneak a visit to his formidable dragon. Words: 1.7K Chapter Warnings: Mild threat of violence

<<<< Part 1

The air buzzes with tension as Aemond surveys the stronghold, his violet eye reflecting a cold determination of a man driven by duty. The One-Eyed Prince is equally, if not more, striking in appearance than his uncle; his long mane of blond hair is tied neatly away from his face, a leather eyepatch secured over his left eye, his dark green jerkin is neat and tidy. Despite such a long journey, his appearance isn’t the least bit disheveled.

As like Daemon before him, she is summoned to attend this royal subject for the duration of his stay. Aemond barely spares her a glance, treating her with the same indifference that Daemon had initially shown. Her heart pounds in her chest as goes about her duties around him, always keeping her eyes downcast, terrified to meet his gaze, fearing he will notice that she is different. 

Unlike her curiosity for the Rogue Prince and secret willingness to be discovered by him, there is an arrogance about the Prince Regent that unsettles her. His demeanor exudes unyielding rigidity coupled with an air of superiority, as if everyone is beneath him. Truthfully, he terrifies her more than Daemon ever had and, moreover, her heart belongs to the black faction as she fervently believes in Queen Rhaenyra's cause. 

So, in the haunted halls of Harrenhal, she moves like a ghost, trying to remain invisible to the new master of the castle. Every time Aemond’s cold, violet eye fixes on her, she feels exposed and vulnerable, as if he could see straight through her feigned obedience to the loyalties she harbored within. Blessedly, he ignores her just as he does for many of the castle’s inhabitants, except for a certain witch. 

The young maid has always kept a wide berth around Alys Rivers, despite the fact that she has never been unkind or cruel towards her. There is something about the enchantress that feels unsettling and unnatural, and the young maid can’t shake her distrust. As time passes, she notices that the witch is spending almost every evening with Aemond and the young maid fervently hopes she is keeping him preoccupied. 

But as the days melt together, the young maid’s curiosity begins to get the better of her. If she truly is the Blood of Old Valyria, did that mean she could become a dragon rider as well? The thought consumes her as she finds herself watching Vhagar from a distance, enthralled by the dragon's immense size and ancient beauty. She longs to know more about her heritage and the dragons that symbolize the power of the Targaryens.

One day, while Aemond is engaged in a lengthy war counsel, Vhagar lay next to the large lake adjacent to the castle, peacefully asleep as the sun dips toward the horizon. The young handmaid knows it is foolish to approach this fearsome giant, but an irresistible sense of curiosity has possessed her mind, gripped her soul; she’s bound by an inexplicable need to get closer to Vhagar and can’t explain why. 

While high up in one of the castle’s towers, she leans on the windowsill, eyes fixed on the distant figure curled by the lake, admiring the way the dragon's scales glint in the fading light. Out of nowhere, a cool voice breaks the silence from behind her, making her jump.

“She is magnificent, isn’t she?” says Alys as the young maid whirls to face her. They have only spoken a few times prior, when duty demanded it, yet here is the witch addressing her as if they are old friends.

“She is,” admits the young maid as Alys comes to stand beside her, both of them gazing out the window. 

“War counsel is still in session, the prince is rather occupied at the moment,” the witch muses lazily. “I think, perhaps, you should pay her a visit?” she suggests airily, arching an eyebrow. 

“Do you think I could?” the young maid asks, captivated by the idea, but sure she would get caught or worse, would her Targaryen blood keep her safe from dragonfire? Alys seems to be able to read her mind.

“I believe you’ll be perfectly fine, child, and I won’t tell the prince. Your secret is safe with me,” she assures her with a sly smile. “Go now, and I’ll stall him if he finishes the counsel session early,” she coaxes in an almost motherly tone.

Without hesitation, the young maid turns and sprints down the tower steps and walks briskly through the castle, her heart pounding in her chest with excitement. She knows a secret way outside that bypasses the main gate and leads closest to where Vhagar lay.

Conflicting thoughts assail her mind—she knows this was foolish, dangerous, something she shouldn’t do—but the possibility of seeing Vhagar up close, maybe even touching her, drives her feet faster as she slips out the side gate.

Down on the ground with the almighty dragon is quite different than viewing her from the height of the tower. She hardly dares to breathe as she creeps closer to the resting giant, her heart pounds so hard she fears Vhagar may hear it. 

Yet, a sense of calmness settles over her, blotting everything else out except the dragon before her. Almost as if her arm has a will of its own, she pulls off the scarf covering her hair, reasoning that maybe Vhagar would not think her so edible if she awakens and sees her Targaryen hair. Night is falling fast now and she depends on the cover of darkness to hide her appearance from the other castle inhabitants.

Still sound asleep, the dragon’s deep breaths are slow and rhythmic; it sounds like a mountain is breathing. The young maid inches closer, feeling transfixed as she gazes upon this ethereal beast, in awe that something so mystical and powerful could be real. 

Vhagar’s wingtip is closest and easiest to reach while still maintaining a bit of distance from her fire-breathing mouth. Tentatively, the young maid reaches out, fingertips barely brushing her wing, marveling at the leathery feel beneath her fingers, softer than she expected. Taking another tentative step, she smoothly runs her hand along Vhagar’s wing without the dragon’s notice. Suddenly, a strong hand comes out of nowhere, yanking her away from Vhagar while firmly covering her mouth with another large hand.

Her shriek of surprise is muffled by his hand, but it’s too late; Vhagar’s large eyes snap open, clearly disturbed. Terrified, the young maid’s eyes dart to see who her assailant is and her heart nearly stops as the Prince Regent returns her gaze. His single eye blazes with fiery disapproval and every sharp feature of his face is etched with fury.

Vhagar rumbles, a low, threatening sound that reverberates through the ground. Aemond raises his voice over her growls and speaks to her in an ancient language that the young maid does not understand, his tone gentle yet commanding. Vhagar settles again, acknowledging her rider’s presence, but continues to watch them with a fearsome, slit-pupiled eye.

“You stupid little girl, were you trying to get yourself killed?” Aemond hisses furiously into her ear, giving her a little shake. His arm is gripped so tightly across her chest that she is starting to feel lightheaded and all she can manage is a small whimper, his hand still clapped on her mouth.

“Come, idiot girl, let’s see what the Queen of Dragons makes of you then,” he releases his hold and painfully grips her upper arm, marching her straight at Vhagar’s face. 

The young maid’s mouth pops open in a silent scream, feet dragging the ground; she has gotten as close to Vhagar as she liked. But fighting against Aemond is like fighting against an immovable stone wall as he stops right in front of the ancient dragon’s nose, releasing his grip on her arm and taking a step back as Vhagar lifts her massive head from the earth. The young maid freezes in place and trembles in terror, convinced that any sudden movement will surely mean her imminent death. Vhagar seems to consider the small form in front of her, blowing a smokey gust of air into her face. After a moment, the dragon turns away, seeming disinterested, and sets her heavy head back down on the ground before them, but keeping a watchful eye trained upon the pair.

Still not daring to breathe, the maid’s gaze flicks toward the One Eyed Prince, where she sees a look of grim satisfaction on his face. 

“I knew she would not eat you,” he says menacingly, voice laced with dark amusement, as if he almost wishes Vhagar had, “But do not ever approach my dragon again, or I shall kill you myself instead.” He growls, deep and menacing, his threat cuts through her like a razor sharp blade.

He steps closer to her, his lone eye darting around her face and lingering on her hair. She had completely forgotten she had removed her scarf for Vhagar, but certainly not for him. The realization strikes her as his expression sours, his lip curling in disdain.

“Don’t think for a second that I don’t know who you are,” his voice is dangerously low, barely above a whisper. “Alys told me, surely she’s mentioned it to you over the years?” 

“N-no…” her voice quivers as she tries to lie, convinced he is referring to her parentage, but confused by his comment about Alys, did the witch know about her bloodline all along? 

“Dragonseed,” he practically spits the word at her and then starts to chuckle, a humorless laugh that further ignites her terror as her heart leaps into her throat. He knows then, knows that she must have Targaryen blood, royal blood, that she is most likely a bastard and Aemond hates bastards, especially those sired by his greatest nemesis, the Rogue Prince.

“Oh, how much fun I am going to have with you,” his breath fans her face as he leers over her, standing almost nose to nose. 

“Daemon deserves to have a little taste of his own medicine, I think.” He pauses for a moment and she sees resolution form in his eye and the next second he is shoving her roughly back towards the castle.

“Put that scarf back on, so no one else can see your hair,” he commands gruffly, “you’re going to accompany me to my chambers, little one.” Fear spikes in her chest as he uses the nickname Daemon had given to her and she can’t help but wonder:

“How does he know?”

>>> Part 3

[slavonicrhapsody]

wtf is going on with Rykard’s hair

So, I finally took it upon myself to make a post laying out the entire Rykard hair color situation, and going over and assessing the potential theories about what’s going on here. For context, the general fan consensus had been that Rykard’s hair was red like his father and siblings. It makes sense for all their hair colors to match, and if we look at the descriptions of both the Redmane Knight helm and the Gelmir Knight helm, they read:

“Helm worn by knights who fought by General Radahn's side. The red plume is a symbol of Radahn's pedigree as Lord Radagon's son - the mane of the proud Red Lion.” (Redmane Knight Helm)

“Helm worn by knights once loyal to Praetor Rykard. Its crest of red feathers symbolizes Rykard's pedigree as Lord Radagon's son.” (Gelmir Knight Helm)

The portraits of Rykard displayed in Volcano Manor also seemingly did not contradict this interpretation, since the lighting in the Manor is strongly tinted red:

However, two images started floating around: in this image, from the Elden Ring manga, the colorist depicted Rykard’s hair as blond.

We don’t know if this character design was their personal interpretation or if this was specified directly to them by Fromsoft, but it is significant nonetheless.

Then there is this image, which includes the image files of the Volcano Manor portraits taken directly from the game (free from the influence of the Manor’s red-tinted light).

It shows that Rykard’s hair was painted as pale and slightly golden, in stark contrast to his brother Radahn’s darkly saturated red hair.

In retrospect, we can also look at the art of Rykard’s severed head from the game’s opening, and there appears to be several pale hairs across his face.

So we can reasonably conclude that, at least at this point in Rykard’s life, his hair is inarguably pale-colored, not red like his family members. However, this doesn’t rule out the idea that his hair has changed color over time. Let’s go over some different theories about where this pale hair color might come from…

First, I’m going to start out with two theories that I think can reasonably be dismissed.

The painting is aged

It has been argued that the color of Rykard’s portrait could have faded and made his hair less pigmented. However, I don’t think this is a good argument because in the same painting, we can see that the red gems in his sword are still quite pigmented. Furthermore, Rykard has multiple other paintings as we have seen, such as the painting of Radahn, that do not appear to have lost significant pigment (plus, the other portrait of Rykard is painted in the exact same colors as the first portrait). Lastly, this theory doesn’t account for the pale hairs present in Rykard’s intro art.

Rykard himself is aged

Many people have interpreted Rykard’s pale hair color as due to age, but I have problems with this theory. It doesn’t make any sense for Rykard to have aged significantly, because neither Radahn nor their parents look aged at all. Rennala doesn’t even have godly blood, but she looks like she hasn’t aged a day since she became queen! Why would Rykard be the only one in their family to get old??? It’s true though that in his portraits, his face looks pretty, for lack of a better term, fucked up. But I have another idea about that which I’ll talk about towards the end… I honestly don’t think he looks particularly old, I think it’s more to do with whatever the hell is going on with his skin. Also, to me, his hair here doesn't really look like it's greying, it looks like it's tinted gold.

With those theories out of the way, here are the theories that I think we can seriously consider.

Rykard was always blond

The main evidence for this theory is that according to Miriel, “Lord Radagon harbored a secret,” which was discovered by a sculptor of the capital. We can then investigate the statue in Leyndell and come to the conclusion that Radagon is Marika. While Radagon was married to Rennala, he ordered the preceptors to don masks with the mouths sewn shut with golden thread “To make it clear that all of their matters were to be kept strictly private.” I interpret Radagon’s extreme secrecy as him hiding the truth that he and Marika are one. Radagon and Marika as one being produced twin children, Malenia and Miquella, of which one has Radagon’s red hair and the other has Marika’s pale gold hair. So I don’t think it’s a stretch to say that Radagon, who is Marika, could have had a child with Rennala who has Marika’s gold hair.

Some counter-evidence to this theory is again, the description of the Gelmir Knight helm: “Helm worn by knights once loyal to Praetor Rykard. Its crest of red feathers symbolizes Rykard's pedigree as Lord Radagon's son.” This item description definitely can be interpreted as evidence that Rykard indeed inherited Radagon’s red hair, and is invoking it in the design of his soldiers’ helms to draw a connection between himself and his father.

However, I don’t think the use of this symbol necessarily means that Rykard had to have Radagon’s hair color himself. Radagon’s red hair is his defining feature (“Radagon’s glory burns as red as his hair”), so using it as a symbol invokes him and his prowess on the battlefield… which benefits Rykard and Radahn, because they want people to think of Radagon’s strength when they see their armies. In other words, the red plumes could just be the statement “Radagon, the famed warrior, is my father” and not necessarily “Radagon, the famed warrior, is my father and I look just like him.” Interestingly, the Redmane Knight Helm also includes an extra line: “The red plume is a symbol of Radahn's pedigree as Lord Radagon's son - the mane of the proud Red Lion.” The last line here specifically mentions Radahn’s own red hair, but the Gelmir Knight helm has no such reference to Rykard’s hair… perhaps because his hair isn’t actually red?

One side note to discuss… I’ve seen it said that Rennala is actually blond, so Rykard might have inherited it from her. However, this is only a trick of the light — Rennala’s hair is very clearly meant to be brown, which can look either very dark or very light depending on the lighting. Rennala’s hair in her concept art/in-game portrait is unequivocally brown:

Rykard’s whole appearance changed

This is the last theory I have… which is that Rykard’s hair color used to be red like his family, but changed as a result of his involvement with the Great Serpent. If we take a closer look at Rykard’s in-game art, there’s a lot of questionable things about his face:

He’s got frighteningly dark eye sockets. His beard and other parts of his face seem to be scaly and fleshy, almost looking like flaps of skin. And in the intro art, his eyes have turned black with a yellow iris, like how we see him in his boss fight.

I’m not sure exactly how, but I think it’s possible that Rykard’s appearance had been somehow drastically altered even before he was devoured… perhaps he could have made some kind of pact with the serpent god that had some physical effects on him? Or if he somehow altered his face himself, in order to appear closer to the serpent and to better embody it? Any of these transformations of his face could also have included a drastic lightening of his hair, who can say for sure?

A counter-argument to this idea is that some of the stranger features of his face might only be artistic, and are not meant to be taken literally… they could be symbolic representations, meant to show his connection and dedication to the path of the serpent.

Conclusion

I can see either of these theories about Rykard’s hair being true, we just don’t have enough information at the moment to explain why he looked the way he did… maybe we will eventually?

[yanaromanov]

close to your heart

- rosie betzler x daughter reader

summary: rosie comforts her daughter, hesitant about leaving for her training weekend, and gives her a gift to always remember her by.

warning(s): WWII era, mentions of nazis and hitler etc., war talk, slight mention of bullying, tiny bit of angst but mostly just fluff and comfort, reader is jojo’s twin sister (age 10)

authors note: there are barely any rosie fics out there and that’s criminal so i wrote one. ps, i need her to give me a hug rn.

3.2K words

The face that stares back at you in the mirror isn’t one you quite recognise. It seems to have fallen that way over the last year, fading away to a person you didn’t entirely know. Perhaps it was added to by the attire you now adorned, the tan blazer and black skirt sitting oddly against your skin, the white shirt underneath itching at the nape of your neck. You missed the summer dresses your mother often dressed you in, the cardigans patterned with embroidered flowers or the blouses in beautiful pale colours. Now it was all stripped away to a dull uniform, your girly flowers replaced by the red jungvolk symbol stitched into the arm of your coat. It was the image of everything your twin brother loved, and everything you were so unsure about.

“Do you have everything ready, my love?”

The voice startles you from your thoughts, your head spinning from your reflection where you stood previously examining your outfit. But when you spy the owner of the voice, your tensed shoulders loosen, greeted by a soft and familiar face.

“Ja, mama,” your reply, smiling back as the blonde-haired woman walks further into your room. Her eyes glance over you, then to the desk to your left.

“Do I need to check there are more than just books in that satchel or can I trust you this time?”

Your eyes follow to the brown satchel that sits upon the wooden desk, previously packed the night before for your expedition that weekend. Despite your brother having been packed for weeks, it had taken you longer to get round to it, your excitement barren compared to his. Still now, you push a smile on to your face, looking up at your mother.

“There are more than just books. I promise.”

She looks down on you with a playfully suspicious eye, a giggle stifling itself in your throat. “Alright, I’ll believe you this time.”

As a smile creeps on to her lips, her delicate fingers find the rolled neckerchief around your collar, adjusting the woven woggle until it sits perfectly straight against your shirt. She picks an invisible piece of dust from your shoulder before her hands land atop of them, eyes glinting down on you. “Come, I’ll do your hair for you.”

Her head nods in the direction of her bedroom, just across the hall from yours, as she turns away. Guided by a hand grasping hers, you follow your mother until the pair of you stand inside her room, your eyes momentarily fluttering over the comforting patterns and colours the decorations held. In front of the mirror, you take a seat on the small cushioned stool, looking over your shoulder as your mother reaches into the drawer you know she keeps all of her beauty supplies. It’s off limits to you for now but she says she’ll teach you everything there is to know about makeup and being a woman once you’re old enough, something you can only hope comes sooner rather than later.

When your mom returns with the hair brush in her hand, you swivel back around in your spot. You watch in the reflection as she begins to pull the bristles through your hair, humming a nonsensical tune as she frees you from any knots. “Your hair is getting so long, huh?” she muses from behind as she pulls your hair back from your face, intertwining strands to form two long braids down your back. You simply watch in a peaceful silence as she continues to hum to herself, just as much concentrated on your mother’s face as the work of her fingers. No matter what, it always seemed like she was able to appear put together, perpetually beautiful even doing the most mundane of tasks.

When your braids are completed, neatly running over your shoulders, your mother reaches across to the dresser. Atop, sit two small ribbons which she pulls between her fingers, previously unnoticed by your eye. From behind, she lifts up one braid at a time, tying the ribbon around the bottom until she places them both at the front, two perfect little bows in place. The blonde’s head comes to rest upon yours, both of your eyes meeting in the reflection of the mirror. She smiles widely as she looks back at you. “Beautiful.”

A small kiss is placed on the crown of your head before your mother turns away, returning to her dresser and the secret beauty drawer it holds. While she tidies away, your eyes remain fixed on your reflection. For a moment, your fingers reach up to touch the small ribbons in your hair, the material soft and silky against your skin. Then they drop to your lap, a small sigh exiting your lips. The distraction of your mother’s soft touch has now gone, your mind fading back to the small distress it found looking at yourself just ten minutes before.

It seems with your sigh, you show more expression that you intended, and with it, you cause your mother to turn in her spot. Her eye meets you again in the mirror, her smile quickly dropping into a perturbed frown. “Why such a long face, hm?” she asks, closing the gap between you both as she comes to stand behind you. “You don’t think I did a good job?”

Immediately, you shake your head, forcing a smile onto your face. “No, you did, mama.”

But this isn’t any old person you’re trying to fool. Your mother knows you like the back of her own hands, and sees straight through your forced happiness. “Then why do you look so sad?”

With her words, your expression drops once more. Your eyebrows dip as your lips fall into a pout, your gaze dropping to your lap and the pair of anxious hands that rest there. “I don’t want to go, mama.”

The words ring out familiar, something you’d not only already told your mother, but also yourself a hundred times over. The training weekend was supposed to be a great trip for the jungvolk, a chance to learn real skills surrounded by professional soldiers, but the entire idea of it made you feel rather sick to your stomach. Going to school alone made you feel a slight homesickness, longing to return back home with each hour you spent away, so the concept of an entire weekend spent out in the forest sounded almost unbearable. Perhaps it was just the idea of being away from your mother for so long that made your stomach churn, a longing attachment to her lingering around your head ever since you’d been a small child, something the other girls at school hadn’t missed out on and found opportunity to pick on you for. The entire thing wasn’t helped by the fact your brother was a complete fanatic, entirely devoted to the jungvolk and non-stop going on about the weekend and how much fun it was going to be. You, on the other hand, just couldn’t wait to be back home.

A small sigh escapes your mother’s lips as your statement befalls her ears. You feel her move beside you, then in your peripheral see her kneeling down on the carpet in front of you. “I know, darling,” she says, voice gentle. “But you have to. Who else is going to look after your brother, hm?”

You scoff as you raise your eyes to meet hers, scowling slightly as you look at her gently smiling face. “Jojo will just be with his stupid friends the whole time. And he says I can’t hang out with them because I’m a girl.”

Your mother clicks her tongue. “Ah, yes. Well, boys are stupid. A sad fact us smart girls have to learn.”

You know she’s trying to joke, trying to make you smile, but this morning it’s not in your heart. It hurts a little to ignoring her playfully smirking face, one that always has you creasing at the corners of your eyes, but still your eyes fall back to your lap, your expression returning to the sad frown the planned expedition has caused.

You hear your mother let out a small sigh, adjusting herself where she sits as a hand reaches out for one of yours, grasping and squeezing ever so gently with silken soft skin. “Maybe this weekend you can make a friend of your own, hm? Finally find someone to talk to besides your books?”

You know your mother’s words are coming from a place of warmth but still they manage to twist the knife in your gut. You’d always struggled to make friends, the girls at school never quite accepting you and always finding a reason to holler a mean comment your way. “Maybe,” you mutter under your breath, knowing that the likelihood of her proposition was next to none. The fact all the girls from your school were also attending the training weekend was just another reason for your hesitation to go. Now trying to fight back small tears that pool at the corners of your eyes, you look back up from your lap. “Why can’t I just stay here with you, mama?”

Rosie gives you that motherly look she so often does, soft but assertive. “Darling, we talked about this,” she says, head tilting, the previously spoken conversation seemingly translating through her eyes. “Besides, I have things to do while you’re away.”

You frown. “What things?”

“Mama things,” she replies, eyebrows raising.

Her response only seems to deepen your troubled expression. “You’re always doing mama things.”

Rosie sighs, adjusting herself where she kneels on the floor. “Well I have to do mama and papa things now, hm,” she hums, trying to meet your gaze that has fallen away from her face. “It’s not so easy keeping you and your brother fed, especially since he’s decided he’s the man of the house and should eat as such.”

Another joke, another one of your mother’s attempts to make you laugh. The memory of your brother’s demands surfaces in your mind, dictating that as a ‘man’ he should get a bigger portion than you because you were just a ‘little girl’. An argument had of course ensued over the fact he was only fourteen minutes older than you and that he wasn’t a man, just a little boy too. The memory of it all is one you know your mom has brought up to make you laugh, but your mind instead sticks to the previous comment befallen from her lips.

It’s been almost three years since your father had been conscripted for the war, and over two years since you’d received your last letter from him. Your mama told you constantly he was doing what he could, fighting to end the war so he could come home to all of you. But every day his absence seemed to hurt a little more, like a thousand needles poking at your little aching heart.

“I miss papa.”

The words are uttered to your lap, the tears threatening to fall off the cusp of your waterline. There’s a sound from your mother that echoes out, almost a gasp but somehow gentler. Then another, a sigh, as you hear her stand to her feet. A pair of hands reach out for yours, pulling gently and tugging you to your feet. As you stand, long arms envelope you in an embrace, one of your mother’s hands coming to rest on the back of your head. You bury yourself into her warmth as she sways gently, holding you close. “Me too, little cub,” she whispers softly. “Me too.”

For a moment, you simply bask in the comfort of her touch, hidden away in her arms from a world you didn’t want to face. “He’ll be home soon, right?”

You're pulled away from the hug, your mother holding on to your shoulders as she smiles down at you. "Very soon, my darling." Her words are meant as a comfort but you're old enough now to know they're not strong in truth, the same promise uttered to you over more months than you could care to count. Still, you take this moment to pretend to yourself that this time it is true, that very soon your family will be reunited once more.

It seems your mother must notice your still solace expression as her hands move to your own. She grabs hold gently as she turns you, guiding you towards her bed. "Here, sit," she says. You follow her instructions, sitting yourself on the edge of the mattress, watching as your mother crosses the room. You try your best to see around her as she rakes through a drawer in her desk, moments later returning with something hidden in her hand. "I was going to save this for your birthday but I think now might be a better time for you to have it." You watch intently as she kneels next to you, eyes focused on her clasped hand and whatever it may be concealing. "Plus, I think it might give you some strength for this weekend."

Curiously, you watch as her hand extends out to you, her fingers unfurling to reveal whatever gift she may have. When you spy what it is, a soft gasp elicits from your throat, eyes trained on the alluring glint radiated by the golden metal sat in your mother's open palm. You notice her smile from the corner of your eye as she reads your face. "You remember this?" she asks and you nod quickly.

A small hand reaches out to touch the piece of jewelry bundled up in her hand, fingers tracing along the chain and then the shape of the metal. "Your old locket," you reply, voice barely above a whisper as you admire the necklace, the golden centrepiece delicately inlaid with intricate swirls and patterns. There was a time your mother wore it every day, up until your father had bought her a new one for their anniversary.

Rosie hums happily at your recognition, her smile deepening. "Open it up," she says, face awaiting your reaction.

You do as she says, carefully reaching out for the necklace and taking it in your hands. With attentive fingers, you click open the clasp, opening up the locket's two halves and letting them sit delicately against your palm. A smile immediately appears on your face as you see the images printed inside, a warmth bubbling up inside your chest. On one half is your father, the other half your mother, both smiling back at you in their Sunday best. They are the same images contained within your family portrait down stairs, only this time they are hidden away in a small locket meant just for you.

"Do you like it?" Rosie asks, her face waiting in front of you. You meet her eyes with a glint, smiling wide from ear to ear.

"I love it."

The smile on your mother's face deepens as she laughs gently. "Here," she says, standing to her feet. "Let me put it on for you." You follow her to your feet, moving to stand in front of the mirror as she takes the necklace from your hand. Watching the reflection, you seen her unclasp the locket before moving it around your neck. She fastens it back up, allowing it to rest against your shirt. Quickly, she pulls your hair out from the chain, making sure it is perfectly secured around your neck before meeting your eye in the reflection. You smile widely up at her as your fingers find the locket, playing with the metal and once again tracing its engraved details. "It's beautiful, mama."

Rosie smiles, placing a soft kiss to the top of your head. "Almost as beautiful as you." She reaches out gently for your shoulders as she turns you around to face her, bending ever so slightly at the knee to reach the same height as you. "Now," she says. "You wear this and me and papa will always be with you." Her hand reaches out towards your chest, resting to cover the locket. "Right here. Close to your heart, okay?"

You nod, feeling the warmth in your chest not only from her touch but from the sentiment of your new found gift. "Ja, mama."

Just then, the serenity of your moment is suddenly shattered as you hear a scream radiating through your house. Both you and your mother turn your head towards the door as the yells from down stairs travel through the house and to your ears. It's your brother's voice, most likely from his bedroom, screaming the same words over and over, a salute to your country's ruler. His voice gets louder as you hear him run through the house, eventually throwing the front door open and simply howling out to the outside world. As you hear it dim away, guessing he's moved away from the house and most likely down the street, you turn back to look at your mother. Her expression is rather amusing, looking quite confused but, in a way, also entirely used to your brother's odd antics. "That boy has too much energy for his own good, you know that?" she says, meeting your gaze. You laugh at her comment, imagining your brother running down the streets of town like he so often did. Just then, your mother smiles back at you, her expression immediately softening. Her fingers reach to hold your cheek, grasping so gently at your skin. "There's my beautiful smiling girl."

Her words can't help but deepen your smile, looking up her eyes so full of love and comfort. You two bask in the moment until she turns away, reaching for the small black beret that sits upon the edge of the bed. "Here," Rosie says, placing the hat upon your head and adjusting it so it sits just right. She bends at the knee, looking at you with a warm expression. "You are going to be just fine this weekend, I promise." Her hands find your shoulders, giving them a reassuring squeeze. "And when you come back, I'll give you the biggest mama lion hug in the whole world and we can eat chocolate by the fire while you tell me how annoying your brother was all trip. How does that sound?"

You meet her playful glance with a lighthearted smile of your own. "Sounds good, mama."

Rosie winks, clicking her tongue in unison, a trick that always brings a smile to both you and your brother's face. "That's my girl," she says, holding on to your chin for just a moment before she straightens up once more. She brushes away invisible dust on her trousers then smiles down at you. "Now let’s get some breakfast packed up for you and your brother. You can catch up with him and both eat it on the way, hm?"

You nod, content in the idea. "Okay, mama."

But before she can turn to leave the room, you're reaching out for one final touch, your arms wrapping around her waist and face burying into her chest. She holds you back, placing gentle kisses to the top of your head. "I love you so much, my darling cub," she says, voice as gentle as the summer breeze. And in her warmth you smile, because no matter how frightening the world may seem, how apprehensive you are to venture out there, she would always be there as a shining light to guide you back home.

"I love you so much too, mama."

[rascalentertainments]

Wish Granted 🌟👩🏾🎶 (Wish Reimagined)

Chapter 1: Once Upon A Time...

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

We open up our story with the Disney 100th anniversary logo:

Then it transitions to the Walt Disney Productions title with the overture from Snow White playing, followed by the casts of the story and the people who worked together to create it. The next shot brings us a message from Walt himself, leftover from his very first movie.

(They had the AUDACITY to leave that out!? Shows how grateful they are...)

It fades to black and shows the camera panning over to a fancy 3D storybook with the title "Wish Granted" on the cover, and it slowly opens up, turning to the first couple of pages.

The narration begins with a young woman's voice reading in a calm, yet cheerful voice.

Once upon a time, in a land…pretty far away, there was a kingdom off the coast of the Iberian Peninsula. A Kingdom full of magic, dreams and wonder, Rosas.

The book then turns a page to show two pictures, one portraying a man, a woman and a lynx. The other showing a large kingdom near the sea.

In this kingdom ruled by King Magnifico and Queen Amaya, Rosas is a safe place for people all over the world. No matter where a person is from, they will have a safe and happy life. However.....

The book flips to the next page, showing Magnifico taking a wish from a citizen. On the first page, the woman his happily giving it to him, but on the second, she looks incredibly sad, gently clutching her chest with sorrow.

When you arrive, you must give your greatest wish to the king in exchange to live there. The cost of it leaves with you with an empty feeling inside, never being able to fill the hole in your heart until the king grants it himself.

The book flips to another page showing a girl in purple, a yellow glowing person, their pet goat looking upwards and the shadowy figure of the royals holding the wishes in their hands.

This is a story about a girl, a star, a goat, a kingdom and a wish. This is a story about how anyone can make their wishes come true....

The camera then zooms in on the next page, transitions into 2D as it goes directly into the storybook.

We see few boats crossing the sea, making their way towards Rosas. A little redheaded girl is taking a look at the approaching kingdom. "Look, mommy! Is that it? Is that our new home?" she asked enthusiastically, pointing ahead. Her mother joined her and nodded as a smile crept across her face. "Yes, dear. That's Rosas." she said with hope in her eyes as they approach the new land.

Speaking of the new land, one of the citizens is seen at the port. A teen boy with collar length blonde hair, was waiting to greet them. The biggest thing that stood out to him was the red tunic and yellow scarf around his neck. The boy was waving a flag with the symbol of Ross' embroided on it, signaling them to the port.

The teen took a deep breath and started pacing back and forth, talking to himself. "All right, Flazino. You can do this. You've done this dozens of times. Just pretend you're not sending them to their possible suffering....I've got a bad feeling about it."

Flazino heard the people approaching and quickly slapped on a smile. He spun around and greeted the newcomers with open arms.

"Haha! Hola, Shalom, Salam! Welcome to your new home! You're going to love it here, especially our magnificent rulers! Everyone ready?"

The travelers cheer in agreement and follow the boy through the gates of the kingdom.

🎵 Welcome to Rosas 🎵🌹

Flazino

Magnifico

Amaya

Group singing

Oh, Welcome to Rosas, an amazing kingdom. Where the possibilities are more than you can fathom!

(Flazino signals for the crowd to follow him as they pass through the gates)

There's no other place just as full of surprise, Where your dreams and your reality can collide!

(He passes by a man who's juggling 10 balls at once, hinting that his wish was to be the best juggler in the kingdom)

The most magical place on Earth, where most wondrous ideas give birth! You want to make dreams your come true? Well, have I got good news for you!

(He gives a wink and other residents start appear around him for the chorus)

(The background characters- I mean the Rosas citizens who haven't had their life force drained yet start to dance)

'Cause here in the city of Rosas (Oh, ah-ah)

You can turn all your wanting to wishing No what-ifs, ands or buts Oh, here in the city of Rosas (Oh, ah-ah) It's unlikely that you’ll be unhappy No need to make a fuss

(Flazino lifts the little girl onto his shoulders as they continue) A home for me (Me) For you (You) And all of us (Us) Thе city of Rosas

(He leads the group over to a small theater showing little muppets of Magnifico and Amaya. The following moments and dancing scenes are also a reference to the "Topsy Turvy" song number from the Hunchback of Notre Dame. Love that movie)

So like, we have this king named Magnifico

(He points to muppet versions of the royals, with the Magnifico one holding his scepter high)

He built Rosas many years ago

(the background has a little cardboard replica of the kingdom rising behind it.)

With lightning for hands and eyes that can glow

(He raises his hands creepily and jokingly to the child, but she gasps in fear)

No, no, no, I'm just kidding! But he is powerful! They're just like us with a twist.

(He ruffles her hair playfully)

So much power, too much to list! (Oh, wow!) The magic exists, And there you have it, poof, there's your wish! Oh and, hey did I mention when you turn eighteen? You get to give your wish in a ceremony And he keeps them safe, every wish he acquires (Wish he acquires) And once a month he grants someone’s greatest desire (Greatest desire)

(The puppets show the King taking a tiny blue orb from a puppet citizen, then it dances around as if it just won a million dollars) It could be you someday, or you, even you! Oh, I can't wait! (He points to three different people on each "you", with a couple them looking doubtful)

(A man asks) Does it hurt? (the girls asks) Do you cry?

(Before Flazino can reply, Magnifico just pops in in front of him, the boy giving a look that says "Where the he'll did you come from!?") Oh, no, and you won't even miss it when you say "goodbye"

(He holds the note on "bye" to show off his singing, while Flazino rolls his eyes in annoyance)

(Then Amaya jumps in to take over part of the final chorus) 'Cause here in the city of Rosas (Oh, ah-ah) You can turn all your wanting to wishing

No what-ifs ands or buts,

Oh, here in the city of Rosas (Oh, ah-ah) It's unlikely that you’ll be unhappy

No need to make a fuss

(The royals take this chours proudly singing, while Sabor stands with a sly smile as he basks in all the attention they're getting. Flazino is visually annoyed and rolls his eyes. He then tries to look for an opening so he can finish the song)

A home for me (Me)

For you (You)

And all of us (Us)

The city of Rosas

(Flazino quickly steps in front of the royals during "And all of us" to try and finish the song, then Magnifico steps in front of him and blocks him with his cape. During the final line, He then raises his hands to the sky and releases an explosion of fireworks and it decorates the area in magical sparkles)

As sparkles and rose petals shower the audience, applause echoes throughout the stadium. The newcomers were chatting and cheering amongst each other. Flazino was used to this part, its practically pure dopamine when people first arrive and hear one man can grant people's desires. This whole song their idea in the first place, and he's performed it a hundred times. You'd think they at least let him sing the propaganda song!

"I can't wait to get my wish granted now!"

"There's so much I want to ask for!"

"They're such a beautiful couple!"

The little redhead girl from earlier was especially excited. "I'm gonna wish for something real big when I grow up! I want to bring everyone I can here so they can be happy like us!" She giggled and continued to clap her hands.

Flazino's smile faded hearing this. This kid was going to grow up and loose her happiness in the blink of an eye.

Magnifico could see the boy's expression change and cleared his throat. "Well now, I suppose that's enough excitement for you today. We've made good work making our new friends feel welcome." He said sternly.

The boy quickly changed his demeanor. "O-oh. T-thank you, your high-"

He was interrupted by the sudden appearance of a lynx inches away from his face. The feline had a rather angry look on his face. Though he's usually like that when he's has to deal with anyone but his beloved owner. He was being carried by his arms by the Queen.

"Now that all that noise is finished. "You can make yourself useful by giving Sabor here his breakfast." She demanded. "Poor dear must be starving. Aren't you?" she cooed.

Sabor purred....and licked his mouth as he looked Flazino as if he was the breakfast himself. That's definitely not a good sign.

"Uh....yeah, I'll get right on that." The boy responded as he gingerly picked up the lynx and did his best to carry him in his arms. He was only a couple years old, but he weighed as much as a full grown goat. That are the boy wasn't all that strong. "How much can you eat anyway?" Sabor grunted in offense.

"That's a good apprentice! Run along, now!" Magnifico slightly mocked the boy as he left. In a low voice he mumbled. "Peasant boy."

Flazino stopped walking for a moment and looked behind him. He saw the two royals eating up the praise and attention they were getting from the people. The newcomers were enamored with them while the longtime citizens gently clapped, but not nearly as enthusiastically. In fact, they seemed a little sleepy, some with half lidded eyelids.

The boy felt a sharp pain on his shoulder, which made him come back to his senses. Sabor had scratched his shoulder to remind him of his obviously more important meal. (Can you say "spoiled"?)

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. I'll get Dhalia to make your breakfast." He mumbled as he walked down from the stage and away from the crowd.

We crossfade to outside the Kingdom, as hours pass and day turns to night. Its been a long, stressful day for Flazino, especially when most of tasks were just basic chores, going on errands and maybe learn some magic from Magnifico, if he decided he was ready. Its all become the norm. But there was one thing he was able to do without the watchful eye of the king.

"About that time of month again?" asked a girl as she brought Flazino a horse. The sorcerers' apprentice gathered his bags for his trip and gave the girl a nod. "You got it, Bazema. Those mushrooms take a whole month to grow, and you know much the king loves those." He gently patted the horse on the snout then proceed to mount it. He pulled up the hood over to seemingly cover his head from the chill air.

"Would you mind finding some herbs while you're there? Just a few things like parsley, rosemary and thyme." she asked softly.

"Sure thing." the boy said with a smile. He signed the horse to start walking towards the gate.

"Are you sure those bag aren't too heavy for you?" Bazeema asked, looking worried about the weight it could put both his back and the horse's.

Flazino waved a hand as he continued forward, not looking back. "No need to worry, I'm not helpless." he called to her, with a laugh.

He quietly passed through the gates. Looking in all directions to make sure no one else was nearby. Once the coast was clear. The boy said in a low voice, "I'm far from helpless." He tightened the reins and made the horse transition from a gallop to a run.

The horse reacted and took off at a great speed. Flazino traveled further and further forward until Ross was no longer visible. He traveled for about an hour, passing a giant obnoxious sign of the smug king pointing to the kingdom with a sign that read: "To Rosas: Where all your wishes will come true".

The trees became a blur as he ran through the forest like a ghost. He finally reached the deepest part of the woods, were many branches of trees overlapped each other, as if blocking something from entering.

Flazino reached into one of his bags and pulled out a small green vial, that glowed brightly in his hands. He uncorked the vial and whispered to it in latin: "Ineo."

He threw the liquid at the branch's and waited. The branches started to shake, startling the horse. Flazino patted him on the head. "Easy, Achilles. Nothing to be scared off." ,he comforted the animal. Magnifico may not have taught him much magic like he wished for, but the boy watched and learned whenever the King performed his spells. It payed off rather well for him.

The branches slowly opened up, revealing an entrance to a hidden village within the forest itself.

The trees closed off the entrance behind him as Flazino slowly entered the safe haven for those who fled from the Royal's tyranny. This was the Hamlet.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

OH MY GOD, ITS FINALLY DONE! CHAPTER 1 IS HERE AND DONE! AAAAAAAAAAAA!!!

Would you believe that this took over a week to do this? This wasn't meant to be that long, but the way I write, everything plays out like a movie, so that's why its a bit longer. 😅 I also chose this way to start it because a majority of rewrites usually start with Asha in some way, so I wanted to do a bit of a twist and start it off through Flazino instead and then lead to Asha.

Another fun thing is that while I haven't read all the rewrites out there (I don't have all that time, unfortunately), but I rarely see Flazino used, if at all. So it was like I was given a clean slate to work with. Plus some people figured out he was helping the Hamlet in the deleted scenes and was the original Sorcerers' Apprentice, which gave me inspiration for this. He's like a double agent in this telling, and he'll be important to the story later on. The design I had in mind for him was a reference to Arthur from The Sword in the Stone, with a bit of Jim Lake from Troll hunters mixed in. Sooooo imagine he's voiced by Josh Keaton, he's a good VA for these types of roles (As you can tell, I may have gotten attached to this guy, lol 😅) So he'll be getting his own bio later on.

And how about those royals, huh? THEY ARE TOTAL GLORY HOGS! 😂 They're incredibly narcissistic in this version, but most people see it as charming and don't catch on. Plus I wanted them to have have the classic Disney broadway sequence during the song, cause I think the movie would've benefited from it. (Flazino is more like a jester to them than an apprentice, hence the Clopin reference.) They put on smiles, act nice and give you the Hollywood treatment, but its all just to get those wishes. There is no redeeming them here, they're villains. Straight up.

Also, BIG thank you to @signed-sapphire for helping me with rewriting the Rosas song too! They gave me a great guide to making new lyrics and it really worked out! And for everyone who took the time to read to this point! You earned a big hug! 😊

It'll be a while before chapter 2, cause I want to finish Kingdom of Wishes first,in case I get more ideas. But for now, feel free to ask any questions on my rewrite and leave as many comments as you want!

Thanks for reading!

@wings-of-sapphire. @oh-shtars @chillwildwave @tumblingdownthefoxden @uva124 @emptyblog7 @emillyverse @mythartist21 @kstarsarts @spectator-zee @gracebethartacc @your-ne1ghbor @kenihewa @lazytitans-world @annymation

[pastelitey]

Hold Me Tight (Tell Me You'll Miss Me)

Desert Duo week 2023, Day 1: Dancing/Holding [AO3 Link] @desert-duo-week

Scar picks through the wreckage of Monopoly Mountain as the sun slowly rises over the desert. The battle ended last night, but Scar hadn’t had it in him to survey the damage until just now. The desert landscape has been devastated by the landmines, the Sand Castle isn’t in a much better state, and the only casualties that were suffered were on their own side.

And the worst of all? Grian’s on his yellow life, now. Scar is no fool, he knows that it means Grian can leave him behind now. The only thing keeping Grian at his side this whole time had been the pledge he’d made to Scar after taking his first life. But now that Grian’s lost his own first life, he’s free to go wherever he pleases. Nothing’s holding him down, anymore.

That’s the real reason Scar has put off looking through the wreckage of the Sand Castle. He worries if he sticks around for too long then Grian will track him down and break the news. Scar has been preparing himself for it all night, but it’s still going to hurt when he has to look into Grian’s coffee-brown eyes filled with pity, guilt and maybe a little bit of excitement, and watch his sun-chapped lips form the words Scar is terrified to hear, and accept that his crossed arms will no longer wrap around Scar during the cold desert nights.

So Scar takes his time surveying the damage, preparing himself for what he’ll say when Grian shows face. He’ll take it in stride, pretending he doesn’t care that Grian is leaving him. Grian hadn’t even wanted to team with Scar in the first place, Scar has no right to be this upset over it all.

The walls of the home Grian built for them are reduced to rubble, some having crumbled or cracked or caved in altogether. Their things are strewn about on the floor, marred by the explosions and fires alike. The ceiling has been pockmarked and floorboards are pulled up here and there, scorched by the heat of explosions. A mere few days ago they were eating rabbit stew at the table in the corner, but now the walls have caved in and the table is reduced to splinters and ash. Just yesterday Scar picked a bushel of flowers and put them in the vase there on the windowsill, which he molded out of clay from the riverbed, but the flowers have been crisped by the fire and the pot is chipped and the glass in the window is all blown out. Scar looks at the faded purples and reds of the flowers and wonders if there’s any symbolism there in their destruction, but he immediately forgets about it when he sees a head of sandy blonde hair walking up towards the house and his heart hides in his throat.

Scar disappears into the back of the house, or at least what’s left of it. He’s not prepared for this, he needs more time to choose his words and practice a smile that doesn’t give himself away. Grian had always said Scar never really had a poker face, after all.

The front door creaks on its busted hinges. A voice rings out through the wrecked building and Scar squeezes his eyes shut. He turns his back to the doorway as he hears footsteps pick their way through the house. His hands curl into fists and he keeps his focus fixated on the corner of the room, the only part of the Sand Castle to go untouched. The little dark oak side table is pristine, as well as the phonograph record Scar had dug out of the sand on the far side of the desert. He’d managed to get it back into working condition with some time and care, and even if Grian never enjoyed the music as much as Scar he still entertained Scar looking for discs to play on it—

“There you are.” Grian stands in the doorway and Scar has to work up the courage to turn and face him. “I’ve been looking for you all over.”

When Scar looks at him he can already tell that the man before him is different. The charring on his sweater and trousers fits right in with the chips and scratches on his patchworked armor, stolen from the battlefield. His hair is all messed up and dirt cakes his face, very uncharacteristic to the man Scar knows so well. And then, of course, the ID band around his wrist is no longer cactus-green, it is a sunny-yellow. Scar’s lips nearly set into a frown simply upon seeing the new color, knowing what it means, but he catches himself and dons a pleasant smile instead.

“Look what it is!” Scar says, stepping aside and gesturing the phonograph in the corner. “The phononogram survived!”

Grian steps into the room, expression unreadable. “Yeah, I know.” His throat bobs and Scar looks away, preparing for the blow he knows is coming.

“Maybe when all this has blown over we can enjoy some music and celebrate our victory!” He tries to sound jovial as he says it but his words lose some of their impact. They both know that victory won’t be shared between the two of them, because it’s over after this. No more Scar and Grian.

Scar waits for a response from Grian, who has gone quiet. He inhales sharply and mentally prepares himself for it, thinking this is it.

“It’s funny you say that,” Grian says, “because I just found this out behind the house.”

Scar watches as Grian pulls out a flat dark piece of vinyl, holding it gingerly between his dirty fingers. A record, Scar realizes with surprise. Grian holds it out to Scar and he takes it, inspecting the disc and reading the title of it inscribed on the middle.

He looks up at Grian with a heaviness hanging over his heart. “This one is my favorite.” He had assumed they’d all burned up or warped beyond saving during the explosion, but this one somehow survived. And Grian just so happened to find it.

Was he looking for it? Why would he do that?

One of the corners of Grian’s lips quirks upward and Scar does his best not to stare. “Go ahead, put it on.” He gestures to the corner of the room and Scar doesn’t need to be told twice, dashing forward to prepare the phonograph. Grian watches quietly as Scar sets it up, stepping back to listen as the soft music fills the air.

For a moment everything is right with the world. The house isn’t in tatters, their things aren’t burnt up or stolen, and Grian is still loyal to Scar and Scar alone.

Scar turns and looks at Grian and catches his eye. They’re standing side-by-side, their shoulders nearly touching. A warmth spreads through Scar just at being subject to Grian’s gaze. Feeling a little brave, Scar reaches out and squeezes Grian’s hand.

“Thank you,” he says, the words small and quiet, meant only for Grian’s ears.

It’s beginning to feel like a day for miracles, because Grian squeezes back and then smiles at Scar. “You’re welcome.” He steps away and drops Scar’s hand but keeps his gaze on him. “Let’s dance.”

Scar’s brain fills with static, worried the heat is finally getting to him and that he’s heard Grian wrong. “What?”

Grian’s demeanor shifts and he looks a bit panicked. “It’s a waltz, isn’t it? They’re meant to be danced to.” He holds a hand out to Scar like there’s nothing left to be said about it; Grian’s made up his mind about it so now they’re dancing.

Scar hesitates, which isn’t like him. Usually he’d take any excuse he could to be close to Grian, but this feels like the setup to some elaborate trick. If there’s one thing that Scar knows about Grian, it’s that he doesn’t dance. It’s not a super obvious thing, just something Grian has casually brought up now and again. Despite the fact that he moves in a graceful way, like he’s been classically trained in a way Scar could never imitate, Grian doesn’t dance with others, and that’s that.

Yet here he is, offering to dance with Scar in their ruined home in the middle of a sweltering desert.

And Scar, always the optimist, takes his hand and they assume position.

They step in time to the music, Grian easily taking the lead. His hand on Scar’s waist is foreign and familiar at the same time, making Scar feel giddy. The music swells with them as their feet carry them across the decrepit floor. Scar almost expects himself to trip or mess up the steps, but he finds himself striding confidently in a way he never has before.

Grian pulls away and spins Scar, which Scar executes with only a slight tremble as he finds his footing. Grian laughs as he pulls Scar back in, a noise of elation and fondness that makes Scar’s heart ache. He loves the way Grian laughs, how his smile forms and the way he tips his head ever so slightly.

They continue dancing until the song dwindles to a stop. The dance slows and Scar finds himself already missing this moment. As the music cuts out Scar expects Grian to pull away, so he counteracts it by pulling Grian close into an embrace. Grian stills as Scar wraps his arms around him, resting his chin on top of the other’s head and taking advantage of their height difference.

Will you stay? the silence says, as Scar waits to see whether the embrace will be returned or not.

After a moment, Grian slowly reaches forward and wraps his arms around Scar in turn, pressing himself against Scar and sighing against his chest.

I’m staying, the silence says.

Scar smiles, closing his eyes and breathing in the peace of the moment, the proof that Grian isn’t abandoning him. He doesn’t care whether they win or not, as long as they stick together, that’s all that matters.

When the embrace is broken there’s a moment where their gazes catch and Scar considers leaning back in and doing something unspeakable.

But Grian pulls away and the moment is gone, thankfully before Scar can do anything he might regret later.

“Come on, we should go figure out what allies we have left,” Grian says, turning on his heel and exiting the dilapidated room. Scar softens, because it’s just the confirmation he needs to hear.

“Right behind you, Grian,” he says, following after his teammate, his ally until the very end.

Grian turns on him as he exits the room, gaze turned serious. “You tell anyone that we were dancing and I will take your final life.”

Scar can’t help but smile. He mimics zipping his lips shut. “Our secret is safe with me!”

[collabpartners]

Hazbin Hotel: The Contract of Blood Ep. 1

*Hello, guys! I'm back with both of me and my friend making a collab fanfic for Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss crossover. This episode is published on February 27, 2024. Thank you for taking the time to read this. Warning: this will have implied sexual assault, which it only appears in the first episode. There will also be a lot of vulgar words. Reader discretion is advised.*

The alarm clock rings in Charlie’s bedroom. Sharing the master bed covered by purple and velvet sheets, Charlie and her girlfriend, Vaggie, are cuddling each other.

Charlie snaps her eyes open and slams the alarm clock. She is about to turn over and get out of bed, but she realizes her girlfriend is slowly waking up. She kisses Vaggie’s forehead.

“Morning, angel,” Charlie whispers, scooting out of Vaggie’s loose hold.

Vaggie lifts one eyelid open. “Morning.” She sits up in her tank top, her gray hair covering over her missing eye with a red x over it.

Charlie opens the shades, revealing a red sky with a faded symbol up on the sky. Down below, there are reeks of chaos of sinners killing each other. She inhales and exhales, and then looks at Vaggie.

“Today’s the new day,” Charlie says while hurrying to the bathroom.

Vaggie sighs lovingly at her girlfriend and scoots off the bed.

The happy music starts as Charlie exits the bathroom in her red suit, her face pale with rosy blushes she always had. With her blonde hair in a ponytail, she starts to sing cheerfully.

“Oh, oh,

I woke up today,

Whoa.

Feelin’ the way I do.

Whoa.”

Charlie swiftly walks out into the hallway to see the short maid cyclops dusting the halls, the maid’s work noted by her song.

“Nifty is dusting the halls.”

Charlie hears the radio static in the speakers.

“Good morning, sinners. It’s currently eight in the morning with the weather being Hellish today,” Alastor’s voice announces.

Charlie croons excitedly as she slides down the stairs,

“Alastor is giving his daily announcements.”

She shifts her gaze towards the bar to see other patrons enjoying themselves, including the familiar spider demon with six arms and skimpy clothing named Angel Dust and the cat demon with red wings named Husk.

Husk leans closer to Angel with a lovesick smiling while Angel is talking his ear off non-stop.

Charlie notices this and sings teasingly,

“Angel at the bar flirting with Husk.”

Angel and Husk hears Charlie with shocked looks.

“We’re not flirting,” the men said simultaneously.

Charlie feels Vaggie’s hand on her shoulder and massaging it.

Vaggie sings along with her girlfriend.

“Okay, babe, calm down.”

Charlie jumps in excitement.

“How can I be calm

When everything is going right?”

Charlie gestures to the sinners coming into the hotel as she sings more happily.

“Look at all the residents now.

Sinners from all the seven rings

Coming to this hotel to seek redemption!”

Charlie opens her arms wide to welcome incoming sinners.

“Good morning, sinners!

Welcome to Hazbin Hotel!

Where change is possible!

Where we try every day to be better!”

Charlie ushers the other sinners in while repeating her chorus.

“Good morning, sinners!

I hope you enjoy your stay.

This is a rehab to leave behind all of your old habits.

A place where we can all grow together!”

She tries to ask the sinners if they need help while singing,

“Oh, oh.

How can I help you today?

Oh, oh,

How can I assist you today?”

“Honey, that means the same thing,” Vaggie reminds Charlie, trying to calm her down.

“Heh, right,” Charlie utters with a nervous smile.

Nifty jumps out, chasing the black bug crawling around the floor and singing,

“I’m gonna kill some bugs, hehehehe!

Ooh, is that a knife I see?”

Angel comes into the scene and lifts Nifty away from sharp knives at the bar while crooning.

“Whoa there, missy, Charlie says for you to not touch sharp objects.”

Charlie smiles and sings happily,

“Thanks, Angel.”

Angel nods while Husk notices a patron sulking.

Then Husk sings in baritone,

“You look like shit.”

The patron croons back,

“Give me the strongest you got.”

“Uh, isn’t that too early for that?” Husk asks the patron. The speakers goes static, which hurt Husk’s ears temporarily.

Up in the radio tower on the several story hotel, the tall demon with a red bob-cut hair and ears like a deer, Alastor, starts to sing in his radio voice.

“In today’s announcements,

The hotel has gain population

Four months after the last extermination.

What a miracle that it garners folks’ attention.

I guess Charlie’s little idea might bring hope.”

Charlie sings the chorus to welcome the new hotel guests.

“Good morning, sinners.

Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel.

Some day, you’ll reach the pearly gates.

Some day, you’ll break free from old habits.”

Vaggie, Angel Dust, Husk, Alastor, and Nifty gather around Charlie to sing with her in the last chorus.

“Good morning, sinners!

Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!

Where we all have each other!

Maybe some day there will be a path to Heaven.”

The music ends in a happier note, leaving the incoming guests to cheer at the gang.

Charlie claps excitedly and turns to the rest. “Well done, guys!”

“We want to check in,” the hotel guest with family of four uttered.

“Oh yeah, be there in a minute,” Charlie calls to the hotel guest and looks at the gang. “Make sure you guys get comfortable. We’re going to do some trust exercises later.”

Husk and Angel groan at the activity while Vaggie rolls her eyes at them. When she walks away, Angel shifts his glance at Husk.

“Will you catch me when I fall later?” Angel asks in a flirty tone.

“That depends on the mood,” Husk answers with a smirk.

Angel chuckles. “Mind if we talk some more at the bar?”

Husk nods and walks over, leading Angel back over at the bar.

“So, got anything to spill to an old bartender?” Husk asks.

“Oh, you know the usual. Last night was fucking insane.”

“Do tell.”

“Okay, so Valentino had some kinks that are just weird. Like a crime show where the cops fuck the prisoner or something.”

“Huh, weird.”

“I know. And guess who's the prisoner?”

Husk ponders, pretending to think with a smirk. “Hmm, the one who snorts thin lines on a hunk’s abs--”

“Oh, fuck you,” Angel teases.

“I mean if that’s what you want to do.”

Angel giggles. “Ah, you’re learning the ways of my jokes.”

“Your mind can’t even get out of the gutter for one goddamn second,” Husk responds with chuckles.

Both of the men share laughs while Husk’s hand was close to one of Angel’s hands. His pinky claw manage to rub the top of Angel’s pink glove hand before hearing the phone ring.

Angel’s smile instantly fades away once he looks at who’s calling him.

Valentino.

Husk reads his friend’s face for a moment with a frown. “You don’t have to answer that.”

Angel looks up at Husk and then back at his phone. He appears like he’s not going to answer the call, but hesitates.

“I have to,” Angel utters, answering the phone. “Hello?”

Husk watches Angel hugging himself nervously with his four arms, his legs dangle from the barstool.

“I can’t today, Val. I got some chores to do at the hotel--”

Husk can hear Val screaming about something, but can’t make out the words. However, he watches Angel’s shoulders trembling.

“Okay, okay...I’ll be there. Don’t worry...I’ll--”

The voice interrupts Angel for a moment.

“Yes, five minutes. Okay. Bye,” Angel says as he hangs up the phone. A deep sigh escapes from him, leaving concern for Husk.

“You have to go?” Husk asks.

Angel lifts his head, taking a deep breath as if he is putting on the mask. “Yeah, I’ll be gone for a while. But I’ll come back for a drink.”

Husk fakes a smile while watching Angel getting up from the barstool. “Alright, I’ll see you tonight then.”

“Tonight sounds good,” Angel replies and struts away with confidence, but Husk can see that Angel was in a rush to get to the studio.

Husk loses his smile and sighs sadly.

“Hey, you okay there?” Vaggie’s voice calls him.

The bartender glances up to see Vaggie, straightening himself up. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”

Vaggie smirks. “Getting worried about Angel, huh?”

“No, I ain’t even worried about him. I’m sure he can handle himself.”

“Not like you’re on a date with him, are ya?”

“What? Fuck, no! He’s just my drinkin’ buddy,” Husk responds defensively.

“Uh-huh, sure,” Vaggie teases.

Husk gruffs, but he doesn’t expect her hand on his shoulder in comfort.

“I’m sure Angel will be fine. Just as long as he comes back from the studio in one piece, he’ll be just fine.”

He sighs and nods. “Yeah, yeah, I ain’t that worried about him.”

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that,” she responds with a smirk, walking away.

He moves his gaze up to watch her walking away back towards her girlfriend, giving Charlie a peck on the lips of affection.

His thoughts are on him and Angel immediately. Does Angel think that he has feelings for him? Or does Angel even have feelings for him? Damn it, now he’s thinking Angel of all people to think about. Husk groans at himself and turns to the refrigerator next time. He opens the fridge and notices a lot of food they have been storing up. Husk pulls the food out and examines the bread. A nice thought enters his head. Maybe he can make Angel some lunch...you know, for the wild rough sex he might have later. Might as well have some food in his stomach. Or does Val allow lunch breaks for Angel?

Husk shrugs the question off and begins making a sandwich. Peanut Butter and Jelly sandwich. That should be a safe meal.

Husk takes the brown paper bag out and stuffs an apple in the bag. Then he gets out a ziploc bag and puts the sandwich in it. He places the sandwich in the brown lunch bag. He rolls up the top to seal it and writes Angel’s name on the bag with the sharpie.

“Perfect,” Husk mutters to himself. He looks around to make sure Vaggie and Charlie or Alastor aren’t around. He sneaks out of the hotel as quickly as he can and hurries down into the city.

~.~

“Where’s that damn studio?” Husk curses himself, searching around the city for the studio Angel works at. He looks up to see the big sign that says ‘Porn Studios’. “Oh, fuck, there it is. Make it big and obvious why don’t you?”

Husk enters the studio with Angel’s lunch. He walks through the studio where he hears a familiar slimy voice. And then Angel’s moans. He follows the sounds of Angel’s moans and manages to enter the right film set. Once he enters, he sees Angel laying naked on the wooden table with the actors dressed as cops.

Husk looks away quickly before he can analyze any one else’s nakedness. He hurries to the small table with all the bags.

Val notices Husk walking to the side with a groan. “Ugh, cut.” He turns to Husk. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Relax, man, I’m just delivering something,” Husk answers while looking at Angel, who is now covering his nakedness with his pink robe. He shows Angel his lunch and puts it in the spot where he will remember it.

“Thank you,” Angel mouths.

Husk smiles softly at Angel.

“Make you sure you watch Fat Nuggets for me,” Angel adds with a whisper.

Husk gives him a thumbs up and nods.

Val notices the exchange, watching the way Angel smiles like a lovesick school boy at Husk and Husk gives him the same look. With a small growl and he whispers to the other actors.

Husk sees that and wonders what Val’s whispering about. The actors come back on set with Angel undressing himself off of his robe.

“Action!” Val shouts impatiently.

Husk is about to walk away until he hears Angel gasp in shock.

“Wait, this isn’t part of the script!” Angel cries.

Husk snaps his attention to Angel, watching Angel getting manhandle on his stomach by three of the buff actors. His head is slammed against the table while he is struggling helplessly.

“No, wait, stop!” Angel shouts in fear.

Husk clenches teeth, feeling a growl rumbling in his throat. He witnesses one of the actors taking his pants off and forcing himself in Angel, who screams in pain.

“Ah! AH! It fucking hurts! Stop--!”

“Keep it going,” Val says slimly.

Husk’s anger rises to his chest, losing control of himself at the moment he watches Angel scream in pain. It’s sudden that black tentacles grows from the ground around Angel, shoving the other actors off of him.

Val turns with a surprise look at Husk, whose eyes are turning glowing green.

“You get the fuck away from him!” Husk screams, teleporting in front of Angel’s naked figure to protect him from the other actors.

The actors scream in terror at the sight of the tentacles growing all around Husk and Angel.

“Husk?” Angel calls softly.

Husk breathes heavily, losing control of himself. He uses the tentacles to stab through the actors, possessing them to turn against Val.

“Husky, what the hell are you doing?” Angel questions, now more scared.

Husk controls the other actors to take out weapons, ready to use against Val. Angel notices that Husk is out of it and runs in front of Val to defend him.

“Husk, stop!” Angel cries.

Husk stops the actors from pursuing Val, knowing that Angel is standing in between them and Val. Val smirks at Husk.

Husk relaxes his shoulders and the tentacles. “Angel?”

Before Husk can say anything, a green shackle appears around his throat. Instantly, the tentacles disappears and the actors are not longer possessed.

Angel watches Husk struggling in his chains with the green glow in his eyes still. Soon, his eyes start to tear up as he rushes up to Husk. “HUSK!!!”

Husk starts struggling in his chains, not realizing that Alastor appeared beside him.

“Sorry for the little inconvenience,” Alastor replies to Val as he’s dragging Husk away. “It won’t happen again.”

Husk attempts to swipe at Val like an angry cat, but misses. “No! You leave him alone! Don’t you fucking hurt him! Don’t you fucking dare hurt him--!”

Alastor manages to pull Husk out of the studio as Husk is passing out from using his unknown powers, leaving Angel alone with the other actors and Val.

Val snaps his head to glare at Angel, who is starting to breathe heavily in fear.

~.~

“Don’t you fucking hurt him! Don’t you fucking dare hurt him! Please...please...please, don’t hurt him. Don’t hurt him. Don’t hurt him. Don’t hurt him. Don’t hurt him.”

Husk starts fluttering his eyes open with a pained groan.

“Ow, what the fuck?” Husk utters before realizing he is being dragged away from the studio. He glances up and watches Alastor dragging him away. A sudden pang of fear flashes across his face as he starts to struggle.

“Wait, what the fuck? What’s going on?!” Husk screams in panic.

“Ah, you’ve finally snap out of it. Took you a little while,” Alastor says in a radio static voice. “You have been a little nuisance to Val.”

“N-Nuisance?” Husk gasps in realization. “Wait, he was hurting Angel--”

“Ah, that’s the only reason why you used our shared powers, eh?” Alastor replies, helping Husk up on his feet.

“S-Shared powers?” Husk asks.

“Why yes. Since your soul belongs to me and you are in these chains, you have also my shared powers that you can use whenever you want...however, I never tell any overlords that. You are the only former overlord that I know that knows this now. You’ve gambled for power...you got it. Only half of it.”

“I-I didn’t even know,” Husk replies while walking with Alastor.

“Well, now you do. So, every time you feel a powerful emotion, these powers will serve whatever your emotional desires are...which seems to be protecting your sweet, sweet Angel from one of the most powerful overlords.

Husk remembers suddenly of how Angel stands between Val and him, stopping him from potentially killing Val. He clenches his teeth in hurt when he remembers how scared Angel appears to be.

“Shit,” Husk mumbles tearfully.

“What was that?” Alastor questions.

“Nothing,” Husk responds while wiping away any tears leaking out of his eyes.

They finally arrive at the hotel with Charlie and Vaggie by the door. Charlie rushes up to Husk and Alastor.

“Alastor, what are you doing to him?” Charlie utters in fear at Husk being in chains.

The chains around Husk’s neck disappears.

“I manage to find him at the Porn Studios with Angel. But don’t worry, everything is fine now,” Alastor reassures the girls.

Charlie shifts her glance at Husk in more concern. “Is everything okay, Husk?”

Husk frowns and looks away. With a huff, he walks into the hotel without an answer.

Charlie and Vaggie exchange glances at each other in concern and then look up at Alastor, who just shrugs and walks into the hotel after Husk.

~.~

Night comes around as Charlie and Vaggie watches Husk cleaning the same shot glass for hours straight.

“Yeah, there’s definitely something wrong with Husk,” Vaggie assumes.

“Alastor said that he’s at the Porn Studios...he must have witness the shitty treatment Angel gets at that place,” Charlie says with a frown. “Should we go over there and comfort him?”

“Eh, I think he’s in his own head for right now--” Vaggie’s sentence is interrupted when Angel walks through the doors, with a black eye on his left eye and a busted up lip. Blood is trickling down to his neck. Bruises are on his arms as if someone grab him and manhandle him and on his neck as if someone is trying to choke him. He has slashes across his legs and bloody bite marks on his shoulders. His clothes are shredded and his legs are wobbly from walking long distance.

“Holy shit!” Charlie cries, her horns appearing on the sides of her head while her eyes turns red with white pupils. She and Vaggie hurry by Angel’s side to help him walk properly through the door.

“What the fuck happen to you?!” Vaggie asks angrily.

Charlie summons the first aid kit and opens it to get the alcohol and cotton ball out.

“I-I’m fine, guys. I’m fine,” Angel reassures with his voice barely audible.

Before the girls can insist otherwise, they hear Husk’s footsteps darting across the bar and towards where Angel and the girls are.

Husk stands there behind them, unaware of Alastor approaching the scene to watch the events unfold.

Nifty keeps dusting the furniture, ignoring the situation completely.

Husk breathes heavily, the anger returning to him. “He did this to you, didn’t he?”

Angel seals his lips and looks away.

Husk clenches his fists. “That’s it! I’m going to kill him! I’m going to kill him--!”

Before Husk can storm out of the hotel to find Valentino, he feels the chains around his throat holding him back. He looks to see Alastor, who shakes his head for him to stop. Husk glances to see Charlie and Vaggie tending to Angel’s wound, not following Husk or telling Alastor to let go of him.

“Husk, you need to calm down,” Vaggie says, putting her hand up like she’s trying to calm a feral cat. “I know you’re upset about what happened to Angel. We are too. But--”

Husk slams his fist against the wall next to the front door, leaving a large crack on it. The tears edges out of his eyes. “Then why the fuck hasn’t anyone done anything about protecting Angel, huh?!”

No one answers the question. Charlie’s horns goes back into her head as she keeps tending to Angel’s wounds.

Husk breathes heavily in hurt, noticing Angel’s scared expression. A groan escapes his lips as he shakes his head. He storms back into the hotel and upstairs to find his room, the chains around his throat disappearing.

Charlie and Vaggie soften their gazes at Husk, which is noticed by Alastor.

“Don’t worry about him,” Alastor reassures the girls. “He’ll come around.”

Angel frowns in disbelief, watching Husk going into his room.

~.~

Husk hugs his legs on his bed within his room. His wings wrap around him as he tries to withhold his tears. He doesn’t know why he’s been hurt that a local pornstar is getting hurt and abused.

Husk buries his head into his thighs until he hears a knock.

“Go away,” Husk utters, but it is muffled by his croaked voice and his thighs. The door open. “Do you not get the concept--?!”

He stops himself to realize that it is just Angel entering the room, now in a pink bathrobe with a sandwich on the plate.

Husk immediately wipes a tear away. “I thought you’re Charlie.”

Angel softly smiles and walks over to Husk, sitting next to him on the bed. He offers up the plate with half of a sandwich.

“I saved you a sandwich,” Angel responds, his voice recovering a bit slowly, though it is still cracked.

Husk frowns at hearing Angel’s voice. “He destroyed that pretty voice of yours, did he?”

Angel waves it off as if is no big deal. “I’ll get my voice back. Besides, this is usually the time I snort crack at a local club.”

“But you didn’t though.”

“I rather be in here with you than out there,” Angel says, one of his hands on Husk’s. “I miss my bartender.”

Husk holds Angel’s hand tightly. “I wish you let me kill him.”

Angel frowns and scoots closer to him. “You can’t kill overlords unless you’re Alastor. Besides, I don’t want him coming after you if he comes back from the ‘dead’. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? You have nothing to be sorry about. It’s that bastard who fucked you up,” Husk argues. “Every night is like this. Every night, you come home in pain and now, you can barely talk. This shit ain’t normal, Angel!”

“It’s normal to me,” Angel blurts out, tears leaking out of his eyes.

Husk stops with his words and frowns. He shakes his head and lets go of Angel’s hand.

“I wish it wasn’t normal for you.”

“As long as the contract stands, I can never leave Val,” Angel replies to Husk, hugging him to comfort him. “I can’t leave him, Husky.”

“I know, I know, legs,” Husk responds, hugging Angel back. His heartbeat is calmer than it was in the past few hours. Angel’s hugs are always so warm...why?

“I know that this might be the worse time to say this, but you’re hot when you summon those tentacles,” Angel whispers to Husk.

Husk snorts. “Really? I could’ve hurt you with them.”

“Well, if I wasn’t so scared for you and what Val will do to ya, I would’ve been turned on. Do you think you can summon them again?”

Husk breaks away from Angel, shaking his head. “Are you kidding me? No. I don’t even know how to summon them again.”

“Aw, not even one more time for me to see, daddy~?”

“Alright, that’s enough of your kinkyness. Get on out of here before I summon them again to slap the shit out of you,” Husk teases Angel.

Angel coos jokingly. “Aww, you would never do anything to hurt me, Husky boy~”

“Keep at it and you’ll see,” Husk responds, failing at containing his laughing smile.

Angel smirks at Husk, groaning playfully. “Fine, I’ll go to bed. Fat Nuggets must be waiting for his papa. Thanks for looking out for him.”

Husk widens his eyes in realization. “Uh, shit, I, uh, was too wrapped up in thinking about what happened at the studio. Shit--”

“It’s okay, baby. I get it. Get some rest. We’re both gonna need it.”

Husk smiles and nods. “Okay, goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” Angel leaves the room, shutting the door behind him.

Husk loses his lovesick smile, staring out of the window to see night with the red sky still. The soft music begins as he takes a deep breath and looks at himself in the mirror in front of him.

“How could I watch him get hurt?

Why am I such a loser?”

Husk stands up from the bed, ambling towards the balcony as he croons more.

“I’ve lost my way.

I never thought I find someone just like me.”

Husk looks down to find Angel taking Fat Nuggets, his pig, out for a walk.

“You have to deal with the gruesome damages

From that motherfucker of a boss.”

He looks up at the radio tower where Alastor is watching over everything.

“And there’s nothing we can do to save each other.”

He glances down at Angel, watching him turning a corner where he can’t see him anymore.

“Oh, there’s nothing we can do.”

He has a sudden memory of what Angel says a moment ago.

“As long as that contract stands, I can never leave Val,” Angel’s voice enters his head.

Husk blinks in realization and sings.

“Unless there is a way.”

The music begins to build up as he sings with more determination.

“Unless we can get out of this loop of abuse.

Unless we can escape from this torment.

We don’t really have to live like this anymore.”

The music builds up as Husk notices the faded chains around his neck and sings.

“If only I can break these chains,

I can save you from your boss.

If only I can break these chains,

We’ll be free from the shit-hole we’re in.”

Husk extends his wings and takes off flying from the balcony, feeling the cool wind. He looks down to see the ground getting smaller and smaller as the music starts to pick up the pace.

“I know I’ve fucked up, but maybe Charlie’s right.

If we free our souls from the powerful overlords,

Maybe that’s our one-way ticket to Heaven’s Gates.”

Husk feels a tug around his neck before he goes further than half of the city to get to Porn Studios. He glances to find the chains tightening around him. He struggles to fight it as the guitar solo starts to play.

“But these damn chains keeps getting tighter and tighter!

Oh fuck, I can’t breathe!

What can I do to save you?!

I’ll give anything if it means saving you!”

Husk starts to black out for a moment. However, once he opens his eyes, he sees a bright beautiful forest land that goes for miles without stopping. He looks down to see that the chains around his neck on the ground. He sees Angel up ahead, waving at him with one of his arms before running off. Husk chases after Angel while singing in beautiful melody.

“Once I break these chains,

I’ll be running through the field to get to you!

Oh, once I break these chains,

I’ll be running through the forest to get to you!”

Husk manages to catch up with Angel, grabbing both of his bottom set of hands. Angel laughs and spins him around, colorful butterflies flutter around them in the meadow.

“Whoa, I don’t know what’s gotten over me.

I don’t want to wake up from this dream.

Don’t wake me up from this dream--”

Husk watches Angel’s body disintegrate into butterflies, flying away from his hands as the darkness sucks him away from Angel.

Husk gasps on the bed in his bedroom. He looks to find the chains tied around his neck, now more visible. He stares up at the ceiling, tears leaking out of his eyes.

“I swear I’ll get us out of this goddamn place,

Even if kills me.

What more can I do for you,

If I’m in these fucking chains?”

Husk sits up, breathing heavily and now determined. The music picks up the pace for the final chorus as he strides towards the balcony again.

“I’m gonna set us both free from these chains!

I don’t know how or when, but hold on for me!

I’m gonna set our contracts ablaze and pray

That someday we don’t have to stay here long!”

Husk pauses as the music softens. He looks down to see Angel cuddling Fat Nuggets from below. He softens his gaze and perches at the railing of the balcony to get a better look at Angel.

“Some day, we won’t have to stay here ever again.”

The music ends while Husk is staring at Angel with a gentle smile.

~.~

“Do you think Husk is mad at me?” Charlie asks Vaggie while they are taking a walk around the hotel.

“Babe, he’s not mad at you. He’s just upset at what happen to Angel. And I don’t blame him. I want to kill Val now just as much as anyone, but I don’t want to put Angel through worse abuse because of it,” Vaggie reassures her girlfriend. “I think Husk and Angel are in a secret relationship.”

“What?! No way!”

“Yes way.”

Charlie squeals. “Aww, they are so fucking adorable. I’ve been shipping them since they got home from the club one night. I hope it all works out for them.”

“Hey, that’s what I think, babe. Take it with a grain salt,” Vaggie reminds her girlfriend softly.

“Of course, of course, it’s--” Charlie notices something or someone in the bushes, watching them.

Vaggie notices it with her girlfriend, taking out her spear. “Show yourself, you fucking creep!”

The little yellow-furred spider girl stumbles out of the bushes.

“Aww, she’s just a child,” Charlie coos.

Vaggie slowly puts her angelic spear away. “Oops.”

Charlie crouches to make the same eye-level contact. “It’s okay. We’re not going to hurt you. Where are your parents?”

The little girl doesn’t answer.

Vaggie arches a brow and looks around for her parents. “Did they leave you here?”

She winces when Vaggie tries to come closer to her.

Charlie notices the spider girl’s injured leg. “Aw, you’re hurt. We have first aid kit. We’ll patch that wound right up.”

The little spider girl comes just a little closer to them once she realizes that they aren’t there to hurt her. Her legs wobble, with the injury revealing a hellhound bite.

“Holy shit,” Vaggie gasps in shock. “Here, let’s get that clean up.”

“Yes, come on,” Charlie says while extending her hand.

The little spider girl grabs her hand as she is being led by both Vaggie and Charlie back into the hotel to get a better look at the wound.

To Be Continued...

[sleepy-gee]

🌙all apologies- snowjanus week day 4

🌙day 4: marriage

In which Sejanus is haunted by his past– The very past created by the man he married. One second, he was on top of a stage, giving his final bow as a recording of his own voice rang out over the crowd before the floor gave out beneath him, closing the curtain on his life. But someone demanded an encore. A man by the name of Coriolanus Snow.

🌙trigger warnings: death, hanging, toxic relationships, Coriolanus being Coriolanus™️

🌙a/n: i KNOW i said i'd write fluff buuuut. i can't write them happy sorry.

It takes guts to marry the man that nearly killed you, Sejanus knew that much. Sometimes, if he looked hard enough, he could still see the malice in Coriolanus' eyes that gave him the scar around his throat. The scar that would forever serve as a symbol of why he shouldn't step out of line.

One second, he was on top of a stage, giving his final bow as a recording of his own voice rang out over the crowd before the floor gave out beneath him, closing the curtain on his life.

But someone demanded an encore. A man by the name of Coriolanus Snow. The curtains drew back to reveal a panicked Coriolanus leaning over him, tears leaking from his ice blue eyes as he shook the brunet awake.

"Sej," he sobbed. "Sej.. I'm so sorry. Please breathe, I'm so sorry.."

And Sejanus obeyed as he always did, sucking in a deep breath. He sat up and pulled the blond into a hug without another thought, watching the way his body trembled. "How.. How long was I out?"

"A week or so.." Coriolanus mumbled into his shoulder, not daring to pull away. "The– The knot on the.. the.. They tied it wrong or something.. I don't know what it was but I'm so fucking happy you're alive right now.. They managed to bring you back."

".. Who cut me down?"

"I did. I.. I said I wanted to get you down as soon as possible and send your body back to your parents.. Brought you to the medic instead. Gave them every cent I had to keep them quiet."

So that explains the medic's tent, Sejanus thought.

It wasn't until after Coriolanus had fallen asleep (beside him. He refused to leave) that he had pondered why he was executed. He heard the recording before it all happened, yet he refused to believe it.

The very man who tried to kill him was now sleeping on his chest.

Sejanus stored that realization away, instead focusing on how there was oxygen and life back in his lungs once more. He'd caved later that week and asked his father to buy him a discharge, while Coriolanus was sent off to District 2 for a few years to train peacekeepers.

Of course he thought about following him. But he knew better than to do so.

The two stayed in contact, of course, trading letters and packages over the course of three years. They'd only seen each other maybe a handful of times.

As the scar around his throat faded, so did the memory of Coriolanus. He no longer held that boyish infatuation he once did. He'd found a nice girl named Ophelia and planned to settle down with her.

Until Coriolanus put himself back into the narrative. It wasn't until after five years of their marriage, Sejanus found out he only decided to return after hearing of their engagement.

"Even a thousand miles away, I still thought of you as mine."

What a sweet, twisted sentiment.

So, they courted. They flirted, kissed without getting caught. They married. Coriolanus demanded that Sejanus take the last name Snow, carry on his legacy. They settled on him going with the last name Plinth-Snow.

Coriolanus refused to do the same. He was Capitol through and through.

Sometimes, it hardly felt like it was worth it, but he'd never speak up. He fought hard for Coriolanus' attention and affection, something he could've only dreamed about having a decade ago.

...

It wasn't easy waking up from a nightmare and having the very man who starred in it comfort him. He still dreamed of his execution often– Of the betrayal and everything that went wrong. Of his reckless behavior and just how selfish he was.

Sejanus would wake up in a cold sweat, tears in his eyes. Coriolanus was naturally a light sleeper, and would wake at even the slightest sign of discomfort or movement. He'd hold the brunet tightly, stroking his hair and whispering comforting words.

"Breathe with me, dove. Breathe.."

"Shh.. Dry your eyes.."

"You're safe. I won't let anyone hurt you."

Why can't I believe you?

He'd keep his face hidden in Coriolanus' chest regardless, allowing temptation to blind his morals. For now, Sejanus thought, he could find comfort in his arms. For now only.

taglist: @on-plvto @theirgayyourhonour

[kjcreed]

The Jewel of Seven Stars | Chapter 1

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Series Masterlist Prologue

Warnings: a tiny bit of angst; illegal transportation; sea sickness

Pronouns: they/them

Summary: The year is 1954. 9 years after the Second World War ended. Most people in the blooming city of New York should be living pretty peacefully by now. And most of them really are... Well, except for you... And your brother Tony for that matter. Your father was an archaeologist working to uncover the truth about the legend of Queen Nefret and the prophecy that has been engraved on the walls of her tomb which your father discovered with his team. The only problem is that he went missing and now it's your job to find him. But what if you unintentionally become a part of said prophecy? And what if you meet a persistent librarian and her extravagant brother along the way?

Disclaimer: This story is inspired by the 1999 film The Mummy, partly inspired by the book The Jewel of Seven Stars by Bram Stoker and a little by the life of Queen Hatshepsut.

-

"Wanda! I don't pay you for burying your nose in those Egyptian books for 8 hours a day." The young woman was startled by a ringing doorbell and the booming voice of her employer coming from some corner of the not-so-small library.

The woman's eyes darted up, startled by her superior’s voice, and she stood up quickly with a confused look on her face. "How did you…" She trailed off, looking around for any sign of the man.

"I know my books, Wanda." The greying man's head popped out from around the bookcase. "Now go and get the door." He scolded the woman, making her mutter a small "Sorry, Doctor Strange." and walk hastily to the door.

She wasn't expecting the sight she saw before her eyes the moment she walked around the corner to the front desk.

"Pietro?" And there was her brother. Sitting on the front desk with a book in hand. Swinging his legs, kicking the desk slightly in the process. The man looked up at his sister and grinned widely.

"Sestra!" He jumped down from the desk and greeted his sister with a warm hug. "Pietro, what are you doing here?" The small brunette slightly tilted her head in confusion with a small fond smile playing on her lips.

She hasn't seen her brother in a couple of months. You might think it's not that long, but Wanda and Pietro were attached at the hip practically ever since they were born. Pietro has been travelling a lot lately and Wanda missed having his giddy presence around.

"I need to show you something, little sister." The bleached blonde hopped off of the desk and started walking around the library. "What are you looking for, brother?" Wanda asked the man, confused. "A quiet place."

Wanda waited a second before responding. "We are literally in a library, Piet…" 

-

The man stopped at a table, hidden by numerous bookcases. Then he motioned for his sister to sit by him on one of the couple chairs at the table.

When Wanda sat down, Pietro placed the book he was cradling in his hands the whole time onto the table. "What is it?" Wanda questioned, observing the book. 

The book's binding was from brown leather and looked very old, almost ancient. Wanda noticed the fading gold symbols that were carved all over the book's exterior. They seemed to be Egyptian hieroglyphs, making Wanda more and more intrigued.

"Open it." Pietro insisted eagerly. The brunette hesitantly opened the book, revealing pages filled with Egyptian symbols, a map folded between the pages and a few small papers with notes in English. They were most likely someone's translations.

-

"Betrayed and humiliated she lies in her grave, 

but in the walls of her cage a prophecy has been engraved:

For millennia she'll stay, buried under stone. 

Her belongings tossed away, leaving her all alone.

Once the four wanderers unite them, earning a generous reward. 

Queen Nefret, she will rise again and her power will be restored."

-

Wanda read out loud one of the first translations. "Queen Nefret… I read about her before." She thought out loud. "It's an old Egyptian legend… But I've never seen these texts before." She continued. "It's not just a legend, it's a prophecy!" Pietro beamed.

Wanda stayed silent for a while before speaking up again. "Where did you find this?" She asked her brother, picking up the book and observing it from all sides, more closely this time. "A friend gave it to me." Wanda offered Pietro an unimpressed look.

"Their father was a historian and they just wanted to get rid of it. They even seemed a little relieved when they gave it to me for some reason." Pietro added quickly, trying to persuade his sister into believing him.

Wanda looked through the book once more, studying the condition and credibility of the book and the writings in it. "I've never seen hieroglyphics this accurate when copied and the book itself does look like it could've been written at least a dozen centuries ago…" Wanda trailed off hesitantly.

"So… Do you want to go on an adventure with your big brother, Wands?" Pietro asked with a sparkle in his eyes. "I don't know Piet… I have work and responsibilities." Wanda sighed. "Come on. You know you hate it here. Besides, don't tell me you don't want to find out whether the prophecy is real or not. And have you ever seen a mummy in real life?" Pietro pushed.

"I'll show this to Doctor Strange." Wanda stated after a minute of silence. Yes. It was probably the best idea to get the opinion of someone more experienced…

-

"This is ridiculous. It's just a legend." Doctor Strange said dismissively as he was looking through the book. "But sir, the book speaks of the legend as if it really happened and I've never seen hieroglyphics that good be counterfeit." Wanda tried to reason with the older man.

"There's also a map that seems to be leading to the artefacts." She said as she carefully took out the folded paper. Doctor Strange took it from her. "And there's also a big reward in store for those who find Queen Nefret's tomb and bring the artefacts there." Pietro muttered bashfully, making Wanda slap his arm before scolding him, resulting in good old sibling bickering.

In fact, the two got so lost in their little squabble they didn't notice the paper catching on fire in Doctor Strange's hand from a nearby candle until the man let out a startled sound.

"Oh my god!" Wanda gasped as the burning map fell onto the floor. Pietro and she ran to it and started patting it and stepping on it to put it out. And when they finally managed to do so, the map was half burned already. 

"What now?" Wanda asked rhetorically as she picked up the burned paper. "Well…" Pietro's finger travelled along the page, landing on a red stain. "Looks like we're going to the Caribbean." Wanda furrowed her eyebrows and brought the paper closer to her face to examine the mark.

"Are you really going to up and leave for some red mark on an old map in a book that talks about a legend as if it was history?" Doctor Strange chimed in. Wanda and Pietro looked at each other before looking back at the older man. After a minute of silence, the man sighed.

"Why do I even bother?"

-

"Are you sure this is going to work?" Your older brother asked as the two of you snuck past the guards to get to the side of the ship. "Please. I've been doing this since I was 13." 

You replied nonchalantly as you carefully and slowly opened the storage door, revealing a room full of bags and briefcases along with a few barrels of spices and other trading products.

"Of course you have." Tony grumbled as he shut the door softly. He watched you get into a corner and make yourself comfortable among the bags.

"Y'know… dad used to be worried sick about you." Tony walked further into the room and found a spot next to you. "When you wouldn't return for days." He added. You looked away, feeling somewhat conflicted.

"He sure had a great way of showing it." You replied, vividly seeing those memories.

-

It was a rainy summer evening. Howard was listening to the raindrops hitting the roof of his home as he sat in an armchair, facing the front door, waiting. The door finally cracked open and in walked a 16-year-old you. You had been gone for two days after another ruthless fight with your father.

"Nice of you to finally show up." Howard said sarcastically. "Father." You replied in a monotone voice and were about to go off into your room before your father stopped you. "That's all you have to say to me? After you've been gone for what... two days?" The older man stood up from his chair, getting angry.

"Oh… I'm surprised you noticed." You retorted. "What's that supposed to mean?" Howard furrowed his eyebrows. "Well, I don't know… Just thought you'd be too busy reading that old stupid book of yours or being in the garage with Tony." You shrugged your shoulders.

"Stop being so childish Y/N." Howard scoffed. "I don't know what you want from me!" You threw your arms up in frustration, your voice now picking up on volume. "I just want to know why you're being like this!" Howard's voice became louder too. "Running away, talking back to me, being so headstrong, thoughtless and selfish-"

"Because of you! You made me like this!" You interrupted your father. "It's because you don't notice me. At all. You're either with Tony all the time or locked in your office doing god knows what. And whenever you do notice me it's just to correct my mistakes or to give me a disappointed look." You felt the tears starting to sting your eyes.

"And I'm the selfish one." You said after a moment of silence before heading up to your room to spend another evening crying yourself to sleep.

-

"I hope he's alright." You said, looking down after snapping out of your memories. Tony looked up from the ground towards you. "Come on." He playfully shoved you with his shoulder. "It's Howard Stark you're talking about. Of course he's okay." He grinned, making the corners of your lips twitch upward.

After a minute of silence, you pulled out a book from your small backpack. "Now, let's try to find out exactly what the Great Howard Stark has gotten himself into once again." It was your father's diary or a notebook of some sort. It's because you found this book, that you have even the smallest idea of where your dad could be.

"Where did you even find the book anyway?" Tony asked. "He left it in his office…" You trailed off. "Why would he leave it?" Your brother looked at you. "I don't know…" You stopped to think for a second.

A look of realization crossed your face and you let out a huff of disbelief. "That crazy old man knew something was going to happen." You whispered to your brother. "What?" Tony asked, dumbfounded.

"Queen Nefret… Dad has been researching this legend for years now, right?" You started and Tony nodded in agreement. "If he was going to Egypt again just to research or dig some more he would've taken his journal." You said. "But he didn't." Tony finished.

You and your brother stared at each other in silence for a few seconds before Tony spoke up. "Do you think that he…" He trailed off. "Found Queen Nefret's sarcophagus and accidentally got sucked into it or something? Quite possibly." You finished for him. 

"So does that mean that the…" Tony slumped his back against the wall. "Prophecy is most likely real and we have to fulfil it or our dad is as good as dead, we don't even have the said prophecy anymore and the only lead that he left us were two silly little books one of which someone stole from us? I'm afraid so." You banged the back of your head on the wall. 

"You forgot to mention that the 'silly little book' that we do have is leading us god knows where in the Caribbean for some talisman…"

-

"Oh, I'm gonna be sick." The rather greenish-looking boy said as he wobbled over to the edge of the boat. "Come on Pietro. Stop being a wuss and focus." Wanda scolded her brother as she leaned on the wooden railing next to him.

"You know I get nauseous on a boat." The boy muttered as he tried his hardest not to throw up. The two had been on the cruise for god knows how long and Pietro was getting sick of water being everywhere.

"Hm… Then how do you complete all of your travels, Mr. Worldwide?" Wanda mocked her brother. "By plane, sestra. By plane." Pietro replied, seemingly unamused. Wanda ignored her brother further on and took out the book that he brought instead.

She had been trying to decipher more the whole trip, but she hadn't been as successful as she'd like to be. It's like she couldn't tear her eyes away from the book and the strange feeling in her belly has been growing a lot stronger, the closer the twins get to their destination.

"Oh finally! I can see the island." Her thoughts had been interrupted by her loud brother's exclamation. She was about to say something back to him, but she got interrupted by a yell coming from one of the workers on the ship.

"Intruders!"

-

Author's Note

Well, that's it for the first chapter of my first-ever official fanfic that I really intend to finish. Thank you so much for getting all the way down to this part and I hope that you liked it, dear reader. If you have any notes on how I could make my writing better, anything would be much appreciated. Hope everyone is having a great day/night!

See ya next time :)

-

Series Masterlist Prologue

[fabuloustrash05]

TMNT 2012 Remastered Quick Notes

Basically the 2012 series but changed to my liking. Here’s what I would do:

Leo’s eyes will be hazel instead of blue cause I said so. Actually all the boys would have brown eye colors to match with Splinter and Karai to REALLY show that they are in fact biological related.

Mikey - light brown

Donnie - reddish brown (like canon)

Raph & Leo - hazel

Leo and Karai would have NO romance plot. Leo's "feelings" for Karai are actually a familiar connection, as if he already knows her (cause Splinter would always tell stories about his daughter, so in a way Leo already knows her), but he doesn't realize this until the reveal in season 2.

We would actually see the seasons change, meaning April and Casey would have different outfits depending on the season. The Turtles would also wear some layers to keep them warm during the fall and winter seasons.

April's design is slightly changed. Instead of shorts and leggings she wears jeans. Her top, ugg boots, and hair style remain the same. Her hairstyle changes over the course of the series

Season 1-2: low ponytail with occasionally switching to a bun when training with the others Season 3: Hair is slightly longer, sometimes in a ponytail or a braid Season 4 (space arc): Pixie cut, cut it short so hair doesn't get in her face when wearing the space helmet Season 4-5: Hair grew after a short time skip, hair is now in a bob cut

Karai’s hairstyle also changes. When locked in Shredder’s prison in S2, her hair grows longer to show the months she's been locked up. By S4 her hair is down to her shoulders and tied into a half updo. The blonde in her hair also fades away symbolizing that she is distancing herself from the Shredder.

Donnie and April have a slow burn, friends to lovers, love story. Full explanation on how I'd do this HERE.

Season 3 and onward, Leo would wear a leg brace as well as noticeable scars from his fight with Shredder. All major scars the Turtles get are permanent and stay on them

Irma and Rook are the same person, Irma is not Kraang Subprime in disguise. Irma lives on the farmhouse with the others, she is revealed to be an Utrom agent in mid season 3 named Rook who was sent to keep an eye on April and the Turtles. Full explanation HERE.

No going 6 months back in time for the Space arc, the boys instead are given 6 months to collect the pieces of the black hole generator before the Triceratons do, who have the Earth under the control. Think of it like a hostile takeover. Meanwhile on Earth, Splinter, Karai and the Mutanimals forma rebelling to fight against the Triceratons to give the Turtles some more time.

Better build to the Triceraton invasion also. If he hinted out during midseason 3, with Bishop (who would replace Kurtzman) warning the turtles and Mutanimals that there are greater threats out there in the galaxy besides the Kraang.

Mona Lisa and Sal Commander working for Lord Dregg is revealed (to the audience) much sooner. (Think of it like Meg working for Hades in Disney's Hercules, they have no choice and are under a contract because they "owe" Dregg)

Slash would be an antagonist for a little bit longer, but he'd still get redeemed by mid S3.

Timothy aka the Pulverizer returns! Just replace the Brainworm Karai arc with an arc on retro mutagen and Donnie trying to help Timothy adjust to his new half human half mutant forms like Karai transforming from human to snake at will. Timothy can be similar to Sunita from Rottmnt and become a slime person, and can use his powers to be a superhero like he always wanted. Maybe even joined the Mighty Mutanimals.

Leo and Casey would have a romance start to bloom between them in season 3-4. They'd officially get together in S5. Full explanation HERE.

Mona Lisa and Sal Commander are more present in the S4 space and after the Evil of Dregg episode, Sal and Mona occupancy the Turtles on the rest of their mission to save the Earth and stop the Triceratons as a way to repay for their dishonorable actions of betraying them.

Mona Lisa starts living on Earth sooner, after the space arc has ended, she meets the Mutanimals and after the final battle against the Triceratons, they offer for her to join their team and she accepts. Full explanation HERE.

The Mighty Mutanimals would get more focus. There’s a comic book issue that explain the origin of how they met in the 2012 series so I would make that an episode. Let’s add more filler episodes where the side characters are the main characters.

Shinigami would be revealed to be a villain by the end of S4 and he'd assist Tiger Claw during the Kavaxas arc (yes, she would eventually get redeemed, cause I want shinirai) Full explanation HERE.

April and Casey are more involved in the S5 Halloween arc and team up and befriend Renet. Full explanation HERE.

Alopex would team up with the Turtles to help them take down her brother Tiger Claw and Kavaxas. TC would get redeemed because of his sister's influence and protect her when Kavaxas attacks her.

Raph gets the electric powers in the When Worlds Collide special instead of Mikey. Also replace Karai with Slash in that arc, Casey gets involved and Fugitoid returns, now working for Dregg because he has been rewired/brainwashed into thinking the Turtles are his enemies.

80s crossover eps in both S4 and S5 would be removed entirely.

There would be an actual finale where the Turtles and all their allies they made throughout the show team up with their future selves (the mutant apocalypses Turtles) to save their futures and fix history, because we learn from Renet that there's a error and how that mutagen bomb was never supposed to go off. The show would end with the MA!Turtles and the present Turtles stopping the bomb and saving their histories. MA! Turtles would then return to their now fixed future, seeing their timeline is now saved (friends are all alive, Earth is saved, they have careers and families of their owns) and they get their happy ending.

[honkygay]

jason grace correct timeline (if the burning maze never happened) and thalia greatly influenced jasons aesthetic

image desc

a time frame of jason grace from age 16 to 18, he has pale blond hair, pale white skin and blue eyes and a jagged scar on the right of his lip, it starts at his nostril and ends at the bottom lip. all are bust drawings that stop at the chest.

at early 16 he has long straight slightly wavy hair past his shoulders, a purple t shirt and a white toga. he’s stone faced.

late 16 he has short hair and a more open expression, he looks lost and curious, he’s wearing a periwinkle shirt with a black windbreaker on top.

early 17 his hair is grown out quite a bit to frame his face and the back peeks out from his neck, he has a smile, distorting his lip scar slightly and relaxed eyes and wears an orange t shirt. he has a new scar on his collarbone, 3 scars like claw marks.

late 17 Thalia, his punk sister and Nico, his goth friend help style him more as he grows into his own person and he gets a half shaved haircut, keeps the other half long and dyes it black including the shaved part. he’s smiling confidently and has a new scar on his cheek.

18, the shaved part of his hair has grown out the black dye and has been shaved again, its now blond with a lightning symbol shaved into the temple. his hair now curls and reaches his shoulders again like when he was 16, his roots are growing out with black fading into blond, jason is mid laugh with his eyes scrunched shut. he’s wearing a black t shirt and an open light blue button up

end desc

[freezingstar-light]

Contract (Chapter 1)

Worick Arcangelo x F! Reader

Summary: You summon a demon to help you find love, this Incubus is the most beautiful person you've ever seen.

Warning: Nsfw, Worick is just really naked in this chapter, suggestive comments and touching.

Rating: Nsfw +18

Wordcount: 2391

Requested?: No

Thick hot blood dribbled down my wrist, forming in a pool on the hardwood floor, fingers dug into the wound, quickly coating them in a deep crimson, fear and anticipation flooded my veins. Dull pain burst through my knees as I collided with the floor, fingers smearing rough symbols on the floor. Anger burns through me, as the last symbol is drawn on the floor, a dark wave seems to blow through the room, the bloody floor glows faintly, slowly growing brighter and brighter until it burns to look at until, when I close my eyes the light burns through my eyelids. Darkness swallows the world leaving behind only after images of the burning pentagram in my mind's eye, sulphur fills my nose, burning and vile, my body jerks bile rising in my throat burning its way up. My eyes blink open, tears filling my lash line, slipping down my cheeks, smoke clouded the room, curling in tendrils from the burnt summoning circle, something stood in the middle, a lean body, velvety darkness fell off them in waves. 

I blinked again, slowly, blood loss causing my head to spin, warm red blood still dripped down my arm, warm fingers curled around my jaw, tilting my head back and up.

“Now, now, darling, I can’t just have my new master kneeling on the floor in a pool of blood.”

My mouth went dry, the voice was smooth and velvety, like a sirens song it drew me in, an annoyed sound filled my ears.

 Warmth burned across my skin as the beings hand dragged down my neck to the gash in my arm, fingers trailed over the wound, drawing feather light circles around it. My eyes slid open at that, following up the muscled arm up to the beings face, crystal blue eyes stared back at me… No… only one eye, there is only one, in the place of the other was a wicked scar, the lid had been sealed shut, an easy smile curled across its face, almost feline in nature and dripping in charm. Ash blond hair tumbled down his shoulders, the same pale blond hair shadowed along his chin and upper lip, small black horns porturde from his scalp, the demon leaned forward more, that crystal blue eye peered down at me, pale purple swirled within it. I gaze past his shoulders, a pair of deep black wings protrude from his back, grazing the floor as he kneeled in front of me. My eyes roam down his body, pale skin covered hard muscle, a few bright white scars litter his torso, a smattering of gleaming blond hair trailing down his chest and down further in a snail trail, still further my eyes sink, to the dips of his hips, to the corded muscle of his thighs and up to the apex of his thighs where he hung in all his glory. I jerked my head back up, hot blood pooling in my cheeks, like a fire was burning under my skin, a single blue eye twinkled with amusement, a lazy grin on the demon's face.

“You can look for longer than just that pitiful glance, I am quite proud of my equipment.”

I opened my mouth to speak, the words died in my throat, strong arms curling under my prone body hefting my body up with ease, his skin was hot, burningly so. Weakness hit me with a wave, the world spinning, my nose bumped into his neck, suddenly the smell of sulphur faded and his scent filled me, cigarettes, gunpowder and a mix of perfumes, it was almost choking.

“You’re very quiet, are you unable to speak? I can give you a voice, if that is your wish.” The demon's voice was teasing, the vibrations of his voice sinking into my skin, long strides quickly carried us to the lounge that I had pushed to the side, making enough room for the summoning circle, with surprising gentleness I was placed onto the cushions. 

“I can speak, your stench was just choking me.” I snapped back, embarrassment burnt my cheeks.

His grin stretched wider revealing sharp teeth, his eye glittered with amusement, strong hands pressed against my thighs as he crouched in front of me. Something dark, whipped around behind him, hitting the ground repeatedly with a sharp crack, my eyes focused on it watching it move… it was a tail… long and thin, ending in a heart shape.

“I can heal that nasty wound you have, but that means you have to absorb my body fluids,” his voice is a purr, stretching the words, “that usually means blood but I could make an exception for you and we could find another use for that mouth instead of petty insults.”

My lips peel away from my teeth in a snarl, face twisting in disgust, “Both sound disgusting, why would I want to ingest a demon's blood or any other body fluid from you, I can just wrap my injury and let it heal on its own.”

If it was possible his grin would have gotten even wider, “Sorry, Master, but injuries made when summoning won't heal on their own, but you either need send me back or drink my blood… something tells me that you wont send me back, I don’t think I’ve completed the mission you had in mind for me yet.”

He leaned in closer, hot breath brushing over my skin,”Unless you want me only for my body, which I would happily oblige.”

My lips turn down in frown, “No, you haven't completed the task that I wanted you for, but first before I tell you of that I want to know your name.”

“Worick, you can call me Worick…” He, Worick, paused for a moment before speaking again, “It was what I went by when I was human.”

I swallowed thickly, human he had been human, my blood crusted fingers brush against his cheek, stopping just below his scared eye, he leaned slightly into my touch, his good eye growing hooded.                                                                                                             

“Be careful, Master, touching a being like me with so much tenderness.”

He pulled away from my touch, big hands cradling my arm, bringing my arm up to his mouth, dragging an inhumanly long tongue over the bleeding wound, pain like liquid fire ran in waves away from the wound, I pulled back from his touch, but iron strong hands kept my arm in place, a strangled cry tearing from my chest. The pain faded leaving but a warm tingle slowly spread from the wound to my entire body, settling heavily in my loins, his long tongue kept dragging over the injury, a low groan vibrated against my skin. Blood dripped down his chin, falling seductively from his plush bottom lip, watching that demon-like tongue drag over his lip collecting the blood. It was hard to drag my eyes from the seductive sight in front of me, slowly my vision focused on the wound… where it used to be now there was only smooth blemish free skin. 

“I thought you said there was no other way to heal the wound but to send you back or to drink your body fluids,” annoyance coated my words.

“I never said, drink my fluids, just that you had to absorb them,” Worick whispered, chapped lips pressing against the pulse point on my wrist, teeth nipping at the delicate skin, “could’ve fucked you full of cum and that would have and that would have healed you.”

Heat exploded across my face, burning down my neck, my hands shoved at his shoulders. He rocked back slightly, but didn’t fall, a wide grin splitting his face, one of his hands still held onto my arm, the other resting lazily on my knee. 

“So, what did you call upon me for, Master?”

My lips parted before quickly closing again, I turned my gaze from him, sudden embarrassment and regret filling me, suddenly the swirling patterns of my wooden floor was very interesting, thick calloused fingers pressed lightly at my jaw, forcing me to gaze into his eye.

“I can’t complete your request if I do not know what it is,” there was a hint of anger in his voice, that charming smile on his face faltering for just a moment.

“Keep… I didn’t think this ritual would even work, so you can’t blame me for calling a demon for such a stupid reason but… I summoned you to keep me company and to help me find a partner…”

Worick burst out laughing, sharp teeth flashing as he tilted his head back in a belly deep laugh, his fingers tightening around the meat of my thigh, his tail slapping the floor like a happy dog, his wings puffing out.

“Stop laughing at me, like i said I didn't think it was going to work,” my voice was a high whine.

He kept laughing, his chest rising up and down with gasped breaths, the hand that gripped my arm slipping away to run through his silvery hair, his eye closed.

“Master, that has to be the stupidest reason someone has ever called upon a demon before, it's almost endearing.” Worick shifted, resting his chin on my thigh, “But I shall help you with your request, it would also help me stay out of hell for a bit, y’know it's surprisingly cold there.”

“So how do we seal the deal?”

His blue eye bore into mine, capturing me in the swirling purple storm, his hand squeezed tightly around my thigh, sliding just that bit higher, a sly smile parting his plump lips, his thumb rub circles on my inner thigh.

“There are a lot of ways but only a few of them are fun,” he leaned in closer, his voice was like velvet, a hand sliding up to cup the back of my neck, bringing me in closer. Warm lips brush over mine, his body shifted forward more, something slim and warm wrapping around my ankle, his lips pressing firmer against mine, tongue skimming over the seam of my lips before pushing in and intertwining with my own. We stayed like that for what felt like minutes, his tongue exploring my mouth, our lips moving in tandem, my body slowly heating as his hand massages my thigh, the rough hair on his chin and upper lip scratching lightly at my skin, I felt frozen, lust burning through my entire body. His lips pulled away from mine, his tongue drawing back into his mouth, a self satisfied grin curling across his face, his eye was hooded as he gazed into my soul, his hand slipping down my back to rest on my lower back.

He hummed softly, leaning his elbow on my knee and resting his chin on his hand, “The deal is sealed, Master, your lips taste so sweet… not to mention I can smell your lust from here.”

“(Y/n)... That’s my name… Call me that, not master.”

“(Y/n),” the word rolled off his tongue, “That's a beautiful name.”

I watched Worick stand, shifting to his full height, he was tall, towering easily over me, he gazed down at me.

“Master, can you show me around, since I will be staying with you until you find a partner.”

“Don’t act like it will take forever!” I huffed out, he chuckled at me, his lips turning up in a smirk.

“Well, (Y/n), since you are looking for a life partner and not just a quick fuck, expect for it to take quite a while. If you wanted that I could get you a one night stand as soon as you walk out this door.”

I stand quickly, the cool floor sending a jolt through my system, I huff softly, ignoring his words and walking forward, gesturing for him to follow me. Worick padded after me, almost like a puppy following its master, his shadow danced with mine on the wall as we walked down the hallway, the same hardwood floor was here, white paint coating the walls, soft golden light glowing above us. I tug open a door, the hinges creaking softly, inside was a plain double bed, light green sheets cover the bed, the walls the same white as the hallway, a few empty painting hooks in the wall, a small chest of draws in the corner near a window.

“This will be your room while you stay with me… Wait here while I get you some clothes, they were my last ex's. They may be a bit tight but we will go and buy more tomorrow for you.”

“How generous, Master,” there was a teasing note to his voice.

I walk away from the demon, ducking into my room and pulling out a pair of mens shorts and huge hoodie, as I walk back, I watch as he leans against the door, his wings flexing, tail slapping lightly against a muscular thigh, fingers scratching at washboard abs. A dangerous grin curled his lips, an ocean blue eye glittered in mischief, one hand gripped the doorframe, he leaned closer wings spreading wide blocking out the rest of the hallway from view, I got closer, pressing the pile of clothing against a toned chest, a big hand cradled my own, the other moving to rest gently on my hip. He stepped closer still, I could feel the heat radiating off his skin, his tail curled around the meat of my upper thigh, it was smooth and soft like velvet, the heart shaped tip rubbed circles on my skin.

“Tell me, why would you summon a incubus and not want to fuck me?”

“Because I can get dick elsewhere, why would I summon a demon for that? Now put some fucking clothes on.”       

Warm hands pulled away from me, his tail curled around my thigh slowly slipping off, he turned his back on me walking through the door, my eyes trail across his back stopping between the two glorious wings on his back dark black ink a swirling tribal pattern rested there. My eyes slid lower, the muscles in his back flexed as he walked, his tail lazily swayed, still my gaze slipped down further, my teeth sunk into my bottom lip, he had an amazing ass.

“You can’t say you don’t want to fuck me and then look at my ass like that”

[liminal-zone]

courage, dear heart

i wrote a thing! 

AO3 fic link: atomic blonde

fandom: Narnia/LOTR crossover | ship: Susan Pevensie/Éowyn, background Haladriel

rated: mature | tagged: crossover, canon compliant, pining, Gender Politics with Clive Staples and John Ronald Reuel, post The Horse and His Boy, bittersweet

Summary: It’s not the first time a power beyond understanding ripped Susan away from her home to fight in another world’s war. And in this strange country, she will find her courage.

Set as Frodo becomes the ringbearer, set after Susan returns from Tashbaan and the Battle of Anvard is won.

a/n: Written for @thenarniaficexchange 2023 for @syrena-of-the-lake. Is this fic just a string of references from all seven narnia books, at least five lotr books, various narnia and lotr films, a lotr tv show, Churchill’s “we shall fight on the beaches”, and Shakespeare? Maybe so.

Two canons in a blender, my favorite scene in this is when the Dark Lord Sauron comes to Queen Susan in her dreams to take her apart and finds something he didn’t expect. And my heart aches to answer an unanswered question in the fic about magicked memory loss and the Problem of Susan, perhaps in a sequel. 

Excerpt:

Her hands are dirty from drawing the circle, fingers burned from the blue fire.

The bright magic ring she wears is cold, very cold; cold as the bottom of the sea. And it sings of power, not of the flesh, but over flesh. The power of the Unseen World.

In her mouth is the language spoken before the dawn of time. Before the Deep Magic was written. Before the Sun and the Moon were made. “Call her up.”

*

It’s quite sudden – the searing sound in her ears and then a great pop – and she’s no longer riding alongside her sister in the wilds of Galma but in a strange, alien land.

She stills her horse, and is surprised to find it not the dumb Galman beast who was a pleasure to ride along the sands of the ocean, but a great stallion fit for a warrior of renown. The shabby islander saddle is now richly ornate, covered in symbols she does not recognize. The windswept sea of grass smells sweet; rich earth beneath and a warm yellow sun in the endless blue sky above. Massive forests and towering mountains in the distance, and far off to the south, clouds of smoke. No recognizable landmark of any kind.

This curious little girl from Finchley has experienced travel between worlds before, but she does not quite remember the first time. Something about a mother who loved her and a great stairwell and the numbing horror of nonstop destruction; all faded in memory and deemed unimportant, lost. She is now queen of a great country; taller than her brother, the High King, and a remarkable beauty sought by highborns across the known world. Her raven-colored hair and red lips, haunting the dreams of many. Her gracious kindness, a balm to her loving subjects once subjugated by winter and a witch.

More importantly, she still remains curious.

For she is Susan, by the gift of Aslan, by election, by prescription, and by conquest, Queen over Narnia under the High King Peter, the Lady of Cair Paravel and Protector of the River Rush, Blessed by the Radiant Southern Sun, Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Lion, Daughter of Eve, the Gentle.

And this strange country, unknown to her, is Middle Earth.

*

Her magical horn came with her, tied to her belt. There is no hesitation as she raises it to her lips. Father Christmas had said “–wherever you are–,” so she blows it, calling for help in this alien place.

The full velvety sound rings out across the grassy plains, ringing up through the nearby mountains and reaching forests unknown and reaching foreign ears in their towers of stone. (Perhaps even reaching the power that brought her here.)

A rider appears in the distance. Susan narrows her eyes, considering if this is friend or foe. She only has a dagger and her wits, which may be enough.

It is a warrior with a shield on his arm. He rides a white steed and golden horse hair flows out of his helmet. He shines bright like the famed white stag and Susan feels an intense urge to chase this rider at once, to put an arrow in his heart and drag him to the ground.

To demand wishes? Perhaps. The urge is unknowable.

But no: this is no white stag, nor a magical creature of any sort.

And Susan does not yet know that this is no man.

Susan called for help, and help has arrived in the form of Éowyn, the Lady of Rohan.

*

It is a cautious meeting and neither dismount.

The rider’s gaze is appraising, obviously noting Susan’s foreign dress. There’s the uncommon length of her raven hair, adorned with the lush island flowers of Galma. The dagger and white horn at her side, and the ease in which Susan is managing a stallion. The queenly posture; a regal confidence undoubted. (This is learned behavior. Pevensies can trace their lineage to poor fishermen in East Sussex and poorer soldiers from Normandy.)

Susan’s assessment is this: the young rider is a dangerous warrior, lithe and well-knit in frame, made all the more queer with his open courtesy to a stranger.

“What country, friend, is this?” Susan asks.

The rider tilts his head. “This is Rohan, my lady.” His voice ringing out clear.

And what shall I do in Rohan? Susan thinks, miserably.

“Are you in need some assistance, my lady?” the rider continues, a look of concern in his gray eyes. A pause. “I am Dernhelm, at your service.”

*

Dernhelm listens to her tale and “strange sorcery” is his response. He thinks a moment before: “Have you experience with witches?”

Susan gives a smile, but it is a bitter one. She knows more than some about witches.

After Susan explains, Dernhelm nods. “The way I see it is this: you have appeared here through magic, for what reason, I cannot say. And you have appeared in Rohan, for what reason, I cannot say. You are no servant of the Dark Lord, there is something true and honorable about you.” He stops there for a moment before a continuing in a most peculiar tone. “The wizards have no interest in queens; what is a woman to the affairs of air and earth? So, the Lady of the Golden Wood, she must be behind this and her reasons could have promise in them.”

“The Lady?” Susan echoes quietly. There are hags that called Her “the White Lady.”

“She is a great sorceress. An elf-witch of terrible power who dwells in Dwimordene.” Dernhelm looks grave. “It is said that all who look upon her shall fall under her spell and are never seen again.”

Susan shivers, thinking of the horror of Jadis’ castle. Of Tumnus’ look of terror, frozen in stone.

Dernhelm continues. “My brother believes she is a myth, and–” he pauses as if pained by a memory unspoken. “My king’s advisor says webs of deceit were ever woven in Dwimordene.” He raises his chin, and his eyes are shining bright. “But I believe differently. There is an old, old tale of this elf-witch helping my annointed forebear, the first of our kings. I choose to believe that tale. I choose to believe that in our time of need, the Lady came to our aid. High honor to protect the king and his men, and dread magic too. And perhaps, perhaps if she is behind this, she can be reasoned with and you can return home. Should you have the courage, you seek her out.”

“Then I shall go to find this Lady of the Golden Wood,” Susan says. “If you will take me there, sir. For I do not know the way.”

The man sucks in air and holds it a moment before: “For this journey, you have my sword, your grace.”