#lion king fic

[kingofthecotas]

find tomorrow with you

5 times valentino suggests they get married and 1 time marc does | 2.4k words

5+1 is a fun and whimsical format that we should use more often

–––

i. 

It’s not the first time Marc has been to Tavullia since Valentino decided his life was infinitely better when they spoke—and, indeed, fucked—but today is the first time he truly seems comfortable. 

Pecco being here is helping, helping soothe the agitation that is all Bez’s, helping to be a friendly face—and Luca, if he weren’t finding it all so funny, would be helping as well. Marc is smiling, talking, laughing—and he isn’t dragging his feet as they all get ready to ride. That’s the crux of it, the load-bearing pillar that crumbled their first time around. 

Not this time. They won’t let it. 

(Not ever again, Valentino won’t let that happen ever again. He won’t do that to Marc ever again.)

It’s never polite when they race at the ranch. It’s animalistic, all friendship abandoned at the archway that marks the start of the track, screeching under helmets as they tear around corners and dive into the side of opponents. No quarter. No prisoners. 

Naturally, Marc, now he’s comfortable, is perfectly suited to this kind of all-out warfare. 

(He’s terrifying. Valentino is entranced. He loves him.) 

It happens after about an hour, all of them hot and tired but no one willing to throw a white flag. Marc goes for the lead, throws it up the inside of Bez, and outbrakes himself. He skids to the edge of the track, where his front tyre finally surrenders, and he’s sliding through dirt, one leg dragged with the bike.  

Even over the growl of two-stroke engines, Valentino can hear Bez’s, “Oh shit.” 

He pulls to the side of the track, kicks the peg-stand down with a practiced ease that covers his panic, because Marc is staggering away from under his bike, is collapsing on his back, shoulders shaking, and what if he’s hurt—?

“Marc?” 

Marc is cackling like a maniac, leathers dusted white, one hand over the part of his helmet where his forehead would be—even Bez can’t stop himself laughing in return. 

Valentino kneels beside him, pushes his visor up. Then he pushes Marc’s open, too.

“You idiot,” he says, slow and deliberate, yet without sting. 

Marc laughs harder. “That was fun!”

Valentino leans down, helmets almost touching. “I am going to divorce you.”

Bez chokes on his giggle.

Marc doesn’t miss a beat, eyes still smiling at Vale through his visor. “You have to marry me to do that.” 

“I will marry you,” Valentino agrees, “and then I will divorce you.” 

Marc laughs again. 

——

ii.

Valentino’s phone alarm goes off at 5:45, fifteen minutes to spare before lights out, and he stifles a groan, rolls away from Marc. Marc does not appreciate being woken up before seven on a Sunday. 

(He knows that. He loves that he knows that.) 

Qualifying had been hairy, drizzling but not completely wet. It should be a dry race, though, and he settles himself on the sofa downstairs just in time for the broadcast to start scrolling through the starting grid. Kimi had done well, and he smiles.

There’s a noise in the doorway: Marc, a hoodie thrown over his bare chest, eyes heavy.

“Good morning,” Valentino says, raspy. “Did I wake you up?”

“Who has a race at this time?” Marc grumbles. 

“They are in Japan,” Valentino says, and lets Marc crawl into the space next to him, tired and clumsy with it. “Now you know what it is like when I am watching you in Japan, or Malaysia, or Australia.”

Marc groans in the back of his throat.

“You could go back to bed.”

“You’re not there.” Unfocused eyes peering over the top of his hoodie, Marc glares at the screen, seemingly unaware that he’s just curled something warm and tender around Valentino’s ribs. “Who are we cheering for?”

“Ah, your friend Carlos managed only twelfth. It is Piastri and Verstappen at the front—Kimi is there in fourth, you see? And the Ferraris in fifth and sixth—always we want them to do well. Lando had a penalty, so he is seventh, but the McLaren should be fast here.”

They’re pulling away for the formation lap, weaving to warm their tyres. Marc watches, focused as ever, until he yawns. Valentino shushes him. 

“They are not even racing,” 

“They are explaining the strategy.”

Lights out. Clean start. Marc is watching more intently now, undivided attention, check pressed against Valentino’s arm.

Ten laps in, Gasly dives down the inside of Ocon, and they’re both spinning off into grass and gravel; embarrassing but harmless, enough to bring out the safety car. Valentino pulls himself free and goes to make coffee. 

Marc is barely visible beneath the throw when he returns, dark eyes glaring balefully at the television like it’s offended him personally, but he softens when Valentino hands him a mug.

“You are the best,” he mumbles, then, “At making coffee.”

Valentino laughs—once, he might have bristled at the harmless joke—and slides back into his spot between Marc and the sofa arm. Marc thumps his head down, somehow burying himself even deeper in his swaddling of blanket and hoodie and Valentino. 

It’s—it’s something they never would have imagined, even two years ago. It’s gentle, early Sunday mornings wrapped around each other; the kind of softness that shouldn’t be possible after years of tearing each other apart, digging in fingers and pulling until they drew blood. 

Valentino doesn’t ever want to go there again. He doesn’t ever want to lose this. 

Marc is breathing softly against his arm, still, quiet, perfect. 

“I want to marry you,” he murmurs.

Silence. His stomach drops. 

Marc’s inhale catches in the back of his throat, halfway to a snore, and Valentino laughs, gentle so he doesn’t wake him. He plucks the coffee cup, dangling precariously, from slack fingers, and places it on the side table. 

——

iii.

They’ve created a routine over the past few months.

(Valentino’s stomach jumps every time he thinks about it, thinks about how they’re falling into habits, into familiarity. Every time, he smiles.) 

It’s their last day together for a while: Marc is leaving later, and Valentino flies early in the morning to get to his GT race. But the routine doesn’t change. He’s making lunch for them. Marc is upstairs—his phone had rung, insistent, and he’d groaned but pulled away, leaving Valentino to chop the rest of their salad. 

Marc emerges after nearly twenty-five minutes, eyebrows pinched together, but accepts the plate Valentino slides towards him with a distracted smile.

“Everything okay?” Valentino asks.

“Ah, my accountant.” Marc scowls. “Apparently I am spending too much time in Italy.” 

Valentino can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of his chest. 

“It’s not funny,” Marc says, almost whines. “It’s a tax thing. Between all the time I spend here, and time at the factory—not enough in Spain, apparently.”

Shrugging, Valentino taps one finger on the table. “We could get married.” 

Marc snorts. “Would that help?”

“I don’t know. I am very bad to ask about tax advice, remember?”

“Me too.” Marc stabs a piece of his salad—viciously, in Valentino’s opinion. 

“Don’t frown. It will be okay.”

“I can hide here. It is difficult for you to be in Madrid.”

“It will be okay,” Valentino repeats. “And remember, we can always get married.”

He thinks he deserves it when Marc throws a slice of bread at him. 

——

iv.

Clouds hang heavy on the mountains in Spielberg, threatening rain but holding off for now. Valentino leaves Luca with a last pat on the shoulder, weaving his way up the grid towards Franky’s starting spot.

It’s slow going, stopped every few steps, shaking hands with people he recognises, people he doesn’t.

“Valentino—Valentino!”

It’s Laverty, and Valentino doesn’t mind that because he doesn’t tend to ask stupid questions. He indulges the interview, long past acceptance of the fact that he built his own mythos and will never be left alone for the rest of his life. Yes, he’s doing well, thank you. Yes, it’s nice to be on the grid. Yes, he’s proud of his boys. Yes, he’s still enjoying racing with BMW. 

“And a final question,” Michael says. “You seem like you and Marc Márquez have finally buried the hatchet. Is everything put to bed? How did you manage it?”

Maybe Michael Laverty does ask stupid questions. 

Perhaps he should have been expecting it, because clasping hands before a race, sharing a smile under the podium—people notice. Especially when the norm used to be nothing at all, or worse.

“Ah, you know.” He has plenty of shields for the media, and it’s no problem to pull out an old favourite. “We talked. Dinner with candles. It is all going very well. Maybe soon we get married.” 

Michael laughs, loud and boisterous, like Vale hasn’t just wrapped up the truth in a pretty package and presented it as a joke. He smiles, camera-easy, and returns Michael’s ciao. 

It’s only when he turns around that he realises Álex and Bez, lined up side-by-side on the grid, are staring at him. 

——

v. 

Misano is hot, sweltering August-end heat. Valentino is sweating under his cap and sunglasses, pressed in a red throng of Ducati engineers. One-two. Red on red. 

It’s Marc who’d won, victorious in the battle of weaving-turning-diving along long straights and through heavy-brake corners. Pecco had given him a good fight, an Italian classic of a race; he’s smiling at Marc, learning to enjoy the scrappy thrill of battle as well as the ease of a flawless win. 

Marc’s shining, beaming at his team, smiling down the cameras, alive under the sun. Valentino swallows down the urge to kiss him, if only because their comms officers would kill them both. 

The podium has never seemed so long. Media obligations have never seemed so long. It’s an age before they’re alone, motorhome door locked, and Valentino has Marc, to himself, finally.

He used to think Marc was too much for him, in danger of eclipsing him, their implosion inevitable as two brilliant stars orbited closer, closer, too close. Too much light for the world to handle.

If he met that version of himself now, Valentino thinks he would shake him. 

Marc glows, yes, but there’s a brightness that only Valentino gets to see, one that erupts out in starbursts of ecstasy when they’re together, when Valentino is pushing inside him, when Marc is staring up at him like there’s nothing else in the world. 

Valentino stops, earning a petulant glare; even that’s breathtaking. How—how—he can’t find the words.

“I think,” Valentino forces out, elbows taking his weight, “I want to marry you.”

Marc blinks, face suddenly cutting, incredulous. “You are telling me this now?” He’s a livewire, crackling with sparks, hot with triumph, shooting static through Valentino’s skin. He’s beautiful. Valentino wants to see this for the rest of his life, so yeah, he’s saying it now. 

He tilts his hips, and the disbelief is gone, washed away as Marc gasps. It’s something like reverence now—but not how it used to be. Nothing that Valentino could shatter this time, even though he still wants to hold it close. 

Contrary as always, Marc winds fingers through his hair, pulls him down for a breathless kiss—and Valentino smiles into it, because he can do this, he can have this effect on Marc, still. Still. 

“Vale—” 

He’s helpless when it’s Marc. Still. Always. 

When they’re finished, when they’re lying curled into each other, Valentino breathing heavy into Marc’s hair, Marc looks up, eyes narrowed. 

“You did well today,” Valentino tells him softly, and the hard expression is gone once again, replaced with a different kind of wonder. 

“Did you mean it?”

He knows what Marc means. “Yes.”

Marc nods. “Ask me again. Another time.”

It’s—Valentino smiles again. “That was not a no.” 

——

+1 

It’s not a bad crash—it’s not, not by the metrics of this sport, not compared to what it could have been, what it has been in the past. 

It’s not bad, but it could have been: Marc, bumped wide by Acosta, unable to save it, sliding helplessly through the corner apex—and Bez, unsighted, trying to avoid the recovering KTM, sailing past his braking point towards Marc, and almost—almost. 

It’s not bad, but it was close, and when Marc is back in the paddock, when he’s speaking to cameras, when he’s with his engineers, there’s something wild about him, something faraway sitting behind his eyes, and Valentino knows. He knows.  

(He still dreams, sometimes, of Austria; not of the crash, but the feeling of it, the prickle at the back of his skull, the cold finger-brush of something not right. The almost that he didn’t see coming.) 

So he waits. Marc is settled enough, trusts him enough, to reach for him when he needs him. Valentino trusts Marc enough to let him. 

The knock on his motorhome door comes long after the chequered flag has fallen. Valentino doesn’t get up, knows Marc will let himself in.

“Sorry. Pedro wanted to talk—I am not angry, but good he apologised.”

“That’s okay,” Valentino says, gentle. 

Marc drifts, loose, unmoored, towards the sofa, folds his legs underneath him, presses into Valentino’s space. Valentino lets him, waits for him to speak.

Marc is shaking. Not a lot, just enough for Valentino to notice when he takes his hand.

“Okay?”

He’s not, of course he’s not, but it’s a door nudged ajar, an opening if Marc wants to take it.

“That was—close.”

“Yeah.”

“I was—watching the bike.” Marc swallows. “Just—that was all I could do. Watch it coming towards me.” 

Valentino pulls their joined hands up, presses a kiss to the back of Marc’s. 

Marc’s next exhale trembles in the space between them. 

“You’re okay.” 

“If Bez didn’t turn—” 

If. Almost. “You’re okay,” Valentino says again, because he needs to hear it himself. Marc’s fingers clench in his. “Okay? Look, you are holding my hand. You’re okay.”

It won’t be long before Marc is through this, before he’s smiling, before he’s raring to climb on his bike again. Not yet, though. Valentino knows—he knows.

“We should get married,” Marc says abruptly.

“I have been saying—”

“Seriously.”

Valentino takes him in: pinched eyebrows; hair flattened from his Ducati cap; pursed lips. “I think I am offended, that you only ask me after today.”

Marc pulls his hand away, the laugh jolting out of him. “Valentino—”

“And you are asking me in a motorhome—really, I would have taken my hoodie off at least—”

“Vale,” Marc groans, but he’s there, he’s smiling, he’s back. 

He can’t stop a smile twitching the corners of his lips in return. “Yes?” 

“That was not a no.” 

Valentino takes his hand again.

[mylo-space]

something i think about a lot is Demon Bull King falling in love with Princess Iron Fan, like, head over heels, and he just can't help but sneak off to see her--he knows he shouldn't, his sworn allies would most certainly have his head, but he can't not be near her, so it it doesn't matter. He abandons the fight of a millennia for a celestial princess and every single member of the Brotherhood is so shocked and angry and betrayed, except one.

Because one of them could hear Demon Bull King sneaking off and never stopped him, could hear two starcrossed heartbeats dance every time they met on the field of battle and off of it. One of them never wanted to fight Heaven in the first place, and maybe he's just relieved that at least someone gets to escape it, even if it isn't him. One of them knows before the others, he knows even before Bull King decides it, that there will be a betrayal.

He knows it, swatting Wukong away from the piece of clothing he's trying to adjust, that there will be one less of them when the Celestial Armies descend. He knows, watching Wukong's eyes brighten at Azure’s praise, that Demon Bull King will abandon the war. He knows, following the Brotherhood into a battle doomed from the start, that Demon Bull King will always choose Princess Iron Fan; he knows, the same way he knows that he'll always choose to fight at Wukong's side.

Because there simply isn't a future where they don't.

[luna-loveboop]

It's all "links meet aus" and "zeldas meet aus", but where's my "companions meet aus"?

I wanna see midna bash fi and navis heads together for annoying her

I mean can you imagine the sheer chaos of all the Zelda companions meeting and going on a journey together? They're all companions/guides! One of thems a talking hat for hylias sake how are they supposed to take initiative?

I think it'd be like Lu where they all just meet up, but can you imagine the chain just somehow finds out this happened (and twilight is just like guys I am so sorry about midna) (but they're also really oddly touched that all their friends met each other too)

Pretty sure midna would be the sort of leader, since the last time she was in a foreign world she just found the nearest dude and started ordering him around. By like halfway through twilight princess she was literally asking LINK to accompany her to get what she needed.

But like. 90% of the group would be fairies. Which can't heal. One is a talking hat who just needs a head? He can't go on midnas cause she throws him off with her magic hair, poor ezlo is just trying to keep up.

They also have these weird green shadows who come around? They don't talk, but there's a rock, a fish, a bird, and a lady who just appear and stab things and shoot wind water fire and lightning.

Also midnas really confused why wolf link just shows up and kills things every now and then (from botw amibo)

Fi is the one who can talk to Hylia and awaken memories and get guidance and information or whatever, but she only does this by ballerina dancing and the others are always pissed at her anyways "WE DONT KNOW WHAT BATTERIES ARE OR A WII REMOTE WILL YOU PLEASE GO BACK IN SWORD FORM ALREADY" "I detect there is a 90% chance you need a key to open this door" "wow. Your perception is unparalleled fi."

Also there's a boat. A boat. Who is also good at taking charging since he's a king, which causes some friction between him and midna, since she has to grab him by her hair to move him half the time.

And with the fairies. Again. They all offer advice mainly. And with the fairies a lot of their main role is speaking and getting attention and pitching in? They come on an intersection and there's a chorus of bells all shouting the same directions. Ezlo is trying to cover the kings ears from his place on the boats head

Also there's this ghost/spirit of Zelda that everyone just feels REALLY strong loyalty to. But she's just like this kid who wants her body back?! They try to protect her but she can turn into a purple knight and stab things so there's that. I think there's also some animal companions from ooa/oos so.

Side quests are nonexistent they don't care about a village or gathering frogs for a kid they are there to save the world on a mission linear plot it is

And it's interesting because you have so many of them who just vanish and then appear to give loud advice. All at once. And the fighting skills basically fall to those weird green shadows that shoot various elements and fight and randomly disappear. Midna and spirit Zelda can fight, and Fi can too (kind of like how she fights as a sword in hyrule warriors). Also up to you if midna is drop dead gorgeous or devilish imp.

By the end they find whatever enemy so they can go back and midna is so pissed by this point that she hears the word "batteries" from Fi and goes full on fused shadow and just obliterates the jerk

***I have not played all the games so do not know or understand all of the companions and probably got some stuff wrong

Bonus: there is a child in a village named Link who does not have the spirit of the hero. He is stalked for three days until Fi decides his vibes are off and they all stop telling him he's the chosen one

[cateyesinlove]

MY Narnia hyper fixation coming back in 2024 the year of our lord and Savior Aslan- Jesus Christ? Yes, very likely.

This is just a small what if mixed with AU prince Caspain movie

Narnia; What if Peter had a Spouse

Gn significant other for Peter

I am an enthusiast of angst so I cannot help to think about how many lovers Lucy and Edmund probably left behind in Narnia( I usually imagine Lucy being pan and poly and Edmund being bi since I mean we all saw the movies 😏 bombastic side eye!) what if Susan had been engaged to a good man who cared for her and it was a good alliance, someone she saw herself loving some day and of course if Peter had been married.

It was a normal day in Cair Paravel when the Siblings never came back from their hunt. Peters's spouse was hosting the weekly tea with their sibling's partners when a frantic fawn ran into the room to inform them that the kings and queens had disappeared

how Peter's spouse was the person everyone else went to when the Pevensies didn't show up after a week, and how they were now in charge of Narnia since they were now King/ Queen Regent.

How they have to deal with the distraught significant others of the Pevensies and have to watch Lucy's girlfriend/s searching high and low, sky and sea's for her but never finding anything until they give up in the one year anniversary of their disappearance.

Edmunds significant other shutting themselves, starting to miss the weekly tea and lunch peters has been holding for years now and then just stop coming over to the palace at all and avoiding everyone until they aren’t heard of again.

And the worst of it all dealing with the fallout of Susan’s engagement.

A man whom everyone learned to care for and came to see as a friend turned cruel and unreasonable, demanding Peter’s spouse marry him in retribution so his kingdom would continue its alliance with Narnia.

Peters's spouse is so overwhelmed not able to decide if they should accept or not, On one hand, they still hold hope their spouse and siblings would come back but on the other, they were the only protector left of Narnia which meant they had to do everything in their power to protect their subject and do what was best for the kingdom. Finally, Oreius is the one to hold a meeting with everyone close to the Royal family to talk to Peter's spouse and make them see Peter nor Susan would expect them to marry, and neither did any of the Narnians who loved their ruler, the one who stayed and has been taking care of them.

They finally reach a decision to reject the marriage proposal and offer instead a trading alliance between the kingdoms. It's accepted but no one ever sees Susan's ex-betroth in Cair Paravel again.

Later that same year Peter's spouse receives a visit from none other than Aslan himself. They are sitting on the beach having what they remember Edmund calling an existential crisis, their guards are away at a respectable distance when they feel someone sitting next to them and when they look there he is, in all his glory- Aslan.

The lion sits and listens to the current ruler of Narnia cry their heart out offering a small nudge hoping to give some comfort. Once they have calmed down Aslan lays down next to them and observes the sunset, and as the sun hits the water on the horizon he finally speaks.

" They are destined to come back," he says and turns to look at them.

Peter's spouse looks up at Aslan, " What?"

" As you heard my child," he replies eyes never leaving the horizon, " The kings and Queens are destined to be back but," he stops turning his head, and looks them in the eyes. " not for years and years to come"

"I'll be gone by then," they say knowing what Aslan hinted at.

" And they will be lost," he says, " confused and scared."

" Is there a way I can..." they speak, not really understanding what they are asking but knowing in their heart, that they are asking for a second chance.

" There is," Aslan said, hesitation in their tone," but it will cost you greatly. "

They waited for more still looking at Aslan.

The lion sighed, " If you wish to wait for them, I can help with that but you would leave Narnia without a ruler. I could freeze your body and send you into a deep sleep only to be awakened when the rightful rulers of Narnia are back."

It dawns on them for a moment before accepting.

They make preparations and a council is placed in line for when the spell is to take place. They say their goodbyes to everyone, their family and friends, and their most loyal guards, a small order is formed that will take care of them in their slumber; The order of the Firebird.

They lay down in a bed full of their favorite flowers and all their friends are their surround them, Aslan walks in and whispers something to them and then gently blows in their face and they are swept into a dreamland.

Years pass and wars happen, by the time of Prince Caspian thousands of years have passed, and many orders of the Firebird have come and gone but always to come back loyal to their ruler and cause.

It's a calm morning in spring when a gasp is heard from the bed where the enchanting Ruler of old Narnia resides. They sit up in the bed and gasp for air as they hold their throat.

It's time, they look around their room confused since this looked nothing like their chambers in Cair Paraval,

 as they tried to stand up their knees give in and they crashed to the floor thats when some guards came running in, guards that looked nothing like their friends who they last saw. 

“ Your Majesty!” they all exclaimed rushing to their side and helping them up. 

“Thank you” They thanked the guards softly as they hold on to them, feeling their body so when suddenly their was a paused in the air, the unspoken fact, they were back- Peter was back. The guards looked expectenly at them waiting for an other or something. They shoved their hands into the pocket in their outfit taking out a golden firefly that immediately glowed and shot into the sky waiting for the party to follow it. 

“Lets find our Kings and Queens” they spoke with a huge smile.

In a hurry the guards prepared horses and cavalry to escort them and find the Kings and Queens, ridding in a centaur who claimed to be a descendant of  Oreius,  they learn that it had been years- thousands actually, they were currently at war and that most of the hope had been lost, the order of the Firebirds and the rebellion were the last of what remained of old Narnia. 

The firefly finally arrived at the destination from the back of Andreas- the centaur who kindly offer to let them ride in their back- they could see a bunch of Narnian’s and… humans, humans who looked exactly like their husband and siblings, a human who was holding Peters sword, a human with the same golden hair that they had run their fingers through every night. 

It was him, their husband, their king, it was..

“PETER!” They shouted jumping out of the centaurs back and landing in the ground not caring about falling or tripping, their only goal to reach their husband. Peter turns around not caring about the man infront of him and runs in their direction. 

Their small guard follows them swiftly, banners and swords drawn surrounding the stranger who has their sword drawn on their King, protecting them. 

Peter reaches them first and hugs them arms around their shoulders, heart beating threatening to burst out of his chest and gripping into the material of their cloths. 

“ You are here,” They whisper and sobs. 

Peter is in tears and tightens the grip on them. “ So are you.” 

They separate from the hug and they caresse Peters's face, tears running down their faces matching Peters. “ You look just like the day we met,” They say softly and chuckle a bit. 

Peter sobs and nuzzles into their palm, “ And you look just like the day I lost you.”

-

here it is everyone! hope you enjoyed it! it's a small thing that has been in my mind since I was literally a child. I might develop the idea more but it would be with an actual character but I wanted to put it out to the world first as something anyone can see themselves or their character in!

[oxenfreeao3]

This is your semi-regular reminder that fanfic is mainstream.

And I don’t mean, “oh, we talk about Ao3 more openly now.” I mean fanfic is paid for and distributed by major publishing houses.

Like, what do people think books like “The Song of Achilles” even are?

I will holler about this until I’m dead:

The delineation between “cringe” and “not cringe” hinges entirely upon copyright law.

You can publish New York Times Bestselling Fanfic so long as your source material is old enough.

[starsfic]

Super, super, cracky LMK idea: What if Azure Lion and or Macaque tried to (presumably magically) baby trap Wukong?

Anon: The Peng, Azure Lion, Macaque and Son Wukong love Square (rectangle?) is somehow getting more melodramatic. Yellowtusk must constantly suppress his urge to run away screaming. DBK however? He's tempted to see how worse he could make it.

"What...happened?"

Yellowtusk sighed, staring at the chaos that had consumed the dining room. The Demon Bull King stared, unsure whether to laugh or rescue Sun Wukong. Azure Lion and Macaque, both holding egg-shaped stones, were furiously arguing. Peng gripped Wukong's collar, shaking the golden monkey, who just seemed a bit upset.

"So...Azure and Macaque somehow..." Yellowtusk sighed. "I'm still not sure how, but somehow both managed to make a magic baby with Wukong." He rubbed his temples with a sigh. "Peng's pissed and both of them are arguing over who is Wukong's heir."

DBK nodded, a gleam of envy shooting through his eyes before he raised a brow. "And how does Wukong feel about this?"

A squawk and a "HEY!" interrupted the elephant. Wukong shot overhead, leaving Azure and Macaque to gape at their empty hands. as Wukong disappeared deeper into the mountain, probably heading to his private chambers.

Yellowtusk just sighed. "Please tell me you have wine."

DBK pulled out the bottle.

[eywaseclipse]

We’ve all seen the concept and fanart surrounding Varang. Leader of the ash people. So I took some artistic license and made her younger sister: Vitani.

Surely someone would oppose her at some point. Why not a relative? Her headpiece is made from the red frilled scales of their Komodo dragon-like creatures they ride on their volcanic terrain. What are your theories for the ash clan na’vi? Drop a reply or ask! Let’s get excited again!!! 🔥🪨🌋

Tap for quality bc tumblr..

[uselessalexis165]

Even trapped in the scroll, Red Son still gets pushed to the side lines 😔

[onceuponapuffin]

Fanatic Intervention Part 10!!

Part 10 whaaaaaat??

Alright, so idk if any of you have actually been to NYC, so I played it safe on that end. But I have been (just once), and if you haven't ever heard of Ellen's Stardust Diner, I highly recommend you run (not walk) to Youtube or TikTok or something and search it up. Those folks are amazing, and I had to give the place a nod. Because come on, Aziraphale would LOVE to be served by singing waitstaff.

Beginning || Previous || Next

*********************

You had all gone downstairs for dinner that night (you were not dressed fancily enough, but no one noticed so you pretended you weren’t feeling inadequate the whole time). Aziraphale ate, Crowley watched, you watched them while you ate, Anathema just ate because she’s the only rational one in the group here, let’s be honest. The second you got back into the room apartment suite, you crashed and were dead to the world until morning.

And so, you wake up, yawning and needing coffee, but otherwise alright. You make your way out of your bedroom, and find Anathema sitting at the large dining room table surrounded by papers, tarot cards, rune stones, crystals, a pendulum, and books. She’s frantically writing on a piece of paper.

“Good morning!” You say as you approach her. She looks up from her work.

“Oh, good morning. How are you feeling?”

“I’m alright thanks. What time is it?”

“Um...about 12:30.”

“Gosh, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. A lot happened yesterday and you needed to recoup,” she replies with a shrug. You are so grateful for her understanding, but decide to put the effort into not dwelling on it.

“How’s it been?” You ask, nodding at her papers. Anathema sighs.

“Well, I haven’t made any headway yet.”

“Anything I can do?”

The doorbell rings. There’s a doorbell?? Of course there is.

“Oh!” You hear Aziraphale call from one of the living rooms. “That will be the crepes! ENTAAH!” You snort a laugh through your nose. From here you can’t tell if there’s a feather boa, but you can practically hear a feather boa in his voice – you don’t need to see one. Anathema sighs.

“I need...I NEED for you to get one of them out of my hair for a bit. If one isn’t ordering room service, the other one is prank calling the front desk. There’s a mountain of toiletries in the living room, and the doorbell won’t stop ringing. It’s driving me crazy.”

As if on cue, you hear Aziraphale calling from the door: “Crowley! We have enough shampoo!”

Well, babysitting supernatural entities wasn’t exactly the way you thought this would be going, but who are you to argue with Anathema? You nod.

“Any preference which one?”

“No. Just...one of them.”

“Yeah, okay. Give me five minutes.”

“Thank you.” She puts her head in her hands for a moment while you go to get yourself ready.

---------

You and Aziraphale walk down the sidewalk towards Times Square, sipping on frappucinos. Aziraphale had been skeptical about the drink until he saw the mountain of whipped cream and the caramel drizzled on top.

“Have you been here before?” He asks you casually. You shake your head.

“No, but I spend a lot of time on the internet. So I’ve heard things. You can learn a lot just by lurking.” You swirl your straw around the frozen coffee to mix in the last of the whipped cream. “Have you? I mean you and Crowley have been practically everywhere, right?”

“I’ve been once. But it was a very long time ago now. I came for the World’s Fair in 1939. Marvelous, really, the technology at the time. Not nearly as fascinating as how technology ended up evolving of course.”

“Technology isn’t your thing, though,” You say, raising an eyebrow.

“I prefer to admire it from a distance, but I can appreciate it all the same.”

You think about how he has a driver’s license, and the ancient computer in his bookshop. Besides, how would he make tea without a kettle. It makes sense.

“So,” Aziraphale begins, “What is this venture that you need me to accompany you for?”

“Oh I think you’ll like it,” You say with a smile. Aziraphale raises his eyebrows quizzically.

“Oh?” He asks, intrigued, as he takes another sip of his drink.

“Broadway,” You say. Aziraphale’s face lights up.

“Oh!”

“I figure,” You say, “What a shame it would be to spend time in New York City without seeing a show on Broadway. And I’m not sure I trust Crowley’s theatre manners.”

“I understand why you would have that opinion. He can be rather a handful,” Aziraphale says thoughtfully, as though he hadn’t been driving Anathema to insanity himself. “But I assure you, I’ve seen nothing less than exceptional behaviour from him when the two of us have gone together.”

“Well yeah, but that’s with you. There’s a difference,” You tilt your drink towards the angel to emphasize your point. He hums thoughtfully. “So,” You continue, “I figure you and I go see a couple shows. I think we have time for two of them so how about I pick one, then you pick one?”

“I think that sounds like a rather splendid day, in fact,” he says, finishing off his drink and disposing of it in the nearest recycling can.

“Great,” You say, “My pick first.” You dispose of your empty drink container as well, and pause to let the suspense build. “And I choose The Lion King.”

Aziraphale’s face scrunches up.

“Is it bebop?”

---------

Dear Reader, Aziraphale likes Lion King. He does not, however, like I Just Can’t Wait to Be King, or anything to do with Timon and Pumbaa. He is an angel that can forgive many things, but apparently he draws the line at “bebop” and fart jokes.

“I just don’t understand why it was necessary,” he says with a wince afterwards, “And in an adaptation of Hamlet of all things!”

“You say that like your friend Will didn’t write a thousand dick jokes.”

“I suppose,” Aziraphale doesn’t sound convinced. “The rest of it was lovely though,” he adds in a brighter tone, “Breathtakingly artistic, in fact.”

“It really was, wasn’t it?” You say with a sigh. In your hand you hold a bag full of merchandise from the show’s gift shop. Aziraphale bought an artbook. “Do you have a choice lined up?”

“I do indeed,” Aziraphale smiles and waves his hands in a rainbow-motion, “The Phantom of the Opera.” His face has so much joy in it.

Watching Aziraphale experience things is mesmerizing. The ways his face moves, the way his voice shifts around when he gets all excited, the way he gasps so audibly when the performance surprises him. It’s an incredible thing to behold, and you absolutely understand why Crowley spends so much time doing it.

“Well before we go see Phantom, I need some food.”

“Oh! Do you have any ideas where to go?” He leans towards you conspiratorially. “Any secrets you heard while Lurking?”

“Well,” You reply, playing into his game, “I have heard stories of a place called Ellen’s Stardust Diner, and I think you’ll like it.”

“And what makes you think that?” His eyes are sparkling with intrigue. Damn. You have to try and keep your knees from buckling, it’s so intense.

“Two words,” You say, “Singing. Waitstaff.” You hadn’t thought Aziraphale’s face could get brighter, but it does, and so you add the cherry on top, the trump card, the finishing blow: “And they take requests.”

-----------

Dinner was great, dessert was fabulous, Aziraphale was willing to put up with the bebop. Especially after you suggested he request a ballad, and they not only took it, but did a wonderful job of it. Phantom was long, but you both enjoyed yourselves.

Why am I suddenly speeding through this, dear Reader? I’m glad you asked.

When the both of you finally return to the hotel, it’s late. Anathema is still hard at work and you notice a definite...lack of Toiletry Mountain. Crowley is sat demurely at the kitchen table with a glass of whiskey.

“Are you okay?” You ask him carefully.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Crowley replies. You look at Aziraphale and shrug. The angel shrugs back before going to grab himself a drink, and you go see Anathema.

“Hey,” You say, “How’s it going?”

“Oh, much better!” She says, looking up at you brightly, “I managed to get things under control, and I got some very promising readings from the top of the Empire State Building.”

“I’m sorry, you went where? How??”

Anathema smirks and glances over at Crowley, then back at you.

“A witch has her ways.”

“And what happened to all the shampoo?”

“I made him give it back and apologize.”

“I...what….” You sputter. It takes all you have to sit down in a chair instead of just fall over. “How do you do this?” You ask, impressed.

“What do you mean?”

“In every fanfiction, in every alternate universe, how do you do this?” You gesture at the kitchen where you know Crowley is still quietly sat, listening to Aziraphale recount your day. Anathema smiles broadly and slides her glasses back up her nose.

“You can’t expect me to give away all my secrets, now.”

Have you ever before been in a room where you so intensely love everyone in it? If not, you have now.

❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 🖤

Beginning || Previous || Next

[sleuth-draws]

LOVESICK (part 4) - Close to You < prev | next >

Vitani has been acting strange.

Well, she always acts strange; that's kind of her thing sometimes. But stranger than usual.

Kiara has noticed that her friend can't quite keep eye contact anymore, often darting away quickly. When Kiara comes close to nuzzle her, groom her, even just to chat, she's been insistent on keeping more distance than usual, scooching away with an awkward and very unsubtle clearing her throat. On top of that, she's being leaving the den at night more and more to pace and grumble. Vitani might think she's being discrete but Kiara knows her enough to be able to tell when something's wrong. She's started to worry that her dear friend has started to lose sleep.

She's more than familiar with the old Vitani -- the quiet broody lioness who most times couldn't stand to stick around the pride, more out of habit than preference. She's reminded now of that Vitani.

There's no one she's enjoyed seeing come out of her shell more than Vitani. Except Kovu, of course. But she loves getting Vitani to crack that crooked smile of hers, getting her to loosen up and see that there's no immediate threat to look out for anymore. Kiara never bore witness to the atrocities Scar inflicted upon the Pridelands but she thinks witnessing how her new friends have been affected by Zira's tyrannical reign is the closest thing to it. The lack of food, the lack of support, the lack of love. She can't imagine what that's like.

Kiara does realize her privileged position; she's the Princess of the Pridelands for gods' sake. She knows she could never come close to knowing what it's like to suffer this greatly or to feel the after-effects of cruelty. But it's all she can do to check in on those who have.

So when her training lets out at the first sign of sunset, she spares Kovu a halfhearted nuzzle before going off in search of Vitani as she always does.

She's not at the watering hole, nor the fields, nor in the shady spot where they play-fought just a few days ago.

Hm. The Guard must have finished late today.

Kiara heads back to the Rock to visit the lair and approaches just in time to see Vitani exit with Imara at her side. The two are speaking with hushed tones and standing rather close. Vitani ducks her head in laughter and Imara nuzzles her side.

A pit forms in Kiara's gut. Huh. She must be hungrier than she thought. Yeah. That must be it.

Before she knows it, she's trotting towards them, calling, "Hey, Vitani!"

Her friend perks up instantly, those big ears of hers at attention. She looks hesitant but smiles at her nonetheless. Kiara grins as she makes her way over.

Imara nudges Vitani with her shoulder almost smugly, before bidding her goodbye and offering a respectful nod in Kiara's direction just as she comes face-to-face.

"Hi," Kiara breathes, only a little winded from her hurried journey over.

"Hi," Vitani breathes back, though she doesn't look tired at all.

Kiara tilts her head at her tall friend. "How was patrolling today?"

"Eh, it was fine. Imara just left to report to your old man. Had to chase off some mangy rogue who thought he could flirt with me and the Guard. Unfortunately, he was stubborn enough to let things get violent."

"Ugh, he sounds awful."

"Oh, he was," Vitani barks out an amused laugh, "But I knocked him flat and he ran away scared."

"Ha! You sure showed him," Kiara chuckles, finding herself circling around Vitani. She does things like this sometimes, stalking around Vitani as if hunting -- and at one point, Kovu as well -- and she doesn't quite know why. At this point, she's reasoned it's simply a natural habit. "How lucky we are to have you to protect us." She leans in to brush their sides together, nuzzling her cheek to Vitani's. "I missed you, y'know."

Vitani tenses but that's never been atypical. Touch has always been something her friend found hard to get used. "Oh, I, uh --" She clears her throat, thrown off her game. "I-I missed you too." She shakes her head. "But you just saw me yesterday, Princess!"

"I can still miss you!"

A snort. "Yeah, right."

Kiara is about to shoot a retort back when her nose starts to itch and a loud sneeze interrupts her, startling them both.

"Yeegh," Kiara exclaims, shaking her head and licking her nose, "Vitani!"

"What?"

"There's so much dust in your fur! No doubt from that fight. You seriously need a bath."

Vitani bristles. "Ugh, no way." She shakes herself out, ears flapping almost aggressively. "Look, I'm totally fi--" When she takes a step forward, her foreleg buckles and she stumbles, catching herself with the other foreleg.

"Vitani!" Immediately, Kiara is moving in to assist her.

"I'm fine, Kiara." Vitani grits. "It's just a sprain, nothin' I can't handle."

Kiara looks back towards the fields. Her mother won't be back with food a little while. "Come follow me."

"But --"

"Don't argue with me. Come on." Kiara headbutts Vitani's shoulder and though Vitani grumbles the whole way, they walk up Pride Rock together. There, several lionesses are resting out at the entrance of the den, grooming themselves and each other and sunbathing while they still have a sun to bathe in.

There's a round of greetings when the pair ascend, including Tiifu, Zuri and, surprisingly, Kasi, who are dozing in a pile together. Vitani stares as they pass; Kasi looks away in slight embarrassment.

They find a spot somewhere nearby, still warm from the sun, and Kiara gives a look that makes Vitani sigh loudly and plop down. Kiara settles in beside her.

"Hmph, good. Now..." Kiara leans in and starts grooming the fur on Vitani's neck; immediately Vitani jerks away. "Oh, come on, Vitani."

"I-I-I really think I can do this myself!" Vitani stutters.

"Don't be ridiculous," Kiara huffs. "You couldn't reach that neck of yours if you tried!" She leans in again and when Vitani dodges once more, she reaches with both paws to ensnare her head and hold it securely to her. Vitani struggles but doesn't go so far as to kick at her with her hind legs -- a great sign. "Ha. Good girl."

Vitani goes ramrod straight. Kiara pays her no mind and starts to groom the tuft on her head. Slowly, her friend starts to relax, though she maintains the tension in her shoulders, claws digging into the dirt. Eventually, that too leaves her, pressure rolling off her shoulders till even her claws, trained to be out at all times in attack position, start to sheathe themselves. She breathes a sigh and closes her eyes.

Delight fills Kiara's chest. There's something precious about this. Being able to just lie here in peace with someone once considered her enemy and relax together. To see her realize there's nothing to fear, at long last. Vitani has been scared for so long. She might not like to admit, but Kiara knows. Kovu has told her the hardships they all had to face at Zira's paws, Vitani in particular. He'd been blind to it, at first, giving in to Zira's hate-filled rhetoric and training. But the months after the war had allowed the siblings to open up to one another, where they'd previously been emotionally standoffish.

Vitani was the one keeping their family together. Her closeness to their older brother as both of Zira's neglected children and her admittedly enforced love for Kovu was bridged by her need to do right by her mother. She amplified the admiration for her younger brother among the Outsiders, she kept her older brother in line, and, greatest of all, she was the perfect soldier. Savage and wild and bloodthirsty, eager to fight and, lucky for Zira, eager to please. Because, however small, that was the closest she would get to actual love from Zira.

A transactional, militaristic relationship.

And when at last she defied her mother, she was quickly cast aside.

Where Vitani had loved Kovu superficially, as taught by Zira, there was also the real love of being the only sibling who truly cared for him. They're twins, after all, as easy it is to forget, uniquely linked. That love was smaller, unfostered, buried away, but it was there. Her betraying Zira was what made Kovu realize there was more that needed to be talked about. How could they leave things the way they were? After they'd lost their only mother and Nuka, after not even knowing their supposedly shared father, how could they go on not truly knowing one another?

The months of healing did them well. While Vitani had been reclusive at first, there were times where she was seen with Kovu and she looked truly happy. Now, they're closer than they'd ever been, and Kovu happily recounts their visits together to Kiara.

It makes Kiara wonder: does Vitani fear being cast out again? Is that why she's been so aloof? Is she afraid that the peace is delicate, that it'll all fall apart one day and her value will be reduced to nothing once again?

Kiara will do anything to keep her from feeling that way.

An easy rumble in Vitani's throat draws her from her thoughts. She's nearly clean now, her usually unruly tuft smoothed into a funny-looking cowlick, but Kiara is reluctant to let her go.

"Something's been bugging you lately, hasn't it?"

Vitani's eyes open and, regrettably, a small amount of tension comes back to her. She's quiet for a long time, as if calculating her response.

"It's nothing you gotta worry about, Princess. I'll be fine."

Perfectly calculated, in fact. Something that says she shouldn't press or pry, even jokingly. Something Vitani wants to sort out herself. And as much as Kiara wants to help with this, to get her sleep and ease again, she has to respect it.

"Okay," Kiara settles on, "But if you want to talk, or need help in any way, you know I'm here for you, right? I always will be."

Vitani tilts her head and looks earnestly at her. Her violet eyes are soft, softer than she's ever seen them. A thumping erupts in Kiara's chest.

"Yeah. I know, Ki."

"I-I really care about you," Kiara finds herself blurting, "You're my best friend."

"What? But I thought Tiifu and Zuri were your best friends," Vitani says, surprised, "Or, Kovu? I can never keep track."

"No -- I mean, well, yes, they are -- but I can have multiple!" Kiara sputters, suddenly nervous and not knowing why. "The point is, I...I feel so close to you. I couldn't stand it if you were hurting a-and there was something I could do to help you."

The whole exchange gives Vitani pause and she's quiet for a long moment.

Then, miraculously, terrifically, magnificently, Vitani allows herself to nuzzle the side of her face into Kiara's chest.

"You're my best friend too, Kiara." Vitani smiles that lovely, crooked smile. "I...really care about you too."

It feels as though a storm cracks through her.

She's shaken, almost vibrating in her pelt. Her fur is warm, her mouth is dry -- what is this? She prays -- oh gods, she prays -- that Vitani can't hear her thunderous heartbeat. It would be awful of her to ruin this moment.

But what is it that's afflicted her?

And where did the air in her lungs go?

[lozfanchick]

It's All Coming Back

fic Summary:

MK and Bai He attend the same camp and find out they were adopted by the same people -Macaque and Wukong. They then embark on an effort to get their divorced parents to at least be civil to each other, but lingering feelings make that harder than they imagined. However not all the lingering feelings are negative and love begins to rekindle. But throw in the fact that Wukong was and is already dating someone else and you’ve got a soap opera amount of drama.

This is a “The Parent Trap” AU with a few differences but the main plot line is the same.

Chapter summary: It's All Coming Back

Macaque and Wukong are reverting to old habits and it's rubbing a certain lion demon the wrong way.

[pizacat72]

Here's a headcanon of mine that I couldn't stop thinking about. Tw for major character death

The reign of Kiara and Kovu comes to be known as one of the most prosperous eras of the Pride Lands since Mufasa's reign. Though not without its struggles, their kingdom remains for the most part, at peace. Simba and Nala have long since joined the ranks of the Lions of the Past but not before they got to see their grandcubs.

The royal couple begins to train their firstborn cub to rule fairly and kindly. Vitani, Kion and their friends train the secondborn cub for their future role as leader of the Lion Guard. Timon and Pumbaa are gone but certainly not forgotten by their family and friends. The Circle of Life continues its unceasing turn.

Their pelts begin to gray but their love for each other remains unwavering. The cubs grow in wisdom and compassion. Though their joints have gradually stiffened, their kingdom remains protected. Everything is as it should be.

Still, the Circle of Life continues. Wars are fought, peace treaties are forged, diplomatic ties are strengthened. Vitani passes the torch to her successor. Members of Kion's Guard are mourned. Kion retires to the jungle with Bunga. Time stops for no one, not even Kiara and Kovu.

Kiara begins to grow more tired. The change is gradual, almost imperceptible at first. Long journeys to neighboring kingdoms take more effort. Naps during the day become more frequent for her to gather enough strength. Though she plays it off as exhaustion from a busy life at first, deep down, she knows. The sun is setting on her time.

Kovu becomes worried and is more reluctant to leave her side. He fears spending the rest of his life alone, as he has dealt with nightmares and intrusive thoughts from his past. He knows the rest of his family will still help him through it but Kiara is his strongest support in terms of helping keep the nightmares somewhat at bay.

Kiara becomes sad as she fights to remain with her family. She doesn't want to leave them alone. She wrestles with it for a while before finally seeing Simba's spirit for advice. He reassures her that she can always watch over them but also gently encourages her to accept that her time is up and to get her affairs in order.

Kion is sad and frustrated. Though the two of them argued fiercely at times, they became something akin to best friends. His favorite sparring partner will soon be lost to the stars. He becomes a bit more irritable and withdrawn, trying to hide it from his sister. Of course, she calls him on it.

As Kiara declines further, she comes to accept the end of her journey, whispering love and warmth to each loved one, with the occasional playful vow of haunting thrown in. She implores Kovu to seek her out whenever he needs it and he promises, nuzzling her one last time as she joins her parents in the stars at last.

[lil-pima-stuck-in-a-vine]

Comic strip/short animation prompt:

I really wanna see some art or an animation of Jason Todd and Dick Grayson doing the scene from Lion King where it’s like “dress in drag and do the hula.” Red Hood (Jason Todd for those who are unawares) as Timone and NightWing as Pumba (Dick Grayson). I feel like it would be HILARIOUS

Please if you have the skills and want/have time for a little funny haha, I’m throwing this in the either to be spoken into fruition. 

[sapphira-mydnyte]

Made by me for the HL lovers. ❤️💚

They're free to use, so enjoy them. ♥ Just credit me in a pinned post or whatever you post with em.

[torukmaktoskxawng]

I rember Kayla explaining human things to spider and if we got to point of movies I feel like movies he would enjoy would be

TARZAN-relatable

Lion king

Most Disney movies actually

Moana

ALL OF THIS

If y'all don't think Kayla sings all of Phil Collins' songs from the Tarzan soundtrack to Spider, you are lying to yourselves 😂

I have no idea if the Sky People brought movies and music with them when moving to Pandora, or if they have access to them, but I would hope so since movies and music are my most favorite things about us as a species and I'll be honest, I wouldn't have lasted on Pandora for very long without them.

Tarzan especially has very sentimental meaning to me (probably one of the reasons I protect Spider at all costs). Moana is also up there. I have fond memories from when I watched it for the first time.

Anyway, yes to all of this. If Spider and/or Kayla had a Spotify soundtrack!

[anachronistic-falsehood]

nhw greats fic!!!! go my scarab!!!