#prompt: magic mirror

[the-badger-mole]

Magic Mirror

There were certain things one got used to travelling with the Avatar. Supernatural happenings were surprisingly rare, but memorable. This was what Sokka told Zuko during his first days with the group. Zuko heard him, believed him, even. He processed this new information and thought he had come to terms with it, but now, he was staring out at the world from the other side of a glass prison, and he didn't know how to escape.

"This place is beautiful," Katara said, looking the thick trees and brush leading down to the beach. Zuko's mouth twisted ruefully as he surveyed the landscape. These had once been well cultivated gardens, abundant with fruit and flowers and medicinal herbs. Now it seemed the wild nature of the grounds had reasserted itself, and he struggled to see beauty in the tangled mess. But, he reflected, he and Katara had only been on good terms for a few days. It would behoove him to stay there.

"I guess," he mumbled in reply. "It used to look a lot nicer. But there aren't any gardeners anymore."

"Not everything has to be in order to be beautiful." Katara shrugged. She reached up into the low branches of a nearby tree and plucked a ripe mangonut. "We can't just go and pick food from trees at home. The wilderness is beautiful there, too, but it's not nearly as giving." Zuko cast another dubious gaze, but this time his eyes lingered on the crawling vines of yellow summer melon and the medicinal silver wort growing in the shade of the mangonut tree. Spoils like this would've been heavenly in his days on the run with his uncle. From that angle, he could see how the mess that had once been one of his favorite gardens was beautiful.

"I'm going to get started on dinner," Katara announced a few moments later. "Any requests?"

"Whatever is fine with me," Zuko said. Katara turned and went inside, calling to her other friends that dinner would be ready within an hour.

Zuko lingered at the edge of the trees. There was a small pond with a waterfall dropping into it. He remembered swimming in it as a child, preferring the clear, cool water to the crashing briny waves of the ocean some days. He would tell Katara about it later. She would appreciate it more than anyone else there. First, though, Zuko would have to remember where it was. When he'd gone before, his cousin, Lu Ten had always led the way. He thought he remembered roughly the direction, though.

After half an hour of walking, Zuko had still not found the pond. He didn't remember the grounds of the summer palace being quite this extensive. Was he even still on the grounds, he wondered. The vegetation was growing thicker around him. He had to pull out a sword and cut a path for himself. If he didn't find the pond in the next ten minutes, he told himself, he would turn back. As it was, he would be late for dinner regardless, but he was loathe to give up.

He was about to make good on turning back when something caught his eye just a few yards ahead. Something was glinting between the trees up ahead. It wasn't the pond, he was certain, but he couldn't think of what else it could be. He pushed through the trees and found himself in a small clearing. This wasn't here before, he thought. Then he spotted what had caught his attention in the first place.

The mirror was large and ornate. There was no way one person could have carried it alone, even back when there were actually paths through the forest. It towered above the leaf littered ground, and the frame was solid tea-oak. What was strangest of all, though, was the condition it was in. The polished wood gleamed, as if a fresh coat of lacquer had been applied that day. The glass was clear, and unbroken and clean. Zuko and the others had been in the summer palace for nearly two weeks at this point, and Zuko was certain that if anyone else had been on the grounds, they would've noticed by then. Then again, the grounds were also much bigger than he recalled. But who would've done so much work upkeeping this mirror when they could've been squatting in the palace?

Zuko stepped forward to inspect the mirror. He pushed at it, but it was just as heavy as he thought it would be. Too heavy to be standing without a wall to support it, in fact. He bent low and inspected the base. The mirror was held in place by equally heavy looking feet that the mirror slotted into, but strangely, the wooden feet seemed to be stuck in the ground. As if they had been carved there. As if they had grown there. Frowning, Zuko circled the mirror, looking for what he wasn't sure, but he ran his hand along the edges and the back as high as he could reach (the mirror stood a good three feet taller than him). There was nothing unusual about the mirror though, except for it being in the woods. He went around to the front of it and looked at the glass. There was nothing unusual there either. Until he looked at his reflection.

The Zuko in the glass was grinning at him in the most unsettling way. Zuko, gasped and tried to stumble back, but the mirror Zuko's hand shot out through the glass and grabbed Zuko's arm. Instead of shattering, the glass rippled as if it were made of liquid. Then Zuko felt himself falling forward. He passed through something cold. When he looked up, he was in some nebulous dark space. The forest was gone. Then he heard the sound of knuckles on glass and he spun around. The mirror Zuko peered in at him from the forest where the mirror stood. His malicious grin widened and he waved good bye before disappearing from view. Zuko rushed forward, ready to break through the glass and stop whatever that...that thing was. He slammed into the pane and ricocheted off of it. Zuko stared up at the glass in disbelief. Cautiously, he stood up and pressed his hands against the now unyielding glass.

"Hey!" he shouted. He scanned the clearing as far as he could see looking for the thing that looked like him. "Hey! Let me out!"

For @zkmythicalcreaturesweek

Day 1: Magic Mirror

Part 2

[justaz]

Yeowch jumping from foot to foot as I throw a hot pan in the air then catch it again as my hands burn

Arthur knowing about Daegal’s importance and significance to Merlin as he watches Merlin cradle the boy’s head and cry silently when he dies protecting Arthur. Merlin insists that he will be the one to put Daegal to rest but it won’t be in Camelot, not under a Pendragon crest which is like a stab in the heart to Arthur’s already heavy guilt at someone dying for him, someone Merlin deeply cared for. But he understands. (Not really - can’t remember if the boy was a Druid or not but I’m gonna say he was because that makes the most sense bc Merlin was referring to the fact that he didn’t want to put another Druid to rest in a kingdom where so many of their kind has been hunted and slaughtered. Arthur thinks Merlin blames him. He doesn’t. Maybe a little but not really.)

Anyways, Merlin sets off into the woods to bury Daegal outside of Camelot, on the border of the kingdoms so he doesn’t belong to any one nation where his people have been killed. He thinks he goes it alone. Arthur follows far behind. Merlin puts Daegal to rest then kneels by his grave long into the night when magic grows stronger and Daegal’s spirit visits him before departing to the Otherworld. He thanks Merlin for giving him something he had not realized he needed - kindness, compassion, love. He thanks him for putting him to rest and says he is back with his mother now, so he’ll be alright. Merlin watches him go and spends the rest on the night still kneeling beside his grave.

When morning finally comes and he gets up to leave, he finds a horse a few yards down the path with a figure waiting for him. Its Arthur. He looks like he hasn’t slept a wink all night. Merlin slowly shuffles over and watches him for a moment before calling out his name. Arthur turns and takes in Merlin’s bedraggled appearance which Arthur mirrors, miserable and guilty - Arthur blaming himself, Merlin blaming himself, Arthur thinking Merlin blames him, Merlin tired from losing people.

Merlin stares for a moment before asking quietly, “You’ve been here all night?”

And Arthur just stares back and whispers, “I didn’t want you to feel that you were alone.”

[mylittleponyauprompts]

An AU where one of the Pinkie Pie clones that got blasted back to the mirror pool wasn't sent back to the depths. Instead, the mirror pool spit them back out, scarred and without a cutie mark. They still vaguely look like Pinkie, but they have differences now. Like the huge star shaped scar on her chest where Twilight Sparkle struck her with that spell, and a patch of color on both flanks where a cutie mark used to be.

Optional additions-

This ex clone of Pinkie Pie was beginning to gain their own personality and way of thinking before being sent back to the mirror pool. The pool noticed this outlier amongst the pinkie clones it was organizing and spit them out, this section was for Pinkie clones and they were not a Pinkie. Not anymore.

[alpineshift]

How about 5 or 13 for your NicoJack ask?🫶🫶

absolutely!! 💕💕

[5] the darkest depths of a dragon's lair, gold glittering at your feet

There's something eerily haunting about the way the gold slithers and slides beneath his feet.

It's almost as if the treasure in the dragon's lair is alive.

Which really makes Jack wish the rest of the adventuring party would shut the hell up. They have zero common sense, this lot, and his nerves have already been frayed by the dozens of close calls they'd experienced on their journey here.

Not that he should expect much from a group whose sole purpose is to get rich quick.

While the others jeer and make a ruckus through the trove, Jack sneaks off towards the back of the lair. The tiny shard of ceramic, hidden away in its case on a string and tucked away beneath his tunic, rattles tangibly, almost tugging Jack through the mess towards its lost parent. He's so damn close.

This deep into the mountainside, the air feels heavier, colder. The light of his torch is a meagre flicker against the towering walls, all laden with treasure. Jack shudders to think how long it would've taken him to dig through the mess.

The shard suddenly jostles in the case, and Jack whips around, scanning the layers before him. Gold, gold, more gold, but he's not looking for that, he's looking for--

White. Jack immediately tosses his torch aside and digs through the treasure until his hands close around the coveted piece: a mirror, enclosed by a beautiful moon-white ceramic frame that's missing one tiny chip. Jack exhales, giddy, and picks it up.

"What are you doing?"

Jack yelps, almost dropping his prize. Standing a few paces away, watching him dig, is Nico the Swordsman, a member of the party. Jack hadn't heard him sneak up at all.

Nico's gaze flickers down to the mirror in Jack's hands. His brows furrow. "What on earth do you want a mirror for?"

"I don't have time to explain it," Jack says shortly, tucking the piece quickly into his rucksack. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Nico's whole body jolt, like he'd been about to reach forward, but caught himself in time. Unnerved, Jack side-steps him.

"Alright, I'm going. I've got what I came for, I'm not waiting around to get eaten by a--"

Nico's hand comes down and grabs hold of Jack's elbow, and pulls him, hard, until Jack is tumbling into the gold with a shout. Nico follows him down, knees hitting the piles of precious metal with a jarring rattle. Jack gapes up at him, stunned silent, like the rest of the cave.

Wait. It's silent. Why can't he hear the rest of the party?

Instinctive dread curdles in his stomach, and Jack clutches his rucksack to his chest. Was it just his imagination, or are Nico's eyes darker, pupils longer, almost more reptilian than he'd first noticed?

"Nico," Jack whispers. "Where's everyone else?"

Nico tilts his head. The movement is almost too fluid for him to possibly be human. Suddenly, Jack has a flashback to Nico introducing himself at the beginning of their journey. He'd brought with him a dragon-slaying sword, and had been accepted almost immediately by the party with instructions to protect everyone with it should the dragon appear during their raid.

But Nico had never once said that the sword belonged to him.

"I'm curious," Nico says softly. His finger traces over Jack's cheek; the nail long and curved, like a talon. "All those men hungered for the gold, the shiny pieces, the lustrous metals. But you--all you wanted was a mirror. A magical mirror, yes, but just a mirror nonetheless."

Jack gulps, but he can't take his eyes away. Nico may look terrifying right now, but the way his eyes glitter, brighter than any of the gold in the (no, his) lair right now, is stunning.

"So tell me, Jack," Nico prompts. He smiles, too knowing, too dangerous. "Out of all the priceless pieces here, why would someone as beautiful as you choose this simple piece?"

it’s almost hockey season again! send me a jacknico prompt?

[terresdebrume]

It is with a heavily resigned heart that I am starting to consider giving a try to daily affirmations

I genuinely can't explain how stupid the concept feels to me, like by all means this entire fucking thing shouldn't work, okay?

But I'm tired of stumbling into self worth issues I didn't realize were still there and I'm not in a position to try therapy rn, so I figure what the hell, I might as well fucking try it

Now the question is where do I find one that don't make me want to rip my teeth out

[theplightofthepterodactyl]

Story Idea

"The evil queen was never the fairest in the land..."

A story where the evil queen is ugly, has been ugly her whole life. Her own mother deemed her a failure, and she has so much trauma linked to her appearance that she avoids mirrors entirely, and yet craves the kind of attention she's seen pretty people get.

The king loved her regardless, fell in love with her fiery personality. And the evil queen loved the little princess, Snow White.

But the evil queen had a mirror, gifted to her long ago. And it was her guilty pleasure, the only concession she gave to her vanity, to ask it every day, Am I the fairest in the land?

And the mirror, always, said yes.

The queen and the mirror grew close over the years - He didn't quite know what he was, but he was content being a mirror. And he loved the queen dearly, felt for her like a sister, a best friend.

So one day he saw how sweetly the queen loved the little princess, and he had an idea. The next time the queen asked, Am I the fairest in the land? The mirror responded, No, it is the young princess Snow White. He thought she would forgive it. He thought she would see that it was the truth, and that the truth was okay. He thought that she could finally be free of her vanity, be happy in her own skin. But instead... Instead.

[kalosian-woods]

Um. Form your scene subvert ask thing. I bestow upon thee XY084 ("Adventures in Running Errands!") or XY037 ("The Cave of Mirrors!")

“Ash! We’ve been looking for you!”

The boy turned around, his face feeling like it froze in place for a few seconds. His body too. Maybe even his mind, right? It sounded like his friends… but it couldn’t be, right? He fell through the portal. Or the wall. Or…

He glanced behind him, feeling his brow furrow. The smooth surface of the crystal winked at him. His face flushed, and his chin ducked into the collar of his jacket. He didn’t like looking at his reflection much, after all. “’M here,” he mumbled, voice seemingly louder than it actually was and bouncing off the walls.

Somehow his friends find him, incredulous looks etched on their faces as they finally meet. There was Clemont, looking strangely winded, and little Bonnie next to him, shooting her brother an annoyed look… and…

Ash turned his gaze away, that rising feeling choking up his throat once more. He couldn’t bear to hear what she has to say—

“Thank goodness you’re okay, Ash!”

His heart stopped. “Huh?”

Her shoes shifted forward, her voice tapering off in an uncertain question. He knew that there was something wrong with this place, but it couldn’t have been that wrong, right? “You know you’ve got to stop running off like that!”

And there it was. Somehow he felt his breath flow out of him again, the reprimand a soothing action. “Iwasjust… I dunno where Pikachu is.”

“Pikachu?” Clemont rubbed his chin in thought, his glasses glinting. Ash expectantly turned to Bonnie, waiting for that praise that she always lauded her brother with, but somehow… that was absent. Strange. “We could probably just stay put and wait for him to come to us, instead of running about in here.”

“You… think?” Geez, was everything strange around here? Clement passing off an opportunity to show off his speed? So unlike him. “I mean, I guess. I just don’t want him to be in trouble, of course.”

“Don’t worry!” Bonnie cheered, pumping her hand up. “You know Pikachu can handle himself in a fight!”

An angry burst of lightning that struck all around it, eyes narrowed and teeth clenched and that screechy laugh filled the air, burnt ozone stuck in his nose.

Ash shrugged, looking down again as he shoved his hands into his pockets. “That’s not what I’m worried about,” he mumbled under his breath, before closing his eyes.

There was such a strange feeling of wrongness permeating the space around him. His breath felt stilted, like the very air was wrong.

But his shoulder felt empty. He opened his eyes and stared at the ground, clear as diamonds. “I’ve… gotta find Pikachu.”

The group in front of him glanced at each other, and it was all fine until the looked back at him. Shifting the bag on his shoulders, Clemont awkwardly added, “Are you going to lead the way then, Ash?”

“Wha? I—”

“Are you actually okay?” Her voice again. Ash stiffened and bit his lip, feeling the pressure spread through his body.

Okay (she is never this considerate). “I’ll do it,” he finally said, shaking away that temporary paralysis as he shuffled his way forward, keenly feeling those eyes marking his back. It’s strange, it’s weird, and he would honestly prefer it if they would stop trying to trick him out now of all times, especially since he let them find him instead of leaving them as he said he would.

But for now? The silence was its own gift. It allowed him to think, to map out the area in his mind, to try to feel out where his partner may have gone,

After all—

Sharp claws scrabbling on his body, pointed teeth bared in a savage grin as he looked up at the Legendary and roared.

—It was never a good thing to leave Pikachu alone.

[marlynnofmany]

Science: "Glass is slightly green because of iron oxide."

Science Fiction: "The Matrix has trouble loading that many layers in one place."

Fantasy: "Portal magic is green, obviously. Keep watching. Dunno if something good or scary is going to come out of it, though."

That specific sickly, weird, mottled green color that appears when two mirrors are reflecting each other into infinity is so fucking beautiful… I love you weird nasty green of the aether….

[the-badger-mole]

Magic Mirror Part 2

After a while, Zuko gave up calling for help. Some time after that, he quit pacing and thought. He couldn't get out the way he came in. That didn't mean there was no other way out. Zuko held his hand out and called up a flame, and sighed with relief when fire licked his fingertips. The darkness wasn't dispelled far, but he could now see a few feet ahead of him, and he realized that he was standing on a dark marble floor. He followed it cautiously, wary of what might be waiting outside his bubble of light. After a while of walking, his fire glinted off of something. He paused and stared the circular hole. His fire was reflecting back at him. Hesitating just a moment, he put it out and found himself looking out into a darkened room. A room he recognized. He was in one of the empty bedrooms in the summer palace. His father's if he recalled correctly. Zuko surged forward, pressing on the glass, but it didn't budge. He was in the summer palace, or at least in the mirrors. That was something. Zuko picked up running along the corridor again, stopping an looking out of different mirrors in the hallways, the bathrooms, the foyer. Finally, he came upon an occupied room.

Katara sat in the library, relishing in a rare moment alone. She'd found an old romance novel and was idly skimming it when the door opened. Zuko watched in horror as he walked in. What would this doppelganger do to her? He beat his fist on the glass and screamed Katara's name. He needed to get out of this prison! How could he make himself heard?

"Katara!" Zuko screamed. She frowned, and started to turn. She had heard him! Zuko doubled his efforts, screaming and banging his fists on the glass until he was certain it would break. But the other Zuko slipped between Katara and the mirror, and smooth as a serpent, sat down beside her. He sat down right beside her. Katara's attention was drawn away from looking for the source of the sound and was now nervously focused on the boy beside her.

The mirror creature was murmuring something to her. Zuko pressed himself against the glass, trying to hear what was going on, but the sounds were muffled and both Katara and the creature were speaking too low. Zuko watched in growing horror as the Mirror Zuko leaned closer to Katara and began playing idly with the end of her hair. Katara's face had gone red, and her eyes were wide with surprise, but she made no attempts to move away. Not even a few moments later when he got even closer, until their noses were almost touching. Katara's eyes fluttered, her lids lowering until they were almost shut. Zuko stopped breathing as the mirror creature leaned in to close the last little bit of space...

Katara's eyes flew wide open and she gasped. A moment later, the door of the library burst open, and suddenly Katara was on her feet with the sofa between her and the boy still leaning forward for a kiss. Sokka rushed in, shouting excitedly about his success in mastering a sword fighting technique. He wanted to show them in the courtyard, and asked Zuko to spar with him to show it off. Katara nearly ran after her brother, casting one last pondering glance at Zuko. The mirror creature waited until they were gone before his pleasant smile twisted into a dark scowl.

Zuko banged on the glass of his prison again, shouting for the creature's attention. At first, Zuko thought it couldn't hear him, but then it smirked, turning it's head slightly in Zuko's direction, but not looking directly at him.

"I can see why you like her," it said, it's voice muffled as if it were speaking through a closed window. "I think I will, too."

"You stay away from her!" Zuko shouted, pummeling the glass again. "You stay away from all of them!" The creature just chuckled and left the room, shutting the door behind him.

Zuko ran down the dark corridor, frantically looking through mirrors for a glimpse of his friends. They must have been outside, because he couldn't find them in any of the rooms. His throat was growing sore from screaming for anyone who could hear him, and his body was sore from sprinting the hall and beating on the glass. He slumped against a wall, allowing exhaustion to catch up with him. Despair, he thought, would come any minute, but to his distant surprise, it hadn't. After all, this was par for the course for him. Perhaps he never considered his fate might be exactly this- trapped in some horrible mirror world while he watched his doppelganger take his place among his new friends, and make moves on the girl he...- it was still not surprising to him that just when he thought his life had taken a turn for the better, something terrible would happen. At least he wouldn't have to wait long for death, he reasoned. He was already hungry and thirsty. He figured dehydration would kill him a few days. He just hoped he would have a chance to warn his friends about the imposter before he went.

"You won't die here."

Adrenaline surged through Zuko's body like a bolt of his sister's lightning. Every hair on his body was standing on end, and he instinctively fell into a defensive crouch, facing the direction the voice had come from. At first, he saw nothing, but he expansive darkness, but then he noticed a figure- tall and pale- approaching him from the pitch dark. He was glowing, Zuko realized with a start. The man had long white hair and a carefully sculpted beard. His hair had been pulled into a top knot with a small flame securing it. Through the shrouding of ethereal light, Zuko recognized that he wore the formal robes of Fire Nation nobility.

"It is so good to meet you, my grandson," the man said smiling. "I am Avatar Roku." Zuko gasped and stumbled backwards. He saw the resemblance now. Roku had the same nose as his granddaughter Ursa. The same mouth. The same slant to his eyes. The features Zuko had inherited. He could only gape at the older man- no, the spirit.

"A-am I dead?" he asked. Roku chuckled and shook his head.

"Thankfully, no," he said. "And you won't die here. It'll be uncomfortable for you, but you're essentially immortal here, although you'll still feel hunger and thirst and such. But none of that matters, because we are going to get you out of here."

"What is this place?" Zuko asked.

"You're in..." Roku paused and looked around thoughtfully. "Let's call it an annex of the spirit world. You see mirrors can serve as a sort of gateway, if you know how to use them. "

"How do I get out?" Zuko "I'm not even sure how I got in!"

"You got caught by a lesser spirit," Roku explained. "Some of them are nasty buggers, but mostly harmless. Unfortunately, your grandfather, Azulon was attempting to recruit spirits to fight for him, and foolishly didn't see to it that all the portals he tried to open were sealed."

"Of course," Zuko groaned, rolling his eyes. "It's not enough that I pay for my own sins, I still have to deal with my family's, too?"

"That is, unfortunately, what comes with the territory," Roku sighed sadly. "You will one day be the Fire Lord, and it will be your duty to make amends for the sins of your forebearers. But compared to untangling the mess of the spirit world, that'll be a cake-walk. Especially, if you keep the right people by your sides." Zuko stared at Roku, mystified.

"Are you sure you're related to me on my mother's side?" he asked. "Because you sound just like my uncle." Roku chuckled and shook his head.

"I know of your uncle Iroh, and I respect him a great deal," he said. "I'd be happy to claim him as a grandson, but no. The only connection I have to that side of your family was my friendship with your great-great-grandfather. Now, to get you out of here."

Zuko was waiting once night fell and everyone began to turn in for the night. Roku had gone some time ago, wishing his grandson luck, and Zuko was alone. Finally, the door to the bedroom swung open and Katara entered. He waited until she had shut the door and lit her lamp to begin banging on the mirror and shouting her name. This time, Katara heard him immediately. She looked over at the mirror in confusion and gasped.

"Zuko?" Her mouth hung open in shock.

"Please! Don't freak out," Zuko begged her. Katara stood rooted to the spot, gaping at him. She looked over her shoulder, towards where she had just said good night to her friends, Zuko among them. Then back towards her mirror in confusion.

"What?" she whispered, taking a cautious step forward. Zuko slumped against the glass in relief.

"It's me Katara," Zuko told her.

"Zuko?" She got closer, inspecting the mirror. She looked behind it to see if there was a door or something she hadn't noticed before, but the mirror was attached to the dressing table, leaving a gap of several inches between the back of the mirror and the wall. She moved in front of the mirror and frowned when she saw her reflection in front of Zuko. "How are you doing this?"

"I'm trapped!" Zuko told her. "That-that thing out there, it isn't me. I was in the woods, and there was this huge mirror, and when I looked into it, that thing grabbed me and trapped me in here. You have to believe me! That isn't me out there!" Katara stared at him for a long moment before shutting her eyes and taking a deep, shaky breath.

"I believe you," she said. Zuko hadn't been expecting that. He had planned a whole list of proof of what he was saying, but it all flew out of his head.

"You do?"

"I knew something was off when he came back," Katara explained. "He was acting weird, and he didn't know where the dining room was. And then later he almost...I saw him close up and I realized his scar was on the wrong side."

"What?" Zuko gasped. He hadn't noticed. He hadn't even paid attention to that.

"I thought I was crazy," Katara said. "No one else said anything, so I thought maybe I was wrong, but..." Her eyes swept over his face and she nodded slightly. "I was right."

"Thank Agni," Zuko sighed. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against the glass. His throat closed around a sob and he thought for a moment he would weep with relief.

"How do we get you out?" Katara asked, pulling Zuko's focus back.

"He needs to look in a mirror," Zuko explained quickly. "He's part of this world- the spirit world- so any mirror will do to bring him back in." Zuko was glad when Roku told him that although the spirit needed Zuko to look in that specific mirror in the woods, he didn't need the spirit to go back there. He didn't think he could guide any of his friends to the right spot, let alone trick a spirit who had no inclination to go back there.

"I don't know how to get him to look, though," Zuko said. "He purposely avoided looking in the one in the library.

"Y-you were in the library?" Katara's face went suddenly red, and then Zuko's face flushed, too.

"I-I was just looking for a way out," he said. "I wasn't spying." Katara dropped her gaze and shifted on her feet.

"It's..." she huffed and shook her head. "Whatever. It doesn't matter. I have an idea. Just wait here for me. Don't move, okay?"

"Alright," Zuko said. Then Katara grabbed one of the tarps that had been covering the furniture when they arrived, and threw it over the dressing table. Zuko was plunged into darkness. His pulse quickened, but he swallowed hard and forced himself not to panic. He could trust Katara.

A few minutes later, he heard the door open again. There were low voices and some giggling that sounded like Katara.

"We have to be quiet," Katara was saying. "If my brother catches you in here, he'll kill you."

"Oh?" Zuko heard his doppelganger chuckle. "Don't worry, love, I can keep a secret." They stopped talking for a long, uncomfortable stretch. Zuko tried to peer through the tarp, but it was too thick. He heard footsteps stumbling across the room.

"No," Katara said sharply. "Not the bed. We're not quite there yet."

"Whatever the lady wishes," the mirror creature purred. There was another stretch of quiet. The footsteps stumbled closer and Zuko heard them bump against the dressing table. Then suddenly the tarp fell away and Zuko saw himself and Katara locked in a passionate embrace for a split second before the mirror creature glanced up and found himself staring into Zuko's scowling face. He only had moments to act. Zuko felt the moment he connected with the spirit, and he reached through the mirror- now as liquid as when he was pulled through- and grabbed the creature's throat with both hands. Then the yanked him forward and pulled him through.

On this side of the mirror, the creature no longer looked like him. It was a small, shadowy figure cowering before Zuko. Remembering Roku's instructions, Zuko didn't hesitate. He called up a ball of fire a hot as he could manage and incinerated the creature. It wasn't dead, Roku had warned him, but it would be a long while before it would be able to pull itself together. That done, Zuko launched himself at the glass, landing in a heap at Katara's feet. She reached down and hauled him to his feet, studying his face carefully.

"It's you, right?" she said.

"It's me," Zuko assured her. Katara still looked dubious.

"What did I offer you in the caverns beneath Ba Sing Se?" she asked. Zuko winced, remembering that day.

"To heal my scar with the spirit water," he replied. Katara melted in relief.

"I mentioned that day to the mirror thing," she said. "And he had no idea what I was talking about. He thought we'd had some kind of tryst. I figured it was as good a reason as any to get him into my room."

"Smart," Zuko mumbled. He looked down at his feet, trying to let go of the sudden pang of anger in his stomach.

"I'm glad you're okay," Katara said, hugging Zuko. He relaxed into her embrace. But gradually, as the fear from his ordeal receded, a new realization dawned on him. Katara hadn't known the mirror creature had taken his place in the library, and she hadn't been opposed to a kiss from him. That thought chased away what lingered of his jealousy, and hope sprang up in it's place. Maybe, he chuckled to himself, the mirror creature had done him a favor after all.

The next day, he would take his friends and destroy his grandfather's spirit portal. Then he would find the pond he'd been looking for and take Katara there. It would be the perfect spot to confess his feelings.

Part 1

@zkmythicalcreaturesweek

Prompt Day 3: Cure

[cursedcola]

Prompt: YOU ARE LIKE PAPA!!!! Aka. I'm seeing a trend. The boys are all literal carbon copies of their mommas (or one parent) at this point - so how do they feel having a child that’s THEIR spitting image? In which your genes didn’t even try. Physically...and personality. Masterlist: LinkedUP Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Characters: House-Wardens Format: Headcannons+ imagine (Yes, I know I said I wouldn't be doing bullets anymore...but one more? It's mixed. Can't just cold turkey a gal) A/N: Do I want to make this a series?...I do not know. Maybe? It's really hard to write without the kids having names - and I'm just here like...can I use the names I want? I already made them up in a past post. Would that ruin the experience for people? I mean - it's my stuff and I can do what I want but hmmm.... Warning(?): For this to be, MC's the one who popped the kid out and has reproductive ability to house spawn. Kiddos are biological. Talk of pregnancy and general child-rearing. Use of mother and she/her pronouns to make my life a bit easier.

Riddle couldn't care if his child looked like him down to the last freckle on is butt. What mattered most in that delivery room was that the child came out healthy with no complications. He's the father that doesn't shy away from asking the doctor + midwives questions - perhaps too many, since you nearly toss him out of the delivery room for causing unneeded distress.

In all honesty? Had he studied medicine like his mother pushed - Riddle would've been the one delivering his own child. He copes with stress through control - so imagine THAT scenario.

After birth, he cares much more for the child's skills and manners rather than their appearance. Do they wash their hands before every meal? Say their please and thank you? Do they trust him enough to state their opinions - respectfully, not a potty mouth.

Riddle can and will make them lick a bar of soap if they utter a curse word before the age of 15.

How's their academic drive? Are they social? It's very important that they get along well with others from an early age. He wants them to have many friends.

He's so focused on their personality - aiming to raise a happy, confident, healthy child - that Riddle takes compliments on their physical attributes with a grain of salt until his hard work all those years child-rearing amass into... well, a second less intense version of himself.

He's adamant to ensure the child's homelife is better than what he had growing up. In a way, he misses much while worrying about other things. 10/10 an anxious father, but very doting despite being strict.

"Must I paint a heart on my cheek every day? Why not a crown, or something more fitting us? Like a rose?" his daughter huffed, yet went to paint a large red heart over her cheekbone regardless.

Just like her father, she'd received her invitation to Night Raven. The girl was expecting it, her certainty fueled by perfect grades and a strong aptitude for magic. She did not lack confidence.

Just like her father, she was assured to land in Heartslabyul. Already prepping her cheek-mark before the mirror made any verdict.

Just like her father, she aimed for the position of Housewarden before setting a single foot on campus.

Yet unlike her father, she held no issues in speaking her grievances. She bemoaned about packing, groveled at her mother's feet for her favorite biscuits before living off cafeteria meals, and surely had no reservations stealing Riddle's best fountain pen for her studies.

She keenly resembled a certain ginger that still calls the Rosehearts' household every day despite getting blue-screened by the answering machine.

That’s the last time Riddle allows you to chose the godfather of his child. Ace is an insufferable influence without that power to toss around.

Riddle sighed, plucking the brush from her fingers and pinning her V-shaped bangs back to examine her uniform. He flattens her lapels and redoes her necktie.

His necktie. Gods he’s raised a little thief.

For a moment, as he loops the tie-knot, he's a young boy calling the girl's mother over each morning to straighten her uniform. It's nostalgic, especially with how his daughter squirms under his appraisal.

Definetly her mother’s daughter, he thinks.

It is then that Riddle sees himself through her wide eyes - they're the same greyish blue that were hardened on his first day. His daughter's are much kinder, he notes. She'll easily find companions to eat her meals with.

Her cheeks are full with sweetness- his were too, but by genetic design rather than an extra treat here and there. To this day his baby-face lingers.

Her cheeks were 100% rounded with uncle Trey's spoiling. Not that Riddle could deny her when he'd eat just as much sweets while toiling over papers in his office. He remembers the familiar patter of feet slipping in, tiny hands pushing a cookie on his desk and coating it with crumbs.

He'd scold her to bring a plate next time, but take a break from work to enjoy the moment. Strict yet not domineering. A child that shares should be encouraged, at least that's what one of his many parenting manuals said.

She shared his button nose and tiny stature. Except she loved wearing matching Mary-Janes with her mother, while he wouldn't be caught without a heel at that age. She inherited his height but not his insecurity. Thank goodness.

Perhaps all those comments about his genetics weren't solely in regard to her magical prowess or ambitions. "....Father? Hellloooo?" she side-stepped to grab her bags, just as he reached to flatten her hair for the fifth time. His heart mellowed enough to not scold her impropriety.

"Ah - " Riddle coughed into his fist, " - apologies, little rose. I just never realized how much you look like -"

"You?” She cut in, “Yeah, psssssh. Mother says it at least once a day. About time you listened."

Riddle snorted, pinching between his brows. Yes, of course it was said. Although only now was he beginning to believe it.

"In appearances, yes. Yet your manners are as deplorable as ever."

Leona hopes his children are nothing like him. Which is impossible, since beastmen carry dominant traits when pitted against humans. He's not surprised in the slightest when his child has two little cub-ears atop their head, or that tiny chord barely passing as a tail. A ready snack he threatens to bite off when they misbehave.

At the very least, he hoped for your eyes. His piercing citrine was attractive, no doubt about that. He's not displeased to have them peer up at him from a bassinette each morning. Yet it is your eyes that carry a softness that this palace needs for him to get through his day.

Hey. At least there's no question of paternity. The joke falls flat with the midwives though. 'course it does.

Multiple times, by the way. For someone who claims to dislike loud children, Leona's genes are intent to sire three spitting images of himself.

In every which way - from their squeaky yawns after a mid-day siesta, to the magic flowing in their veins.

"Papa! Look what I learned how to do!"

Leona barely had time to look up from his endless pile of paperwork. The damn thing was near endless, and he'd missed three scheduled siestas just trying to get through the civil dispute filings. His brother spared no mercy in delegating the less 'enthusing' tasks to his 'smart, wise, people-smart' - pah - little brother.

He hated the sea of menial administrative filings.

His eldest daughter was well aware - she hated her homework just as much.

"A stampede's on it's way! Better freeze up before it's too late!"

Which is why she chose that moment to turn her beloved papa's woes to stone. Literally.

The moment her little fingers touched papyrus, the entire stack turned into solid rock. As did the blood in Leona's veins. Sparkly citrine eyes looked at him expectantly. Somewhere in the palace the lioness' tutor was undoubtly scouring to find her, take her back to magic theory, maybe try to cover this up from the other servants.

"You - OI! I needed those - urk, what else have you turned to stone?" he drops the pen in his hand and tries to move the now frozen stack into a drawer.

"Dammit Ki'faji...Where are your tutors? This is exactly why I told your mom combined lessons with Cheka would be a hassle," Leona grumbles and kicks from his desk, quick to check the hall outside. The kid was a bad influence - rambunctious as a twerp and even more riled up as a preteen.

Upon seeing no servants, guards, or even Cheka running up after his cousin - Leona's both relieved and angered.

Angered that his daughter was left alone. She probably escaped to avoid classwork, which he did too at that age but she deserved better. A proper education outside of solitude. One where she could hopefully grow up optimistic about this country and the people inside of it.

Relieved that no servant witnessed her Unique magic. They wouldn't understand. He can't bear the thought of them speaking of her like they did him.

Except it would be inevitable.

Then angered again, because in his hurry her little tail tucked between her legs. She hugged the side of his work desk with her hands fisted at the hem of her tunic. Her lips set in a scared pout, looking up at him past that untamed mane in her eyes. Worried.

"Papa...did I do something wrong?"

He wonders if this is what his father felt like. Being confronted with your own child, knowing that by cruel fate they'd have to face hardships and hatred for something out of their control.

Suffocating. His own throat felt full of sand. The leather on his hands too tight. She looked so much like him. Acted like him. That much Leona never once contested. Ki-Faji bemoaned to the skies that it was like time never passed, and he was stuck in a loop teaching the same unruly child.

It was funny, until it wasn't. "Nah, kiddo. Nothin' like that," he tried to keep his usual drawl. Unclench his fists. Forget about when he first slipped gloves on, "ya gotta warn me before a shock like that. So you finally got your magic tamed down, huh? Good job."

He shut the door and it set closed with a load thud. Leona might have an idea of what his father felt, but right now? She came first.

Ensuring she felt wanted, strong, and damn right accomplished - came first. Everything else later.

So with just a few strides, he swept her up over his shoulder and out from under that desk. She giggled and squawked about turning 'him' to stone if he made her go back to classes.

And Leona made no promises, but set her on the edge of his desk with 'threats' of turning her sweets to sand if she didn't at least try.

"With Unique Magic like that, you'll out-class your cousin before he even catches wind," and a bit of rivalry never hurt to keep the bloodline strong too.

Which judging by his daughter's immediate squirming to go and turn the first-prince to stone? She inherited Leona's competitive streak as well.

Unions between Merfolk and Humans are rare. Roughly 1/100 and that is giving benefit of the doubt. There were too many boundaries and complications. Prejudice born from history, the need for transfiguration, differing lifespans and culture.

One strong deterrent, perhaps the most impactful, is childrearing. The genetic output - while not impossible - is exceedingly unpredictable. Each species of merfolk reproduces differently, and their genetic dominance when put against a human's gene (especially if the mother is human) can cause complications. Capricious complications.

And as we all know - Azul is not fond of chance. Were his child to be born on land, yet have gills? Their lungs are so small, so new, they wouldn't make it to water in time. The same could be if they were born underwater and needed air.

One thing he is certain of, is that Octopi carry strong genetics. Literally. Should the child inherit his strength its kicks could do much more to your stomach than be a tickle to fawn over.

His mother wanted grandchildren, as did his great-grandmother did great grandchildren. Truth be told he wouldn't be opposed to raise one to leave his legacy to. Yet the Ashengrotto genes were strong with each descendent, so much that when he discovered you were with child? He couldn't be happy. Not truly - because too much was at risk and out of his control.

He prayed, which is not something Azul ever does, that the child would take after you. At each stage of development you were monitored down to the last detail, looking for any complications. Even the slightest hint of a tentacle or incompatibility.

Luckily, the child formed feet. Its first kick scared the hell out of him, but at most left you sore. Yet he wasn't able to relax. Not until you were taken care of in the best hospital on land, with a literal aquarium set up next to the bed just in case.

A medical marvel. That's what this child was.

Not a miracle. Not a blessing.

A medical marvel, and the most beautifully unpredictable thing that has ever happened to Azul in his entire life.

There was no clear picture of how his son might look at birth. He waited with bated breath, mentally running through every text he could find on mer-human unions. Banking on all the preparations He arranged and trying not to bite through his nails from the anxiety. The success rate was too low, but you insisted.

And he was most fortunate, because had you not then he wouldn't be holding the most cherished prize of his life.

The baby didn't cry, yet neither did he according to his mother. He was pale, no gills in sight but the wispy swirls of light gray on his head showed Azul's genes wouldn't rescind everything.

It was hidden from view for now, but there were signs of mixed blood on his son's skin. Plentiful black dots spotted his entire body, too dark to be freckles yet too light to be like Azul's outer skin in his mer-form. Time would only tell if Azul's genes really did overtake all, and if his son would look at the world with wet purple eyes.

Yet what struck Azul the most wasn't these obvious traits, ones he predicted at the very start of your pregnancy after endless nights of research.

It was that right below his son's lip, in the same spot as his father, was a small mole. That truly was by chance with no genetic influence.

He thumbed the little speck, marveling at something so small yet he didn't realize he wanted until it was there.

"You weren't lying, huh? Those are some strong genetics you carry."

Azul balked, just barely stopping himself from whipping around too quick. He turned to scold you for not sleeping, worry ebbing at him all over again.

Yet you rest your head against his shoulder, cheek pressed into his ruffled button down to sink against him. His heart still spun like it did as a teenager.

"Look at his little head of hair," you laughed, and he mutely did just that, "if he gets glasses, then I think my bloodline's finished. Might as well say you did mitosis"

That got him to scoff.

"Hardly," he said dismissively, but his lips pulled to smile regardless, "I don't recall giving him feet. That's all your doing."

"Well excuse me for not having eight legs."

"You are excused," he snickered, "Truly, he would be so much more productive with them."

Azul didn't mean that. Well, partially. Yes his son would get much more done with four sets of arms but with other costs.

You hadn't pressed, and he was grateful.

Kalim wants a large family. Not only because it is expected of him as the eldest Asim, but also because he is a family man. He adores his siblings and does his absolute best to give them all attention despite their large quantity.

He's the most doting husband, and is even more attentive as a parent. One thing he will do differently from his father is keeping his family 'small'. Four children minimum, six children maximum. Monogamous as well. As much as he loves all his siblings, the unspoken tensions are too much to endure. Kalim's also a one-spouse kind of guy, and the thought of sharing - while normal for someone of his status - is not for him. No amount of suggestion or pressure will change that. It is bad enough that his children will be subject to worries about their uncles, aunties, and cousins possibly harboring ill-will. Kalim is set on ensuring that they are part of a true family, one without such tensions, and that he can give them all the love they deserve.

Perhaps he feels guilt as the eldest. He received the most attention from his father as the heir, but he has siblings who barely know anything about their father aside from how he looks. He has step-mothers he has met only in formality, and as time went on there were strains between his siblings that he couldn't ignore. Not after taking his official seat.

Kalim will not be the same as his father. Regardless for his respect and love for the man - No matter what the future does to him, no matter if he lives a long life or one cut short. Kalim will make sure his spouse and children are cared for. He loves them more than anything on the planet.

Should he have a family, and the situation demand it? He'd give up his spot as heir in a heartbeat and move far out into the dunes with nothing but the clothes on his back. All for them to be happy and safe. That's the kind of dad he is.

"Baba?"

Kalim resisted the urge to giggle. His eldest son hated when Kalim acted too childlike, and he was already pushing the boy's patience. He was just past thirteen, his fourteenth birthday already planned for a week-long celebration in just a half-month. It would be the biggest banquet the Scaldings Sands had see since Kalim's wedding. His son would soon start officially training as the next head Asim, just like Kalim did at that age.

Yet it was never too early to celebrate one of the best days of Kalim's life. Which is exactly why Kalim hovered outside the boy's window at an hour long past their family's 'bedtime'. The carpet under his feet familiar as ever, as was his son's exhausted disapproval (we wonder which attendant he inherited 'that' look from).

"Come on! Let's go for a carpet ride. Just you and me tonight," Kalim gently pat the space next to him, his smile adamant, "we don't even have to tell your mother."

His son deadpanned. Even Kalim grimaced at that one.

"Okay! If we get caught, I'll take the hit for both of us. Please? It's such a lovely night out. Perfect for a flight~"

Normally it would be the son begging his father to sneak out, not the other way around. Yet Kalim's eldest was much more mature than he was at that age. Despite being his physical copy, those ruby reds never sparkled with excitement like his father's. They were aways fully concentrated - be it on his studies, his charity, or whomever captured his attention. There came a point when a rumor surfaced that he couldn't possibly be Kalims, yet they didn't reach far thanks to the physical resemblance.

The 'only' resemblance. Since the kid hadn't cracked a laugh since he was in diapers.

Something Kalim learned to accept, but never gave up trying.

His son observed from his bed, the boy's nose wrinkled with thought. No doubt wondering if he should tattle to his mom. He was a doting momma's boy, at least he had that in common with his father.

"Fine," he sighed heavily, and rolled out of bed like it was torture.

Kalim waited, holding the curtain open eagerly until his boy hopped the ledge and sat cross-legged on the carpet's far edge.

Then they were off. High above the city where no one would see. Kalim bobbed his head happily, pointing out buildings as if his son hadn't memorized the entire map of their homeland at the ripe age of five.

"Oh! And there's the restaurant I took your mother on our first date. She loves their Kanafeh -"

"Baba, I know. We have it for breakfast twice every week."

Kalim guided the carpet towards lower ground without a response - keeping air, sassy teenagers, and his messy turban from whacking him in the face.

Only two of those three succeeded.

"Why are we even out here? Shouldn't you worry more about your responsibilities? What if mother wakes to an empty bed, did you consider the consequences? Her worries?"

There came those older thoughts out of such a young mouth. Kalim couldn't help but slump inwards, although his smile still hung on. "You're turning fourteen soon," life will change, "Don't you want to enjoy life a bit more before starting your studies? Baba will understand, you know." he said, and perhaps that was not what his son expected to hear. The boy puffed up. His tanned skin rouging with lost composure.

"I'm not like you. Being al Asim means something to me. Maybe you'd understand if you were a proper sultan who took his job and family seriously! Rather than sneaking off in the night for merry rides on a flying carpet!"

Under the moonlight, his son's perfectly primmed white hair bounced in the wind. Even in sleep he managed to keep his appearance tidy. There were times it was like Kailm was looking in warped a mirror. Those rare moments when he caught the boy lapse, usually with his younger siblings or cousins. When he looked softer, his garnet eyes full of kindness rather than the contempt held in them right now.

Except in these moments too - he still saw a mirror. Just one he wished to avoid.

He too disliked his father's way of doing things, to a certain extent. That his own son felt similar wasn't a surprise. It did not lessen the sting regardless.

"Tifli..." Kalim started, and his son faltered at the endearment, "think what you want, but there is nothing that means more to me than our family."

And even if his son wouldn't admit to it - Kalim knew he saw the mirror too. Just because Kalim disliked his father's choices, didn't mean he did not love him.

He reached for his son without a second thought, pulling the boy down to roughly rub his cheek over his head.

and just like that, Kalim was back to being happy and his son back to groaning complaints - albeit less agitated, to Kalim's delight - and pretending he was much more mature than he was deep down. Kalim's opposite yet perfect little replica.

"Ahahaha!!! Look at you! Just wait until the council has to fight against that fire! I can't wait to bring you with me! "

"AGH LET ME GO!!! WHY DID I EVEN AGREE TO THIS?!"

Papa Vil - now that's one unexpected title to tack onto his Resume. Contrary to what everyone might believe of a superstar leading a life on the go, Vil is proud to be a father. His own raised him while juggling his goals, why should Vil's career deny him the joys of fatherhood?

No. When Vil's daughter is born, he is more than prepared to balance family and work. He locked in when taking a spouse, and is never one to be unprepared.

When you were pregnant, he announced a hiatus in his career just as you entered the third trimester. He can afford it. The public loves a family man. He has money money, and wasn't going to risk missing the birth of his first child while travelling.

Also. Supportive husband to the maximum. Considering you were carrying his child, the bare minimum he could do was be readily available as you go through the roughest stage. That baby had a college fund made and filled before she was even born.

Not that he'd just let her mooch - no child of his would grow up without ambition and practiced life skills. He was not 'aiming' to create a replica or enforce his standards...but she wouldn't lack drive. No Schoenheit - not even you - is going to go through life quietly.

His hiatus was meant to extend until she turned one. Old enough to enjoy life on the road, for you to recover, and give 3-5 years for him to work until she started school. Unlike him at that age, she wouldn't be chartered around as much for his work. Nope.

He already had it planned. She'd be enrolled in a private academy, you'd work as you liked in a good neighborhood, and he wouldn't take any contracts outside of the Shaftlands until she was a teenager. Balance. She would have every opportunity, proper support, and hopefully independence to grow outside of his shadow.

The last thing Vil wanted was for her to be influenced by his career - well, other than admiring his films and being that perfect little face to single out int the audience while at a talk-show or photoshoot.

Speaking of Schoenheit genetics and their blossoming careers - heavens above, he fell in love the moment she first opened her eyes. There were few curly blond ringlets that grew out at super speed as the months past, and she inherited his lavender eyes. Although on a baby they were more rounded, doe-like, and would most definitely take his sharp edge as she grew. Every time he booped her little nose, the little giggle that came was almost melodic.

Such a well behaved baby made a cameo in one of his largest projects to date. He took the role of an unruly ostracized duke, where the special effects makeup made him both enchanting yet horribly frightening to young children. His character gained his redemption through raising an orphan, and Vil's little girl was the only baby they could find who wouldn't cry when seeing her father act so heinous.

"Vil, everyone here is itching to know, is it true that the baby we see in 'Redemption of our Finest ' is your own daughter? There are rumors and speculations from those on set yet we'd love confirmation."

Vil shifts in his chair. The many cameras at all angles did little to deter his focus from the interview in progress. It was one of many, and the talk-host across from him looked very eager to get the first scoop on his latest hit success. He smiled to the camera with his eyes, pretending to be in thought for a moment. The questions were all pre-approved, after all.

"Your assumption and the rumors are all correct," he started, crossing his legs and folding his hands together in them, "unfortunately we struggled to find a child that would not cry when faced with my appearance. Poor little things - it is a struggle to rear child actors. Especially babies."

The reporter blinked, somehow still shocked despite knowing the already.

"And you're saying that your daughter is a cut above the rest?" they asked, and he tutted inwardly. The phrasing was poor, as always with these reporters.

"Yes," he gave them a moment's victory, "and no."

He didn't wait for further inquiry.

"My daughter is remarkable - she is my greatest production, a work of perfection alongside my beloved spouse. Yet this film is rated PG-13, and includes scenes not fit for young eyes. Babies act on instincts alone, and for the majority of this film my appearance was...ah, I so rarely say this, but I was unsightly."

His tone carried warning for them not to twist his words, and the message was received as they gestured for those behind the scenes to alter the backdrop.

"We could even argue your acting ability is that good! To make such a beautiful face and poised demeanor come off as cold." they said, and with the click of a button the screen behind them changed.

On it came a picture of an old, tattered bassinette left on the front stoop of a castle. The picture flicked to show inside, and in it was Vil's precious little girl. Special effects added some dirt on her cheeks, and they wrapped her in a tattered blanket for the scene. Yet despite their efforts to make the child look abandoned, Schoenheit genetics demanded the world see such an adorable baby for all she is.

The audience awed at the picture, even without a cue card. Vil himself took on a genuine lift to his practiced smile when seeing her.

"And just look at her folks! Such an adorable little baby! Can you really expect anything less from THE Vil Schoenheit and Eric Venue's heritage. An actor before she can even count! Your wife's genes didn't even try here, did they Vil?"

The crowd appears insatiable as the host scrolls through a series of photos. Some taken from the film, others from photoshoots and the occasional candid photo snuck by paparazzi. He knew better than to try and hide his family, but said nothing as they all made assumptions.

After all - he was beautiful, and his daughter was undoubtedly the most beloved baby in all of Twisted Wonderland. It was only natural and who was he to turn his nose when faced with one of the few facts these reporters have gotten right.

Although, he wasn't entirely content He laughed into his palm, unable to resist the chance and made direct eye-contact with one of the cameras. Knowing full well that you were watching somewhere back stage, lips likely puckered from being disrespected and just waiting for him to come sneak your family out before the public was dismissed.

"I'm afraid there is nothing to argue there. My genes are perfection, not to mention competitive," he smirked seductively at the camera, propping his chin in the palm of his hand, "but I'm not opposed if my wife would like a rematch for a chance to win the next battle."

And with that - he simultaneously spiked his popularity rating and soft-launched what would likely be a second replica coming to life soon.

Maybe.

If you didn't kill him for that stunt first.

Prodigies spawn prodigies. At least in this case.

Idia never pictured himself as a family man. Hells he never thought anyone would even look at him with anything other than disgust (minus that one ghost lady. He doesn’t like to talk about it) let alone marry him. Needless to say that he cannot decide if you are an idiot or if he has plot armor - because those are the only two reasons you could possibly ever agree to give up your entire life and move to STYX just to be with him.

**see Marriage series for settling THAT can of worms

Yet you do, and now he’s got not only his little brother but a whole ass spouse. He’s on cloud nine. Life cannot be letting him have such good luck. The RNG is rigged

Until he learns that you’re with child - and it all goes boom. Literally. Since not only does his daughter inherit his curse, his fiery flames that never tame themselves, and his spiked teeth that nip his lips way too many times for comfort -

She inherits his genius.

Raising a child in a contained base is a living nightmare.

Raising a child with a need to infiltrate the laboratories and experiment is hell. At least he kept to his room when tinkering as a kid. Idia’s daughter has his brains and your craftiness for going around undetected…and your habit of initiating dramatic events. Needless to say that she does NOT keep to your family’s apartment, does NOT submit to any security (he regrets teaching her how to decode the base padlocks), and very much enjoys making STYX ‘lively’….haha…yeah

No one has ever met such a happy Shroud. Excluding Ortho. He was a sweet type of happy. You spawned a menace.

But let’s not derail. Even if he didn’t want her per-say - Idia loves his daughter. His gut twisted seeing the Shroud curse start taking hold over such a tiny body. She was just a toddler and already burning through enough blot to tie her to this place. He knew the feeling of those youthful amber eyes looking at him for guidance. She looked so much like Ortho as a toddler, and as a child began to resemble him more with longer flames.

It was a constant battle every day. Balancing his work while also trying to do better - because his attitude sucked. He knew his attitude sucked. You warned him about using self-deprecative language and for the most part he did learn to reign it in.

Except old habits die hard, and deep down he still struggles to like himself. Seeing his daughter follow in his footsteps burns brutally, since she has all this potential and just like him she’ end up working for the family business without a choice. All because of these stupid flames and these stupid teeth and these stupid genetics and this STUPID curse -

“MAMAAAAAAAA!!!! DADDY’S BEING A BIG MEANIE AGAIN!!!”

Her shrill high-pitched cry carried throughout the apartment. Idia had just enough time to swipe the alarm system off before it processed. He wishes he could regret putting a system to detect and alert if she was distressed when alone here - but couldn’t. Even now. Since this was totally 100% his fault.

Dammit this kid has lungs of steel.

“Nonononononono - No Mama! No! Shhh shh shh shh!” He grapppled at her little shoulders with clammy hands, “Look! Look I’m not sad, see??? We have pretty hair! Super cool hair! Please please please stop crying -“

And then she did.

The tonal whiplash. The way this tiny manipulator just ceased all her tears, mouth clamping shut with an audible click. A literal child pulling out a handkerchief from her pocket to pat her eyes dry - like some twisted 60yr old swindler at a poker game who’s been training for this moment for decades.

He should have known.

Honestly. Idia can’t even bring himself to be mad. The amount of gaslighting it took to get this kid off his Ninswendo last week already put his best tricks to use.

He is the one who created this monster.

Just like her dad - his little girl was hyper aware of people. Including him, and picked up all his weaknesses. She knew damn well that he genuinely had reason to fear only two people - her momma and her grandmother. Both of which lecture him about being a good model. She knew that system was put in place, and to be good when no one was around to watch her. Not that she ever stayed quiet in their home with S.T.Y.X labs to infiltrate.

He just never thought the day would come, when her demon like tendencies would be used for something like this.

“Your her father, not her friend” his mother said.

“It’s bad enough you turned me into a living photocopier - don’t you dare get lenient with her at this age” you warned.

“That child scares me” he thought, and you agreed. Awful. Awful parents. You both mean it in the most loving way possible.

“Hwee hee hee! I’m glad you think so, daddy,” she grinned up at him all sweet-like, with those pointy little chompers ready to stake their claim. She snapped her teeth at him like a piranha, “hehe~ Mommy says our teeth are cool too. The pointies make eating steak easier - oh! Oh! Can we please have steak for dinner tonight? Please?? Pleaseeeeee?”

Something told him that should he say no, those distress detectors would be set off before he could catch them.

“U-uh…yeah, kiddo. Sure thing. Just go play and I’ll put an order in.”

He tried desperately to hide the quiver in his voice, but knew he failed. She skipped off to her bedroom much too happily - even if father’s were supposed to want their kids to be happy, that was too much - and whatever work remained for the evening didn’t seem important

As Idia slid up to one of the house control panels to check for instant-card delivery, he wondered how this became his life, and if this is how his parents felt having a prodigal spawn of the under-hells for a son.

No. He wasn’t that bad….was he? Did he even want to know at this point?

Boom

“DADDY!!! MY EXPERIMENT BLEW UP AND IS LEAKING RED GUNK!”

No. No. He really did not want to know. For the sake of whatever relationship he had with his parents.

He wants as many children as possible. The definition of that one clip of of the kid who wanted 100 children, so that they'd all have to be his friend. Not that Malleus would force his children to be his friends - well, it would be a plus surely - but he does want a large family to live his life beside.

He finds comfort in solitude, but comfort's close companion is loneliness. He wishes to never be partnered with that feeling. There was opposition. Union between the Briar Prince and a human? Unheard of. Not to mention the life-span difference. Not just between himself and you, but also for his children. Half-fae live long, but not as long as full-blooded fae. In time he will still come out alone, but he hopes to have many memories. Much love and warmth to take with him.

Yet this isn't meant to be sad - no, let us focus on the absolute joy he felt when his first child was born. A boy, his magic exceedingly strong despite his lineage. Even the elders were surprised at the magical prowess this child held. It was almost as if Malleus' nightly wishes for his child to be well, to be loved, to be healthy - taking every precaution to ensure you were well cared for during pregnancy, speaking blessings to your stomach in the dead of night - it all just manifested and out came the world's most perfect child.

A Draconia who would grow up with both parents. He'd be protected, nurtured, loved, and never ever alone. Some might call the King overbearing, making sure his spouse had a desk in his office and attending his meetings with a bright yellow baby sling over his chest. It definitely stood out against his royal attire but Malleus didn't mind.

In magic - there was also physical appearance. Being half-human, the child physically aged quicker than Malleus did in his youth. Yet he still retained the Draconia genes, with two curled scaly horns poking out above his forehead. He had no tail at birth, but around puberty many little scales began to poke their way through at his temple, back, wrists, and neck. No one predicted this since the Draconias have never reproduced with humans, but you tried to calm him with poorly convoluted jokes about ' fancy dragon acne'.

Yet according to Lilia, the boy looked like a near carbon-copy of Malleus once he sprouted up. His hair may have been kept shorter, slicked back, and he may carry himself entirely different from his father. Yet the look in his slitted-emerald eyes was exactly the same. His aura was the same.

And Malleus hadn't any idea how to handle that observation. Surely it was meant as a compliment. In the moment, he laughed and took it as one. Who wouldn't be prideful to see themselves in their child? Especially one so accomplished, growing into his scales with pride and eagerly stepping into his role as prince.

Except Malleus wouldn't, because the thought of his child sharing the feelings he had at that age? It unsettled him greatly. Perhaps one of his worst nightmares as a doting father.

“Father?”

Three sharp knocks echoed in Malleus’ study. He needn’t look up from his book, since the door opened with a thud without waiting for his approval.

Not that he minded - no, quite the contrary. He felt excitement building up at the first knock after all. There was only one person who it could be.

No one would dare impose on the Briar King during his downtime.

None had permission for such rudeness.

No one except his dear family, of course. Although as much as he wished for them to cling to his side and be a welcome reprise from his duties - Malleus was rarely afforded such a gift. His eldest son in particular conducted himself more as a knight or distant consultant than a loving son. Perhaps that came from leaving him in Sebek’s care - as much as his knight was ecstatic to become the first prince’s personal guard, his constant reverence to the elder briar ways likely left an impact on an impressionable child. Instead of bedtime stories, the little Draconia likely fell asleep to Sebek's long-winded lectures on the daily.

Back when he was a starry-eyed toddler, of course. Now the boy wouldn't dare let his guard down enough to sleep, even if his safety was guaranteed. Somehow despite Malleus taking every last precaution to rear a tranquil child, he raised a stickler instead.

“Hm? You look troubled, my son” Malleus met his eldest’s rare lack of decorum with amusement. He didn’t bother to hide a fanged smirk from him.

His son, who seemed to bristle in the doorway when under Malleus’ eye, clearly struggled to contain himself into the proper prince he was trying to be.

“Because I am troubled, father” he grit out, hands flexing at his sides. Sharp black fingernails pricking at his palms.

“Oh? And what seems to be the problem? You so rarely come to me with such matters” - to anyone who didn’t know the king, the sentence read as a bitter slight.

Yet it was merely a father sulking for his son’s attention, in his own prideful way.

“That’s precisely the issue,” his son huffed, “with all held respect, you cannot just drop in on my classes whenever you feel like it! It’s disruptive!”

Malleus merely turned the page in his book, “and whose fault is it that I had to resort to such measures?”

His question met a guilty conscience, and so he continued.

“What else am I to do? My child no longer behaves as my blood. He writes home giving stale reports as if he is one of my soldiers and bids his precious family far too few visits,” Malleus looks up from his ‘reading,’ and gestures to the uniform his son wears, “What else am I to do to see my precious son, other than visit his school? I was a student there once. Your headmaster wouldn’t dare to deny my entry.”

“Father - I understand your anger with my negligence but that is not an excuse for disrupting my classmates -“

“They looked quite please with my presence. I even supplemented material for your lecture -“

“They were scared beyond their wits! - And what of mother?! Surely she was against doing something so drastic! Think of our image! The King of Briar Valley cannot just casually drop his responsibilities whenever he so pleases.”

The boy’s composure finally cracked - and even for a half-blood, his power easily contorted the world around them if left unteathered.

Crackles of electricity buzzed across the study, flickering through a lit desk-lamp. As did the temperature lessen some degrees. Rather than be miffed by his son’s explosion, Malleus laughed in the face of it.

So this is how he must have looked during his moments of impulsivity. Hah.

“You’d be foolish to assume she didn’t try and come along. I thought to spare you her ire, as a mercy.”

At that, the lamp ceased it’s flickering to beam a steady light once again. The teen’s cheeks flushed a shameful color, so rare for one who prides himself more than any of his siblings.

"That was not necessary," he softened almost instantly. Even if she nearly committed the same 'crime' as Malleus, it seems favorites were at play.

"You know with certainty that it was."

A Draconia through and through. What was the term Lilia used? “Momma’s boy”? Considering that none disrespect the Queen - the King included - as her ire could strike the most sore spots of their family after all.

The boy pulled at his collar, out of arguments and simmered to displeasure rather than anger. He muttered an apology for losing his temper, and Malleus found himself wishing for the argument to continue just a bit longer.

After all, these were the times he felt most like a father, a husband, part of a family - rather than a king. He misses the early days when he was only the first three, before the council and other influences pushed his children to focus on responsibilities and their lineage.

“I’m sorry for not writing home…or visiting…I hadn’t thought it would trouble you. I simply - I thought it best to place distance between us.”

“Distance?” Malleus balked, “Distance from your family?”

He couldn’t understand why his child would want distance.

How could the boy he worked so hard to instill belonging within, whom he raised from egg to man, whom he would give up everything for - possibly say such a harrowing thing.

His own blood. His heart and soul. To spew such things in the face of ancestors who were bound to loneliness.

Whatever explanation for his manners didn’t matter so long as he was happy, but to intentionally want to be away from all Malleus thought worthwhile in life?

Never-mind. Malleus wanted the argument to cease. Indefinitely. And to tie himself to this desk for a decade or more.

“Yes, Father. Otherwise it is too difficult-“ he hesitated to continue, but one look at his father- whatever expression he might hold that couldn’t be contained despite his efforts - seemed to be the last push, “- being away. From my family. Leaving. I do not like it, but it is my duty. Coming home, hearing from you, mother, even the care packages I receive from grandfather! I can’t eat them but somehow just smelling the burnt food makes me falter! How can you expect me to preform up to our family’s standards, if I am homesick all the time!?”

It was the first time since he was a boy, clinging to Malleus’ legs, begging his parents not to leave him with his babysitters, that his son cried so openly. Malleus nearly gave in each time it happened too.

The pressure of royal duties, of perfection, on his shoulders was the same as those who came before him. Yet Malleus found himself more relieved than anything, even if his child might never recover his pride.

It was also the first time in many years that Malleus hugged his son, careful to avoid his growing blunted horns, and wasn’t pushed away.

“You are already doing more than enough. Loving your family is nothing to be ashamed of, and it is one of my greatest regrets that you thought otherwise for a single moment.”

[silhouettecrow]

365 Days of Writing Prompts: Day 332

Adjective: Incoherent

Noun: Mirror

Definitions for those who need/want them:

Incoherent: (of spoken or written language) expressed in an incomprehensible or confusing way, or unclear; (of a person) unable to speak intelligibly; (of an ideology, policy, or system) internally inconsistent, or illogical; (physics) (of waves) having no definite or stable phase relationship

Mirror: a reflective surface, now typically of glass coated with a metal amalgam, that reflects a clear image; a thing regarded as accurately representing something else; (computing) a site on a network that stores some or all of the contents from another site

[mylittleponyauprompts]

Kinda head canony

An AU where multiple Pinkie Pie clones escaped from being returned to the mirror pool. After their encounter with Twilight Sparkle, they all realized that they are clones. And an undocumented thing about clones from the mirror pool is that once a clone becomes aware of being a clone, they start to become their own being. The many clones from the mirror pool changing slightly in color, old copied cutie marks lost, new destinies and accompanied cutie marks gained, and gaining their own personality throughout living their very own lives.

[tired-teacher-blog]

Virgin Pro hero Iida whose mind couldn't be less concerned about the subject despite him nearing his thirties.

Virgin Pro hero Iida who usually brushes off his friends' teasing words about him being "clueless around girls" and "surely to die alone" since his one and only goal in life is to be a hero worthy of carrying his brother's title, and nothing more.

Virgin Pro hero Iida who has the habit of scolding you each time you playfully ask him out on a date since he's just so used to everyone's mocking and believes it's what you're doing as well.

Virgin Pro hero Iida who is tragically unaware of your true feelings for him, and for someone who appears to be quite sharp and brainy, he constantly misses the longing gaze in your eyes.

Virgin Pro hero Iida who finally agrees to join you for dinner one evening just to shut you up and put an end to your pestering, only to wind up having a wonderful time with you, away from the usual stress of work.

Virgin Pro hero Iida who starts freaking out the moment he realizes that your soft voice and beautiful face are now hunting him, plaguing his every waking hour and rendering his mind a tangled mess, and the more he tries to deny it, the clearer it becomes that you are no longer just a dear friend to him, but potentially something a lot more than that.

Virgin Pro hero Iida whose peculiar tics seem to worsen around you, prompting your confusion as you watch him lose his composure before disappearing without a trace.

Virgin Pro hero Iida who secretly wishes you would ask him out again since he cannot bring himself to do it no matter how much he tries.

Virgin Pro hero Iida who almost yells his agreement when his wish finally comes true as you casually suggest having a drink together after work.

Virgin Pro hero Iida whose blush refuses to leave his face while he strives to keep his cool around you, beating himself up for seeming like a loser, but is unaware of how adorable he appears to you.

Virgin Pro hero Iida whose priorities start to shift and broaden a bit -to potentially include you- the moment your hand accidentally brushes against his own when walking you back home after your fourth date.

Virgin Pro hero Iida who can never explain the persistent heat waves washing over his body everytime you flash him a smile or call out his name, and in his confused virgin brain, it can only mean him suffering from an illness which seems to aggravate with your presence. Yeah, that must be it.

Virgin Pro hero Iida who almost breaks into laughter when he realizes the real reason behind his inexplicable state the moment you share your first kiss. It was never a virus or a mysterious syndrome that hit him, it was simply you all along.

Virgin Pro hero Iida whose arms shakily sneak around your waist and bring you against his toned chest to prolong this magical moment while your lips are moving perfectly together.

Virgin Pro hero Iida who's unaware of the prominent smile plastered across his face for days now, his eagerness is growing by the second and the feeling of your soft breath fanning over his face as you leaned back from the kiss, is still vivid in his memory.

Virgin Pro hero Iida whose body stiffens -but only for a second- the moment you invite him into your apartment with a suggestive glint in your eye. He's not stupid, and understands your intentions perfectly as they mirror his own, but his restlessness and excitement are messing with his brain and preventing him from voicing his approval, so much so that he ends up stiffly stepping inside without a word.

Virgin Pro hero Iida who's barely able to form a coherent thought all throughout the movie you suggested watching together, and whose only interest seems to be in the way your fingers are absentmindedly playing with his own.

Virgin Pro hero Iida who's just about reached his limit when you clumsily move to straddle his waist and claim his lips in a tender kiss as the end credits roll up the screen.

Virgin Pro hero Iida who curses under his breath when feeling his cock hardening against your restless hips, he wants more but is unsure of how to proceed, or if it is even possible for him to withstand your teasing without bursting in his pants.

Virgin Pro hero Iida who suddenly stands up while holding you in his arms, searching your eyes for a permission to carry you to bed, and stumbling his way there when you shyly nod an approval.

Virgin Pro hero Iida who lays you down gently and kneels before you, a deep flush reaching the tips of his ears as he racks his brain for what to do next.

Virgin Pro hero Iida whose blush undeniably grows when you start giggling at his clumsy state and softly ask him to follow your lead as you guide his moves.

Virgin Pro hero Iida who's a quick learner, promptly takes control and relishes the way your directing words jumble up with broken moans as you finally give in to him.

Virgin Pro hero Iida who is a gentleman, does his utmost to pleasure you, as best as his virgin body allows, and boy does he do that!

Virgin Pro hero Iida who whimpers loudly while feeling your warm walls squeezing him blissfully for the very first time, praying to God not to cum right then and there as the sensation is driving him insane.

Virgin Pro hero Iida whose tears are threatening to spill as he buries his face in the crook of your neck before giving in to them.

Virgin Pro hero Iida who cannot get enough of your warmth surrounding him, strokes, kisses and embraces you all night long while moving slowly and deeply into your heat and taking the time to explore your lustful body.

Virgin Pro hero Iida who breathlessly watches your enticing body splayed underneath himself with the hope of itching this heavenly image of you deep in his memory.

Virgin Pro hero Iida who is proud and elated to have you as his first, it was never about losing his virginity but rather, about experiencing it with the right person, and that is precisely who you are.

Divider by : @/cafekitsune

[unboundprompts]

Hii!! I came across your blog and immediately followed since I thought I might needed some help with my fanfics, and if there's one thing I'm bad at is describing fight scenes with like guns or magic, I've been struggling to write it and did some practices and didn't like how they came out, I'm hoping if you can do some fighting prompts, I hope this isn't too much!!

How to Write Fight Scenes

-> check out @howtofightwrite , they are an excellent resource for writing realistic fight scenes.

Set the Stakes Early

Why are they fighting? Establish the stakes of the fight clearly before it begins. If the reader understands what’s at risk, they’ll feel more invested. Stakes could be personal (revenge, survival), emotional (protecting a loved one), or strategic (achieving a mission).

Use the Environment

Incorporate the setting to add depth and realism. Are they fighting in a cramped alley, an open field, or a crowded city street? Describe how the environment affects movement, line of sight, or weapon use.

Vary Sentence Length for Pacing

Short sentences create tension and speed, while longer sentences allow for brief moments of reflection or description.

Incorporate Sensory Details

Highlight the senses beyond sight to ground the reader in the fight. Describe the smell of sweat, the metallic taste of blood, the weight of a sword, or the deafening roar of a gun.

Example: “Her ears rang as the blast reverberated around the alley. Smoke filled her nose, thick and choking, but she ignored it, tightening her grip on her weapon.”

Focus on Key Moments, Not Every Movement

Avoid blow-by-blow descriptions. Instead, highlight critical moves, reactions, and turning points to keep the scene flowing and avoid overwhelming the reader.

Show Physical Strain and Fatigue

Fights take a toll, especially over time. Show characters struggling to keep up, panting, sweating, or even stumbling as exhaustion sets in.

Example: “Her arms ached, each swing feeling heavier than the last. Her breathing came fast, ragged, but she couldn’t stop now.”

Capture Emotions and Mindset

Mix action with glimpses of your characters’ thoughts and emotions. This adds depth and reminds readers why the fight matters.

Describe Injuries Believably

Injuries impact the pace and intensity of a fight. Showing injuries realistically adds tension and makes victories feel hard-won.

Example: “She hissed as pain flared in her side where his blade had grazed her. Her vision blurred, but she forced herself to stand, one hand pressed to the wound.”

Build Up to a Climax

As the fight progresses, increase the stakes and bring tension to a peak. This could be a devastating blow, a risky last-minute decision, or a surprising twist.

Example: “He was backed against the wall, nowhere left to run. She raised her hand, a final spell crackling in her palm, the light casting a fierce glow in her eyes.”

Conclude with a Realistic Aftermath

Show the immediate aftermath of the fight: physical exhaustion, injuries, and the character’s emotional response. If they won, are they triumphant, relieved, or traumatized? If they lost, what happens next?

Fight Scene Prompts (with Magic)

-> feel free to edit and adjust pronouns as you see fit.

As they crept down the dim hallway, the flash of gunfire exploded from behind, forcing them to dive to the ground, bullets ricocheting off the walls around them. She barely had time to pull her weapon, pressing her back to the wall as footsteps drew closer. With a steadying breath, she waited for the right moment, then spun, firing off two rounds that hit their marks with surgical precision. The hall fell silent, the smell of gunpowder hanging in the air.

Electricity crackled around his hands as he stalked toward his opponent, energy building in his fingertips. She mirrored his stance, blue flames licking up her wrists as her gaze narrowed. He made the first move, sending a bolt of lightning in her direction, but she countered with a quick flick of her wrist, sending the flames forward like a living shield. Sparks flew as their magic collided, the force of it rattling the metal beams around them.

He ducked behind the dumpster as gunfire erupted, bullets pinging off the conjured barrier that surrounded him. He gritted his teeth, feeling the strain as his shield flickered with each impact. His opponent advanced, shouting taunts over the noise, but he focused, raising one hand to push the barrier outwards, turning it from defense to offense. With a growl, he flung the shield forward like a battering ram, the force slamming his opponent back against the alley wall.

They ascended into the night sky, wind whipping around them as spells flew between them like streaks of fire. He could barely keep up, dodging her relentless attacks as the city lights twinkled below. Finally, he unleashed a burst of energy from his hands, the force spiraling outward in a shockwave. She managed to deflect it just in time, retaliating with a beam of light that sliced through the night like a comet, forcing him into a desperate mid-air roll to avoid it.

[theplotmage]

50 Fantasy Prompts: Cultures and Societies. Writers Save this!

1. Luminae

- A society that worships light and revolves around bioluminescent creatures.

- Gesture: Raising both hands to the sky and opening palms to signify receiving light.

- View: Light is considered the purest form of energy and the ultimate source of life.

2. Mistral Nomads

- Wind travelers who harness the power of the breeze for navigation and communication.

- Gesture: Whispering into a small vial and releasing it into the wind, symbolizing sending a message.

- View: The wind carries the voices of ancestors and guides the living.

3. Veilwalkers

- Inhabitants of the mist who can see and manipulate spirits.

- Gesture: Drawing a veil across the face to communicate with spirits.

- View: The world of the living and the dead are separated by a thin veil that can be crossed.

4. Starforged

- People born under specific constellations with unique abilities tied to their birth star.

- Gesture: Touching a constellation tattoo to activate its power.

- View: Stars are the eyes of the gods, watching over and guiding them.

5. Shadecloaks

- Masters of shadow magic, living in perpetual twilight.

- Gesture: Merging fingers into the shadows, symbolizing blending into the darkness.

- View: Shadows are protective, hiding them from danger and giving them strength.

6. Seraphians

- Winged beings who consider themselves guardians of the skies.

- Gesture: Unfurling wings in a greeting, showing trust and openness.

- View: The skies are sacred, and flight is a divine gift.

7. Pyrosages

- Fire-wielders who live in harmony with volcanic landscapes.

- Gesture: Holding a flame in one hand while placing the other hand over the heart, symbolizing passion and life.

- View: Fire is a cleansing force, both destructive and renewing.

8. Aquafolk

- Ocean dwellers with the ability to breathe underwater and communicate with marine life.

- Gesture: Creating ripples in water with a fingertip to convey emotions.

- View: Water is a mirror of the soul, reflecting true feelings and intentions.

9. Silvan Elves

- Forest guardians who blend seamlessly with their environment.

- Gesture: Touching foreheads with a leaf, symbolizing unity with nature.

- View: All life is interconnected through the roots of the great tree.

10. Necrochanters

- A culture deeply connected to the afterlife, able to communicate with and summon spirits.

- Gesture: Drawing a circle with ashes to summon spirits.

- View: Death is not the end but a transformation to another state of being.

11. Stonekin

- Rock-like beings who can manipulate earth and stone.

- Gesture: Pressing a hand to the ground to communicate with the earth.

- View: The earth holds ancient wisdom and the memories of their ancestors.

12. Aetherians

- Masters of air magic, capable of floating and flying at will.

- Gesture: Raising arms and fingers to mimic the flow of air currents.

- View: The air is filled with invisible threads that connect all living beings.

13. Chronomancers

- Time-benders who can manipulate past, present, and future.

- Gesture: Tapping a timepiece rhythmically to alter time flow.

- View: Time is fluid and can be molded to fit the needs of the moment.

14. Dreamforgers

- People who can enter and manipulate dreams.

- Gesture: Weaving fingers in intricate patterns while in a trance.

- View: Dreams are a bridge between realities, holding power and prophecy.

15. Sunseekers

- Pilgrims who follow the path of the sun, gaining strength from its light.

- Gesture: Holding a hand above the heart to swear oaths under the sun’s gaze.

- View: The sun’s light is a witness to all promises, giving them sacred weight.

16. Frostborn

- Ice-dwellers with control over cold and frost.

- Gesture: Exhaling a cold breath to signify agreement or truth.

- View: Ice preserves and protects, holding the essence of life.

17. Songhearts

- A musical culture that uses songs and sound for magic.

- Gesture: Placing a hand over the throat and singing a single note to show sincerity.

- View: Music is the language of the heart and the most honest form of communication.

18. Runecarvers

- Inscribers of powerful runes that grant various abilities.

- Gesture: Tracing runes in the air or on surfaces to cast spells.

- View: Runes are the written words of the gods, containing immense power.

19. Stormcallers

- Masters of weather, able to summon and control storms.

- Gesture: Raising a staff to the sky to summon storms.

- View: Storms are the breath of the gods, bringing both fury and renewal.

20. Plainsriders

- Nomadic horsemen known for their speed and agility.

- Gesture: Drawing a circle in the dirt with a foot to mark territory or signal peace.

- View: The open plains are a vast, sacred expanse that must be respected.

21. Mycologians

- Mushroom-like beings who can communicate through spores.

- Gesture: Spreading spores by tapping a mushroom cap to communicate.

- View: Fungi are the bridge between life and decay, recycling energy.

22. Glimmerfolk

- Glittering, gem-encrusted people who can harness the power of precious stones.

- Gesture: Touching gemstones to channel their energy.

- View: Crystals are vessels of ancient power and knowledge.

23. Thornclad

- A warrior culture clad in thorny armor, known for their fierce combat skills.

- Gesture: Clasping hands with thorned gloves to signify a bond or agreement.

- View: Pain and resilience are intertwined, symbolizing strength.

24. Celestials

- Star-born beings with a deep connection to the cosmos.

- Gesture: Drawing constellations in the air with glowing fingers.

- View: The night sky is a map of destiny, guiding their every action.

25. Inkshapers

- People who can bring drawings and tattoos to life.

- Gesture: Drawing a symbol on their skin to activate a spell.

- View: Ink and art are extensions of the soul, capable of bringing thoughts to life.

26. Mirageweavers

- Desert dwellers who can create illusions and mirages.

- Gesture: Waving hands to create illusions and mirages.

- View: Reality is fluid and can be shaped by perception and will.

27. Echoers

- A culture that communicates and fights using echoes and soundwaves.

- Gesture: Clapping or snapping fingers to create soundwaves for communication.

- View: Sound is a powerful force that can shape the world around them.

28. Ironveins

- Metal manipulators who can shape and control metal at will.

- Gesture: Clenching fists to channel metal manipulation.

- View: Metal is a living force, constantly evolving and reacting.

29. Wyrmkin

- Dragon-like people with scales and the ability to breathe fire.

- Gesture: Exhaling a plume of smoke or fire to show respect or power.

- View: Dragons are the ultimate beings, embodying wisdom and might.

30. Duskborn

- Night-dwellers who gain strength from the moon.

- Gesture: Holding a candle to their chest, symbolizing the light within the darkness.

- View: Darkness is not to be feared, but embraced as a part of the natural cycle.

31. Crystalhearts

- A society with crystalline bodies that can refract light and energy.

- Gesture: Touching their heart crystal to show honesty and purity.

- View: Crystals are the heart of their being, reflecting their true selves.

32. Skyforgers

- Builders of floating cities and airships.

- Gesture: Hammering an invisible anvil to craft objects from thin air.

- View: The sky is a forge, and they are its smiths, creating wonders from the air.

33. Leafkin

- Plant-based beings who can photosynthesize and communicate with flora.

- Gesture: Placing a leaf in the palm to connect with nature.

- View: Leaves and trees are the lifeblood of the earth, nourishing all.

34. Sandshapers

- Desert people who can control and shape sand.

- Gesture: Drawing patterns in the sand to communicate or cast spells.

- View: Sand is a canvas for their magic, constantly shifting and changing.

35. Moonshadow Elves

- Elves who live in the shadows of the moon, skilled in stealth and night magic.

- Gesture: Casting moonlight on their face to invoke lunar power.

- View: The moon is a guide and protector, influencing their magic and lives.

36. Bloodrunes

- Warriors who use their own blood to inscribe powerful runes.

- Gesture: Pricking a finger to draw blood and create runes.

- View: Blood is the essence of life, and through it, they gain power.

37. Dreambinders

- People who can link their dreams to reality.

- Gesture: Twining fingers together to weave dreams into reality.

- View: Dreams are powerful forces that can shape and change the world.

38. Thunderclans

- Tribes who worship and control thunder and lightning.

- Gesture: Stamping feet or clapping hands to summon thunder.

- View: Thunder is the voice of the gods, a call to action and power.

39. Feywilders

- Inhabitants of the fey realm with unpredictable and chaotic magic.

- Gesture: Dancing in a circle to invoke fey magic.

- View: The fey are mischievous yet powerful, their magic a blend of chaos and beauty.

40. Mirrorborn

- People who can step through and manipulate mirrors.

- Gesture: Touching mirrors to travel or communicate.

- View: Mirrors are portals to other realities, reflecting infinite possibilities.

41. Wispwalkers

- Ethereal beings who guide lost souls.

- Gesture: Holding a wisp of light to guide lost souls.

- View: Wisps are guides and protectors, leading them through darkness.

42. Frostweavers

- Ice artisans who create intricate and magical ice sculptures.

- Gesture: Weaving ice crystals into intricate patterns.

- View: Ice is a delicate and beautiful force, capable of great power.

43. Starwardens

- Celestial knights who protect the realms from cosmic threats.

- Gesture: Drawing star maps in the air to invoke celestial power.

- View: The stars are guardians, watching over and protecting them.

44. Emberkin

- Fire-dwellers with control over embers and ash.

- Gesture: Snapping fingers to produce sparks and embers.

- View: Embers hold the remnants of fire’s spirit, representing both the end and beginning of the flame.

45. Oceanborne

- Sea nomads who can control the tides and waves.

- Gesture: Drawing water symbols in the air to summon sea spirits.

- View: The sea is a vast, living entity, a source of mystery and power.

46. Windwhisperer

- Communicators with the wind, able to send messages across great distances.

- View: The sky is a living entity, responsive to the voices of those who respect it.

- Gesture: Moving gracefully to mimic the flow of the wind.

47. Etherseekers

- Gesture: Holding out their hands to draw ether into themselves.

- View: The ether is a vast reservoir of magic, accessible to those who seek it.

48. Twilight Guardians:

- Gesture: Holding a lantern to light the way through twilight.

- View: Twilight is a sacred time, a bridge between day and night.

49. Windwalkers

- Gesture: Moving gracefully to mimic the flow of the wind.

- View: The wind is a messenger of the gods, carrying whispers of destiny and change.

50. Eclipsewatchers

-Gesture: Covering one eye while the other remains open to signify balance

- View: Eclipses represent the merging of light and dark, a time of balance and reflection.

[prompt-heaven]

the ultimate list of AUs, kinks and tropes to inspire you for kinktober 

some of these are darker in nature since that is fitting for the spooky season. 

AUs

academic / teacher / professor / tutor 

addams family

babysitter / nanny

bartender

biker

bodyguard

bonnie and clyde

bounty hunter

boxer 

camp counselor

circus / carnival

cult 

demon / angel

fairytale retelling

fantasy 

farmer

firefighter

guardian angel 

historical 

hybrid

mafia / mob 

magic 

maid / butler 

mechanic 

modern 

monster / mythology / supernatural

paranormal investigator 

pirate / mermaid

post-apocalyptic

priest

prison

rockstar 

royalty

serial killer

sex worker / porn / camgirl/boy / stripper 

slasher

soulmate

spy / secret agent

steampunk / cyber punk

sugar daddy

tattoo artist 

time travel

treasure hunter 

vampire

werewolf 

wild west

TROPES

a/b/o

against a wall 

age gap

amnesia / memory loss

anonymous sex

balcony sex

boss x employee 

brothers best friend / dad’s best friend (dbf)

car sex

cheating

clothed sex

comforting sex

coworkers to lovers

cursed / fuck or die / sex pollen

dark / soft!dark

enemies to lovers

exes to lovers

fake relationship

forbidden romance

friends to lovers

friends with benefits

game gone wrong

hate sex / make-up sex

huddle for warmth

just the tip

library sex

loss of virginity

mirror sex

neighbours to lovers 

only one bed

opposites attract

period sex

pool / hot tub sex

predator / prey

professor x student

public / semi-public sex

revenge sex

reverse harem

romantic sex

roommates to lovers

rough sex

seduction

sex in an alley

sex in exchange for a favour

sex while camping

shower / bath sex

stalker

stepcest

table sex

unrequited love

yandere

KINKS

aftercare

anal 

begging

being recorded / taking pictures

body worship

dom / sub / bondage / bdsm / shibari

breath play / choking

cheating

cockwarming

corruption kink 

costumes / uniforms

creampie / breeding / forced breeding

cuckolding

cum in panties

cumplay

cunnilingus / face sitting / rimming / blowjob / deep throating / gagging

dacryphillia

dirty talk / voice kink

double penetration / double penetration in one hole 

dry humping / thigh riding 

dubcon / noncon / cnc / drugging

dumbification

exhibitionism / voyeurism

fingering

fisting

flashing 

food play 

footjob 

forced orgasm

formal wear 

free use

glory hole

glove kink 

hand kink

handjob 

hole inspection

humiliation / degradation

hunter / prey

impact play / spanking / whipping / hair pulling / pain kink

jealousy / sharing / possessive

knife kink / gun kink

lingerie / stockings / socks

massage

masturbation / caught masturbating / mutual masturbation

medical kink

monsterfucking / tentacles

multiple orgasms

orgasm denial / overstimulation / edging

threesome / orgy / gangbang

partner swap 

pegging

piercings

pillow humping

praise kink 

premature ejaculation / cuming untouched

pussyjob

roleplay

role reversal

ruined orgasm / cuming without permission

sensory deprivation 

sexting / phone sex 

facial / swallowing / bukakke

size kink / size difference / belly bulge

skirt stays on

somnophilia / getting fucked to sleep

spit kink

squirting

stripping / lap dance

teasing 

temperature play

thigh fucking

throat training

titty fucking

toys / object insertion 

OTHER PROMPTS

a ritual gone wrong 

a string of unexplained deaths

a summer fling gone horrible wrong, or right

alian abduction 

art come to life

basement wife 

being paralysed 

blackmail 

caught trespassing on private property

college party gone wrong

crazy ex

curiosity killed the cat

fate worse than death

final girl

getting stranded in a little town that’s not as wholesome as it seems

ghostface

halloween party

haunted house / abandoned house 

haunted object 

hitch-hiking gone wrong

hot neighbour that has an obsession with you

i was sent here to assassinate you but now i think i might be in love with you

Items moving and/or going missing

i’ll find you in every universe / century

kidnapping

lost in a maze

mad scientist 

magical healing 

marriage / wedding / arranged marriage/ forced marriage 

mind control / telepathy

mirrors playing tricks on the mind

oh, you had a long day? use me as your personal sex toy in order to unwind

oops, i summoned a demon 

oops, i’m dating a serial killer

playing games (like seven minutes in heaven, spin the bottle, hide and seek, etc.) but they have a slutty/dark twist to them

possession (ghost or demon)

power outage

ritual / sacrifice / blood magic

road trip

secret room

serial killers fucking in front of hostages

stalker landlord

stalker wearing the same costume as your partner 

stockholm syndrome

the return of a villain thought dead

torture

toxic frat boy

waking up from strange dreams and seeing bruises and marks on your skin that correspond exactly with the dream you just woke from

we’re the last people on the planet and you will be mine

you wake up strapped to a table just as a fuck machine is turned on