#transformers spindle

[redfoxdude07]

Every Friend group has:

The edgy rival

The short one that nobody takes seriously

The intelligent lesbian

The one with a crippling drug addiction

Papyrus but evil

Cool ninja dude

The friend group inside the friend group

Short one that's in charge

The demigirl

And the funny autistic one that experienced some horrific trauma in their developmental stages so they're slightly fucked mentally (relatable)

[in1-nutshell]

A Nutshell summary: With Spindle (BW Blackarachnia's twin dating Waspinator), what if she live in the same universe as the abandoned sparklings found by Blackarachnia, Silverbolt, & Waspinator?

In a nutshell...

Oh Spindle is on cloud 9!

She loves these itty bitty sparklings with all her spark!

Auntie/ Mama Spindle is ready to take care of any sparkling that comes by.

Waspinator is actively searching for anymore sparklings to make her happier (and get more cuddles)

[moonfurthetemmie]

I've been thinking about it lately after reading the slash fix and how we were carried on someone's shoulder. I guess it was slash.

How much could the horror squad, delusion, gouge and hunter carry around?

Do you mean in terms of physical strength???

Feel free to correct me if I’ve misinterpreted this btw

The ranking or whatever you want to call it, from strongest to weakest, would be:

Slash

Gouge

Pluto

Byte

Delusion

Hunter

Byte’s strings can let her move around heavier things than she could carry otherwise, so jot that down

Ik you didn’t ask about them, but if we were to throw in the other four the order would be:

Spindle

Slash

Gouge

Sparrow

Pulaski

Pluto

Byte

Fester

Delusion

Hunter

[scrawlithium]

OC Ideas: List of Quirks!

(BNHA)

Quirk Ideas below the cut <3

This is essentially just a huge, not really filtered list of ideas so please don’t take it… Too seriously lmao.

OC QUIRK IDEAS!

Acid Cure - The user has sharp fangs filled with a poison that can heal when injected.

Animorph - The user can transform into any animal they have physically seen and been in the proximity of for one minute.

Black Void - The user can summon a void that contains horror-like creatures and objects.

Chains - The user can produce chains made from the iron in their body.

Claws - The user’s hands are razor-sharp claws.

Command - Others will obey any order the user gives from speech.

Conceal - The user can turn themselves and anything they touch, like clothes, invisible; and can turn others invisible as long as the user is in physical contact with them.

Dark Matter - The user can manipulate indetectable matter and form it into void-like weapons.

Dreamwalker - The user can walk in the dreams of anyone they have seen.

Dust - The user can manipulate dust in the air.

Face Shift - The user is able to manipulate their body and face to be a new, nonexistent person.

False Truth - Any lie the user tells will be believed.

Fear Eyes - The user’s stare can incite hallucinations in another of their darkest fears.

Flaming Skin - The user’s body radiates a deadly heat in which anything the user touches will burst into flame.

Fusion - The user can fuse two individuals to create a whole new person for up to an hour. The two minds may clash, however—and the quirks are combined into just one new one.

Gravity Well - The user can create localized gravity wells, pulling objects or people towards a single point. The strength and range of the gravity well depend on the user's focus.

Hallucination - The user can create illusions that disappear when touched.

Healing Hair - The user’s hair can heal almost any injury.

Identity - The user can transform into any living person they have touched before for up to thirty minutes.

Interface - The user can control and manipulate machines and electronics by interfacing with them mentally, allowing them to hack devices, control robots, or operate advanced technology without physically touching it.

Lava Lamp - Parts of the user’s body have the characteristics of a lava lamp.

Light and Dark - The user can generate light when experiencing positive emotions and darkness when experiencing negativity.

Liquid Composition - The user can transform into semi-solidified water to move around.

Magma - Part of the user’s body is composed of lava that is generated.

Matter Hair - The user can change the composition of their hair to be any reasonable solid element on the periodic table.

Metallic Grip - The user can turn their arm and leg composition into any (reasonable) metal in existence.

Mitosis - The user can split themselves into two people, themself and a distinct, separate person, like an alter ego, that they also control. More splits may occur, resulting in different individuals.

Photosynthesis - The user has the properties of a plant.

Polyglot - The user is able to speak, read, and write every language they hear spoken or see written.

Prosper - Since developing this quirk, the user is unable to age and stays the physical age of five.

Shadow Beasts - The user can transform darkness into solid, shadow beasts.

Shadow Body - The user can turn themselves into a cloud of shadow and can manipulate shadows around them, turning them into solid objects.

Sharp Wings - The user has wings made of a razor-sharp steel that can cut through almost anything.

Siren’s Call - The user’s singing voice incites a burning rage in others, causing mayhem and destruction.

Size Shift - The user can shrink down to 1/50 times their normal size or grow up to 50 times their normal size in a range.

Slime - The user can create a corrosive, jelly-like substance from their hair.

Spindle/Marionette - The user can spin silk from their wrists. As a unique touch, these strings can wrap around living beings and influence their body completely—movement control, as though people are puppets.

Spines - The user has large, shark-tooth-like spines on their arms, legs, sides, and head.

Stare-way to Hell - The user’s stare can ignite objects or people on fire if the user is angry enough.

String of Fate - The user can know the location of anyone they have seen and fallen in love with.

Succubus - The user’s presence causes others to become enchanted by them. They also have the features of a succubus or incubus.

Toxic Blood - The user’s blood is rich with a deadly poison that can kill when ingested by someone else.

Vampire - The user has superhuman strength, speed, and beauty with the ability to captivate others at will, but has to drink blood in order to keep their abilities and to live and can not go out in the sun.

Virus - The user can grow tendrils from their body and stab them into others, which enables the victims to be dazed and in shock for up to fifteen minutes and use part of the same quirk, inflicting others.

Werewolf - The user can transform into a wolf-like creature.

[bangaveragewhitewine]

Hearts are wild creatures

Dad!Steve Harrington x Mom!Reader

Halloween, 1999

A simple worn-before couple’s costume and drinks with friends. Kissing like teenagers and hushed voices. You and Steve, a night to make up for lost time before Halloween-morning with your two little girls.

Takes place two years after soft slow, morning glow

Word count: 6.4k

Contents: Parent!Steve & Reader. Explicit (18+) - oral (f!receiving), p-in-v sex (reader is on birth control, but wrap it up, friends!). Breeding kink. Parental domesticity - Steve & Reader have two kids, mention of a difficult pregnancy, sickeningly sweet domestic fluff.

Author’s note: This started as soft Halloween-flavoured domesticity and then I imagined Steve dressed as Johnny Castle… we couldn’t not go there. 

Thank you @specialagentmonkey for proofreading and being wonderful. And for watching ST from the start with me! And thank YOU, dear reader, for being here. I hope you enjoy it!

Tucked away in the Chicago suburbs, your little house matches its companions in the cosy cul de sac; the residents of Elm Crescent had transformed their homes and gardens into a Halloween Wonderland as exciting for the adults as it was for the kids. You knew you had made the right choice buying your first home here. 

The garden has been prepared for a night of costumed trick-or-treaters, the path flanked by two homemade sheet-ghosts and leaves raked in vain leaving the green lawn clear for those that fell since yesterday afternoon. Four carved pumpkins guard the house from their spot on the front steps, arranged from largest to littlest - one for each of you.

Inside, tissue-paper ghosties with wobbly marker-drawn smiles made by tiny hands float on lengths of thread, seasonal art projects take pride of place in the kitchen, and paper bats guard the stairs from their hanging place on the spindles. Nothing too scary to frighten a four and nearly-two-year-old, all brightly childish orange and purple and green, smiling instead of scaring. 

Halloween fell perfectly in ‘99 - a Sunday night for tricks and treats meant that you and Steve could make grown-up plans on Saturday. A simple worn-before couple’s costume, a competent and willing babysitter, and drinks with friends in a too-loud bar that you all left early to get pizza and a cab home. It was later than you had stayed up or out in months, maybe years, and you both felt almost giddy with excitement. Far from the late and boozy Halloween nights of your early years as a couple, it was exactly the night you and Steve had wanted. 

Back home, your Johnny and Baby costumes were barely folded before you crawled into bed together and kissed like off-the-leash teenagers, keeping your voices and giggles low while your babies slumbered peacefully down the hall. 

After paying the babysitter from across the street, making sure she got home safe, neither you nor Steve could resist a peek at the two sleeping girls when you got home, both sentimental (and a little broody again) as you held each other gazing at their little dreaming faces. Beth with her bunny-teddy pillowing her cheek (reminding you to wash it soon with lavender detergent and steaming hot water) and Ava, sweet little Ava, starfishing in her crib. Your tiny girl takes up so much space in your hearts, pulls attention in every room she enters with her big brown eyes and honey-blonde hair; she is your little cherub. 

You had missed them on your night out, tried not to count the minutes since you had left or until you got home to them. Steve had felt the same, but you knew they were safe and (hopefully) sleeping. So, you tried and succeeded in letting yourselves be distracted by your brilliant little group of friends, strong drinks and each other - all of which came easily, with warm cheeks and loud laughter, stolen kisses while your friends pretended to take offence that you loved each other more than them. 

Now, at home in your cosy little bedroom, Steve’s hand skates upward, feeling the dips and curves of your body as your lips lock in a needy kiss. Smiling against your mouth, he greedily swallows the soft noise pulled from your throat. His hand finds its home, cupping your breast through soft shell-pink satin, as the other holds your hand pinned to the sunshine-coloured cotton sheet.

Two kids later and he is still utterly obsessed with you, in love with all of you - especially the bumps and marks of motherhood that came with each perfect girl. You had spent most of the night tucked to his side, pretty pink contrasting his tight black shirt and jeans. Robin had tried to sit between you at one point and you had been hauled onto the warm sturdy throne of Steve’s lap, his chin on your shoulder as he argued with his best friend over whether they should do karaoke or shots next. Except for quests to the bar for more drinks and a few trips to the bathroom, you hadn’t been without his warm touch since you left the house. He would have held your hand while you peed if he could, would have accompanied you to the bar except your friends forced you to be apart ‘for five fuckin’ minutes, dude.’

His lips skate lower, abandoning your kiss-swollen lips to nibble your jaw and seek out that spot on your neck while his thumb presses firmly against your nipple. Your brow creases in pleasure when he finds it; the quiet gasp ‘Steve’ is whispered into his hair, edging toward a whimper. 

“Mmhm? M’here, baby.” Tipsy from a lower alcohol tolerance and drunk on you, Steve’s voice is hot against your neck. 

Your fingers wrap over his own as he presses you into the mattress, his black Calvin Klein’s straining with need, with want. Your own underwear have been damp since his hand settled on your thigh in the cab at the start of the night. 

Your fingers slide into Steve’s hair, directing him back to your lips as his thigh slots snugly into the apex of your spread legs. 

“Yeah? There?” he murmurs, smiling cockily.

It had been far too long since you had time alone like this; too tired after work or parenting, one or both of you needed to dry tears and check for monsters after a bad dream just as hands began to wander beneath the covers. 

Your hips roll, electrified, grinding on the firm bulk of his thigh. “Please, Stevie…” 

You both know you could get off like this and if he thought that was what you really wanted - what you needed - Steve would let you. He would gladly watch you come undone, guide your hips and be whatever you need him to be. But neither had forgotten your hot whisper against his ear as Eddie carried a tray of drinks and shots back to your table earlier; the way your lips grazed Steve’s neck as you so quietly asked him to fuck you into the mattress when you got home. 

You had watched his eyes blow wide and pressed a rose-pink kiss to his cheek (warm and blushing) while your friends placed bets on when Baby Harrington the Third would be coming. 

Steve peels himself back, kneeling on the bed as he palms himself at the sight of you. You feel saliva pool under your tongue as you rake your eyes from his thighs, over that substantial bulge, and up his furry chest. He is nothing short of breathtaking, and Steve thinks just the same of you. 

Your fingers slip over the nude lace of your underwear, biting your lip when you brush over the damp spot visible even in the low light from the bedside lamp. You don’t play long, already too worked up, and push your panties down toward your thighs with a lift of your hips. 

Steve takes over, like a baton-pass, and eases your legs up against his chest with your feet against his shoulder. Your underwear is slipped off and thrown carelessly behind him, somewhere on the floor. He presses kisses to your calf, a curving path up over your ankle and the top of your foot before each leg is laid down gently on either side of his spread knees. 

You prop yourself up on your elbows before pushing yourself up to sit and meet Steve for another kiss; it is smiling and sweet and a little dirty. Your fingers hook into his waistband before taking a greedy handful of his unfairly pert behind, making him laugh against your mouth. 

“You going to give me what I want?” you murmur, kissing his chin. Your other hand slips down the front side, fingers wrapping around to squeeze his hard length as you look up through your lashes. 

“Anything. Everything.” Steve’s eyes flutter closed and he cups your cheek in one huge hand, blindly bringing you back in for another kiss. 

Your voices are just loud enough for each other to hear in the golden glow of your bedroom. You miss the days when you could be loud, but wouldn’t change it - take a day trip to the past perhaps, when you didn’t have to restrain your desire to a quick fuck after dark, or during nap time while the washer and dryer run in the background like white noise,

Maybe in a few weeks, before the craziness of the holidays, you can stow away to a hotel for a night or two and cash in on the babysitting offer from Aunties Robin and Nancy. 

But tonight is perfect nonetheless. It’s perfect when you shove Steve’s briefs down his thighs and when his fingers skate over your back to undo your bra (before it joins your underwear and his on the floor). You lay back, taking Steve with you, and hook your leg over his hip and bring him as close as you can all over again. 

All there is right now is you and Steve. You’re well-practised enough to be quiet. 

Covetous hands palm over hips, fingers thread into hair, pulling each other close and closer still. Steve finds his home between your thighs and leans over, dipping to kiss you as his fingers press and tease, push inside you with care. His fingers stretch just right and curl up to seek out the place that makes you drool. 

“Lemme have a little taste?” he asks against your mouth, smiling when a whine catches in your throat. “Yeah? Can I?” 

“So greedy.” Your cheeks are warm and crease when his smile sets you off. 

“I am. I can’t get enough of you.” His straight white teeth nip your lower lip, a bite he soothes with his tongue. “I think you love it…” 

You gasp as his fingers curl again before he withdraws them, and watch as he licks your wetness from them. 

Steve winks as his lips trail lips lower, over your chest and the softness of your tummy, your hips and the places on your thighs that jiggle a little bit. Steve presses a feathery kiss to your swollen bud before licking out his tongue to part your lips

Steve’s prone to getting sidetracked down there - not that you would ever complain about your husband who loves to go down on you - but you have been thinking of being railed by him since last Wednesday. 

The begged-for ‘little taste’ quickly becomes so much more.

There’s nothing ‘little’ about Steve - not his hands or his thighs, his biceps or his manhood, or his heart. His appetite for you certainly is not little or lacking either. With his hand on your thigh, the other on the cheek of your ass, he makes your thighs tremble with a few skilful licks and the soft suck of his mouth. His nose rests and nudges against the pudge of your mound, darkened eyes fixed on you as he flicks his tongue.

He watches how your jaw drops, the crease in between your brows. You feel dizzy, anchored only by the weight of his hand spreading your thigh higher, wider for him. 

The burning want in your belly flames hot and bright as Steve buries his face between your thighs. His tongue presses firm and flat, encouraged when your fingers slide into his hair to keep him ‘right there, oh!’ 

Silenced by your own hand, you feel that white-hot tight-winding feeling as his fingers slide home again. The sound of his wet mouth on you sounds so loud, the same volume as the throb of your heart, the blood rushing in your ears. A whimper of Steve’s name is stifled, a high choked-up noise in your throat as his scalp burns from tugging fingers. 

Your orgasm takes you by surprise, amped up and tightly wound after a night of teasing and wanting, and the long groping make-out and grind in the kitchen after the babysitter left.

Steve’s solid weight keeps your hips low to the bed, even when your back arches sharply.  An expert at your pleasure now, seeking it out and making you see stars every time, he keeps up the pace and pressure, with his fingers and tongue. He knows what you need, how you like it - never stale, never disappointing. 

Your body attempts to curl up on itself, feeling too good. Slowly, carefully, Steve drags his mouth to kiss your shaky thigh before making his way back to lie alongside you. His damp fingers, wrap around his diamond-hard length to give some sort of relief. 

Glowing and giggly, you gaze up at him and drag Steve in for a kiss. “Knew you were a greedy boy.” Your voice is quietly breathy, shaking with that post-orgasm wobble as he laughs against your mouth. 

“Got carried away. Sue me.” His voice is a low murmur. 

Cupping his cheek, you skate your thumb along the bone. He’s so gorgeous, gold-toned in the nighttime light. Your fingertips brush the moles on his cheek as Steve kisses you again; beneath the musk of you on his tongue, you can still taste the lingering whiskey notes from your night out.

Pulled right up against him, you feel the hard and soft of Steve’s body, the fur of his chest and thighs. He found two grey hairs on his chest earlier in the year which almost caused an existential crisis - only solved with your tweezers and a tonne of kisses and promises that you would still adore him when every hair on his body was shiny silver. 

“You wanna be on your back or front?” he asks, squeezing your side.

The question makes that inferno in your tummy begin to burn hotter again. You think of how good it feels when he’s behind you, thighs slapping against the back of your own, the way he stretches you and hits that place deep inside. And yet, you need to see him tonight - you are so dreamily in love with him that not having his lips on yours might just make you expire. 

“Back. Pass me that cushion?” 

As you get comfy, Steve takes himself in hand again and settles himself between your legs. His non-busy hand runs through his hair - still a glorious mane into his thirties, despite a few shorter cuts over the years - and you are reminded of the pretty-boy you fell for almost a decade ago.

Steve catches you smiling and palms your leg as you settle on either side of his hips. He matches the little grin and dips forward to kiss you, nuzzling your noses together. 

“What’s got you smilin’ like that, huh?” he asks, running the head of his cock through your wetness before tapping it at the top. 

He watches your lashes flutter, the way you bite your lip. 

“Just thinkin’ about you, handsome,” you murmur, “You always make me smile.” 

He grins and kisses you again, both feeling like young loves again despite the aches and pains and the mortgage and the two kids sleeping down the hall. “I fuckin’ love you,” Steve whispers. 

“I love you,” you murmur back, running your fingers into your love’s hair as the other hand grabs his wrist. “Please? Been waiting all night, Stevie…”

His lips melt the put-on pout and together you guide him inside. The stretch of him has got easier over the years, well practised at love-making and fucking like rabbits alike. He’s gentle when he needs to be, rougher when you both want it like that. 

“I’ve got you, baby. Sorry for making my girl wait,” he murmurs as he slides all the way in.

Eyes fluttering closed at the stretch-and-fill, Steve starts off with a slow grind that makes your jaw drop. He murmurs quiet swears at how warm-wet you feel around him, squeezing him tight as his hips draw halfway back before going all the way in again. 

“Fuck,” he whispers, and braces one hand by your head with the other splayed wide on your side. Your hips lift with him, legs propped high to open you up wider for him. 

For a scant second, you want to ask if his back hurts - he pulled something at basketball drills last week and you had massaged on Tiger Balm morning and night for a few days until the twinging stopped. The hard flick of his hips makes the question vanish from your mind, his cock dragging and hitting just right. 

“Oh god,” you whisper-gasp, jaw hanging open.

“I know, baby. M’sorry it’s been so long. M’a bad husband, huh? Leaving my poor wife needy and un-fucked.” His voice is hot and rough against your cheek, breath tickling your ear as he finds his rhythm. “Gonna make it up to you, yeah?” 

You squeeze the back of his neck, giggling. “Make it up to me all you want.” He palms over your hip, hiking it higher before leaning over you again. “Fuck, Steve. Feels so good.”

Your eyes dip to the gold chain hanging around his neck, watching how it sways in rhythm to how he’s fucking you. You bring your hand to where it rests against his neck, guiding Steve’s mouth to yours again. His breath huffs hot against your lips, tongues sliding in a dirty kiss. 

The wet click of parting lips sounds loud in Steve’s ears when you break away, moaning his name against his chin when his thrusts hit deeper, harder. 

“Shhh, I know you wanna be loud, sweetheart. I know you feel good.” His voice is like lava dripping as he kisses your neck. 

You pinch your lips together, the moan caught in your throat comes out as a high hum. 

Steve is so hard. His pants felt too tight all night; half hard since he saw you in your little pink dress. It only got worse, harder not to ask you to meet him in the bathroom, when you sat on his lap and toyed with the back of his hair, whispered in his ear before slipping into conversation with Nancy about something totally different. 

The slick-tight-hot feeling, the way you pulse around his cock, makes that tense coil of pleasure low in his gut wind tighter. His chest feels like 

You can’t help but fall a little more in love with him, hypnotised by the swinging gold chain, the circles he rubs against your hip and the way his styled hair falls over his forehead.

Squeezing your thighs around him, you bring your legs up and tilt your hips higher. Steve adjusts the stance of his knees and slows his thrusts to a deep grind, the tip of him brushing your cervix. You can feel all of him pressed right up against you, inside and out. 

“Oh fuck.. fuck, Steve.” Your voice is thin and strained, like a thread about to snap. 

“Yeah, baby. I’ve got you,” he whispers, biting down on his own lower lip. “God, you’re so pretty. So sexy.” 

The air in your bedroom feels humid and heavy, like a thunderstorm, waiting for lightning to crack and split the sky, waiting for a downpour. 

Steve moves his hand from your hip, gliding over your pelvis to feel how he makes you bulge just a bit before his fingers begin circling your sticky-damp clit. Just quick enough, firm enough, mean enough. 

Your back arches, quiet voice babbling with incoherence at how intense it feels. “I’mgonnacomeohgodstevestevefuck…”

���Come on baby, come for me. Let me feel it,” he pants, hitting deep and hard. He’s so close, barely holding on to himself. 

You hold him tight to you as you come, fingers tugging in his hair as the other hand claws and digs into the meat at the top of his ass. 

Overwhelmed, a sweet shock of release hits you like lightning and opens the floodgates. 

Steve holds you just as close, anchored to each other. Whispering hot words of praise against your mouth, he gazes into your watery eyes sparkling with tears - he makes you feel that good. 

“Oh baby, I’ve got you. You okay?” he asks, so tender. He leans over you, wrapping his arm beneath your lower back as the other braces his weight along his forearm. One huge hand cups your face and wipes your tears. There’s mascara smudged beneath your eyes, and you look beautiful. 

There’s that smile he loves; wobbly and lovely. A giggle-sob bubbles from those sweet kiss-bitten lips. “Fuck, Steve..” 

“I know, sweetheart. I know. Want me to pull out, is it too much?” 

You shake your head against the duvet, your hair a mess. “No, no. Don’t... Wanna feel you.” Your voice is slurred, love drunk. 

That makes him throb. He kisses you again and runs his nose along yours. “M’close,” he whispers, beginning a slow-dragging thrust inside your soaked and still-fluttering body. 

You can see it, how close he is, and feel it in how his rhythm has faltered. His brows pinch, smearing wet kisses to your shoulder as he tucks his face into your neck. 

“I’ve got you, Stevie. You’re so good,” you whisper, stroking the back of his neck. “Let go, baby. I’ve got you.” 

A grunting groan is smothered against your shoulder as Steve stills and shudders on top of you. His hips pump slow and hard as he comes inside with your name on his lips, making you shiver too. 

His weight settles, sinking you into the mattress in the best way. This is exactly what you had missed so much. As much as you fervently adore actually having sex with Steve Harrington, there is something so special about lying with him in the afterglow. 

Sweat-sticky and breathless, you stroke through his hair and press your lips into his hair. The hairspray scent lingers, clinging to the scent of shampoo beneath the smoke from cigarettes bummed from his bad-influence-best-friend Eddie. There was something about the smoke-tinged kisses that made you feel extra feral for him on the way home. 

“Don’t fall asleep on me,” you whisper, laughing softly when his sigh tickles your neck. 

“But you’re so comfortable.” 

Lifting his head, Steve smiles all pink-cheeked and dozy. “So beautiful too,” he murmurs, inching forward to kiss you. 

The wet noise from below makes you both laugh like teenagers and you take your turn to hide your face. 

“You take your birth control today?” he asked, easing himself up and out of you slowly, carefully. His eyes can’t look away from where he drips from you. 

“Mhm. Sorry, big boy.” You grab a tissue from the bedside table, wiping yourself gently before you mess up the duvet cover. You had both agreed, after having Ava, to wait a few years before adding to your nest again - it had been Steve’s idea after your less-than-easy second pregnancy. For a man with a bit of a breeding kink and a dream of a family the size of a field hockey team, he was wonderfully considerate. 

He kisses you again before standing to find his pyjama pants; he leaves out one of his sweaters and a pair of shorts for you too - sleeping naked was a dangerous game with two small kids. 

Clean-faced and exhausted and happy, you curl up together in bed after a few sleepy kisses and a playful argument about who would get up with Ava in the morning. As if Steve would ever miss a chance to let you sleep and steal the morning smiles from your youngest all for himself.

“You won’t even hear me sneak. M’a ninja,” he murmurs tiredly against the back of your neck and you can feel his smile. 

“If you say so, ninja boy,” you mumble back, dragging your joined hands up for one more kiss before slipping into a deep, peaceful slumber.

Sunday. Halloween. The best day of the year for your little girls - since the last best day (their Daddy’s birthday in late July). 

Ever a fan of Halloween, and autumn in general, you always wanted to bring your girls up to be excited for Halloween as soon as September began. Still so little, with Play-Dough minds, they had begun to catch on to your excitement and followed soaked it up. Beth especially, four with an expansive imagination, was excited about dressing up and eating candy and watching “Hogus Pogus” with you after dinner. 

Your parental body clocks ring at seven despite the late night. 

You wake to Steve creeping out, blindly bumping into the dresser with a quiet ‘shit’ as Ava calls out for him. This morning his presence was required to brush fat tears from the little one’s pink cheeks and kiss the damp paths they left behind until she was smiling again. 

You hear the youngest babbling as Steve carries her quietly downstairs, hoping she won’t wake you or Beth. The throb of a minor hangover and post-sex ache drags you back under the covers and into a light doze. 

You have another thirty minutes and some change until Beth wakes and realises she misses you, deciding to sneak in before even letting her Dad know she was awake - she wanted to see you hear about your Halloween party with her uncle and aunties and remind you that the best day had finally arrived.

The creaky hinge on the door alerts you - a reminder to ask Steve to show you how to oil it properly this time - you peek an eye open to watch the four-year-old sneak over to stand by the bed on her Dad’s side. She would be content enough with just seeing you, comforted in the knowledge that you were home to spend the day together; her face lights up when she spies you peeking over Steve’s pillow, your hand raised in a little wave. 

“Hi Mommy,” she whispers, dimples showing her delight. 

“Hi Bethie,” you whisper back, beckoning her into Steve’s vacant spot next to you. 

You open the covers to let your big girl in. She folds herself into you for a hug, her head against your chest. 

“I missed you. I missed you sooooo much,” she says, face turned up to look at you like she is a sunflower and you’re the sun. 

“I missed you too, baby.” Her little face cupped in one hand, you press kisses to her forehead and cheeks, her little nose. 

You make a tent big enough for two beneath the covers, lying on your sides facing each other until your giggling makes it too warm and your tummies rumble for the special Halloween breakfast you promise. (You curse yourself a little for that last glass of wine, trying to remember what exactly you had promised until Beth reminds you about the pumpkin-shaped pancakes). 

Wrapped in your soft dressing gown, you follow Beth down the stairs, hearing Ava’s happy-baby babble in the kitchen as she eats her half-banana breakfast appetizer. The decorations look a little silly and rough around the edges in the morning light, but still, your little home feels like a perfect pocket of happiness.

Beth jumps into the kitchen with an excited-but-not-very-spooky ‘BOO!’ for Steve. 

When she sees him, nursing coffee and Advil with a messy bedhead and tired smile, he quickly becomes Beth’s golden light source as her beaming face turns to him. 

“Woah! You scared me!” he says, clutching his heart before dipping to scoop her up. 

You try not to laugh at his Dad-groan and the cracking crunch of his knees as he stands, instead shuffling in your slippers to Ava in her highchair. 

Her hands bash on the tray, smushing banana with fierce excitement as you peck kisses all over her pretty cherubic face. 

Beth leans her head against Steve, playing with the string of his hastily thrown-on hoodie as she tells him about the dream she had and how he has to take lots of pictures of her costume later to send to your extended family. 

Spotting his bare feet on the kitchen tiles, you slip into the laundry room to find a pair of socks for him to wear. Resistant to ‘old man slippers’, you tuck them into his front pocket as you peck his lips and move him and Beth away from the counter so you can start on breakfast. You steal a sip of his coffee, wrinkling your nose at the lack of sweetness before shooing him and Beth to sit with Ava at the table. 

“What was Uncle Teddy dressed as?” Beth asks, head against Steve’s chest so she looks at him upside down. 

“He was a vampire. But he just wore his normal clothes and some silly teeth.” Steve rolled his eyes dramatically - he had seen vampire Eddie all the way back in high school when he was dealing instead of drinking, and again when you all used to drink and party the night away in your early twenties. Yeah you had dressed as Baby and Johnny before, but you had all boo’ed at Eddie when he showed up in the ultimate low-effort costume. 

“Oh. Okay. Vampires is sca’wry though, Daddy!” Beth reminds him. “You and Mommy didn’t go as scar'wies. What about Bobin?” 

You laugh quietly at the nickname Robin has had since Beth started speaking, and her simple way of humbling Steve about his own costume (and yours). 

“Robin dressed up as Elton John. You know the song you like, Benny & the Jets? She dressed up as the guy who sings that song. And Can You Feel The Love Tonight. He sings that too.” Steve is a wee bit distracted, nibbling the chunk of crushed banana offered from Ava’s fist.

“Bobin was Simba?” Beth’s eyes are wide, excited. She doesn’t seem bothered about her lack of scary costume, only yours.

“No babe. Elton John, he’s a singer. She had big glasses on and a sparkly jacket. You know he sings... Um. ‘Rocketmaaan, burning up his fuel out there alone..’ you like that one. I’ll find the tape later.”

Ava squeals in delight when he sings, so Steve indulges her a little more.

As you mix up pancake batter (adding a little food colouring to make them orange like pumpkins), and take two Advil for the dull throb in your head, the soundtrack of Beth and Steve’s conversation makes you smile, interspersed with Ava’s chirpy shouts for attention, her little contributions to the conversation. 

You glance back at the little tableau of Beth on Steve’s lap, his hood pulled over his messy hair (a pair of sunglasses and he would look just the same as your hungover mornings in your first apartment together). His spare hand strokes Ava’s hair, twirling the crushed baby-curls at the back of her head and tickling her chin and neck to make her giggle. 

Beth joins you after a little while, standing on a chair to help mix the batter and supervise your pancake-making with little bits of commentary. 

“That one looks a w’ittle bit squished, Mommy. Daddy can have that one.” 

“Thanks, Beth.” Steve’s voice is muffled behind his second cup of coffee. 

“Welcome Daddy! Mommy, can I has that nice stuff on?” 

“On what, sweets?”

“My pancakes.” You can hear her eye roll, the implied ‘duh, mom’ (thanks Auntie Max). 

“The nice stuff? Syrup?” 

“Yeah! Sir-yup.”

“Yeah okay. A little bit.” You flip another pancake, turning the chocolate chip face down onto the heated pan. “Do you want bacon on the same plate or on the side?”

“Um. Can I dip it?” 

“In the syrup?” 

“Yeah, in that nice stuff.”

“Yeah, you can try dipping it. Who taught you that?”

“Teddy.”

You smirk, “Steve, did you hear that? Betty’s taking after her Uncle’s eating habits.” 

“Which one?” 

“Ed. She’s gonna dip her bacon in syrup.” 

“That’s my girl.”

Beth giggles and turns carefully on the chair to look at him. “No Daddy, you does it all over! You got to dip-dip.” 

“Can you show me how?” Steve asks, he smiles over at her, looking so handsome with the baby standing in his lap now. 

“Magic word?” 

You snort-laugh, tucking your chin to your chest as your shoulders shake; you just about slide the pancake onto a plate without incident. Beth has one hand on her hip, a mini-Steve for sure, giving as good as she gets.

“Are you practising your magic for later?”

“Nooo Daddy. You has to say p’weeeeeeze-uhhh.”

“Okay-uhhhh. Please, pretty princess Bethany, can you show me how to dip my bacon in syrup?”

Bethany considers it and looks at you with a cheeky smile. “Yep! I show you, Daddy!”

You wink at her before helping her pour more batter onto the hot buttered pan, praising her careful steady hand. 

“Beth, can you grab a bib for Ava please?” You’re almost done and know you’ll get it served up quicker if your helper has a special task. 

“Yes! What colour?” her hot cocoa eyes shine with delight to help as you help her down. 

“Surprise me. We have a Halloweeny one for later, so any one you like for breakfast time okay? Dealer’s choice.” You dot a kiss to her head before watching her scurry to check what colour her sister's sleep-suit is. 

“There’s a laundry basket in the living room, babe. The bibs are on top. Do you need help?” Steve asks her, lifting Ava back into her chair before going to get forks and plates and glasses of juice for the table. 

“No tank you.”

You lean back against Steve’s warm chest and tilt your head for a kiss. “Hi. I missed you.” 

“Missed you more,” he murmurs, squeezing the tender spots on your hips as he kisses you slowly and sweetly. A proper kiss for the morning, tasting of coffee and shared banana and sneaked chocolate chips. 

Your fingers brush his jaw, feeling stubble beneath soft fingertips. He won’t shave today, you hope he’ll string it out a couple of days into the work week. 

After another hip-squeeze, he picks out cutlery and you notice how he squints into the drawer. 

“Glasses.”

“Getting them next, chef.”

“No, your glasses Stevie. You’ll get a headache.” 

“I have a headache. I’m blaming Rob for it.”

“It’ll get worse if you don’t put your glasses on, babe.”

You watch him mimicking your correctness with a scrunched nose as he picks out forks and knives. He knows you’re right but he doesn’t have to like it.

Steve gathers everything for breakfast, including Beth’s syrup. 

“I’ll get them in a sec,” he murmurs behind you, waiting for Beth to return with a bib first. 

You smile to yourself and start plating up. 

“Beth, how are we doing on the bib?”

When he looks into the living room, Steve sees Beth with every clean bib around her as she decides. 

“I can’t find one to match!” Beth’s face is a scowl.

“Babe, it doesn’t need to match. Just pick. Please.” Steve tries to be patient. Ava is getting impatient without food or distractions in the kitchen and he hears you chatter to her to try and help. He’s usually good at the diffuse and distract technique, a pro after quasi-parenting more than half a dozen teenagers.

“Can we do a-a spooky one?”

“Um. Sure. This one is kinda autumny?” He holds up the orange and yellow floral one, tiny flowers and green leaves. 

“But Ava’s jammies is pink Daddy! It doesn’t go! It has to be spooky and match!” Beth’s voice turns whiney, a pout on her face. 

Steve pops his head back into the kitchen where Ava is entirely unimpressed with being ignored as you bring over the plates. “Beth would really like it if Ava could have a Halloween bib now, and if it matched her pjs too…”

You watch him suppressing an eye-roll, knowing it would just hurt his head. He looks exactly like Beth. 

“Um, check the laundry room? I left a couple out.” You peek around Steve and see Beth with all of the bibs around her. “Sorry, I should’ve just told her to check in there.” 

“No, it’s fine. Beth, pick those up please and come wash your hands.” 

Steve smooches Ava’s cheek as he passes and palms your side with a squeeze. He picks up a purple bib with bats and a white one with ghosts - he is hopeful that one will suit Beth’s specifications and taste.  He has this Dad thing down to a fine art.

The bigger girl has clean and almost dry hands, pyjama sleeves rolled up her arms by your gentle mom-touch. Her face splits into a grin when Steve presents the choices.

“Yes! The pur-pellll!” she squeaks, bouncing on her feet. 

He dips to pick her up, barely suppressing the dad-groan - but it’s quieter than last time. “My little fashionista, huh? Everything’s gotta match?” He pecks her nose, making it scrunch like a bunny’s. 

When Ava’s got her bib on, distracted by cut-up pumpkin-shaped pancakes and berries (with one slice of bacon), Beth sits in her seat at the table in awe of the jack-o-lantern faces you have created. 

“Spooky enough, babe?” You sip maple-sweetened coffee and smile at her little happy face. 

Her hair is spilling over from her messy bedtime ponytail, which comes more loose as she nods furiously. “So cool! Tank you Mommy!”

“Super cool,” Steve agrees, winking at you across the table. “Thanks, baby.”

You’re just as sexy to him now, as you were last night with your messy hair and the well-loved teddy-print dressing gown. He notices his glasses case by his coffee and you wink back at him over the top of your mug.

With his world more in focus, Steve watches you smile at Ava as she shows you her chunk of pancake. You kiss her cheek, nuzzle into her milk-and-honey scented neck telling her you love her. 

You feel like the littlest one hasn’t had your full attention this morning and you have missed her, feeling mom-guilt to the hilt. Steve will take on dish-duty once the plates are empty and bellies are full, giving you time with your girls. 

There are a few last-minute decorations and chores you want to make time for in between kid-friendly movies, dressing the girls in their costumes - Beth as a tiny cute witch and  Ava as a cosy pumpkin. The girls are your number one priority today, making core memories for them and taking one hundred and one photos for the albums. Ava is still too little to really soak it in but she takes enough notice to nourish her little mind. 

You and Steve will fill out the candy for trick-or-treaters, and hold little hands when the girls go door to door in your own cul de sac. When they’re tucked up in bed, you will pick through the candy leftovers and curl up to watch one scary film followed by a non-scary one as a balm before you sleep. 

For now, you sit back and share a loving smile with Steve, your socked feet brushing beneath the breakfast table. 

What a treat. 

Thank you for reading! Likes, reblogs and comments are absolutely adored and cherished ❤️ 

[tyriq-edits]

Briar Rose - Megop AU

I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream

This AU will be mostly based on the Disney Movie of Sleeping Beauty with some inspiration taken from the German Movie Adaptation of the classic Grimm Fairy Tale Dornröschen .

In this AU, to no one's surprise, Optimus Prime is none other than Sleeping Beauty/Princess Aurora and the son of Megatronus Prime and Prima Prime, warden of Zeta Prime, grandson of Alpha Trion and beloved nephew of the other Primes. And who else could be the dark Fae Maleficent (or Maruna if we're going with the Dornröschen movie) but everyone's favourite bastard in shining armour; Sentinel Prime.

So you'd now probably assume: Oh okay then that must mean Megatron is Prince Phillip right? Well dear reader this is where the inspiration of Dornröschen comes in. For in that movie, there is no prince. Instead there is a stablehand named Flynn. And this is who D-16 will be in this AU.

So you know the deal, Sentinel tries to take over the kingdom, fails, gets banished but when he hears of the birth of a new prime crashes the party held in celebration of the sparkling and decides to get revenge on the Primes in the best way he can think of: By cursing the sparkling and the entire court to fall into a deep slumber on the day Optimus becomes an adult (I have no idea how many cycles it takes for Transformers to be conisdered legal adult or how they age exactly and Fandom wiki was of no help either so if anyone knows the answer to this please let me know).

I am uncertain yet if I want Optimus to still prick himself on a spindle wheel like in the fairytale or on something else (Once again any suggestions or thoughts are welcome) but regardless the story can go two ways from here.

Version 1: Optimus stays at the court with his family and his family just in secret tries to find a way how to break the curse while keeping Optimus sheltered and far away from all spindles. Like i am talking "This boy has never seen the world outside of the direct palace" levels of sheltered. His family eventually finds out that the only way to break the curse is through "True love's first kiss", so they try and introduce Optimus to several princes, princesses and noblemen/women in hopes that he'll show interest in one of them eventually. In the end betrothing him to a princess and skilled warrior named Elita-1. What they do not know however is that the young Prime has developped feelings for a certain gray stableboy named D-16, the only one who does not treat Optimus like he's made out of glass and sometimes even sneaks out of the palace into the surrounding woods. But while the two of them have mutual feelings for one another, they do not dare to act upon said feelings both because of their difference in the social hierachy and out of fear of ruining their friendship if they ever confessed how they truly felt.

So then the day of the curse unleashing comes and as predicted, Optimus and everyone inside the castle falls into a deep eternal slumber and the entire castle becomes covered in vines. But luckily for them when the curse had spread out, D-16 was out with some of the horses or whatever inside the woods.

As he watches from a distant hill as the vines start to cover the entire castle, who should appear behind him but Elita-1. Elita then explains everything regarding the curse to D-16 and how the Primes had tasked Elita-1 with breaking the curse once the time comes. So the two of them team up, as Elita will need D-16's guidance to find her way around the castle and from the way the curse had been explained to her, only she will be able to break it. So the two of them fight through the vine covered palace (perhaps even fighting Sentinel along the way Maleficent style?) until they eventually reach Optimus' chamber. But as Elita kisses Optimus, the prime stays asleep. Turns out it takes more than to just be engaged in order for it to count as "true love's first kiss". So Elita leaves the room in frustration and maybe even desperation, because even if she did not love Optimus, she did care about him deeply and dearly as a friend and she just wanted to rescue him and see him awake again. Once Elita is outside of the room trying to think of some other way to rescue her friend, D-16 decides to kiss Optimus as a sort of "farewell/apology for not being able to save him." And just as D-16 wants to turn around to rejoin Elita, Optimus' optics flutter open.

Version 2: Follows a bit closer with the Disney Movie, meaning Optimus was sent to live with maybe Ultra Magnus (or if you can think of someone else who would be more suited for the role(s) of the three fairies let me know) secluded in the woods under the name of Orion Pax. But Ultra Magnus cannot keep him fully hidden from everyone as Orion one day meets the royal stablehand D-16 in the woods and they repeatedly meet up in the forest behind Ultra Magnus' back. And from there on it is essentially just more or less like in the movie with very little to no alterations.

If you have thoughts or ideas for this AU let me know. Or heck you can post your own version (and if you do please tag me in it, I would love to see more Transformers Fairy Tale AUs)

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Here's some inspo from a group I belong to. This is Ant's entrance hall before.

And, after. I like the dark green paint and the gold contrast.

Very nice- the painted railing spindles and art. Plus, the molding, new floor and stair runner. Beautiful transformation. This would be a good color scheme for a Dark Academia room, too.

via FB group: maximalist design and decor

[talonabraxas]

Wyrd byð swiðost: Wyrd is mightiest. —Cotton Maxims, England, ca. 900 CE113 Norns by Jake Baddeley

"These concepts of the divine go deep into Proto-Indo-European history, before Latin and German, or even Sanskrit, had branched off into distinct languages. The names of the Norns (most obviously that of Verðandi) are related to Sanskrit vartana, “turning,” a word that appears frequently in Indic deity litanies—and which also means “spindle.” From the same root*wert, the rotating movement of the spindle is named wirtel in German, vreteno in Slavonic, and gwerthyd in Welsh. It also shows in the Latin verb “to turn” — vertere or vortere.

The fateful goddesses had deep roots in tribal Germanic cultures. They show up in Icelandic sagas, Frisian common law, and Anglo-Saxon epics and proverbs. Wyrd appears often in Old English gnomic verse, which encoded folk wisdom in mnemonic rhymes. The gnomic proverbs encoded

nuggets of heathen lore. Bith-gnomes described the essence of things, and

sceal-gnomes called for action. Anglo-Saxon sceal is the word “shall,”

related to Skuld, the third Norn. The Old English sceal carries a sense of imperative necessity, as that which must be, and connoted strong intention.

“Wyrd goes as she shall,” it says in Beowulf: Gaeth a wyrd swa hio scel.

In gnomic verse, the Old Goddess brings into being, moves and changes.

"Seo Wyrd geweard": So Wyrd became, or happened.

She arrives at moments of destiny: “The Wurth drew near,” and “Thiu Wurðh is at handun.”

She also dissolves and transforms what already exists:

“Wyrd swept all away.”

Wyrd is shown as a fateful presence at births in the Corpus Gloss (circa 725), which renders the Roman fate-name Parcae into Old English as wyrdae, “weirds.”

Anglo-Saxon manuscripts refer to Wyrd as knotting, writing, ordaining, causing and arousing. She grants good fortune, or she withholds it: “Wyrd did not allot him so.” She escapes the notice of mortals, sometimes fooling them, leading them astray, or causing their fall. Ultimately, Wyrd deals death to all. In the words of one German source, “Wurth took him away.

Some Old English gnomic sayings conceive of Wyrd as a weaver: “what Wyrd wove for me” (me thæt Wyrd gewaf). Another phrase is “woven by the decrees of fate.” Anglo-Saxon gewif, “fortune,” is closely related to gewæf, “wove.” The connection of these concepts is spread out over several northern European languages. Old English ēad, “fortune,” is related to the Lithuanian verb audmi, “I weave,” and to Norse authna “fate, fortune, luck,” and authenn “fated, destined.”

[bronzieinthedas]

Nice Little Things - Tag Game

tagged by @pixiedurango and @seaglassmelody, thank you so much! I loved reading about what Cara and Sabi keep in their rooms:)

Rules: Choose 10 objects that you will place in the room of your Rooks on the places intended for customization. These should be small objects that can be placed in the following places: 2 on the tables by the doors, 2 on the tables by the aquarium, 4 on the bookcases and 2 on the walls. Attach a photo of these objects and give a short description of why your Rooks chose them.

Qatesh's nice little things might be a little boring in this regard, but here goes..!

Tables by the Door:

Sewing Kit

Used to wearing hand-me-down tunics, Qatesh is super mindful of keeping her clothes in good condition, which means darning and mending everything- both for her and her team. She won't leave the house without her sewing kit!

Jar of Vitaar

Part of her outside persona, and how she covers up some of her scars. She prefers the water-soluble cake type that won't dry out as quickly, for when she's out and about. She chose dark blue and silver as "her" colours: Silver sky for the swallows she loves so much, and dark blue sea because that's where the Lords found her. It also matches her eyes.

Tables by the Aquarium:

Cross spindle and wool

After finding a spinning wheel in one of the Lighthouse's storage rooms, Qatesh decided she wants to reconnect with her past, because spinning is a very good way of calming her down. To save on space and have something portable for when they're out adventuring, Taash got her a Rivaini-style cross-arm spindle with colourful rolags to work on, which will hopefully soon be transformed into...

Half-knitted sock

Lucanis is teaching her how to knit! It's a long hard road because Qatesh was never taught anything else than spinning, so she gets easily frustrated. But it's a great way of connecting with the team and hey, you get a sock, too! :)

Bookshelf:

Stuffed Sheep Plush

A present for her by Danya Laidir when she found out little Qatesh never had a plushie growing up. By now the little sheep has turned grey and is is all matted and scruffy, but when she can't sleep, Qatesh will reach over and hug it tight.

Inkle-loom hair band

Also a gift from her "Ma" Laidir who hoped Qatesh could maybe use it to play around and experiment a bit to find her own style. Spoiler: it didn't happen. As the hairband was the prettiest thing Qatesh ever possessed, she didn't dare use it. She does take it out from time to time to remember her Ma. And she vowed to wear the hairband one day, woven into a braid, if ever she got invited to a party.

Notebook and quill pen

Qatesh is barely literate. With the first gold she got from the Lords, she went to the market and bought herself a beautiful quill pen and a notebook, telling herself she'd properly learn to write and read now. Obviously it never happened, but hope persists.

Beauty and Haircare Kit

Ever since she was little, it was drummed into her that she needs to keep her hair long and in perfect condition (not of her own volition, but here we are). Since becoming part of the Lords, some of her income always goes into either hair- or skincare supplies such as lotions, scented oils and soaps. Now that the worst days of her cystic acne are over, she tries to make sure her skin is always well cared for.

Walls:

Swallow Tapestry

Qatesh found a little tapestry in a market during her travels with Varric and Harding. Of course the swallow from Seheron needed something cute that reminded her of how far she'd come!

Embroidered lace chemise

Another thing she got "for later" she never got around to wearing or using. Although Qatesh feels she isn't the type for lacy clothes, she couldn't resist this one. The chemise usually sits at the bottom of her pack, carefully folded, but at the Lighthouse, Qatesh decided to hang it on a peg on the wall so she could look at it and dream about a fitting situation when she could finally wear it.

[radaedan]

This is a (little) reminder that we haven't gotten all of the Golden Entreaty btw!

SPOILER FOR 5.5 SAURIAN WORLD QUEST AND "Revelations from the Past" QUEST!!! SCROLL PAST IF YOU DON'T WANT TO GET SPOILED!!!

"But Radaedan, we literally activated Huitzilopochtli by using the two Golden Entreaties, and the Devs said that this quest is the climax of our Little Buddy's journey-" only two out of four! Remember, Xbalanque pierced both of Xiuhcoatl's eyes! Plus, who said they're for our Little Buddy's journey?😁

["Moment of Awakening" Quest]

Kukulkan did say that one of Xiuhcoatl's eyes was transformed into a hub that controls Huitzilopochtli, becoming his one and only weakness, and that Xbalanque pierced it. Yet somehow, the quest's blackscreen mentioned eyes, plural, and that Xbalanque split both of them.

And then there's the holders themselves. I'm still shaking my head around this. As I've said from my previous post:

Kukulkan was orange. Bro was orange. Literally orange from head to toe (okay he had some green with his feathers, and he didn't have a toe, but my point still stands.) I guess it's because his flavor text (the one that pops up when he was saying "Chosen of the Dragons" stuff.) And maybe it was to contrast with his brother's gold theming. Gold and silver. But all of these points still don't change the fact that he was orange!😭🟧

Instead, hear me out (I have 0.01 evidence and a feeling):

Nibelung.

Kukulkan had described Nibelung as (paraphrasing here, since I played the quest in Spanish, and I forget to screenshot it😭) "white-winged dragon" and that Xiuhcoatl loyally followed him. Plus, in the new artifacts set, "Finale of the Deep Galleries", specifically the Feather:

This will, bound though it was to its planetary crust, shone more brilliantly than all the civilizations the voyager had ever seen. Unable to suppress the wonder and sorrow welling up from within, she delivered a solemn pronouncement unto its ruler: "I have seen the lightless end, tearing through star clusters like a spindle among silken threads." "I have seen how the cold tide of chaos drowns out all songs, so that good and evil alike vanish into silence." "And yet, my kind, gentle king, will you still refuse to abandon your people?" "Forsake this world, fated for ruin, and journey with me beyond the stars." Yet thus did the proud dragon reply: "O friend from a distant world, I thank you for imparting these truths from beyond the skies." "But though in your eyes they may seem ignorant creatures, to me, they are the very meaning of this universe." "If the tide of oblivion must come, then let my bones be the bulwark that shields this realm." "Bear witness to the path I have chosen, for I shall lead my people onward to the stars."

- "Deep Gallery's Distant Pact"

is kind of similar to Xiuhcoatl's wish to protect his kin. It wouldn't be surprising if he gave one of the Golden Entreaties to Nibelung as a final solution if he were to fail in his quest to save the Dragonkind. But for whatever reason, Nibelung didn't activate it. In any case, OH MY FUCKING GOD😭 NIBELUNG TOO... MAN THE DRAGONS DON'T DESERVE ANYTHING THAT HAPPENED TO THEM... NIBELUNG & XIUHCOATL DESERVE BETTER UEUEUEUE😭

Yet I have to admit, this conjecture can be easily broken. Kukulkan also had said:

Kukulkan: The reaver from beyond the skies once froze Xiuhcoatl in lava, causing him to fall into a false death... But when the Dragon King Nibelung descended from beyond the circles of this world, he was called forth by the Abyss and awoke from his long dream. The reaver annihilated the great black-winged lord at great cost... And at that moment, our fiery sovereign, who had been steeped in the Abyss, regained brief, tragic clarity.

...And so, Xiuhcoatl used the last of the time and wisdom left to him to transform the dragon city once more and create the Tzitzimimeh... And finally, Huitzilopochtli.

- "An Omen of Annihilation and the Final Entreaty"

Xiuhcoatl made Huitzilopochtli, and naturally, with it, the Golden Entreaties, after Nibelung's fall. So he probably couldn't give it to him😓

For the ressurected corpse... Kukulkan confirmed that Xbalanque was dead together with Xiuhcoatl, then got ressurected. So yeah no point for contention from me.

One beneath the great monument... I thought that it meant the place where we got the first Golden Entreaty and that Kukulkan placed his Golden Entreaty to push us to find the others. This could also lift the "silver dragon" allegation that Kukulkan has since his Golden Entreaty has already been found. But I'm not so sure about it now.

But for the last yet not least, "The belly of the headstrong one." WHO OR WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS??? WE NEVER MEET ANYONE OR ANYTHING THAT HAS SOMETHING TO DO WITH BELLY??? This holder is the one who gets the most question marks out of me. I can't even think who or what could fit the description.

All of these holders, yet Kukulkan only mentioned two... hmm... what if this is a foreshadowing? Why is there a gap between Kukulkan's explanation and the past blackscreen? Hold up, whose memories we actually saw in those blackscreen?

I guess up to this point, these were Kukulkan's memories, considering we were also given his memories in the same style during the 5.5 world quest. The first and second paragraphs must be telling about Nibelung's Great War of Vengeance and its devastating effect on the Irminsul and the Seelies. But, for the third, it must have something to do with Kukulkan's last words...

Kukulkan: ...My king, my elder brother, O lord who gave me life on the day you yourself were born... You once said that in my final moments, I would understand your desire.

- "An Omen of Annihilation and the Final Entreaty"

😭UEUEUEUEUEUEUE

Yet something is different once we get to the next paragraphs.

Focus on the second paragraph: "a giant dragons with pupils pierced." Xiuhcoatl were pierced on both of his eyes. Yet, I repeat, now with evidence, that Kukulkan said:

Kukulkan: By all rights, at that time, there was no way he could have been harmed... If he had not modified one of his pupils to serve as the control hub for Huitzilopochtli, that is... Because he had to monitor and anchor reality using this "eye," it became his sole weakness... That is how Xbalanque was able to take him down alongside himself.

Enter, then, the Golden Entreaties — the control hub that could be used to reactivate this place, split in two between us for safekeeping.

- "An Omen of Annihilation and the Final Entreaty"

He only mentioned one eye😀 and that the Golden Entreaties were only split between him and Xbalanque. Okay. Alright. If that's the case, WHY THE HELL IT CONTRADICTS WITH THE PREVIOUS QUEST'S BLACKSCREENS???

And ngl, if two Golden Entreaties could activate the world-ending Huitzilopochtli, what the fuck the rest or the four of them could possibly do😭 Did Xiuhcoatl intend to end the whole entire universe too???

Huff copium Maybe... the two of the Golden Entreaties are for the World Quests, and the rest are for our Archon Quests??? Maybe we'll get a continuation of Natlan’s chapter, surely? Haha... what if... what if... this surely means that Xiuhcoatl will return right??? Surely that he will come back and show us his magnificent weapon- overdosed by copium

[redfoxdude07]

[sincerely-sofie]

Finally got around to designing the hypothetical twins from this post!

Some notes:

These two both have the same glare as their dad. Dia’s pretty smiley, but Howl is very willing to give dirty looks when he’s not happy.

Opal absolutely roped Ruby into transforming into two additional infant darkrais to prank their parents after the initial panic over having an actual child member of Ark’s species started to wear off. The sleep deprivation was wearing on even Ark, who doesn’t even need to sleep, and he accepted the idea that they had quadruplets without even noticing before he recognized Ruby and Opal’s auras.

Twig isn’t beating the “dragon with a hoard of children” allegations anytime soon.

Ruby was very nervous about turning out like her older siblings and being cruel to her new family members. She’s the gentlest, sweetest big sister you’ll ever meet.

Spindle is so happy about having a brother for the first time in his life. He won’t voice it, but he’s thrilled to bits.

Dusknoir started crying when Twig and Ark introduced the twins to the rest of the family. I wonder why?

[herrenxenoberg]

Fandorm Showcase #24 - Enchanted

Yes, I have returned from the depths of my artist pit to bring you more creations of mine. Currently, Season 3 is in the middle of a major redesign, so I'll be posting the ones I have done thus far.

Introducing the dorm inspired by Enchanted...

Malefleur (Mal = French for evil; Fleur = French for flower)

Malefleur focuses on two different things entirely. One is regal charisma, flair for the dramatics and a sense of vanity, and the other is ambition, nobility and the capability to master complex magic and spells to be the greatest. This can be considered as Pomefiore and Diasomnia combined in terms of ideology and theme. They also specialize in both potionology and practical magic, specifically transformation magic, mastering disguises and shapeshifting.

"A dorm founded on the Sorceress Queen's spirit of dedication. Students in this dorm are taught to use wits and allure to achieve their desires while navigating complex social dynamics."

Requirements and Traits:

Resourceful and strategic

Mastery of both illusion magic and alchemy

Have natural charisma or reputation

Dorm Uniform:

FYI, I did use the Pomefiore and Diasomnia dorm uniform when designing the uniform sheet for this dorm, and I gotta say, it turned out absolutely gorgeous. I tried to make it a combination of the two, but also unique enough to be a dorm uniform in itself, as well as using the colour palette from Queen Narissa to make it fit. I was stuck at the magic item idea since on one hand, we get a book and the other, we get a spindle scepter, so I just decided to make a staff that magically produces apple-shaped glass containers and filled with potions that has various effects depending on the spell casted into the contents. Once the "apples" are used up, the wielder would have to wait for new apples to be produced using magic reserves, thus would leave him vulnerable to enemy attacks. (He's a bit of a defensive/support kind of mage)

Character Roster:

Grace the majestically beautiful and powerful royalty...

Niklaus Thebeau (Twisted off Queen Narissa)

Niklaus is the epitome of elegance, charm, and ambition, a junior housewarden whose beauty and magical prowess have captivated the hearts of many both online and off. He carries himself with an air of royal sophistication that hints at his noble origins. His graceful movements and melodious voice further reinforce his aura of refinement, making him a natural at commanding attention.

Hailing from a fantasy-focused kingdom steeped in tradition, Niklaus was raised with the expectation of perfection and excellence. However, upon moving to a more modern region of Twisted Wonderland, he found himself struggling to adapt to a world so different from his own. It wasn’t until he began showcasing his magical abilities and ethereal beauty on social media that he found a place to belong, quickly rising to fame as an internet celebrity. Now, he balances his royal upbringing with the fast-paced, image-driven modern world, using his charisma to maintain his carefully curated public persona.

While he often appears charming and approachable, Niklaus is incredibly calculating. He thrives on attention and admiration, using his influence to subtly manipulate situations to his advantage. He believes in the power of appearances and often hides his insecurities behind his poised demeanor. Beneath his polished exterior, Niklaus is fiercely determined to prove his worth, not just as a pretty face but as someone truly formidable in both power and intellect.

Notable Members:

Nicolas Thebeau (Junior) - Niklaus's second brother and a dragon-fae who only wanted to be the most powerful mage in the world, just like his idol, Malleus Draconia. He is also intense and straightforward, often forgoing pleasantries in favor of directness. (Twisted off Queen Narissa's Dragon Form)

Nicoll Thebeau (Junior) - Niklaus's third brother who is a a paradoxical figure, embodying both warmth and malice in a chilling duality. He presents himself as an affable, kind-hearted man who is always ready to lend a helping hand or offer a sympathetic ear, but lies a demented mind, calculating and ruthless in its pursuit of whatever he deems necessary to his schemes. (Twisted off Queen Narissa's Hag Form)

(So, I wanted to apologize in advance that starting from this one, there won't be a story synopsis included yet since I did not plan this far ahead, but rest assured, there will be story plots for these next few fandorms-)

Next Up: Who Framed Roger Rabbit

[royal-wren]

Leto Epithets

One of the many mother goddesses found in the Hellenic pantheon, she is also one of (three) goddesses directly of motherhood along with Rheia and Maia. Her origins are debated, but it is a fact that she is an established goddess as far back as the Mycenaean era (pre-Apollon btw! More than likely Leto and Artemis were regarded as mother and daughter by then) under the name ra-ti-jo / ra-to (Latios/Lato). The late myth of the birth of Artemis and Apollon where she runs from Hera might showcase a bit of history of her leaving Greece and going to Turkey (Anatolia) in the way a lot of myths do with cult history and practices expanding. I say this because the connection to Lycia as her origin as explained in the further reading section is pretty late into the timeline of her existence and her main temple there is also a late addition when she was long pre-established as a goddess in Greece before it was made. Anything else saying she derived from another goddess is purely speculation and is more than likely disproven by this point in time in the year 2024. (Please note that this doesn't mean she possibly came from somewhere else before records, just that she existed in Mycenaean Greece).

Alphabetically it's a mess, but everything that I've added to go along with aspects, domains, traits, and animals of hers have an asterisk by them, not necessarily upg but innovating what's already historically attested to her.

A remake of my ancient, years-old post. Of great kindness She who is gentle and modest Preumenḗs: soft of temper, gentle, gracious, favorable Epieikḗs: Morally reasonable, fair, kind, gentle, good Ever mild and gentle Mild from the beginning Of womanly demure *Ēpiócheir: With Soothing Hand *Phainô: Appear, Reveal, Shine Lêthô/Lanthanô/Lelathon: To escape notice, To cause to forget, Move unseen, Go unobserved *Aisthánomai: perceive, apprehend by the senses or of mental perception, perceive, understand, take notice of, to have perception of *Aísthēsis: Perception from the senses, feeling, hearing, seeing. Perception by the intellect as well as the senses. Ability to perceive: discernment. Cognition or discernment of moral discernment in ethical matters *Ablepsíā: blindness, failure to see (something), invisibility *Ágnoia: The state of not knowing or perceiving: ignorance, unawareness *Hḗsukhos: quiet, still, calm, gentle, moderate, (of persons) cautious, (of the voice) gentle *Hēsukházō: To be still or quiet, Be at rest *Hēsukhíā: (Of) Silence, Stillness, Quiet *Apokalúptō: To reveal. Leto is an ocular/prophetic goddess just like Apollon that speaks with a voice from above, working through light in effect, the implication is that she (like Apollon) has it tied to day for when they work as it's noted that Asteria and Hekate prophecy through/by/at night and from below. (Leto might double as a night-time goddess, but the connection to day is more solidified). Lykeiê: Of the wolves *Ameibousa: One that transforms, in the spirit of One who brings forth transitions Ethelímona: Willing (to answer those that pray to her) Dark-gowned (I really wish I was able to find a translation for this one) *Khrysôpis: With Golden eyes, With a golden face, Golden-faced Kyanopeplos: Dark-veiled, Cloaked Most Glorious Eukomos: Lovely-haired Kallisphyros: Beautiful/Trim/Neat-ankled Aidoios/Semnê Thea: August Goddess Khrysêlakatos: Of the Gold Spindle (Distaff) *Hêmerasia: She who soothes *Meilikhios: Gentle, Soothing *Phaesphoros: Light-bringer *Hilaeira: Softly-shining *Alektor: Rooster Polykleitos: Far-famed Xanthê: Blonde/Golden-Haired, Gold-tressed Phytie/Phystiê: Grafter Koiantis/Koiêis: daughter of Koios Koiogeneia/Koiogenês: born of Koios Lykios: patron goddess of Lykia Euteknos: Of Fair Children Gentlest in all Olympos *Pheraia: Of the Beasts *Agroterê: Of the Hunt, Huntress

*Most of these are ones I had to comb through literature to find, a couple of UPG names and ones I’ve found or created (as a reference) through other research

Further reading:

Some Cults of Greek Goddesses and Female Daemons of Oriental Origin by Butzon & Bercker

Theoi.com's Koios page for the information at the end

Mothers of the Sun - Myth and Legacy of the Minoan "Solar Mother" in Classical Greek Mythology

The Cities and Bishoprics of Phrygia, being an Essay of The Local History of Phrygia from the Earliest Times to the Turkish Conquest

[formlines]

Spinning Through Time

Margaret August

from the website: “This is a contemporary Coast Salish spindle whorl design. Traditionally, the art displayed on spindle whorls was said to give the weaver a “trance-like” experience. The designs on these sacred heirlooms were said to give the wool spinner specific kinds of spiritual experiences for the intended purpose of healing, transformation and protection.

This design uses Coast Salish elements in a symmetrical pattern, for the intended purpose of giving the viewer a ‘spiritual awakening’. This type of experience is a subjective one but one that encompasses an infinite sense of truth and reality.” – Margaret August 2023

[snakeflower-cottage]

Now that I’ve spoken about the master, I wanted to talk about my mistress…

Nicnevin, the Gyre Carlin and Queen of the Unseelie Court

Nicnevin (or Nicneven, Nyneve, Nignivie) is a name that lingers in the damp winds of Scotland, woven into the old roads of witchcraft, faery lore, and the calls of geese at night. She is the Gyre Carlin, the great witch-mother, feared and revered in equal measure. She is no mere mortal sorceress but something older, one of the Queens of Elphame, ruler of the Unseelie Court of Autumn and Winter, mistress of wild magic.

The Whirling Hag and Her Spinning Magic

The title Gyre Carlin is more than just a name. Gyre means to whirl, to spiral, to turn, and Carlin is the Scots word for a witch or crone. She is the Spinner, the one who twists fate upon her spindle, weaving spells as fine as gossamer and binding spirits as surely as a knotted thread. Like the Cailleach, she is tied to the great cycles of time, turning the wheel of the seasons, unraveling the threads of life and death.

Witches who followed her were said to use enchanted thread in their charms—knotted cords to bind or unbind, spun flax to draw down the wind, red wool to turn away the ill ee. In some tales, Nicnevin herself would spin fate into being, crafting charms that could grant second sight or summon a lover’s spirit from across the moors.

Her role as a spinner also ties her to transformation. Just as thread changes shape beneath the fingers of the weaver, Nicnevin herself is ever-changing. In some stories, she shifts her form from a hag to a maiden, from a woman to a hare, an owl, a great black mare. She teaches her witches the same arts, how to slip from one shape to another, how to run unseen in the night, how to vanish with the turn of a cloak.

Herbal Magic and the Poisoner’s Art

Nicnevin’s witches were also known for their knowledge of herbs—both for healing and for harm. She was a patron of those who gathered in the moonlight, searching for roots and flowers with potent virtues. It was said that certain plants, when picked on her feast night, carried an extra charge of magic.

Henbane and nightshade, foxglove and yew—plants of dream and death, spirits bound in green flesh. Her followers knew which could grant visions, which could numb pain, which could send the soul flying from the body to join her spectral hunt. They brewed ointments from these herbs, rubbing them into their skin to slip between worlds, riding the wind to Elphame.

Yet she was not only a bringer of poison—Nicnevin was also a great healer, though her ways were wild and strange. In folk belief, certain illnesses were caused by fae mischief or the interference of spirits. A wise woman who called on Nicnevin might craft a charm to lift such afflictions, whispering her name over water poured through a holed stone or mixing herbs into an offering left at the crossroads.

The Unseelie Queen and Her Spirit Host

As Queen of the Unseelie Court, Nicnevin rides at the head of a fearsome procession. Unlike the gentler Seelie fae, who may grant fortune to those they favor, the Unseelie are the dark and wayward spirits—restless dead, twisted fae, and witches who did not find their peace. On stormy nights, her host sweeps over the land, their passage marked by sudden gusts of wind, the barking of unseen hounds, or the flicker of lights in the bog.

To cross her path unprotected is to risk being swept away—unless one knows the proper rites. Some folk left out offerings of milk, ale, or bread to keep her favor. Others carried rowan or iron, whispering charms if they heard hoofbeats on the wind. Those who dared to ride with her might return forever changed—if they returned at all.

Nicnevin’s Legacy

Though her name has faded from common telling, traces of Nicnevin still linger in Scotland’s folklore, in the rites of witches who spin and weave, in the gathering of herbs beneath the moon, in the whisper of wind that carries the scent of heather and something older still.

She is the Spinner, the Poisoner, the Queen who flies.

Would you know her, if she called you to join her revel?