#The story of how Grimm child was made

[mafia-boss-swan]

A Dashing First Dinner Date

Ghost has quite the appetite

[yall-batman-fanfic]

Love of My Life | Bruce Wayne/Batman x Reader!Magician x Batsis

Synopsis: Bruce and Vivian enjoy the moments they have with their daughter.

The cries of her daughter woke Vivian from her deep slumber.

“I'm coming,” Vivian yawned as she got out of bed to go to the crib that was in the room. “Mama's coming… and you can't do this while it's your father's night, huh?” She teased.

“Go back to sleep, I got her,” Bruce's rough voice woke her fully. Standing by the crib was Batman, still wearing his cowl and armor, but he removed his cowl and cape, and threw his utility belt and gauntlets and gloves to the floor before he reached into the crib to get his daughter.  He had come from the window, Vivian guessed, considering the one that was just a couple of feet from the crib was open.

Vivian sat back in their bed and watched as her husband cradled their daughter, hoping it would ease her cries so he could holder longer but the infant was hungry and he would have to give the girl to her.

Eventually Bruce sighed and walked to their bed and handed Valerie carefully into her arms and Vivian unbuttoned her shirt so she could breast-feed. Silence filled the room, but one that was comforting.

“Welcome home,” Vivian greeted him.

Bruce smiled and leaned closer to kiss her but just briefly so he would crush the suckling baby. “I wanted to come back early before she wakes up.”

Leave it to Batman to know the schedule when their daughter usually wakes and asks for milk. 

“Come to bed,” Vivian said to him.

“I will, let me change first,” he said but then Valerie let out a sound as if in protest of him leaving. “Or not,” he chuckled. “She grows so fast everyday.”

“I know,” Vivian brushed their daughter's hair, “It won't be long before she's walking around causing trouble… how was patrol?”

“Quiet,” said Batman. “Nothing that connects to our cases, it looks like they all went silent to get us out of their trail… I visited Grundy, left him some food.”

“Solomon Grundy,” Vivian smiled then began the rhyme, “Born on a Monday, Christened on Tuesday, Married on Wednesday, Took ill on Thursday, Worse on Friday, Died on Saturday, Buried on Sunday. This is the end. Of Solomon Grundy.”

“A little dark for her age, don't you think?” Bruce raised a brow.

“Please, Damian's been reading to her Grimm Brothers’ stories.”

“I'll talk to him about that.”

“It's either that or Dickens.”

Bruce hummed.

“Jason's been reading to her Anne of Green Gables, she likes it when Jason reads to us in the living room.”

“He's been here for a while now,” Bruce noticed.

“He wants to spend time with his sister,” Vivian said to him. “How about this poem?

“Monday's child is fair of face/ Tuesday's child is full of grace/Wednesday's child is full of woe/ Thursday's child has far to go/Friday's child is loving and giving/ Saturday's child works hard for his living/And the child that is born on the Sabbath day/Is bonny and blithe, and good and gay.”

Bruce chuckled. “lighter than Solomon Grundy's.”

Valerie was finally full and Bruce took her to burp. After a couple of minutes she finally let out that cute burp without barfing all over him. A miracle! The girl then made noises which the couple thought was her way to talking to them, rather, to him as if telling him about her day.

“Alright, it looks like she's wide awake,” Vivian took their baby from his arms. “Go clean up so we can snuggle in bed.”

“Yes, Ma'am,” Bruce placed a kiss on his daughter's forehead and then on Vivian's lips before heading out, making Valerie whimper and reaching out to him. “I'll be back.”

Valerie sniffled and kept reaching out to him. Seeing her daughter wanted her father's company, Vivian said, “Go take a shower, I'll entertain her while we wait.”

“I'll make it quick.”

“You better,” Vivian had their daughter lay on her lap and then with her free hand, she conjured her magic to create soft balls of light that turned to birds. Valerie always liked it when her mother used her magic, or whenever she makes those pretty, gold lights. “You like watching the robins, huh?”

Valerie made a sound of delight. 

“Your brothers love you too, my darling girl,” Vivian sighed, then she started to hum the song her mother would sing to her as a child. It was an old poem she thought her mother found in a book and turned to a song but after learning that her mother was actually an immortal witch from 17th century Gotham, she realized it might be a song that was taught to her at that time. The entire time, Valerie smiled and made cooing noises as her mother sang to her and made those gold lights transform to different things, when the light touched her cheek the girl giggled loudly that it was too cute for Vivian not to kiss her daughter's cheeks.

“Love of my life, you've hurt me,” Vivian singing the song by Queen, remembering the times her mother would have them share a walkman and connect their headphones to listen to it. ‘“Love of my life, can't you see? Bring it back, bring it back…

Valerie took hold of her red hair and playfully tugged on it, Vivian let it be and said to her child, “You and your brothers and sisters are my word,” Vivian whispered to her daughter. “I love you so much, my darling girl.”

Bruce finally came to bed and Vivian handed their daughter to him, as they expected the girl squealed in delight and was patting on her father's face in excitement to be in his arms. As Bruce played with his infant daughter, Vivian saw the look on his face that she has seen before whenever Batman would try to cheer up children who are frightened, but this was different. It was more than that, one that cannot be explained with words. Happy isn't enough to describe it nor was love. It was unconditional.

Reaching out, Vivian wiped the tear that fell down Bruce's cheek as he played with Valerie in his arms. 

Turning to her, Bruce leaned into her touch and made a request, “Kiss me. Please, just kiss me.”

Vivian scooted closer and cupped her husband's cheek and kissed him one that was full of love and passion.

“I love you,” Bruce whispered.

“I love you,” Vivian whispered back. 

“Say it backwards — just to lock it in,” he smiled.

“I evol uoy,” Vivian gave into his request. 

The sound of Valerie making a noise to call their attention had Bruce and Vivian turn to the girl and saw her pouting. Laughing, Vivian and Bruce leaned closer to her and placed a kiss on both her cheeks. 

“We love you too,” Vivian said to their daughter.

“If only there's a way to make time stop or slow down,” Bruce thought out loud. “So I can hold you like this for a long time.”

“If only,” Vivian agreed. 

They stayed up for what felt like hours with Valerie playing with them. At one point Vivian joked how their daughter inherited their sleeping habits and was a nocturnal creature as well. Bruce mentioned that his mother teasingly blamed his father for that habit of his when he was a child. Maybe it was a trait of the Waynes. To be creatures of the night. 

Vivian could only imagine how hard it would be to wake up for school in a couple of years.

“Can she sleep here, beside us?”

“Of course,” Vivian waved her hand and had Valerie’s pillow and blanket shoot from the crib and to her hand. She scooted back to her side and placed the girl’s favorite pillow in its place and lets Bruce place the infant between them. She was sleepy but Valerie was doing everything she could to stay up, even if it meant babbling about things her parents played along that they understood while trying to keep her eyes open. Eventually, sleep won and Valerie was snoring peacefully.

“You should sleep too,” said Bruce.

“I will. I'm sure she'll wake me up later,” Vivian laid down in bed but instead of lying on her pillow she went down to the same level as her daughter. 

Bruce wrapped an arm around his wife and his daughter. “Dick said he could babysit so we could have a date night. It's been a while since we had one.”

Vivian chuckled. “I wouldn't mind, but…”

“I agree,” Bruce shrugged. “We can have more date nights in the future. For now, let's enjoy this time with her. While she's still this young.”

“Looks like your brothers have something up their sleeve, huh?”

“Looks like she's having a good dream,” Bruce brushed his finger on the girl's cheek. “I wonder what it is.”

“I hope we find each other in the Dreaming,” Vivian whispered and finally fell asleep.

Bruce should also head to bed but how could he close his eyes when he has the most beautiful sight there was. His wife and daughter in his arms, sleeping peacefully because they know they're safe. If sleep ever came to him, Bruce wasn't sure because in his dreams he was with them as well.

[kkglinka]

I love watching reactors try to puzzle out the lyrics to ruby songs but nothing beats watching newbies try to sort out the Red trailer intro, Red Like Roses. It always seems to be the same thing!

They'll figure out that "Red like roses fills my dreams and brings me to the place you rest" suggests a dead mother or mentor, and possibly blood. Notice that Ruby appears to be Little Red Riding Hood and wonder if her mother was killed by one of those wolf grimm. (We're all still waiting to find out, so hey).

They'll figure out that "White is cold and always yearning, burdened by a royal test". Sometimes they know or look up Weiss' name and go, oh, lol, it's snow white, of course. Struggling with potential royalty or other high status pressures, trapped by an evil parent? Yup! Pretty much.

Then they'll get to the two most obvious, direct lyrics, and the hilarity ensues, courtesy of both gender norms and heternormativity. Like, I could understand those lines flying under the radar in 2013, but these days? C'mon now...

"Black the Beast descends from shadows..." You see the word beast? It's right there. Blake the Beast. It's straight up telling us. Blake (the black beast) Belladonna (beautiful lady aka belle). Belle is the beast in rwby'verse, but it's a two'fer, and the wrong gender and reviewers just...don't see it. Even stated plainly, and conclude she's just Belle.

But it gets worse (as in, funnier)!

"Yellow Beauty burns gold." Look, beauty; it's right there. Beauty, as in Belle, the other half of beauty and the beast? The lines are practically paired together??? Nah. We're also going to ignore the opening yellow trailer quote not to judge by appearances. Looks like goldilocks, busts up the place, busts up a guy called junior, must be goldilocks, case closed.

Yeah...you know how yang goes on that psychological journey from too violent to too passive, too passionate to depressed, too much cheerful façade, to too raw, until she finds equilibrium? We've all discussed the "just right" aspect of that — the show itself made that joke! It wasn't goldilocks and her stuff that was just right; it was baby bear and his stuff. His home life that got wrecked by a silver haired old woman (I'm pointing at Salem).

Who? Right, so, the antagonist (villain) of goldilocks and the three bears was originally an old silver haired woman or vixen (fox or provocative woman), who breaks into a stranger's home, vandalizes the place and steals everything from a young child. She got retconned into a cute little blonde girl, which severely muddied the moral of that story (when you rob people you ultimately hurt children the worst), but became the most well known version.

I'm sure it's a complete coincidence that eurasian brown bears can be described as golden, but I'm still waiting to see what solar or flame deity/character is being referenced by her name and the line about burning. Chinese yellow dragon of luck and nobility, sure, which rolls right back into the beauty and beast duality she shares with blake. As when one plays beauty, the other plays the beast, and the beast is a nobleman. But solar/fire? Dragon in general, or a specific fiery beast from folklore?

But I digress. Yang's surface level allusion to goldilocks is largely limited to her being a total ass and trashing a nightclub, after antagonizing the owner; and her fighting mama ursa in the emerald forest, before the perfect babe kills papa ursa for her. After that, it's all baby bear stuff, before her underlying allusion as alice liddell comes in like a freight train toward the end of v2.

Anyway, it always make me chuckle because those two lyrics are so bald and direct but, nope! Overhead like a decomposing boeing 747, even this decade. It's great.

[howlingday]

OKAY, SO...

Hear me out... Jaune is PipSeras child.

He's got a French name, blond hair, blue eyes, is a lot stronger than he knows at first.

That's kinda all I got.

Toss in weird "Uncle" Alexander and Alucard too.

Everything happened so fast. What was supposed to be just another adventure for Jaune and his friends ended up getting him killed in the end. And not even in a cool, heroic way like a last stand protecting his friends from the Grimm... or Cinder, but he fell when the cliff he'd been standing on gave way and sent him and few Grimm hurtling towards their demise. It was a long drop. Just long enough for him to say.

"I'm coming, Pyrrha."

And then, everything was black. Memories began fading in and out of his mind. His first day at Beacon. His last night with Pyrrha. His childhood spent with his seven sisters. His broken body being lifted out of the dirt by and rubble by a woman with red eyes.

Huh... He didn't recognize her, but she started to fill his mind more and more, even more clearly than his previous memories had. She had short, blonde hair, tied back in a small ponytail, much like his wolf tail in his younger years. She was shorter than him, almost by a foot, maybe, but she carried him like he weighed nothing. She then placed herself into his neck and Jaune felt every part of his being was being drained from him. Like he was dying faster.

His mind blinked and she knelt over him, warmth filling his mouth. He could feel his body begin to shift and change. Then everything went dark again. The memories began fading in and out again, but the ones with the woman weren't as present this time.

Was this death? He'd heard stories of golden gates, a realm of clouds and a reunion with others who passed before he did. Maybe even a reunion with Pyrrha. Yet death now seemed to be, well, just sitting in the dark and thinking about what you've experienced. It was no different from living, was it? Was this why people were urged to live their life to the fullest? Because once you die, you're stuck in the dark thinking about how good you had it when you were alive?

Could he move? Jaune twitched his finger... And he could move! Feeling around, he was on the floor of a cave. An uncomfortable floor, at that. He decided to push himself up, and see what the room of death looked like.

The woman from his memories stood at the other side of the room, a menacing look in her eyes as she glared down the barrel of her rifle.

Jaune decided to lay back down.

"You're awake now," the armed woman said, "so you might as well get up."

"Are you going to shoot me?" Jaune asked.

"That depends on what you're going to do." She made a gesture with her rifle, moving it up swiftly. Jaune stood to his feet, hands in the air. She stepped closer. "No funny business."

"No funny business." Jaune gulped. "Got it."

'Better listen to mother, kid.' A voice said. 'Zat is no "popgun" she's holding.'

"I'm sorry, what?" Jaune looked at the woman after hearing the man's voice. "What did you say?"

"Wait, did you hear him, too?" She asked.

"Uh... Yeah?"

"Hm..." She lowered her weapon, narrowing her brow as she squinted at him. Suddenly, Jaune's hand flew out and squeezed her breast. She shrieked and punched Jaune into the wall. "You pervert!"

Jaune had fought his fair share of Grimm since attending Beacon Academy. Granted, it wasn't as much as Ruby or her team or his team, but he'd say it was his fair share. The hardest thing to ever hit him was that Ursa that was attacking Cardin. This woman's punch made that seem like the bat of a kitten.

"Agh... What the hell..."

"Pip, you asshole!" The woman growled. "You could have done something else!"

'Ah, but it wouldn't 'ave been as funny, mon cher~!'

"Who..." Jaune rose to his feet. "Who is that?"

"His name is Pip, and he's a pervert asshole." The woman grumbled.

"No kidding..." Jaune still felt sore in his jaw, but nothing felt broken. Either his aura was that good or something happened to his body. "And who are you?"

"My name is Seras."

"Nice to meet you, Seras. I'm Jaune." He extended his hand, making her flinch. When she noticed it made no attempt for her chest, she took his hand and shook it. Jaune then noticed that her hand was a writhing mass of black and red tendrils. He flinched, making the woman and the voice his head share a laugh. "What... What are you?"

"I'm a vampire." She said like it was the most normal response ever. "And so are you."

Jaune blinked. "What?"

A scream echoed from the mouth of the cave. He recognized it as Nora's. He ran for the entrance, only to be stopped by Seras, holding her arms out wide.

"Just wait a minute!" Seras shouted. "You need to wait until-"

"I can't wait!" Jaune slipped past her. "My friends are in trouble!"

Rushing headlong down the corridor, Jaune made it to a flight of stairs leading out of the darkness. However, as he looked to the peak of the steps where light slowly sank to the entrance, something deep inside him stopped him from going any further. From behind, Seras called out to him.

Another scream erupted from the fading light and Jaune threw his caution to the wind. Fear be damned, his friends needed him! Rushing up the stairs, he shut his eyes and barreled into the light.

And everything burned. Jaune screamed as his skin felt like it was boiling, and his hair singed. He fell to the ground, roaring in agony as his body felt like it was dying the most horribly gruesome death possible. A loud thunder echoed before a tree fell on top of him.

'Well done, mon cher,' Pip groaned, 'you've managed to crush ze boy before he could burn.'

'Is he dead?' Seras asked without speaking aloud.

'Non. But if he's smart, he won't do zat again.'

A hand slapped the dirt beneath the tree. Jaune pulled himself away from the extending shadow. Rolling her eyes, Seras walked over and pressed her boot to his head. He gave a whimper, still tender from the immolation.

"Oi," she barked, "you can't just run into sunlight like that anymore. I already told you. You're a vampire."

"Then why..." Jaune groaned, "why aren't you..."

"Because unlike you, I'm a real vampire." She removed her boot. "Fledglings like you aren't as tough until you start acting like a vampire."

"How... How do I..." Another scream echoed and Jaune pushed himself up. Seras smacked him into the ground. "AGH!"

"Would you just wait?!" She looked to the sunset. "Just a little longer now..."

--------------------------------------------------

"Are... Are they gone?" Ruby asked, panting.

Jaune's death had a greater impact on herself and her temporary team of Nora and Ren than she'd expected. She'd been through so much in the Fall of Beacon, as the local news called it, and with the mutilation of her sister, the abduction of her partner, and Blake running away, it seemed negativity would be a constant in her life. But at least her team was alive, which gave her hope. The remaining two of JNPR were a different story.

"Maybe." Ren replied quietly, just loud enough for the two girls near him to understand.

The Grimm they were being attacked by wasn't something Beacon had prepared them for. Among Professor Port's many tales, none of them mentioned a Geist-like Grimm who had bladed hands but could not possess objects. It moved fast and silently, striking when their backs were turned. The sunset seemed to act as both a blessing and a curse.

"I'm hungry." Nora gave a small whine.

With the sun setting, light became focused on the trio. The blessing of this was they could see the Grimm ambush from the shadows they cast close by. The curse, however, was that they couldn't attack while facing towards their attackers. It took a few nicks on their shoulders and arms before figuring out this strategy. If Jaune were still here-

"They're coming!" Run turned from the tree, keeping an arm ahead of his brow to block any the sunlight. Using his gun, he managed to veer an attacker off-course. However, this only gave another attacker the chance to charge in from his blind spot.

"Gotcha!" Nora shouted as she fired her grenade launcher into the threat. She fell back, her arm swinging wide from the recoil, making her yelp in pain. The Grimm coming for Ren didn't come out of the smoke-cloud Nora had turned it into.

"Nora!" Ruby ran out and grabbed her teammates, taking them with her deeper into the woods. Ruby weaved around trunks and over branches as the shadows lengthened on night's approach. She stopped just a few seconds later, dropping the two and panting as she tried to catch her breath. Carrying two people was different than carrying one, and carrying one was already more exhausting than using her semblance only on herself. Looking over, Nora was holding her elbow close to her body. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I-" Nora tried to move her elbow, but winced in pain. "Nope. No, I'm not."

"Here." Ren pulled some fabric from his bag, then began tying it around Nora's wrist and over her shoulder. "How does that feel?"

"Better." Nora said, looking at Ren with a smile. He gave one in return, and for a time, they seemed to only see each other smiling.

Ruby smiled, too, at their smiling. But her throat suddenly became dry, and she gave a small cough to help clear it. The two partners looked away with blushes on their faces. Way to ruin a beautiful, little moment between best friends, Ruby.

Thinking on best friends, Ruby's mind drifted to Jaune. He was her first friend, fellow team leader, and when he died, she felt so... angry. With herself. Her life since it had now become this horrible, awful thing that was just non-stop pain and suffering. She'd heard it said that pain builds character, but all she was building now was a lump in her stomach. It wasn't healthy, and it only attracted Grimm.

"I'll keep an eye out for any Grimm." She said. "You two get some rest."

They stared at her in horror. No, they were looking past her. Turning slowly, she saw a Grimm unlike the others. And she let out her loudest scream.

--------------------------------------------------

The sun had nearly set, so Seras let Jaune go free. He could still feel a tingle over his body, like a slight warmth you'd get on a summer's day. Thankfully it wasn't enough to consider his life would be in danger. Not this time.

Following the direction of the screams, he found his way to not far where he fell. In fact, he found his weapon with all of Ruby and their team's stuff. However, none of the team was there to greet them. Picking up his sword, he heard the sounds of weapons clashing not far away. Hurrying over, he found Ren peppering now and then from a distance as Nora stayed behind him with her arm in a sling. The reason Ren wasn't unloading everything was because he didn't want to accidentally hit Ruby as she clashed with the Grimm.

It was a tall, imposing creature, almost looking like a cross between a spider and a horse. It spun its bladed arms around to either slice or deflect Ruby's scythe. Jaune was about to hurry over when he noticed something off about the creature. Through the dark shadows of the night, Jaune saw that part of its body split off to spin freely, as if gauging the best way to strike. That time then became now and circled wide and was coming for Nora from behind!

"Huh?" The grenadier of Team JNPR and JNRR looked behind her to see a dark figure with blood-red eyes slowly rising from black dust and white ash. She gasped as she recognized his mop of blond hair. "Jaune!"

As Ren turned to see, it was only for a blink as Jaune jumped past his teammates and charged at the Grimm. Like a hot knife through butter, maybe even better, Jaune tore through the massive Grimm. Detaching from their powdered comrade, the smaller Grimm from before began to split from each other. Before Ruby could twitch to move into action, Jaune had already smashed apart what little Grimm were around.

"Jaune..." Ruby blinked. She swayed a bit. This was almost like a dream. Sure, his eyes were a different color, but they held the same amount of kindness they had before. Maybe this all was a dream and she'd wake up soon? That's what her body thought, so she fell to the ground.

Or, at least, she fell into Jaune's arms as he caught her. She must have been exhausted, fighting to protect her friends by herself, with one injured and the other keeping close to the injured. She'd taken a few hits, too, since she was covered in bruises and cuts. Bloody cuts...

There was a burning desire inside Jaune. Hotter than the sunlight that burned him, yet not as painful. The scent of iron excited him and he licked his lips in anticipation. Ruby's neck was so slender, so vulnerable, and Jaune felt his mouth open as he leaned in to give it a kiss. Just one... little... taste...

WHAM!

Jaune smashed through a tree as a large, monstrous hand held Ruby off the ground. Ren and Nora stood in awe as the blond woman carefully lowered Ruby to the ground. She then stepped a few paces away from Ruby, her large rifle held in front of her. In a blink, Jaune appeared again, this time his face contorted into an inhuman snarl. The woman pointed in a direction and, in what felt like the longest half-second of their lives, Jaune disappeared from view.

She then turned around, giving a salute as she held a sweet smile on her face. "G'd evenin'!" She called. "The name's Seras Victoria and, well, I'm a vampire~!"

[bluespiritshonour]

Oh my God!

I just caught up with World's Finest: Teen Titans and I absolutely have to write this out:

First of all, I love this cover:

The thing that caught my eye: “you're grounded.”

Not the dramatic “you're fired” as if the motherfucker didn't raise that damn kid in his own damn house for YEARS.

(I know. I know. Bar on the ground, but what would you?)

Also, the anger palpable on Bruce's face and Dick's absolute disregard for it. I'm laughing here y'all. This is what teenagers act like. This is what fights between parents and children look like.

Also. Dick Grayson, I've been missing. You're back from war!

I love how curt he is. The “Get lost” hits in all the right places. We love a strongly-principled character that stands for what he believes in. With all the lukewarm Dick Grayson writing floating around I felt like walking into a coffee shop while it's snowing outside.

More of this writing, please.

I'd been waiting for this moment all through this series.

This conversation.

I compare things all the time. It might not be the right thing in every field but I think it serves well when it comes to comic books. We all have personal “canon criteria”—for example, mine are “Darwyn Cooke wrote this Bruce so I'm taking it as valid characterisation ” or “Every version of Bruce played by Kevin Conroy is valid”. (Minus Bruce Timm bullshit!)

Which was what cinched my hatred for Bruce after reading a Robin short story that Cooke wrote and alluded to Robin: Year One in it. I mean, I might not fuck with Dixon, but am I going to call even Cooke's Bruce OOC? No. It means Bruce is a jerk. Full stop.

Waid is one of the writers I respect (excluding Kingdom Come. I hate it and I can't put my finger on the why. But I just do: I hate it. I hate it for Clark. I hate it for Diana. And I'm a professional Bruce-hater so let's not even go there. I hate it for Dick too.)

And Dick and Bruce's relationship has a lot of baggage from the fact that a) Bruce is himself traumatised and fails to meet Dick's emotional needs b) he wasn't ready to be a father when he adopted Dick c) Dick simply suffers from being the eldest—the test child.

And very rarely have I seen writers manage to walk on the thin line of complicated-but-dedicated-and-strong.

Young Justice cartoon did it. Dick and Bruce's relationship is going strong. But they fight and have different values. And Dick can see all that is wrong with Bruce's approach to vigilantism in particular and life in general.

Grimm (Legends of the Dark Knight #149-154) did it right. Where Bruce hurt Dick deeply and made him feel unwanted all the while overthinking about Dick's well-being. Way to go, buddy! You can see the repercussions it has for Dick while simultaneously stare at this man who's tying himself into knots trying to think how best to parent.

I think that's what most Bruce and Dick comics miss: the excessive worrying. They don't show the worry, make them fight for drama, never address it apart from throwing out a “it's because Bruce's worried” (bitch, where?) and have Dick running back to Gotham at the first chance. It sounds an awful lot like “your parents hurt you 'cause they love you” bullshit.

I think World's Finest manages it well because foremost, Bruce says, in words, that he's worried about Dick's well-being. He's taciturn, he's putting constant pressure on Dick all in the hopes of making him quit Titans. All this makes him a jerk. But I don't hate him for it.

It's between Dick's “you don't trust me” and Bruce's “no, I don't trust them.”

Most teenagers clash with their parents. It's normal. That's what Waid has shown here and I love it. It feels very—normal?

Especially when the Bats aren't normal! Bruce sure as fuck ain't a normal parent. But there was something very bitter-sweet coming-of-age in this conversation.

Bruce does all those things that are bad for Dick and his growing independence. You're not supposed to handle teenagers like that.

He's worried and taking desperate measures. “If I punish him, then maybe he'll obey me and quit Titans and then he'll he safe”—lots of parents who don't know how to deal with teenagers do it.

But the sequence of it: Bruce is worried → Bruce wants Dick to quit Titans → for Dick it means proving himself to be better, to not get hurt (as if he can control that beyond a certain point) → Bruce being alarmed at Dick's insistence to stay with the Titans and taking desperate measures like benching him.

At least it makes sense.

Compare it to Dixon's Nightwing origin story, which honestly, personally I think was lazy writing. Drama for drama's sake. “You’re fired because you're spending too much time with the Titans.” The same writer also had Bruce say that he did it because he wanted Dick to strike out on his own. Blah, blah, blah.

And no matter whatever happens he'd never ever say it to Dick's face that he's worried about him because—well, reasons.

Robin: Year One logic:

I'm worried about Dick's health so I fire him. He runs off and can get hurt? He joins a school for assasins? None of my business. He can get hurt on his own, I don't care as long as it is not on my conscience. Peace.

—Bruce “professional narcissist” Wayne.

So, yes. When faced with this book(WF: TT), I'd call Dixon's writing lazy.

I'm also comparing this to several other instances when Bruce verbally says (never to Dick, mind you) that he loves that Dick's a better person and better vigilante than him. But in the same book he'd yell at Dick for exactly the same thing. (I consider that lazy writing, since BTAS made sure to show a shot of Bruce smiling whenever Dick was happy/not like him).

I like this thing here where he says it to Dick's face. He's still grounding him for “discipline's sake” or whatever—very, very IC for Bruce.

But he also lets Dick know that he appreciates his values, that are different—better—than Bruce's own.

I can stomach that.

Honestly Bruce's writing in this book felt like BtAS writing (pre-Bruce Timm fuckery). That's a compliment.

P.S. Waid's a good story-teller overall. His Superman: Birthright was one of the first Superman comics I read and I fell in love with Clark right away.

Peace ✌️😂

[tvaccaro]

Nervous sharing this, but I've been working on a little fan animation for the past couple weeks and it's taking over my entire life, lol. It's not finished yet, and a lot of the shots here need tweaking, but I'm really proud of how it's turning out so far.

Went for a low-poly aesthetic on this one, hugely inspired by MikeRoeGames' videos. Also really wanted to commit to the red, white, black, and yellow theming, not just for the girlies with the colors, but also for mood and atmosphere.

For this one I also really took on the challenge of committing to making and painting textures, and low-bit ones. And I must say, Cake Station's video about the open timeline also has been a miracle in keeping the project manageable and less intimidating.

The Crescent Rose here is from my old Ruby model. She does transform, but I'm still trying to figure out whether to go with a full rig or just shape key the shit out of it, lmfao.

(also yes - Ruby is a wolf faunus, because Little Red deserves to double as the Big Bad Wolf, and yes we're giving faunus multiple animal traits because it makes for more fun design and easier communication of what animal they are)

And fun fact: I did all the modeling and most of the animating/posing on my laptop, then all the texturing, shading, and rendering on my Steam Deck, cuz that shit nearly made my laptop explode!

The story as of right now: Ruby's searching for a lost child on an ominous, off-limits island not far from Patch. And that search leads her to a particularly insidious, highly intelligent Grimm you may soon recognize from Slavic folklore.

I wanted something with an environment and atmosphere similar to the Red Trailer, but with Ruby actively trying to search and rescue someone, like she imagines she'd do one day as a proper huntress.

Now I have to finish modeling, rigging, and texturing the creatures she'll be fighting, and also the smol child she has to save. So... we'll see what happens, I guess.

And yes, it will feature a fight... or at least my attempt at a fight scene. I've been dabbling in attempts before with a hypothetical fight with Weiss and Yang against Adam, so I've been practicing. (which also if y'all wanna see some of that lemme know)

[animentality]

I get that the original "speak no evil" film is about deferential politeness and how the desire to not offend people can really bite you in the ass when those people are awful.

But I have a hard time liking it, because the parents in that movie make no attempt to stop their daughter from getting her tongue cut out. They also make no attempt to save themselves at the end.

Even though, come on, you're fucking European.

You don't have guns! I'm not sure what you're afraid of. If you're going to be stoned to death, you might as well try and wrestle a pair of scissors out of some bitch's hand, like.

You're dead either way. Might as well get stabbed over stoned.

It severely breaks the realism for me, bringing the story almost into Grimms fairy tale territory, which works for some people, but not for me.

But anyway, the American remake is kinda funny, because it's not so much horror as an action thriller.

And it's hilarious because I think an American watched the original film, was annoyed at their lack of fight, and decided let's re do that, shall we?

And honestly... it kind of works.

You can't apply Danish social commentary to Americans, or at least, not this kind of commentary.

I don't think Americans tend to be deferential when it comes to strangers. The only unrealistic thing is the idea that Americans wouldn't immediately kill someone who slept naked with their child.

The director even said something about the remake, I don't have the exact words, but it was basically, yeah no, I get why the American director changed the film, because it wouldn't resonate with Americans as much.

They're both good films, just in their own special ways.

I was really surprised they even remade a movie like that, and so soon after the original released, but, the director had a vision, man.

I like that they changed the story a lot. why even bother with a remake if you don't change it a bit, you know?

James McAvoy is also such a freak in that movie ... it's great.

A shame he was also a pedophile, which was not in the original movie. but it was actually kinda appropriate.

Made the story darker, in a way that made sense.

[ifuckingloveryoshu]

CANTO 6 PART 3 SPOILERS

Im beyond pissed, tumblr crashed in the middle of me doing this so this is going to be so much shorter than I want it to be. NON RYOSHU RELATED POST ABOUT THE HEATHCLIFF. DON'T TAKE WHAT I SAY AS FACT I AM NOT QUALIFIED FOR THIS. LOOK AT THE LINKS I CITE FOR MORE INFORMATION! You can click them when their mentioned. Im not citing in the proper format. This was done on 5 hours of sleep, two eggs, and a box of banana milk.

The Erlkonig or Erlking is this figure in German Mythology who kidnapps children. When he touches you, he kills you. This poem made by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe then adapted to this song is what you see. Erlkoning Heathcliff is trying to intice Heathcliff to die by telling him that it's his fault Cathy is dead. All identities refer to the sinner as "child" when you look into their uptie stories. Mili and the singer of the video here use the same technique of changing the tone and pitch of their voice to differntiate two characters.

The Wild Hunt is a part of Norse Mythology where Odin, mounted on his sixed legged horse Sleipnir, goes through the forest. According to norse-mythology.org, anyone who gets caught up in The Wild Hunt, spotted or seen, gets carried away. Your soul will get incorporated into The Wild Hunt. We all know Erlking Heathcliff did, the rising of the bodies. The Wild Hunt is also mostly describe as having hounds, and who was a hound? Hindleys.

From the same website, on the page of Sleipnir reads,

Also, the horse that heath rides on has a weird liney pattern on it's 4 legs that kind of look like that runestone. There's more connection here, I just don't want to type it again.

How did Project Moon mix two diffrent mythological ideas together? (Its not just two, they mixed so many more.) Meet human mistranslation and the progression of oral tradition and story telling throught time. I don't kno where to start. There was mistranslation poem when, according to ancient-origins.net Johann Gottfried Herder wrote a seperate ballad from the one I linked at the start called Erlkönigs Tochter.

The Anglo-Saxons were early German settlers. This is where things get messy because I have several more potential leaders of the Wild Hunt but here are two, King Herla and Herne The Hunter.

Herne The Hunter: Popularized by Shakespeare potentially from a play called The Merry Wives of Windsor. This man called Jacobb Grimm said that Hene The Hunter was related to Odin. Herne the hunter is this ghost. ( https://mythopedia.com/topics/herne-the-hunter ) Im trying to say there are other media that connect the Erlking to the Wild Hunt but its on Wikipedia so it makes it seem fishy. Another Link Here

King Herla: A british king who attended a dwarf wedding. When he left the wedding, the world had changed. Unbeknowst to him, 300 years had passed and he was claimed to be missing. When his men tried to get off their horses, they turned into dust so they were stuck like that. Read it here, its short. Someone better and more credible than me summed the story up better than I did, historian Chrissy Senecal. Read right here. An additional link to cross refrence if you'd like. King Herla and Odin got conflated together when really, their diffrent people

I found this other website article about Wild Hunts which kind of brings me to the next thing, the Harlequinn. They weild clubs, their devils, the image of them is popularly joyful? Maybe goofy and lighthearted? Perhaps associated with cards? Matt, or Heathcliff's portrayal of Matt. Now, I'm looking at Wikipedia and I see this section.

What do we have here? A mention of the Erlkönig, Dante's Inferno, masked, club weilding giant. Heathcliff's not giant but hes pretty tall, at least by my standards but whatever, im very short. DANTE'S INFERNO, Canto 11 and 12. What the fuck Project Moon, are you playing 5d chess?

Back on topic, Hellequin is the fairy king, and this figure pops up in German, French, Italian, and English folklore. I can't do proper research when all my search results are mixed with random junk and I'm becoming nutty. You will not normally be able to access this article without paying but here's the link anyways. Journal Article from this book on a section about horned deities made in 1922 speaks of a group of ghost riding, who are also huntsman.

And also another mention of Dante's Inferno. The name, Herne The Hunter is mentioned again.

All and all, The link between The Erlkonig and The Wild Hunt isn't as wild and unexplainable as I originally thought. It's just so cool to see all these concepts intersect. There still so much to touch upon like the headless horseman refrence and the Dullahans, RYOSHU COMPARING THE WILD HUNT TO THE PARADE OF 100 SPIRTS, something along that line, I forgot the name. I'm just not the right person to yell about this but I will anyways. The writers mixed so many symbols of death into one character. Such a wild and nutty Canto. Thank you so much Project Moon.

[thesweetnessofspring]

If I screenshot every part of Ella that stands out to me I'd have HarperCollins suing me so to sum up Chapter One:

Gail absolutely nails writing Ella as a five year old, nine year old. Ella's delight in her birthday, her feeling special about having a fairy curse and then realizing how people can abuse it.

The fact that Ella didn't realize she had this "curse" until she was five!! That means Eleanor and Mandy (who does end up having a hard time not giving Ella "for your own good" commands) were parenting a preschooler without giving her direct commands!! They were consistently giving her choices!! While they probably did give her some commands (just spend five minutes with a two-year-old and you can see no commands would be impossible) the fact is that Ella didn't realize she was cursed until Mandy slipped up when she was five, so all commands were necessary to keep her safe and never to take away her choice.

The description of Ella eating slice after slice of cake and getting uncomfortably fuller and sicker with each bite is so visceral I feel my own stomach get bloated and pained every time I read it.

"If you commanded me to cut off my own head, I'd have to do it." You know this got the attention of every 10-year-old reading it. Stupid publisher. Also, yo, what high stakes here!

"I didn't know who my fairy godmother was." MANDY!!!

"Instead of making me docile, Lucinda's curse made a rebel of me. Or perhaps I was that way naturally." I've written about this before, but Ella doesn't give her mother the credit she deserves. Having this curse from birth means she could have been molded into a perfect little child. And we know from later on that Ella is far from the first child Lucinda gave this curse to. And I imagine that while the other parents were horrified and protective, they had to of used the curse to their advantage--and realistically, to different degrees of abuse. But Eleanor not only refuses to give commands to Ella, she eggs on the feud between Ella and Mandy! She is preparing her daughter as best she can to live in the world with this curse by using her wits. Mother of all time.

Ella and her mother sliding down the bannister, Ella so wanting to be like her, graceful but also fun! This book has Ella learning to develop into the woman her mother was and getting a happier ending.

Ella caring for her mother is so precious. Eleanor enjoying Ella's stories and encouraging her humor. Guh. I love that Eleanor isn't "elegant dead mother" but even in this one chapter is a full person. She's smart, funny, playful, regal, adoring of her daughter. I love her so much.

Ella's father. So absent, he doesn't know about the curse. Wasn't there for her birth. And so repulsive that Eleanor asks Mandy not to send for him when she's sick.

The candle grove as a nod to the hazel tree in some versions of the traditional Cinderella (including Grimms) where Cinderella makes a wish. Of course, Ella's in this case doesn't come true. :(

[laurasimonsdaughter]

What would a Disney adaptation of the Singing Bone be like?

Oh they wouldn’t touch it with a ten foot pole! But thank you for giving me an excuse to talk about one of my favourite tragic fairy tale motifs: Reincarnation as musical instrument (E632).

There are multiple ways a murder may be revealed by supernaturally speaking or singing bones, plants or objects, but the instrument that sings of the heinous murder is my favourite. It’s so deeply, darkly capital R Romantic. Most of all in the English and Scottish ballad The Twa Sisters and it’s prose counterpart Binnorie:

Two sisters (often princesses) are wooed by a knight, and while he betrothes with the eldest, he loves the youngest better. So the elder sister drowns her sister out of jealousy. A (blind) musician comes across the drowned sister’s remains and either makes an instrument from her bones or strings his violin or harp with her golden hair. As soon as the fiddle is played, usually at the king or the knight’s court, it mournfully sings how she was cruelly drowned by the bride. Most versions end there. In some the instrument breaks in two after singing its song. In some the sister is punished.

The Grimm’s The Singing Bone is less Romantic, but equally tragic:

Two brothers set out to kill a dangerous boar to earn a reward from the king. The youngest succeeds, so the eldest kills him and claims the princess’ hand in marriage instead of him. A shepherd finds a little snow white bone on the spot where the young man was killed and carves it into a mouthpiece for his horn. When he blows on it, it sings of the murder of the brave young man. The shepherd takes the wonderful horn to the king’s court, where the murder is revealed and the elder brother put to death.

In some versions the story is about which royal child will inherit the crown. Like in the Spanish tale The Blue Lily (where the murdered prince miraculously survives being buried alive and having his finger bone turned into a flute that sings of his fate), the Sicilian tale The Singing Bagpipe, or in the Swiss tale The Dead Girl’s Bone:

A king dies and leaves behind the queen and two children. One day they ask their mother who will get the throne. The queen tells the children that whoever finds a certain flower in the woods will be the one to rule. The princess finds the flower, but the prince murders her and takes it from her. Years later a shepherd boy finds one of the girl’s bones and makes it into a flute. When he plays it, it sings mournfully of the horrible murder. A knight hears the boy play the flute and buys it. He plays it wherever he goes. At last the old queen hears its song, removes her son from the throne, and mourns the rest of her life.

Some of the stories take out the rather gruesome detail of making an instrument out of human bone or hair and make it so that reeds or bamboo grow near the place where the victim was killed, so the instrument can be made out of them, like in the Russian tale The Silver Plate, the Indian tale The Magic Fiddle and the Dutch tale The Golden Spinning Wheel. In these versions the murder victims are resurrected and get to live happily ever after. Which is definitely the kind of ending I’d prefer to tell to children, but not where I think the true strength of this type of story lies. Some folklore is just poetic horror, and that can be its own kind of beautiful.

[sideprince]

If I'm honest I think the way the Deathly Hallows were made into a theme in the HP books is much more interesting than the whole Christ allegory, especially since it's a bit more original. I mean, sure, the Tale of the Three Brothers borrows heavily from the European storytelling tradition as filtered through the homogenized lens of the Grimm Brothers - the number three, the two older brothers being rash and unthinking and the youngest being wise, the outwitting of a dangerous foe, the lesson that brute force and bending nature's order will only end badly, etc. But there's still something interesting and original there, and I find that much more exciting than pinpointing how Christian tropes manifest in a children's story that follows them without building on them or raising questions.

What I find particularly fascinating about the Hallows theme is the way it connects to the characters, and how the three brothers and the objects they represent come to be reflected in three of the most key characters in HP:

Harry, Voldemort, and Snape are so inextricably connected, but even though the only moment they're all in the same place is when Snape is killed, it feels like Snape's the one whose journey to that moment is the most clearly laid out. It's the third time we know him to be in the Shrieking Shack: the first, when he's nearly killed by Lupin-turned-werewolf but escapes unscathed, and the second, when he corners Lupin and Black in PoA and is knocked unconscious sustaining a head wound. With each visit to the Shrieking Shack he inches closer to his own death metaphorically.

It's no secret that each Hallow is connected to or representative of one of these characters.

The Deathstick/Elder Wand is Voldemort: he's its penultimate wielder and even before possessing it, his own wand might as well be a death stick. He kills with impunity and without remorse. It's said several times in the series that ultimately all the death and destruction Harry, Ron, and Hermione fight against comes down to Voldemort; even the Death Eaters do what they do in his service. (And, while I take issue with the simplistic and naive perspective it conveys, the story makes it clear that as soon as Voldemort dies, the chaos he has wrought on the wizarding world is already beginning to be set right again.) Harry meets Voldemort in the forest at the end of DH in order to meet his death because it's Voldemort who brings it about.

The Resurrection Stone is Snape: we find out in DH that he has spent the entire septology haunted by the heartbreak and regret losing a loved one caused, and everything he's done has been in service of her. Though he never possesses the Resurrection Stone, he might as well - we see through his patronus that the memory of Lily is with him "always." Interestingly, it's also the Resurrection Stone that sets him on his final path - it's the stone in the ring that curses Dumbledore's hand, leading to Snape agreeing to kill him, and to him making the Unbreakable Vow. Killing Dumbledore draws him into Voldemort's trust even more, but also puts a target on his back. So, like the second Peverell brother, Snape's main drive is a departed loved one, his devotion to whom ultimately dooms him. The more he tries to keep her alive and honor her memory, the more she draws him to his death.

As in the Tale of the Three Brothers, death claims both the first and second brother.

It's the third brother who escapes death and meets him on his own terms through his use of the Invisibility Cloak. Harry literally wears it into the forest at the end of DH and throws it off to meet his death. Harry starts the story having escaped Death and working his way towards it on his own terms. When he dies, it's because he is ready and he chooses to - and once again, he escapes it. Harry is also closely connected to the youngest Peverell brother, being descended from him, and as per the Beadle the Bard's story, the cloak gets handed down from parent to child so Harry is its rightful owner.

Finally, there's the character of Death, whose parallel is, reluctantly but determinedly, Dumbledore. There's an irony in his ownership of the Elder Wand, in that he learned from the mistakes of his youth and understands and eschews its capacity for death and destruction. Even so, he becomes a character who plays a key role in the death of several other characters, not least of whom are Snape, Harry, and Voldemort. His main goal throughout the series is to bring about Voldemort's death. In the process, he sacrifices both Harry and Snape (not to mention countless others). Dumbledore is also the person who gives all three Hallows to their ultimate owner, Harry. In the process, it's from Dumbledore that Voldemort takes the Elder Wand, and it's through Dumbledore's actions that Snape is doomed by the Resurrection Stone, not to mention he's the one to give the Invisibility Cloak to Harry. When Harry escapes death as a baby, it's Dumbledore who leaves him with the Dursley knowing he will return for him later (or will do so through a proxy), sort of - but not quite - foreshadowing that death will come for Harry when the time is right. When Harry is killed by Voldemort, it's Dumbledore who meets him in Kings Cross limbo.

Interestingly, of these four characters it's only Voldemort who is not connected to all three hallows. Dumbledore has, at some point, had each in his possession, and at the end of the story Harry possesses all three and is the only person who knows where the Resurrection Stone is in the forest. Snape is the only person we see use the Invisibility Cloak without an invitation to do so from Harry (in the Shrieking Shack in PoA), and he's the only one aside from Dumbledore and Harry to be connected with the Resurrection Stone. Though he never does so, he was meant by Dumbledore to possess the Elder Wand, and it's the direct reason he's killed. There's an interesting parallel there, based on what Dumbledore says to Harry in King's Cross Limbo:

Harry is obviously the Specialest Boy��️ because he's the protagonist, so he's fit to unite the Hallows (which he never quite does - he uses the Resurrection Stone while wearing the Cloak, but drops the stone well before he physically takes possession of the Elder Wand and wields it). Dumbledore nevertheless has the Cloak for a decade between James' death and giving it to Harry, by which point he has had the Elder Wand for much longer. He takes possession of the Stone when he takes Marvolo's ring, and in the process experiences a parallel to the second brother's story (similar to Snape) as his efforts to reconnect to a deceased loved one instead sets him on the path towards his death. Snape, as stated above, is similarly connected to all three Hallows at one point or other.

As interesting as I find all this, I feel like these parallels and, really, this theme, could have been worked out more throughout the septology and been dealt with in richer, more wide-reaching ways. Maybe it didn't occur to Rowling (boo, hssss) until she was well into writing the series, whereas the Horcruxes clearly had, since Voldemort's inability to die is established in PS and the first Horcrux crops up in CoS. There's a clumsiness in the way Hallows vs. Horcruxes becomes the great dilemma in DH, and if the themes each represents had been established early on and been an undercurrent through the whole series it would have been more powerful.

That's not to say that the themes connected to each Hallow - death, loss, choosing wisdom over power - aren't overarching ones on their own. But Harry's contending with them against Voldemort's focus on that power and his fear of death alongside his cavalier implementation of it ends up being a bit flat, because Harry doesn't waver. It's one of the things Dumbledore points out when they discuss the prophecy, that because Voldemort killed his parents, Harry was never at risk of being seduced by all that Voldemort represents. So even though the themes are there, the tensions between them aren't really present in Harry - again, the protagonist - until the second half of the last book. Not until HBP do we start to see Voldemort's past and understand the parallels between him and Harry, and not until the Prince's Tale chapter in DH do we really see how Snape fits into this trio of "abandoned boys." The fleshing out of his character was sacrificed for the sake of the big reveal of his motivations and I think it would have been more interesting to have moments throughout the series that turned out to be foreshadowing along the theme of the Hallows, and not just ones that clarify his allegiances through the insight into his life.

[rose-of-oz]

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆… 𝐌𝐘 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄 𝐄𝐑𝐀 𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑, 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐅𝐎𝐘

❝ On the surface, Sera Malfoy appeared to be another perfect pureblood child of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. As beautiful, sharp, and cold as a diamond, she walked the halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry with a deadly poise in her step and a neutral, masked expression on her face, showing no emotions except for disdain and the icy, calculated anger that came from being raised in a house of people with beautiful clothes and hearts of stone. She was gorgeous in a way that made almost every boy and girl in her classes look longingly at her, but untouchable in a way that made it clear that she thought herself above all of her peers and their romantic intentions - in short, exactly what a Malfoy daughter ought to be.

But beneath that exterior of ice and onyx that encircled her, nobody at Hogwarts but her older brother Abraxas knew what Sera truly went through. Burdened with red hair so different from the trademark Malfoy silver, which her father saw as proof of her mother’s affair with fellow Scared Twenty-Eight member Horatius Prewitt that he had long suspected but could never prove, the youngest Malfoy spent much of her time at home being scolded, insulted, and derided, told by her father that she would never amount to anything and ignored by her mother, who was terrified of what her husband would do if he saw her being kind towards her supposed bastard daughter. Sera had grown up knowing that she would never be significant in the story of her family, that even if she married well she would never inherit a single Knut of her family fortune, and though that knowledge had roiled in her cold and black over the years, taking the form of carefully hidden fury, she also knew that there was little she could have done to change it.

At least, she had thought so until her fifth year at Hogwarts, until news had broken in the school’s halls that Orion Black, heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, had become engaged to marry his own relative Walburga. From that news had formed Sera’s great plan, forged in a mind as sharp and cunning as only a Malfoy could have: she would seduce Orion, convince him to break off his engagement with Walburga and marry her instead, and finally, finally, become head of a respected pureblood household and prove her worth to her bastard of a father.

It is a magnificent plan, and one that certainly seems to be working, once she puts it into effect - with every midnight spent in Orion Black’s bed and every seductive look shared across a room, Sera can feel the boy being pulled under her sway, as well as she can feel herself falling into a twisted sort of love with him. Every day that passes by, she can feel herself getting closer and closer to her goal, and to the power that she has desperately craved ever since she was a small, wide-eyed idiot of a girl who did not understand why her father hated her.

But no matter how well-crafted the plot, the story of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black has already been written. It has been history since long before its current members were even a thought in their parents’ minds, long-stretching and illustrious. Who is one Malfoy, no matter how cunning a mastermind, to think that she can change it? ❞

Wizarding World Taglist: @manyfandomocs, @of-asters-and-roses.

General Taglist: @hiddenqveendom, @foxesandmagic, @artemisocs, @reyofluke-ocs, @endless-oc-creations, @stanshollaand, @ginnystilinski-reblogs, @luucypevensie, @ginger-grimm, @arrthurpendragon, @fakedatings, @impales, @claryxjackson, @dancingsunflowers-ocs, @eddysocs, @lucys-chen, @ocappreciationtag.

[yanderecandystore]

Hi I'm brazilian, sorry if my english is wrong. But I can order a yan with a sweet wizard boy where he lives in a house made of candy and attracts people for him to devour, I don't know if you've read the story of the brother grimms, of Hansel and Gretel (or Br: João e Maria). How about this concept?

I'm so sorry but I struggled with this one so bad, I made so many versions of this but always fucked up at the candy house part 💀 (I couldn't imagine how to write the reader getting inside, or even finding it even though it was supposed to be the most obvious part lmao) It's very short 👉👈

Also lmao your English is great boo, welcome to the candy store, thank you for sharing with me this idea! It was actually pretty funny how challenging I thought it was X'D

TW/Tags: a little sadistic/more dehumanizing yandere // mentions of: weird/abusive family dynamics; cannibalism; drugging; kidnapping; gore; severed body parts; the usual yandereness although without the soft/lovey fluff I usually write // delusional (he is as sweet as someone who who eats humans could be- I want to write more but I kept messing up so much I died ⚰️)

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

Pumpkin Pie [Yandere!M!Cannibal!Wizard/Witch x GN!Reader - Scenario (?)]:

You were having tea inside a colorful house, your vision was very blurry and your ears felt clogged, and to make things harder to understand there was a heavy and pretty mixed up smell of sweets and candies, overwhelming your nostrils… You don't remember when or how you got in, or why, but the tea was nice so you kept drinking.

You were having a nice time with a stranger who you don't really remember the name of… He wore a weird suit for your town's weather, actually it was just off in general… But you thought it looked nice…

He smiled at you blissfully, clearly having a good time… You felt like you were having a good time as well… You like to think so.

Okay, to be honest you couldn't feel a single thing, your legs were numb and you felt like your head was way too heavy to move it around. You barely felt awake at all. So you just assumed it was probably a strange dream, after all you didn't know this man, right?!

He was talking to you… You didn't understand what he was saying, the smell of something tasty was being baked… Pumpkin pie maybe…? How long have you gone without one of those? Your father didn't like how much sugar you ate, so you were restricted to only a few sweets… But he probably wouldn't be mad about one slice of pumpkin pie, right?

The man patted your head endearingly as he smiled at you, he seemed to not care much about how you weren't paying attention at all… You thought that was sweet of him considering you were always considered an airhead by your family.

… Speaking of them- Shouldn't you go home soon? I mean, this is very pleasant and all but you don't remember how long you've been here and the things that happened beforehand feel like a blur… Your family had a curfew and you didn't want to get in trouble again for breaking it.

Ah, but what could you do? You were just so curious about the forest beside the mansion. You secretly hoped to see fairies or anything magical whenever you went there, ah, how wonderful it was to escape your responsibilities as middle child for at least a few moments.

Sure, your family was wealthy, a lot better than most people in town, but you wished you didn't have to stay inside all day… Your older siblings would get to work with the family mine business while your younger siblings got to play and study all day long, and you? You were sort of the second servant of the house, there were many expectations placed on you and not enough attention to your interests and dreams…

You already miss Ms. Bell, she is such a nice lady and sadly your only friend in a big almost always empty mansion. Actually, you're not even all that bothered about being a "second servant" because you actually like helping her out.

Ah, sweet Bell… She always told you to be careful out in the woods, people would often go missing, especially people who have zero expertise about finding their way in and out… Ms. Bell, always so caring and wise… If only your family listened to you more like she does…!

While you kept drifting into different topics inside your own head, your vision was starting to come back to you and your ears seemed to get better after a while… Your head was still very heavy and it aches as you look around and notice- This guy has a weird taste for decor! Seriously, there's candy everywhere!! Actually… Was everything MADE out of candy?! What the hell?

Wait, you can hear humming, you can hear him better now, he is singing a nice tune as he gets up and takes care of the pie in his oven.

"You're finally awake, or at least more awake now! I'm sorry for what happened before, the dose I gave you was probably too strong, I guess it is just a habit of mine. Please forgive me." The man said in a joyful way, smiling at you like he did before… His voice was familiar but nothing to really help you remember.

"I guess I haven't introduced myself properly, then again I didn't think you would make it this far- I don't know why but I couldn't bring myself to let you go to waste. You have a very sweet smell and I couldn't help but wonder what it would taste like." He acts as if what he said was a compliment, and you strangely enough nod your head, feeling a little dazed still.

Yeah… but, what was he talking about? This conversation was weird and it was starting to worry you a little bit.

He brought to the table you were sitting on his pie so it could cool down while you two chatted, and filled the table with a plate of muffins and another of small bread. They looked incredible!

"You can eat how many you like! Consider yourself my guest, it's actually very nice to have someone over after such a long time…" He sat down in front of you and started to pour you more tea.

"I think it's clear to see I don't really do this, well, my name is Zirick, and this is my house! Don't worry, I'm not mad about what you did earlier, it happens all the time! And of course, my house was pretty much made for it, ya know?"

You didn't understand what he meant, so you told him your name and apologized for not only not remembering what you did but also for doing something that would offend him.

"Oh Pumpkin, it's okay! It's my fault your head is as empty as my cup of tea- My spell was supposed to just knock you out but I guess it was a little too strong and in return made you lose a few memories! But don't worry it'll come back eventually…"

"What I'm talking about is that you stumbled around my land and… Well, after seeing my house you couldn't help but want to take a bite off my walls! But I fixed them already so that's fine."

What? He knocked you out with a spell?? For eating his walls?! That entire sentence didn't make sense to you, you would never randomly eat someone's walls!! Even if they were delicious and even if you… do remember snacking on them… a little bit…

Ugh your mind was a flurry of thoughts, it was like different ingredients being violently mixed together and not mixing well! (Heh, cake comparison! You sure he would have loved to hear that one).

Well, invading someone's property like that was not a good thing but you weren't sure if knocking them with a spell or two was a good way to deal with an intruder… Still, you apologized and said you were going to find a way to pay him for his sweet wall. He waved you off laughing to himself.

"Oh but human money is worthless to me, and besides you have already paid me- Oh! Speaking of which, I just have to make sure this pie tastes good- I would offer you but I don't think it would taste, little Pumpkin."

He started to cut himself a slice… It was very red and meaty for a "pumpkin" pie, yet it smelled like one to you… And to him too.

Your senses were starting to get to you, you started to feel worried as the man was staring at you expectantly, you looked around and saw a peppermint clock on the wall, it marked 10 and you were sure by the darkness outside the window it meant 10p.m. You tried to get up and excuse yourself, after all you needed to get home soon or your family would end up getting mad at you.

But before you could actually walk away, you fell hard into the ground. You noticed you weren't feeling your legs properly, that's because one of them was missing.

"Don't roll away now, you're my guest today, remember? And besides, how far can you go without help, silly?" Zirick came to your aid very quickly and helped you get back to the chair immediately.

You tried to push him away, you bit him, you slapped him and even tried to kick him with one leg- It didn't work, he still knew how to tranquilize you into going back to your dreamland…

"Shh… Ah, how sad. All my guests get like this… You're a little fiesty for such a sweet Pumpkin, but I somehow can't get enough of your company, perhaps when you wake we can start again…"

He licked his dirty, bloodied fork eagerly. Normally he would have turned you into a massive pie but he wasn't THAT hungry and surely just a leg would be enough, and you were adorable walking around in the woods like a little adventure! He couldn't help but trick you into coming closer and eating a piece of his house- He needed a reason to get you inside of course, an eye for an eye, as they would say.

He isn't sure how he'll go about this but he likes your company, especially when you're too dazed to have any inhibitions or sense of privacy when talking to him! He could hear you sleepily mumble for hours, you were just so sweet to talk to, and to taste!

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

[beananacake]

My Crown Upon Your Head

Ch. 1

Prince!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Synopsis: When an arranged engagement between Prince James of Brookland and Princess Natasha ushers the discovery of the existence of a marriage contract between you and said prince, you readily agree to a divorce for the sake of the kingdom. At first, you had been willing to be separated from Prince James but as you spend more time with your husband, you begin to feel things that are forbidden. It does not help your case when James shares the same sentiments. As you combat the emotions that excite and scare you, the discoveries you make of the people that surround you make you suspect there is something else at play...

WC: 3.9k

Warnings: period-typical misogyny, 18+ for delicate issues, typos, not beta'd

A/N: Hi! Welcome to my first Bucky fic! If you think you've read this before... uh, no you didn't ;) Likes, comments, and reblogs makes beananacake a happy writer lol

Once upon a time, there was a girl who accidentally married the prince.

That would have been a story to be told for ages, you thought ironically to yourself. It would have made for an everlasting tale by the Brothers Grimm; storytellers whom you had met during one of your travels to the distant land of Prussia with your diplomat father. They were an odd sort; old men whom you would never have thought to have been the authors to the short tales you loved reading as a child. Their stories were rather macabre despite the hopeful beginnings. After all, not every Once Upon A Time ended with a happy ever after.

I wonder how they would have written my story, you mused rather distractedly as you stood before the King of Brookland.

You had been summoned to the palace the moment your ship had docked into the kingdom’s port. There was no preamble as to why you were wanted; they had only loaded you unto the carriage and had been presented to the monarch without so much as a change of clothing. You were not vain but it would have been more preferable to be wearing the proper attire when meeting with the king. Instead, you met him in your leather breeches, a silk dress shirt, and a waistcoat that you had fashioned from your father’s old vest—all of these articles of clothing were scandalous by themselves, but not as scandalous as knowing the reason why you had been summoned.

“You see, my son is set to marry the Grand Duke’s niece but we find ourselves in an unusual predicament,” said King George II of Brookland as he stood from his throne.

You had no voluminous skirt to tuck your hands into when you were nervous. Instead, you only clenched them at your sides, clutched into fists to calm the nervous quake about you.

“My secretary has found a marriage certificate binding you and my son in matrimony.” The king said disdainfully as he looked down on you. He was a classically handsome man if a bit gaunt and pale. His blue eyes were kind yet piercing. His jaw was strong and covered with a beard that was white as it was thick. His voice rasped with every words as though he labored them out. He was an old man, stooping because of his many years but it did not dampen the regal, commanding aura he had about him.

“You had been married to my son for two decades.”

Twenty years? You would have been but six years! Surely, there must have been a mistake.

You took a discreet step back, afraid of the silent fury in his voice. You had no idea of this marriage to the prince but your lapse in memory only seemed to make the blaze of anger in the king's eyes grow.

“Forgive me, Your Majesty, but I have no idea of this certificate of which you speak.”

A harsh scoff sounded from the man who stood beside the throne. Your eyes flitted to the Grand Duke and the cruel severity from him made you step further back. His features told you he did not belong to Brookland; rather than possessing the strong jaws and high cheekbones of the Brooks, he appeared more foreign. The Grand Duke—an honorable title reserved only for the king’s advisers—had his lips drawn tight, his brown eyes beady as he regarded you.

“His Majesty will not tolerate insolence, child. I suggest you answer in truth.” His words, while spoken calmly and simply, chilled you. His eyes betrayed nothing nefarious but there was an air about him, of something that made him unfriendly to you. Then again, it was his niece the prince was promised to and you had unknowingly married said prince.

“My apologies, Grand Duke,” you bowed your head as you lowered into a curtsy. You could not bear to look him in the eye for one more time.

“Tell me your name again,” commanded King George.

You kept your head low as you said your name.

“If you are who you say you are, then it must be you who signed this contract.” The soft unraveling of the scroll drew your attention and you looked up as the king thrust it before you.

There it was. Your name, written by the hand of a six-year-old child. It was a mess of letters but it was discernible enough for anyone to read your name. Beside it was Prince James’s inscription, no better than yours but still enough to be recognized as the name of the kingdom’s future monarch.

The royal seal of the Barnes of Brookland—a crowned lion standing atop a shield that bore the coat of arms of the family—brought about a memory that had long been buried until that moment.

You watched closely as your father, a scholar and one of Brookland’s diplomats, poured hot wax on the space between where he and another had signed. It was a rich blue with gold flecks, the colors and symbol of your country’s opulence. You were always curious as to why he did the ritual of laying his ring on top of the molten wax after signing the papers. You asked him.

“It is a promise, Y/N,” your father had replied as he took of his signet ring and placed it sigil-down on the paper.

“Like friendship, papa?” you had asked in your small, excitable voice.

He chuckled fondly, caressing your cheek as he watched you in the candlelight. “Of a sort. This paper is a memory of that friendship with our country and this country’s king.”

“Can I do it with my friends?” You watched with curious eyes, taking note of where he had written his name and the fact that it must be sealed with wax and his ring.

“Of course, little one. I shall have to teach you how to write your name so you can sign your promise.”

You beamed, eager to employ this newfound knowledge and practice of sealing your promises of friendship.

You were unable to read as well but it was no matter, your papa will teach you. It was your memory that was prodigious and you remembered his process. First, he took parchment from his sheaf of papers. He signed his name on the first empty space, then the other man did as your father had. They shook hands. Your father poured hot wax and placed the sigil on the promise and placed it on different sheaf of papers.

It was simple enough for you to do.

You recalled that moment you had done it. You had visited the palace with your father and he had let you play around the grounds while he conducted business with the other diplomats of the kingdom. Prince James had been but a boy then, a little older than you were but not old enough to talk affairs of the kingdom. He had been in the garden alone and you approached him with the idea of trying your newfound way of sealing friendships. You had not realized that you had plucked a marriage certificate from the Great Study because, truly, all of your father’s contracts appeared one and the same to you and you had assumed as much for all the papers. You innocently scrawled your name, taking good care in spelling it right as your father had told you. The prince had done the same and with your father’s ring, you sealed your—and the prince’s—fate.

“You recognize it then,” asked the king as he snatched the offending paper away.

“Your Majesty—” The apology did not slip past your lips.

“You may look innocent but I sense ambition in you, girl,” remarked the adviser. There was a hint of malice in his words and you flinched.

“Grand Duke.” There was a warning edge to King George’s tone. He turned to you once more. “You recognize this certificate?”

You steeled yourself, standing erect as you drawled out slowly. “It was not my intention to bind myself in marriage to the prince, Sir.” You swallowed. “My father introduced contracts to me as a way of keeping friendships. As a child of six, I did not know of diplomacy or the legitimacies of binding contracts nor the numerous different kinds of it. I only took the paper as I had assumed all were one and the same. I signed my name and had the prince sign his and stamped it the ring my father had me hold for safekeeping. I did not know that any agreement signed by the prince and sealed with the royal stamp would be legally binding even at so young an age.”

The silence that followed echoed in the throne room. Your boots scraped against the marble floor and you were once again reminded that you were unfit to be meeting with the king in such a state. Women, even common folk, were expected to be in dresses and long skirts. You shunned those articles of clothing whenever you were traveling the waters, finding breeches, shirts, and practical boots better than the full hoops of the skirt that often got in the way whenever you walked about the ship. The sailors were used to seeing you in this garb and did not find it offending at all that you were not dressed like a lady but to the eyes of the king and the Grand Duke and perhaps the many a footman you had passed before entering the throne room, you looked downright scandalous.

“We will keep you in the palace, Y/N.” proclaimed the king, which made you turn to him once more.

Evidently, the news shocked the Grand Duke as well because he turned to the monarch with his question plain on his face. King George held up a hand to his adviser and sat on his throne before answering.

“We will keep you in the palace until we find a solution to this impasse.”

“Of course, Sir,” you replied because what else was there to say?

“Surely, you understand the delicacy of this matter. I would not have you proclaiming to the people that you are the new princess—or rather, had been their princess for near two decades already.”

You were offended at his insinuation but did not show it. You had no right to show indignation towards the king.

“In here, you are contained. You shall still be free to roam the palace grounds as you please but we will not have you out of it. If so, you shall have a chaperone and we would be informed of your itinerary.”

You only nodded. You were a creature of adventure; the very notion of being confined within the palace grounds was comparable to have your wings clipped. But I had started this problem and I must pay for my childish ignorance, you thought to yourself.

You were set to sail with your father once again to the return to the distant land of Wakanda. It had been your life; traveling from one kingdom to another. You had learned of cultures and languages, of food and dance, and everything it was that you could ever beheld. Your home kingdom might be tiny and beautiful but the world beyond held more possibilities that you never once thought was within your grasp.

Oh, how you would have wanted to walk your father’s footsteps as Brookland’s new diplomat. You learned from all the travels you have done; your father had made you his apprentice and had taught you everything he knew of his trade. People still underestimated you. It was unheard of for someone of the fairer sex to be an ambassador, so you had never tried. You only acted as an adviser to your father within the confines of his office walls, honing your innate talent of persuasion and diplomacy.

Sadly, your dreams were once again stalled.

“Your Majesty, since I am common folk, my presence in the palace will arouse suspicion.”

The king nodded. “It is all being taken care of. My son's cousin will be arriving soon and you shall pose as a guest with him. You are merely early in your arrival.”

“Of course, Sir.” You paused and looked down to your clothes before turning back to the monarch “There is also a matter of my trunks, Your Majesty. I have arrived empty-handed.”

King George looked at you from your head to your boots. “Are all your clothes thus?”

You shook your head. “No, Sir. This is what I wear when I am traveling the seas. I do not find it practical to wear a skirt whilst I am on deck and the tides are high.”

“Ah, yes. You travel with your father.”

“Yes, Sir.”

He nodded. “I cannot allow you to leave the palace so soon after we have talked. Write him a missive for your trunks but do not mention your business here.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“You may go.”

“My King,” you genuflected at the monarch before doing the same to the Grand Duke. “Your Grace.”

You stepped backwards, keeping the front of your body towards the king as you slowly went out of the throne room. Once the doors had closed, you heaved a great sigh and straightened, only to knock against someone behind you. You turned and gasped, rooted in place, at the sight of the man before you.

It was the prince. Prince James Buchanan Barnes. Prince James with his dark hair and fiercely blue eyes and features that told you he truly was the son of Brookland. He had grown handsome over the years, which shouldn’t come as a surprise as his father was a handsome man as well. James—were you allowed to address him as James?—had a firm look on his face, a bit reminiscent of his father’s gaze as he watched you. Broad of the shoulders and fit of the body, his muscled legs were encased in tight white breeches and his coat brought out the color of his eyes. They were as blue as the sea and as clear as the sky.

Your husband. What an absurd notion!

“Careful,” he said as he held you by your arms. His voice was deep and smooth and it caressed you in places that you never thought were possible.

You ogled at the prince. As much as you wanted to  look away, you cannot. His gaze held you, searching your eyes and quite frankly, perhaps even your soul. Even if you had nothing to hide, you were scared of the things he would find there. Like the matter of your being bound to him in marriage.

Your heart skipped a beat. It had nothing to do with your being nervous of him finding out about your accidental ploy of being married to him but more of the fact that you had never been looked at like how he was looking at you. Your appearance was unkempt and you had not been able to properly tie your hair but something about his stare made you feel like you were much more beautiful than you truly look. He made you feel emotions not even the best of the world could offer and for the life of you, you had no idea why.

Your knees buckled and you bent down in an ungraceful curtsy. It did not escape your notice that your arms were still caged by his fingers. The heat from his hands seeped through the soft cotton of your shirt into your skin and you gave a shaky breath. “Your Highness, my apologies. I did not see you—”

“James. I thought the hunt would have run you ragged.” You heard the king say as the doors open behind you.

Princes James gave you curious smile and you realized he had no idea of who you were or why you were there. Would it change if he knew? You wondered absently. Your eyes still lingered on his lips.

“It is all right. No need to apologize.” he said.

You turned to his eyes as you rose to your full height. His hands left your arms and the imprints that he left warmed you as you were ushered away.

…

…

…

Prince James Buchanan Barnes was, for all intents and purposes, an apprentice. His whole life he was schooled to be the next king of Brookland. He was taught to be a soldier to know of battle strategies. He had masters who taught him philosophies and history. He was knowledgeable in three languages because his parents had insisted he learn two more so he can converse with more people. He was, essentially, an apprentice monarch. And a king, even one still learning the trade, needed a queen.

Which brought him to the matter at hand. His father had promised his hand to the Grand Duke Zemo’s niece. He had never set eyes on her before and was only sent a portrait that he and his father had looked at and had deemed her beautiful. Her country was powerful and Brookland—albeit teeming with natural and mineral resources—needed to ally with a kingdom for its protection. Marrying a princess from a rich and powerful country was the correct step in ensuring the best for the kingdom. It was what his father had done with his mother. It was fortunate that his parents had fallen in love despite the circumstances.

“I was not aware Princess Natasha was arriving today,” James said as he pried his eyes away from your retreating figure.  

It was unusual for him to see a princess not in their finest clothes, either, especially one from a country that was advertised to him as bountiful and rich. He had no qualms, however, about seeing you in such a state. Clad in what was commonly considered as undergarments, you were a small person than what the portrait had let on. You came only until his chin and even then, you still seemed tinier. Your legs were enclosed in buckskin leather, much like his own when he went hunting, and it made him wonder if maybe you hunted as well. You wore a dress shirt beneath a curious piece of waistcoat that you had tucked in the waistband of your breeches and it accentuated your rounded hips and ample bottom. You wore none of those heeled shoes he knew ladies favored. Instead, your feet were clad in flat boots that went up to your knees and showcased your perfect calves. Albeit you were dressed inappropriately, it did not escape him that you were dressed practically. And sensually, he thought to himself.

You were beautiful in the portrait but in person, you were exquisite. The painter failed to capture the smattering of freckles across your nose or the hint of lightness on your hair. There was a small scar on the side of your cheek that he did not notice when he beheld your picture; perhaps the painter found it wise to not include the blemish lest it deterred him from making an offer of marriage to you, even if it was not his idea to be wed to you. Be that as it may, the scar endeared him to you. It made you appear more tangible, more… real, and nothing like the uptight version your uncle had painted you to be.

“Heavens, no. I would never associate myself with that—that thing.” Zemo said, looking at your back in what could only be termed as disgust.

James raised a brow. So you were not the princess. “I would assume that thing has a name and a purpose?” When his question was met with silence, he turned to the king. “Father?”

“Walk with me, boy.” was all the king said. He waved his hand away to his adviser. “Thank you, Grand Duke. We do not need you in this talk.”

“Your Majesty. Your Highness.” Zemo bowed as King George led James away.

He followed his father down the Hall of Portraits. He remembered his lessons of his family’s history, of the important people who had changed the laws and the lives of many. King Alphonse. Queen Mariam. Queen Winnifred, his mother. He knew it best not to dwell on his mother’s untimely death around his father, whom he knew was still mourning her. She had left them so suddenly and they both had not been the same ever since. It did, however, brought them even closer.

“James,” his father started as they arrived in the garden. “There is a matter I wish for you to know.”

Rarely did his father venture this far into the gardens. Queen Winnifred had kept a small alcove for her personal use, locked away but still kept clean by the royal gardener. James often went there when he needed time for himself. His father did not.

“Yes, father?” James asked, watching his father closely as he sat.

Since his wife’s death, the king’s health had deteriorated rapidly. The doctors had deemed it a great depression, one the king will brave in a few months’ time, but James knew his father would never recover from the death of his beloved. Every day he feared his father would leave him so soon after his mother had. The mere idea frightened him.

“You are promised to Princess Natasha,” King George said, to which James nodded. “But there is a small matter we must address before you wed her.”

He raised an inquiring brow. “Does she not want to be wed?”

“She wishes to be wed to you, James. However, we find ourselves at a loss for something you have done some twenty years ago.” He patted the space beside him on the bench and the prince sat.

Twenty years ago? What could he have done at eight years old for his father to remark on now?

“Are we bringing up old sins, father? Because if we are, I do not remember what I had done at eight years old that would bear remembering.”

“My boy,” the king clasped his son on the shoulder. It was a fatherly touch but also that of a king, a touch that brooked no argument.

“You are already married.”

James frowned. Married? Surely, he would have remembered the festivities that came with the union.

“Married? I don’t remember meeting my bride or signing a marriage contract.” He turned to his father. “Are you well, father? Perhaps we should return inside. The sun—” The sun had killed his mother. He did not wish the same for his father.

The king waved his hand away. “I am well, son. Do not worry about my health.” He looked sternly at the young prince. “You are not married to the Princess Natasha but you have been married for two decades now.”

“Father, I must ask you to speak plainly. I had been married for two decades? And not to the princess I was promised? Then who am I married to?”

“Do you know anyone by the name of Y/N Y/L/N?”

James’s frown deepened. He readily denied but stopped short.

Y/N. The name sounded familiar to him. And then he knew. He remembered; the girl he had invited inside is mother’s secret garden and had played with under his favorite tree. Familiar eyes that lit up as they smiled at him, the same ones who had looked upon him just a few moments before. You had brought a paper to him—a promise of friendship, you had said—and he signed it with no hesitation.

“She is that girl you thought was the Princess Natasha, my boy.”

James looked back to the door they had came through, as though he would see you appear if he called your name out loud.

“She is your wife.”

[anthurak]

When it comes to how Summer will be saved, I think they're going to use the Staff to do it.

Given that the (failed) gambit to save Penny feels like it was setting something up, since it established a very exploitable loophole in the Staff's rules.

If Summer's soul is still in there, they can use the Staff to just dump her unsalvageable body into a disposable and mindless clone and then just make her favorite dessert and watch the Grimm she was transformed into cease to exist.

"Regarding Cinder...

Given the Beyond Volume 9 Shorts, my best guess is that Cinder is going to end up having the Grimm blasted out of her (because said Grimm parasite is slowly killing her) only to start dying (because the Grimm has infested so many of her vital organs that she can't survive without it), with her being taken to the Great Tree.

There, Cinder Fall's story will end, and Ruby will return to Remnant with a child that looks JUST similar enough to Cinder for anyone who's been to the Ever After to know what happened and be generally unhappy with Ruby for putting them in this situation that they have to protect the monster that ruined their lives.

Nobody but them will ever know that the little girl was ever Cinder Fall, possibly not even the girl herself (unless she gets enough context clues to piece it together and have an existential crisis).

Because Cinder Fall will need both a new name and a new face if she wants to SURVIVE once Salem's been dealt with. She IS the most hated woman on Remnant, after all."

------

Okay, so I’ve decided to answer your two asks together as there is quite a bit of overlap to my feelings on them:

Regarding Summer, yeah using Ambrosius to effectively ‘purge’ her grimm-corruption is definitely a possibility, though personally I think we might actually see Summer being taken to the Tree to undergo ascension.

However, rather than going through the ‘full’ ascension treatment, Summer ends up making essentially the SAME choice that Ruby made; a choice to be Summer Rose. An act which removes the physical debilitations of her grimm-corruption, but leaves her with all the memories and trauma of her time under Salem.

This is Summer being offered the chance to be free of all the pain, suffering and hardship she’s been through over the last fifteen years, similar to what Ruby was offered in Volume 9. But deciding that living with that pain is worth it to be with the family she loves and who loves her. Which I imagine will also contrast with whatever choice she made to leave her family in the first place and/or whatever may have led to her hybridization.

Which I think could also make a good contrast with Cinder. Because I do largely agree with you about Cinder getting the full ascension treatment. When we look at what ascension is meant to do and the Afterans who undergo it, out of all the major characters in the show, Cinder does seem to be the one who could use it the most.

It’s funny actually; prior to Volume 9 one of the thoughts I kept coming back to concerning Cinder was that her entire identity has been so warped and twisted by Salem and really just about her entire life before that in how she was shown nothing but abuse, manipulation, betrayal and general negativity (see my post on this) that in order to both get her away from Salem and give her a chance for some form of happiness; practically her entire identity would need to be effectively torn down to its foundations.

Which funny enough, is kind of exactly what Ascension does.

Though I will say, I don’t think the impetus for this will be Cinder ‘needing’ ascension in order to survive after having her grimm implants/hybridization purged, nor would it be happening immediately afterwards.

Instead, I see Cinder having an arc after being freed of Salem’s control where she tries to find a life where she is truly free to make her own choices, with help from Ruby, her friends, Emerald, etc. Only to realize that she just can’t. That she simply has nothing to live for now. Which is what ultimately leads her to accompany Ruby, possibly even with Summer, to the Ever After to undergo Ascension.

Rather than something she needs to do, I think Ascension will be something Cinder CHOOSES to do. Which obviously feels much for appropriate for her character.

[howlingday]

au where jaune finds a magic sword when he's younger. it becomes his best friend and agrees to help him become a legendary hero since that's what it was made for in the first place. thing is no one else can hear it speak so everyone thinks jaune's insane. he's also extremely powerful and can use his aura in really interesting ways... he's just terrible at actually using the sword. might need some remedial training in that good thing he's going to beacon TLDR: jaune's a level 15 warlock, whos just now starting to pick up his first levels in paladin how does the story change? (just wanted to see how you think jaune's build would be different if he started off with a warlock instead of being pure paladin like we see in the show)

Hero of Dark Hope

Jaune's family trip to Vacuo had gone a strange direction. Though he was told to stay close to his sisters, his sense of adventure got the better of him... Well, his sister, too, but it's not like he tried to stop her. But the sands of Vacuo are not for those weak of heart. This lesson would be learned when he fell into a sinkhole that swallowed him faster than he could scream. He fell into the freezing cold water, thrashing about the grotto waters until he floundered his way to the cold comfort of dry land.

Jaune was alone, separate from his family. He called out to them, tears building in his eyes. He wanted to be a hero like his ancestors before him, but the cruel reality that he could die alone and so far away from his family was a very heartrending thought. He sobbed and wailed for every family member he could, hoping his voice would be carried up to them.

"ENOUGH!" Jaune whirled around to the center of the pool he was soaked from. "Your cowardice sickens me! Are you not a Maiden?!"

"N-No!" Jaune called back. "I'm a boy!"

"A boy? Where is the Maiden?"

"I'm..." Jaune gulped, sensing decreasing hostility, "I'm the only one here."

"Is that so? How did you enter my chambers?"

"I... I fell through the sands up there." Jaune pointed to the dark ceiling. Light began to glow bright from the pool until the beacon revealed itself to be a large, ornately crystalline sword floating in the air. "Who... Who are you?"

"I..." A small blue child decorated with golden strands of jewelry began, sitting atop the handle on his toes. His foxlike ears flicked as he grinned a toothy smile, "...am Yoki. The spirit who resides within the Sword of Destruction."

------------------------------------------

"Whoa! What is that?!"

"C-Crap!" Jaune quickly tucked the hilt into his back pocket. "You saw that?!"

"Heck yeah!" Ruby said with eyes shining. "What is that weapon? I've never seen a sword like that! Can I hold it?!"

'Jaune, she's annoying me.' Yoki groaned into Jaune's ears. 'Can we blow her up?'

"No!" Jaune shouted.

"Oh! Right!" Ruby cleared her throat. "May I hold it?"

"Er, n-no. I, uh..." Jaune gulped. He made a deal with Professor Ozpin about Yoki. He doesn't tell anyone about it, and nobody has to know he has it. Well, now somebody does know. The biggest weapon's nut in Beacon, if not the whole world. Well, here he was now, so now he had to deal with it.

'Now?'

"No." Jaune said with a sharp tone, making Ruby flinch. "Oh, er, s-sorry. I was... Nevermind. I'm still saying no. See, I'm kind of not supposed to tell anyone about this weapon."

"Why not?"

"Um... It's a secret?" Jaune said with a sheepish grin.

'Wow, that was a really bad lie.'

"Wow, that was a really bad lie." Ruby echoed. "But I can respect your decision. And you can trust me! I won't tell anyone about your secret Grimm-killing weapon!"

"Thanks, Ruby." Jaune let out a huge sigh. "But, uh, since we're already keeping secrets, how about I at least bring you up to speed on me and Yoki."

"Yoki?" Ruby asked. "Why's your sword named Yoki?"

'I'm not HIS sword!' Yoki screeched, making Jaune cringe. 'I'm my own sword!'

"They're, uh, really sensitive about saying they're my sword. It's more like I'm borrowing it."

"Oh, you mean like Crocea Mors?"

"...Kinda?"

------------------------------------------

Jaune clashed hard with Cinder in the realm between Kingdoms. He was so close to getting people safely out of Atlas, but then SHE had to show up of all times! With Crocea Mors destroyed, he had no choice but to bring out the big guns. Or big sword in this case.

"Finally!" Cinder said with glee. "I'll have three relics in one go!"

"You'll have to kill me, first!" Jaune charged at her, blade at the ready.

"That's the idea!"

Cinder swooped low, swinging her glass sword in with an intense heat behind it. Jaune could feel it, but it would still shatter into, well, glass once Jaune and Yoki struck against her. Seeing him easily best her sword, she expanded the distance, shifting her tactics to more ranged options. Arrows sliced through the air as Jaune backed away, his aura already catching a few. He was smart enough to swat them off once he felt the heat.

'Yoki, do you trust me?'

'Not a good time to ask, but yes.'

'Good, because I have a dumb plan.'

'As if that ever changed anything.'

Jaune decided to close the distance, charging towards Cinder, who continued to fire makeshift arrows. He dove, his hair receiving a small shave of a few strands. As he rolled forward, the exploding arrow launched him like a missile along the ground. As his shield skidded against the ground, he activated the gravity dust, the shock racking his body as he suddenly launched backwards, into the air. As he soared high into the air, Cinder chased after him with manic glee on her face. He readied Yoki, roaring as he came crashing towards her.

"CINDEEEEEER!"