#centaur England

[coralcatsea]

Do you prefer Monster!Alfred/Human!Arthur or Human!Alfred/Monster!Arthur?

Ooh! Well, I enjoy both, but I do think I lean towards either Arthur being the monster or both of them being monsters.

If there's NSFW involved, I definitely tend to prefer Arthur as the monster just because I like top Arthur and it's typically more fun for the top to be the monster (Though human Arthur can top the monster, too. 😏)

In general, here are some monsters I like to use for them:

-Zombie Alfred

-Eldritch Arthur

-Vampire Arthur

-Werewolf Alfred

-Naga Arthur

-Arachne Arthur

-Harpy Alfred

-Mermaid Arthur

-Cecaelia Arthur

-Mermaid Alfred

-Demon Arthur

-Ghost Arthur

-Demon Alfred

-Kitsune Arthur

-Dragon Arthur

-Kitsune Alfred

-Zombie Arthur

-Centaur Arthur

[wizisbored]

dragon au 🤝 railway taurs au

pretty sure the beetlejuice stuff is just a way in to developing a whole fictional universe that has nothing to do with the musical at all

[paulpingminho]

[tomicscomics]

12/06/2024

Now what fantasy races should they choose?!

The saints' RPG adventure continues every Monday and Friday through December!

___

JOKE-OGRAPHY: 1. Continuing from the last couple cartoons, an angel is running a fantasy RPG for some saints in heaven. Among them is St. Joan of Arc, a French peasant who fought the English in the Hundred Years' War. 2. As the angel guides his players through making their characters, they finally get to the part where they choose their race. In most fantasy RPGs, "race" refers to whole species of sentient creatures, such as humans, elves, goblins, bipedal centaurs, etc. However, in the cartoon, when Joan hears "race," she thinks of "nationality," and so asks if the game will include English people -- her sworn enemies. The angel says that no real world nations exist in the fantasy world, but he may use real world accents while pretending to be certain characters. 3. In most fiction, orcs are war-hungry monsters that speak with Cockney accents -- one of the many accents found in England -- so Joan deduces that they'll be the bad guys, since anything vaguely English must be evil. The angel says yes, the orcs are bad guys, but more because of their murder and bloodlust and less because of their accent.

[fallingskiesandrisingseas]

Today, Peter Pevensie after Narnia.

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

Peter has severe body dysmorphia when he comes back.

He used to be strong, reliable. Able to pick up his sister with one hand and fence with the other one. He prided himself on it, had arm wrestling contests with minotaurs and centaurs.

The first time he walks down the stairs he falls flat on his face. He's not used to his legs being half a foot shorter than they used to be.

His teachers don't understand how he turned into such a mess. He was normal, right? He was normal before he was sent away?

They talk of the way war hurts young children. They don't know just how true that is.

Peter cannot find his scars anymore. His body is soft, the skin unbroken. It fosters a rage in him so loud that teachers have to scold him every week. He fights with class bullies all the time. They gang up on him. They usually lose. They eventually stop trying.

Peter fights with honour, though. Closed fists, never below the belt, no permanent damage. If he gets the chance he will even take off his lion rings.

Long nights crying are replaced by sessions in the gym. Peter has pride like a wounded lion, will not let himself be pushed around. He gets used to his new body, makes it strong. Others worry over this obsession with strenght.

His siblings know it is because he has to regain an identity all by himself. Sure, they were royalty too, but he was the High King, Commander of the Armies, Emperor of the Lone Islands. He was the face of their court, the man behind the flag.

Others brought more back from Narnia then he did. Lucy has dancing, Edmund has chess, Susan has diplomacy and her silver tongue.

Peter had his crown, his country, his duties and his sword. Peter, even when stranded on a lone island, always had his wit and his strenght.

All that is lost in England, where he is not allowed to speak before his father, where he no longer has authority. He has to respect teachers talking about war while he knows they never fought.

He sits in the front of class still. He learns to hide the snarl, the comeback, the lazy sarcasm that fits a High King but not a 14 year old kid. Stops challenging his teachers verbally. He adjusts. His curiosity never leaves him, and his manners, he reminds himself, shouldn't neither.

He's cunning and clever and articulates himself well. Teachers often feel the need to call him arrogant, but he isn't that.

He's confident and secure, doesn't seem to suffer from teenage angst. He has endured loss, that they know. But they haven't a clue what he lost.

Peter is insufferable for the first 2 months he comes back from Caspian's Narnia. A kingdom, gone. Even with Aslan's words this is a hard lesson.

Then he becomes a man no one knew he could be.

Peter doesn't back down from bullies or harsh teachers. Peter doesn't ask for justice, he demands it.

Peter is brave. Two weeks after he's back, he sees a vet begging in the streets, harassed by a group of young men. He jumps in, comes home with a tooth missing and his knuckles bloodied.

When the vet is admitted to the hospital, no one believes the stories he tells. He says he saw a 15-year old veteran. The look in his eyes gave it away, he assures his physicians. That's a war look.

Peter is much more aware than he seems, can burn right through you with his glares. He takes critique seriously, but doesn't do well with disrespect, no matter who it's from.

Teachers hate that.

Despite this, kids like Peter, eventually. He's popular. Adults listen to him, which is strange. Not many 14 year old kids can command a room the way he can. They gravitate towards him, somehow.

It helps he grows tall faster than seems possible and walks so straight that it adds inches to his height. It helps he tells stories so vividly they almost come alive before their eyes. It helps he is cool under pressure, self-assured, broadshouldered. He's pious, goes to church every Sunday.

Peter settles eventually, a little slower than Susan and Edmund but before Lucy. He discovers the fencing club and immediately becomes the most talented member by a distance. Three weeks after he joins he beats the instructor. It makes him easier to manage, takes the edge of him.

He likes to quip while fencing. It's sometimes quite dark.

He's helpful though. His classmates don't take offence; Peter tells often and gladly of his instructor, a man named Oreius. He makes it sound like he was the greatest fencer in the country, always calls him "swordmaster".

He's often archaic with his speech like that.

His teachers are glad that the anger has faded. He's become better at many things, they discuss among themselves. An excellent writer, a brilliant fencer. A very strong debater. Peter, they conclude, makes sure things get done. The makings of a leader.

Peter likes languages. He's the one that remembers Narnian the best, uses it to learn a few other tongues. He likes sailing, and riding horses. His academic performances always improve after physical exercise, he can feel his brain speed up when the blood is flowing. Stories about who taught him that, who taught ALL the Pevensies that, circulate widly. Peter smiles when he hears he must've been recruited by MI6. He doesn't fight the allegations.

Women take a liking to him as he ages. He has "old-time charm", they say, even though they don't understand exactly what that means.

Chivalrous. That's the word they look for often. When they find out he can dance too, all of them fall head over heels. Peter is never smug about it, always remains polite. He doesn't kiss and tell.

He talks to his sisters and brother often.

Edmund seems like his shadow, but Peter never treats him like a little brother. He respects his input, often asks him for advice. Many are astonished when they find out Edmund is only 11 years old. They don't bicker. He dances with Lucy, talks deeply and seriously with Susan.

The Pevensies are close, and Peter is the oldest brother. He behaves like that, too.

He is the first to sign up for the war effort, eager to defend his nation and his family. But despite doing very well in selection, he doesn't get a frontline position. His skills, his supervisors decide, are better put to use elsewhere. He's too good to be cannon fodder.

Lucy and Edmund are secretely somewhat glad when he leaves to work with Susan in the States after he turns 19. Getting a date is very hard when Peter Pevensie is your older brother. And the States are safe.

Potential partners tend to be a little ... intimidated around him. Golden child, blond hair, 6"3, built like a brick, VERY protective of them, and fencing champion; Peter is a lot. He's disarming when you get to know him, but still.

They never liked Peter in the front lines, anyway.

Narnia never leaves his mind. Back from America with a BA in History and work experience from a secret service, he has dinner with the Friends of Narnia, sees the spectre, goes to find the rings.

He dies happy.

[kingorqueenofnarnia]

TCON HEADCANON

.

Peter used to be the tallest of the four, until Susan turned fourteen and shot up to six feet— one inch taller than him. It earned him weeks of teasing from his three little shits until he hit sixteen and and shot up half a foot, reaching an astounding six feet four inches. This was in the middle of a campaign against the Raiders of Korentha, and even he did not realise he had grown until he returned home from war and suddenly he had to tilt his head down to look at Susan. Susan sulked for days, and was only appeased when Peter gifted her a beautiful pair of high heels. Peter likes being tall, even though he's not as tall as a Centaur— Susan likes his bear hugs, and he gets to make fun of the younger ones for being tiny squirts. Lucy regularly climbs him like a jungle gym until she hits her own growth spurt.

Susan cut an imposing figure at 15, with wide shoulders and a slender torso, standing at an impressive 6 feet even without her famous heels. She hated it at first— girls from England were short, much shorter than her, and so were many of the men. She always felt a little self conscious in a crowd because of how she towered over the average human. In Narnia, however, it was different. Druids and Naiads and Dryads regularly reached six feet, and centaurs were rarely shorter than seven. Fauns were short, but Bears stood on their hind legs and towered over her only to hand out the warmest hugs Susan had ever experienced apart from Peter's. Secretly though, no matter how much she teased Peter about being shorter than her, she was glad when he grew taller than her. (His hugs aren't as comforting if you're taller than him, alright?)

Halfway through Edmund's fifteenth year of existence, he was both shocked and pleased to find out he did not need to tilt his head back to look at Peter anymore. Peter was 18 and a giant, bear-like warrior king, his furs and long braids and armour making him look even larger, and Edmund was a lanky teenager with remnants of baby fat still on his cheeks and wiry muscle wrapped around thin bones— both of them were the same height, but Edmund looked boyish where Peter looked manly. It took him till he was in his early twenties to match Peter's bulk, but he stayed as tall as Peter for the rest of his life, not an inch here or there. (and Peter thanks the Fates for that. He doesnt know if he could withstand the amount of heckling that would come with being shorter than his brother.)

Lucy was the shortest of them her entire life. Until she was 14, she was about 5ft 4 inches, at which point she started growing like a weed and stopped at the very admirable height of five feet ten inches— just two inches short of Susan's height. It infuriated her to no end; being shorter than everyone was annoying, and even more so when you weren't actually short at all, just shorter than your siblings. At 5'10, she towered over many Narnian species as well as her classmates when she returned to England and went through puberty a second time, but she loved it. She loved being taller, loved that she was only shorter than her siblings— they may annoy her by teasing her about their heights, but being smaller meant the hugs were better, and really, why would she give up on a chance to climb Peter like a monkey so she could sit on his shoulders? No, Su, she doesn't care that it looks uncouth.

[celestiamour]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ when i'm alone ]❜

━━━ .°˖��� requested by @lokotrona11 ˚₊ ⊹

ft. peter pevensie x f! reader — the chronicles of narnia

╰₊✧ peter meets a bookworm who makes life in london a bit more bearable┊1.3k words (prt two coming soon)

setting: england after the golden age contains: exposition, first meetings, strangers to friends, minor blood & injury & mentions of fights

➤ author's note: the very first narnia request i received!! there will be a part two that’s further into their relationship and includes more of the request, so please look forward to that (it will be better than this one, trust me, i just thought this meeting would be cute)!

to say adjusting to life back in england was difficult would be an understatement. although it was nice to see his mother again and the familiar landscape of where he grew up, it doesn’t change the fact that it was a complete accident as a result of them exploring during a hunt and going back towards the wardrobe’s tunnel in nostalgic curiosity. all of the siblings would be lying if they said that home had the same magic spark that narnia did with the gray skies and the nauseous smell of pollution, but at least they had the wonders of modern technology here like lightbulbs rather than wax candles. it was even a shock for them to remember that they are no longer the only humans in the world, that animals didn’t talk anymore, and that mythical creatures like centaurs and griffins were only real in fiction. however, the most difficult change for peter by far was the fact that he was no longer the king of a fantastical land, instead he was now some nineteen-year-old boy who wasn’t taken seriously and was often told to go off and do literally anything else that isn’t meddling in adult affairs. it’s common knowledge that he was always very mature for his age since he’s constantly looking out for the younger ones, but it was such a drastic change for him to already be acting like he was in charge of everyone after just a few weeks in the countryside and even wondered what the eccentric professor must have taught him for him to come back acting all high and mighty.

he’s tried so hard to go back to being a normal boy, yet he struggles to hide the regality in the way he acts and the air of superiority he holds. the other former royals are used to his behavior even before being crowned, but soon he found himself isolated from others his age no matter how close they were previously and getting into physical fights with anyone crosses him. he was no longer used to holding his head low when disrespected and now that he’s had a taste for being held in high esteem, he would no longer tolerate it and was now known as a troublesome person whom most people steered clear of.

although his family was concerned for him, peter didn’t seem to have cared less about how quickly his reputation plummeted and he spent his days as a loner. he often found himself exploring the city’s largest library instead of playing sports or getting a job since no one wanted to hire a rebel, reading through overly complicated books about portals and other dimensions. he knew that science wouldn’t be able to explain the phenomenon that he experienced since it was magic, but studying up on the subject made him feel a little bit better that there were other people around the world exploring the subject.

the entire section dedicated to this field of knowledge was in a far corner quite a ways from the entrance, a dusty little space a tad bit darker than everywhere else, and never had a soul near it which made it the perfect place for him to brood and be alone for the most part. the only other person he saw there occasionally was you, someone he only saw through passing within school hallways and heard about receiving academic prizes all the time. while classes were out, he fully believed you had already read all the books in the building. you were there from the moment the sign was flipped to “open” until the moment the librarian told you it was closing time, never thoughtlessly roaming around since you always walked with purpose knowing exactly what you were looking for, and often seen carrying books that towered over your head threatening to tilt over.

despite seeing you every single day, he never really had the chance to talk to you. you seemed so… untouchable… like you didn’t have the time or place to spare for people who weren’t in your schedule. he wonders if he used to appear like that to others back in narnia when he was rarely approached by anyone who wasn’t one of his siblings, but at least he had the excuse of being a high monarch— what was yours? it was the first time he found himself curious and thinking about something else that wasn’t his former life.

turns out, peter’s chance came to him when he least expected it and when he was in his most vulnerable state: freshly bruised and cut up after a fight with a gang of middle schoolers over stepped-on toes. he’s landed himself in this situation countless of times yet still never learns his lesson to leave it alone before it escalates. fortunately, he got to witness the satisfying conclusion of the leader getting dragged away by his mother, but he was really the one with the egg on his face when he barely managed to get in a single punch while he ended up with a busted lip. to say he was pissed off was an understatement, but frankly, emotions that weren’t anger or longing didn’t come to him much anymore. he didn’t want to get a scolding from his family about he should have been more careful again so he wandered back into the library to take care of himself in his usual corner, unwittingly catching your eye on his way and leading you to him.

neither of you said anything when you walked up to him with a first-aid kit in hand as you used your eyes to ask for permission to patch him up and he simply nodded to grant it, the silence being more tense than awkward. you wrapped bandages around his aching knuckles, applied ointment to his wounds, and uttered nothing but a “hold still” when he hissed in response to the sharp pain of hydrogen peroxide on his lip. he didn’t even feel your skin against his, just feather-light touches that tickled him slightly as he intently looked at you while you were focused. he’s never seen you up close before so he took the opportunity to study your features, slowly realizing that he developed a crush on you at some point and immediately straightening his posture to act like he wasn’t staring when you glanced back at him.

“you’re… the guy who’s always reading about different dimensions, right? your name is... peter?”

“yeah… that’s me.” he's surprised that you knew anything about him at all, much less his name and the books he was reading. considering that you were always in your own little world, it meant that you paid more attention to your surroundings than he originally thought.

“have you visited any other realms lately?” your tone was serious, but the absurdity of the question made it sound like a joke.

“you wouldn’t believe me, it sounds ridiculous.”

“really? i’ve heard all kinds of tales, i doubt it would be even close to the worst one.” you weren’t sure why you were the first to start the conversation when you never cared for your peers or what they had to say before.

“well… it all started when we left for the countryside and my youngest sister wanted to play hide and seek…” he wasn’t sure why he was telling you about the wardrobe and narnia when he refused to open up about it to anyone other than his siblings, but it felt right to do it. at best, you’ll believe him and he’ll have someone to talk to. at worst, a cute girl will think that he’s crazy.

neither of you were quite sure about the reasons behind this conversion, but perhaps there didn’t need to be one as long as it felt like the right thing to do.

request [ I didn't find your requests so I'm writing to you here 😅 I wanted to ask Peter falling in love with a bookworm (they only see each other in the library in the last hallway and she's shy and all that) (in the second movie) in London, as if she were the one capable of removing his anger for a while and Peter felt calm with that little girl. (If you write smut with +18 at the end or just fluffy, whatever you choose) ]

[sitp-recs]

Hey, again love your recs! I'm completely in love with Drarry because of these lovely stories. Wondering, an recs with a rugged Harry/ Draco ( as in manual labour), and always sweet and smutty is always a win. I appreciate your time, thanks a bunch!

Thank you anon, I’m happy to hear that! Ohh very interesting ask, here are some E-rated fics for you. You might also enjoy this list with buff!Draco 🫡

Hot Metal by @bafflinghaze (E, 5k)

Harry Can’t Deal with the vision of Malfoy hot and sweaty at work in his blacksmithing forge. Meanwhile, Draco is entirely perplexed with Potter’s odd behaviour.

Heart to Hearth by @jtimu (E, 7k)

It should perhaps not have been a surprise that the repairman on his front step came not with coveralls and a toolbox but instead with a sardonic stare and a raised eyebrow. Harry stood in his open door and shut his mouth with an effort.

Wield Me by @tackytigerfic (E, 10k)

Draco Malfoy, blacksmith, is renowned through the magical world for his skill and exquisite creations. He could quite easily spend the rest of his days making pretty trinkets for the fae court, and being handsomely rewarded for the privilege. But why take the easy route when instead he could get involved in a dangerous mission with Unspeakable Harry Potter (who also happens to be Draco's... well, he's something, isn't he?).

Hippomancy for Beginners by khalulu (E, 11k)

When Draco desperately insists on becoming a Centaur Liaison, he doesn’t know what he’s getting into, especially with that annoying hero-turned-hermit Harry Potter living right at the entrance to the Forbidden Forest. Not to mention foreign unicorn women, slavering three headed beasts, bitter brews, unexpected friendships, and the consequences of a very cocky vocabulary.

Voices From The Fog by noeon (E, 13k)

After years of running away, Harry crosses paths with an all-too familiar face and follows him to Amsterdam.

One Floo Over the Lovegood’s Nest by Nattish (T, 14k)

Harry is not terribly surprised that there are magical plumbers, chimney sweeps, and pest control men. He is surprised that one of them is Draco Malfoy. And that he’s bloody hot in a jumpsuit.

Phoenix Repair Services by carpemermaid (E, 20k)

Draco hires a suspiciously private wizarding handyman to fix his kitchen when he returns home to find it destroyed. He expects a middle-aged wizard with greying hair and a pudgy gut to show up. Instead, he gets Harry Potter—with a utility belt and a charming smile—who is more attractive than he has any right to be.

Here Be Dragons by birdsofshore (E, 21k)

Harry doesn’t want to waste his time investigating illegal dragonhide trading, whether it involves a fetish club in Knockturn Alley or visiting a remote island in Wales. Why the bloody hell does Malfoy always have to be up to something?

Kept in Cages by @sweet-s0rr0w (E, 77k)

Deep in the heart of the Ministry lies the Beast Division: a hidden room where ancient beasts roam, and winged creatures soar, and grumpy giant ferrets eat all your biscuits unless you keep them well hidden. Draco Malfoy would know – he’s been working there for five years now, after all.

I Am Not Who I Became by mab_di (E, 93k)

Draco left England after the trials and has travelled the world meeting wizards and Muggles from different cultures and with vastly different relationships to magic, each other, and the natural world. Now he's a fisherman in Finland on commercial vessels. Harry has been struggling since the war and has become a recluse while trying to write his autobiography.

[strkie]

an understanding. peter pevensie x male, immortal, reader.

peter meets you like a spark to a flame, smitten and happy with you more than he ever thought he would be with someone else. but he won’t be in narnia forever.

notes. i just rewatched all the narnia movies so. yeah. i love him.

details. no warnings. he/him pronouns. set in the end of the second movie.

Peter first meets you on a natural, firefly night. The first thing he really, truly knows about you is the fact you don't pity him but rather you understand him on a level he never thought he would see again.

When Peter meets you, you know the legends of the High King better than anyone he's ever met. You don't talk outright about them to him at first, but the little things, the little details is what he picks up on when you sit down next to him on soft moss. The sky is littered with stars and the trees sleep, the castle is a ways behind you both. At first he thinks you're Telmarine, but that thought is quickly questioned. You have a way about yourself that speaks Narnia— the way your hair curls around your neck and how gentle your hands are, the soft glint in your eyes. You speak with confidence but in a hushed voice, as if you have been long accustomed to how everything is listening.

When he finally asks what you are, you laugh in endearment. Peter can't help but blush red at the sound of your laugh, the way it carries in the wind, and he is smitten.

"I just am." You answer him. "Immortal, is what I've heard others name me, but I don't care for a title."

"You can't die?" He asks impulsively again, curious. You only smile at him but this time it's sad, your eyes cast downwards and holding a certain weight to them. You hum in affirmative, and a comfortable quiet looms over the two of you.

"I was here before the White Witch, I was here during, I am here now and will be after." You say softly, sadly yet accepting.

Peter understands then, why you understand him better than others— You have seen civilizations burn and wither and have seen some just fade away. You have seen all the deaths, have seen the trees turn into a shell of what they once were just like all the other Narnians. You have seen wars and battles, have been in them, and kept going. You keep fighting, keep trying, and that's when you earn his respect in just your first conversation.

When the days pass, when that fateful night ends, Peter can't help but seek you out. You are... curious, and captivating in a way he can't explain.

It's surprisingly easy to find you, afterwards— he only asks one of the Centaurs and they lead you to the nearest Gryphon flock, where in the center you reside. You calmly talk to all of them while they listen, sometimes they reply but mostly quiet, letting you clean and pick their feathered necks and heads. You are gentle and kind, and when you see him you look surprised but happy. He only smiles back in greeting, sitting down on the grass with his back against one of the Gryphons, listening to you as you continue to tell a tale. At first the story is nothing special to those of Narnia, filled with adventure and fantasy, but as you get further in he realizes you are remembering and retelling. The memories range many emotions, but you always tell them fondly, stroking a Gryphon's head in your lap.

In the weeks that pass, Peter finds you talking about a lot of things like that. A lot of memories, a lot of wistful thoughts, and he's always surprised about how kind you are even when the memories are filled with bloodshed.

Eventually Aslan notices, although Peter is sure the lion has always known.

"I need to speak with you about Y/N." He says once, just a couple days before Peter is going back to England. Truthfully, Peter has been ignoring that fact since he met you, knowing you cannot come with, but something in Aslan's voice gives him unexplained hope.

"When you leave tomorrow," The lion starts, walking in the castle courtyard with Peter. "Y/N will follow, and you will take care of him just as I have."

Peter's chest bursts with excitement, with hope, but he still doesn't quite understand. "But he's Narnian?"

"Yes, and when he leaves he won't be. He has been here too long, too lonely, and I fear I may lose him if he doesn't leave." Aslan speaks honestly, deep voice vibrating. Peter listens intently, a thoughtful frown on his face.

"You want him happy." Peter says, understanding.

"Yes, and he will be with you." Aslan almost looks sad about the fact you will leave, and that's when Peter realizes the lion has known you as long as the thousands of years you've been alive, almost fatherly. Peter stops walking to turn fully to the lion with a determined eye.

"I promise I'll take care of him." He vows, a hand on Aslan's muzzle.

When the day arrives and it's time to leave, you aren't as sad as Peter would've thought. Depressed, yes, but not overly so. You hold his hand rightly as you both say goodbye to all the individuals you've befriended, your chest filled with hope for a new beginning with Peter, looking at the Narnian skies with a unexplainable emotion. You hug Aslan as tightly as you can, his mane and paws hugging you back, and it's time to go. You walk through the portal of trees, a fear overcoming you, but Peter holds your hand and you know you'll be alright.

[hwsevents]

MYTHTALIA MARCH

List of some mythological creatures/figures for inspiration:

-Selkie, Will o’ the Wisp, Wolfwalker

-Harpy, Nymph, Centaur

-Lamia, Siren, Sphinx

-Odysseus, Athena, Heracles

-Yuki-onna, Kitsune, Oni

-Circe, Calypso, Poseidon, Cassandra

-Valkyrie, Giant, Dwarf

-Loki, Thor, Odin

-Dullahan, Banshee, Changeling

-Huldra, Lorelei

-Frey, Freyja, Ymir

-Osiris, Nephthys, Amun

-Arachne, Medusa/Gorgon, Echidna

-Mars, Venus, Pluto

-Tsurara-onna, Kuchisake-onna

-Tengu, Kaguya, Ameterasu

-Adonis, Galatea, Hecate

-Chang'e, Hou Yi

-Rusalka, Baba Yaga, Alkonost

The HWS characters can be these creatures/figures (e.g. nyo Japan as Kaguya, France as Adonis, Russia as a centaur, nyo China as Chang'e, Egypt as Osiris)...

...or interact with them (e.g. Ireland following Wisps, England meeting Hecate, America running from the Dullahan/Headless Horseman).

Doing both is also an option (e.g. human Lithuania interacting with rusalka Belarus).

Link to Prompt Themes

@hetaliahappenings @nsfhetalia @heta-on-the-books @hetaliacalendar

[hapalopus]

Excerpts from the journal of Quinn Langston Whitmore (aka "1700s scientist gets isekaied into tf kink anime world and meets this guy:

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

5th of November, 1792 (Year 436 Post-Tower)

608th day in this world

I have encountered a most peculiar young man. At a glance, he is not dissimilar from the other races of this world; he could pass for a strange human, if not for his saucer-sized gem-color eyes and his leaf-shaped ears. He is of short stature and slight build, with chestnut hair and a similarly warm and deep skintone. I do not know how to describe the color of his eyes, for they seem to glow in every shade of azure, turquoise, and emerald at once. His face is rather long and narrow and, fittingly, "horse-like."

His name is Moussa and he speaks this land's common tongue, albeit thickly accented. He told me (in much different terms) that he is, in his society, of a rank akin to a prince or lord-apparent. He travels with a tall and rather mannish human woman named Zélie. His companion does not speak the common tongue, and they converse with each other in a shrill and vowel-heavy language that I have never heard before.

But by what peculiarity could this man have captivated me so?

Moussa's anthropoid appearance is only one half of his "true self." In our first encounter, he had, from the waist down, the body of a horse, not unlike the centaurs of our ancient Greece and Rome. In a moment, his equine body disappeared before my eyes, replaced with two perfectly unassuming (and fully clad, might I add) human legs.

Astounded, I inquired about the nature of his transformation, and he explained that it is an ability all individuals of his race are born with. He referred to his race with a shrill and guttural sound that may best be transcribed as "hrihriwa" - the name puts one in mind of a horse's whinnying.

Tomorrow I shall ask him to model for me in his preferred centaurine form.

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

6th of November, 1792 (Year 436 Post-Tower)

609th day in this world

Moussa graciously posed for me long enough to sketch his portrait. When I inquired about his braids, he explained that they are a devotional in nature; that his society forbids haircuts and employ protective braids to minimize damage to the hair. I felt it impolite to ask about his cropped forelock.

Moussa and Zélie appear pious. At sunset and sunrise I could not help but observe them engaged in an hour-long ritual, though I averted my gaze to grant them privacy as best I could.

Both travelers are friendly, but incurious. So far, they have only asked me my name, where I come from, and my destination. I explained to the best of my ability, but their expressions told me that they take me for a lunatic, like every other person in this world. I know I am not mad. Everyone's ignorance of the mechanism of my arrival to this world will not convince me that I am mad, nor will I give up my quest to return to England.

Seated by the evening fire, I could not stay my curiosity any longer and requested that Moussa demonstrate his transformational skills. He seemed amused by my curiosity, but transformed his hand into a strange mixture of horse and man, which I gratefully sketched. Having never met another shapeshifter like him, and his apparent opinion that bodily transformation is mundane, I must assume that his people's rarity is caused by isolation, rather than simple scarcity. He confirmed that this is his first time away from his homeland in his 25 years of life, though, when pressed, he staunchly refused to explain the location of said homeland.

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

9th of November, 1792 (Year 436 Post-Tower)

612th day in this world

Today's travel was particularly strenuous as we were forced to cross over a rocky ridge. Moussa seemingly prefers to be fully equine for exercises of this nature, and I was delighted to see that his mane is identical in style and color to his human hair - perhaps this is a clue to his people's religiosity.

Halfway up the ridge, we held a quick rest. Moussa asked Zélie for a waterskin (for of course he can talk in his equine shape) and, rather than change to a more anthropoid form, he simply willed two arms to extend from his neck. I had to sketch it from memory, as my journal was tucked away at the time. Take note of the shirt sleeve seemingly growing out of his horsehide. I admit that scientific curiosity gave way to revulsion for a brief moment. I should very much like to vivisect him, but alas, I enjoy his company too much.

But oh, I am a fool! Let this be a lesson not to sketch life from memory: Moussa's braids were tied by their fibulae rings at the time of the transformation. However, as of sketching this, they are untied - something he does every evening.

Another evening habit of his is to exchange his human legs for horse legs and meticulously clean the hooves. Whether this is a part of his ritual, or simple practicality, I do not know.

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

10th of November, 1792 (Year 436 Post-Tower)

613th day in this world

I asked Moussa to show me the queerest form he could muster, and he produced the following shape, which I must admit I was too taken aback to sketch in the moment. It was nauseating. Curiously, when one head spoke, the other joined in, and they produced two voices in perfect unison. This appeared to be an involuntary effect.

Perhaps with time I will get used to these unnatural therianthropic permutations and gain the fortitude to create live sketches.

[simplifiedemotions]

What Are You Going To Do About It?

“You’re having me on.”

“I am not, Draco.”

“Granger.”

“Hmm?”

“I just think you might be overthinking this.”

Hermione rounds on her new husband, taking in his amused smile and wind-swept hair, before forcing her gaze back to the magical partition she’d created to bar people—specifically Draco—from her office.

“It’s your fault I’ve fallen so behind on my Centaur project. I have to focus or I won’t be able to submit the legislation before the next half-term.”

“You do realise that’s months away,” he drawls. His hands come up to the faintly glowing barrier, testing.

“Exactly! There’s no time to lose.”

“Shit!” he swears when he attempts to press his thumb to the barrier and it zaps him.

She glares at him. “You’re being incredibly unfair, you know.”

He puts his injured thumb to his mouth and sucks on it, smiling like the pervert he is when Hermione flushes. “And how’s that?” he asks, before refocusing his attention on the barrier. She’s slightly offended that he hasn’t even brought his wand out. 

She sets her hands down on her desk, her grip on the wood as firm as her resolve. “You bring me food when I’m working.”

He takes a moment from prodding Hermione’s barrier to scoff at her. “Otherwise you wouldn’t eat!”

“Yes, but you stay with me whilst I eat, and then you cajole me into cuddling with you because I need to let the food settle, and when I fall asleep you just let me lay there!”

He stares at her for a long, drawn out moment. “Are you telling me that you’re angry with me for caring about you?” 

“Ugh, no! You—you’ve just… you’ve loved me into complacency! I need to focus, and you’re far too distracting,” she explains, giving him a glare for good measure to make sure he understands she’s being completely serious.

Draco starts outright laughing at her, but when Hermione stands with a huff and attempts to walk away, a strong arm wraps around her waist as Draco pulls her into his arms.

Hermione gasps. She turns to see the barrier—HER carefully constructed barrier, to see that it’s nothing more than idle magic particles floating to the ground. 

“I’m dreadfully sorry, Hermione,” he says, without an ounce of apology. “Is there any way I can make it up to you?” He places a hand on her abdomen, pressing her closer to him. “Any way I can incentivise you?” His fingers dance along her ribs like a dance. 

“You broke down my barrier!” she accuses hotly.

“You married a cursebreaker.”

“I am more than a match for England’s best cursebreaker.”

“And I’m sure this barrier was only your first attempt.”

She turns in his arms and kisses the condescension off his mouth. “You’re also incredibly irritating.”

Draco palms her throat and brings her face close again, kissing her again. “You also love me.”

“And incorrigible,” she whispers against his ear as she wraps her arms around him

A smile against her neck. “And what are you going to do about it?” Before Hermione has a chance to reply, Draco suddenly lets her go. She widens her eyes, then turns to see him smirking at her.

“Go ahead, love. I’ll leave you alone to work.” And without another word, he turns and walks out of the room completely, leaving Hermione gaping like a fish.

Hermione raises a finger at the space Draco was just standing in. “You—you,” she huffs. A slow smile turns the corners of her mouth up.

She sits down to work, and it’s only after the fourteenth time that she raises her eyes to see if he’s coming back, that she’s able to finally focus.

Draco comes back for what would've been the fifteenth time, demanding that Hermione eat dinner.

She feigns being miffed but can’t help her smile when he takes her back into his arms.

[fartherupandfurtherin]

Narnia Headcanons: Languages

- English is widely spoken in Narnia as a common language but Narnian is considered the official language.  It sounds musical and light. Lucy speaks it under her breath back in England and never forgets.

- Old Narnian is used for rituals and ceremonies, it isn’t widely spoken by anyone except the centaurs. It sounds frightening to some people, especially those with bad intentions.

- The Telemaren’s speak Spanish. They call it Spanish. They don’t remember why it’s called Spanish, which is very funny to the Pevensie’s.

- Telmar is largely monolingual by the time Caspian is born. 

- The Calormens common language is Akkadian (Babylonian). Most people in Calormen speak several different dialects and languages. 

- Unlike the Telemarens, Calormen’s actually remember some of where they came from on Earth and have stories about Babylon. 

- Archenlanders speak Archen (Irish mixed with Narnian and French) as well as English and Narnian. 

- Stars have their own language. Rilian learns it from his mother and it becomes the language of the Nobility by the time Tirian is born.

- Dwarves learn Dwarfish first and then Narnian. The former is similar to Old Norse.

- Dryads and Naiads speak Ancient Greek and Latin. Susan’s Latin lessons come in handy during the first few years of their reign.

- Talking Beasts can somewhat communicate with their non-talking cousins but it’s very basic. 

- Most Dumb beasts don’t say much beyond “DANGER” or “Food/water is here.” Corvids are an exception to this rule. No one likes talking to Corvids.

- Giants speak English and only English. No one knows why and the giants are cursed with a lack of curiosity about it.

- Marsh-Wiggles speak English as a common language but they also speak Marsh-Tongue and Frog. They can communicate with Dumb Frogs and, according to them, the animals are “sparkling conversationalists”.

[paulpingminho]

[fallingskiesandrisingseas]

The Pevensie kids are otherwordly in more ways than the naked eye reveals.

For starters, with all the years they have spent around great cats, they are absolutely silent when they walk. They can stalk and prowl like no one's business, and once, when a girl pissed off Lucy, she showed her her teeth.

When a shrink asks her why she is scared of cats, so many years later , she remembers the white flash in the schoolyard, the sudden certainty of death.

Second of all, they don't seem to leave footprints in snow. In the winters of Narnia, magic was all around Cair Paravel, benign spirits showing them how to leave no traces, go unseen in the great white. Some swear they move without touching the earth. No one is sure enough to rebutt them.

The Pevensies are unbeatable in snowball fights. Especially Susan can throw like a honkball pitcher, able to single out and pick off targets that should be out of reach.

When the boys drink alcohol for the first time, at ages 17 and 15, they turn out to have great tolerance, something no one their age should have. Yet Peter and Edmund can beat anyone in a drinking game. Narnian spirits were strong (pun intented), so they do not find this feat particularly challenging. And no one understands how Susan puts away bottles and bottles of wine without ever slurring her words or losing her razor sharp mind.

The boys that keep pouring her more wine, hoping to take her home drunk, leave disappointed every night. Susan knows what's up. She's been forced to sit through boring diplomatic dinners with alcohol as her only interesting companion, is used to men trying to take advantage when she drinks. She will not be tricked by school boys.

They have a tolerance for other substances, too.

When someone gets the bright idea to roofie Lucy at age 16, he ends up with a nail through his foot, hanging from the highest tree in London.

Lucy shows up the next day with dirt under her nails and a hammer in her backpack. The teachers take one look at Peter, who stares back with a glare that could refreeze Narnia, and decide not to say a word.

They're all insanely strong swimmers. Susan won prizes before, but now she's breaking records. Edmund saves a man twice his weight from drowing, dragging him along across a cold lake for half a mile.

No one understands how the scrawny, 5"9 kid pulled that off. Or how he manages to hold his breath for so long.

And then there is the question of their minds.

Suddenly, Edmund can beat even the most experienced men in chess. He goes on to become champion of the region and then of the whole of England.

Peter, once a mediocre student, is now a stunningly good writer. When his professor reads his essay for Ethics, he weeps, something that has never happened before. Many see a future in academia for him.

Susan becomes known as the best problem solver in school. She's able to resolve many conflicts, not in the least because she's so attractive men stop thinking about fighting the second she steps into a room. But underneath the beauty resides a smooth operator. Her professors don't doubt for a second she'll be a brilliant politician.

Lucy no longer has the child like innocence from before the war. Her sense of wonder never left her, though. The centaurs have taught her astronomy, and looking at the stars reminds her of Narnia, one of the few things that are the same. The boarding school telescope goes missing an awful lot, as does she. Often, her brothers and sister come along, especially on bright nights. They never get caught.

They've changed. And they hold onto these pieces of Narnia, because it is all they have left.

[confusedbyinterface]

I'm mulling over how to put my thoughts about Margaret, and the importance of thinking through both the Romanesque and Gothic parts of Misericorde, so here are the wild and unjustified theories I've come up with so far

"You" are the murderer, Hedwig is narrating her investigation to the killer.

There is no "goat cheese". Moira was making a joke about your goat-killing ghost "prank" and forgot you didn't know there were only sheep here

The killer is an assassin sent by Katherine's in-laws. They got confused and killed the wrong "Catherine"

Remember how Katherine said her husband "tripped down the stairs" but the farmer says he was decapitated? Both are telling the truth. Catherine tripped downstairs and decapitated herself in the exact same way.

The sherry casks were an important piece of evidence. That's why Eustace wanted them smashed and why Margaret was so upset about it.

The "goat" is actually some weird object that from a very specific angle casts a goat shaped shadow, and ace attorney style this is going to be the key piece of evidence that solves the whole case

Hedwig is a centaur. This is why she can go upstairs easier than downstairs

And my one justified theory: Linbarrow Abbey was founded just after the Anarchy, from a recently abandoned or slighted castle. First, there's visual evidence: several backgrounds show crenelated walls, and the Linbarrow Abbey location icon shows what appears to be a crenelated tower. Some stuff in the text could suggest it, like it being on such a high hill with difficult to climb slopes.

The Anarchy would be a good time for a castle to become an abbey, with Steven and then Henry II wanting to get rid of unauthorized castles, and converting one into an abbey seems like a convenient way to do it. You can repurpose some of the buildings, and use the stone from the others to build a chapel. And Romanesque architecture was still popular in 12th century England.

The other clue I have: the White Ship. It comes up twice, with a joke about Marta (I think) being around with the White Ship, and the track name Candida Navis. The sinking of the White Ship caused the succession crisis that started The Anarchy. So I suspect at some point it's going to be mentioned, possibly making some link between the abbey's history in that war, and it's role in the Handsome Gentleman's plot in the War of the Roses.